Where’d she come from? She’s beautiful. Like my mother. The filly’s voice rang in my mind.
Just showed up. She seems to have claimed Etta.
Oh good. Etta needs someone. The filly stopped at the edge of the patio. Something seemed to hold her back, maybe some kind of part of pegasus society. The unicorns stopped behind her. I’ll wait until she wakes up. I think she came from a long way away. She smells different, like when it snows.
Interesting. Perhaps she’d come from the mountains or from some higher elevation. The filly drank out of the trough, then went over to the hay and stood outside, not even stepping on the mats beneath the shade to nibble at the food. The unicorns went to the hay and ate, also keeping a distance.
I reviewed the final application. This person definitely was a no as far as I was concerned. Only teaching experience came from Melody, no horse or outdoors experience. Had been in Washington DC prior to that working in the main Musimagium office. Seemed like a plant to me, one that I wasn’t keen to have in my academy. I wrote back to Paul my concerns and dismissal of her application, then brought up the others.
Etta walked down the hall, wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She refilled her glass of water, then sat. “So tell me about these applications.”
“Well I already dismissed one.” When I explained why, Etta agreed. “There’s one for a magical history position. He grew up and went to school in Melody but has been teaching at the Des Moines auxiliary. His mother lives in Albuquerque, and a position hadn’t opened up there yet, so he’s looking to move closer to her. He seems to have a really solid resume, and I liked the letter he wrote talking about why he’d want to work on an academy so far out from most cities. We haven’t told anyone else about the pegasus and unicorns yet. Only that this was a suitable site for a new academy to be a southern version of Melody.” I laughed. “I think we’re going to be better.”
“Sounds good. And the other?”
“A practical applications teacher. She’s been a part of Armis for many years. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I have some misgivings. I’d much rather it be someone who was doing something else. I may have to talk to Paul about that.”
“I think you’re right.” Etta glanced out the patio door at her still sleeping pegasus. “I share your misgivings about Armis, though I think most people in the Musimagium do.”
“I’ll let Paul know my concerns and see what we can come up with. I believe we’re a good six months out from seriously looking at staff, so I’m not sure where these resumes are coming from. I didn’t think word had gone out yet.” I focused my attention on the keyboard and began typing up the emails.
“I’m going to do the chores.” Etta put her glass in the sink, then stepped out the patio doors to take care of manure and making sure the water trough and hay bunk were filled.
I drafted an email to both Olivia and Rose. The pegasus’ words, that others would be coming, bothered me. I asked them if they could ask their herds what may have happened in the past or if they had any knowledge of anything like this. Then, I opened the box of books that arrived, surprised to see one of them was The History of Magical Equines in the Musimagium. That might just have the answers I was looking for.
~* * *~
I spent the afternoon curled up on the couch with the book. The filly made soft inquiries from time to time. Was I going to come out and groom her? Would I come out and spend some time with her? I replied that my joints hurt today, which wasn’t a lie, and I was doing research for the new academy. She sighed, and came up to the patio door to rest where she could keep an eye on me.
Etta had asked if I’d needed anything, then grabbed a travel water bottle and gone outside. Soon after, she and her pegasus had walked away from the house. I’d watched them go before turning my attention back to my book.
From time to time magical equines have allied themselves with members of the Musimagium. Though some don’t know how they choose to do this, it seems to herald a time of war and battle, or at least a need to defend the Musimagium from an outside threat. The last time this happened was during World War II, when it was feared the nativism and nationalist hysteria which gripped much of central Europe would spread to America. Many of the equines worked with our European branches and allies to protect them, and it is said that some assisted General Patton with the removal of Lipizzaner horses from war-torn Austria.
I held my breath. There’d been talk on the frequencies that some kind of war between magical and non-magical might be coming. Some of the edicts the government had issued in regards to the Great Dividing seemed to be aimed at driving a wedge between the two populations. The Radio Arcanum Times mentioned that we must be vigilant for Aquari Testimoni and Noctis activity and report it to Armis. While I suspected Armis would have a presence at the academy, I also didn’t want the vast majority of teachers to be participants in the secretive group.
Kestara’s appearance here, not to mention someone telling Melody to double the size of the stables certainly boded ill for the future needs. Except, in her mind, having riders on equines when facing enemies that had far superior weapons power seemed like bringing a knife to a gun fight. Not one to be tactical-minded, other than how to get to a piano venue and dressed for a concert in time, I replied back to Paul about the Armis application I received.
Do you think this person would be able to teach tactics? If we’re building up to something, then we need to know how to fight and what weapons to use. We need a weapons master at the very least, but I think someone versed in flight combat, like maybe a drone pilot, would understand the three dimensions pegasus work in.
I stared at the message. Not something I ever expected to type, let alone think about. I marked the page of my book, then grabbed my cane and stood.
Filly, are you around? I didn’t see her on the back porch, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t close.
Coming.
By the time I opened the patio door, she trotted over to me. I closed the door behind me, then sat in the chair. There’s something I need to talk to you about and we may need to talk to your parents as well. I don’t know what kind of ancestral memory you have.
Chapter Three
Sitting astride the filly while we rode out to the shed—the short distance made flying impractical—a rock formed in the pit of my stomach. While she hadn’t yet received the full complement of ancestral memories, which wouldn’t happen for another couple of years, her parents both had them and she felt my questions serious enough that we needed to talk to them.
I hated bothering the pair. Since the stallion had announced, through his filly, that the mare had conceived, they stayed quiet and rarely showed themselves to me. I saw them at the water trough once on an especially hot day, but other than that I hadn’t seen them. However, the filly assured me that we wouldn’t be disturbing them and with my questions her parents would want to talk to me. I hoped she was right.
The filly slowed as we approached the shed, stopping and presumably giving some sort of mental greeting. A few seconds later, she walked forward again, a spring in her step. The mare lay in the shed, her head tucked beneath her wing sleeping. The stallion stood guard over her.
My little one tells me you want our help. You fear we will need to fight.
Though putting it that way seemed a little strong, I agreed. Yes. Someone told us to expand the stables. Doubling it. And now another pegasus has shown up at my property and claimed Etta, if that’s what it’s called.
Yes, we choose our riders, as my little one has chosen you.
The filly turned her head and nudged my knee playfully. I hid my wince as she jostled it a bit harder than anticipated.
“What can we do? Do you have any memories of this happening in the past? I have books, but I’m a concert pianist. I’m not a soldier. I don’t even particularly like fighting.” The memory of when the teenagers were shooting at us rose unbidden in my mind, the rage and fury I felt and wished I
could have channeled it to them. If that was what being a warrior was like, it scared me.
This has happened before and it will happen again. We sense it. I cannot explain, but it is a calling, a knowing. And yes, we know something is coming. While I hope that my little one and you do not have to fight, we will share all we can in the hopes that we can prevent it. I do not have any knowledge that can help you except tales of the past. Neither I, nor my grandsire had to fight, and I do not believe his sire needed to either. Though a long great grandsire protected Melody during what you call the civil War.
If they lived the lifespan of a normal horse, then that could be many generations back.
We do not age as you do. Though we do not live forever either. We are here until the magic calls us home.
I patted the filly’s neck, thankful I wouldn’t have to worry about losing her in twenty or thirty years. More likely, she’d be the one to lose me, and I shuddered at the thought.
I will pass on the memories to my daughter who can then pass them onto you. They are sacred. We are trusting you with this information.
“Thank you.” I bowed my head.
You are very welcome. Come here little one.
The filly stepped forward and touched her nose to her father’s. They stood there for long moments, breathing into each other’s nostrils. Then, the filly backed up, bowed her head, and turned for home. Whatever had transpired, we were done.
We returned to the patio, where she knelt down for me to dismount, then stood so I could groom her. She took long drinks, then settled on the mats. I must sleep and assimilate this information. It is a lot. Then, I will share with you.
I wiped my brow. “Rest well.” I rubbed between her ears, then bent over and kissed her forehead. The idea of going into battle with her turned my stomach, though I also knew I couldn’t ask for a better, more steadfast, companion.
~* * *~
“What do we do if more pegasus arrive?” Etta asked over supper. She shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth and chewed.
I shrugged. “Do you think they’re come so soon. We have room for a few more, I guess.” From the table I lacked a straight line of sight to the patio, though the last time I looked the two pegasus and the unicorns snoozed there. “I just figured the others that she talked about would come after we got the stables built. We don’t have anyone else here to care for them, and you and I can only take care of so many.” As it was, I needed to get outside and groom the unicorn mare. Her mate still chose to not participate in any human activities, though often stood watch while I brushed the mare.
“We don’t have much room and we’ll need to find something to do with the manure.” She paused. “Sorry, we’re eating. It’s just, I’ve been thinking about what Kestara has said about others coming. We have so much we don’t know.”
I nodded, because I’d been thinking along those same lines. “All we can do is take it a day at a time. Like my playing.” I smiled because I planned to practice as soon as we finished eating. “When you first arrived I hardly ever played, afraid I’d never get back to my past levels. Now, I play every day, sometimes a couple of times a day. My fingers still hurt. I know I’m not in concert form. I’m better than I was though, and if I hadn’t started taking it a day at a time, I wouldn’t be here.”
Etta nodded and chewed another mouthful of food. “I see what you’re saying,” she replied after swallowing. “It’s just…I like to have everything planned out. Something’s coming. Something’s happening. I think the pegasus know.”
“The filly’s father pretty much told me that. He shared some ancestral memories with the filly who will be sharing them with me. It’s possible your Kestara has them as well, though she may still be recovering from her travels. All we can do is work with the knowledge that we have.” I paused, trying to determine if I needed to say anything else. One thing I’d learned on the concert circuit was to take each day as it came. The venues I thought would be disasters turned out to be some of my best concerts. Other times, I was right. I never know until the day unfolded and something told me this was going to be that exact same way.
“Patience.” She laughed. “That was never my strong point.”
“Mine either, but you learn.” I shrugged and finished my glass of sparkling water. By the time I took my empty plate and glass to the sink, Etta had finished her meal. She said she’d clean up, so I went to the piano. I rubbed some pain cream into the back of my hands, sighing as the warmth seeped into my skin and muscles. Then, I flexed my fingers, satisfied with my range of motion. I rested my hands on the keys, took a deep breath and began to play.
Mostly I worked scale exercises, the mirror we’d placed on top of the piano allowing me to see through the glass doors onto the patio. As usual, the filly and the unicorns came to the door, watching with rapt attention as I played. If the nights were cool enough, we opened the glass door so the screen was the only thing separating us, and the equines liked to tap their hooves in time to the music. Tonight, Kestara also stood with them, ears pricked forward, as if in rapt attention.
From the scales I moved into some easy Chopin. My fingers danced across the keys. The music flowed through me, my magic rising to meet it. The enjoyment filled my veins, giving me the strength to work the pedals and play with more vigor. Having an audience again, even if it were an audience of just Etta and the equines, buoyed my spirits. I glanced into the kitchen and watched Etta swaying as she rinsed dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. A moment later she latched it, and presumably set the delay so it wouldn’t begin until I was done playing.
Feeling good, I brought the song to a close and transitioned into another. Some Gershwin to lighten the mood, the swinging tempo making me long to get up and dance. I rocked back and forth with the music, while Etta stepped her way to the back door. By the time the song ended my fingers hurt, so I closed with a piece I remembered my mother playing, a lullaby of sorts, then let the last note linger in the air before lifting my hands from the keys.
“I’m so glad you’re playing again,” Etta said, still staring out to the patio. “I don’t believe Kestara had ever heard music like this before.”
I reached out to the filly. Tell Kestara I’m glad she enjoyed the music and hopefully she’ll hear more of it.
A few moments later the filly replied. She says it’s beautiful. She never knew humans could make such things.
Some of us can. I hadn’t asked what instruments Etta played. I hadn’t heard her practicing music, but I suspected if what the pegasus believed would come to pass we’d have to know sooner rather than later.
Loud booms rocked the house and I stumbled back against the piano bench, reaching for something sturdy.
“What was that?” Etta asked, glancing outside. “They appear unharmed, but startled.”
The equines stood, legs spread wide, heads turned in the direction of the school.
“I think they agree it came from the building site.” I stood, feeling stronger, and grabbed my helmet off the coat tree by the patio doors. Fastening it on my head, I stepped outside. “We’re going to have to take a look.”
“I can come with you.” Though Etta didn’t yet have a helmet, she followed me outside.
The filly knelt. It came from the school. We must hurry.
I swung my leg over her back and no sooner had I slid into place, before she rose to her feet and took off at a trot. I tangled my fingers in her mane, the joints aching since I’d just been playing. I lacked a weapon, any way to defend myself. If something truly had befallen the building site, I lacked even my cell phone. Hopefully Etta had hers in her pocket since she seemed to carry it everywhere. I’d yet to develop the habit.
Kestara rose into the air next to us, Etta on her back. From our vantage point, we saw the suspended walkway, what I’d been calling the bridge, fallen to the ground, a plume of smoke and dust rising from it.
“Oh god,” I muttered. “I don’t think that was planned.”
The s
pire on the one administration building swayed back and forth, as if that building too were in danger of toppling. The workers had come from the Musimagium, so they knew about the pegasus and the reason why they were building, or at least they could guess if they hadn’t been told directly. How they’d react to two pegasus landing next to this, I wasn’t sure.
We’d find out soon because the filly was descending next to a the pile of rubble where there’d once been a stone walkway and heavy equipment moving in on the other side.
“What happened here?” I asked as we landed. “Is everyone all right and accounted for?”
“Two men are trapped.”
From inside the pile I heard anguished groans of pain.
Chapter Four
“Do you know Subvolo?” I asked Etta before addressing the workers. “Who here is Musimagium?”
A middle aged man in a red hard hat stepped forward. “I’m the mage on shift. I can help. I know that spell.”
“I do too,” Etta answered.
We can lend energy, the filly added.
“Okay, let’s see if we can lift debris. Is there anything behind the building? Can we fling it there to be picked up later?” I stepped forward, shocked at my calm-headedness and take-charge attitude.
“That’s fine,” one of the workman said. “I just want to get my guys free. We’re not Musi-whatsa, but we know what you are and work for your people.”
“We’ll do our best.”
I strode forward, thinking much like the fallen roof on the horse shed, the closer we were the better we could focus our magic. Leaning forward, I touched several of the bigger chunks of rock. The others did the same.
I closed my eyes to draw the magic within me. The filly walked behind me, her muzzle touching my shoulder. Kestara mirrored her movements with Etta.
“On the count of three. One. Two. Three. Subvolo!” I poured all the energy I had into lifting as much of the debris as possible. Behind me the filly and Kestara’s energy burned bright. The pile shifted, shuddered once, then flew to the empty space behind the buildings with a crash and a cloud of dust.
Pegasus In Flight: A Musimagium Story (The Pegasus Enchantment Book 2) Page 2