Demeron: A Horse's Tale (The Disinherited Prince Series)

by Guy Antibes

  “He even became a magician,” Amble said.

  Seeker whinnied with mirth. “A horse can’t be a magician!”

  Amble nodded. “He can make a shield.”

  The shaggy horse looked at Demeron. “I don’t have any idea what kind of shield a horse can produce.”

  It didn’t take much to understand the request was a taunt.

  “Bump me,” Demeron said. He thought of a brick wall next to him.

  The horse nudged Demeron, but his nose didn’t touch Demeron’s skin. Demeron couldn’t feel a thing other than the drain on his strength.

  “Harder,” Demeron said.

  Seeker raised a foreleg and kicked Demeron with a knee. “I can’t touch you!”

  “Magic,” Amble said, proudly.

  “Don’t tell the leader,” Demeron said. He didn’t mention the exhaustion he felt after he released the shield. Magic took a lot of effort, and that effort took a lot out of Demeron. He remembered Pol had even lost consciousness after using magic. He smiled inside, hoping to show Pol his new tricks.

  “He isn’t my leader. Never was. It’s true, I came north looking for a better place, but not this.”

  “A better place?” Demeron said. His mind began to whirl with ideas as he looked across the valley. What if the Deftnis monks would let them live on the plain on the far side of the island? It was certainly large enough for this herd, but would they go with him all the way to Deftnis? He wondered.

  “What if I knew of a place filled with grass, just like this valley. It’s an island just off from the mainland. No wolves, and lots of willing magicians who can quicken Shinkyan horses?”

  “What’s an island?” Amble said.

  “It’s an area much larger than this valley surrounded by water. It’s where I’m from. The Deftnis Monastery is there.”

  “I’m all for it. Good magicians?” Seeker said.

  Demeron thought back upon his Deftnis experiences. “Not all magicians are good, but most of these are. They are taught to be good.”

  “I’m coming, too, of course,” Amble said. She had never been so positive when he mentioned Deftnis.

  Demeron looked over at the herd. “We will have to have more horses join us. I can fight the leader, but not all five of his bullies.”

  “I’ll find them,” Seeker said. “Wait, you’ll see.”

  Demeron watched him trot back over. He had a few words with the brown and white stallion, who bit him in the neck before letting him merge with the herd.

  “It’s time to go,” Amble said. “I’m thinking of large fields of green grass. But are you sure you don’t want to fight them?”

  Visions of the Deftnis plain crowded with Shinkyan horses filled Demeron’s mind with excitement. If Pol never returned, Demeron could still find something useful to do with his life besides plow some Shinkyan farmer’s plot. He wanted to learn more magic, and Demeron knew that Deftnis monks could teach him.

  The notion of bringing a herd of wild Shinkyan horses to Deftnis began to excite him. “I’m staying for a bit longer,” he said. “I don’t want to let wolves eat another Shinkyan foal. Do you?”

  “Of course not,” Amble said, “but how will you fight them?”

  “With a lot of help.”

  ~

  Late in the afternoon, the white stallion and his gang rode over to Demeron’s side of the valley. The herd hadn’t returned.

  “You haven’t left yet,” the leader said, prancing in front of Demeron.

  “Neither have you,” Demeron said. “With all of your valleys from here to the border, you don’t need to flutter so close to us.”

  “Us? Why would I want to be close to a couple of scarred Shinkyans. My coat isn’t as unsightly as yours are.”

  “You’ve got scars on your rump that you can’t see,” Amble said. “It’s because you are always running.”

  Demeron could see the leader’s color spot flash with anger.

  “You lie!” the leader said.

  “Why should I take orders from a coward?” Demeron said. He didn’t really feel that way, but he wanted to goad the leader into a frenzy.

  He saw Seeker bring twenty horses, mostly mares across from the herd, behind the leader and his thuggish sidekicks.

  “I’m no coward, and you won’t leave this valley alive,” the leader said.

  Demeron backed up and created a shield. Two of the horses rose to attack Demeron. He let them clash into his shield before he let it go and attacked the leader. The existence of the shield shocked the other horses, and they all backed up and turned to run.

  The whites of the leader’s eyes showed how afraid he was, but something kept him in place as the others ran into Demeron’s supporters. He rose up just as Demeron did the same.

  The leader was the first to strike out, but Demeron moved to the side quickly enough to sustain a glancing blow. Demeron struck at the leader’s neck, knocking the white horse back to standing. He rose again and struck the white horse’s shoulder.

  All Demeron heard was a whinny as the leader took off, with a limping gait. He looked on at the leader’s group being bitten and struck by Seeker’s reinforcements. Amble nipped into the brown and white horse’s shoulder. Blood began to run down, mixing with a large white spot.

  The fight was over in moments, as the former leaders of the herd took off deeper into the valley. The rest of the herd surrounded Demeron. Evidently, they all recognized him as their new leader.

  Demeron hadn’t thought about actually leading the herd, and their adoration was quite unexpected. His bluster about protecting the herd now met with reality.

  “Say something.” Amble nudged him with her nose. “You are the leader now.”

  The vision of the herd grazing on the plain of Deftnis Isle didn’t include Demeron as the leader, but the expectation was clearly projected by all the horses.

  He had to explain where he was headed and looked at Amble and Seeker for inspiration. The herd began to crowd around Demeron.

  “I am not staying in Shinkya,” Demeron began, “You don’t have to follow me, but if you are willing, let me explain where we are headed.”

  Demeron thought back to his first thoughts of Deftnis and the wonder of bonding with a human. He told them of green pastures and mostly kind magicians. He painted as realistic a picture as he could of his adventures with Pol, of being a partner with a human, and learning human things.

  “Masters can be mean and unforgiving. They can abuse and neglect you. That is why many of you are here.” Demeron remembered the number of shod horses among them. “Deftnis monks treat their horses with respect. There are new monks accepted into the Deftnis Monastery every year, so we won’t be pushing other horses out. I’ll make sure that if you don’t want a human partner, you won’t be forced to accept one.”

  “I want to stay,” a mare said, looking back at the white stallion and his bullies, who had returned and stood listening to Demeron’s words behind the others.

  “Then stay. I’m not here to force you to do anything. If you come with me, you will have to pledge to learn to do new things that you haven’t done before.” He thought back to the day he used other horses to fight bandits in the Spines with Pol. “We will fight wolves as a team, like the humans, an army of horses working together. Along the way, we might run into humans who will try to take a few of you off the edges of the herd. We will treat those humans no differently than wolves.”

  Demeron closed his eyes and observed the colored spots of the horses. Many were blue, running to purple. There were a few oranges. The leader stood at the edge of the herd. His spot was a bright red. He still didn’t know what to make of the colors, but if the color blue meant agreement, then his talk was effective.

  “Any comments?”

  “You want our opinion?” a stallion said.

  “Of course, or any questions. We will be in this together, and I refuse to drag any horse along who doesn’t want to go.”

  “Will the monks protect ou
r foals?” the mare who had talked to him before asked.

  “There are no wolves on Deftnis Isle.”

  “That is good enough for me,” she said.

  “What if we can’t bond with humans?” another said.

  “Then you don’t. Not all humans can quicken a horse, but horses can develop a bond with a human without magic. Aren’t I right?”

  A number of horses nodded. Others moved their front forelegs, nervous about Demeron’s words. He could tell a number of the herd would stay behind and that was fine with him.

  “When do we leave?” the leader said as he stepped up to Demeron. “I’ve never heard words of such promise before.” The leader’s color had changed from red.

  “Speaking of promise, you will have to pledge not to try to take over the herd. Your relationship with the herd will change.”

  “I can accept that,” the white horse said. Perhaps he wasn’t as thick as Demeron had first thought.

  “I refuse to go,” the brown and white horse said. “Any who want to stay can come to me.”

  Demeron shook his mane. “Not today. We will leave in the morning after tomorrow. Talk among yourselves. Think about it. The journey is long and filled with many potential dangers. I will be here to talk to any of you individually. If you come with me, you come as an individual first and a herd second.”

  He walked off and left the herd clustered around their former leader. So he went farther until he couldn’t hear the horses’ thoughts.

  Amble trotted at his side. “Quite a speech. Most will come, but not all.”

  “Even with the leader coming along?”

  “No. Understand that some of these horses grew up in the herd and won’t wish to travel from familiar pastures.”

  “That’s fair, and I can accept that.”

  Amble shook her mane. “Are you really ready to accept the responsibility for these horses?”

  “I think I am,” Demeron said.

  “What if the monks have all the horses they need and don’t accept us? Are you that certain they will?”

  Demeron hadn’t really considered a rejection before. “Then we will find a place. I have friends among the monks who will help.”

  “Is that wishful thinking?”

  Demeron thought for a bit. “Yes, but happiness is built on a certain amount of wishful thinking. I’ll make sure the horses who come with us understand the risks.”

  “I’ll help convince the mares,” Amble said. She turned and disappeared within the herd.

  ~

  The former leader walked up to Demeron at the evening of the next day.

  “Why are you so different?” The horse’s color was blue, this time. Did that mean he was ready to become a follower to Demeron’s lead?

  The question took him back a bit. “I never thought of myself as different. I am who I am.”

  “I don’t think that way, or at least I didn’t. Perhaps…”

  “Perhaps you need to consider others,” Demeron said. He felt awkward having a conversation with the older horse. He had beaten him in the fight and probably would defeat him every time and here the leader was asking for advice. What was the human word…humble? For a normal horse it would be subservient, Demeron thought, but that didn’t apply to him or to the white horse.

  “Do you have a human-given name?”

  “Lightning,” the horse said.

  “Were you ever quickened?”

  Lightning shook his mane. “My owner was a male magician, but after he purchased me, he found that he wasn’t strong enough. I could only take so much abuse from his disappointment and shame.”

  “It’s harder for Shinkyan horses to remain loyal to an owner, isn’t it?” Demeron said.

  “Even so, many just submit.”

  Demeron looked over at Amble, who was one of those when he met her. He wondered if she would submit now,

  “You’ve heard me. There is uncertainty at the end of our path. That’s something horses don’t often think about, but I’ll not have you around if you’ll be disruptive. You can always return to Shinkya before we cross to Deftnis Isle.”

  “But you said we wouldn’t be stuck on the island all our lives if we didn’t want to.”

  “I believe that, but I don’t know. I’ve been plain, but I know humans, good humans, pretty well, and they won’t mistreat any animal, as a group.”

  “That will be easier than holding the herd together. I’ve had to make decisions that saved me, but not every horse.”

  “I’ve heard. What changed your mind?”

  Lightning looked at Demeron. “An army works together. Everybody does their part. I tried to do everything using my own strength, helped by my companions, to order others around, not to get them to go along. Your way is different and I like that.”

  “He doesn’t seem to like it,” Demeron said, throwing his snout towards the brown and white horse talking to twenty or thirty others.

  “He takes those who are less Shinkyan. Some of the herd can’t think clearly enough to really understand what you’ve said. You’ll see that those who remain behind are less Shinkyan than the ones who will follow you.”

  Demeron nodded. He thought of culling. This was a natural cull, and it felt right to Demeron.

  “You are still willing to come?”

  The horse snorted. “I look forward to a new life as part of your army of Shinkyan horses.”

  Demeron sensed a smile in those words. Perhaps his antagonist had become an ally.

  ~

  Morning dawned, and Demeron walked over to the brown and white horse. “I wish you good grazing,” he said.

  “Lightning and I talked last night. I still can’t understand why he follows you, but it will be easier for us as a smaller herd.” The horse turned and led thirty-four horses, including all of Lightning’s former enforcers, farther east into the valley towards another pasture.

  Demeron, Lightning, Amble, and Seeker led two-hundred twenty-one Shinkyan horses out of the valley and turned north towards Finster.

  Lightning knew the way north for the next few days. When they stopped for the night to graze in another valley, Demeron remembered how the Tesnan monks broke into smaller units and drilled with weapons before they left the monastery. The herd would do something similar.

  “Those who believe they can lead other horses come with me,” Demeron said as they stood together before breaking up to graze. “We will break into teams of ten or so horses and learn to fight, protecting each others’ flanks. That way if wolves or humans attack us, we won’t bolt and leave members of the herd to fend for themselves. Humans are more effective when they fight together, and I know it works.”

  There were thirty horses that came over to him. Most were stallions, but Demeron was happy to see some mares join in.

  “When Amble and I fought wolves, we worked together just like the wolves did. We picked them off each other. We will train to do the same thing. I’ve never done this before, but it will be better than scattering, if we put up a good fight.”

  The next day, they all practiced running as smaller groups. Demeron watched them and thought of ways to avoid swords. He brought the leaders together and talked about how humans used swords. A few of the leaders had been in faction skirmishes before. They decided as a group that their tactics would revolve around attacking enemy horses from behind. One black stallion mentioned how Shinkyans often used intimidation tactics.

  “That will work with smaller human groups, won’t it?” Demeron said. “I think I would rather intimidate than fight, although nothing we do should be a feint. We should be willing to fight if needed.”

  Demeron made sure they all spoke and had their questions answered. “You will have to risk injury or death. Make sure your horses understand that fighting brings risks.”

  From that day on, the horses traveled in their own groups. Demeron was surprised that the groups began to shift in composition until they settled down. When they crossed into Finster, one of the outlyi
ng groups said the buildings were not built in the Shinkyan style. That meant they would turn west, towards the coast.

  The groups began to attack each other in mock drills, and some were much better than others, but Demeron didn’t care. All of them were developing trust in each other and as a group. Their colored spots began to gradually gravitate towards a yellow color. Demeron didn’t know what it meant other than their emotions were converging on a different color, and that meant change to him.

  A mare approached Demeron as they walked. “Humans coming.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know how to count,” the mare said.

  “I’ll find out,” Amble said, running off with the other.

  Amble returned. “Twenty or so. We need to teach the horses how to count.”

  Demeron thought. “Count and other things. Human numbers and letters. Not Shinkyan, though. They don’t use Shinkyan characters at Deftnis.”

  “Take me to the units closest to the humans.”

  He took off with Amble and found three of the groups milling around in disarray.

  “Form up!” Demeron projected.

  They quickly coalesced as groups again.

  “We have trained for this, but we do not want to fight. Not all humans will attack us. Remember in our drills, we always leave the attackers with a way out.

  Lightning approached.

  “Lead these. I will let the others know when to attack, if we need to help you.”

  The white horse raised his snout and snorted. That was a signal for the horses to close in as a group.

  Demeron ran to the other leaders and told them to stay away from a fight as long as they could. Amble, Seeker, and he discussed the timing. Demeron would approach the men first.

  The humans rode towards Demeron, who stood in front of the three groups, waiting for their approach. A few of the men held coiled ropes in their hands.

  Demeron rose up on his legs as they neared. The men stopped and looked at the three groups of horses lined up in front of them.

  “Are they doing this on purpose?” one of the humans said.

  Demeron nodded his head. He wrote on the ground and backed away.

  “I can’t believe this. The horse wrote ‘Leave us alone.’ Horses can’t do that, can they?”