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Authors: C.N Lesley
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sunny day. Light glistened off mounds of cresting waves that crashed against rock to spit foam. Towering cliffs housing Tadgell clawed at the skyline. Harsh grayish-black flint offered scant refuge for a few ragged clumps of vegetation clinging to narrow ledges. Airshafts marred the jagged face at regular intervals, mole-blind pits of darkness – a stark exterior concealing the comfort and light within. Moving away from the fort, strands of sunlight pierced through a leafy canopy covering a trail winding through a rock-strewn glen. They passed a waterfall where droplets hung in crystalline wetness on nearby branches. This avenue of natural beauty terminated in harsh moorland with stunted trees, deformed into submission by elemental forces run wild.
Uther led the way over raw headland, riding south and east until they came to a bleak valley littered with dross. A muddy stream at the bottom was flanked by working bal-maidens dressing the tin ore. A collection of well-kept cabins, some with laundry dancing in the wind on lines outside, stood grouped near a great wooden wheel. Harnessed to a huge cog, large draft horses powered the device.
“Not a pretty sight, although it makes us self-sufficient,” Uther said.
A mine overseer hurried out to meet his master. Worry lines creased his face. Ashira reined in her mount to wait while they talked. The man gestured over to the south of the settlement. After a few minutes, the duke rejoined her.
“It’s a large cat of some sort. None claim to have seen it, just the pugmarks, and they’re missing a pig. Since children watch stock, I must take their complaint seriously, even if the wretched animal wandered off on some mission of greed. I’m told the marks are by that grove of oaks. It might just be deer tracks—these people are miners, they rarely take note of nature.” He sent her a lopsided grin.
There were pugmarks when they looked, not that big, and just one predator, enough to make Uther frown.
“A lion?” Ashira dismounted to kneel by him.
“No, too small, both in size of paw and stride, and see here, the animal goes lame. I told them not to set traps in these woods. The beast wouldn’t come near people unless starving. Wild moor ponies and deer are its normal prey. Now it can’t run.”
“Would it take a child?”
“In a heartbeat. I’ll send out a platoon. They can make that thrice-damned fool of a headman collect all his traps before they set a lure.” The duke mounted and set off at a brisk pace.
The wind in her face, Ashira raced after him. Her braid, too swiftly tied this morning, now came loose and her hair streamed behind her. Her husband reined in at the headland above his fort, wheeling to watch as she galloped up to join him.
“I want to show you something,” he called. “Follow me. Amber knows the way.”
The duke urged his mount toward a narrow gully with Amber following. This was not treacherous slate, but weathered granite, laced with mica. Ashira had no inkling of what awaited until the last tortuous twist revealed a golden stretch of sand. The sea glistened a wet gray as it rippled to shore. She inhaled the salty air, thrilled to be so close to the water at last, while Amber picked up her pace, joyfully cantering across the yellow softness. Ashira knew what her mare wanted: to race breakers across the cove. They followed that other happy pair in a mad dash against nature’s fury. A laugh born of pure joy burst from her when spray crashed under pounding hooves, a magical moment, frozen in time, as horse and rider shared the pure essence of life, moving as one in wild excitement. Amber slowed at the far side of the cove where the others waited. The duke laughed, dismounting to remove the harness and whack his mount on the rump. The stallion charged to the surf, screaming his defiance.
“Let Amber run. It’s her reward for getting you here.” Uther settled down with his back to a sun warmed rock.
Ashira released the mare, watched
Uther led the way over raw headland, riding south and east until they came to a bleak valley littered with dross. A muddy stream at the bottom was flanked by working bal-maidens dressing the tin ore. A collection of well-kept cabins, some with laundry dancing in the wind on lines outside, stood grouped near a great wooden wheel. Harnessed to a huge cog, large draft horses powered the device.
“Not a pretty sight, although it makes us self-sufficient,” Uther said.
A mine overseer hurried out to meet his master. Worry lines creased his face. Ashira reined in her mount to wait while they talked. The man gestured over to the south of the settlement. After a few minutes, the duke rejoined her.
“It’s a large cat of some sort. None claim to have seen it, just the pugmarks, and they’re missing a pig. Since children watch stock, I must take their complaint seriously, even if the wretched animal wandered off on some mission of greed. I’m told the marks are by that grove of oaks. It might just be deer tracks—these people are miners, they rarely take note of nature.” He sent her a lopsided grin.
There were pugmarks when they looked, not that big, and just one predator, enough to make Uther frown.
“A lion?” Ashira dismounted to kneel by him.
“No, too small, both in size of paw and stride, and see here, the animal goes lame. I told them not to set traps in these woods. The beast wouldn’t come near people unless starving. Wild moor ponies and deer are its normal prey. Now it can’t run.”
“Would it take a child?”
“In a heartbeat. I’ll send out a platoon. They can make that thrice-damned fool of a headman collect all his traps before they set a lure.” The duke mounted and set off at a brisk pace.
The wind in her face, Ashira raced after him. Her braid, too swiftly tied this morning, now came loose and her hair streamed behind her. Her husband reined in at the headland above his fort, wheeling to watch as she galloped up to join him.
“I want to show you something,” he called. “Follow me. Amber knows the way.”
The duke urged his mount toward a narrow gully with Amber following. This was not treacherous slate, but weathered granite, laced with mica. Ashira had no inkling of what awaited until the last tortuous twist revealed a golden stretch of sand. The sea glistened a wet gray as it rippled to shore. She inhaled the salty air, thrilled to be so close to the water at last, while Amber picked up her pace, joyfully cantering across the yellow softness. Ashira knew what her mare wanted: to race breakers across the cove. They followed that other happy pair in a mad dash against nature’s fury. A laugh born of pure joy burst from her when spray crashed under pounding hooves, a magical moment, frozen in time, as horse and rider shared the pure essence of life, moving as one in wild excitement. Amber slowed at the far side of the cove where the others waited. The duke laughed, dismounting to remove the harness and whack his mount on the rump. The stallion charged to the surf, screaming his defiance.
“Let Amber run. It’s her reward for getting you here.” Uther settled down with his back to a sun warmed rock.
Ashira released the mare, watched
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