by Roz Marshall
"Replaced Midnight already, have we? I always said that you didn't really deserve him." Sonya Tavish. Wannabe show-jumper and queen of the yard clique. With her jet-black hair and pale skin, she looked like a modern-day version of Snow White. Or Morticia.
Clenching her jaw, Corinne straightened up—and found that half of the teenage horse-owners at the farm livery also seemed to have been dropped off by a parent on their way to work that morning. Either that, or word had somehow got around about her new horse and everyone had got there early to satisfy their curiosity.
She put a hand on his neck. "This is Ghost. I—I'm looking after him for a bit."
"Not yours, huh? Better watch you don't make him sick like you did Midnight. His owners might not take kindly to getting a dead horse back."
-::-
Phemie had heard enough. She stepped around the corner of the stone barn and planted herself in front of the group of girls, leaning on the top of her broom.
"Sonya Tavish, you seem to have conveniently forgotten that when your horse was lame the other month, Corinne was kind enough to let you ride Midnight."
"Yeah, like once." Sonya crossed her arms defiantly.
"Three times, actually," muttered Corinne.
"So do you no' think she deserves a little more understanding when she's lost her poor horse? It might be you that has the sick animal next time."
"But it was only colic. She didn't have to get him put to sleep." That was Mandy— Mandy something from the new 'executive' housing scheme up the north road. Five en-suite bedrooms, three public rooms and a tiny postage-stamp of a garden. Father was some bigwig lawyer. Phemie glanced round at the other teenagers. All of them had rich parents who could indulge their children's love of horses.
Phemie, however, had been born to a family of farmers and, whilst she had inherited the family business, she was far from well-off. But it was her little corner of paradise, and she wasn't having bitchy princesses spoiling the atmosphere for her other liveries.
She raised an eyebrow. "Only colic?" Her voice was laced with sarcasm. "Of course, being the expert in veterinary matters, you'll know that there are many types and grades o' colic. If you're lucky, it's a mild case that will pass with a dose o' painkiller. If you're unlucky—like Corinne was—the horse has a twisted gut which is inoperable and excruciatingly painful, and the only humane course of action is to put the poor beast out o' its misery."
Mandy flushed, her cheeks turning such a bright shade of red they almost matched her hair.
Perhaps I've been too blunt. As usual. Phemie softened her voice. "So just be thankful it wasn't your horse, okay?"
The girl nodded.
She turned to Sonya. "And you, Sonya—remember who your friends are. You never know when you might need help from someone like Corinne again. Now," she brandished her brush, "off with the lot of you and look after your own ponies. Stop annoying this new horse." And me.
-::-
"Thanks," Corinne whispered, as the other girls disappeared. She'd always thought Miss Irving was a little scary, and now she was convinced of it. But at least the farmer had been on her side, and she seemed to have silenced the other girls. Maybe things would be better now. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
"Eh, Corinne." Phemie's sharp voice cut through her thoughts. "Did you get in touch with the police about the horse?"
She nodded. "Mum phoned them last night and again this morning. Nobody's reported a missing animal."
Phemie's eyes narrowed, and she ran a hand along the horse's neck, then down one of his legs. "He's a fine beastie. You'd think someone would've missed him by now."
"Yes. Maybe they'll phone this morning." Or maybe not. "But the police contacted the National Animal Protection Charity, and they said I could look after him if nobody claims him."
Phemie nodded slowly. "You said you found him on Chessaig?"
Corinne nodded.
"Right at the top? In the circle?"
"Yes."
"Just as it was getting dark?"
"Yes. Sunset."
Phemie's eyes narrowed again, and she scratched the horse's ears absently. After a pause, she asked, "Have you chosen a name for him yet?"
"Ghost. I thought it suited him."
The old woman inclined her head. "Aye. Ghost." She jerked her chin in the direction of the back field. "Put him in the paddock with the other geldings when you're finished with him." She glanced sideways at Corinne, her eyebrows raised. "I've a feeling he's here to stay."
CHAPTER 4
IT WASN'T QUITE as good as riding in Feyland. But it was pretty close.
Trotting around the schooling paddock with the sun on her face and a light breeze to keep her cool, Corinne found it hard to stop a huge grin from spreading across her face.
Until she realised that she had an audience.
Hanging over the post and rail fence at the bottom of the paddock were Sonya and her cronies, whispering to each other between furtive glances at Corinne on Ghost.
Hard not to feel paranoid and assume they were talking about you.
She steadied Ghost back to walk and turned towards the far corner of the paddock, where there was a gate out into the woods. Think I'll see how he enjoys the countryside. Away from prying eyes.
Light dappled the dirt path through the trees, pockmarked with hoofprints where the clay soil had dried after that last bout of rainy weather. The stillness of the wood made her recall the magical forest in Feyland. "Does it remind you of home, boy?"
An ear flicked back, but he plodded quietly onwards until they came to a fork in the path. Right would take them on a longer route through the forest; left would take them to a harvested field and then they could loop back to the farm. "We should probably head back. I want to try and play Feyland again this afternoon." She guided him to the left.
When they got to the harvested field, a thrill of excitement tingled through her at the sight of the freshly-cut barley, dotted with rectangular bales of straw. There was something about a stubble field which seemed to invite even the most placid of horses to run—to gallop like a racehorse in the Cheltenham Gold Cup, racing the wind and skimming the ground with hooves hammering, lungs straining and heart pounding.
As if he'd read her mind, Ghost's pace picked up, and he tossed his head and lightened his shoulders in anticipation. "You want to run, boy?" She could feel the grin tickling her lips again. "Okay!"
With only the slightest encouragement, he was off; racing up the field like the Wild Hunt was chasing him once more. But instead of veering away from the straw bales which were haphazardly strewn where they'd dropped out of the back of the combine harvester, he headed straight for the nearest set of bales.
Really? He wants to jump them? She hardly had time to blink the wind-blown tears from her eyes before they were flying through the air over the first bale. The next bale lay some distance ahead at a slight angle, but his long stride took them there in a few heartbeats and he sailed straight over it, ears pricked and looking for the next one.
Corinne's heart quailed when she saw the upcoming obstacle. This time it wasn't just a single bale. It was a stack of four—double the height and double the width. Her shoulders tensed. I've never jumped that high before. But Ghost was galloping towards it, his stride unerring and his eyes locked on his target.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Corinne pushed her heels down and took a firm grip on the reins. She was just going to have to trust him. He saved us in Feyland. Surely he'll look after me here?
And of course, she needn't have worried. Ghost sprang over the bales as if they were just a tiny blip on the landscape. It felt like flying!
-::-
In the cab of her tractor on the way out to relieve one of her harvesters, Phemie sat open-mouthed as the girl on the white horse streaked up the field, sailing over the straw bales as if they were a mere trifle. That horse can jump! He could jump for Scotland. She pursed her lips.
Or fairyland.
The girl had found the horse on Faerie Hill—at the stone circle on Chessaig. Nobody had reported him missing, and he'd followed her to the farm with no bridle to lead him. And he could jump like a stag. The horse was obviously gifted. Or a gift.
Stepping down from the tractor, Phemie hurried over to the gate between the fields to meet the girl as she trotted back towards the farm. "You looked like you both enjoyed that!"
Corinne pulled the horse to a stop and patted his shoulder, her chest heaving. "Yes. I'd no idea he could jump so well!"
Ghost was breathing somewhat faster than normal, but he hardly seemed to have exerted himself. He really did seem to be talented. And fit. "You should enter him for the jumping at the local show this weekend. I've a schedule in the house somewhere."
-::-
"Your breakfast will be ready momentarily, milady," Elphin said as Cailleach approached the fire, hoping he could head off any complaint.
There was a grunt as she sat down and arranged coal-black skirts around skeletal knees.
Quickly, he spooned berries and nuts into a wooden bowl and poured boiling water into a horn containing dried herbs and flowers.
"I will need to go foraging again today, milady," he said as he handed her the dish and her drink. "Supplies are running low."
"Harumph." The guttural sound emanated from somewhere deep in her scraggy throat. "Be back before we need to leave for the Bright Court." Glacial-blue eyes stared unnervingly at him through the steam rising from her beverage. "Do not make me send the wolves after you."
"Yes, milady." He had been lucky yesterday, when Corinne and her unicorn had helped him to escape the Wild Hunt. But he could not rely on that luck holding. Not here in this magical land, where misdirection and subterfuge were a stock-in-trade and trickery was a way of life. "I will make sure that I return in plenty of time."
-::-
Her hand raised to knock on the farmhouse door, Corinne froze in place, wondering once again if she really should be contemplating this. She hardly knew the horse. Could she seriously think about taking him to a competition so soon?
But… He'd seemed to enjoy jumping so much.
And being a show-jumper was something she'd dreamed of; she'd just never had much chance before. Midnight had been perfect for a first horse—kind, easy to ride and safe. But he hadn't seemed to enjoy jumping. And then shortly after they moved to Scotland, he got sick and…
She wiped her eye with the back of a hand. Thinking about Midnight still made her sad.
But now she had Ghost to care for, and Ghost seemed to have a talent for jumping. He made her feel like she could fly. Like she could do anything. Perhaps he could help her to realise her ambition.
"Aye, there you are!" Phemie's Scots burr greeted Corinne as the old woman swung the door open.
But I didn't even knock!
Phemie jerked her head into the gloom down the hallway. "I think the schedule's in the kitchen. Follow me."
The farmhouse kitchen was a surprise. It was large, and brighter than Corinne had expected. A squat yellow Aga cooker was surrounded by cupboards in warm oak tones, and a large pine dining table had pride of place in the centre of the room. On the far wall was an oak dresser, shelves overflowing with photos of what Corinne assumed must be Phemie's family. Funny. She never struck me as the sentimental type.
Striding across the room, Phemie pulled some papers from a pile on the dresser, shuffling through them as she rejoined the girl. "Here it is," she said, handing over some typewritten sheets clipped together by a staple. She pointed at some wording near the top. "Closing date is tomorrow. So you've still time to enter." Her mouth quirked up at one side. "I reckon you'll cause some upset with yon new horse. Show Son— eh, show some of the other teenagers what you're made of."
CHAPTER 5
THAT AFTERNOON IN the sim café, Corinne settled into the sim chair and flexed her fingers in the gaming gloves. It seemed an age since she'd been in Feyland. A lot had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
As the game started up, a flaming 'F' swooshed into the background and a pair of glowing eyes stared menacingly from the shadows.
Moments later, her archer avatar was standing in a mushroom ring in the middle of a clearing; soft grass underfoot and silver-barked birch trees all around. A gentle breeze caressed her cheek and the smell of the damp earth tickled her nostrils, as if it had just been raining. A shiver ran down her spine. Can this really be just a game, or is it something more than that?
Finding the white horse yesterday had convinced her that the unicorn from Feyland had somehow made it into real life. But how could that be possible? Could fairyland really exist? Maybe it was just coincidence that the horse seemed so connected to her. Maybe he's just friendly.
She chewed her lip thoughtfully, then stepped resolutely from the ring and onto the dirt path leading out of the clearing. Today she was here for a reason.
Time to find that minstrel. Time to find out why she kept dreaming about him.
Perhaps she was supposed to help him escape the blue-faced hag. But if she was going to do that, she'd have to be sure and avoid the Wild Hunt. There would be no unicorn to help her today.
-::-
It only took a few minutes in Feyland for Corinne to wonder if she'd got it wrong, and if Ghost was, in fact, just a normal horse.
As she followed the path from the faerie ring and entered the forest, a flash of white up ahead caught her eye. Jogging forward, she caught another glimpse of a distinctly equine-shaped creature. Another unicorn? Or the same one that she'd met the other day?
Ducking to avoid low-hanging branches as she hurried through the trees, the magical beast was always tantalisingly far enough away that for a long time she couldn't get a proper look at him. After endless minutes of fruitless pursuit, the ground started to slope gently downwards and the trees thinned, letting her finally see the animal in profile.
He had no twisted horn protruding from his forehead.
She frowned. Just a normal horse? But he disappeared into the forest again, and she gritted her teeth and set off once more in pursuit. Whatever he was, she wanted to find out more about him.
After another couple of minutes, the ground started to flatten and Corinne could hear a strange thrumming roar, which grew louder the further she walked. Could it be anything to do with the horse?
Rounding a corner in the path, the source of the noise became clear. A waterfall plunged over a rocky edge at least fifteen feet above, and fell into a deep pool. There was no sign of the white horse, but around the pool, tall grasses grew in clumps intertwined with tufts of delicate blue forget-me-nots which had tiny pea-green leaves. The pool drained to a wide stream that continued through the wood, with stepping stones over it taking the path on into the distance.
Now that she was closer to the waterfall, she could also hear a rhythmical knocking and whirring, which intermingled with the falling water. Could that be anything to do with the horse?
As Corinne moved towards the pool, the mechanical knocking sound stopped and a movement over by the waterfall caught her eye. She stopped in surprise. On a ledge beside the waterfall was a strange, hairy creature with the body of a man but the legs of a… goat?
CHAPTER 6
CORINNE MUST HAVE made an involuntary noise because the strange creature's head jerked up, beady black eyes darting straight to where she stood in the line of trees flanking the stream. Corinne's left hand inched nervously towards the bow slung over her shoulder, as the creature jumped off the ledge and skipped around the edge of the pool until he stood in front of her.
"Good morrow, fair maid," he said in a reedy high-pitched voice with a hint of a lisp. "I'm Urisk. Who be you?"
Corinne took a half step backwards. "H—hello. My n
ame is Corinne."
He smiled, showing small, slab-shaped teeth, but when he didn't say anything else or do anything threatening, she added, "I wonder if you could help me? I saw a white horse in the trees, and it led me here."
Urisk inclined his head questioningly.
"Have you seen it?" she asked.
The creature nodded sagely. "The water horse. Yes. He is very flighty. I am trying to catch him." His eyes narrowed. "Would you like to help me?"
Could this be another of Feyland's quests? The first time she'd played the game, she'd met a goblin who'd said in a sing-song voice, 'Only the pure can see the pure, only the pure will find him. Only with love will love be shown, only by love unbind him.' And after that, she'd found the unicorn. So she was probably due another quest by now. Maybe she had to help Urisk before she could hunt for the minstrel.
"Okay. What do you need me to do?"
"Follow me." Urisk jerked his head to the right and led her around the pool.
When Corinne stepped closer to the torrent falling off the cliff, a reviving mist of droplets peppered her skin. Motes of sunlight hitting the spray caused effervescent rainbows, which hung like will o' the wisps above the pool. That same spray sheened the rocks as Urisk led her onto the ledge at the base of the cliff and disappeared behind the waterfall.
Stepping carefully along the narrow ledge, her childhood fear of water had her hugging the cliff-face, well away from the scarily deep pool. Once behind the curtain of water, she moved slowly to let her eyes adjust. Inside, the cave was dark but not pitch-black. Faint dapples of light filtered through the waterfall; constantly moving to create a strange, underwater ambiance.
In a corner of the cave lay a nest of rough-woven blankets; a niche in the wall held wooden implements and crockery; a ledge was arrayed with baskets of what looked like herbs; and nearby, chunks of tree-trunk were arranged to provide a rustic table and stool. This must be where Urisk lived—and he was obviously house-proud, as the place was tidy and swept clean.