Bonded Spirit

  ***

  Heading to the south yards, I gazed to the simple wooden fences of horse paddocks. That’s what this lesson was all about; horse riding. It was a known ability across the lands; all people must ride a horse, especially if they are to be a Ryder. I had a few lessons at Plumridge, and here I had improved. It wasn’t all that fun, and while I had bugged Walter in my younger days for a pet of some kind, I had not been one of the young girls who owned a horse. Why Karson brought me here today was a mystery. I figured he was making a list of all the things I suck at. I glanced to the stable boys, the horse tenders, and the simple beast themselves. Most were the humble stock horse. Some were majestic mustangs and the odd quarter horse and painted ponies for younger Ryders. Wonder which ones he’d make me ride. I stepped into the first stable hall, ten stalls in length and taking in the horses as they dropped their heads over their stalls. Several snorted and flicked their ears with interest. I didn’t see much sense in a horse, unless it was for farm work and on the rare occasion for the carts.

  Walking past the first rows and into the adjoining shed, I came to empty stalls and opened doors. No horses were here. Sand was being cleaned away, but no one was here.

  I stopped in the centre of the stalls. My neck hair started to bristle, the knowledge I was being watched had La’Kera on alert. It was here, near me. I swallowed hard, tasting the dryness of my mouth, the roughness of my tongue. And then it happened.

  Something jumped out fast and started to—

  I was knocked to the ground and Karson was standing above me. He held a long staff, his face was serious, and just as I thought it was over, he flipped it to fey another attack.

  “You never know when the next attack will come.” He spun and struck out, hitting my shoulders. I gasped and roll away. I reached for the first thing in my view—a broom. He lunged, and I blocked. The heavy base of the broom was making my already over-worked-muscles, ache. And to get a swing, I wasn’t getting it high enough. I skimmed Karson’s shin line (if I was lucky) and that was a laugh. He stepped back as if he had time for a fly around the lands.

  “Come on Rehema. What are you waiting for?”

  “It’s heavy,” I whined. Why would he insist on attacking me now? I was too sore.

  He twisted his staff around, planted it on the ground, and held his palms out to flick his fingers, gesturing me to hand the broom over. As I did, he tossed the staff to me. I gripped it, and he twirled the broom around as if it were a leaf on the simplest of twigs. He had extra advantage with the broom end, able to lock me from behind while pinning my staff in place. He tried several more hits. I tried to block, some were fake hits that had me flinching, I was losing big time. I was getting beat and he knew it. He stopped, placing the broom to the wall with a heavy sigh; he held his hand out for me to rise.

  “It’s still early days, you are getting better.”

  “Tugh.” I scoffed. “Better? You sure about that. All you do is beat me down.” I brushed the sand from my clothes and hair.

  “I don’t beat you.” His words were stern.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Well, knocking me over every few minutes isn’t fair. You’re far more experienced. So what if I’m behind. The other students wouldn’t keep up with you.”

  Karson crossed his arms as I made wobbly steps towards a hay stack to rest, for a moment. Oh, to rest.

  “You’re not like other students. You can handle it.”

  “Yeah, right.” I rubbed my thigh and assessed my wrist. The welt was there, it was a bruise, swelling.

  “You’re a Ryder. You’re faster, stronger, resilient, and able to do more than most. Why do you think I am pushing you so fast? So soon?”

  “Because you like looking down on me,” I pouted.

  “I treat you no different to any other student I have tutored.”

  “So why did you leave your student in Rila to come here? Will you get part way through my training and do the same?”

  “I didn’t leave a student half trained. Where did you hear that?”

  “That’s what the others told me.”

  “And do you always listen to rumours?”

  “No.” I bit at the word. Stupid, stupid. Why don’t you take your own advice? I hissed inward.

  “You’re making yourself weaker by not practising, or honing your skill. Accepting that you’re a Ryder is one thing. You need to believe you’re one now. You’re no longer a dangorian girl anymore. Not since the day you pulled on the glove.”

  “I didn’t ask for it,” I snapped too late to make it less venom.

  Anger showed in his eyes for a split second. He exhaled a breath through his teeth.

  “You shouldn’t question a gift from Drae’Gon.” His voice held with emotion. “You’re a chosen. You’re a guardian in training. To be, and do what others only dream of.”

  “And I can still dream of the old days.” I folded my arms, to hiss at my wrist. “Least then I didn’t get beat up.” The suction of air had me gasp.

  He was fast. He had moved ten feet, standing beside me in a blink. I stopped short of rolling my eyes at his ability. Showing off, I assumed.

  His hand reached out, touching my wrist. “Look at me Rehema.”

  It was hard, and when I did, I was staring into his green eyes. The flicker of concern, the shadow of emotion showed. “You’re a Ryder now. You can do anything you put your mind to. While you show up early to my class, you do not put in the effort of the fight, as you do in voice. I want you to focus. This—” He held his hand over my wrist, “Will heal.” And just as he said the words, a tingle of magic touched my skin. Releasing my hand, I was speechless.

  The bruise, the swelling; gone. I stared up at him.

  He touched my temple with his two fingers. “In here will always be. A girl who wishes for the old days, but when you’re ready, you will be more than just a girl from a simple town.”

  I trembled at his touch, at his magic, blushing from his words and his actions. I was wishing for the old days, the way things were. I didn’t want to lose La’Kera now either. There was no going back. Walter wasn’t there. My town was as it always was. Dangorian, simple, safe, least for a little while from the vragons and vipers.

  “You will be a strong Ryder one day. First, you need to know what you’re fighting for. You have to accept it, you have to understand it, and you have to want it.” He stood taller, his hands across his broad chest. “While you are bonded, there is no choice, if your heart or mind is not ready to fight, to be a Ryder of Dangora, to be the protector Drae’Gon bestowed upon you. Maybe you’re just a girl the last Dy’Monian dragon took pity on.”

  “Now just a minute,” I snapped. “Don’t you dare turn this on La’Kera? She knew why she chose me. She did not do this out of pity.” Standing, ready to fight him with my fist if I had to.

  “Then act like you at least want to try. Your answers will come to you. Don’t give up hope. Otherwise, my lessons are pointless.” Karson watched my expression before unfolding his arms.

  “They’re not pointless,” I heaved. “They’re just painful.”

  “Pain is needed to know one’s limits. And, as you see. Pain can be healed.” He nodded to my wrist. It was healed. Completely. He was gifted to accomplish that much. It was a high level spell I had heard about, and here it was … wasted on me.

  It isn’t wasted. Don’t think that … he is teaching you what you could do. What you could be. A great Ryder. La’Kera was gentle with her words, worried of intruding, but she could never intrude on my thoughts, or time.

  Karson sighed heavy. “Now that you have vented your anger, why don’t we get some horse riding in?”

  “And what is the point of that lesson.”

  “Balance.” His short answer had me following him to the supply room. Gathering a saddle, and heading to the stables in the third section of the saddle bay. Silence lingered as I worked on saddling and bridling the mustang, Karson was on his noble mustang in mere moments. I had to rush to catch
up.

  “Take your time. I would hate for you to fall. And besides. There is no rush. We have all day.”

  I pressed my lips together in that comment. He wasn’t angry about it or annoyed he’d have to spend the entire day with me. Okay, so it wasn’t that bad. But he was likely to get tired of me eventually, right?

  “And another thing. I ask you not to listen to rumours. They will tease your thoughts on the rights and wrongs and blind you from the truths. You’re best to ask, not assume.” He turned his mustang out and away, leaving me to mount my mare. Joining him in the slow walk, heading west. His comment had me thinking—knowing he spoke truth. It is pointless believing what others say, and it is as he said. A tease to ones mind.