The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 5 - Fighting Like a Girl

"Move yer bones, slug-a-bed! Yer snoring the day away!"

Rhoz dragged herself from the depths of sleep. She knew that her muscles would protest painfully if she moved, but young Drawyn's kicks would become harder and harder until she complied.

"Leave off," she growled as menacingly as she could manage, pushing herself into a sitting position in the straw. A horse whinnied and kicked his stall. Cloudy, most likely -- he was almost as impatient as his master, who was standing over her, his arms folded over his chest.

"Yer not in yer fine mansion now, yer lordship," Drawyn taunted. Being only a year older than she was, he derived immense enjoyment in ordering her about. "You needs must earn yer keep."

"Do not call me that!" she hissed. "My name is Pym." 'Pym' -- short for 'Pymak' -- was her grandfather's name, in common use everywhere in the Greater Kyndom.

She scrambled to her feet and began to see to the horses. Most of them were in summer pasture, no longer in need of feeding and daily mucking out. Not that this meant more leisure for her. After the dozen animals remaining in the stable were tended, there would be leather to sew, firewood to stack, and water to haul.

She winced as she lifted the full water pails, but the effort was not the agony it had been at first. She had hardened since her arrival just over two moons ago, and her hands no longer bled.

Long-legged Cloudy, young Drawyn's fiery dapple grey gelding, always ready for a run; the phlegmatic bay Lucky, whose chief preoccupation was his stomach; elegant Swan, a pure white mare whose high-stepping gait would grace any procession: Rhoz greeted each horse by name as she filled their mangers with hay and poured fresh water, adding a friendly pat before she moved on. When she came to Panax, she lingered as long as she dared, rubbing his ears and conversing with him like a human friend.

When the elder Drawyn discovered that she could not ride, he had brought Panax in from summer pasture, observing that he had more common sense than most people, and would keep her out of trouble. Moreover, his stubby legs shortened the distance she would have to fall. Young Drawyn, who judged a horse only by its speed, referred to Panax contemptuously as "that yellow nag"; but Rhoz loved his saffron-coloured coat, set off by a silvery mane and tail which reminded her of her own hair before her transformation into Master Pym. Panax was inclined to be stubborn, and Rhoz often thought he laughed at her, but she loved him. She fancied that her every word held important meaning for him. Her riding was still wobbly, but despite the bumps and bruises, she could never get enough.

She looked forward to the nights when it was her turn to sleep in the barn. She would sit quietly with her back braced against the wall, listening to the horses stirring and munching in the darkness. It was then that she would take out her rune stones. She kept the bag tucked between her bound breasts, with a thong around her neck to guard it from loss. Hekla had not had time to teach her much lore, but she had learned to spell a little. She had been astonished to discover that she was not named after a decorative flower, as she thought, but shared the name of the primordial mare whose rune stood first in the Great Order. Rhoz was a powerful name, Hekla told her, held by both men and women over countless generations.

Sometimes, as she was playing with the stones, one of them would seem warmer than the others. More often than not, it was Zega, the gate signifying opportunity; each time she touched it, she resolved to make the most of her new life. She had already experienced more, learned more, and survived more than she had dreamed possible.

She had hidden two other trinkets among the runes, carefully wrapped in scraps of cloth. During her convalescence in the walls of Muktarshold, she had discovered a hidden entrance to her bedchamber. She had taken the opportunity to pilfer the heirloom pin she had received at her coming-of-age ceremony, as well as her silver locket containing a miniature portrait of Arabelle. Even though she intended to leave every trace of her old self behind, she felt the need for some reminder of who she once was.