The Enemy Across The River—Chapter Four

Continuing this standalone fantasy short story

Read Chapter Three

Fendry

"Madam," began the Commander.

'My lady' had been strange enough. 'Madam'… she durst not catch Sam's eye.

"The King's Flight—and therefore the Kingdom—owes ye much for your care of our precious Aumersa. For that reason alone, I would give fullest consideration to any request advanced by ye or on your behalf.

"Furthermore, ye've gained her trust in remarkably short order. Many Riders might struggle to match ye there."

His grave, measured delivery gave no hint of the verdict he had in mind. Sam, catching her eye, gave a minute shrug: he didn't know either.

"And now we've seen ye ride… better than any of us, I dare say… At least on horseback." The flinty features softened, hinting at a smile. Apparently he'd made a joke.

"All very impressive. Ye're no ordinary young woman. So be assured I've given this proposal deep thought. It has been no slight decision. But such is the burden of my position; I'd be no use to the Flight if I shirked hard choices.

"If my decision disappoints ye, I truly regret that, but I must consider many things."

It was all so polite, so respectful, she hardly grasped what he was saying. By the time it bit home, he was already rising. He bowed, began to turn away.

I never even spoke, she thought.

Sam, however, wasn't satisfied. "A moment, commander."

"Squadronmaster."

"With respect, sir…" She saw, suddenly, how young Sam really was, how hard it must be to challenge his superior. "Ye've said fine things about the lady. But if she merits 'the fullest consideration', does she not merit the fullest explanation?"

"Perhaps…" The Commander relaxed his stance. "Madam… I must consider not only tactical and operational implications, but strategic ones…

"Of course, none can say that ye would succeed as a pilot. There are many challenges and tests. Be assured, however, I do not assume ye would fail. No, I deem it truly possible that ye would succeed. However, I judge ye not only impressive, but also… exceptional. Bringing ye into our ranks would entail significant disruption. There are… logistical issues. Can I really justify all that to gain just one Rider?"

"As to that," said Fendry, finally seizing the chance to speak, "I never thought myself… what'd you say? Exceptional."

"Your modesty does ye credit. Yet… I saw no other females working in the stables."

"That's true… but…" Better not mention Eldreth by name. "I ain't the best rider here. Best female, I mean." It's almost the same thing, in truth.

He arched heavy eyebrows. "Are ye saying there might be another… another potential aspirant?"

She could guess what 'aspirant' meant. She could also guess how Eldreth might receive the notion… but that led nowhere. Eldreth's father might accept the loss of a 'stablemaid'; surrendering an eminently marriageable daughter would be another matter entirely.

"I can't say that, sir. I'm only sayin' I might not be as exceptional as you're thinkin'."

"Hm. In any case, there are other considerations. Not least, what people might say." Sam stirred, prompting a restraining gesture. "Ye may think it trivial, Squadronmaster, but, in wartime, morale is never trivial. Think of the men ye command, the importance of maintaining their spirit. Consider, too, the morale of the broader populace. Think… exactly what message is conveyed if they learn we are admitting females to the Flight?

"Frankly, some will find it laughable. That's something in itself; I won't have my Riders become a laughing stock, face mockery whenever they leave the Combe. Others might say, if we're taking females, we must be desperate. Perhaps that we're losing the war."

"With respect, sir, we are desperate. We are losing."

"Nothing makes defeat more certain than the belief that we're losing. Against which ye offer a gamble, not a certainty."

"Sir! I say we're losing and ye don't contest it. But I make a suggestion that could, maybe, turn the tide… and ye say we can't act because some people might think we're losing? Am I hearing aright? Because… way I'm seeing it, you're turning away hope to hide the truth that we're already losing."

"Enough, Squadronmaster." The tone was hard as iron. The Commander held his gaze a moment, then turned to Fendry. "My respects, madam… and my regrets." Then he was gone.

"Hellfire!" Sam spat as the door closed. "I should have known… never get him to change his mind that way."

"Was there ever a chance?" she asked despondently.

"Hell, yes. If I know my Commander, he truly did give it full consideration. That's an achievement in itself."

"Still, a miss is far as a mile, they say."

"Perhaps. But…" His face brightened. He pressed her hand briefly. "I have an idea."

The warmth of his touch lingered long.

Fendry

It was nothing like mounting a horse. Aumersa lowered her head and Fendry had to straddle it—a high straddle for her—then sort of shuffle rearward, onto a saddle unlike any she'd ever seen: a mere sketch of a saddle really, little more than a leather disc. Harness and reins were some kind of webbing, like coarse canvas: lighter, she supposed.

She slipped feet into stirrups, observed the extra straps designed to cage the foot securely. Surely she wouldn't need those just to walk Aumersa down to the landing…?

Her confidence vanished as Aumersa rose, unfolding her legs before lifting her neck. For an alarming moment Fendry's seat seemed to tilt vertically. Even at full gallop, even over jumps, she'd never felt like this on a horse—and on a horse you always had those broad withers before you. Aumersa's back simply tapered into her neck. The reins seemed useless: she clamped her thighs around the neck and clutched at the scales behind the head.

She'd ridden bareback, of course; the hands dared each other to it, when Gedrin was away. She remembered the reassurance of two good handfuls of the horse's mane. Her fingertip grasp on those scales was far less secure.

It was a vertiginous moment—but only a moment. She stayed on. And then she was up.

She clicked her heels as Sam had coached her, as you might on a horse, and Aumersa began to pace; Sam, though scarcely limping now, needed five strides to the Beast's one. The rhythm was like nothing she'd ever experienced: surging, hesitating, surging forward again. She'd have to reassess everything she knew about riding. And we're still on the ground…

Beyond the orchard, Aumersa could spread her wings fully, flexing and testing them, the left in particular. She raised them up and back, swept them forward and down. Fendry felt herself go heavy as the Beast's body rose beneath her. Had Aumersa's feet actually left the ground, or had she merely lifted onto tiptoe?

Sam was running forward, trying to get in Aumersa's eyeline, but Fendry didn't wait. She leaned forward precariously, kept her voice low and—she hoped—steady. "Easy, girl. That wing's not ready yet." And I sure as hell ain't.

Aumersa twisted her head around; facing forward, she'd barely be able to see the rider on her back. The Beast released a soft, breathy, hiss. Somehow Fendry understood. "Pissed off? So'd I be. But it needs time to heal. That's why we're goin' on the boat. Goin' home. Your home, anyway."

Aumersa hissed again, then turned her gaze forward and resumed her pace. Sam dropped back, apparently satisfied.

On a horse, she thought, I'm tall as anyone. On Aumersa's back, I'm twice as high. How must it feel to be in the air?

Samwick

Samwick slipped between two trees, out of Aumersa's sight, then sprinted forward. His shoulder flared a protest, but he kept going as best he could, reaching the staithe just ahead of Beast and rider. He slipped through the gawkers, close enough to see everything, ready to spring forward if needed. No one heeded him. He heard startled murmurs, caught Fendry's name.

Fendry brought Aumersa to a tidy halt opposite the gangplank. Her dismount, he observed approvingly, was already more elegant than her mounting. Holding the reins in one hand, she faced the Commander. The corners of her mouth tweaked slightly. Sam knew she was suppressing a grin.

He sidled between a thickset fellow and a woman scarcely less hefty, thankful for his own slight frame. He needed to hear.

"…give up easily, do ye?" the Commander was saying.

Fendry smiled. "Leastways now I'll always be able to say I've ridden a Kingsbeast."

"Ye surely have, madam, ye surely have."

For a moment they were both silent. Sam, knowing his Commander, willed Fendry to stay mute. She never caught his eye, but she seemed to catch his thought: or else she just had sufficient good sense.

The Commander sighed. "In days of yore, only men-entire could be Riders. We weathered that change. Had we not, it's possible we'd not be speaking now. We might already have fallen under the yoke of the North. Perhaps we must risk much to win all…

"Madam, I make ye no promises. I must consult with higher authority. But… if your Lord will release ye, will ye travel to the King's City with us?" Fendry's face lit up. "I repeat, Madam, no promises."

"At least I'll see the City. And ride a riverboat. I never thought I'd do either."