The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [21]
Rieser shook his head with a grim smile. "If I am, what should I do with the ya'shel?"
"Bring him back if possible. If not, then kill him."
Rieser rose and bowed with a hand to his heart. "I'm honored to ride again, Khirnari."
Seneth smiled up at him. "You have never failed me, Rieser i Stellen. I wish you a safe journey and a successful hunt."
For as long as the followers of Hazadriel had lived in this valley, there had been Ebrados--the Hunters of the White Road--and for the past fifty-eight years Rieser i Stellen had been one of them. The Ebrados weren't called upon often anymore; the generation that had settled this valley was long dead, and most of the people now didn't look past the mountains that guarded them for anything they wanted. Occasionally a few adventurous youngsters tried to sneak out through the pass. If the guards didn't see them, the Ebrados went to bring them back. There had been only a few serious cases in the last hundred years, and all but one successfully hunted down.
Ireya a Shaar had been the exception; her name was a bitter taste on the tongue of the clan. She had lain with a Tirfaie, a fact revealed at the child's birth; no 'faie child had yellow hair and eyes the color of dusk on a winter's night. No one knew how she'd met the man, or why she had betrayed her own people to bear a forbidden half-breed son, only that she had given him to his father to save. Her own brothers had killed her, and the Tir man had killed them. He and the child had never been found.
Syall i Konthus had been captain then, and they'd spent the whole summer trying to track down the mysterious Tir and the baby, but to no avail. Month after month, Syall rode out, even after the khirnari called off the hunt and none of the other Ebrados would go with him, until one spring day when his horse found her way back to the clan stables riderless. The dried blood crusted on her withers and the saddle were evidence enough to guess that he might have found his quarry, after all, or some other misadventure in the outer world. Whatever the case, he never came back. Scouts went out periodically, but none had found a trace of him, or the half-breed child, who must be nearly man-grown by now, in the way of mixed bloods.
Rane and Thiren, Syall's eldest sons, had been elected to the Ebrados for this trip, and they were the only ones among all his riders about whom Rieser had any concerns, suspecting that theirs was a duty born of vengeance. Emotion had no place in this work.
The rest--Nowen, Sona, Taegil, Morai, Relian, Sorengil, Kalien, Allia, and Hazadrien--had ridden with him for years. They were among the best riders, swordsmen, and archers of the clan, chosen for their prowess and bravery. Hazadrien was the exception, but this old friend had other skills. There wasn't a man or woman among them about whom Rieser had the least doubt.
The trail they were to follow this time was two decades cold, and retraced that journey five centuries ago. Rieser liked a good challenge.
He gathered with the others in the main courtyard of the clan house the following morning. The khirnari and Turmay were already there waiting for them. The Retha'noi was dressed in thick sheepskin garments, his coat decorated with animal teeth sewn on in patterns like beads. Turmay's horse had a 'faie saddle and one small bundle hanging from it, and he carried his oo'lu strapped across his back. Rieser had never seen any witch man without one.
Rieser nodded to him. "It's good to see you again, friend. So you're to be our guide?"
"Yes. Together we will ride your white road, and find the white child."
Rieser blinked in surprise. The white road was never spoken of to outsiders. Then again, Turmay was a witch--a hard person to keep secrets from, it seemed.
Seneth gave them her blessing, and Rieser led his riders out of the courtyard and down the river road at a gallop. Turmay rode beside him, as at ease as any of them in the saddle.
Sledges had packed the road smooth, making for an easy ride down the