by Auryn Hadley
Eventually the Black Blades arrived, making a grand entrance on their own battle-ready steeds. LT sat his black like he was born there and addressed the six recruits before him from the saddle.
"A special operations unit is nothing without transportation. In our case, our mounts are a second arm, a tool we use more than even our weapons. The six of you are all that remains from the fifteen we started with, so I had seven animals pulled up. Choose the horse from this stable that seems suited to be your permanent mount. If you pass these trials it will be assigned to you, purchased and paid for in full by the CFC.
"This horse will serve as your day to day transportation, it will be the mount you depend upon in the midst of combat, and it will be how you drag your broken body back to camp when a mission goes bad. You are looking for a smart animal, a willing partner, and one brave enough to do what is needed in the midst of war. These horses have only the basic training, which is why we have you choose now, so the staff can focus on the needs of each rider."
It was another test, but this time the Lieutenant didn't tell them what they would be scored on. The pressure to choose wisely weighed on each of them.
"Feel free to inspect the horses, but you may not ride them. The staff will be happy to have them move out for you to appraise. You have one hour."
Sal ducked between the rails of the arena fence and, like the other recruits, made her way to get a closer view. While the chestnut would be well suited to her, the thought of limiting herself with an aged and already weary partner left a bad taste in her mouth. The men clustered around the impressive black, the flashy pinto, or the hot blooded palomino, none of which had the mind for the job the Blades would ask of it. Sal remembered stories of the Black Blades pushing their mounts to the limit, riding over mountains at break neck speeds to gain a better angle from which to harry larger forces. The axe-headed roan could handle that, and possibly the fat bay.
She managed to find a handler and pointed out the ones that might be tolerable, asking to see them move like LT suggested. The black lost her interest immediately. Her initial assessment had been correct. He was better suited for a parade mount than a war horse.
She turned away in disgust. None of these horses were anything like what the Blades were mounted on. They were culls. She turned to the fields, her mind still foggy from the hangover, and saw that the pastures were filled with horses – more than usual. She thought back over the Lieutenant's words and realized that he hadn't limited them to these seven, merely said he had them pulled up. She looked harder, her catlike eyes allowing her to see farther than most humans. The quality horses were out there!
Sal stole a glance over her shoulder and saw Zep leaning over his own seal bay mare, eying her. Beside him, Arctic followed Zep's gaze, but before she could reach out, he smothered the link from her head. The Blades whipped around, the Lieutenant included, and Arctic gestured in her direction. Still astride his horse, LT laughed, the ringing tones carrying across the arena clearly. He held up a finger and wagged it at her, but the smile on his face showed amusement.
Confused, Sal realized they were actually speaking to each other, heads bent. Arctic must have shut down the link! She pushed a thought toward him and found nothing, his mind gone from her perception. That proved it to her. The horses before them were not the horses they were expected to choose!
Turning her attention to the fields, she narrowed her options. To her right, the mare's calling caused the horses near her to shift and drift. A well-muscled colt caught her eye with his sweeping walk and secured his place on her list with his easy transition into the canter. While she worked to narrow the choices, the Lieutenant's voice broke her line of thought.
"Ok, you've had enough time. Which of you wants to choose first?" he asked.
The veteran spoke up, "I know the one I'd take."
The Lieutenant leaned forward in his saddle, his expression asking for the soldier to continue.
"That roan, his head's as ugly as can be, but he's got talent, I think."
LT nodded and signaled a handler to remove the animal from the line. A few voices murmured. The roan had been the choice of many.
"Next?" LT asked.
"I'll take the black," a clean cut man said. His horse was also led out of the arena.
"The bay for me," called another, followed by chuckles from the group.
"Which one?" Shift asked.
"The heavy one, not the one with the star," the soldier replied.
"The blonde," a man yelled, "I always did like the blondes!"
With three horses and only 2 recruits left to choose, Sal held her tongue. The Lieutenant looked from her to the nondescript boy, waiting for one to speak up.
"Luxx, Passel, you're the only ones left."
Sal's mind whirled. She still didn't know which she preferred. Glancing out at the pastures, she scanned them one more time. The mare screamed again and the realization hit her. That animal was exhibiting the exact traits a good war horse should have! After moving for over an hour she'd barely broken a sweat. She had all the endurance Sal could ask for and more grace and ability than most seasoned battle mounts. Her choice was obvious.
"Sir?" she spoke up. When he acknowledged her, she continued, "The mare in the paddock. That's the horse I choose."
"Which?" he asked.
"The mud covered one, making a fool of herself," she said, pointing.
The applicants laughed openly, seeing little more than a filthy animal that wasn't one of the choices, and Sal realized the point of this test. The others had taken only the clues offered and made assumptions about the rules that had never been said. She'd analyzed the orders and looked for options outside the arena. The Lieutenant had been testing them not just on their knowledge of horse flesh, but on their ability to find the boundaries of a problem before them. By looking at horses outside the arena, Sal had passed, and she knew it.
The Lieutenant directed a handler to retrieve the mare from her paddock. Once in hand, the horse bowed into the halter and pranced elegantly beside him. The recruits let their laughter trail off when they realized she'd seen something they missed. The stablehand presented the mare for LT's inspection, and he directed the staff to clean her off. Buckets of water and curries were applied and the mud flowed away, leaving blobs of color in its wake. Not quite clean, but now merely dirty instead of mud encrusted, her true color was as impressive as her form. The mare appeared to be white, covered from nose to toes in large dark dots the size of Sal's fist and bigger. On her face and legs, the spots clustered, giving the impression of dark points.
"I don't even know what her color is called," Sal whispered in awe.
"Pinzgauer," Arctic replied. "They're relatively rare."
"So, Passel," the Lieutenant said while Sal's horse headed to the barn, "you find one that will work?"
The boy shrugged, "I just thought the chestnut out there would be good enough, and he might blend in a bit more than that thing."
LT nodded, sent a handler to pull in the colt Sal had initially looked at, then said, "Your mounts will be cared for, and soon we should know if they will need their training finished – or started. I want to discuss with my troops, and we will meet back at the fountain in an hour."
The Blades turned, not quite in unison with the blackout in their minds, and cantered off. The recruits also dispersed, leaving Sal unsure of what to do with her time. She decided she wanted to see the mare again, so headed toward the barns.
The Stables at Stonewater were a haven for horses. The barns were large and expansive, unlike the cabins used for recruits. The smell of fresh straw and horse sweat greeted her nose when Sal walked in. She never knew why horses didn't set off her predatory instincts, but she'd always liked them.
Cross tied in the alley, a cob danced while the rider pulled his mane. Sal stepped around them carefully. A few stalls down, she saw the unmistakable head of the veteran's roan. Across the aisle, her mare and the chestnut colt were stabled, bedded in deep s
traw, contentedly munching on green hay. She peered over the half door and stared at the horse. It felt so unreal. Only a few days ago, Sal had been little more than nothing. Now, she stared at the possibility that she would soon not only ride, but own a horse of her own.
Holding a hand out, she clicked softly at the mare and giggled when velvet lips caressed her palm. Taking the opportunity, she stroked the long muscular neck, straining to feel a difference between the dark spots and the white base of her coat. Her hand came back lined with grime.
"Hey!" a voice said behind her, causing Sal to tense. "That mare ain't for the likes of you." A callused stablehand gripped his rake in one hand, a grimace contorting his face. He looked her over, his distaste obvious. "You scrubbers shouldn't go 'round touching things that don't belong to you. Good thing you can't swipe a horse or I'd be calling guards!"
"Actually," Sal replied, feigning a calm she didn't feel, "this mare is for the 'likes' of me. You're more than welcome to call my commanding officer. It's Lieutenant Blaec Doll. Maybe you've heard of him?" She couldn't keep the sneer out of her voice but she did restrain her snarl.
The stablehand's eyes widened at the mention of the Lieutenant. His body stuttered in place until his mind finally caught up, then he scurried down the aisle, rake still in hand. At the door, he tossed a glance over his shoulder and, finding her still watching, hurried out. Sal growled softly. She would never escape the hatred of humans. For each success she achieved, there was always some dark-skinned ape there waiting to laugh in her face. Every time she proved herself, some human went out of his way to find flaws in what she'd accomplished. The urge to throw a childish tantrum and run screaming from the barn welled up inside her, but she pushed it down, knowing it would only please the humans to see it.
"Don't mind him," a shy voice said. "He pretty much hates everyone on two legs."
She turned to see a willowy young man. His face covered in muck, his clothing liberally stained, the youth smiled at her, his brown eyes kind.
"He's good with the horses, which is about the only reason he keeps his job here. So you got the spotted mare?" he asked, looking past her into the stall.
"Yeah," Sal said noncommittally.
"Good call. She goes back to Donner, through Aiden, by Tragedy," he recited. "I don't think there's a finer horse on the farm than her. She's working well in her schooling. Already started in upper level work, too." His obvious pride in the animal impressed Sal.
"I didn't understand why that Blade asked me to turn her out in the slew bottom last night. I told him she'd get herself coated in filth, but he said it was important. Said her pretty hide might not bring the kind of attention he wanted. So how'd ya get her anyways? Win a bet or something?"
"Something like that. It was one of our trials, we had to evaluate the horses."
"Ah, well you did a good job. That colt over there isn't too bad, but this girl... she's already got the training and the skill, and as sweet and loyal as a puppy. No need to spend half a year trying to play catch up. Of the lot we pulled out today, you got the nicest!"
"Thank you..." She paused, giving the kid time to fill in his name.
"Oh sorry, it's Ahn Tilso. I'd offer you my hand, but..." He held his palms out. Dirt stained them completely.
Her faith in humanity restored, Sal offered him hers, the grime from her mare visible against her white skin. "Salryc Luxx."
Without hesitating, the boy clasped it, "Well met, very well met. Maybe one day, I'll get to care for a horse like yours. But I'm always in here. If you ever need anything, you just ask for me, k? Then you won't have to deal with grumpy old men thinking they know too much."
"I will," she promised.
"I gotta go, they'll be yelling at me in a minute if I don't get barn 3 cleaned. Well met again, Ms. Luxx. I hope you enjoy your mare!"
With a wave, the guy darted through the barn aisle in the same direction as the old man before, reminding her of the time. She turned her feet toward the courtyard and the fountain where the Blades always met, smiling. That mare might not be hers yet, but she'd figured out how the Black Blades thought. If this kept up, the horse and a place in the most respected elite outfit of the Conglomerate would be hers.
Chapter 8
Smug recruits reclined where they could, mostly on the edge of the fountain or the fence behind it. They spoke among themselves about the horses they'd chosen, each one bragging more than the next. A festive mood consumed them, and it disgusted her. In only a few short days, the privilege of being an applicant to the Black Blades had started to change how they acted.
Sal found a quiet place, well removed from the rest, and settled herself to wait for the impending arrival of the Lieutenant. The boy, Passel, took a spot beside her. She turned to look at him, at first annoyed that her isolation had been breached, but it appeared he also wanted to avoid the mass of soldiers.
On closer inspection, Passel was older than he looked but still young, maybe in his early twenties. The way he leaned against the wall showed his feral grace, but his features were nothing more than shades of brown. If she had to describe him, she'd have trouble citing a feature that set him apart.
"They think it's a game," he said, breaking the silence.
She nodded, wishing he'd stop talking to her.
"I don't think they realize yet that most of them failed. The Lieutenant, he likes us to be thinkers." His gaze never looked away from the recruits on the wagon. "I didn't think you were going to get it, not when I saw you asking them to get horses to move out, but you did. That's why I wanted to go last, so I didn't give away the answer."
"It took me a bit," she admitted, aware that he wasn't going to go away, "but the horses they offered didn't make much sense. Granted, I don't have a lot of riding experience, but I listened when I worked here."
"Ah, that explains it. So, I'm better with horses than you, but you obviously fight better than me. Can't wait to see what's going to be the tie breaker."
"Me either. I admit, I'm nervous about it, but I'm ready to know. I'd wish you luck, but it would be a lie." She shrugged. Maybe he'd write her off as a threat.
"Same here. Let's just wish each other a good recommendation, fair 'nough?" He held out his hand.
She took it, disliking the feel of his human flesh. "Fair 'nough."
Knowing she'd passed the test was different than being told, so when the Lieutenant sauntered toward them, her stomach tried to climb out of her throat. Beside her, Passel stiffened, but the other recruits seemed oblivious to the upcoming culling. Sal and Passel stood respectfully to face the Lieutenant, but the rest stayed seated, lowering their conversations until they were called to attention.
The Lieutenant didn't bother. "Some of you have guessed by now that the horses were a test. What you may not be aware of is that it was about more than just the horses. We wanted to determine your situational awareness and your ability to assess the environment. Only two of you met our expectations," LT said.
Those were the words that pulled the recruits to their feet. Shocked expressions on their faces, they muttered in confusion. Sal couldn't help but think of them as a group; so few of them showed any independence. It made her appreciate the trials more. In less than a week, the true character of the soldiers had crept to the surface. The easily overlooked Passel had become her strongest competition, while the decorated men across from her were barely worth her notice.
"Lance Corporal Arton Wheton," the Lieutenant went on, "your ability to recognize horseflesh and take initiative has given you a score just high enough to continue with the trials. Specialist Doron Passel and Private Salryc Luxx, you both completed the task as we hoped, resulting in another passed test. The rest of you, speak with Arctic. He will sign your release papers and arrange transport back to your previous post. The horses you chose will be returned to the pastures, or you have the option of purchasing them at a discount as your bonus for the trials. Additional training is available at your own expense. You are dismissed.
"Wheton, Luxx, and Passel, come with me." the Lieutenant said, turning.
They followed him through what passed for streets to his room. Little had changed since her last visit and, at a gesture from LT, Sal found a seat before the desk. This time, Wheton and Passel flanked her rather than the officers of the Black Blades.
"Your next trial won't be as easy, I'm afraid," LT began. "Each of you will have two days to prepare, then you will lead the Blades through a training mission. Orders will be given immediately before the start time, but you have your assignment now. I encourage you to use any means necessary to gain intelligence about the mission details."
"Espionage?" Passel asked.
"Expected," LT agreed.
"Rules of engagement?" Wheton wanted to know.
"Enemy territory."
Eyes turned to Sal. With a smirk, she reclined into the chair. "We can treat off duty personnel as resources? Is funding for bribes and equipment refundable? And finally, does our assignment brief list a location?"
"It does." LT chose to answer her questions in reverse. "The assignment lists Stonewater Creek. You will be given a stipend to draw from for preparations, so those of you with less personal resources will not be unfairly penalized. And yes, until your start time for the mission, assume that all personnel are to be treated as enemy civilians.
"In addition, you are granted access to any military base within 15 kilometers. You have two full days to use in preparation, after which time you will either start the trial or be confined to your rooms until your trial starts."
Passel spoke up, "So, what happens in the event of a tie? Say all of us pass this trial? What then?"