Shadowrealm - By Paul S. Kemp Page 0,77
Elden said. “With me.”
Abelar blinked back tears, took his son from the saddle, and hugged him.
“I am coming. I’ll ride Uncle Regg’s horse. You take a ride with Grandpapa.”
He kissed his son on the head and gave him over to Endren.
“If you gain the bridge, give Swiftdawn her head,” he said to Endren. “Not even the Shadovar’s flying creatures will catch her.”
Endren nodded. “I’ve seen her run.”
Father and son embraced. Together, they lifted Elden into the saddle. Endren hopped up behind the boy.
“Are you afraid?” Abelar asked Elden.
He shook his head. “No, Papa.”
“Nor I,” said Abelar, rubbing Swiftdawn’s face. He leaned in close to Swiftdawn and whispered in her ear, “You are his, now.”
She eyed him, neighed, nuzzled his face. He turned and walked back through the refugees to Firstlight. He found his eyes drawn back to the Shadowstorm, where his company was fighting and dying. He regretted that he would not die with them.
He leaped into Firstlight’s saddle, feeling light for the first time in days. He turned her, drew his blade, and prepared to give the order to ride.
A hole of darkness formed in the middle of the group. Women screamed, horses reared, everyone backed away.
“Shadovar!” someone screamed.
From the darkness emerged Erevis Cale, Drasek Riven, and a third man blanketed in shadows—Rivalen Tanthul, Abelar presumed.
Rivalen’s eyes glowed golden. Cale’s glowed yellow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
6 Nightal, the Year of Lightning Storms
The identity of the three newcomers registered with the refugees, manifested in hopeful whispers.
“The Maskarran.”
“Erevis Cale has returned.”
None of the refugees dismounted, none shouted for joy, none closed ranks around Cale and his companions. They held their seats in the saddle, watching Cale warily, as if moving too fast would cause him to return from whence he had come. An empty space separated the refugees and their ostensible saviors.
“Erevis,” Abelar said, and fairly leaped off of Firstlight.
“The dark men are back,” Elden said as Abelar passed.
“Everything’s all right,” Abelar said, reaching up to pat his son. He pushed through the horses and broached the empty circle in which Cale, Riven, and Rivalen stood.
Up close, Abelar could see that something in Cale had changed. He looked more clearly defined, more substantive, as if the world were a painting and he its viewer. He stopped short of embracing Cale and Riven. A hush fell over the refugees.
“Something has happened to you,” Abelar said.
“Something has happened to you, too,” Cale said, his voice hollow.
“Kesson Rel is dead?” Abelar asked.
Cale shook his head. “Not yet.”
Abelar eyed Rivalen. “These people are crossing that bridge, Shadovar, and if—”
“Tell him,” Riven said to Rivalen.
The shadows around the Shadovar churned. “You and your people may pass. You will remain safe while in Sembia.”
The words hung there, alone in the air for a long moment before the first of the refugees cheered. Abelar blinked then sagged with relief as fists and weapons rose into the air, as shouts of joy, for a moment at least, overwhelmed the thunder.
“But you said Kesson Rel still lives,” Abelar said to Cale and Riven.
“We’ve made other arrangements,” Riven said. Abelar did embrace Cale and Riven then. “Thank you, my friends.”
Presently, Endren was shouting orders, getting the group ready to move, not for a death charge across the Stonebridge, but for a gallop to safety.
“I knew you would save us,” a women called to Abelar.
“It was not me,” Abelar said, “but these men.”
“Regg and the company?” Cale asked.
The words squelched Abelar’s joy. He nodded at the Shadowstorm. “Within the storm.”
Endren, atop Swiftdawn with Elden, led Firstlight by the reins to Abelar.
“It seems the Corrinthals owe you yet another debt,” he said to Cale and Riven. “My thanks.”
Cale inclined his head. “You should get them across the bridge and keep moving.” He looked back at the storm. “This is far from over.”
“Aye,” Endren said.
“If there is anything I can do for Regg and your company, I will do it,” Cale said to Abelar. “But Kesson Rel is our first priority.”
Cale’s words stuck with Abelar. Your company. They were his company.
Endren held out Firstlight’s reins for Abelar. “Abelar.”
Abelar looked at them, looked up at his father, at his son, and did not take the reins.
Endren read his eyes. He let the reins fall from his hand. “You aren’t coming.”
Elden looked down, alarm on his face. “No. Papa coming.”
Abelar looked back at Cale, Riven, and the Shadovar. “Can you take me with you? To my company?”
The shadows around Cale swirled. He shook his head. “Our fight is with Kesson Rel. You don’t want to accompany us there, Abelar.