The Enemy Across The River—Chapter Three

Continuing this standalone fantasy short story

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Samwick

He was pleased it was Rookin. They'd schooled together, shared many desperate moments, had as much in common as any two Riders. If anyone would entertain his crazy notion, Rookin would.

Still, it didn't start well. "They'll never consider it."

"What's the alternative? This… or defeat. We compromise our holy principles—or we lose the war." Rookin frowned, silent. "Look at us. They said they'd never let our kind fly, and look at us now."

"True enough. But still… a girl?"

"Girl, Rookin? She's two-and-twenty. "

"Girl, woman, what's the difference? "

"Even for the likes of thee and me, that's a daft question."

"Maybe. But most Riders start at twelve. We'd start 'em younger if they could look a Beast in the eye."

He leaned forward, ignoring a stab from his shoulder, milder now anyway. "That's the point, Rook, don't ye see? Two-and-twenty. She's full grown. Ten years hence she might be no heavier." Rookin said nothing. Perhaps light was dawning. "Ten years, Rook. No worries about her getting too heavy before she's twenty, that risk we take with every new lad. Ye and me, still flying after more'n four years—we're the exceptions."

"True enough."

"And… yes, she'd need training, but not from scratch. She's already a rider. Is a horse any easier to control than one of our Beasts? And she's won Aumersa's trust."

Rookin sat up. "She has?"

"Aye. Walks right up to her, when no one else durst go near, and within ten minutes Aumersa's let her examine the wound. Imagine if she hadn't; imagine if that wound had festered. We could have lost her."

"She did all that?"

"Aye—and climbed up to my window to quiz me about her care."

Rookin leaned out of the window, turned back with a thoughtful expression. Riders could not fear heights, but healthy respect was ingrained. "Perhaps I should meet this girl—sorry, this lady. What did ye say her name was?"

"Fendry.

Fendry

"I assume Samwick's told ye what's been overheating his fevered mind?"

"Master Samwick has said many things, sir. I'm not rightly sure which you're meanin'."

Rookin smiled. "I think that means he hasn't…" He glanced at Sam, smiled archly. "Will ye tell her, or shall I?"

"And steal the credit for my inspiration? I think not." Sam faced her, then paused. Fendry waited, bemused but patient. "It's like this, m'lady. I've mentioned our problem; by the time Riders have truly mastered the air, most are grown too heavy. For all our sacrifices, Rookin and I and the others, we still grow.

"But here are ye, two-and-twenty—and less'n a hundred pounds, I'll be bound. Yet ye can ride a horse, and I wager any grown horse outweighs three of our Beasts."

Only then did she grasp his notion. His next words were lost to a roaring in her ears, like the River in Spatemoon.

Finally she found her voice. "You think I could be a Rider?"

"No one knows till they try," said Sam.

"There are trials," said Rookin. "Normally, before they'd even let ye close to a Beast. But I hear ye've already been close to one…"

"I can handle horses pretty fair. And, like Sam says, horses weigh plenty more than your Beasts. A horse can carry a man from here to Rowanfell 'tween breakfast and lunch. A man, even the strongest, can't carry a horse across the yard. Horse is stronger, but the rider's in charge. It's not about strength, it's about…" She stopped, struggling for the word.

"Communication," suggested Sam.

"Aye, and trust."

On home ground, defending tried abilities, she spoke confidently; but when she recalled what they were proposing, certainty ebbed. She gazed at Sam, Rookin, Sam again. Shook her head, hunting for words. "Just s'posin'… supposing I agree… what then?"

"Our Commander's arriving tomorrow," said Rookin, "To thank your Lord for caring for Sam here—and for Aumersa."

She merely rolled her eyes, but Sam saw, and smiled. "Aye, it's amazing how his Lordship's found time to change my dressings, mop my brow, spoon broth into me. Why, he's hardly left this chamber…" Fendry almost laughed aloud.

"Protocol…" said Rookin, grinning. "But we'll make sure the Commander knows the truth. I'll drop a message to his boat on my way home."

"Aye," said Sam. "Make it a good tale."

Rookin shrugged. "Truth tells its own tale."

Sam, pensive, didn't answer. He met Fendry's eye. "He'd need to see ye ride, too."

Fendry frowned. "How'm I to arrange that? I'm not one of the fine folks. Don't have a horse of my own."

"So ye said…. Hm. That could be a problem."

"Should I have a word with the stable-master?" said Rookin.

"Not sure how he'll take it. Might not be so keen if he knows you want to take me away." Fendry laughed suddenly. "Six years back, 'twas all I could do, gettin' him even to give me a try. Now… might be a different tale."

Yes, that could be a problem… but she'd dealt with obstacles then; she'd find a way now.

That she might get to fly… that was beyond anything she had ever dreamed. It still seemed more a dream than any true prospect.

And there was another thing. That she might see Sam every day, work—maybe even fly—alongside him… that thought was interesting, too.

Fendry

Inevitably it became a grand occasion. The Lord himself (who'd never set eyes on Aumersa before, to Fendry's knowledge) walked with the Commander, his retinue straggling behind, wives and daughters in skirts so stiff they'd almost stand up on their own. It must be hard over rough grass, scattered apples, when you couldn't see your own feet.

Her own best blue skirt seemed feather-light by comparison. And if it was plain, even—to critical eyes—shabby… She shrugged; it wasn't that bad. It was five years old, but she probably only wore it five times a year.

Brawny Hullock, who saw more with one eye than most did with two, was pushing Samwick in a wheeled chair. Hard labour for the pusher, a jolting ride for the passenger. They were maybe twenty paces away when Aumersa suddenly came to quivering alertness, her eyes—her entire being—focused on Samwick.

They stopped about five paces short. Sam levered himself from the chair and Hullock handed him a cane.

"Pilots," said the Lord, "May I present, ah, Fendry, our… stablemaid, who has been the… foremost… carer for your noble Beast."

Foremost? You mean only, my Lord. But she had no time for indignation. Too much was happening; the reunion between Samwick and Aumersa on one side of her, and on the other, the Commander of the King's Flight… bowing. To her. "Miss Fendry. I commend ye. The King's Flight owes ye a great debt."

She fumbled a curtsey. "It's been my pleasure, sir." Conventional words, but sincere. She wondered if he could guess just how heartfelt.

Then Sam was before her, and he too was bowing. "My lady. Honoured to make your acquaintance." Face and tone were solemn, yet Fendry sensed merriment bubbling within. "I can only echo my Commander's words, and append my own heartfelt thanks—and, more important, those of Aumersa."

Then his face whitened, and his good hand clasped the Commander's arm. Fendry saw Aumersa stretching anxiously forward. "It's all right, girl," she said, her tone all reassurance.

When she looked away from the Beast, she found the Lord himself facing her. He bestowed a stiff nod, a terse 'well done', before turning away, speaking softly to the Commander as Sam sank back into the chair. Fendry returned her attention to Aumersa.

"You mustn't mind my father," she heard a moment later.

"M'lady," said Fendry, making another curtsey.

"Draff!" said Eldreth. "I can scarce cope with you in a skirt, never mind curtseying to me."

"Your sisters would be scandalised if I didn't curtsey."

Eldreth's smile was clear through her gauzy veil. "But my sisters, when they deign to ride out, expect the personal attention of the stable-master himself."

"While you has to make do with likes of me?"

"Please, Fendry, don't be catty. I thought we were friends."

"Sorry, Eldreth. It's all a bit…"

Fendry was floundering, lost for the next word, but Eldreth had mercy. "Please, would you introduce me to… what's her name? Amersa?"

"Aumersa." At the sound of her name the Beast turned her gaze towards them.

"Aumersa, this is Lady Eldreth, our Lord's youngest daughter, and the finest horsewoman in—"

"Flattery, Fendry?" said Eldreth in a quick aside, before stepping forward and bowing her head. "Lady Aumersa…"

The Beast looked her up and down, released a soft whoof, a whiff of cloves. "She likes you."

"Can you—" Eldreth broke off as a page appeared, bowing before he'd even stopped, a gawky tangle of limbs. "My Lady, your Lady mother commands me to… ah, remind you… that your presence is required in the solar."

"Please inform my mother that I need no reminding of my duty. I shall be there directly."

"My Lady, I—she…"

"What? She commanded me you to drag me by my hair?" The boy blushed. "I'm perfectly capable of making my own way there. Run along and tell her so." I'm glad you never take that tone with me, thought Fendry.

They watched the boy scurry off. "It's not his fault, m'lady…"

Eldreth's gaze crackled with umbrage, but then she shook her head. "Oh, fiddlesticks, you're right. And I suppose I must be away. I hope you'll grant me a longer visit soon, my lady Aumersa. And I shall certainly see you, Fendry."

She was already turning away when Fendry suddenly saw a possibility. "M'lady… Eldreth…" The Lord's daughter swung back, slowed by her cumbersome skirts.

She'd known Eldreth since she was a wisp of a girl who'd made even Fendry feel tall. She was sure that was why Eldreth had liked her, initially; she must have thought, if Fendry could ride a full-size horse, so could she. Yet now, bafflingly, she was shy.

"What is it? Mother really will have something to say if I don't hasten."

"I'm sorry, m'lady. I… you said we were friends, didn't ye?"

"If I recall accurately, I said I thought we were friends."

"I think so too." If they'd been nearer equals, they might have been truly close. As things were… But Eldreth was fretting. "I don't believe I ever asked you a favour."

Eldreth looked surprised, then thoughtful. "Don't suppose you ever did, really." She laughed, out loud, not covering her mouth. Not proper ladylike, but then only Fendry, and Aumersa, could see. "But I reckon you've done me a handful…"

Fendry sighed in relief. She'd been counting on Eldreth's essential honesty, but you never quite knew…

"Come on, Fen, I really have to go."

"Would you… would you please tell the Stablemaster that I'm to exercise Tamsed in the morning?"

"Don't you always ride her for exercise?"

Fendry shook her head, her braid sliding from confinement. "I'm lucky to get a ride more'n once a week, and then it's pot-luck which horse."

"You mean it could be any of those others taking her out? I wouldn't trust some of 'em with a plough-horse!"

They're not that bad, she almost said. Like Eldreth, she liked to speak truth: another thing they had in common, perhaps. But it wouldn't help her cause now.

"Fendry," said Eldreth, "I'll gladly tell the Stablemaster that you're to be Tam's preferred rider every day, if you wish… But why now? It must have been so for years."

There was nothing for it but the truth. "Because they—Samwick and the Commander—want to see me ride."

"They do? But why?"

Fendry drew breath. Eldreth must have seen that she was working out what to say. "No." Her voice carried the decisive air it had gained recently. "If it's a long tale, not now. When we have time… then I will have it all. I'll send word to the Master."

She lifted her skirts a few inches and walked away.

Read Chapter Four