“Blades forged of every metal, axes and spearheads made from every stone. Knives of bone and ivory. Catapults launching boulders that required a dozen oxen to move. Fire, arrows, and poisons. At sunrise and as it sets, at midnight and midday, during the full moon and new moon and every turn in between.” The litany stopped, then he added with a faint smile, “I even tried using a charm I bought from a peddler who told me it would make Barin’s eyes boil in his head. It smelled like tusker dung.”
Mala grinned. “It probably was.”
“I attempted it anyway.”
She couldn’t imagine him being cheated by a peddler now. “How old were you?”
“It was during my eighth winter when I took my first sword to the citadel. It was my fourteenth when I left Blackmoor. I haven’t made any attempts since my return.”
And he’d returned five years ago. Since then, he’d helped people leave this land—saving them from the man he couldn’t kill.
“Why did Barin allow it?”
“I amused him. And with my every failure, those who opposed him lost heart. Everyone knew a blade didn’t cut his skin, boiling oil didn’t burn him, and that he could drink poison by the barrel.”
“When I saw the debtors leashed in his hall, I vowed upon my blood to see him dead.”
A dry laugh broke from him. “You shouldn’t have been so hasty.”
Perhaps not. But she couldn’t regret it. Instead she tried to imagine a young boy marching into that hall each day, determined to destroy a warlord who only viewed his attempts as entertainment.
And failing each time. “You lost heart, too?”
“No. I realized that I couldn’t succeed alone. So I left Blackmoor and hired out my sword until I’d earned enough to pay for my own soldiers. I returned with them five years ago.”
She’d known he was an honorable warrior. Now her admiration knew no end. “Where are your men?”
Grim memory hardened his eyes when he looked to her again. “We came upon the demon tusker. Those who weren’t killed then were later killed by Barin.”
“But not you.”
“I still amuse him.”
That couldn’t be the only reason. Men like Barin never took offenses against them lightly. No matter how Kavik had amused him as a boy, hiring an army of mercenaries to challenge his rule should have ended in Kavik’s torture or death. Instead the warlord hurt anyone who helped Kavik—and although that must be torture of a sort for Kavik, why did Barin bother?
“But why does it amuse him to hurt you? He doesn’t even hurt you, he hurts others. You wouldn’t even take water from Telani. And I didn’t expect you to take the gelding.”
Though now that she thought of it, a sharp pang struck her chest. She wasn’t afraid of the warlord, but Kavik’s refusing her help and warning her away from Barin had mattered. Did he not care anymore whether Barin tried to hurt her?
His expression had iced over again. “You’re on a quest to bring me to him on a leash. You’re the last person he would harm now.”
The ache in her chest eased. So he’d accepted the gelding because he thought she was safe. “But why you? Even if he was amused by a boy, why single you out in such a way?”
Mouth flat, he looked to her, then to Shim. “Tell me how you tamed him.”
Caught unawares by the change of topic, she only stared stupidly back at him—until Shim seemed to realize Kavik was talking about him. The stallion’s head shot up, and he reared toward the warrior, trumpeting an outraged neigh. The black gelding balked and shied. Kavik rode out his mount’s fright smoothly, the heavy muscles of his thighs tightening on the horse’s sides, his big hands easy on the reins.
“Shim isn’t tamed,” Mala snapped. She smoothed her palm down the stallion’s tense neck. Shim was snorting air like a bellows. “He’s my friend and my companion.”
“You ride him.”
And now he trembled with rage beneath her. Was Kavik trying to anger Shim so much that the stallion would attack him? Even now, Shim probably only held back because he might injure the gelding. Fortunately, Mala had traveled with the stallion long enough to know exactly how to deflect his anger. She leaned over to scratch his shoulder, just where she knew he liked it, and fondly teased him, “Because he’s weak-minded and easily led by his stomach.”
Laughing, she rode through the stiff-legged hop and buck that was the stallion’s response.
Kavik tensed and reached for her, then seemed to realize she wasn’t going to be tossed. He frowned at Shim, then his gaze went to Mala’s hands when she let go of the stallion’s mane. “No bridle or reins?”
“Of course not.” Mala didn’t know if Shim would kill her if she ever tried to put a bit in his mouth, but he’d certainly see it as a betrayal. Losing his trust could never be worth having the security of reins. She scratched his neck again. “We came across each other in the highlands west of Krimathe shortly after I set out on my quest. I told him he was beautiful, and that I thought he would enjoy traveling with me, because there’d be bandits to kill. I assumed that he disliked humans, just as so many others born of Hanan’s seed do.”
Shim snorted again, as if to say that “disliked” wasn’t a strong enough word.
Kavik smiled faintly. “But not you?”
“He did then. He blew air at me and walked on.”
“What did you do?”