Rise of the Valiant. Morgan Rice

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Rise of the Valiant - Morgan Rice Kings and Sorcerers

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fully understand what he meant. She opened her mouth to ask him – when suddenly she sensed motion approaching.

      She turned to see Baylor, her father’s master of horse, approaching with his usual smile. A short, overweight man with thick eyebrows and stringy hair, he approached them with his customary swagger and smiled at her, then looked to her father, as if awaiting his approval.

      Her father nodded to him, and Kyra wondered what was going on, as Baylor turned to her.

      “I’m told you’ll be taking a journey,” Baylor said, his voice nasal. “For that, you’ll need a horse.”

      Kyra frowned, confused.

      “I have a horse,” she replied, looking over at the fine horse she’d ridden during the battle with the Lord’s Men, tied up across the courtyard.

      Baylor smiled.

      “That’s not a horse,” he said.

      Baylor looked to her father and her father nodded, and Kyra tried to understand what was happening.

      “Follow me,” he said, and without waiting, he suddenly turned and strode off for the stables.

      Kyra watched him go, confused, then looked to her dad. He nodded back.

      “Follow him,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”

* * *

      Kyra crossed the snowy courtyard with Baylor, joined by Anvin, Arthfael and Vidar, heading eagerly toward the low, stone stables in the distance. As she went, Kyra wondered what Baylor had meant, wondered what horse he had in mind for her. In her mind, one horse was not much different from another.

      As they approached the sprawling stone stable, at least a hundred yards long, Baylor turned to her, eyes widening in delight.

      “Our Lord’s daughter will need a fine horse to take her wherever it is she is going.”

      Kyra’s heart quickened; she had never been given a horse from Baylor before, an honor usually reserved only for distinguished warriors. She’d always dreamed of having one when she was old enough, and when she had earned it. It was an honor that even her older brothers did not enjoy.

      Anvin nodded proudly.

      “You have earned it,” he said.

      “If you can handle a dragon,” Arthfael added with a smile, “you can most certainly handle a master horse.”

      As the stables loomed, a small crowd began to gather, joining them as they walked, the men taking a break from their gathering of weapons, clearly curious to see where she was being led. Her two older brothers, Brandon and Braxton, joined them, too, glancing over at Kyra wordlessly, jealousy in their eyes. They looked away quickly, too proud, as usual, to acknowledge her, much less offer her any praise. She, sadly, expected nothing else of them.

      Kyra heard footsteps and looked over, pleased to see her friend Dierdre joining her, too.

      “I hear you’re leaving,” Dierdre said as she fell in beside her.

      Kyra walked beside her new friend, comforted by her presence. She thought back to their time together in the governor’s cell, all the suffering they had endured, escaping, and she felt an instant bond with her. Dierdre had gone through an even worse hell than she had, and as she studied her, black rings beneath her eyes, an aura of suffering and sadness still lingering about her, she wondered what would become of her. She could not just leave her alone in this fort, she realized. With the army heading south, Dierdre would be left alone.

      “I can use a traveling companion,” Kyra said, an idea forming as she uttered the words.

      Dierdre looked at her, eyes widening with surprise, and broke into a wide smile, her heavy aura lifting.

      “I was hoping you would ask,” she replied.

      Anvin, overhearing, frowned.

      “I don’t know if your father would approve,” he interjected. “You have serious business ahead of you.”

      “I won’t interfere,” Dierdre said. “I must cross Escalon anyway. I am returning to my father. I’d rather not cross it alone.”

      Anvin rubbed his beard.

      “Your father would not like it,” he said to Kyra. “She may be a liability.”

      Kyra laid a reassuring hand on Anvin’s wrist, resolved.

      “Dierdre is my friend,” she said, settling the matter. “I would not abandon her, just as you would not abandon one of your men. What is it you have always told me? No man left behind.”

      Kyra sighed.

      “I may have helped save Dierdre from that cell,” Kyra added, “but she also helped save me. I owe her a debt. I am sorry, but what my father thinks matters little. It is I crossing Escalon alone, not he. She is coming with me.”

      Dierdre smiled. She stepped up beside Kyra and linked arms with hers, a new pride in her step. Kyra felt good at the idea of having her on the journey, and she knew she’d made the right decision, whatever should happen.

      Kyra noticed her brothers walking nearby and she could not help but feel a sense of disappointment that they were not more protective of her, that they would not think to offer to join her, too; they were too competitive with her. It saddened her that that was the nature of their relationship, yet she could not change other people. She was better off anyway, she realized. They were filled with bravado, and would only do something reckless to get her in trouble.

      “I would like to accompany you, too,” Anvin said, his voice heavy with guilt. “The idea of your crossing Escalon does not sit well with me.” He sighed. “But your father needs me now more than ever. He’s asked me to join him in the south.”

      “And I,” Arthfael added. “I would like to join you, too – but I have been assigned to join the men south.”

      “And I to remain behind and guard Volis in his absence,” Vidar added.

      Kyra was touched by their support.

      “Do not worry,” she replied. “I have but a three-day ride before me. I shall be fine.”

      “You shall,” Baylor chimed in, stepping closer. “And your new horse shall make sure of it.”

      With that, Baylor pushed open wide the door to the stables, and they all followed him into the low stone building, the smell of horses heavy in the air.

      Kyra’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as she followed him in, the stables damp and cool, filled with the sound of excited horses. She looked up and down the stalls and saw before her rows of the most beautiful horses she’d ever seen – big, strong, beautiful horses, black and brown, each one a champion. It was a treasure chest.

      “The Lord’s Men reserved the best for themselves,” Baylor explained as they walked, heading down the rows with a swagger, in his element. He touched one horse here and patted another and the animals seemed to come alive in his presence.

      Kyra walked slowly, taking it all in. Each horse was like a work of art, larger than most horses she’d seen, filled with beauty and power.

      “Thanks

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