by P. C. Cast
The Rider—and his black stallion—pulled between Anjo and Ghost. River righted herself, encouraging Anjo to catch up, and when she’d drawn close enough she recognized the Rider.
“Clayton!” She shouted his name, but Bard was pounding after Ghost, and his hooves drowned her words.
Clayton began twirling a length of woven rope over his head. It happened so quickly that River had no time to even shout a warning. The rope snaked out, settling expertly around the stallion’s back leg, tripping him so that the golden horse fell to the ground with a sickening thud.
At that instant River’s mind was blasted with sound as she heard Anjo’s voice scream NO!
“I got him! I got him! Great Father Stallion, I can’t believe it!” Clayton was shouting and waving in victory at River.
Anjo slid to a stop beside Ghost and River was off her back in seconds, rushing to the fallen stallion. Her entire body was trembling—with anger at Clayton and with shocked excitement that she had heard the voice of her filly.
“Hey, careful, River. You know he’s a rogue!”
River spun around. “Free him! Now!”
“But Bard and I just caught him.”
“You idiot! I’ll free him.” River pulled a knife from her waistbelt and strode to Ghost. The stallion was struggling to stand, and she went to his head first. “It’s okay, Ghost. It’s okay, handsome boy. I’m here. I’ll get that rope off you.” She stroked and calmed him before moving to his rear leg and neatly cutting the rope so that the stallion stood, trembling, his sides heaving with shock.
Free! Anjo’s voice rang in River’s mind as she trotted to Ghost, nuzzling him and murmuring low, concerned nickers.
River felt a little dizzy and she had to reach out and lean against the stallion while she concentrated on breathing and grounding herself—though she wanted to shout, I can hear my filly! I can hear her words!!
“By the Great Mother Mare—you know him!” Clayton’s eyes grew huge as he watched Anjo and River comfort the stallion. “That’s why you go out by yourself so much. He’s been hiding out here for a while, hasn’t he?”
Feeling more like herself, River rounded on him. “Why are you following me?”
“I wasn’t. It’s a beautiful day—probably the last warm one until spring. Bard and I were out for a ride. I saw something flash gold—and it was him. Then I saw you and Anjo giving chase, and I figured you were trying to capture him. I thought I was helping.”
“You’re not. And since when is it okay to run down a stallion and trip him like that? You could’ve broken his leg!” River went to Ghost’s back leg and felt the length of it, relieved that he didn’t seem injured.
Sound. He is sound. Anjo’s voice drifted through River’s mind and she smiled with relief at the stallion. “You are sound, handsome boy.”
“You do know him! Hey, I didn’t mean to hurt him—truly.” Clayton started to dismount from Bard, but Ghost squealed a warning and began backing away, ears flat against his head.
“Ssh, it’s okay. I’m not going to let him hurt you. Again.” River glared at Clayton while she remained with Anjo at Ghost’s side, stroking and soothing him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stay on Bard. And I won’t hurt him.” Clayton shook his head incredulously. “He is a magnificent-looking stallion! What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing!”
“He’s completely sane? I can’t exactly tell right now—he’s pretty upset.”
“Wouldn’t your Bard be? And, yes, Ghost is completely sane.”
“Ghost? Wait—did he Choose you?”
“Of course not. I’m Anjo’s Rider. It’s just what I call him. He doesn’t mind.”
“Then this truly is a mare’s luck. And we must take him back to the Herd,” Clayton said.
“We—meaning Anjo and me—were just doing that before you interrupted.”
“Um, River, he was running from you.”
“Of course he was! We were playing tag, you fool!”
Clayton’s look darkened. “How would I know that? He’s a rogue stallion. I saw you chasing him. What would you have thought?”
“I hope I would have thought enough to ask you what was going on before I did anything.”
“River, that’s pretty difficult to do from the back of a galloping horse,” Clayton said.
“Okay, yeah, I can see how you could have misunderstood the situation.” She turned to Ghost, caressing his head and noting that he had stopped trembling and was standing quietly between her and Anjo—though his attention remained focused on Clayton and Bard.
“So, he was returning to the Herd of his own will?” Clayton asked.
“Yes. Anjo and I met him last spring. He saved us from a Flyer and a pack of yoties. He’s followed us from campsite to campsite. We thought we’d lost him last winter, but this spring he was there again—healthy, if thin.”
“And he’s actually sound? And sane?”
“Do you not believe I can judge the health of a stallion?” River said, exasperated.
“Yes, of course, I’m just—just shocked. And amazed. And excited. If he can survive and thrive without a Rider, this changes everything.”
River looked up at the beautiful golden stallion. “Yes, he can.” She stroked his neck. “If he’ll still come with us.”
“I still have rope. We can always—”
“No!” she cut him off. “I won’t force him. You won’t force him. Ghost decides—not us.” River looked to Anjo. “Will he come with us, pretty girl?”
Anjo and Ghost touched muzzles. They nuzzled each other and rumbled low, reassuring nickers back and forth, and then River was filled with a tide of happy relief from Anjo as her voice sounded in her Rider’s mind. He will come!
She grinned up at the stallion and threw her arms around his neck, rubbing her cheek against him. “You’re so brave and smart. You can always trust me, Ghost. I promise,” River whispered to the stallion.
“So, he is returning to the Herd?” Clayton asked.
“Yes. On his own terms—not tied and frightened and forced,” River said. She turned to Anjo, and the filly knelt so that River could mount her. Then she met Clayton’s gaze. “Stay on my right. Ghost will stay on my left.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
The small group headed east, and just before they came to the well-traveled path that would take them to Herd Magenti’s fall campsite, River dismounted, telling Clayton, “I almost forgot. I have to do something, but it’ll only take a few minutes. Go ahead if you want, but please don’t say anything about Ghost until we arrive.”
“Leave you and miss entering the camp with him?” He jerked his chin at Ghost. “Not a chance. I can wait.” As River dug through her saddlebags he asked, “What is it you’re doing?”
River held up a wide-toothed wooden comb and a handful of purple strips of cloth embroidered with Herd Magenti’s crystal symbol. She and Anjo hadn’t seen Ghost in almost a week, and the ribbons she’d braided into his mane had come loose. “I’m going to dress Ghost’s mane and tail with our colors so that there’s no question whether he belongs to our Herd or not.”
“That won’t stop them from questioning.”
“Maybe not, but I’m going to begin this as I want it to end—with Ghost accepted as part of Herd Magenti.”
It didn’t take long for River’s experienced hands to braid the ribbons into Ghost’s mane and tail. The stallion looked spectacular! The bright purple of the ribbons flashed against the white of his mane and tail—an undeniable, unmistakable sign that he belonged to the Herd Magenti.
Clayton couldn’t keep his eyes from Ghost. “River, if they’re wrong about him—then what else are they wrong about?”
“What do you mean? And who’s ‘they’?” she asked as she worked.
“The Mare Council, of course. They make all the laws. And—no disrespect meant to your mother—but maybe it’s time we change things,” Clayton said.
“Change how?”
<
br /> “Well, maybe more people should have a say in Herd law.”
“Every Herdmember has a say in Herd law,” said River.
“There has always been a Lead Mare and her Rider, and they’re always in charge—with the Mare Council’s blessing and backing,” said Clayton.
“Yeah, that’s what I was saying. The entire Herd votes in the Mare Council.”
“Well, maybe some of us want more than a vote. Maybe it’s time more people have a say.”
River felt a chill spider down her spine. “And by more people you mean men.”
River hadn’t phrased it as a question, but Clayton didn’t seem to notice and answered anyway.
“Yes, and that sounds good to me!”
“I’m sure it does.” Again, Clayton paid no attention to the tone of her voice.
“And, thanks to you, he’s going to be what begins the change.” He pointed at the stallion, who gave him a suspicious side-eye look.
River said nothing as she finished dressing Ghost’s mane and they took the well-kept path that led to Herd Magenti. Clayton kept spewing traitorous thoughts all the rest of the way back, as if plotting to supplant generations of leadership and Herd stability was a good thing—a normal thing, a thing everyone was talking about. River’s stomach tightened. What if she didn’t know about it because no one wanted to say anything around her? River’s anger began to simmer.
We won’t let him destroy our Herd, River told Anjo.
No. We will not, sounded her filly’s already familiar voice in her mind.
CHAPTER 11
PRESENT DAY—UMBRIA RIVER
Mari was amazed at how much easier it was to paddle up the river during the day, especially during a day with no wind and a cloudless, cerulean sky. There was even one point when the Earth Walker women began a spring growing song, teaching the words to the rest of the group so that eventually everyone was singing along.
It felt good. It felt like family.
“Is it a bad thing to admit that I’m having fun?” Mari asked Nik’s back. The Pack had been rearranged and divided into boats so that strengths were spread around and weaknesses were compensated for, but the two of them still shared one of the smaller boats—the kind that was outfitted with paddles instead of oars and had ballasts on either side so that Laru and Rigel could ride comfortably.
“I’m glad someone is,” Nik muttered, but he shot a smile over his shoulder at her and added, “If I have to be on the water, there’s no one else I’d want to be with.”
She used her paddle to splash a little water on him. “You do truly loathe the water, don’t you?”
“I absolutely do,” he said firmly. “When we get to the Wind Rider Plains I hope I never have to be on the water again.”
“You will bathe, though, won’t you?”
“For you, Moon Woman, I will continue to bathe.”
Laru sneezed and made a low, sarcastic sound in his big chest, causing Mari to laugh. “I think he’s saying you smell.”
“Traitor,” Nik teased his Shepherd.
“How do your wounds feel?” Mari asked.
“Sore, but not terrible. And nothing has broken open. I am looking forward to a real rest tonight, though.” Nik’s voice lifted. “Hey, it’s Third Night, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Good. I love it when you draw down the moon. It’s magickal to watch, and even more magickal to be on the receiving end of the Washing.”
“There was a time not so long ago when I couldn’t imagine ever saying this, but I love it, too. I wish Mama were here. She used to tell me over and over how wonderful it was to draw down the moon for the Clan, and I refused to believe her. Back then I resented anything she did for the Clan. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry I never got a chance to tell her she was right.”
“She knows,” Nik said. “Just like I believe my father knows Laru is safe and happy with me, and that I have found my home with you and our Pack.”
“Our Pack—our family. We made the right decision to leave—to start new.”
He glanced over his shoulder again at her. “Were you questioning it?”
Mari shrugged. “Yes and no. And certainly not after the Skin Stealer attack. No one in that forest is safe anymore. But it’s hard to leave everything I’ve ever known—and harder to be responsible for leading a whole Pack to leave everything they’ve ever known. But I feel a lightness in my spirit that tells me we’re headed in the right direction.”
“Yeah, away from the God of Death,” Nik said.
“Well, yes. But we could’ve headed to the coast, or north to the Winterlands and the Whale Singers, or even far south to where they never see snow. We could’ve found an isolated place to call our own. There’s just something about the Plains that feels right.”
“For as long as I can remember I’ve dreamed of seeing a horse and meeting the Wind Riders. Hard to believe it’s actually going to happen.”
“Maybe you’ll make friends with one of the Riders and you’ll actually get to sit on a horse’s back,” Mari said.
“Ha! Now that makes paddling down this river worth it,” Nik said.
“Hey! Heads up!” Antreas’s deep voice carried across the water, and the Pack quieted their private conversations and gave the Lynx Companion their undivided attention as he paddled up and down their loose line of boats. “The next ruin is not far ahead. This one is minor, but only because the river is so wide and deep here. Most of the bridge is well beneath the water. As long as you follow directly behind me you will pass safely. Do not hesitate. Do not stop paddling.” Antreas, in his small boat with Danita, put his paddle down near the larger boat that held Rose, her puppies, Sora and Chloe, O’Bryan, Sheena, and her big Shepherd, Captain. “Rose, are the pups stowed?”
“Yes!” She held up a slinglike contraption that was similar to the one Sora tucked Chloe away in close to her chest, like a pouch. “Everyone has a puppy snuggled into one of these.” Rose quickly demonstrated—securing the sling around her and then stuffing two puppies into it. Their little black heads were barely visible, but their bright eyes peeked out.
“They look like baby owls!” Danita said, making the Pack laugh.
“Safely tucked away baby owls!” Rose said. “Don’t worry. I won’t chance losing another pup.” She looked around until she spotted Jaxom in a nearby boat. “Thanks to Jaxom I get a second chance at keeping this little one inside the boat.” Rose beamed a grateful smile at the young Clansman as his cheeks flushed pink.
“Okay, then, is everyone ready?” Antreas asked.
“Ready!” the Pack responded.
“Follow me!” Antreas and Danita sliced the water, expertly propelling their boat to the front of the line as the Pack bowed their backs, focusing on staying in their wake.
Antreas had been right, of course. Now that she was looking for it, Mari could easily see the disruption in the glassy river that signaled a ruined bridge. As she squinted against the sunlight she spotted sections of metal stuck up out of the water, but that was really all there was to see—just a swirling of currents and a few metal shards. Antreas and Danita glided between two of the protruding pieces of metal easily. They paddled several yards upriver and then paused, turning to encourage the rest of the Pack through.
Nik and Mari chose to bring up the rear again, and they paddled through the ruin with no problem. If she ignored the metal ruins of the bridge, Nik’s white knuckles on his paddle and the tug of a strange current were the only things that marked this section of the river as dangerous, and Mari—along with the rest of the Pack—was feeling very confident as she joined the rest of the boats.
“We all made it safely!” Rose said, lifting a puppy victoriously.
“We’re getting great at this!” Isabel called from one of the large boats she shared with Davis and his Cammyman, Spencer, Dove, and Lily.
“Yes we are!” Danita lifted her paddle over her head as the Pack cheered—unbalancing her boat. She, along with An
treas and Bast, would have been dunked in the river had Antreas and Bast not quickly counterbalanced.
Suddenly all boats went silent as Danita hung her head in shame.
“Everyone—don’t get over overconfident,” Antreas said, but not before taking Danita’s hand and smiling kindly. “It’s okay. It’s very easy to capsize these boats, especially the little ones.”
“I thought I was doing so well,” Danita said, lifting her head, but still looking miserable.
“You are!” Antreas assured her. Then he turned his attention to the watching Pack. “You all are doing well. You were cautious and attentive, and you did exactly what I asked of you.” He paused, his eyes scanning the river behind them. Finally he pointed, and the Pack turned to follow his finger. “See that big ball of roots and debris?”
Mari held her hand over her eyes against the sun. “I see it!”
“The Tribe calls those sweepers,” Nik said, disgust clear in his voice. “They’re dangerous. There’s usually a lot more debris and roots invisible under the water. I’ve seen a man get tangled up in one and drown. We should paddle out of its way.”
“Sweepers are tough. I agree with Nik,” Sheena said. “Let’s avoid it.”
“It’s following in our wake. Just watch and wait,” Antreas said.
Mari watched with the Pack, and it didn’t take long for Antreas to be proven right. As soon as the sweeper came to the ruins it began spinning erratically as the strange current quickly took hold of it, pulling it off course until it suddenly was sucked beneath the swirling water, disappearing completely.
“Where is it?” Jenna asked, scanning the river with the rest of the Pack.
“Stuck,” Antreas said. “The current took it, pulling it underwater. It’s being held there—either because it got caught on a piece of wreckage, or because it is being held under by one of the unpredictable currents that haunt every ruin on the river.”
“That’s terrifying,” Danita said. “It could’ve happened to any of us.”
