My Lady Mage: A Warriors of the Mist Novel

by Alexis Morgan

  After setting his saddle and bridle down on the grass, he waited for the others to catch up with him.

  “Wait here while I scout ahead. If the horses are already there, I’ll whistle.”

  “If?” Kane snapped as he tossed his own equipment to the ground. “They’d better be here after I hauled this down the mountain.”

  Gideon ignored his friend’s bad temper, understanding its true source had nothing to do with Gideon at all. Every time they’d been called from the river, finding a suitable mount for Kane had posed a serious plight. If the animal was calm enough to accept one who carried the mark of dark magic on his face and in his blood, then it was likely to be worthless as a war steed. Fighting to control the fear of a more high-spirited horse carried with it a whole different set of difficulties for Kane.

  Bracing himself, Gideon marched forward. As soon as he turned the last bend in the trail, the mists parted and he came to an abrupt stop. Not only was Kestrel there, but a small herd of horses stood clustered behind him. The sight was beyond Gideon’s wildest imaginings, for no two of the animals looked the same; yet each was a beauty in its own right.

  It was time to share the spectacle. He put two fingers to his lips and let loose with a shrill whistle, causing the horses to stir restlessly. One by one, Gideon’s men joined him as they all stared in stunned silence. He couldn’t help but grin at the expressions of total wonder on their faces.

  Duncan was the first to break the silence. “What do we do now?”

  “In truth, I’m not sure.”

  After giving it some thought, he added, “As strange as this might sound, I’d suggest spreading out and let the horses come to us. That black one is Kestrel. I’ll go to him.”

  As soon as he stood beside the stallion, the big horse nudged Gideon, hinting for some attention. Gideon scratched his neck as the two of them watched his men study the horses. The mares seemed to weigh and value each of the men in turn. Finally, a sorrel with a sweet face stepped away from the herd to approach Averel, obviously her chosen warrior.

  His face lit up with obvious pleasure as he reached out to stroke her nose. “Hello there. I am called Averel.”

  Then he blushed and looked around to see if the other men were going to tease him for introducing himself to a horse. No one said a word, as each man waited to see if he would be the next one to be matched with a steed.

  A dappled gray mare whickered and pranced forward to stop in front of Duncan. Always the most chivalrous of their group, he immediately bowed his head. “My lady, I am honored. My name is Duncan.”

  It was no surprise that the next to be selected was Murdoch. A powerfully built blood bay with a white blaze and feathered legs slowly approached him. She rivaled Gideon’s stallion in size, which made her a fitting mount for Murdoch, the largest of the five men. Tall with broad shoulders, he carried more muscle on his bones than any of the others.

  Though Murdoch was usually slow to smile, his face lit up with a big grin as he and the mare studied each other. “She’s perfect.”

  That left Kane. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited impatiently as they all looked on. Gideon hurt for him, knowing the truth about the man’s worth both as a friend and as a warrior. The remaining mares shifted uneasily, their eyes wide and worried. After a few seconds, Kestrel stamped his foot and whickered.

  Finally, one of the horses took a tentative step forward and then another, her eyes wild and her breathing ragged. Before the mare reached Kane, though, another horse bugled in challenge. Everyone turned to face the intruder’s approach. With stone gray coloring and a face that had weathered to white, another stallion materialized out of the fog.

  The big gray stopped a short distance away to rear up on his back legs and paw the air. Kestrel immediately answered in kind, determined to defend his mares.

  The intruder charged down the slope, heading straight for the mare who’d been about to choose Kane. The big gray gently shouldered her aside, snorting and pawing the ground, but otherwise making no move toward the other horses.

  Even so, Kestrel clearly perceived his presence as a threat. He sidled away from Gideon, his ears back and tail high. Before Kestrel could charge, Kane launched himself up onto the gray’s broad back, and the two tore off at a dead run.

  Gideon blocked Kestrel’s path, praying the stallion wouldn’t run him down to give chase. Slowly, the horse calmed down, still snorting and prancing in place.

  Keeping his voice low and soothing, Gideon approached the horse. “They’re gone. Everything is fine, and we have business to attend to.”

  Kestrel let out a deep breath and shook from head to tail but gradually calmed and turned his attention to his mares. Evidently satisfied with the choices they’d made, he whickered softly. The rest of the small band immediately retreated and trotted off in the opposite direction from the one Kane had taken.

  For the moment, the crisis appeared to be over. Gideon could only hope that Kestrel would learn to tolerate the presence of the other stallion, because it would appear that Kane had found a kindred spirit. The mists had lifted enough that he could see the two of them running in the distance, moving as one.

  He checked the sun’s position overhead. The appointed time they were to meet with Merewen was growing close. Having no idea how far they’d have to ride, they needed to get moving.

  “Let’s see how our friends here take to saddle and bridle.”

  After retrieving his tack from where he’d left it, he slowly approached Kestrel. Obviously the stallion was willing to accept a rider on his back. That didn’t necessarily mean he was accustomed to wearing a saddle.

  But in truth, it took little time to have all four horses saddled and ready to ride. As they were about to mount up, Kane returned. He kept a wary eye on Kestrel as he and the gray skirted the edge of the group to stop a short distance away.

  Kane slid down off the horse’s back and disappeared into the trees to fetch his saddle. As he adjusted the cinch, he murmured under his breath to the horse in what sounded like Kane’s native language. He rarely used it except in battle or times of high emotion, making it clear that he and the gray had bonded quickly. While everyone waited for him to finish, Gideon studied the horse and decided he was a good match for his friend.

  Certainly, the stallion would never take a prize for beauty, but something about him drew the eye. He was a behemoth of a horse. Muscular and powerful, he’d carry his rider for hours and still have enough left in him to charge into battle.

  His coat bore the faint scars of past fights. How many of those were from confrontations with Kestrel? Gideon suspected that today wasn’t the first time the two stallions had crossed paths. As if sensing Gideon’s interest, the horse turned to face him, revealing yet another set of scars on his right shoulder. The deep claw marks looked to be from an encounter with one of the reclusive mountain cats. If so, it was a miracle the horse had survived such a vicious attack.

  Once Kane finished, all five men mounted up. Once again, it was odd to let Kestrel choose their path. Duncan urged his mount forward to keep pace with Gideon and asked, “So, do we know where we’re headed?”

  He could only shrug, wishing they didn’t have to trust to magic they didn’t understand. “No, Lady Merewen only said that Kestrel would know where to take us.”

  His friend blinked twice and then chuckled. “I guess that makes sense in a land where the horses pick their own riders.”

  They both glanced in Kane’s direction. He was deliberately maintaining some distance between his stallion and the other horses. Gideon noted all three mares made sure to say on Kestrel’s other side. He had to assume that was deliberate and probably accounted for why the two stallions seemed to have declared a momentary truce.

  For now, Gideon concentrated on refreshing his memory of the lay of the land. This area seemed familiar, although he was fairly sure that the last time he and the others had passed through, it had still been heavily forested. If he was right, then th
ey should come to a river crossing just ahead. Unless things there had changed drastically, it was shallow enough to make crossing easy.

  Just as he expected, a short time later he heard the sound of water, and the grassland quickly gave way to a rocky shoreline. Kane and his mount immediately waded out into the river, the water barely coming to the horse’s knees. The gray paused midstream long enough to drink before moving on. The other horses followed suit. Kestrel then led them the rest of the way across the river to a small meadow on the other side.

  Upon reaching the center of the clearing, the stallion stopped and refused to go another step. In fact, none of the horses would budge.

  “It appears that we have arrived,” Murdoch said as he looked around. “I find it most strange to move at the whim of horses.”

  A feminine voice responded. “Ah, but these are not your usual horses, Sir Murdoch.”

  All five men drew their weapons but sheathed them again when Lady Merewen stepped out of a stand of trees, leading the same horse she’d ridden the previous day. When her eyes first sought out Gideon, he nodded by way of greeting as he studied her face for any sign that her uncle had further abused her. But no, she looked rested and far less haunted than she had when he’d last seen her.

  Good. The man could live for another day.

  Her gaze had moved on as she offered each man a smile, but it faded as soon as she spotted Kane. Her eyes widened in obvious shock, although Gideon could detect no fear in her expression. As usual, Kane’s first reactions were suspicion and anger.

  “Is something wrong?” the testy warrior demanded as he dismounted.

  Gideon started forward, not about to let his friend take his usual bad temper out on Merewen. He’d intervene if necessary, but it would be better for everyone involved if she learned to deal with all five of the warriors on her own.

  For now, her expression had slowly brightened again, and she actually smiled directly at Kane. “Not at all, my lord. I apologize for staring, but seeing you on Rogue caught me by surprise.”

  “And why is that? Am I not good enough for one of your horses?” Kane sounded defensive, but he’d had good reason to question people’s motives in the past.

  Merewen dropped her mare’s reins and headed directly toward Kane. “Forgive me, but I truly meant no insult to you. It is just that to my knowledge, Rogue here has never before had a rider on his back, not even me. I had no idea that he would accept a bridle, much less a saddle and rider.”

  She walked right up to the gray and patted him on his scarred shoulder. The horse sidled away from her, but she only laughed. “Go on and pretend you don’t like me, you big baby, but I know better.”

  Then she pulled out a small apple from the pouch at her side and held it out to the huge horse. Rather than chase after him, she waited patiently. After only a brief hesitation, the horse stepped closer and delicately accepted the apple from the palm of her hand.

  Then she took out several more and offered them to Kane. “He has a strong fondness for these.”

  The warrior accepted the gift and immediately offered the horse another. “Rogue seems a fitting name for him. Is there a story behind it?”

  Although Kane rarely talked to anyone outside their close-knit group, Gideon liked that he made the effort with Merewen. He also admired her courage as she stood next to the warrior without any sign of fear or hesitation. Both of them focused their attention on the horse.

  “My father had a true talent for seeing the potential in a horse. He said Rogue shared not just the color of the rock that forms the backbone of the mountains, but also its strength. While Rogue might never appeal to those who look only for surface beauty, he would be an excellent mount for the right person, one who appreciates heart and strength more than looks.”

  She shot a quick glance at Kane before continuing. “When Rogue here was but a two-year-old, he’d already grown to his full height but had yet to fill out to match his bones. Winter that year was a bad one, and the snows lasted well into the spring after the mares had already foaled. A hungry mountain cat ventured down to our winter pastures looking for an easy kill.”

  She traced the deep scars on Rogue’s side. “I was there when the cat went after the new foals. The mares were screaming in fear and doing their best to save their young. The cat got past their guard and was closing in on a foal that had barely found its legs when Rogue jumped the fence and charged to drive the beast back. Before the guards could draw their bows, the cat attacked Rogue and buried its claws deep in his shoulder, shredding these muscles.”

  Her voice thickened with emotion. “Somehow Rogue managed to dislodge the cat and stomp it to death, saving who knows how many of our other horses. Unfortunately, when the stable master attempted to treat the wounds, Rogue was out of his mind with pain and terror. He struck out, breaking one man’s arm and another’s leg.”

  Kane fed the horse another apple. “I’m surprised they didn’t put him down.”

  Merewen nodded. “Most of them wanted to, hoping to offer him a kinder death than what he’d face from the infection that was sure to follow. I begged my father to spare him. He finally agreed, but only if Jarod and I could coax Rogue into letting us treat his wounds.”

  Gideon joined the conversation. “I’m guessing that was an uphill battle.”

  “It was, but Rogue eventually let us care for him. Even though his wounds healed, the experience taught him that it hurt when people touched him. That spoiled him for any kind of normal training.”

  Rogue snorted loudly and shook his head, as if he’d been following the entire conversation and agreed with her conclusion. Even Kane’s mouth quirked up in a small smile.

  She gave him a considering look. “I am exceedingly glad that you and Rogue found each other, Kane.”

  The warrior seemed at a loss how to respond. In fact, if Gideon had to guess, he suspected his friend was actually embarrassed by all the attention, and so intervened.

  “Lady Merewen, perhaps it is time we make plans.”

  She looked up to the sky, probably to guess how much time had passed. “Yes, we should. My uncle knows that this is my usual day to check on the outlying herds, but he expects me to return in time to serve the evening meal.”

  Gideon frowned. In his experience, the lady of the manor had the duty of choosing the menu and overseeing its preparation. She certainly wasn’t expected to do a servant’s work. It was obviously just one more way her uncle had found to humiliate Merewen in front of his men and any visitors to the keep.

  His men knew it, too. They had crowded close, their expressions fierce enough to have Merewen looking apprehensive. He felt an unexpected urge to plant himself firmly between her and his friends, and even took a step in that direction despite knowing full well they would never lift a hand to harm her.

  Duncan shot him a questioning look. “Lady, perhaps you’d like to sit down.”

  He offered her his arm and gestured toward a downed log near the water. She allowed Duncan to lead her in that direction, leaving Gideon no choice but to follow. He wasn’t particularly happy with Duncan right now, but it was for the best. They’d all learned a long time ago to maintain a certain distance when it came to the people they were called forth to serve.

  Emotions only clouded judgment. Besides, their time was limited, and friendships made it that much harder to return to the cold loneliness of the river. Anyone they’d met would be long dead by the time Gideon and his men returned to walk once again among the living. He knew better, but something about Merewen was bringing out every protective instinct he had.

  All five men arranged themselves around her, each keeping a wary eye on their surroundings lest someone had been sent to spy on her actions. Even the horses stood facing outward, watching both the river and the woods with their ears pricked forward and listening. They didn’t seem anxious, merely vigilant.

  Although he suspected he knew the answer, Gideon asked the question anyway. “Did your uncle learn that you’d
been out of the keep when he returned?”

  Merewen shook her head, but as she did, her hand immediately started rubbing her other arm as if soothing a sudden pain. Her uncle might not have beaten her, but either he or someone else had treated her roughly. Gideon noticed Kane’s hand had strayed toward his sword, as if ready to defend her.

  “He suspected I was lying to him but couldn’t prove it. I did learn why he thought I had disobeyed him and left the keep. One of his men, Olaf, had checked my bed during the night and reported me missing.”

  Murdoch joined the conversation. “Your uncle sent one of his men unchaperoned into your bedchamber?”

  Merewen blushed as she stared down at her lap. “Yes, and it wasn’t the first time. I’ve only ever left the keep during the night once before. He’d turned out one of my servants, and I was trying to bring him enough food and coin to find a new home.”

  Gideon hated the remembered pain in her expression as she continued speaking. “I don’t know what my uncle suspects me of doing now or how often he has someone check. When Olaf saw that my bed was empty, my uncle immediately unleashed the dogs to hunt me down.”

  Gideon’s temper was fraying around the edges. “What happened after you returned?”

  His question brought out a small smile on her face as she quickly described her confrontation with her uncle.

  Once again she was rubbing her arm. “Although I did not witness it, I heard that Uncle Fagan beat Olaf badly in weapons practice. Certainly, the man was moving slowly when I last saw him. I would be glad of that, except Olaf already hates me. This will likely only make matters worse.”

  Kane, always the first to seek battle, drew his sword and snarled, “I say we ride in and kill both Olaf and her uncle and end this.”

  Gideon shared the sentiment, but there was too much they didn’t know. If all the trouble could be solved with a simple stroke of a sword, the gods would not have responded to Merewen’s plea, no matter how heartfelt or justified. Past history had taught him that the Damned were called to do battle under only the most dire of situations.