‘I’m coming Sky, wait, I’m coming. I won’t let you go down there alone!’ Sophia cried.
Only steps away, almost touching distance, but the bog’s pull was too strong. Sophia was already up to her shoulders and could no longer lift her arms.
And then it happened.
In one shriek, Sky was gone.
‘NO!’ screamed Sophia. She turned towards the snake, who smiled widely. ‘How could you do it? How could you let such a wonderful, innocent-hearted pony sink into the Eternal Bog?’
The snake smiled wider than Sophia thought possible.
‘You can still save yourself. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll create hard ground below you and save you from the same fate as your pony.’
Princess Sophia breathed in her courage and shook her head.
‘I won’t let Sky struggle on her own,’ she said and with all her might dived down into the bog.
The snake smiled and laughed, and then rolled back his head. Happy tears streamed down his green face.
5
THE PRINCESS REDEMPTION
Underground, sounds became muffled. The coffee and liquorice aromas made the young princess gag, but with wide eyes and a heavy heart she called and called for her pony. It was dark, so dark the princess thought she had become blinded by the thick mud.
‘Sky, can you hear me?’ she called. ‘Sky? Sky?’
Her arms reached out searching, and finally she found the warmth of her pony’s coat.
‘There you are!’ Princess Sophia shrieked with delight. ‘I thought I had lost you forever!’
Sky nuzzled into her princess, and sighed.
‘I can’t believe you came to save me. Only yesterday you wanted a new pony, and you were ready to stop riding me forever.’
‘Oh, you silly thing!’ Princess Sophia smiled in the darkness. ‘I was so spoilt and used to getting what I want that I didn’t know the value in anything I had. Now I realise I can’t lose you, and if this challenge was going to take away the thing I love the most, I was not going to let you go alone!’
Sky’s heart warmed and suddenly, they were both spinning quickly, around and around.
‘What’s happening?’ Sky neighed, but Sophia could not reply, for she felt sick with fear.
They whirled around and around, and slowly the darkness became colours. The colours turned to light and with a loud pop, a sparkling sizzle and a glistening flash of lightning, Sky and Sophia were no longer in the Bog of Eternal Endurance. They were back within the pretty meadow of Faerie. The snake smiled, surrounded by hundreds of other strangely dressed animals with big eyes, blinking eyes, wide eyes, and eyes that never blinked at all. All these eyes, however, looked friendly.
Sky and Sophia peered at each other and around themselves. They looked rather dishevelled, covered in so much mud and bog juice. The snake slithered towards them, his waistcoat turning a bright shade of almonds.
‘Well done, both. You successfully completed the challenge.’ The snake nodded in approval.
‘Challenge?’ Princess Sophia said, her arm draped around her pony’s neck.
‘Yes, that’s right. Here in Faerie, we only accept kindness, bravery, and truth; you both showed all of these important qualities. Sky, you showed your bravery and kindness by trying to save your girl. Sophia, you showed your bravery and kindness by trying to save your pony. And truth…’ He paused. ‘I think you both know a little more about truth now.’
Princess Sophia, who usually would have been enraged at being treated so, smiled, and hugged her pony harder than she ever had before.
‘Shall we go home, Sky? Or would you like to stay here galloping in the meadow?’ Princess Sophia asked. Her pony rubbed her head into Sophia’s chest affectionately.
‘Let’s go home,’ Sky said. Sky did not need to ask if Sophia would keep her promise, allowing her to roam the royal meadows without being locked up in her stable day and night. They were friends now, and friends keep their promises.
‘Very well,’ said the snake, raising his arms in preparation for casting his spell… or perhaps it was just a friendly farewell gesture.
6
THE JOURNEY HOME
With very little ceremony, Princess Sophia and Sky found themselves back on the wooden bridge. The turquoise lake twinkled below them, and the daisies on the banks swayed in the early morning breeze. They noticed the flags of the castle in the distance, flying half-mast.
‘Father must think we have disappeared into Faerie forever,’ Sophia said. The flags flying low indicated mourning and grief.
‘Well, let’s gallop home quickly and let everybody know we are safe,’ Sky replied.
‘You can still speak!’ Sophia laughed. ‘I am not sure how we will explain that to Father!’
‘Perhaps it can be our secret,’ suggested Sky. ‘Come on, jump on board!’
Sophia mounted her pony, far more gently than she used to, aware that she could hurt her pony’s back if she was too rough. She picked up the reins in her hand, making sure that she didn’t hold onto them too tightly, so as to save her pony’s sensitive mouth from getting hurt.
She was just about to kick Sky in the ribs ready to gallop home, but instead, she leant forward and stroked Sky’s neck.
‘I love you, Sky,’ Sophia whispered, with a hearty pat upon the cloudy pony’s neck.
Sky neighed, and they galloped off towards the castle with shared adventures, secrets and promises. But more importantly, they shared friendship, and their best adventures were yet to come…
THE DESERT PONY
‘Pure white feathers sprouted from around the saddle, at first disappearing in the wind. And then more and more appeared, until two large wings formed and spread out gracefully from the pony’s shoulders.’
1
LAKE FURKAN
Once upon a time, in a land now overgrown and lost, there was a magical lake. In itself, the lake was rather ordinary with its crystal-tipped surface and a light silver mist hovering over it. However, where the lake was situated was far from ordinary indeed. Lake Furkan, as it was known then, swelled in many places at different times, and not one person ever saw it in the same place twice. This caused a problem, as one tends to get a hefty thirst when riding under the flaming sun and over scorching sand, so weary travellers depended upon it. You may have guessed – Lake Furkan was located in the middle, at the end, or somewhere in between the desert dunes. And not just any old desert – it was in the Sahara Desert itself.
It was said if you were to bathe within the turquoise waters of Lake Furkan, your youthful looks would remain for one hundred and forty-two days, and seven seconds. If you drank the water at sundown (when the water shimmered gold), you would discover the world’s riches and learn the art of alchemy to maintain your treasure. Yet, if you bottled this water and neither drank it, bathed within it, nor dipped your big toe below the surface of it, something truly magical was said to happen.
However, nobody had ever seen this magic. You see, by the time weary travellers happened upon Lake Furkan (you can never find it by looking, you’ll understand), they would have dry throats from sand storms, burnt faces from sunstroke, and the thirst of a camel’s aunt. There was, nevertheless, a sign at the perimeter of the lake that explained exactly what they must do if they were lucky (or unlucky) enough to discover it:
Bathe in me when blue
And your youth will stay with you
Drink me when I’m gold
And your fortune will unfold
Don’t wet your lips or skin
And your adventures will begin
So bottle me and keep
If it’s magic that you seek.
But if you do all three
You’ll break the law of Cree
And soon you’ll understand
You’ll never leave the sand.
Many scoundrels and gentlemen had read this sign and yet in their greed, they attempted all three. This, my friend, had resulted in a rather odd-loo
king fence around the perimeter of the lake (wherever it happens to magically appear). The fence was sure to make your spine tingle and knees knock, as it was made up entirely of skeleton bones. But this is not a story about skeletons or bones; this is a story about a boy named Hannan and his Arabian pony, Sahar. So, let us go back and begin where all great stories arise – with a choice, and a promise of adventure…
2
IT’S A GOAT’S LIFE
Standing upon a mountaintop, Hannan gazed into the distance. Around him, a herd of goats bleated merrily while bells around their necks tinkled with hollow chimes. Dry grass, almost green, beneath his feet was a perfect place, Hannan decided, to lie down, rest, and watch the tiny wisps of clouds float across the sky.
‘We’d better find shelter before nightfall,’ Hannan advised his goats a few hours later. ‘It’s hot in the sun, but we’ll freeze to death under moonlight.’
Of course they didn’t answer him, but his goats were all Hannan had for company. In fact, they were all he had for family too. Many years ago, Hannan’s parents went in search of a magical cure to heal his mother’s curious disease. You see, a peculiar melancholy had taken away her happiness and left her feeling terribly sad for no reason at all. Hannan’s father had heard folktales and legends about an enchanted lake that had the power to heal any ailment. So with horses, camels, food, and water, young Hannan’s parents had left him behind with Grandmamma, and they embarked on a journey into the Sahara Desert in search of the mysterious lake and magical cure. But they never returned, and Grandmamma had died of grief, leaving Hannan on his own – besides a few goats. And this was the reason he liked to stand on the mountaintop and gaze towards the horizon. Even after four and a bit years, Hannan still hoped for the return of his mother and father from the wild, perilous sands.
Before the sun dipped below the surface of the sky, Hannan herded his goats down the rocky mountain to a familiar cave for shelter. You may wonder why he didn’t go home… well, the mountains were his home. He moved day-by-day, week-by-week and month-by-month, finding fresh grass to feed his stock. With the healthiest goats in the land, Hannan made good money by selling them. He often passed through colourful markets, selling his goats as well as bartering for food and clothing. It wasn’t an extraordinary life, but Hannan felt as though he had no other choice.
Reaching the dark entrance to the cave, his goats became uncharacteristically nervous. They bleated, their heads high, refusing to enter.
‘Go on with you!’ Hannan called, waving his arms and a long stick. One by one, the goats entered and Hannan emptied the last of their food onto the ground. Then he slumped to the floor. He was used to the dark and was not in the least bit scared. Hannan sat crossed-legged and began eating a crust of stale bread, when a strange voice broke the silence and startled him.
‘Looks like your last morsel of food,’ a coarse voice said. ‘Would you be so kind as to share with a hungry old man?’
With a swift scratch, a match was lit. A lantern shone, and a stranger glowed in an amber light. The old man’s face was deeply wrinkled and weather worn, but his eyes shone with the brightness of a monkey – mischievous, inquisitive and kind. His salt and pepper-coloured beard flowed with a pleasant softness not often found in shabby facial hair. And his eyebrows rose, waiting for Hannan’s reply, but Hannan was far too stunned to say a word. Instead, he broke the bread in half. It snapped with a crunch in the silence and sent crumbs falling to the floor (hastily eaten by an astute goat). Hannan offered the bread to the stranger with an outstretched hand.
‘You are too kind,’ the old man muttered in between chomping at his new-found fare. ‘Although I fear I may break my teeth on this bread had I not already replaced them.’ He smiled, displaying an impressive set of perfectly pearly, straight teeth – all but one, which sparkled a deep red. Had Hannan seen a ruby before, he would have recognised the gem. The boy, despite all the peculiarity of the evening, could not help but smile back.
‘It’s no bother. I shall be attending the city market tomorrow. I’ll buy more grain for my goats… and more stale bread.’ He laughed lightly. ‘I’m Hannan, by the way.’
‘I know who you are, young man,’ the stranger replied, surprising Hannan somewhat. ‘But why, may I ask, would you bother to waste your hard-earned coins for more goat grain?’
‘Why? To feed my goats, of course! Then I’ll get good money when I sell them to afford to buy more grain and more goats. They can’t feed on this dreadful brown grass alone and stay nice and fat for the market,’ Hannan said matter-of-factly. He loved his goats, in a strange way.
‘But why do you need goats when you can have an adventure, young Hannan?’ the stranger asked, his eyes widening wickedly.
Hannan became unsettled, as did his goats, and several bells tinkled and echoed within the darkened cave.
‘An adventure? But this life is all I know,’ Hannan said sadly. Then, his eyes narrowed. ‘Just one moment. Who are you exactly; and how do you know my name?’ The young goat shepherd herded his stock away from the stranger.
And when the old man stood up, his height was rather unnerving. He wore a long crimson cloak embellished with large, fanciful golden tapestries that were previously hidden from sight within the shadows.
‘I know you, like I know every grain of sand in the desert. I know your goats as well as every droplet in faraway oceans. And what’s more, I know your dreams.’
Hannan backed away into a darkened corner, too worried to reply.
‘I’m a sorcerer. Sorcerer Scridgemore, at your service.’
Sorcerer Scridgemore folded from the waist, bowing low with a hearty chuckle.
‘A sorcerer!’ Hannan repeated in wonder. ‘You make magic? Can you find my parents?’
‘Oh no, dear boy,’ the sorcerer said, moving towards Hannan. He took the boy’s small hands into his large, wrinkly palms. ‘That type of magic is far beyond my power.’
In a flash, the sorcerer’s eyes glazed over and turned white and opaque.
Hannan gasped, stepping backwards and nearly falling over an unseen goat. Then the old man burst into song. The tune was as beautiful as it was haunting.
‘Do you have the courage
to search for what you seek,
and leave this life behind you
to trek the highest peak?
For if you have the bravery
to give up what you know,
the path will soon be open
and to adventure you will go.
But beware the thirst that follows,
beware your dusty clothes;
no drinking from the shallows,
or cleaning dirty toes.
‘Remember all these words,
for they guide you from the ills
of disappearing forever
in the long and distant hills.
Yet, if the Seeker’s brave
and believes in what he seeks,
he’ll no longer be a slave
of the boring and the meek.’
With a cough and a splutter, the sorcerer’s eyes turned the vibrant blue they previously were, and he looked rather confused and bewildered. ‘Oh!’ he said casually. ‘I must have nodded off!’
‘Nodded off?’ said Hannan. ‘You sang a song, with a message. Where’s this peak you mentioned?’ Hannan was eager to prove he was neither boring nor meek, yet the idea of an adventure was more scary than it was thrilling.
Sorcerer Scridgemore shrugged his shoulders and returned to biting into the stale bread. ‘I know nothing of a peak. But I do know if you have an ache in your heart and feel as though something is missing from your life, you must seek it as if your very soul depends on it,’ said the sorcerer. His eyes widened and he whispered as if sharing a secret. ‘But you have to be brave enough to give up the life you have, for the life you want.’
‘But how will I know where to go?’ asked Hannan.
‘Follow the signs, dear boy, follow the signs.’
An
d with that, the sorcerer closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep, serenading Hannan and his goats with the loudest, bone-rattling snores they were ever likely to hear.
3
MARKET DAY
Hannan had a fitful sleep, trying to remember all the many questions he wanted to ask the sorcerer, but unfortunately, he awoke only to his goats’ bleats and tinkling of their bells. He wondered if he had dreamed about the sorcerer; after all, it was quite a fanciful idea.
‘A sorcerer, indeed?’ Hannan laughed to himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was quite happy to believe he had imagined the whole thing, until he noticed something twinkling in a stray sunbeam that shone towards the back of the cave. In fact, it sparkled so brightly that Hannan raised his arm to his face to protect his squinting eyes.
‘What is it?’ he asked his goats, picking up the small object no bigger than a one-penny piece.
In the palm of his hand and out of the sun’s rays, it looked like a small coin. It was made of gold – enough to buy a month’s supply of goat grain and food if he sold it at the market.
But on closer inspection, Hannan noticed a tiny pony within the centre, where the head of a king or pharaoh would usually be. And where the pony’s eye should be, was a tiny yet perfectly shaped ruby. Of course, as I’ve previously mentioned, Hannan didn’t know what a ruby was. He had no idea whether the coin (if sold) should give him enough grain not only for a month, but for ten years. And so off he went, with his goats and his coin, to the city market.
As always, the market was colourful and lively. Many flags in many colours flapped above makeshift tents and stalls, while people jeered and cheered. Bleating animals joined in with their own chorus. Hannan enjoyed the aromas of many spices as he herded his goats towards the same stall he had visited at this market ever since his parents disappeared into the desert. He knew what he would do – the same thing he did at every city market. He would sell two goats, and then buy enough grain and bread to last until he had two more goats old enough, and fat enough, to sell.
Magical Adventures & Pony Tales Boxset (Vol 1 - 6) Page 6
