An End to Summer

by Diana Rose Wilson

  Once you breathed life into me, my rider. Now I will carry you through. Hold onto me, we will make it across together. In his mind, he saw the water, the waves crashing at the passage, the thrum of determination pulled him in. Your beloved comes. Your children thrive!

  He had the best sleep that he had in months.

  On Christmas morning, Jasper arrived, baring spears and burns. His trumpet woke the whole house as he made himself known. He had taken worse injuries though he was in no less humor than his sister, sharing the thrill of battle all the while he was tended by Amy, Grammy, and the vet who came to stitch the horrible gashes.

  Zan’Dar. Stop fussing over me. Why do they not attend these for you? The stallion was horrified by the wounds in his soul.

  “There is only so much they can do. They are doing what they can.”

  Do not perish from Heartsickness. I demand it. Tell him sister, he must stay strong. Do not founder.

  Their children were well. Strong and they were thriving. Mortari was leading the others through. The Marshall would bring his general across to them. It was not an easy path and they could only wait and trust and never think them dead.

  Time moved with less pain from then on. A year passed and then two. Kenneth came into his talent and as though to make up for neglecting Alexander, they threw the largest party any of the family ever held. Out of the evening firelight the war-mount came to claim his rider.

  The year after his younger sister, Vanessa, came into her talent and a war-mount came for her.

  And still where was no word from Bennonton. Amberlynn and Jasper stayed strong. Their confidence steadied Alexander. He was riding and working with Marion and her horses and seriously competing in 3-day events with his war-mounts just to keep them out of trouble. He continued to practice sword with Mambo and drilled fiercely with his younger siblings.

  They tolerated his earnest education as one of his many quirks. Of course, swordplay and jousting were part of their education. They’d been conditioned to his behavior so long, it was natural. And now that they had mounts, they seemed to understand there was a deeper connection. The war-mounts loved the game that kept them connected to the skills of war they were bred for.

  He even returned to the music he’d discarded. The flute was a gift from Amy to replace the one taken from him, and he tentatively began playing again. It didn’t hurt as much as he imagined it would. In fact, the mounts loved it so much, it was worth any pain he experienced.

  The General always liked that song, Amyberlynn said quietly, sharing a poignant memory with him, her words supported by a cheerful Jasper. They were rested in the meadow, sharing a rare moment of idleness. It was the first time they had talked about Bennonton. He always pushed the memories away. He had been so afraid thinking of the man would pull him into the black place in his heart. It scared him that the pain and fear and grief might consume him again.

  No rider. Don’t you see? It is beautiful. He will be with you soon. He will not want you to have forgotten him.

  It was beautiful. And, it hurt. Like most things in the heart of a blood horse, it was equal parts pain and glory. They didn’t pick him for his cowardly spirit.

  He decided to attend culinary school directly after high school and take up his spot in the hierarchy of his father’s restaurants. It seemed natural that he respected the namesake of his child by following in Anthony’s footsteps. Now he would be a proper middle son in truth and work at the family restaurant.

  Although it wasn’t as prestigious as being the beloved consort of a prince and general of the royal cavalry, he would do honor to the duty he had. It was all he had to his name, and with Christopher gone and Derek focused on his equestrian dream, Alexander was next in line.

  In many ways, his father was a king, the first son of a first son for many generations. His was the voice that spoke for their tribe during the gatherings with his queen beside him. He answered disputes and solved grievances between others in the tribe as surely as any king. Running the many restaurants sometimes seemed like keeping peace over court. Just without the duels or loss of life.

  The way his father smiled at him with pride reinforced he’d made the right choice. It mended the rift that had been there since the accident. Unspoken, yet wedged between them, was clear evidence that his father, Anthony, felt responsible for neglecting his middle son and the resulting accident during that desertion which had nearly killed him.

  Alexander wanted to explain everything but he didn’t even know where to begin. At eighteen it was obvious Alexander was years more mature than a normal person his age. While he tried not to let it slip, there were times when his father seemed to notice and regarded him with awe. In those moments, he wanted to tell this father everything, including the child who carried his name. The boy who would, by the grace of the gods, grow to be a man like his father. Every time he found himself evading the questions as the memories of his lost children made emotions and tears mute his voice.

  It was easier telling stories to his younger siblings as though they were fiction. Vanessa, Kenneth and Kelly grew up learning all about Lyni, Talgraem and Shirvil from the stories. Years ago, he started a ritual where he would braid his sisters’ hair in the traditional braids while he told a story. Like the sword training, they accepted this as one of his quirks and demanded to know more about Princess Winnifred’s naval adventures with pirates, sea monsters and water spirits.

  He was nineteen, nearly four years after he’d returned, when his youngest sister Kelly got her mount. She was really too young, or so their cousins thought, except that Kelly was a fierce, spirited young woman. She was better off with a war-mount than some fly-brained horse that might refuse some jump she dared him at.

  The shock was the blood horse himself. Morgan, Traveler of the Coldest Night came to her. The rose-gold stallion proudly flaunted the scars of battle he’d earned saving Princess Winnifred. He regarded Alexander with deep respect before enfolding him in a familiar mental hug.

  My duty is to our little queen, though I am overjoyed to see you, brother. He could almost hear Winnifred’s laughter within the warmth of his embrace. The familiar almond blossom scent of her curled around him and made him dizzy with homesickness.

  Alexander never faulted the big stallion for what happened. He had performed his duty to the best of his ability.

  The day Kelly died, Alexander was distracted. He should have never taken both his mounts and focused his attention on his youngest sister’s first show.

  Jasper and Amberlynn were both very edgy and uncommonly temperamental. He should have sensed something wrong, too. They demanded that Kelly wear the gold and ruby token the princess had given him, for luck.

  For luck.

  The first day he pinned the heavy token into her hair netting. It worked so well the first day, she affixed the token to Morgan’s breastplate the next day for cross country.

  Luck.

  On the morning of Kelly’s death, his great uncle Robert and his son Tommy-Tom showed up. With all the family there, Alexander didn’t think much of it.

  “So, these are the fantastic fleabags you are always going on about, Alex?” Uncle Robert asked as he plucked at one of the bridles hanging on the wall.

  Alexander didn’t answer as he groomed Jasper. The mount didn’t like being treated like a mortal horse and only stood in the cross ties after long hours of assurance that they needed it for appearances. The arrival of these people he saw as threats did not please him. The stallion pinned his ears, eyes rolling towards the intruders.

  “He’s a nasty nag,” Tommy-Tom said with a smirk. “You ride this devil, Alex?”

  “He’s not so bad. Want to try a moment in the saddle?” He stepped to the side as Jasper swung his hind end, gracefully avoiding the savage kick the stallion made towards the men. “You might want to stand back. If you’re looking for mom and dad, they are watching Vanessa take her round.”

  Uncle Robert stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the shod hoof str
iking back at him. “That thing is trying to kill me. What in the world are your parents thinking letting you children play with filthy livestock?” he demanded.

  Jasper bared his teeth, ears pinned flat to his skulk. He made a horrible roaring sound as he bucked up. The cross ties and latches groaned in protest as he tried to whirl towards the men.

  “Oh, but this isn’t playing,” Alexander answered, drawing himself up to his full height. Beyond the threshold, he never felt tall. Bennonton had always exceeded him in size and there were many in his guard who outmatched his height. Here though, he towered over everyone, even his uncle Sebastian. The scrawny, sickly boy Tommy-Tom’s sons nearly killed was gone.

  Tommy-Tom just smirked as he played with a leather strap. He held it lazily and then looked up at Alexander. There was something so nasty in that expression, it made Alexander’s skin crawl. That was where his cousins, Courage, Princeton, Crown, and Pride got their nature. It was a savage, hungry need to hurt people that the man had gifted to his offspring. Did the man know what his children did to him all those years ago?

  “Good luck, Alex. That’s all we wanted to say. We’re going to go watch Vanny ride. We will be watching you and that hay burner out there.”

  In the back of his mind, Jasper and Amberlynn both cursed and raged. The frustration rippled over him from both sides while Jasper tried to kick the departing men.

  Blackhearted beasts, he seethed. I will not let them harm you again, Amberlynn agreed with equal volume. Mentally he struggled to sooth them both. The stallion’s savage rage stunned him. Jasper was usually unfailingly cheerful. His unexpected wrath left the inside of his head ringing.

  “Just leave it. Come on. Let’s watch Vanny while you calm down.” He unfastened the ties and led the horse into the field. The walk would do them both good. He put his helmet on and mounted up bare back, riding the big horse through the throng. Waving to friends, he kept an eye on his departing cousins, holding a tight guard on Jasper who wanted to run them down.

  Harris family was gathered in one group, Wallaces were in the other. They were the sum of the two halves of his bruised soul, Alexander reflected. Jasper finally began to relax under his weight as his interest sharpened on the event and the thrill of the run ahead. Nothing settled a war-mount like being put to a test. He sent affectionate thoughts to the mount, scratching his high withers.

  When Vanessa’s ride was finished, he rode with her back to the stables to finish tacking up properly. Kelly was there, putting the final touches on Morgan. She polished the pin and affixed it to the center of the breastplate with a huge smile.

  In the time Alexander had been gone, the girl had ravaged the whole tack room. Leg wraps of several colors were dangling over saddles like streamers. Girths, various bridles and other leather items were flung haphazardly rather than hanging neatly from their posts. It was as though she had tried on every set while no one was there to contain her energy.

  “How can you possibly make so much mess? You need to clean up after yourself, Kelly,” he scolded as he dismounted, reaching out to rub Morgan between his soulful eyes. The big horse was tacked not in the usual purples and blues but with red leg wraps that matched the gleaming ruby crusted token clipped at his chest.

  Kelly laughed as she swung into the saddle. “Yes, yes. I will! I promise. I’m just nervous. I’ll do it when I get back.” She was already riding out into the sunlight. She grinned over her shoulder as she fastened the strap of her helmet under her chin. “Love you. Wish me luck.”

  He waved after her, shading his eyes. “I love you. Good luck, brat. Did you tighten your girth? Wait, let me check you.”

  She waved her crop at him, drawing her leg up so she could lean down and pull the saddle flap up and give the girth a tighten. “It’s tight. I’m fine. Stop fussing.”

  He sighed and waved her off, watching her urge Morgan into a trot and then a canter as she rode over the rise to the warm-up ring.

  “Alexander? Help me with this?” Vanessa’s quiet plea distracted him from his worry. She held out her leg to him to be extracted from the tall boots.

  It wasn’t until he was saddling Jasper that he realized Kelly had the wrong girth. He frowned as he adjusted the narrow strap of leather to the billets. He replayed the memory of her gracefully adjusting the saddle while she was astride. There shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Mother or father would check her before and after the warm-up ring, or Marion or Derek. Morgan would know if it was too loose and would never put the girl at risk. He pushed the thought away and finished his own tacking.

  Jasper groused at the discomfort of the girth. Muttering sullenly, he jigged to demonstrate his displeasure. Usually the stallion happily tolerated anything to be allowed to play this game, a ghost of the sport they both left behind. Now he was a ball of agitation that Alexander was unable to soothe.

  He was about to call off the ride altogether when Morgan’s voice cried out to them.

  The young queen!

  He nearly fell off Jasper as the big horse leapt forward, charging down the field towards the course. The whole world went black in Alexander’s heart for a wrenching moment.

  Jasper galloped him to her side. He knew before he saw her that the accident was bad. Her eyes were open and her lips parted and moving, but the Kelly he knew and loved was no longer with them. He suffered the rift of her passing like a fist to his stomach. He slid off Jasper and went to her side, taking her hand in both of his.

  I could not catch her, Morgan lamented in a broken cry as he stood staring, unwilling to be led away from his fallen rider. Alexander felt his dedication. He should not be taken from her. It was his duty to carry her through the gate to the lands of spirit.

  Kelly and Morgan had been going for a jump when the saddle slipped. Morgan had tried to stop rather than attempt the jump and the girth snapped. The saddle jerked loose despite the breastplate. They were going too fast and the unexpected veer and stop caused Kelly to fly over the horse’s shoulder, directly into the solid jump obstacle. She lay crumpled like a doll at the base of the heavy wooden structure.

  People were untangling the breastplate and saddle with the torn girth hanging from it. The jeweled pin flew free and fell to the ground by his knee. Alexander saw it through his tears and he heard Kelly’s soft rasp.

  “Zan’Dar.” Her fingers twitched in a spasm in his hold, as though trying to reach for the pretty trinket. It was not her voice, speaking his name in the spirit-tongue. He felt a strange tickle in the back of his mind, like Princess Winnifred desperately reaching for him.

  He scooped the token up and put it between her hands and his.

  Her eyes closed as a rattling breath drew in slowly. ”Ah.” A smile curled up her pale lips as she clung to him. And then…she really was gone.

  Gone.

  And with her spirit, the pin. A bittersweet ache filled him. He was broken with grief for the loss of his sister. He didn’t want to hear Morgan’s low, heart-sick whisper. She is beside the princess, Zan’Dar. She will be safe and beloved.

  It was wrong! Kelly should be there and he should be the one to cross over and return to Bennonton. It was an empty comfort that she was in a better place. Without a doubt, she would be cherished and adored beyond the threshold. But it didn’t console his parents, his grandmother, Amy or all his siblings, cousins and the rest of their family and friends who would never hold her again.

  This was another scar for him in a life full of loss.

  Only weeks later, after Kelly was put into the cold ground did he give any attention to the gear. His mind did not want to consider the implications of that girth. Was it the same strap his uncle had picked up? There was no question it was his. Kelly had picked it up by mistake in her nervousness. Still, he had no proof it wasn’t an accident.

  Who could he go to with such a wild idea? His cousins and now his uncle had tried to kill him? Surely not.

  The only good thing to come of the whole thing was Christopher coming home. Rea
lly returning to them. After a tense few months, he and Remmy reinforced their fractured bond. His elder brother had changed. Perhaps it was the loss of Kelly that had changed him. He seemed more grounded.

  Or, perhaps Alexander’s perception had changed. His eldest brother seemed young and vulnerable. Alexander hated whenever his cousins took Christopher out to get him drunk to ‘heal his broken heart’. There was some plot or scheme there. There had to be.

  “You’re such an old soul,” Christopher said one morning while he nursed a hangover after one of those nights. His elder brother looked utterly miserable.

  “I think you’re going about healing the wrong way.”

  Christopher gave him a condescending smile. “What would you know about a broken heart, little bro?”

  In that other life, he would have demanded satisfaction in a duel and given his elder brother a lasting scar to temper his arrogance and humble him. His hand went to his hip in an automatic reflex and his fingers closed into a fist where his sword should have hung. Alexander choked back his irritation and forced his words out as calmly as he was able. “I just want you to be careful around Tommy-Tom’s kids. Okay? I …I don’t think they have your best interest at heart.”

  “Yeah, okay, kiddo.” Christopher stood and slapped him hard on the shoulder before swaggering out. He was still more than a little tipsy.

  Less than a month later Christopher found him in the stables while he cleaned stalls. He leaned over the door, watching him with a strange, stricken look on his face.

  “What’s happened?” Alexander asked, not stopping his work.

  That made Christopher crinkle his nose and he let out a breath. “You were right about the Harris cousins. Your intuition is really good, brother. I’m so sorry I doubted you. I…I’ve been an asshole.”

  The tone more than the words made Alexander stop his cleaning to turn and stare at his eldest brother.

  “Oh, don’t give me that look.” Christopher frowned and laid his chin on his forearm. “They got me drunk and sent me off with Trina.”