The High King's Tomb
Page 122
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All at once the vision was drawn from her and she felt empty inside, but the stallion still stood before her.
“Salvistar,” she whispered.
He blew through his nostrils and a great gust of wind knocked Karigan right off her feet. When she hit the ground, she could feel the throb of hoofbeats rise up through the earth. When she sat up, the stallion was gone, and all was as it had been before.
WIND DREAMS
“You all right, lass?” Damian asked.
“I’m—” Karigan wiggled her fingers and toes to make sure she was whole. She dropped the fading and at once the world became awash with color. Unfortunately, a wicked headache pounded in her skull, the result of using her special ability. She rubbed her temple. “I’m all right.”
Damian hooked his thumbs in his belt and did a good job of looking unconvinced. “I hope so, or my Lady will let me have it. Gave me a scare, you did.”
“You mean the fading?”
“Though I’m aware of Rider magic—now don’t give me that look, lass—that was strange enough for my old eyes. But no, that wasn’t it. You completely vanished for a few minutes. Thought you were gone for good.”
Karigan rose to her feet, feeling shaky. The pressure in the air was gone and she could breathe easier. The saber stabs of pain in her head ought to subside soon—she hoped so, anyway. Jericho and Fergal descended the ridge, Ero running before them. When the wolfhound reached her, he sniffed all around her feet, then with a bark, reared up and planted his massive paws on her shoulders, nearly knocking her over. He gazed down his muzzle into her face, his dark eyes deep and unfathomable, as if trying to look into her soul. After a moment of this, he bathed her face with several slobbery kisses. By the time Jericho and Fergal joined them, she was laughing too hard to fend off Ero’s show of affection.
When all four of Ero’s feet were firmly planted on the ground once again, Karigan wiped her face with her sleeve, and caught Fergal staring at her with a glower.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Well what?”
“What was all that about? The vanishing?”
She scratched absently behind Ero’s ear, not really certain herself. “I saw the stallion—the patron.”
“You had to vanish to do it?”
“I guess. I don’t know. For part of the time.”
Fergal continued to frown. “I didn’t see him at all.”
“It’s all right, lad,” Damian said, squeezing his shoulder. “Only a few do. You heard Gus say he doesn’t, though I ’spect that’ll change with time, and your captain never has.”
Fergal brightened. “She hasn’t?”
Damian gave him a solemn shake of his head. “And something more important happened today.” He gestured over Fergal’s shoulder, and there was the colt, taking tentative steps from his mother toward them.
Karigan watched as Fergal’s face rippled from surprise, to anger, to uncertainty. He glanced to Damian for guidance. Damian reached into his pocket and found a piece of apple.
“Was saving this for my foxy Fox,” he said, “but I think you should offer it to that young one and make a truce of sorts.”
Fergal took the apple, and with a serious expression on his face, marched toward the colt.
“Softly, lad,” Damian called after him. “Go softly. No sudden moves.”
Fergal modified his pace, but even so, the colt retreated behind his mother. When Fergal glanced over his shoulder, Damian called, “Be patient.”
Fergal stood in one place, and it wasn’t long before the colt grew curious, first peeking around his mother’s rump, then stepping away from her protection. Fergal stood his ground and Karigan wondered what was going through his mind, what thoughts were at war there. Would the colt win him over?
The colt moved forward, halted, took a few more steps, then halted again. He must be as unsure as Fergal. Fergal held the bit of apple in his palm before him.
It took a few more steps before the colt came close enough to stretch out his neck and reach the apple with his lips. Fergal still did not move. Karigan wished she could see his face.
The colt lipped the apple into his mouth and crunched into it. In moments he swallowed it down and was inspecting Fergal’s hand for more. With a movement as tentative as the colt’s had been, Fergal reached with his other hand and stroked the colt’s neck. The colt did not flinch or run, too interested in the lingering scent of apple on Fergal’s hand. With more assurance, Fergal continued to stroke him.
“Now that’s a vision,” Damian said in a soft voice.
Karigan couldn’t agree more—her cheeks ached from smiling so hard. As stunning as her vision of the stallion had been, this was the more miraculous sight.
They let Fergal and the colt get to know one another until the shadows began to lengthen and a frosty chill descended on the valley. The colt’s dam hovered nearby, tail swishing, as if to say it was time for junior to end play and come home for the night.
Damian walked over to Fergal and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a good friend there, and no mistake, but now it is time to take our leave, for it will soon be dark and my Lady awaits us for supper.”
When Fergal hesitated, combing his fingers through the colt’s brushy mane, Damian added, “Not to worry, Fergal, lad, I’ll bring him to you in the spring, and you’ll have a long summer of training ahead of you. For now, trust in Sunny. She is as fine a beastie as one could wish for.”
“Salvistar,” she whispered.
He blew through his nostrils and a great gust of wind knocked Karigan right off her feet. When she hit the ground, she could feel the throb of hoofbeats rise up through the earth. When she sat up, the stallion was gone, and all was as it had been before.
WIND DREAMS
“You all right, lass?” Damian asked.
“I’m—” Karigan wiggled her fingers and toes to make sure she was whole. She dropped the fading and at once the world became awash with color. Unfortunately, a wicked headache pounded in her skull, the result of using her special ability. She rubbed her temple. “I’m all right.”
Damian hooked his thumbs in his belt and did a good job of looking unconvinced. “I hope so, or my Lady will let me have it. Gave me a scare, you did.”
“You mean the fading?”
“Though I’m aware of Rider magic—now don’t give me that look, lass—that was strange enough for my old eyes. But no, that wasn’t it. You completely vanished for a few minutes. Thought you were gone for good.”
Karigan rose to her feet, feeling shaky. The pressure in the air was gone and she could breathe easier. The saber stabs of pain in her head ought to subside soon—she hoped so, anyway. Jericho and Fergal descended the ridge, Ero running before them. When the wolfhound reached her, he sniffed all around her feet, then with a bark, reared up and planted his massive paws on her shoulders, nearly knocking her over. He gazed down his muzzle into her face, his dark eyes deep and unfathomable, as if trying to look into her soul. After a moment of this, he bathed her face with several slobbery kisses. By the time Jericho and Fergal joined them, she was laughing too hard to fend off Ero’s show of affection.
When all four of Ero’s feet were firmly planted on the ground once again, Karigan wiped her face with her sleeve, and caught Fergal staring at her with a glower.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Well what?”
“What was all that about? The vanishing?”
She scratched absently behind Ero’s ear, not really certain herself. “I saw the stallion—the patron.”
“You had to vanish to do it?”
“I guess. I don’t know. For part of the time.”
Fergal continued to frown. “I didn’t see him at all.”
“It’s all right, lad,” Damian said, squeezing his shoulder. “Only a few do. You heard Gus say he doesn’t, though I ’spect that’ll change with time, and your captain never has.”
Fergal brightened. “She hasn’t?”
Damian gave him a solemn shake of his head. “And something more important happened today.” He gestured over Fergal’s shoulder, and there was the colt, taking tentative steps from his mother toward them.
Karigan watched as Fergal’s face rippled from surprise, to anger, to uncertainty. He glanced to Damian for guidance. Damian reached into his pocket and found a piece of apple.
“Was saving this for my foxy Fox,” he said, “but I think you should offer it to that young one and make a truce of sorts.”
Fergal took the apple, and with a serious expression on his face, marched toward the colt.
“Softly, lad,” Damian called after him. “Go softly. No sudden moves.”
Fergal modified his pace, but even so, the colt retreated behind his mother. When Fergal glanced over his shoulder, Damian called, “Be patient.”
Fergal stood in one place, and it wasn’t long before the colt grew curious, first peeking around his mother’s rump, then stepping away from her protection. Fergal stood his ground and Karigan wondered what was going through his mind, what thoughts were at war there. Would the colt win him over?
The colt moved forward, halted, took a few more steps, then halted again. He must be as unsure as Fergal. Fergal held the bit of apple in his palm before him.
It took a few more steps before the colt came close enough to stretch out his neck and reach the apple with his lips. Fergal still did not move. Karigan wished she could see his face.
The colt lipped the apple into his mouth and crunched into it. In moments he swallowed it down and was inspecting Fergal’s hand for more. With a movement as tentative as the colt’s had been, Fergal reached with his other hand and stroked the colt’s neck. The colt did not flinch or run, too interested in the lingering scent of apple on Fergal’s hand. With more assurance, Fergal continued to stroke him.
“Now that’s a vision,” Damian said in a soft voice.
Karigan couldn’t agree more—her cheeks ached from smiling so hard. As stunning as her vision of the stallion had been, this was the more miraculous sight.
They let Fergal and the colt get to know one another until the shadows began to lengthen and a frosty chill descended on the valley. The colt’s dam hovered nearby, tail swishing, as if to say it was time for junior to end play and come home for the night.
Damian walked over to Fergal and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a good friend there, and no mistake, but now it is time to take our leave, for it will soon be dark and my Lady awaits us for supper.”
When Fergal hesitated, combing his fingers through the colt’s brushy mane, Damian added, “Not to worry, Fergal, lad, I’ll bring him to you in the spring, and you’ll have a long summer of training ahead of you. For now, trust in Sunny. She is as fine a beastie as one could wish for.”
