Firebrand

“I need help with getting this saddle on his back,” the captain said. “The rest I think I can manage.”

Only then did Anna register that the captain’s arm was strapped to her body. Between being so nervous and the drape of the captain’s coat, Anna had completely missed it. She stepped forward hesitantly.

“The saddle isn’t too heavy,” the captain said, “just awkward one-handed.”

With directions from the captain, Anna helped her lift it into place on the horse’s back. All the while, the horse bowed his neck around to look at what they were doing.

“So what brings you to see me?” the captain asked as she reached under the horse’s belly for the girth.

The words tumbled out all at once: “IwanttobeaGreenRider.” Anna clapped her hands over her mouth.

The captain turned to her in surprise, one end of the girth in her hand. “Did you just say you want to be a Green Rider?”

Anna nodded.

“Well.” The captain turned back to the horse, worked the leather tongues through buckles, and tightened the girth. When she finished, she faced Anna once more and rested her hand on the horse’s shoulder. “It is commendable that you wish to serve our king and queen. Are you sure you didn’t hear hoofbeats?”

“Yes’m.”

“Hmm. I can’t think of anyone who has voluntarily asked to join in many years,” the captain murmured. “May I ask why you wish to join us?”

“Yes’m.” Anna then gabbled about Sir Karigan, about doing important work, and about traveling and seeing the country.

“I see,” the captain replied. “Don’t you serve the queen now? That’s important work, too.”

“Yes’m, but it’s not the same.” Anna hoped she did not come across as ungrateful.

The horse blew through his nostrils as if bored by the whole proceedings.

“Hush, you,” the captain told him. Then to Anna, she said, “I would like nothing more than to welcome you into our ranks, but there is a . . . a certain prerequisite Riders must meet, and it’s not exactly something someone obtains. It is inherent.”

“Magic?”

The captain looked surprised, then nodded as if to herself. “The day of the attack, Karigan told me she’d used her ability in front of you. Yes, Anna, Riders answer a call to serve, a magical calling, one that has been in place for as long as there have been Green Riders, but it is one we don’t talk about.”

Anna looked at her feet. She had no magic. She was just an ash girl. She couldn’t be a Green Rider. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, Anna.”

Anna curtsied to the captain and rushed out of the stables. She stood in the snow breathing hard. After all her trepidation, after all it had cost her to gather her courage and seek out the captain, she was not worthy. She’d never been worthy and never would be.

She trudged on a few paces, then paused to glance at the paddock, and saw that the captain had brought her horse out and had somehow managed to mount him with the use of only one arm. The two seemed to be having some kind of disagreement near the broken fence, the captain reining him around, and he circling and bobbing his head in agitation.

Hep suddenly appeared beside her, pushing his full wheelbarrow. “You’re better off not being one of them,” he told her. “Sensible. Look at the captain. See that broken fence rail?” He pointed at the paddock. “She broke it this morning with her shoulder when the horse got all squirrely and threw her. Shoulder is dislocated, she got a concussion. So, what does she do instead of going to bed? Drags herself back over here to give the horse a teaching, that’s what. Getting back in the saddle, she says. Lucky she didn’t break her head. Daft. They all are.”

He then rumbled off with his wheelbarrow, and she watched the captain ride the recalcitrant horse around the paddock. Repeatedly he shied where the fence was broken.

Hep, Anna thought, was likely right that she was better off not being a Rider, that the lot of them were most likely daft. But as daft as they might be, a part of her couldn’t help but admire the captain’s grit. Maybe there was some lesson for her in “getting back in the saddle,” but it was too hard to see it through the tears of disappointment that blurred her vision.

THE INTERESTING PROBLEM OF ANNA THE ASH GIRL

A dislocated shoulder, Laren learned the next day, did not get her out of arms training. Granted, Gresia went easier on her than Connly and Mara, but had called Laren’s injury an “excellent learning experience.” She was forced to fight with her right arm only, whether with a sword, a knife, a staff, or her bare hand. Her balance was off because of how she had to carry her injured arm, so Gresia made her work on a balance beam while parrying attacks. The training was reminiscent, she thought with chagrin, of what she and Drent had made Karigan do after sustaining an elbow injury. Laren found it all very ironic, as if it were some sort of divine retribution.

The exercises she engaged in were made to jostle her shoulder as little as possible, but she was still shaking and in pain by the time she was done. Her “mild” concussion also kept her out of sorts with an achy head and unsettled stomach. It was a great relief when the session ended, but short-lived for Drent entered the practice chamber just then and detained her. Mara glanced back in concern at her as she and Connly headed for the weapons room.

“Yes?” Laren asked Drent.

For a moment he just stared at her, then said, “It looks like the horse won.”