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50. All Those Pretty Horses


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#1 Guest_Oryx_*

Posted 18 July 2004 - 02:35 AM

50. All Those Pretty Horses

Imoen spent the entire morning march pestering Dynaheir with questions ranging from magic to men to the East. The Wychalarn had been more forthcoming on some subjects than others, but by the zenith of the sun’s arc and their stop for lunch, Imoen felt she was ready to attempt to cast from an arcane scroll. Although she still hadn’t triggered any wand save the one of magic missiles she had ‘borrowed’ from Candlekeep, she had felt since yesterday all their wands were now completely within her intuition. She now felt she could piece together Dynaheir’s teachings to try the next most difficult type of arcana, spell completion based upon a scroll. And while the others were dining on bread and cheese and salted meats, she scampered off into the forest with one of Thalantyr’s vast stash, a scroll of the spell Find Familiar.

“Well this seems a nice spot as any,” Imoen mused to herself as she came upon a bed of pretty flowers, “I guess I’d any of the animals I might find around here…oooo!” Her eyes widened as a pinky-purple-featherd songbird swooped down, landing lightly on a branch, and proceeded to chirp a happy melody. Pink-n-purple! Perfect! she thought. But that’s so strange! Clearly she’s here just for me! Yesyesyes… She unfurled the scroll. Ok, ok…better not cast too fast or I’ll mess my spell up. I just hope my birdie stays around. Good birdie! It seemed content to sit there and chirp, and her heart quickened when she felt it was looking at her.

She sat crosslegged, and studied the runes, etched into the vellum with a green powdery substance in a four-by-four array. She thought for a moment. Scroll-runes were not a recipe for anyone who was simply able to pronounce them, no, the magecraft was in the interpretation and interpolation, reading between the runes, weaving it all into a single unified spell. Her brain burned, and she forced her giddy self to remain calm and cool. Her bird was chirping on. Imoen formed her lips and rolled her tongue and cast. ”Ronestu da…”

She chanted on and on, each sound randomly moving to the next in the dense information-packed language of magic. She had woven through to the thirteen rune, her heart was beating terribly fast, but her bird was stil chirping, almost with her she was sure, and she forced her pace to remain still and steady.

Her bird flew off.

No! Imoen very nearly missed a syllable, and her eyes teared up, but still she forced herself on; she must maintain the pace, there was no room for error in the magic. But her heart sank, and she wondered if she should give it up, and try again some other time; there were more scrolls. But a part of her refused to give up, and the last syllable hissed out her lips. ”...sororise.”

Tears streamed down her face as she stood, she could no longer see the bird. She began to fear, and recoil from trees and plants, lest some nasty centipede deem itself her familiar now. No, no, Immy! she chastised herself. Musn’t think of icky things! Something nice…like a dream…

…a dream…my dream…

Imoen heard the whinny, and her heart leapt with joy. Her eyes watered, and she thought she saw a soft white light wreathing the shape that burst from behind trees and ivy, from where it could not possibly have hidden. From her dream. A unicorn. The unicorn. Her unicorn. Amalthea.

All about her seemed to slow down as the unicorn galloped with an unearthly grace, hooves deforming not a single blade of grass, and came to her. Her eyes were blue and bright and intelligent, more like a woman’s than a horse’s, and she lowered her head, the pearly alicorn shimmering with white light in a rainbow across its spirals, just before Imoen’s blissful and amazed face. Amalthea had not spoken in the dream, yet Imoen had known her mind and understanding. Now her musical voice resonated with a lilt in tempo with the girl’s own heartbeat. “I am gladdened to be called again, Imoen,” she whinnied and it sang in Imoen’s mind. “It is good to see you in the waking world. You are all the more vibrant, and have grown since we last met in the astral plane. I have seen many things in many ages of this world, mortal maiden. You are the brightest of them all.”
Amalthea’s face fell forward, the alicorn caressing Imoen’s cheek and her mouth nuzzling the girl’s shoulder. Imoen giggled and rubbed the horse’s cheek, and tears of joy streamed down her round cheeks, blurring away Viconia’s black eyeshadow, which she rubbed away with the palms of her hands. “It’s good to see you again, Amalthea. My very own unicorn. This is a dream come true.”

--

Onyx and Safana ate hurriedly and wandered off, holding hands and making for the furthest and thickest foliage. She purred as he pulled her against a tree and began kissing her, but a low growl of impatience came up from her throat when he stopped suddenly, and pulled away, looking off further into the forest. He took a step away, and she hissed in frustration, reaching out to pull himself back against her, but when he wouldn’t be moved, she settled for pulling herself away from the tree and against him. He absently held her about the waist, but was still gazing off. “Hello in there…” she purred into his ear, “Can Onyx come out to play?”

“Wait…” he drawled, “I feel something.”

“Oh?” she rubbed her hip across his ankheg-armored anatomy. “So do I.”

“Something out there…” he drawled on, and pointed, moving his splayed fingers back and forth as if he were not really sure where this something was.

Alert at once, Safana backed away from him, and drew a throwing knife, trying to track his gaze with her own. “Something good,” Onyx whispered, and she put the knife away.

Safana looked on, with vague confusion and irritation. “So far it seems more like something inconvenient.” She hground her heel into the grass as Onyx seemed to pay her no heed, captivated by something she couldn’t see. She waved her hand across his face for a second, and he made barely an attempt to brush it away. “If another fey has charmed you,” she hissed, “I’ll rip her pretty face off.” Onyx’s waving hand reached out and clasped hers, rubbing her palm with his thumb in reassurance. Safana traded in anger for boredom, tapping a finger against her hip and staring blankly into the woods.

After several minutes, Onyx spoke. “I know what it is.”

“Well then, what?” she snapped.

He turned to her, and smiled. “My mount.”

“She’s right here!” Safana snarled, and pointed a thumb at herself. She turned as a galloping sound echoed, and a great flash of white appeared through the trees. “Ah…” she smiled, “The quintessential noble steed. Fast, strong, and very white.”

“You should be thrilled,” Onyx grinned, “You’re well on your way to having your very own knight in shining armor.”

“As long as it unhinges easily,” she purred

“Faster if you help,” he winked. She was about to take him up on that, but the great white stallion thundered up and landed before each of them, looking with moony brown eyes that shifted between the paladin and pirate with a quick intelligence.

Safana now seemed rather pleased by the affair, and with a soft cooing sound she reached out to stroke the statllion between his eyes. Her voice took on a faint vibration, and Onyx gained a strange sensation coming not from himself, but the horse. “You’re trying to charm him,” he said, “Don’t.”

Safana took back her hand and looked at him in surprise. “I…” she gathered herself, and smiled soothingly at him, “I suppose I have always had a way with animals.”

Onyx crooked his eyebrows. “Have you?”

“Sometimes I think it’s just a knack,” she smiled, “Sometimes I wonder if it’s a boon from Sharess.”

“I knew you revered the Dancing Lady, but…say, when do you make your prayers, anyway?”

Safana laughed, and curled a hand around the back of Onyx’s head, scratching the short hair. “Why, silly, when I am with you.”

“Oh.”

Safana giggled with her tongue clenched between her teeth, and turned back to the stallion, petting him again. “What shall we name him?”

Onyx smiled proudly, and the stallion looked at his new paladin in earnest. “I decided a long time ago. My trusty steed shall be known as…Lance.”

“Lance?”

“Yeah…get it?”

“But you don’t even have a lance!”

“Yes I do.”

“Of course you do, lover, I mean-“

“Back at Candlekeep. Well, really it’s Jondalar’s, but practically I’d want at least three anyway…” Onyx trailed off, and he looked groundwards. Lance mimiced his new master, large brown eyes growing sad. “…I left Candlekeep in a hurry. I left much behind.”

Safana curtailed her impatience, and her face softened in sympathy. She half-knelt, a hand cradling the underside of Onyx’s jaw, and she looked up at him, her own brown eyes moist. “I hope you have gained it back and more.”

“Yes…” he sighed, “And no…” he looked down, and she rose again, and kissed him deeply. “Ammmmd….yemms.” He drew back and his fingers played intimately across her face. “Yes, Safana, I believe I have. Thank you.” He kissed her once more, and Lance knelt down. Safana slid over his back and Onyx behind her, and as the horse rose, he felt more like some centaur than the horserider he had been, his mount moving at his thoughts; and though he had never learned bareback found this perfectly natural. As he looked around, he felt more as if he were standing twelve feet tall than riding another beast, and Safana nestled back against him as they rode now back through the forest.

Lance perked up after several minutes. “What?” Safana raised a lazy eyebrow, nearly dozing in her perch, so carried of ease was she, not even clutching with the strong riding muscles of her thighs.

Onyx looked about, with dreamy eyes. “She is near.”

“Whom?”

“Imoen.”

“I don’t hear the telltale chattering.”

“Neither do I,” Onyx answered, “But Lance knows. She is near…and she is not alone either.” Lance broke into a fast trot, and they came upon a sight both riders would remember for a long time. Imoen, black hair whipping fast upon a white flash that at first neither saw for what it was.

Safana cried at once, “A unicorn.”

“Ony! Sassy!” Imoen waved, and her eyes were gleaming bright. She rode up and they met above ferns. “Heya, this is Amalthea!”

“Imoen!” Onyx gasped, and his blue eyes met Amalthea’s in recognition; he remembered well her swooping down ridden by Imoen, and catching him before his fall into the endless fiery clouds of the nightmare. The unicorn gazed intently at the paladin, and let out a soft whinny as Imoen smiled at him, then his own mount. “And this is Lance.” The stallion neighed in greeting.

Safana had slid down from Lance and traipsed through the ferns to Amalthea, whose blue eyes were cautious, as was Imoen’s. The unicorn recoiled subtly at Safana’s outstretched hand, and Imoen’s own face in mimicry, and tears streamed from the lady pirate’s cheeks. “Where were you…” she cried, “Where were you when I was a girl? Only to come before me now, this…” she bit her lip, and Amalthea craned out again, brushing her muzzle past the hand, and touching Safana’s cheek with the tip of her nose. Safana fell in, and hugged the unicorn about the neck, and Imoen giggled. Lance bellowed, and Onyx threw back his head and laughed.

--

Crouched upon a rock like some monster, Viconia hissed.

“What is it, underground lady?” Minsc asked. “Do you see some evil about?”

“I am evil, idiot.”

“How about some evil that needs cold steel, and not a warm hug?”

“Worse…” Viconia’s face contorted, “It is…” her eyes widened and burned like at as Imoen came galloping into the clearing atop Amalthea. “A unicorn!” Viconia signed a hex in the air, and recoiled back behind the rock. Amalthea reared up and whinnied, and Imoen looked scared. The drow’s eye’s darted as another white equine burst into view carrying Safana and Onyx. They charged and reared up just before the drow with great smiles. Viconia grinned darkly. “You can ride bareback?” Her gaze litled on Safana. “Ah, but of course you can.”

Safana spat to the ground. “Says the dominatrix.”

“Oh,” Viconia gasped in mock wounding, “You say that like a bag thing.”

She pouted, and stroked Lance’s shank happily, flitting her eyes at Onyx. “Say,” the paladin asked, “What is it with women and horses anyway?”

Safana shrugged, but Viconia cackled, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Amalthea curved her head about to look inquisitively at Imoen, and the girl mumbled “Idunno!” and shrugged.




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