Paranormally Yours: A Boxed Set

by Alisha Basso

  The corners of Artepa’s eyes crinkled as she let out a soft laugh. “You said enough to Enaid for us to know what you were thinking.”

  A murky haze had surrounded them during the night, and it muffled their voices, making Lauren feel like they were all in a safe cocoon. “Was Captain Geed upset?”

  Pheeso snorted. “When is that overblown son of a frit not upset about something?”

  Something had changed in Pheeso. He had softened toward her. Perhaps Leinos had ordered it.

  “Is the Captain always upset about something? I haven’t seen that side of him.”

  Artepa filled three bowls from the pot and brought one to Lauren. “That is lucky for you. No doubt he has shown you only his best side.”

  “And that is no broader than one of Pindar’s whiskers,” Pheeso said. “You will see the rest of him before long.”

  Great. A moody and horny captain was exactly what she wouldn’t need with hundreds of horses to care for and only a handful of inexperienced people to do it.

  One step at a time, she reminded herself. She ate the hot cereal standing while Pheeso and Artepa filled water skins and struck the camp. After cleaning her bowl and putting it with the others, she tacked up Pindar and mounted.

  And froze. The morning mist parted. Her breath hitched in her throat. Before them rose the Bitter Reaches. The rising sun illuminated sharp, bare peaks stabbing the still-dark sky. Craggy. Imposing. Terrifying.

  Bitter, indeed.

  Lauren forced air into her lungs. Small wonder the horses stayed on the other side. There was no way she could get over those mountains, find and call the horses, and deliver them to Lerom in the fifteen days she had left.

  A new wave of anger washed through her. The queen had known all along this was a fool’s errand. The queen had her own agenda. The queen wanted her, along with whatever imaginary threat she represented, dead.

  Pindar strained at the bit. He lifted his head and whinnied. She could feel his energy building, his powerful muscles bunching. She patted his neck. “You’re right. We have to try.”

  The big gray shook and pranced. Lauren restrained him with a gentle tweak to the reins as she turned to Pheeso and Artepa. “We’re going—”

  Pindar launched into gallop, nearly dumping her right over his tail. She grabbed mane and pulled herself into the saddle. Her last word, now, was taken by the wind. She figured her new guardians got the picture.

  ~~~

  Leinos first became aware of throbbing pain. Mostly in his head. But there was little to distinguish it from the burning soreness of his stiff arms and shoulders, or the stabbing sensation on his left side when he breathed, or the tender ache of what must be bruises down the length of both legs. He was lying on a hard surface but something soft cradled the back of his head, the locus of the most severe discomfort.

  How he had come to be so thoroughly thrashed, he did not know.

  Then, the smell hit him. Death. All around. He struggled to his hands and knees and vomited. And immediately collapsed to the side again, dizziness making sparks swirl in his vision and the pounding in his head worse.

  He had survived a fight. Others had not.

  Perhaps he slept. He would like to sleep until the pain receded and someone else had come for the bodies. Next, he heard a voice nearby.

  “Are you awake again? Thank the goddess.”

  Awake again? He did not remember. A soggy rag trailed over his forehead. The voice, familiar. “Malek?” The sound a strange croak.

  “Yessir.”

  Leinos started to clear his throat, but the effort rebounded in his skull, so he stopped. Still, when he spoke, he sounded more like himself. “What happened?”

  “We were attacked. I ran away. They left you for dead. I waited. You came to, but not for long. After you fell asleep, I thought you would never wake up.”

  He could not put the pieces together. The last he remembered was walking beside Malek. “How long?”

  “Since the attack?” Malek asked slowly. “A day.”

  “Who else was here? Who attacked?”

  When no answer came, he slowly lifted one arm to shield his eyes before opening them. He could not quite make the boy come into focus, but Malek knelt beside him, blinking, fear pinching his brows together. Leinos let his hand drop to the boy’s knee with a sigh.

  “It will be all right. I was hit in the head. I have seen this before. It is usual to be confused and forgetful for a time. Do we have water?” His throat felt like charred parchment.

  The boy scrambled up and came back with a skin. Leinos fought down the nausea and drank. He needed time to recover, but a sense of urgency clawed at him. If only he could remember what he needed to do.

  No matter what it was, they first had to care for the bodies of the fallen. He lifted his head and probed the back. A lump and dried blood. After a while, he sat up, drank more water and looked around. The dead were the queen’s guard.

  The queen. They were traveling together to Lerom. He looked about wildly, causing the throbbing, which had eased, to begin anew.

  “Is the queen unharmed?”

  “I saw her guardians take her away, and I do not think anyone went after them. But I…”

  “You kept yourself safe. That is good. And I bet a clever boy like you scrounged some food for us, yes?”

  Malek smiled and nodded. “Yessir.”

  Leinos ate and began to feel stronger. The lightheadedness lessened. By nightfall, they had stacked the bodies, called out the names of the dead, and set them alight. The attackers had removed their own. Over the course of the day, most of his memory returned.

  So much, he thought ruefully, for any privilege accorded queen’s consort. She and her guardians had left without a glance behind, he was quite sure. But he had never intended to be more than her mate in name, and Naele’s retreat now provided him an advantage.

  There could be no doubt the attack had been ordered by King Rast. If what Vraz and Marzak feared was true, the Tinnisians were looking for the Horsecaller. Whether to kill her or use her for their own purposes hardly mattered.

  As far as the queen knew, neither counterfeit consort nor sham son had survived the battle. They took what weapons and provisions they could carry and headed north at a run.

  Lauren was in danger.

  Chapter 29

  IF Pindar’s hooves touched the ground, Lauren couldn’t tell. She gave him his head, closed her eyes, and relaxed into the mesmerizing cadence of flat-out gallop, trusting him to safely get them where she needed to be. Where he needed to be.

  She’d ridden many horses at many speeds but never experienced this, this joyful melding of heart and soul and body with another. They whipped across the dry plain like a scirrocco in the desert, ripping a path through what remained of the morning haze and leaving a spiraling plume in their wake. She hunkered low, opening her hands flat to his surging neck, giving herself over to him, to the wisdom of ancient blood and bone.

  And felt them. Knew the presence of Cirq’s horses alongside, buoying them up, pressing them on, tugging them forward. Up into the foothills without slowing. Silent now, as if the world held its breath and they rode over clouds instead of solid ground.

  By nightfall, they were well into the mountains, and she was equal parts elated and exhausted, though the big gray was fresh as he’d been in the morning, as if every breath closer to the herd sent new energy pulsing through his vessels. But Lauren had to rest.

  She pulled off Pindar’s bridle, and the saddle and fur, left it all in a heap, and leaned against a wall of rock, knowing, somehow, that despite the arguments of her guardians, they would not catch her tonight. Even they could not keep up with a galloping horse. Which meant a cold meal of the few bits of trail mix she hoped were still rattling around the bottom of her pack. And no fire to ease her sore muscles. Nor any breakfast.

  All day, they had curved steadily upward along a path strewn with humped slabs of rock. Pindar eased the pace enough to place his fe
et carefully, but wasted no time. His metal shoes sparked tiny bursts of rock dust that winnowed up to catch in her dry throat.

  When they reached a level patch, they stopped. Pindar nibbled grass, and she chewed her last piece of dried meat. She checked his feet for stones, then they continued.

  During the day, the trail had switched back on itself between two peaks, providing her last view of the desolate valley below. The place where her guardians and probably all of the Horseguard and camp followers raced to the foothills, to catch a glimpse of her before she disappeared into the mountain mists. And the place they would wait for her to emerge, as though coming through the Ravery again, but this time with their horses.

  She’d give anything to have their faith. Even the ones who cast sidelong glances because she was a Raver. If only they knew their first Horsecaller had come along the same dark, unused paths, they would change their tune.

  And what of the queen’s guards who followed at a not-so-discreet distance? What did they think of this duty? Did they hope for her success or failure? Surely, as Cirqians, they must want the horses as much as anyone. Were they absolutely loyal to Queen Naele? Would they execute her if she didn’t find the horses?

  With a sigh, she’d booted Pindar on up the trail. There was nothing to be gained from that line of thinking.

  Toward night, they found a small cave that accommodated them both, and she’d called a halt to the ceaseless climbing. The air had grown increasingly dry as they ascended, and a chill clung to the tawny walls.

  With unerring ease, her horse tapped the stone and brought a gush of water from a crevice. After it overflowed a natural depression in the stone floor he could use as a trough, she filled her skin and drank deeply, then, ignoring the gnawing of her stomach, spread the fur and slept.

  Pindar woke her in the morning with a gentle nibble to her ear, his warm breath tickling along her neck. She opened her eyes to a pile of green leaves, their color so vibrant against the dull rock, they seemed to glow. He wuffled and pushed them toward her. She looked at him.

  “Are these for me?” He only pushed them at her again. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  She sat and took a bite. Tough and bitter, then, as she chewed, a pleasant mint flavor filled her mouth. “Yum,” she said with a nod. “Thanks.”

  Several handfuls later, Lauren paused long enough to wonder if she should be eating a strange plant brought to her by a horse. He lay before her with his front legs tucked beneath his chest, and she ruffled his forelock and stroked his ears. “You wouldn’t poison me, would you?”

  In the past, she’d often imagined a horse laughing at her. Now, Pindar fairly rolled his eyes at her question. Of course she could trust him.

  “Remember when—just last week—I took care of you? You depended on me to look after your needs.” She stroked his flat cheek and scratched a speck of sweat away with a dirty and ragged fingernail. “Your world consisted of your stall and paddock, a once-a-week trail ride over familiar ground, and the occasional horse show.” He leaned into her touch, and she rubbed around his eyelid. “Now, you’re taking care of me. But then, I always knew you were smarter than the average horse.”

  He snorted at that, and she laughed, surprised she still could. Exhaustion, she reflected, could be a good thing. The night before, she’d been too tired to worry about being alone, but then—she tilted her head to one side, considering the amazing creature before her—she wasn’t alone at all.

  The plant Pindar had brought revived her aching joints. She rose, and he got to his feet.

  She could sense that he was eager to move quickly again, but she made him walk for a time while she consulted her notes. There was nothing about the sustaining leaves she’d had for breakfast, but if her calculations were right, they should make the pass today, and soon after, come to a glacial lake hidden deep in a pine forest. And there, there the horses would be. She sucked in an excited breath, and just as quickly, let it out. Maybe. Part of her still doubted. But she forced that part into the closet and slammed the door.

  Heavy clouds soon brought a cold drizzle, and she fanned her cloak over Pindar’s back to keep him dry. The narrow track, now more gravel than solid stone, turned into a sluiceway. Pindar calmly continued, unconcerned, on his own mission. She thanked the goddess for his sturdy, sacred hooves.

  The gray light gave no indication of whether it was morning or afternoon, but soon, the rain stopped, and the ground leveled off. The sky cleared. The air grew clean and sharp, clear light etching details of tone and texture, picking out a few blades of grass and their attendant shadows drawn with razor-like precision against the stippled gray and tan faces of boulders.

  All afternoon they walked and trotted, picking their way through the tight and twisting cleft marking the pass. Precisely carved pillars shorn from the walls by freezing and thawing sprinkled the canyon floor. Water seeped between the vertical cracks, steadily winning its way. After exiting the pass, they stopped. Anticipation tightened her chest, and Pindar could not keep still. They must be close.

  Over another rise and below stretched a pine forest. But it was mostly brown, dotted here and there with a greener tree stubbornly clinging to life. She refused to consider the implications and urged Pindar into the shadows and quiet beneath, walking again, and she held her breath as the trees thinned up ahead. They should hear them, or smell them. Something.

  They came into the clearing.

  Nothing. A cracked dry bowl where a lake had once been, and nothing more. No horse tracks marred the porous soil, no droppings warmed the frost-heaved roots. The herd had not been here in a long time.

  Hot tears welled up and spilled over Lauren’s cheeks.

  “Goddammit,” she muttered with a swipe at her face.

  Should they turn around? Had the crone spoken the truth about there still being horses up here? The ancient woman had no reason to lie. In a change from his usual keen determination, Pindar stood quietly, waiting. His nostrils flared and his ears flicked back, then forward again, testing the air, listening. He shook his head, flopping his mane from side to side. His self-assurance had kept her going. Was he hesitating now? What would she do if he lost his confidence?

  Menacing clouds bunched behind a row of saw-toothed peaks. An unsure wind gusted. Typical mountain weather. Clear one moment and stormy the next. Dry grass and leaves and dust swirled into a mini tornado that twisted out of sight. A cross breeze sent loose strands of hair lashing into her eyes. Pindar’s forelock flipped up once then down. Still, they sat. Lauren tamed her hair behind her ears.

  She had taken Pindar’s elevated mental capacity for granted as a side effect of coming through the Ravery. Somehow, they had both connected with the collective unconscious of Cirq’s horses. Or the horses had connected with them. Either way, it had been easier to let him do all the heavy lifting while she stood by and watched. Maybe the problem wasn’t with him, but with her. She had been trying to trust him—as if she had a choice—but fear always managed to overtake her effort.

  Fear, The All had said. Or Love. She must choose to allow the light or plunge into darkness.

  She still didn’t know what that meant.

  Maybe Pindar needed to know that she was truly with him, that they were in this together. Lauren closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to open herself to her horse, to all the horses, seeking guidance, offering faith. She did not need certainty, only willingness. And love. She felt warmth around her heart and allowed this to expand until it radiated through her body and out her fingertips. Her skin, especially that of her face and hands, tingled with new awareness, as if each fine hair had stood up and reached outward. Beneath her and against the insides of her legs, Pindar trembled, but not with cold.

  Without opening her eyes, she felt heat all around them, as if the sun had broken through the clouds to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She inhaled the hot light and let it pool once more in her chest. She felt weightless. She felt love.

  There was no
thing for it but to keep going. Pindar stepped forward without any physical signal from her, and they trotted through the broad trough that had once held water, between the two tree-fringed ridges, heading up again. She wondered a little about getting lost, but consoled herself with something her mother was fond of saying: You can’t be lost if you don’t know where you were in the first place.

  There was no other path, anyway, no turns or forks, just the one slender trail, beckoning them forward like a crooked finger.

  Something else her mother had been saying lately came to mind. You have to let love in, Lauren girl. Make space for it. Let it in.

  But there had been no love after she lost her baby and then Darren’s betrayal. She had not allowed it.

  A little while later, thunder shook the air. Pindar didn’t need to be told. He ran toward a line of evergreens as the first streak of lightening flashed.

  Rain and hail pelted them, and the wind threatened to rip her cloak from her shoulders. He tossed his head and flicked his tail, digging in for more speed. Heavy clouds turned the day dark, and lightening lit the unfamiliar landscape with a brilliant strobe. They were almost to the trees.

  Somewhere in her mind it registered that this forest was green and lush. Pindar scrambled up a steep embankment, as anxious as she to find protection.

  She hugged his neck and lifted her eyes in time to see a thick branch coming straight for them.

  He slid under.

  She leaned sideways, but the branch banged her shoulder, and stiff needles scraped her face. His wet mane slipped through her fingers.

  She hit the ground, landing hard on her hip and blindly grabbing for reins, stirrup, tail, anything, anything to stay with him.

  ~~~

  Each jogging step brought a new pulse of pain to Leinos’ head. Next to him, Malek looked like he dragged his feet through mud. They could not keep on like this. They would not gain the Bitter Reaches in enough time at this rate. They needed a faster mode of travel. A sage could take them. But contacting a sage demanded the powers of a guardian. He had not thought to regret the loss of his abilities so soon.