Rift Page 11
“No two visions are the same. The weapons are crafted precisely for the one who will wield them.” Barrow buckled the belt low on his hips. “We’ll see what Morag has for you tomorrow. But it’s not only a weapon that you’ll need.”
She tilted her head, watching him curiously.
His smile broadened. “Come with me, lass.”
NINE
AS THEY CROSSED the courtyard, passing the manor and moving in the direction of the barracks, Ember struggled with Barrow’s taciturn manner. Would it be so difficult to simply explain to her where they were going and what the shape of her day would be? Making it worse, the tall knight seemed to take some perverse delight in watching her puzzle over her new life. She was beginning to look forward to the opportunity to spar with him, no matter how much of a novice she’d be on the training field. Giving Barrow one good knock with a mace would be worth it.
Ember was playing out this imagined confrontation, in which she managed to kick Barrow in the chest and send him sprawling, when the real Barrow’s voice intruded on her musing.
“We’re not going to the barracks, Ember.”
She hadn’t noticed that he’d abruptly changed direction, walking away from the barracks’ entrance toward the far end of the courtyard. Her blood went icy when she realized he was heading toward the practice fields where she’d spotted him sparring with Kael. Her daydream took a wicked turn, where suddenly she imagined Barrow drawing his sword and smiling cruelly at her.
“Be careful what you wish for.” He raised the wickedly curved blade.
“Ember!” Barrow was suddenly standing in front of her, both of his hands resting on her shoulders.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Is your brain still addled by Morag’s incense?” He searched her face with concern. “If you need water or rest, you must tell me.”
“No.” She pulled out of his grip. “I’m fine. Lead on.”
His eyes were doubtful, and Ember swore silently that she’d keep her overactive mind in check.
“Very well.” He took her past the barracks but bypassed the practice fields as well, to which Ember’s emotions had a lurching reaction of disappointment edged with relief.
“Ho, Barrow!” A lanky boy was waving at her companion. The boy set aside his pitchfork and came to meet them.
“Well met, Ian.” Barrow clapped him on the shoulder. “How’s their mood this morning?”
Ian laughed. “Restless. The spring air puts the spark of life in ’em like nothing else.”
“Glad to hear it,” Barrow said. He gestured to Ember. “Ian, this is Lady Morrow. She’s just joined our ranks.”
Ian gave her a lopsided grin. “So I’ve heard. Welcome, my lady.”
“Ian is apprenticed to the master of the stables,” Barrow told her. “Which means he’s here day and night, should you need anything.”
“It’s true that I’m a slave to these beasts.” Ian bowed his head, but Ember saw him grinning.
“These beasts are better than most men.” Barrow laughed.
“That they are,” Ian said. “That they are.”
Barrow led Ember into the stable while Ian returned to forking through a mound of hay. The stables were spacious and airy. Sweet and musty scents mingled in each breath Ember drew. As they walked the wide path between the stalls, snorts and whickers sounded. Heads stretched over the stall doors and large eyes kept watch over them. A sudden banging against wood accompanied by a bellow made Ember jump.
The bellow came again.
“I see you, Toshach,” Barrow called. “Have patience.”
Ember saw a finely shaped head with ears flicking back and forth reaching over the barrier. The animal resembled a living shadow. In the dim light of the stable its black coat revealed a violet undertone. The horse tossed its mane and snorted, fixing them with a startlingly intelligent gaze.
Barrow glanced at her. “I suppose introductions are in order.”
Ember followed him to where the horse continued to bow its strong neck, straining to be free of its confines.
“Easy.” Barrow went to the horse confidently. The dark creature blew into Barrow’s outstretched hand and bent forward when the knight reached up to scratch behind the horse’s ears.
“Ember, meet a dear friend,” Barrow said. “He’s called Toshach.”
She edged forward, looking up at the horse’s large head. “He’s yours?”
At the sound of her voice, Toshach abandoned the bliss of having his ears scratched and snorted. The giant head moved toward her. Ember turned up her palms and let the horse take in her scent. He mouthed at her fingers playfully and then tossed his head, not finding a treat hidden for him within her grasp.
Barrow nodded his approval. “He likes you. And to answer your question, I could hardly call a creature with this one’s spirit mine. But we fight together. I owe him my life many times over.”
Ember watched as Barrow returned to greeting the horse. Having satisfied his curiosity over who this new visitor was, Toshach gave his full attention to the knight, pressing his huge head against Barrow’s shoulder. The horse banged against the stall door again.
“All in good time, my friend.” Barrow laughed. “We must find Ember a suitable mount first.”
Ember’s heart seemed to flip in her chest. Of course she’d expected she’d ride, but she’d never had a horse of her own. Her sister, Agnes, was afraid of horses, and Ember had endured the effects of that fear by spending far too much time in carriages that kept Agnes at a distance from the huge beasts.
“Take a walk to the far end of the stables,” Barrow said, nodding toward the long stall-lined building she had yet to explore. “All the claimed horses are here, but those without riders have stalls in the back of the building. I’ll find you shortly.”
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.
Barrow’s attention was focused on Toshach, who had made a game of trying to steal the knight’s cloak.
He didn’t look at her when he said, “It will become clear to you as it happens.”
Ember almost stomped her foot as she turned to walk away from her teacher, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Barrow’s idea of instruction apparently pivoted on frustrating her and forcing her to figure everything out for herself. Stewing in her own temper, she was vaguely aware of horses watching her as she moved down the long hall, feeling aimless. Perhaps she’d be better off finding Ian and asking him what she was supposed to do. She was about to turn around to seek out the stable hand when a brief, high-pitched whinny sounded so close it made Ember trip over her own feet.
Regaining her balance, Ember whirled to see liquid brown eyes fixed on her. The horse’s gaze was sharp and bright; its head was tilted and bobbed as it watched her. The horse snorted and chomped its teeth. Ember couldn’t shake the sense that it was laughing at her.
With her hands on her hips, Ember faced the horse.
“You think it’s funny to frighten someone?” she asked, somewhat surprised she was speaking to the horse. “What if I’d fallen?”
The horse flicked its ears at her and suddenly bowed its head. Ember laughed, taking a few steps toward it. The horse glanced at her, then made a deeper bow, straining down over the door of its stall. When Ember was close enough, the horse blew out a long breath, pushing its velvet-soft nose against the back of her hand.
“Very well,” Ember said, and began to stroke the horse’s nose. “You’re forgiven.”
The horse lifted its head and looked directly into her eyes. Its coat had been groomed to a burnished gleam, an ocher that resembled Ember’s own fiery tresses. The horse had no markings that she could see, just this rich shade, deep as a sunset, coloring the beast from head to tail.
“You’re a lovely one, eh?” she whispered, taking the horse’s face between her hands. The horse stood very still, happily accepting Ember’s light fingers on its nose, ears, and neck. “Do you have a name?”
“It’s Caber.�
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Ember jumped back at the sound of Barrow’s voice. He’d approached quietly, not drawing her notice. Now he was watching her, a look of surprise and interest playing over his face.
A sharp snort drew Ember’s gaze back to the horse. Caber glared at Barrow for a moment and then threw a pleading look at Ember. Without thinking, Ember went to the horse and resumed stroking its soft nose. Caber whickered his pleasure, sparing Barrow a stern glance before pressing his head against Ember.
She sensed when Barrow moved beside her but kept her gaze on Caber. A low sound came from Barrow’s throat, followed by words:
“I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Is something wrong?” Ember looked at him, and Caber snorted.
Barrow shook his head, smiling at the horse. “Don’t worry, boy, I’m not going to take her from you.”
He looked at Ember. “How much experience do you have with horses?”
Though she briefly considered lying, Ember said, “Very little.”
“I thought as much.” He reached out to touch Caber’s bowed neck. Ember winced at his easy dismissal of her skills as a horseman. “Though I’m sure through no fault of your own.”
“My sister fears horses,” Ember said. “And my father thought it best to keep both of his daughters away from the stables.”
“Foolish that.” Barrow snorted, sounding very much like Toshach when he did so. “Horses can help a man when little else will save him.”
Caber nosed Ember’s shoulder, then decided to chew on the braid that ringed her head.
“Stop that!” Ember jerked her head back and swatted Caber’s nose. The horse snorted and backed away, but a moment later he was inching back toward her, head bowed in apology again.
“Good,” Barrow said, watching as she let the horse make his apology and then began to pet him again. “You’ll have to be firm with him. Caber’s young and a stallion. He doesn’t have a rider because his temper makes him difficult to handle. And he’s thrown not a few young men who thought themselves better riders than they were. If you don’t pay attention, he’ll have you halfway to England before you tug on the reins.”
Ember’s hands dropped from the horse’s neck and Caber whinnied in protest.
“You’re giving me a stallion?” she asked. Caber was beautiful and she was drawn to the horse, but it seemed foolish to pick a horse beyond her skill.
“I’m not giving you anything. The horse chooses its rider,” Barrow said. “Any other way and you’ll find an ill fit. Caber wishes to serve you. He’s a good horse—but very spirited.”
“He’s incredible,” Ember said. “I’m just not certain I can—”
“You’ll learn.” Barrow cut her off and moved to open the stall door. “Starting now.”
TEN
EMBER HAD TO CHIDE CABER several times as she led the stallion from the stable. Eager to be free of his stall, Caber was skittish, tossing his head and nearly treading on her heels. Barrow kept a close eye on the way she interacted with the horse, never interfering, but Ember sensed that he was wary of her losing control of the large animal and ready to jump in should she need his aid. Ember was determined not to let that happen.
They encountered Ian in the paddock. The young apprentice gave a low whistle when he saw Ember leading Caber but offered no further comment.
Barrow went back for Toshach, reappearing a few minutes later with the glossy black steed. The stallion danced from side to side like a roiling thundercloud ready to burst into storm.
Ember watched the two horses snort and paw at the earth, impatient to be on their way. They were an exquisite pair: Caber bright as the sunrise, Toshach darker than the night sky. Yet the longer she looked, Ember realized the horses weren’t what she’d expected.
Ian noticed her frown. “Is something wrong, my lady?”
Though she didn’t mean for her words to be critical, Ember still felt nervous when she said, “They aren’t warhorses.”
“I assure you they do not fail in combat.” The furrow in Ian’s brow made Ember regret speaking up.
“She only means they aren’t the elephants her father uses in tournaments,” Barrow told Ian.
Ember laughed, thinking of how her father would react to having his prize steeds described as elephants, and quickly nodded. “They’re more beautiful than any horses I’ve laid eyes on.”
Her gaze traveled over the sleek, gleaming bodies of the stallions. Their curving necks stretched perfectly into strong backs and hard flanks. Their firm, slender legs tapered to almost delicate-looking ankles. The horses struck her as simply too lovely, too graceful for war.
Taking full advantage of her admiration, Caber tossed his proud head and whinnied.
“Careful, Ember. That horse already thinks well enough of himself as it is.”
She smiled, patting Caber’s neck.
“We don’t fight in heavy armor,” Barrow continued. “And our tasks require speed and agility over strength. These coursers better serve our purpose than a destrier could.”
Ian took hold of Toshach while Barrow retrieved the horses’ tack. Despite his feisty mood, Ember was managing Caber rather well. Her pleasure at that small triumph drained away when she encountered the next challenge. Abashed, she admitted to Barrow that she had no idea how to prepare the horse for her first ride.
Ian offered to saddle and bridle Caber, but Barrow waved him away.
“This horse is your responsibility,” the knight told her. “There will be no one to help you when we’re in the field.”
Barrow was patient as he taught her how to properly tack up the stallion. He tested the girth, reminding her that it would loosen when bearing her weight. When she’d finished saddling the horse, Barrow made her take the equipment off and start over again: this time without his instruction. Caber craned his neck to watch them, his ears flicking in curiosity as his saddle was placed on his back only to be removed and placed again. When she’d gone through the process five times and was cursing her teacher under her breath, Barrow pronounced her ready for an actual ride. He turned around only to find that Ian had saddled Toshach during the lesson.
“He would have run off without you if I hadn’t kept him busy.” Ian handed Barrow the reins.
Ember hoisted herself into the saddle, settling on Caber’s back. The stallion began to move immediately, sidestepping and tossing his head.
“Don’t let him forget you’re there,” Barrow said. “And keep him in check. He’ll bolt right out from under you if you let him.”
Ember nodded, gritting her teeth as she shortened her reins. She could feel the stallion’s power, churning like white water beneath her.
“Are you ready?” Barrow was astride Toshach. The black stallion pranced incessantly, lifting his front legs as though he wanted to rear.
“Yes.” Though her heart was flying, Ember’s smile stretched wide. Caber’s excitement, his energy, seemed to flow into her very limbs.
Barrow returned her smile. In the quick flash of teeth Ember understood that it wasn’t just the horses that longed to race from Tearmunn. On the back of his steed Barrow moved with supreme grace. Even with Toshach’s fitful prancing, horse and rider flowed together. With a motion she could barely detect, Barrow started Toshach forward at a trot. Caber kept pace beside the other stallion while Ember maintained a firm grasp on the reins. Barrow was holding Toshach back as well. Both horses wanted to run.
“Hold up!” The call came from near the barracks. Barrow reined Toshach with a sign, wheeling the horse around. With a snort of protest, Caber relented as Ember turned him.
Alistair waved and Kael shouted, “Why did you put the poor girl on that demon? Are you trying to kill her?”
Barrow shook his head. “Ignore him. He was kicked and had a broken rib as a result, but it was his own foolishness, not Caber, that led to the kicking.”
Ember half smiled, knowing Caber could have bitten someone’s finger off and she’d still feel lucky to ride him.
“There’s a problem in Cornwall,” Alistair said. “We’re leaving now.”
Ember tightened her grip on the reins. “When will you return?” As much as she was adjusting quickly to her new home, the thought of the only familiar face being long absent unnerved her.
Kael shrugged. “Depends on what we’re dealing with. But if all goes well, before dinner.”
Ember stared at him. She must have heard wrong—a journey to Cornwall would take days, not hours.
“Thanks for the offer,” Barrow said. “But she’s not ready.”
Ember winced at his curt answer.
“That’s not what the sisters say,” Kael told him. “They said she’s a natural. They were watching the trial.”
“She has talent,” Barrow replied. “But we’ll be in the field soon enough. Today we’ll ride.”
“You and your horses.” Kael snorted. He turned falsely mournful eyes on Alistair. “I’m afraid we’ve been cruelly rebuffed.”
“And my heart aches because of it.” Alistair winked at Ember.
“Save your laments for the south.” Barrow was already turning Toshach around. “At least Cornwall will be warm.”
Alistair held her gaze for a moment longer. “I’ll see you tonight, Ember.”
“But you’re going to Cornwall,” she said, and then felt a bit dizzy when she remembered Morag’s description of the magic wielded by Conatus’s clerics. Would Alistair and Kael truly be in Cornwall and return in the same day?
“And I’m sorry you’re not coming,” he said. “Barrow’s right. The weather will be much more pleasant in the south.”
“Ember!” She turned in the saddle to see Barrow waiting for her, Toshach dancing beneath him.
When she looked back, Alistair was walking away, waving to her. She lifted her hand briefly before reining Caber in the opposite direction.