Jo panted with her exertions. The sun was hot and high in the sky, and the spring leaves on the willows didn’t entirely filter it away. Occasionally Jo had to struggle to keep her own footing, and sometimes she had to force the gelding down the route she had chosen. They drew closer to the water.
In front of them lay a wide depression, and just beyond it a border of marshy river plants. Jo looked behind her and saw that the others were slowly winding their way down the embankment. She called back to Karleah and pointed to the depression, “Let’s hold up there, Karleah, and wait for the others. There’s enough room to meet up and plan our crossing.” Jo stepped forward, guiding Carsig carefully over the tangled roots of a willow.
A layer of old leaves covered the ground beyond. Overhead arched tree boughs with dark, wet bark and long, probing branches. Sunlight streamed into the large open space and invited Jo forward. She and Carsig took a few steps into the depression.
They sank immediately to their knees.
Jo looked down in dismay. “Oh, well,” she murmured. “Live and learn, Carsig. Come on, we’ll turn around and get out of this mess.” She clucked her tongue and pulled on Carsig’s rein, then tried to lift her leg to turn around. She couldn’t. The shiny black mud beneath the deceptive layers of leaves held her legs firmly. Jo locked her hands behind one knee and lifted. Slowly, her leg pulled free from the mud encasing it. With a final schlupp! her leg came loose and Jo had the good sense to not set it down. She leaned against Carsig for support, and the gelding responded with a snort.
Karleah stopped on the edge of the sinkhole and cackled.
“You’re in a situation, if I may say so,” she chortled.
“You may, and you did,” Jo answered with pretended frost. “Now help me out of here before I sink any deeper!” Karleah found some short pieces of old fallen wood she could dislodge and carry. She brought them to the sinkhole and threw them toward Jo. The squire caught the wet logs one by one and grimaced as a spray of mud and sow-bugs hit her in the face. “Thanks, Karleah,” she said wryly as she began arranging a platform to stand on.
Tentatively Jo put her loose, mud-caked leg on the platform. She shifted her weight and was pleased to see that, though the logs sank slightly, they looked as if they’d hold her up. “Okay,” Jo muttered to herself while Karleah collected more wood for another step. “Brace yourself. You need to do this right the first time.”
Jo pushed off Carsig, at the same time shifting her weight heavily forward onto the platform. With the same reluctant noises coming from the ground as before, Jo withdrew her leg. She stood on the platform and panted, caked with mud. A stray sowbug climbed onto her waist, and she flicked it away.
“I take it a city girl like you isn’t aware of sinkholes,” a voice rang out.
Jo look up, flustered. The words had come from Brisbois, still mounted on his piebald mare. The man’s voice made Jo’s teeth grate. Jo caught the wood Karleah threw to her and prepared for her next step before she spoke. “That’s enough, Karleah,” Jo said, then turned to Brisbois. She looked directly into his insolent eyes. “I’ll thank you, Sir Brisbois, to kindly turn your attentions elsewhere.”
“Such as to helping your horse escape your … miscalculation?” Brisbois quipped. He turned and smiled at Braddoc and Dayin as the two rode up.
Jo chose to ignore his comment. Gathering herself, she leaped to the next platform. She slipped and almost lost her balance as one log sank beneath her foot. She took the next jump immediately, landed at the edge of the sinkhole, and scrambled upward onto safer ground. She spun around and sat on the wet ground. Carsig turned his head, looked at her, and nickered in distress.
“I know, Carsig, I know,” Jo told the gelding while she caught her breath. “We’ll get you out somehow.” With a nearby stick Jo began scraping the layer of mud off her legs. The river will wash this off, thankfully, Jo said to herself.
“How are we going to get Carsig loose?” Dayin asked. “I think he’s sinking.”
Jo stared at the gelding. Sure enough, the horse seemed to have sunk. “Carsig!” she called. The animal turned his head toward his mistress and whickered.
Braddoc pulled two ropes off Fernlover’s pack and handed one to Brisbois. Quickly the two men began tying them into lariats. They slowly twirled the ropes overhead and threw them at Carsig’s neck. Brisbois missed, but Braddoc’s toss landed on target. Carsig groaned indignantly. At Jo’s congratulatory smile, Braddoc smiled and said, “Comes from years of practice at rounding up ponies.” Brisbois snorted and threw his rope again; this time it caught. Jo averted her eyes from the knight and said nothing.
The man and dwarf pulled in tandem while Jo called coaxingly to Carsig. The ropes tightened around the gelding’s neck, and the horse whinnied fearfully. Carsig’s roan haunches rippled with effort as he struggled to move in the quagmire. On the bank, Braddoc and Brisbois strained against the ropes, but not enough to hurt the horse’s neck.
“Come on, Carsig! Come on, boy, you can do it!” Jo shouted. She held out the stubble of a carrot; beside her, Dayin waved some succulent grasses. Carsig heaved once more, his back arching as if trying to buck away from the clawing mud. For a moment it looked as if the gelding would pull free; his front hooves surfaced to the sounds of wet mud smacking. Jo cheered, and Braddoc and Brisbois strained harder against the ropes.
Carsig twisted and turned, his hooves coming down in the mud. He tried frantically to maintain his momentum, but his rear haunches would not move in the mire. The gelding thrashed about, his front hooves clawing at the mud as he tried desperately to free himself. Braddoc and Brisbois threw their weight farther back and the ropes tightened about the horse’s neck, but even their combined strength couldn’t budge the horse. Jo began to call out again, but the words faltered. Her eyes were locked on the struggling horse, her ears hearing only his throaty rattle as he tried to whinny. Carsig’s throat had grown raw from rope burns as he threw his head forward and back.
Stomping over to the men, Jo threw her weight against the rope and cried, “Now!” It was their last chance, Jo was sure. She, Braddoc, and Brisbois strained against the rope, while the gelding screamed. He arched his back, churning the mud between his hind legs. With a fierce kick, Carsig toppled sideways, his legs pulling free. He thrashed his way through the mud and onto the firmer ground surrounding the sinkhole. With a last, shuddering pull, Jo and the others hauled the filthy, shaking horse out of the mud.
Carsig stood before Jo, his entire body quivering with fatigue and terror. After assuring that the horse would not suddenly bolt, Jo removed the two ropes from his neck and inspected the rope burns. The rope had dug deeply into the horses neck, but Carsig would recover. Next Jo inspected the creature’s legs to see if he had pulled any muscles or torn any joints. Jo breathed a sigh of relief. The Immortals must have been smiling on them: the horse’s shivering legs were free of the knots of muscle that indicated a pull.
Brisbois rewound the ropes and sauntered over to Jo. He said without inflection, “It’s good we were here to help you. I don’t think you’d have gotten Falar out without us.”
Jo’s lips pursed. She said tightly, not bothering to look up at the tall knight as she checked the gelding’s last leg, “His name now is Carsig.” Carsig was the name of the hostler she had worked for in Specularum, a harsh and serious man, but one who knew horses—and had gained Jo’s respect because of it. But, truth be told, she had named the horse after him not only to honor her former employer, but also so that she could order “Master” Carsig about. Johauna bit her lip and then added, “And I never would have gone into the sinkhole if I had been traveling alone.”