The Black Stallion Legend

by Walter Farley

  As Alec looked into the crater, he felt a warm blast of air on his face. And with it he saw a flicker of light, a small crescent, burning for a moment in the darkness. What did the light mean? Where did it come from?

  Suddenly Alec heard shrill screams behind him. Turning, he saw a sight that filled him once more with terror! A tightly packed mass of grotesque figures was moving through the trees toward him! He could see their powdered faces with eyes glaring at him.

  A feeling of despair swept over Alec. He knew that neither he nor the Black could face another fierce onslaught and live! He scrambled to his feet as a shower of stones was hurled at him. Leading the Black, he ran to the far side of the crater and started down the path.

  FIRE BELOW

  14

  The rock slabs piled high on the edge of the old road kept Alec and his horse from falling into the gigantic pit. Alec stopped once to look back up and saw the horde of powdered faces at the crater’s rim. Those in front were on their knees while others pressed heavily against them, leaning over their comrades’ shoulders, all stabbing down into the hole with long spears, striking again and again in futile attempts to reach him. Above the muted roar of the underground stream, Alec could hear the clang of their weapons against the stone.

  It was only when they put up their spears and began hurling stones at him that Alec led the Black on. He hoped he wouldn’t have to travel beyond the reach of daylight.

  When they were safe from the hail of stones, Alec halted and looked up again. The loco brothers were still at the rim of the crater. At least they weren’t following him, and Alec felt safe.

  The crater and its noise might be taken for anything his pursuers cared to believe, he told himself. It might be enough to scare the crazed mob away and, if so, Alec was grateful for their ancient beliefs.

  He remained where he was, wrapped in the semi-darkness of the pit, waiting for the loco brothers to leave and listening to their mutterings. He felt the Black’s hot breath against his face and stroked the stallion’s head, hoping his horse wouldn’t go berserk in the confines of the crater.

  The front rank of the mob was wavering, pushing back in fright at whatever it was they feared below. But those behind pressed forward, and a few bold ones made for the road down, their spears held high.

  Alec felt a new surge of despair. If they came down, what would he do?

  For a few minutes more he remained where he was, his eyes intent and watchful. Then, when he saw the braver ones making their way toward him, he plunged down the twisting road into the ever-darkening pit.

  Finally Alec reached the bottom and came to a halt, believing he had gone far enough, that the loco brothers would never follow him so deep into the crater. The dull, heavy roar had become louder and it startled the Black. Alec touched him lightly, comforting him, trying to reassure him that despite the noise and the darkness everything was going to be all right.

  Suddenly Alec felt the vibration of the floor beneath him, and with it came a small flash of light! He realized immediately that what had been only a flicker of light when seen from above was, here below, bright enough to reveal a large underground chamber just beyond. In the dark again he walked quickly toward it, unmindful of danger, only grateful that he could periodically see where he was going. If he used his wits and did not panic, he might find another way out of the crater.

  Within the chamber, submerged in the roaring sound, he waited until the light came again. Now he saw a high tunnel leading from the room. His hands reached for the Black and he felt the heat of the stallion’s blood flow to him, giving him the courage to go on. He didn’t know where the tunnel led but he would follow it, hoping it would lead to the world outside. Yet, as he made his way along, the floor of the tunnel sloped ever downward as if taking him to the very bowels of the earth.

  The flashes of light grew in intensity, and Alec was able to see that the walls to either side of him looked hand-hewn. But he thought such a feat impossible. It was far more probable that some upheaval of nature had created this passage. But who knew the answers to this subterranean world with its unearthly light that came and went with ever-growing brightness?

  The tunnel soon ended at a great arched entrance to another chamber, and it was from there that the greatest noise came. In the moments of light, Alec saw the underground river rushing through the chamber, the sound of it echoing and re-echoing against the walls, before plummeting into a pit to unknown depths.

  Reaching the water, Alec found it icy cold. The Black was already drinking deeply and Alec lowered his body wearily and drank with him, hoping the water would relieve his hunger pangs as well as his thirst.

  It was moments later when he noticed still another tunnel on the far side of the chamber. From it came a pale light that was interrupted by now-brilliant flashes.

  Alec got to his feet and stood close to the Black. “Come on,” he said softly.

  He hurried through the chamber, finding his way in the gray, ghostly light. Entering the tunnel, he found it more narrow than the others. He walked until he left the noise from the stream behind and could hear only the sound of his own breathing and the ring of the Black’s hoofs on stone.

  The light was now coming in a pale, wavering cloud of luminous silver. He knew he was approaching its source, for he could feel a glowing warmth enveloping him. The blasts of air became warmer and stronger still, and the light grew more yellow in color.

  Alec stopped, certain that he saw a ring of flame, boiling and glowing, just ahead. He watched it dim to nothing at all before bursting forth a moment later in a sudden flare of vivid fire!

  Cautiously, Alec moved forward, one step at a time. He knew he had found the source of the light that had led him here. He entered a small room whose roof was much higher than any of the other chambers. In the center of the floor was a jagged hole from which the fire came. The murky glow above the hole brightened until it became a boiling caldron, glowing with an intensity that burned his eyes and caused him to turn away.

  When the fire subsided, Alec stood in its glow, knowing he had nothing to fear from it. Indians might credit their gods for the fire below, but he knew that most everything he had seen in the area had been created by violent upheavals of the earth’s surface. The whole area was one of faults in the earth’s crust. A deposit of oil or coal below, burning close to the surface, could account for this fire.

  Alec now had no doubt that he had entered the sacred underground world of an ancient people. The walls of the small room were covered with strange, fantastic carvings of Indian figures and faces, and to either side of the doorway across the room were immense pillars of hand-wrought stone.

  He saw too that the way to the doorway had been worn smooth by many thousands of feet before his own. It was the only evidence Alec needed to believe that the doorway must lead to the world outside. He hurried toward it, hoping that soon he and his horse would be free again.

  Alec had gone only a short distance before he stopped abruptly, thinking he heard something just beyond. He held his breath and listened. The sound came again, and he wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him. He could have sworn he heard a human voice, faint and distant. He remained still, his body shaking.

  Slowly, cautiously, Alec went forward, aware that the floor beneath his feet was leveling off while the light ahead grew brighter. He walked faster as the tunnel widened, then swept upward to come to an end at a large opening.

  Reaching the opening, Alec stood in shocked silence, unable to believe the sight before him.

  He saw a great chamber, the size of a tremendous cathedral, oval-shaped and bathed in the golden rays of the late afternoon sun, which came through a long but narrow opening in the lofty heights above! But the sight that held him most spellbound was of numerous caves on the opposite walls.

  A clear stream ran the full length of the chamber, and to either side of it grew moist green grass. The Black snorted at the sight of such lush pasture and moved toward it.

&nb
sp; Alec wasn’t aware that the stallion had left his side, for his searching gaze had found an aged Indian, very much alive, sitting cross-legged at a campsite. The old Indian held his arms outstretched toward Alec, looking at him with immense joy as well as sadness. Alec remained still, unable to believe what he heard.

  “I have been waiting for you all the years of my life,” the old Indian said. “You have come at last.”

  CHOSEN PEOPLE

  15

  Alec remained where he was while the old Indian waved his gnarled hands at him, proclaiming in a deep, guttural voice, “Heaven has opened. Heaven has opened.”

  Alec was overwhelmed by the strange greeting. He stared at the Indian’s dark, wrinkled face. He had never seen such sorrow written on a face before. The old man looked a hundred years old, his body frail, his long hair ghostly white and decorated with eagle feathers. Yet his small, powerful eyes were wild in what must have been his anticipation of Alec’s coming.

  Alec studied the old man’s eyes, and he thought how much like the Indian boy’s eyes they were. Was this Alph’s old father, leader of the clan? If so, what was he doing here, deep in this subterranean chamber?

  The old man continued to wave his thin arms toward Alec while repeating over and over again, “Heaven has opened. Heaven has opened.”

  Alec moved toward him, closer still. The Indian’s body was naked except for a leather kilt and moccasins. Beneath taut skin, his bones showed prominently. He was sitting on the floor behind a line of blue-colored sand. Directly in front of him was a wood plank with bread, raw meat, tobacco and cornmeal. He gazed at Alec, his mouth open in what might have been a smile, showing rotten, decayed teeth. A feeble hand offered Alec the food.

  The sight of the food drove Alec forward. He stepped over the line of blue sand and reached down for the bread. It was then he noticed that the old Indian’s lap was also covered with blue sand. But more obvious, more sickening, were the bulging red sores he saw on the old man’s bared shoulders and arms.

  Alec took the bread but pulled back quickly, reeling from the stench of the wet and running sores on the Indian’s body. He realized that the old man needed antibiotics, perhaps even surgery, if he was to live.

  “How do we get out of here?” he asked softly. “You need help as much as I do. We’re both running out of time.”

  The aged Indian nodded his head vigorously at Alec’s words. “I know,” he said. “Our wheel of life has finally turned full circle. We have seen the last full moon and the time is not far off when the end of our world is complete.”

  The light in the great chamber was changing colors as the sun’s rays played upon varied layers of colored rock. In several hours it would be dark.

  The Indian turned from Alec to look at the grazing stallion.

  “Black Fire carries the sign of eternal life on his forehead,” the old man said. “His coming and yours has been told since the beginning of time when the Blue Star first appeared in the heavens. I have lived to see you come.”

  Alec stopped gnawing on the bread and shook his head in dismay. It was the same prophecy he had heard from Alph.

  “I knew of your coming, for I read of it in the plants and seeds as well as the heavens,” the old man went on. “I saw the Blue Star explode. It was visible in daylight for twenty-three days before fading and seen at night for another six hundred and thirty-three days. That was the sign that your coming was at hand.

  “The world as we know it will be destroyed,” he said, “but you and Black Fire will lead those of us who are at peace with the Creator to the new world. My people will follow you, for we are all one, brothers. The others, those who have spread evil in the world, will be destroyed. We will create a new world under one power, that of the Creator.”

  When the old man had finished, Alec decided his only recourse was to humor him; otherwise he’d never get him out of the chamber and back to his village.

  “Where are we now?” he asked.

  “We are in the sacred pueblo of the old people, the dead ones,” the old Indian said.

  Alec looked up at the high walls with the great arched caves. Rock writings and colorful paintings were at every entrance, as well as ghostly handprints etched in stone. What had they meant to the families who once lived in those rooms?

  “You must lead my people here,” the old man said. “They will follow only you, for you have come out of the desert riding the horse of black fire at the time of the exploding Blue Star.”

  Alec shook his head more in sadness than bewilderment. The old Indian was senile and attempting to live out the prophecies of his ancient people.

  “I’m not the one you’ve been waiting for, old man,” Alec said finally. “I’m only lost, the same as you seem to be, but in another way. I can’t lead your people anywhere.”

  The Indian ignored Alec’s words, and his gaze turned to the black stallion again. His eyes, like his voice, were gentle when he spoke. “The horse of black fire possesses extraordinary powers. He is the extension of you. We understand that all things are the works of the Great Spirit. He is within all things—the trees, the grasses, the rivers and all the four-legged animals. We understand all this in our hearts deeply. My people will follow you to the beginning of the new world.”

  “Where are your people?” Alec asked. “How do we reach them?” All he could hope for at this time was to direct the old man’s mind to returning to his village.

  The old Indian lowered his head as if brooding or almost asleep. Alec waited, not wanting to prod him for fear he would talk of other things. He looked at the man’s frail body with its chronic running sores. The colorful eagle feathers in his headdress couldn’t offset the man’s wretched condition and his immediate need for medical attention. If the old one remained here, his only destiny was death.

  The old man muttered something in his sleep. Alec placed a hand on a bare shoulder, gently shaking him. “You’re dreaming, old man. Wake up. It’s time to go.”

  The Indian raised his head but made no attempt to get to his feet. Instead he met Alec’s gaze, his small, piercing eyes clear and untroubled. He found strength from somewhere within his frail body to speak loud and clear of ancient gods, as sacred to him as was the Bible to Alec. He recited strange myths of a primitive tribe. The messages were of peace, and of belief in the fullness of life if one followed the laws of nature and universal brotherhood.

  “It is all told in symbols passed from clan to clan from ancient times, symbols engraved in stone,” he said. The old man made a great effort to raise his arms toward the images behind him and failed utterly. Exhausted by his long speech, he let his head fall once more to his chest.

  When the old man spoke again, his voice was very low. Alec could make out only some of the words. The Indian was speaking of invisible spirits and the three worlds that had gone before and been destroyed as the present one would be.

  Alec knew he could rationalize what he was listening to as nothing but the folklore of a tribe who had no relationship to the world in which he lived. And yet the old man was speaking of many things that were partly responsible for Alec’s being there—a false set of values that seemed to dominate Alec’s world … a world in which time and time again conflict threatened not only between nations but between peoples of the world, red, yellow, white, black and brown.

  The old man raised his head once more to look at Alec, and when he spoke his voice was but a whisper. “This world will end soon or you would not have come. I do not know how it will be destroyed. It may be by raining fire or by spinning off into endless space. Perhaps the great waters will be loosened to cover the land. Or …” He paused, thinking for a few moments before going on. “… It could be by mankind’s own hands with his own weapons. There will be no shelter for the evil ones,” he warned, his voice rising. “Only those who are at peace in their hearts will be saved to take part in the new world to come.”

  The old man held Alec’s attention through the long, lonely dialogue. Thinking o
f Pam, Alec said quietly, “I know what it means to despair and seek help. But I can’t think of it as the end. Where will your people find safety, if what you say is true?”

  “Their shelter is here in this sacred place. It was told to me by my father and fathers before him, all the wise and ancient ones from the beginning of time. Here my people will be safe to await the coming of the next world. You must go to them and bring them to this shelter. They will follow you and Black Fire. You must hurry. Go now!”

  “Why me and not you?” Alec asked, knowing he could not find his way alone.

  “They await only you, for your coming has been told in the stars.”

  Alec wanted to shout, “You’re crazy, old man, crazy!” But he couldn’t, not with so much sorrow showing in the old man’s eyes.

  “You go with me,” he pleaded.

  “I cannot,” the old Indian answered. “I am too spent with years of waiting. I have lived only long enough to set eyes on you.” His eyelids closed and there was a sudden slump of his body. The eagle feathers on his headdress touched the ground and the blue sand cascaded from his lap.

  Alec went quickly to him and held his frail body upright, unmindful of the stench that filled his nostrils from the sores.

  The Indian’s eyes opened, glazed and staring at Alec. His voice was only a creaking whisper as he said, “Go now. It is time …”

  “How do I get there?” Alec asked urgently, gently shaking the old man’s shoulders, trying to keep him conscious. “Which way do I go? Tell me.”

  “You know,” the Indian said. “River Run …”

  “River Run?” Alec repeated.

  The frail body in Alec’s arms collapsed totally. The thin wrist he held became cold. Alec felt no pulse, no heartbeat at all.

  The old Indian’s eyes still gazed at him, eyes as sad in death as in life. Alec closed the lids over them. He continued holding the old man for many minutes more, repeating again and again for reasons he was not aware, “Chosen People, Hopeless People …”