The Messenger’s War – Chapter One

(Green Rider—property of the inimitable Kristen Britain. I am making no profit off of this work.)

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“Go away!” Karigan G’ladheon growled sleepily, wrapping her pillow around her head. She had been curled in her warm, peaceful bed, in the middle of a now rapidly-fading dream, when she had been abruptly shaken awake.

“Up, Karigan,” came the Captain’s equally agitated voice. “There’s a message that needs to go to the Wall.”

She peered up at her with bleary eyes.

Captain Mapstone, with only her nightgown, a robe, and a lantern in hand and snowflakes still dusting her loose, slightly unruly hair, looked to have had a similarly rude wake-up call. She also had a pair of saddlebags and a message satchel thrown over her shoulder. It would be logical to think that the message was urgent. She lamented—briefly—that she had to go riding through the countryside in midwinter at gods knew what hour of night.

“Yes Captain,” she said resignedly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She pushed the bedclothes aside and swung her legs over the side to get up. The cold immediately hit her, shocking the cobwebs of sleep from her mind. She shivered, stretched, and reached for her uniform, which was laid out over a chair for easy retrieval.

The Captain studied her for a brief moment as if making sure she would really get out of bed, then turned and stepped out of the chamber. She was too cold to be irritated by Mapstone’s doubt. It was unfortunate for anyone who lived here that the castle was so difficult to heat because—as Alton had once reminded her one winter before he mysteriously decided he hated her—it was not an option to put a fireplace every ten feet or so in a large building.

Her teeth chattered miserably as she dressed and buckled on her swordbelt, and finally—thankfully—put on her fur-lined greatcoat. Pulling on her warm winter gauntlets, she joined her Captain out in the corridor.

The Captain was drumming her foot on the floor and had set her lantern down. For some odd reason Karigan had almost expected her to be barefoot, but she had on her riding boots. She handed over the saddlebags and satchel. Once Karigan had taken them the Captain rubbed her hands together, as if to regain circulation, and took up the lantern.

“Condor is saddled,” she said, sotto voiced. As they left Rider wing and with it the possibility of waking someone, she explained further in the same hushed whisper, as if very conscious of the possibility of eavesdroppers. “I was told a short while ago that Agemon has finished his translation.”

The book! Karigan thought in surprise, feeling the weight of her message satchel—and realizing the urgency of her mission. “So this is…”

The Captain spared her a tight smile. “We can only hope that it will be of use, and that this is not all in vain.”

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Inside the Rider Stables, Condor was tacked up, standing on the cross-ties in the barn aisle with his ears and eyelids drooping drowsily and one back hoof cocked. A halter had been put on over the bridle. He perked up and whickered softly as he heard her soft footfalls on the packed dirt.

She slapped his warm neck, slung the satchel over her shoulder and threw the saddlebags across the back of the saddle, than fastened them on securely. She cinched up the girth and took off the halter.

As she led him out into the icy black night, feet sinking into ankle-deep snow, Captain Mapstone put a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful and always keep your eyes open. It’s always possible that someone else knows.”

Karigan nodded, though it almost went without saying, and drew up her hood. Holding the reins with one hand, she stretched to put her foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle.

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Laren Mapstone, breath fogging before her, watched the messenger horse and Rider Knight cross the castle grounds at a fast canter, silhouetted against the night.

She had seen the many letters—written, crumpled, scrapped, and written. She knew what Zachary was trying to do. He was preparing to petition the Lords to allow him to end his engagement without too much fuss. She was afraid… terrified that he was wrong, of what would happen if he was. Sending Karigan away might give her the opportunity to talk some sense into him.

What a horrible night. The wind whipped around her and under her robe, freezing her where it met bare skin. Her boots were pulled on without stockings and dampness made the seams abrade her. Snowflakes eddied and whirled before her eyes, and cold seeped through her inadequate clothing and into her flesh, into her bones. She didn’t want to think about how her joints would feel, come morning.

It went against a lifetime of principles and loyalties to undermine Zachary, but she consoled her conscience that though she was sorry to send Karigan or any other out now there was no other she would have trusted the vital document to.

Her fingers which, like her cheeks and ears, stung from the cold, curled and uncurled around her brooch. Suddenly it flared with livid heat under her hand, leaving her cursing and blowing on her burned fingertips. A second time it glowed with heat and this time it seared through the fabric of her robe and fell soundlessly into the snow.

She nearly screamed at the pain and choked on the effort to hold it back.

What had just happened? She gasped erratically as she stared down her brooch with wild eyes. The lower half of the little horse and the wingtips were submerged in the snow, while the horse’s eye peered up at her with an accusing, almost lifelike light. Her ribs ground with pain as she breathed. Her limbs shook and her teeth chattered. Her muscles spasmed painfully, threatening to send her toppling into the ground. She reached down with her unburned hand to pick it up. It took two tries for her fingers to close around it.

Have I just been abandoned? She wondered, looking down at the coldly shimmering gold in the palm of her quaking hand. Something approaching blind panic gripped her pounding heart. The Green Riders were all she had now… truly, all she’d ever had, but for Melry….

False, the familiar, neutral voice rang through her mind, seemingly responding on its own. The spasming eased, her heart rate slowed, and with it the pain abated to a manageable level.

She blinked. Stunned and horrified at what had just happened, she didn’t know what to think. The most logical conclusions she could come up with were anything but.

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Please tell me if you think it’s worth reading, or if I should even continue. This is a pretty ambitious idea, as you will hopefully see. I had hoped to get a lot more written than I currently have stowed away, but in the past I’ve never made it past chapter three of anything, and I hoped having someone screaming in my ear might encourage me not to give up and scrap it in exchange for a new idea.