Daughter Of The Wind --Western Wind

by Sandra Elsa

  They rode outside the city, following the crowds to the practice fields. Trace led the way to a relatively quiet corner of the field. He pointed out Captain Farren, already there, waiting for them.

  As soon as Trace introduced her the captain looked at her and said, “Since you’re already mounted… Why didn’t you come with a saddle?” he asked.

  “I don’t own one,” she answered, “I’ve just started riding my horse, so until recently I had no need.” She didn’t mention that recently was yesterday. Even with that omission the Captain rolled his eyes back, then glared at Trace, “Why am I wasting my time? I thought you told me she was ready to go with you.”

  He started to walk away and Angel took matters into his own hooves. He darted around the captain and slid to a stop, reared in the air and pushed himself off the ground. During all this, Bella remained perfectly seated.

  Captain Farren turned back around and said, “I guess we could issue her a saddle.”

  He ordered them over to the archery range and Bella and Trace dismounted. She grabbed the bow from her back and nocked an arrow, the Captain ordered her to fire at the closest target. As she sank arrows into the center of the target he had her fire at targets further and further away, until she was shooting at the one farthest away. She never missed. The captain turned to Trace and said, “You didn’t lie, she is very good with a bow. Very well, knives now.” She removed her dagger from her belt and it caught the captain’s eye. “That looks like Army issue,” he said.

  “It was given to me by the man who trained me to use it. A border guard who lives close to Trell.”

  They ran some drills with the knife and while the Captain was nowhere near as impressed as he had been with her archery skills, he leaned over towards Trace, and Bella overheard his muttered, “She’ll do.”

  By this time, between the workout she was getting and nerves, she was dripping sweat in spite of the cool temperature. Captain Farren allowed a short rest.

  Along the field, soldiers had been coming and going most of the morning, her archery trials had gathered a fair crowd, but they had dispersed during the more mundane knife drills, some stayed to watch. Most notable was one of the soldiers that she had seen her first morning in the city. One of the highly competent unit that had been given ‘right of way’ as they marched down the street. The one that stood now in her crowd wore captain’s rank pinned to his uniform, and he followed every move she made.

  When Captain Farren declared the break over he pointed to the sword. She drew the weapon—also army issue—and ran perfectly through the drills Dylan had taught her. She continued into the more intricate maneuvers Conall had instructed her in.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Trace. He looked immensely relieved. The captain in the crowd became very interested. He spoke to Captain Farren then sent a private scrambling. Captain Farren ordered Bella to stand down. She sheathed the sword and relaxed.

  The private returned carrying two wooden practice swords. She assumed that if she had to spar it would be against Trace. She knew all the moves but the only time she ever sparred against someone it had been young Jon. When the black uniformed captain took the second sword from the private, her heart dropped to her stomach, she was not ready for this. Without warning he attacked. A yelp escaped her throat before she clamped her lips shut. Instinct alone prevented a very quick end to the match, from his initial brutal flurry of strokes.

  He withdrew briefly and she collected her scattered wits enough to form a good defense. The match went on for what seemed to her an interminable amount of time. She was sure that after the first attack he was taking it easy on her. As he tried one attack after the other, the patterns Conall taught her came fully into play. Seeing no end in sight, she started to look less toward defending herself, and more for an opening to strike back at him. He was very good and very practiced. He didn’t leave openings. She feinted, cutting in low. Her initiative in taking the offensive threw him out of his practiced routine. For just a split second he was off balance. She drove at him with a flurry of strokes so rapid they could barely be followed, pressing her advantage. Finally she landed an overhand stroke on his right shoulder. Not a killing blow but it would have disabled him if they had been using steel.

  He stopped, dropping the tip of his practice blade towards the ground, “Very well fought,” he said tersely. “Who taught you?”

  She glanced at Trace, and the apprehension in his eyes told her not to mention Conall. “A border guard named Dylan Marner,” she answered. “I stayed with him while I nursed his son back to health. In exchange he taught me to defend myself.”

  The name brought recognition into the eyes of both the captains facing her. “When were you with him?”

  She lied without hesitation. “Nearly a year ago. Why do you ask?”

  “We have dealt with Sergeant Marner recently. If I’d realized he could train recruits so well I might have offered him a position when my men met him. Do you think he‘d be interested?”

  The Captain of the elite group watched her closely, his gaze drifting occasionally to Trace, watching for reaction from either one of them.

  Trace knew nothing, Bella was not afraid he would contradict her, still she clung to a reasonable version of the truth. “He lives on his wife’s farm. They have a young son. He seemed to enjoy his life very much. He was injured in a campaign several years ago and remained there to recover, I doubt very much that he wishes to leave.” Bella tried to discourage the Captain from the idea of returning to speak to Dylan.

  “What was wrong with Sergeant Marner‘s son that you had to nurse him back to health?”

  Bella thought fast, with only a brief pause, she said, “He cut his leg open and it got infected. His mother was thinking they might have to remove the leg but I knew some herbal compresses that cured the infection. It took more than a month but we had him up and about with two good legs.” There that ought to be safe from being interpreted as Healing instead of healing.

  “Sergeant Marner told us a healer was staying at his house just before my men arrived. Stitched up a prisoner, we had gone to collect.” The black clad captain shook his head angrily. “That was a waste of our time. He hasn’t said a word of sense since he arrived here. I gather the healer did not know how to keep infection from the wound. He raves about fairytale princes and changelings but says nothing worth the hearing. I would hate to think that misbegotten healer had been you.”

  “I lay claim to no more than being an herbalist. No healer can cure all wounds. If this man was already badly off even a Healer with magic may not have been able to save him.” Bella averted her glance from the captains, seeking out Trace instead. What had Johann done to the poor man? She had not noticed anything wrong with him when they left.

  Her attention was drawn back to the man in front of her by his angry question. “What rank are you, and why are you out of uniform?”

  She remained calm, this question she had a truthful answer for. “I have not yet enlisted. Therefore I have neither rank nor uniforms,” she responded, emboldened because she knew that this man, no matter how many soldiers he might command, did not have any say over what she did or did not do.

  “Who is your sponsor then that you’re out here on the military training field?”

  From beside her, Trace spoke up, his tone of voice was much meeker than hers had been. “That would be me, Sir. She’s my sister. My grandfather charged me with her care, but I must return to my unit shortly and Captain Farren agreed to send her with me if she passed muster on weapons testing and horsemanship.”

  “Horsemanship? I missed that.” He looked back at Bella. “Would you mind doing a repeat performance?”

  She didn’t miss the fact that he now couched his orders in the form of a request, treating her as a civilian.

  The duel had taken a lot out of her. Exhausted, she was sorely tempted to tell him no, but the expression on Trace’s face said the whole plan could hinge on this man’s opinion. So
mehow the decision had been taken away from Captain Farren.

  She glanced at Angel as Conall told her, “Whistle for him.”

  She whistled and Angel awoke from his nap and came towards her as though trained to respond. She nearly laughed, Angel and Conall were playing it up. Pinning his ears at the man in the black uniform, Angel laid down for her to mount. Bella caught the envious looks of some of the other young men and women, destined to be foot soldiers. She was learning to roll with his motion. She helped him stand with ease.

  Conall was in her mind. “Relax your body, grip with your legs and just stay with him. Angel plans a show.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” she thought back at him.

  She did as she was instructed, just staying out of Angel’s way, freeing up his muscles. He started with a showy trot, nearly in place, extremely collected. Next he went into a canter, also very collected he cantered a very small tight circle. At the end he went into the center and repeated the move he had done for Captain Farren earlier. This time at the peak of the leap his hooves struck out as though to crush an opponent’s helm. He went from this move, into a leap into the air in which he struck out both forward and back with his hooves. Despite his best effort, he jostled her some doing this maneuver. If Conall had not warned her to grip with her legs she may have been lost.

  When he returned to the ground, Angel took off down the practice field at an incredible speed, slid to a stop and did a one hundred eighty degree turn before he finished sliding. He returned at the same speed and slid to a stop directly in front of the Captain, snorting at him. She loosened her legs, but did not have the strength to stand so she remained seated.

  “Nicely done,” he said.

  He was staring at Angel and it was no longer just the young privates who were envious. “Would you allow me to try him?”

  Trace looked worried, turning down this man could be the end of their plan but allowing him to try could well be the end of him.

  The answer came from Conall, “Angel says to let him try. He promises not to kill him.” This last came with laughter behind the thought.

  She slowly dismounted allowing her rubbery legs a moment to solidify before she stopped leaning on Angel. It was only fair to warn the Captain, so she told him, “I'm the only one who’s ever ridden him and we have a… let’s call it, an understanding. I don’t use whips or spurs or any sort of cruelty, and he gives me what I require. I do not tell him what to do, I ask.” Silently she thought to Conall, “He does what he darn well feels like doing, I just sit there and pray to the horse god, Chevor.”

  With laughter, Conall said, “It would probably do you much more good to pray to Eina, the Goddess of the unicorns.”

  Angel refused to lie down for the Captain to mount. To his credit, the leap that would have placed him on any other horse’s back was graceful...until Angel sidestepped out from under him. He managed to recover and land on his feet, glaring at Bella as though this was something she’d trained Angel to do; but she was innocent. On his third attempt, Angel allowed him to land where he wanted too. A touch of magic shored up the immature vertebrae and made the landing something like leaping straddle legged on a rock. The captain hid the explosion of pain well, but Conall relayed it to Bella.

  The man was a skilled rider. That was obvious, but Angel would have nothing to do with it. When the Captain finally convinced Angel to move forward, it was a very slow ambling walk. None of the proud warhorse that had been displayed moments ago. He looked far more like a farm horse; barely fit to be hooked to a plow. When the Captain asked for a trot, Angel did in fact trot. But even with her basic lack of knowledge, Bella could tell it was a bone-jarring, earth-shaking, trot that the captain worked extremely hard to ride. Angel stopped in front of Bella and the man slid from his back.

  “Don’t have to worry about him being stolen from you, do you?” he asked with an unexpected touch of humor.

  “To tell the truth,” Bella told him, “you’re very fortunate to still be walking and breathing. He was doing me a favor to let you on in the first place.” With that warning, Angel had been patient long enough. The words were no sooner out of her mouth than his head snaked around and hit the Captain in the shoulder, the same place Bella had struck with the sword. Angel’s mouth was closed so there wasn’t any broken skin or torn muscle but there would be bruising.

  One warning strike was enough. With a muffled curse, the Captain quickly moved out of range. Turning to Captain Farren he said, “See me this evening.” Turning back to Trace and Bella he added, “You too. Immediately following mess.” With that he left.

  Captain Farren dismissed them. Trace saluted, then they mounted their horses and left, before somebody decided they wanted to see something else. Angel walked with care, sensing her exhaustion.

  “I just want to get clean and go to sleep,” she said, and Angel headed for the inn. On the way, they passed the black clad captain. He had his troops in formation and they were headed back into town. His right arm did not swing as freely as the left. Trace saluted him as they went by and the salute was returned smartly.

  “At least he doesn’t seem to be upset by his ride,” Trace said.

  “At least he’s still alive,” she returned. “Conall informed me, Angel promised to let him live, before I agreed to allow him to try. That was all their doing.”

  Once again a path opened in front of Angel, and Trace followed close behind. When they arrived back at the stables Angel walked in, nosed open his stall and laid down for her to gently dismount. She was grateful for this courtesy because her legs were rebelling at the idea of holding her weight. Months of walking hadn’t prepared her for such strenuous exercise.

  The task of riding, no matter how easy Angel made it for her, stretched her legs in ways they had never stretched before. Her rump was in pain.

  Still, she stood on wobbly legs and groomed him before she sought the peace of her room.

  Gathering her clothing she went to the inn’s bath, delighted to find that despite the early hour, the water in the copper basin was warm. She soaked her weary body until the water cooled. Then she dragged herself out of the bath and back up the steps to fall gracelessly in her bed.

  She was asleep before she landed. She was awakened by the door creaking open. At first her sleep-befuddled mind figured Trace or Johann had returned, but the steps crossing the room were furtive. They were headed straight toward her. With as little motion as possible she reached under her pillow for the throwing knives she kept there. The first one thudded into the door as a warning. She sat up and confronted the intruder.

  Chapter 25