The Demon's Den

Down below, the common room emptied as the family headed for their beds, voices rising and falling, some needing comfort and absolution, some giving it. Ari didn't bother to listen. It didn't concern her.

Later, in the quiet, she swarmed down the ladder and hand-walked to where she'd heard the equipment dropped and sorted out a hundred-foot coil of rope. Draping it across her chest, she continued to the door. The latch was her design; her fingers remembered it.

The ground felt cold and wet under the heavy calluses on her palms, and she was pretty sure she felt wet snow in the rain that slapped into her face. She moved out away from the house and waited.

Hooves thundered past her, around her, and stopped.

'No one,' she said, 'knows the Den better than I do. I'm the only chance your Herald has left. You've probably called for others — other Heralds, other Companions — but they can't be close enough to help or you wouldn't still be hanging around here. The temperature's dropping, and time means everything now.'

The Companion snorted, a great gust of warm, sweetly-scented breath replacing the storm for a moment. She hadn't realized he'd stopped so close, and she fought to keep from trembling.

'I know what you're thinking. But I won't need eyes in the darkness, and you don't dig with legs and feet. If you can get me there, Shining One, I can get your Herald out.'

The Companion reared and screamed a challenge.

Ari held up her hands. 'I know you understand me,' she said. 'I know you're more than you appear. You've got to believe me. I will get your Herald out.

'If you lie down, I can grab the saddle horn and the cantle and hold myself on between them.' On a horse, it would never work, even if she could lift herself on, she'd never stay in the saddle once it started to move; her stumps were too short for balance. But then, she wouldn't be having this conversation with a horse.

A single whicker, and a rush of displaced air as a large body went to the ground a whisker's distance from her.

Ari reached out, touched one silken shoulder, and worked her way back. You must be desperate to be going along with this, she thought bitterly. Never mind. You'll see. Mounting was easy. Staying in the saddle as the Companion rose to his feet was another thing entirely. Somehow, she managed it. 'All right.' A deep breath and she balanced her weight as evenly as she could, stumps spread. 'Go.'

He leaped forward so suddenly he nearly threw her off. Heart in her throat, she clung to the saddle as his pace settled to an almost gentle rocking motion completely at odds with the speed she knew he had to be traveling. She could feel the night whipping by her, rain and snow stinging her face.

In spite of everything, she smiled. She was on a Companion. Riding a Companion.

It was over too soon.

* * *

:Jors? Chosen!:

The Herald coughed and lifted his head. He'd been having the worst dream about being trapped in a cave-in. That's what I get for eating my own cooking. And then he tried to move his legs and realized he wasn't dreaming.: Gevris! You went away!:

:I'm sorry, heart-brother. Please forgive me, but when they wouldn't stay....: The thought trailed off, lost in an incoherent mix of anger and shame.

:It's all right.: Jors carefully pushed his own terror back in order to reassure the Companion. :You're back now, that's all that matters.:

:1 brought someone to get you out.:

:But I thought the mine was unstable, still collapsing.:

:She says she can free you.:

:You're talking to her?: As far as Jors knew, that never happened. Even some Heralds were unable to mind-touch clearly.

:She's talking to me. I believe she can do what she says.: