"But you do not even know what you did!" Elbryan protested.
"But I know the nature of what the stone did," Avelyn explained. "Turquoise is the stone of animals, a true blessing of beasts. I suspect that your bond with Symphony has been heightened, that you and the stallion are more deeply and profoundly joined now."
"Master and beast?" Elbryan demanded, clearly not happy with the prospect.
"Friend and friend," Avelyn corrected. "Symphony cannot be owned, so you said, and I would not presume to break this most wonderful stallion's spirit! Ho, ho, what! Never that! Trust, my friend, hold faith in the stones, in the gifts of God. You will soon learn the truth of this magic that Symphony now holds, and you will be pleased, as will Symphony, do not doubt."
As if in answer, Symphony reared suddenly and whinnied, then came back down and thundered about the pair in a tight circle, hooves rending the turf. The stallion showed no sign of pain or even agitation other than a sudden elation.
Elbryan felt that emotion very clearly. It was as if he could read Symphony's mind, and not just by the visible movements of the stallion's body.
He read the stallion's thoughts!
Elbryan looked at Avelyn, the monk smiling widely. "Do you 'hear' them?" the ranger asked, for lack of a better word. "Do you know what the stallion is feeling?"
"I was but the mediator," Avelyn explained, "the facilitator, ho, ho, what! I brought forth the stone's magic, but you are the one who used it, my friend. You and Symphony, and now you two are joined more closely. But I do indeed know the stallion's thoughts," the monk finished with a mischievous smile. "I see them clearly on your face!"
Symphony stopped abruptly and reared again, calling into the night. Then the horse thundered away out of the field, out of sight.
But Elbryan knew where the horse was; if he concentrated, the ranger could visualize the very ground before Symphony's pounding hooves. He did so then, and saw and felt the rush of the wind and the night as the horse raced through the darkened forest. And it went deeper than that; the ranger came to perceive the world about Symphony through the eyes of the magnificent horse. Only then did Elbryan truly appreciate the intelligence of the animal, filtered through a different perspective, perhaps, but no less intense than his own. The horse knew things simply, without the interference of reason that was the domain of men, elves, and the higher races. What was, in the horse's eyes, simply was with no interpretation, an efficient and perfect way of perception that sorted through emotion, that lived in the present without concern for the future or interference from the past.
Perfect, simple, beautiful.
After a long while, Elbryan opened his eyes and looked at Avelyn. He nodded his appreciation, for he understood already that this gift Avelyn had given to him and to Symphony was as profound and precious as the bow Joycenevial had crafted for him.
Elbryan put his hand on Avelyn's shoulder and nodded again, for he could find no words to properly thank the man.
Avelyn went into Dundalis the next morning, passing Pony on the trail as she made her way back to the ranger's camp. The monk started to ask the woman if she wanted him to accompany her, but, in studying the expression on Pony's face, Avelyn thought the better of it and continued on his way. Soon after, he was whistling gaily, for upon some closer examination, Avelyn had indeed come to understand the expression on the young woman's face.
Pony found Elbryan burying the embers of his fire. She came into the camp quietly and moved right across the way from him without a word.
Elbryan stood tall, looking at her. They were alone, completely alone, for the first time, and so many questions came to each of them that they remained silent, just started circling each other, as combatants might, as a stalking panther might when confronted with another of its own kind.
Pony's eyes reflected an intensity Elbryan had never before encountered, a hunger, perhaps, or a rage - some inner passion that kept her from blinking, that kept her chewing on the corner of her bottom lip as she paced about him, her gaze locked on his.
The ranger soon fell into a similar trance, his focus becoming squarely, singularly, Pony. There was only her and nothing else, only those burning blue eyes, those tender lips.
Circling, they moved slightly, but ever closer with each rotation.
A harsh noise from somewhere in the forest startled the pair and stole the moment. Neither recognized it, and neither wanted to search it out.
"Come," Elbryan bade Pony, taking her hand and leading her down a snow-covered path. They moved out from under the canopy of the forest onto a clearing, and Elbryan smiled wide, for there, across the field, stood Symphony. The ranger had known that the stallion would be there, had even telepathically called out to Symphony to wait for him.
Spotting him, the great stallion reared and snorted, its breath coming out as a great cone of steam.
"Come," Elbryan said again, leading Pony quickly across the field. Now that Symphony was with them, the ranger knew his destination, knew the only place that would suit this first private meeting with Pony. He became tentative when he neared the magnificent horse. Would Symphony accept two riders?
"Easy, friend," the ranger said softly, stroking the horse's muzzle and muscled neck. He looked hard at the horse, sharing his thoughts, hearing the answer, then looked at Pony and nodded.
"He is beautiful," she said. She thought, her words lame, somehow hollow in the face of such magnificence as Symphony, but she had no other words to offer to the stallion. Elbryan took her hand and helped her up tentatively onto the powerful animal's back.
Symphony snorted again and jostled about, but gradually came to accept the woman. Then came the real test as Elbryan went up on the stallion in front of Pony.
The horse settled easily, ready to run.
And run Symphony did! Fast as the wind, flying along the trails, weaving through the trees in a dizzying blur that had Pony screaming with terror and delight, and holding so tightly to Elbryan's waist that every time the horse came down hard the ranger's breath was blasted from his body.
Soon they came to the diamond-shaped grove, the spruce and pines blanketed by snow but the ground about the grove blown bare by the wind. Symphony pulled to a stop and the pair slid down.
Pony went right up to the horse's face and stared hard into one dark eye. Her breathing would not steady; there was something too primordial, too untamed and uncontrollable, about this beast, something fearfully strong. And yet she had come through the ride unscathed, breathless with joy and excitement.
She had come through the ride!
She turned to Elbryan, who was walking to the glade, and followed him. He disappeared through the thick branches; Pony paused when she got to that spot, considering the implications, considering her own feelings.
The young woman shook her head defiantly, then looked back at the stallion, who reared and whinnied, as if to prod her on. Untamed, uncontrollable, fearfully strong, he embodied the feelings that bubbled at the edges of Pony's thoughts, threatening to overwhelm her.
She pushed through the thick branches into a small clearing, where Elbryan crouched, the first flickers of a fire already starting before him. Pony watched him as he worked, blowing softly, turning sticks.
Untamed, uncontrollable, fearfully strong. The thoughts stayed with her, repeated in her head like a warning, like a temptation. She clenched her fists at her sides, chewed the corner of her bottom lip again, and stared hard at this man, no more the boy she had known and yet so much that boy with whom she had shared her youth.
She feared those few memories she had not yet uncovered, and yet, looking at Elbryan, she knew that she would soon face them.
She walked over to him and he rose, the fire burning. Face-to-face they stood for many seconds, for minutes, staring in silence at each other.
Then he moved for her, his lips drawn to hers, and she gave a slight gasp, expecting black wings to rise up all around her, expecting a scream to reverberate within her mind. But then he
was there, against her, his lips brushing gently over hers, softly, softly, and all she felt was him, and all she heard was his soft breathing and his slight moan.
The kiss became more urgent, and gradually Pony's fears melted away, swept up in the sudden torrent of passion that overcame her. He kissed her hard, and she kissed him back, tongues entwined, lips pressing hard.
And then they were apart, Elbryan staring at her, locking her deep in his gaze. His hand came up and unlaced her cloak; and she let the garment drop without protest, cool air on her skin. Then he reached for the buttons of her shirt, and on and on until the last layer of her clothing fell away. And she was not ashamed, not embarrassed, and no black wings of horrors past swept up about her.
Elbryan pulled off his own cloak and shirt and stood bare to the waist before her. They moved closer, the hairs of his chest just brushing her breasts, little tingles shared. With his prompting, she lifted her arms high above her head and he locked his fingers about hers.
Then he broke the hold and began to run his hands down her arms, slowly and, oh, so gently, the tips of his fingernails just grazing her soft skin. Down came his hands, past her elbows, across her arms, and then around to the back, to her shoulder blades and to the base of her neck, so softly and gently, fingertips just lightly brushing.
She felt the electric pull of those fingers, the tingle that made her want to pull them in closer - and yet, she knew that if they were pulled in closer, their teasing tingle would be no more. Her head went back, mouth opened as she basked in his stroke, as his hands went down her back, so gently, to the top of her buttocks and then brushing about, to her hips and past her hips. Again with his prompting, Pony turned and melted back into his strong embrace. He lifted one hand to push her hair aside, and gently kissed the nape of her neck, the soft kiss turning slowly more urgent, a harder kiss, a gentle bite, and when she cooed quietly, a harder bite still.
"Do you feel me?" he whispered into her ear.
"Yes."
"Are you alive?"
"So alive."
"Do you want me to make love to you?"
Pony paused, searching for the threat of terrible memories. She recalled her wedding night, glanced down at the glowing fire as if it were some enemy or some forewarning. But this was different, the young woman knew, different from Connor. Stronger.
Untamed, uncontrollable, fearfully strong, her mind recited. And right, she silently added. So very right.
"Yes," she answered quietly.
They sank down to the ground together, onto the still-warm cloak, and there they were, caught in the present and encircled by their past. For Elbryan, it was the culmination of his youth, where every waking thought had led him to this point with this woman, his soulmate, his Pony. This moment, so many years in the waiting, was the marker of the end of that relationship with the girl, the beginning of the new and deeper relationship with the woman. Now he was a man, and Pony a woman, and all the love that had brought them to this moment came crashing together with their bodies. He was happy to the point of giddiness, and yet he was vulnerable suddenly, so vulnerable, for if anything happened to Pony, if he lost her now as he had thought he had lost her before, then a rift would be torn in his heart that would never mend, then his life ever after would be without meaning.
For Pony, that moment in the grove was the denial of blackness, a dark barrier torn down and thrown away, the harsh memories overwhelmed by the gentleness, the love, and the warm memories of her youth with Elbryan: the time when he had pulled her hair and she had laid him out flat; the times when his friends had teased him, but he'd stood up to them, not denying his feelings for the girl; their long talks and walks on the northern slope; that moment on the slope when they shared in the vision of the Halo; that moment on the ridge when they first kissed - yes, that moment of the kiss! - and this time, it did not end in blackness and screams, but went on and on, kissing and touching, feeling each other wholly. They had shared lives and were bonded by common memories, by love lost and love found, and though they hadn't been together in years, they each knew everything about the other, the truth of the moment.
They lay together for a long time afterward, nestled in their cloaks, saying nothing, staring at the fire. Elbryan got up once to add wood to the fire, and Pony laughed at him as he hopped about, naked, his bare feet stumbling on the cold ground. She pulled the blanket tight about her when he returned, not letting him in.
But her smile gave away her true feelings, the warmth of it egging Elbryan on until he tackled her and fought with her, and then he was under the blanket again, their bodies pressed together, and for Pony, all the world was spinning once more.
Untamed, uncontrollable, fearfully strong.
Later, he was above her, looking down at her in the light of the low fire.
"My Pony," he whispered. "How empty was my life, so empty that I had not the heart even to recognize the hole in it. Only now, when you have returned to me, do I understand how empty it had been, how meaningless."
"Never that."
He nodded, denying her words. "My Pony," he said again. "The colors of the world are returned to me."
Then he closed his eyes and kissed her.
The night deepened about them, the wind moaned through the trees and those few birds that braved the northern winter whistled. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled, and another took up the song, and for Elbryan, the music was sweeter now than ever before, than even in those years he had spent in the enchanted elven forest.
He fell into a most contented sleep, but Pony did not. She lay awake all the night, Elbryan close to her, Elbryan one with her. She thought of Connor and her wedding night, of the black memories that had swallowed her. Unconsciously, she rubbed the palm of her hand, burned once so long ago by glowing embers.
Now, for the first time, Pony saw those memories clearly, heard the screams of Dundalis, saw the fires and the carnage, saw Olwan die in the grasp of a giant, and in her mind, she crawled again under the burning house, into the darkness.
Only this time, they were just memories and not threatening black demons. This time, with Elbryan beside her, with Elbryan a part of her strength, she could face them and accept them.
Teats streamed down her cheeks, but they were honest tears for the loss of Dundalis; when they were gone, when the moment of grief at long last was past, Pony hugged sleeping Elbryan close and smiled, truly free for the first time since that moment on the ridge, since the moment of her first kiss.
CHAPTER 37
Catch of the Day
"Damn me," the skinny, nervous man whimpered, skittering away from the noose trap and from the ugly humanoid creature hanging from it. "Damn me, oh, damn me! Cric! Cric!"
He realized soon enough that his screaming would only bring in more of these creatures, if any were about, so he slapped a hand over his own mouth and tumbled down to the field, his free hand moving to one of the many daggers on his broad shoulder belts. He found little cover, however, for though the grass was tall, it was sparse, with only a few blades sticking up through the blanket of light snow.
A few moments later, Chipmunk breathed a little easier as a bald, lean man rushed into view, his sword at the ready. "Chipmunk?" Cric called softly. "Chipmunk, are ye here?"
Chipmunk scrambled to his feet and ran for his friend, tripping and falling several times on the slippery ground.
"What do ye know?" Cric asked him repeatedly as he stumbled to approach. Finally, Chipmunk caught up to his friend, but he was too excited to explain in words. He hopped up and down, pointing back across the field to a small copse of trees.
"Our trap?" the bald man asked calmly.
Chipmunk nodded so rapidly that he bit his tongue.
"What'd we catch something?"
Again the wild nod.
"Something unusual?"
Chipmunk was in no mood for any further questions. He grabbed Cric by the arm and shoved him ahead in the direction of the copse. Cric straightened and, seein
g that Chipmunk would not be following, just shook his head and went alone to the trap.
A minute later, there came a howl from the trees and Cric ran from the spot nearly as quickly as had Chipmunk.
"It's a g-goblin!" the tall man sputtered. "A damned goblin!"
"We got to get Paulson," reasoned Chipmunk, to which Cric only nodded and ran off, the skinny man in close pursuit.
They found barrel-chested Paulson, their leader, sitting, relaxing against the sunny side of a wide elm, his ragged boots standing off to the side, his dirty toes wriggling near a small fire. The pair slowed as they approached, knowing that to disturb Paulson usually meant a slap on the head.
Cric motioned for Chipmunk to approach the man, but Chipmunk only motioned back.
"State yer business," Paulson demanded under half-closed eyelids. "And yer business better be worth stating!"
"We caught something," Cric remarked.
Paulson opened his eyes and rubbed a hand across a face that was more scar than beard. "Good pelt?" he asked.
"No pelt," said Chipmunk.
"No fur," added Cric. "Just skin."
"What?" Paulson sat up straight and reached for his boots. "Don't ye tell me ye hanged a man now!"
"Not a man," said Chipmunk.
"It's a damned goblin!" spouted Cric.
Paulson's face went suddenly grave. "A goblin?" he echoed quietly.
Both men nodded eagerly.
"Just one?"
Again the nods.
"Ye damned fools," scolded Paulson. "Don't ye know there's no such thing as 'just one' goblin?"
"We should go home," said Chipmunk.
Paulson looked all around, then shook his head. Cric and Chipmunk were fairly new to the area, having come north a little more than three years before, but Paulson had lived on the border of the Wilderlands for most of his life, had been living just outside Weedy Meadow when the goblin raid had flattened Dundalis. "We got to find out how many," he replied, "and find out where they're heading."
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