by Cas Peace
“She specifically requested Mandias, Solet, those were her orders,” Bull was saying loudly. “If you want to tell her to take a different horse, then be my guest, but I wouldn’t bet on you still having your post tomorrow.”
Clearly unimpressed by the threat, the thin man thrust the halter he was holding toward Bull. “Well, you go catch him, then. I’m not risking it, I tell you, not with a mare in season out there.”
“It’s not my job to catch your horses for you,” snapped Bull. “If you can’t manage the mares, perhaps you deserve to be relieved of your post.”
The stablemaster was about to reply when Taran and Robin caught up.
“What’s going on?” demanded Robin, dropping his pack beside Bull’s. “Why isn’t Mandias ready? You know the Major doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Solet turned to him, appeal in his eyes. “You know the horse well, sir, would you care to catch him? He’s not taking any notice of me.”
Robin frowned. “I’m not surprised, man, if there’s a mare in season out there. Why isn’t she with the brood stock?”
Unseen by Solet, Bull winked at Taran and leaned back against his stallion’s rump, clearly content to let Robin continue the argument.
“Took us by surprise,” Solet was grumbling. “Wasn’t supposed to come into season for another month.”
Irritably, Robin said, “Very well, I’ll give it a try, but don’t think I’m doing you a favor. It’s only because the Major can do without the aggravation. But I’m warning you, Solet, if he kicks me anywhere painful, you’ll have me to deal with as well as her.”
He snatched the halter out of Solet’s hands and approached the field where twenty or so horses were grazing. Dumping his pack on the ground, Taran went to watch. His own horse was a gelding, he had no experience with stallions.
Robin stopped by the fence and gave a peculiar, chirruping whistle. A horse in the middle of the field flung up its head, whickering in response. It was a handsome beast and Taran admired the small, neat ears, strongly muscled neck, clean legs covered with delicate but profuse feathering, and powerful hindquarters. Mandias was huge—Taran thought he must be at least eighteen hands at the withers—and coal-black but for a white star in the center of his forehead.
The horse watched Robin, ears flicking backward and forward. He took a step toward him, then stopped. The Captain whistled again and the stallion swished his long tail, as if at a fly. He raised his muzzle, snuffling the wind, then dropped his head and took another mouthful of grass.
The Captain vaulted the fence into the field. Concealing the halter behind his back, he walked nonchalantly toward the horse. Taran could see the big beast watching him as it continued to graze. Almost casually, each mouthful took it a step farther from the approaching man.
Robin continued to advance, now and then giving that strange whistle. Eventually, he managed to come up to the stallion’s shoulder. The horse ignored him. Robin gently put out his hand and stroked the beast’s hide. The horse continued to crop grass. Slowly, Robin eased the halter out and slipped the end of the lead rope into his other hand. He laid it across the stallion’s neck and left it there while he stroked the gleaming shoulder. Then he slid his hand under the powerful neck, grasped the end of the rope and drew it around to secure the horse.
Just then, the neat little roan mare grazing nearby gave a whicker and flashed her light-colored tail. The stallion’s head flew up, knocking the rope from Robin’s hand. The end slapped onto the ebony neck, causing the great beast to shy off. As it turned, it barged into Robin, who yelled a profanity. Helplessly, he stood in the middle of the field, watching as the stallion herded the mare away.
Taran heard footsteps and glanced over his shoulder. Major Sullyan appeared, carrying a pack that she deposited beside a small light saddle on the ground. She was frowning.
She turned to Solet. “Well?”
The stablemaster gestured in frustration. “He won’t leave that mare. Why don’t you take Drum?”
Taran heard Bull snatch a breath.
Sullyan glared. “I may need Drum for combat, Solet, if my reasons are any of your business. It looks like I shall have to do your job for you yet again, and I am tiring of it.”
Solet’s face paled and Taran rather pitied the man, but blame could hardly be apportioned anywhere else.
Robin had vaulted back over the fence and Sullyan took the halter from him. She stared at the stallion grazing peacefully with his mare safely away from the other horses.
She cast Solet a withering glance over her shoulder. “Prepare a stall.”
Then she strode across the field, haltered the mare and led her back, the stallion following docilely like an immense black dog. Robin held the gate open, a wry smile on his lips, and Sullyan led both horses into the stall. Solet closed the door behind her. Imperiously, she held out her hand for the bridle, which he supplied, and then she led the stallion out, leaving the flirty roan inside.
Shaking his head, his mouth a hard line, Solet swiftly curried the restless black down.
Sullyan stood at its head for a moment, stroking its nose. Then she picked up her saddle and soon the horse was ready. The others were attaching their packs, Taran having been assigned the dark bay stallion named Thunder. It was much larger and stronger than his own riding horse and was fitted with a curb bridle. Taran was a fair rider but he hoped this was not an indication of its temperament.
Following Robin’s instructions, he fitted his pack to the harness rings. He noted that Robin’s saddle bore both his own pack and the Major’s, as her light saddle was much smaller than the others and bore no rings. It didn’t have the high pommel and cantle characteristic of the military combat saddle either and looked, to Taran, to be far less comfortable.
She saw him studying it.
“Mandias will not bear the combat saddle, Taran. Normally I ride him with no saddle at all, but he will tolerate this light one when necessary.”
Taran regarded the great black beast warily. It was mouthing the bit and drops of foam fell from its lips as it restlessly tossed its head. The tiny ears were laid flat and a hind hoof was raised threateningly when Taran’s mount moved a little too close.
Sullyan slapped its neck sharply. “Mandias, enough.” The horse snorted and sidestepped.
“Gentlemen,” she sighed, “it looks like I shall have to run this out of him or he will be impossible all day. Finish your preparations and meet me on the other side of the ridge. You know where.”
Turning, she regarded the stablemaster with cold golden eyes. “I thank you, Solet, for your help today. I will not forget it.” The tall man paled again. “Remove the rest of the mares from the field, lest the roan infect all the others. I suggest you separate them earlier in future and maybe there will be no more accidents.”
Solet swung away and called for his stable hands, gathering up halters as he went.
The Major leaped easily into the curvetting black’s saddle. Taran was intrigued to see that she had arranged her sword belt crosswise over her breasts so that her sword reared up behind her head, where it could be drawn with either hand. Bull and Robin were more conventionally armed, having theirs slung at the left hip.
The stallion’s muscles were quivering as Sullyan backed him out of the lines. Chin pressed tightly to his chest, his powerful neck arched, he pranced on the spot, his lips still foaming. The Major sat him quietly, not curbing him, just running a hand lightly down his sweaty neck.
Mindful of the other stallions they had to pass, she guided Mandias out of the yard. Once safely in the lane, she gave him his head. He squealed and bunched his powerful hindquarters. Forestalling the intended buck, Sullyan pressed him into a standing-start, flat-out gallop, and laid herself low over his neck as he churned the ground. They soon disappeared in a splatter of mud, the stallion’s ebony mane flying in the wind and his full tail streaming behind him.
Uneasily, Taran turned to Robin. “Are the others going to be like that?”
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The Captain grinned. “Don’t worry, you’ll be alright with Thunder. He’s probably the best behaved of the lot. Mandias is herd leader and has a reputation to maintain, but he’s getting on a bit now, which is why the Major uses him for noncombat missions. She has his younger brother, Drum, for the more energetic duties.”
Taran raised his brows. “I don’t think I’d care to sit on anything more energetic than that.”
Robin laughed in agreement. “I’m hoping his son will be a bit more biddable. I’m training him as a replacement for Torka here in a few years’ time.” Affectionately, he slapped his chestnut’s rump. The horse laid back its ears and rolled an eye.
Packs secured and halter ropes stowed, the three men mounted up. Jogging slowly out of the yard, they followed the gouges left in the Earth by Mandias. Taran was relieved to find his stallion had very comfortable paces and a light mouth. Whatever the Major’s opinions of Solet’s horse-management he thought, the man obviously trained the animals well.
As he followed Bull and Robin along the track in the strengthening sun, Taran tried to get his bearings. They were passing through the Manor’s extensive estate and he saw both pasture and woodland. Gradually, the terrain inclined and soon the ridge Sullyan had mentioned came into view. They had quickly lost the stallion’s trail, having passed where the Major must have jumped him over a huge fallen tree by the edge of the track.
Topping the ridge, they rode along it for a short distance before descending the other side, and now Taran could see the Major riding toward them. She was going at a hand canter, the horse loping easily with none of his former tension. As she rode up to them, she drew in alongside Robin. Her face was glowing with the speed of her ride but otherwise she might have been for a gentle meander in the woods.
Easing the reins, she patted the stallion’s neck. “That seems to have done the trick, he should be more biddable now. Curse that fool of a stablemaster; I swear he does it deliberately.”
Robin snorted. “He wouldn’t dare.”
She grinned. “Maybe not. Ah well, no harm done. Now then, gentlemen, a word about our mission.” She smiled across at Taran. “Journeyman, this will be a first for both you and Robin and I want you to remain alert at all times. Count Marik is an old friend“—she smiled at a private memory—“and Bull and I have partaken of his hospitality many times. These things are never without risk, though, especially in the light of the current situation. Take your cues from me, but otherwise be polite, be unobtrusive, and be aware. Keep your ears open, all of you, and remember what you hear. Even the slightest rumor could be of importance, so take note of what the servants say. No one can gossip like a servant, so discount nothing. I want to hear every comment, however trivial.”
They nodded.
“Taran, we will include you in all our metaphysical dealings on this trip. This is an opportunity for you to practice and learn as much as possible. This is not solely for your benefit; our lives may depend on it. Robin, Bull and I know each other very well and mesh instinctively together, so we will try to remember to include you. But you must not hang back and wait to be offered your place. You must reach out and take it, do you understand? I cannot afford the time to nursemaid you, although I have briefed Bull to look after you if necessary. It will be up to you to make yourself a part of our team, but I will not pretend it will be easy. Do you have any questions?”
Taran thought for a moment. He had not expected inclusion and was taken aback.
“Well, I’ll try and do as you say,” he said, “but I’m not familiar with your personal patterns. I’d need to memorize them and then see them all overlaid.”
Sullyan nodded approval. “Very good, Taran, that is the proper place to start. I believe Robin gave you some guidance yesterday in the strengthening of your psyche?”
“He didn’t need much guidance,” put in Robin, “and he’d already identified the problem areas. Once he’s thoroughly familiar with its new configuration, he’ll be much stronger.”
Taran smiled gratefully.
“Very well,” said the Major. “You have the ideal opportunity to join our overlay, Taran, because we are about to open the Veils.”
“I still don’t understand how you’re going to fit the horses through a portway,” he said. “I didn’t think it was possible to make one that large.”
“We use a completely different and more versatile construct, one which affords access to many men and horses at the same time,” she said. “How do you think Relkorians bring their raiding parties through? And Roamerlings their wagons? They use a tunnel, Taran. How strong is your influence over Water?”
He frowned and she smiled. “Come, let me show you.”
They had reached the bottom of the slope on the far side of the ridge, where a pleasant valley with a flat, grassy floor spread out before them. A small meandering stream cut through the meadow, glinting in the sun.
Approaching the stream, they halted on its near bank. It wasn’t very deep and was crystal clear down to its pebbly bed. The water gurgled gently as it flowed and tiny brown fish flashed suddenly silver along the edge. A tall, stately heron paced the far bank way off to their left, unconcerned by their presence. Dippers bobbed in and out of the water, searching for food.
Sullyan dismounted and the others followed suit.
“Loop the reins around your arm or you’ll go through without your horse,” cautioned Robin. They lined up on the bank of the river, Sullyan in the middle of Bull and Robin, and Taran to Robin’s right.
“Now Taran,” said Sullyan softly, “we will construct our tunnel here because the river makes a natural boundary and we are well away from any populated areas. We could do it anywhere we chose but as this is your first experience, we will make it as simple as possible. Once you know the technique, you will be able to construct your own.
“As I am sure you know, Artesans of Master level and above can direct such crossings to open in a specific area, provided they are familiar with the region they wish to travel. But I want to ride through Marik’s province before we arrive at his mansion, so we will not direct this structure.
“This is how we proceed. Using the element of Water, Bulldog and Robin will form a portway, anchoring each edge of the construct to the river bank. Their strength in the structure will minimize any leakage of power that could occur before it is fully contained. Once they are done, I want you to cap the power. Then I will push the force out into the substrate and this will form the tunnel. Do you see?”
“I think so,” said Taran, nervous and excited. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself in front of the Major.
He could feel both Bull and Robin accessing their metaforce and watched carefully as two columns of power appeared in the air directly over the stream bed. Each bore the unique impression of its creator’s psyche, and twined within was the unmistakable signature of Water. Smoothly, the walls of energy grew taller until two pillars stood about ten feet apart, holding between them the characteristic gray shimmer of a portway.
Sullyan’s voice came dreamily to Taran. “Now, Journeyman, fit your psyche to the edges of the others and cap the power.”
Hesitantly, Taran reached out and overlaid his glowing pattern across the two pillars, being careful to incorporate the element of Water within his working. He had never used the slippery element like this before but the mesh of psyche was remarkably easy, and he felt a thrill as he capped off the structure.
“Very good,” murmured Sullyan, “you should have more confidence in your abilities. Now, I will add my power to yours.”
He saw another, incredibly complex pattern superimpose itself across the entire structure. All four blended seamlessly together. Taran felt a tremendous shock of power and realized that if he was the one controlling such forces, he could do almost anything. He felt momentarily giddy, and swayed on his feet.
“Steady,” Sullyan warned and he shook his head, taking himself in hand. “Better,” she said. “Now follow me as I push
the power back, forcing it through the substrate.”