Jule swallowed convulsively. This was it. Nervously, she adjusted the ties on the leather practice armor, and shifted the helmet on her head. She and several other young riders were waiting across from the paddock, waiting for the emergence of their horses from the barn, having been kicked out of the preparations for their nerves.
The three other riders, though boys, were in a similar state, and similar attire to her. All four of them wore well- fitted and padded practice armor. All of them were promising riders, and none of their trainers were taking any risks that weren't unavoidable.
Jule licked her dry lips to moisten them, and glanced around, seeking distraction. They still had a good fifteen minutes before the horses began to gather at the post, which was when her Uncle would brief her on strategy. Across the way, several tents were set up, selling hot food and drink, and cheap trinkets. A ministrel began the first bars of a song-
Jule smiled. There was a distraction.
Softly, at first, but then a bit more confidently, in a lyrical contralto, she sang along with the first few bars of 'Threes'
Deep into the stony hills
miles from town or hold
a troop of guards comes riding
with a lady and her gold.
She rides bemused among them
shrouded in her cloak of fur
companioned by a maiden
and a toothless, aged cur.
The slight breeze must have carried her voice, because the minstrel, dressed in the rust brown of a Bardic trainee, turned around, surprised. For a minute. Then the young man smiled, and gestured for her to keep singing. Jule flushed and shook her head.
The Bardic Trainee arched an eyebrow, but when Jule shrank back into the group of jockeys, he shrugged disappointedly and turned back to his audience.
At that moment, the horses, shiny and supple, with long tails trailing in the breeze, began stepping out of the dark barn, each under the firm hold of his trainer. Jule spotted Nightwind, the lone dark horse in the line, and slid off the fence to join him.
Her uncle smiled and nodded when he saw her, turning the reins briefly over to a groom in order to boost her into the saddle. Jule slipped easily onto the slim leather pad, fitting her feet into the light stirrups- despite the fact they were still moving. Mounting like this was second nature after so long.
Nightwind pranced, both eager to reach the post and showing off for the gray filly in the second paddock- the filly Devoi had just won. Jule laughed, and patted the colt's neck. Behind and in front of her, the other boys had also slid aboard their mounts.
They reached the turf oval of the track, and her Uncle gave her full control of the reins as they peeled off from their entourage. He stood by the colt's shoulder, giving her the last minute advice on their strategy.
"Stay out of the pack. Normally, that would be a good idea for him, but you're not experienced enough for that. Try to stay out front, just behind the leaders. Watch the blood bay, and the palomino. No one else should give you trouble; but those two could easily overwhelm you."
Jule nodded, and gathered up her reins. Her Uncle grabbed the bridle just below the bit. "Don't let him run in that frenzy of his. If he gets into it, there's no stopping him until the race is won."
Jule felt chills run down her spine. Those were the words of her dream! She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat, and nodded. An attendant took Nightwind's bridle from her uncle, and lead them both to the start.
An announcer read off the list of names- the horse, rider, and owner. Jule, however, didn't hear- they all passed in a blur. She checked that her grip on the reins was secure, and that both her feet were firmly in the stirrups. The horses stamped restively, mouthing their bits until white foam appeared at the corners of mouths.
And then the horn blew. As one, the horses surged out of the gate. Jule, taken by surprise, managed to hang on by sheer force of will and the fact that her feet were firmly ensconced in the stirrups.
She clung to Nightwind, to focused on regaining her seat to notice that the young, headstrong colt was surging forward much too fast for good footing. As the horses galloped past the stand, the blood bay colt spooked at a lady's waving scarf. He shied, stumbling sideways across the track, and slamming into Nightwind.
Jule, still not entirely secure after the break, was rocked forward by the force of the blow. The blood bay was also shaken, but his rider managed to get him straightened out and focused.
Jule was a good enough rider that the whole thing would have ended there, but, Nightwind, offset by rebuffing the bay's collision, tripped at that critical moment.
Jule was flung off the saddle, and onto the track, under the hooves of nine other horses. Galloping feet glanced off her helm; several hit her chest, rocking her body with agony.
At last, the horses cleared, and the crowd was able to see. A hush went over the crowd at the sight of Jule, who lay motionless on the track.
A deafening neigh split the air- a chestnut filly, without a stitch of tack and evading all attempts to capture her, cantered up to the prone form. The filly nosed Jule, and after a moment, adopted a protective stance over the girl.
There was a rustle through the crowd, and the track Healer sprinted out to the injured girl, who lay prone in the dirt, moaning softly. He slowed to a fast walk as he approached her, so not to spook the mare, and noting visible injuries. As he knelt by her side, Jule cracked open her lids to see him better with eyes nearly all pupil.
Then the darkness lapping at the edge of her vision rolled up over her and she knew nothing more. The Healer, however, stared, frozen in shock, at his new patient's face.
"Julia?" He asked, in a broken whisper.
