Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [37]
To begin with, there were two sets of reins, each set going to a different horse, each of whom had its own ideas about how a good driver handled those reins. Then there was the fact that you were standing on something that was moving, so your balance was constantly shifting, and that caused tugging on the reins if you weren’t careful, and that gave the horses signals to do things you hadn’t intended.
She was just lucky that her pair were so experienced, so steady, so calm. They reacted to bad signals not by obeying them but by stopping dead in their tracks and waiting patiently for her to sort herself (and them) out.
Gwen had never been happier. Braith was right. This was what she had been born to do.
There was so much more to learn! She’d had no idea, not really, when she first started down this path, how much there was to it. She supposed now that it was all a matter of seeing . . . that she’d only really paid attention to the warriors, who were the end of all the training, and not to the milling lot of half-finished people still in training. But now that she was in the middle of it all, she had at least a sense of how much more there was to being a warrior.
And even knowing how much work there would be, how far she had to go, she still wanted to learn it all.
Today she guided her team carefully around a course laid out by the horsemaster; they’d been at the walk, then the fast walk, then the trot. Now he signaled to them to move straight into a full charge. She slapped the reins on their backs and shouted, bracing herself against the chariot back as they surged forward in the traces.
The chariot bounced and bucked; she kept her knees flexed as she had been taught and kept her balance, although it was a fight to do so. Here is where it was so important for the young warrior to be “trained” by old, experienced horses. If she fell, she knew she could count on them to stop dead, because they had done just that in the early stages of her driving training. She got bruised, but she didn’t get as badly hurt as she would have if the team had kept going.
This was far more frightening than riding. Anyone with any sense would be terrified, with the flying hooves of the horses so close to you, with the chariot bouncing like the featherweight thing that it was, and you trying to guide the horses around turns that slung it sideways as well as sending it bounding into the air.
And for that reason it was all the more exciting and exhilarating.
The horsemaster let them run the course three times before signaling her to slow, then stop. He walked up to them and slid his hand up the shoulder of the mare under her mane and nodded with satisfaction. She was no warmer than she should be; she showed none of the signs of fighting with her driver. Without a word, he waved Gwen off and signaled to the next to come onto the course. She hopped down out of her chariot, her legs wobbly with fatigue but determined not to show it, and walked them back to the paddock, where she backed her chariot into its place in line, unhitched them, and led them off to cool. Once they were fit to turn loose, she unharnessed them, gave them a quick rubdown, and let them out into the field. She turned then, to find her mother at the fence, waiting patiently for her to be finished. She looked in her pregnancy like the pregnant Goddess must look: ridiculously young, face glowing and beautiful as the sun.
She was startled to say the least. Not that Eleri was an utter stranger to the stable; she had driven a chariot herself in the past, though she hadn’t done so in several years and certainly could not in her current state. She was, perhaps, two moons from giving birth, which made it even odder that she should have come down here to the stables, when her increasing girth made such a long walk uncomfortable. And there was no doubt who she had come to see; Gwen was the only person here at the moment.
She recollected herself quickly. Here she was not the queen’s