Page 100 of Untempered
The riding habit was replaced by sturdy winter men’s clothing. A wide belt rode on her hips, a quiver on her left, and a wicked knife at her right. The curves of her legs were obvious in the boots and figure-hugging pants.
She hadn’t worn the quiver when we’d run into each other.
Isolde saw it and gave a nod of approval. They swapped roles almost seamlessly. I didn’t offer Audrey a boost into the saddle, and she clearly didn’t need one. The strung bow she hooked onto her saddle as if she’d done it a hundred times before was at my eye height.
I’d seen the like before in the hands of the Steppe warriors. Bone and wood, beautifully carved, passed down through generations. That bow would have tales to tell.
“Thanking you,” Audrey said to me. “It’s much faster with an extra set of hands.”
Surprised to be acknowledged, I said nothing.
“Are you sure you’re happy to part with this?” Ylva asked Audrey from her own saddle, turning a knife over in her hands.
“Mayhap it’ll find its way between my father’s ribs,” she said, with the same semi-bored speculation I’d heard in her voice as she’d once said to Isolde, “I wonder if cook’s making upside-down apple cakes one day soon.”
Isolde returned dressed similarly to Audrey, then stopped to tie a bedroll on the horse behind Ylva and pass her a small but heavy bag that chimed with coin.
Ylva didn’t look so cocky now. She cleared her throat. “We need to move.”
“We will.” Isolde closed it up and spent a little time with her hands in the grass where it had been rolled up, fluffing up flattened stalks. She didn’t eradicate all signs of her hidden cellar, but there was nothing to set it apart, at least to my eye, once she was done.
Now, Ylva led the way. I followed along behind, ordered to participate by a man none of us respected. I could think of many situations where I would’ve gladly ridden along as a shield on such a rescue operation.
“Who’s Khazari?” Audrey asked, when we were forced to a walk due to the undergrowth.
“He breathed and made the wind,” Ylva told her, without looking away. “He angered and made lightning, then cried and made rain.” I wondered if Ylva knew how firmly the La’Angi locals held their beliefs of the One, but I put most of my attention to the rapidly approaching incline, assessing the best path for Bliksem. “His children are those who dedicate themselves to the air and sky. And they’re waiting for me.”
“Wait. Khazari is your name for the One?” Audrey asked. “There’s a priest here?”
Ylva snorted, leading us straight toward the hill, straight into the wind that whistled through the trees and made leaves stir wetly against branches. “Khazari is not the One. There is no One. There are only many. Arrogant northerners.”
Before Audrey could respond, a bird sang nearby, and then silence descended. Grateful for the quiet, I watched the way Audrey held her seat in the saddle, critically. If she broke her neck riding, I suspected my oath would consume me. I did, after all, know she needed practice.
She wouldn’t enjoy being pulled up and told to walk her horse, but the hill was such that it was probably the safest option.
She was fine, though, letting her mare pick her own way and moving well with the horse. I followed closely but noticed, once we’d reached a more level part of the trail, that Isolde seemed unconcerned.
I’d never thought to ask what had gone wrong with Audrey’s horse on that day, whether it was simply because it was an unfamiliar animal or whether something had happened. That oversight made me wonder how many other things I hadn’t thought to ask.
I could just about hear Kadan telling me, “You don’t know what you don’t know, brother. That’s why you make friends with folks who do.” My heart ached.
Neither he nor I would ever be the same people we had been before we’d come to La’Angi.
Leaning low over Bliksem’s neck to avoid a branch, I caught a glimpse of the storm clouds up ahead.
There were a lot more types of magic than those used in our own fair country by our lily-livered excuse for a king. But Audrey might not know that because she didn’t know what she didn’t know, either. And if we were riding up to someone proficient in magics we couldn’t understand, how could we hope to defend against it?
“What’re the odds this is a trap?” I asked Isolde, keeping my tone unconcerned.
“High,” she told me without looking. “If they turn on us, I’ll put an arrow in Ylva’s throat. It’s her they want enough to risk coming so close. You get Audrey home. Don’t wait for me.”
Despite her bravado, I realized she sat low in her saddle, her cloak pulled tight. From my position to the side of her, and with the poor light, I could see how pale she was.
Ylva sent Isolde a long look that left me with no doubt that she’d heard every word. Isolde clearly had known that would happen. If there was a hidden meaning I was supposed to take from that plan, some sort of secret alternative option, I wasn’t finding it. The best I could do was follow Ylva and Audrey’s path.
There was smoke coming from off to the west when we next slowed enough to speak, but the silence was broken only by the splashing of our horses crossing a creek. With another slow incline before us and the sun sitting low, we focused on the path ahead of us.
If Audrey was wearying, I couldn’t tell from her seat or her focus. Isolde, on the other hand, sank lower again in the saddle. Audrey was in front of her and hadn’t noticed. In the gathering gloom, I was watching for a spot of relatively clear riding so I could draw Audrey’s attention. Before one came, though, another burbling bird call met my ears. This time, I saw Isolde lift her fingers to her lips to make the sound.
