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Brokke

I had risen before dawn, edging out from under Aelf's bulk, my snoring stallion stirring a little but not waking. I looked at him as I stood in the entrance to the great hut, the long fingers of moonlight illuminating his face, his beautiful buckskin colouring enhanced by the pale touch of the Great Mare's light. Careful to make no sound, I sent him a kiss before turning and heading out into the night. I had a long way to go this day.

Now I was approaching my destination, as the sun rose in fiery majesty into the sky, light of the Great Stallion raining his warmth onto the land of his people. I knelt to give thanks, the ritual obeisance now ingrained in my soul like so many things.

And yet...and yet I still could not escape the other things, and that was part of why I had left this morning and set out on my own. The misty shards of memory still hung over me, enough that Aelf could see them in my eyes some times when we sat by the fire circle of an evening. He had become angered by my moodiness, often giving me a clip on the side of my head to show me my place. His lovemaking would be especially rough those evenings, and sometimes I cried out for him to stop but he would merely continue rougher than before until he had satisfied his need and taught me how a real stallion mates, as he put it.

Yet still the visions came anyway.

I could picture them easily at night, and the shaman had said that in itself was significant. Night was the Great Mare's time, when her light hung in the sky, waxing and waning and ever-changing. Like all mares had been, so it was said, before the Day of Judgement. All stallions had been punished that day, for what sins only the Immortals knew, and forced to roam the wilderness without mares for company. Her light was dim for us, making no mark on our bodies, a reminder of our place away from her presence. But not away from her view...that much the shaman was certain of. The Great Mare was all-seeing, waiting for a time when stallions might be worthy of return. What would bring that about though? No one seemed to know.

Instead, the shaman said her wrath had increased, evidenced by the rumbles from the earth, their power and frequency increasing with each year. Sometimes, the terrifying experience would last for what seemed like ages, and all the herd would throw themselves on the ground, prostrating themselves and begging for the Great Mare's forgiveness until the earth quietened.

She was still present amongst us though. Her shrines dotted the land, marked with her symbols and protected by her fire. And it was there that new colts joined their herds, a sign perhaps that though we had lost her favour, and her anger multiplied, she did not wish us to die just yet.

As I trotted swiftly away from my own herd's encampment this morning, I had thought of these things, mulling them in my mind alongside the visions I had. Memories, as if long ago, of a place unlike any I had seen, with walls of shining light, and doors, and many many rooms, and equines everywhere, colts and fillies young and playful like me. And mares...everywhere mares...

"Mother..."

I mouthed the word, though it had no meaning in my language, and yet it had a meaning in my heart, one that marked my eyes with its sense of absence.

When my herd mates came for me, a young colt of no more than seven summers, I had woken on the altar of the Shrine of our Lady, the air open and cold. I had been so confused, wondering where my playmates had gone, and the mare who I knew as mother. All I could see were stallions, a warband of what would become my herd, the White Arrows. I remembered one, a big stallion with coal black curly mane and chestnut fur, his look of compassion and sadness one I instinctively responded to. I had run to him, burying my head against his flanks, and so my guardian had been chosen. Bjarde, my strong Bjarde. No colt could have wanted for a better guardian.

I had told him about the things I remembered, the place with shining walls and a ceiling and doors, and fillies and colts and mares together, and he just looked blankly, ruffling my mane as he told me to forget and learn the ways of the stallions. That I had done, diligently, while I made him proud with each passing year. I had not told him though that the visions continued, and as time went on, I could tell they were not mere memories. I knew I was seeing things that were, not that had been.

Now I was a stallion, having come of age last summer and chosen a mate to be my lover. Aelf was strong, and brave, and virile as any stallion could be. Yet I knew he did not love me the way I wanted him to, the way I had loved him even as a colt waiting for the time he could be mine. Perhaps this thing between us was the reason, the blockage that prevented my stallion being the stallion of my heart's desire. So I had come here, seeking answers, or at least to know that I had tried.

As the morning wore on, I approached the ash forest that marked the boundary of our lands. Other herds held the territory beyond the river, and the forest acted as a kind of no horses land between us. There was danger here, but no true stallion ever let fear stay his hand. I loosened the dagger in its sheath against my hip, and checked my bow again. My nostrils flared as I checked for any scent nearby, and my ears twitched as I stood silent as the night.

There was nothing to be afraid of though, nothing to hear but the sounds of birdsong and crickets, and the scent of spring flowers on the meadows behind. I gave a short whinny and let my mane sway in the light breeze, enjoying the feeling of being alone, and free at least for a day. My muscles clenched as I tested my body, feeling the power and strength there. I had grown big, even for a shire colt, and now as a stallion I was amongst the biggest in the herd. Still a bit clumsy, and a bit naïve, but I was coming into my own.

That feeling was what drove me on, along with the curiosity. I knew I was young, but even so ones as young as I had been taken into the Great Mare's embrace for a time. I would try to earn her favour, and perhaps, if I was by her side, she would tell me why I saw these things in my memory and in my waking dreams, and why they had afflicted me for so long. Maybe...maybe she could take them away so I could be wholly Aelf's, and he could be wholly mine.

Aelf would be angry, as would Bjarde, of that I had no doubt. I was breaking every rule of the herd by coming here, as normally those who would present themselves for the Great Mare's choice were selected by the herd as a whole. That usually involved single combat, with the loser facing the possibility of death to claim a chance of being raised to the Great Mare's side in the heavens for a time. And even then, many never returned.

Somehow I knew though, If I could just get through to the shrine, I would make her take me away.

My first hint of danger came as I reached the river that cut the forest in two. I stooped to the river's surface, letting the cool water splash over my head and wet my mane before drinking deeply. As I shook my head from side to side to dry my mane, I heard it, a sound that made my ears perk up as I stood transfixed for a moment. It was a birdcall, the red pigeon; and yet, there were none in the forest this time of year. Then I heard it again, a little closer.

I backed up slowly, my hands pulling my bow from behind me, as a third birdcall rang out. This one was unmistakably behind me, coming from the direction of my own lands. Turning, I could just make out a shadowy figure amongst the trees before he ducked behind a trunk.

I had been found, and not it seemed by my own herd.

I knew that my chances were small, but I had one chance and once chance only. If I could make it to the shrine, I might be safe. A code covered all stallions, forbidding attack on any member of a rival herd on the grounds of a shrine. Even our deadly enemies would not dare defy the Great Mare that way.

I put my head down and ran, the low branches slapping against my body and whipping at my mane as I plowed through the forest undergrowth. I knew I needed to head along the river for a while before breaking out into the open and climbing a hill to the shrine. I did not know how many of my enemies were arrayed against me, and all I could do was run like the wind.

An arrow slammed into a tree next to me with a 'shlok', and I jinked left just in time to avoid another that hit the tree I had been running straight for. My chest heaved, and the air burned in my lungs as my thighs felt like heavy weights and yet I ran on. Then I heard a cry from my left.

I saw him looming close, a big black Arabian stallion with a pair of red feathers flying from his mane. The red feather herd! Our worst enemies, they constantly raided our lands and attacked our bands. I had lost friends to them, some dead, some captured and facing a worse fate. The fear coursed through my veins now, my eyes wide with terror.

The warrior saw my terror, his own muzzle breaking into a grin as he charged at me.

I only had one shot, the arrow with the white feathers cocked against the bow in a moment. I aimed and released, the shaft hitting home, blade driving into the neck of the stallion. He stopped as if stunned, the look in his eyes turning to fear before he dropped to the soft earth of the forest. I did not have time to celebrate, and sped off again, my race a long way from over.

Their cries became triumphant now, and I realised they were closing in from all sides. Arrows sped past me, with one grazing my shoulder and drawing blood, the pain searing through me like a brand. I clenched my teeth, only knowing I had to run, and suddenly I stumbled into the open, soft grass under my hooves for the first time since I had heard the cries.

I could see the refuge of the shrine, sitting atop the hill maybe a mile away. It was as I remembered from the day I woke to my new life, the flat stone altar of the Great Mare surrounded by a broad circle of shiny spheres. One mile, only one mile to go.

My hooves thudded on the grass; but they were not alone. Many more were behind, and their ululating cries became louder. Then a shout.

"Stop little pony, and we may let you live."

I knew better than to trust that voice. I did need to know what I faced though, and I stopped a moment and turned. I could see at least ten enemy warriors below me, all approaching up the slope. I needed to buy more time so I cocked another arrow, which brought them to a temporary halt. None of my enemies wanted to be the next to die just yet.

"That's a good pony. Now why don't you drop your little arrows and let us close. We won't harm you if you agree to join our band."

"Like my friend Haerndel? I think not."

My friend had been taken as a colt when he was on a foraging party with his guardian. He had been recaptured a month later, but in that time he had learned to prefer death. The Red Feathers were not kind to their captives; they were either killed, or, rarely, kept as rutting slaves for unmated warriors. Those they kept for such labour were gelded first.

One of the band seemed to realise that I was not going to go quietly, and he rose to charge. I let an arrow fly, missing before a second managed to take him in the shoulder, the big Clydesdale sinking to the earth with a groan. His remaining friends eyed each other warily, counting their numbers and the number of arrows left in my quiver. I knew the comparison did not favour me.

Eventually, they came to a group decision and rose as one, a long shrieking whinny coming from each warrior's throat. It was a sound all in my herd had come to know and fear, the battle cry of the Red Feathers. I had run out of time.

My chest still heaving, I loosed the remainder of my arrows at the charging enemy, trying to take out those who seemed swiftest first. I managed to drop three more before I ran out of arrows and had to turn and charge up the hill. I could feel the breath of one stallion behind me, his nickers getting closer and closer. This one could run like the wind, a quarter horse that I had noted from the band. With a desperate lunge, I felt him catch my hooves and I fell with my enemy over me.

Survival dies hard in the stallion though. Before he could bring his own knife to bear, I managed to unlatch mine and plunge it into his side, the shriek of pain echoing in my head as I pushed the bleeding stallion off me. I managed to stumble to my hooves, legs working on memory as I tried to reach the safety of the ridge. Then I saw it; the line of shiny spheres was around me, and I was through. I collapsed against the altar, my body heaving with the race just run, and the pain in my body slowly rising as shock and adrenaline turned to new fears.

Turning, I saw the Red Feathers, their faces grim as the survivors surrounded the hill. I was safe, for now. But in reality, I was trapped.

The warband leader gave me a nicker of respect, even as his eyes blazed.

"Nice fighting little colt. It is a pity to have to kill you. I for one would enjoy taking your stones one sliver at a time before splitting your little tailhole every night, but after killing so many of my stallions, we would not risk keeping you alive even as a gelding. Don't worry though, your death will be slow, and entertaining, and you will not be dying intact."

All I could do was stare at my fate, the stallions circling but keeping beyond the line of spheres. For it was another of the codes we lived by; if you joined a stallion in the grounds of the shrine, you were honour bound not to attack him once you left. They could not come for me, but they could wait until hunger and thirst drove me out. Before then I faced a stark choice if no help came or the Great Mare did not intervene; many a stallion had taken his own life in my place.

It was then, as despair threatened to overwhelm me, that my life changed forever. I heard it first, a sort of screeching noise in the air. Then I saw it; a large silver form, shining in the sun, that hovered above the plain. It was coming closer, and it seemed to be coming towards the shrine.

"Hold lads. They never take a lone stallion, he is still going to be ours."

I raised my knife towards the warband leader, saluting him as he returned the gesture with mock solemnity. Then he grabbed his groin and pulled his knife across it in midair, mimicking my coming fate. My blood chilled, as I digested his gesture, expecting the flying silver form to depart.

It came closer instead, coming down until it was poised above the altar. Something changed then, and a dark shape appeared on the side.

"No! You will not escape!"

The big stallion was not to be denied his prize, and he stood, arrow cocked and ready to fire. I just stood, waiting for the pain to lance through me, when a shaft of burning light shot past me instead, its luminous beam touching the stallion. He screamed, an unearthly scream that made me cover my ears with my hands, a scream that was suddenly cut short as he fell to the ground, his body a burnt wreck. I looked out, seeing the other members of the warband suddenly turn and run back towards the forest, their tails swaying and manes flying behind.

I was too stunned for the moment to do anything, just falling to my knees in the face of deliverance. I wondered how the Great Mare's call was felt. Was it like that light, painful and terrible? Was it a mare, like the ones in my dreams, kissing me on the forehead and telling me I was their beautiful colt?

Pain suddenly hit me, and I reached for my arm. A long metal dart was embedded in my flesh, the sharp tip dug in deep. I went to pull it out, suddenly angry at being denied the Great Mare's favour, when I felt an overwhelming tiredness. I tried to resist, but the caress of sleep was too strong, and my last sight was the short grass beside the altar, green against the grey.