Read Online Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 by Flight of the Raven (v1.0) - Free Book Online

bedding straw, with grain for the asking.
                 "Summer,"
Aidan muttered. "What will winter be like, I wonder?"
                 There
was nothing for it but to ride on, to reach the fringes of the wood that would
provide some protection. The track, warded by trees and foliage, would be free
of much of the wind, and he could go on to Clankeep screened from the worst of
the weather.
                 Debris
littered the air: leaves, dirt, torn petals of wind-tattered flowers. Aidan
ducked his head, squinted, spat, urged the gelding a little faster. And then
faster still.
                 "Go
ahead," he agreed, giving the dun his head. "A bit of a run will do
no harm, and will get us there the faster."
                 The
gelding required no urging. By the time they reached the trees, Aidan was
almost sorry. A gallop through the wind blew away the dull dregs of a troubled
night's sleep, leaving him refreshed and in good spirits. He gloried in the
sensation of horse against the storm, himself bent over the neck so as to give
the wind no purchase. But he did not give into the impulse that told him to run
again; the gelding deserved a rest, and the track was littered with stormwrack,
providing treacherous footing for a horse already spooked.
                 " Shansu ," he said, patting the
gelding's neck. "Another time, I promise—for now we will walk."
                 The
dun was ordinarily a well-mannered, settled horse, neither young nor old, and
not given to coltish antics. But clearly the storm had set him on edge; now, as
Aidan attempted to calm him, he pawed and swished his tail, indicating
displeasure.
                 Aidan
lifted an arm and pointed. "That way," he suggested.
                 The
dun backed in a circle, eyeing the way they had come.
                 "No,
I said that way—" Aidan turned
him forcibly. "We have been to Clankeep uncountable times before… there is
no reason for this. If there were danger, Teel would say so; I trust him more
than you."
                 The
gelding protested, snorting nosily. Dark eyes rolled.
                 Frowning,
Aidan went into the link. Lir — is there danger ?
                 So much for trust , Teel answered. No, there is no danger… nothing but the
storm .
                 Relieved,
Aidan aimed the dun yet again toward the east. "If this is a show of will,
I could choose a better time… shall we discuss this a bit later?"
                 The
gelding stood still and quivered.
                 Aidan
stroked the ocher-brown neck again. " Shansu ,
my lad, my boy—'tis naught but a bit of a blow… d'ye think I'd be wanting you
harmed?"
                 Erinnish,
many held, was a tongue made for horses, but the gelding was Homanan. He chose
to misunderstand.
                 Wind
roared through the trees. The dun bolted and ran.
                 It
was, Aidan thought grimly, an entirely horselike flight. After refusing to go
east, fright had forced the gelding. If the storm had not worsened matters,
Aidan might have let him run on since he was heading toward their destination.
But he dared not in the wind. The track was fouled with debris. If the gelding
tripped and went down—
                 "Never mind ," Aidan muttered, cursing
imagination.
                 He
drew the reins in tautly and attempted to apply force of will to the restraint.
He had gentled many a colt and won many a horse's trust, sharing much of his
father's skill. But the gelding was having none of it.
                 Concern
instantly deepened. Aidan knew the feel of it: the bit had been rolled forward,
free of tender bars, and now was lodged in teeth. The horse was in control. The
man on his back was nothing more than a minor inconvenience not worth the
trouble of throwing off.