Disclaimer: No.
A/N: Not much to say. I've written through chapter 15, though, so it's all ready for posting when you review. Yes, you.
Chapter 6 - Psyche's Gallops
The continued their fast pace, the horses, which had lived in the gods' realm for so long, would tire much slower than normal horses. Even the pony, who stood seven hands shorter than Psyche, who was setting the pace, could keep up on his pounding short legs. It had started to rain, and they had all donned black cloaks, much like the Black Lord's attire, made of light but layered material, which would not easily get wet. From a distance they seemed like spirits crossing the plains on their cursed steeds.
The River Olorun, which Dobbin said flowed through Corus, ran deep and swollen from the added water. It gnawed at its banks, taking mud, silt, rock, and plants with it on its frenzied journey. A few travelers had stopped by the edge of the river, poring over a damp map. Quinn halted his horse, pulling the hood lower over his face, which was getting decidedly more skeletal. The colonel did the same, and a small piece of skin fell into his lap from his cheek.
"That magic can't work in the rain." Sora said, her cheeks pale from the cold, her black hair plastered to her neck and back underneath the cloak. She took two potions out of her bedroll pocket, and handed them to Quinn and the colonel. "Drink these waterproofing potions. In a few minutes you'll be human as ever." The quintet waited until the faces of the knights returned to Quinn and the colonel's faces. Sora nodded at Devon, who sat on Psyche a few feet away, Dobbin in her lap, inside her cloak. Only his nose was visible. She pulled back her hood and the rain soaked her hair into long, dark, wet strings.
"Let's move on, Psyche and the others can take this river straight across. We don't need to take the Seven Crossings route."
"And the pack pony?" Sora asked, her green eyes wide and afraid. Twilight snorted and pawed the ground as if to say, "How dare you! We can cross that river any old day!"
Devon looked down at the small pony, his thick mane plastered over his eyes.
"I'll tie him to Psyche's saddle. Unpack him, take one bag each of the three of you." She said a few moments later, "We'll cross this river right over there." She pointed to where the travelers were standing about three hundred paces away. With skilled hands she lashed the pony's halter to Psyche's martingale with a sturdy knot, and they trotted over to the travelers, who, with only one horse and many belongings, seemed stuck on this side of the river.
"Greetings, fellow travelers." Devon said, with her hood now pulled up like the others' to conceal their identity. No one knew what they looked like, except the gods, but if a priest or priestess happened by, they could find out, and would at the soonest possible moment. "How deep is the water?" The sturdy man who was the leader looked at them warily, something Devon suspected he'd be.
"Nearly five feet, traveler." He said, "No one with a mind would cross it now."
Devon nodded in thanks and steered Psyche towards the river, the pony's ears flicking towards Devon's voice as she spoke into the liver chestnut's ear.
"Gallop harder than you ever have before, Psyche. Watch out for the pony. Jump if you can't tell how deep a part is."
Devon sat back up and gathered her reins, her whole body stiffening. Suddenly she leaned forward and dug her heels into Psyche's sides, and he leapt forward with a loud, piercing whinny. The pony was right at his shoulder, galloping along.
"Faster, faster!" She cried in the torrent of rain to her stallion. He flicked his ear back and sped into the spray of water, coming in almost up to his back. The pony was paddling frantically at his side. He sped faster, pulling the pony along with him, until something took his front legs from under him, and he fell in face first.
Struggling, he righted himself and found the other horses beside him, struggling as well. With a huge surge of speed he leapt high and far, landing on the other side of the river, wet, muddy, cold, but safe, and with Devon clinging to his mane, slumped in the saddle with Dobbin on her shoulders.
"Milady! Are you alright?" Sora demanded scaredly, her voice shaking as she untied the pony who was scratched form being dragged during the stallion's leap. Devon coughed, rolling over and spitting murky water out of her mouth.
"I.::cough:: I'm fine." She said, trying to stand. One of her gloves was shredded, and a long rope burn stretched across her arm and hand from grabbing the pony's halter.
"We'll get that seen to.oh milady we were so afraid." Sora said, rocking herself and crying. Devon leaned against Psyche's muddied chest, pressing her face into the muck and hugging his neck.
"Good boy, good boy." She gasped breathlessly. Quinn and Sora helped her back into the saddle, and Dobbin was still clutching her shoulders for dear life. When they began to ride away again, he jumped out of the saddle and onto the ground.
"Never getting back on that crazy nag again!" He squeaked. In the end, they got him settled on the pony's back, and they each took a little of the small equine's load.
They rode on for awhile, each person wet and shivering, even Quinn, whose magic had faded and he was now rendered fleshless. The colonel was slowly drooping in his saddle, his skin becoming greenish and waxy, cuts splitting on his face and arms and hands, eyes sinking into his skull. Sora looked the worst. Her green eyes were dull and her face pale and ghostly. Her usually red lips were purple-blue. Only Dobbin and Devon seemed slightly alive. The gnome was curled up in his beard, tucked between Devon's stomach and the high front of the saddle.
"Only a little farther," Devon said, "and then we'll make camp." There were no sighs of relief or groans of frustration, none of them made any noise. This puzzled Devon. What was going on? If she didn't know any better she would have said they were sick, terribly and violently sick. But Quinn and the colonel, they couldn't get sick. Right?
Sora was another story, and Devon worried about her. She was human, drafted by the Goddess into the realm when she was young, so she would have no experience with sicknesses. For all she knew, Sora could be infected with ten or more diseases and illnesses.
After a few hundred feet, she stopped them and lit a fire, bringing out her bedroll. Her companions except Dobbin huddled by the fire as if they couldn't get warm enough. They gratefully accepted the extra bedroll, and got even closer to the flames after huddling close and spreading it over all three of them. Dobbin awoke only long enough to be hoisted off of Psyche's back and next to the pony. He had switched mounts after riding the pony by himself so that he could get some sleep while they traveled.
Psyche seemed fine, to Devon's relief. His eyes were as bright as ever, and he seemed as eager to move as any other day. Appearance, however, was another issue. Mud and water had crusted on his coat so that he looked more like a gray than a liver chestnut. His once-shining leather tack was dirty and scratched. Devon fed the horses their grains and warmed the water so that they wouldn't colic. Then she peeled off their bridles and saddle and put on their heavy blankets, and turned them loose. Psyche would lead them back when she called for him the next morning.
Looking over at the fireplace, she saw the three others, and Dobbin asleep under four bedrolls. Sighing, but deciding that it was for the best, Devon found a spot on the ground and laid her soiled cloak on it, then covered herself with her spare. It was hard and rocky on the ground, and as she moved she felt she couldn't get comfortable. Instead she watched the flames dance until her eyes slowly drooped shut.
In the middle of the night, she awoke suddenly to find Quinn and the colonel awake and looking much better, though they were bent worriedly over Sora, murmuring to themselves. She got up and threw her clean cloak over her breeches and vest, pulling the hood over her cold face. When she reached the trio, she gasped.
Sora's eyes were shut, her breaths labored and her skin waxy and white as the moon. Her hair was frozen in strings around her face, her cloak soaked and edged in frost. She looked more dead than alive.
"What happened?" Devon asked quietly, not able to take her eyes off of Sora's pale face. Quinn looked back at her and shook his head sadly.
"She's contracted some sickness or another. Her face is hot but she's shivering, she can't keep any of her food down." He sighed, "I don't know what we can do."
"There's nothing we can do." The colonel said. "We don't have any healing potions and if we wait for the sickness to take its course she could end up dead, or it'll take two weeks or more, and this forest isn't the place to house an invalid." Devon nodded in agreement and suddenly whistled sharply, calling, "Psyche!"
The stallion thundered up, his whole body a muddy mess. The other horses followed at a trot.
Devon reached up to caress his face through the mud, rubbing his velvety muzzle though her hand came off with a gray smear across the palm.
"We're going on a ride, boy." She said, grabbing her bridle and throwing it over his head, then tying a rope around his belly over his blanket and climbing onto his back. She hooked her feet inside the rope for support and nudged him forward into a canter, his feet seeming never to touch the ground though the three-beat rhythm was pounding in her head.
"Come on boy, for Sora." She whispered under her breath as they weaved through trees in search of a healer. With a sudden lurch, Psyche stopped dead in his tracks, ears pricked forward. Silence closed around them.
The colonel's gray walked up, the light feathering around his feet fluttering as his large hooves thudded on the soft forest floor. On his back was Quinn, who had his hood off and hanging around his shoulders, and a pouch filled to the brim with appearance potions, and a paper with instructions on how to brew more. Devon turned Psyche towards the gray and Quinn and frowned.
"Milady, you can't just go on alone." Quinn pointed out in his effective sensible voice. Devon sighed.
"But the colonel."
"Can take Sora by himself." Quinn pointed out.
"But his appearance."
"The Goddess fixed that for the time being. When it wanes he has enough to take them both back the remaining distance." Silence stretched between them after that, the dauntless Quinn waiting for Devon's response. She was running her hands nervously through her hair, rubbing her temples, anything that seemed to chase away the ache in her head.
"It's been a trying day, milady." Quinn said softly, swinging off his horse and pulling a bedroll off the back of the saddle, spreading it out on the ground, getting another, and doing the same. He was pulling blankets off the gray's back when Devon spoke.
"Quinn, you don't have to come with me." She said, "You'll want to be home in a soft bed after a night of sleeping on the ground, and there's cold, and you've just overcome a sickness." Quinn silenced her with a raised hand.
"No milady." He said firmly, as a parent does to a child. "You and I have been friends for a long time now. I would think you'd trust my judgment on this. You're new at this whole mortal realm thing, and so am I. You needn't be in a strange place all alone. We can learn together."
Devon thought a moment, and then looked at her friend. Because of his lack of ways to express things, because he didn't have things like, say, eyes, she had to feel his determination the way she felt what her father was thinking. His determination and his flattering undying devotion to her as his friend made her smile and shake her head as she dismounted. She laid a hand on Quinn's shoulder, looking him in the face.
"Alright then." She said, smiling. His happiness was like a tidal wave and it washed over the both of them.
"Now," She said with a grin, "What's there to eat?"
Questions? Comments? Review and I'll answer!
Flames? Call 1-800-I-Don't-Give-A-Rat's-Arse
Nazzy Nazzy Nazgirl
A/N: Not much to say. I've written through chapter 15, though, so it's all ready for posting when you review. Yes, you.
Chapter 6 - Psyche's Gallops
The continued their fast pace, the horses, which had lived in the gods' realm for so long, would tire much slower than normal horses. Even the pony, who stood seven hands shorter than Psyche, who was setting the pace, could keep up on his pounding short legs. It had started to rain, and they had all donned black cloaks, much like the Black Lord's attire, made of light but layered material, which would not easily get wet. From a distance they seemed like spirits crossing the plains on their cursed steeds.
The River Olorun, which Dobbin said flowed through Corus, ran deep and swollen from the added water. It gnawed at its banks, taking mud, silt, rock, and plants with it on its frenzied journey. A few travelers had stopped by the edge of the river, poring over a damp map. Quinn halted his horse, pulling the hood lower over his face, which was getting decidedly more skeletal. The colonel did the same, and a small piece of skin fell into his lap from his cheek.
"That magic can't work in the rain." Sora said, her cheeks pale from the cold, her black hair plastered to her neck and back underneath the cloak. She took two potions out of her bedroll pocket, and handed them to Quinn and the colonel. "Drink these waterproofing potions. In a few minutes you'll be human as ever." The quintet waited until the faces of the knights returned to Quinn and the colonel's faces. Sora nodded at Devon, who sat on Psyche a few feet away, Dobbin in her lap, inside her cloak. Only his nose was visible. She pulled back her hood and the rain soaked her hair into long, dark, wet strings.
"Let's move on, Psyche and the others can take this river straight across. We don't need to take the Seven Crossings route."
"And the pack pony?" Sora asked, her green eyes wide and afraid. Twilight snorted and pawed the ground as if to say, "How dare you! We can cross that river any old day!"
Devon looked down at the small pony, his thick mane plastered over his eyes.
"I'll tie him to Psyche's saddle. Unpack him, take one bag each of the three of you." She said a few moments later, "We'll cross this river right over there." She pointed to where the travelers were standing about three hundred paces away. With skilled hands she lashed the pony's halter to Psyche's martingale with a sturdy knot, and they trotted over to the travelers, who, with only one horse and many belongings, seemed stuck on this side of the river.
"Greetings, fellow travelers." Devon said, with her hood now pulled up like the others' to conceal their identity. No one knew what they looked like, except the gods, but if a priest or priestess happened by, they could find out, and would at the soonest possible moment. "How deep is the water?" The sturdy man who was the leader looked at them warily, something Devon suspected he'd be.
"Nearly five feet, traveler." He said, "No one with a mind would cross it now."
Devon nodded in thanks and steered Psyche towards the river, the pony's ears flicking towards Devon's voice as she spoke into the liver chestnut's ear.
"Gallop harder than you ever have before, Psyche. Watch out for the pony. Jump if you can't tell how deep a part is."
Devon sat back up and gathered her reins, her whole body stiffening. Suddenly she leaned forward and dug her heels into Psyche's sides, and he leapt forward with a loud, piercing whinny. The pony was right at his shoulder, galloping along.
"Faster, faster!" She cried in the torrent of rain to her stallion. He flicked his ear back and sped into the spray of water, coming in almost up to his back. The pony was paddling frantically at his side. He sped faster, pulling the pony along with him, until something took his front legs from under him, and he fell in face first.
Struggling, he righted himself and found the other horses beside him, struggling as well. With a huge surge of speed he leapt high and far, landing on the other side of the river, wet, muddy, cold, but safe, and with Devon clinging to his mane, slumped in the saddle with Dobbin on her shoulders.
"Milady! Are you alright?" Sora demanded scaredly, her voice shaking as she untied the pony who was scratched form being dragged during the stallion's leap. Devon coughed, rolling over and spitting murky water out of her mouth.
"I.::cough:: I'm fine." She said, trying to stand. One of her gloves was shredded, and a long rope burn stretched across her arm and hand from grabbing the pony's halter.
"We'll get that seen to.oh milady we were so afraid." Sora said, rocking herself and crying. Devon leaned against Psyche's muddied chest, pressing her face into the muck and hugging his neck.
"Good boy, good boy." She gasped breathlessly. Quinn and Sora helped her back into the saddle, and Dobbin was still clutching her shoulders for dear life. When they began to ride away again, he jumped out of the saddle and onto the ground.
"Never getting back on that crazy nag again!" He squeaked. In the end, they got him settled on the pony's back, and they each took a little of the small equine's load.
They rode on for awhile, each person wet and shivering, even Quinn, whose magic had faded and he was now rendered fleshless. The colonel was slowly drooping in his saddle, his skin becoming greenish and waxy, cuts splitting on his face and arms and hands, eyes sinking into his skull. Sora looked the worst. Her green eyes were dull and her face pale and ghostly. Her usually red lips were purple-blue. Only Dobbin and Devon seemed slightly alive. The gnome was curled up in his beard, tucked between Devon's stomach and the high front of the saddle.
"Only a little farther," Devon said, "and then we'll make camp." There were no sighs of relief or groans of frustration, none of them made any noise. This puzzled Devon. What was going on? If she didn't know any better she would have said they were sick, terribly and violently sick. But Quinn and the colonel, they couldn't get sick. Right?
Sora was another story, and Devon worried about her. She was human, drafted by the Goddess into the realm when she was young, so she would have no experience with sicknesses. For all she knew, Sora could be infected with ten or more diseases and illnesses.
After a few hundred feet, she stopped them and lit a fire, bringing out her bedroll. Her companions except Dobbin huddled by the fire as if they couldn't get warm enough. They gratefully accepted the extra bedroll, and got even closer to the flames after huddling close and spreading it over all three of them. Dobbin awoke only long enough to be hoisted off of Psyche's back and next to the pony. He had switched mounts after riding the pony by himself so that he could get some sleep while they traveled.
Psyche seemed fine, to Devon's relief. His eyes were as bright as ever, and he seemed as eager to move as any other day. Appearance, however, was another issue. Mud and water had crusted on his coat so that he looked more like a gray than a liver chestnut. His once-shining leather tack was dirty and scratched. Devon fed the horses their grains and warmed the water so that they wouldn't colic. Then she peeled off their bridles and saddle and put on their heavy blankets, and turned them loose. Psyche would lead them back when she called for him the next morning.
Looking over at the fireplace, she saw the three others, and Dobbin asleep under four bedrolls. Sighing, but deciding that it was for the best, Devon found a spot on the ground and laid her soiled cloak on it, then covered herself with her spare. It was hard and rocky on the ground, and as she moved she felt she couldn't get comfortable. Instead she watched the flames dance until her eyes slowly drooped shut.
In the middle of the night, she awoke suddenly to find Quinn and the colonel awake and looking much better, though they were bent worriedly over Sora, murmuring to themselves. She got up and threw her clean cloak over her breeches and vest, pulling the hood over her cold face. When she reached the trio, she gasped.
Sora's eyes were shut, her breaths labored and her skin waxy and white as the moon. Her hair was frozen in strings around her face, her cloak soaked and edged in frost. She looked more dead than alive.
"What happened?" Devon asked quietly, not able to take her eyes off of Sora's pale face. Quinn looked back at her and shook his head sadly.
"She's contracted some sickness or another. Her face is hot but she's shivering, she can't keep any of her food down." He sighed, "I don't know what we can do."
"There's nothing we can do." The colonel said. "We don't have any healing potions and if we wait for the sickness to take its course she could end up dead, or it'll take two weeks or more, and this forest isn't the place to house an invalid." Devon nodded in agreement and suddenly whistled sharply, calling, "Psyche!"
The stallion thundered up, his whole body a muddy mess. The other horses followed at a trot.
Devon reached up to caress his face through the mud, rubbing his velvety muzzle though her hand came off with a gray smear across the palm.
"We're going on a ride, boy." She said, grabbing her bridle and throwing it over his head, then tying a rope around his belly over his blanket and climbing onto his back. She hooked her feet inside the rope for support and nudged him forward into a canter, his feet seeming never to touch the ground though the three-beat rhythm was pounding in her head.
"Come on boy, for Sora." She whispered under her breath as they weaved through trees in search of a healer. With a sudden lurch, Psyche stopped dead in his tracks, ears pricked forward. Silence closed around them.
The colonel's gray walked up, the light feathering around his feet fluttering as his large hooves thudded on the soft forest floor. On his back was Quinn, who had his hood off and hanging around his shoulders, and a pouch filled to the brim with appearance potions, and a paper with instructions on how to brew more. Devon turned Psyche towards the gray and Quinn and frowned.
"Milady, you can't just go on alone." Quinn pointed out in his effective sensible voice. Devon sighed.
"But the colonel."
"Can take Sora by himself." Quinn pointed out.
"But his appearance."
"The Goddess fixed that for the time being. When it wanes he has enough to take them both back the remaining distance." Silence stretched between them after that, the dauntless Quinn waiting for Devon's response. She was running her hands nervously through her hair, rubbing her temples, anything that seemed to chase away the ache in her head.
"It's been a trying day, milady." Quinn said softly, swinging off his horse and pulling a bedroll off the back of the saddle, spreading it out on the ground, getting another, and doing the same. He was pulling blankets off the gray's back when Devon spoke.
"Quinn, you don't have to come with me." She said, "You'll want to be home in a soft bed after a night of sleeping on the ground, and there's cold, and you've just overcome a sickness." Quinn silenced her with a raised hand.
"No milady." He said firmly, as a parent does to a child. "You and I have been friends for a long time now. I would think you'd trust my judgment on this. You're new at this whole mortal realm thing, and so am I. You needn't be in a strange place all alone. We can learn together."
Devon thought a moment, and then looked at her friend. Because of his lack of ways to express things, because he didn't have things like, say, eyes, she had to feel his determination the way she felt what her father was thinking. His determination and his flattering undying devotion to her as his friend made her smile and shake her head as she dismounted. She laid a hand on Quinn's shoulder, looking him in the face.
"Alright then." She said, smiling. His happiness was like a tidal wave and it washed over the both of them.
"Now," She said with a grin, "What's there to eat?"
Questions? Comments? Review and I'll answer!
Flames? Call 1-800-I-Don't-Give-A-Rat's-Arse
Nazzy Nazzy Nazgirl
