First Rider's Call

“Is there anything else you wanted to add to the report?”

“I think that’s all.” Karigan hoped the captain didn’t detect any hesitance in her voice.

“I know it hasn’t been easy regurgitating those terrible events over and over, but the king appreciates your efforts to provide a detailed and accurate record.”

Karigan nodded, glancing down at her hands folded across her lap. She had stood before the king and his inner circle three times to be grilled about the delegation’s journey and its disastrous end. The king’s advisors thrust question after question at her.

Why did you believe the clearing was unsafe?

Where were you when the fighting broke out?

Why do you think the Eletian wanted to speak to you?

Why didn’t you join the main body of the fighting?

The king questioned her more quietly, more gently than his advisors, as if more sensitive to what she had endured. More than he spoke, even, he listened. He listened intently to her answers, or perhaps “intensely” was a better description. He sat there on his throne, his chin propped on steepled fingers, his eyes focused on her as though he could discern more from watching her closely than by simply listening.

The questioning had gone on for hours each time, with no one any more satisfied than when they had begun.

Now Karigan sat in Captain Mapstone’s quarters going over the whole thing once again. The captain hadn’t exactly grilled her, after all she’d been present during the other questionings, but she wished to verify the events as described in Karigan’s written report.

Every time Karigan had to revisit that night of terror by the cairn, images of carnage flashed back to her. So did images of broken shackles on a funerary slab, and the wraith pointing its bony finger at her, its voice rasping, “Betrayer.”

She tried to answer the questions as thoroughly as possible, but one thing she did hold back, even from the captain, was the failure of her special ability during the battle. She didn’t know why she didn’t—couldn’t—bring it up. Maybe it was shame, or maybe she felt the problem would rectify itself in time. Maybe she was too frightened to admit aloud her ability had failed her.

There had been a time when she wished her ability would go away forever so she could have the life she planned for herself, but now that it had, it unnerved her. Something had changed, and whether her lack of ability was a personal failing, or something else was going on in the world, it couldn’t mean anything good—could it?

For now she would keep it to herself. There was no use in getting anyone overly concerned in case it was nothing.

“Karigan?”

She shook herself from her reverie. “No, Captain, I really can’t think of anything else to add.” She hoped the captain interpreted her long silence as a pause to go over events in her mind, as if searching for something new.

The captain nodded in satisfaction and signed off on the report. With a tinge of guilt, Karigan knew the captain would not call on her own ability to check the honesty of her words. She trusted her Riders.

The captain set her pen down and turned to gaze squarely at Karigan. “I want you to know how very proud the king and I are of your actions while you were with the delegation. Major Everson was so impressed with your comportment during the ride home, he has offered to sponsor you into the light cavalry.”

The distaste must have been so evident on Karigan’s face, that Captain Mapstone, absently fingering the ragged brown scar that slashed down her neck, said, “I take it you’re not interested.”

“If I had a choice of going anywhere, I’d return to my clan,” Karigan replied, “but I don’t think the call would let me go. Not even to join the light cavalry.”

Captain Mapstone looked positively relieved—she’d actually been worried! Her hand fell away from her scar. “I would hate to lose you,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think you have developed into a fine Green Rider.”

Karigan tried to look anywhere but at the captain. She glanced down at her hands again, over at the map spread on the captain’s worktable, its curling edges held down by a half-filled mug of cold tea and a crust of bread, and at the shelves on the far wall piled with books. Pleasure and guilt both warmed her cheeks. Pleasure at receiving a rare bit of praise from the captain whom she respected. Guilt of being unworthy because she had never truly embraced being a Green Rider.

The captain sighed. “The business of the kingdom does go on, and so does the king’s correspondence. If you are feeling up to it, I’d like to ease you back into the work schedule. No strenuous or lengthy rides to begin with, just some simple, short-range message errands to help you catch your wind again. What do you think?”

“I’m ready.” Karigan had been back a couple weeks now and was itching to return to work. Currently she had too much free time to think about things, those terrible things that had happened to the delegation. The loss of her colleagues who were also friends.

Captain Mapstone smiled. “Excellent. I’ll let Mara know. You are dismissed.”

Karigan decided to stroll about the castle grounds to stretch her legs after her long session with Captain Mapstone. The wind blew through her unbound hair. The afternoon sky was fair, but the clouds and a change in wind direction indicated the weather might take a new tack by daybreak.

She wandered by the barracks of the regular militia, and the outdoor riding arena where horses and riders alike were trained. Sometimes contests of fighting and riding skill were held here, where various divisions of the military competed against one another. The competitions were friendly, but serious. No division wished to experience the dishonor of losing. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">