The Horse Dreamer (Equinox Cycle Book 1)

by Marc Secchia

  Yet the night was deep. The stars, glorious. The asteroid belt lifted just a few degrees above the western mountains, shedding its own effulgence upon Amorix Vale, sacred home of the River Horse Clans, its rivers and waterways and waterfalls gleaming beneath the celestial lights.

  To know such beauty … Zaranna sighed.

  “Earth was a nightmare, Sanu? I’m sorry I stole you away.”

  A little elbow prodded her sharply in the ribs. “You’re just another kind of thief, Zaranna. Don’t you pretend otherwise. You stole my life to Earth, and I fear I am missing some part of me, yet I am not. I remember all that transpired there. Your ocean, your Cape Town, is … a spirit-blessed place. I’ll even let you keep Alex.”

  “Hey!”

  “A dreamy man for a Dreamer.” Sanu winked at her. “I’d chew him up like guzi-pith. But for you –”

  “I’m offended.”

  “No, you’re not. Although his face when he discovered us together in your hammock …” They laughed together. “Let’s not share that detail with my father, agreed?”

  “Deal, as long as I don’t need to lie.”

  Sanu rolled her eyes. “You’ve the weirdest morals. We all lie, even to ourselves. It is natural and even beneficial to the Human condition.” She sniffed the air eagerly. “Philosophy aside, I smell a change in the weather. That’s an equinoctial storm, or my name’s not Sanu.”

  “I agree, Pest.”

  Arise! Let the trump of fury resound! Thunder boomed in the middle distance. Noticeably nearer than before. Zara bit her lip unhappily. The Storm-Pegasi sounded fractious and irked.

  Sanu said, “Alright, Miss Hairy Backside. As Whiz said, we need to find a perch on a cliff. Ready?”

  “Not really.”

  With a head stuffed full of Whiz-lore, coupled with assorted insights and ideas from Yolanda and Alex, Zaranna felt as if she were stepping into an examination room. Sponge-Brain Inglewood was about to hurl herself into the crucible of Worafion’s making. Did she feel ready? About as ready as if she had been shackled to a dentist’s chair and the dental surgeon was about to operate with a pneumatic drill.

  More than a few hostile looks accompanied Sanu’s quick hop onto her back. Zaranna quickly made herself scarce, trotting upriver before following a waterfall up to the heights. Sanu hung on to her neck, but laughed as the lukewarm water cascaded over them.

  “Fun, but it isn’t Cape Town,” said Sanu, patting Zara’s neck as she traversed a small pool. “Can we visit your beach next time I go there?”

  “Sure. You should have no trouble scaring all the sharks away.”

  “I know when I’m being insulted. Explain before I hug your neck much more tightly.”

  Zaranna pranced up a series of boulders before turning vertical again and darting up a fifteen-foot flow. Better than elevators! “Deadly ocean predator, five rows of teeth, and they grow to … hmm, let’s see, three times your length and more.”

  “I’ve faced Dragons.”

  “Ones that were trying to eat you?”

  “Ah, not so much.”

  Zara said, “You’d just whittle their teeth loose with your daggers, right? Of course you would.”

  Sanu laughed sardonically. With that, they reached the clifftop above the south-westerly branch of the three valleys which converged at the First Confluence. Worafion’s encampment lay just a couple of miles up the northerly branch, while a minor branch also broke away a few degrees east of direct South. Each valley was geographically very similar, with tall cliffs surmounted by jag-toothed mountains on the edges, and varying in width along their length between half a mile and perhaps ten miles. The valley floors were lush, often a series of steps leading downstream. Water welled from more places at the tops of the cliffs than could be counted. Endless water. Zaranna had expected mighty rivers down in the Vale, but instead, they were sedate in the main, except where they leaped excitedly from the heights or formed geysers hundreds of feet tall. There must be some water recycling mechanism. More magic, Zara decided. Apparently the main Pegasus city was over two hundred miles downstream. That made Amorix a country in its own right.

  Her first view of the approaching storm drove all of this out of her mind.

  “Oh boy,” said Zaranna.

  “Lots of angry boy-horses up there,” said Sanu, misunderstanding completely.

  A vast wedge of blue-edged darkness swept toward them from the West. Lightning played constantly around its edges and thunderheads, giving the girl and her Horse strobe-like impressions of a churning black ocean of clouds surging toward the stars, and spreading like trailing limbs toward the horizon. The lightning had a distinct bluish tinge, not dissimilar to the fancy halogen headlights of Whiz’s Dodge Convertible. As the storm burgeoned, it swallowed up stars as though they had never existed. The whole mass moved like some compact alien spacecraft sweeping over the mountains toward a pair of watchers, and the first breath of moist, tangy air reached their nostrils. Ozone. Jasmine. Something more.

  “That’s not moon-blue,” said Sanu. “I’ve never seen this exact colour of Storm-Pegasi before. Must be a local phenomenon.”

  Her voice betrayed uncharacteristic feelings of awe. Above the storm, colours began to flicker across the sky in vivid swirls and veils not unlike the aurora borealis Zaranna had once seen on holiday in Lapland. The centre of activity was the head of that wedge, the beating, pulsing, powerful harbinger of the Storm-Pegasi – no, their leader – his hoofbeats reverberating upon the sky as if it were a drumskin, and it seemed that the Sky-Fires gravitated to his wild battle-cries; clearly, multiple flashes of lightning outlined the thrashing of his hooves and the nodding of his mighty head. His Storm-Pegasi brethren galloped shoulder-to-shoulder with that leading stallion, wreathed in cloud, like the most incredible cavalry charge in history.

  Moment by moment, the wind freshened. The battle-front loomed, miles tall.

  “Just a little rain?” Sanu exhaled. “Ancestors protect us.”

  Zaranna shrugged helplessly.

  “Oh, you aren’t telling me – you are! What impending disaster have you fabricated this time, o Most Talented Mess-Maker?”

  “I’ve no earthly idea.”

  “This is Equinox!” the Outland Human howled. “I want –”

  “You don’t need to be scared, Sanu.”

  Outraged beyond words, the girl wheezed an unintelligible response. Perfect. One tongue-tied Sanu. Zaranna returned her attention to the storm. Queen Suhanoria and Whiz had seemed equally confident that the Vale’s magic would withstand any storm from the Outland; she was the one with little experience of Equinox – yet apparently, was possessed of the power to unerringly locate trouble across continents or through impossible barriers, or while running blind through swamps … or generally, just by being herself. This time, let trouble slap that hood right off Worafion’s mug-ugly head.

  Rain. The first droplet struck her right between the eyes.

  Blackness charged across the sky. Hoofbeats, thundering closer. The cries of the Storm-Pegasi filled her ears as a long crescendo of sound built up to a thunderclap that detonated so loudly overhead, Zaranna felt the impact in the pit of her stomach and instinctively dropped to the ground, along with Sanu. She knew the saying, ‘the heavens opened,’ but she had never appreciated its true meaning until that very moment, for this rain did not bother to lash down. It just landed all at once, as if an unseen giant had opened the bottom of an ocean and dumped it on their heads.

  “Ready?” Zaranna shouted at Sanu. The girl clearly did not hear her. Zara nipped her shoulder. “Come on.”

  Sanu resorted to sign language. ‘We’re going out in that?’

  Aye. They must. The girl mounted up; Zaranna summoned her reserves of tricking her already tricky brain into thinking they were running up a waterfall. Carefully, she started along the clifftop, at least, where she thought it was. Smash hit – Yolanda rocked! She was airborne, if air could still exist between those fat, hammering raindrops
, her hooves imitating what those Storm-Pegasi could do naturally. The wind buffeted her side-to-side as she headed north toward the area where they thought Worafion was keeping Jesafion. Right. Here came the edge of nothingness.

  BOOM! BOOM-KAAABOOOM!!

  Thunder rocked her; Zaranna’s stride faltered, but she recovered before they fell more than a few feet.

  “Great flying!” Sanu yelled in her ear.

  She just bit her lip and galloped as if their lives depended on it. Which they did. Her hooves found droplets and so she ran on wet air. Unbelievably, the intensity of the tempest kept increasing as the Storm-Pegasi plundered the night’s magic to pound Amorix Vale with their majestic wrath. In the dark, she saw a Dragon’s wing slide by not two feet from her right flank. Sanu clung to her back like a sodden rat, shouting encouragement, but she fell silent as horse and girl realised how close they had come, even invisible, to being discovered.

  Suddenly, hooves boomed overhead – clearly hooves, for the sound was more staccato and regular than thunder ought to be. A gargantuan voice cried, Who dares defy the Host of the Storm-Pegasi? Show yourselves, cowards!

  “Uh … I don’t think that’s wise,” Zaranna gasped.

  “Nearly there,” Sanu advised, right next to her left ear. “Keep straight on.”

  I challenge you to a duel!

  A duel? Talk about a misfire in her invitation!

  Through a break in the torrential rain, she saw that they flew above the outskirts of Worafion’s encampment. Zaranna pitched horribly as the rain lessened unexpectedly, but she thought she might have spotted a white speck a half-mile ahead, before the storm closed in with renewed fury.

  Show yourself! The air shook concussively. I demand redress!

  Before she could think the better of it, Zaranna said in her mind, Who are you?

  She unleashed mayhem. With every syllable of his response, the domicile shield for miles in every direction flared to the concussive beating of Sky-Fires. Massive sheets of lighting and aurora-fire cut through the driving rain. I AM CONQUDOR! Three voices boomed as one. I AM LORD OF THE STORM-HOST, MASTER OF THE SKY-FIRES AND SOVEREIGN RULER OF ALL TUMULT AND THUNDER!

  Zaranna tried to pop her ears. Incredible. His Awesomeness of Storm was nothing if not … well, mind-numbingly, ear-splittingly awesome.

  WHO DARES TO CHALLENGE MY SUPREMACY?

  The Sky-Fires smashed into the domicile in a gorgeous but shocking display of fireworks, spitting and burning in a thousand colours, beating the protective magic at a pitch of vehemence that beggared belief. Hurricane winds assaulted the Vale. Nothing could withstand this. Zara knew she had to act. Her hooves raced for the skies, making their utmost speed. As they rose, they began to appreciate the scale of the attack, creating visible cracks for miles in a glassy half-tube that spanned the mountains either side of the Vale’s course across Equinox’s surface.

  “Earthen fires, what are you doing?” yelled Sanu.

  “Which do you prefer – underworld monster or sky monster?” Zaranna yelled back. “I’m talking to him.”

  “Him? That’s only thunder, you idiot.”

  Oh. What?

  “We’re going to get toasted!”

  “No, I need to speak to Conqudor, the Storm-Pegasus Lord.”

  “You’re mad! This time, Zaranna, you’re truly … oh, Ancestors protect us!”

  She galloped upon wind and storm toward a layer of flashing, lightning-wreathed hooves which thrashed the night, causing the clouds to boil and release their load of rain. A dark ocean heaved and surged about them, lit by percussive blasts of lightning and thunder.

  She called, Have mercy upon us, Conqudor, Lord of the Storm-Host! Her voice was the chirping of a cricket against a hurricane blast. Zaranna tried to marshal her butterflies for defence. I am your servant.

  The clouds stirred violently before suddenly drawing apart, hundreds of mighty Storm-Pegasi lining an avenue of navy blue clouds, and charging toward them upon a carpet of storm billows came a three-headed Pegasus of an even deeper blue, his hide like a velvet night sky girded with lighting, his horn glowing like the sun in all its brilliance, and the train of his kingly majesty, a sky-spanning storm of coruscating Sky-Fires.

  The world seemed to quail.

  “Ancestors preserve us!” Sanu buried her face in Zaranna’s neck.

  My Lord Conqudor, she quavered, making aerial obeisance that disturbed their precarious flight upon raindrops. “Drop the invisibility, Sanu.”

  A puff of wind steadied her hooves. Then, laughter belled over them. YOU ARE A FLEA! A MOTE! Again, a curl of wind prevented them from being blown miles across the sky by the force of his laughter. A lowly Ripplemane speaks the language of thunder? You roused the Sky-Host to wrath? I will snuff you out as I extinguish lightning with my horn! I will crush your pathetic Vale-protections and teach you the majestic potency of my Host, the uncontainable violence of Storm!

  His horn was hundreds of feet long. As the Storm-Pegasus overshadowed them, as large as any mountain, a second Pegasus broke from the ranks. Hers was a steadying force, Zaranna realised; almost gentle in comparison, despite her gargantuan size and power. Like Conqudor, lightning wreathed her flanks and hooves, and spread upon the vast reach of her night-blue wings.

  This female Storm-Pegasus bent over Zaranna and her trembling burden. Nay, Conqudor, my savage love. Stay your wrath. This little one is … more. Ancient powers stir within thy mane, do they not, little one?

  Uh … an image of Artax the Artificer bursting out of his wave in the Crystal Sea flashed into her mind. Yes, your Majestic Storminess … uh, I’m deeply sorry. But you are awfully humungous and I’m kind of terrified of what I began. Can I go now? Please?

  Pathetic, Zaranna! A three year-old’s response. She wanted to kick herself for the duration of the next hundred years.

  The beautiful yet frightening mare turned to her three-headed mate. Is it not seen, Conqudor? She woke the Artificer.

  The shock of a thousand voices beat Zaranna until she reeled in the air, tasting blood upon her lips.

  Inconceivable! roared Conqudor, striking his mate with a fond bolt of lightning. This is a speck, a life not born of Sky-Fires – you jest, most assuredly.

  The taste of her power drew Shuzug forth from his netherworld lair, wreathed in Earthen Fires – did it not, little Ripplemane? Her deep, wonderful eyes nevertheless spat sparks as she peered at Zaranna. Hers is the thunder that rings at the portals of our skies. Why do the powers gather their hosts, Conqudor? Have you not scented the fates?

  He snorted a gust of Sky-Fires which sizzled past their tiny visitors and smashed into the domicile with a peal of thunder.

  Turning again to Zara and Sanu, the mare said, I am called … in the tongue of thunder, Celestial Dawn. I have no Clan name but the voice of my Storm-Calling. I am the Lord of the Storm-Host’s mate and right wing. Who are you?

  I am Zaranna, and upon my back, is Sanu.

  You are cautious.

  If you were in my shoe – uh, hooves, wouldn’t you be, your Majesty? Seeing the massed Storm-Pegasi beginning to break up and depart, Zaranna blurted out, Please, would you maintain the storm a little longer? We need the rain to rescue a Pegasus Prince.

  Celestial Dawn said, What is your title?

  Dreamer.

  ENOUGH! Conqudor was back to his all-conquering bellowing. You would bargain with the Host, Dreamer? Then this is the word of my thunder. I will help you now as I deem fit. In exchange, you must promise to run with the Storm-Host.

  If the Lord of the Storm-Pegasi could smoke clouds out of his nostrils, as he was doing now, Zaranna supposed he could demand anything he wished. Tyrant of the Skies was his title! But before she signed on the dotted line there was a teensy bit of small print to understand.

  She quavered, I don’t understand your exact meaning, my Lord?

  Simple. I have a job for a Dreamer. You will promise to perform this task … IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR MISERABLE LIFE!

 
; He needed her? It required looking beyond his simmering fury. The need was unspoken, of course, but clearly communicated. Besides, it was only right that a Storm-Pegasus should have a beastly temper. All the better to fling lightning bolts across the heavens, my dear, and squirt torrents of Sky-Fires from a horn that rivalled a ten-story building lying on a horizontal plane.

  May I call upon Celestial Dawn? Zaranna hedged.

  With a flick of his horn, Conqudor rained Sky-Fires along the length of Amorix Vale, quaking the mountains and searing the skies as far as the eye could see. The dome rattled and groaned in mortal jeopardy. Point made. She might argue further and thereby condemn every creature in Amorix Vale to a terrible death.

  Take the form of a Storm-Pegasus, then call me, said Celestial Dawn, sternly but not without a friendly flash of lightning in her eye that Zaranna took to mean, ‘Don’t take my mate’s attitude to heart.’

  I promise, she said.

  What she had promised was another issue. Zaranna had a horrid suspicion that all of these powers were stirring and gathering their hosts and whatnot for one simple reason: There was a new Dreamer in town.

  Nice to be wanted.

  Chapter 33: It’s Raining Thieves

  Masked by the steady rain and once more rendered invisible by Sanu’s power, Zaranna slipped down to a landing inside a circle of sixteen Obsidian Chargers. Jesafion occupied the centre, suspiciously alone and unattended. On the way in, Sanu muttered that she had never seen a more obvious invitation to the banqueting table. Yes, fine dining Darkwolf-Clan style, Zaranna noted drily. Of course, Jesafion was chained in more ways than a convention of metalworkers could have devised. And he looked as if he had spent night and day partying with Tayburrl’s finest troops – he was sorely wounded, but alive.

  “Together,” Sanu breathed in Zaranna’s ear.

  She tiptoed over to the Prince, surveying the area carefully. Rain ran into her eyes, but that was no problem for a Ripplemane Pony. The hulking Obsidian Chargers seemed oblivious. They stood five or six paces from the Prince, facing outward at each point of the compass. No magic within the circle. The magic-dampening collar upon Jesafion’s neck had been replaced with a more sophisticated version. No sign of Tayburrl or Worafion. Yet she sensed a trap. Nothing for it but to do their work and trust that the Storm-Pegasi would keep their word. Now? Or just now?