Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"Apparently. I thought you, or, more likely, your brother, was a placeling."

That was a term Subikahn had never heard. "Placeling?"

"A creature with fey blood 'placed' magically into a human womb. Sharing a gestation with a placeling might have given the other twin simple abilities as well, such as seeing magic."

Now it was Subikahn's turn to just stare. "Does that… happen… often?"

"Extremely rarely."

Subikahn stabbed the skinned coney with a stick and held it in the fire. The pelt at his feet lay bloody and shredded, useless for anything; but at least the meat did not seem to contain any hair.

"It's one of those things that are more legend than truth, but I know of at least one case where a god hid his indiscretion with a mortal from his wife by placing the infant produced into the womb of a different mortal." Chymmerlee shivered, face pinched in revulsion. "That nearly ended in disaster."

The story sounded too similar to Colbey Calistinsson's history to believe it otherwise, yet Subikahn said nothing. Her last comment suggested she might not approve of Renshai. Right now, he needed her goodwill more than her trust. "And you thought my brother might be… a similar case?"

Chymmerlee grabbed the last handful of berries in front of her. "It would make sense why you can see magic but have no knowledge of it. And, let's face it…" She gestured at Saviar. "… isn't he just a bit too perfect to be wholly mortal?"

For reasons Subikahn could not explain, he felt a twinge of jealousy at the remark. He had no sexual interest in Chymmerlee, nor in any woman, but the frequent comments about his twin's remarkable appearance wore on him. "He looks just like his mortal father. Even more like his mortal grandfather."

Chymmerlee shoved the berries into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. This time, she swallowed before continuing. "Have you ever seen your brother do anything that seemed miraculous?"

"You mean other than attract every female on the continent?"

Chymmerlee giggled.

Subikahn thought it best to stick as close to the truth as possible when it came to Saviar. The knight's son had great difficulty lying, a weakness his twin did not entirely share. "He said he saw a Valkyrie once."

"Gosh." Chymmerlee absorbed that information.

Subikahn did not mention it had appeared at their mother's death. Valkyries chose only warriors, and only Renshai regularly allowed females to fight. "But that's the only 'miraculous' thing I can think of. He's a nice, scrupulously honest, irritatingly polite young man with some decent sword skills; but I consider him as normal as any brother." More normal, in fact, than Calistin.

"You mean, he's sweet, too? And kind?"

Subikahn sighed, feeling like a go-between in a cruel game of puppy lust. "Well, he is, after all, my twin brother whom I love and who, up until a moment ago, was just about dead." I almost killed him. Guilt flared anew. "I could hardly say he was an evil bastard, now, could I?"

Chymmerlee laughed. "No, I don't suppose so." Her expression turned thoughtful, and she cocked a brow. "… but is he…?"

"… sweet and kind? Yes." Subikahn responded honestly. "A young lady's dream. The perfect man."

Chymmerlee studied Saviar in the firelight, speaking softly, almost to herself. "It's a shame one like that came so close to death… might still…" She trailed off, but Subikahn got the message.

As opposed to an ugly, worthless oaf like me. Under ordinary circumstances, Subikahn might have made a sarcastic comment about how the beautiful naturally deserved longer, fuller lives than the plain, how their deaths were so much more undeserved, so much more poignant. But, at the moment, he suffered too much guilt for his role in his brother's predicament to belittle it. Instead, he only nodded. And suffered in silence.

Rain pounded the Western forests, turning the ground into a leafy, muddy soup. Silver Warrior and Darby's chestnut gelding, now named Clydin, stumbled through the muck at a pace resembling that of a mired turtle.

His silks soaked through to the skin, his hair hanging in wet red strings, Ra-khir did not bother to complain. He had known more than weather would keep him from following the three boys' trail directly. He had minimal tracking skills, and the young Renshai would surely stick to the deep woodlands now that they no longer traveled in a large group. Without horses, they had no need to follow roadways instead of picking their way through forests, and the latter probably seemed safer. Ra-khir had never intended to track them by sign but rather by information gleaned in nearby Western towns.

Darby, who had remained silent prior to meeting the Renshai, now had a million questions. "Those were real Renshai, weren't they, sir?"

"Yes, Darby, those were Renshai." From habit, Ra-khir rubbed at a dirt spot on Silver Warrior's neck but only managed to spread it further. "Your first encounter, I presume?"

"They didn't have horns or tails or anything! And they didn't even try to kill us."

Ra-khir smiled. In some ways, Darby seemed so mature for his age, but this had clearly rattled him. "Renshai aren't demons, Darby. They're human, just like you and me, except for their thorough devotion to the sword."

"And their Northern origins," Darby added.

Ra-khir nodded. "And their Northern bloodlines, though those have become diluted since they've lived in Erythane for centuries." He wondered how long it would take before the Renshai simply became a known staple of the West, without the need for clarification. Millennia, maybe? Certainly, not within Darby's lifetime.

"Centuries? Really?"

"Really." Ra-khir appreciated the opportunity to teach. Though he preferred doing so through deeds, right now he cherished the distraction from the cold discomfort of the rain and the knowledge that he currently looked very un-knightlike. His father would have given him a dressing-down if he saw the disheveled face he presented. Luckily, he had no intention of entering any inhabited places until he got his appearance back under control. "Renshai denounced the attacking of innocents for sport at least three hundred years ago, long before the birth of any of those now alive." Except Colbey. Ra-khir did not add the thought aloud. He did not want to get bogged down in a discussion of ancient Renshai history but rather in the more recent facts that no one seemed to know or teach.

As Darby looked interested and curious, Ra-khir continued.

"To my knowledge, they have never broken that vow. Since then, they have served as the bodyguards to all of the Bearnian princes, queens, and princesses. Even the current king has a Renshai bodyguard, in addition to the traditional bard who has always held that position. When wars blossom, the Renshai stand with the West, because it is their homeland as well. Or was."

"Was?"

Ra-khir wound between copses of thistles. "Until recently, when the Renshai lost a challenge to Northmen and were banished from the North and the West."

Darby nodded his understanding, and dislodged rainwater rolled down his forehead. "So that's why they're here. Headed eastward."

"Right." Ra-khir looked ahead, trying to anticipate an easier route through the brambles that would not get them trapped in impassable foliage and deadfalls. He hoped they'd find a manufactured roadway soon. Once the rain stopped, the moisture would draw the blackflies and mosquitoes in droves. "And they have harmed no villages or towns. Their only battle was the one where you and I came upon the results."

"Northmen attacked them." Darby had obviously listened to the Renshai over dinner the previous night, though he had spoken very little.

"Right."

"Why?"

Ra-khir hesitated. He could not get inside the heads of Northmen, but the answer seemed obvious nonetheless. "Their hatred is strong, Darby. When generation after generation has distorted history far beyond truth and made it seem as if aggressors were victims, it can spawn a hatred so intense that it defies any logic. As a group, Northmen have intended to exterminate each and every Renshai for so long it has become a part of their national psyche, their day-to-day obsession. They spew this vitriol to their innocent children, telling them a special place in Valhalla exists for slayers of Renshai, no matter the means. To die killing Renshai is their ultimate honor."