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“Ready?” asked Jarin.

She nodded, not really feeling ready at all, but knowing she likely never would.

Jarin twitched his heels and the horse lurched forward. Riella swallowed the urge to yelp, threading her fingers through the horse’s tufty mane to have something to hold onto.

“Don’t worry,” murmured Jarin into her ear. “I’ve got you.” He wrapped one strong arm around her waist. “This is called trotting, but to get there faster, we’ll need to canter, alright? The gait is quicker, but smoother, too.”

“Fine,” said Riella in a tight voice. “It’s all terrifying. Just get us there, please.”

Jarin twitched his heels again, and the pace increased.

“Don’t fight the movement,” he said. “Try to feel the rhythm. And stop looking at the ground.”

She exhaled, lifting her chin to look straight ahead. At first, it was even scarier, to see the green and brown woods flying past. But soon, her body instinctively moved with the flow of the horse. It was not unlike the undulations of a siren’s tail when swimming.

After some time, when they’d passed a handful of small settlements, she even began to enjoy the ride. If Jarin removed his arm from around her waist, she still would’ve shrieked, but it was a little bit fun. And, true to his word, he didn’t let her fall.

The Black Cliffs came into view when the sun shone directly overhead. To reach Polinth’s workshop, they’d need to climb the mountainous ridge leading to the cliffs. A thrill of anticipation rippled through Riella. She was close to the sorcerer, she could feel it.

Jarin tugged the reins as they approached the next settlement, which was little more than a tavern and stables and a few cottages.

“We should dismount now that we’re close to the base of the mountain,” said Jarin as the horse slowed to a walk. “Our friend here will need a break, and we should lie low until the sun begins to set.”

Riella was all too pleased with this plan, because her legs and core ached from the ride.

Jarin directed the horse to the stables. A ruddy-faced young man wearing overalls was sticking hay with a pitchfork out the front. The stables were modest, with room to house a handful of horses. Most of the stalls were occupied, the horses poking their heads out to look at Jarin and Riella and their steed.

“Afternoon,” said Jarin to the young man.

The stablehand rested his pitchfork on the side of a stall and eyed the pirate in silence, taking in Jarin’s tattoos, cutlass, and formidable build. While voices were audible from within the tavern, the stablehand was the only person outside.

“Can you feed and water our horse?” Jarin dismounted while keeping one hand on Riella. “Swing your leg up high,” he said as she tried to mimic his movement. “Higher than you think you’ll need to.”

Even heeding his words, she barely cleared the stallion’s rump. She landed on the ground lightly with Jarin’s help, but staggered from the stiffness in her legs. Seeming to anticipate this, he held her arm until she regained her balance.

“Walk around a little,” he said. “It’s the best thing to get the feeling back.”

Wincing, she took a few tentative steps while Jarin handed the reins to the stablehand, along with a solid gold coin. The boy, who’d been solemn and nervy before, suddenly relaxed.

“I’ll take good care of him,” he said with a nod at Jarin.

He led the horse to the water trough and Jarin turned to Riella.

“You did great.” He drew her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “Come, let’s walk in the forest until you have feeling back in your legs. Then we’ll go to the tavern and coax whatever information we can from the local folk about the defenses of Polinth’s workshop.”

She took his hand and followed him past the tree line. The forest was verdant, with velvety moss growing on damp boulders and tree trunks. “By coax, do you mean torture?”

“Ha. Gold and mead are usually encouragement enough, I find.”

They walked until the blood flow returned to Riella’s legs and she ceased hobbling.

“How on earth do people ride horses all the time?” she asked. “It’s unnatural.”

“You get used to it.”

She stopped under a huge fir tree, gazing up at the branches. “The land really is more varied and lovely than I’d supposed.”

“No doubt the same is true of the ocean. I’ve mostly only seen the surface. What lies beneath is always far more interesting.”