Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

Ra-khir loosed a pent-up breath, thrilled to learn all three of Kevral's boys still lived, at least until their own stupid, adolescent bravado got them killed. At any rate, they're together. United, it would take an army to bring them down.

"By the way,"Thialnir added, not quite conversationally. "I promised not to tell anyone about Subikahn."

Ra-khir froze. He raised his head ever so slowly to meet Thialnir's gaze. "Then… why did you tell me?"

Thialnir loosed a chuckle. "Because you needed to know. If I'd mentioned in advance it was something I wasn't supposed to pass along, you wouldn't have let me tell you."

"Of course not."

"But now that you know, you'll have no choice but to keep the secret, too. So, no harm done."

Though glad he knew, Ra-khir wished Thialnir had not deceived him. No Knight of Erythane would willingly become complicit in the breaking of confidences. But now that he had the information, Thialnir was right. He had to keep it confidential. "Not very nice, Thialnir."

Thialnir rolled his eyes. "Renshai aren't known for their sweet dispositions." He extended a hand in friendship. "Can I make it up to you with a good meal and a protected place to spend the night?"

Ra-khir knew he had a lot of work ahead of him. Tracking hundreds of people moving together to a known destination had proven easy. Following three youngsters randomly northward across the enormous Westlands would prove a much more formidable task. "I accept your hospitality with gratitude, though I question your honesty about that meal."

Thialnir's brows rose in question.

"Any group of men about to hurl an unskinned, unbutchered deer onto a blazing fire knows absolutely nothing about cooking. The stink of burning hair itself might kill us all, and it will take a week to cook through whole."

"Ah, but I didn't lie, Ra-khir.You and your…" he paused.

"Apprentice," Ra-khir filled in. "Darby."

"You and your apprentice are here to oversee the cooking; so, if you stay, you will get the good meal I promised."

Ra-khir could not deny the reasoning. "Thank you, Thialnir. We accept your kind, and honest, invitation. I consider it an honor to dine among Renshai."

Thialnir smiled but said nothing. The words were diluted by the realization that, not long ago, Ra-khir ate with Renshai every day. I consider it an honor to dine among Renshai. Likely, Thialnir had never heard such a thing before. And it pleased him.

Subikahn awakened with a start to find himself flopped over a deadfall, his brother's sword still clenched in his fist. He had no memory of falling asleep nor of what might have awakened him. The fire had burned down to ash and glowing cinders. Beside it, Saviar sprawled beneath piles of clothing, breathing in uneven snores and moans.

Breathing. That one realization reassured Subikahn. He sprang to his feet, shaking the last vestiges of slumber from his thoughts and movements. Only then, he realized it was a misplaced sound that had awakened him. He cocked his head, trying to rediscover it: the shuffle of a human footstep, a ladylike sneeze. Poking his head through the brush, he glanced along a path so lightly traveled he had assumed only deer walked it toward the pond from which he had filled their waterskins. Now, he saw a young woman striding along it, carrying an earthen jug.

Hel? Dressed in a light, swirling fabric, auburn hair billowing in the breeze, she little resembled the half-rotting, centuries-old depictions of the Underworld goddess Subikahn had seen. Yet, he also knew the gods had magic to shapechange. They also had plenty of minions.

Subikahn leaped onto the pathway, sword raised. "You cannot have him!"

The girl screamed, dropping the jug, which shattered in the dirt.

Torn between attacking and apologizing, Subikahn lowered his sword.

The girl ignored the broken crockery to focus fully on Subikahn. She turned sideways, raised her hands, and took a cautious backward step. "Stay away from me! I'm warning you!" A breathy quality stole all threat from her tone. Terror leached through her bravado. A misty outline, like heat haze, grew around her.

"Are you a minion of Hel?" Subikahn demanded, afraid to immediately discount the possibility. If he guessed wrong, he might doom his brother's soul.

"Am I… what?"

"A minion of Hel," Subikahn repeated impatiently. "Are you a minion of Hel?"

"A minion?"

"Yes!"

"Of… Hel?"

"Yes!"

The young woman paused. Even from a distance, Subikahn could see her eyes narrow. "Are you entirely moonstruck?"

Subikahn knew he had to sound insane, yet he dared not take a chance. He stuffed the sword into his belt. If she was a supernatural creature, she ought to disappear. Yet, she remained, although he could no longer see the shimmering vapor that had encompassed her. Not all was normal about this stranger. "I'm not crazy. I'm just protecting my brother."

"From minions of Hel?"

"Yes."

"And you're sure you're not-"

"I'm not crazy." Subikahn continued to watch her every movement. "And you know I have reason to be wary of you. You're not entirely… human."

The girl jerked up her head. "I'm not?"

Subikahn touched the hilt of Saviar's sword and again saw the haze he had previously noticed. When he released the weapon, the glow disappeared. "There's an unnatural fog around you. Is it magic hiding your true appearance?"

"A fog…" The girl's hands went to her mouth. Her demeanor tightened, seeming more excited than distressed. "You can see it?"

That being self-evident, Subikahn saw no reason to answer.

"My name is Chymmerlee." She pronounced it Kim-er-lee, with a faint trace of an accent Subikahn could not identify. "Look again. Can you still see the aura?"

Discreetly, Subikahn touched the sword and studied the figure in front of him. She had the lean, lanky appearance of a teen, perhaps a year or two younger than himself. Straight, red-brown hair fell just past her shoulders, cut short in layers around an oval face with large eyes and a pert nose. The shimmering haze had disappeared. "No," he admitted. "It's gone. And you look otherwise the same."

Chymmerlee took a few cautious steps toward Subikahn. "You're a mage."

For reasons he could not wholly comprehend, Subikahn took the pronouncement as an insult. "I am not."

She stopped again, this time near enough he could see that a few freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were a pale blue-gray. "You know nothing of magic?"

Subikahn tightened his grip on the hilt, warningly. "I know enough not to let someone who hides behind it near my injured brother." He crouched, prepared for battle. "I also know nothing human can cast spells, only gods and elves."

Chymmerlee made a clicking noise with her tongue, and her hand went to her mouth again. "Your brother's injured? And we're standing here bandying words?"

Subikahn remained in stance.

Chymmerlee closed her eyes, seemingly oblivious to the threat. Either she had powerful magic that she believed could get her safely past a readied Renshai or she was wholly ignorant of combat. "You thought I was… and your brother…" Her features opened in sudden understanding. "Your brother's not just injured, he's dying. And you thought I came to-"

"You cannot have him," Subikahn repeated.

"I don't want him!" Chymmerlee rushed toward Subikahn. "At least, not in the way you think I do."

The sword whipped up.

Chymmerlee stopped abruptly, loosing a frightened squeak. Finally, she recognized the danger. "Don't hurt me. Please. I'm trying to help."

Subikahn wanted to believe her. "How?"

"I have some healing skill. Not a lot, but if I can get him stabilized, we can transport him to my people. They might be able to save him."

Subikahn hesitated. It had to be a trick, yet hope gripped him with such suddenness he found himself shaking. "How do I know you're not going to kill him? That you're not a minion of-"