Excerpt: The Southern Land

The undercarriage of the ship wasn’t designed for carrying large quantities of horses, not like the ship Midnight had been loaded onto, but many people brought a horse on their journey, and so the bilge contained about fifteen small stalls. They were musty and the wood smelled, but Pegasus wasn’t complaining.

He was nearly as desperate to find Midnight as Zephyr was. For the first time in his life, he had met a mare whom he didn’t want to ever leave. His master and friend, Morpheus, was a horse thief, so he’d come across plenty of mares in his travels.

But Midnight was different. She wasn’t just another stolen horse to be sold on – or at least, she shouldn’t be. Pegasus’ thoughts drifted back to Midnight’s predicament. He sighed. They needed to find her, soon.

His ears pricked forward at the sound of someone coming downstairs, towards the horse stalls. The only people who ever came down were the boys in charge of feeding the six horses currently here, and Zephyr and Morpheus.

Peg was in the last stall, and couldn’t see who was coming until they were right in front of him. He didn’t have to wait to find out who it was, however – the strange three horses he didn’t know didn’t whinny appreciatively at the sight of dinner, so it had to be one of Peg’s friends. Sure enough, there came a sudden excited shout in his head.

:Zephyr!:

Peg pricked his ears forward. Just Zephyr? No Morpheus?

:Settle down, Polo: the girl laughed, sending her words directly into the minds of all three horses. While her mindlink didn’t technically exclude the other three horses stabled in the bottom of the ship, she wasn’t sending directly to them, so they could ignore her or listen in as they chose.

:Where’s Morph?: asked another voice, which Pegasus recognised as Loarka, the well sized pony who could race as far and nearly as fast as a bigger horse.

:On deck: Zephyr replied curtly, and Pegasus blinked. He wondered if his two favourite humans had had a fight. It was possible – no, probable. Their friendship was fraught with disagreements, but they had both learnt that neither meant the harsh words they came up with.

:Are we nearly there?: asked Polo. :My hooves hurt:

:Not quite: Zephyr said apologetically. :I’ll paint them for you again, soon: she promised.

Having to live on wooden floorboards with very little movement was not good for a horse’s foot, leading to the possibility of all sorts of foot related injuries and illnesses. By covering, or ‘painting’ the hoof, outside and underneath, with a special type of paste, reduced the chances of such injuries occurring.

:I knew that storm would cost us time: Peg said morosely. Zephyr came forward, and quickly unlatched his door. He pushed it open, and took a small step out, so that all three horses could talk to Zephyr at the same time.

Letting the horses out of their stalls was strictly forbidden on the ship, so they all knew to listen carefully for any sound of someone coming down, and if they did, Pegasus had to get straight back in before someone saw him out. Not that many people came down here. It was the middle of the day, and the dinner hay wouldn’t be arriving for several hours.

For a while, Zephyr stood in silence, struggling to stroke the noses of all three horses at once – not an easy task, considering that she only had two hands. To resolve the issue, she eventually ended up with both arms stretched outwards, to pet the two ponies who were in opposite stalls, and with the stallion rubbing his large head against her chest.

At one point, she winced, and he hesitated.

:It’s all right: she said quickly, and he continued rubbing those itchy hard-to-get places against her shirt, trying to avoid the slowly healing scar above her right lung.

Derek’s attempt at stealing Midnight hadn’t been the perfect crime. Midnight hadn’t been alone at the time, having gone for a walk, without knowing Zephyr was following not so far behind. Derek had swung a rope around her neck, and seeing Zephyr, shot an arrow into her chest.

Only Morpheus’ steady attentions had kept the girl alive, but before they could chase after the horse thief, they had had to wait for Zephyr to heal.

Finally, all three horses having rubbed every itchy part they could think of against Zephyr’s face, chest, sides and hands, the girl started to speak her mind.

:Peg, what will happen if we don’t find her?: she asked. The great stallion – only just able to fit inside the ship – lowered his head, gazing at her cautiously.

:We’ll keep looking for her until we do: he said. Zephyr sighed in frustration.

:That’s what Morpheus said!:

:So it must be true: Peg said soothingly. Zephyr glared at him, the effect lost on the stallion, who was several hands taller than her.

:And if we don’t? What if she’s dead?:

Peg hesitated. :We find out what happened to her, and we hunt down whoever was responsible: he muttered eventually. Seeing Zephyr blanch slightly, he quickly added, :Though she’s a very fine looking horse, no-one would want to kill her:

:Morpheus isn’t telling me something. What is it?:

Pegasus nickered softly, looking for some way of avoiding the question. Zephyr reached up a hand, and grabbed his muzzle. Instinctively, he threw his head up, but she held on. Nervously, he glared down at her. Eventually, he sighed.

:Midnight’s a horse: he said softly, as if hoping that would be answer enough. Zephyr rolled her eyes.

:Is she? I can see why Morpheus didn’t want to tell me that! Now, for F’lar’s sake, Peg, what is it?:

:Horses... we... we don’t remember things the same way you humans do: he muttered, pulling his nose away from her grip. Zephyr frowned, still confused, and with a sigh, the stallion continued.

:Horse memory... we only remember things that have happened recently, or things in the past that someone – like you or Morpheus – reminds us about:

Zephyr felt dread seep through her. :Peg... what is it? What are you saying?:

:I’m saying... that if we don’t get her back soon... her memories of us may be damaged:

:How damaged?:

There was silence. Zephyr repeated her question, turning to look at the two ponies on either side of her. Polo nickered gently, lowering his gaze, and Loarka twisted sideways.

:He means: called a new voice, :That your mare may not have any memory of you at all:

Zephyr turned, looking at the occupant in the stall behind her. It was a brown gelding with a dainty white snip along his nose. Stepping closer, she could also see a single white stocking on one hind leg.

:How could she... have no memory of me?:

The gelding yawned. :She’ll be sold on, and gradually, her memories of you will be replaced by those of her new owner:

Zephyr swallowed, and Pegasus stepped forwards, sniffing curiously at the stranger. So far, he, Polo and Loarka had had no dialogue with the other three horses, except for a brief hello at the start of the voyage.

His ears flicked backwards, and with a half-nip, stepped away.

:What’s your name?: Polo asked, leaning his head as far out as possible to see the brown.

:I’m Rojo. Stall next to me is Puck, my mare-brother, and opposite, that’s Nero:

At the sound of their names, the other two horses – a chestnut and a dark bay – looked out. A moment later, they wearily pulled their heads in, leaving introductions to Rojo.

:Rather odd, seeing a talking human: Rojo commented. Pegasus snorted.

:There’s another one upstairs: he muttered, and Rojo yawned again.

:So, who are you lot?:

Polo took great delight in telling Rojo about the four of them, and then about Morpheus, and Midnight, and also about their journey south through Naraldair and Samosun. Casting the excited grey pony a long look, Loarka turned his attention to Zephyr.

:Peg and Morph are right, though: he said encouragingly, over a private link that no-one else could hear. :We’ll find her, alive and well, before the week is out:

:Thanks Loarka: Zephyr whispered, smiling softly, and rubbing his nose. He shook his head, and licked at her hand. Trying to look disgusted, but failing, Zephyr wiped her hand against her long pants.

Pegasus couldn’t hear the exchange, but from Zephyr’s expression and sudden attention towards the pony, knew that Loarka must have said something to get her spirits up. He turned his attention back to Rojo, hoping to save the gelding from Polo’s life story.

:So, why are you on this wooden float-box?: he asked. Rojo gave the equivalent of a horse shrug.

:I’m a racer, aren’t I? All of us are. But our owner fell on hard times, so he’s taking us all to the southern land for sale:

Zephyr looked at him, confused. :And that doesn’t upset you? Having to leave your human?:

:Why would it? He was my master, my trainer. But not my friend:

:And soon, you won’t remember him: she whispered, slightly horrified.

:It’s why I don’t remember your brother: Pegasus said, nudging Zephyr’s shoulder. She nodded.

:So how long do we have?:

Pegasus’ large grey head drooped. :I don’t know. Maybe a month or two:

:Ever been to Stania before?: Rojo asked. Zephyr shook her head, speaking for all of them. :It’s a nice enough place:

:Not what we’ve heard from other sources: Loarka muttered. Rojo’s ears pricked forwards.

:No? Ah well. Trust me, it’s quite pretty. Sandy deserts stretching out, well designed buildings. Things built there aren’t done for looks or to impress – they’re made solid, to last:

:And the ungoverned humans?: Polo asked nervously. To everyone’s surprise, Rojo laughed.

:There may be no ruling body, but don’t think the Stanians are uncivilised. Different doesn’t necessarily mean bad:

:How do you know all that, anyway?: Zephyr asked.

:I was born there: Rojo announced simply. Realising they were all eager for more information, he sighed loudly, and continued. :I was sold as a colt to a Samosian trainer. He’s the one who owned me, and kept me for the past three years:

TBC...