Valdemar 06 - [Exile 01] - Exile’s Honor (16 page)

The snort had come from a very large, white, four-legged creature just under the trees in front of him. It moved out into the moonlight, and quickly resolved itself into a familiar shape.

A Companion.
It wasn't Kantor; it wasn't stocky enough, and besides, it didn't “feel” like Kantor. There was, in fact, a disturbing absence of feeling about this Companion, as if there was a wall between him and it.

A moment later, it was joined by a second—then a third, a fourth, and a fifth. They moved toward him, slowly, but deliberately, and he hadn't spent most of his life around horses not to recognize the menace in their movement. Every muscle was tense. They weren't so much walking as stalking toward him, their narrowed eyes glittering in the moonlight. There was no mistaking their hostility, and he was the object of it.

A chill ran down his back as he turned slowly, preparing to go back the way he had come—only to find his path to escape blocked by another pair of Companions. He turned back, to see that the rest had spread themselves out, and were encircling him in an all-too-familiar pincer movement. A moment later, he was surrounded.

They were huge creatures, and came armed with their own hooves. Their weight—an ordinary horse in a panic could easily kill and trample a man—a trained warhorse was as formidable an opponent as any warrior that rode him. How much more dangerous would Companions be, who had minds and intelligence of their own? His heart hammered with a surge of fear, and his throat tightened.

“Your pardon, I beg—” he said aloud, cautiously, as all the stories of White Demons rose again in his mind, no longer tales to frighten a child into obedience, but very tangible. “Intrude, I did not intend.”

His words had no effect; none at all. These creatures were so full of deadly malice that he could feel it where he stood. He didn't know what they intended to do to him, but their eyes glittered anger at him, and he felt exactly as he had at the moment that the Sunpriest denounced him. . . .

Like the Sunpriest, these creatures looked at him and condemned him. Like the Sunpriest, they fully intended to wipe him from the earth.

Sunlord, shield me—
Suddenly he heard the angry trumpet of a stallion and the thunder of hooves behind him, and dropped instinctively to his knees,
knowing
it would do no good, but trying to make himself less of a target anyway.

The trumpet turned to a scream, and as he winced away, a new Companion pounded out of the night, hooves throwing up clods of sod as it pounded toward him.

But the new one charged through the enclosing circle and brutally smashed his full weight into the shoulder of the nearest Companion threatening Alberich. Knocking it half off of its feet, whirling to lash at another with flailing hooves, snaking his neck around to snap at the neck of a third, the new Companion skidded to a halt beside him—

And Kantor stood with his Chosen, snorting defiantly, pawing the torn earth in challenge.

Instantly, Alberich rose to his feet, taking his stance at Kantor's shoulder.

:What did I do? What do they think I did?:
he asked as the other Companions laid back their ears and tore the ground with their own hooves.
:Why are they so angry at me?:

:It's nothing
you
did,:
Kantor replied shortly, and rumbled warningly when another stepped forward a pace. His own ears were so flat to his head it looked as if they'd been cropped.
:It's what you are. Karsite. Which they, young fools that they are, will not abide.:

Kantor whipped his head around, baring his teeth at all of the others, screaming defiance with voice and mind.
:But you are my Chosen, and they will not touch you! Nor will they reach you, except going through me!:

But the others seemed just as angry—and just as determined. And there were seven of
them
to Kantor's one. They snorted and added their trumpeting to Kantor's, pawing up the sod savagely.

:Come, then!:
Kantor “shouted,” so that Alberich winced at the strength of the voice in his mind, following the mental shout with a challenging scream.
:Try and take me, if you dare, you impudent young puppies! Try—and see what fools you are!:

“Kantor,
no!
” he protested, knowing that, no matter how formidable his Companion was, he was still no match for the power of so many. “Don't—”

The single word rang in his head like a gong, completely driving out everything else, so
powerful
was it. For a moment, it was as if he'd been punched in the gut, unable even to breathe. He was blinded and deafened, and when he was able to think again, he found himself on his knees, as if the Word had driven him there.

He wasn't the only one so affected; Kantor stood with head hanging and eyes glazed, and the others were shaking their heads, staggering about, looking utterly dazed.
He
had recovered first, and so he was the one who saw the final Companion come pacing into the meadow, striding as a king would stride across a royal carpet spread for his pleasure.

This—this newcomer was the very essence of
Companion.
His shining coat glowed pearly and silken in the moonlight, his mane and tail fell like waterfalls of silver, and his eyes held the wisdom of ages past and the knowledge of ages to come—and Alberich knew, in that moment when he looked into the stallion's eyes, that the knowledge held as much sorrow as joy. . . .

The stallion swung his head about to stare at the others—all but Kantor, that is—with the kind of
look
that Aksel and Berthold would give pupils who had gone so far beyond merely disappointing their teachers that even the most irrepressible or arrogant of boys could not have gone unaffected.

:What is this?:
the newcomer asked—no—
demanded,
in tones of disgust.
:What do I find here? Companions—threatening someone else's
Chosen?
What were you thinking? How
could
you?:

One of Alberich's attackers raised his head and stared at the stallion; Alberich “heard” nothing, but he got the distinct impression that the other was trying to justify his actions, rather like a defiant little boy who knows very well he's in the wrong, but simply cannot bear to admit it. The others were making no such attempts; if a Companion could have flushed or paled with shame, these would have done so.

The stallion gave the defiant one short shrift.
:Enough!:
he said, but the effect on the other Companion was as if he'd been struck between the eyes with a hammer. He literally dropped to his knees, as the others winced.
:You, Jasker,:
the stallion said, more in sorrow than anger,
:What you and yours have endured is
no
excuse. What happened to these others is no excuse either. You should have learned that by now.:
The stallion swung his head around, and again Alberich felt the full force of his gaze.
:You, Alberich—Chosen of Kantor—have you, yourself, ever brought harm to a single soul of Valdemar?:

“Not unless bandits they were, and with a band of brigands riding,” Alberich said truthfully. “Claim I cannot, that my men and I did not make it so that others freed were, to come against your folk—but never a Valdemaran I touched, nor did any of those under my command.”

:So I thought.:
the stallion turned his attention back to the errant one, who had all but shrunk into a mere pony beneath that gaze.
:Well.:

It was very clear that the defiant one was the target of a scathing lecture. He was not to hear what the stallion said to the other, but it made the formerly defiant one shrink even further. And if something the size and shape of a horse could have been said to “slink on its belly,” then that was precisely what the Companion did—toward Alberich.

:I beg your pardon,:
the young one said—whispered, rather.

:I can't hear you,:
the stallion rumbled, like a storm on the horizon.

:I—most humbly beg your pardon and ask your forgiveness—:
came the humiliated response.
:Chosen of Kantor, I acted vilely. I am unworthy.:

:I should say so!:
Kantor snorted, ears laid back, and teeth bared.
:Arrogant little beast, I should—:

:Kantor!:
the stallion said warningly.

But Kantor only raised his head and looked the other in the face, with no sign of the profound shame they displayed.
:I only said that I
should,
Taver. I
should
thrash this little cretin around Companion's Field twice—but I won't. I won't
ever.
Because I'm stronger and a better fighter and it would be no contest between us, so long as it was a
fair
fight, and not a case of a mob against one—:

Somehow, the other's head drooped even lower.

:Kantor, I beg your pardon, too,:
came the sad voice—if a voice in the mind could sob, Alberich sensed that this one was on the verge of just that. Alberich decided that enough was enough.

For whatever reason, this boy—and it might
look
like a horse, but it
acted
like a boy—had a grudge against all Karsites. Apparently he had decided on his own that Kantor had been deceived or subverted.

And he elected to take out his grievances on this Karsite—Alberich—who had somehow come within his reach. Why the child felt this way, Alberich had no idea—but it was apparently a driving passion, and had driven him to gather up a pack of his cronies to act when Alberich had unwittingly put himself in a position where he could be attacked with relative impunity.

But there was also no doubt in his mind that the boy—colt?—had been forcibly shown the error of his ways. And that his contrition was real, his repentance sincere, his shame overwhelming. And there was only one answer that Alberich could make to that.

He stepped forward, and put a hand under the colt's chin. The Companion started at his touch, and began to shake, his skin shivering with reaction, as Alberich forced his head up so that he could look into the colt's eyes.

“Pardon I give, freely,” he said, as he felt the colt fighting to keep from bolting. “But more. Forgiveness I give also.”

:Jasker?:
prompted the stallion.

The youngster blinked, and Alberich was startled to see two crystal teardrops form in his eyes and slide down his pale, moon-silvered cheeks.
:I am so sorry—thank you—:

“From you, I will have a promise in exchange,” Alberich replied grimly. “Never again to act without due thought, or so terribly without
honor!
”

:I promise!:
the young one replied fervently—but Alberich was not finished.

“And you—the rest!” he continued, raking them with as stern a gaze as the stallion's. “Never, ever again to let one with passion lead you to unreason!”

He “heard” murmurs of assent, so subdued that he could only hearken back to the day when Berthold had discovered that some of the cadets had slipped into his personal quarters to assuage their curiosity and had been caught rifling through his possessions. Not Alberich—but he had witnessed the tail end of that confrontation, when the miscreants had been brought up before the entire corps.

“Then your punishment to this gentleman, I leave,” he said. “My forgiveness you have.
His
—you must earn, I suspect.”

The stallion nodded gravely. A few more moments passed, during which there were, no doubt, a few more silent exchanges. Then the others slunk away.

The stallion turned his attention toward Alberich and Kantor.
:Brave, Kantor. And very wise, to call me, rather than take them on yourself.:

:I am glad you took no longer to arrive!:
Kantor bowed his head.
:Taver, they are children—and we both know how Jasker. . . . Well. One of us elders should have seen to him before this. We are fortunate that nothing worse came of this.:

:Probably.:
The stallion's flanks heaved with a sigh.
:One cannot foresee everything.:

The stallion turned to Alberich, and suddenly he knew why he had that nagging sense of familiarity—

“You are of Talamir bonded, no?” he asked.

But Alberich interrupted him with a shaky chuckle. “Nah, who can tell, what in a boy's head will be? No need, there is. And no harm either. But, I think, good it would be to return to my place.”

Taver's ears pricked forward.
:You are gracious—:

“I am tired,” Alberich corrected. “And late, it is. Good night, I bid you.”

:Good night. And know that after this, you will find a warmer welcome among us. No matter who else troubles you, you will always be welcome among the Companions.:
The great stallion ghosted off after the others, leaving Alberich alone with Kantor.

“Thank you,” he said to his Companion. Kantor tossed up his head and looked satisfied, if still a bit ruffled.

:Jasker—underwent much horror at the hands of the Sunpriests,:
Kantor explained.
:He, and all his family. All lost, and in great fear and pain—:

Family? Companions have families?
He supposed, on second thought, they had to come from somewhere. And to lose one's whole family—

:Night-demons?:
he asked, with a shiver. He had seen what Night-demons left behind, or at least, that was what he had been told had happened, and had heard the things, only once, off in the far distance. He never wished to come that close again. The Sunpriests claimed that Night-demons were sent only against the traitors and heretics and enemies of Karse—but Alberich could not imagine how those ravening horrors could determine just who was a traitor, or a heretic—