Envoys Of The Vow

Chapter 25

Sara was on her hands and knees, gasping for the breath that had been slammed out of her lungs.  She was covered from top to toe in a golden dusting of arena surface.  She had come off so many times she had lost count now.  Just when she had thought she was perfecting at least a slow, cautious walk, all hope had been lost along with her seat as she tried to attempt a turn.  In a massive flex of the horse's muscles, the mare had reacted to the thought “Turn” at a speed Sara’s mortal mind could not even process and had jettisoned her heavily into the nearest solid oak kick board.

 She heard the arena door rumbling open on it runners.  With the last of her breath, she managed

 “Ok, you win Blaise.  I can’t do it.”  Rocking back to sit on her heels, she held her spinning head in her hands.

 “You better have something broken, if not, why are you not getting back on that horse?!”  The wonderful voice she knew so well made her spin round in disbelief.

 “Mum!” she gasped, gaining her feet to run over to her mother who stood there smiling in the entrance to the school, Thomas at her side.

 Sara hit her mother at the run.  The warm, welcoming arms wrapped around her soothing her soul.  She had been so worried about her parents, and in all this confusion and fear to hear her mother voice was as healing as the lotion she had used on her bruises earlier.

 Anne pulled Sara gently back, her hands cupped her daughters face. 

 “I am not kidding Sara, why are you not riding that horse yet?”  Anne’s deep velvet, blue eyes, registered the subtle changes in her daughter, but she did not mention it.

 “Are you joking?  Have you seen her move?  It is impossible!”  Sara gestured to her bruise and sand covered body.

 “No, it is not.  You know Misty’s aids better than anyone, it is just bigger.”  Sara rolled her eyes she has been here so many times with her mother in the past she knew to argue was pointless.  So many times Sara had been put on some unrideable lunatic, with her mother’s ever optimistic voice sounding from whichever seat of safety she had found for herself.

 “Get on and just ride her.”  Her mother walked with Sara to the horse.  Sara noticed that the mare never even threatened her mother and stood patiently while Anne legged her up.

 “Stop riding Misty, you are riding Turaanar, release your lower back and just think the aids.”

 Sara set off gingerly.  As she allowed her lower back to take the impact of the massive movement, it slowly became easier.  Thinking her aids was helping as that was where her timing was failing.  On Misty, she would think the aid, then give it, then the mare would respond.  On Turaanar, she thought what she wanted and got it instantly, so the trick was to time her movement as she thought what she wanted, and it worked.  She still ached, keeping with the immense power of the horse was a massive strain on her muscles but at least she was in time with them now.

 Half an hour later she was gingerly walk, trot and cantering on the horse. 

 “Now we just have to give it some class.”  Her mother grinned.  “I brought this and thought it could not be more fitting.”  In her hand was a CD marked Showman Music 2011. 

 Sara peeled into gales of laughter as she saw the CD.  A few years ago she had won a showman class with Misty to the music on that CD.  The showman was an intricate series of dressage moves set to music.  Sara and Misty had practised for weeks and knew the routine inside out and backwards. 

 As Sara thought of the song, she peeled off into even more gales of laughter.  She wondered if her mother or Gararran had chosen it back in those days while they tried to bring back her magic.  It had her mother’s blunt lack of subtlety written all over it, so she put her mother firmly in the frame.