Isle of the Faeries

On the Back of the Beast

Kean

      The West beach is always deserted by this time of year, it is within view of several small islands which are home to Sidhe alone including the Seelie and Unseelie courts. The sun is sinking fast and the smart residents of the island that are outside of Rell will be home eating dinner. But as I look out over the cliff I see that someone is down there, riding in the shallows. Cinis sees them also and calls out his muscles trembling with excitement, the horse in the water flinches and its rider straightens. He calls again and this time the other horse rears before spinning around. The rider, who appears to be a girl, looks around searching for us.

      I had planned to bring Cinis down to the water to school but I don't want anyone else down there if the sea tries to overpower him and it wouldn't hurt to let him run off some energy on the cliffs first. I spin him straight feeling him tense under me and the familiar weight of him in my hands, all it takes is a shift in my seat and he is off covering ground faster than any regular horse could. Cinis is fast even for an Aughisky I have ridden more than most on this island and none compare to this stallion. The wind crackles and whistles around us singing in the rhythm of our hearts, the sea is humming a different branch of magic, whispering it with each hoof beat. When I wheel him around to go back Cinis is nowhere near tired.

      When I want him to stop I begin to hum, old words, I want him listening to me not the magic that calls him. I rub my iron rings over his withers counter clockwise three times then clockwise seven. His ears flick back to tell me he is listening. I sit back and put pressure on the reins, he slows reluctantly to a trot, we circle three times one way, three times the next. Suddenly his ears swivel I am no longer his sole focus, my rings press into his neck, one ear flicks back. I glance up still bending him into work.

      The girl and her horse have just come up from the beach. The horse appears wary – as she should – and the girl curious, she shakes dark hair from her face and I recognize her as the girl from the pub, "You should be getting home," I call from a safe distance holding Cinis at a halt, my rings pressed to his flesh as a reminder, "it's not safe to be out."

      The girl ignores my warning, "You ride one of the Aughisky?" she questions, "and yet you bring it to the ocean?"

      I do not answer her, only turn for the beach path, Cinis prancing and preening beneath me having taken a fancy to the flashy mare. "Go home," I tell her, "you and your pony are no match for what comes with the dark." Offence and annoyance crosses her face but she turns and canters away inland. I am thankful she left, I do not want to be called in the middle of the night to try to unweave a spell because of her stubbornness.

      Cinis dances down the sandy slope to the beach the only prints in the sand show the path that the pony traveled. The salt water calls to him, I hum in his ear, they twitch back to me, for tonight I have his attention. We begin down the beach in a series of training techniques passed down through my family for generations. The Aughiskies are in my blood, I come from a family of old island dwellers, they captured and rode the Sea horses training them to listen. The horses of the Sea are nothing like the horses of the land, and riding them is nothing like riding a regular horse; it is more mentally and physically challenging as is handling them. Regardless of how long they have been captured they should never be trusted.

      And after six years Cinis and I have become attuned to each other in a way I have never managed with any other horse; land or sea. He has tested me and learned to view me as a leader, even a friend. I trust him but I shouldn't.

      We circle the beach writing ancient runes in hoof prints across the sand, we work until he is foaming with sweat and my muscles ache from holding him together. I swing down from his back the soft sand pillowing my feet. Looping the reins over his head I slip my feet out of my boots and start for the waves that sing on the shore. We stop just before the water's reach, Cinis is eerily calm one ear cocked toward me, the other on the ocean. I tie the white cloth I keep in my pocket into his thick mane. We step forward, the water hits his pastern and his entire body shudders. I put my hand on his shoulder.