Andre Norton - The Key of the Keplian

Behind her Eleeri spun her mount, then froze him with a mental command. Her hands moved even faster as bowstring snapped taut and arrow flew. She had always had an eye for bow skill, but the years of Far Traveler’s teaching and her own hours of practice had refined this even more. Now she shot, whipped another arrow to bow, and shot again. The men who fronted the frantic mare went down. Neither was dead, not for those fractions of a second before Tharna reached them. After that they were not only dead but bloodily so.

Gerae had seen them fall. He fled—at the fastest speed he could goad his mount to attaining. But arrows fly faster. Tharna had started after him, and as he slid limply from his racing horse, she reached him with teeth and hooves. Not until the body was all but shredded did she desist. Hylan stood by. To a small colt untouched, it was all very exciting, but he was hungry again. He whickered hopefully.

His mother leaped for him, running her muzzle over his body. He was uninjured. She swung her hindquarters to allow him to nurse and stood, deeply contented. The girl approached and Tharna made an ugly sound, a kind of low snarling.

Eleeri looked into her eyes. They blazed a terrible red. She’d never really noticed that before. But now that she thought of it, the mare’s eyes had always had a reddish cast. Oh, well, Tharna wasn’t a horse; it was probably the Keplian eye color. She moved forward, crooning to the colt. Her mind reached out to her friend as she did so.

Tharna was off guard mentally. For the first time the girl’s mind penetrated her surface thoughts. She swayed in shock. Ka-dih, what was this one to whom Eleeri had given friendship? A roiling maelstrom of emotion met her startled mind. Different. Terrifying. She disciplined herself. This was Tharna. They had traveled together, cared for Hylan together, fought to guard one another. This was a Keplian, she reminded herself, not a horse; she must accept Tharna’s differences and cherish the friend in her.

As she struggled, the mare stood motionless, waiting, poised like a predator. With a wild effort, Eleeri subdued her fears and walked forward.

“Battle-sister, is Hylan unhurt?”

A vast surprise enveloped her so that she halted. Her emotion? No, it was the mare’s emotions she felt. She lifted a slow hand to stroke the mane out of her friend’s eyes.

“What is all this surprise, and is Hylan unhurt?”

The mare found mind-voice. *My son is uninjured, thanks to you and your arrows. But—* she faltered, *you still wish to travel with me?*

“How not?”

*You touched my mind truly. I felt it, I felt your shock, your fear. Others of your kind have done this and always they have then turned against us to kill. Will you now hate me and mine, seek to slay?* She peered down thoughtfully. *Once, when I thought of this, I wondered if reaching our inner minds sent humans mad. Humans hate and fear us as it is. Maybe to know us is to fear us even more.* Her skin shivered.

Eleeri reached out again. This time, knowing what seethed below the surface thought, she was able to control her instinctive fear. Gradually she made sense of the seething power, the blazing emotions, finding they quietened as she did so. It was as if her own lessening of fear soothed the mare’s. Using that knowledge, she smoothed out their emotions until both were calm again. She stood thinking as the colt nursed.

“Tharna, it seems to me that we act on each other.”

The fine powerful head above her nodded.

Eleeri leaned against a warm shoulder, absently stroking it. “That first contact with your mind was terrible. But when I thrust away fear and returned, it was no longer so frightening. Now, as my mind touches yours without fear, your mind, too, is calm.” She deepened the bond slowly and spoke then, asking the question she had thought before.

“Are you of the Dark, battle-sister? I do not think so, but those others did.”

The mare shook her head and stamped a hoof, bringing a squeal of indignation from the foal. He hadn’t finished yet. His mother should remain still.

*We are not born to the Dark, only to shade and shadow. Some make the choice to join wholly with the Dark, others do not. Long ago when the adepts warred, we were made. Why, we do not know. They made other races, too.

*Many of the stallions turn to the Dark, fewer mares. Our males are more warlike. The stallions resent humans, I think, for their fears, their hates, and for all that humans seem to have.*

“Would you turn to the Dark?”

The mare lowered her head to Eleeri’s shoulder. *Not now, battle-sister. You killed your own to save mine.* A soft nose brushed against a softer cheek. *I have always refused to speak your name. Now I do. Eleeri I name you. Battle-sister you have named me. Do you also name me as friend?*

The girl’s hands smoothed the warm hide. “I do so. Neither un-friend nor half-friend are you, but friend. Sister-kin, if you will accept it so, and kin to the small one.”

Acceptance and a shy pleasure radiated from the mare. Arms about the muscled neck, Eleeri stood for long minutes, savoring the communion. She loved horses, but they could only fill her loneliness so far. But this, this was fullness. A kin-sister, a friend, one to speak with who could reply. One to care for who cared in return. She pushed herself away and took down the bag where she kept her herbs.

“A good sister would care for your wounds.” She brushed on the soothing juices with gentle fingers. Her hands admired the powerful muscles, the sleek hide, the arched and flowing mane and tail.

Under twin pleasures of hand and mind, the mare relaxed, savoring the first deep communion she had ever enjoyed. Friendship wove its way through her being. Only with her mother had she felt this acceptance before. She felt the bitterness drain away, her hatred of humans who condemned what they could not understand. This one was not like that. This one had faced all she found, and accepted.

She felt as if she floated, trusting, serene. Long moments slipped by. She loved this one, battle-sister, friend, kin-kind. The Dark whispered to her—and was rejected. Who had need of such a night when sunlight beckoned? Besides, she knew well that always the Dark betrayed. So many of her kind had been seduced by its wiles, and lived only long enough to regret that seduction. She would not be one; she was shade and shadow, but not the Dark, never the Dark now that she understood the Light.

In perfect accord, the three set out on the last mile to the river. Hylan did not understand what had happened. He only knew that his mother and friend were happy. It was enough.

*Do we cross the river or follow it?* Tharna queried, scanning the plain doubtfully. In her mind Eleeri saw pictures of the Gray Ones who often roamed this area.

“If this is their place, best we get away. From your mind they’re no respecters of either of our kinds.”

They trotted hurriedly along the riverbank. No crossing could be seen and the water ran deep and strongly.

“Do you know this area well?”

Tharna shook her head. *I think the river runs far. It comes from the western mountains, and I have heard of a lake somewhere to the west also. The Gray Ones avoid the area; there are ruins there which are un-friend to their kind.*

“Good. Then we’ll go that way,” Eleeri said practically. “Any place they don’t like should be right for us.” She headed her mount upriver and the Keplians followed.

Now travel together was delight. They explored each other’s ideas and the mare heard much of what a different world could be like. About them the scenery was unchanging.

Eleeri had time to muse upon Tharna’s mind-pictures of the Gray Ones and what Cynan had said of them. It was possible Tharna’s enmity for the creatures colored her impressions to some extent. Still, Eleeri thought, they did not attract her as any kind of ally. They walked upright in a slouch. The head was narrow, with tooth-filled mouth and small red eyes gleaming from shaggy, dirt-matted gray fur. From Tharna’s memories Eleeri knew the brutes to be intelligent. Well, they could speak but rarely did. Their habits were such as to disgust most intelligent beings. They wore no clothes, nor did they carry weapons.