The Balinor Chronicles: The Celestial Herd
Chapter Nine: And The Mare continued her work.
This Chapter is dedicated to Readyn-l, who was the first to locate the Shrek Quote.
Orcinus was counting. He always counted nowadays. Usually just once an hour, but sometimes more. He would graze sometimes, but then he would count again. He would always count.
First he would count the mares. Then the stallions. Then the foals. Then all the Unicorns in his Herd. Counting, counting, counting. He was always counting. He was in the middle of the mares when he first caught the flash of white in the corner of his eye. The Mare had returned to his Herd.
As Orcinus turned to meet The Mare, he was still counting (Arsa, thirty-nine; Wanip, forty; Barikah, forty-one). He was counting as he looked beyond The Mare (Mar, forty-two; Lila, forty-three; Karris, forty-four). He was counting even as The Mare began her first words (Amel, forty-five; Luli, forty-six; Yanu, forty-seven).
"You're obsessed, Orcinus."
"Does that matter to you?"
"Yes. I still care for you."
Orcinus snorted in reply.
The Mare looked offended. "Fine. Let's pretend I don't care for you. I'd tell you keep counting."
Orcinus obliged (Tara, forty-eight; Nerri, forty-nine; Rirra, fifty).
"But now let's pretend I do care. I would tell you that this is too small a number to count continually. I would also tell you that I can give you a reason not to count."
Orcinus stopped counting and paid attention.
Aeoleus gazed over his herd. It wasn't right. There weren't only blues, but also grass- and earth- colored foals among the newborns. This wasn't right and it wasn't good, either. It wasn't right and it wasn't good because it made some different. Because of this, some would be better, and some would not be better. Because of this, the Herd of Wind was broken. His Herd might never be right again. Was it even possible to fix a broken wind? Aeoleus twitched an ear thoughtfully. Something else wasn't right. Oh.
"Hello Mare."
"And I though I was being quiet. That'll teach me some humility."
"You're blocking the breeze."
The Mare glanced up at the still trees, then at the unmoving grass. She shrugged. "I can't fix the wind. But what's bothering you?"
Aeoleus stared out over his Herd. "All the Herds are breaking. They're all falling to pieces." The Mare nuzzled his shoulder.
"I can fix that."
Disaster, that's what it was, a disaster. Three mares with foals. Three mares with foals without mates. Not to mention the others who had given birth to colored foals and had mates. Terrenus didn't even need to guess to know what had happened. That much was obvious. Disaster. He had been without such a scandal since the long-past days of Alapfem and Minhoca. Disaster, Terrenus thought, with a capital D.
"All share your problems, Terrenus. All others have their own disasters."
Terrenus wheeled to face The Mare. "How so?"
"Your stallions have been sneaking out alongside your mares. Disgraceful, really."
"And you can do it better." Terrenus said indignantly. As much as he liked The Mare, this was too far. The Mare grinned at him.
"Perhaps so."
Shining unicorns surrounded the base of the mountain. As they grazed, the unicorns' bright metallic coats reflected the sun against the stone, painting a metallic-tinted rainbow on the mountain.
The foals gallivanted around, playing games of tag and vanish-and-find. Although the foals didn't care amongst themselves (not yet anyway), there was something that the adults, especially Hephaestus, were concerned about: A number of the foals had coats that did not reflect the sun. They had rocks instead of gems, crystals instead of metals. They were not full Metal foals, but they weren't full something else, either. The adults talked amongst themselves about what to do about the problem; Hephaestus was not there. Hephaestus had been stopped on the way by The Mare.
"But, Mare! They're not mine! Their coats don't shine." Hephaestus cringed, realizing the terrible rhyme he had unwittingly made.
The Mare looked mournfully at the foals playing.
"I can't make them shine. But I can make them glitter."
The field of the Herd of Solaris was an almost unbroken array of gold. Almost. Here and there were a few mismatched unicorns, none more than a few years old. Some were green, some were blue, and one was even some sort of metallicy, shiny color that Solaris couldn't quite describe. He was certain that it wasn't a derivative of yellow and gold however. The Mare just didn't seem to get that part.
"It's not funny! Just take them back to where they belong."
"This is their home. Their mothers are here."
"Then take them to their fathers."
"I cannot do that. But I can bring their fathers to here."
Solaris looked flabbergasted. "Here?"
The Mare leaned closer.
"Here."
Mulciber mused about the recent happening in his Herd. In all the Herds, for the same must be happening with the others' Herds. It was impossible for it not to be happening. The matter he was considering was thus: not all of his unicorns were red. Not nearly close.
Now, Sapeur's burnt orange foal was obviously a mix with Metal, although Vur's more brilliantly colored carroty filly was more likely to have some Sun blood. The purple colt of Ecran was sired by either an Aeolean or an Orcinian stallion. The deep, blood red Halal, offspring of Tuzben, was probably descended from Terrenus's line. The one heritage the Mulciber could not figure out, for his life, was the long-legged knobby-kneed daughter of Api, who had turned out a strange, sort of teal color. That was bizarre.
Mulciber caught a flash of white in the corner of his eye. The Mare. As predictable as the sun, Mulciber thought. Wherever lives strangeness, so doth The Mare.
"Why?"
"Pardon?"
Mulciber turned. "Don't play coy with me, Mare. You might fool my brothers, but not me."
The Mare was silent for a long time. "How long have you known?"
Mulciber shook his head. "Not long," he acknowledged, "since Arodousna."
The Mare grunted.
"You have to admit, that was sort of obvious."
"Fooled Solaris though."
"But that brings us back to Why."
"Someone had to."
Mulciber's temper shortened considerably. "Mare." He practically spat out the word. "You see that yearling?" Mulciber gestured with his horn towards a plum colored filly. "Born last year, before these ones. The others have driven her out six times. But she comes back; she has nowhere else to go. How many others will suffer her fate?"
The Mare remained silent.
"Mare." Mulciber's voice had softened considerably. "What game are you playing?"
The Mare stretched out her neck and whispered into Mulciber's fiery ear. He pricked his ears, and stood shell-shocked for a moment. The he threw back his head and laughed.
He laughed for a long time. It was a crazy laugh, the kind made from someone who feels like he's been a fool; the answer was right in front of him the entire time.
For, in fact, the answer had been.