Soldier Sworn (The Teralin Sword Book 3) Read online

The merahl turned its massive head toward him. The creature had a blunted jaw, bright eyes with oblong irises, and sharp, pointed ears. The ears were the most responsive, swiveling at every sound, but the merahl also sniffed the air, noticing everything. Stripes of silver worked along otherwise reddish brown fur. There was something distinguished about the creature that matched its bright intelligence. How had he never heard of the merahl before coming across them with the Antrilii?

  “I come north seeking to understand the Antrilii,” Endric went on. It felt less ridiculous the more he spoke to the creature. Could the merahl actually understand, or was he simply being foolish? “The man you have captured comes with me. He means no harm to the Antrilii, and he means no harm to the merahl.”

  The merahl shifted, pressing down more with its heavy paw.

  Had Endric said something that offended him?

  “I don't think it worked,” Brohmin said with a grunt.

  “Please,” Endric begged. “Let us meet with the Antrilii before you decide his fate.”

  The merahl flicked its ears before setting its large head down in something like a nod.

  That had to be his imagination, didn't it? No creature would nod. That was a human gesture, nothing like what he would expect from any animal, regardless of how intelligent it might be.

  Yet the merahl removed his paw from Brohmin's chest and sat crouched next to him. Endric had the impression that the merahl would pounce at any moment were Brohmin to make the mistake of attacking.

  Brohmin sat up, gingerly rubbing his chest. He maintained eye contact with the merahl, but he said nothing.

  “Thank you,” Endric said.

  The merahl studied him a moment before, with a dangerous grace, bounding off and disappearing into the darkness.

  “Where do you think it’s gone?” he asked Brohmin.

  “There aren't many men willing to speak to the merahl,” a voice said behind him.

  Endric spun, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword before freezing. There would be no benefits in attempting to attack, especially if this were one of the Antrilii. They were who he hoped to reach, not a people he should attack.

  Standing before him was a tall man dressed in dark black leathers. A fur-lined cloak covered his shoulders. His face was painted in streaks of red and black, making him terrifying in the darkness. The light from the flames flickered off his face, making it even more terrifying. Endric did not recognize this man, though he had only traveled with a handful of Antrilii. Endric steadied his breathing and tipped his head respectfully in a nod toward the Antrilii. “I am Endric, son of Dendril—”

  “I heard what you said.”

  Endric waited for the Antrilii to say something more, to perhaps share that Endric had no reason to fear him or that he would call off the merahl from attacking Brohmin, but the Antrilii said nothing. He simply stared, his eyes weighing Endric.

  “I come in search of the Antrilii, wanting to know of my heritage.”

  The Antrilii grunted. “If you are interested in that, you would have come long ago.”

  He waved a hand, motioning toward the south. “Return, Endric, son of Dendril. Go back to your home and the safety of the south. Leave the north to those who have not forgotten their vows.”

  The man whistled, and his brow creased in a frown before he ran into the darkness after the merahl with a swift gait—swifter than Endric would have expected—and also disappeared into the darkness.

  Endric stared after him, frowning. “What was that?”

  Brohmin coughed, and Endric looked over to see him rubbing his chest and shaking his head. “I'm not certain. I thought I was the one the Antrilii wouldn’t want to see.” He looked over at Endric, a hint of a smile on his face. “Glad to see there’s another they are equally annoyed with. It takes some of the burden off of my shoulders.”

  “What do you think he means by return to the south?”

  “I thought that part was pretty clear. The other parts of it were less so.”

  “You mean the part about abandoning vows?” Endric asked.

  Brohmin tipped his head, shrugging. “That. The disgust he seemed to have with your father. I suspect they’re tied together.” Brohmin turned and looked toward the north, into the darkness where the Antrilii had disappeared. “It seems your father leaving the Antrilii wasn't appreciated,” Brohmin said.

  Endric could only nod, though he had no idea why. What reason would the Antrilii have for being upset with Dendril? The Antrilii he’d met had seemed willing to help, but then again, those Antrilii had been family.

  What sort of political situation had he come into?

  Had his father known what he would encounter?

  Endric didn't know the last time his father had been north and visited the Antrilii. Had he abandoned some vow that offended them? Was there something more to what his father had chosen by serving the Denraen?

  Brohmin pointed to the fire. “Come on. We still need to eat. In the morning, we can continue north, see if we can find other Antrilii, maybe some who your father hasn't pissed off.” He said the last with a hint of a smile. “Though, I wonder if there are any like that. Maybe your father has angered all the Antrilii other than those he was related to.”

  “You're not helping.”

  Brohmin reached for the spit and pulled the rabbits away from the fire. The meat had blackened, left longer than they had intended during the merahl attack and then the Antrilii appearance. Brohmin frowned as he pulled a chunk of meat off the rabbit, chewing it slowly. “I might not be helping, but neither is this.” He spat next to him, then tore another hunk of meat off, tried that instead.

  Endric sighed and had no choice but to sit next to him and try to force himself to eat while pushing away questions about his father and the Antrilii, and what it meant for him.

  Endric awoke before the sun crested the horizon. The clouds had dissipated, leaving a clear sky with a hint of gray. It was nothing like it had been for the last few days. It had cleared without raining, leaving it so that Endric could make out the peaks of the mountains in the distance. In the growing light of the morning, the mountains appeared even more impressive. Fog trailed around the upper levels of the mountains and snow stretched far closer to the ground here in the north than it did in the mountains around Vasha.

  Endric made quick work of cleaning up the campsite, burying the remains of the fire and smoothing over the earth so that they wouldn't leave any sign of their passing. It was habit, ingrained into him from his Denraen training. Brohmin, as he often did, touched the ground after Endric was finished, as if he were dissatisfied with Endric's work. Endric couldn't deny the fact that he always seemed to make it less obvious that they had been here. They mounted and continued northward without so much as a word.

  Endric still struggled with the Antrilii appearance the night before. Even when he had been frustrated with his father's lack of action, he had always thought of him as an honorable man, though perhaps a little hesitant to act. The Antrilii comment about abandoning vows made Endric wonder if perhaps his father weren't as honorable as he liked to believe.

  By midday, Brohmin called them to a halt, stopping them near the edge of the stream they had been following. He crouched near the ground, staring at it while Endric took a drink, allowing his horse to drink as well.

  “What is it?” Endric asked.

  Brohmin shook his head. “Tracks. But they’re inconsistent.”

  They had been expecting to see signs of the passing merahl or even the Antrilii, but so far, they had not managed to do so. If they had found tracks, this would be the first time. “Merahl? Horse? Man?”

  Brohmin shook his head. “None of the above. These are old, and something I haven't seen for over a year.”

  Endric wiped his hands on his pants, drying them off, before crouching beside Brohmin. It was dry. Despite the thick clouds and the threat of rain, there'd been none. Endric studied the tracks, trying to make sense of what he saw. They were shallow
and strangely shaped. There was a sharp point toward the heel and a wide, almost claw like feature to the toes.

  “What is it?” Endric asked. “It doesn't look like any animal I’ve ever seen.”

  Brohmin shook his head. “No,” he said. “Probably not like any animal that you’ve seen. Though, if you are really descended from the Antrilii, it wouldn't surprise me if you would be able to see it.”

  Endric frowned. “I'm not sure what you mean by that.”

  “Pray that you don't have to understand.”

  Brohmin stood and dusted himself off. He reached for the reins of his horse and climbed into the saddle, motioning them forward.

  They rode for another hour or so before Brohmin paused, his brow knitted in a deep frown. He leaped from the saddle and crouched down, looking at the ground intently.

  Endric climbed carefully from his own saddle and came alongside Brohmin, studying the ground with the same interest. Much like the last place that he had studied, there was a strange animal print. This one was like the last, though if Endric didn't know any better, it would be more recent.

  “How old do you think this is?” Endric asked Brohmin.

  Brohmin shook his head. “Several days. At least now I understand why the Antrilii had been through here.”

  “Antrilii? You think he was—”

  “On a hunt. We’re too far south for the Antrilii to have come this way for no other reason.”

  Endric turned his attention back to the animal print. If the Antrilii had been hunting, then the only reason would be for the possibility of the groeliin. Was that what Brohmin had meant about him seeing the creatures?

  He looked at Brohmin, but the man almost intentionally ignored him.

  “Come on,” Brohmin said. “If the Antrilii have come through here on a hunt, we can follow them and maybe we can find someone a little more accommodating than the man we encountered last night.”

  “And if we don't?”

  “Then you might have to keep searching until we reach your cousin.” Brohmin glanced over at him, and he shrugged. “The Antrilii will hunt. And you want to know about your people.”

  “What do you want, Brohmin?”

  He offered a hint of a smile. “Something I doubt the Antrilii can provide.”

  3

  They reached the lower hills of the northern mountain chain. Brohmin stopped several times, staring at the earth as if he would find some answer that Endric didn't understand. During one of the stops, Brohmin ran his hands along the earth, mumbling something under his breath. The print they followed seemed slightly clearer when he did, almost like the mumbling had made a difference and clarified what they were tracking.

  Each time they paused, Endric felt a surge of hope that they might be closer to discovering the Antrilii. Other than the night when the merahl had appeared, there had been no other evidence of the Antrilii. They had heard no cries of the merahl either.

  By midmorning on the third day after the merahl had attacked Brohmin, Endric stared up at the mountains. They were close enough that he could feel the cool wind whispering out of the north, an icy breeze that skimmed across his cheeks. He pulled his cloak closer, feeling no warmer with it on than with it off. He was not dressed appropriately for the weather and had prayed that they would reach the Antrilii before they hit true winter, or he might freeze in the search. Brohmin seemed less concerned about the cold, seemingly ignoring the chill that gusted in on the breeze.

  “Are we getting any closer?” Endric asked.

  Brohmin sniffed the ground. For a moment, it appeared as if he almost licked the ground, though Endric suspected that was more his imagination.

  “Closer, yes. But we're not any closer to seeing evidence of groeliin.”

  What would happen if they encountered one of the creatures without the Antrilii there to face it? Dentoun had made it seem as if they was something only the Antrilii could hunt, and even they had relied upon the presence of the merahl. Would he and Brohmin be able to resist if it came to that?

  “Have you seen any other sign of the Antrilii?” Endric asked.

  Brohmin glanced up. His hand rested atop the print. “How long did you study with the Denraen?”

  “All my life.”

  “And you don't have any ability with tracking?”

  Endric shrugged. “Tracking was never my area of expertise.”

  Brohmin stood and dusted his hands across his pants. He reached for the reins of his horse so that he could climb back into the saddle. “Tell me, Endric. What was your area of expertise?”

  “Unfortunately, fighting. I spent most of my life thinking that I was a skilled fighter.”

  Endric climbed into his saddle, his gaze fixed on the mountains. That was part of the reason he wanted to find them. If he could find Nahrsin, and if he could discover what the Antrilii knew about swordsmanship, maybe—just maybe—he might be able to fight the way they could. Endric hated that it drove him, but there was no denying the fact that he was motivated by a desire to improve and not be outclassed by another swordsman.

  “What you mean unfortunately?” Brohmin asked. They continued north, this time angling along the foothills. They hadn't yet begun to cross into the steeper portion of the mountains, and Endric wondered if Brohmin were leading them north along the trail of the groeliin, thinking that they would encounter the Antrilii, or whether he was avoiding the mountains altogether, or maybe there was another reason. Maybe there was a mountain pass.

  “While I was growing up, I knew I was a skilled fighter.” Endric glanced over at Brohmin and saw that the other man was watching him. “My brother taught me, though some of the other soldiers contributed. It’s because of Andril that I learned most of what I know.”

  “I've heard your brother was a skilled swordsman. You could have done worse than learning from him.”

  “Not skilled enough,” Endric said.

  Brohmin nodded slowly. “He was part of the Denraen party that was attacked by the Deshmahne. I had forgotten.”

  Endric swallowed. “When he was lost, I blamed my father. I thought he didn't take the Deshmahne seriously enough. I thought that he didn't know and wasn't willing to discover the true extent of the threat.”

  “Your father has been a part of the Conclave long enough to know the nature of the Deshmahne threat.”

  Endric nodded. “I know that now. At the time, I didn't. I was foolish. I challenged my father, and I lost.”

  Brohmin smiled widely. “You challenged Dendril? That would mean were you to have won—”

  Endric nodded. “Were I to have won. But I didn't. I didn't come close. It was the first time I had truly felt outclassed with the sword.” They rode silently for a while, Endric lost in his thoughts. Brohmin allowed him to sit in that silence, not pressing him, and for that, Endric was grateful. “When I came upon the Antrilii—or when they came upon me—I began to realize there were others with even more skill than me. Men like Dentoun, and Nahrsin, and—”

  “Most of the Antrilii are quite skilled,” Brohmin said.

  “They are. And then there was you.”

  Brohmin tipped his head. “I don't think it's fair for you to compare yourself to me.”

  Endric shook his head. “We’re similar ages. I think it's a reasonable comparison.”

  Brohmin had a strange smile on his face. “I’m older than you would think,” he said.

  They continued, and after a while, Brohmin paused, jumping from his saddle to examine another track before climbing back atop his horse.

  “What changed?” Brohmin asked. “You failed in your challenge, but the Denraen welcomed you back following the attack?”

  “When I returned to Vasha, I was determined to learn whatever I could from my father. I trained with Dendril and any others who were willing to work with me, wanting to improve, not wanting to face the same overwhelming sense of being outclassed I felt at that time.”

  Brohmin nodded. “I think that you succeeded. You survived agai
nst Urik when even your father would have fallen.”

  Was that enough for him, or was there some greater purpose? That was what motivated him now. He didn’t know what he was meant to do, and whether it only involved fighting or whether he would need to do something more.

  That seemed to be where Tresten was guiding him, the Mage prompting him to learn more about himself, to learn more about where he came from so that he could understand his purpose. Was it only about fighting? Was that what he was meant to do? If it was, he wanted to be the most skilled fighter possible. He did not want anyone to be able to defeat him.

  Yet Endric felt there had to be more for him than only fighting.

  Brohmin pointed toward the mountains. “There’s a pass up here that will lead us through.”

  “You think the Antrilii on the other side of the mountains?”

  Brohmin tipped his head. “Eventually they come south, but they rarely remain here. I was surprised we came across the man the other night. That is unusual for them, unusual even to see merahl outside of the far north or the Great Forest.”

  “There are merahl in the Great Forest?”

  “Some. Those that are found in the Great Forest have a different purpose. They're not there to hunt groeliin. They are not trained the way the merahl in the north are trained.”

  How did Brohmin know all of this?

  They veered into the mountains and Brohmin guided them steadily through the narrow pass. It was close to evening when he paused and jumped from the saddle, unsheathing as he did.

  Endric hurriedly copied him. “What is it? What do you see?”

  Brohmin raised a finger to his lips. “It's not so much what I see. It's what I feel.”

  “I don't feel anything.”

  Brohmin glanced over. “If you are descended from the Antrilii, then you should notice something. Focus on it. I might need your assistance.”

  “Assistance?”

  “Your hard-earned skill with the sword.”

  Endric scanned the rocks around them, searching up the mountainside, and then back behind him. He saw no evidence of anything that would raise Brohmin’s concern. There was nothing that drew his attention. The mountains were nothing but barren rock with a few small shrubs, an occasional evergreen tree, and a few other plants, but here the rock was more barren than other places.