“Are you sure about this?” Kindra turned to Timin, one hand grasping the mane at the base of Eoin’s neck. “You’ve seen people ride horses?”

Timin laughed. “Of course. Use the rope and your knees to guide him. Squeeze when you want him to go faster; pull his head back to slow down.”

Kindra’s lips pinched together, and she looked at the Aledans surrounding them who expected an Odion to know how to control the beast. There was nothing to do but try. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok.”

Timin hoisted her up and she swung her leg over Eoin’s back. He snorted and sidestepped, crushing her leg against a tree. “Ack! Eoin, move!”

“Give him a little kick,” Timin said.

She kicked his soft belly with her free foot and Eoin whinnied, jumping forward. Aledans scattered as he began to run, and Kindra grabbed his mane and tucked her legs against his side so she wouldn’t fall. She could barely hear Timin’s voice over the pounding of Eoin’s hooves.

“Pull back!”

She couldn’t sit up, much less pull back. Tree limbs whipped by as Eoin picked up speed, and then he broke out of the trees, his gait smoothed, and she lifted her head. His muscles moved beneath her like water flowing over a rocky riverbed.

She was flying.

Just as the God promised in her vision. Eoin was teaching her to fly.

She laughed, leaned forward, and squeezed his sides to urge him on. He galloped faster, body moving in a rhythm she was able to pick up and control. She leaned left, pushing her left knee into his side and he turned a slow circle around Fie Wain. As she galloped back to the group she freed an arm, testing her balance and control.

She pulled back and he slowed unwillingly. “Give me a spear!” she shouted, and Carrick held one out as she trotted by. When she had it in her hand she kicked Eoin’s sides, almost falling as he began to run again. She guided him toward a tree as he tried to turn—pulling his head straight despite his protests—and lodged the spear deep into the tree as they veered past it.

Pike didn’t deserve that fast a death, but she could take out Corbin and be back for another spear before they knew what happened. She laughed as she slowed Eoin to a stop. She pet his neck and slid off his back.

“That was amazing!”

Timin grinned as he walked over, followed by Bryant and Carrick. “I told you. Don’t let them cut the horse out from beneath you and you’ll be unstoppable.”

Unstoppable. She liked those odds. Now if only she had her father’s spear, she would truly be a Warrior of Eoin.

Carrick smiled. “I have something for you. Follow me.” He started towards the village and Kindra looked at Timin and Bryant. They nodded and followed her.

Carrick wove between the tents until he reached his family's tent in the center of the village. He held back the door flap and she stepped in. Before her father died, she’d spent many childhood afternoons in this tent, playing with wooden swords while their father’s discussed weapons.

As Carrick dug into a chest full of weapons he spoke. “I apologize for not trusting you at first,” he said as he pulled a leather-wrapped package from the chest. “I made this for your naming, but kept it when you weren’t named. I was going to give it to you as a wedding present, but then you married Obsid.”

He shrugged and held it out, and she studied him before flipping the cover back. It was a sword—thin and short and beautiful. The blade was so blue it was almost purple, with a hilt inlaid with amethyst in the pattern of wisteria—Aleda’s sacred flower. A vine was carved from blade to hand, the metal greened with copper, so the entire weapon looked like it sprang from ground and was plucked by Carrick instead of being made. Her eyes widened and she reached out involuntarily to run her fingertips down the blade. She’d never seen a blue blade before, but she’d heard rumors of Carrick’s new steel, and Oak’s lust for it.

“I don’t use swords.” It was the only thing she could think to say that made any sense.

“They are too big? Unwieldy?”

She nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the beauty of the thing.

“You’ve been using a blade that was made for men, balanced for their size and fighting style. You're smaller and have a style all your own. Fierce, not quite as calculating, but crowding. You like to wear your opponent out, crowd them, and then surprise them. This sword was made for that.”

Kindra took a deep breath and finally looked him in the eye. “I can’t pay for this.”

He smiled. “If you defeat the Obsidians, I’ll make you a spear to match.”

She wanted only her father’s spear, but she bowed deeply. “Thank you, Carrick Wain. I will use this against our enemies to the best of my ability.”

Carrick bowed back. “See that you do.”