Leo sweep Ursa off her feet and pulled her back out of the path of the horse. For a horrible, gut-twisting moment, Ursa thought she would look into the horse’s eyes and see the bright lilac gaze and hear the big, resounding voice through her and feel the rush of affection.
I will find you beyond the threshold.
But no. Of course not.
The horse plunged past her and skidded to a stop in a spray of dirt and foamy sweat before Vans.
Travis pulled Vans back out of range and Vans let out a yelp of surprise as she clung to her fiancé. The graceful neck tried to snake around the man as the horse sniffed at Vans with interest.
Vans watched with widening eyes, staring hard at the black horse. “It’s Midnight Borealis,” she whispered as though hearing it from someone else. Blinking at Travis, she fanned a hand at the horse, “She…has been waiting for—” She frowned at the look of disbelief on Travis’s face and shook herself. “Oh, I mean, no. It can’t be.”
The mare did not answer aloud. Instead it nuzzled Vans, its sides heaving from the gallop. Someone ran out of the stables with a halter to slide over the sleek, black head. Bora allowed it, but stubbornly refused to be led away.
“She has been in between colics since Amy passed. She was Amy’s…primary horse and…well, it’s been rough for everyone. Horses are not excluded from mourning. I’m so sorry.” Marion moved to take the lead rope but when she tried to draw the mare away, the horse pinned back her ears.
Vans squirmed out of Travis’s arms and offered out her hand to the mare and was rewarded with a soft nicker and the ears twitched forward. It was a sweet exchange, whatever passed between them.
“Is the colic better?” Vans asked, though she seemed to be questioning the mare rather than the woman. The horse closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, as though a load had been taken off her back.
“It was hit and miss. She is obviously feeling better today.”
“Can I ride her?” Vans asked, hesitant as she looked at Marion and then Travis.
“Ah, yes you can, however there’s a catch. I’m only watching her and the others in the pasture until the new owner decides what she wants to do. Frankie, Amy’s niece, inherited them. She moved from New York and took over everything. She’s very much a city girl and it hasn’t been an easy transition for her. We are giving her time to settle in without pressuring her. I love these horses as much as Amy did so I’m not in a hurry to see them go.”
Vans shoulders slumped, and she gave the horse a soft stroke along the forehead and down to the muzzle. “Right. Okay. I should focus on horses that are actually available.” She took a step back, smile in place and wrapped her arms around Travis.
“I can talk with Frankie if you’re interested,” Marion said. “Maybe it will encourage her to come see the others. All of my family is dying to get her on horseback. I would be a hero for making that happen.”
“That would be nice,” Travis said. “See where her head is in regards to the horse.” He smiled at Vans. “You are not limited to one pony, brat.”
Vans looked up at Travis, searching his face as though she didn’t believe him. Quietly she whispered, “Really?”
“Of course.” Travis shrugged and then rubbed a hand along his jaw. “If the horse is right for you. This one looks lovely but might be a bit much for your getting-back-in-the-saddle horse. I want to see you riding.”
Marion’s smile was warm as she inclined her head. “How about I show you a couple others less dramatic than this beauty and see how your seat is? At the very least you’ll get some riding time in and see some of the prospects.” She patted Bora’s shoulder. “Now you, let me get you put away and out of trouble. You’re almost as naughty as Lord Remmy.”
Ursa kept her eyes downcast as the black horse grudgingly followed after Marion. Hugging Leo, she willed the tangle of longing to loosen in her chest.
His dark eyes were concerned as he peered down at her. “You all right, love?”
“Yeah. I think so. Aside from Vans almost getting crushed,” she murmured.
“Oh, Bora would never do that,” Mano assured her.
“How do you know?” Marcie asked, both her eyebrows arching in question.
Mano smiled and looked skyward as though he was cooking up some wild story, but Marcie nudged him with her hip and he chuckled at her. “Yes well, I was close friends with her former owner, Amy Welton. I know Bora very well.”
The fondness in his expression was layered with sadness for the loss of the woman. Obviously, he’d lost someone who was much more than simply a friend.
They followed Marion into the stables and just as they walked out of the sunlight and into the shadows within, a younger woman came running to greet them.
“Mom!” she shouted and then pulled up short when she saw the others. “Oh.” A worried expression twisted her features as she turned back to Marion. “It’s Poppy.”
“What?”
“She’s dropping her foal. Now.” The young woman sounded equal parts worried and excited.
“Well, this puts our tour on hold. You’re welcome to stay. Just let me make sure she’s all right and we don’t have to call the vet.” Marion didn’t wait for them to agree but followed her daughter down the aisle where a group of people were gathered around a stall.
“If she’s this early, means it’s going to be a filly,” said one of the workers as they approached. A friendly wager over the gender of the new foal quickly made the rounds of the gathered spectators.
Leo glanced down at Ursa, curious, and suggested, “We could stay and see the outcome. Want to place a bet?”
“Yes.” She leaned against him. “I’ll go against wisdom and say colt, for a buck.” She answered his grin with one of hers.
“All right, Miss Myller. I’ll see your dollar.” Leo winked and led her with the others to the side. Here, they were out of the way and able to enjoy being spectators. One of the stable-hands motioned to her to climb up on the side of the stall with a group of others. The people gathered seemed more like family than workers.
“Marion, what the hell did you breed her to?” someone asked. “Clydesdale?”
“You know very well she was bred to— Well, will you look at that,” Marion’s voice drifted back to them.
Ursa leaned around the bodies, trying to see but her view was blocked from everything except the side of the chestnut mare—sweaty and heaving from her labor.
“First foal of the year,” one of the young men said excitedly to them. He scooted over as Marcie, and then Vans climbed up to perch. “She’s bred to this amazing stud out of Spain.”
Leaning back into Leo, Ursa sensed the nervous energy building around the group as they watched. Those near the mare were not as relaxed as the spectators.
“Is everything all right?” Ursa asked. “I’ve never seen a foal birth before.”
“Always a risk with birth,” an older man said in a hushed voice. “She’s a first timer and early. Lots can happen.” His eyes were fixed on the mare as he spoke. “Don’t think you can see from your angle, but she’s got the head and front legs out, that’s a good start, foal’s not the wrong way around.”
Ursa chewed her lip as she tried to see but found the view blocked. Then the mare swung herself around, grunting with her effort and she saw the foal for the first time. Slick and dark, the hooves looked strange, soft and fragile with a tangle of long fur and fleshy looking frills. She gasped and the man beside her chuckled.
“Not pretty at this stage. That’s just normal stuff. Once we get the little one up and dried off, you’ll be smitten.”
“But the hooves. What is that?”
“Call that fairy slippers, or golden hooves. Those will wear off as the foal gets around on its feet.”
Ursa nodded slowly and glanced around her at Marcie and Vans. They were much more relaxed during this. They didn’t seem unsettled. But Ursa felt lightheaded and there was a humming in her head. Oh, great, she definitely didn’t
want to lose her breakfast. How embarrassing.
She closed her eyes. She could just pretend to watch and then fuss over the little foal when it was on the ground and safe. Nothing said she had to watch it all in graphic detail. The buzzing in her head echoed the flies from her dream. The sound grew louder and insistent. The smell of blood was too similar to the smell from the pit, it made her stomach queasy.
The voices around her faded into the increasing sound inside her head. The labored sounds of the mare were the same as rasping breaths in the dream. She twisted into Leo’d chest, breathing in the comfort and sweetness of him.
Ur’Sah. Faint and quavering, the voice seemed very far away. I. Found. You!
She started as if someone had physically tapped her between the eyes. Memories from the dream? No! Not when she felt the unfiltered brilliance sweep over her.
Even Victorious echoed the delighted warmth. You must go to him.
“Oh, my God,” Leo whispered and when she tipped her head up, he was grinning broadly at her as though he felt it, too. His arms loosened from around her and he encouraged her with a little chin tip in the direction of the stall where people were moving forward to get a better look.
“Holy shit!” someone shouted.
“Marion, I thought you said that was the Spanish stud. You better have at talk with that vet of yours. Someone pulled a fast one!”
Ursa landed on wobbly legs and pushed herself forward, through the larger bodies and forced her way to the side of the stall where she could peek in.
The foal was valiantly struggling on long, spindly legs to stand, still wet from birth. A horse, yes, but even with knees rattling together, it was plain to see that this was far from a mere horse. The big hooves were crusted with bloody fur, but it was the eyes—oh, the eyes were far too wise, and brilliant lilac.
“All right, everyone, just settle down.” Marion sounded amused rather than upset, sitting in the stall, staring at the new colt getting his feet under him and making his first steps. He peered around at all the people rather than going to nurse. “It’s not as though we haven’t had strange foals before.”
“Yeah, but we expected those to be strange,” someone said and laughed. They were all taking this in stride. A strange, purple-eyed colt was nothing too unusual here.
He wobbled a few steps, slipped and clambered back up again before he spotted Ursa. That fierce, loving delight crushed down on her as he came slipping and sliding across the bedding to her side of the pen, not letting the poor coordination stop him.
Marion blinked down at her and then called, “It’s all right Ursa, get in here then. Don’t let him get a leg under the fence. That’s good. Come on. Here.” She tossed Ursa a towel and grinned. “Someone you know?”
Ur’Sah! He fell into her arms and the blanket, all shivery and hot. For a moment, it was only the blinding hot affection before assuring himself that she was there. You did not believe me, messenger. He seemed amused that she would think he’d surrender his most prized rider to the cold of reality.
“I…d-d-don’t know how to explain it.” She was happy to see Leo leaning over the stall, smiling lovingly at her.
Several people nearby laughed quietly but no one pressed for more information. Instead, they offered her suggestions on how best to dry him and encourage him to nurse so the mother wouldn’t reject him.
He was having no part of nursing though. He wanted to stay in her lap, pressing into the warmth of the cloth drying him, projecting all the images from his journey and what he’d done to track her down.
Wasn’t I clever? he seemed to ask.
He was even more amused by his small size and the weakness of this new body. I will eat later. Look, I am small enough for you to carry. This will never happen again. The secondary voice was a laugh. Your companions are confused, rider. You will have much to share with them and I will feed when you do that. I have missed you!
“But you have to let the mare know you’re her foal,” Ursa said, sighing quietly and ducking her head to avoid the curious looks. “Please? You want to grow up healthy and strong, right? Yes, it’s all very funny.”
He was a brilliant, blood-red when dried, with darker star bursts of dapples in the spots where she’d removed the spears in the dream. On his forehead was a blaze of brilliant white in the place his horn should be. The spires curling out toward his eyes outlined their unique amethyst color.
“Sounds like Lord Remmy. Oh, boy,” Marion said, patting her shoulder. “It will be all right. We’re accustomed to some unusual equines. Not usually this dramatic. Never expected one of the Honored among us.” Her voice was pitched low so the others didn’t hear as she bowed closer to have a look at the colt.
“You know?” Ursa asked softly.
“We have seen our share of unique horses and unusual horse situations. I’ve developed a sense for this sort of thing.” She cleared her throat, “Congratulations, Ursa. So, what should we call your mount, lady? Gods, he is beautiful.”
She felt heat rise in her cheeks, “He’s called, Bringer of the Reverent Dawn.”
The foal nickered happily from the spot in Ursa’s lap. The flood of affection crested over her, fizzy and effervescent.
“That’s a lovely name,” Marion murmured, as though she might know the translation. Maybe she did. “Might we shorten it?” Marion watched the colt. “For example, we call Lord Remington, Light of the Long Darkness; Remmy.”
He listened to the question, processing it as he cuddled into Ursa with his head nuzzling her breast, watching her. His voice was thoughtful when it reached her. Whatever pleases you, my rider. His thoughts caressed her along with ripples of relief. Anything from your lips is lovely.
She ducked her head slightly. “Rev’Dawn. That’s nice right? Rev if he’s naughty.”
Rev’Dawn snorted and finally ambled out of her lap with a flicker of his brush tail and wobbled toward the mare where it took some coaxing for her to allow him to nurse at last. All the while, she felt the contact with him, an eclipsing of the contact she shared with Victorious.
She looked up to find an audience of strangers and her friends staring at her. Marion patted her shoulder. “I’m going to have the vet out and make sure they are both all right. Don’t worry, he has also seen the other unusual equines we get around here.” She led Ursa out of the stall. With a few quiet words, she set the workers to various tasks and Ursa found herself, alone with her fiancé and their friends.
Leo swept her into his arms, brushing a soft kiss to her lips. “You were right. He is amazing!”
“Teddy bear, do I even want to know how he followed you home?” Mano asked, swinging his legs and grinning at her from his perch on the stall across from them. He was shaking his head with amusement.
“What in the world was that all about, Ursa?” Vans asked. “Are you getting that foal?”
“I d-don’t know.” Ursa pulled herself tighter to Leo. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. This trip is about you, Vans. This was about you getting your horse. I feel so horrible, I—”
The warmth of Rev’Dawn’s affection brushed against her in reassurance, mingling with Leo’s hug and the cool green of Victorious. She shouldn’t feel guilty about anything.
Vans laughed. “Oh, my God, Ursa. I don’t think you planned any of this. I’m still kind of jelly-legged about Bora myself. I heard Bora’s voice,” Vans said, glancing at Travis as though daring him to argue with her. “She said she was so glad I finally got here and she was told I was coming. Is Bora the same as that colt?”
Mano looked thoughtful and then shrugged. “Bora and that little band of horses that belonged to Amy are war-mounts, not simple horses. Remmy, too, for that matter. What Ursa has is an honest-to-God, mystical creature of legends. A forest deity.” He smiled at Ursa expectantly, waiting to hear the story.
“When do I get one of these not-horses?” Marcie asked, reaching to slide her arms around him.
From his perch, Mano was taller than Marcie and
he wrapped a leg around her, pulling her in between his thighs. “When you tell me you want one, we find yours, schatzi.”
“What is yours named?” Marcie asked, her expression filled with her love for the man. “You are too sneaky for your own good, angelfish.”
“His name is—”
“You are all okay with this? Talking horses? Talking rugs. Talking swords?” Travis growled and then gritted his teeth. He seemed to be choking on his denial as he raked his fingers through his hair. The pieces were stacking up against the possibility of this being something he could just sweep away with logic and reasoning.
“You are Kyrie, Travis,” Mano murmured. “You work with a Valkyrie and you have seen all the artwork. What type of mounts do you think carry those warriors into battle? They might look like horses, but they are not!” His silvery gaze regarded Travis, as though he wanted to reach through and help the other man accept some part of the mystical reality around them. “As a seeker, you have to be able to open your eyes and see things for what they really are.”
“It has to be seen, it cannot be shown,” Vans murmured softly and leaned into Travis, rubbing her hand along his back to accent her words.
“I need some air to clear my head,” Travis said quietly. He brushed a kiss to Vans’s hair, murmured something to her and then pulled away, striding out into the sunlight.
Ursa felt Rev’Dawn’s attention shift to those around her. His voice was a comforting rumble. The seeker fumbles in the darkness. A whispered suggestion followed. He needs a light to guide him. He reflected back the image of the shooting star on her palm.
Did she want to help Travis in his search? Wasn’t it just better to leave things as they were?
He searches for this one? Rev’Dawn rumbled solemnly, flicking an image in Ursa’s mind of the picture of Guntram she’d seen on the wall at the Christmas party. He resides beyond the threshold. It is a simple thing to fetch him. He even provided a map point, Talgraem, from her dreams. Simple, the secondary voice whispered smugly.
Heart Bound Page 9
