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 Post by Taria on 06/15/2004 at 15:15:19
I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and levered myself to my feet from where I had fallen when the horse threw me. “Are you okay, Killa?” Brogan, my riding instructor, asked from his position on the fence of the training ring. “Just bit my tongue when I fell,” I called back to him, ignoring the pain in my lower back and hip. I didn’t need to look at him to feel his smile – but the snorting pseudo-laughter from Sha’kar was really too much. “And you!” I turned around to point at him, “I do not need to hear from!” Sha’kar only blinked and lowered his head – a sign of non-aggression for horses, but from his race usually the very opposite. His horn came to point directly at me, then trailed through the air to the horse that had thrown me. He lifted his head again and stamped a hoof in amusement before wandering off to crop at the long grasses not too far away. Brogan patted Sha’kar’s neck as he passed. “You are exceedingly lucky to have bonded to the lead mare’s first-born, Killa. I’ve never seen a Sha’lia’kad quite as intelligent as Sha’kar. Granted, they still only have the intelligence and attitudes of an exceptionally bright two-year old child, but Sha’kar is one of the brightest in his herd… including his dam and sire.” “He chose me,” I reminded Brogan as I maneuvered closer to the skittish mare, facing her sidewise and radiating my disappointment with her behavior. “I certainly wasn’t looking to end up with a bonded mount quite yet.” I smiled despite my words. “Having an overly protective Sha’lia’kad following you around when you are in weapons-practice is not the easiest thing to handle in the world.” My smile broke into a grin. “Although it was worth it just to see the look on Lord Reinquist’s face when Sha’kar knocked him down after his Lordship got a particularly good hit on me while sparring.” Having moved close enough to the mare to reach out and touch her, I stopped, watching her out of the corners of my eyes. I took care that my every movement and stance showed disappointment with her in horse body language. She flicked her ears back and forth, uncertain as to why I was giving off the same signals as those in her herd. When I thought I had her hooked, I turned and walked directly away from her. She snorted at my back; then I heard a hesitant step, and another. I kept walking, ignoring her. Suddenly she broke into a trot and caught up with me, walking only two paces behind. She pricked her ears forward as I turned and looked at her. “Herd behavior is hard to break, eh, little one?” I stepped up to her and grasped the reins before stroking her nose. “I’ll have this one broken to riding in no time, Brogan.” I called without turning around. “I don’t know about Brogan,” A cultured female voice answered me, “But I, for one, would be interested in seeing that.” I turned. “Deirdre! I haven’t seen you in…” “Quite a while, I know.” She smiled. “We need to talk, Killashandra. It has been… too long.” Several minutes later, I handed Deirdre a glass of wine and sat across from her in my favorite chair in the library. I studied her... beautiful, she was, in a monochromatic way. She was dressed in black riding leathers with her long black hair flowing loose over her shoulders in a careless manner, only occasional hints of silver about her to break the unrelieved black. I had been envious of her since I was a child, wishing to grow up to look as she did. Alas, I am nowhere near as feminine - or as perfect. I gazed at her over the rim of my wineglass as I held it in front of me, steepled between my hands, elbows on the arms of my chair. “It has been a long time, indeed.” I stated, my voice not altogether welcoming. “Has it been… what, five years now? Six?” I sipped my wine. “It was not my intention to be away so long, Killa. Why so formal?” She smiled in the way I had often wished to see my mother smile at me. When I was younger, she would smile at me and I would run to her with a hug, telling her how much I wished she were my mother. However, those days were long over. And my mother… well, I never met her, so it matters not. “It could be that when I last saw you, I was but a child. Now, however, I am an adult wondering why you have come back after all this time. Corwin, too, has been gone for a long while. Is he perhaps sitting outside, awaiting his cue to enter, stage right?” The bitterness and touch of sorrow in my voice betrayed me. “It is true that it has been years since last we visited you – but there was a reason.” She stood and glided to the window to look down upon the field of the Sha’lia’kad, as elegant as if she were wearing a court gown. “There has been unrest in Amber… the kingdom of your birth.” At her words, I sat back, setting my wine glass on the end table next to me. Neither she, Corwin, nor Benedict had ever mentioned anything about my past – and the earliest place I can recall was Averdor. I saw her smile as if she noticed my reaction, though she never turned from the window. “Has Benedict been in contact, at least?” She changed the subject. I didn't bother to press on the subject of Amber and my birth - Deirdre would tell me nothing. This I knew from previous attempts. “He has, a few times since last the two of us met… but not recently. Not for at least a year, if not as many as three.” I shrugged, wondering if she could read the deception in me. I had actually seen him very recently, within the last month – he had come to say his goodbyes, for he was going to be out of touch for quite some time. I don’t know what made me change my words, but I had the distinct feeling that I should not tell anyone of his visit quite yet. I drank a bit more of my wine, the brief moment of elation over seeing her again outside already completely faded into disappointment. “Benedict was always a bit focused. No doubt he will be by to visit again soon. Corwin…” she trailed off and took a sip of wine. “Corwin will not be visiting for a long while.” She took another sip of wine, and I could see tears glittering under her eyelids before she turned fully toward the window. “We hope that…” “He’s dead.” I stated it calmly and without a waver in my voice. I had already heard of the situation from Benedict, and come to my own conclusions based on the evidence presented. I had also done all the weeping I would do in front of others, and was in no mood to deal with Deirdre’s evasions. “I’m not that sniveling 13-year-old child as last you saw me, Deirdre. I want to hear the truth now, not some lovely lie.” She turned, shocked at my tone and words even as I stood and picked up my wineglass. I tossed back the contents in one smooth motion and set the glass back down. “If you decide to speak plainly, for once, I will be in the stables. Until then, farewell.” It was three more years before I spoke to another relative, and another year before I again spoke to Deirdre. |
