The Horse In The Mirror

by Lisa Maxwell

  Chapter 12

  Is could tell they were getting close. John was tense with excitement. He turned often to smile at her. His mood was infectious and she began to lose her apprehension.

  At one point, John stopped his horse and waved in the direction of a wooded hillside. Is could see no one there. They continued on, descending the final pass and wending their way through a labyrinth of boulders. Eventually they came out into a land of rolling meadows where the grass was thick and tall. The mare picked up her pace, either because she felt John's excitement or because she knew where they were.

  Suddenly the horses threw up their heads and stopped. The mare whinnied. Four horsemen erupted into view, galloping dead at them. Lark tossed his head and began to prance. The mare whinnied and went forward at a high springy trot. Lark followed immediately, his trot thrusting him high off the ground with each extravagant stride. Is needed all her skill to keep from bouncing in the saddle.

  Just as a collision seemed imminent, the four approaching horses sat back into their haunches and slid to a stop. Their hooves gouged the ground. The riders were already vaulting off their horses backs as John threw himself from his mare. Lark reared, unable to contain himself, then came into a trot in place. Is could feel the suppressed power running through his body, about to erupt in some fashion. At the same time she took in the refined bridle-less heads of the horses, their sleek coats and well-muscled bodies. All the men ran together, embracing, laughing, and shouting John's name.

  As John's mare moved to touch noses with the other horses, Lark sprang to cut her off. Is knew better than to try to control him. He kept his position between his mare and the other horses, prancing and snorting, until the lead mare of that group came forward to touch noses.

  The other horses started to come too but one of the men gave a shrill whistle. The horses halted as if anchored to the ground. Is realized she and Lark were the center of attention. She hoped he wouldn't do anything too disorderly. John's people would not think much of her horsemanship - she who was an expert among her own people.

  At least none of the other horses seemed to be stallions. Apparently Is and John had been seen and this contingent of riders had come out to meet them. Since Lark was obviously a berserker’s horse, and all war horses were stallions, the people had known better than to ride stallions to meet them. Even so, Lark’s presence could get the mares squealing, kicking, and running around, and it would be dangerous to be on his back. John motioned for her to come to him. Well, she could no more control Lark from where she was than she could from down there and it would be safer to be out of the way. Is vaulted from Lark's back, and careful to stay out of range of the nearest mare's feet, went to stand beside John.

  Left on his own, Lark circled the mares in an exaggerated high trot. The mares began to mill around and there was a lot of squealing, striking, and kicking as the horses sorted one another out.

  The men made no further attempt to control their mounts. They laughed good-naturedly and made short comments on the mares’ behavior or admiring remarks about Lark as they withdrew a distance to let the horses have room for their displays.

  They watched the horses until it seemed they were going to settle down to grazing. Then everyone's attention came to focus on Is, making it impossible for her to ignore her fear. Every time she had been thrust into a new place with new people it had not gone well. They had not liked her or wanted her.

  Suddenly John caught her arm and pulling her to him he hugged her hard.

  Is was too surprised to react. When he released her, he turned her so she was facing the man who seemed to be the leader of the band. Is stood awkwardly, but knew that John had presented her as best he could without words. His hands rested on her shoulders and Is could feel him trembling. In a moment he could lose control.

  "He can't talk," Is blurted. "The Alliance did something to him, tortured him and made it so he can't say anything he wants to say. And sometimes he goes crazy, but he isn't really. He can't help it. He's trying to help you. You've got to give him a chance." She stopped in embarrassment. Here she was frantically defending John to his own people who obviously knew more about all this stuff with the Alliance than she did. They would think her some sort of imbecile. She couldn't even take refuge in her superior ability with horses here. Not with these people.

  All four men were looking at her very curiously. The leader took a step forward. "Thank you for telling us this."

  He had such an aura of poise and control about him that Is settled immediately.

  "John is my brother." His voice was sensual, like the sounds of nature. Compassion radiated from him. The way he pronounced "John" sounded like "Hon."

  "We are the Hluit," he said. "My name is Ondre. You would say Andrew." He looked at John with his hands still on Is's shoulders. Then he said something in a language that sounded like birdcalls. Is heard one of the other men draw in his breath, obviously surprised.

  "I have pledged to value you as my brother values you, even should my tribe turn me aside. This I have said before warriors of my people."

  Is knew she had been accorded a very high honor but she didn't know what to do or say. Ondre rescued her again.

  "Come," he said to everyone in general, "let's go home." He turned to Is. "Then you can tell us your story, if you will."

  One of the other men laughed, breaking what was left of the tension. "If the horses are ready to allow us to catch them," he said, which gave the others an opening to comment on his lack of horsemanship.

  Is felt her insides tighten, waiting for the cruelty behind their seemingly easy words. Instead the man grinned and said his mare had very good taste in stallions and he wouldn't blame her a bit if she wasn't ready to be caught. He gave Is a big wink and she saw how his eyes danced and that he was not hurt at all by the other men’s words. But the mares were easily caught and mounted and Is wondered if, having seen her lack of control of Lark, they would be willing to accept her as they would an apprentice and teach her their horsemanship.

  As they rode, the one who had been kidded came to ride beside her. He had a round face that looked as if it should always be smiling, and his body was soft-looking compared to the sinewy toughness of the other men. But his horsemanship looked excellent to Is. He introduced himself as Petre and the others as Don - which they pronounced with an "h" like Dhon - and Phol. They all bantered in a friendly manner as they rode, teasing one another about their mares' behavior, and even teasing John about not being able to talk and thus defend himself from their humor.

  Is felt totally adrift. She had never been around people who treated one another as these did. They seemed to include her so naturally, yet she couldn't trust it. She kept waiting for the cruelty behind their humor.

  John was grinning like a fox. He loved these people, and was loved by them. He is home, Is thought, and tried to understand what that meant in terms of what "home" had been to her – the farm with her parents. But that had been a long time ago and she never let herself remember too much because the memories could only bring pain.

  She was not allowed much time to reflect. The men were chattering on, telling John all kinds of news. Someone had married. Someone had had a child. Someone had died. And other stuff that made no sense to Is.

  The teasing took a new turn as they began kidding John about the condition of his mare.

  "Celeste, he's been mistreating you," one of the men addressed the mare directly. "You ought to come live with my herd." It was true that next to the people's sleek well-rounded animals John’s mare appeared underfed. But John just grinned even bigger and sent Celeste into a canter that quickly escalated into a gallop as everyone followed suit. Is had no choice but to let Lark run with them. Soon they were flying over the ground in a dead run with John's mare well out in front. Is guessed that was his answer to the teasing.

  When the village came into sight they slowed to a respectable
trot. A crowd was gathering at the outskirts of the tents. Horses grazed around the edges and there were herds farther out on the hills. Kids came cantering out to meet them, drumming their heels on the sides of thick-bellied brood mares who obviously had no desire to gallop. Lark arched and danced but seemed willing to let Is control him.

  Suddenly a woman broke from the crowd and rushed at them on foot. John jumped from Celeste's back and ran to her. They came together and John lifted her off the ground and spun around and around with her in his arms. Then the other people rushed forward to surround him. Is noticed the way John kissed the woman before he released her, and she felt the odd twisting sensation of pain she had come to associate with the departure of one of her horses. Then the people were on top of John, everyone hugging him and talking at once. And Is saw that the way these people kissed him, and the way he kissed them, was different from the way he had kissed the one woman.

  Is was angry with herself. She should have known John was married. That would explain why he had never tried to touch her. That, and the fact that she wasn't pretty like his tribe's women with their light hair. Nor was she cultured like the women that a high Alliance official must know. She was just a rude country seed. And not only had John had other women, he’d had great women. Of course he had not been interested in her. Is tried to put her foolishness away. These people were to be her people now. She should not start by resenting them.

  She looked around and met Petre's eyes. He had stayed at her side. He leaned toward her now so she would hear him and said softly, "Welcome to our village. I hope your stay here will be happy, and long."

  She found herself smiling. It was good to have someone talk to her.