Wings Over Tremeirchson

Chapter 2: Marc's Barn

Llawen nosed the pocket of her tunic, and Neste scolded her. "No molasses treats until after practice, you greedy thing." Llawen snorted, clearly in disapproval. The mare well knew Neste always had a treat in her pocket. She swung up into the saddle just as Hoel rode up next to her and stopped so close that his leg brushed hers. The stallion shook his head, jangling the bridle, and Llawen snorted at him.

Hoel sat tall in the saddle. The premature gray streaks in his short brown hair gave him a distinguished air, and his deep dark eyes attracted her like a flower did to a bee.

"Bore da, milady," he said with a smile.

The Welsh greeting was hardly theirs alone, but he had greeted her this was every morning for the last two years. She returned it automatically. "Bore da, milord."

"Let's take our dinner up the hill today for a break."

"Oh yes, Hoel, let's do that." She nodded eagerly. They rarely had a moment alone.

Llawen rustled her wings and stepped backwards just as Adam stopped directly in front of them. He hunched over the horse's neck, holding the reins as if they were snakes. The mare held her wings out from her body, a sure sign of her tension.

"Um, Neste?" Adam looked from her to Hoel, his green eyes anguished. "I've been assigned to try the long race."

Hoel gave a short laugh. "See you at dinner, cariad. You'll need the break."

Neste frowned at him and turned to Adam. "Follow me." She rode to the cliff edge where the riders took off. Adam followed. "So Marc reassigned you?"

Adam nodded. "He said Mallt wasn't fast enough in the short race." He looked so dejected Neste felt her heart twist. "He also said you'd help me."

Marc was the barn leader and Hoel's father. What he said was law.

"Well, come on then. Let's see what you've got." Neste kicked Llawen into motion, and she took off with powerful wingstrokes pulling them to the proper altitude.

Adam followed, but he hesitated just before the drop off. Mallt picked up on his hesitation and paused for an instant. That threw off her timing and she dipped severely before straining to regain altitude. Neste shook her head. He'd had two years of riding, just like she had. She'd grown up around the barns since her mother had been a rider. Did that give her an advantage somehow? Critically, she examined Adam's posture, how he held the reins, and how he signaled the mare.

Marc hadn't given her much time to work with Adam. The Aerial Games opened in two days. Tomorrow, the patrons would begin to arrive for the annual event. Their normal world revolved around England's politics more than the ancient Welsh traditions of remote mountain towns like Tremeirchson. Neste couldn't tell you the name of England's current king, but she knew every one of Tremeirchson's nine patrons by sight. For the most part, the lords who supported the barns lived in Merioneth. And in Merioneth lived her brother Niall, older than Neste but younger than her sister, Glynis.

Her parents had alternated naming their children. Her father named them in Welsh; Glynis, Neste, and Cadoc. Mum chose names that reflected her Irish ancestry; Niall and Aidan. Niall held a position with one of the petty lords. He never came to Tremeirchson with his lord, and Neste wasn't even sure what service he provided for the lord.

Her job, though, was to provide the best Aerial Games she could. She signaled Adam toward the race course, marked by tall flags set into the ground below. It ran straight down the valley, no hovering, no turning. Adam flew toward the start. As they crossed the starting line, he kicked Mallt and flapped the reins. The mare's wingstrokes beat in unison, speeding up as directed.