Shadows Past: A Borderlands Novel Page 18

  “Good,” Idwal said again, and, grabbing the lead, he quickly led us to a spot in the starting line, where two groomers held a rope holding the horses in place. He then nipped to the side of the starting lineup, clambering up on a small platform over which a banner with his crest also hung. It too was rippling in the wind, making it seem as though the white stag was winking at me.

  “Attention, everyone,” Idwal shouted. “The race is to Gessom’s farm and back. The race course is marked with red markers; there are also spotters to make sure no one goes astray—”

  “Or to help if someone falls off,” one wag called out with a pointed glance at me.

  “Even so,” Idwal agreed. “When you reach the farm, you will be handed a cloth like this.” He held up a bright yellow square of silk that had been embroidered with an outline of the castle. “Do not lose it; it is your proof that you completed the course. You will then return here and the first one across this same line is the winner. Any questions?”

  Idwal didn’t wait for any queries, but immediately held the silk square out over the ground. “When the cloth touches the ground, the rope will drop. One.”

  Dandelion, who’d been fighting the rein, suddenly brought his head up, his muscles bunching and quivering.

  “Two.”

  Having a bad feeling, I eased my grip on the reins and leaned forward.

  “Three.” Idwal released the cloth and a moment later the rope dropped.

  I’d done my share of wild rides—charges down nonexistent mountain paths, blind jumps over gullies and narrow ravines, and most recently the one I and Jusson did one night through the back alleys, gardens, and side streets of Freston under a waxing moon. But those were all sedate canters in a southern lord’s manicured park compared to my ride on Dandelion. The beast exploded with a flurry of hooves. I blinked and we were out the main gate. I blinked again and we were on the tor road, the wind causing my eyes to tear. I clutched the reins as if they were lifelines and the thought flashed through my mind that I could either hold on for dear life, or I could actually try to ride the damn horse and go out in a blaze of glory. Bending lower over Dandelion’s neck, I gently thumped my heels against his side.

  “Hah?” I whispered.

  Dandelion screamed and dug up more speed. We flew down the road, my braid whipping behind me, my feather fluttering against my cheek, the fire spheres streaks of flame. Though the mass of the other horses thundered behind us, there were a few in front. Dandelion screamed again, this time in challenge, and stretched out his long neck with his teeth bared, ready to savage any who stood in his way. The rider just in front of us looked over his shoulder and saw us coming, and pulled over as far as he could to let us by. Then he and his horse were gone. We hit a switchback, careened around the corner on one hoof, then went straight again, running into two riding side by side, filling the road.

  “Hah,” I said a little louder with another, slightly harder thump of my heels.

  This time Dandelion growled and I felt the low rumble of it against my legs. His ears pressed flat against his skull, he reached out with delicate precision and nipped one horse on the rump. The horse shied as if bee-stung, and Dandelion used his shoulders to push through the resulting opening. The beast grunted, as if in satisfaction, and we flew past them. We hit another switchback and we leaned into it, coming out of the curve to see the last rider in front—the wag who quipped about me falling off.

  Grinning, I thumped my heels hard. “Hah!”

  Dandelion seemed to rise up off the ground. We flashed by in a blur of color and hoofbeats, soared around one last switchback, and then we were off the tor, riding through the forest. Dandelion’s stride lengthened and I laughed as we streamed beneath tree branches filled with fall leaves, the smell of fast approaching winter filling the air. It wasn’t my hoped for escape to town, but I was out of the castle, away from imposing demands, pressing concerns, and gut-clenching fears. And best yet, I had managed to stay on a horse whose notion of racing was to fly. We certainly flew around a curve in the road, but as we rounded it, I caught out of the corner of my eye the streaking flames of my spheres and sobered a little. Fire in a fall forest with dry leaf cover was never a good idea. I reached up to try to bring the spheres closer—and almost fell out of the saddle. Catching myself, I looked around to see what had caused my near unseating. And nearly fell again. Looking down at the horse, I saw that the beast’s ears were again lying flat against his head. It seemed that I’d spoken too soon. Dandelion’s gait slowed and became uneven and flat-footed, each step jolting through my spine. He growled again, and I readied myself for the move that would either throw me from the saddle or take us under a convenient tree limb. As I did, I caught another flash out of the corner of my eye and I turned my head.

  It was a white stag, trotting alongside us, antlers held high.

  I sat upright, dropping the reins in my surprise. Dandelion shrieked in triumph, but before he could bolt, the white stag pranced in front of us, danced a moment, then bounded off down the road.

  Dandelion came to a halt, his ears pushing forward in astonishment, his rumble rising in a question before trailing off. Hearing the hoofbeats of the other riders as they drew nearer, I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Well, you evil bastard, are you going to let him win?”

  Dandelion snarled, lowered his head, and took off like an arrow shot from Berenice’s bow. We caught up with the white stag and Dandelion stretched his neck to nip at the stag’s rump. But the stag leapt, coming down just out of reach, and Dandelion’s teeth snapped on air. Then, with a taunting look over his shoulder, the stag put on a burst of speed, leaving us in his dust. Dandelion bellowed in rage and ran after him, the horse’s stride once more lengthening until we again skimmed over the surface of the road.

  “Hah!” I shouted as my air sphere laughed and my fire spheres cackled in glee.

  We thundered through the forest, the sounds of the other racers fading behind us, the white stag staying just out of reach ahead of us. We erupted out of the trees together, stag and beast-horse, pounding up the road to the front of the farmhouse where Farmer Gessom stood, yellow cloths in hand, his eyes staring from his head. The stag leapt again, seemingly changing directions in midair, and went back the way we came. Dandelion went into a controlled slide with a clatter of hooves, swerving around the yard, and I leaned out from the saddle to snag the cloth from the man’s limp hand. I then hit my heels hard against Dandelion’s side.

  “Hah! Hah! Hah!”

  We sped past the other riders on our way back, the stag bounding up the switchbacks, the fire spheres hot flames at my shoulder, the air sphere’s song a descant over our laughter. We roared past the portcullis, coming to a stop in a shower of sparks as the horse’s steel shoes struck fire against the paving stones. Rearing up, Dandelion screamed once more, this time in victory. He then came down and lashed out with his hind legs at the groomers rushing up. Holding on, I looked around for the white stag, but it was gone.

  “My lord!”

  Looking down, I saw Berenice standing with her father and mother well out of range of Dandelion’s teeth and hooves, all three of them slack jawed. Holding up the yellow cloth, I flung myself out of the saddle and picked Berenice up, swinging her around before giving her a smacking kiss. Then we were separated and I was swallowed up by cheering Freston soldiers and King’s Own, the spheres swooping above us. Dandelion, despite his hard ride, eluded his groomers as he strutted back and forth, trumpeting taunts at the returning riders that echoed within the walls. Jusson, Thadro, Suiden, and Wyln stood on the edge of the mob of uniforms that swirled around me, Thadro and Suiden both looking very pleased, but Jusson and Wyln were eyeing His Evil-ness Dandelion before shifting their eyes away, Wyln lifting his gaze over my head to the laughing and singing spheres, Jusson aiming a mildly interested gaze at Lord Idwal. Princess Rajya was standing close to her father with her soldiers around her. The princess saw my gaze and gave a short bow. At that moment, thoug
h, I was distracted by Jeff pounding me on my back.

  “You won!” Jeff shouted.

  “Forget ‘won,’ ” Arlis said. “You lived!”

  I gave a wild grin. “Hell, yes!”

  “Ryson won too!” Jeff shouted.

  Hearing his name above the din, Ryson also grinned and held up a beautiful sword in an elegant scabbard. I grabbed the sword and, howling, “King’s Own Griffins and Mountain Patrol Hawks!” quickly withdrew it from its scabbard and laid it on the ground. Taking mine from Jeff, I placed it over Ryson’s crosswise, and began to dance over them.

  The King’s Own and Freston Patrollers roared in approval before pushing back and clearing the space. They formed a ring around me, as did the lords’ armsmen and the Turalian sailors and soldiers, the soldiers and armsmen watching critically, the sailors yipping and clapping in time with my steps. Laughing again, I flung my hands over my head and leapt, only to feel a shove in the small of my back.

  “Cheat!”

  Fifteen

  The air sphere whirled around me, catching me in midair before I could trip over the swords. The crowd fell abruptly silent, the Mearden townspeople and farmers starting to frown. But their looks were nothing compared to the dark expressions of the armsmen, soldiers—both Freston and Tural—and sailors. I saw Caefan Jasry shake her head, her wild curls bouncing as she made a warding sign against evil. Then the air sphere eased and I was able to put my feet down, carefully avoiding the sharp edges of the blades. Turning, I saw the wag who had predicted that I would fall off. My hands clenched into fists, but before I could do damage to him, Jeff, Ryson, Groskin, and several others of the Mountain Patrol pushed through the crowd to the still cleared space. Ryson gently pulled me back, then faced my accuser.

  “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” he demanded quietly.

  The wag pushed his chest out, his eyes hot. “He’s a cheat! He used magicks to win, like he used magicks just now—”

  “I don’t care if he turned into a giant frog and hopped his way home.” Ryson grabbed the man’s shoulder and after an extremely brief struggle, forced him to look down at the crossed swords. “Those are sharp enough to slice through leather, flesh, and bone, and you pushed him, making him stumble—”

  “Trooper,” Thadro and Suiden said from where they stood with the king, and Ryson released my accuser.

  “I don’t care,” the man said, jerking away. He spat on the ground at my feet. “Fraud!”

  “Lisle,” Idwal said, and the man fell silent. The Lord of Mearden joined us in the cleared circle, his eyes distant, his mouth tight. “Perhaps we should take this into the hall.”

  “No, we won’t,” Jusson said, also entering the circle. “The accusation was made here, so here it will be settled.” He looked at Lisle. “How did Lord Rabbit cheat, Master Lisle?”

  Lisle sent a glance around at his fellow riders who’d appeared to back him up. He then thrust his chest out again, this time at the king. “He summoned a familiar, Your Majesty!”

  “The hell I did,” I said over the muttered agreements of the other riders and the shocked exclamations of the bystanders.

  Jusson waved and the rumbling trailed off.

  “And what did this familiar look like?” the king asked Lisle.

  “A stag,” Lisle said. “But it was an unnatural pale color.”

  “Like a ghost, it was,” one of the other riders piped up among another chorus of muttered agreements.

  “You mean transparent like mist?” Jusson’s gaze lifted. “Or white like the one over there on your lord’s crest?”

  Everyone turned to look at the crest hanging over the small platform by the starting line, except for Lord Idwal. He stiffened, the distant expression disappearing from his face. “A white stag?” he asked me. “A white stag ran with you?”

  “Up to the gates, my lord,” I said. “I thought he came in here but I didn’t see him when I stopped …” I trailed off, eyeing the crest as it rippled in the wind, the stag on it once more appearing alive. The rumble started again, this time accented with the voices of the Border crew of the Good Jest as they pointed at the prancing and winking stag.

  Jusson waved everyone quiet again. “Well?” he asked Lisle. “Which one was it? A ghostly apparition or a flesh-and-blood white stag?”

  Lisle had also turned to the crest and was now staring, his mouth hanging open. “Uh, the second one,” he finally managed to get out. One of his fellows kicked him and he jumped. “I mean, it looked like the one on the crest, Your Majesty.”

  “I see,” Jusson said. “And what did this stag do?”

  “Ran in front of him?” Lisle said, his voice rising in uncertainty. He cast a glance at Idwal and met hazel eyes turning green. Sweat began to bead on his forehead.

  Jusson waited a moment and when Lisle said nothing more, lifted a brow. “Anything else?”

  “Your Majesty?” Lisle asked, worry now mixing in his uncertainty.

  “You said this stag ran in front of Lord Rabbit,” Jusson said patiently. “How was that cheating?”

  The beads of sweat began to drip down Lisle’s face, the words apparently stuck in his throat. The riders with him shuffled their feet, suddenly looking self-conscious, one or two also casting agonizing glances at Lord Idwal.

  “Dandelion doesn’t like anyone on his back,” I said into Lisle’s silence, “except when racing. But it has to be a true contest. If he gets too far out ahead, he loses interest and tries to dislodge his rider. I reckon he runs best when kept behind a front runner, letting him pass only when near the finish line. No one told me and I let him get far ahead of the others. He was about to try to throw me when a white stag appeared and he became interested in racing again. However, I had nothing to do with the stag’s appearance—I was too busy looking for a soft place to land.” I pulled off my glove, showing the truth rune, faintly shimmering in the shadow of the wall. “Truth, Your Majesty. I swear it.”

  “Well, Master Lisle?” Jusson asked the rider. “Is what Lord Rabbit said true about the horse?”

  “I—I—”

  “Yes,” Lord Idwal said. “It’s true.”

  “So this rogue of a horse was about to dislodge Lord Rabbit when a white stag—just like the one in Mearden’s crest—appeared and they started to race,” Jusson said. “Again, how is this cheating?”

  Lisle remained silent.

  “Did the stag make Lord Rabbit’s horse go faster?” Jusson asked, his voice once more patient. “Or make yours go slower, or make the racecourse more difficult, or lead His Lordship to a different, shorter route?”

  Lisle shook his head, looking miserable. “No, Your Majesty.”

  “So the only ‘cheat’ is that Lord Rabbit was able to stay on the horse?” Jusson pursued.

  Lisle nodded just as miserably. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “A horse that you knew would do its best to throw him if certain conditions were met,” Jusson pursued, “which conditions you kept secret from His Lordship?”

  “That was not their fault, Your Majesty,” Idwal said, his gaze still intent on me. “Dandelion is mine, and it was I who kept quiet about his predilections. A jape, you see.”

  “We gathered that,” Jusson said, “but that’s not our concern. For now. What concerns us are accusations the other riders have made. We will not have rumors of Lord Rabbit cheating swarming the kingdom, Mearden. Rumors based only in pique that a jape rebounded on the pranksters.”

  I didn’t particularly care for that myself. My fists, which had started to loosen with the telling of the race, once more tightened.

  “That concerns me too, Your Majesty,” Idwal said. He frowned at the sweating Lisle. “You will apologize and admit your fault. Now.”

  “Yes, of course, my lord,” Lisle said. He fell to his knees, his hand reaching out as if he was going to take hold of my tabard. Then he got a good look at my face and thought better of it. “I most humbly beg pardon, Lord Rabbit,” he said, bowing his head instead.
“I was wrong. Please forgive me.”

  I didn’t spare Lisle a glance. “I was slandered, sire,” I said to Jusson.

  “Yes, you were,” Jusson agreed.

  “I will make it right,” Idwal began.

  “How?” I demanded. I motioned at the packed crowd, most of them with avid looks on their faces as they stored up the accusations to recount to family, friends, and chance-met strangers in taverns and inns, with who knew how many embellishments, half-truths, and outright lies. A cold, distant rage began building within me. “How can you fix this?”

  “You want satisfaction, Lieutenant?” Thadro asked, his voice mild.

  “We can’t duel, sir,” I, Jeff, and every single one of the Mountain Patrollers said in unison.

  “And if we do, the winner has to fight Captain Suiden,” Ryson added.

  “A proper officer, in control of his men,” Princess Rajya murmured.

  A brief smile flashed on Jusson’s face. “So he is. You’ve trained them well, Captain Prince.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Suiden said. “And Lieutenant Rabbit knows there’s nothing he can do, don’t you, Lieutenant? Your accuser has apologized and withdrawn his accusation, and restitution has been offered.”

  One of the things I learned both at home and in the army was when to back off and leave an insult alone. And certainly Lisle’s accusations hadn’t been as bad as some I’d had lobbed at me over the past few months. Even so, I glared at the kneeling man, wishing he’d do something to give me a reason—any reason—to pound on him, my anger increasing, my vision turning red—

  There was a large booming crash of a wave that sounded as if it were right next to me, and I jerked, the world snapping back into view. My heart pounded in my chest as if I’d just run the race again, this time carrying Dandelion on my back. But the anger that had clenched me like a vise was gone, as was the red mist. Thinking that I was more on edge than I realized, I dragged in a cleansing breath and let it out again. “Yes, sir,” I said to Suiden in a surprisingly ragged voice. I swallowed to keep the shakes out and looked down at Lisle. “I accept your apology.”