Wings Over Tremeirchson

by Linda Ulleseit

  Chapter 10: Passion

  Neste couldn’t climb aboard the wagon, of course, so Hoel lifted her onto the back. Her legs hung off the edge of the rough plank bed, the hem of her skirt swirling. On either side, the hard spoked wheels rattled and lurched. The same wagon delivered produce, any large orders from town, and, of course, injured riders who fell from the sky. The farmer who owned the earthbound horses drove. Hoel sat next to Neste. He didn’t say anything, didn’t touch her, but his support kept her calm.

  The rough ride jostled her leg, which throbbed painfully by the time they reached Neste’s house. Glynis raced out the door, a kitchen towel in her hand. “Oh, Neste, Mum worried when I discovered you’d gone. What were you thinking?”

  Neste admired how her sister emphasized their mother’s worry. She must know her own worry wouldn’t move Neste at all. “I belong in the barn, Glynis,” she said, but the words felt hollow.

  Hoel helped her inside and got her settled in bed under Glynis’s watchful eye. Neste restrained a groan as Hoel pressed against bruised ribs. With his face close to hers, he said, “Nice having you in the barn today.”

  She no longer rode for him. Did he want her there because she would be his wife? Neste didn’t think she could go from rider to silent support. Before she could respond, though, he’d straightened and patted her throbbing leg. She winced.

  Hoel gave her a quick farewell and left. She heard him stop in her mother’s doorway and inquire about her health. Mum would like that. Then his bootsteps made their way into the front room and out the door. The Aerial Games were closing, and he needed to be there. He couldn’t stay, even if she wanted his company.

  Only then did Neste notice her pewter tankard, emptied of its flowers. “Glynis!” she yelled. Her sister must have been in their mother’s room because she arrived immediately. “Where are my flowers?” Neste demanded.

  “Those white weeds? If you want proper flowers, I’ll cut and arrange some…”

  “Those were mine,” Neste howled. She hadn’t seen Elen for days. The garlic flowers had wilted, and no new ones replaced them. Somehow she and Elen remained connected as long as the flowers had been in her room.

  “Maybe you overdid it this morning,” Glynis said in a chilly voice. She left the room and headed for the kitchen. Neste stared at the empty tankard and clenched her fists around her pillow so she wouldn’t cry with frustration and loss.

  With the exertion of the morning over, a pleasant satisfaction relaxed Neste’s muscles. She wouldn’t admit her exhaustion to anyone. From the kitchen, clanging pans announced dinner would be soon, but her eyes closed long before Glynis brought her tray.

  When Neste awoke, her dinner sat on the table next to her bed, cold. Shaking off the disorientation that a nap in the middle of the day caused, she reached for a roll. It would be better cold than the soup. Her stomach growled for more, but before she could decide whether to eat the cold soup or call Glynis for something hot, someone approached her room. The shuffling steps halted before Neste could see the person. Curious, she watched the doorway.

  Elen slipped into view, her eyes looking back over her shoulder. Her footsteps carried her forward, and she turned to face Neste. With a small sigh of relief, she half-whispered, “I made it. No small feat, you understand. I’ve come by every day, but that witch stopped me.”

  “It’s wonderful to see you,” Neste said with a warm smile. She, too, kept her voice soft although she couldn’t imagine Glynis physically removing Elen now that she’d arrived.

  Elen hung back near the doorway. Her short dark hair peeked out from under her hastily tied cap, and she wore an older gown, not one of her best. She offered Neste a small bouquet with a shrug of apology. The leaves of the garlic flower were spotted with yellow, the flowers smaller than usual.

  Neste waved at the tankard. “Is there still water in there?”

  Elen slid over to the dresser and plopped the flowers in. “It won’t matter. They’re dying anyway.” Her shoulders slumped.

  Neste stared at her friend, remembering the last time they’d been together. Elen had bounced with exuberance over her betrothal to Morgan. “How’s everything with Morgan?”

  Elen’s face glowed. “Wonderful.” Her smile faded. “I’m so sorry, Neste, about Llawen…I don’t know what to say. I’m so awful at this.” She wrung her hands and looked at the floor.

  “Elen, yours is the face that most comforts me,” Nest said. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  Elen lunged for the bed and wrapped Neste in a hug, her words spilling out. “I’ve been so worried, and so angry with Hoel and Glynis. Morgan offered to come with me and force Glynis to let me in, but I knew that would be worse. So I waited until I knew Hoel would be at the barn. I’m quite sneaky when I want to be! Glynis is in the kitchen preparing supper, and I think your mum is asleep. Not that she would be angry with me. She might even appreciate a visit from me.”

  Neste smiled as Elen’s tone went from outraged to conspiratorial to confidant. “She would indeed. Elen, thank you so much for making such an effort to come. I really appreciate it.”

  “I would think so. Friendly faces don’t seem too common around here.”

  “So tell me what’s going on in the world.” Neste settled back into her pillows, prepared to let Elen talk.

  Elen hesitated only a moment, her eyes raking Neste head to toe. “How are you, really?”

  “I’m sore,” Neste admitted, “but everyone asks me that. Tell me something new.”

  “I will.” She hesitated again, though, before speaking. “Everyone is talking about your accident. Some say you should be given another horse right away, and some say you should just leave the barn. I suppose they want you to disappear into thin air so they don’t have to feel sorrow over your loss. Morgan’s barn won the Games, of course, but he is keeping the celebration simple out of deference to your accident. Gossip isn’t focused on him, though. Did Isabella really leave with Adam?” Elen leaned forward, eyes bright.

  Neste marveled at the speed of rumor. It had been scant hours since the couple left the barn. “Did they have heralds accompany them?”

  Elen laughed. “They might as well have! I never saw that coming!”

  Neste’s eyes returned to the fading flowers. “So your garlic plant is sick?”

  Her friend’s smile faded. “I water it, but it wilts more. I am hopeless with plants.”

  Elen didn’t have earth’s nurturing skill. “Keep your dreams alive,” Neste advised.

  “Neste! Who are you talking to?” Glynis’s voice carried from the kitchen, preceding her imperious footsteps. She thundered into the room and scowled at Elen.

  “Glynis, look who’s finally been able to visit,” Neste said, smiling. “My very best friend in the whole world. I’m so glad she’s here. I have missed her dreadfully.”

  Facing Neste, her back to the door, Elen’s eyes went wide as her hands covered her mouth to stifle laughter.

  With a low grunt, Glynis glared at both of them and stomped back to the kitchen.

  “Oh, Rhiannon, that was funny!” Elen whispered. “You surely haven’t lost your sense of humor. You know, maybe you can come to Morgan’s barn now. The Rider Ceremony will be next month, and I’m sure Morgan can find you a horse.”

  Neste stared at her friend, holding her jaw steady so it wouldn’t drop open. “You think having a horse is more important than my betrothal?”

  Elen flushed at Neste’s tone. “I’m sorry Neste, but Hoel wasn’t your choice, and better men are available.”

  “Better men like Adam? Handsome and charming and fickle?” Her hands gestured to her injury. “I know all this was an accident, but instead of accepting responsibility Adam ran away. Hoel stayed. My father chose Hoel. He wanted me settled in a good position before he died. Most importantly, I love Hoel.”

  Elen’s eyebrows rose. “He’s too prickly for me. Will he put you on another horse?”

  “I don’t want another horse.�
�� Her voice wavered.

  “Then what good are you to Hoel?” Neste flinched, but Elen continued. “You were a rider. He enjoyed your success. What are you to him now?”

  “He loves me.” Neste hated the uncertainty in her voice. Elen’s words resonated in her own brain, although she hadn’t voiced them even in private.

  “And you love him. Match made by Rhiannon.” Elen’s voice edged toward sarcasm.

  “My father left me when I was twelve years old. Not his fault, but true. My brothers left me and never looked back. Even Adam left me. Hoel will never leave me, and I find myself craving stability right now.”

  Elen hesitated a moment, her eyes focused on Neste. “Listen to me with your heart, Neste. You were a good rider. You could be again if you choose to. If not, whatever you do choose, make sure it’s what you want and not just pleasing to someone else.”

  Neste nodded as tears threatened. Elen squeezed her hand and turned toward the door. Neste closed her eyes and lay still. She heard Elen sweep from the room, muted voices as she greeted Mum, and the solid sound of the front door closing. Tears slipped under Neste’s eyelids and trickled down her face.

  She opened her eyes and wiped them with her hand. Staring at the wilted white flowers that Elen had brought, Neste wondered what she really did want in her future. She didn’t want to fly, but then she was no use to the barn. Would she ever heal enough to give her heart to another horse?

  When Glynis brought her supper, she asked her sister to take away the pewter tankard and its bouquet. Hungry since she’d had no dinner, Neste ate well. Then she watched the empty dresser top until the room dimmed with night.

  For the next couple of days, Neste rose at the same time and walked to the barn on her crutches. Glynis and her mother both disapproved, but Neste needed that much independence. Her leg ached constantly, but it also got stronger every day. Kenn no longer came by daily, and Glynis no longer made special teas for Neste’s pain. Elen met her at the fountain every night as usual, but forestalled real conversation by gushing about Morgan and their upcoming wedding. Nonetheless, Neste appreciated the respite from agonizing over her own future.

  In the barn, the thrill of competition had subsided to the normal routine of caring for and exercising the horses. Hoel insisted no one care for Mallt but Neste and Robyn, the groom. Robyn showed intelligence and competence in his care of Mallt, and Neste enjoyed talking to him. She began teaching him what she knew of winged horse care.

  “The wings are the horse’s most vulnerable area. Without them, the horse cannot fly. Winged horses aren’t meant to gallop long distances like their non-winged counterparts. They develop different muscles for flying. A grounded horse deteriorates quickly.”

  “I walk Mallt up and down the lanes every day,” Robyn told her. “Riders from other barns ask about her, and they call me by name now.” His pride warmed Neste.

  “How old are you, Robyn?”

  “Sixteen, milady.”

  “Sixteen?” Neste tried to hide her surprise. She’d thought him much younger. “Have you ever considered being a rider?”

  “A rider! Oh, no, milady. I would never aspire so high.”

  “Well, you might be a good one.” To Neste’s surprise, she felt no desire to ride Mallt. An air person would long for the air, but she was content to stay on the ground. Did that mean she no longer had dreams?

  Robyn’s cheeks flushed at her compliment, and he turned the conversation back to Mallt. “See how her coat is improving? I’m feeding her like you said, and I’m brushing her more.”

  “She looks wonderful, and she seems in good spirits.”

  Robyn beamed as Neste left the stall. He knew and loved Mallt, and Mallt needed a rider. Neste would recommend him to Hoel. She headed toward Marc’s office.

  Before she arrived, a shout stopped her. “Neste! Can I see you?”

  She turned to find Phelip hurrying toward her. “Is something wrong with Rhiryd?”

  “The competition during the Games really didn’t help his ankle. Can you look at it again?”

  “Of course.” She followed Phelip to the horse’s stall. The sorrel looked to be in wonderful health. Neste pictured him moving into position above her at the top of the Humminghorse Dance and shuddered. Pushing the image out of her mind, she stroked the velvet flank and murmured to the horse. His ears swiveled, listening.

  “That’s a good boy, Rhiryd. Let me see your ankle. Hmmm looking good, actually, Phelip.” She straightened to see a scared girl cowering behind the horse. “Your groom is taking excellent care of him.” The scared girl smiled and dropped her eyes to the floor.

  “His ankle is all right?”

  “It’s a little swollen from overuse, but with rest it will be fine.”

  She continued to Marc’s office. Sitting behind the desk, he looked up and smiled. “It’s good to see you in the barn, Neste.”

  “Just checking on Mallt, syr. She’s doing well under Robyn’s care.”

  “Did I see you with Phelip, too?”

  “He asked me to check the sorrel’s ankle. It’ll do better now that he can rest it.”

  Marc nodded. “Rider Ceremony is coming up. We only have two foals ready for riders.” His eyes narrowed as he peered at her. “And Mallt, of course.”

  “Syr, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Neste took a step forward, considering how to put forth Robyn’s name.

  Marc was too quick. Before she could continue, he said, “Oh, good. I hoped you’d been thinking about it. I wouldn’t want to lose you. You’re a good rider.”

  “Good rider?” Neste repeated weakly.

  “You’d be perfect for Mallt. She needs someone experienced to undo bad habits she learned from Adam. Will you take it on?”

  She sank into the chair beside Marc’s desk. The idea of being Mallt’s rider made her dizzy, but she needed to be useful. “Mallt’s rider?” Neste repeated, still trying to process his request. “I think Robyn would be a good rider, syr, and he knows Mallt better than anyone.”

  “Robyn?” Marc frowned. “He’s barely sixteen. That does qualify him to ride, but you’re eighteen and more experienced.” Her reluctance to leap on the opportunity obviously surprised him. “Would you think about it?”

  Neste nodded. “I am honored, syr, but I haven’t given much thought to riding again. I will let you know tomorrow.”

  Now that riding again was a real possibility, Neste was torn. Body in automatic motion, she stood up and hobbled from the office. Her brain flashed images of Llawen before and during the accident, of the mare as a filly, and of Mallt. The idea of flying struck terror into her heart. She would never long to fly. Her dreams had always included Llawen. Now she realized those dreams had been more about caring for Llawen, nurturing her. Flying had never been her passion. How would her future with Hoel change if she she never rode again?

  Neste walked along the lane between barns, her crutches swinging and her mind whirling. She forced herself to think about Mallt. Much joy had come from watching the mare’s wing heal. Inspiring Robyn to learn more about the medicines needed to care for her also pleased her. Maybe she could be useful by continuing to heal and teach. The barn didn’t have a doctor for horses or people. Kenn already had told Neste she knew more about the winged horses and their care than he did. And she couldn’t shake the notion that Robyn deserved to ride. She arrived home more mentally exhausted than physically.