The Jack of Souls (Multi-award winner!)

Chaper 21b - A Secret and an Oath

Caris needed all her concentration to keep Rag from panicking, and to keep Idgit in sight. Behind her the cavernous roars of the yoab spurred Rag like whips on her heels.

Caris held Rag's fragile awareness together, but it was difficult for her, which was strange. She had never had such difficulty calming a single horse. Stranger yet, and more worrying, was that the equine fear was so potent that it began to penetrate her own mind. She had first noticed this difficulty the night before, when the effort to keep Rag calm around Molly had been almost too much for her. If it hadn't been for the upsetting matter of Harric and the wedding ring, she'd almost have looked forward to each time they stopped to rest, so she could hobble Rag far from Molly, and re-enter the world of humans.

In all her life she'd never craved the world of humans over her usual escape into horses.

The monster's noise grew louder, and then it appeared above them, flattening saplings like grass, blasting crimson fire from mouth and nostrils.

Idgit veered to one side and Rag followed at a gallop. Rag's fear was in Caris now, and she let it have rein.

It wasn't for some time before she realized the yoab had not veered with them, and was far away. Slowly, she pushed the horses' fear from her mind, and reestablished calm. She rode Idgit down and took her bridle, then reined them both and dismounted. She held their heads together, comforting them silently for many heartbeats in a quiet copse of dapple-nuts and fern. Gradually their blowing calmed, their eyes ceased rolling. Eventually, even their ears ceased flicking, as the sounds of the yoab dwindled in the distance.

Safe. Safe, she told them. She stroked their velvet cheeks, pressing forehead to muzzles, until they all breathed normally together.

Another horse snorted nearby, and Caris looked up to see Willard's spare horse — Holly? Dolly? — gazing at her across the copse. The tournament hood Willard kept on her was hanging by a mere string, torn from her face in the frantic flight, to expose her long, velvet-gray face. Caris stared for long moments before she realized with the certainty of the horse-touched that she was looking at a Phyros foal.

Caris sucked her breath in surprise. No one had ever seen a Phyros foal in Arkendia. Only grown Phyros were brought to the island, and all those were stallions, with the single exception of Molly.

Caris hobbled Rag and Idgit, and walked, entranced, toward Molly's miraculous offspring.

Holly tossed her head and trotted across the ferns to her side, peering at her intently with pale gray eyes.

   How strange that her eyes were not violet. That must be an adult feature, Caris mused, like an infant human's eyes are generally black or blue before they settle on an adult color.

Holly snuffed her fingers, and let Caris stroke her cheeks. Caris extended her horse-touched senses toward her, probing.

The foal's presence was nothing like the fierce maelstrom of Molly's aura. She bore some of the inexplicable deep nature of the Phyros that set them apart from mortal horses, but the horrible violence and domination that defined her mother was absent. In fact, the signature presence of Phyros was so soft in Holly that Caris hadn't sensed it before, or perhaps the distraction of calming Rag, and the overpowering aura of Molly had prevented it. But now it was palpable.

It was just as clear that Willard had more priceless cargo to protect on this journey than the ring on her finger.

She was deep in the world of Holly's emotions when Rag suddenly reared in her hobbles, terrified. Caris gasped in surprise, stepping back from Holly and shifting her attention to Rag.