Wit'ch War by James Clemens

Author:James Clemens
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780345417107
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2000-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Elena knelt in the hay. In the dimness of the ship’s hold, the gray mare seemed more ghost than flesh. After six days at sea, the horse was still skittish, shying from everyone. Elena held out a slice of apple. “C’mere, Mist. That’s a good girl,” she urged in soft whispers. The mare refused to step nearer, even for her.

Sinking into the hay, Elena knew why Mist still balked from coming closer. Elena had grown a head taller and fuller of figure. She was not the same girl who had combed and curried the mare since she was a foal. The abrupt change in Elena’s appearance and the strangeness of the boat all tweaked the small horse’s edginess. The mare panicked whenever Elena neared, refusing even to recognize her scent.

From the neighboring stall, Er’ril’s horse, the snow-dappled Steppe stallion, huffed and pawed at his hay. Of hardier stock, the larger horse had adjusted quickly to the roll and lurch of the Pale Stallion. And the tall beast knew that any apple refused by Mist would end up in his own feed bucket. So the stallion was more than happy to see Elena fail.

“I have enough for both of you,” Elena called out sadly to the other horse. Even her voice made Mist skitter back a pace. Elena sighed. For the sixth morning in a row, she had failed to coax the mare to her. Though she understood the horse’s trepidation, it still upset her. Mist was a member of her family, and to be shunned like this wounded her deeply. The mare had always been there to comfort her when she was in pain.

And now more than ever, Elena needed to be comforted. The loss of Er’ril was still as raw as the day she had awoken aboard the ship, a dull ache in her heart that made the sun less bright and food bland and unappealing. Others tried to help, but no one understood. No words could ease this pain. The others thought Er’ril no more than her guardian, some knight who was more sword than man. They thought she had only lost some weapon, not a man who shared her heart.

Also, the others were all too busy with their own activities to offer any real compassion. Flint was constantly harried with running the ship and directing his sailors, the dark-skinned zo’ol warriors. Meric, though not as busy, was distracted by the appearance of his queen’s sunhawk. His eyes were always on the horizon, and when Elena happened to catch his attention, he was stiff and formal with her. Even her brother, Joach, seemed more interested in discussing his staff’s magick than in understanding Elena’s pain. Only Tol’chuk and Mama Freda offered Elena any real warmth—but neither was family.

If only Aunt My hadn’t left on her own quest… Elena could use the woman’s practical advice. Aunt My always knew what to say. For the thousandth time, Elena wondered how the others fared: Fardale, Mogweed, Krai. Now with Er’ril gone, too, it felt as if everything was falling apart.

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