Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1)
Page 18
“I’m not making you ride this one, Airagon,” said Will, holding the saddle out for the grey to smell. “You won’t get a good practice.”
Airagon shrugged and held out the lead rope of his sorrel. “You’re a squire just as much as me, so you ought to have a better practice for a change. It’s been weeks and you two aren’t getting along.”
Will hesitated then sighed, shifted the saddle to his hip, and held out a hand for the rope. Airagon handed it to him, beaming. “You’re sure, Airagon?”
Airagon nodded, taking the saddle from Will’s grasp. “Positive! I won’t lie, I’ve been dying to ride this horse. I don’t know…but I like him.”
Will shook his head, patting the sorrel’s neck and watching Airagon move, slowly, with the grey. He had no doubt that Airagon was better with quieting the horses than he was, but he had to be insane. The grey was already pulling back again, wide-eyed, and flailing as it tried to break loose. “Airagon, I mean this in the best possible way,” Will said, exchanging Jas’s halter for his bridle. “But you’re nuts.”
“Naturally so!” Airagon said, laughing.
It took another ten minutes before Airagon managed to saddle and bridle Flint, by which time the grey’s sides were dark with sweat. When they reached the arena, Colin and Rowan were in the center, dulled metal practice swords clashing over the heads of their horses.
“How did you pawn that animal off, Will?” Leaf called. He, Loper, Vancely, Saget, and Novin sat at the end of the arena, feet kicked out of their stirrups and lounging lazily.
“He wanted him,” Will said, trotting the sorrel into line.
“Well,” said Loper, leaning forward to address Airagon, “did that fall last week make you knock your head? From where I sat, I thought it was safe, but now I’m questioning.”
Airagon grinned, gently reining in the nervous animal as it tried to sidestep out of line, gnawing on the bit. “I might have been better off had I struck my head.”
“Ouch!” Novin grunted, ignoring the conversation around them and watching the two squires’ practice. Will turned in time to see Rowan slipping from the saddle, clutching his side in one hand and his reins in the other as his sword hit the ground. A long moment filled with loud swearing later, he joined it on the frozen earth.
“Nice one, Colin!” Novin clapped his gloved hands together.
“Wash your mouth out, Rowan!” Saget added.
Rowan stuck his tongue out at them before climbing to his feet.
“Will, Loper, you’re up,” Novin ordered.
Will pushed Jas into a trot, taking the sword that Colin offered to him on the way out of the gate. A moment later, Loper cantered in behind him, swinging the second practice sword with lazy movements.
They rode apart, turned their horses to face one another, and waited. Will inhaled deeply, the frozen air leaving his lungs in a gasp of fog. Through the layers of clothing and padding, he could feel sweat trickle down his back even as his nose stung with cold.
“And go!” Novin barked and Loper kicked his horse, rushing at Will and Jas.
Jas reacted faster than Will, nearly unseating him as he darted to the left, twisting round so that Loper’s horse passed them with inches to spare. Will put his leg on the sorrel’s side and Jas leapt away from the pressure, pushing his body against Loper’s horse.
Will barely had time to wince as his leg was pressed between both animals before he was blocking Loper’s first blow. He released the reins to grip the sword in both hands, focusing all of his energy on Loper’s next move. The horses danced, two well-trained war animals trying to read their riders’ bodies and thoughts, while Loper rained blow after blow on Will, who could barely move fast enough to block them.
“No one wins on the defense, Will,” he heard Novin yell.
He gritted his teeth and shifted the leg between the two horses, pushing Jas away from Loper’s horse. Then he dove forward again, this time managing to attack before Loper. He struck down and Loper shifted to block, bringing his hilt up at the last minute to strike Will’s blow to the side and forcing him to the defensive again. The horses circled around, moving left and right, Jas’s practiced movements nearly unseating Will.
Will saw his opening and dove forward. Jas moved to assist and Loper pulled back on his horse. Off-balance, Will grabbed at the saddle with his sword free hand as Loper struck his thigh with the flat of the dull blade.
Will hit the dirt with a grunt, his sword landing several feet away.
“Nicely fought,” Loper gasped, leaning down from his saddle and holding out a hand. Will grabbed it, pulling himself to his feet, too winded to reply.
“It was very nicely done,” Will turned, grabbing Jas’s reins, as Sir Ross stepped through the gate. “But, not good enough. Keep your balance, even if it means missing an obvious opening. If you kill your enemy but hit the ground in battle, you are just as successfully killing yourself.”
Will nodded, feeling his face redden. His body ached from the unforgiving ground. “Yes, Sir.”
“Airagon, you and Will switched horses?” Ross asked, looking toward the line where Airagon was trotting Flint in circles, working the reins lightly.
“Yes, Sir,” Airagon called, his focus never leaving his horse.
Ross watched them for a moment, his face unreadable, before turning to Will. “Do you like that grey?”
His face heated up further as Will looked at his boots. “Not particularly.”
“It’s not a horse,” Rowan corrected from his place next to Novin, “It’s a Moron Cow, Sir.”
Ross raised his eyebrows, his face stony, as he looked at Rowan. Rowan merely shrugged, clearly unapologetic. “Well, you’re in luck then, Will. Our horses have been brought back as far as the walls. We have already prepared the borrowed horses for the return journey.”
Will nodded, glancing at Airagon, who had halted Flint. The other squire looked crestfallen and the grey horse beneath him stood still as if to finally prove himself. “We will get Flint ready, Sir,” Will said, turning back to Ross.
Ross nodded, eyes fixed on the grey and Airagon. “Very well. Meet us in the courtyard then.”
Will and Airagon walked behind the rest of the group, Will leading Jas. He watched Airagon work Flint with gentle hands as the colt tried to shy away from the unlit torch brackets along the walls on either side.
“You do handle that horse well,” said Will.
Airagon forced a smile. “Thanks, Will. I’m glad I got to try him out. I don’t know…I just like him.”
As they rounded the corner, Will grinned at the sight of a familiar bay stallion, ears pinned, being handed off to Sir Rockwood by an overly eager man on a stout palomino draft horse.
“Visra!”
The bay’s ears pricked forward as he looked over the cluster of horses, in Will’s direction.
Airagon laughed, sliding down from Flint’s back. “He knows your voice, for sure. I’m going to go ahead and unsaddle Flint. If you’d like, I can take Jas so you can get Visra settled in again.”
“Oh, thanks!”
Will handed the reins to Airagon then jogged to Rockwood and his horse. “I hear,” Rockwood commented, handing him Visra’s rope, “that your horse was among the top three worst that this poor man’s ever transported,” Rockwood grinned, patting the bay’s neck. “And he used to deal with a lot of horses in his younger days.”
The man grunted and scowled at Will. Will smiled, sheepish. “Thank you for bringing him back.”
“Thank me by not having me deal with him anymore,” the man complained. “Now, where are the other horses? It’s eleven, right?”
“We need to discuss that, actually,” the growling voice of Sir Ross made Will turn.
The King had silently joined them in the courtyard, Sir Ross by his side. He moved toward the man, patting Visra’s shoulder as he passed Will. “Yes,” the King said, stopping in front of the man. “Are you, then, in charge of seeing to the horses of Lonnac?”
The King waved his hand in dismissal of the movement. “Very well, walk with me a moment and let Sir Ross and Sir Rockwood and the squires get your horses ready for your return journey. I have matters to discuss.”
Will turned to Rockwood, eyebrows raised. “So, what do I need to do?”
“Just take care of Visra. Leaf, Loper, and Airagon can give us a hand with the Lonnac horses,” said Rockwood, clapping him on the back. “Make sure that the brute is behaving for you well enough to get back to work tomorrow.”
Visra shoved Will gently in the back, brown eyes innocent as if he had been listening to the conversation. Will smiled, ruffling the black forelock. “I’ve missed you, boy, even if you don’t act like a gentleman.”
The horse matched his natural stride as they moved into the barn, back to Visra’s stall. At the end of the barn alleyway, Will could see Airagon brushing the grey, talking to the animal in a quiet murmur. It didn’t seem right that Airagon hadn’t been assigned a horse yet, with his natural talents, Will thought. Where he struggled when he rode most animals, having to consciously focus on the right movements, Airagon made it seem natural.
Visra, displeased with being ignored, stamped a hoof dangerously close to Will’s foot. “You’re a pest, you know that don’t you?” he asked the horse, slipping off the halter. Visra ignored the comment, turning to the hay piled in the corner.
“You’re doing well with that horse, considering your background,” Will spun to face the stall door again. Sir Laster leaned against it, hard eyes watching Visra. “I don’t care for complimenting people and I don’t honestly care for you,” he straightened, grimacing. “But I would be lying if I didn’t say it.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Will said, tentatively. Even after the months in the castle, he couldn’t read Sir Laster and wasn’t sure he liked him.
Seeming to read his mind, Sir Laster raised his eyebrows and focused his attention on him. “I’d like to know, Will,” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, “how you feel that the tunnel boy is doing as a part of Alamore.”
“His name is Airagon and he’s a squire,” Will replied, forcing his tone to stay even as anger flared in his stomach.
Laster nodded. “You’re right… I’ve told you before my thoughts on these matters. But I honestly think you’re right,” the knight laughed softly, shaking his head as he stared at the rafters of the barn. “And what you just said tells me your opinion. I just needed to know how he was with the squires,” Laster leveled Will with his gaze once more. “You trust him?”
“Yes,” said Will without hesitation. It was the truth. In the weeks since Airagon had joined them, it seemed impossible that he had ever not been a part of the group of squires. He was the only other squire who hadn’t grown up with the expectation that he’d be trained to become a knight.
“Very well,” Laster smirked, “that’s what I needed to know,” with that, he turned and left the barn, leaving Will confused.
“Everything okay, Will?” Airagon asked, leading Flint toward the barn. “Laster’s not breaking your chops, is he?”
Will shook his head, stepping out of the stall to join Airagon. “Not as of right now. How are you doing?”
The two fell into stride together, their feet and Flint’s hooves the only sound in the large barn. Airagon shrugged, a half-smile playing at his mouth. “I’m pretty good. I had a lot of fun just being able to work this horse today, Will. Like, for once, I don’t have to worry about messing up a warhorse that belongs to a knight. This one’s already a mess and just needs hours of work.”
Will stared at him, unable to hide the disbelief on his face. “You do know you’re insane, don’t you?”
They stepped into the courtyard as Airagon laughed. Around them, the Lonnac horses were being assigned to stable hands to lead back off their large draft horses while the sun’s dying light cast orange flames across the piles of snow. The noise of hooves on the cleared cobbles and the whinnies were enough to make Flint’s head raise in alarm.
“Ease up, boy, you’ll be fine,” Airagon crooned. Will moved sideways, away from the half-ton body as it swung back and forth.
“Airagon, that horse is getting stressed. I would recommend you take him back inside,” the King called, stepping out of the chaos, his large blue roan at his side.
Airagon shifted into an uncomfortable bow, refusing to meet the King’s eyes. “He’s a Lonnac horse, your Majesty.”
“And I don’t care for the groveling of squires in my own house,” said the King dryly. “He’s a born and bred Lonnac horse, so not generally my first choice. Sir Ross, though, said you had quite the knack with it. He’s yours now.”
Will and Airagon both looked at the King with similar expressions of surprise. The King chuckled, walking between them, into the barn. “T-thank you!” Airagon called after him. The King merely raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Will grinned at his friend. “Well, Airagon, careful what you wish for, I guess. Now you’re stuck with that Moron Cow.”
“And the both of you,” Sir Rockwood was now approaching, his horse walking freely behind him, “will be on the patrol tomorrow. Now that all of us are on horses we know; we get back to the real work.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Will was the first awake the next morning. Pulling his blankets around him in the dark grey of the pre-dawn light, he tried to force himself back into sleep. All he wanted was another hour of not having to think or worry about the day. The weeks of being inside the walls seemed never-ending but, now, it felt as though they were open for attack at any minute. You’re being foolish, Will told himself, giving up and staring at the ceiling, you signed up to be a knight, not safe. They are not the same thing.
He forced himself to sit up, dress in his heaviest shirt and pants, and threw a grey cloak over his shoulders. Around him, the deep breathing of the other squires was the only noise and, beyond the door to the dining hall, he could hear the gentle clatter of cutlery in use. If he was going to be awake, he might as well eat, he decided and slipped from the room.
The dining hall was dimly lit, the large fires on the edge of the room still low from the night before and only a few candles had been set at the knights’ table. Will could make out the forms of Ross, Don, Henry, and Rockwood, all speaking in low whispers. Will shivered. He couldn’t make out their words yet it seemed eerie, the sound of hushed voices in the dimly lit hall. For a moment, he considered staying silent, trying to hear what they were saying. If it was about the patrol that Rockwood had mentioned, he wanted to know…
The thought of the Ranger’s threats after hearing him and Marl speaking made the decision for him. Will cleared his throat and walked toward the squire table.
“Aw, young Master William,” Rockwood said, pushing out the chair beside him. “Don’t bother sitting over there. They haven’t brought that breakfast up because we decided to let you all lie in a bit longer. Get over here.”
Will glanced at his usual seat at the round squires’ table, feeling almost longing for the continued moments of solitude, before nodding and taking the chair to Rockwood’s right. Rockwood handed him a dish of eggs before turning to the other knights. “So, if that’s what’s happening in Phersal, what’s the news with our best friends to the East?”
Sir Ross snorted derisively. “It would be better if I could kill King Tollien myself.”
Henry grimaced, running a hand through his greying hair. “I’m afraid that what I have heard isn’t much and it isn’t good. They’ve been pushing their border guard closer to Alamore in these past few weeks. They know we’re weaker after the Phersal incident.”
“Betrayal,” Sir Don corrected. He threw Will a sympathetic look. “You must be bored out of your mind with these types of discussions.”
Will shook his head, mouth too full of eggs to speak and Rockwood had to muffle his laughter behind his
hand. Swallowing, Will grinned sheepishly. He could feel the heat creeping into his face. “No, Sir. We haven’t heard much and, honestly, it’s getting pretty boring being behind the walls.”
“Boy sounds like you, Ross,” Henry commented.
Will saw Ross’s face redden and the man looked away, a smile flitting over his lips as his dark blue eyes became unreadable. “A younger version, maybe,” the knight agreed quietly.
“I won’t complain if we get another swordsman like Ross. I don’t even know if the Ranger could beat him, just don’t tell the Ranger I said that,” Rockwood said. “But, Henry, have you heard anything else.”
Henry sighed. “Nothing. They have had too much information from around the castle for too long, though I think that you, Ross, dealt with that.”