The Party of the Gods

Turning left was easier than fording the river again, so he went that way. When he topped the crest of a small hill, he found a sharp drop off before him. With caution, he neared the edge and peered down. He nodded to himself; the lush green valley below might well be a playground for the Blue Folk. The base of the rock wall would be the perfect housing for their strange doors. Eagerly, he picked his way down into the canyon, until his foot slipped on a tiny foothold. Good thing he had a firm grip on a root with his hands. Wishing he had brought better climbing gear, he took a wide detour around a vertical face to end up on a flat platform overhanging the valley. It took his breath away to see that much green amidst the surrounding grey. He sat down on the edge of the overhang, a quiet contemplative spot to have a bite to eat.

Almost immediately he felt the tingling grow stronger. Was there a door beneath him? The tingling continued to grow. Was something were approaching? He stared down at the valley fifty feet below, scanning for blue. Instead of seeing little people, though, he heard the thundering of hooves. It sounded like horses, but why did the tingling grow? Were the Blue folk astride mountain ponies?

The herd pounded into sight, strangely obscured by a faint blue mist. Despite the poor visibility, he could see these were no mountain ponies. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but there was something unreal about the herd. Something almost mystical. Strain as he might, he could see no Blue Folk in sight. He supposed they could have turned their mounts out for the night. As the herd neared, however, he doubted the notion. These were wild animals, a herd driven by a stallion. They were yet a blur, but the colours had him transfixed. When they finally slowed, he sucked in his breath. These were not normal horses. There was only one place he had seen a creature who looked like that ‑‑ in the godly throne room of Aurumus. Most, but not all the equines had single long twizzled horns on their heads.

When they stopped to graze almost beneath him, he held his breath and stared. They were the most incredible creatures he’d seen. The fine heads bespoke the best of bloodlines, their bodies rippled with muscles. When they moved it was with a quick, floating motion, as if they needn’t really touch the ground. They came in all different colours, from pearly white to copper, gold, pale blue, to jet black. The stallion was silver ‑‑ not silver‑grey, but the metallic glint of fine jewellery. Bedazzled by the treasure trove below, Rejinal could think no rational thoughts. All he knew was that he wanted to tame one of those horned creatures. He would befriend the stallion, and ride it home, encouraging the noble stud bring his mares. If the creatures enjoyed what humans could provide, he and his father could breed them and sell them to gentle, worthy riders.

His dreams popped away when the stallion raised his head suddenly, seeming to stare right at him. With a wild scream, the silver set in motion. In an instant he had the mares stampeding away, off to an unknown place. As they disappeared, so too did the tingling.

Rejinal stayed still for a long moment, in shock from the beauty. Then he snapped himself out of it and got up. He would set up camp near here and study the strange horses. At the very least, he had to discover why they had traces of Power surrounding them. If he didn’t find the Blue Folk, he was sure the Locks Eye committee would accept a power-infused horned horse study.