Wings of Flame by Nancy Springer Read Free Book Online Page B

only I can get on Omber—”
    He could not. Try as he might by the faint light of embers, he could not, nor did he have the strength of body to control the steed, strength to focus his Devan power. Swaying but still determined, he coaxed Omber alongside a fallen log. The stallion was confused by what was happening, starting to feel restive.
    â€œGive it up, Devan dog!” a horse-bird shouted. Enemies in the night. Kyrem suppressed his terror and ignored it.
    â€œSeda,” he said, “get on.”
    â€œBut what of you?”
    â€œDo as I say. Get on him.”
    She scrambled onto the horse from the log, dragging after her a pack full of hastily gathered gear and supplies. Kyrem had just strength enough to boost her into her place.
    â€œNow hang onto his neck and pull me up behind you.”
    â€œBehind me?” she repeated stupidly.
    â€œYes. I am going to have to hold on to you, and you are going to have to learn to ride like a Devan, lad.”
    Omber was a prince’s steed. No one except Kyrem had ever sat him to control him. By his training, no one could. Now Seda was to try.
    â€œHold on by the mane,” Kyrem directed, his head already resting against Seda’s thin shoulders.
    The long, silky black mane. She laid the pack before her and grasped it.
    â€œSqueeze with your legs just a little to send him forward.”
    Omber did not move. He felt the presence of his master on his back, but strangely; something was wrong, and though he would not rear and hurl his master off, still, why should he obey this other? He pawed the ground angrily and flung up his head, shaking it, sending mane flying.
    â€œSqueeze again, and concentrate your thoughts on going forward. It is his will against yours.”
    Stubborn determination stirred in Seda, and her jaw grew hard, the line of her lips straight and narrow. She nudged with her legs again, then yelled and kicked.
    Omber gave a stallion’s scream of rage and sprang forward from a stand into a hard gallop. Seda hung on by the mane, and Kyrem hung on to Seda. And as the girl struggled to keep her seat and her balance, her legs fastened ever tighter around the horse, urging it on and on. There was no question of control; Omber took his own course. Back to the track and down the mountain straight through the village they sped, Omber snorting, the others riding intently, silent and pale, and the cursing demon things flapping above. A few late-goers saw the blue-black horse bearing down on them, unknown riders, weird retinue, and they sprang out of the way, clutching at the talismans they wore around their necks and holding them up to ward off evil.
    â€œWe’ve marked ourselves now for certain,” Kyrem gasped.
    Seda nodded, for she had seen a pinched face peer from the shadow of a doorway. But Omber plunged on down the valley track, shying and swerving at every reaching tree, running crazily. Not until dawn did exhaustion slow him to a walk, the lather of his mad exertions shining whitely all over him, steam curling up from his flanks in the morning chill. Kyrem was leaning hard against Seda, nearly unconscious, and the girl set herself to learn on her own how to handle the beast that strode under her.
    She came to understanding with Omber gradually, directing him with the tug at the mane, with the pressure of one hand against his neck, with the pressure of the opposite heel against his belly, bending him to the way of her choosing, with the shifting and settling of her body weight, and above all, with the focusing of her will. A sense grew in her slowly that was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a sense of power. It sang in her, and she listened, unbelieving. Her, power? She had always been powerless in every way and shut off from all Vashtin magic. She who had always had to struggle even for scraps to eat, she could not believe she was controlling the stallion between her knees.
    â€œIt is in your blood,” Kyrem