by Alisha Basso
“You need the Horsecaller, you idiot. We need the horses. It will not avail us to have her harmed before she calls them. Do you understand?” He infused his tone with sage persuasion. Not enough to take over Rast’s mind, as he had with the guards, but sufficient to make him think the idea his own.
“I understand we must not allow Cirq the slightest advantage,” Rast persisted. “Give them the tiniest opening and they will swarm through. Before we know it, the very foundation of our country will be undermined beyond repair.”
That Cirq still represented a threat, Rezol would not argue, but where this unreasoned fear came from, he could not fathom. Still, feeding it and stroking Rast’s ego at the same time could work to his advantage.
“You are right, my King, they are a blight. Think what we could do if we had Cirq’s horses. Imagine how powerful you would be, how weak they would become. Taking the horses would suck the last breath from Cirq.”
“If only there were a way to get the horses here,” the king said.
“Yes, my liege. You should wait until the horses are called. Then, with my help, you can bring horses and Horsecaller here.”
“That would crush them completely,” Rast said, waving a fist. “Why have I not thought of this before?" He spun on Rezol. “Why have you not advised me on this? You should have known—never mind that.” Suddenly officious, he summoned a scribe. “I must withdraw the attack and stop Cirq’s Chancellor before she ruins everything. Get out of my way.”
Rezol bowed as Rast rushed out. “As you wish, my King."
It was too late to withdraw the attack, but even over distance, the sage could countermand the king’s orders to the small brigade of soldiers. Rezol placed in their minds the belief that hurting a horse or Horsecaller would anger the king. All knew the risk of provoking Rast. They would still attack. If they killed any of Cirq’s remaining military or her famed Supreme Guardian, he would be pleased.
As for the message already sent to Cirq’s chancellor, in the days it would take it to reach Lerom, much could go wrong. Hampered as he was by the risk of discovery, he could not change that. Tense with anger and frustration, he made his way back to his tower. If he could go to Cirq, he would surround the Horsecaller with an aegis for protection. Would Marzak think of that? He might, but do it? Never. Too unethical, too interfering.
If he did go to Cirq, he might find his daughter. Had he known about the aegis when younger, had he suspected what the sages of Elaz would do to his family, he would have wrapped his mate so solidly not even the great Lanizrac could have harmed her. Too late, always too late.
He knew little of Cirq’s Chancellor except that she sought the throne. With Rast’s help, she would be queen of Cirq. How quickly she might kill the Horsecaller was what worried him.
His gaze fell on a small stone statue of a horse, a spoil from the war waged by Tinnis two-hundred-and-two courses before. Would he be too late to save the Horsecaller and his own hopes for the future? After a moment, the horse began to glow, then burst into a thousand shards.
Chapter 27
UNDER cover of night, Lauren stuffed her pack with everything she could think of. There wasn’t much. She didn’t know exactly what she would need or for how long. She only knew she had to go. The twin moons had already set, and she stumbled more than once trying not to wake anyone. An unfamiliar combination of nerves and excitement made her legs jerk and wobble as if she walked on a trampoline.
To make it worse, Pindar stalked her like a curious cat, nudging her shoulder, nibbling her shirt and picking up the odd length of rope or scrap of cloth. He chewed each briefly as if to discern its worth, then dropped it.
His muzzle and lips were delicate tools, flexible as rubber and able to nose through weeds and brush to locate the tiniest clump of clover. Then, he could delicately nip off every stem at the base with his sharp front teeth. He could find her bra strap through her shirt and snap it without pinching her skin. There was no ignoring him when he wanted attention. Gently, she elbowed him back, then wondered if he was trying to tell her something.
Ever since jumping through the Ravery, the horse had become increasingly…aware, was the only word she could think of. Of himself, of her, of the environment—in the way all horses were—but more so. All horses were mindful of their surroundings, mainly to suss out threats. Survival demanded it. Thousands of years of domestication had changed nothing in that regard. What had changed was the way he used his awareness now, and how he communicated with her. Or tried.
Lauren tied a fur to the back of her saddle, then pressed her fists into her lower back to ease tight muscles. She paused, breathing and listening, trying to settle both mind and stomach. What she was about to do was either unbelievably foolish or incredibly brilliant. Pindar turned his head and touched her hip. She moved to his shoulder and rested her forehead there.
Somewhere in the darkness surrounding the camp, several of the Horseguard stood watch. She wasn’t sure how she’d get past them. Everyone else slept. After the evening meal, she’d burned through two and a half candles reading the journal. Upon turning the first page, she’d known it was her great-great-grandfather’s. There was no mistaking his spidery hand, careful attention to detail, and deft segues from English to Italian and back.
A thrill of excitement had vibrated her from the inside out. She couldn’t always read his writing, nor did she have any useful Italian, so at least a third of it was lost to her.
But she had the gist of it. And it came down to going into the Bitter Reaches alone. Only she could call the horses, and they would answer only if she went solo—she and a horse.
Great-great-grandfather Enzo, who had to be the Ebro Leinos referred to, had drawn a map of the range and the pass she needed to use. He’d added illustrations of the landmarks and vegetation she could expect to encounter as she crossed the mountains. Almost as if he’d known she’d need it. She was confident that within a few days, food would not be a concern.
If enough horses still lived.
The alternative didn’t bear consideration, so she halted thinking there.
Instead, she’d borrowed Greffer’s ink and paper, made notes of the details she needed to remember, writing large enough to read without glasses, because she wouldn’t deprive him of his.
She rubbed the big gray’s neck. “Are we ready?” she whispered, feeling silly and hopeful. “Have I forgotten anything?”
Pindar nodded his head as was his habit. He might be answering; he might simply be eager to go. They would have plenty of time in the next few days to work on their communication skills. Although there could be no doubt it was the human side of the equation that needed work, not the equine.
After checking the girth once more, Lauren gathered the reins, thrust her foot into the stirrup, and climbed to Pindar’s back. Once there, it took a moment to settle pack and stave. Leaving the weapon behind had crossed her mind, but in deference to Leinos, it was duly strapped to her back. Much good it did in her hands.
But then, she had acquitted herself surprisingly well when the flying bird-men had attacked them at the edge of the Resting Plains. She remembered those moments frequently, trying to understand the intense focus that had possessed her, the consummate connection she had attained with Pindar. She only hoped that if the situation demanded, she would again enter that same trance-like state.
They stayed for a moment near the edge of camp. The eastern sky hinted at dawn, and the slight glimmer limned the soft mounds of her friends’ sleeping forms. She whispered an apology and turned Pindar north.
Soon enough, a shadow emerged from the dusty twilight. As they drew near, she recognized Enaid. The woman stood at attention and did not make eye contact but kept her gaze straight north. Yet, everything about the soldier’s eager stance cried out for contact with the horse. They halted next to her.
“Good morning,” Lauren said. “Enaid, right?”
“Yes, Horsecaller.”
After that cheery start, Lauren drew
a blank, an awkward lump lodging in her throat. Enaid’s long, white-blonde hair hung down her back in a tight braid. Lauren focused on the intricate weave and swallowed hard a few times, trying to think what to say. Neither command nor deception came naturally to her. “All quiet?”
“Yes, Horsecaller.”
“Very good.” Pindar pawed the ground, impatient.
Enaid took a cautious half-step to the side, her eyes briefly flicking up. Just as quickly, she moved toward the horse again, as if he were a magnet. Lauren let out her breath. She was impatient too, but could no more deny the soldier’s urge to touch Pindar than halt her own breathing. She doubted it differed very much from her own need to call the horses.
“Can you do me a big favor and make sure Pindar doesn’t have any brambles stuck in his tail?”
“Of course, my lady.” Under Lauren’s watchful gaze, Enaid made her way along Pindar’s side. “Run your hand over his hip so he knows you’re there.” Enaid did as she was told. “Now, comb your fingers through his tail and shake it out.”
“Yes, Horsecaller.” After a moment, she continued, “It appears to be clean.”
As Lauren already knew. “Great. Thanks.”
Enaid took up her former position, the muscles of her face working hard to contain a broad grin. “We are getting an early start, Lady Horsecaller?”
“On the contrary, everyone should sleep in today. I’m going to scout ahead. We’ll meet for the midday meal.” By then, there was no chance anyone would catch up.
“Yes, Horsecaller.”
An excellent soldier. “Good job. Carry on.”
Enaid nodded smartly, and Lauren and Pindar jogged away. Within a few minutes, she’d lost sight of the camp, and although the sun still hid beneath the horizon, there was enough light to be sure of the footing. She relaxed her grip on the reins, and Pindar sprang into canter.
~~~
Leinos had been stewing in a deep kettle of self-recrimination since leaving the inn. Walking had always been his method when he needed to think, but for the past few days it had not yielded its usual clarity. As Supreme Guardian, he thought well ahead and was never surprised. To others, he always knew what to do, but that was because he had already considered all the possibilities. This turn of events, however, had never occurred to him.
And he was no longer Supreme Guardian.
Yet, what else could he have done? Securing Lauren’s freedom so she could fulfill her destiny as Horsecaller was all that mattered. Negotiations had failed. Acquiescence to Queen Naele’s demands had been the only way. He had profoundly misjudged the depth of her fear. Pheeso had been right all along. She had refused to see reason.
They were a quiet group, moving swiftly toward Lerom. The queen’s guards and guardians never spoke unless spoken to. Naele, well, he would not guess what went on behind her cool gaze. She did not offer conversation. Nor did he.
Malek grew more pale and withdrawn as if each step farther from Lauren and Pindar drained the blood from his body. Without Guardian powers, there was nothing Leinos could do.
He would not be shocked to learn that he, too, had become colorless, fading into the background. There was no self-pity in him, only a hollow helplessness. He had mastered the anger. But not the sickening worry. Pheeso and Artepa, Captain Geed and the Horseguard would watch over Lauren. But wondering exactly where she was, how she was sleeping, if she was afraid, gnawed at him. He needed to see her smile for himself. He needed the reassurance of her body against his.
He needed her.
These thoughts, and more, made an endless circle in his mind. That, and the inability to simultaneously cast his senses ahead, was why he never saw the attack coming.
The men were already past the outer guards before he even realized they were in a fight. He saw the queen being swept to safety by her guardians. He spun to protect Malek, but the boy had disappeared from his side.
In less time than it took to inhale, he had loosed two arrows, each piercing the chest of Tinnisian warriors.
As always happened in battle, sound was lost to him, and time slowed. He tried to fight in the direction the queen had gone, but he was surrounded. They were heavily outnumbered.
Where was Malek? He could not locate the boy in the fray or amongst those already struck down.
He blocked a thrusting sword with his stave and ducked to avoid another. Thought flew. His body took over, welcoming the clear purpose of kill or be killed, even while a part of him recognized that only a couple of the queen’s guards still stood.
More attackers rushed at him. He fought until he could barely lift his arms, his feet braced against bodies instead of the ground.
Then came a flash of light and crashing pain to the back of his skull. He saw Lauren on Pindar. Alone.
Anguish.
Darkness.
~~~
Lauren let Pindar set the pace and choose their path. Whether he worked on instinct or had somehow intuited their destination, she didn’t know. He had been drawn to the missing horses as much as she ever since they’d arrived. She trusted him more than herself.
And so they jogged, and sometimes cantered, for hours. Toward midday she forced him to stop, even though he wasn’t winded. She was. She needed to put her feet on the ground, stretch, and have a drink, even if he didn’t.
Pindar rolled and shook when Lauren removed his tack. He nibbled on the soft grass that sprung up around him, and once again, he dug a quick hole and found water for them both. To do this once had been magic. Twice. Well. It wasn’t a fluke. It was deliberate. He knew exactly what he was doing.
And the water! It was clear and cold, refreshing and revitalizing. Lauren splashed her face, and on impulse, used her bowl to scoop it over Pindar’s neck, back, and sides. He stood for this bath and used his nose to point to different parts of his body for her to rub it in to.At least, that’s what she thought he was doing, and she could tell by his response that it was right. He had a way of sticking his head out, half-closing his eyes, and curling his lip that communicated what she was doing felt good.
She laughed. A sense of freedom unfolded inside her, an expansiveness that lifted her to her toes. She’d never felt more right, more connected, more purposeful. In the next moment, she sank to the ground, momentarily off balance, feeling like she’d been punched in the gut. How would the people she left behind find water without Pindar? If they stayed put, they would have enough. The hole he’d dug at their camp had showed no signs of drying up. Maybe they would stay there. Maybe they would find this new watering hole. Maybe only the Horseguard would follow.
She could hope.
On that thought, she readied Pindar again so they could be on their way. Nothing and no one would slow them down. She grabbed a handful of nuts and dried fruit to eat as she rode.
Still, a small ball of worry rolled around her belly. Pindar didn’t act tired, and his legs looked strong and healthy. There was no swelling to indicate inflammation or tendonitis. He was fit, but was she pushing him too hard? Her own body clamored to lie on a bed, for another long, hot bath, to not be in perpetual motion for a while. Their time at the inn had been too short.
Soon. In just a couple of days they would have the horses. Then, they could rest.
Chapter 28
LAUREN woke in the murky pre-dawn to what had become a familiar sound—one she had missed the night before—a crackling fire. And to an equally well known, but not quite as welcome, scent—the ubiquitous pot of porridge—and knew a few moments of disorientation while she dragged herself up to full consciousness.
She wasn’t in her brother’s house. No. And…she’d been alone when she’d collapsed into an exhausted and heavy sleep the night before. Pindar’s new abilities notwithstanding, it was doubtful he was cooking breakfast.
He was, however, lying nearby, feet tucked beneath his body, head up. The intruder must be someone they knew. Her heart leapt in her chest. Leinos? She lifted onto one elbow.
Pheeso and Artepa w
atched her from the other side of a steaming pot. Lauren dropped back to hide her disappointment. Of course it wasn’t Leinos. He was far to the south, maybe already in Lerom, fulfilling who-knew-what duties as queen’s consort.
Pindar rolled flat, stretching his neck until his muzzle rested on her shoulder, breath fanning her face. Sweet horse breath, full of prayers and hope. She enfolded his head in her arms and stroked him, seeking—and finding—comfort.
“How did you find me?” she asked the others without rising. She and Pindar had ridden into the night until the need for sleep had so dulled her senses she feared she might topple off his undulating back. But putting as much distance between herself and the rest of them had seemed imperative.
“We are your guardians now,” Artepa said gently, as if this explained.
“I have to go alone and quickly. The others were slowing us down.”
“We can keep up with you,” Pheeso said. “With Pindar.”
“And save you time by building the fire and preparing meals,” Artepa added. “At least until you reach the pass. We know you must go alone from there.”
“I wish someone had told me that a little sooner in this whole enterprise,” Lauren groused, mostly to herself and Pindar.
She eased his big head to the side and sat, knuckling the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. Truthfully, she was glad for their company. If she hadn’t already been dead on her feet when they stopped the night before, she would have been afraid. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she rolled up the fur. Pindar got to his feet. They were right. She could get everything ready while they made food—a much better meal than she would have made for herself—and set off sooner than if she were alone.
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here. And I’m sorry I took off without telling anyone.”
She got a brush from her pack and applied it to Pindar’s coat while he browsed for grass.