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This story is dedicated to Robert, my father.
May you someday believe in my abilities.
She sat upon the hames of the shaggy draft horse as if she were part
of his flesh. Indeed, many thought her to be birthed upon the back of
one of the giant beasts, but her mother had been at the animal's feet by
the time the birth was accomplished. Camberlyn was riding with her
mother upon that very horse by the time the sun had brightened another
day and had ridden each day since. Any caravan master would call himself
blessed to have such a master of horse to guide his wagons and care for
his beasts.
Between her slender thighs, the sturdy draft horse sighed his
contentment. He was happy to carry her, happy to heed the touch of heel
and hand. Never before had he felt anyone who could speak horse so
clearly. He knew who she was, what she was. Yet what was a gelding to
say? Few and far between were those who could speak to horses. Loads
seemed lighter and many a trotted step was offered for this slight girl
who listened to horses.
They made town well before dark. The caravan pulled into a space which
had been recently vacated by another group of wagons. Cami spent hours
caring for the horses. Many weary legs needed bracing, others needed
supportive wrapping. The thought of leaving it until morning never
occurred to her. Teamsters forked hay to the animals, and placed water
barrels then attended to their own comfort.
Night fell before she finished. The cook stoves were cold when she
finally looked for food. Cami rummaged through the stores and found
jerky and sour bread to fill her empty stomach. She walked to a water
barrel and splashed her face. Slowly, she rebraided the length of her
pale white hair. Her mind tripped over the chores she would have to do
on the morrow. Many responsibilities for a girl just sixteen summers
old, but she had always been older than her years.
The gelding she had been riding nickered at her approach. She absently
patted his neck before curling in a ball in the hay at his feet. The
gelding would guard her slumber.
Little Cami looked at the massive ox who was tethered to the back
of a wagon by it's horns. Many hazards were found on the trail, and this
ox had been attacked by wolves in the night. The men had driven off the
wolves. Two oxen lay dead and this one was wounded. Cami reached up to
touch the beast. She knew nothing of what pain does to an animal. She
could not see her own size compared to the massive beast. She only saw
the ox's pain.
She touched the animal's shoulder, certain of her ability to make it
better by a mere touch. As she felt the over-hot shoulder, her mind
focused on the damage done by the wolves. She remembered this ox was one
of the strongest in the caravan. When her bottom and leg started
hurting, she was surprised. At three, pain is an insurmountable
obstacle.
Cami cried out. Her scream attracted the attention of several adults,
including her father. He came running and snatched her up.
"NO CAMI! Don't you ever let me catch you doing that again! Never
go near an animal that's been hurt. Never, never, never!" Her
father scared her as he whirled her away from the ox.
"Robert, look!" The wagon master was pointing to the wound on
the ox. "I think the child healed it somewhat." Others looked
too. Murmurs went around those gathered when it was obvious the ox was
better, though not fully healed.
"I don't care if my Cami can heal. She's no business near a wounded
beast!" Robert turned his attention to his daughter's tear-streaked
face. "Promise me Cami! Promise me you'll never do that again!
Never again."
His hands hurt worse than the pain in her bottom. "Nebber Daddy.
Nebber Daddy. Nebber, nebber, nebber." Her words were punctuated
with sobs.
As she swore her oath to her father, his fears calmed. He held her less
tightly, but with pride as well as love. He feared that his favorite
child would be taken from him, and he hugged her close to his heart.
Robert was a good father, a kind father, but a bit short-sighted at
times. He put his daughter down and she ran off to find the sturdy pony
she had been given when she was big enough to ride by herself.
Golden rays of sunlight were just breaking through the trees when the
gelding began nuzzling her. Cami lay there, loathe to leave the warmth
of her nest. The gelding was insistent. His gentle nuzzles turned to
kisses. Licking gave way to nudging. First his nose prodded her, then
his hoof thumped gently against her arm.
"All right, I'm awake. What's the hurry?" Cami looked deep
into his soft brown eyes.
"Beyond the trees, a mare cries." His mental tone was
worried. The gelding seldom had more that two words to say in most
cases. He was a very happy go lucky creature.
Cami pulled herself up, brushing hay from her clothes. No
one seemed to notice her, so she walked the direction the gelding had
indicated. She turned back once to see a line of pricked ears and worried
eyes watching her progress. She jogged on, aware that people were already
about. She hoped no one would see her. It was not her place to see to
another's beasts, but the animals always thanked her even if the owner
drove her away.
She came to the pickets where the race horses were tethered. Drawn away
from the others stood a proud bay mare. Her coat glistened and the muscles
were rock. Her left foreleg was tipped so just the toe touched the ground.
Cami could see in a glance that the mare had bowed the tendon. Perhaps
more damage had been done.
"Come 'ere 'orse! I'll not 'ave your dead carcass stinkin' up my
lines. Ta others won't run." The man was pulling the horse and
another lay on her from behind with the whip. Streaks of blood trailed
down her side in places where the whip had cut through her thin skin. That
she hurt was obvious to any who would look.
Anger filled Cami as she raced forward. She leaped as the man with the
whip drew back for another swing. With both hands encircling his massive
forearm, she held on, spoiling his stroke.
"Here now! Get off!" The whipper, shook his arm, nearly
dislodging Cami with his effort.
"Don't whip her, can't you see she's in pain?" Cami's voice
cracked as she pleaded.
"I'll whip you if'n you don't let go!"
Their angry words brought the lead man into the conversation.
"Youngun, this is none of yourn. We're takin' this 'orse to the
killer. She's broke down."
Cami let go of the whipper's arm. The whip was hanging and not in a
position to work. She had time to talk, to barter, to deal.
"Is she your mare?" She addressed the man holding the lead rope.
"She's none o' mine. She belongs to me Gov'nor."
Cami looked around. They hadn't begun to draw a crowd, but there were
others about in this part of town. "Is she for sale?"
Both horse handlers laughed at this. "Of course she's for sale lassy.
She's goin' ta the nackers."
"I'll buy her. How much is she?" Cami felt down to her belt. Her
modest coin purse was tucked inside her pants and fastened to her belt.
"I 'spect she'll bring a good coin. Perhaps a hundred silver as she
is."
"They'll not want her beaten and whipped. It spoils the flavor of the
meat. You'll be lucky to get half that." Cami's pulse slowed.
"That's yer offer? Fifty?" He spat on the ground and moved to
tug at the mare's face again. She stopped him before he forced the mare to
put weight on her painful leg. The bartering went on for some time before
they arrived at a price. Cami pulled out her coin pouch and counted the
coins as they fell in the man's hand.
She took the halter off the mare and let it drop to the ground. With a
look, she motioned the men to leave. Her voice changed to a calming tone
as she touched the mare's trembling skin. "Easy mare."
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Cami felt with her mind into the mare's pain. She cringed as she
moved to the source of the pain, but she continued. Healing was
often like this. Her pulse slowed to match the steady thump of the
mare's blood pump. The damage was extensive. Cami felt the bone,
tendon and ligament where they had been severed. The mare's
knowledge that it had happened during a big race the day before
filtered into her mind as well.
When Cami became aware of herself again, she was sitting beside the
mare. The bay's breath was warm on her face. Several people from the
horse lines were talking and looking her direction. She felt
exhausted. Her mind held little will to do anything. Yet she knew
she must move. Buried deep inside her was a kernel of shame which
she associated with healing. |
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She struggled to her feet and leaned on the mare as they
turned toward the caravan's tethers.
Deborah began writing in the quiet hours between school and bedtime
when she first learned the power of the written word. She secreted herself
under the desk in her father's study and wrote on a pad with felt tip pens.
She sent her first story to a publishing house before finishing the fifth
grade. It was rejected and the kindly letter and novel they sent her
didn't keep her penning words on paper. Years passed before she wrote
again, and the next thing she sent out was published.
Now Deborah writes every day. She has published nonfiction as well as
fiction. She teaches classes online at AOL's Keyword Novel. Her current
classes include: Plot Is A Verb and Fantasy, Science Fiction,
and Horror. She edits for The Rose & Thorn and works on
assignment for Dressage Today. In her spare time, she is working on
two novels of her own as well as assorted shorter pieces. When that
doesn't keep her busy, she spends time with her two kids, her horses, or
her small band of sheep.
Camberlyn of Equustess is a short story which was written in pieces
and posted on The Enchanted Realm of Faerie board which was at
AOL's Keyword NOVEL. A contest was held and a dragon was slain. Deborah
edited many of the stories which were posted on the board and compiled
them into an anthology which is currently under consideration at two
publishing houses.
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