Dark Lord of Kismera: Knights of Kismera

by Tamara H Hartl

  “Oh shit,” she groaned and as her back straightened, Pride stopped.

  “What happened? You were doing great,” Drace asked, patting her hands.

  “Nothing. I just got distracted. We can go now. Give him some gas, okay?” God, she was glad Drace couldn’t see her face. It matched the color of her hair.

  Drace laughed out loud. “He’s not a car, Mag. I don’t just give him gas. Did you see a gas pedal? Feel here.” He pried one of her hands from his belly and laid it on his thigh and then gently squeezed Pride’s sides with the sides of his calves.

  Maggie felt the faint move of muscle in Drace’s thigh and her mouth suddenly went dry; but she did notice the small touch had Pride moving again.

  Maggie jerked her hand off Drace’s leg and returned it to his stomach. She tried to relax and move—one, two, three, four.

  They rode past the show barn and on down the lane. Cerise was far enough ahead to be out of sight. Drace knew Pride had a big trot and Maggie would be bounced all over the place. “Maggie, I’m going to ask Pride to canter. That’s a three beat gait and it will feel almost like sitting astride a rocking chair.”

  “Oh good,” he heard her mutter. “I can’t handle anymore sex talk right now.”

  Drace smiled at her comment, put his free hand over hers and gave Pride a silent command to canter.

  Drace was right, rocking chair smooth, Maggie thought. It was almost fun. She tried to relax further and enjoy herself. She wanted to peep over Drace’s shoulder but he was too large. Instead, she watched to the side and saw Cerise walking Mitch. Cerise waved and Mitch broke into a canter as well. There was a big felled tree and woman and horse popped over it like it was nothing.

  How pretty, Maggie thought of the sight. She felt Drace’s hips move slightly in front of her and Pride made a skipping step. They repeated it several times and Maggie felt the horse skip each stride, his long mane flowing like a banner.

  Cerise came beside them when Pride returned to his regular canter. “Show off,” she said with a laugh.

  Maggie looked at Cerise with a puzzled expression.

  “Remember on Drace’s tape when the horse came down the center and it looked like it was skipping? That’s what Pride just did with you. It’s called tempe changes. Cool, huh?”

  Maggie grinned. How can these people talk while riding? She felt breathless and the wind was sounding in her ears as the big horse ran on. Now Drace’s hair was blowing in her face. She reached up to brush it away and then realized what she had done. She didn’t really need to squeeze the life out of him to stay on. She laughed out loud with the sheer joy of it.

  When Cerise rode ahead, Maggie pressed a kiss of thanks against the center of Drace’s back. It caught him unaware and he stiffened for a second, confusing Pride who slowed to a trot.

  Maggie slammed up against Drace who corrected his mistake and had Pride back into a canter. “Sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

  “Oh yes,” she answered, smiling and adding that memory to a place in her heart.

  The horses hoof beats made soft splashing sounds on ground wet from the previous day’s rain. The sun shone bright and it had warmed up to be quite pleasant.

  The three rode on for a few more minutes and came to Drace’s practice area in the clearing. Drace put a hand on Maggie’s knee to warn her of a change of pace. He halted Price next to a small wagon, and then moved his hand to help Maggie dismount. Once on the ground, she felt the pull of muscles she hadn’t been aware she had possessed.

  Drace swung down easily and pulled a halter out of the back of the wagon. He slipped Pride’s bridle off and put the halter on the stallion and then tied him to the wagon.

  Maggie looked around the clearing while Drace and Cerise tended to the horses. There were two tents set up on the edge of the trees and a fire pit arranged next to them.

  “You were busy while we were gone,” she commented. “How did you get all this stuff out here?”

  “Pride pulled all this gear in the wagon. I rode him back to the barn and then saddled him and Mitch,” Drace explained as he set his saddle on the edge of the wagon. He pulled a brush from a bucket and handed it to her.

  Maggie gave him a blank look so he took the brush and showed her how to run it over Pride’s silky hide. “General rule of thumb is to be careful around any horse’s feet and the rear end. Pride won’t hurt you; just watch the proximity of your feet with his. I’ll finish him once I get done putting the food away,” he said and smiled warmly at her. He knew she was still a bit nervous around the horses but hoped Pride would win her over.

  Drace made quick work of putting the groceries in the cooler and a box. He came back to survey her work. “Not bad, rookie,” he complimented her. “Thanks.” He bent down to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. He then took the brush and worked on the more difficult spots she was too short to reach or lacked the nerve. She had absolutely refused to do between Pride’s rear legs.

  She bent down to stare is disbelief. “Holy Hannah. Those are huge! I’m NOT touching those!”

  Drace had a hand over his mouth in what he hoped was a thoughtful gesture, trying to appear nonchalant. “You’re not going to brush those. Just the inside of his legs,” he corrected.

  Maggie stood up straight, walked over to him, and poked him in the chest with the brush as she tilted her head back to glare at him. “I don’t think so, buddy. I like your horse, but not that much. He can just be dirty.”

  Drace stood there after taking the brush and holding it for a second and then went to attend to the rest of Pride’s grooming. He managed not to laugh out loud, but Pride turned his head to look at him curiously at Drace’s suppressed snort of amusement.

  Drace finished and moved Pride over to tie him to a tree, giving him enough rope to graze or lay down. He then brought Maggie’s bag to her.

  “Which tent do you want?” he asked

  “I thought I was sharing with Cerise and you had one.”

  Drace shook his head. “No, I’ll sleep out here. If it gets cold I have enough blankets. You don’t have to share unless it makes you feel safer.”

  Maggie put her hands on her hips. “This is luxurious compared to some of the places I’ve stayed in on a site. Besides, we have you to protect us innocent females.”

  Drace tossed her bag to her. “You’re a feisty little thing,” he stated and then went to get camp chairs from the wagon.

  Maggie put her bag in one of the tents and saw he had set up a cot and made it with blanket and a pillow.

  Cerise was coming out of the other tent as Maggie left hers. Drace was sitting in a chair, elbows on his knees, apparently in deep thought.

  “Why did you pick this spot?” Maggie asked.

  “This place has always felt special, maybe a bit holy to me, even when I was a kid. I come here when I need peace.” He stood and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his worn Levis. “You might think it’s about the quiet, but it’s not,” he said and stared across the open area. “Listen when you get the chance. Let it fill you.”

  Drace walked off to gather wood for a fire without another word, and left Maggie standing in wonder.

  Cerise startled her when she spoke her beside her. “He’s always been like that—a little philosophical at times. He listens to things. We once had a Dutch Warmblood stallion—a hateful, mean, ornery horse. Drace was the only one who could really do much with him. He would stand outside that horse’s stall or paddock and just watch him. Not that horse whispering thing you hear about. He just watched and listened. That horse respected him. I don’t think he loved Drace because he didn’t love anyone, but he did respect him. If Drace had ridden that horse at the Trials, he’d have gone on to the Olympics I think, but the horse came along later,” Cerise said.

  “I’ve seen Drace angry,” she said. “He gets mad, but he won’t argue with you much. He’ll leave until his temper cools and then work it out. He’s a very deep person.”

  “I’ve gathered that,
” Maggie said with a sigh.

  Cerise put a sisterly arm around Maggie’s trim waist. “And if he loves you, you’ll know it. I think you do know it, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Maggie admitted. “But I’m like the horse. I came along too late. So,” she said, sounding defeated. “I’ll do everything I can to help him and keep a few memories for myself. I just wish I could keep in touch with the two of you later. I’d like to know how things turn out.

  “Right now, I suppose we should go help Drace gather some firewood,” Maggie suggested and headed in the direction Drace had taken, Cerise at her heels.

  They passed Drace as he was returning to camp, his arms full of wood. He gave them a half smile and continued on his way. When they had armfuls of fallen branches they headed back. On the next trip, Drace was dragging a couple of bigger limbs.

  Several trips later, the three had a sizable stack and Drace took an axe from the wagon and set to work on the bigger limbs. By the time he finished, he had sweated through his t-shirt.

  Cerise and Maggie got out the cooking equipment, and then gathered small sticks and some leaves to start the fire. By the time Drace was putting the axe away, Cerise had a small fire going.

  Maggie sniffed. “There’s nothing like the smell of a campfire. Unless you’re using camel dung.”

  Drace was wiping his face with the inside of the neck of his shirt and his chuckle sounded from underneath the material. He pulled his shirt in order, rummaged in a duffel bag and came out with a dry long sleeve t-shirt. He came over to stand by the fire.

  “In Kismera, people will take a group out with wagons and put the kids to work picking up dry bison beast manure. They fling more at each other then they actually gather, but the kids have a ball. The pies help save wood for heating. I was surprised at how long it burns,” he said.

  He pulled his damp shirt off, and laid it over the back of an empty chair then pulled on the dry one. He had taken off his hat before chopping wood and he ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it up. He caught a whiff of himself and wrinkled his nose. There was a small pond at the edge of the clearing and he decided he’d go there to bathe after the women went to sleep. He looked up to check the location of the sun: A couple of hours until sunset, he estimated.

  His stomach growled, “So what gourmet meal have you gals planned for dinner?

  Cerise grinned at him. “Pork steak and baked potatoes,” she said. “I just need the fire to be going long enough to make some coals.”

  Drace leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, locking his hands together over his flat stomach. “Mmmm, sounds good.”

  “Do you need to go back to feed your other horses?” Maggie asked, relaxing in her own chair.

  “No,” Drace answered, not opening his eyes. “I hired Tony, one of Lorrie’s grooms, to take care of things while we’re gone. If there is an emergency, he knows where to find us.”

  “Where do you have your bathroom facilities?” she asked him next.

  Drace opened his eyes and pointed behind the tents. “We have one of those camp toilets and I put it behind a blanket back there. There is also a bucket with water and some soap to wash up with.”

  “Man, this guy knows how to camp,” Maggie said to Cerise, rising to her feet. “Excuse me for a bit.”

  She disappeared behind the tents, leaving Cerise and Drace to enjoy the crackling fire.

  Cerise got up to start wrapping potatoes in aluminum foil. She noted that Drace had his eyes closed again. “You look tired,” she commented.

  “A bit,” he admitted. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I guess I’m a bit antsy.” He actually felt he should be armed but he wasn’t sure why. The only wild animals he had seen out here were deer and rabbits and the like. He had seen fox too, but they were shy and would stay away.

  His sword was with his gear. I’ll get it after I feed the horses. With a groan, he stood and stretched, his spine popping pleasurably.

  Maggie came back, looking a bit relieved.

  “Think you can lead Pride to the pond for a drink after he eats?” Drace asked her.

  Maggie gave him an apprehensive look. Suck it up Shaffer. You can do it, she thought. Make Drace proud of you. “Sure. Just show me what to do.”

  Drace fed the horses and while they were finishing, he strapped on his sword belt. He immediately felt more at ease.

  Maggie came over to take Pride as Drace untied him. “Stay on his left next to his head. He won’t pull you,” Drace instructed. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. He saw the fear there and her internal battle to control it. “Just follow me, but not too close. Pride might decide to bite Mitch if you do. You’ll be fine. Ready?”

  Maggie took the lead rope as Drace had shown her and waited for him to get Mitch. They took the horses over to the small pond. Maggie followed Drace’s example by loosening the rope, allowing Pride to lower his head to drink. When Pride finished, he moved his head to rub gently on Maggie’s shoulder, dribbling water down her sleeve.

  “Pride, you pig. Jeez!” she complained but rubbed his face gently any way. He blew softly against her cheek, making her laugh.

  They took the horses back. Drace tied them to their trees, put blankets on each of them, and tied hay nets at a safe height, but in reach. Maggie watched, impressed.

  After the three people had eaten and cleaned up, Maggie retrieved her coat from her tent along with a flashlight she tucked into a back pocket. “We should start now, I think,” she said and looked out into the growing darkness. “I’ll stay awake as long as I can and get one of you.”

  Drace volunteered to be next. “I don’t think I can sleep much anyway,” he said. “How exactly should we pray anyway?”

  Maggie was lost in thought but turned at his question. “I don’t have enough information on any rituals. I would think you pray to Arahtok the way you would pray to your god. You do what feels right in your heart.”

  She gave Drace a sad smile and moved off into the trees for solitude.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  DRACE WOKE WITH A START from a restless sleep when Maggie placed a hand on his arm. He had brought his hunting plaid and was wrapped up in the wool. He was very warm as he lay close to the fire.

  “What time is it?” he asked with a yawn, pushing his hair out of his face.

  Maggie turned her watch to catch firelight. “About two-thirty. I’m pooped.”

  Drace stood, retrieved his sword belt from his bed where he stashed it, stretched, and then strapped it on.

  Maggie rose on tiptoe and pulled Drace’s head down to plant a warm kiss on his lips. She released her hold and looked into his surprised eyes. “I listened to the quiet and you were right, it was incredible,” she whispered to him.

  She had taken up a spot under a large maple, and once she had settled in, she listened. What she had once considered quiet compared to the noise of the city became a peaceful symphony of sound. The yellow and brown leaves of the tree over her head sighed and rustled in the slight breeze. Some bird called to another, and crickets chirped. Somewhere deeper in the trees; an owl hooted. She had heard a pop as a log settled on their campfire. There was a disturbance in the fallen leaves as some small animal made its way through the woods. God, or gods, could be here as easily as any church. She had lowered her head and prayed thanks for the insight.

  “Goodnight, Drace,” she said, with a smile.

  Drace ran a big hand gently over the back of her head, smoothing her flaming hair. He kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Maggie. Sleep well.”

  He watched her until she disappeared into her tent, and then gathered up supplies for a quick bath in the pond. Once finished, he went to his favorite spot in the timber to keep vigil and try to reach the god, Arahtok.

  “MacKinnon,” came a whispery voice. Drace was awake but felt like he was hearing it in a dream. He turned to find the source. It was a male voice so he knew it wasn’t one of the women looking for him.

  “MacKinno
n,” came the voice again and this time Drace caught the soft Scottish accent. “Clansman.”

  Drace moved away from the tree where he had been leaning. He adjusted the plaid wrapped around him to free access to his sword.

  “Who is there?’ he called quietly, moving his hand to the sword’s hilt, his eyes searching through the dim light of a full moon.

  A form became visible, coming through the trees. “Rest easy, kinsman, for I ken ya lad.”

  A man stopped several feet away but Drace could see him clearly. The man was tall, maybe six feet and broad shouldered. He was dressed in a kilt and plaid that matched the one draped around Drace. The shirt underneath was a hand-woven linen one that laced at the throat. Tall boots that had seen much wear covered his feet. “I see tha’ ye ken me as well.”

  “I do know you. I saw you at Culloden, on the moor. It was almost like looking into a mirror.”

  Drace caught the soft sound of laughter and goose bumps pimpled his skin. “Aye lad, I saw ye there. It gave me a fair start to see you. But ye gave me something wonderful at that moment.”

  “What was that?” Drace asked, not believing he was having a conversation with a man who had been a ghost for over two hundred and fifty years. However bazaar the situation, Drace relaxed and loosened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

  The Scot walked a few feet, his kilt swaying with his movements. “Seeing ye there gave me the comfort of knowing me wife and son made it to safety and me blood survived.

  Drace made the generational connection. “So…I am your many times great grandson?” he asked.

  “Aye. And a right braw lad ye turned out to be. Your father would be fair proud of ye.”

  “My parents are dead,” Drace said.

  “That’s too bad,” the ghost Scot said, coming to stand a bit closer.

  Drace could feel a coldness in the air that surrounded the man but felt no danger to himself, just curiosity. “How did you find me and come here?” he asked.