by D. L. Kramer
"Tavish told me what was goin' on," Kile said, coming into the stall. "Are ye doin' all right?"
"I'll be okay," Paki shrugged. "I just wanted to apologize for leaving practice without telling you where I was going."
Kile nodded. "I saw ye headin' this way with Tavish," he said. "So I knew it must be important."
"I don't know what I'm going to do now," Paki said after a moment. "First the mare, and now him."
"Ye'll be all right," Kile assured him. He sat down beside Paki. "Ye definitely aren't alone here."
"I know," Paki said. "Maybe if he hadn't been my only family for seven years it would be easier."
"Probably not," Kile said after a moment. "There's just somethin' about ownin' a horse for so long that makes it hard to lose 'em." He paused. "Especially when they save ye're life."
Paki nodded slowly.
"Ye'll still need to practice," Kile told him, standing up and brushing the straw from his cloak. "But other than that, ye can spend ye're time in here with 'im."
Paki nodded again as Kile left the stall. He stayed with the stallion until almost curfew, then finally stood and left the stable. He kept his mind open to the stallion, in case there was a problem during the night.
At practice with Mo'ani the next morning, the pain from his arm was almost forgotten as he worried about the stallion. This time, Mo'ani didn't go easy on him, and bruised or lectured, whichever would teach the better lesson each time Paki lost his concentration.
Practice with Janec worked out much the same way, with Paki getting hit a few more times than he wanted.
By the end of the day, the stallion's strength had deteriorated drastically, and he was no longer able to swallow, making it impossible for him to drink. Paki wanted to try forcing the water down him, but Tavish advised against it, pointing out that it would just prolong the stallion's suffering.
Paki slept in the stable that night, and Bear brought him his dinner. As he sat through practice the next day, he found himself anxious to get back to the stable.
He knew the stallion's death was imminent when the huge horse was only able to open his eyes for a few, brief seconds when Paki came in to check on him during a break. When the short rest period was over, he reluctantly returned to the training yard, all the while keeping his mind open to the stallion.
Kile paired the apprentices off for their next matches, and Paki waited for his name to be called. When it finally was, he unsheathed his sword and stepped forward, trying to concentrate, but afraid to take his mind from the stallion's. Finally realizing he would have to if he didn't want to be seriously hurt, he reluctantly turned his attention to the fight.
Paki was finally gaining some ground and about to seize an opening when he stumbled, the point of his sword hitting the ground in front of him. His chest burned with each breath, and his sight blurred, tinting everything red. He dropped the heavy longsword and stumbled toward the gate, knowing he had to reach the stallion. The huge horse's presence in his mind screamed for him.
"Paki?"
Kile's voice sounded distant and unfamiliar as the stallion's mind took over more of Paki's consciousness. He was dying, and Paki could feel it within his very soul.
"The stallion," Paki muttered, fumbling with the latch. His gauntlets scraped against it, not catching it. He tried again, but Kile's hand was there, opening the gate. Another set of hands held him up as he stumbled from the yard, letting him go as he turned towards the stable.
Keeping his mind focused on reaching the stallion, he managed to open the stable doors and find the stallion's stall. He paused outside the low door, forcing his own thoughts back into his mind. His vision cleared, but his chest still burned and his heart pounded heavily. Pulling off his gauntlets and dropping them onto the floor, he unlatched the stall door.
The stallion lay on his side, the same position he had been in for the last three days. His chest muscles strained for each breath, and his coat was dry. The infection in his heart had finally taken its toll.
Paki paused to make sure his own breathing was under control, then stepped in and sat beside the stallion. Struggling with his chain shirt, he pulled it over his head, letting it fall beside him in the straw.
The stallion pulled himself from Paki's mind as Paki lifted the heavy head to lay it on his lap. Voices from somewhere in the stable reached him, and Paki recognized them as Tavish's and Kile's. Seconds later, they both appeared outside the stall.
"What's wrong, lad?" Kile asked.
"He's dying," Paki managed. "It hurts to breathe...his heart can't hold on much longer."
Tavish kneeled beside Paki. He laid one callused hand on the stallion's neck, running it down to his haunches. "He's a damn fine horse, Paki."
Paki nodded, feeling tears building up behind his eyes. Even as rough as they had looked when they first appeared at the Stronghold, Tavish had called the stallion that. Tavish stood and stepped back beside Kile.
"I'll move the other horses down," he said quietly. "Then they won't be bothered."
"All right," Kile said quietly. He stepped beside Paki when Tavish went to ready stalls for the horses in the surrounding stalls. He knelt down.
"He hurts so much," Paki whispered. "It feels like everything inside of him is on fire."
Kile was quiet for a moment.
"It won't be easy," he finally said. "When he dies, ye won't be able to think. Ye're mind'll go blank, and for a minute, it'll feel like ye died with 'im."
"I can already feel it," Paki continued whispering. He turned to look at Kile. "Was it like this when you lost Chaya?"
Kile nodded slowly. "Only worse," he said. "She died instantly when the stable roof fell on 'er, breakin' 'er back and neck. I completely blacked out for several seconds. It felt like my mind 'ad been ripped right out of my skull. It was a good three weeks before I could walk straight again."
Paki turned back to the stallion, bowing his head. "What happens this way?" he asked.
"Ye feel 'em die," Kile answered. "But it's not so hard. It's sort of like they walk out of ye're mind and blow out the lamps behind 'em and it takes ye a few seconds to get 'em lit again."
Paki's fingers traced the scars across the stallion's shoulders and back. Most were hidden by his dark hair, but Paki knew where each and every one was. He distantly remembered cleaning each one as their master slept off his drunkenness.
The panic that had hit him in the training yard was gone now, and he could only feel the stallion slowly slipping from his mind, even though he struggled to hang on.
Paki fell into silence as he continued to stroke the stallion's head and neck. Kile remained with him, hanging Paki's chain shirt over the side of the stall, then sitting beside him. Before much time had passed, Paki heard a clattering of oversized hooves outside the stable. The next thing he knew, Bear appeared in the doorway of the stall, his long hair windblown.
Kile stood up and Paki heard him speak with Bear, but didn't try to make out what he was saying. After several seconds, Kile stepped from the stall and Bear moved to sit in his place.
"I wouldn't have gone out with the archers if I'd known he was this sick," Bear said after a moment.
"He's just too weak to fight it anymore," Paki said. He guessed Kile must have sent someone to bring Bear back. Not really wanting to talk anymore, he continued tracing the scars under his hands.
Soon the stallion was drifting in and out of consciousness, and each time, Paki felt him struggling more to bring himself back. Bear stayed beside him as the afternoon turned to evening and evening to night. Kile stayed nearby, and both Adie and Gharald checked in on them. Each time someone else came to the stall, Bear answered their questions and concerns, but didn't let them disturb Paki. Paki thought he heard Rena's voice at one point, but didn't bother looking up to see if she was there.
A couple of hours before sunrise, Paki felt the stallion's presence slip from him. Just as Kile had warned, Paki's mind seemed to follow after, making him slump forward over th
e now-still horse. It was Bear's hand on his shoulder that brought him back. His mind slowly awakened and he became aware of the emptiness where the stallion had been. Reaching forward with a trembling hand, he brushed the heavy mane back.
"I'll let you be alone for a while," Bear said. He stood and left the stall, closing the door behind him.
Paki continued to stroke the stallion's mane. His thoughts were still random, and his movements felt guided by some other force. Pulling the skinning knife from his boot, he cut a thick lock of the stallion's mane. Using a couple of the coarse hairs, he tied the lock, then resheathed his knife and sat back, fingering the dark hair.
"Damn fine horse," he whispered.
Nine - "I can't take a horse like that"
At some point in the first two weeks after the stallion's death, Paki's grief buried itself deep within him, and his training became his sole focus.
Even when the first snow fell, time not spent training was spent hiking the snow-covered mountain, or working in the village below. He did most of his traveling on foot, except when field training required he use one of the other horses at the Stronghold. Bear spent as much time with him as he could, but his own training sometimes kept them apart from before dawn until well after sundown. Likewise, Rena spent her spare time with him, and Paki admitted the attraction he felt for her to himself, but he was unable to let himself accept it as anything more than friendship.
His skills developed quickly, and by winter's end, he was able to hold his own against Mo'ani for quite some time. Mo'ani eventually switched from the quarterstaff to a sword, and Paki discovered he was even faster with that. The stakes in his training also went up, since Mo'ani didn't try to hit with just the flat. Paki's skills in the training yard quickly surpassed the other first year apprentices, and he was soon teamed with second year students for his matches.
He learned that Mo'ani's reputation was well earned, and he understood now why the armies that bore his name were so well trained. The tactics he taught could only have come from ancient traditions, gleaned from more than one culture and long years of study and practice. Mo'ani had found ways to incorporate the strengths of multiple techniques into fighting styles, so if a situation changed during a battle, a warrior could adapt within a split second and not be caught by surprise.
Adie's return to the Stronghold that spring brought news of record numbers of young men and women wanting to join the Mo'ani. The Archbishop's reign was causing more discord, and many villages were being burned out. Several of the less-powerful nobles also appealed to Mo'ani and his armies and allies for help, and each time, Mo'ani agreed, sending men to help protect their lands and gaining their support in return.
Spring also brought Jaron and Tosia with over a hundred Dwellers' horses for the Mo'ani. Accompanying the brother and sister was Jerai. Paki saw the three Dwellers ride through the Stronghold's gates from his place on the training yard's fence, but Janec's voice kept most of his attention. Paki hadn't seen Jerai since leaving the Dwellers' valley almost three years before. He still looked much the same, his light brown hair pulled back and tied, and his square jaw his most prominent feature.
Janec finished explaining the best way to exploit the weaknesses in the church guards' armor, then released the second and third year apprentices from that day's training.
Paki sheathed his sword and jumped from the fence, walking toward the stable. He had rarely entered it since the stallion's death, and the smell of straw and horses almost stopped him at the door.
Forcing down his emotions with what had become practiced ease, he walked into the stable with barely a pause. Jerai had led Aloyse to one of the empty stalls and was feeding her a carrot. Paki stopped a few feet away.
"Your father actually let you out of the valley?" Paki asked. Lord Othon had been very strict that they not go anywhere outside the valley when Bear and Paki had been there.
Jerai turned to face Paki, smiling faintly. "He thought it would be best if I learned a little more of life outside our ranches," he replied. "I guess he figured I couldn't get into too much trouble here."
Paki shrugged, glad to see Jerai still hadn't adopted the Dwellers' formal speech. "Bear still manages to get into plenty."
"Well," Jerai paused to brush hair from his horsehide vest. "I'm a little more subtle than Sewati." The Dwellers made full use of their horses, giving them the best lives they were able, and taking back what they could from the horses when they died. Paki had never seen one of the Dwellers' horses put down unless it was absolutely necessary. In some cases, many months had been dedicated to saving a single horse when it was even remotely possible.
"Just a little," Paki smiled faintly. He walked over beside his friend, then turned to scratch Aloyse's nose. "I'm surprised she made it this far." Aloyse was close to the stallion's age, but her eyes still shone brightly. She snorted into his hand, then pushed against it as she searched for any treat he might have.
"She didn't have a problem," Jerai shrugged. "Neither did Tyran."
"Tyran?" Paki asked.
Jerai's smile grew slightly. He started walking towards the stable door, then motioned for Paki to follow him. Paki did so, surprised when they stopped by the stallion's old stall. Inside, pushing at the straw on the ground with his nose, was a young stallion, not more than a couple of years old. His gold coat shone even under the dust of traveling and his flaxen mane and tail were extraordinarily long and full. Strong muscles rippled under his coat as he looked up at Paki and Jerai, snorting.
"He's beautiful," Paki said after a moment. For the briefest of moments, he forgot about the stallion.
"He's yours," Jerai said. "Mo'ani sent my father word when your stallion died. Tyran was sired by my father's horse with one of Jaron's mares."
Paki turned to look at Jerai with wide eyes.
"I can't take a horse like that," he shook his head slowly.
"You don't have any choice," Jerai told him, his tone direct. "I can guarantee my father would be very insulted if you didn't accept him. Besides, it was Mo'ani's idea that we bring you one of our horses next time we brought a herd down."
Paki turned back to the horse in the stall. Tyran stepped toward him, and Paki reached his hand out. Brushing his nose against Paki's fingers, the young horse sniffed at his hand, then turned back to his straw.
"So, where is Sewati, anyway?" Jerai asked, breaking the silence that fell in the stable.
"He's still out with the archers," Paki said, pulling his hand back. "They usually don't get back until an hour or so before dinner."
"Then what do you do around here?"
Paki leaned against the stall door, thinking. He hadn't really done much of anything other than his training.
"Well," he began, stopping again when he still couldn't think of anything. "To tell you the truth, I haven't really tried to find much to do for quite a while now."
"Your training?" Jerai asked.
"That's about it," Paki shrugged. "Since the stallion died, my training's all I've had."
"And from the looks of things, you've been working all too hard on it," Jerai commented. "You're--what--three? Four years younger than the rest of the apprentices?"
"Something like that," Paki shrugged again.
"Then it's time you learned to appreciate life again," Jerai decided. "We're here for a week, and I'm not spending all my time watching you trying to kill the other apprentices." He looked at Tyran, who was still shuffling his straw around the stall. "He's about ready to be trained. The bond will come faster if you do it."
Paki looked at Tyran. He didn't know the first thing about training a horse, let alone a Dwellers' horse. Then again, he did have Tavish there to help, and Jaron and Tosia would be there for a week to help him get started. He also knew he had been concentrating so hard on his training because it helped him forget that empty feeling in his mind. Maybe starting a new bond with a horse would take that away.
"I'll think about it," he finally said.
Jerai
nodded his head. "I'll give you a couple of hours," he said. "Besides, I should go give Lord Mo'ani my father's greetings."
Paki nodded his head as Jerai left the stable. He watched Tyran for several minutes, then opened the stall door and stepped inside. He hadn't really wanted another horse right now; the stallion was still too much in his memory.
Tyran wasn't nearly as tall as the stallion had been, but Paki had only been able to see over his shoulder for about a year before he died. Tyran showed promise, though. Paki didn't doubt he'd be at least Nicho's size.
Tyran reached out his nose to Paki again, sniffing his arm as Paki stroked his neck. As the coarse hair slid under his hand, he found himself wondering if maybe he should try to start bonding with Tyran. Part of him held back, not wanting to feel the loss of a horse again even if it wouldn't be for many years, but another part of him wanted to fill what had been emptied by the stallion's death.
He stepped closer to Tyran, running his hands over his shoulders and his back. Tyran's skin under his coat was smooth, without a single scar from a lash. Tyran snorted and shook his mane, then turned his head to watch Paki as he continued feeling across his shoulders and back.
Paki was surprised to feel his hands trembling as he went back to stroking Tyran's neck. The emptiness in his mind had won, and he took the first step.
Tentatively, Paki reached out his mind to the young stallion, and was surprised by what he found there. He had known Dwellers' horses were more intelligent than normal horses, but he hadn't realized by how much. Tyran knew somehow that he was staying at the Stronghold, not moving on like the other horses. He also knew that something had occurred in this particular stall, and was trying to figure out how it related to him.
Paki composed a picture of the stallion in his mind and pushed it into Tyran's. Tyran pulled his head back, studying Paki, then snorted and shook his mane again. He studied Paki for a few seconds longer, then--moving slowly--he reached forward and nudged Paki's shoulder.
