Stallion Mage: True Mates

by Spade, AO

  But back home, people were hungry. He remembered the waving, sickly-sweet romeya advancing on the camp. He closed his eyes for a moment more, but the faces of the tribe rose up in his imagination. Thin faces. I'm coming, he told them. As soon as he found some way to heal the land, and also find a way to make the stallions listen.

  The mage sat up, the soft hay crackling around him, and something brushed against his shoulders. His hair! He gathered it in a hand. It was longer than it had been yesterday, but still shorter than he was used to.

  Stay this way, he willed, but with little hope. His hair had always grown and grown; when he was a colt and tried to cut it, his hair had grown back twice as fast. At least my mane and tail are normal.

  He rose from the pallet. This room had many more wonders than he had seen the day before. Though there was little in it other than the pallet, the upper edges of the wood walls, where they joined the ceiling, had patterns cut into them. He could imagine that was possible with the sharp stone he'd found by Alvi's skeleton.

  Or maybe, it had been shaped by magic. Anything seemed possible. Even if it had been easily performed by magic, he would never have thought to do any of it. His magic had been focused on solving problems for the tribe, such as bad water and romeya.

  As he inched along the room, looking at its details, his calf bumped into something hard. It was another low platform, but this was straight-sided and solid all the way down to the ground, not supported by four straight pieces like the other platforms that he had found.

  The platform was carved on the top with more of those straight lines and curves. The top edge overhung the rest; Alvarr grasped it, and found that it moved up. He gasped, hoping he hadn't damaged it.

  No, it is supposed to be like this. The whole top part of the platform moved upward, like their woven doors. Like Elder Mastok's straight-sided leaves that were bound together on one side. The joint still moved smoothly, as though the place had been abandoned only a season ago.

  As Alvarr raised the top, he saw that the inside was hollow. There were objects within: several more bundles of those bound leaves, and a small wooden piece with straight edges.

  He brought out the bundles and laid them out on the pallet. Flipping through the leaves, he could make no sense of them. These had not a single drawing that he recognized, all just mysterious marks. More to bring back to the Elders. His only hope was that these leaves contained the knowledge to help the tribe.

  The mage brought out the last item, the flat piece of wood. It was actually two pieces of wood joined together on one side. The mage separated the pieces at the free edge, and almost dropped the object.

  Magic!

  Even though Alvarr was a mage, this was something different. On both sided of the wood was a likeness so life-like, it was as though the people themselves were trapped in the artwork. The mage carefully touched a fingertip to the surface, and it came away with a faint mark. No, it is like the painting in the cave. Just an image.

  One side showed the heads of three people in their four-legged forms: a reddish-brown mare with a mage-stripe, a proud black stallion, and a smaller black stallion.

  The other side showed three people's faces: a smallish woman with longer reddish-hair, a black-haired man with a kind expression, and an older boy, almost a man, with the same black hair, but longer.

  Alvi, her mate, and her son. This is their dwelling. And though a great tragedy would happen to them, they all looked happy in a way Alvarr had never seen before.

  It is because we are supposed to live together.

  The truth finally settled into the mage's heart. The rift never should have happened. The tribe had been wrong to separate, all those years ago. It had made stallions start to fear magic, and so much of their knowledge disappeared when they abandoned their land and their way of life.

  Now, Alvarr knew, it was time to leave. This is what he'd been meant to see. Somehow, he had to convince the tribe not just that they should not fear magic, but that to heal the rift, the stallions, mares, and children had to live together once more. Only then would they heal the land.

  If they did not, the land's sickness would spread, faster and faster, until not even the mares could outpace it. As much as he'd like to stay and discover all the knowledge they'd left behind, Alvarr felt a push of urgency like a hand at his back.

  Perhaps I can come back. Perhaps Laren or the Elders could resist the barrier of night-fear and be willing to cross the hostile territory. If we met a predator, I would have to protect them, the mage thought proudly.

  Perhaps it was unrealistic, but he wanted to take back everything he'd found. There was only one way he could think to do it. He sent a wave of apology to Alvi and her mate, but their energies had gone, and it was only to ease his own mind.

  Then, he put the bundles of cloth and the likenesses of Alvi's family on the ground, and grasped the cover of the pallet, which was fastened on one side with a coarse weave made of straw. He pulled the rope out and, with a great heave, shook the bedding from the white cloth. Ancient straw tumbled around him, but it was as fresh as though it had been harvested last season. Then again, this is Alvi's dwelling place; perhaps she had a way of preserving things, or her magic just acted on its own to make time not touch it.

  Alvarr hoped he could wrap everything up in the pallet covering, fasten it with strong vines, and pull it in his four-legged shape. It should be possible. He'd seen the mare Equi pulling things in the same fashion, and his burden would be lighter than a tree trunk. Hopefully, the white covering would help the items survive the journey home, but even if this didn't work, he had no other ideas.

  He put the leaf bundles, the likenesses, and the strange mage-made tool he'd found on the write covering and gathered the edges. He pulled it on the ground as a test, just in his man-shape. It wasn't too heavy, but he could tell that pulling this would slow his return journey. Then again, I've been gone so long, will it matter how quickly I return? They don't know I am coming back.

  He dragged his bundle through the trees, wincing every time he hit a bump or snag. When he reached the place of blue flowers, that strange sunken-in shelter, he examined the white covering. Dirt and leaves clung to it, but the material itself did not show signs of wear.

  Using the vines, he lowered himself slid down the hole. Dry earth rained down on his head as he touched the packed dirt floor, but it was a good thing that he'd made the hole a bit wider. Now, there was a faint light coming in. He gathered up a few of the bundles and wrapped the end of a vine around them until they swung in the air. Alvarr watched them to make sure they didn't unroll.

  Once he was back on top of the mound, he lay flat on his belly to disturb the fragile earth as little as possible. At least my hair is not getting in the way. He pulled up the bundles carefully, and when they were in his hands, he untangled them from the end of the vine, smiling in triumph. This is going to work.

  He would have preferred to be with others, but he did find a quiet pride in what he had accomplished alone. In his vision, the ancient people had seemed so different, how they harnessed the power of four-legged and two-legged forms together. But aren't we the same kind of people?

  They looked the same and spoke the same language. Perhaps they had a hope of recovering all their knowledge, and every tribe-brother and tribe-sister could sleep on soft pallets covered with white material, though Alvarr had no idea how that would happen.

  Alvarr pulled up the bundles, one by one, and rewrapped the big sheet of white material to contain everything securely. For extra safety, he wrapped more vines around the whole burden, for they could get worn through during the journey. It's all I can think of. It will have to do.

  He took a final look around the ancient dwelling, said goodbye to the mare-mage, her mate, and the many people that had died. I hope to come back with at least a few of my people, so they can see the way you once lived.

  Then, with a last look at the beautiful falling leaves, Alvarr took up the vines and started pulli
ng his load behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Journey Home

  THERE WAS A problem with his plan, Alvarr thought, huffing his way up a gentle slope. It was far more difficult to travel through the hills with his bundle of treasures from the old camp. He was slower, which he expected, but he found that he could only travel in man-shape. He had no way to tie the vines around himself on four-legs.

  His magic showed no sign of helping him, but he had never moved anything with magic. That was not his power.

  The mage wiped beads of sweat from his forehead when he got to the top, and sat in the grass, slightly light-headed. He had only climbed a small hill. How was he going to last going up the bigger peaks? At least the effort kept him warm.

  That was another thing that had happened. The season was more like a late, dry summer when he had entered the ancient camp. But when he emerged from the trees and started up the first slope, the season had turned to true fall. Alvarr was not sure how many days he had been away, but the air had gone from still and warm to windy and cold, especially at night. If he could only travel in man-shape, his softer, weaker form would get cold much more easily.

  He looked at the awkward white vine-wrapped burden. Could he really pull this all the way back home? It bulged with the many items he could not bring himself to leave behind. If there was someone else here, he could tie it to me while on four-legs.

  But he wasn't sure anyone in the stallion tribe would have done that, even if they'd been with him. Alvarr tried to imagine the stallion tribe living the way he'd seen, over by the stacked-log dwelling. He pictured Laren looking on with pride as the mage made things happen with his earth power.

  It was not a new thought, but for some reason, the impossibility of it drowned him. He took a shuddering breath, but it didn't ease the pain of what he could never have. And was the ancient tribe really like that? Maybe there had been others like him, small and outcast, who had lived a whole life without companionship. His chest ached, and tears overflowed from Alvarr's eyes.

  He cried for a long minute before he got himself under control. Embarrassed, even though there was no one to see, Alvarr wiped them away.

  What is wrong with me? he thought. Maybe he was just hungry. He shifted to four legs and took advantage of the ready, nutritious food on the hill. After all, he still had to cross the barren grasslands, which would be even worse, now that winter was on the way at last.

  When he was done grazing, his mind was clearer. He had to face the very real possibility that Alvarr couldn't pull his burden up the steep, rocky slopes of the mountains. Though they were small, the rocks would cut and scrape the underside, and the cloth-wrapped items were heavy enough that they could pull him back down.

  He would have to go around the range of peaks, which would take him much longer. As long as he could find food easily, he would be fine, but he didn't know how long the vines would last.

  After he had pulled his burden around the base of the first rocky hill, he stopped in the shadow of the base and check on the vines. He shook his head, lips clamped together. Some of the vines were almost broken on the bottoms already. This is never going to work.

  Shifting, he touched one with his horn, hoping that it would renew itself, but no glow came from him. Even if it hadn't, he could feel that his magic had once again settled deep inside him, as though it had gone to sleep.

  But what could he do? The only thing he could: keep walking toward home. He tried to move the vines so that the worn pieces weren't dragging along the ground. Then he resumed dragging it up a small, grassy hill, getting more and more weary with every step.

  It wasn't his imagination. The way was getting harder and harder, and he couldn't understand why. Hadn't he been eating good food and getting good rest? He had not been injured, and his legs showed new strength that had not been there before the journey.

  I should be feeling stronger, not weaker. He commanded his legs to keep climbing, and he leaned into the slope. His bundle was a constant force that worked against him.

  When he got to the top, he almost collapsed. Cold sweat ran down his temples, and his stomach clenched as though he had eaten something bad. A shaky dizziness swept over him. Alvarr sat and put his head on his knees.

  There was something wrong with him, after all. This wasn't normal. It was as though the ancient land had done something to him, but he knew that no bad energy remained. He breathed slowly, though it made his stomach more queasy, and calmed his racing heart. I must have eaten a bad herb.

  He rested at the top of the hill for some time, closing his eyes and reaching for his power. He did not notice the cooling temperature, but came awake when he felt the first drop on his bare shoulder. Then another one.

  Alvarr looked up. Above him, the sky was thick with dark gray clouds, and a cold wind blew the tops of the plants around him. He stood up and tried to find a place to shelter. His best chance were the trees in the closest valley.

  A bolt of lightning sizzled in the air; in panic, he shifted, then grabbed a vine with his teeth and bolted down the hill. Ice, not rain, pattered around him, and he plunged down the slippery grass, his hooves sliding dangerously as he made an uncontrolled descent.

  It was as though the storm was chasing him. More lightning followed the mage, flashing right over his head. Hail lashed his coat so hard, Alvarr could feel the individual drops bounce off his flanks and neck. He couldn't help but wonder if Alvi's spirit was somehow angry that he'd disturbed her resting place. Don't be ridiculous. If anything, she was happy that you discovered it.

  He reached the valley, but he dared to look at the sky. A black cloud coming to a point had started to form. His instincts took over, and despite his fatigue, despite his lack of direction, he ran as though he would die if he stopped. He was still aware of his jaws clamping around the vine, and the sound of his bundle bouncing and sliding behind him.

  His hooves slid on the slick ice-coated ground, and it wasn't until he almost ran headfirst into the trunk of a tree that he brought himself to a shuddering stop. His breath came out in white plumes, and his stomach revolted. He shifted to two-legs and stood in the mud, shaking with burning nausea.

  What is happening- He barely had time to lean over before his stomach emptied.

  After he had vomited up everything, he put his hand on his middle, which felt like it had been stretched tight. I just have to wait this out, he told himself. He hugged himself for warmth and comfort. He would wait until he felt better, and then he would keep going back the way he had come.

  The package! Alvarr saw the large white lump getting increasingly buried by small gray ice balls. The precious contents couldn't get wet; they would be ruined, and all his work would be for nothing. But he couldn't unwrap them yet, not when that dark cloud was out there.

  He picked up the vines and pulled the bundle toward the tree. It served as some shelter from the wind and ice, but he would be in trouble if it got struck by lightning. Still, his legs could hardly hold him up; he was going nowhere for a while, so he might as well wait in what comfort he could find.

  He shifted to four-legs. His horn did not glow, just an ordinary piece of bone, and Alvarr didn't feel the easy rise of Nature's energy swirling through him.

  At least the thunder had stopped. Sighing, he let himself fall into a standing doze to wait out the strange storm.

  "He's not coming back," Laren said, his voice tight and tense. He and Elder Sevan, of all people, stood at the boundary of their territory where the great grasslands started.

  "Our mage left for a reason," the Elder said, but he, too, had a worried expression on his weathered face. "Perhaps he could feel something out there, something that only mages know."

  "No," the leader said. "You don't… you can't understand." He folded his arms and faced away from Elder Sevan. "He had reason to leave. Leave forever."

  "Not Alvarr," Elder Sevan said. "I know that much. I do not doubt his loyalty. We must believe in him."

  When a
wareness came back to the mage, he could only think of one thing: he had dreamed both Laren and the Elder as painfully thin. Whether it was real, or it was his fear making those images, Alvarr knew that he was right in some sense. If things had stayed the same as when Alvarr had left, with no rain and the spread of romeya, the stallions were probably running out of good food within range. They would have to walk too far to find it, and they might use more energy than they gain.

  Ice continued to fall steadily from the sky and coated the ground in hard, frozen balls. Even though the weather was frightening, Alvarr couldn't help but be grateful. This was Nature, too, just like the beast and the barren land.

  And there were so many things he had seen, that no one would ever see. And so many things he had done that no one else would ever do. He had knowledge that went beyond the tribe, now. Knowledge even that Elder Mastok did not possess.

  Finally, the strange storm stopped. The mage stepped carefully from beneath the tree to the bundle that was half buried in a dirty coating of rough ice, which already started to melt. He needed to drag it onto higher ground; there was no way he could unwrap it here.

  Alvarr sighed and took up the frayed vine in his mouth. It snapped after just a few steps. Shifting to two-legs, he unwrapped part of the vine around his bundle and used that to pull, dragging the items along until he had found a part of the ground that was not too wet.

  But after he had brushed a lot of the ice and water off the top, Alvarr knew he didn't need to unwrap it. The contents were perfectly safe; the white cloth had repelled the water like a lizard's skin, just like the healing tent did. And though the bottom was dirty, only the vines had worn away, not the material.

  He continued, walking around the base of another rocky mountain. He wasn't quite sure how far he had come, but he knew that his mad dash must have covered a lot of ground. And, he had proven that he could pull the vine in his stronger, faster four-legged form.