by Steve Farley
“What is she saying?” Alec asked.
Spiro leaned forward. “This last part of the evening is for those who seek omens and monitions,” he whispered. “The red-haired man asked the priestess, Cyrene, if the coming of the full moon tomorrow and the positions of the planets in the zodiac are an auspicious sign for him. The Oracle said that it was so.”
“The Oracle?” Alec asked. “Is she an oracle?”
“The woman is only interpreting,” Spiro said. “It is Celera who is speaking. Fire-eyes is the Oracle.”
Other guests asked more questions, and the priestess interpreted the mare’s murmurings and body language into words for the governor and his guests. For the next few minutes, the bizarre ceremony continued, the oracle Celera divining omens and dispensing advice to a half dozen different questions by way of her human interpreter.
At last the governor stood up and asked one final question.
“What is he saying?” Alec asked.
Xeena translated the Greek for Alec’s benefit. “It’s something about a messenger.”
The priestess’s deep voice uttered some more words. “My messenger is the message,” Xeena interpreted. “The message my messenger brings is that the gods have sent Acracia a messenger.”
Alec glanced at Spiro. The chamberlain said nothing, only watched him and smiled.
Alec looked at Xeena. “What’s that mean?”
“I have no idea,” she said.
The crowd took their eyes off Celera and once again turned their attention to Alec and the Black. Voices rose, and some guests stood and raised their glasses. The musicians suddenly redoubled their efforts. Drummers joined them and the tune became rhythmic and lively. People began singing. Medio left his place at the head of the table, and he and his entourage of horses joined Celera and the priestess on the floor.
The horses formed a small circle around Medio and pranced to the music, throwing out their hooves in short, mincing steps. They were quickly joined by other horses and guests. Soon the entire hall was filled with moving bodies, horses doing stylized leaps or skipping back and forth while the dinner guests spun and dodged between them like matadors in a bullring.
It was a scene out of a dream, Alec thought. All his senses told him to get out of there, but before he knew what was happening, he and the Black found themselves on the floor with the others, swept up in the carnival atmosphere. Alec didn’t have much choice. There was no way out but through the crowd.
“Alec,” he heard Xeena cry after him. “Wait.”
Xeena caught up to them, and with the girl running interference, Alec did his best to guide the stallion to the exit, pushing his way through the dancing people and horses. The Black bucked around at Alec’s side, trying to pull away, more playful than angry, enjoying the chaos and instability in the air. All around them were shouts, laughter, noise and the sounds of scuffling feet as people and horses jostled each other to squeeze into the crowd of dancing bodies.
In the middle of the room, the white mares were performing a finely choreographed dance that was central to the spectacle, occasionally springing into the air and twisting their bodies from side to side. The humans and other horses moved among them casually and with practiced skill. A deafening clamor filled the great hall, and the entire room seemed alive.
Alec looked about him as the horses became an incredible living carousel, a merry-go-round of real-life dancing horses circling faster and faster. Suddenly the music stopped and the carousel came to a screeching halt. Standing before the Black now was the young gray stallion, the one that had followed the governor and Celera into the room. A look of hate burned in his eyes.
The gray shrilled a challenge to the Black and deftly spun around, lashing out a hind hoof that just missed the Black’s shoulder. “Whoa,” Alec called out angrily as he hauled on the Black’s lead. A gasp went up from the crowd. The uncontrolled gray turned again, reared and then brought his hooves crashing to the ground, as if daring the Black to step forward.
The Black strained to free himself and join the battle. Alec grasped the shank in his hand and threw all his weight downward, trying to turn the Black away and keep the stallion’s hooves on the ground. Somehow he managed to hold the horse back.
Two men bravely dashed forward and got a grip on either side of the gray’s halter, pulling the young stallion away. Then he was gone, lost in the crowd. As quickly as it had stopped, the music started again and once more the floor was a sea of people and horses meshing together.
Alec held tight to his horse’s lead, but the Black seemed more shocked than angry now. What had happened to the gray? Alec thought. Then he heard a furious uproar coming from the other side of the crowded room and saw the young stallion, still bucking against his handlers defiantly. The Black saw the gray but did not make a move toward him, nor did he answer the cry of his attacker. Instead he twisted his head, unconcerned about the young stallion’s threats, searching for someone else in the crowd, undoubtedly the albino mare Celera.
Alec felt someone tugging at his arm. It was Xeena. “This way,” she cried. Xeena pushed her way through the dancers. Alec pointed the Black in her direction and did his best to get the stallion to follow. A few of the revelers stared at the Black but otherwise went on with their celebrating, as if the confrontation between the two stallions was of no importance and best forgotten.
The crowd swallowed them up again. No one tried to stop them from leaving, but neither did they make much effort to stand clear. Xeena nudged, pushed and shoved people out of their way, and at last they burst through the swarm of revelers and into the reception room.
Alec stumbled ahead, keeping a firm grip on the Black’s lead, still dazed by all he’d seen. They approached the exit, and the doors to the banquet hall opened as if by magic. The Black threw his head and cried out wildly as they passed through. Then the doors closed behind them and the clamor of the throng receded.
Dust to Dust
“How do we get out of here?” Alec said.
“I think it’s this way,” Xeena said, pointing down the corridor to the gallery they had passed on the way to the banquet room.
Alec kept a close hold on the Black’s lead and spoke to his horse softly, trying to keep him settled. The words came in a steady stream that lasted until they had returned to the Black’s room.
“What in the world kind of party was that?” Alec said to Xeena as he took off the Black’s halter.
“Wild,” Xeena said. “Really spectacular, except for when that crazy gray stallion went after the Black.”
“He didn’t concern me so much,” Alec said. “The Black can handle himself with other stallions, and no one there seemed too surprised about what happened. I suppose that with all those horses and people bumping around together on the dance floor, a confrontation between horses wouldn’t be unusual, no matter how well they are trained.” Alec shook his head. “It’s not the gray,” he said. “It’s that albino mare I’m thinking about. She’s poison and the Black can’t see it. If he gets another chance at her, I’m not sure I can keep them apart.”
Alec walked through the passageway to his own room. He could see someone had been there while they’d been away. There were fresh blankets on his bed, and a fire had been lit in the corner fireplace. He splashed some water from a wash basin onto his face, then returned to the Black’s quarters, picked up a brush and gave his horse a light grooming. The Black didn’t need it, but the routine and familiar touch of his horse always made Alec feel better. Xeena stood at the connecting door, her eyes fixed on the stallion watching her.
“Pretty cool when you think about it,” Xeena said after a minute.
Alec laughed. “Certainly unusual. That Medio really knows how to have a good time. Want to go back?”
“No thanks. I need to get some sleep now. But that was fun.”
Could it all be just that? Alec thought. Just harmless fun? He had to admit that from the safety of his room, things suddenly started to look diffe
rent. Could any of this be more than some kind of strange role-playing reenactment of ancient times, a place where people could get dressed up in costumes and pretend they were somewhere other than the modern world? He remembered hearing about people who reenacted famous Civil War battles in period uniforms. Maybe it was all just something like that. Some sort of club. Sure, Alec thought. That must be it. The only difference here was that these folks seemed extremely serious about it all, almost too serious, like actors who could not get out of character.
Perhaps he had overreacted, Alec thought. The gray was no threat to the Black. As for the albino, perhaps she was nothing more than a pretty white horse, a genetic oddity of nature on the outside but like any other horse inside. All the same, Alec still felt wary about everyone in this place, people and horses alike. There were no locks on the door, so he propped a chair against it for a barricade in case someone tried to slip into the room when he was asleep.
“If it wasn’t night and I wasn’t so tired, I’d say we should try to get out of here now,” he said.
Xeena shivered. “I wouldn’t want to go anywhere near that river tonight,” she said.
Alec had to agree. He stepped into Xeena’s room to help block her door with a chair, and then they said their good-nights. Alec returned to the Black for a minute and then went outside on the balcony. The megaron was aglow with amber light, and he could hear the sounds of the festivities continuing in full force. He sat down in a big, comfortable, wooden chair, leaned back and closed his eyes. Images from the day flashed through his memory: the waterfall, the albino mare, the swirling black water of the river, a sea of people and horses dancing together …
The world was certainly a funny place, he thought. And if these folks got their kicks out of dressing up and pretending to be ancient Greeks, who was he to judge them? Anyway, he’d be out of there in the morning. After checking on the Black one more time, he went back to his own room. Crawling into bed, he soon fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Alec was glad to see his jeans and shirt had dried by the fire so he could get out of his oversized T-shirt and put them on. Then he fed and tended his horse, just the same as he would have any morning anywhere. The sleep had done them both some good, Alec thought. The stallion leaned into Alec’s brushstrokes with pleasure and shuffled his feet in the soft bedding, anxious to get outside.
“Okay, big guy,” Alec said to his horse. “Just hang on a minute.” He ran his hands over the Black’s legs and was grateful to feel no excessive heat or swelling that might indicate an injury of some kind. It was truly amazing considering all they had been through the previous day. Even the scratches that raked his side seemed to be healing, almost as if they’d never been there.
Alec brought the Black out into the corridor and walked him up and down the length of the empty hall for ten minutes so he could stretch his legs. Then they returned to the Black’s room.
Last night, Spiro had said he would get Alec to a telephone in the morning, so there was nothing to do but wait. The Black turned his attention to the feed in the ivory trough. Alec rattled around the room. Fifteen minutes passed, then a half hour, then an hour. He gave the Black another grooming and going-over with a rub rag just to pass the time.
The sun climbed higher over the mountain peaks, and there was still no sign of Spiro. Alec stepped out onto the balcony where Xeena was standing by the railing and looking out over the patios and gardens of the acropolis. No one seemed to be up and around anywhere. The place looked like a ghost town.
“I can’t believe this,” Alec said.
“I guess everyone is sleeping in after the big party last night,” Xeena said.
Alec paced around on the balcony, waiting for a knock on the door. He was starting to get frustrated and wanted out of this madhouse. “Where in the heck is that Spiro guy?” Alec said. “It must be midmorning by now. He said he’d be here first thing.”
“Maybe they reckon time differently here,” Xeena said. “The monasteries do that. Morning to the monks is a completely different time than it is to people in the outside world. They use a different calendar too.”
Alec looked out over the balcony railing to the megaron and the gardens and courtyard, the fountains and white statues. His gaze lifted to the ramparts beyond the gardens of the acropolis. High along one section of the fortified walls were figures moving about, perhaps lookouts or sentries of some sort. From the summit, one could probably see all around the acropolis, Alec thought. After a minute, he decided to go up there and take a look around. Even if he couldn’t find a telephone, maybe he could get a lead on an exit out of this labyrinth. Alec told Xeena what he was doing and asked her to stay there and keep an eye on the Black while he slipped out to take a look around.
Soon Alec had wound his way through the maze of colonnades, patios and garden hedges to a walkway that led to the walls edging the acropolis. He’d seen no one along the way there, no sign of life at all except the trails of smoke drifting out of a few chimneys.
He followed the base of the wall until he came to a series of steps cut into the side and leading to the summit. He climbed the stairs to a narrow path of flat stones topping the barricade. If there had been anyone there before, they were gone now. All he could see were two small trees overhanging the railing, their white flower blossoms dangling in the branches.
Alec walked over to the trees, stopped and looked out over the mountains. From this vantage point, the walls looked as if they might encircle not just the city but also the entire top of the mountain. He saw a couple places where there were breaks in the wall, but only because cliffs and gorges made access impossible there.
Nothing seemed to be moving anywhere. The whole of nature seemed asleep—the woods silent, the sky empty of birds, no sign of life at all. He searched in vain for signs of commercial air traffic, or even Bateman’s helicopter. Nothing. About the only movement he could see was a horse-drawn wagon on a road going up the mountain behind the acropolis. Alec wondered where it was going and if there were settlements closer to the summit.
Dark clouds were gathering around the mountain peaks, and it looked like a storm was approaching. A brisk breeze blew in suddenly, rattling the branches of the two trees beside him. Alec leaned over the edge of the wall as a white flower blossom fell from one of the trees and was swept away in the wind. He let his gaze follow the blossom as it twisted in the breeze and floated off. Then, as the blossom reached the other side of the stream beyond the wall, a peculiar thing happened. The flower seemed to vanish into thin air.
Alec blinked to clear his eyes and looked again. He picked up a fresh blossom from the ground and tossed it into the air. The wind caught the flower and carried it over the moat, and once again the flower disappeared, only this time Alec thought he could see a faint trail of dust falling through the air where the flower had been. He tried one more time and watched again as the soft white petals seem to dry up in midair, then crumble and dissolve to dust.
What could have caused that? he wondered. Was he still dreaming? Again he looked out to the world beyond the acropolis, his eyes searching for some sign of life in the forest. Where were the animals? He could see a few birds in the far distance but none close by. There were no squirrels in the trees, or on the opposite bank of the moat, or in the grass area bordering the woods. All of nature was fast asleep.
Strange, wild thoughts dashed through his mind. It was almost as if some invisible wall of death stood between Acracia and the outside world, a dead zone that drained away the life of whatever passed through it. Hadn’t that pamphlet he read at the monastery said something about an enchanted forest that could hide whole cities and a poison river in the woods? And then there were those tall tales about the magical healing waters that Spiro had been going on about at dinner, waters blessed by mare’s milk.
Waters of eternal life, winds of sudden death—could any of it be true? Alec knew that the stories were just crazy enough to be real. He had seen enough in his young life
by now to know that most anything was possible. Understanding the how and why of it all was a different matter.
Alec retraced his steps to his room, determined now to forget everything else but getting the Black and Xeena and making a run for the main gate as soon as they could. From what he’d seen atop the barricade, that was the only certain way out of this madhouse. But when he reached his room, he found the Black alone. The girl was gone.
Forbidden Pastures
Alec checked the rooms, the balcony and out in the hall. “Xeena?” he called. “Where are you?” The Black was safe enough, but Xeena was nowhere to be seen. Surely she wouldn’t have left the stallion alone unless it had been an emergency, Alec thought. He stepped out into the hall and looked up and down the corridor. “Xeena,” he called again, and again no answer came.
Now what? Alec thought. Maybe she just went outside for a minute. He could wait here and hope she turned up. Or he could take the Black and try to find her. Alec moved to his horse. The Black was starting to get restless and pacing the luxurious confines of his room like a boxer gearing up for a big fight.
Alec looked out over the acropolis and the advancing storm clouds in the sky. After a minute, raindrops began to fall softly on the balcony. It would start raining now, he thought.
“Easy boy,” he said as he pulled the halter over the Black’s ears and clipped on the lead line. Thunder rumbled and the pattering of raindrops quickened. He opened the big wooden door and walked the stallion out into the hall. Rain or no rain, there was no use hanging around here anymore. He had to find Xeena and get out of this place.