Tales of Xyanthia: Part Six

This is a dual collaberation story with DarkRen and myself, Part Five is HERE, if you haven’t read it yet. His sections will be in Violet and mine will be in Blue. And, a shameless plug, just in case you haven’t started reading this at all and want to start at the beginning, the first part is HERE

“Yes..” Renyck spoke quietly, though if it was to Jerrin or the elegant blade the king could not decide.

“Very good, this way.” Jerrin added, his tone firmed. That seemed to break the young man from his distraction and thus they again traversed the courtyard. To an arch nestled into a well sculpted alcove of its white stone walls. From there, a path of ivory hued cobbles lead around the side of the wall to a low, wide building set beside the wall. When the two approached near Renyck knew it to be a stable by the scent of animals and freshly hewn hay that lingered in the air.

At the door, which allowed entry, Jerrin paused. “I will not enter with you. When you are ready I wish you to meet me back by the wall’s arch. I shall have your cloak and the only clues I have to give. I pray that they will lead you well.”

“Thank you, Lord.” Renyck responded, dipping in a slight bow. It was returned, and then Jerrin departed back along the path and soon out of sight. In the meanwhile Renyck looked toward the shaded interior of the stables. He could not hear telltale sounds, though the smells were fresh.

A warm pulse from his hand drew his eyes down to the elegant blade that he still held in hand. So comfortable he’d almost forgot his fingers were wrapped about the hilt. “What shall I do with you?” he murmured lightly, almost to himself. As if responding to his question a barely perceptible shimmer passed along the slim blade, followed by the manifestation of a slight weight against his back. His brow creased in silent question he reached back with his left hand, feeling that something had come into being upon him.

A scabbard of well-tooled leather it was. The slim girth told him its purpose and he was quick to test, lifting the blade over his left shoulder to slide it into the sheath. It fit perfectly and sat comfortably against his back, the hilt set just so over his left shoulder to be easily drawn. Feeling another slight surge of wonder he looked into, then slowly entered the dimly lit stable.

The air is cool, but not uncomfortably so, as he walks into the darkened enclosure; the stamp of a shod hoof, the resultant rustles of hay upon the wood beneath. As his eyes adjust, the rustling sounds he could hear are coupled with the swish of a deep midnight black tail, silky textured, the stable seeming much smaller when the tall horses head swings around to face the intruder. Nostrils flare in the stallions features, ears pricked forward to catch any sound, the eyes though, so compelling, so intelligent, wild and dangerous, almost threatening. He tosses his head back, mane flying proudly in the cool air, turning towards Renyck as he wheels on his hind feet, fore legs lifted from the ground. The challenging neigh breaks the silence, before he paces forward, towards the smaller man.

At the approach of the stallion, Renyck is taken aback, but only for a split second as he weighs his Lord’s words in his mind. No one else has been able to tame this magnificent creature, yet in all that has happened, it makes sense to him. He meets the imperious gaze of the coal black eyes, he as well lifting his chin in resolute assurance. “Relax, great one, we two are paired rightly. She needs us.” he states lowly, more confidence than he might truly feel, but he does not back away, he does not show fear, he waits for the choice to be made.

The wild flicker fades at the voice of the young man, a keen intelligence lit in the eyes of the stallion, he places one hoof on the ground, disturbing the hay slightly and dips his head once before raising it again. Renyck approaches slowly, meeting the stallion across the stable; he raises a hand, lowering his head slightly to exhale his breath, letting the horse become accustomed to his scent. The stallions’ nostrils flare at that, and he raises his head to nudge against the hand, with a low chuckle, Renyck runs his hand along his forelock, “Yes, well met indeed.” he murmurs quietly.

Renyck spent several minutes with the stallion, giving attention that was not forced. The animal was magnificent. A warhorse, which might be better, assigned a king than to himself. But soon he remembered himself and his charge. With a parting touch he made for a nearby saddle and prepared his steed with the utmost of care. The stallion stood with a proud air, as he was prepared, not at all flinching from the bit and bridle. To Renyck it seemed the posture a warrior might take when accepting his armor.

When it was done Renyck took a moment to observe his new companion. Feeling a sense of pride he carefully mounted up, needing more of a push off to leap astride this tall stallion. The young man felt a moment of apprehension as his training in riding flew from mind for but a moment before he forced himself to recall and guided the proud stallion forth.

The easy canter ate ground hungrily, Renyck able to feel the power and energy in his mount. The sheer thought of his gallop was daunting and at the same time anticipated and desired..

Part Seven is ready, you can find it HERE.