Chapter 32
A part of Kyminn wondered if Dean Tannel didn't have a sadistic form of Foresight, because the "not sleeping" prediction came true mere hours following that memorable evening gathering. In spite of all their preparation, they had all expected to implement the changes to Kyminn's status the next morning. Which meant he was still on his usual duty rosters that night. He had quite forgotten this fact until a Herald Trainee thundered on his door just after midnight.
"Wake up Kyminn! You're needed in the Companion's stable immediately. I'm to also fetch Healer Delassia," and the youngster spun away and pelted down the corridor.
Kyminn stamped into his boots while shrugged on the nearest clothing he could find. He was still donning a heavy cloak as he worked the outside door latch with one elbow and ran into the night. Only months of familiarity helped his feet stay on the path as he ran. He found himself simultaneously wishing he'd thought to bring some form of illumination and praying he didn't encounter any ice.
On this cold night, the Companion's stable was mostly full. It should have been warm and quiet, full of drowsing white forms and the soothing musk of horse and hay. Instead, every white head was focused on a single stall, where a Companion groaned in the straw.
Kyminn tried not to blanch. The mare was heavily pregnant, struggling not to strain. Foals, both horse and Companion, were normally born forefeet first, the head tucked down along the forelegs. Instead of two small forefeet, a single rear leg protruded. He reached out with his Gift and made an instant decision.
"Herald!" Kyminn shook the shoulder of the man kneeling at the Companion's head. "Can you Mindspeak?"
The Herald shook his head, his face a mask of worry. "Only Nela here."
Kyminn addressed the stable at large. "Someone Mindspeak your Chosen. We're going to need more Healers here. And see if someone can tell Delassia we're going to need the surgical gear." He turned his attention back to the Herald.
"Herald, we're going to need hay bales. She needs to be on her back." Kyminn suited action to words and began shifting bales to brace the mare.
"What," the Herald helped him place a bale, "Are you going to do…Trainee?" The last was with a sudden uncertainty.
"We," Kyminn knelt by the Companion and addressed her directly, "are going to save you and your foals."
"Foals?" The Herald looked startled.
"Foals. Two of them. One is breech, the other head down. They are tangled and cannot be delivered. However, they are both still alive and will continue to be so, provided we act quickly."
A swirl of green erupted into the stables. The next mark or so disappeared in a blur of organized chaos. With so many other Healers present, there was no need for Kyminn and Delassia to strain their own Gifts, but the effort of channeling so much energy left them both exhausted. Four lives to save – three in white bodies, a fourth who needed his heart to live if he were to remain whole.
Kyminn wearily washed yet another Companion's blood off his hands and arms, reflecting on the extraordinary road his life had taken. He smiled warmly over to where the Herald was stretched out on a bed beside his Companion. Nela was drowsing, pushed into a healing sleep; her twin sons, healthy and strong, curled up in the straw beside her. Kyminn was suddenly very glad he'd come to Haven.
SCENE BREAK
He was definitely less glad the next morning, when he awoke before breakfast and slogged through the swirling snow over to the salle. He'd never actually gone into the imposing building, although he'd walked by it any number of times. This time though, he pushed his way in, carefully latching the door against the winter wind.
"Good morning Master Dethor." Kyminn was unsurprised to see the armsmaster waiting for him.
"Good morning Healer Kyminn." Dethor cocked his head, adding, "I'm given to understand you had an eventful evening. I have to admit, I thought you might have asked for a postponement, given how little rest you've had."
"I don't mean to sound flippant, Master Dethor, but I am quite sure you would not have granted one even if I had asked. As the events of last night demonstrate, emergencies don't wait until one is rested. I am quite sure that brigands won't either."
Dethor didn't respond, but Kyminn got the sense his response had been the correct one. In any event, if he'd pleased Dethor in some way, the armsmaster certainly didn't let it show. For the next two marks, Dethor ran Kyminn through a grueling series of exercises, stretches, and tests of both strength and stamina. He also had Kyminn attempt most of the basic sorts of weapons: knife, small sword, hand axe and similar. To neither of their surprise, the only weapon Kyminn handled with any kind of familiarity was the hand axe. By the end of the session, Kyminn was as exhausted in body as he was in mind.
"Enough. I can place your level. Although you have no experience with weapons, you have your adult strength and reach, which will help somewhat. You are somewhat fit, which we will improve. Your coordination seems to be reasonable. As there is no time to turn you into any kind of a fighter, we are going to concentrate on keeping you alive. Your training will focus on breaking holds and getting to safety. As you have some knowledge of the axe, I will teach you how to use it as a defensive weapon. Return here at the fourth afternoon bell." Dethor's expression dared Kyminn to complain.
Kyminn wasn't that stupid. "Yes, Master Dethor."
Kyminn dragged himself back into the icy dawn. He had just enough time to clean up and grab a quick breakfast. When he'd returned to his room, he'd found a copy of his new schedule and a replacement uniform, this time a pale blue. It was surprisingly difficult to take off the pale greens and don the neutral blue. It felt as though he had lost something, even though he knew he hadn't. He wondered what his old self would have thought.
Breakfast was…harder than he'd thought it would be. Although he'd only been at the Collegium for a few moons, he had slipped easily into the senior class. He had thoroughly enjoyed the learning and having like-minded people to discuss new ideas with. He hadn't realized how much he would miss it.
"I've accepted a position as an Animal Healer with the army. I've been offered some cross training in those sorts of skills to help me prepare. My Greens? As I'm not going to be Healing people, I won't really need to wear them." He lost track of the number of times he repeated himself, as fellow Trainees in both green and grey came up to ask him about his new uniform.
He found it interesting that for the Herald Trainees, congratulations came first, many expressing interest at his coming posting. Their primary concern was that he had found something personally challenging and satisfying, Greens or not. The Healers, on the other hand, were the opposite, expressing shock, sorrow, or even anger at the idea he would not be donning Greens. Several, to his immense gratification, offered to press the Dean on his behalf. Only after repeated assurances that he fully accepted the situation did they relent.
Ironically, that first day ended up being the quietest he enjoyed for the next two moons. After breakfast he checked on the Companion Nela and her sons, who were all doing well. As he was to continue his expertise in all things equine, he had been retained on her case. The remainder of the morning was spent divesting himself of his human patients and seeing Jadus for materials on military history, strategy and cavalry tactics. The resulting pile of reading was daunting.
A messenger found him at lunch, with instructions to report to the stables first thing that afternoon. To his surprise, it was Herald Keren who met him.
"Your cavalry Captain is still bed-bound, although I assure you she most emphatically wanted to be here. However, as she is currently recovering from two badly broken legs and some broken ribs, she is unavailable." The Herald's tone was her customary wry dryness. "As I will be your equitation instructor, I've been sent to help you select your mounts."
"Pardon?" Kyminn rocked back in surprise.
"I don't know what Talamir has up his sleeve and I'm not going to ask. Apparently you require a mount and a remount. I've been told that both should be 'suitable for use as scouting or light cavalry'." She eyed him from the corner of her eye. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"Herald Keren, the only thing I can be sure of temperament, health and intelligence. Aside from that...I admit that I have only the very vaguest of notions," Kyminn admitted frankly.
Kyminn hadn't expected the process to be so simple as a parade of horseflesh while he mindspoke each beast to determine if it were suitable. What he did not expect was how very thorough Herald Keren would prove to be. The majority of the animals were easy to eliminate on the basis of obvious unsuitability: 'all flash but no substance', 'fast enough, no stamina', 'dumb as a box of rocks and meaner than a bucket of rabid rats'…one by one prospective candidates were rejected. That left only nine animals, and those ones Keren insisted on testing in exhausting detail.
Keren had Kyminn try each of the remaining, putting them both through a series of jumps, obstacles, and complex maneuvers. Fortunately for all concerned, they did not have to resort to the customary tests involving loud noises and unexpected motion – Kyminn's mindspeech gave them far better insight into each beast's temperament than they would have had otherwise.
As Kyminn slid down from the ninth and final beast, he was deeply chagrinned to realize how very, very long it had been since he had spent so long in a saddle. Keren caught him pressing a fist into his sore back and shook her head. "You're a Healer, so I presume you know how to properly stretch out those muscles, and to not stint on the salve?" At his nod, she jerked her chin at the patient beasts in the pen. "Well?"
In the end, they agreed on two geldings. One was a pale, dappled grey, block-headed and square shouldered. He was far from the most handsome of the lot, but Kyminn was well aware that he was far and away the smartest. The second was a shaggy, dark bay, splashed with a twisted blaze down his face. His compact body and lithe legs hid an astonishing agility and sprint. The head horseman seemed obscurely pleased by Kyminn's choices.
"Your bay there, he's hill stock. He'll do you very well in rough country. The grey," he smiled, "That one everyone passes by because he's not so handsome. But he's Ashkevron bred, and he's good blood. Aye, they'll do you well."
Kyminn thanked Keren and the groom profusely, noting with alarm that he could just hear the Collegium bells.
"I have to go!" he almost squeaked it. "I'm supposed to report to armsmaster Dethor right now!" The notion of appearing tardy to his first, formal class with Dethor didn't bear considering.
"Go," Keren flipped a hand at him. "I'll arrange to get these fellows moved to the palace stables and I'll make sure Dethor knows why you're late. But run."
Kyminn gaped a bit that the Herald would go out of her way to take on such a chore for him, a mere trainee. Clearly, whatever Talamir had told Keren had convinced her that this project was worth her time and attention. He didn't stop to ponder further, merely gabbled another round of thanks and ran off as fast as his stiffening legs allowed.
Every head in the salle turned in surprise as Kyminn careened, gasping, through the door. The heads whipped back as Dethor pinned a gimlet eye on his newest, tardiest pupil. The assorted students returned to their drills with renewed vigor, studiously ignoring the drama in the doorway.
"So. Late." The faintest of narrowed eyes warned Kyminn that Dethor knew very well why he was late, and that for reasons of his own, Dethor did not want to be publicly forgiving. "You may be a senior student here, but you are here by my leave. You will respect my time, always. Clear?"
Kyminn simply nodded. It felt unjust, but part of him recognized that this was also a test of his discretion and attitude. Life was not always fair.
"Good. Let's see if we can't sweat some sense into you then." Dethor set him a series of strengthening and stretching exercises that, while vigorous and tiring, also served to work the kinks out of the muscles that were still protesting the time spent in the saddle. Kyminn buried an internal smile when he realized what Dethor had done.
By the time the supper bell rang, Kyminn was wrung out. His gazed brushed Dethor's as he joined the throng fastening cloaks and boots. Dethor was impassive and Kyminn simply let the look slide past, not acknowledging or complaining.
As the door closed behind him, Dethor murmured softly, "Tannel's right. He is smart."
