The Fallen Odyssey

Chapter 10: Not Horses

Ahlund said something to Zechariah in words Justin couldn't understand. His voice was deep and sounded painfully hoarse from the smoke inhalation. As Zechariah rattled off a reply, Justin took pleasure in dropping the heavy pack to the ground beside him. He glared at it as he massaged his aching shoulder. It hadn't occurred to him until now to wonder why the old man needed books for a search and rescue mission.

When the men's conversation appeared to be over, Justin stepped forward.

"Ahlund?" he said.

Ahlund looked at him. Justin hesitated, feeling very small beneath his gaze.

"So, I don't really know what's happening right now," said Justin, "but Zechariah told me about what happened last night, and I guess that's sort of the reason you weren't here when whatever happened, happened. So, if I screwed things up for you and made what happened, uh, happen, then I wanted to say, I really didn't mean for anything like this to... occur. And I'm really-"

Ahlund turned and walked away.

"Sorry," Justin finished a moment later, now speaking to no one.

Ahlund approached one of the three not-horses, pulled himself up and into the saddle, and growled a few words at Zechariah. Then he gave a command, and his mount reared. Its hooves beat the ground as he rode off onto the grassland in the direction of the mountains. He did not look back.

Justin looked at Zechariah. "What'd he say?"

"He told us not to follow him," said Zechariah, "unless we wish to die today."

"Is that advice or a threat?" said Justin.

Zechariah didn't answer.

"It doesn't really seem like he wants our help," said Justin.

"Read between the lines, young man," Zechariah said as he slung his packs over one of the not-horses. "He took the time to saddle these steeds for us, didn't he? Besides, I never said he wanted our help, I said he needed it."

The third animal seemed to be watching Justin, and Justin wondered what kind of teeth were under its elephant-like trunk. Imitating Zechariah, he placed the satchel of books over the animal's back. He must have done something wrong, though, because it shifted its weight and let out an annoyed half-whinny, half-trumpet sound that made Justin jump.

"What are these things?" Justin said.

Zechariah cleared his throat and moved to assist. "This," he said, placing a hand on the animal's neck, "is a steed. They are for riding. To get on, put your foot in the stirrup here, grab the pommel there, pull up, and swing your leg over to the other stirrup."

"Okay," said Justin, "but I don't know how to ride-"

"They are smarter than they look," said Zechariah impatiently. "Yours will follow mine. All you have to do is not fall off."

Justin gave the animal another look, then grabbed the saddle and tried to do as Zechariah had instructed. He did a few warm-up motions-as if preparing to jump Jeff Emerson's fence-and hopped up. His stomach made it into the saddle, but the rest of him was stuck hanging there. He tried to work his body like a lever but only managed to wobble obscenely. The steed huffed and stomped its hooves in irritation. When Justin attempted to swing his leg over, his oversized boot got caught, and he promptly lost his grip, dropped like a stone, and hit the ground, producing a thoroughly indignant, "Oomph!"

The old man and the animals looked down at Justin. Even the steeds seemed embarrassed for him. He stood, brushing himself off.

"Foot got caught," Justin said, "and I couldn't... Well, it's trickier than it looks."

He tried again. This time, he almost made it but had to give up when things went awry. The steed shuffled anxiously. On the third try, Justin made it into the saddle. He shot Zechariah a proud smile. The old man did not congratulate him, though. He just bunched up his robes in one hand and hopped onto his steed with such ease that Justin's satisfaction vanished.

Zechariah tugged at his steed's reins, and the animal started moving. He clucked his tongue, and Justin's steed followed.

Justin's body seized up with the movement, fighting gravity that seemed to tug at him first from one side, then the other. It reminded him of the first time he'd tried to balance on a skateboard; he seemed to be using all the wrong muscles.

The steeds' walk sped to a canter, and as the canter became a run, Justin gave up on sitting straight and just grabbed the edges of the saddle with white knuckles, leaned against the animal's neck, and hoped for the best. His rear end bounced so hard against the saddle that it rattled his teeth. He was wondering if it was too late to jump off and run back to the house when he looked forward and saw something he hadn't noticed before. Hanging from Zechariah's side, previously hidden under his robes, was a scabbard holding the bronze hilt of a sword.