by Alisha Basso
“How you look at her. This has crossed your mind, I know. I see the pain in your heart.”
“As I see the pain in you when you look at Malek.” He set his jaw. “My pain is not your concern. I will speak to Queen Naele about disrequiring you both.”
He began to walk away, but she stopped him again, speaking more sharply. “Do not dismiss me. It is my concern. I practically raised you and could not love you more if you were my own.” She paused, softened, tamped her own internal blaze. “You are my concern. Our queen will not release you easily, no, but if this is what you desire—what you need—then you must request it.”
“What I need is what we all need—for our Lady Horsecaller to call the horses.”
“Stubborn man. Search your heart.” She laid her palm against his chest. “I know it is in there. Battered, but…” She cocked her head as if listening, then said, “Yes, still beating.”
He covered her hand with his. True, his heart still pushed blood through his body. But it had been hardened so long, it scarcely knew how to feel. How welcome it would be to sink into the comfort of another. To forget for a while. And in that forgetting, strike flint against steel and catch the spark of remembrance. But Artepa’s familiar touch, tender and caring though it was, would not do it.
“She returns!” Malek called from the entrance to the grove.
Leinos turned his head toward Lauren like a sage drawn to ground. She carried her cloak over her arm and her boots in her hand. He had seen her frightened and angry, troubled, tired. She had smiled and even laughed, but he would never have described her in those moments as happy. Nor would he use that word now. She looked thoughtful, calm, nonplussed.
The horse followed closely, but when they reached the entrance, he wheeled and tore back into the dark of the grove with a high-pitched noise that echoed through the wood. The Horsecaller did not notice or did not mind. She walked straight up to the Supreme Guardian.
“Where is our fur? I need to lie down.”
He heard what she said, but the word our struck him mute. He had built a fire a little ways from the others and put a fur there for her, knowing she wished to be alone. Or had wished to be alone. He would not question this now. Her demeanor was distracted. Whatever she experienced at the spring had turned her inward, and she clearly needed to rest. She might not notice at the moment, but she would soon be chilled. Her bare feet were pink with the cold.
“This way,” was all he could manage. Her toenails were red. She asked for their fur as if she expected to share it with him. The notion of sleeping without her had unsettled him. He had not realized how much. He could not remember ever feeling this…uncertain.
“There are fish,” she said. “Lots. I couldn’t carry them.”
He signaled and all but one guard took off for the spring and the promise of full bellies. He relieved her of her boots, slung her cloak around her shoulders and led the way. Tucked her in when they reached the site. Stoked the fire. Intended to return to the others.
“Stay,” she said, a thready whisper. “If you don’t mind.”
Mind? He lay beside her. She rooted under his arm and he put it around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. Could it be that she had encountered the goddess?
Her body gave off nearly as much heat as the fire. She placed her hand over his heart as Artepa had earlier. The sensation was completely different. He inhaled deeply just to feel the weight of it rise and fall with his chest. To be sure she was really here, cradled against him. He had not missed the comfort of another. That was part of being Supreme Guardian—relinquishing his needs to care for everyone else.
This had never been a burden, but now his senses spun with the rightness of her muscles and bones relaxed against his, the scent of spring water in her hair, her breath against his neck, the steady rhythm of her heart. With fear of his growing need for her. He could pretend he was providing her comfort and nothing more. It would be a lie.
“Should I tell you what happened?” she asked.
He took another deep breath and tightened his hold on her. “Only if you need to.”
“You want to know.”
“I know it was more than a cleansing soak in the spring. That much is evident in your manner.”
“And my manner is what?”
“Distant. Lit from within. As if you soared beyond the worries of your world and mine in this life and the next.”
She nodded. “I think I did.”
“Yet you chose to return to us.”
“I…I’m not sure I had a choice.”
She bent her knee and drew her thigh along his, nearly lifting him off the ground. It was as if his body recognized a missing piece and rejoiced. This, he was certain, was not her intent. He did not think she even noticed him as a person just then. As a man. He tried to push away thoughts of lying like this without layers of fabric separating them, the soft soft skin of her inner thigh against him. To be accurate, when he pledged to become Supreme Guardian of Cirq, he had only relinquished satisfying his needs.
He had seen her favor that leg, though, particularly in the morning, suspected stiffness in her hip. Most likely, she was merely easing that achy joint. He would give his attention to it later, while she slept.
“You would choose to return to your world if you could.”
She neither confirmed nor denied that for some time. Finally, she said, “I don’t know,” and gave a startled laugh. “This will sound a little crazy, but I’m not sure where home is or what’s real.”
“This moment is real, my lady. And this.” He covered her delicate hand with his, pressing it to his pounding heart.
“Please just call me Lauren.”
They stayed that way for some time, their hands clasped over his heart, their breaths aligning. He felt her relax deeper into him, dozing.
He did neither.
~~~
Rezol’s band of yekerk returned from their foray. Raver’s keep had yielded nothing. They had penetrated deeper, destroyed a village, and seen nothing unusual. But he did not feed them so they would think. Something was happening in Cirq, he could feel it, and he would not take any chances.
On the southeast face of the mountain, the side that looked toward Cirq, Rezol prepared them. Sending so many again constituted high risk, but he must smash whatever resistance the Cirqians mounted before it grew. They were a highly independent people, well trained to wage war, even if they chose not to.
“Go slowly. Look for anything odd,” he ordered, and set in their minds images of horses.
As these visions took hold, the yekerk flapped their stubby wings, hopped up and down, and squawked. Their collective memory remembered the taste of horse blood.
Rezol watched them with disgust. He disliked using them, but it was necessary. Images of the horses flashed before his eyes. He knew little of them, and yet…
“No horse killing,” he commanded.
He had begun to think he could make use of their strength, if he could find a way to bring them to Tinnis. A Horsecaller might turn up eventually. If he already had the horses, the Horsecaller would have to come to him.
“Kill the people around the horses, except—”
How to make them distinguish a Horsecaller if there was one? No, had a Horsecaller surfaced, he would know. The sages and crones would be too excited. One would let a thought escape.
“Kill them all.”
Red feathers floated through the air as more than a score of yekerk took to the sky.
Chapter 14
BY lunchtime, Lauren and her escort made their way to the base of the mountains. As they descended, a headache drove deep roots into Lauren’s skull. It grew worse the closer they came to their next landmark—the Resting Plains—and an inexplicable grief enveloped her. She rubbed her temples and eyes and let Pindar pick his own way. The fragments of peace and confidence she’d grasped the night before turned to vapor, slipped her hold. Pindar grew restive as well, swishing his tail and grinding his teet
h.
The ever-present overcast didn’t help. Although they’d left behind the bitter cold of high altitude, spring had not sprung. Gray sky, gray soil. What small amounts of vegetation grew…also gray.
Her mood…blacker by the moment.
The way widened as they traveled through shallow foothills. Malek had been at Pindar’s side whenever he could, but had skipped forward to walk with Armody for a time. Artepa stayed at Leinos’s side. Lauren found herself with Pheeso for company.
“Why do you do this?” the old man asked.
He kept his gaze forward, so all she could see was the top of his head through thinning gray hair.
“What do you mean?”
“You give false hope to him.”
“The Supreme Guardian?”
“All of them.”
She really was not in the mood. “But not to you.”
“This cannot work.”
He carried on as if he’d been thinking about this for a while and didn’t care if or how she responded. It hadn’t occurred to her that some in their party might not be on the same page.
“You don’t know that,” she said. After meeting The All, she had to admit that anything was possible, and there was much—so much—she didn’t know.
“Queen Naele will not allow it,” he said.
“I guess we have to try.”
He stopped and finally looked up at her, confusion and fear contorting his broad face. “But why? Why do you go along with it? Why do you want to try?”
The last was a fair question. “I don’t see how I have any choice. He wouldn’t let me leave the first time, and you blocked my way the second time I tried to get away. So, don’t blame me. It’s not as if I came here on my own and told you all it was time to find your horses.”
She huffed, had not realized that beneath her own fear and confusion, there was also anger. It was her turn to carry on, not caring if or how he responded.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I was brought here against my will.”
“You should fight harder.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you don’t believe in calling the horses, tell him. Do not go on letting him think you can do it.”
“I don’t believe I can. I think I’ve made that clear.”
“Yet, you insist on trying.”
“I—”
Did she? Had she insisted? No. But she did want to try.
Holy hell.
She wanted to call the horses.
She wanted to please Leinos, to see him smile.
She wanted to do something good in her life for a change.
To be the hero.
Pheeso shook his head. “You do not have much longer. Once we meet up with the Horseguard, it will be too late to turn back.”
He stalked off. Was he right? Lauren glanced behind, imagining traversing the mountain alone. Should she make a run for it? Would Pindar allow it? The others were ahead. She tested her horse, taking one rein out to the side, guiding him around.
He jerked it out of her hand.
Her group stopped. Leinos watched her with narrowed eyes and slightly set jaw. That look had become too familiar. It was no small measure suspicion but largely curiosity mixed with annoyance at another delay. It imparted a clear understanding of her own thought process. It also conveyed a limit on his patience. She gave Pindar his head and he took them forward.
A little while later, they stopped to cook more fish, and she offered to take Malek for a ride. Pheeso’s accusations had unsettled her. A good gallop always cleared her head. Pindar needed to stretch his legs into something faster than walk, too. The boy hadn’t asked, but she knew he’d been itching to get on again. She’d give Armody a chance later.
The girl had been quiet and withdrawn, had just lost everyone and everything she’d known. Oh, yeah, so had Lauren. Almost. At least she had Pindar, even if he, too, seemed to have his own agenda. She would talk to the girl later. Perhaps their common plight would provide them both solace.
She dropped her heavy cloak and the awkward stave. After a couple of tries, Malek grabbed her arm and swung up to the horse’s broad back behind her. He adjusted the crossbow at his belt to hang to the side. He didn’t carry one of the long sticks.
“We won’t go far,” she told Leinos. Because she knew he was about to give her a warning of some kind.
There was the faintest twitch at one corner of his mouth. “Stay in sight,” he said. He laid his hand over Malek’s bony knee. “Take care of our Horsecaller.”
Malek slapped the back of his hand to his forehead in salute. Leinos saluted back.
“And you,” he said to Lauren, handing her the stave. “Keep this with you at all times.”
She stifled an annoyed sigh, took it, and squeezed Pindar’s sides with her legs, balancing the stick on her saddle’s pommel.
They walked for a minute. Dead grass stubble stretched as far as she could see. As if the entire land was dormant, just as Leinos had said. Would the horses really turn this around? She pushed thought away. They needed to move. She turned to Malek.
“We’re going to run. You need to hold on. Ready?”
He put his arms around her and nodded. She clucked and Pindar swung into a canter. He gave his head a playful toss and picked up speed.
Low brush along the foot of the mountains whizzed by. Lauren leaned low, gave the horse his head, and gave herself over to it. To cold wind squeezing water from her eyes, to Pindar’s mane lashing her chin, to the mundane meter of his bunching muscles, the cadence of pounding hooves. Sacred hooves, according to the prophecy.
Malek lay his cheek against her back and sank into the ride as if born to it.
Her headache fled, her body relaxed, she let go of the conversation with Pheeso.
He was afraid. She understood.
Pindar flattened his stride and stretched his neck and Lauren let an exuberant “woohoo!” escape. Malek giggled. She yelled to him not to fall off. He laughed harder. She joined in and had to slow the horse to a walk to catch her breath.
“You can’t laugh and ride at the same time.” She tried to sound stern, but her own laughter prevented it. She patted Pindar’s neck. He snorted a couple of times to clear out the cobwebs. They both felt better.
“We just did.” The boy’s laughter gradually subsided to snorts and hiccups.
Lauren blotted her eyes and nose on her sleeve.
“What is it like where you come from?” Malek asked.
Lifting her gaze from Pindar’s ears to look at their surroundings, she said, “It’s kind of like this in some places. Many, many more people. Lots of horses.” And dogs and cats. She missed her cats. And Steven’s dog, Jack. And her brother. And…she stopped herself. There was no point in wallowing in it. As Pindar had made clear, they were continuing forward.
She wanted to call the horses.
“No flying bird-men, thank goodness.”
They had traveled down an incline and lost sight of the others. She turned Pindar. And stopped. There, in their wake, the tiny white flowers, fully formed, as if they’d been there all along. But they hadn’t. She’d wondered but been afraid to backtrack in case it wasn’t true. In case it was true. She wasn’t sure which she feared more. But there they were. Glowing in the dull light. Impossible.
They walked on, following the trail of bright blossoms back the way they’d come.
After a bit, Malek whispered, “Will I have my own horse someday?”
She patted his leg. “I’m sure you will.”
“You are going to call the horses, then?” He sat up straight.
She cursed herself for the glib answer. It was ridiculous to think she would be able to lure back the mysterious horses. Yet, she had resigned herself to staying in Cirq and doing what she could. It was this small hope she gave Malek.
“I’ll do my best.”
He hugged her tighter.
Her stomach did a flip. How she had longed to feel a child’s arms around he
r, to hold her own. Never would she have guessed how sweet it would be, even though Malek was not hers.
She tried to empty her mind of all except images she could not banish—more dreams the night before of wild horses, running, a great cloud of dust around them—scenes accompanied by a yearning she couldn’t fathom. Early on in her life, she’d learned to stifle longing. It had started when her father left them when she was five. Her mother fell apart for a while. For a while, she’d had no one but her little brother. A three-year-old just wasn’t much help.
By the time she’d married a man who didn’t like horses and didn’t want children, she’d mastered the fine art of locking away her own needs and wants. But the burning ache in her dreams refused to be ignored or put away. What to do about it, how to satisfy it, that was another question.
Malek bobbed up and down behind her. “Let’s run again!”
Lauren had accomplished her goal—her headache was all but gone and her horse walked easily, head down and back long. “I think that’s enough for now.”
The boy deflated like a popped balloon.
Pindar came to an abrupt halt, pitching her and Malek forward. A large animal blocked their way, the size of a lion with a short, golden coat. A spiky rough tipped in black edged its thick neck.
“What the—” Lauren shortened the reins to back Pindar up. “What is that?”
Malek had turned to stone behind her. He gave his head a little shake. Not good.
Pindar lowered his head for a closer look and sniffed. The animal flinched but held its ground. It looked dangerous, but its body language spoke otherwise. It crept closer, belly to the ground. She pulled the big gray around and gestured sharply.
“Shoo!” she shouted as if it were a troublesome dog.
But it had eyes only for the horse and stayed put, wagging its short, stubby tail. Pindar took a step, stretched his neck, and the dog-lion licked the stallion’s nose then rolled over on its back. Everything about it gave the appearance of submission, but then it hopped to all fours, spun, and growled. An odd smell filled Lauren’s nostrils.
The unmistakable howl of a yekerk, a sound etched in memory, turned her blood to ice. Before she had time to think, one dropped in front of them. Pindar started backing. Another passed overhead. The dog-lion snarled, stole behind the flying demon and clamped powerful jaws on its leg.