Page 62 of The Neverfear

‘You could still ride it, Tatenda,’ said one. ‘Twenty thousand bullions is worth breaking another limb for.’

‘It bit off three of my fingers. My legs are broken in seventeen places. No, Genrit.’

Christopher looked at the hind. She had that earthen beauty that all deer have, and her eyes were intelligent, full of fire. The chain around her neck clanked. Christopher looked with hatred at those chains. This was not a tame creature. She should not be here.

None of the four was watching, so Christopher approached the hind. Her eyes, rolling in a frenzy from side to side, fell on him. He stood stock still. The hind breathed in. Christopher held out his hand, and the hind sniffed and snorted.

‘A charming tableau,’ said Jacques.

‘A sweet-adorabling moments,’ agreed Ratwin.

The hind sank her teeth into Christopher’s hand.

‘Hey!’ shouted one of the men. ‘You keep back!’

Christopher snatched his hand away. It was bleeding. He pressed it under his arm, swearing quietly.

Ratwin gasped and Anya cursed, twice down to the right. ‘We should go!’ she said. ‘There’s no way you can ride that, Christopher. We’ll have to find another way: steal the apple from whoever wins it, or—’

But Christopher shook his head. He moved closer to the hind. He thought of what Naravirala had said about the Light: Anchor yourself.

He held out his good hand, palm up. The hind’s muzzle, damp with flecks of furious spit, touched his fingertips. Slowly Christopher ran his hand along the hind’s nose. He fixed his eyes on hers, and tried to sink backwards into his mind, tried to find his way towards her, and yet to keep hold of himself.

The flash came. For the first time, it was less like being punched by a wall and more like a sparkling: a feeling that ran from the top of his head to the base of his feet. The golden thread unspooled between them, and he held his breath. An image rose up behind his eyes: woods, and in among the trees a great herd of the Ceryneian deer – and with it a yearning so strong it shook his internal organs.

The hind ducked her head, and butted him hard on the shoulder. He bent his head to meet hers.

‘Incredible.’ The four figures in blue stood at the mouth of the stable.

‘I think you have your rider,’ said Tatenda. ‘Where have you come from, lad?

The golden thread vanished. But it did not feel far away – as though he could pick it up again, if he tried.

‘From the south,’ said Christopher. He sized the men up expressionlessly. This was not a time for manners. He held his whole body still and impassive.

‘You ride for me, lad,’ said the tallest of the men, ‘and if you win, we’ll split the money, fifty-fifty.’

‘No,’ said Christopher. ‘You can keep the money. I want the golden apple.’

‘You cheeky little—’ But the word, which Christopher felt sure would have been worth hearing, was drowned out by the warning bell.

A voice blared out, ‘All entrants to the starting line! Five minutes!’

‘Not the apple,’ said the man. ‘The cash.’

‘This isn’t a negotiation,’ said Anya. ‘It’s a yes or no.’

There was a brief, hurried conversation among the four. ‘All right. Deal!’

‘That’s not everything,’ said Christopher. ‘If I win, you let her go.’

‘No way, kid. She’s worth twice the prize money!’

‘You’ll not find anyone else to ride her,’ Tatenda said. ‘I’d take it.’

‘She’s a free creature,’ said Christopher. ‘She’s not yours.’

‘I’m just trying to make a living,’ said the man. ‘Don’t look at me like that – you’ve never had to fight to keep a roof over your head, have you? You’re just a kid! Everything provided for you.’