fifteen years ago. I’m surprised she’s still around, honestly, but she seems perfectly suited for training children. And bridgemen.”
Kaladin ignored him, eyes forward, still trying to get the horse to pick up her pace and catch Natam.
“Now, if you want something with more spunk,” Adolin said, pointing toward the side, “Dreamstorm over there might be more to your liking.”
He indicated a larger, leaner animal in its own enclosure, saddled and roped to a pole firmly mortared into a hole in the ground. The long rope let it run in short bursts, though only around in a circle. It tossed its head, snorting.
Adolin heeled his own animal forward and past Natam.
Dreamstorm, eh? Kaladin thought, inspecting the creature. It certainly did seem to have more spunk than Spray. It also looked like it wanted to take a bite out of anyone who drew too close.
Kaladin turned Spray in that direction. Once near, he slowed—Spray was all too happy to do that—and climbed off. Doing so proved more difficult than he’d expected, but he managed to avoid tripping onto his face.
Once down, he put his hands on his hips and inspected the running horse inside its fence.
“Weren’t you just complaining,” Syl said, walking up onto Spray’s head, “that you’d rather walk than let a horse carry you about?”
“Yeah,” Kaladin said. He hadn’t realized it, but he had been holding some Stormlight. Just a tad. It escaped when he spoke, invisible unless he looked closely and detected a slight warping of the air.
“So what are you doing thinking about riding that?”
“This horse,” he said, nodding to Spray, “is only for walking. I can walk just fine on my own. That other one, that’s an animal for war.” Moash was right. Horses were an advantage on the battlefield, so Kaladin should be at least familiar with them.
The same argument Zahel made to me about learning to fight against a Shardblade, Kaladin thought with discomfort. And I turned him down.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jenet asked, riding up to him.
“I’m going to get on that,” Kaladin said, pointing at Dreamstorm.
Jenet snorted. “She’ll throw you in a heartbeat and you’ll break your crown, bridgeman. She’s not good with riders.”
“She has a saddle on.”
“So she can get used to wearing one.”
The horse finished a round of cantering and slowed.
“I don’t like that look in your eyes,” Jenet told him, turning her own animal to the side. It stomped impatiently, as if eager to be running.
“I’m going to give it a try,” Kaladin said, walking forward.
“You won’t even be able to get on,” Jenet said. She watched him carefully, as if curious what he’d do—though it seemed to him she might be more worried for the horse’s safety than his.
Syl alighted on Kaladin’s shoulder as he walked.
“This is going to be like back at the lighteyed practice grounds, isn’t it?” Kaladin asked. “I’m going to end up on my back, staring at the sky, feeling like a fool.”
“Probably,” Syl said lightly. “So why are you doing this? Because of Adolin?”
“Nah,” Kaladin said. “The princeling can storm away.”
“Then why?”
“Because I’m scared of these things.”
Syl looked at him, seeming baffled, but it made perfect sense to Kaladin. Ahead, Dreamstorm—huffing out huge breaths from her run—looked at him. She met his eyes.
“Storms!” Adolin’s voice called from behind. “Bridgeboy, don’t actually do it! Are you mad?”
Kaladin stepped up to the horse. She danced a few steps back, but let him touch the saddle. So he breathed in a little more Stormlight and threw himself at the saddle.
“Damnation! What—” Adolin shouted.
That was all Kaladin heard. His Stormlight-aided leap let him get higher than an ordinary man could probably have managed, but his aim was off. He got hold of the pommel and threw one leg over, but the horse started thrashing.
The beast was incredibly strong, a distinct and powerful contrast to Spray. Kaladin was quite nearly hurled from the seat on the first buck.
With a wild swipe of the hand, Kaladin poured Stormlight onto the saddle and stuck himself in place. That only meant that instead of being tossed from horseback like a limp cloth, he got whipped back and forth like a limp cloth. He somehow managed to get hold of the horse’s mane and, with teeth gritted, did his best to keep from being bounced senseless.
The stable grounds were a blur. The only sounds he could hear were his beating heart and the smashing hooves. The Voidbringer beast moved like a storm itself, but Kaladin was stuck to the saddle as