Whisper (22 page)

“It's best to leave hits open-ended, Miss Wilde,” the Lieutenant advised, refusing to be that source of confirmation. “The reality in that area can only ever be a harmful pill to swallow, and... Once you start counting...”

That was enough to make me duly queasy in and of itself, and I nodded in a small state of shock, suddenly grateful that it was her policy not to confirm what I had thought I wanted to know.

“So,” Sonya said with a much more curt sense of finality. “What I'm trying to say is: rest up. You have some interesting courses of action to consider – none of which very keenly involve being laid-up until further notice.” With that, she stood, her plate finished. “Is someone coming back to help you to your tent?”

Dumbly, I nodded. It seemed all I had been doing of late. Satisfied, the Lieutenant took her leave. I sat there, reconsidering the challenge of getting back up on a horse as soon as possible. If it was to be expected of me... Jay would just have to get over his concern.

Not to mention coming to terms with a lot more of it in the weeks and months that followed.

Nineteen –

I
was content to depend on Jay for everything that I required except for one thing – and that one thing, I took to Toby.

I had not counted the days since my awakening, but who was counting? When it was time for something, it was time. There was no magic number that I could have used to count down to this moment, and so I simply decided one day that this was the day, instinctively. In truth it might have been 'impulsively', or even 'presumptuously', but there were larger things than my ailments afoot in the world, and certain expectations – unrealistic or otherwise – that had fallen on me and everyone that existed in our time because of it. Luxuries were a thing of the past. As good as fantasy now. Sustaining an injury was inconvenient, but it could not serve as a thing that ruled us. There were battles to be fought. People were dying out there one way or another, and an injured soul could risk his life as surely as a healthy one. After all, where was the sense in letting a perfectly healthy soul take the fall in my place if I was already half-way gone? Might as well suffer the brunt of it if I had to suffer one way or another instead of spreading it around.

And, anyway, I was dying to get back up on a horse. I felt like a bird who had had its wings clipped, yet hadn't been put in the cage that would have been the final word. Freedom was maddening when you had been robbed of your ability to take flight. It was tantalizing. Cruel. Torture.

I found Toby in the barn talking to one of the older trainers, and hovered in the shadows until he was finished. Having noticed my loitering, he came over as soon as the conversation wrapped up.

“What's up?” he asked.

“I wondered if you could help me.”

“What are you up against?”

“I want to ride.”

He cocked a red-tinged eyebrow. “Are you ready for that?”

“It can't hurt me to sit on a horse,” I said. “It's not like the thing is going to buck me off – they would never do that. Not to me.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Just give me a leg up. I don't want to wrench anything trying myself just yet.”

He scratched the back of his neck, considering. “Sure,” he concluded in the end, and a flash of triumph lit inside me. I led him from the barn, and out to Char's pen. “This is your beast of choice?” he asked. “Are you sure he's not going to pull any post-traumatic-stress nonsense when you touch down on his back and remind him of what happened the last time?”

“Don't be ridiculous – he's the most level-headed of any of them.”

“Alright,” Toby gave in, and I could not help but be grateful that he was so easy to convince. Jay would not have been nearly so accommodating.

We slipped through the fence – me putting entirely more care into bending and straightening than I ever would have thought I'd have to – and approached Char. Today he regarded us with more perk, sensing there was more to our visit this time around.

“Let him smell you first,” I advised, for Char was still particular about his humans – or at least, he had been last I'd known, but of course that had been before my black-out. Still, there was no sense taking any chances of upsetting him if I was planning on getting on his back. And after all, Toby was the Fire Man. But judging by how Char had stared down flame in our sessions, I didn't think that would be an issue.

Extending a hand, Toby let Char sniff it a moment, but then Char lost interest. Apparently not satisfied being blown off so easily when he was making an effort, Toby moved to stroke the stallion's neck, running his hand underneath Char's mane.

I ran my own hands slowly over the equine's back, preparing myself for making my return debut onto that pedestal.

“Ready?” Toby asked.

“Let's do it.”

He moved to my side, stooping and linking his hands for my foot to go into. I placed my boot in his grasp, taking a breath.

“Alright,” I said, and as I shifted my weight off the ground and used him like a step, he tensed and straightened to help propel me upward. “Easy does it,” I urged just for good measure, for he had already cultivated ease into the transition. And then, bracing myself, I cleared Char's back and swung my leg over.

I let a breath out, smiled.

Toby flashed his teeth up at me, resting his hand on Char's shoulder. “Easy as pie,” he congratulated. Inevitably, I swelled just a little bit, elated being back in my element. Toby laughed. “You forgot how good it felt to look down on the world, didn't you?”

“All I've known these past few weeks is how rotten it felt not to.”

“So much for taking humility away from your humbling experience.”

“I just mean I've been miserable.”

“No excuses necessary, Whisper. You're entitled to claim royal status up there.”

Willow, Whisper... What next?
One day someone was going to do the unfortunate deed of putting two and two together and end up thinking my name was Willow Wilde, or Whisper Wilde, and then it would just sound stupid.
Just what I need,
I thought,
To sound like some cliché character out of a silly story.
The armies would never take me seriously – certainly not as any force to be reckoned with on the battlefield;
“Behold! - the great Whisper Wilde, making her way into the ranks. All ye cower with fear.”
I would deserve a comic book strip. And a pony. And no more respect than the two of those warranted when combined.

“What's wrong?” Toby asked.

“What?” I snapped out of the funk, looking down at him.

“You had a pained look on your face.”

“I was just thinking about...how disastrous it would be if my reputation mixed with what seems to be my unfortunate, inevitably manifesting stage name around here – that of one whimsical 'Whisper Wilde'.”

His grin widened. “Hey. It's catchy.”

My face hardened suddenly. “That was spoken in confidence,” I said. “You wouldn't go around repeating it – would you?” He couldn't.

“One has to keep a sense of humor in times like these,” he said, a cryptic twinkle in his eye. “It's good for morale. Personally, I'm not about to let morale die if I have good material at my fingertips. Sorry, fodder. You're fair game.” With that, he patted Char's neck, winked, and sauntered away toward the fence. I was left in a lacking state of sputtering in horror over the demeaning power I had just granted him, and marveling over how he managed to make 'fodder' sound so sweet and endearing.

“Let me know when you're ready to come down!” he called from the fence line once he was securely outside.

Shaking my head, I cleared it from my thoughts and concentrated on Char. He was warm and solid and steady beneath me. Always such an upgrade from the cold, hard ground.

“Some people are losing wagers today,” I murmured to Char with a smirk, and then nudged him forward triumphantly wondering just how many of the soldiers would be out.

*

“
What do you think you're doing?” It was Jay's voice, weary and disapproving.

I glanced up from where I was putting brushes away, finding him loitering in the shadows of the barn. It was hard to make out his face, but the weariness was there, too. I was increasingly becoming a force he could not control.

“Stowing brushes,” I said.

“Not that.”

“Getting back up on the horse,” I gave in matter-of-factly, turning back to my task. “That's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it? Come on, Jay, it's a policy we've both lived by for a long time.”

“Char's not a horse. He's a weapon.” Putting it so bluntly drew my eyes back to him, my attention unavoidably pricked by his needle of choice. His arms were crossed now; he was braced for the argument. “War breeds an entirely new beast of policy.”

“Well by all means, then, inform me of the policies of war, if you're so informed yourself. But I have a rather more qualified consultant in my pocket for that, so really it's up to you if you want to bother.”

“And who's that? Some soldier with a crush? Smitten enough to show you the ropes and encourage you?”

“No,” I denounced, in no mood to hear him go off pretending he knew what he was talking about. “The Lieutenant.”

Whatever retort he might have had prepared fizzled, and he stared at me, unblinking. Keeping his cool, but I could see it was not the revelation he expected. Finally, he harnessed the confidence to unseal his lips. “What...did the Lieutenant have to do with this?” There was a guarded but very deliberate curiosity to his voice.

“She condoned it,” I said a little too haughtily, but I couldn't help myself. Sometimes Jay deserved as much.

“How could she condone it?” He didn't quite believe me – couldn't, not so easily.

“Because unlike you, Jay, some people are willing to acknowledge that I have something to bring to the table besides stupidity and worthlessness. You choose to ignore it, but that doesn't mean I deserve to be treated as such by everybody else too.”

To that, he fell even more silent than he had after my revelation about the Lieutenant. And good for him. It was about time I said as much to put him in his place. Chucking the last brush down into its slot, I glared at him for good measure and strode past him out the barn.

Doing what I had to do was hard enough without Jay getting on my back all the time to tell me I was doing the wrong thing. I didn't need him sticking his opinionated, confoundedly-compelling nose in my business when it was
my
element we were talking about and when there were higher authorities at work here. I refused to be the rope in a game of tug-of-war.

And that's all that I would be if I let him get to me, because while I did have to answer to greater authority and wasn't about to whine about it, Jay would still win out as the authority over my heart. So I couldn't give him that chance.

Just leave it alone, Jay. For both our sakes.

The best thing to do, I decided, would be to restore my abilities as quickly as possible, and get back out on the field, where he couldn't interfere, as soon as I could.

Twenty –

C
har and I were on the next movement to K.S. Territory. I rode with my ribcage wrapped for support, but Char's bandages had all been removed, leaving him good as new. His edgy headgear had been cleaned of its sullied state from the last battle and safely packed in our saddlebags for another go.
Whisper Wilde and her noble steed – Char the Champion.
I couldn't help it – it went right along with the alter ego I had inspired.

“How is it that we're winning?” I inquired when the Lieutenant came to ride alongside me for a time. For Jay was right – I didn't actually know the first thing about war and how it worked. “I mean, Gabriel's the one with the secret weapon. We're out of our element, right?”

The Lieutenant inclined her head. “He's out of his element too, though. Regardless of where these beasts of his spawned from, you have to keep in mind it's not as if they've been around for decades. Harnessing them doesn't mean seamlessly mastering them.”

I thought about that, wondering what it was like from Gabriel's point of view.

“Think about what you've seen of them,” Sonya suggested. “Do they seem contained to you? Or does the dynamic that they bring to the table seem a little chaotic? Perhaps 'unbridled', if you'll allow the pun.”

“He hasn't developed technique yet.”

“Obviously, an army such as the one he drives would take you off-guard in the beginning. That's why he's been able to take the West by storm. But now that we've rallied our numbers and employed our own technique... A well-executed plan still wins out over brute force and ignorance. It's bloody and bad out there, but...that's one advantage we'll hold until he gets his bloodthirsty ducks in a row.”