Book 5, Chapter 50: The Horse
The sun had long fallen behind the mountains, stars were scattered about the sky, and the moon was full, its pale light across the rocks and shrubs, the stone buildings below, casting full and dark shadows that slowly snuck across the ground with its motion.
We stood upon the keep. Him in his armor and me in comfortable, high fashion workwear for nuns. In the courtyard below, the wizard’s army was preparing to leave on the morrow.
“What are you planning, Princess?”
“Give me a moment, will you?” I stared at the sky and he gave me silence. A part of me remembered liking the big man for that.
When I found the stars and worked out our position, I turned to face the correct direction, calling. “Sleipnir! Come to me, for I need your skills. Come to me oh greatest and noblest of all steeds and let your glory be known to those on this world!”
Morry shuffled back a bit.
“We can speak now.”
“Who are you inviting to join us?”
“My father’s horse.” Oh, this was something I did not want to discuss! I couldn’t remember the experience, but what a different person I must have been. Or different being. How odd a concept, to truly be born anew, with no memories. I guess I was not quite a year old.
“Your father?”
“Not the king who died . . . uh, there’s a lot you don’t know. I’m sorry. One day, I hope to tell you everything. But for now, let’s stay in the present.”
“I see. Are you . . . truly my princess?”
I turned to face him. His skin was smooth and young, eyes searching me. “How old do you feel, Morry?”
“As myself, before we came to this place. But my injuries are healed and my appearance youthful. Those I took in battle so long ago, the beatings they gave me here. All of them.”
“If you are still you, despite all that, then I am still me.”
“You seem different.”
“I am, a little. Maybe a lot. Wait. He is coming.”
He didn’t ask who, but became quiet, standing still, and this lessened my worries about his returned youth. His mind remained as before and he didn’t lack for maturity.
“There, Morry, see!”
“Where?”
I pointed toward the stars.
“Oh!” said the big man, as he inhaled, surprised.
A chestnut horse larger than any other, dark brown mane and tail, galloped on a trail only he could see, passing through an errant cloud, and looping down toward us. He slowed, coming ever nearer, his eight legs finally ringing out against the keep on which we stood, head high, and soon in front of me.
Sleipnir let out a long and proud neigh, and I petted his neck, saying, “You have found me, even across worlds! What a treasure you are, but I must ask you not to tell Father about this trip and about me. For if He knows, surely curiosity will drive Him here and I would not want to see the world so affected.”
Sleipnir stamped his first two feet and nodded his head in agreement.
“Now, if you would be so kind, take me and my friend here upon your noble person and bear us to far off places?”
He gave the big man a one-eyed appraisal, tilting his head as horses do.
“Oh, he is big, but not too large for you, mighty Sleipnir! For you are the strongest and bravest and best of all horses, and you have carried the great weight of Father into battle.”
“Princess, are we to ride without a saddle?”
“What and who could saddle such a being?”
“I don’t, uhm, yes.”
Sleipnir neighed loudly, then bent his first four knees and then his second, so that we could climb atop, and I mounted, offering my hand to Morry, and pulled him up.
“Have you become stronger?”
“It’s a matter of perspective.”
“And who is this ‘father’ you keep referring to?”
“I’d rather not say His name, lest He hear and come to this world.”
“He would cause harm?”
“I think He’d be angry.”
“At you?”
“At those who would do His sons harm. The mages, these nuns, this temple complex, the other deities within and, by extension, this world. Though He would enjoy your war culture and would likely smile upon you, Morry.”
“Sons?”
“Let’s forget I said that part.”
“Children?”
“Or maybe offspring. Fruit of His loins?”
“Not better.”
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