Chapter Ten #2
The tribute was also much newer than those on the mainland.
The gray stone had a richer shade to it, not faded and worn over many years.
Although it wasn’t as tall and grand, it had been carved with skill, each god easily recognizable.
Hwytha had been Jem’s favorite as a boy, their cheeks ballooned, blowing the wind in the direction dictated by their whims.
The dirt surrounding the tribute was laden with dead branches.
The gnarled, twisted wood had clearly been piled there purposely.
There were no trees in sight, and so many branches couldn’t have fallen naturally in one spot.
It was strange, since these branches were certainly not from the evergreens that filled the forest.
Jem wasn’t sure why the display sent a shiver of dread down his spine, but he drew his cloak around him tighter and hurried away. Above the scent of dung, he detected the smell of horses and a faint whiff of hay and followed it.
Sure enough, he finally reached the main stable at the edge of the village by a rolling pasture churned with mud and brown, ugly grass.
Horses grazed on hay bales or trotted about.
The vast stable doors stood open. With a fortifying breath, Jem rolled his shoulders and marched inside.
He was going to learn to ride. He was going to—
Jem skidded to a stop, hay crunching on the hard-packed dirt floor. He almost dropped his bundle, one of his old boots hitting the ground. Jory gave him an affable smile and wave.
Ugh.
“You look like a proper Erghian now!” Jory nodded approvingly.
Struck by the urge to yank off the new clothes and go back to his silks—even though he’d surely freeze—he barely managed a paper-thin smile in return as he plucked up his dropped boot.
Jory looked beyond at the door. “Where’s Cador?”
“I don’t know.” Jem was unaccountably annoyed. Hadn’t Jory spent enough time with Cador on the voyage? Always laughing together.
“Just wondering why you’re here.” Jory gave him another easy smile.
“Aren’t I permitted to be here?”
Jory’s ginger brows drew close. “Of course.”
Although Jem was very tempted to turn around and leave, he admitted, “I’d like to learn how to ride.” He grudgingly added, “Please.”
“Ah! I’d be happy to teach you!”
Jem couldn’t imagine why. So Jory could gain even more favor with Cador? Not that Cador would care if he learned to ride. “Er… I’m sure you’re far too busy.” He cursed himself. He should have known Jory would work at the stable.
Jory waved a dismissive hand. “I could make time.”
“I can teach you,” a voice said from beyond a stall. A slim-hipped young man about Jem’s age stepped out. He was the one who’d brought Massen to Cador after they’d arrived.
He had narrow eyes, a thin, straight nose, and a complexion of wheat, his hairless forearms corded with muscle, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His long hair was glossy and dark like Jem’s, tied back at the nape of his neck.
“Are you sure?” Jory asked him. “I do have to ride out to Casek’s farm across the valley to check in on his mare. She’ll give birth soon.”
“It’s no problem,” the man said. To Jem, he added, “I’m Austol.”
“Hello. Thank you. Are you certain it’s no bother?”
“It would be my honor. You’re Cador’s new husband. A Neuvellan prince, I hear. I’ll teach you.”
Jem wasn’t sure if he was being mocked or not. Austol seemed sincere, so he repeated, “Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you in capable hands!” Jory clapped Jem’s shoulder, almost knocking him over. When Jory had left, whistling as he went, Jem cleared his throat. “Are you sure I’m not being a bother?”
“I’m sure.” Austol chuckled. “You don’t seem keen on Jory, so I thought I’d rescue you.” He tilted his head. “Why is that? Most people are drawn to him like flies to shit. Not that he’s shit—he’s a good man. A bit talkative, but there are worse crimes.”
“Oh, er…” Jem had to admit—reluctantly—that Jory had been nothing but friendly to him even when others glowered. “I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t want to be a nuisance.”
“You’re not. I hear it’s different on the mainland, but on Ergh, you must ride.”
Jem could only imagine all the gossip that had been flowing since the travelers returned. He wanted to ask what they’d said about him, but managed to retain a shred of dignity. That was, until he tried to mount a horse.
“With confidence,” Austol repeated.
They were mercifully still inside the stable, so at least Jem’s humiliation wasn’t being witnessed by anyone passing by.
He grasped the mare’s chestnut-colored mane.
Called Nessa, she was plump and a great deal smaller than Massen, patiently waiting for Jem to swing up onto her back—which still seemed awfully high from the ground.
Jem had shed his fur-lined cloak and rolled up the sleeves of his rough-fibered tunic. His new leather trousers felt stiff, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to swing his leg over Nessa’s back. Gripping her mane, careful not to tug harshly, he bent his knees and made a half-hearted jump.
“You have to mean it,” Austol said. He leaned against a post, filing an obedient horse’s hoof. Jem was taking so long to mount that he’d gone back to work.
“Are there truly no saddles or stirrups on Ergh?”
“Truly.” Austol shrugged. “When we’re children, we mount from standing on a rock or fence until we’re tall enough to do it properly.”
“Then why aren’t I using a fence?” Jem glanced about the stalls. “I could climb up there.”
“Because you’re not a child.”
Oh. Right. Jem had insisted so loudly he was a man. Now was his chance to prove it. He held Nessa’s mane, rocked his weight back, and threw himself upward. Nessa sidestepped and he yelped, his left foot almost atop her. He hopped on his right, desperately trying to avoid landing flat on his face.
Austol laughed, but it wasn’t cruel. “That’s it. More power.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You won’t.” Austol left his task and came to give Nessa a pat. “She can take a rider, I promise.”
Jem had been trying for ages. He sighed. “I’m hopeless.”
He came so close, but Jem couldn’t quite hook his leg over the mare.
Clenching his stomach, he fought the inevitable for a breathless moment, then tumbled back down.
He landed with an oomph, Austol’s arms coming around him as he broke Jem’s fall and toppled back himself.
Facing the barn’s roof of cobwebbed timber beams, they laughed.
Austol’s chest rumbled under Jem’s back, and Jem was about to roll off and offer his hand to pull him up when Cador stormed into the barn. Upside down, he appeared even bigger than usual.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Cador thundered.
Jem scrambled off Austol and shot to his feet. Why was Cador so angry? He opened and closed his mouth, baffled. Cador strode to Jem’s side and seemed to be looking him over for injuries.
Austol unhurriedly pushed himself up, brushing dirt from his trousers. “He’s learning to mount.” After a beat, he added, “The mare.”
Cador huffed, nearing Nessa and scratching her neck. “I didn’t know where you were,” he said to her, although presumably it was directed at Jem. “You shouldn’t go wandering. You’re so delicate you’ll get yourself into trouble.”
Jem clenched his jaw. “I’m perfectly fine on my own. I was just about to hop onto Nessa and learn to ride. So move. Please.”
Taking a deep breath, he launched himself, gripping Nessa’s mane. He came heartbreakingly—humiliatingly—close before stumbling back. This time, Cador caught him easily, and Jem batted away his hands.
“This is only your first lesson,” Austol said kindly. “Come again tomorrow and we’ll keep working.”
Cador scowled. “Surely you have better things to do.”
“No,” Austol said simply. “I’m here every day. Surely you want your husband to be able to ride?”
Cador glared at Austol. “If he chooses.”
“I…” Jem didn’t know what to think. Perhaps he was foolish to believe he could learn.
The ache for the familiar safety of home flared so powerfully it almost brought him to his knees.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I need to get back to my bird.
” Austol gave him a quizzical look, and Jem was about to explain when a horrible cry rose up in the distance—a child’s wail.
Austol tensed. “My sister needs me. Come back any time, Jem.” He gave a fleeting smile. “It would be fun.” He broke into a run out of the barn as the plaintive keening continued.
Jem followed to the doorway, calling, “Thank you!” He watched as Austol hopped the fence around a small plot of land nearby with a stone cottage and chickens clucking around the yard. The girl’s cries came from inside.
He asked Cador, “Should we help? We could fetch the healer or—”
“It’s none of your business. Come.” Cador strode to where Massen grazed. He mounted with an aggravating amount of grace considering his bulk.
Then he wheeled Massen toward Jem, reached down, and plucked Jem up and astride Massen with one arm as if Jem weighed no more than a basket of cut flowers. Even more vexing than Cador’s grace was that it gave Jem a thrill to be handled with such confidence and strength.
He’d barely remembered his bundle, and he clutched it, twisting his fingers in his soft shirt. The wailing had ceased, although the quiet now from the neat little cottage felt strangely ominous. Jem had never heard cries like that.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t try to help?” He whispered the question although they were alone. Didn’t Cador care? How could a man murmur endearments to a horse yet ignore a child’s suffering?
Cador said nothing, urging Massen back into the forest’s dark embrace.