Amelie: Wizards of White Haven

by Frances Howitt

  Suddenly three men on horses crested the ridge in front of them effectively blocking the narrow path. Horsemen from the camp were rapidly cutting off their escape back the way they’d come too. Amelie spun back and charged the three horsemen. She screamed challenge at the horses blocking her escape and knew many of the horses were fighting their riders to get out of her way. But others were moving in swiftly to block the narrow exit and surround her.

  She dodged the horses, kicking out on all sides to keep them from getting too close but they were quickly surrounded. Trying to keep Jim on board stopped her really lashing out. Finally she reared to strike out at the men crowding closest and too late felt Jim slip and fall. Aghast, she moved to stand directly above his prone body, giving him the chance to recover from the fall, protecting him from the other jostling horses. Jim’s limbs were splayed out and he was gasping for breath, obviously badly winded. But it meant he was acutely vulnerable whilst she didn’t dare move her feet and risk standing on him. So she snapped at anyone encroaching from the front and lashed her tail at those behind. As soon as Jim got out from under her legs, her back legs shifted threateningly, ensuring a respectful space was kept around her.

  ‘Am,’ Jim called to her, his hand resting on her sweaty neck. She swung her head to eye him. ‘Shh,’ he added, ‘you don’t want them to think you’re an uncontrollable warhorse. Not when it appears they need us.’ He gave a weary acknowledgement to a terse command and turned back to her. ‘We’ve got to go with them.’

  She stood still while he vaulted aboard and took hold of her mane, despite being prodded from behind. The impertinent man poking her rump with the butt of a spear received a very precisely aimed lash across the face with her long tail, much to his companions’ amusement. She was far taller than the wiry little hill horses the other men were riding and she wondered if she should have tried to be small too. Then those in front turned, not back the way they’d come, but towards a crowd of previously unnoticed people on horseback watching the drama. There at the fore was a tall man astride a fine warhorse. Clearly he was a man of some importance judging by the deference of his attendants and the presence of a squad of mounted soldiers.

  ‘Ah, wizard, where were you off to in the middle of the night and in such a hurry?’ The man enquired reprovingly.

  Jim shrugged. ‘My horse needed some exercise. As you can see I don’t have a saddle or bridle so when your man spooked her I couldn’t stop her.’

  ‘Right; and where was your horse prior to tonight? I had a report of a sighting of a big black horse a few days ago, but it was thought to be wild.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t given any opportunity to round her up originally after the dragon scared her off. She doesn’t like strangers so she would have stayed away. That’s why she only came into camp when it was quiet.’

  ‘That’s a likely story,’ the man snorted. ‘We’ll talk more tomorrow at a more respectable hour.’ He glanced at his men, ‘bring him.’

  The small convoy left what turned out to have been the hunting camp for the border outpost and headed down the hill. Spread out of sight on the lower hillside was a large, sprawling city of tents. The land they had hoped to pass through unnoticed was waging a war on its neighbour. The whole countryside was on alert for spies or treachery and also on the lookout for new recruits to augment their ranks. So much for the quiet route through deserted wilderness they’d been hoping for.

  Next morning, Amelie suffered the indignity of having Jim place a saddle on her back. She nearly bit him for his attempt to put a bridle, complete with nasty, severe metal bit in her mouth. ‘Well, what then?’ Jim asked her under his breath. ‘For appearances, you’re going to have to wear tack like any other horse.’ She took the bridle in her mouth and made distinct indentations with her teeth in the strap fastening the bit to the bridle, then pushed it back at him. He got the message and hastily detached the bit from the rest of the bridle. He buckled the reins to the noseband instead. He would have reins but he knew he was unlikely to have any authority in their choice of direction. But at least he had a secure seat on a comfortable saddle, which more than made up for the lack of control in his eyes.

  It had been strange to be led through the camp a short distance and see Amelie properly for the first time. The bright morning sunshine revealed a tall, sleek and athletic black horse standing attentively at the fence looking back at him. There were a number of young men nearby, grooming and caring for the other horses. Jim surmised Amelie’s glossy black coat, which last night had been frothy, then crispy with sweat after her exertions, had been washed, brushed and polished while he lay sleeping. She had doubtless been well fed too, a side benefit of this captivity that she could certainly do with. Her dragon had been indistinguishable from a real dragon, albeit a small one. Her horse was likewise perfectly realised. She’d turned herself into a horse of the kind of quality that people would treat with respect. He guessed that if she’d arrived as a small rough hill horse, then her care would have been cursory and minimal.

  Jim found himself under scrutiny and he brushed vainly at his dusty, stained and nondescript leather jerkin and leggings. He could almost hear their brains mulling over how he had come by such an animal. If only they knew! He mounted swiftly and followed his waiting escort. They passed through the maze of tents and goggled at the assortment of people busy about their chores. Shabby women tended to any number of domestic camp chores; young men stitched saddlery, polished armour or honed weapons. Everywhere was a hive of activity. But Jim became aware that the men he expected to see, the soldiers themselves, weren’t much in evidence.

  They left the huge sprawling camp and Jim’s guide broke into a slow canter. Amelie was more than happy to increase her pace. She had discovered some of what her new form could do under duress last night. But carrying the weight of a man and the constricting feel of the saddle girth and bridle on her face was new to her. Also, she and Jim needed to quickly become accustomed to moving together if they were going to be able to work as a team.

  They came around the edge of a strip of woodland and beheld a huge sloping field in use as a training ground. This was where the hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers indicated by the quantity of support personnel, were. So much for their thought last night of passing through this area unnoticed! She wished yet again she’d investigated this route properly so she could have discovered the way blocked before they’d committed to it. But the lack of cover and several very alert lookout posts had seemed too risky to pass and perhaps tip off their intentions prematurely.

  Directly ahead of them on a small rise stood a large tent, with the front and sides rolled up providing shelter from the sharp wind and any inclement weather. Judging by the richly dressed men gathered around it, it was being used as the command post. It also contained a pair of cots and medical kit, for its secondary use as first aid centre.

  The small group of men relaxing in front of the tent turned from watching the soldiers on the field, to observe their approach. Jim was aware that his own fairly shabby appearance was being contrasted with the fire and contained power that was Amelie by the sharp eyed military men before him.

  ‘Ah, there you are wizard. Glad you could join us.’ The man from the night before spoke. ‘I’m Prince Casper, heir to Rossad. Welcome to our war camp.’ He paused in anticipation and Jim inclined his head deferentially as was clearly expected.

  ‘I am Journeyman Jim of the wizard’s guild.’

  ‘Quite a performance last night; from your horse anyway,’ Prince Casper grinned sardonically. ‘I didn’t see you using any offensive magic. Why?’

  ‘I don’t have that kind of magic. I’m not a warrior wizard. That gift is very rare.’ He glanced at the others. How on earth was he going to explain how he got to this part of the world?

  ‘Why did you fight? You injured a number of my men.’

  ‘Isn’t it normal to try to escape if you’ve been imprisoned, particularly by savages that don’t even speak the same languag
e? No-one would tell me why I was being held or who by.’

  Jim waited, hoping he was striking the right balance with them. He did not want to appear weak and therefore be quietly disposed of, yet he did not want to appear overly threatening. Soldiers were a notoriously superstitious lot and being known as a wielder of magic might also earn him a knife in the back.

  ‘Oh, they were just making sure you weren’t an enemy spy before they passed you on to me. They were wondering how long it would take you to realise you were only lightly guarded and make a run for it. When you did you blundered straight into our camp!’ Many of his men shared Prince Casper’s obvious amusement.

  Jim felt colour rising in his cheeks. They’d been testing and playing with him like a cat with a mouse.

  Abruptly Amelie’s head jerked up high and froze, her gaze fixed on something moving far in the distance. The men were immediately alert, following her gaze to the tree line on the far side of the valley. Prince Casper grabbed the telescope from his belt and swore, ‘spies! I see two of them. Get them! If you’re quick you’ll trap them against the bluff.’

  ‘Come on,’ a tall dark haired warrior told Jim, as he swung into the saddle of a fine looking bay. ‘Let’s see what you’re made of.’

  Jim barely had a chance to lean forward and grab hold as Amelie leaped after them into a gallop, answering the challenge.

  Amelie drew level with the other horse and stayed there keeping eye to eye however fast he pushed. She was exhilarated by the speed. The wind whistled past her ears and the ground rushed beneath her feet so fast it felt like they were flying. All the time however she kept an eye on the spot the strangers had disappeared. She leaped a stream; the bay saw it also and rose at the same moment, both of them landing safely. They were fast approaching the trees and trickier footing. She slowed; the bay flicked an ear at her as he was suddenly ahead and abruptly allowed his rider, lord Dirk, to slow up swiftly too. Amelie suspected those they hunted had moved deeper into the trees, but she didn’t yet know if they had arrows trained on them. She blocked the bay’s path, stopping him blundering straight into the dark shadows of the trees and cocked her head hoping Jim would realise what she was doing.

  ‘Hold a moment. Let’s see if we can hear which way they went.’ Jim whispered to lord Dirk, who pulled his horse to a stop. Amelie quietly moved on, taking the lead. She placed her feet carefully to minimise the sounds of her passage, yet she walked swiftly. Surprisingly the bay was content to follow in her footsteps. He seemed nervous amongst the dense trees. Amelie halted frequently to listen as well as follow what tracks she could see. Horses were notoriously clumsy, particularly when there was no path and they had to push through dense undergrowth. It was not difficult to follow the scuff marks and dull thud of shod hooves, clink of tack, snapping of twigs and swishing of undergrowth being swept aside not far ahead of them. Lord Dirk chortled quietly that they were successfully driving their quarry into a blind canyon hemmed by steep walls.

  Amelie halted where there was just enough space for lord Dirk to come alongside. For the first time she swung her head slowly and looked directly at him. Jim was surprised that lord Dirk grasped some meaning and silently dismounted. Amelie looked through the thick foliage again and Lord Dirk moved forward stealthily in that direction, his unsheathed sword held in readiness. Jim reluctantly followed him, Lord Dirk’s borrowed dagger in hand.

  At the edge of a tiny clearing they found two impatient horses tied to a branch. The men were not as easy to see. Had they finally realised their horses were a hindrance rather than a benefit? Had they made a run for it?

  Suddenly a man leapt out of cover and ran at Lord Dirk yelling and waving a sword. He’d been hidden by the earth and twiggy roots of a huge fallen tree. His companion leaped out just behind him to tackle Jim. Jim hastily threw up a defensive shield, but the attacker’s sword clipped his jacket before he could get his spell fully in place. A dagger was no real defence against someone with a sword, particularly since Jim had never been taught how to fight with one. Jim watched his opponent strike repeatedly at his shield obviously furious he could see but not reach him. Jim felt the attack as a drain on his strength, but his shield held. He was shocked at the man’s ferocity; no one had ever attacked him before. He was glad that Lord Dirk incapacitated his opponent in very swift order and turned to assist him.

  ‘We need this one alive too, I assume?’ Jim asked with a calm he didn’t feel. His opponent suddenly looked a very worried young man facing not just two men but a swordsman and a wizard. He didn’t need to know said wizard hadn’t a clue what to do next. Lord Dirk answered that by parrying the man’s sword in a complicated manoeuvre that tweaked it out of his grasp.

  They quickly trussed their captives belly down on the saddles of their horses and returned to Prince Casper’s command post with their sullen prizes.

  Jim let Lord Dirk deal with their prisoners. He didn’t want to know the specifics of how the men would be interrogated back at camp or have anything to do with deciding their fate. He’d already drawn more attention than he was comfortable with and the leaders clearly had something in mind for him. The soldier who had brought him down to the training field appeared and they returned to the camp.

  At the horse picket line he dismounted and swiftly removed the saddle and bridle from Amelie. He heard her little grunt as the tight girth strap was released from her middle and she could breathe without constriction. Her coat was crispy with dried sweat. She tugged him to one side where there was an odd sandy hollow. She jerked the lead rope out of his hand, stepped into the hollow and folded her legs. Soon he couldn’t help grinning at the sight of her legs in the air as she wriggled her spine into the sandy soil easing an itch.

  When she got back on her feet a young man came forward and with a nervous glance at the wizard, caught hold of the trailing lead rope. ‘I’ll look after her, sir.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jim said and stepped out of the way. Amelie glanced at him but meekly followed when she was led to her previous spot on the picket line. A pair of buckets awaited her and she dropped her head into the water gulping greedily.

  ‘Now, then,’ the lad chided her softly, ‘that’s enough water or you’ll be getting colic.’

  She allowed her head to be lifted clear enough of the bucket so he could move it out of reach. His words had given her a start. She had taken on a horse’s physique; she might easily be susceptible to the same ailments. The lad picked up a stiff bristled brush and began currying her coat loosening all the sweat, grit and other irritants.

  ‘Oh, you like that don’t you. We’ll have you spick and span in no time. You’re not bad tempered at all.’ The lad commented, to her surprise. Was that how she was perceived? Her father had always talked to his horses; he’d said it soothed them, particularly the highly-strung ones or when they were frightened. She listened with half an ear and allowed his soothing words to wash over her.

  She turned her head abruptly and found Lord Dirk approaching, leading his warhorse. The bay looked exhausted. The lad tending her noticed her tension first, and turned to the warrior bearing down on them. He hurried forward to take the reins of the bay.

  ‘Put him next to the wizard’s horse, Sid.’ Lord Dirk then stood nearby and idly watched the lad sponge down and feed his horse; or rather that’s what most would have thought he was doing. Actually he was observing Amelie with an interest that was rather unnerving. They were all relieved when darkness fell and he finally left. She took the opportunity to sit down and properly rest. Being a horse used a very different set of muscles and she was tired, particularly after carrying Jim on her back.

  A few hours later, when the noise and smells of cooking and feeding the army had turned into the relative quiet that indicated most were asleep, Amelie suddenly woke. The woodland bordering the horse picket line and therefore the camp had gone unnaturally quiet. Something felt wrong. She got to her feet quietly and strained her senses. She pulled the slipknot in her teeth releasing her tether
from the picket. She quickly trotted over to the nearest tent, put her head through the flap and nudged Sid, the stable lad who’d tended her earlier.

  ‘What are you doing loose?’ he muttered grumpily and tried to take her lead rope. She snapped her teeth in warning at his hand and he paused. She snorted and swayed from foot to foot in frustrated agitation. ‘What’s spooked you?’ He followed her out of the tent and automatically glanced at the other horses. Many were gazing attentively into the forest; clearly something was out there. But before he could go and investigate, the strange horse had pushed her lead rope against his hand. As soon as he grasped hold of it she began purposefully walking, towing him along in the direction of camp.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he murmured, and as if for an answer the horse broke into a trot, forcing him to run beside her. Sid dropped the rope, uncertain of what the hell was going on. The damn horse immediately halted, turned back and with a distinct swing of her head flicked the lead rope over her neck and out from under her feet. She halted beside him in the position a human normally mounted. He shrugged and vaulted aboard. She immediately pivoted and resumed her course but now at a canter; any faster and she risked running into something or someone. He soon realised they were on an arrow straight course to the command tent. His heart flipped nervously, he had no rank; why should they listen? What was he going to say anyway?

  Amelie halted directly before the guardsmen on duty in front of the commander’s tent.

  ‘What’s going on?’ One of the guards barked. ‘What’s the meaning of galloping through camp?’