Page 52 of Healer to the Ash King
There’s an intensity to his eyes, a pointed significance to his words. And suddenly I understand.
He’s the monster. He wants to be sure that these women would have the courage and presence of mind to handle him should he get out of control. His future wife will have to deal with his occasional flame-outs, whether in public or in private.
The King and his retinue are moving away, out of the field and into the private box that has been constructed for him, from which he will view the event.
As I watch him go, I think of flames swelling in his throat, licking between his teeth—and I think of my water magic pouring through him, quenching the fire.
I have already learned how to deal with the monster.
Once the field is clear, the Favored pair off with trainers. Most of the trainers speak low, and even though I ride closer, I can’t quite catch what they’re saying. But Leslynne’s trainer is a pleasant-looking woman with naturally loud tones, and I sidle my horse toward the pair of them, trying to hear everything I can. If I’m going to be out in the field when these beasts are set free, I need to know what to expect.
“Ollpheists don’t like bright light,” says the trainer. “See how they keep ducking their heads, bobbing them up and down? They’re not happy about the sun. If old Hesham—that’s my ollpheist—if he charges you, you get the sun at your back and he’ll think twice about running into that blaze of light. Stay out of shadows. The beasties are cowards, so they’ll go for the smallest target in the area, the easiest prey. Given a choice between you and that healer on horseback, they’ll go for you every time.”
Leslynne nods, her blue eyes wide.
“Now let’s practice our approach,” says the trainer. “Make yourself as big as you can by holding your arms out from your body, like this.” She spreads her arms wide. “If you get into real trouble, use this sound.” She gives a throaty, croaking call. “That means ‘sundown,’ and signals that it’s time to rest. Try it.”
Leslynne tries the call, with limited success. The trainer winces. “Let’s forget about that, then. The ‘sundown’ cry is very close to their calls for danger or food. Takes a long time working with these beasts to differentiate the cries. Now we’re going to approach Hesham, and I’ll tell you what commands he knows. Arms out wide—yes, like that—and stomp on the ground so he’ll feel you coming and know that you’re a formidable presence. They’re big into vibrations and sound waves, these beasties. Right then—in we go!”
The trainer and Leslynne stomp toward an ollpheist cage, arms spread wide. Laughter trickles through the crowd at the odd spectacle, but they stop laughing when Morani and her trainer begin a similar approach. I don’t want to ride too close and jeopardize the girls’ concentration, so I hang back, just close enough to rush in if I’m needed.
Morani’s ollpheist stands perfectly still until she and the trainer have nearly reached the cage, and then it lunges, crashing against the bars. Morani screams, and the monster squalls with rage when it can’t get to her. The trainer shouts, stomping the ground and making rhythmic jerking motions with his arms until the creature settles down.
That first charge and scream takes everyone’s mood from apprehension to terror. I can sense the desperation from the women. Khloe is openly sobbing, her narrow shoulders shaking while her trainer tries awkwardly to comfort her.
As I ride closer, I can hear her crying, “I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this.”
“Khloe.” I swing down from the horse and take her shoulders. “Khloe, do you want to be here? Do you want him?” I point to the Ash King.
“I—I—I—think so,” she gasps through sobs.
“Then you can do this. Your trainer is here to help you. You don’t have to make the beast do any tricks, okay? Just stay on the field and survive until the hourglass runs out. I won’t let you die. Trust me.”
I can’t slow her pulse or calm her nerves with my magic—that wouldn’t be fair to the other girls—but I give her my most confident smile before mounting my horse again. She wipes her eyes and nods as the trainer continues to explain his preferred strategy for handling an ollpheist.
By the end of the practice session, a few of the contestants have managed to make an ollpheist lie down or turn around, while others can’t get too close to the cage without their beast trying to break out and eat them. Apparently every ollpheist has a different temperament, just like people do. And the Favored have no choice about which one they must wrangle. They’ve each been assigned a number and a corresponding cage.
At last the girls and trainers are pulled out of the field, and the herald repeats the rules—stay on the field with the unchained beast until the time is up. Stepping outside the fence means automatic disqualification from the contest. Survival is the minimum expectation, with bonus points for being able to calm or control the ollpheist. The girl with the top score gets personal time with the King.
The herald holds a bowl up to the Ash King, and he selects a scrap of paper. “Teagan,” he says.
White-faced, Teagan nods and steps back through the fence. A trainer runs out and unlatches the corresponding ollpheist’s cage, then races back to safety. I clutch the reins of my horse, conscious of the sweat coating my palms and the center of my back. Like some of the Favored, I’m wearing heavy leather today, from neck to wrists to toes, and I hate it.
What I wouldn’t give to be back in the potsava fields, dancing through crumbly dark soil while guiding sprays of glittering water over the plants. I wish I could deliver Elisse’s baby—I’ve been monitoring her progress and the child’s for months, and I feel deeply connected to both of them. But it will be the midwife from Ranis who handles the birth, because I’m here, watching the noble daughters of the land face off against monsters.
A servant on the upper platform pushes the huge hourglass until it turns upside-down, and red sand begins to flow.
Teagan lingers near the fence, and for a second I wonder if she’s going to play it safe and stay near the edge until time runs out.
But then, her ollpheist nudges the cage door and discovers it’s free.
It charges immediately, straight for Teagan.
My first impulse is to spur my horse forward and intercept the beast, to get between it and Teagan. It’s all I can do to hold myself back.
Teagan stomps her feet, arms spread wide. She yells at the creature, but her cry is shrill with fear.
It’s not stopping. It’s going to crash straight into her.
