Storm Surge Read Online Free PDF Page B

everyone here.” The witch shook her head before throwing the hood back over her dark hair. “Do not die, Guardian. The last thing we need is a mad Rift King.”
    “He’s already mad,” Breton muttered.
    “I did not see his golden horse,” the witch said thoughtfully.
    “She didn’t return with the other horses.”
    “Then all is well. She will keep him safe. I will bring him back to you, you have my word, and a witch’s word is always true.”
    Two people searching was better than one, and Breton couldn’t bring himself to care if the witch got devoured by whatever had destroyed Morinvale. “Three days, Crysallis. If you do not bring him back, I’m coming after you.”
    The witch’s laugh sent shivers crawling up his spine. “I shall return him to you. Worry for yourself and those in your charge. He would not be pleased if you let any harm come to his foals.”
    “Go,” he ordered, hating himself for trusting the witch with Kalen. He wanted to be the one chasing after the wayward Rift King, but he didn’t dare.
    The witch was right; the Rift King valued his foals above all. Breton understood that well enough.
    “Ride safe,” the witch said before turning. Her cloak swirled behind her. For a moment, he thought he saw dark wisps of smoke trailing in her wake. When he shook his head to clear his vision, Crysallis was gone.
    He whistled for Perin. When his gelding skidded to a halt next to him, he mounted and went in search of Captain Silvereye.
     
    ~~*~~
     
    Breton cantered Perin along the winding line of mercenaries headed away from camp. Captain Silvereye wore a red cloak, making him stand out among the duller colors the mercenaries favored. The Mithrian frowned at his approach. The expression was so similar to Kalen’s that Breton hesitated before saying, “Captain Silvereye.”
    “I’m hearing some unpleasant rumors, Breton.”
    The use of his name instead of his rank worried Breton. By pretending the mercenary captain was similar to the Rift King, he was able to compose himself. “Our witch has informed me that if we wish to avoid the swarm, we need to head south and east. The swarm will be moving west from Morinvale.”
    “Are you trying to tell me how to command my company, Guardian?”
    Breton sat straighter, meeting the Mithrian’s gaze. Crysallis was many things, but she didn’t kill, not without necessary cause. The intensity of the witch’s insistence had convinced him of the truth of her words. “No, sir. I’m reporting critical information that you might be able to use to save those under your command. If you insist on heading west or north, the swarm will cross our path. It may be wise to heed her wisdom, sir.”
    “Your witch. The same witch who helped us escape from Morinvale?” Captain Silvereye asked in disbelief. “You’re certain of this?”
    Breton hoped he wouldn’t regret what he was about to say. “Certain enough to trust her with His Majesty. She… would not cross my path lightly.”
    The Mithrian’s grin was wry. “I suppose not. Cut south below Morinvale, and then head east? What’s over there?”
    “From my understanding, sir, it’s more of a matter of what isn’t over there. I have other news as well.”
    “Wait.” Captain Silvereye stood in the stirrups, leaned forward, and bellowed, “Moritta!”
    The woman who rode up at Silvereye’s call was young, no older than twenty-five or thirty if that, with dusty brown hair and hazel eyes. “Sir?”
    “Turn the line south, take us ten miles past Morinvale. After that, take us east. Double march,” he ordered.
    The woman’s eyes widened. “We’re backtracking, sir?”
    “Get the line moving,” he demanded, settling back in the saddle. The woman saluted, whirled her horse around, and galloped away.
    “Dare I ask what other ill tidings you have for me, Guardian?”
    “One of the Yadesh went to confirm your scout’s tidings. Over half of the Wolf Blades are dead to this swarm, Captain. I don’t