- •I brushed a trembling hand through my hair. What was going on? What happened? I was looking at the vases and…
- •I tore my eyes from the box and back to the—
- •I raised my eyebrow like Spock and waited.
- •I looked quickly at Suzanna. She was no damn help; her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were moving in what looked like some kind of silent prayer. Jeesh.
- •I should have been nominated for some kind of Greco-Celtic Academy Award for Best Voluptuous Ascent to a Throne. God, it felt good to sit down.
- •I could see my door guards (yes, they did appear proportional) snap crisp sword salutes as the horses reached the doorway and entered the ro—
- •I could feel my jaw setting, but before I could respond, Alanna stepped in. Gracefully, she took my hand and helped me to my feet.
- •I had to clear my abused throat before I could squeak out an “I forgive you.”
- •In a formal, stilted voice he said, “Please excuse the interruption, my Lieutenant had matters of great import to discuss with me.”
- •I shut my eyes. Of course Dad wouldn’t want me to get hurt. If only it were that simple.
- •I opened my eyes. Seeing clearly—finally.
- •I looked at those high stirrups. And the tall mare. And considered my thirty-five-year-old body.
- •I mean riding a horse (one that’s actually alive) for several hours. Alternating between trot, canter, walk, back to trot. On a thirty-five-year-old butt. Without breakfast.
- •I reached down and patted her neck fondly. There are some things about this world that were just plain cool.
- •I sighed melodramatically and gave a big pretend sob while I wiped pretend tears from my eyes.
- •I just wanted to pee and then go back to sleep.
- •I closed my eyes and tried to relax, think, forget about my stomach and keep warm.
- •I straightened and took a step closer to Epi, hating the guilt he made me feel.
- •I swallowed a piece of cheese and took a quick drink of wine. “I had to see about my dad.”
- •I looked down at my half-eaten sandwich. “Are you still willing to take me there, knowing the creatures might be there?”
- •I felt a little like a mother whose four-year-old had just toddled happily off to preschool without her.
- •It was midmorning when I spied some lovely brush cover (and some soft-leafed plants) next to another stream that bisected our roadway.
- •I felt suddenly all Marilyn Monroe–like as my eyes went to half-mast and a moan escaped my lips.
- •I managed to moan some semblance of thanks.
- •I had to agree with him on that.
- •I had only taken a couple steps when I heard Dougal’s hooves thud behind me. I spoke over my shoulder to him.
- •In another world, he’s still alive.
- •I heard a snort of laughter from behind me.
- •I sniffed the air.
- •I swear, a rush of electricity shot from his teeth straight to my crotch.
- •I know it was unusual, but I didn’t know what to say.
- •I smiled at Dougal and saw him practically squirm with pleasure. If he had had a puppy’s tail, I’m sure it would’ve wagged vigorously—and he probably would’ve wet himself. He really was cute.
- •I translated that as centaur for “You’re full of crap.” But I acted as if I didn’t speak the lingo.
- •I curled my body around him and snuggled against his warmth.
- •I nodded my yes against his chest.
- •I didn’t see any fish frying. But I still smelled cooking food.
- •It took a moment for me to realize they were waiting for my permission.
- •I even managed to wave. Thank God I’ve watched a lot of pbs specials about The Royal Family.
- •I had to interrupt her. “Alanna, I can’t stand this ‘my Lady’ stuff. Can’t you call me something else?”
- •I squeezed her hands and turned back around. “At least she was a smart slut.”
- •I opened my mouth to interrupt.
- •I tried not to babble incoherently and to remember that I was dressing for my husband, not for a spot on a tv evangelism program.
- •I nodded at her to go on.
- •I shivered, remembering the weird mirror vision of myself I had glimpsed in the pot as it burst into a fiery ball.
- •I rubbed my fingers and took a wary half step away from it.
- •I blinked in surprise. “No, I didn’t know.”
- •I looked at Alanna and sighed. “Alanna, pour yourself some wine and sit here with me.”
- •I’m telling you, this guy could go on a lecture/training circuit and make a fortune teaching the Non-Octopus Technique to semi-bald, divorced, middle-aged men.
- •Intrigued, I nodded.
- •I smiled but felt the definite stirrings of nervousness.
- •I like to think I’ve attracted my share of men, but one hundred guards is just plain gluttonous.
- •I turned and began beating a hasty retreat down the empty hall.
- •I heard a ripple in the crowd. Suddenly, centaurs surrounded us and members of my guard were rushing from the temple to join them.
- •I took all of this in, but I found it hard to stop staring at the doctor. I knew this man, or perhaps I should say I knew this man’s mirror image—very well.
- •I turned back to face ClanFintan and tugged on his arm until he bent for my quick kiss.
- •I frowned at her. “Don’t worry about it. It just means she’s crazy about him, too.” She looked like that explanation helped. “You two aren’t married in this world?”
- •I shrugged. “Whatever, but we might be here for a while, so feel free to sit and pour yourself some wine. After all, grapes are my favorite breakfast fruit.”
- •I looked at Alanna’s worried face and sighed. “I can’t do this anymore,” I said to her. My eyes sought ClanFintan’s. “I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”
- •I returned his smile before looking nervously back at ClanFintan.
- •I wanted to throw my arms around him and bury my face in his heat, but I could feel Alanna’s and Carolan’s eyes boring joyfully into our romantic interlude.
- •I shouldn’t have been surprised. I already knew he was a biter.
- •I kissed him lightly on the cheek.
- •I felt ClanFintan’s startled reaction, which made me remember that the map that zapped me had shown all the land to the east of the river as centaur lands.
- •I remembered their horrible, ground-eating strides and had to agree with him.
- •I tried not to get distracted by the lovely image he was painting, and the thought of what it might look like now.
- •I searched my memory, wishing the biology electives I had taken in college hadn’t been ten-plus years ago.
- •I smiled my thanks at her before turning back to Carolan. “Well, what do we need to do?”
- •I found myself suddenly encompassed within the centaur’s strong arms.
- •I swear, underneath the layer of sweat and yuck he blushed. “Perhaps it has slipped my mind.”
- •It was the assistant who had been sent to get the dead child’s parents. I could see the shadowed forms of two people standing behind her in the hallway. I squared my shoulders and walked toward them.
- •I complied happily, resting my forearms against the ledge on which I had been sitting. He swept my hair out of the way and began rubbing soap all over the back of my body.
- •I remembered his little tкte-а-tкte with my guards and grinned. “You won’t have to.”
- •I rejoined Alanna, pulled the robe over my head and walked down the stone stairs into the warm pool to give myself a quick morning bath.
- •I smiled at his accented pronunciation.
- •I studied her face, thinking I saw a familiar expression.
- •Victoria caught my eye and raised her eyebrows at me. “I know a young centaur who would be happy to be our runner.”
- •I mean, please, I am an English teacher. Some things just aren’t acceptable.
- •I frowned and continued to dry myself.
- •I gulped and tried not to look worried.
- •I snuggled comfortably against him. “Are you sure it was just me? I think you cast some kind of spell or something.”
- •I wriggled around, pressing myself against his hard chest so that I could breathe in his ear, “Why not?”
- •I smiled at him and patted his arm like he was a cross between a teenager and a puppy. “Thank you, Dougal. It’s perfect.”
- •I thought poor Dougal might faint.
- •I laughed, but my eyes gravitated to my husband’s handsome profile. As if he felt my gaze, he turned his head in my direction and smiled warmly from across the fire.
- •It was wide and sturdy, and I didn’t have any trouble balancing on it. I looked at him and grinned happily.
- •I playfully slapped his hand away and smiled through my eggs. “You’re so fresh.”
- •I turned my face into the breeze, shaking out my own hair, liking the way it was lifted off my shoulders. I breathed deeply, stretching my sore muscles, and…
- •I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please don’t make me go down there.”
- •I had the disconcerting feeling that she knew who I was. On impulse I slid off ClanFintan’s back, and took her hand in mine, squeezing it warmly.
- •I leaned over and whispered to ClanFintan, “Isn’t Terpsichore the Muse that danced at our handfast?”
- •I tried more delicious food than I could keep count of, then, satisfied, I leaned back against my husband’s warm chest to enjoy the talent of the Muses, and the delicious quality of their red wine.
- •Vic covered his hand with her own. “Fight the battle with a clear mind, my friend. I will protect Rhea with my life.”
- •I took the small telescope and tried to thank her, but she had already moved away and was speaking to a group of nervous young girls.
- •I heard the Huntress directly behind me, I think her name was Elaine, snort a quick laugh at my response. Nope—they sure didn’t act nervous.
- •I slid off her back, and Vic opened the door. Sila was in the middle of the room, helping patients from their beds and onto thick blanket-like pallets. She looked up as we entered.
- •I almost called her Michelle, but caught myself in time.
- •I saw that Terpsichore was walking purposefully to stand by the dark woman’s side. She looked serene and lovely and spoke in a calm, unhurried voice.
- •In response, Dougal unsheathed his claymore, and Victoria pulled her crossbow and quiver from the sling at her side.
- •I went back to work on his cuts. He stood quietly, and soon I was able to lather in the salve. That done, I reluctantly moved to the rear of his body.
- •I saw Dougal flush in happy surprise. When Vic finally raised her eyes to meet his, I thought I detected an unaccustomed shyness in her gaze.
- •I pulled one foot up, and put it out in front of me, set it down—
- •I brushed some of the clinging sand from his face, then kissed the spot I had cleaned.
- •I jerked upright.
- •I smiled at him, but ClanFintan didn’t hesitate in his pace.
- •I stepped into Alanna’s arms, returning her embrace.
- •I took a long drink, focusing on getting the trembling inside me under control.
- •I looked away, unable to watch their agony.
- •I nodded against his chest and sent up another plea to the Goddess for her to watch after the mare.
- •I could see Alanna was putting on a brave face, and I smiled in response.
- •I shrugged my shoulders in a nonchalant way. “When isn’t it in my way?”
- •I tried to come up with a pithy reply, but in actuality I was relieved when Victoria’s voice cut through the need for any further words.
- •I saw the familiar figure of Victoria firing off arrows quickly, each finding its deadly mark. Between loading and shooting, her attention suddenly wavered, and she met my gaze.
- •I pulled my attention from Alanna and what was happening around me. Instead, I listened to my heart, or maybe, more accurately, my soul.
- •It seemed the mare battled on that small hill for time unending, but my mind knew logically that only minutes had passed before dark, winged shapes completely surrounded us.
- •In the middle of my thought I felt the tremor that passed through my body as it became semivisible. I mentally crossed my fingers that I was doing the right thing.
- •If you enjoyed the eBook you just read, then you’ll love what we have for you next month!
I reached down and patted her neck fondly. There are some things about this world that were just plain cool.
Epi and I angled up toward the bank, and I was surprised to see how steep and rocky it looked from this direction. It hadn’t seemed so bad coming down. Well, it was probably just the difference between seeing it from my feet and seeing it from horseback. Leaning forward, I urged Epi up toward our soft, green path—
Suddenly the rocks shifted, causing Epi to scramble and lunge awkwardly to keep her footing. I was jolted forward hard and had to grab her around the neck to keep from being thrown off. I could feel her struggling to regain solid footing. It was like she was trying to swim through rocky quicksand that kept sucking at her feet. She seemed to be unable to gain any ground as rocks and dirt tumbled around us. All I could do was hold tight and try not to let my weight shift too far to either side so that I wouldn’t cause her to lose her already precarious balance.
All at once we broke free and lurched up over the bank and onto solid ground. Ignoring my quivering stomach, I slid off Epi and began running my hands down her muscular legs. She was breathing hard and shaking all over. Any other horse would have been white-eyed and panicked, but Epi stood quietly, letting me complete my frantic examination.
“Good girl. There’s my sweet girl.” I kept talking to her, trying to calm my nerves as much as hers. “You were so brave. I am so proud of you.” I finished feeling all of her legs. No broken bones. No lacerations. She seemed okay.
But I knew from having grown up around horses the deceptive fragility of their legs. Once you witness one horse race where they come around the corner and a horse places a foot at just the wrong angle, and it snaps, you never forget it. I was ten years old the first time I saw a horse break a leg. It broke clean, between the knee and the hoof, and that horse kept on trying to finish the race with the bone of his leg jutting through the skin.
It just takes a single misstep.
I let Epi press her forehead into my chest and I rubbed her beautiful head, straightening her mussed mane. “You’re okay, you’re okay. Such a good girl.” I kept murmuring inane endearments as we brought our breathing and heart rate under some semblance of control.
Eventually she lifted her head and nuzzled my cheeks, which were wet with tears. I wiped my face and stepped back from her, looking her over again with a critical eye.
“I think you’re okay.” I walked a circle around her while she lowered her head and blew at a tuft of lush grass. I smiled. “You’re hungry. You must be okay.” She chewed a mouthful and blew a sigh at me. “Let’s not do that again. Okay?” She tossed her head. “Well, big girl, now I have to get back on you with no damn help at all.” Epi stopped chewing, and I swear she made a very female sounding “hmmph” noise through her nose. “Just hold still and don’t laugh.”
She held still, but as I groaned and struggled my way aboard, I can’t swear she didn’t laugh. We started forward and she seemed fine. Sighing in relief, I clucked her into a smooth trot. My hair, of course, had begun escaping from its braid of steel, and I began trying to poke curling red tendrils back into submission while humming the theme song from Bonanza.
“I give up.” Epi’s ears cocked back to listen to me. “No matter how tragically unfashionable, I seriously need a scrunchie.” About half of my hair was curling around my head like I was Medusa’s crazy redheaded sister. The other half was still clinging to the French braid. “Maybe I’ll start a new fashion trend.” Epi made no comment. I think she was just being nice.
Time for a new theme song.
I was halfway through humming the theme from I Dream of Jeannie when Epi’s trot faltered and slowed to a strange-feeling walk. It felt like she was trying to stay on her tiptoes, or rather her tiphooves. I pulled her to a stop and slid quickly off.
“What’s wrong, Epi?” I patted her neck and she tossed her head restlessly. “Let’s check it out.” Rule number one of horse troubleshooting: when in doubt, check the hooves. Grasping her left front leg low, I clucked at her and said, “Give, girl.” Wonderful, obedient animal that she was, she lifted her hoof. It looked normal. With my fingers I picked a couple of small stones out of the hoof base and pulled free a small dirt clod. Carefully and firmly I pressed my thumbs down on the frog part of her foot.
Yes, horses have frogs. Don’t try and figure it out, just take my word for it. Lift a horse’s hoof sometime. Look at the part that Vs and is soft. That’s the frog. And don’t bitch about the name, some ancient frog probably martyred itself for the betterment of horsekind. Show some respect.
Well, this frog sure seemed okay. Working my way around Epi, everything was just fine until I got to her right front hoof. When I pressed down on her frog she flinched and gave an equine groan of pain. I patted her neck to reassure her, and brushed away some clinging dirt and grass from the hoof. Moving my thumbs up higher on the soft V, I pressed again. This time the groan was louder and I could feel an abnormal warmth and mushiness under my thumbs. Gingerly, I set her foot down.
“Don’t quote me on this, I’m not a vet, but I think you’ve bruised your frog.” I was trying to keep my voice light and not let this unusually smart horse know that I was very damn worried about this turn of events. I looked down at the offending appendage. It was obvious she wasn’t putting much weight on it. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think your hoof hurts.”
She butted me with her nose.
“I thought so.” I rubbed her jawline and she leaned her head into my caress. “So I probably shouldn’t ride you. How about if we find a nice little clearing, maybe somewhere upstream where the bank isn’t so steep, and we rest for a while?”
Walking slowly, I led the way with Epi hobbling painfully behind me. I kept up a chattering monologue, and she walked with her forehead resting against my back in the space between my shoulder blades. I was glad she couldn’t see my eyes frantically scanning the land ahead of us, trying to find an easy place to descend. I knew I had to get her close to the river, and not just so that she could have water to drink. That hoof needed attention. My mind was rummaging through old horse-care-rules information I had filed away somewhere in my brain back in my youth. I just hoped they weren’t filed in the cells that my affinity for red wine had killed off. I seemed to remember that Epi’s kind of symptoms were telling me that the bruised area of her hoof should be iced. If I could get her to stand in the river for ten minutes or so, it seemed logical that it would stop some of the swelling and help the pain. Then she could rest and I’d figure out what the hell we were going to do next.
For a fleeting moment I wished ClanFintan would show up with the rescue posse. But reality intruded on my moment. The centaur was busy rounding up people and dealing with the creature crisis—one AWOL reluctant bride was not a big deal. And anyway, I’ve never been the kind of woman who lived her life pining after a knight in shining armor, praying that he would come charging in on a white horse to rescue me. In my particular case the whole horse/guy thing was causing me to unintentionally mix my metaphors. Which was giving me an English-teacher headache.
But luck was with me, and we hadn’t walked too far when we came to an abrupt right bend in the river. There were fewer trees here, so there was more erosion, and the grassy incline sloped gracefully down to meet the tumbling river. Picking our way carefully, I led Epi to the water.
Without any major mishap we made our way slowly to the river’s edge. Balancing myself with one hand against her flank, I pulled off my boots and rolled up my soft leather pant legs. Epi was done drinking and she nuzzled me with her wet muzzle.
“What we really need, old girl, is a couple of pedicures. But where the hell is a beautician when you need one, anyway?” I gave her a pat, then led her forward into the icy water. “How about we do the next best thing and soak our aching feet?” Epi seemed willing, gingerly following me as I picked my way between the largest of the slick rocks out a little way into the fast-moving current.
Ohmygod it was cold.
“Hey, Epi, have you ever heard the very sad, very Scottish love song ‘Loch Lomond’?” She lifted her right hoof fretfully and I leaned my weight against her left side so that she was forced to put it back in the cold water. She looked at me doubtfully but kept her hoof submerged. “It’s the story of two of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s men who were captured in the revolt. One of them was executed and one was set free. Rumor has it the song was written by the doomed soldier as a final love letter to his sweetheart.”
Epi looked clueless.
“Haven’t heard it, huh?” Cold, cold, cold. “Well, you’re in luck—not because I can sing, because as you already know, I can’t, but I do know all the words to all the verses. And, yes, I’m willing to teach you.” She sighed and I think she might have rolled her eyes. As I launched energetically into the first verse, I noticed that my aching feet were going numb. Clearing my throat I put on my best bad Scottish accent,
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond.
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond…
As I worked my way through a pitiful rendition of one of my favorite ballads, I noticed that Epi’s attention was waning.
“Okay! Let’s sing that chorus one more time!”
…O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road,
An I’ll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond!