“No. Absolutely not,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Are you really that much of a baby?” Marilyn snapped. I watched in horror as she tossed a saddle over the walking death machine tied to the fence.
“I am fond of keeping my brains inside my skull—”
“What little there are,” she cut in.
“—And riding one of those is the worst possible way to do that,” I finished.
“What kind of demon-possessed horses have you been exposed to?” She asked as she pat the massive brown monster on its uncannily muscular rump. I cringed as a cloud of dust rose up from the impact.
She continued tacking up the horse, lifting the bridle up onto its long head and shoving the metal bar between its teeth. My stomach clenched in horror at the sight.
“Lance, it’s really not that hard. Just like driving a cart.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, like driving a cart that can smell fear.”
“You’re right about that. Try to relax. If you’re afraid, the horse will be, too.”
I glanced over at the black death-trap she’d purchased for me. Its eyes were bottomless black voids. They bore into me like stakes, as if the horse knew the exact day I was going to die.
“Since when do wizards know so much about horses, anyway?” I grumbled as Marilyn made some more adjustments to the saddle. She snorted.
“I’ve left my house more than twice in the last ten years. You get to know a bit about horses when you actually go places.”
When I approached the black horse, its nostrils flared three times in quick succession. I knew it was smelling my apprehension. I exhaled, trying to calm myself even as the monstrous thing swatted flies with its skin-slicing tail.
“Try talking to him,” Marilyn called over. “It’ll calm you both down.”
Feeling like ten kinds of fool, I tentatively approached the horse with a hand outstretched. “Uh. Hey. Horse. What’s… what’s up,” I mumbled, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Doesn’t matter what you say,” Marilyn advised as she heaved herself up into the brown horse’s saddle. “Just get him used to your voice.”
I watched her effortless mounting and wondered just how the hell she expected me to execute a move so exceedingly dexterous. I also thought of three different jokes involving the term ‘mounting’.
I did not share them with her.
I sighed. “Alright, listen here, horse. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, but Marilyn is forcing us to do this. Old twat, that wizard is. Let me tell you. First, she—”
The horse suddenly tossed its head up, baring flat yellow teeth. I stumbled back several steps, shrieking.
“Shit! What is this thing’s problem?” I cried.
“Maybe he doesn’t like it when you insult women,” Marilyn said with a crooked smile. “Just hurry up. Put your left foot in the stirrup and push yourself up. Swing your other leg up and behind you.”
“If I break all my bones, bury them with my murdered children.”
“Just get on the horse.”
I took several deep breaths as I approached the horse’s left side. Its skin twitched as a fly landed on its stomach. It made me itchy.
“Alright,” I said to the horse, “You don’t fuck me and I won’t fuck you, okay? Well—not—not literally. You know what I mean.”
Its ear twitched in response.
I sighed. “Okay. Here we go.”
Then some things happened. I still don’t know exactly what.
All I know is one second I was tucking my foot into the stirrup thing on the saddle, the next I was on the hard dirt with the wind knocked out of me.
After a few stunned moments, I heard Marilyn mumbling something about tightening a winch, or something like that. I don’t know. The only thing I did know is that I was never trying that again.
Literally and metaphorically, I was not about to get back on the horse.
I gazed up at the livery’s slatted roof and seriously considered just laying there until I died. Surely, at some point a horse would come by and stave my head in, right?
The thought of being trampled to death by a horse towering above me scared me up onto my feet. Not onto the horse, though. Never again.
“I’m not doing this,” I told Marilyn in my best matter-of-fact voice. I was not in the mood to go back and forth with her about it.
Marilyn’s glare could’ve melted my eyeballs. Literally. I’m sure she had a spell for that.
Her horse prodded at the dirt impatiently as it shifted, ready to get going. She didn’t even scream.
“Lance. How the hell do you think you’re going to survive on the run from the Empire if you’re too much of a pussy to get on a horse?”
“It threw me off!” I protested.
Marilyn leveled me with a look. “Oh, yeah. That thirty-two year old gelding with arthritis who just retired from working kids’ birthday parties is a pretty crazy animal, my bad. For fuck’s sake, Lance.”
I planted my feet and crossed my arms. “I’m not doing it. Just let me ride on the back of yours, or something.”
“Not in a million years, Lance.”
**
An hour later, Marilyn and I seemed to be making decent time. The brown horse was breathing a little hard from carrying both of us, but it was still faster than walking.
All I could see of her was the back of her head. After the first two minutes of being repeatedly smacked in the face by her stupid hat every other step, I’d snatched it from her head and launched it into the dirt. Honestly, she should’ve thanked me. It was probably the best makeover she’d ever received.
Regardless, even though I couldn’t see the deadly glare that was certainly burning across her face, I could practically feel the boiling rage emanating from her.
“So,” I said, “How long until we get to Sarasomething?”
“Saradedal,” Marilyn corrected, “And about five days.”
I balked. “Five days!”
“You could always wander off into the woods and never bother me again,” she suggested.
“I just might,” I snapped back.
“I was thinking I should probably get you ready for life as an anti-imperialist,” she mused. “Once you’re in with my friends, you’re going to need some sort of skill that makes you useful to them.”
“I knew you were part of a secret rebel organization!”
She huffed a sigh. “Really, is it that much of a surprise? Anyway, I thought we could spend our evenings on the way there trying to get you to learn some magic.”
Magic! I thought, stunned. There’s no way she expects me to be able to use magic.
“You can sure try,” I offered, “But I don’t think there’s much in me aside from what you see on the surface.”
“What, way too much chest hair?”
“That’s hurtful.”
“Well, compared to the amount of hair on the rest of you, it’s kind of out of proportion. A little freaky.”
“You know what, maybe we should just ride in silence the rest of the day.”
**
Some time into our ride, probably only an hour or two from dusk, I was dozing in the saddle behind Marilyn when the horse suddenly stopped in place, throwing me into the wizard’s bony back face-first. At the same time, I heard startled cries coming from somewhere ahead.
“What the hell?” I snapped, then looked down in front of the horse.
Two teens lay sprawled in the high grass before us, wide-eyed and stunned.
“By the Emperor’s taint,” Marilyn cursed, “Are you boys trying to get yourselves killed? Why would you run out in front of a horse?”
The boys looked quite similar. I guessed they were brothers, with the same pointed noses and mousy brown hair, though one of them was substantially thicker in the limbs than the other.
The sturdier boy found his tongue (and his feet) first. “Sorry, ma’am! It’s just,” he said, leaning down to help up the other boy, “We saw you travelin’ away from the main road and figured you were on the run, too.”
“‘On the run’?” Marilyn repeated.
The boy nodded. “From the Empire. Klaus and I are goin’ to join the Heralds.” He puffed up his chest.
“Oh, hells,” Marilyn grumbled. “You boys should turn back for home before your mother has a breakdown.”
“Ain’t got a ma,” the skinny boy finally piped up, “We ran away from the Home.”
“Got tired of Miss Gertrude shoutin’ at us,” the thicker boy added.
“Oh, no,” I said, feeling for the poor orphans. “Well, it’s a good thing you ran away. We’re headed to Saradoodoo if you’d like to come along.”
I barely felt the kick Marilyn aimed at my shin.
“That’d be just lovely!” The wide boy exclaimed. “You hear that, Klaus!”
“Yes, yes, just lovely,” Marilyn muttered, then raised her hand.
Before I could crack her on the skull, Marilyn sent a wave of something toward the boys, who froze as if encased in ice, then collapsed to the tall grass.
“Marilyn, I swear to hell if you just murdered children,” I said through gritted teeth.
She scoffed. “Why do you always assume the worst of me? I just stunned them, like the nut thief last night.”
“Why?” I cried, throwing my hands up. “They were orphans!”
Marilyn clicked her tongue at the horse, who started walking again, thankfully weaving around the unconscious boys in the grass.
“We don’t have enough food to share, and they would’ve slowed us down.” she said. “Relax. They’ll wake up in an hour and realize a roof over their head is better than none, even if it is leaking.”
**
The first night we stopped, Marilyn didn’t try to teach me the arcane arts. We were both too tired and irritable to attempt such a lofty task.
After Marilyn magically set fire to the logs I’d gathered on sore legs (riding a horse worked muscles I didn’t even know existed), we ate a somewhat satisfactory dinner of dark brown bread, cheese, and dried apples. I was glad we’d taken the time to shop for provisions in Middleton; I’d been getting really sick of nuts and jerky.
After eating, we sat beside the crackling fire for a long stretch, content to let the silence sit between us. She pulled a little leather-bound book from one of her bags and began flipping through it. The calling of birds had gone mostly quiet, replaced now by the chirping of crickets. A slight wind blew, not enough to put out the fire, but it occasionally tossed discarded brown pine needles into our fire. The tall grass had given way to dark conifers about an hour before we stopped. I was glad for it; there was no sense of cover or security in that seemingly-endless sea of grass we’d traveled through all day.
Lacking ample distractions, my mind turned to the unexpected events of the past week. I had to remind myself that my entire home—not just the cozy little house I’d built with my own hands, but my fields as well—was utterly destroyed.
Remembering the salty reek of my ruined soil was enough to bring a burning sensation to my eyes. I blinked rapidly and stared into the fire, hoping to push the tears back.
Once I gained control over myself again, I chanced a glance at Marilyn, only to find her already watching me.
I looked back down at the fire. “What?” I spat.
She kept staring at me, her eyes for once not hard as rocks. “I am sorry, you know.”
I said nothing.
She shifted her position on the ground. “You’re right. Everything that’s happened to you is my fault, directly or indirectly.”
I shrugged, too tired for any sort of banter with her.
The fire crackled as another, shorter silence fell.
“My friends will make sure you’re taken care of,” she offered.
“Are your friends the Heralds?” I asked flatly. It would only make sense that she would be so elusive about the whole thing if we were talking about the biggest, not-so-secret rebel alliance in the Empire.
She exhaled, defeated. “Yes. I’m on their council.” Her eyes were pointed at the fire, but they were really somewhere far away. “I haven’t been back in years, though. They’ve probably given my seat away.”
“What were you doing living near Heaverstad if you’re an important member of the Heralds?” I asked.
Her eyes flicked toward me, then away again. “Doesn’t matter now. It was about time I returned, anyway.”
I didn’t press her for more.
A few minutes later, by unspoken agreement, we both unrolled our blankets and curled up on opposite sides of the fire. Neither of us suggested a watch; the most dangerous things in these woods were crickets, according to Marilyn, and we were both dead on our feet anyway.
I closed my eyes and pulled the blanket over my head.
“Thank you,” I said softly, unsure if Marilyn had fallen asleep yet.
“For what?” Came her muffled response.
“Apologizing. And… And helping me get to your friends. You didn’t have to. Even though I said you owed me.”
There was a pause. Then she said, “I know.”
Next chapter drops July 24th, 2026
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