Wings Over Tremeirchson
Page 9
Chapter 5: Opening
The next day the air shimmered with excitement. The mist stayed above the mountains, and Neste pushed away yesterday’s doubts. Some years the swirling gray made visibility treacherous during the Dance of Welcome. This year the weather promised to be good. The horses snorted and stamped, eager to fly, and grooms as well as riders scurried to and fro. Blue and silver trappings covered horses and riders. They all lived for the Aerial Games, their time to show off what rider and horse could do. Barn rivalries would be decided for another year, and patrons would invest in the winners.
Brushed until her coat glowed with good health, Llawen took Neste’s breath away. “She looks great,” she told Isabella.
“Two treats for the Dance of Welcome,” Isabella told the mare. She kissed the velvet nose as she held out the treats.
“You spoil her,” Neste teased.
Robyn led Mallt out, and Neste looked the mare over critically. The extra brushing and feed had improved the dull coat. She didn’t shine like Llawen, but her feet pranced and she kept her head up. Neste nodded to Adam in satisfaction, but it was Robyn who smiled with pride.
Then the time arrived to form up and take off. Marc believed they should celebrate the Dance of Welcome, so he never planned a complicated routine. The horses swooped and circled as they showed off for the spectators below them. Clad in colors to match those of their favorite barns, townspeople and visitors cheered for horses and riders as they passed overhead.
Neste pushed trepidation over the Humminghorse Dance out of her head. Smiling widely, she waved to the crowd as Llawen dipped a wing. Thunderous cheering erupted from a group of spectators clad in blue and silver. Above Marc’s barn, the green and gold tunics of Morgan’s riders executed their own routine. On the ground, people dressed in green and gold cheered them. Beyond his horses, seven other barns flew. A sky full of colorful tunics and wings, echoed by the colors on the ground, gladdened Neste.
All too soon, the Dance of Welcome came to an end and the horses began to land at the nine barns. Neste spotted her brother, clad in the scarlet and gold of his barn. He didn’t look as nervous as a first-time participant should be. She took off her helmet and waved and smiled at him, hoping to give him some encouragement. He waved back, but didn’t approach.
Riders called to each other, “Better stay home tomorrow! Our horses are so good we’ll sweep you from the sky!”
“Not as long as there’s breath in my horse,” they called back. Good natured taunting was as much as part of the Games as the hours of preparation and the colored tunics.
Morgan’s horses landed next to them. The wind from their wings swept over Neste and loosened her braid from its twist. The rope of hair swung free as she urged Llawen forward out of the way.
“Watch where you land that beast!” Hoel shouted at Morgan.
“Get your team out of my way!” Morgan called back, his voice ringing with authority.
Neste dismounted quickly and positioned herself and Llawen between the two men. Nothing friendly lurked in this particular rivalry. Hoel stuffed Lleu’s reins into her hand and brushed past her. Neste held both horses and swallowed in dread.
“Now that you’re barn leader it’s acceptable to land on top of another barn?” Hoel demanded.
Morgan dismounted swiftly and ripped his helmet off. His short hair was blond, but darker than Adam’s. He stood with his feet apart, legs rigid. “Of course not. I landed when and where I was supposed to. You were too slow getting out of the way. But then, you aren’t a barn leader so maybe you don’t know the importance of timing when a hundred horses are in the air.”
Nose to nose, the two men radiated enough rage to disturb the horses. Morgan’s stallion laid his ears back and screamed at Lleu, who tried to rear. Neste held him tight although the leather rein bit into her hand.
“Hoel, stop it,” she said, trying for a calm firm tone. “You’re upsetting Lleu.”
Morgan smiled at Neste and was about to say something, probably a greeting, but Hoel interrupted by stepping between them. He snapped, “We’ll settle this in the air. Our barn is set to crush you this year.”
“Don’t make threats you can’t back up, son of a barn leader.” Morgan turned away before Hoel could say any more and led his stallion back to the biggest barn in town.
Hoel sputtered and cursed as he stormed back to his father’s barn. Neste followed with both horses, leading them past Lord Farley and his son. Dressed in blue silk tunics heavily embroidered with silver, the patrons stood with their chins lifted high above the riders and grooms. For the horses, however, they smiled and nodded in approval.
Just inside the barn, Marc frowned as he approached his son. “If they are to respect you, you need to be an example. You will remember that the patron provides our barn’s existence.”
Neste sucked in a breath. Clearly he hadn’t heard the altercation between his son and Morgan. His father’s reaction wouldn’t encourage Hoel.
“Your barn.” Hoel snorted. He shook his head. “Not for long. Morgan’s father has already given over the leadership to his son. Why do you cling to the glory days of your past?”
Neste gasped, then hid her face in Llawen’s mane. She heard Marc’s even tone slice through her betrothed. “Morgan has proven to be capable of leadership. You have not. I will not retire and watch you turn many generations of barn leadership into a farce. Now put a smile on your face. Lord Farley is outside, and he’s got his own son with him. Seems he, too, is training his replacement.” His eyes narrowed as he stared at his son. “I wonder how it’s going for him?”
For a moment father and son glared at each other. Hoel broke first. He turned on his boot heel and stalked down the barn, his back stiff, his hands clenching Lleu’s rein.
Marc turned to Neste, and his gaze softened. “He’s a good man.”
“I know that, syr.”
“You’re good for him. The two of you will be a formidable pair, leading my barn into the next generation.”
Neste dropped her eyes to the ground and twisted Llawen’s rein in both hands. “You’re a good leader, syr. I am honored you and Da chose me to be your son’s helpmate.”
“I only hope he knows your worth. I’d better not keep Lord Farley waiting.” Marc nodded to her in dismissal and left the barn.