by Alisha Basso
Gently, carefully, with tears glistening on her cheeks, Lauren examined her friend. “The tibia looks broken,” she said, then pressed her fist to her mouth and choked back a sob. “He must have fallen trying to climb.” She glanced up the bluff. “His back left is the worst.” Barely touching, she stroked his side. “Probably broken ribs as well.”
“Water,” she ordered. “A bucket for him to drink from. Warm water for cleaning the wounds. We can’t move him like this.”
Good, Leinos thought, she is taking action. But as soon as she touched the bad leg, Pindar tried to hop away.
“Bandages,” she directed over her shoulder. “And something I can use as a splint. Malek?”
Malek laid his hands on Pindar without further instruction. He shook his head. “I cannot take away all the pain, Horsecaller.”
“Keep trying, okay?”
“Is he going to be all right?” Leinos asked.
She wiped her face on her shoulder and mustered a smile. “I think so, but I don’t know how we’re going to get him over the mountains.”
Leinos studied the horse, then the terrain. “I do,” he said. “Will you be all right if I leave you alone for a while?”
Lauren nodded and he left to marshal the Horseguard.
She kept busy cleaning and wrapping, not even knowing where the bandages came from. She wouldn’t take her eyes from Pindar, but each time she reached, another rolled-up piece of linen landed in her hand, clearly torn from someone’s shirt. “I wish we had ice to keep down the swelling,” she said, mostly to herself.
Malek glanced up. “If we could get him in the river, that might help.”
The river…is that what healed her? She’d thought she’d pieced together what happened. She recalled galloping through the forest, thinking they were being chased by demons, but it was just the frits running with them. Pindar had stopped at the top of the cliff, and she’d flown over his head and fallen. Then dreamed of The All, and others, and the horses, and awoken the next morning feeling refreshed, convinced the horses had healed her cuts and bruises.
Except now she knew she’d lain there for days instead of hours. And been damp still upon waking. Had she been in the river for that long? She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. It defied explanation. She’d been knocked out, so if she landed in the water, she surely would have drowned. Someone or something had helped her. She’d like to know who or what so she could at least give thanks, if not make use of the power again.
The waist-deep cold water would help even if it didn’t have healing power. She rubbed the base of Pindar’s ear. “What do you think? It’s just a few steps to the river. Can you get there?”
Pindar turned and pressed into her hand, directing her touch to his forehead. She scratched the whorl of hair between his eyes while he nodded.
“All righty then. Let’s give it a shot. Malek, stay by his bad leg. Just keep your hand on his hip and let him lean into it if he wants, okay?”
Lauren put one hand on Pindar’s whither, the other on his chest. “C’mon big boy. You can do it. You got this far.”
Pindar shuffled forward, barely touching the toe of his left hind down, then hopping with his right.
“‘Atta boy. What a good boy,” Lauren murmured. “C’mon.”
Together, they edged down the bank and into the water until the current swirled around his flanks, just high enough to cover the injury. The footing was sandy and sure, and Pindar sighed, his nostrils fluttering like a bird’s wings.
The river was cool, but the sun warmed them. Lauren splashed his sides, especially where the flesh puckered over the ribs on his left. Dirt and gravel flowed out of his coat. Whether after she fell down the cliff, or when he tried to climb it, he must have slid down as well, forcing dirt and debris to his skin. She worked her away around, rinsing away days of sweat, more dirt, and blood. Cadell’s arrow had cut away a groove of flesh over an inch deep. That would leave a scar, but it wasn’t serious.
The little brown horse, a yearling stallion, had hovered near but not ventured away from the bank. She’d thought he’d purposely stayed with Pindar, but maybe he was afraid of the water.
“Who’s your friend?” she asked Pindar.
He looked at the other horse, gave a snort. Not a friend, then. Youngsters could be irritating. And Pindar was in no mood to be pestered. But kids could be useful, too. She splashed Malek.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hay is for horses. This water is helping Pindar. Good call. Why don’t you take a break and go make friends with that guy.” She pointed at the yearling who studied them curiously. “He needs help believing the water won’t hurt.”
Malek smiled. “Okay,” he said. He waded to dry land.
Lauren held her tongue as the boy and colt fumbled around each other. She wanted to let Malek figure it out for himself, and sure enough, within a few minutes the young horse followed the young boy around like he had apples and carrots falling out of his pockets.
After a while, convinced Pindar would stay put and knowing he couldn’t go anywhere very quickly anyway, she returned to the bank, and sat against the base of a tree. What were they going to do? Ten days left. She couldn’t leave Pindar. How would they get the horses to Lerom in time with no equipment and untrained horses and riders? Her head hurt thinking about it. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, hoping for a flash of inspiration. Instead, she dozed off.
She wakened a short time later with a stiff neck to the smell of tea brewing. Leinos squeezed behind her and massaged her shoulders.
“How did you know that’s exactly what I needed?” She watched Pindar. He had moved closer to the opposite side of the river. “He has to take the weight off his legs. There’s no way to make him do that.”
Leinos stretched his legs out to either side of hers, pulling her against his chest. He offered her a cup of tea, and she took it gratefully.
“We found a few stragglers who had been caught by the yekerk’s claws,” he said. “But they have recovered. Malek has seen to the other injuries which consist of cuts and bruises, a couple of arrow wounds—”
“I’ll go—” She started up.
“He can do it,” Leinos tugged at her sleeve, and she sat, but didn’t relax.
“The Guard are cutting down trees. It took time to find the right ones.”
“Whatever for?”
“A sling. We will lash furs between two poles, pass it under his belly, then carry him over the mountain. I sent others back to set up a camp by the lake and to oversee building a frame to support the poles. He can rest with the weight off his legs. Will that work?”
She pictured it and the tension flowed out of her tight muscles. “That will work.” She sipped tea. “Thank you.”
It didn’t solve the problem of getting to Lerom, but it did relieve the immediate worry that had been gnawing at her. She leaned back against him. They both needed a bath, and she didn’t care. If the hard bulge against her back was any indication, neither did he. But there was too much to do, too much to discuss. He might have been disrequired, but what of his status as queen’s consort?
Leinos wrapped his arms around her waist, and said, “He ate a little grain. He approves my plan.”
“Oh, really?” she teased. She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
“Ow,” he said, reaching under her shirt and poking her ribs in return.
“Did Pindar tell you he approves, Dr. Doolittle?”
He rooted under her hair until he could nuzzle the tender skin of her neck. “Why, yes, Horsecaller. He did.”
Chapter 35
LEINOS, Captain Geed, and the others carried Pindar to the lake. No one questioned the necessity of this task. They fought over who would be on the first team to begin the journey.
The little brown hesitated when everyone else crossed the river without him, but with Malek’s encouragement, he plunged in, then shook himself like a dog when he scrambled out, giving them all a much-needed laugh
.
If the going had been flat, the journey would have been difficult enough, but watching wore Lauren out. She had to constantly remind herself to breathe.
At one point, one of the carriers slipped on loose rock while negotiating an especially steep ascent, nearly sending them all cascading down. They caught themselves after two fell to their knees, making Pindar scramble for his own footing.
The undertaking had tested the strength of Leinos and Geed often as they struggled to keep hold, stay on their feet, and not let anyone else lose their grip.
It was full dark by the time they made the lake. The herd had drawn water into the basin, and there was plenty for everyone to drink. Around its edges, lush grass grew, dotted with the white flowers. Most of the herd stayed near the banks, but some wandered through the pines, and Lauren wondered if the trees were coming to life again.
The frame to support the big gray was complete, and they set the long poles into it. Pindar’s feet could touch dirt, but he didn’t have to support all of his own weight. Perfect. The Horseguard dropped heavily to the ground, stretched aching shoulders, let loose jaw-cracking yawns, and stayed put, gazing with wonder at the horses.
Leinos put a fur near Pindar for Lauren and she sat, her knees cracking and complaining. Leinos looked like he intended to bed down elsewhere. No doubt, he was as tired as she, but she needed to know, wanted to know.
No time like the present. She snagged his pant leg before he could get away.
“Hey—”
He looked at her, but there was no fire, and the moons were behind him. She couldn’t see his face or what emotion might be in his eyes. The whole time they’d been carrying Pindar she’d thought about how to approach him when she got a chance. Why couldn’t he make it easy and just tell her? Now, she was too tired to find the right words, to ease into the subject.
“Are you still the queen’s consort or what?”
He tensed, and she braced herself for bad news.
“The queen,” Leinos started, and then his voice seemed to fail, as if what he had to say was too terrible to voice.
He wondered at that, had puzzled over the depth of feeling, of fury, since they were attacked. Then it hit him. It was not anger he felt, but betrayal. And that changed everything. He cleared his throat and continued.
“We were attacked.” His hand went to the still fresh wound at the base of his skull. “By a contingent of Tinnisian warriors.”
Lauren looked like she might say something. He knelt before her and took her hands.
“It was a total rout. Naele’s guardians took her to safety. We fought, and Malek, smart boy, he ran and hid.”
Her eyes searched his for a long moment. What does she see? he wondered. What was there to see? Only a beat-up old warrior with no position, no authority, no power.
“So…”
“As far as the queen knows,” he said, “her consort, and her adopted son, died with the rest.”
Her face softened and she smiled.
“Will she demand you return to her side when she sees you’re not quite dead?”
He pulled Lauren toward him, up to her knees. She felt stiff, hesitant. He should have told her sooner. How stupid he had been.
“She has no claim on me. Not any more.”
If he had his way, he and Lauren would be joined long before the queen laid eyes on them again. If the Horsecaller would have him, now that he had nothing to offer. If she would consent to stay in Cirq.
He would not press her.
She yielded toward him, twined her arms around his neck, pulled him down to the fur, telling him more with that gesture than she could with a thousand words. Pindar swished his tail once. Twice. Shook his head. Lauren laughed, a happy sound gurgling up from deep within her.
When they were side by side on the ground, she burrowed into his shoulder. A moment later she sighed softly and began to snore.
Leinos held her, listened to Pindar’s breathing and his own heart, a long absent sense of contentment settling into his bones. When Lauren first arrived, he knew that Cirq once more had a future. His own had not concerned him. Now, he had a future, too.
~~~
Morning came too soon, but Lauren was up the moment sunlight hit her, hauling water to Pindar, bringing him food, checking on the herd. Pindar was better, perkier. He whickered to her when she rose and spoke to him, and he pawed the ground when she approached with food. A good appetite was a good sign. But he wouldn’t be able to walk on the leg any time soon. If there was any hope of making Lerom by the deadline, it wouldn’t be done at a walk.
During their short sleep, Leinos had shifted nearly beneath the horse and there was a pile of manure awfully close to his head. She kicked it away, then stood there staring at the man, realizing she’d never been awake before him, had never been able to observe him sleeping.
Tenderness washed over her, a feeling she’d had often enough when looking at horses, but rarely with people. The force of it made her reel, and she turned away, a little afraid, and went in search of Malek and Pheeso, hoping to find something decent to fill her empty belly. She wanted Malek to have another go at Pindar’s leg, too. Maybe there was a way to get him in shape to move with the rest of the herd. She doubted it, but they had to try.
Shortly, she was back with Malek, and Leinos was gone, down washing in the lake. She struggled to pay attention to Malek rather than watch the man. Cuts and bruises marked nearly every inch of exposed flesh. Yet he never complained nor expected anything for himself. Even without being Supreme Guardian, he would probably always put the needs of others above his own.
Before the boy could lay his hands on the horse, a whirlwind whipped up grass and dirt all around. They turned to see a sooty shadow emerge from the center of the tiny tornado, and the wind died off as abruptly as it had started.
High Crone Sebira began to solidify before them, but her image never fully took shape. Instead, a larger form appeared in her place. A tall and thickset man with a short, black beard stood where the crone had been, a soft nimbus encircling him.
He wore leather leggings and jerkin and a deep blue cloak draped his shoulders. His keen, brown eyes swept over them and came to rest on the horses. The Horseguard had drawn near and now knelt and bowed.
“Ebro,” she heard someone whisper in awe.
“Oh,” she breathed. Then, with a jolt, realized she gazed upon the manifestation of the first Horsecaller, her ancestor, Enzo, and studied him more closely.
He watched the horses for some time, taking several long inhalations of their heady scent, then walked to her and peered deeply into her eyes. She saw herself in the shape of his face and the tilt of his brows. A new feeling took form within her, a sense of belonging, of being connected as if by a long cascade of water and riding this current into the future. Not unlike the flow of water that had connected her to The All at the sacred spring. His voice, when he spoke, sounded at once near and far, faint and loud, yet as if only in her head.
Just as The All’s had.
“Thank you,” he said. “Come.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the horses.
His flesh upon hers was warm and solid, but his boots made no imprint on the ground. The horses lifted their heads, looked in their direction. A few nickered. Enzo dropped to hands and knees, kissed the front hooves of the first horse he reached—the dark bay mare who had carried Lauren out of the valley—then stood and easily clasped his arms around her neck and pressed his face to hers.
“How I have missed you,” he murmured. “All of you.” He took the horse’s chin and leaned in until they were nose to nose. “Sweet horse breath.”
He released the mare and enclosed Lauren in a hug, his chest hard against her jaw, then pressed his lips to her forehead, held her at arm’s length, looked her up and down, smiled. She imagined that in life, he had been boisterous and enthusiastic. Her great-great-grandfather. She had to keep telling herself that this man, or apparition, had ridden through the Ravery just as she
had, then somehow stumbled upon these horses and created Cirq.
But before disappearing, he had bought a farm and built a house, began breeding horses, married and had one child—her great grandmother.
“You saved them. You saved all of Cirq. I thank you, as do the people of our country.”
Our country, he said. Lauren wasn’t sure how to speak to a god, or a spirit, or a vision, or if she should question him, but whatever he had become, he had once been simply a man who loved horses. She grew up in the house he built, and his journal was still in her pocket. She was blood of his blood. After a few moments, she found her voice.
“Why? Why did you come here?”
Enzo patted her shoulder. “It was an accident. We were galloping, you see. Adrianus was a fearless beast with an insatiable appetite for running and jumping.” He smiled as though remembering. “What a horse he was. Pindar is much like him. Glad I am to hear you still use the Greek poets to name the bloodline.”
He walked deeper into the herd. “I see Adrian here.” His palm caressed the forehead of large black mare. “And here.” With his other hand, he patted the deep chest of another horse.
“And here.” He touched the necklace she wore. “I made those beads from his hoof trimmings.” He looked lost in thought for a moment, brown eyes unfocused. But then he snapped back to his story.
“Sailed right over that embankment we did. I’m sure you know the one. Timing must have been just so. A wicked thunderstorm had blown up out of nowhere.” He tipped his head back and gazed at the sky, reached his arms out to either side as though catching raindrops. “Then we were here. And there was no going back.”
The shock of what he said hit Lauren like an anvil landing on her toe. “No going back?”
He looked at her sharply. “Did you think you could?”
“The sage, Vraz, told me I would be able to, after I called the horses.”
His brow wrinkled with thought. “Do you want to?” he asked after a long moment.
