Amaskan's Blood, Raven Oak [read me a book .TXT] 📗

drumming across her knees, she stood and stretched her arms over her head before bringing them down to the stone floor. Adelei balanced her weight on her arms and lifted her feet slowly until she stood in a handstand. The blood rushed to her head, and her pulse throbbed in her ears.

Blood is life. Life is blood. I am alive in all things, and in all things do I live. The words came unbidden, and when she pushed them aside, her arm wobbled. Adelei’s elbow gave and as she tumbled to the ground, the bells on the door chimed.

She rolled upright on her toes to find Grand Master Bredych standing in the doorway. “You look like you’ve energy to burn. Let’s go to the field.”

His pace left her little time to do more than slam shut her door before sprinting after him. Neither spoke as they traversed the main building’s hallways. Other Amaskans greeted them as they passed—a word here, a nod there—but most recognized the seriousness of their posture and allowed them quick passage toward the rear exit.

Sparring generally took place in the training hall, but if the training called for mounts, Amaskans went to the field. A hundred acres of land: some of it housed mares and their foals, but the majority of it held riding trails with a variety of obstacles. Simple jumps and lightly roughened trail for the greenest of riders lay nearest their path, though the paths would eventually lead to over a dozen trails to challenge even the hardiest of riders.

Both horsemanship and weapon work could be trained out in the field. Adelei didn’t stop when they reached the path leading to a building used for scaling and acrobatics. She continued around the hoof-scuff trail that led to the stables. “Don’t use Midnight,” he ordered, and she veered left instead of right. “Midnight will need all his strength for the trip through the desert. Just use one of the training horses.”

When she approached a sturdy mare of fifteen hands, she spoke not in Sadain but Ja’aran—the old tongue of the Order dating back tens of generations. At her word, the mare relaxed and allowed herself to be handled. Adelei rubbed the mare’s neck. “Good girl.”

Once saddled, Adelei met Bredych outside and followed him as he led his horse to one of the gentler courses. His hand rubbed his right knee, but when he caught her watching him, he turned his attention to the horse’s reins. She hadn’t thought that crossbow bolt to the joint bothered him anymore. He got it trying to escape Alexandrian guards, damned fool. Amaskans don’t cross that border. The corners of her lips slipped down into a grimace.

“There are things you must know about this job, Adelei. I know you have questions, but let me tell you what I can first. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Master.”

Bredych turned sharp flint on her and squinted. “Come now, daughter. Surely we can speak candidly.” He kicked his horse into a healthy trot.

Her response was to stand up in the stirrups and release the reins, her balance held by the grip of her thigh muscles. The showy move was a risk with her muscles sore and body lacking sleep, but she held a twisted enjoyment in taking such a risk. When he uttered a single word, her horse shifted into a canter, and she wobbled. Youth held her in place until they passed a clearing, and Adelei returned to the saddle. Her thighs ached, heavy with sleep toxins. But the feeling meant she was alive.

But for how long? If she was sent to Alexander—

“I regret sending you to Alexander.” He interrupted her thoughts with a whisper. “I don’t do this by choice, Adelei, but necessity makes fools of us all. How much do you remember of your childhood?”

“You mean my time before the Order.” He nodded, and she closed her eyes a moment. Brief snatches of memories: a forest, being cold, her mother’s voice, a doll. Adelei shook her head. “Not a lot. Just brief bits and pieces really.”

His hands played with the black threaded circles along the reins. “I’ve never kept it a secret from you, how you got here.”

“You mean how that man—my birth father—” The word was poison on her lips. “—sold me into slavery to keep his kingdom from war?” Bredych shifted his weight in the saddle, and she sucked in a swift intake of air. “Is he why I’m going back?”

Her father didn’t answer, but she’d wait him out. They passed several Amaskans on the trail as they rounded the corner. “Your father has ordered you home.”

“What right does he have—he’s not even my father—”

“Adelei, he knows our location, the Order—” Adelei caught her breath. “—If I don’t send you home, he’ll disclose it to the Boahim Senate. The entire Order would be at risk.”

“King or not, he’s a client, nothing more. He can’t possibly know our location. Why entertain his desires?”

Master Bredych shook his bald head. “He sent… someone directly into the Order. Someone I’d not seen in a long time. When he says he knows our location, he knows.” When her mount danced, she found her fingers wrapped in a death grip around the reins. She relaxed stiff fingers and stretched them until they regained a healthier pink color.

“There’s another reason why I’m agreeing to this charade,” said her master. “There are rumors. People believe that your fa—” she scowled, and he corrected himself, “—King Leon is adjusting his borders. It’s not something the Order gets involved in, but there are some who believe he may be gearing up for another war with the Shadians. True or not, if his military is accumulating land by way of dead farmers, that would be something worth knowing.”

Bredych faced her. “Go ahead. I can see the question on the tip of your tongue.”

“Father, I-I understand the need to investigate this, but sending me across the border is a death sentence. Even if the King ordered me there, I’d never make