Riding lessons

Maybe you are not a complete waste of time

This is an installment in a serialized novel. To start at the beginning, go here or navigate from the Table of Contents.

When Hal woke, the others were already saddling their horses. He scrambled up and hurried to prepare himself, then stood around a little awkwardly. He felt that he should try to be useful, but there was little to pack or arrange in the minimal camp.

“The farmer awakes,” said Heyeh. “And I had been hoping he would sleep until midday and we would forget to bring him along.”

“We will set out soon,” said Tarsa, approaching, “and with any luck, we’ll reach Alba well before nightfall. Iyalesa,” he called, “bring over Palut.”

The young man named Iyalesa approached, leading a roan gelding. “This is Palut,” Tarsa said to Hal. “He will suit you well. He is young and valiant, but good-natured.” Tarsa nodded for Iyalesa to hand over the reins to Hal, but Iyalesa hesitated.

“Duneh!” Kamar interjected, approaching, “My brother is not long dead. Do not dishonor his memory! I cannot watch this browneyes ride his horse.”

Tarsa’s expression was hard. “Your brother is dead, Kamar. I mourned him bitterly alongside you. But who gave your brother his mount?”

“You did, duneh.”

“And now I choose Haleth son of Eryod as his rider. Do you deny me this right?”

“No, duneh.”

Hal took hold of the reins that were offered him, briefly meeting Kamar’s hostile eyes before the man turned away.

Hal looked up at the horse’s face, hoping the animal would be less averse to his presence than the humans. “Hello,” he said, “I’m Hal.” He wasn’t sure what to do next. There were some horses in his father’s stables, but Hal had kept his distance from them since childhood. He had been about Oweth’s age when a horse had thrown him, and since then he’d been happy to walk on his own two feet. Now he had run off to join a band of Veyta horsemen… his plan was seeming more and more questionable.

They were off shortly, while the long shadows of distant peaks still shaded the plains. Hal managed once again to get himself on horseback, and fortunately Palut, sensing his rider’s uselessness, followed the others without needing guidance.

After a time, Tarsa fell back to ride alongside Hal, looking out at the dusty wilderness. “The scrubland does not have the beauty of your verdances.”

“It’s… a different kind of beauty,” said Hal. There was a sort of desolate majesty to it.

“I have come to like it—to respect it,” continued Tarsa. “And you will as well, in time. But right now you are questioning your decision to leave home.”

“I…” Hal didn’t know what to say–it was the truth.

“It is to be expected,” said Tarsa. “You have doubts now, but I do not. There is something about you, Haleth son of Eryod—a light, a destiny. I can almost see it. You will play a part in shaping the future of these plains.”

Hal wasn’t sure about that, but before he could reply, Tarsa continued.

“There is a destiny on me as well. I knew it when I was a boy younger than you, when I was kept and coddled as the son of a dujun is bound to be. I knew that if once I was free of those walls, this destiny would break free.” He gestured again to the endless land around them. “I am free now, and I can feel that it is happening”

“What is happening?” Hal was confused. “What kind of destiny?”

“One that we will shape together. The path will be revealed with time.”

Hal wondered if it was Veyta custom to speak in such a cryptic way. In his family, people told each other exactly what they were thinking—sometimes a little too sincerely.

“And do not worry about the meleshi accepting you,” Tarsa continued. “Let the desert shape you, and that will come. For now,” Tarsa smiled, “focus on learning to ride a horse.” He whistled. Up ahead, Heyeh turned, and at Tarsa’s gesture she fell back to ride alongside them.

“Heyeh,” said Tarsa, “Teach him to ride. Start with how to move with the horse rather than banging along like a bag of rocks.”

“But…” Heyeh began to object.

“Heyeh is a great horsewoman,” Tarsa cut in. “She is the best rider among us. She will teach you what she knows.” This was spoken with a tone of finality, and Heyeh did not speak further, but glared silently at Hal.

Hal sighed. If he was going to stay with these people, he was going to have to get used to being glared at.

For a time after Tarsa left them, Heyeh rode silently near Hal, watching him ride with disdain.

“Do not sit so stiffly,” she barked, “and relax your hands—you do not need to grip the reins as if you are hanging on for your life.”

Hal felt like that was indeed what he was doing, but he tried to follow Heyeh’s instruction.

“No, do not slouch,” she corrected crossly, “and stop looking at the horse– watch where you are riding!” She shook her head. “It is like watching a toddler using its father’s sword.”

Hal was not surprised that these Veyta let their toddlers wield swords. “So you’ll teach me, then?” he asked.

“Of course.” Heyeh looked at him haughtily. “My brother permits debate,” she said, “but he does not suffer disobedience. You had best remember that.”

Hal received this silently.

“But I would teach you anyway, if you must ride Palut,” she continued. “He is a fine horse—born from the same mare as my Nani—and I will not have you ruin him.”

And teach him she did, as they rode toward the receding line of shadow and into the golden sun. She was a fine teacher, despite her disdain for her pupil, explaining riding techniques and talking long about proper horse care and the virtues of different kinds of feed. Yet in spite of constant effort, Hal could not seem to master Tarsa’s command to learn to move with the horse.

“You have to feel the horse moving and follow his movements,” Heyeh said in frustration, “I do not know how to explain this to a blind browneyes!”

“You use the Sight for riding?” asked Hal, confused. “How does that work?

Heyeh laughed. “You could never understand, farmer. But I suppose it can do no harm to tell you.” She considered for a moment. “When I look at something closely, I see… possibilities, paths. Some paths are stronger than others. When I ride, I can see how my horse will move, and then we move as one.”

“So you can see the future?” asked Hal, uneasy. “Does that mean you know what I’m going to say next?”

She sniffed. “I do not need the Sight to know that next you will ask more foolish questions. But no, that is not how it works. I can only see the path of the coming moment, the next instant. Though they say some Mothers can see further.”

Hal considered. That explained some of why the Veyta were such dominant fighters. From Hal’s limited experience in battle, he knew that ability to anticipate your opponent’s movements was everything. “But,” he considered, “I’ve seen Veyta do other things… move things.”

“Ah…like this?” said Heyeh.

For a moment Hal wasn’t sure what she meant. But then he saw that the dust from the feet of a horse ahead of them was rising in a small stream–coming right toward his face. He lifted his shirt to cover his mouth, coughing. “Yes, like that. How did you do that?”

Heyeh laughed, letting the cloud dissipate. “That is the work of an ashavela.”

“I’ve heard that word,” said Hal. “Your brother is one too, right?”

“Both of my brothers,” said Heyeh proudly. “It is rare to have more than one in a family. Most Veyta have only the ability to anticipate, to react. But ashavela can use the Sight to change things.”

“Okay,” said Hal, “but how exactly did you make the dust fly at me?”

“There were many paths for the dust,” Heyeh seemed to be growing impatient. “I focused upon the path of my desire, and it followed.”

“So…” Hal was considering. “Can you pick up that rock over there and make it fly? Just not at my face, please…”

Heyeh shook her head. “I cannot see a path for that. Some things are easier to move than others. But,” she raised an eyebrow, “if I threw the rock, I could make sure that it hit you.”

Hal hoped she never had reason to do so. He had more questions about the Sight, but Heyeh cut him off.

“Enough—it will do you no good to know how I ride. You will have to learn in your own blind way. Now watch how I move—your eyes should be good enough for that.”

Hal did watch as Heyeh prompted her horse into a canter. Riding over the plains in the still-golden light, her black hair streaming unbound, she looked completely at home—strong and in control, moving fluidly with the horse. And in the usually-fierce expression on her face, Hal now perceived joy. Tarsa had been right—she was different from any woman Hal had ever known, and by far the most confusing.

Dust blew again into Hal’s face—this time carried naturally by the wind. He closed his eyes, and for a few moments, kept them closed. He could feel it—the rhythm of the horse’s hooves, like a beating drum.

“There!” called Heyeh.

Hal opened his eyes, confused.

“That was it, farmer. The way you were moving with the horse. just then. Maybe you are not a complete waste of time.”

Hal smiled ruefully. He had a feeling that was the best affirmation he was going to get from this woman.