A half-turn toward my right. I’m certain something moved, but upon closer inspection, nothing appears out of the ordinary. An ornate mirror leans against a heap of purest emeralds. It reveals a scene, almost as if I peer through a window: the climbing white spires of a city perched atop a mountain’s crown, a shadow cloaking the base of its valley.
“How do you know I’m from the abbey?” I ask, continuing to scan the area, my every sense heightened. No sign of a sword that I can see.
The Stallion makes a light humming sound.You smell of the incense they burn on the Holy Days.
“We burn it,” I explain, “to clear the air of impurities.”
So I have heard.
His voice fades as abruptly as it manifested. Water patters from my soaked clothes, chipping away at the silence.
“Will you show yourself?” I ask. “I have traveled far to meet you.”
As do many who believe they are capable of besting me. They send the strongest, the swiftest, the cleverest. None can. You seem neither strong nor quick, unfortunately.
I force myself to stand tall. “It is true I am not the swiftest, or strongest, or cleverest,” I state, backing toward a wall, “but I have made it this far. Surely that is a testament to my will.”
Your will means nothing to me. You, Daughter of Thornbrook, are not welcome. Pray to your god, girl, for your death will be neither quick nor painless.
So the Orchid King was right. I am not welcome here. It seems my blood didn’t appease the Stallion either.
“Why do you wish to kill me?” I search the water again. I’m certain something lurks beneath the surface. “Does my faith offend you?”
It is not your faith that offends me. It is your interpretation of it. A faith that sanctions stealing from others? I will have no part of it.
“We do not steal,” I snap. Formidable creature or not, I will defend the Father by any means necessary. “We spread good and kindness through His teachings.”
Then why must I defend my cache against yet another Daughter of your faith?
I glance upward, peering into the chamber’s farthest corners. “I do not understand.”
Only once before has a mortal entered my Grotto and escaped with their life, a stolen treasure in hand.
No wonder the Stallion doesn’t trust me. “I’m not here to steal from you. I’m here to bargain.”
Nothing you offer interests me. You are young, girl. Untried. Too innocent for this world. I will extend to you this mercy: leave, if you cherish your life.
“I won’t go.” Not without Meirlach.
Then you have welcomed your own demise.
The river shatters into a thousand lapping waves. I stumble back, retreating farther into the cavern as the Stallion emerges in pieces: long snout, tapered head, water pouring from its massive hindquarters, and an impenetrable coat of glossy pitch. River grass hangs from its equally dark mane and tail.
The towering steed extends perhaps twenty-five hands, maybe more. Its rheumy eyes are filmed in white, without pupil or iris. Zephyrus was correct. It is blind.
The Stallion clops toward me. Muscle shifts beneath the coal flesh encasing its musculature. I scuttle backward, dagger in hand.
“You will not even hear what I have to offer you?” I stutter, wide eyes pinned to its sleek, oily coat. “I thought kelpies enjoyed a good bargain.”
You wish to bargain? Climb onto my back,the Stallion’s voice says inside my head,and I will gift you a treasure from my cache.
Indeed, I have heard the tales. Water-horses that prey on women. Once I mount its back, it will return to the river and drag me down.
“I wish to fight you for the opportunity to win an object from your cache,” I say. “A duel. That is fair.” And by the end, my blade must be buried deep into its heart. “Will you flee?”
Flee?The horse shakes its head. Water sprays, flecking my cheek.What have I to flee from? Come, girl. Climb onto my back. Let the bargain be fulfilled.
I retreat until my spine hits the wall. “I will not.”
