Fury in the Wind chp. 3 - All the Djoni horses, all the Wsiwan men

*Djoni – JO-NEE, *Dedimi – DEH—DIH-MY

The battalion was ready to move an hour after first light, but Devlin was up long before that. Despite Farrin’s assurance that he would help, there was still a deep-seated worry that the king would not care about his request, or that General Longshanks would deny his transfer. There were too many details left up to chance. But he had no choice, and so he was already waiting along the road out of camp, all his gear secured on his Djoni mare, eager to get moving.

The whole encampment was a sea of activity. Horses and mean alike hurried back and forth, kicking up dust and snow. There was the jingling of reins and harnesses, the clanging of shields and weapons being tied off on saddles, and the grumbles of those who found rising before dawn to be of the devil.

The aroma of coffee swirled in the morning breeze, mixed with the smell of horses and hay. It was a bittersweet reminder of home. A delicacy here on the Velhurland mainland, but was a staple back in Wsiwa, covering many of the shores with orchards full of the dark, aromatic bean. Personally, Devlin found it to be bitter and believed that if a man needed coffee to be functional, he was worth no more than a cup of the hot stuff.

Gobi was entirely different.

“Morning Sunshine,” he said. He was coming up the road, steaming mug in hand with a bag of dried nuts hanging off his belt.

He offered a bright smile and the bag of nuts to Devlin, who took a handful.

“I’ve almost forgotten what that is,” Devlin said. He looked up at the dreary ash-colored clouds above. “It’ll come back eventually, won’t it?”

Gobi chuckled, blowing on his coffee before taking a swig. He gave a satisfied sigh of approval and then let out a sharp whistle. Amidst the rows of troops passing by, his golden gelding came trotting forward, jangling with all his supplies. His lance, like Devlin’s, was tucked in a leather strap on the hindquarters of the horses. The red-and-white pennants at the base of Gobi’s spearhead fluttered softly.

“Could you be less inconspicuous?” Devlin rolled his eyes.

Gobi laughed and took the reins of his obedient gelding. “Sorry. Does my mighty steed remind you of your inadequacies with both the horse and the lance?”

“Your horse reminds me of exactly why I have no desire to be on, or near, one. You failed to notice, but he trampled three men on his way here just to prove your little party trick.”

The grin left Gobi’s face, and he leaned back, looking down the column to see what destruction he had left in his equestrian wake. Now it was Devlin’s turn to finally smile.

“Just kidding.”

“Oh, ha ha, very amusing. You just decided to get some semblance of humor, eighteen years into this existence?”

Devlin put his hands up in defense. “Believe me, the humor has been all around you, you’re just a little slow on the uptake tick.” He tightened his leather gloves and mounted his horse with slight trepidation. “Now, finish your wake-up call of a drink, and let’s get moving.”

Gobi took a deep swig. “You sure you don’t want to try some? You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

“The day I need an elixir to wake myself is the day I’d rather fall over dead.”

Gobi finished his drink off, shook the remnants out on the road and jammed the cup in one of his saddlebags. He deftly mounted his horse.

“The day you die, I’ll drink a cup in your honor.”

“I’d rather you just make sure my father is freed, and my mother is taken care of,” Devlin dryly said.

Gobi shuddered. “Are you always this cheerful?”

“Someone’s got to keep up morale,” Devlin said. He spurred his horse ahead, picking up to a trot.

Gobi hollered from behind. “You know what’s good for morale? A nice song of home. Am I right folks?”

He was met with a smattering of groans and half-hearted insults from those around him. Unfortunately for them, that was just the encouragement he needed. But before he got the first word out, Amarro came rumbling up from behind, bleary-eyed and disheveled. His helmet was on crooked and his saddle looked like it may slide off if he moved left or right of dead center.

“Shove it. Leave that to the Fancy Fool.”

“Oh, what’s the matter Amarro, you not sleep so well?”

“On the contrary, I slept like a stone.” He lowered his voice and squinted his eyes in pain. “Unfortunately, I got up feeling like a stone as well.”

“Jubilating Amarro? I thought you wanted action. You crave adventure!” Gobi put his hand above his head in a raised fist.

“That I do, but if we won’t see any at this pass, I might as well enjoy the fine drink and food offered to us by our gracious hosts while I don’t have to spare the coin for it. Sounds like we will not be needing the sharp focus that Longshanks has been screaming into our ears these past months.”

Gobi’s cheerful demeanor lessened at that. “You do know that you still will have to ride up a mountain on a horse that’s barely bigger than yourself. Look at the poor thing, I think she’s laboring already.”

Amarro grumbled and rode past, swaying in his saddle. Gobi shook his head and chuckled. Someone would need to make sure he didn’t fall down a ravine or into some creek bed. Gobi hurried his gelding and caught up to Devlin near the front of the column, which was now moving in full force, leaving the camp, and the Royal City in the dust, figuratively. In truth, it was so cold and snowy that there was little dust to kick up once they got on the road.

Devlin heard his approach but didn’t look back. His mother always told him to look forward. When things were at their darkest, and there was no hope to be found, she would always point to the horizon, at dusk and at dawn, and she would remind him that tomorrow was a new day, and hope would be waiting in its wings on the sunrays. He wasn’t sure, but he believed that she truly thought it was hope that warmed their faces, the opportunity for things to get better.

Devlin had shrugged off most of that. Circumstances only got better when people were willing to take action and change them. Like his dad had tried to do. Like he was doing now. Together they could change everything for his mother, and for their country. His hope wasn’t in any sunless morning like this one;, it was in his hands, and the strength of his heart. He would climb whatever mountain, swim any channel, and fight any foe.

“Apologies for intruding your brooding,” Gobi said. He chuckled at his unintentional rhyme. “No need to rush this. It’s a good two weeks to Hoden’s Pass. Probably more with stops for provisions.”

“Then there isn’t a moment to waste,” Devlin said.

“You know, a lot can change in two weeks. For instance, we could make you a respectable rider. I presume that we were never meant to see any action, hence the lack of equestrian training. But, if we’re going to be on these ‘unruly beasts’ as you so fondly refer to them, for an extended period, we should get you comfortable on your steed. What do you call her?”

“A horse.”

Gobi chuckled. “Yes. I’m well aware of what she is. But what’s her name.”

Devlin looked back at him. “She doesn’t have one. She’s just an animal.”

Gobi covered his own gelding’s ears with his hands. “Shame on you,” he hissed. “Every animal deserves a name.” He leaned down by his own horse’s ear. “Don’t listen to a thing he says Karim, he’s just a grouchy old man.”

“We’re less than a year apart,” Devlin scoffed.

Gobi nodded. “Yes, and yet I seem to be the mature one.”

“Do I need to remind you of the woeful excuse for singing you were about to perform before we’ve even had a proper breakfast?”

Gobi wagged his finger. “You’re trying to get me off subject. In the sincerest way I know how, I am telling you that your mare needs a name. She’s far too beautiful to go by ‘Horse’ for the rest of her illustrious and wonderful life.”

Devlin blew out a deep breath. He wasn’t getting out of this one. Gobi would hang on like a dedimi no matter what he said. He was his closest, tightest friend, often too tight if Devlin had his way. He sighed.

“Fine, uh, Tulith?”

“Tulith?” Gobi’s face wrinkled in disgust. “You mean like the old ghoul back home? You know she never did like me?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a nuisance,” Devlin said, meeting Gobi’s eyes.

“One day you’ll thank me for my close company,” he said, shrugging off the jest. “Confound it man!” He slapped his pommel. “You must have something lovelier to name her? She’s pure bred, her sandy coat and black mane shine even on cloudy days such as this. She’s strong, sturdy, and your most swift confidant. She’s been with you every step of your journey to these shores. And she’ll be with you for many more.”

Devlin muttered something incoherent. Why did naming a wily horse matter? They scared him as a child. Or perhaps it was the Astorian troops mounted on them with flashing armor and sharpened steel. Either way, he never trusted the men or the horses. He supposed that wasn’t this particular mare’s fault though.

“Give me some time to think on it.”

Gobi was about to object, but Devlin held up a hand. “I promise, I will give it a name fit for royalty.”

Gobi smiled mischievously. “Very well, you have until we reach Hoden’s Pass.”

Devlin stuck out his hand and they shook on it.

“Now,” Devlin said, rubbing his stomach, “do you have any real food on you, or just coffee beans?”