The Horse

I love fairytales and fantasy novels. In fact, I'm writing my own:


Shutting the door softly behind him, Marion followed her as she slipped between the shadows of the building and quickly moved down the road. The town roads gradually began to slope downhill and the once closely spaced stone buildings became sparser. They passed underneath a stone archway and exited the main city. The road began to double back on itself as the land became steeper, and soon they were walking on a gravel road amid densely spaced trees at the base of the hill. Marion struggled to keep his eye on Hessa as they marched; he could only catch glimpses of her figure darting between shafts of moonlight. Then, barely seen in the shadows ahead, Hessa turned off the gravel road and disappeared beyond two trees. Marion hurried to follow, finding a worn path where her silhouette had gone. The worn path turned to merely heavily trodden ground, to barely a separation in the brush, and then disappeared altogether. Hessa turned sharply once again and ducked under an old large oak that was leaning heavily to one side; its branches sprawled toward the ground like long arms with grasping fingers. It looked as if it could be a hundred years old.
“In here!” Marion heard her urgent whisper and the unmistakable sound of a squeaking gate. He ducked underneath the oak branches that clawed at his cloak. It took a moment after he stood upright for him to realize what he was looking at. It was a barn. Dilapidated and ugly, its wood siding was gray and moldy, the roof had gaping holes, the door hung crookedly on its hinges and no longer spanned the full distance across the doorway. Marion wondered what Hessa could possibly have to show him in a place so deserted and desolate as this.
Hessa disappeared behind the barn door and beckoned for Marion to follow. He crept into the shadows. He heard Hessa fumbling around for something in the corner; a match lit, and soon she was lifting a lantern. She stepped across the aisle of the barn and toward one of the stalls. Laying one hand on the wooden wall of the stall, she began to cluck softly.
Marion stepped toward the stall. His eyes were barely starting to adjust to the light. He peered into the darkness and a heavy shadow moved. Hessa lifted the lantern and the creature in the stall stepped toward them. Marion drew in a breath. It was huge. A shaft of moonlight passed over the back of the creature, revealing, narrow withers, a curving back, and strong haunches. It was a magnificent horse, unlike any Marion had ever seen. Its coat glittered golden in the moonlight, as if tiny stars were scattered it its fur. It moved smoothly and with power; before Marion had time to take it all in, it reached its head over the stall door and nudged Hessa.
“There, Boy, you’ve come to greet me.” She rubbed his nose along the pure white blaze that ran from between his eyes past his nostrils. He tossed his head in response and a yellow golden mane fluttered lightly on his neck.
The horse seemed to suddenly noticed Marion standing there and turned toward him, his blue eyes staring. Marion froze. It was almost as if human eyes were piercing into him.
“His name is Veridus,” Hessa said.
“Interesting name,” Marion grunted.
“He’s magnificent.”
Marion nodded in response. There was certainly something wonderful about this horse, but he didn’t know what. It would certainly be useful, however, magnificent or not. Riding horseback was much more enjoyable than walking.
“Come on, introduce yourself,” Hessa said, backing away from the animal.
Tentatively, Marion stepped forward to place a hand on his face. Veridus jerked his head away. Startled, Marion reached for his neck instead. “Thank you,” he said. “I mean, I’m assuming you are allowing me to borrow him.”
Hessa nodded. “Only if you take good care of him.”
“I certainly will,” Marion answered. “Horses can walk much faster than humans.”
Hessa gave him a small grin. “Oh you won’t be walking. His name is Veridus.”
Marion eyed her. “What does that mean?”
“It means winged horse. He can fly.”