The next concern was his arm and shoulder. He could bend it only by suffering the pain moving it caused. It was fractured, and hopefully not broken completely or dislocated. Who knew how far he was from any sort of civilization.
The scratches he’d acquired when he’d run through the berry patch seemed more superficial. Although that didn’t mean they were less painful, he wasn’t bleeding out. There would be scars from a couple of the bad ones though.
He stood there, naked in the night, thankful for the lush tropical humidity. Carefully he turned to take in the foreign beach. The moon lit up the endless length of sand ahead and behind him. The white surface sparkled like sugar where moonlight played across the smooth surface. Underfoot it felt powdery and soft like something only his imagination might create. Behind him the beach blended into dunes and then to the dark shape of a towering mountain range reaching to the sky.
The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and he regarded the beach again. There were several large forms moving down the beach towards him.
Horses.
They were only horses.
A soft blow and puff of breath echoed behind him and he spun to the ocean, shocked to see a group of horses walking out of the rolling waves. They splashed out and shook the suds and water from their powerful bodies. He counted a dozen and there were more immerging from the turbulent water behind them. Their colors were masked by the darkness though the contrast of light and dark was clear enough. There was a mix of solid and striking patterned coats, some with spots, patches and even stripes. There were hundreds of them.
What are you doing here, man foal? The voice that filled his head was female and tipped with impatience and distrust.
He’s hurt, another female voice said angrily.
Suddenly his mind was overwhelmed with voices and the sensation of hundreds of curious mental touches. Though each one was light, the swarm of them all suddenly focusing on him was too much.
He let out a cry of pain and doubled forward under the weight of their attention. The white-noise of voices rang through him. The beach slanted sideways and he was falling. The black swelled up and consumed voices and pain as it pulled him into unconsciousness.
Chapter 4
He woke to warm wetness brushing across his forehead and tried to blink the world into focus. It was an effort with one eye completely pasted shut. The air was thick with steamy humidity. Sunlight roasted his stomach and legs and he tried to curl towards the shade that sheltered his upper body and face.
As he squinted open his good eye, his blurred vision was filled with the image of a huge red mare. She stood over him and it was her minty breath and the lick of her tongue that woke him.
Wake, man foal. Wake! She sounded worried and he sensed her agitation. When he gasped, she sighed in relief. You are alive, then. Good. Get onto your feet, little one. Come now. We must go. She nudged at him with her velvety muzzle and then used a hoof to paw the sand near his shoulder. Do not founder. Up!
Like his eye, his body didn’t obey. His head was ringing, threatening to split open from the pain. He sensed the interested mental attention flicker over his mind. and for each one he felt, dozens of others were shoved away by the mare.
Where am I supposed to go? he thought as he sat up with an effort and put a hand to his wounded eye. Sand and dried blood sealed it closed like a gritty cement. It felt hot and swollen. Pain lanced across his skull and he winced.
The mare said sharply, You will see when you begin to walk. Come. We will be left behind. There is a great distance to go. I cannot leave you here but I cannot have my foals on the island. Come. Come.
With an effort he got to his feet, mouth dry and body shaking with the strain. The beach was full of horses. They were bay, chestnut, roan, palomino, buckskin, black, gray, white and in every shade and pattern imaginable. They were heading up the shore to the dunes. In the distance he saw the wide trail of them marching up the mountain. The mare gave him a long look and once she was sure he was not going to fall, she turned and began to walk with the others.
We cross the mountains and swim the sea to the mainland. Then we cross the land to the crescent shore. At the Festival of High Summer you will find those who can help you.
He stumbled after her, naked and bare feet aching. The horses ranged in sizes as varied as their colors and patterns and they were all making their way up the dunes. Like the mare that had woke him, they all looked heavily pregnant. His notice sent a wave of amusement through him.
Yes, man-foal. We are mares of the blood. We make the migration to give birth on the sacred land and have our foals join the vast herd at mid-summer. As it always has been and always will be. As though he should know this, he who had grown up with mounts. Except that he didn’t have a mount of his own. Remmy and Cal didn’t share their adventures with him. It is the great event. Ah, but you are a foal yourself so now you will make the virgin voyage with us. On the other side of the mountains, you will be a stallion too. That apparently pleased her.
We will not allow the kin-slayers to harm you, said another mare, though he couldn’t tell which one it was. From the overwhelming agreement, it was a decision the majority had agreed upon while he was unconscious.
“But they didn’t kill me.” Alexander tripped and bumped into a leggy mare on the other side and felt the sweep of curious interest and sympathy sharpen on him.
If he was dead, he wanted to feel a whole lot less pain. His head throbbed and he focused on stepping forward instead of the questions and doubts gnawing at him. Forcing himself step by step, he moved from the comfortable sand to the scrub brush at the foot of the mountain. At least the path was worn comfortably by generations of this migration.
That’s how he found himself among the mounts. He thought one of them might pick him to be their rider, except they seemed to see him as something they had to protect and guard. It would have been easier to ride; however, most of the mares were so far along in their pregnancy, he didn’t dare try it.
It was a mixture of shame and pain that kept him from embracing his spirit form. It was bad enough that these mounts thought of him as a man-foal. What in the world would they do if he walked among them as a tiny spotted fawn? The thought made him blush and he pushed the eager shadow away with head pulsing with pain in time with his heartbeat. He never wanted to touch his spirit form ever again.
The end of that first day they stopped in a clearing tucked between the mountain’s peaks. The jungles formed a tranquil oasis where the horses could graze. He used the time to harvest fruit abundant in the bushes and to tend his wounds in the clear waters of the falls.
With effort and willpower, he cleaned his swollen eye. Gritting his teeth against the nauseating pain, he flushed away the sand and dried blood. The gash went from his temple, across his eyebrow and to the center of his forehead in an ugly zig-zag where his skin was torn open. In the shifting reflection, his image looked hideous. Worse than the realization he would have a horrible scar, he wasn’t sure his sight would ever be completely whole again. Between pain and blood loss, he felt sick and weak.
If he had not tumbled through to this place, his cousins might have actually killed him. All because he didn’t give them their stupid money. No one would believe that wild story. He’d regarded his cousins like heroes his whole life. All of his brothers did.
Soft steps behind him made him look up from the water. The red mare picked her way towards him. Are you well, man foal? Her voice was quiet in the privacy of his mind.
“Yeah, I think so.” He didn’t know why he answered with words. She checked on him with just her thoughts anyway.
Her amusement and weariness brushed against his mind. Your scars will be proof of your victory in battle. Sleep, young one. Tomorrow we must swim the sea between island and mainland. It is not easy. We will do what we can for you but most of us are close to the time of foaling. You must swim fast and strong. There was no compassion in her tone. This is just what must be done. It was as much
a test for them as him.
She grunted with effort as she settled into the cool grass in the shade and let out a heavy breath. He sensed her attention shift inwardly, checking on the little one. In fact, when he focused, he touched the whole herd within the clearing. Their concerns were centered on the dangers to come. These mares had all done it before and were seasoned by at least one trip through. Others had made it many times. Some had lost companions or foals. There were so many risks.
Survival of the fittest.
Somehow, he managed to sleep. He woke to the warm lick across his forehead and the urgent mental nudging. It was time to continue the journey. In the early morning darkness, they walked the well-worn path. It was cramped going down the incline and he sensed their anxiety building.
The mare’s thoughts caressed soothingly against his concern. Walk steadily. Do not fall. Be watchful above. If the cowards come, they will wait until we are open on the downward slope. Do not run. She spoke the warnings calm and firm.
He imagined the scenes of the migration of wildebeests that faced the threat of predators as well as the rough terrain. What sorts of beasts were out there hunting these noble mounts? Did Remmy and Cal share these experiences with Christopher and Derek? His brothers had never talked about it. No one talked with him about how or why their mounts had selected them.
Alexander assumed it happened because they came into their talent. He supposed no one had come to be his mount because he was worthless. He reminded himself that his Harris cousins didn’t have mounts. He’d been so focused on measuring his own worthlessness, he’d never considered that fact.
The skitter of rocks behind him drew his attention from his thoughts. The big buckskin was sweaty and panting with effort, her eyes were glazed as she struggled down the steep path. He’d been around enough horses with his auntie Marion to know what a mare looked like when going into labor. He glanced around the slope with a frown. The jungles were thick around the steep path and there was not a place for her to stop and drop her foal.
Stay the course, man foal. We cannot stop for her. Your compassion does you great credit, but continue forward. We come to the open side of the mountain. Focus, young one. She was not afraid. He knew in his heart that she welcomed the danger with a raw, hungry thrill.
He heard the scream of something huge just as they stepped out of the protection of the trees. An enormous form blotted out the moonlight for a moment. The blacker shadow passed overhead when they stepped from the cover of the jungle. His first primal instinct was to run, a fundamental prey response to escape the death above him. The second was to freeze in place.
With an effort, he forced himself to continue steadily forward until a mare beside him broke ranks and charged ahead. She blundered into the horses in front of them. The movement caused others to bolt as well.
Overhead, the winged creatures circled. One dropped onto a mare. Taking down the mount wasn’t a simple task. She fought back, rearing to strike out and bite at the beast coming for her.
Alexander got a good look at the monster. The feline body was twice the size of the mount with a powerful wingspan. The front limbs were avian and the head was a mixture of lion and eagle. It had a thick mane of feather and hair around a savage head wielding a cruel, curving beak. There was no time to gather more details than that.
They were enormous gryphons.
Hunters! The war cry went up all around him.
Amazingly, the mare landed a bite savage enough to make the attacker break off its attempt without snatching her up. It flew backwards, unable to avoid the hooves lashing at its retreating haunches. She reared back, screaming as she struck out towards it. Then she shook herself and continued down the path, head held high. There was a dark stain against in the stones, blood from prey and hunter alike staining the wall and ground where the attack had taken place.
Not prey.
The herd crowded forward, roaring out their challenge to the death from above. Come try if they dare! They plunged down the steep, exposed mountainside, toward the clearing below.
It was more dangerous for him. The huge mares were focused on their own safety. They thought nothing of the fragile human among them.
When the shadow of a beast swept over them, the herd froze. For a terrifying moment, he was pinned against the rock wall as the mares balked. With an effort, the red mare got them moving. Between her nips and her broadcasted demand to continue, they began walking again. Her calm forcefulness reminded him painfully of his mother. He wished the last words he’d said to her hadn’t been spoken in fear and anger.
They progressed down the sharper bank, approaching the spot where the first attack happened, when two hunters dropped towards them. One swooped lower on the cliffs and the other dove right for Alexander and the knot of horses jammed in a tight pack.
The scream of horses and monsters tore across the mountainside. Mares around him bolted, plunging blindly forward as they tried to avoid raking claws and beak. The surge of bodies knocked him off his feet and he went sprawling. Churning hooves pounded him and he curled forward, rolling away to avoid being trampled to death. He found himself dangling over the edge, feet kicking into open air as his hands grasped for the crumbling rocks.
The shadow blotted out what little light the night provided and powerful wings beat the air around him. Stinging rock fragments cut into his skin as the wind stirred up dirt and stones. The earth shook with the weight of the giant predator landing. A swell of bestial delight sang from the creature. It wasn’t only a primal need for blood though, there was intelligence too. The fierce joy of the hunt touched him and then burst into shock when a clawed forelimb snared his ankle and hauled him into the air.
This wasn’t a stallion! This wasn’t a horse at all!
Alexander didn’t even have time to think let alone plan. In fact, it happened as though his spirit-form were taking over and cloaked him in the sweet, fragrant warmth to shield him. He gripped the form hard as the power swept over him, embracing the swell of energies in desperation.
That’s right. Hold on! The voice demanded inside his head.
When he had greeted it before, he was so ashamed. He had been afraid of the terrifying shadowy form lingering there at the foundation of his nature. It felt different this time. There was a rush of relief and release as it cloaked and bound his frail human shade behind its protective veil.
Before, the form had felt powerful, though it manifested as meek and apologetic. This was different. It had fed from Alexander’s experiences and was altered by what he’d been through. It had grown from the beating he’d taken from his cousins, the trip through the gate and the current dangers of the aerial attack. And, it also responded to how firmly he was gripping onto it this time. When his spirit form manifested, it took some qualities of the hunters into its makeup, adding not only size, now there was a flair of wings too.
No longer a fawn. Certainly not prey either.
The hunter yelped in surprise when it started to lift off with Alexander in its talon. When their gazes locked a fire seemed to spread from his breast out to his limbs. The sensation drove the breath from him. An eternity seemed to pass, locked in the gaze of the hunter while he dangled, suspended, by his ankle. The beast remained crouched, ready to spring skyward with his prize; however, it was unable to complete the motion, transfixed by Alexander. The eyes were large, a mixture of avian and feline. They were colorless in the moonlight, dark in contrast to the pale skin ringed by thick feathers.
The eyes dilated wide and a cry of fear and pain split its beak.
Dear gods! The black stag! The voice that thrummed through him cried out in horror and apology and finally agony as Alexander twisted and drove sharp cloven hooves at his attacker. The hunter didn’t let go though, as though he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with Alexander now that a huge, thrashing deer was in his talons rather than a scrawny young man.
Alexander struck out mentally as well, using all the energy at his command. It wasn’t
much but enough that the hunter squealed in pain. The shock of the dual attack finally made him release his grip.
He fell the length of his body to the ground, twisting in the air to land on all four hooves. Around him the mares were fully panicking now. Bad enough to be attached from above but now a strange, huge beast was on the ledge with them. They flowed around him as he glared at the monster hovering above him.
Find. Another. Meal, Alexander demanded, struggling with the delicacy of the supernatural speech. He knew he was broadcasting too far. It didn’t matter as long as it stopped the attack.
These are…yours? Awe and terror filled the mental voice as the hunter regarded him, crest up, mane flared in a wide ruff around his shoulders. He didn’t wait for Alexander to answer the question, uttering a roar as he winged up sharply.
Down the cliff the other beast leapt away from the mare it had tried to catch. The hunter uttered a frustrated hiss as it flew upward.
They are heavy with foals. You think this is a fair hunt? It is a slaughter. Come back and fight me. Alexander’s anger surged hot over him. He reared up, striking with his front legs though his advisory kept far out of range.
He understood the predator’s need to hunt and eat. This was different. These hunters were not base animals. They were obviously sentient. Worst of all Alexander felt the other’s guilt and embarrassment at getting caught during their slaughter. The other hunters knew better, Alexander felt that, too.
I did not know. I am Prince Shylo. I am sworn to you by blood honor. We do not take from riders nor from spirit-kin!
As he spoke he hovered at the edge of the ridge. The other hunters were flying away. Some circled overhead as though drawn to the movement of the fleeing horses until the snarling roars from Shylo sent them spiraling higher into the darkness of the early morning sky.
An End to Summer Page 3
