The Wind-Witch Read Online Free Page A
Author: Susan Dexter
shift of weight, or her left hand’s joining forces with the right to haul him out of the turn.
Instead, though hampered by his rider’s attempts to save him, Valadan dug his hooves into the sand for an extra stride and swung about the pole so closely that a breeze could scarcely have slipped between it and his hindquarters. He went back up the course, dancing the measure alone half the way, till Druyan managed to regain some feeling of being in harmony with him.
They exited to cheers and jogged off to compose themselves while the next horse went at the line of poles.
Very tricky course , a dry voice observed.
Druyan slid to the ground and flung her arms round about the glossy neck, loving the horse with the whole of her heart. He was safe—and wonderful. Valadan reached over her shoulder to nuzzle her back.
Their bliss was interrupted by the arrival of a horse and rider. Robart swung down from his roan gelding, which had once more disappointed him in the matter of racing speed. Stepping over to Valadan, he patted his flank, ran a hand down each of the stallion’s legs. He glanced at Valadan’s nostrils, which were flared still but not indicating any distress to his breathing. Indeed, they promised great endurance.
“He’ll do. Give him here.” He held his hand out for the reins.
“What?” Druvan stared.
Robart shook his head at her, smiling. “You don’t want to ride a horse like this. He’s no lady’s jennet.” He gestured impatiently for the reins.
“I do so want him!” Druyan tightened her hold on the reins and wished futilely that she hadn’t dismounted. Now she could not simply ride away, as she longed to, before the discussion turned dangerous. She was trapped, caught afoot.
“Well, you can’t have him!” Robart laughed. “Father hasn’t said anything because he hasn’t paid much attention, but if you fall off this black thunderbolt and hurt yourself, he most certainly will. Now give him here.”
“Valadan came to me !”
Robart laughed again. “ Valadan? Because he’s a black horse? This isn’t one of Grandfather’s prize steeds, just some chance-bred that wandered in off the moors. Your nurse told you too many legends, when you were cutting your baby teeth. What did you think you were going to do—go off hunting chimeras on him? Let go of those reins!”
Druyan was weeping, tears of frustration that she knew he mistook for fright. “You can’t take my horse!” she wailed.
Robart patted her arm. “Look, Dru, ladies don’t ride this sort of horse. You weren’t going to keep him anyway. Now let me see if I can win some silver. I’ll give you a split.”
He slid his hand down her arm, then opened her fingers one by one. Druyan turned her face away as her brother gathered the reins and shoved his foot into the stirrup. She was choking on tears, her head was aching with misery and loss. N o one would have let me keep him. At least Robart won’t hurt him —she tried to console herself, and failed.
The sight of her Valadan meekly bearing Robart away did not ease the lump in Druyan’s throat. She stared with brurring eyes, trying not to hate what had been inevitable.
And stared wider yet as Valadan’s head plunged downward fast as a stooping falcon, ripping the reins from Robart’s unready fingers. As the stallion arched his back and bucked, his hind legs kicking out one way while his rider went flying in the opposite direction.
Robart rolled to his feet and went after the stallion at once, keeping a careful hold of his temper as he caught up the trailing reins. Despite a white-rimmed eye, Valadan stood still to be mounted once more. Robart glanced back at Druyan, half pleased at his victory, half saying he’d told her so and had been right to relieve her of the unruly stallion before a like disaster befell her.
And no wise ready for the run Valadan abruptly gave him. No warning dip of the black head this time. No buck to shed an unwelcome rider. Valadan simply
Instead, though hampered by his rider’s attempts to save him, Valadan dug his hooves into the sand for an extra stride and swung about the pole so closely that a breeze could scarcely have slipped between it and his hindquarters. He went back up the course, dancing the measure alone half the way, till Druyan managed to regain some feeling of being in harmony with him.
They exited to cheers and jogged off to compose themselves while the next horse went at the line of poles.
Very tricky course , a dry voice observed.
Druyan slid to the ground and flung her arms round about the glossy neck, loving the horse with the whole of her heart. He was safe—and wonderful. Valadan reached over her shoulder to nuzzle her back.
Their bliss was interrupted by the arrival of a horse and rider. Robart swung down from his roan gelding, which had once more disappointed him in the matter of racing speed. Stepping over to Valadan, he patted his flank, ran a hand down each of the stallion’s legs. He glanced at Valadan’s nostrils, which were flared still but not indicating any distress to his breathing. Indeed, they promised great endurance.
“He’ll do. Give him here.” He held his hand out for the reins.
“What?” Druvan stared.
Robart shook his head at her, smiling. “You don’t want to ride a horse like this. He’s no lady’s jennet.” He gestured impatiently for the reins.
“I do so want him!” Druyan tightened her hold on the reins and wished futilely that she hadn’t dismounted. Now she could not simply ride away, as she longed to, before the discussion turned dangerous. She was trapped, caught afoot.
“Well, you can’t have him!” Robart laughed. “Father hasn’t said anything because he hasn’t paid much attention, but if you fall off this black thunderbolt and hurt yourself, he most certainly will. Now give him here.”
“Valadan came to me !”
Robart laughed again. “ Valadan? Because he’s a black horse? This isn’t one of Grandfather’s prize steeds, just some chance-bred that wandered in off the moors. Your nurse told you too many legends, when you were cutting your baby teeth. What did you think you were going to do—go off hunting chimeras on him? Let go of those reins!”
Druyan was weeping, tears of frustration that she knew he mistook for fright. “You can’t take my horse!” she wailed.
Robart patted her arm. “Look, Dru, ladies don’t ride this sort of horse. You weren’t going to keep him anyway. Now let me see if I can win some silver. I’ll give you a split.”
He slid his hand down her arm, then opened her fingers one by one. Druyan turned her face away as her brother gathered the reins and shoved his foot into the stirrup. She was choking on tears, her head was aching with misery and loss. N o one would have let me keep him. At least Robart won’t hurt him —she tried to console herself, and failed.
The sight of her Valadan meekly bearing Robart away did not ease the lump in Druyan’s throat. She stared with brurring eyes, trying not to hate what had been inevitable.
And stared wider yet as Valadan’s head plunged downward fast as a stooping falcon, ripping the reins from Robart’s unready fingers. As the stallion arched his back and bucked, his hind legs kicking out one way while his rider went flying in the opposite direction.
Robart rolled to his feet and went after the stallion at once, keeping a careful hold of his temper as he caught up the trailing reins. Despite a white-rimmed eye, Valadan stood still to be mounted once more. Robart glanced back at Druyan, half pleased at his victory, half saying he’d told her so and had been right to relieve her of the unruly stallion before a like disaster befell her.
And no wise ready for the run Valadan abruptly gave him. No warning dip of the black head this time. No buck to shed an unwelcome rider. Valadan simply