Free Strategos: Born in the Borderlands by Gordon Doherty

first, the very act of staying on horseback had proved difficult for him, his scarred leg stinging as he clung to the beast, but the rush when he rode was unmatched and only a few weeks after Mansur had first shown him the basics of handling a horse, riding felt more natural to him than walking.
     
    This morning he and Maria had raced at full pelt down the banks of the Piksidis, before turning in and up to the tip of the valleyside. Then they had sped down the opposite side, rounding Kutalmish’s farm, Apion shouting a pox on the boy Nasir – much to Maria’s chagrin – and then galloping back up the valleyside. Now they were coming to the hilltop just north of the farm. Apion had first discovered this hilltop on his first solo morning gallop; it was probably the highest point near Mansur’s farm, and afforded a fine vista of the breaking dawn.
     
    As they reached the hilltop, they rounded the small beech thicket and then the mare slowed just by a terracotta boulder cairn. Apion’s eyes were drawn to the topmost boulder, sporting a faded etching of some creature with two heads, broad wings and rapier-like talons. The etching was very old by the look of it, but the fierceness in the creature’s eyes still made his spine tingle every morning when he saw it.
     
    Then Maria cuffed his ear. ‘Have you lost your mind? I was terrified we were going to be thrown to the ground and dashed on the rocks!’
     
    Apion laughed; this was the first time she had ridden with him. She had begged him to take her with him because Mansur – who had forbidden her from riding as she was too small – was away to market today. He turned to her, grinning, but his face fell as he noticed that she was shaking. He put a hand on her knee. ‘I’m sorry, Maria, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just that I’ve never felt more in control than when I’m riding.’ He patted the mare’s mane and the beast snorted in reply, breath clouding in the dawn air. ‘I’d never be able to make it up here on foot with my crutch.’
     
    She glanced at his withered leg and he felt the usual shame. His leg had at least formed a pink welt of scar tissue since leaving the squalid conditions of the cellar inn, but this scarring held the limb bent at the knee, forcing him to walk in a lop-sided fashion. To stretch the scar and stand tall sent a furious agony through his body, so riding suited him perfectly.
     
    ‘It’s okay,’ she said softly, ‘I know you didn’t mean to upset me.’ She looked around, the wind dancing through her hair. All was still dark apart from the band of light blue to the east. ‘Anyway, why have we stopped here?’
     
    ‘You said you would watch the sun rise with me one morning, remember?’ He pointed to the glimmer of red on the eastern horizon. ‘Well, here we are.’
     
    She rested her chin on his shoulder and they remained in silence as the glimmer swelled and spread, growing into orange until the light spilled through the valleys, illuminating the burnished terracotta hillsides, silhouetting the farms and mills that dotted the rich soil flatlands in between and igniting the Piksidis like a silver asp.
     
    They watched until the sun was fully over the horizon, their breath slowing at the majestic transformation.
     
    Maria sighed contentedly, finally breaking the spell. ‘It’s beautiful.’
     
    ‘I never tire of watching the land come to life. It washes away all the worry from my mind,’ Apion replied.
     
    ‘It’s a wonder you get any sleep at all – you’re up before the goats!’
     
    Apion laughed. It had taken him a while to realise but life on the farm had kept him engaged at all times: riding, goat herding and farming absorbing his days and every night was ended with a welcome cup of creamy salep. Even the nightmares had begun to subside in the last few weeks, and the resulting rest had been most welcome. Every morning he had found himself refreshed and calm, rising before dawn to come up