‘Your choice, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘Any one you want.’
Renna looked out over the herd. At first glance, Jon’s horses looked little different from Mack’s, but as she drew closer and took in their scale, her eyes widened. The foals looked juvenile next to the mares, but even they were bigger than some of the stallions Mack kept. Jon had yearlings big enough for a grown man to ride, and there were no poor specimens. Demons had culled all but the strongest strains, and the remainder were giants, sleek and dark-coated.
There were a number of strong-looking fillies, but Renna found her eyes drawn instead to a grown mare who stood apart from the herd. The mare had a blotchy coat of brown and black, and stood a hand taller than the others. She had a surly look about her, and even the other horses gave her a wide berth.
‘What about that one?’ Renna asked, pointing.
Jon grunted. ‘You got a good eye, girl. Most folk can’t see past that ugly coat. That’s Twister. Caught her last summer, right before the worst windstorm I ever seen. Stronger’n most stallions and barely five years old, she’s tried to get away more times’n I can count. Go near her with a halter — night, go near her at all — and she gets all kinds of mean. Even bit old Rockslide when I put her in his pen to see if they’d get on.’
‘Ent gonna need a halter,’ Renna said, vaulting the fence and heading across the field.
‘Telling you, that horse is dangerous,’ Jon called after her. ‘Sure you know what you’re doin’?’ Renna waved a hand dismissively, not even bothering to look at him.
Twister didn’t back away as Renna approached. That was good. The mare seemed to be ignoring her, but the way her ears were pointed, Renna was sure she had the horse’s full attention.
She held up her empty hands. ‘Ent got a halter. Don’t reckon I’d care to wear one, so I ent gonna ask you to, either.’
Twister let her get in close, but when Renna reached out to stroke the horse’s neck, she moved fast, powerful jaws snapping. Renna barely snatched her hand away before it was bitten off.
‘Weren’t no call for that!’ she snapped, slapping the mare hard on the nose. Twister went wild at the blow, rearing up and kicking her feet, but Renna was ready. Months of hunting demons and absorbing their magic had left her stronger and faster than she had ever dreamed, and now that her blood was up she could feel a new tingle in her limbs, a taste of night’s power, even here under the sun.
Renna weaved like a barley stalk in the wind, feeling the whoosh of air as the kicking hooves missed her by scant inches. Again and again the frenzied mare tried to crush her. Powerful blows. And fast. Kicks that could break a field demon’s back.
But Renna’s moves were smooth and fluid like a dance, and she remained untouched. It went on for some time, and she began to wonder which of them would give in first. The new power in her limbs was only a fraction of what she felt in the night. The horse seemed tireless.
But at last, Twister’s kicks began to slow, and she bunched her muscles, ready to flee. Renna rushed in before the mare could gallop off, gripping a handful of mane in her fist and vaulting onto the horse’s bare back.
If Twister had been crazed before, her rage was tripled now. She fought true to her name, leaping and writhing in mid-air, bucking and galloping in circles, trying to throw Renna.
But Renna had her seat, and wasn’t giving it up. She threw her arms around the horse’s throat, so thick she was barely able to clasp her wrists. Once she had the hold, that powerful neck became her entire world, her only adversary. Nothing else mattered.
She called upon every bit of power she could muster, and began to squeeze.
It seemed to go on forever, but finally Twister began to calm. She stopped bucking and galloped around the pen, setting the dogs into a frenzy as the other horses leapt from her path.
Renna continued to squeeze, slow and sure, and soon even that gallop slowed to a wilful canter. Renna smiled. Wilful was good.
She eased her grip from Twister’s neck, taking two fists of mane and pulling hard to the left. She laughed aloud when Twister obediently turned. Gripping the horse’s flanks with her knees and the mane in her fist, Renna drew her knife and slapped the horse’s rump with the wide flat of the blade. ‘Hyah!’
Twister leapt ahead, breaking back into a gallop. Renna sheathed her knife and took the mane in both hands. A tug here or there would turn the horse, but Renna let her have her head, exhilarated as the wind whipped her long braid about, and she was jarred again and again by the horse’s powerful strides.
Renna leaned in, putting her mouth to Twister’s ear. ‘You belong in the night, girl. Ent gonna let you end up like Rockslide. Promise.’
Renna ran them back to the edge of the fence where Arlen and the others waited, pulling up short.
‘Made your choice, then?’ Arlen asked. ‘Twister?’
Renna nodded. ‘But Twister ent a good name. Gonna call her Promise.’
Dinner on the Stallion ranch was a family affair, and that family extended down to the last ranch hand and laundry girl, over thirty people in all. Even some of the dogs lay on blankets along the walls of the great hall, ready to leap for scraps. Renna and Arlen sat by Jon, Glyn, and Nik at the head of a long trestle table heavily laden with food and pitchers of water and ale.
Jon led them in a prayer to the Creator, and Renna saw some of the hands staring at Arlen’s warded face. Even over Jon’s intonation, her sharp ears caught the word ‘Deliverer’ whispered about the table. Unbidden, her fingers stroked the smooth bone handle of her knife.
Jon finished his prayer and straightened. ‘Dunno about you lot, but I’m starved! Set to passin’.’ At that, the still table came alive with motion as thirty diners began passing trays of meat, bowls of vegetables, crusts of bread, and boats of gravy around the table with practised efficiency.
Everyone filled their plate, laughing and talking as they ate and drank while the sun set outside. People continued to glance Arlen’s way, but he pretended not to notice, filling his plate three times. But no sooner had the plates been cleared and the pipes lit than he was on his feet.
‘Dinner was delicious as always, Glyn, but it’s time we were on our way.’
‘Nonsense,’ Glyn said. ‘It’s full dark out there. We’ve plenty of room for you to spend the night.’
‘’Preciate the hospitality,’ Arlen said, ‘but Ren and I got miles to go tonight.’
Glyn frowned, but she nodded all the same. ‘I’ll have the girls pack you something for the ride. Creator only knows what you’ve got to eat in your saddlebags.’ She rose and headed for the kitchen.
Arlen reached into his robes, handing Jon a pouch of coins. ‘For Promise.’
Jon shook his head. ‘Your coin’s no good here, Messenger. Not after what you did for me and mine. Even beyond my boy, those warded arrows you gave us have gone a long way toward everyone sleeping easy in the night.’
But Arlen shook his head. ‘Hard times a-comin’, Jon. Refugees from Rizon are pouring north in a flood, and don’t think the war won’t get here eventually. Krasians have their sights set on Miln and beyond, and now that folk are fighting back, don’t expect the corelings to take it well. They’ll be out in force at night, especially when the moon is dark.’
He pressed the bag into Jon’s hands. ‘Got plenty of gold. No reason I can’t pay fair for what I take. Leaving you a couple warded spears, too. You’re smart, you’ll get your forge hands and Warders to copy them and make enough to go around.’
Renna put a hand on his arm, and when Arlen looked at her, she met his eyes with a pleading look. ‘Take Rockslide, too. Ent right, him locked up like that. Meant to be out in the night.’
‘Can’t argue that,’ Arlen said, ‘but we got a long way to go in a hurry, and ent got time to drag another wild mustang all the way back to the Hollow.’ He looked to Jon, counting out more coins. ‘Can you send him on after us?’