Frey by Melissa Wright Page B

found on the trail. We were still riding
too fast and I was exhausted from the mental and physical exertion
when he switched to full body attacks. By nightfall I wasn’t able
to fend off anything that came at me and he mercifully stopped the
horses beneath another hollow in the mountain. I was asleep
practically before I slid off my horse.
     
    The next morning I woke to
the sound of rock against rock. I looked around and didn’t see
Chevelle or his horse. He left me? I sat up, rubbing my sore legs and all of a sudden
the rock wall of the hollow struck me in the face.
    “ Damn it!” I screamed, my
voice a little hoarse from just waking. The wall was coming at me
again. Smack! “Okay, okay! Let me up.”
    Chevelle’s camouflage dissipated and he stood
looking at me, disappointed.
    “ Where’s your horse?” I
smirked, trying to buy some time.
    He smiled slyly as I was attacked from
behind, his horse nipping the back of my head and yanking my
hair.
    Ugh .
I swatted it away and then ran my hand over my face, sure it looked
like a rotted pear, mottled with bruising and scratch
marks.
    “ Drink this.” Chevelle
offered me a hide flagon and I took it, swallowing a mouthful
before the taste hit me.
    “ Gah, that tastes like cat
pee smells.”
    He smiled. “It will help with the
healing.”
    Why bother? I wondered. I was sure it would be another day of
bombardment with mountain fixtures… maybe whole trees this
time. Grrr … I
thought I saw him trying to hold back a smile as the irritation
flooded my face. He threw me a piece of dried meat and jumped on
his horse.
    “ You’d better get started,”
he said, “it’s going to be a long walk.”
    As he kicked his heels, I
spun toward the corner where my horse had been. Yes, had been. He was galloping
up the mountain now, just over a hundred yards away. I tried to
think quick, keep the anger from slowing me. I pulled Chevelle’s
horse by the tail with my magic, planning to stop or slow him
enough to jump on. A tree branch came from no where and smacked me
flat across the face. His horse whinnied as they rode
away.
    “ Why always the face?” I
yelled at his back.
    Thwack! A second branch, this one more like a whip, struck me from
behind. A fierce growl escaped me and I took off, running at full
speed in the direction my horse had gone.
     
    By midday, I was completely spent. I had
caught my horse but the training hadn’t let up. I was too tired to
have any anger left, but I had a sneaking suspicion Chevelle was
enjoying my “lessons.” He stopped by a patch of snow that had
gathered in a rock basin, warming it to water for the horses. He
jumped down from his horse as I melted off the side of mine and
onto a rock, my limbs like molasses. He came to sit across from me
and I flinched, expecting another attack. He smiled.
    “ Well, at least you’re
anticipating assault.”
    I didn’t have the energy for casual
banter.
    He indicated northeast as he spoke. “The
village is a few hours’ ride from here.” He retrieved a pile of
material, more clothes, from his pack and handed it across to me.
“I’ll be back in a few moments.”
    I tried to pull myself together as he strode
away. I stood, easing my clothes off, soiled and tattered from the
days of battery. The damage on my bare skin was minimal, I had
imagined much worse as I failed to block so many of the strikes. I
satisfied my ego by giving the cat pee-smelling elixir more credit
than was probably due. I put the new shirt on, soft black leather
and fitted, corseted tight around my waist. Slim, dark wool pants
and tall boots went on next and I wondered at the village we’d be
entering where black was appropriate. I could think of no one at
home who had worn black; I envisioned the dainty blond elves
dancing around in black leather and giggled.
    I glanced up and Chevelle
was there, wearing an unfathomable expression. I hurried to finish
lacing my boots and threw the cloak around my shoulders as he
placed my food