The Horse Master
Of Shanhasson
A Blood & Shadows story
PUBLISHED BY:
Joely Sue Burkhart
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 Joely Sue Burkhart
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in print or electronic form without the express, written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any organization, event, or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Adult Reading Material
After working in Her Majesty’s stables for five years, Jake is called into the palace under a veil of secrecy. The High Queen is ready to abdicate, and he’s her last hope of overcoming the Shadow that has haunted her.
Thankfully, the Horse Master is bringing his whip.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
The Rose of Shanhasson Excerpt
Other Books by Joely Sue Burkhart
Dedication
For my Beloved Sister
The gods have many faces and many names, yet no matter their guise, one eternal truth remains. Love is the greatest gift of all, and the greatest sacrifice. In every age and every country, they consign their Chosen to manifest their heart’s desire in the world, that all people may bear witness.
Love’s sacrifice conquers even the blackest Shadow of evil.
The Horse Master
Of Shanhasson
By Joely Sue Burkhart
ONE
I’M RUNNING OUT OF TIME.
Instead of mucking out stalls as he'd done for the last five years, Jake stood inside the shining white marble Palace. Again. Praying frantically, again, although for different reasons this time.
Please, please, don't send me away. Not yet.
A smartly-dressed servant opened the gleaming mahogany door and inclined his head. “His lordship will see you now.”
Painfully aware of the manure and straw encrusting his boots, Jake hesitated. Even if the Lord Steward dismissed him, he would find another way to remain in Shanhasson until the last possible moment. Besides, he was proud of his work in Her Majesty's Royal Stables, even if that meant tracking horse droppings on the spotless marble.
Jake smoothed the queued black tail of hair falling down his back to his thighs, pleased he’d decided to oil it just this morning. His hair was unusually long for the Green Lands, but he refused to cut it, even for the High Queen. Although if she were to ask, he would cut it, pride be damned.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside the darkened room. The impressive display of wealth and treasures overwhelmed him. Shelf upon shelf of fine gilded books lined the walls. Leather chairs so supple they made his carefully oiled saddles look like peddler fare. In the center of the room loomed a massive desk larger than the tent in which Jake was born.
The room was exactly as he remembered, although the man waiting for him looked as if he’d aged a lifetime instead of a few years.
Without rising, the Lord Steward gestured to a chair before the desk. “Please, take a seat. This discussion is rather…delicate. We might be here some time, and I would be pleased to offer you refreshment.”
Jake pulled his hair over his shoulder and perched very carefully on the chair. Wincing, he waited for the flimsy frame to explode, but the chair was made of sterner stuff than it appeared.
The Lord Steward poured liqueur into a crystal glass and offered it until he accepted it. The fragile wisp of glass didn't shatter, either, despite his rough paws manhandling such finery. He didn't dare take a sip. Looking at the whiskey was pleasure enough. The darkly golden liquid reminded him of Her Majesty's hair, twisted and coiled at the base of her neck, gleaming like silk against the fine golden cloth of her riding gown.
Dangerous pleasure, such thoughts, in more ways than one. Heat crackled inside him, a fire he dared not release. Fire enough to destroy this very Palace and all who lived here, including her.
Throwing his head back, the Lord Steward drained his small portion of liqueur. “As I said, this is a delicate matter. Whether you accept my proposal or not, I must demand your utmost discretion.”
“Certainly, my lord.”
“This is not something in which I would normally take a personal interest, but circumstances being as they may. . .” Sighing, the Lord Steward poured himself another glass of liqueur, more this time.
Dismay roiled in Jake's stomach, twisting the fire in his gut toward uncontrollable rage. Not yet, I can’t bear to leave yet!
The rising heat and violent emotions told him he might have already waited too long. He should have returned to the desert months ago. “I'm to be dismissed, then?”
Startled, the Lord Steward laughed shakily. “Blessed Lady, no. We already owe you great honors that you refuse to accept. We certainly won’t dismiss you out of turn.”
Relief made him dizzy. At least in the stables he could take care of the horses, even the Queen's own mare. He’d have the chance to touch her boot while helping her mount, or receive one last glimpse of her face before he must leave her forever.
The Lord Steward's gaze sharpened on Jake. “Have you given much thought to your future?”
“Serving Her Majesty is an honor, my lord. I wish only to remain in her service as long as possible, in whatever position she can make some small use of me.”
“Indeed.” The Lord Steward's steely gaze pinned him, weighing and measuring until he came to some decision. “In Her Majesty's name, I would ask a boon from you.”
“Anything.”
“You haven't heard the task I would set you. You might find it repugnant, and rightfully so.” Looking away, the Lord Steward frowned. “From everything I've seen of you, Jakon rav'Tellan, you might very well be the only man capable of this task.”
Jake slipped his hand down to the whip coiled on his hip, clutching the leather he lovingly braided himself. Few here in these Green Lands knew his true clan name. Did the Lord Steward know of the fire inside? The danger?
Surely not. If he knew the monstrous blaze stoking inside me with each passing year, they would execute me immediately.
“The whip, yes. I watched you in the courtyard this morning while Her Majesty's carriage was readied. You knocked a fly from the lead horse's ear with that whip and the gelding never even twitched.”
“Of course not.” Jake drew himself up, affronted by the insult. “A rav, or horse master as you would call it, never injures the horses in his care.”
The Lord Steward stood, turning to gaze out the window at the sprawling village below the Palace. “Could you do. . . damage. . . with that whip? Intentionally?”
Carefully, Jake set the crystal cup on the desk before he crushed it. “ I could strip the skin off your back with a surgeon's precision, but I've no taste for such cruelty.”
“Not such damage as all that. I meant. . .” The Lord Steward turned back, and Jake recoiled from the man's grief-stricken face. “You must understand. To tell you all you need to know will break a very sacred trust. Long ago, I swore to never tell another soul this secret, and the one who holds my oath could very well destroy me. She could destroy us all.”
“Who?”
“Imagine a young girl on the very edge of womanhood, a high-born lady with a great and heavy responsibility. A rose bud, so very, very fragile, taken by the foulest, darkest creature ever spawned in hell. He abused her, horribly. She endured ever
y torture imaginable. Yet she survived to escape, riding for help and even leading the soldiers back to destroy the evil who took her.”
His heart pounding, Jake hardly dared to breathe. He knew this woman and her story. He even played a part, though extremely minor. She was the only reason he lingered instead of facing the fire in his desert homeland.
The Lord Steward dropped heavily into his chair and stared at his trembling hands. “You were the first to see her, the one who raised the alarm. You even stayed behind when the envoy from Keldar left, refusing all reward for your service.”
Jake opened his mouth, but no words would come. His throat was closed off, strangled with swirling emotion and remembered agony. He’d tried to join the Guard and protect her, but they’d refused him. He had no talent with the short sword, and horses whickered a welcome to him and his whip. The stables were his home, and if he happened to catch a glimpse of her, even occasionally, well, that was reward enough.
“Everyone believes her to be fully recovered from that terror, and for the most part, she is. She lives every day, performing her duty, surviving, as always. Yet there’s a kernel of darkness in her, a chain of evil wound about her heart that she can't dissolve. We killed the filthy bastard who hurt her, but he damaged her. Shadow rejoices in the crippling of the Lady's Daughter.”
Lowering his voice, the Lord Steward glanced about the room despite their privacy, as if he feared eavesdroppers. “No magic, no heirs, no hope. She’s considering the unthinkable.”
Abdication. He didn't have to say it. Only a Daughter of the Blessed Lady could wear the Rose Crown and protect the land with her magic. If she truly thought she were incapable of ruling, the High Queen would step down for the sake of her people.
“Always doing her duty, always in control, always straining to pretend that she is well and strong, while the pain grows inside her. She believes even a distant cousin with little of the Lady's blood would be better than a broken rose.” The Lord Steward raised his gaze back to Jake's. “I won't say her name. But you know of whom I speak, yes?”
Jake nodded. He dreamed of her every single night. “I would do anything for her.”
“Would you hurt her to help her?”
His palms were sweaty, his fingers cramping from the furious grip he maintained on the whip. Releasing it to wipe his hands on his trousers, he wondered again at the Lord Steward's mention of the whip. Damage. Hurting…her? “No!”
“According to the High Priest, her abuser imprinted on her so strongly and foully that she's incapable of. . .” His voice cracked under the strain. “A normal relationship with a man. Her magic is trapped inside her, warped by the attack all those years ago. Until she can truly experience love with another, enjoy a man instead of fear him, she'll never rule as Our Blessed Lady intended, let alone continue the bloodline. Our only hope is to find a man who can. . . Who's willing to. . .”
Jake threw himself to his feet, overturning the chair in his haste. “Never! You're asking me to hurt her. Her! When I would rather die than lay a cruel hand on even her mare!”
The older man's face was ravaged with grief, his voice harsh. “The bastard used a cat-o'-nine-tails on her.”
Jake squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn't stop his mind from picturing what horrors had been done to her. What must her delicate body look like beneath the gorgeous gowns she wore if such a vicious whip was used on her? How had she even survived?
“She still bears the scars, inside and out. The High Priest swears that the appropriate use of. . . of. . . pain will help conquer her terror. That she'll—”
Jake wheezed, struggling to draw breath. Wavering, he wobbled on his feet. Flames danced before his eyes. Sweat poured down his face. Dreams of loving her tormented him often, but this? The risk was too great.
“You're so skilled with the whip, I thought maybe. . .” The Lord Steward made a horrible sound, raw and aching with self loathing and despair. “We've tried others, but I'm afraid they're only worsening her phobia.”
“Others?” Jake croaked. He imagined some oaf raising leather to her glorious body, and rage made him pummel his fist against his thigh. “Take me to her.”
The Lord Steward rushed around the massive desk. “She can't know that you're aware of this secret. She doesn't know that I've been looking for someone outside the priesthood.”
“I won't tell her, but…” Jake scrubbed his jaw, his hand trembling. With fear? Or something worse? Something darker. I should have ridden hard for the desert years ago and let the fiery beast consume me.
“I don't even know if she'll accept you. We've been trying different tactics for weeks to no avail. Her patience has run thin. If you can help her, no matter what happens, I beg you to do it. Whatever you desire, I’ll personally make sure you receive it as a reward.”
“I want nothing.” Nothing but her. Shame made his eyes burn, his chest too constricted to breathe. He must tell them the risk. If the fire escaped his control and the beast rose in him, he would do worse than the foul bastard who’d hurt her years ago. He could easily kill her himself. “I—”
The older man placed his hand on Jake's shoulder. “I've seen small signs over the years that she recognizes you. Only duty and her terrible fear keep her from acknowledging you.”
“It doesn't matter. She's untouchable, and I'm nothing. She shouldn't remember me at all.”
“Everyone swears you're the finest Horse Master we've ever seen. Use that gift to help her, and all the Green Lands will be forever in your debt.”
“Whatever she needs, I'll give her.”
The Lord Steward led him to the cleanest dungeon he'd ever seen. Jake was torn between wildest hope and darkest recrimination. He was a fool to risk her life just to touch her. The gods must have a cruel sense of humor to dangle the High Queen before him, a dra'gwar savage from the desert on the verge of annihilating everyone around him in a horrendous inferno.
Even if he managed to control the rising flames, could he truly use the whip on a woman? Let alone her, no matter what the priests claimed.
Torches flickered on the cold stone walls, reminding him of the dangerous flames inside him. His heart thumped frantically and sweat dampened his shirt. Too close, the fire’s too close. I should leave, immediately.
“Don't reveal you know her true identity in any way, unless she tells you herself.” The Lord Steward paused before a heavy oaken door. “She agreed to try one last time. One of Our Blessed Lady's priests is with her now, trying to… to…”
A muffled sound reached him. A sob. Jake threw open the door.
A white-robed priest hesitated, his arm slung back over his head with a flogger at the ready. Her naked back gleamed in the soft candlelight. Her arms were stretched above her head, tied to bedposts. Her ankles were bound to the footboard. They’d wrapped scarves around her head, blindfolding her and concealing most of her face.
They’d made an effort to turn the dungeon cell into a safer, more wholesome place of forbidden pleasure, but even the blazing fire and fine furnishings couldn't dispel the chill entirely. Shadows pooled in the corners, reminding him of exactly where they were. A dungeon, deep beneath the Palace.
A place of darkness.
The priest's arm moved, preparing to lash her again.
“Stop!” Jake strode to the priest and ripped the flogger from his grasp. “Somma help me, I'll strip the flesh from your bones if you lay a hand on her again.”
Panic shattered through her body at the sound of his voice. She bucked in the restraints, fighting the ropes binding her. “Out! Get out immediately! Father, free me at once!”
Jake ignored the startled priest and even the Lord Steward. All he saw was her golden-ivory flesh laced with brutal scars across her back and thighs. Rage pulsed through him, dark and ugly. That anyone could maim a woman sickened him.
She was like a terrified wild horse, beaten into a killing frenzy.
Suddenly, he knew exactly how to proceed, how best to approach her and
ease her fear. Whispering as he would to an injured, crazed mare, he eased closer, using the traditional sing-song chant of the Keldari to tame their mounts.
“I am come to conquer. I am come to tame. I honor your pride and courage.”
She froze, cocking her head. He placed his palm on her shoulder and she shuddered. The trademark scent of roses all Daughters were said to bear wafted from her, almost obliterated by sharp scent of terror.
“Shhh, za'hira, lovely one. Shhh now. I come with rope and whip, with bridle and saddle, with sure hand, strong and full of tenderness. With heart open and mind clear, I command you. I tame you. I claim you. I, Jakon rav'Tellan, am your Master.”
He jerked his head at the priest, motioning him toward the door. The priest looked to the Lord Steward for confirmation, and then left Jake alone with her, shutting the door behind them.
“They're gone, za'hira. No one shall intrude again.”
“Your voice is familiar.” Her own was raw and ragged, as if she'd been weeping. Or screaming.
The thought enraged him, but he pushed the blackening fury away. Right now, she needed calm mastery, not a savage bent on revenge.
Casting his gaze about the room, he noted a basin on a washstand and a steaming bucket on the floor. He stripped off his shirt and washed his hands, face, and chest thoroughly, and then prepared a fresh basin for her.
When he touched her with the warm cloth, she jerked away, straining at the ropes again. “Shhh, za'hira. I'm merely washing away the lather the fool brought to your flanks. Then I'll check your hobbles and make sure no injury has come to you. These fools know nothing of taming a mare.”
“Do you know who I am?”
Terror sharpened her voice, along with shame so thick his own heart felt wounded. “You're a mare in need of a Master. I'm a Master sorely in need of a wild mare to heal and tame.”
The Horse Master of Shanhasson (Blood and Shadows) Page 1
