The Golden Key (Book 3) (12 page)

1

The soldier’s garb they made Embril wear was
hideous
.
It didn’t fit at all well and chafed in the worst possible places. The cloth
was rough and itchy, not at all like the fine silk of her robe, and she would
have preferred to wear that, instead. It didn’t matter to her if the fishmen
knew she was a wizard and made her a target in battle. She planned to hide! Her
robe was comfortable, and it had the pockets exactly where she needed them to
be. The uniform had pockets too, but they were not easy to access. How was she
supposed to go to the bathroom, anyway? The flap was in the wrong place. At
least with her robe she only had to hold up the hem and squat.

Then there was the hat. Even with her long, thick, red hair
braided into tight coils, it didn’t fit beneath the hat very well. Instead, the
hat perched atop her head like an inverted redbird’s nest. It was an
ugly
hat, too, but it was the one Commander Garret had chosen. “The point is to make
you look like a man,” he had said when she had protested, “not to make you look
pretty. With this hat on, no one will look very closely at your face.”

She pushed the uniform and hat out of her mind as she
approached the lift. The others were already assembled, and Lieutenant Jarhad
had his long arms crossed. He glared at her with his deep-set brown eyes for a
few seconds, then turned and said, “Let’s go, men.”

The soldiers led their horses onto the lift in a single file,
and half of them were already on board the lift when she stepped into the lift
area. Darby was there, but he quickly fell into line and disappeared inside the
lift. “Your horse, Sir,” a young soldier said, holding out the reins for her.
He had sandy blonde hair and a thick, short beard. His soft brown eyes stared
at the top of her head as she took the reins.

“Thank you,” she said.

He jumped and looked at her face for the first time, opened
and closed his mouth, and then nodded. A moment later, he turned away and led
his horse toward the lift. She clicked her tongue at her steed, a chestnut mare
that eyed her suspiciously, and led it into the lift. She was the last to
enter, and as soon as she was inside, the lift doors were closed and locked. A
few seconds later, they were being lowered to the ground outside the wall.

As the lift descended, she looked at the horse with
trepidation and did her best to conceal her uncertainty from the others. They
didn’t need to know that she had never ridden a horse, did they? As part of her
preparation for this journey she had read all about horses in Barnham’s
Animal
Husbandry for Wizards
. It would have been so much better if she didn’t have
to go at all, but Angus wasn’t back yet, and the time had come. She would have
to ride the horse, but it was much taller than she was, and her foot didn’t
reach the stirrup. Since she had never mounted a horse before, she didn’t know
how to compensate for the deficit and reached up for the saddle horn and
prepared to make a jump for it. Fortunately, the soldier next to her—the same
one who had handed her the horse—noticed her difficulty and reached out a hand
to stop her. He nodded toward the wall of the lift, and in the dim light she
saw a bench ringing the interior. He led his horse close to it, stepped on the
bench, and slid easily into the saddle.

Embril smiled at him, tugged on the reins, and led the horse
to the bench. She stepped up onto it, and turned to the horse. “Stay still,”
she said as the horse shifted on its feet. When it was almost stable, she put
her left toe in the stirrup, balanced herself, and flipped her right leg over
the saddle. Her momentum almost took her all the way over the saddle when the
horse shifted under her, but she caught hold of the mane and steadied herself.
Then she tried to figure out how to get comfortable in the saddle.

Her first ride was short. They rode at an easy walk out of the
lift and down the north road for about a mile. She felt Lieutenant Jarhad’s
eyes on her the whole time and did her best to manage the horse’s movements.
Then the soldiers lined up side by side, four deep and five to a row. She was
the odd one out—the twenty-first “man”—and didn’t know where to put herself. So
she guided her horse to the end of the front row and tried to get it to stand
still next to the man in the corner. The horse fidgeted, and she nearly tipped
off the left side before her right hand caught hold of the saddle horn. When
she settled back into the saddle, she saw Lieutenant Jarhad was watching her
from his position in front of the ranks. He shook his head and moved closer.
His voice was steady and loud when he spoke:

“Men,” he began, nodding to them. “As you know, Hobart’s
banner encountered fishmen in The Tween just before winter. We are going to
where he fought them. This is a reconnaissance mission. We
are not
to
engage the enemy. If they are there, we are to assess their positions,
approximate their number, and find out if there are others assisting them.”

Some of the men grumbled, and he held up his hand. They fell
silent, and he continued. “I know that is not what you wanted to hear. All of
us would sooner slit a fishman’s throat than to leave him standing, but we
must
not
engage them. If they are there, the time for battle will be upon us
soon enough, and we’ll all get our fill of fishmen blood.” He paused and
lowered his voice. “The fishmen disappeared from the Death Swamps last year.
They may be where we’re headed.
All
of them.”

A few of the soldiers gasped into the silence that followed.
Embril understood those gasps. If the fishmen were all there, they would number
in the tens of thousands, but she didn’t expect to find that many of them. They
needed water, and a lot of it. The river Angus had mentioned would support
some
of the fishmen—perhaps a few thousand at most—but not all of them. Her horse
shifted again, and she slid to the left and had to grab the saddle horn to
steady herself. She looked down at the beast and frowned. From what she had
read about horses, it shouldn’t be acting like that.

“Now,” Lieutenant Jarhad continued. “As you may have
noticed, we have a guest. She—” there were startled glances her way “—is to be
treated as a member of our patrol. Her duties will be light, and I will assign
them personally. Let me be clear: she is not to be disrespected. Her—” he
paused and emphasized the word “—
skills
will be essential to our
success.” A few of the men chuckled, and a couple sneered at her, but none of
them said anything. She blinked at that; had she really given them
that
impression? All she meant to do was to convince them that she could be useful,
not
essential.
“From this point onward,” Lieutenant Jarhad continued, “you
will address her as Sir or Elmer, whichever is appropriate to the situation.
You will not address her as a woman, nor will you speak about her as a woman or
treat her as one.” He paused again, and then finished in a stern voice, “You
know what fishmen do to our women.”

She blinked as the soldiers grumbled and shifted angrily in
their saddles. What did fishmen do to women? And why were they suddenly angry
again? Then her horse tried to dump her to the ground, and she had to work to
stay in the saddle. She glared at the back of its head, wondering what was
wrong with it. The three books she had read suggested they were usually
friendly beasts, but this one seemed to be upset with her. Then she glared at
Lieutenant Jarhad. He was
supposed to
get her a docile beast.

The man next to her leaned close and whispered, “Don’t grab
the saddle horn; use the mane.”

Before she could ask him why, Lieutenant Jarhad finished his
speech. “We will ride easy today,” he said and then turned abruptly to lead
them down the road at an easy gait. The men fell in behind him as if they had
practiced the maneuver dozens of times, and Embril tried to work her way in
among them. She had memorized the movements and words for directing her horse,
but it didn’t seem to want to obey her. As she struggled, Darby rode up beside
her.

“She’s been trained for patrol duty,” he said. “We rely
mostly on our legs and rarely give verbal commands that can be heard by the
enemy. Guide her with your legs and pull on the reins as needed. For left…” He
rattled off the commands for moving left, right, forward, back, walk, trot,
gallop—any direction that she might need. She listened intently, absorbing them
as he said them. They were almost the same as the ones in the Barnham’s, but
there were almost no verbal commands and the use of the reins was minimal. As
he finished his quick overview, her horse lurched to the right. She wasn’t
expecting it; his instruction had distracted her, and she would have fallen if
he hadn’t leaned over to catch hold of her belt. He frowned, but she ignored him
as she resumed her precarious perch in the saddle.

“I thought this horse was docile,” she complained.

Darby’s frown deepened, and he nodded. “She’s the calmest
beast we have. I’ve never seen her that jumpy before.” Then he looked ahead of
them and said, “We need to catch up with them. You and I should never stray far
from the center of the ranks.”

Before she could ask him why, he was already moving away.
She gripped the reins firmly, squeezed her thighs the way he had told her, and the
foul beast lurched forward. The suddenness of the movement wrenched her back
before she recovered her balance, and the horse quickly caught up with Darby,
passed him, and bounced recklessly toward the men. Before it reached them, she
gave the signal to stop, and the wretched creature stopped so suddenly that it
nearly threw her over its head. By the time Darby caught up with her, she had
her arms wrapped around the horse’s neck, and it was trying to shake her free.

“Easy, girl,” Darby said, moving his horse in front of her
and taking hold of the reins. He held them firmly until Embril reluctantly
settled back into the saddle, and then shook his head. “A quick walk,” he said,
“not a trot. The movements are similar, but—”

Embril glared at him and said, “I
did not
make a
mistake.” Then she pulled the reins out of his hands and made the same sequence
of movements with her thighs, and the beast moved forward at an easy walk.
“See?” she said. “That’s what I did before.” Then she turned away from him and
urged the horse to a slightly faster pace.

Darby joined her, and when it became apparent that she was
managing the horse well enough, he urged them into the center of the men. They
settled into place, and as they rode through the morning, he explained how the
patrol functioned, how the men were organized, and what her role would likely
be. She listened closely—and almost fell from the horse twice before he finally
decided to stop distracting her. At least his silence made it easier to focus
on the stupid horse as she rode, and that helped her keep her balance.

They came to the old road branching into The Tween shortly
before noon, and continued down it for about an hour before Lieutenant Jarhad
called for a rest. A number of the soldiers dismounted and stood at the side of
the road to relieve themselves, and Embril felt the same urge to pee. But she
refused to squat at the side of the road to do it! She would wait until there
were trees to hide behind, or at least some rocks. She looked at the road ahead
of her and wondered how long it would take to find a suitable place. It was
mainly granite mountainside and a bit of scrub. Even in the valley, there was
little concealment.

All of the men dismounted, but she remained on her perch.
She was confident she could get down easily enough—she could fall off if
nothing else—but she wasn’t sure she could get back up again. Then her horse
jostled her, and she decided not to stop the slide. Instead, she adjusted her
position and jumped clumsily to the ground. Then she hobbled to the front of
the horse. Her thighs were sore from the constant battle to stay in the saddle,
and she shook her finger at its eye. If she spoke horse, she would have scolded
the beast for the rough ride. The spell was in Barnham’s, but she hadn’t primed
for it. She hadn’t thought it necessary to clutter up her magic with it. But
now she wanted to know why her horse hated her.

It was a short break, and there was barely time to eat the
clumps of bread and cheese that one of the soldiers handed to her. Lieutenant
Jarhad had stayed away from her the whole time, but when it was time to go,
Darby came to help her into the saddle before mounting his own horse.
“Lieutenant Jarhad would like to ride a bit faster,” he said. “Are you up to
it?”

She winced as she settled into the saddle. “If my horse lets
me,” she said. “It hates me, you know. Every time I get comfortable in the
saddle, it jostles me about.” As if on cue, her horse sidled to the right,
jarring her back as she twisted to stay in the saddle. “See?” she said. “
Every
time.”

Darby turned and gave a sharp whistle and when he had the
attention of the men near the front, he waved and called “Tobar!” One of them turned
his horse and rode toward them. When he came to a stop at their side, Darby
asked, “Did you saddle this horse?”

“Yes, Sir,” Tobar said. He was a young, wiry soldier with
barely a whisker on his chin and wide, blue eyes—a sharp contrast to Darby’s
portly form.

“Did you notice anything wrong with her when you did it?”

“What do you mean, Sir?”

“She’s as jumpy as a rabbit,” Darby said. “Something has gotten
under her skin, and I thought you might know what it was.”

Tobar frowned and shook his head. “No,” he said. “She acted
like she always does.” He looked pointedly at Embril and said, “Maybe it’s the
rider?”

Embril met his stare with defiance, but there wasn’t any
maliciousness in the blue eyes that met hers. He wasn’t being snide; he was
just suggesting a possible answer to the problem at hand.