The Lady's Choice

by Bernadette Rowley

As she stood transfixed, concentrating on the music and oblivious to the choppy seas that snapped at the rocks like angry dogs, a freak wave crashed over the causeway. Benae was knocked off her feet and swept over the side. The shock of the cold water made her gasp and she inhaled a mouthful of the sea even as her hand clamped on the reins. The wet leather halted her headlong rush into the waves but her body slammed against the rocks of the causeway wall. Through the fog of choking, cold and fear she realised she had to keep a grip on her lifeline. Flaire would drag her from the sea. She concentrated on trying to breathe but her throat had closed, her body shocked by the salty invasion. When she did draw breath, a stab of pain shot through her chest.

  A swirling wall of water hit her and she lost her grip on the reins but managed to grab hold of a rock in the wall of the causeway to stop herself from being washed away. Now most of her body was submerged in the freezing sea. Dimly she watched Flaire dance to the very edge of the causeway, his muscles bunched as if he would leap in after her. She prayed for both their sakes that his training would keep him frozen in position above.

  Chapter 13

  Terror gripped Ramón as he whipped his horse through the forecourt of Wildecoast castle and tore into the crowds that always milled before its gates. Benae was out there somewhere, perhaps lost or injured. Pressure mounted in his chest and his heart beat faster than a tiny bird’s. Having returned from his parent’s estate mid-afternoon, he had been told that Benae had gone riding after her final dress fitting. She had now been absent for over an hour. How could she think it appropriate for her to leave the castle unaccompanied? What had made her take such a terrible risk?

  He could not wait for the search party that was massing in the yard. Benae was his responsibility and he could not lose her too. Thank the Goddess she is with Flaire! Where would she go? He had no idea where to start except to make his way out of the city. The crowds in the streets frustrated him, townsfolk scurrying to and fro as they retreated to their homes amidst the squally conditions. They continually leapt into his path as he hurled headlong through the streets. When he almost flattened a small boy, Ramón pulled his horse over to the shelter of a wall. It was no good. He would kill someone this way. He forced himself back into the centre of the street, restraining his horse to a brisk walk, avoiding further close shaves as he wove his way through the dwindling pedestrians to the city’s gate. The guards were clustered in the watch house, likely around a fire by now, and the lone soldier waved him through.

  At last he was free and he touched his heels to his mount, wishing for the first time that he wore spurs. But where should he search? If he were Benae, where would he go? The beach? Perhaps. There was nothing like a gallop along the beach to clear the cobwebs from long days of being cooped up indoors.

  Ramón changed course and headed for the cliffs, pulling his horse up in a flurry of rocks at the edge of the precipice. He peered up and down the beach but visibility was poor and the rain in his eyes wouldn’t allow him to focus for long. He dismounted and used his horse as a windbreak, shielding his eyes as he peered first to the north and then to the south. Finally, a gust of wind cleared the sea spray for a moment and he spied movement on the causeway. Was it a horse? A grey horse? If it was, he had seen no rider. A cold hand clutched his heart and squeezed. Physical pain seared his sternum. He threw himself onto his mount and galloped to the nearest path down to the beach. Benae must be alive, she must be safe.Ramón’s reckless plunge down the steep and treacherous cliff path nearly unseated him a half-dozen times but with each slip he managed to claw his way back onto the saddle. His mount’s familiarity with the trail was the difference between life and death. Reckless did not begin to describe his descent but he reached the cliff base in one piece and whipped the reins against his horse’s neck to send him galloping towards the causeway. Every so often another swirling gust would clear the sea spray and he could see there was a horse on the rocky jetty. It was Flaire but where was Benae? He prayed his mount would not stumble in the wet sand. Rocks jutted up through the sand at intervals and a fall could easily spell disaster.

  Finally he arrived at the base of the causeway and shouted to Flaire. The stallion whipped around, whinnying, his reins dangling below his head, but did not move towards him. Benae was nowhere to be seen. Flaire turned back to the swirling waves below his feet and threw his head down, his nostrils flaring, and eyes wild. His low nickering tore through Ramón. Benae must have fallen into the sea!

  At first Ramón did not see her but then a flash of dark hair caught his eye. There she was, almost submerged, only her head poking from the water, the weight of her cloak and gown tugging at her. She could not resist forever. Already she was being dragged in so that waves periodically broke over her head. He approached Flaire cautiously, not wanting to spook the distressed creature or to be knocked aside. He reached out his hand and laid it on the stallion’s shoulder, felt the muscles shudder under his fingers. With soothing words, Ramón moved his hand up to the horse’s neck and then secured the reins. Can I count on him to remain where he is and provide an anchor as I pull Benae free? The stallion was out of his mind with fear – a precarious moment for Ramón to have to depend upon him. But there was no choice.

  He wrapped the reins around his left hand and stepped off the causeway, slipping down the first two levels of rocks and then moving further down, closer to Benae. The reins pulled him up short and he shouted to her. She turned her head, her green eyes blazing up at him through the tendrils of hair plastered on her face.

  ‘Hold on, Benae. I think I can reach you.’

  A wave crashed over the causeway, nearly carrying Ramón with it. The only thing that kept him from being swept away was his grip on the reins and the solid mountain of horseflesh above him. As the water ebbed, he sought frantically for Benae but she still clung to the jagged rocks, just out of reach. Her eyes fluttered closed, her chest heaving with the exertion of fighting the water.

  He eased himself into a sitting position and tugged on the reins so that Flaire moved a step closer to the edge. Stretching out his fingertips, he reached down. ‘Benae, take one hand off the rock and reach for my fingers. I’ll pull you up.’

  She looked up at him and he watched the muscles of her throat as she swallowed, saw the redness the salt water had washed into her eyes. She was nearing her limit. Soon she would slip from his reach and then the sea would take her. He couldn’t lose her!

  ‘Undo your cloak!’

  With agonising slowness, Benae took one hand from the rock and fumbled at her throat for the clasp. Ramón took a ragged breath as the heavy material slipped from Benae’s shoulders. He stretched his fingers as far as he could towards her.

  ‘Grab my hand!’ He wiggled his fingers and she stretched out, their fingertips brushing, but a wave swirled up and away at that moment and Benae clutched the rock again to prevent herself from being washed off.

  When the water subsided, she again let go of the rock with her left hand and reached for him. Again, only their fingers touched and Ramón could not get a proper grip. He tugged on the reins again but the stallion had planted his feet on the causeway and could not be coaxed any closer to the edge. Ramón ground his teeth. Stupid horse.

  ‘Hold tight, I’m coming down.’

  He watched Benae grip the rock and then he released the reins and descended the slippery rocks, falling rather than climbing down until he rested beside her. She gripped his hand as though she would never release it. Her lips were blue and her chest heaved with the exertion of holding on.

  Ramón slipped the fingers of his left hand into a crevice and gripped Benae’s upper arm. ‘Climb up. I will help you.’ He hauled with all his strength and Benae climbed rock by rock until she could reach the reins. Once she had them in her grasp, Flaire backed across the causeway, hauling her the rest of the way to the top. Now the horse chooses to cooperate!

  Benae collapsed gasping at the hooves of her mount, Flaire nuzzling her head.

  Now for me. R
amón removed his right foot from the crevice it had slid into and began searching blindly for a foothold further up the rocks. As he searched, his left foot slipped and before he could steady himself, Ramón slid a pace lower until most of his body was submerged. The rocks were slimy here and he could not get a decent foot or handhold. As he scrambled for purchase, he glanced up at Benae. Her eyes were wide and she was on hands and knees shouting for him to hold on. She glanced at something behind him and shouted but it was lost as a wall of water engulfed him, tearing at his body and plucking him from the rocks. He had the presence of mind to take a gulp of air before the water closed over his head and then a blinding pain seared through the left side of his skull. Everything went black.

  Benae knelt, frozen, on the causeway, her fingers gripping the rocks at its edge as she searched frantically for some sign of Ramón. What good to rescue her if she lost him? The reins were too short but perhaps if she had a rope she could tie it around herself and leap in after him, then have Flaire pull them out. She pushed herself to her feet, not wanting to take her eyes off the churning water. Hold on, my love.

  She fumbled through Flaire’s saddlebags and came up with nothing. A sob escaped her throat and she pounded the saddle with her fist, not even noticing the pain. Her eyes fell upon Ramón’s mount, twenty paces away and she sent Flaire a mental picture to stay put before running to the other horse. Her gown hung heavy around her and she was colder than she could ever remember being; her teeth chattered, her limbs felt sluggish. Too sluggish! Keep moving!

  Movement would warm her up and it was the only thing that would save Ramón. She slowed as she reached the horse so as not to startle him and fumbled through the saddlebags. Two coils of thin rope lay inside. Thank the Goddess!

  She jogged back with the coils and stripped out of her gown and petticoats until she stood only in her chemise and pantaloons. She tied the two ropes together in a knot that would not slip, tied an end to herself and the other to Flaire’s saddle, all the while sending him soothing messages and showing him what she, and later he, must do. He whinnied, on the edge of panic. He was not happy that she was going to leap back into the churning water. But she could not allow Ramón to drown. If he did, there would be no point to life anyway.

  Benae peered towards the spot where she had last seen Ramón, the deepening twilight hampering her sight. There! A flash of red tunic bloomed out of the dimness and her heart quailed. He was almost too far to reach with this rope if she was any judge. She climbed over the edge of the causeway and began her perilous descent down the wet rocks. Benae took a breath and jumped in. It was so cold; the air whooshed from her lungs. She trod water and flung the rope behind her then struck off into the churning ocean. It was almost impossible to see anything down at water level so she kept swimming, trusting her sense of direction to lead her to him.

  The rope pulled her up and she trod water as she searched for Ramón. He was still a pace out of reach but at least he floated face-up. She could not tell if his chest was moving. Benae hauled on the rope but no more length was forthcoming. She cast a plea to her horse. Nothing but fear came back to her. Poor Flaire had reached the limit of his bravery. She smacked the water before her in frustration and a sob, like the cry of a wounded animal, broke from her. Ramón floated before her just out of reach, blood oozing from a wound on his left temple. She started paddling the water away from in front of her and he floated a hand closer. Frantically she bailed the water before her but each time she brought him closer, the waves would take him from her.

  Benae paused, exhausted by her paddling and from her efforts to stay afloat in the rough sea. The strange keening song that had drawn her onto the causeway in the first place echoed across the water and Ramón slowly floated over to her. Benae stared, unable to understand what was happening, the song setting her nerves on edge. A large tail flicked out of the water then disappeared. I must be more exhausted than I thought. But Benae didn’t have time to ponder further as she grasped Ramón and placed her hand against his neck. A pulse beat there, fast but faint. I might still lose him! She flipped over onto her back and drew Ramón against her then began to kick towards the shore, moving parallel to the causeway. It was difficult to find the energy to communicate with Flaire but she sent him mind messages, asking him to walk back along the causeway towards the beach. After a handful of kicks, the rope drew taught, stopping her motion towards the shore. Flaire had not moved. She snapped out a command through the mind link and got nothing back so she barked out another. A sluggish response trickled back.

  Haul us in, you great lump of lard! she cursed at him.

  Harsh, came back his thought. At least, that was how she interpreted it.

  A gentle pressure gripped her chest as Flaire plodded back along the causeway and hauled them towards the shore. Benae kept kicking to maintain her distance from the rocks but was so cold she couldn’t feel her legs or arms. It seemed an eternity until she felt the hard, coarse sand beneath her buttocks. Without the buoyancy the water provided, resistance was greater and the rope cut into her unmercifully as Flaire continued to haul them up the beach. She flashed a quick request to stop her horse and the pressure on her ribs ceased. She rolled Ramón onto his side and screamed when pain flashed from her cold, cramped muscles.

  Ramón was so still she feared she had lost him. She braced herself to deal with another wave of pain and pulled herself into a sitting position, placing her hand at his throat. Relief hit her like a hammer. His heart still beat. She placed a hand over Ramón’s chest and forehead. At first her delving failed and cold panic flooded her mind. Breathe deeply. You can do this. You must do this! She steadied her breathing and sought deep inside for the spark of spirit she had left, sending it spiralling into Ramón’s still form. It curled around his heart and infiltrated his lungs, pushing a wave of water from his mouth. He coughed and heaved a great breath, but his heart still barely beat out its faint rhythm, even though her delving had not detected any fault in the vital organ. His head then. Exhaustion swept over her. It was too much, all too much. The task was beyond her. Flaire nuzzled her hair and snorted his glorious warm breath against her cheek. His thoughts were of sunlight and galloping and love and she was momentarily distracted from the cold and fear. The spirit within her sparked anew and she sent it sweeping through Ramón’s skull. There! It was fractured at the site of his injury. A large swelling pushed his brain aside and the pressure was growing.

  The doubts she had felt when trying to mend Flaire’s leg were less now. She had healed her horse; certainly she could fix Ramón. First the bleeding must be stopped. It was a simple matter to apply pressure and knit the vessel that trickled blood into the space. Next, she wove a net around the swelling, compressing it. Ramón’s chest filled with air and he coughed again. His heart beat more steadily. Benae used her powers to delve into the vessel again to ensure the healing would be able to withstand the increased pressure the heart would place upon it. All was well. Last of all were the bones. She wove a web of spirit that settled over the injury and the bone fragments knitted together.

  It was dark now and the storm howled from the southeast. Soon there would be rain. Ramón stirred, muttering.

  ‘Ramón, I need your help,’ she said, struggling to untie the wet rope from her waist. He turned his head. ‘Benae?’

  ‘Yes, I am here. You hit your head but all is well now.’

  ‘I remember.’

  Benae sagged with relief. The last test had been passed. He had retained his memory. Perhaps his brain had been spared permanent injury. It had been a close-run thing. ‘Where can we seek shelter, Ramón? We are at the base of the causeway.’

  ‘Hut, a little further south along the beach. On a small rise above the high tide mark.’

  ‘Can you walk?’

  He didn’t respond and Benae seized his shoulders and shook gently. ‘Ramón!’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘We must seek shelter.’ She gripped his arm and hauled him upright. ‘You mus
t help. I cannot lift you.’

  Ramón rolled onto his hands and knees and pushed himself to his feet. Benae guided him to Flaire’s side.

  ‘You must mount. Flaire will keep you safe.’ She helped him place his left foot in the stirrup and gave his buttocks a shove as he hauled himself up. He landed in the saddle and Benae gripped his leg to steady him but all was well. She gave her stallion a pat on the nose and walked to the other horse, mounted and steered him to Flaire’s side.

  ‘Gently now; Ramón, Flaire was injured and is not capable of speed. You must take care.’

  ‘He is not the only one incapable of speed. But, truly, I can walk if needed.’

  Benae’s heart sang at his lucidity. Perhaps all was well. ‘He pulled us from the ocean so he is able, just take care.’

  She kicked off and sent Flaire a request to find the hut in the dunes, directing him south of their location. He was calm now and she was confident he would locate the sanctuary, his vision superior to that of humans. Not for the first time, she was glad of her link with the horse.

  A mere two hundred paces along the beach, Flaire suddenly turned inland and soon stopped before a dark structure. Benae dismounted and came to Ramón’s side, tugging on his left foot. ‘We are here, Ramón; you must dismount.’

  He obeyed, landing beside her awkwardly. His arms curled around her and butterflies danced in her stomach. His hands slid lower until they rested on her hips, his fingers curling around her buttocks. She swallowed the lump of emotion that leapt into her throat.

  ‘This is some giddy dream, just like my dreams of Alecia.’

  Benae’s butterflies turned to bubbles that vanished, leaving her cold. It always came back to that woman. One day she hoped she had the opportunity to meet the princess and claw her eyes out. But Ramón’s next words explained everything.

  ‘You, Alecia, the mermaid who saved me: all are dreams to torment me.’