An End to Summer

by Diana Rose Wilson

  She tipped her chin up and met his gaze, blushing as she held up her wrist to show off the gleaming braid of Mortari’s hair he’d given her weeks ago. “You are good for him. We will all see each other again soon.” Hastily, she kissed his cheek and then turned and strode towards her mundane horse and the ladies waiting for her.

  And then he said goodbye to the yearling foals and knew true heartbreak.

  He might never see them again. The wide-eyed little twins and all the others he’d watch grow and mature. Mortari lifted his protection so Alexander could say his goodbyes and they smothered him with their affections and bold assurances that they would see him again soon. Perhaps they would be worthy to carry him after they had earned their names. Many of those who said their goodbyes left tuffs of their tails in honor and remembrance.

  The twins were the last to leave and the most difficult to let go. If they felt the same, they didn’t share it. They each nuzzled him with physical and emotional affection before leaving their bundled hair tuffs. Then they were gone, galloping hard to catch up with the line of youngsters already making their progress down the beach.

  For a moment, he stood apart from the others, feeling lost and desolate with his pack stuffed with bundles of hair and his heart shattered within his ribs. The humans where not invested in that departure. The young did not speak to anyone outside of the herd. He alone suffered through this.

  Not alone, my rider. Mortari enfolded him with the unyielding coils of his shield with a caress of love and sympathy. I, too, will miss my youngest brother and sister and my elder brother. They will not abandon us, do not fear.

  They will be fine, Zan’Dar. Shara’s kind voice broke into his thoughts, allowed through Mortari’s careful guard. She enfolded him in an emotional embrace. He sensed her unwavering faith in the survival of her yearlings. She wasn’t concerned. The dangerous life was all that she knew and wanted. Over many long years she had seen her older offspring through the migration and beyond.

  The red mare nuzzled his shoulder to underscore the mental affection and then she stepped to Mortari, brushing her muzzle with his. The big stallion had subjected himself to the dye once more in honor of the departure. Tacked in gear fitting a king, the ink gleamed like blue flame along his pale mane in contrast to his shinning golden coat. Alexander considered the mounts before him. Mother and son sharing a moment together twisted his heart with happiness.

  Mortari returned to his side as Spear Eater came up the beach to join them.

  Your warrior will return to you too, if he is worthy of you. It is good that you put him through the tasks so he can prove his worth. You mourn for his departure as though he’s gone, but he’s right there. Can you not sense him? Let him feel your joy knowing he will return to you grown. You will mature into the man he needs, not remain a boy. Spear Eater’s words were gruff but the affection was no less than his mate’s.

  Alexander wished he had as much confidence that the future would unfold that way. What would he do if none of them returned to him? True, he had his mount but aside from Mortari everyone else he knew had left. Even Shylo and Yuli, who had been awkwardly civil to him lately, departed.

  Alone.

  And with the real possibility every one of them would die in the coming two years.

  You might die too my young rider, Mortari said. Worse, you might find that pathway home and we will all have to find a way to your side.

  He frowned at the suggestion and stared at the mount who regarded him with dark eyes. “What do you mean? I thought you would go through with me.”

  It would be the best that I did, of course. Then I will dance on the skulls of those who hurt you, but it may not be our fate. There is a trick to gates. A door on this side does not spill out into the other. There is the gray to travel as well and finding the far gate you may need to fight through. No one on the other side of the gray wants the monsters that live in our realms to overrun their innocent lands. Why do you think only the bravest warriors are allowed through?

  He considered that information, shuddering at the possibility of some of the creatures he’d encountered during his run. They did not dare pester a herd of blood horses protecting their young. He was terrified imagining any of those creatures back home.

  You might find another way. There may be a sage powerful enough to spirit you through. The journey can change a soul. And, I would not wish that upon you and your kind heart. No, I think the best way is to do as mounts have always done. We find the gate and slip through. If you still want to go.

  Did he really want to leave? He’d rarely had time to reflect on what and who he’d left there.

  A family that wanted him culled from the bloodline.

  It was hard to imagine what he would do with that life. How could he return to playing the role of the sullen, sulking boy? He needed to attempt the search. At the very least he needed to get word to his family. He wanted them to know he was somewhere better. There was a life here for Zan’Dar that the young boy named Alexander could never have.

  Chapter 15

  He and Mortari rode east to Shirvil with King Kulah and his court. Shara, Bearer of the Winternight Flame journeyed with her mate, Darian Spear Eater who carried the king. Many un-bound blood horses followed with them, mostly mates and the offspring of the sapphire stallions. They traveled from the seat of the Royal house at the Crescent Shore across the Talgraem mountains to the eastern shore. At the port city they crossed the sea by ship. The trip in the cramped vessel was miserable and Alexander was so seasick, he believed swimming might have been preferable to the rank conditions aboard.

  From the harbor in Shirvil they rode north the length of the continent. The capital was on the shores of the vast inland lake. The country was wild and there were dangers of highwaymen and strange creatures in the thick jungles. His training with the sword saved him and his companions several times during the journey.

  He stayed for a short time in the palace under the care and generosity of King Kulah and Queen Faulcia. It was beautiful on the shore of the expansive lake, and as he recovered from the voyage he imagined accepting the invitation to stay. The King himself requested he stay to assist training the newly bound horsemen in riding. The King’s guard welcomed him as a brother. Each morning he assisted the master of horses and every night he extended his stay one more day.

  Motari enjoyed the mock battles with the younger war-mounts, teaching and testing the new generation who had never run migration. Days turned to weeks and it became too easy to put off his duty. However, the blood horses that joined them were ready to start off on their migration. Shara grew ever more agitated and finally announced they had wasted enough days getting fat. It was time to go.

  Her impatience spurred Alexander to action as well. If he didn’t strike out to seek the gate he never would. Part of him missed his mother and father. He owed it to them to make sure they knew he was safe. It was the least he could do. He joined the small ceremonial group traveling to the coast to see the pregnant mares off.

  “I will see you at Festival.” Alexander leaned over the huge red mare and rubbed her stomach. “Blessings to your foals, mother,” he whispered against her flank and then drew back before her affectionate kick reached him. She did not respond in words, just addressed him with a distracted mental caress. Her attention was already on the long road ahead.

  I stay with my rider, Zan’Dar. Are you certain this is the road you wish to ride? To find this path to the old world you came from? Spear Eater asked, ears perked forward as he regarded Alexander.

  Alexander considered his question as he looked over the coastline and the horses progressing towards the water. Shara was making her way towards the shore, swishing her tail playfully. Her backward swiveled ear indicated she was listening to those behind her and he felt her amusement as Spear Eater watched her go.

  “I need to try. My kin deserved to know my fate and so I will get word to them,” he answered aloud, watching the King mounted beside him.

>   “You’re a strange boy, Zan’Dar,” the King said and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “There will be a place for you at our tent during Festival when you arrive back to us, Zan’Dar. We will hold you in our hearts forever should your path take you away from us, for whatever reason.”

  When the horses set out towards the west, Zan’Dar went north to begin his search. A small selection of the guard had requested to go with him.

  It wasn’t an exploration without danger however. Northward led them into Klorwur, whose people were always at war with several nearby nations for control of the ports and the outlying islands. Further east were the barbarians of Norendin who famously regarded mounts as food for religious ritual. There were treacherous mountains to travel and rivers to cross that were as dangerous as any sea passage.

  Through the journey he kept in contact with Bennonton and Chirmeng. Not only in letters that he collected from port to port but also along the links of the unbreakable tether that held them. At any moment, the powerful general might pull the cord and he would spiral back to the man and directly into his arms.

  Nights were the worst. He was drawn towards the man. Sometimes he heard the sooty, smoky voice in his ear, growling the most decadent, indecent words against the foundations of his being. In those moments, Zan’Dar found himself groping for his cock in the dark. With the snarl of demands in his mind he stroked himself to orgasm. Despite being worlds away, he had never been as close to someone as in those moments. He knew instinctively that Bennonton shared the release and pleasure with him. The tingle of the silvery ghost of desire echoing along that delicate webbing of connection was an intoxication he never wanted to loose.

  The first winter stretched to spring and into summer while he continued his search. All the while he sought any word of gateways or sages with the ability to provide answers only to find dead ends. Talgraem was the place to find his gate back home, one old wise woman told him. She sold him a rusty, battered trinket that was supposed to light his way.

  The charms, tokens and baubles did nothing except lighten his purse.

  If the guards thought he was on a foolish exploration to chase his own tail, they were too respectful to say so aloud. They remained faithful to him throughout the whole journey. They rode across dangerous Klowur in disguise, making for the bottom of the world and the safety of Talgraem soil.

  There was no gate, door, or portal.

  If the stories were true, somewhere in Talgraem was the gate that was guarded by some fierce deity. Other people claimed there was a demon who warded the door. It was said that the being was trying to chew not a gate, but a hole, from the gray of the threshold into their world and unleash all the horrors of the hells upon them.

  There were other gates and portals, but none that a mortal human had the ability to slip through. War-mounts, the Honored, guardians, escorts of the dead and their agents or Messengers might pass through within the limitations of their talents but not a mortal boy, even if he was spirit-kin.

  Some tales told of a demon killing off all the Messengers to prevent the exchange and flow of information. There was no proof of this other than the fact that no one had seen a Messenger in many years. Not that anyone he’d met had claimed they had ever seen a one before either. Perhaps the Messengers were only fables.

  He’d found and mapped several natural portals. None of the artifacts he’d collected allowed him to access them. When he tried to ride his mount through, Mortari wasn’t able to cross the threshold either. The mount dared not slip through alone with the possibility of being torn from him.

  There is this side and then there is the grey, the threshold and beyond that are other worlds, one of which belongs to you and yours. It is a gateway into a hall of doors, filled with all manner of beings caught in the quagmire, Mortari warned him.

  As one year swiftly spun towards two and autumn stretched to winter, Zan’Dar and the men that remained of his guard, made the crossing by ship towards Talgraem.

  He wondered if the blood horses were making the crossing now as well. He turned towards the east as though he might feel them. Mortari joined his thoughts as well, curling warmly around him. Dawn of the first day of winter, his mount agreed with a swell of pride.

  “Zan’Dar?” One of the guards met him at the deck and grinned at him. “We were wondering if you had plans to meet up with the migration and run with them towards the coast.”

  A strange longing filled him. He found he wanted to do just that. Throw his search aside and do what his heart longed. He closed his eyes and fought back the smile. “I don’t think so. I still have some time to continue the search. I understand if you—”

  “No, sir, we are not leaving you. We will see you safe to the blessed shores, no matter the path we take. Some of our mounts expected you would. I think some are missing their old days of freedom. Your men…well, they think it fitting if they got to give it a shot.”

  “You want to swim that sea?”

  “Want? Well, that’s a tricky question, sir. More that there’s the thought that if you could’a done it without a mount and just a kid…well…we ought’a honor you by showing our worth, too.”

  Zan’Dar’s memories were not of the glory of swimming across the channel. His mind was haunted by the horror of watching helplessly as the mares were swept away by the savage current or crushed to death against the rocky spires. His heart twisted under the grief of the many foals who did not survive.

  He turned away, throat tight. “It is not all honor and splendor. It is difficult to see a mount hurt and know you are unable to attend them all. They do not thank us for meddling. Let’s not test our luck, hmm? I won’t stop anyone who wanted to do it but—I can’t stand by and watch mounts die.”

  You are sweet hearted, rider. Mortari’s love was so sharp, it made his eyes sting and he was glad the guard took his leave before he shamed himself with the tears. My dam and those little twins will be fine. Focus on our journey, we are almost at the end of it.

  They did not find a gate that would accept him on Talgraem soil. Though they traveled the eastern horn in the south. He ferreted out more information of traitors and spies and unrest in the land than any portal into a mystical land. Stories claimed there were doors guarded by deities and demons, but none provided any true location. What concerned them more was the real threat of that power-hungry Klorwur posed to their kingdom. There were fears that the vile mount-eaters of the distant east beyond Shirvil would join forces with Klorwur and claim beloved Talgraem. In the shadow of that danger, supernatural beings held little threat.

  Chapter 16

  A full two years later found Zan’Dar back on the crescent shores with little to show for his adventures save for experience, scars and a chest of trinkets. Mortari enjoyed reminding him that he had a lot fewer wounds than they might have if not for the long, grueling training and a powerful mount at his command.

  He released the guard from their duty until Festival began. He’d grown very fond of them. They had shed blood, shared battles and dangers along the nearly two year voyage and it created a bond between them. They would join him at the royal tent to pay their respects after proper cleaning and real food. Leaving his mount to rest, he went in search of his own refreshment.

  He should have seen to the bath and proper food first; unfortunately, the lure of sweet ice proved too much for him to resist. The merchant gawked up at him in surprise and then a huge smile split his face when he noticed the gold and ruby seal clasping his cloak at his throat. “Lord Zan’Dar. Welcome home.” He dished out a huge lump of chipped ice and drizzled bright sapphire syrup over it. Mortari’s amusement tickled at the back of his mind.

  Home!

  Yes, this was home. Happiness spilled over him as he realized how relieved he was that he had not found a portal. He never wanted to leave.

  Like a child, he found himself with berry flavored ice in hand, trying to eat it before it melted and made a blue mess all over him. He was heading in search of an actual ba
th when the thrum of excitement rose through the crowd. The Talgraem army was riding over the summit and would soon be coming through the gates.

  Early.

  Days early.

  A pulse of delight passed through Zan’Dar as he moved with the crowd to try and to catch the first glimpse of them. With a smile, he smoothed the edges of the fur cloak across his shoulders and craned his head to view the arrival. The drums beat out in the distance, but he didn’t see anything yet.

  Over the past two years, Zan’Dar had built up the man in his mind. In the last year letters had come less frequently. One of their runners had been captured and tortured. When his body had been found, the letters were gone. Messages after that were short and vague to the point of irrelevance. They couldn’t talk openly about anything. He clung to every tidbit of news and cherished each note that found him. Now, the object of his infatuation and obsession was returning.

  Zan’Dar hardly recognized the man who rode into Festival. His feather-hair had grown out and his royal blues were festooned with ribbons and tokens of valor. There was something almost cruel about him. That was the Lord General upon his blazing mount, the Marshall of the King’s cavalry. He was nephew to the king of the east and son of the southern king. Here was the true born, full blooded, high prince of Talgraem.

  His full mouth was pulled into a hard line and his golden eyes were flat and cold. That was not the imaginary lover who haunted his every night, dream and waking moment.

  The two falconers riding at his flanks carried fierce birds on their fists. They were huge Lyni eagles, rumored to be more intelligent and powerful than war-mounts. Around the hooves of his mount ran a trio of spotted desert hounds. They seemed almost feral, their frothy jaws agape and red eyes sizing up the crowd.

  It felt like a punch to the stomach when Bennonton’s frosty gaze passed over and through him. There was no spark of recognition, pleasure or delight. The man didn’t even see him. Zan’Dar felt a horrible ache in his chest.