The Lady's Choice (14 page)

The waves swept in from the ocean and surged up the beach to ripple against Flaire's hooves. The stallion shied to avoid the water and stumbled over a rock. Suddenly Benae was flying through the air. She landed on her back, the reins still in her hands and lay there, unable to breathe. Shooting pain slammed through her skull along with panic but she was momentarily confused–she wasn't hurt, was she? A scream rent the air along with another burst of pain through her skull and she turned in time to see Flaire hobbling towards her, his left foreleg hanging limply.

‘No, Flaire, no!' Benae cried, careening towards her horse as he again tried to place weight on the damaged limb. She threw her arms around his neck to ensure he stayed still, and great tremors wracked his body. He stood with his head down, blowing, sweat dripping from his neck and flanks.

Gently Benae touched his injured foreleg, hardly daring to breathe as she probed the bones and sent a flow of spirit into the limb. Agony seared through her mind and she gasped. He had broken it! Benae fell to her knees, cradling the injured leg in her hands and placing her forehead against his leg above the knee.

‘Oh Flaire,' she said. ‘I am so sorry.'

Flaire nickered softly and nuzzled her head. He was always more concerned about her than about himself. Tears sprang to her eyes in response to the surge of love and confidence that flowed to her from the horse. He believed she would fix the leg! Her heart skipped a beat as she contemplated the extent of the injury. Could she heal such a catastrophic break? She had never attempted a bone repair of this nature before. A sob tore through her. She had to try even though her recent record was abysmal; even though the largest break she had fixed on anyone before had been a finger bone.

‘What was I thinking, Flaire?' she grumbled. ‘We should never have been galloping where we were not sure of the footing. I am so sorry.' She let his leg down gently and rose to kiss his forehead. He pressed it against hers. If the horse died because of this . . . she simply would not allow herself to imagine that.

Drawing together the shreds of her courage, Benae dropped once more to the sand and clasped both hands around Flaire's injured cannon bone. She constructed a weave that would numb some of the pain from the damaged limb and Flaire relaxed. Benae closed her eyes and formed the delicate weave of spirit that would knit bones, moving the displaced bone fragments back into place with the help of pressure from her hands. One fragment was stubborn, refusing to move. Flaire pulled his leg away but Benae soothed him with words and thought.

‘Be strong, my brave stallion.' She took a deep breath, swallowing the fear that rose in her. She would succeed, she must. She could not lose Flaire too!

The fragment clicked into place and she let out her breath, forcing the tremor from her fingers, willing her heart to beat slowly, concentrating on knitting the bones. Sweat poured from her, wetting her gown and making her shiver in the blustery conditions. Flaire nudged at her shoulder, his love and faith bringing fresh tears to her eyes. What if she could not make the healing firm enough to walk on? Injuries like these were disastrous, unhealable, weren't they? She closed her eyes, delving into the wound, checking the bones she had knitted. They were not full strength but perhaps it would be enough to get him back to the castle. Benae wove one last healing and placed the hoof gently back on the ground.

Flaire gingerly tested the leg. Benae registered a dim ache from the injury but not the shooting stabs of agony that the stallion had experienced before. She breathed a ragged sigh as relief crashed over her. That suffering had nearly been her undoing.

‘All will be well, valiant friend,' she said, calming him with her hands, ‘but I will not ride you until strength has returned.' Perhaps her skills remained intact? Perhaps Ramón was right? There were some things she could not heal. She had done her best with her parents and her brother but she was not a worker of miracles.

The thought of Ramón shot a spear of anxiety into her heart. She could not bed him and stay true to Jiseve, and Ramón would not agree anyway. He had too much respect for both her and Jiseve to allow it. He was strong where she was weak. She listened to her desires while Ramón carefully thought through his decisions and sought the best course for all. The queen was wrong. Benae could not have both Jiseve and Ramón. It was just not right. Benae knew that she must choose one or the other but could she live without Ramón? Could her people survive without her alliance with Jiseve?

She howled in frustration. Casting her eyes to the heavens, Benae began a prayer to the Goddess.

‘Holy Mother, look down upon your daughter and give her solace. Bless her with your wisdom so that she might make the right decision for all. Guide—'

A strange keening interrupted Benae's prayer and it seemed to be coming from the sea. She looked out to the waves, realising Flaire's accident had occurred close to the rocky causeway that jutted out into the sea. Yes, the sound was coming from the waves. Fascinated, Benae led Flaire out onto the rocks, ignoring the part of her mind that urged caution. The sound could not go unheeded. She turned her head this way and that in an attempt to judge the direction of the keening. The strange song seemed to come from the very waves themselves. A larger wave rolled over the causeway, startling Benae and wetting her slippers. The waves had become angry cliffs of foaming whitecaps. The advancing storm rolled out of the south, dark grey clouds that seemed to rear over her. But the song continued. Benae could not be concerned for the storm or her safety when such notes trembled in the air, apparently formed of her very emotions: grief, anxiety, frustration, fear. They were all there in the song.

As she stood transfixed, concentrating on the music and oblivious to the choppy seas that snapped at the rocks like angry dogs, a freak wave crashed over the causeway. Benae was knocked off her feet and swept over the side. The shock of the cold water made her gasp and she inhaled a mouthful of the sea even as her hand clamped on the reins. The wet leather halted her headlong rush into the waves but her body slammed against the rocks of the causeway wall. Through the fog of choking, cold and fear she realised she had to keep a grip on her lifeline. Flaire would drag her from the sea. She concentrated on trying to breathe but her throat had closed, her body shocked by the salty invasion. When she did draw breath, a stab of pain shot through her chest.

A swirling wall of water hit her and she lost her grip on the reins but managed to grab hold of a rock in the wall of the causeway to stop herself from being washed away. Now most of her body was submerged in the freezing sea. Dimly she watched Flaire dance to the very edge of the causeway, his muscles bunched as if he would leap in after her. She prayed for both their sakes that his training would keep him frozen in position above.

Terror gripped Ramón as he whipped his horse through the forecourt of Wildecoast castle and tore into the crowds that always milled before its gates. Benae was out there somewhere, perhaps lost or injured. Pressure mounted in his chest and his heart beat faster than a tiny bird's. Having returned from his parent's estate mid-afternoon, he had been told that Benae had gone riding after her final dress fitting. She had now been absent for over an hour. How could she think it appropriate for her to leave the castle unaccompanied? What had made her take such a terrible risk?

He could not wait for the search party that was massing in the yard. Benae was
his
responsibility and he could not lose her too.
Thank the Goddess she is with Flaire!
Where would she go? He had no idea where to start except to make his way out of the city. The crowds in the streets frustrated him, townsfolk scurrying to and fro as they retreated to their homes amidst the squally conditions. They continually leapt into his path as he hurled headlong through the streets. When he almost flattened a small boy, Ramón pulled his horse over to the shelter of a wall. It was no good. He would kill someone this way. He forced himself back into the centre of the street, restraining his horse to a brisk walk, avoiding further close shaves as he wove his way through the dwindling pedestrians to the city's gate. The guards were clustered in the watch house, likely around a fire by now, and the lone soldier waved him through.

At last he was free and he touched his heels to his mount, wishing for the first time that he wore spurs. But where should he search? If he were Benae, where would he go? The beach? Perhaps. There was nothing like a gallop along the beach to clear the cobwebs from long days of being cooped up indoors.

Ramón changed course and headed for the cliffs, pulling his horse up in a flurry of rocks at the edge of the precipice. He peered up and down the beach but visibility was poor and the rain in his eyes wouldn't allow him to focus for long. He dismounted and used his horse as a windbreak, shielding his eyes as he peered first to the north and then to the south. Finally, a gust of wind cleared the sea spray for a moment and he spied movement on the causeway. Was it a horse? A grey horse? If it was, he had seen no rider. A cold hand clutched his heart and squeezed. Physical pain seared his sternum. He threw himself onto his mount and galloped to the nearest path down to the beach. Benae must be alive, she must be safe.Ramón's reckless plunge down the steep and treacherous cliff path nearly unseated him a half-dozen times but with each slip he managed to claw his way back onto the saddle. His mount's familiarity with the trail was the difference between life and death. Reckless did not begin to describe his descent but he reached the cliff base in one piece and whipped the reins against his horse's neck to send him galloping towards the causeway. Every so often another swirling gust would clear the sea spray and he could see there was a horse on the rocky jetty. It was Flaire but where was Benae? He prayed his mount would not stumble in the wet sand. Rocks jutted up through the sand at intervals and a fall could easily spell disaster.

Finally he arrived at the base of the causeway and shouted to Flaire. The stallion whipped around, whinnying, his reins dangling below his head, but did not move towards him. Benae was nowhere to be seen. Flaire turned back to the swirling waves below his feet and threw his head down, his nostrils flaring, and eyes wild. His low nickering tore through Ramón. Benae must have fallen into the sea!

At first Ramón did not see her but then a flash of dark hair caught his eye. There she was, almost submerged, only her head poking from the water, the weight of her cloak and gown tugging at her. She could not resist forever. Already she was being dragged in so that waves periodically broke over her head. He approached Flaire cautiously, not wanting to spook the distressed creature or to be knocked aside. He reached out his hand and laid it on the stallion's shoulder, felt the muscles shudder under his fingers. With soothing words, Ramón moved his hand up to the horse's neck and then secured the reins.
Can I count on him to remain where he is and provide an anchor as I pull Benae free?
The stallion was out of his mind with fear – a precarious moment for Ramón to have to depend upon him. But there was no choice.

He wrapped the reins around his left hand and stepped off the causeway, slipping down the first two levels of rocks and then moving further down, closer to Benae. The reins pulled him up short and he shouted to her. She turned her head, her green eyes blazing up at him through the tendrils of hair plastered on her face.

‘Hold on, Benae. I think I can reach you.'

A wave crashed over the causeway, nearly carrying Ramón with it. The only thing that kept him from being swept away was his grip on the reins and the solid mountain of horseflesh above him. As the water ebbed, he sought frantically for Benae but she still clung to the jagged rocks, just out of reach. Her eyes fluttered closed, her chest heaving with the exertion of fighting the water.

He eased himself into a sitting position and tugged on the reins so that Flaire moved a step closer to the edge. Stretching out his fingertips, he reached down. ‘Benae, take one hand off the rock and reach for my fingers. I'll pull you up.'

She looked up at him and he watched the muscles of her throat as she swallowed, saw the redness the salt water had washed into her eyes. She was nearing her limit. Soon she would slip from his reach and then the sea would take her. He couldn't lose her!

‘Undo your cloak!'

With agonising slowness, Benae took one hand from the rock and fumbled at her throat for the clasp. Ramón took a ragged breath as the heavy material slipped from Benae's shoulders. He stretched his fingers as far as he could towards her.

‘Grab my hand!' He wiggled his fingers and she stretched out, their fingertips brushing, but a wave swirled up and away at that moment and Benae clutched the rock again to prevent herself from being washed off.

When the water subsided, she again let go of the rock with her left hand and reached for him. Again, only their fingers touched and Ramón could not get a proper grip. He tugged on the reins again but the stallion had planted his feet on the causeway and could not be coaxed any closer to the edge. Ramón ground his teeth.
Stupid horse.

‘Hold tight, I'm coming down.'

He watched Benae grip the rock and then he released the reins and descended the slippery rocks, falling rather than climbing down until he rested beside her. She gripped his hand as though she would never release it. Her lips were blue and her chest heaved with the exertion of holding on.

Ramón slipped the fingers of his left hand into a crevice and gripped Benae's upper arm. ‘Climb up. I will help you.' He hauled with all his strength and Benae climbed rock by rock until she could reach the reins. Once she had them in her grasp, Flaire backed across the causeway, hauling her the rest of the way to the top.
Now the horse chooses to cooperate!

Benae collapsed gasping at the hooves of her mount, Flaire nuzzling her head.

Now for me
. Ramón removed his right foot from the crevice it had slid into and began searching blindly for a foothold further up the rocks. As he searched, his left foot slipped and before he could steady himself, Ramón slid a pace lower until most of his body was submerged. The rocks were slimy here and he could not get a decent foot or handhold. As he scrambled for purchase, he glanced up at Benae. Her eyes were wide and she was on hands and knees shouting for him to hold on. She glanced at something behind him and shouted but it was lost as a wall of water engulfed him, tearing at his body and plucking him from the rocks. He had the presence of mind to take a gulp of air before the water closed over his head and then a blinding pain seared through the left side of his skull. Everything went black.

Benae knelt, frozen, on the causeway, her fingers gripping the rocks at its edge as she searched frantically for some sign of Ramón. What good to rescue her if she lost him? The reins were too short but perhaps if she had a rope she could tie it around herself and leap in after him, then have Flaire pull them out. She pushed herself to her feet, not wanting to take her eyes off the churning water.
Hold on, my love.

She fumbled through Flaire's saddlebags and came up with nothing. A sob escaped her throat and she pounded the saddle with her fist, not even noticing the pain. Her eyes fell upon Ramón's mount, twenty paces away and she sent Flaire a mental picture to stay put before running to the other horse. Her gown hung heavy around her and she was colder than she could ever remember being; her teeth chattered, her limbs felt sluggish.
Too sluggish! Keep moving!

Movement would warm her up and it was the only thing that would save Ramón. She slowed as she reached the horse so as not to startle him and fumbled through the saddlebags. Two coils of thin rope lay inside.
Thank the Goddess!

She jogged back with the coils and stripped out of her gown and petticoats until she stood only in her chemise and pantaloons. She tied the two ropes together in a knot that would not slip, tied an end to herself and the other to Flaire's saddle, all the while sending him soothing messages and showing him what she, and later he, must do. He whinnied, on the edge of panic. He was not happy that she was going to leap back into the churning water. But she could not allow Ramón to drown. If he did, there would be no point to life anyway.

Benae peered towards the spot where she had last seen Ramón, the deepening twilight hampering her sight.
There!
A flash of red tunic bloomed out of the dimness and her heart quailed. He was almost too far to reach with this rope if she was any judge. She climbed over the edge of the causeway and began her perilous descent down the wet rocks. Benae took a breath and jumped in. It was so cold; the air whooshed from her lungs. She trod water and flung the rope behind her then struck off into the churning ocean. It was almost impossible to see anything down at water level so she kept swimming, trusting her sense of direction to lead her to him.

The rope pulled her up and she trod water as she searched for Ramón. He was still a pace out of reach but at least he floated face-up. She could not tell if his chest was moving. Benae hauled on the rope but no more length was forthcoming. She cast a plea to her horse. Nothing but fear came back to her. Poor Flaire had reached the limit of his bravery. She smacked the water before her in frustration and a sob, like the cry of a wounded animal, broke from her. Ramón floated before her just out of reach, blood oozing from a wound on his left temple. She started paddling the water away from in front of her and he floated a hand closer. Frantically she bailed the water before her but each time she brought him closer, the waves would take him from her.

Benae paused, exhausted by her paddling and from her efforts to stay afloat in the rough sea. The strange keening song that had drawn her onto the causeway in the first place echoed across the water and Ramón slowly floated over to her. Benae stared, unable to understand what was happening, the song setting her nerves on edge. A large tail flicked out of the water then disappeared.
I must be more exhausted than I thought.
But Benae didn't have time to ponder further as she grasped Ramón and placed her hand against his neck. A pulse beat there, fast but faint.
I might still lose him!
She flipped over onto her back and drew Ramón against her then began to kick towards the shore, moving parallel to the causeway. It was difficult to find the energy to communicate with Flaire but she sent him mind messages, asking him to walk back along the causeway towards the beach. After a handful of kicks, the rope drew taught, stopping her motion towards the shore. Flaire had not moved. She snapped out a command through the mind link and got nothing back so she barked out another. A sluggish response trickled back.

Haul us in, you great lump of lard! she cursed at him.

Harsh
, came back his thought. At least, that was how she interpreted it.

A gentle pressure gripped her chest as Flaire plodded back along the causeway and hauled them towards the shore. Benae kept kicking to maintain her distance from the rocks but was so cold she couldn't feel her legs or arms. It seemed an eternity until she felt the hard, coarse sand beneath her buttocks. Without the buoyancy the water provided, resistance was greater and the rope cut into her unmercifully as Flaire continued to haul them up the beach. She flashed a quick request to stop her horse and the pressure on her ribs ceased. She rolled Ramón onto his side and screamed when pain flashed from her cold, cramped muscles.

Ramón was so still she feared she had lost him. She braced herself to deal with another wave of pain and pulled herself into a sitting position, placing her hand at his throat. Relief hit her like a hammer. His heart still beat. She placed a hand over Ramón's chest and forehead. At first her delving failed and cold panic flooded her mind.
Breathe deeply. You can do this. You
must
do this!
She steadied her breathing and sought deep inside for the spark of spirit she had left, sending it spiralling into Ramón's still form. It curled around his heart and infiltrated his lungs, pushing a wave of water from his mouth. He coughed and heaved a great breath, but his heart still barely beat out its faint rhythm, even though her delving had not detected any fault in the vital organ.
His head then
. Exhaustion swept over her. It was too much, all too much. The task was beyond her. Flaire nuzzled her hair and snorted his glorious warm breath against her cheek. His thoughts were of sunlight and galloping and love and she was momentarily distracted from the cold and fear. The spirit within her sparked anew and she sent it sweeping through Ramón's skull.
There!
It was fractured at the site of his injury. A large swelling pushed his brain aside and the pressure was growing.