Chapter 4

“Come on, Suridan,” crooned the deep, gentle voice as a hand ran through the thick mane and across the hairy scaled neck of the solnatt horse. “If you don’t move, we’ll lose the wagon, and you’ll be stuck in Oland.” But Suridan, was stubborn, and refused to move away from the rare patch of grass that would be the last he would see on their trek across the desert. He danced around, swinging his head so that the rope attached to his halter pulled taut in Brolan’s hands. Unfortunately for him, Brolan was as stubborn. He kept his grip and continued to speak in the gentle voice, “without water or…fresh feed…or apples.” Suridan’s ears pricked up at his last word, and he nudged Brolan, eyes twinkling expectantly.

Brolan chuckled and pulled on the halter. “Not here,” Suridan gave the grass a mournful look, “in the wagon. Madè Ria has them.” The pair trudged through the shifting sand to the slowly moving line of caravans. Just as they reached it, an aging hand pulled aside the cloth flap and an imposing figure stepped out onto the back of the caravan and sat, an apple in her hand. Suridan pulled on the rope and Brolan let him trot up to her. He heard her laugh heartily as the horse danced around the caravan, swinging his head up and down for attention.

“Where’s that dancing horse my grandson keeps next to his caravan? I saw him this morning, but it looks like he ran off to do some mischief.” Ria wondered out loud, pointedly ignoring Suridan, a grin growing on her face at the horse’s antics. Suridan, recognizing the age-old trick, just stood in front of her and snorted, blowing her hair back. “Oh!” Ria laughed in mock surprise, “appeared right in front of me, that horse did! Maybe I should give him an apple.” Suridan’s ears pricked up even higher and he nodded his head. “Here you go, you silly horse.” Suridan took the apple delicately, as to not catch one of Ria’s fingers, and munched on it noisily.

“You indulge him to much.” Brolan said, “He’s going to turn fat and lazy, good for nothing but pulling your caravan. And even then you’ll probably have to hold an apple in front of him to get him moving. Big stomach.” Despite his words, Brolan patted Suridan’s neck affectionately, then turned to Ria. “How did you know, just then, that the apple was what he wanted?”

She smiled, turning her face into a tapestry of wrinkles and furrows. “It’s a gift that comes with being a shamani, Brolan. Besides the majik, which comes from mother to daughter, I can sense thoughts and emotions from any of my tribe. You should know that. A strange thing that Suridan’s thoughts are as clear as yours. From the other horses, all I get is a puddle of images. Except maybe Serèna, she’s like Suridan.”

“As clear as mine? That is very strange…” Brolan murmured as he watched Suridan finish his snack. “And Serèna came with him…” Brolan’s mind drifted to that day, many years ago, when the two horses had been discovered roaming around the caravan. They had wandered in during the night, and were found at dawn sleeping outside the wagon Brolan had occupied with Ria. He reached out and scratched Suridan’s head, and the horse stepped up to him, leaning on his shoulder.

“They are special, Brolan. I believe they came from the sands for you…” Ria said in a low voice. “And for the life of me, I do not know why.”

Brolan hoisted himself onto Suridan’s back and, in a contemplative silence, followed the caravan through the sands, leaving the city of Oland behind.