Small Magic

[Josette]

Years of training, and years of survival, tore through Josette at the question. Her spine went rigid, blue eyes narrowing, right hand crossing her body to grip the sword on her left hip. "Where?" she barked.

Nicolette pointed, and Josette's sharp gaze followed her finger. It was not until she had been watching for a full thirty seconds that she finally relaxed. The horses that loped toward her were riderless; there was no approaching army, and they had not ridden into an ambush. Instead, they had ridden into a herd of wild horses.

"Look at them!" Nicolette squealed. She dropped her reins, cupped both hands to her chest, and nearly hummed with excitement. "I have been riding the province for years, and I have never seen wild horses before. This is incredible."

And it was. Even Josette found herself awestruck, slowly releasing her hold on her sword's hilt. "I have never seen wild horses either," she mumbled. "I always hoped to."

The gray gelding eased up beside the bay, Nicolette flashing her new friend a smile. "Today is your lucky day."

Together, the pair observed in silence. There were nearly thirty horses in all, their colors ranging from inky blacks to shimmering, golden palominos. At the same time she heard Nicolette coo, Josette spotted five young foals. They could only be a few months old, confident on their impossibly thin legs, but still plodding close to their mothers. Their pitiful slips of tail were not long enough to ward off flies, but they still flicked back and forth cheerfully.

The knight had seen so much evil in her life. She had witnessed violence, death, and loss for as long as she could remember, and at the young age of thirteen, she had played her own role in it. But the scene before her was so innocent, so genuine, so good; her heart swelled with it.

Perhaps that explained the pure fury that exploded within her when she spotted the massive gray monster. It crept on all fours, hunched close to the earth, its feline tail snapping through the air like a whip. It was larger than a mountain lion, perhaps four hundred pounds, and five foot tall at the shoulder. It was still six hundred feet off, by her best estimate, but she could imagine its beady eyes honing in on the baby horses. When Josette turned back to the herd, she watched a pair of fuzzy foals peel off, and chase each other closer to her. Closer to the beast.

"What is that?" Nicolette demanded, having turned to follow her companion's gaze.

Josette spat her answer. "A Cassarian. They are carnivores that prey on just about anything they can find. They are more or less enormous cats." She eased her sword from its sheath with a metallic hiss. "Has Maxum seen any combat?"

"You are going after it?" Nicolette's concern for the horses, as fierce as it was, was eclipsed by her concern for her escort. "The horses will protect themselves, will they not?"

With a sharp tug of the reins, the mercenary startled her mount from the lazy lull he had fallen into. "Cassarians stalk their pray in complete silence. If this one sticks close to the cliffs, in the shadows, it could get close enough before the horses even realize." She could not take that chance. She could not let the evil win again.

[Nicolette]

There was no chance for Nicolette to argue. Horrified, she watched Josette plunge her heels into Maxus' side. The gelding leapt forward, muscles rippling beneath his brown coat, surging into the space between the Cassarian and the herd. Josette hardly moved in the saddle, her rigid posture an outward expression of her entire being. The blade she extended to her side gleamed dangerously in the sun.

It was all happening too fast for Nicolette. She preferred to meticulously plan, ensuring that nothing could possibly go wrong. Josette had not provided her with the opportunity to do so, and as she saw the knight draw closer to the gray beast, she could only imagine the terrible possibilities.

Josette, however, had let her mind go entirely blank. She was driven only by anger, and the raw power that rumbled beneath her. When she heard the approaching hoofbeats behind her, her temper mounted. Why was Nicolette following her? "Get back!" she shouted, glancing over her shoulder at the other woman. But it was not the advisor, or her gray horse, that she found.

It was an enormous buckskin mare. She fell in stride beside Maxum, but at seventeen hands, or sixty eight inches from the withers, she dwarfed the shorter gelding. Her black mane and tail, accented with thin strands of white, flapped wildly, and her large ears were laced to her skull. Anger, power, and control rolled off the incredible horse as she dug in, found another burst of speed, and galloped past. It was fortunate that her mount was able to remain focused, as Josette was nearly rendered dumbstruck at the sight.

The other horse reached the Cassarian first, issuing a shrill squeal of warning as she lashed out with her hind legs. The attack did not land, as a short distance and small stream still separated them, but the message was clear - come any closer, and you will have to go through me. Perhaps Nicolette had been right, and the herd could fend for itself.

But when the Cassarian slashed out at the mare, a low, threatening growl issuing a challenge of its own, Josette admitted to herself she could not stand idly by. Her right leg swung up over the front of the saddle, allowing her to slide easily to the earth. She dedicated a moment to ensuring the reins would not slip over Maxus' head, then gave the gelding a firm pat on rear. "Go!" she shouted at him, and was relieved to see him lope back toward the waiting Nicolette. It was a well-trained horse indeed, and she would be sure to thank the Boyar for that when she returned.

[Josette]

Now the woman turned back to the fight, her shoulders squared, her right hand white-knuckling the hilt of her sword. The stream that babbled to her right was perhaps ten feet wide, and only a handful of feet deep. A few silvery fish moseyed just beneath the surface, completing what might be a paradise under other circumstances. Josette, already prepared for war, saw only an opportunity.

She hated magic, and had for as long as she could remember. It was far less reliable than cold steel, and affected reputations in a way that simple swordsmanship never had; entire populations of people shunned those who dabbled in such "witchcraft." And after watching a mercenary group level a town using magic, her reservations were stronger than ever. Yet she knew she would be a fool not to use her abilities when the situation demanded it.

So when the Cassarian finally lunged, his front paws plunging into the water that flowed from a crack in the cliff-face, Josette slipped into her sleeping mind. That was what her teachers had called it, training her to picture the the tranquil pool, and dive within it to unlock the magic lurking beneath the surface. When she opened her eyes, everything was hazy, as if she were peering through water.

And the beast began to slow. It was as if the water had suddenly grown thicker, like a viscous soup rather than a free-flowing stream. The Cassarian's strangled cry of outrage echoed off the cliff-face, but sounded muffled and distant to Josette, whose head pounded with the ferocity of a full-fledged migraine. Such awful side effects were yet another reason why she disliked magic.

Time was passing, and even in her fog, she knew she could not wait any longer. The great cat was not halted completely, and in a matter of seconds, it would have reached the other side of the stream. Her face contorted in pain, each step taking far too much effort, she closed the distance between herself and the Cassarian. Its tail darted back and forth madly, snarling as it struggled to control its own feet, which refused to move as they should. But despite its anger, the monster could not react fast enough to dodge her attack. Her head throbbed, her muscles screamed, but she was able to rake her blade across the cat's side.

At the same time she drew her sword back, the Cassarian reached the opposite bank. Her physical ailments fell away instantly, though she was left trembling from the exertion. Her opponent, on the other hand, did not appear at all fazed by her attack. As soon as it was on solid ground, it whirled on her, fangs bared. Defend yourself, her mind screamed, but she could not compose herself enough to summon a protective magic-barrier. Instead, she tumbled back, sword slipping from her grasp as her arms windmilled helplessly. As she finally toppled over, splashing back into the water, she felt the Cassarian's hungry eyes following her.

[Nicolette]

"Josette!" Nicolette's shrill scream carried, but no one appeared to hear her. The herd stood as still as stone carvings, their attention never wavering from their buckskin champion. Willem and Maxus did the same, their tall ears not even flickering at the sound of her voice. There was too much to see, too much at stake. As the Cassarian readied to pounce, and the knight collapsed into the water, Nicolette spurred her own horse into life. She was an expert horsewoman, but in her panic, she was nearly bounced out of her saddle. One hand worked to shove her wind-knotted hair from her eyes, and the other clutched the reins for dear life.

What did she plan to do when she reached them? She had no real answer, and struggled to put any coherent thought together. She took her time. She prepared. She planned. Yet here she was, galloping half-cocked into a place she had no business being. Did she throw herself between the warring parties, or ride directly at the Cassarian?

The herd's leader made her choice for her. The golden mare gave a shrill cry of anger, sharp enough to startle birds from the nearby trees, as she threw her weight backward. She reared, her front hooves thrashing, sharper and more lethal than daggers. In his fascination with the human, the Cassarian had turned its back to the buckskin. Now, it would pay dearly for it.

The mighty horse fell back to the earth with force that seemed to shake the ground itself. Caught beneath the mare's weight, the cat gave a strangled cry of pain, attempting, in vain, to claw itself away. By the time she was done with it, high stepping a few steps backward, the Cassarian lay, trembling, on the side of the stream. With one final plunge of the sword, Josette drew its last breath from it.

Nicolette remained atop Willem. Her heard galloped in her chest, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps, but she was alive. So was Josette. And as she watched the two warriors turn to face each other, she was overcome by the sheer weight of it all. Her hands shook, and as she slid from the saddle, still one hundred feet from the dead Cassarian, her legs swayed like the leaves on the trees.

[Josette]

As they caught and held each other's gaze, Josette was unsure what she would find in the horse's wide, brown eyes. Anger, perhaps, still smoldering despite the removal of the threat. Maybe fear, or confusion, or panic, considering that such emotions still pulsed through her. But what she found startled her.

Curiosity.

The mare regarded her with the same gentle inquisitiveness as she might watch her own spirited foal. Her paper-thin nostrils flared, and ears that seemed just a touch to big for her head swerved toward Josette. She nickered a soft greeting, and with a gentle nod of her head, allowed the girl to approach.

"Oh, sweet thing," Josette murmured, finally noticing the halter that adorned her large head. It was worn leather, a shade nearly identical to her own light brown, which explained why the knight had missed it before. Drawing nearer, hesitant hands lifted to frame the horse's face. When the mare did not shy away, Nicolette pressed both palms to her cheeks. They moved in gentle circles, working to calm them both. She only paused when her fingertips kissed cool metal. It was a nameplate, secured with two tiny screws, and bright gold in color.

"Arianne," she breathed.

"What?" Both Josette and Arianne turned at the sound of Nicolette's voice. They found her standing a few paces off. Her skin was bereft of color, and her blonde bangs were plastered to her forehead. Looking at her, Josette realized how calming the horse's presence had been, as she had looked like that only moments before.

The raven-haired woman motioned her friend closer. "This is Arianne," she explained. "Her name is on the halter she is wearing."

"She is wearing a halter?" The disapproval in her tone mirrored Josette's own reaction to it. No wild horse should wear a halter. Were it to catch on something, it would be dangerous, and it could not possibly be comfortable to wear. Slowly, carefully, Nicolette took Arianne's face in her hands. As Josette had, she gave the horse a few gentle rubs, before moving to unclasp the halter.

Both girls stumbled backward as the mare suddenly threw her head. She took three hurried steps back, shaking her head furiously in an eerily human gesture of objection. Nicolette spoke first. "That," she muttered, "is an incredibly intelligent horse."

Josette glanced from Arianne to Nicolette, and then asked, "why do you say that? Because she did not want her halter removed?"

"No." Then Nicolette shook her head, raking a hand through her tangle of blonde hair. "Well, yes," she amended, "but not only that. I also felt it. Heard it, somehow."

Suddenly understanding, Josette nodded knowingly. "Horses are strange," she mused aloud, in her voice that was slower, and nearly a full octave lower than her companion's. "Sometimes, it seems like they really understand us. And we understand them." She had experienced this herself, a long time ago, with a horse had that looked a bit like Willem. "An unspoken bond."

[Nicolette]

"Well, yes," Nicolette repeated, her weight shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "That is all true. But," her voice trailed, hands motioning helplessly. "It was more than that. I thought I heard something, when I touched her just then. It was a sort of voice."

Josette, the well-trained soldier she was, tensed. Her fingers crept toward her sword. When she realized it still lay on the ground, where she had dropped it after the fight, she hurried to scoop it up. "What did the voice sound like?"

"It sounded like my voice." Even as the words fled her lips, the shame colored the blonde's fair cheeks. Hearing herself speak, Nicolette realized just how absurd the notion truly was. She only made matters worse when she added, clumsily, "in my head."

A moment passed, Nicolette chewing on her bottom lip, Josette slowly wiping the blood and water from her blade, and Arianne observing them both. "Has this happened before?" the knight finally asked. Judging from the girl's reaction, Josette figured that the answer was no. Still, it was worth asking. When Nicolette shook her head, Josette continued. "I have learned never to question, or doubt, the reaches of magic." Her voice was low, her tone level, almost sagely. I have seen seen great power, she thought, and I have done terrible things. Who am I to think less of you? "Whatever this magic is, I am the last person who should pass judgment."

"Magic?" Nicolette gaped back, her mouth open, her amber eyes wide with surprise. "You think this is magic? That I am magical?"

Josette chuckled despite herself, returning her blade to its place on her hip. "You are certainly something, if what you say is true. Magical, I suppose, is as good a description as any." Her right hand now free, she motioned to the buckskin, who waited patiently beside them. "You could try it again, if you would like to."

As if to encourage the girl, the mare took a graceful step forward. Her head extended on her long, thick neck, offering herself to the young woman's touch. With a small frown of concentration, Nicolette pressed her palms to the horse's soft nose. Her eyes slipped closed, and as she focused on nothing but the warmth of Arianne's breath, she heard a single word, echoing in her own voice.

"Follow."

Her eyes flew open, and though she scrambled backward, Arianne appeared to take no offense. To Josette, who had been watching expectantly, Nicolette said, "she wishes for us to follow her."

Josette cocked an eyebrow, though from interest, more than skepticism. "She told you that?"

"I-I think so. That is what I heard, at least." To demonstrate her approval, Arianna began to walk away from the girls, away from her herd. She picked her way neatly across the stream, her steps high, her long tail grazing the surface of the water. When the other horses began to follow, Nicolette and Josette realized it was time to move. Hurried strides carried them back their own horses, where they mounted, and trotted after their leader.

[Josette]

Half an hour passed in relative silence. Nicolette remained distracted by her possible new ability, wondering how she had come to acquire it, and how it might change her reputation among fellow Salvarians. Josette, on the other hand, played back her fight with the Cassarian. Had the mare not been there, there was a very good likelihood that she would have fallen to those sharp claws and shaper teeth. Her wet clothes, drying slowly in the midday sun, were a cruel reminder of how poorly she had performed. Her shortcomings where magic was concerned had greatly hindered her swordsmanship, which she considered her greatest strength. It was with some annoyance that she finally admitted defeat; she required more practice in magic, regardless of how badly she wished to avoid it.

When Arianne finally slowed to a halt, both girls withdrew from their thoughts to survey their new surroundings. They were at what appeared to be the pointed end of the plateau. A wide, sunlit plain extended out from the other side of the landmark, and the humans were so intrigued by the sight that they nearly missed Arianne before she disappeared from view. That, perhaps, was the entire point of the cave's location - to distract, and better hide it. By the time they glanced up, only her rear was visible, seeming to disappear into the wall itself.

"Do not lose her," Josette commanded, but Nicolette was already off her horse, and jogging after. Her escort followed, her eyes narrowing to adjust for the dim lighting. The cavern was carved into the side of the cliff's steep face. It was tall, and had to be to accommodate for the mare's impressive height, but it was neither wide, nor deep. Josette stretched out her hands, fingers fumbling along the jagged wall. The interior was rugged, and by Josette's estimate, too much so to have been carved by recent technology. This place was either naturally formed, or carved out many, many years before.

After perhaps fifty feet, the sharp clap of hooves on rock ceased. "Now what?" Nicolette murmured, but neither of her companions had an answer for her. So she shuffled forward, hands extended. How much further did the cave extend? The enormous Arianne blocked much of the light that managed to trickle through, so it was in nearly complete darkness that she-

A curse word very unbecoming of a lady filled the small space as she ran straight into a wall. "Found the end," she managed weakly.

"Anything else?" Josette asked, her voice hopeful. She was having no better luck in her own search.

"No." The blonde paused to rub at her stinging hands, then she crouched, slowly making her way along the base of the far wall. A few minutes passed, both girls grabbing blindly for something that remained a mystery to them. Something that they could not even be sure existed.

"Why not use your ability again?" the knight suggested. "Ask Arianne what it is we are supposed to be doing."

Nicolette's answer, when it came, was bubbling with excitement. "No need. I think I found something."

Before the pair could even climb back to their feet, the mare was carefully backing her way out of the cave. Nicolette and Josette jogged after, bursting into the bright light with even brighter smiles across their dusty faces.

The advisor eased a long parcel from under her arm. It was wrapped in what appeared to be burlap, and tied tightly with frayed rope. Her fingers began to tug delicately at the knots, just in case the contents were fragile. "What do you think it is?" she breathed.

[Nicolette]

Josette already knew the answer. Even before the rope was tugged free, and the burlap fell away, she knew what she would find. She recognized the shape, the length, the way it looked as Nicolette held it out before her. And when it was finally freed from its bindings, the words slipped from her as soft and breathless as a prayer.

"A sword."

It was a massive understatement; what the young woman clutched was no usual sword. The hilt and the sheath were golden in color, lined with sharp flashes of shimmering silver and black. When Nicolette slowly drew the weapon, the blade appeared to be similar in color. It was not ornate, by any means, but the color scheme more than made up for the simple design. As she held it up, the sword reflected the light in a way that nearly blinded them both.

Glancing away from the sword, Nicolette found Josette to be in a sort of trance. The woman stared at the blade, her lips parted, her eyes wide with awe. Though the sword intrigued Nicolette, it appeared to have so much more of an impact on her friend. So she offered it to her.

"You should take this," she told her.

Josette inhaled sharply as the sword was presented to her, but after a moment of brutal hesitation, she shook her head in hard negation. "No," she countered. "You found it, you keep it."

The younger woman gave a snort, then blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Come now," she chided. "What in the world would I do with a sword? I cannot even be trusted with sharp knives around a camp fire."

Despite the joke, it was clear that her words, and her wish, were genuine. Josette gave a slow nod of approval, and with the same timidness a person might take a child into her arms, she took the sword.

"It looks good on you," Nicolette informed her.

Caught up in their exchange, the women had missed Arianne's departure. She had slipped away without any noise, any warning, her long legs carrying her back to her herd.

Horrified, Nicolette cried out. "Wait!" And the mare did, slowing to a halt, and waiting patiently for her two human charges to catch up.

Unease still lingered within the blonde, unsure of how touching the horse might affect her, but her urge to show her appreciation won out. Like a child might cling to her new pony, Nicolette threw her arms around Arianne's broad neck, and hugged her tightly. "Thank you for saving Josette and I," she mumbled, filling her lungs with the musty smell of the mare's mane. Then she stepped back, looking to Josette.

Far less forthcoming with her emotions, Josette awkwardly moved in. Her left hand tightly clutched her new sword, and her right reached to rub behind Arianne's large, fuzzy ear. The mare lowered her head to the girl's level, and as Josette pressed closer, she whispered, "thank you."

She nearly cried out when a soft, feminine voice filled her mind. "And thank you."

[Josette]

"I still have one question." Nicolette turned in her saddle to face Josette. Two more hours had been put into their journey, and once again, they were on their way to Knife's Edge.

"Just one?" came the rejoinder. "You are far better off than I am."

Nicolette smirked back. "More than one, I suppose. But one that I keep coming back to. One that really confuses me."

Josette continued to study her new sword, and without looking up, asked, "what is it?"

Her companion blew out a long breath. "Why now? If I do have some ability that allows me to speak to horses, or at least one horse, why did it start now? And why did I hear my own voice in my head, and not hers?"

"I meant to ask you about that," Josette replied, finally glancing toward her charge. "You are sure that it was your own voice that you heard?"

Nicolette nodded, her long hair falling over her shoulder. "Yes," she answered. "I know my own voice."

And I know mine, Josette mused. It was not my voice that I heard in my head. It had not been Nicolette's either. The voice had been light, airy, and seemingly very far away. It came to her like a whisper, like a dream. Had she experienced something entirely different than the Salvarian? Josette was less inclined to believe that she also acquired a new ability, as she had been told her magic was water-based. Was it the horse herself who had changed the way she was received?

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Josette glanced up to find her companion watching her, eyebrows lifted quizzically. Nicolette found so much joy, so much excitement, in her new magic. The knight had planned to share her own experience with Nicolette, informing her that she was not the only one who could talk with the horse. In that moment, she decided against it.

"I think you are something," she answered with a hint of a smile. "Talking with horses, and what-have-you. Magical is a fair description."

Nicolette beamed, all lingering doubt melting away like ice beneath a warm sun. The girl was like the sun, Josette thought again. She envied that, and she would do her best to keep her that way.

"You are quite magical too," Nicolette quipped. "I saw you using the water to slow the Cassarian down. What else can you do?"

Josette's blue eyes flashed devilishly. "Summon great waves. Raise mountains from the earth. Call down storms, the likes of which you have never seen before."

"Liar," Nicolette shot back. Then, more hesitantly, "you are lying, right?"

The older woman merely shrugged. "Perhaps," she answered, finally. "What do you think?"

"I think," the blonde answered, "that you will be unstoppable with that sword. If anything is magical, it is that thing."

Josette could only nod her agreement. Something about the sword she clutched to her chest felt very powerful. It seemed to buzz with a life of its own, and it appeared to glow just a bit too brightly, even beneath the hot sun.

"It has been a magical trip so far," Nicolette concluded, settling back in her saddle. She draped her reins over Willem's shaggy neck, and stretched her arms out wide, taking in the nature that surrounded them. She felt so at home among the hills, the trees, the rivers. The events of the day had only intrigued her more, and she knew she would have to make more time in her schedule for exploring.

Josette also reflected on changes she would soon make. Magical was just the word she would use to describe their adventure, and despite her reservations, she had enjoyed herself immensely. She had found wonder in magic, even the small magic, like a girl talking to a horse.

Perhaps, she decided, a little magic was not such a bad thing.

[Josette]

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Spoil Request: Ma, the Horse blade.

Spoiler:

High Tide Arianne ("Annie"). 1996-2017.