2 Spooked #2
The sun hung high overhead by the time they reached the woods. The low canopy of branches swallowed them, pulling them into shifting patches of gold and shadow. The soft, leaf strewn ground swallowed the sound of the horses’ hooves, and the cool breeze faded as they emerged into a wide clearing.
It might have been peaceful, if not for the crush of horses and recruits crowding the space. The wood seemed to watch them, curious or angry at their disruption, Vaelira could not tell.
They dismounted, boots thudding into the dirt, recruits glancing at the trees hemming them in. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who felt the eyes of the wood.
“This is the start of the course,” Commander Lysander announced, gesturing to a winding path that snaked away behind him.
“You will enter one at a time. Red targets have been placed along the route. You must ride at a gallop, strike each target with a single shot, and do not stop. When you reach the first right hand turn, take it. It will lead you back south. Lord Jurah,” he gestured to the older of the two royal guards, “and I will ride behind keeping score. Once you exit the woods, Captain Wren will be waiting at the treeline to escort you back to Anhaven in groups.”
So, that was Lord Jurah, Commander of the Royal Guard. Vaelira had heard the name in passing but had never seen the man. He’d never deigned their town with his presence before.
Commander Lysander let the words settle, his gaze sweeping over them. A few people muttered complaints about not having prepared for mounted archery. With the pulsing in her side worsening with each inhale, Vaelira couldn’t argue.
“Beyond the walls,” the Commander continued, voice sharp, “you won’t get warnings, and you won’t get second chances. Ride hard. Ride smart.” Several recruits straightened instinctively, their heads held higher. “Form an orderly line and wait for your signal. The Three see all.”
A hand stuck up from the group of recruits, and Vaelira spotted Freya gesturing for her to join her, but Vaelira shook her head. She wanted to put off the pain of the ride for as long as possible, and the less people that witnessed, the better.
Recruits disappeared one after the other into the trees, until only a few remained in the clearing.
There was nothing for it. She would just have to do her best and pray Millie kept her footing even and didn’t send her toppling to the ground and ripping her stitches.
She caught a flash of white in her periphery, and a rider sidled up alongside her.
“You fought well yesterday,” came a smooth, deep voice.
Turning, she found the younger of the Royal Guards looking down at her, his face unreadable, his dark hair swept back from his face.
“Thanks,” she murmured. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or being kind. Her side twinged in pain, as if she needed the reminder.
“Here,” he reached out his hand, his fingers bent around something.
Vaelira looked towards the line of recruits. No one was watching. Everyone’s attention was fixed on the woods. “What is it?”
“For the pain,” he said, nodding at her midsection. “Chew it. Keep it between your teeth and your cheek. It works fast.”
He held it out further, raising an eyebrow. “Take it. Before someone notices you’re receiving preferential treatment.”
As she reached for it, he opened his hand, his rough, calloused fingertips brushing her palm for the briefest moment, raising gooseflesh on her arm.
A small bundle of tightly packed leaves dropped into her hand.
She hesitated, her eyes on the bundle. This was the second time he had helped her, and she couldn’t work out why.
She looked up to ask him exactly why she was receiving preferential treatment, but he was already gone, circling around to the rear.
By the time she found herself facing the winding path, the pain had dulled to a bearable ache, and she was able to unsling her bow with ease. She had taken pain relieving herbs before, but nothing that worked that quickly.
The Commander called out the signal before she had time to question it further, and Vaelira drove her heels into Millie’s side, bringing the horse up to speed in seconds.
The first target loomed ahead, already splintered from the arrows that had come before her.
She took a steady breath and let her arrow fly.
It hit the edge of the target, then bounced to the forest floor.
Vaelira gritted her teeth, hissing out a breath.
The next target was lower, almost hidden among the brush, but this time it found its mark, landing with a soft thud.
It wasn’t dead centre, but at least it had stuck.
The third arrived quicker than the second and she nearly missed it, twisting in the saddle at the last moment to land the shot.
The red-painted circles became more frequent, forcing her to draw and release faster. Her stitches pulled with each movement and the sixth and seventh arrows missed their marks, the pain rattling her arm despite the leaves still lodged in her cheek. It would have been impossible without them.
Too aware of the hoofbeats coming from behind, Vaelira forced herself to focus.
She slowed Millie slightly and landed the eighth and ninth shots cleanly, her rhythm steading as the last eleven targets landed true, leaving her with a score of seventeen out of twenty.
Respectable, but less than she had hoped.
She broke from the trees into fading light, shadows stretching long across the plain. They were cutting it close. Soon night would descend, and the demons with it. It was beyond unwise to linger any longer.
A strangled moan cut through the air.
Vaelira snapped her head towards the sound, her chest lurching. A cluster of recruits gathered a few feet away. She urged Millie forward.
On the ground Freya lay with her face twisted in pain, one leg bent at an unnatural angle.
Vaelira jumped down, ignoring the searing twang of pain in her side, and shoved her way through the group. A gasp caught in her throat. The bone in Freya’s lower leg protruded clean through torn, bloodied skin.
“What happened?” Vaelira said, forcing down the bile. She crouched beside her friend, surveying the damage. A blood-soaked cloth lay on the ground.
“S—stupid horse got s—spooked,” Freya choked out. “One minute we were waiting for Wren to escort us back…” She drew a shuddering breath, and her next words came in a rush, “next thing I knew, she b—bolted and I was thrown.”
“The horse ran straight back to town,” one of the other recruits added, tearing a piece from his already torn shirt. His hands were stained red.
Vaelira turned towards him. It was Keenan. He bent back down, applying pressure to the wound.
“Lord Jurah, Eli, mount up,” Commander Lysander ordered. “Return to Anhaven at once. You should have enough time to send aid before nightfall.”
The younger of the two guards, Eli, stepped forward, his lips pursed. “With all due respect, Commander, I will stay behind.”
Commander Lysander narrowed his eyes at Eli, and for a moment it looked as though he was about to protest, but then to Vaelira’s surprise, he nodded. “Lord Jurah and I will return with the others.”
He turned to Vaelira and lowered his voice. “If the sun sets before we return, you’ll have to ride. Injury or not. Better to risk further harm than be stranded.”
Vaelira nodded grimly. She appreciated that he didn’t waste time attempting to convince her to leave with them, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d agreed with Eli.
Freya was his recruit and therefore his responsibility.
Did the Royal Guard rank higher than the Commander of an outer town?
Either way, Vaelira trusted that Lysander must have some faith in Eli’s capabilities if he was leaving them under his supervision.
They galloped away and Eli removed his cloak, bending to drape it around Freya’s shoulders. She whimpered, and Vaelira’s attention shot back to her friend. Freya’s breathing was shallow, her face pale and slick with sweat.
“It’ll be fine,” Vaelira said, forcing a relaxed expression onto her face. “Kili’s going to give you an earful about getting thrown, but you’ll live.”
Freya tried to smile but winced again.
Eli’s white steed snapped at Millie, making Vaelira’s smaller mare rear back. Vaelira jumped up and snatched her reins from him, leading her horse a safe distance away. He ignored her, his gaze sweeping the tree line.