He smiled as he saw Dalquist struggling to persuade his own mount to overtake Jessie.

An hour later, Grimm began to regret his earlier confidence. Although he exercised with diligence each morning, he felt his legs becoming sore, his back beginning to ache and his joints groaning with every hoofbeat. His backside bloomed into an inferno of agony. After two hours, he writhed in the saddle, subsumed with torment.

He guessed Dalquist had noticed his distress, as the older mage called back, "Not much further, Grimm. Another hour or two should see us in Drute."

"I don't think I can go another minute, Dalquist," Grimm admitted. "I feel like this horse has kicked me all over."

Dalquist reined in and dismounted, and Grimm gratefully followed his example. The young Questor stretched, grimacing in discomfort as each muscle sang out a song of discontent to his aching body.

After a few deep knee-bends, Grimm sighed. "I'm ready to try again," he said, with more confidence than he felt.

"You wouldn't last another mile, Grimm," Dalquist replied, with a shake of his head. "Hmm… I'm not much of a Healer, but I think I could do something to help those distended muscles. Do I have your permission?"

"Anything you could do will be more than welcome, Dalquist. I guess I'm not the experienced horseman I thought I was."

"It's lack of practice, Grimm, just lack of practice. Here we go…"

Dalquist laid his hands on Grimm's shoulders and began a low, muttering chant. Grimm felt warmth beginning to spread slowly from his shoulders into the rest of his distressed body. At first pleasant, the warmth soon turned into heat that built with every second until he almost cried out.

After a sharp, stabbing pain forced a gasp from him, Grimm began to feel better and, after ten minutes, he pronounced himself fit to continue the journey. This time, he marshalled his physical strength with more care, moving with the horse whenever possible and gently guiding her otherwise.