by Alisha Basso
She blotted it with her sleeve, and the cough sounded again, this time near Pindar. She spun. He pricked his ears, but didn’t look worried, only curious.
Not the evil flying bird-men. She forced herself to her feet, overcame a moment of dizziness, ditched the stave, grabbed the bridle, and covered the distance between her and Pindar at a sprint. She leaned against his flank, letting his steady breaths calm her.
Next to them, the surface of a fallen tree was shredded into strips, as if a very large cat had repeatedly cleaned her claws there. Lauren had no intention of waiting around to see what had made that mark. The huffing sounded again, closer, and from more than one direction. She looked longingly at her saddle and pack, hopped up on the mangled trunk and slid her leg over Pindar’s bare back. He was already moving away as she gathered the reins.
A step of trot, then canter. The forest melted before them but shadows kept pace to either side. She couldn’t make out what they were. Heart in her throat, Lauren sank into Pindar, her body fusing with his as again he flattened into gallop. They wove through the darkening wood like that for minutes, hours, until she no longer felt her legs. And still, the creatures stayed with them. How long could they keep this up?
Just when she thought they’d have to stop to face the threat, everything changed. The wood ended as abruptly as it had started. The ground dropped away. They hurtled into blackness.
Pindar jammed his feet into the ground and tried to halt. Momentum threw Lauren over his head. Down and down and a hard thud that knocked her breath away. Pindar scrambled above her, trying not to go over the cliff. She hung from the reins with two fingers. His feet scuffled back, kicking dirt and gravel into her face. An anguished cry, hers, or his, or both. Her feet found no purchase. His eyes—she could just see them—wild with panic. He couldn’t get his balance. He couldn’t pull himself back, and her too.
And she wouldn’t pull him over.
“Okay. It’s okay,” she yelled, and hoped he understood.
Then, she let go.
~~~
Leinos assessed the stranger, still in shadow. He was neither tall nor short, heavy nor thin. The kind of man who could pass for anyone, blend into a crowd, or disappear entirely if he wished. “I am no lord,” Leinos told him.
“Aye, well, you’ve that look about you, just the same.” He stepped forward. “They call me Dan, just Dan.”
“I am Leinos, Suprem—” he caught himself. “Just Leinos.”
Pagajera came to the head of the stairs with the lantern. In the sudden light, the man’s eyes showed clearly. Deep blue-green as the sea, heavy-lidded, with a placid surface that hid unknowns in the depths.
“I see you have met Dan,” Pags said. “He likes a tall tale, and we have no time for that tonight.” She came down to stand on the step above Leinos, making her seem even taller than she was.
“But I must speak to him, you great monster of a woman.” Dan sliced the air with his hand. “He’ll believe me where you scoff.”
Pags looked thoughtful a moment. “That he might, after what he just told us.”
“Didn’t I already hear all that?” he asked. “It’s exactly why we must talk.”
“Listening at keyholes again old man?” Pags shot back.
“And how’m I to know what’s going on otherwise?” He said this with a shrug and a wink that made the woman’s face contort with the effort to contain her smile.
“Give me the boy,” she said to Leinos, “I will put him abed.” Leinos shifted Malek into her arms, and Pags returned her gaze to Dan. “If Leinos allows, you can chew his ear off, as you like to say, while I tend his wounds. You can see he is near dead on his feet.”
Leinos nodded to Dan, and they went up the stairs together. Whatever else the man might be, if he could call Kadre’s guardian a great monster of a woman without being flattened, then he must be a trusted friend. There was something about the man’s speech pattern that bothered him, but he could not put his finger on it. He was tired and let it go for the time being.
“The boy,” Dan asked, “is he yours?”
“No. He apprenticed himself to the Horsecaller, and I believe him to be a horse healer. I need to get him to the Bitter Reaches. His parents live at Raver’s Keep.”
“Ah yes, Raver’s Keep. I collect this is near the place you found your Horsecaller?”
Leinos nodded.
“I have a boy, myself,” Rab continued. “All grown now, he’d be. Probably with a family of his own. Not seen him for an age, though.”
Leinos had traveled the far borders of Derr once, and even crossed the boundary into southern Tinnis. He did not know what lay beyond those countries, but whatever was there, it must be where this man came from, for he neither spoke nor looked like anyone he had ever met. Now he could see Dan, he knew that he would stick out in a crowd with his thick hair the color of dried blood and light, freckled complexion.
They reached the first landing where a door stood open to the room Leinos used when visiting Kadre. Pags had Malek tucked into a fur in the corner, reserving the small bed for him, and if he did not already have many reasons to be thankful to the woman, this small favor would keep him forever in her debt. But added to that, a deep, steaming tub waited in the middle of the room, and he wasted no time getting his sore bones into it.
“Ah, look at your beautiful body all banged up,” Dan said. “Your Horsecaller lady won’t like to see you in such a way.”
Leinos looked at the man sharply. There had been nothing in the story he told Kadre and Pagajera about his feelings for Lauren.
Pags crouched behind Leinos to inspect the head wound. “It is this vast crease a Tinnisian sword laid above your neck that worries me,” she said, cleansing the cut. “You are lucky to still have all your hair, not to mention your scalp and everything else above your ears.”
Leinos winced and ignored them both, too weak with relief to wonder or argue, but after a few moments’ soak, he managed a tired smile. “The goddess still has use for me.”
“As do I,” Dan said, and then he began to explain.
A hand later, gashes and bruises bandaged and soothed, lying on the bed with a full stomach and in clean clothes, Leinos mused the world could not get any more unusual. Lauren would call it weird, and he longed to see her face when he told her. “If what you say is true—”
“Can you doubt me?”
“Your story is hard to believe, but I do not doubt you. We must find a way to bring you to the Bitter Reaches. If the sage cannot transport us all, you must leave immediately on foot. Can you do that?” Leinos looked from Dan to Pagajera who sat staring into the small fire. Kadre had joined them as well.
“We will all go,” Kadre said.
Pags looked up, listening. “He is here,” she said. “They are here.” She ran out and down the stairs, returning shortly with not one, but two sages, one of them Vraz.
“Truly, Leinos,” he said. “I hardly expected to find you lying down at this juncture.”
“Leave it, Vraz,” Kadre said, his voice quiet but full of warning. “Can you not see he was nearly killed by Tinnisians? And those sent by one of your own?”
Vraz turned his razor gaze to Kadre, nostrils flared, and Leinos raised a quelling hand before either of them acted. “Do not argue.” They both looked startled. He may not be Supreme Guardian, but his voice still carried authority. “What news, Vraz?”
“Can you travel?” he asked by way of answer.
Leinos sat up and gave a curt nod. “Of course.”
“Then we leave at once. Rezol has sent men and yekerk to the Bitter Reaches. He means to have the horses. With, or without, the Horsecaller.”
Chapter 31
LAUREN floated in a place of airy serenity neither light nor dark, between wakefulness and slumber, with the distant buzz of locusts, hiss of frying hamburgers, or hum of conversation sounding in her ears. Her edges felt blurry, blending with the surrounding murk and the shadows moving in the periphery.
<
br /> One figure could be The All, gracefully gliding, her river hair cascading in her wake, arms outstretched, light streaming between slender fingers.
With her, a man, slight and wiry, prancing like an excited Arabian stallion. Nearby, a bent old woman watched and waited, tired, but content to bide her time.
Lauren sensed them, but could not clearly see.
All around, larger shapes moved, circling. They reminded her of something. A task to complete, a place to go, or a person who needed her, but she couldn’t pin it down, rouse herself, or speak.
The shapes moved faster, creating a dizzying vortex. The old woman nodded.
A voice came to Lauren, a whisper in her mind.
Stillness, it said, stillness is the ultimate discipline.
~~~
Leinos held Malek tight to his chest. The boy’s lips were clamped between his teeth, and Leinos smiled assurance he did not feel.
“Close your eyes and hold on,” Vraz said.
They did as the sage commanded, and he drew his cloak around them. Then, they plummeted into swift darkness like tipping head first down an endless well.
Black earth split before them, but only barely, and not without complaint. Rocks and soil scraped their elbows, accompanied by fractured groaning. The ground, used to permitting a single sage to pass did not like stretching to allow for cargo.
They moved quickly, at first, the din a roar in his ears, and he imagined this is what being dragged by a galloping horse would feel like. Clamping his jaw tight, he tried to make himself smaller, then realized it was not his will that forced the air from his lungs, but the soil around them, squeezing, hampering their progress.
He tried yelling to Vraz. “What—”
“Do not speak!”
The sage’s voice came as if over great distance. But they were still chest-to-chest, and Leinos felt Vraz’s expand and contract violently, like the bellows of a forge. The effort made them burst forward, but only for a moment.
They slowed again, until Leinos knew he could make the Bitter Reaches sooner on hands and knees. He would crawl to Lauren if he had to, and, as they nearly stopped, he wished with his entire being for the chance.
~~~
Firm ground beneath her and the scent of sun-warmed earth—rich dirt and lush grass—in the air. Not the last place she’d slept, not the soft bed of dry pine needles.
Lauren wriggled shoulders and hips, testing for discomfort. She remembered her deep sleep amongst the pungent evergreens. Mentally, she retraced her steps. She’d been knocked off Pindar’s back and fallen hard on her hip. She moved that part of her anatomy again, more forcefully, expecting the sharp hurt of recent injury. Instead, what she got was the slight twinge of an old, healed bruise.
Carefully, she lifted one hand to probe her forehead, recalling the frightening shadows of the wood and their mad dash to escape. There was a bump and a small, itchy scab. Again, not what she expected.
Pindar! He’d made it a habit of always being near, but—she opened her eyes and sat, all at once aware of the sound that had been niggling in the back of her mind, a sound so much a part of her that it hadn’t even registered.
Horses.
They grazed peacefully, making steady tear, tear, tear sounds as they cropped grass. Hundreds—thousands—legs solid as tree trunks, bodies substantial, flowing tails swishing flies, wavy manes flouncing arched necks.
Their colors varied from the shimmering silver of dawn to the simmering blue-black of dusk, from white chocolate to dark, from new copper to rusted iron. The most stunning sight she’d ever seen.
She stared at them in wonder. She’d found them!
But where was Pindar? She tried to whistle, but her lips were too chapped. The rest of her senses came on line, and she noticed her clothes were damp, her socks squishy inside her boots. She lay next to a river under a line of white trees lining the bank, and hard on the other side, a sandy bluff rose a good seventy-five feet straight up.
Had she fallen down that? She had no memory of landing, but she must have splashed down in the river, then somehow gotten herself to the opposite bank.
Or been brought.
She scanned the herd. Could one of them have hauled her out of the drink?
She eyed the cliff again, remembering Pindar’s desperate scramble to keep from going over. Nausea roiled through her. Had he slipped over the edge? Or was he still up there, battling whatever demons had been chasing them? She swallowed, fighting down the urge to be ill, and pushed to her feet.
As if one, all the horses lifted their heads to look at her.
“Pindar?” she croaked. Her throat was parched and sore. She scooted down to the water and drank, frantically searching the opposite bank for any sign of the big gray. Fear wrapped steel-banded hands around her belly. Swallowing and clearing her throat, she tried again. This time, her voice came out louder, if not clearer.
“Pindar!”
Lauren climbed the bank to the field. The horses watched, big eyes curious, downy nostrils quivering. She jumped in the air, trying to see over their backs, surprised that not one part of her body protested. How long had she been lying there? She had vague impressions of dreams. Or had it been real? Had The All been here?
A frustrated sob welled up from her depths. “Please,” she yelled to whoever might hear. “Help me.”
Should she look for him with the herd or try to climb the bluff and seek him up there in the dense and mysterious wood? She couldn’t just stand here doing nothing. But which way? A few steps forward. The horses sidled back. Not frightened, just giving her room. She stumbled, her feet numb inside the soaking wet boots, so she took a moment to jerk them off, and her socks.
The sun warmed the air, and the sky became an unending expanse of blue. Horses milled, watchful, ready to flee if threatened. They could stampede at any moment—their energy and excitement percolated through her—but they wouldn’t hurt her, of this she was sure. She reached out, and a bay mare stretched forward to sniff her fingers. They were large, most taller than Pindar by several inches and equally broad. Shaggy winter coats clung, but here and there, shiny summer color showed through.
She stepped closer to the mare, instinctively drawn to her. “Do you know where he is?” Lauren whispered. She slid her hand up the bay’s neck and under her mane. The mare made a sound, a long grunt that could have meant yes or no or nothing. And yet Lauren felt reassured.
A distinctive high-pitched stallion scream echoed down the valley. She whipped around in time to see a ripple coming through the herd. Beneath her bare feet, the ground shook, drumming hoofbeats reverberating through the soles.
The herd parted, and she saw him. Pindar had shed the bridle and looked both smugly triumphant and larger then ever as he barreled straight for her, galloping playfully with his tail high and head moving from side to side like a king acknowledging his subjects.
Lauren swiped at tears she hadn’t even noticed and smiled. He slid to a stop before her and immediately bent to sniff her hands, her chest, her neck and face, making soft wuffling sounds the entire time. Finally, he rested his chin on her shoulder for a few moments before swinging toward the others, moving them away from her.
She laughed at him. She had never been possessed by a horse, and she liked it.
Or perhaps it had always been so, and she’d been too dense to realize. It dawned on her that it might be she who had changed when they came through the Ravery, not Pindar. Had he always been the same, living a life that had not left open the opportunity to show his true self? Had she simply been blind to his magnificence?
It was possible. With her head down most of the time, keeping a low profile, always busy with work and in a hurry, she’d probably missed a lot. No longer. She wrapped her arms around Pindar’s neck and hugged him tightly. Elation rose in her chest like an expanding balloon. She released him and walked amongst the horses, hands roving over backs and sides, down sleek necks, ruffling tangled manes, assuring herself they were real.<
br />
She assessed health and soundness. They were in good flesh—even coming off winter—and a number of bellies bulged with new life. Eyes bright, nostrils clean, coats shiny. Their feet were large and round and showed little cracking. Conformation-wise, they were all of a type—not slight animals made for racing over turf or jumping man-made obstacles—but heavy horses who’s every hoof beat would draw thunder from the ground, densely-muscled horses with substantial bone and deep girths who could carry or pull significant loads.
Thick necks tied into broad chests. Sloping shoulders led to well-sprung ribcages. Short backs connected to round quarters. Yet, like all horses, they possessed an innate grace that enabled them to float over the ground when they trotted, to take a watcher’s breath when they arched their necks and pranced, to shift their weight and wheel so quickly one could not be sure they moved at all.
The question remained, how to get them over the mountain? Would they follow her and Pindar?
Pindar’s familiar stallion squeal reached her then, and she saw him dancing with a dun mare. The girl held her tail out, obviously in season. Lauren smiled, but a bright streak in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Another stallion galloped over with his head low, ears flat. Pindar never saw what hit him, and her warning shout dissolved in a resounding thud as the larger horse broad-sided Pindar, knocking him off his feet. He recovered and sunk his teeth into the other’s neck, drawing blood.
“Stop,” she shouted, wondering at the same time what good it would do. The two horses circled each other for a moment, catching their breath. The bay mare had stayed at her side.
Pushing past the happy earthy scent of the horses came a smell she shuddered to recognize. Horses quieted, even the stallions, and she listened. Rocks falling, sliding. She moved to the mare’s flank, crouched to look under her belly.