Nevin and the Desert Fairies

By Eloise Sheldon

The search can’t end until the ride is won ....

When Nevin first meets up with the wacky Rflackttt, she has no idea what to make of them. She’d come with her protector Cadfael, an ancient horse who is helping her unravel the secrets surrounding her mother’s disappearance.
But before she can begin her quest, she’ll need to win the help—and friendship—of the Rflackttt, including the outrageously brazen warrior Elsapeth. Plus, she’ll need to figure out her relationship with her Glimnkkk, the noose of magic Rflackttt hair she won in rescuing Blue.
Nevin’s adventures take her across the Rocky Mountain West. She matches wits with malicious outcasts and the creepy Noodj. And takes a bold and crazy bus trip to Montana with Elsapeth (disguised as a cowgirl tourist) to give two wild horses a second chance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eloise Sheldon
• Release date: Oct 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310720079

Eloise Sheldon

Eloise Sheldon was introduced to the Rflackttt while making up bedtime stories for her daughter several years ago. When Spagpittt first made his appearance, she knew immediately that amazing things were about to happen. She has co-owned a marketing communications firm for the past 15 years and loves to read, write, and ride horses. She lives in Seattle.The sequel to this book is in the works.

Book preview

For Giuliana, who believed—

What sits behind the horse’s obsidian eye?

What can I know beyond the snort and shake?

The shuddering flesh? What does that signify?

To ride as one is where I place my faith.

The roving ears are flags, a code to crack

So grave, so petulant, her lips play dumb.

What whisperers know of this I own I lack;

The search can’t end until the ride is won.

They say her brain could sit upon my hand

As if the heart vouchsafed no genius of its own.

Sweet pluck, wild grace, swift fortitude demand

Untold devotion beyond blood and bone.

Know this: I count myself among the least

To know how best to call her: friend, child, beast.

Gnomenenbleth Song of the Rflackttt

1

CADFAEL

The desert stretched out in an endless yawn of parched earth and sky. It hadn’t seen any rain since a brief flirtation back in May.

Just now, it had reminded Nevin of all those flowerpots in their apartment that had never gotten watered after her mother disappeared. Everything was blurred at the edges. After hours of riding, all of Nevin’s senses were fading—except thirst. Her eyes were dulled by the droning light. The dust spun with a life of its own. The dirt collected everywhere: under her tongue, on her eyelashes, settling like a rough powder on her skin.

She and Cadfael rode on and on, with hardly a word from him about this trek. All she’d been told was that they were looking for someone who might be able to help her.

They had been riding for almost two days. Cadfael was remote, not even asking how she was holding up. Nevin was comfortable with silences, but right now the silence felt like an itch—an itch that took everything she had not to scratch.

As they traveled, the pale mountains kept their distance. Cadfael strode quickly. He swept his head this way and that, gazing and sniffing.

The night before, they’d made camp in a dry riverbed that had long forgotten the taste of water. It had been uncomfortably cold, and the stars had flared in the sky like chips of ice. The moon was more real than the one she had known before. Its face had seemed infinitely close, its scars and bruises giving it a hint of danger.

At night, the desert was a different world. With Cadfael nearby, she had felt safe, and thrilled in its immensity and wildness. When they’d been jolted awake by a piercing chorus of howls, she’d asked if they were wolves.

It had been good to hear Cadfael’s chuckle. No, Nevin, he said, they’re coyotes.

What are they howling about?

They’re pleased that they’ve found something to eat. They’re thirsty, though, he added. They’ve caught the scent of a large herd of wild horses to the northwest. And … there’s something walking the desert they find strange. A different sort of smell. Whew! No kidding! He shook his head, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep, his head dropping like wet cement.

What was it that smelled so funny? Whatever it was, her nose was getting sore from trying to find out. It was like someone had put too much food on her plate. The desert’s bold colors bruised her eyes: ochre, gold, mustard, burnt clay, charcoal, pastel blue. She could see everything. Where they were going, what they were leaving behind. And the clouds. Huge as they were, she could see every bit of them, from their bottlenoses to their trailing wings.

Cadfael altered course and headed west. The mountains to their left were filling out, taking on another dimension. Nevin could sense Cadfael quicken. His nostrils flared to catch—something. She strained all of her senses to see or smell or hear what it was.

What she saw was billowing dust. It rose in great gusts to the west; how far away she couldn’t say. They were astride a bench of land that extended from north to south. Spilling below them was a ravine, and out of it spewed the dust.

It was the horses. Nevin knew it. She couldn’t see them, but the ravine was teeming with a furious tide of horses. Cadfael stopped. She jumped out of the saddle and sought his face. He had that seeking look again, and now it had a keener edge to it. They stood there side by side, watching the dust flow and listening to the pounding in their ears and in their hearts.

A year ago. Standing there at the edge of the world, Nevin thought about her life back then. A year ago, she was a 12-year-old girl who went to Franklin Middle School. Who had lived in the same apartment in Chicago her whole life. And then one day, with no warning at all, her mom had vanished.

Clare had been her whole family. When she’d been a kid, she couldn’t wait until the bus dropped her off at her mom’s restaurant after school. She and Clare would sit at their favorite back table eating an afternoon pastry, telling each other stories about their day. Nevin had liked helping out even from the start, when she could barely see over the tops of the tables.

After her mom’s disappearance, everything was different. The customers stopped coming. No one had come forward to take Nevin in. She was thrown in a foster home while people bickered over what to do about her. She had gone through the motions, watching TV and disappearing into one book after another.

Late one night, Cadfael had just shown up. She’d heard this voice in her head calling her name as clearly as if she were wearing ear buds. She went to the window and looked down, and there he was: this huge white amazingly gorgeous horse. Even from the second floor, even in the dark, his look compelled her to go outside and find out why he had come.

Not for a second had she thought she was dreaming; it just felt right. Maybe it was because when she was younger, she always loved to read stories about talking wild beasts and implacable villains and heroes who made things right in the end.

But there was more to it than that. She had to find a way to make her own story—to thrust herself out of the one she was in. What happened was perfectly in tune with a world she couldn’t recognize anymore. She threw on some clothes and walked down. There was a woman there, too, but at that moment Nevin’s eyes were riveted on the great white horse. And Cadfael had said, I’d like to help you find your mother. Would you be willing to come with us?

Nevin had taken a deep breath—all she had needed to be sure was to see the boundless kindness in his eyes—and nodded yes.

2

SINGING HAIR

Long after the sound died down, the two of them remained there, the girl and the ancient horse, following the trail of wild horses by the ashy wake they left behind.

Are those horses what we’ve come for? Nevin asked.

In a way, yes, Cadfael said. But that’s because someone else has come for them, too.

You mean someone is here to capture the horses? And we’re here to protect them?

Yes—and no. But the one who seeks a horse is the one we seek.

"Please, Cadfael, can you tell me who we’re looking for? Nevin heard her voice come out shrilly—and blushed. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—"

Yes, Cadfael laughed and bumped her affectionately on the shoulder. Now I think I can. I had to be sure she would be coming.

"She?" Nevin had such faith in Cadfael, but she knew so little—and subsisting on faith had increasingly felt like a starvation diet.

We’re going to spend the night down there, Cadfael said. There’s a trail down to the bottom, and we might find some water. We’re very close. Why don’t we talk as we make our way down?

Whatever close meant, Nevin had no idea. But she felt ready for just about anything. I think I’ll walk the rest of the way, she said.

She could see the ravine clearly, gouged into the table of land by a knife of shadow. The desert was quietly bursting with swathes of rosy-yellow light. Every weed and rock was on fire. Long shadows stretched toward them, lunging in an effort to grasp at something just out of reach. They were walking directly into the sun, and Nevin could barely see where she was going.

Cadfael? she said. Who are we going to meet?

She isn’t easy to describe, he responded. She’s—she’s not like anyone else. She looks different, and as I said—smells different. She and her kind act a bit—childlike. But you understand that, don’t you? That acting like a child sometimes doesn’t mean … that you don’t know what you’re about. He finished, looking earnestly at Nevin.

What’s her name? —Is she human?

Her name is Elsapeth. And she’s not human.

What does she smell like?

Well—she doesn’t take baths. But it’s a good, earthy, underground smell.

If she’s not human ... what is she?

"They, said Cadfael. Are the Rflackttt. Rflackttt means wearer of the cloth. Others call them desert fairies. But they’re not like fairies at all, and they live under deserts, not on them."

So why do people call them that?

Cadfael snorted. "Not people—and it wasn’t to be kind."

Why are we looking for Elsapeth? Does she know where my mom is?

No, Cadfael said, Elsapeth knows nothing about her. Wherever your mother may be, you’re going to need help—help I won’t be in a position to give. And ... Elsapeth is in the perfect position to give it.

They came to where the desert floor slid into the ravine. The rift was astonishingly broad. There seemed to be no way to enter without a dramatic plunge. The sun was low in the sky, and the world was vaster, emptier and quieter. The breach ran as far as the eye could see from left to right, and the distance to the other side was impossible to judge in the approaching dark. Nothing moved. No birds or insects, no wild horses, no hint of wind.

Cadfael turned to the right, following the edge of the precipice, seeking a way down; Nevin followed him, mesmerized.

It was she who first saw it: a faint path that snaked towards the bottom. Thousands of years of coursing water and intrepid hooves and feet had nearly managed to wear away even this. Stepping carefully, she and Cadfael began to inch their way down. Nevin was so eager to meet Elsapeth that her tiredness seemed to belong to someone else.

Impatient, she picked up her pace, and twice Cadfael called to warn her. He was more methodical, carefully choosing each step, more in trying to model the best way to get to the bottom safely than because he doubted his own agility. But he, too, scattered his share of rocks. About halfway down, they came to a sudden halt.

This is not the right path, Cadfael said. There was a shade of weariness in his voice. Nevin realized then that he hadn’t anything to drink for a long time. She’d been taking sparing sips from the water bottles strapped to the saddle, but they had found no water along their two-day trek. Cadfael, you must be really thirsty, she said. Will there be water down there?

Yes, I can smell it.

"And the Rffff—the desert fairies, and Elsapeth, can you smell them?"

Elsapeth.

How do we find the right path?

Cadfael closed his eyes. He opened them to look at Nevin. "Just a few minutes back up the path. I am getting a little light-headed."

They turned and retraced their steps. He shambled a bit, but there was still a decisiveness to his carriage. A kind of clarity. It seemed to take forever, but they finally came to the fork they’d missed. Nevin shook her head. She’d been too careless as she’d begun to race ahead.

He was directly in front of her, showing her every safe step. Her eyes strained to adjust to the thinning light. By the time they reached the bottom, the cold had stolen in under cover of long shadows.

Cadfael loped towards something—stars scattered on the desert floor. It was water. The moon slithered over the edge of the ravine, and its icy light froze Cadfael’s form into something otherworldly. Although he was ancient in years, his age showed only in the grey hairs on his muzzle. All that Nevin saw was a vision of white. Even with his head tipped down and his legs sprawled out to better his reach, he remained as noble and beautiful as anything she had ever seen.

She could hear him making that garbled noise horses make when they drink thirstily, like water struggling down a partially clogged drain. She ran to join him, throwing herself down on her hands and knees, forgetting how cold she was, savoring the taste of water in her mouth.

Then she jerked her head up, listening, blinking the water out of her eyes. Had she heard something? Something else was out there, on the other side of the water.

Of course. The smell. It’s not bad, she thought as she wrinkled her nose at it, but it’s not nice, either. She thought of all the things it smelled like. Saddle leather. Sweaty horse. Belly button fuzz. Rotting fruit. Unchanged water in turtle tank. Lunch box left out overnight ....

How had she missed her before? There she lay, her limbs splayed every which way. She had that look of something discarded, as though she’d been thrown from a great height.

Cadfael was staring at Nevin. He was expecting something from her, she could see that.

Is she okay?

You must go to her.

What should I do?

Be mindful of the water. The Rflackttt are fearful of it.

Looking at her—how did she know she was a her?—Nevin forgot the smell, forgot the strangeness, the odd way her hair—a great mass of it—seemed to swarm out of the top of her head, the furrows in her cheeks, clear, deep brow, thick, clubby limbs, clothes wrapped around her above and below like double diapers. What she saw was a face that was more than remotely human. Her own likeness to herself. Two eyes. Two ears, a nose. Scratches and cuts all over. And breathing. Her chest was rising and falling lightly.

Nevin knelt and tentatively touched her on the arm. Skin, with a layer of soft fuzz, barely showing under patches of smudged dirt. Her eyes were closed. She was humming softly. Humming? And the humming was coming from her …. Nevin yelped and propelled herself backward, falling flat on her back in the dirt.

Cadfael, she sputtered, "her hair is singing."

He chuckled. "It’s often described that way. But most of the Rflackttt simply call it Hrrackttchu. Cadfael made a sound like a cross between a sneeze and an ax cleanly splitting a block of wood. The sound of hair talking. It may sound a bit like static—but in the right hands, it’s anything but arbitrary."

Whatever it is, it’s beautiful, Nevin thought. She hoisted herself up and crawled back towards the unconscious creature with the singing, humming hair. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Along with the sound effects was a visual banquet. It was as if there was stuff crawling in there that was moving so fast that you couldn’t really tell what it was. The universe exploding, or a swarm of locusts at a great distance. Thousands and thousands of points of light making a continuous din. But quietly, like a chorus of sweet violins.

Millions of questions were wrestling to find a voice. So why the hair? I mean, why does it do that?

It’s a gift—for those who have it. It’s very powerful. You will be amazed, Nevin. There is much, much power in it. To have such hair is beyond what most humans could fathom. It is also a great burden. I know I’m sounding a bit obscure, but you’ll come to understand in time.

This is Elsapeth, right?

That’s so.

They were both gazing down at the fallen girl, whose chest continued to rise and fall softly, the eyelids with their impossibly bushy lashes lightly shuttered, and lightly following some interior reverie. Her face was untroubled and her entire head was nodding in a slow, deep rhythm. She looked like she was listening to music—or cantering pleasantly on the back of a horse.

So you’ve met her before?

"Oh yes, but it’s been many years. I’ve attended many of the clan gatherings of Elsapeth and her people. This is the time of Elsapeth’s coming of age ride, her Gnomenenbleth. That is what great warriors of their clan do."

No man men bless?

Gnomenenbleth. Her ride. She rode the wild horse. This is her birthday. She is seven times seven.

Thirty … er … Forty…

Cadfael chuckled. Forty-nine.

"But she looks so young."

She is young, for a Rflackttt. Not all that much older than you.

So she got tossed off a horse just now? Nevin paused and looked again.

She stood then and walked to Cadfael, unstrapping his girth and pulling off the saddle with its network of packs and supplies. Steam smoked off his back into the cold air. Untying one of the side packs, she pulled out a t-shirt and took it to the pool and doused it. She brought it over to the prone girl, carefully squeezing out the excess water.

Remember, Nevin, to the Rflackttt, water is a great threat, Cadfael cautioned her.

Instead of asking why—Nevin was quickly catching on—she said, can I clean her wounds?

Just don’t go near the hair.

She examined Elsapeth carefully for signs of hurt. There were cuts and scrapes, but none were bleeding, and a dirty t-shirt soaked in water didn’t do much. She decided to try to clean around the scrapes, but quickly discovered that Elsapeth’s aversion to baths was imprinted on her skin like a tattoo. She couldn’t tell what was old dirt and what was new, and soon gave up. But she did manage to clean much of the dust closer to the cuts—and from Elsapeth’s face.

And as she washed it, she studied it. The oddest thing was how she could look so young and so old at the same time. Her skin was soft and clear, but there were deep creases in her broad cheeks.

She sat back on her heels, surveying her patient. Never could she have imagined that someone with so many wrinkles and muscular limbs and wild hair and dirt could look so fresh and lovely. The hair continued its melodious hum, but she was getting used to it. She looks nice, she said.

She watched the corners of Elsapeth’s mouth dimple upwards. Well? What do I do now? she asked.

Her arm is broken. Or it looks that way—see how it’s twisted under her? You should try to improvise a sling.

Nevin gingerly straightened out Elsapeth’s arm. Bringing more rumpled supplies from the saddle packs, she tore a t-shirt into a long strip. Not knowing what to do with the makeshift sling, she laid it at Elsapeth’s side for later. Then she covered her with a blanket.

She remembered how tired and hungry and cold she was. She grabbed her jacket from the pack along with some energy bars and wolfed them down.

Though the sun was long gone, the moon was dishing out plenty of light. It was an austere scene, but Nevin wouldn’t change a thing. She took another long drink from the pool, and decided to forgo a fire. She ate some nuts and dried fruit and cheese, washed them down with more water, and walked over to give Cadfael a hug.

Goodnight, Nevin. This has been a good day. Tomorrow will be even more amazing. You’ve done well.

Nevin climbed into her sleeping bag and was instantly ... asleep.

Searing sunlight, the floating cry of a hawk at some distance, the feeling of dryness and a sour taste in her mouth. Nevin’s eyelids jerked open as she realized where she was, and who—she sat up. Elsapeth was gone.

But she hadn’t gone far. She was sitting with her back to her about twenty feet away—Nevin noted the sling neatly cradling Elsapeth’s elbow—and she was speaking with Cadfael. He was resting on the ground, his long legs tucked underneath him. He was gazing over Elsapeth’s shoulder at her. Nevin heard no words, but Elsapeth was vividly demonstrating some adventure; her one unfettered arm was wheeling and thrusting, punching the air. Then came the laugh. Nevin was startled to hear a high-pitched but throaty uh huh huh huh, followed by a rivulet of giggles that sounded like two rocks vigorously rubbed together. The hair, just as dazzling and otherworldly as the previous night, was pulled back in a rough braid.

Elsapeth’s frame went rigid. The braided head turned, slowly, and two dark eyes examined Nevin’s face. Nevin held her breath. Cadfael, she thought, turning her face towards him, what am I supposed to do? But he didn’t say a word, just nodded his head reassuringly. Elsapeth sat motionless and silent, scrutinizing. Nevin could almost feel her thinking, weighing something massive.

Then Elsapeth spoke, and as she did, a huge grin widened her face. It is my … duty … to kill you, she said. But Cadfael says he has the other way. And you have a seek. In which I might … in which we maybe fight together. She stood awkwardly and limped toward Nevin.

Nevin stood to greet her, terrified and thrilled. Her arms hung by her sides, not knowing how they should acquit themselves. Elsapeth was shorter than she’d expected, her broad shoulders and large head overwhelming a compact torso and powerful legs. The two were almost identical in height, but Elsapeth seemed to carry twice as much bulk.

For a brief moment, her powerful scent made Nevin’s stomach lurch. She was afraid she’d pass out. There was something raw and wild in Elsapeth, even by daylight. But her face was another matter. Her eyes were kind, and there was nothing about the way she carried herself that signaled harm or rancor. She had spoken to Nevin as an equal.

Nevin found herself smiling. She impulsively held out her right hand.

This is your way? You are my first human, Elsapeth responded, adding, thank the gods! And the last, I hope! She grasped Nevin’s hand in her able one, which, not surprisingly, had an iron grip.

And my way, Elsapeth said, placing her good hand gently at the side of Nevin’s forehead and bending it slightly toward her own, just so. Their foreheads touched, and Nevin experienced two seconds of stupendous well being.

The sensation fled when Elsapeth drew back. After the first shock of its leaving, Nevin realized that something palpable still remained, a taste of infinite calm, and a brief vision of a lush grassy plain rolling and rolling into the distance, farther than her mind could reach.

Their eyes met again, this time with great warmth. Nevin couldn’t stop smiling. I am glad to meet you, she said. ... And … I’m glad you don’t want to kill me.

The fault is not what you made it, Elsapeth told her. With my clan, our law is the rock. Humans must never know us. If they know us, they die.

Have you … I mean, have many humans … have they been killed?

I do not know of a one, but it is not the thingkkk. The rule is the same.

Nevin had to fight to pull her gaze away from Elsapeth’s face. It changed a thousand different ways as she spoke, emotions coursing over the surface like clouds racing across the sun on a windy day. It was a relief to turn to Cadfael.

Cadfael, she said, what’s your plan? What are we supposed to do to save my life?

There’s not a moment to lose, he said, rising. I’ll explain as we go.

Nevin struggled onto his back, her soreness from hard riding over two long days making her yelp involuntarily.

Then he was off, stones and sand churning wildly in all directions, galloping as though there truly were a life that rode on the success of their chase. She took one fleeting look back at Elsapeth, who held her able arm aloft as if to wish them well.

3

BLUE

They were following the pack of wild horses. Their hoof prints were smudged ink, deeply etched into the sand.

There is nothing so exhilarating as a madcap gallop. Cadfael was practically flying. When Nevin thought they couldn’t possibly go any faster, he upped his pace, tearing along with never a false step. She clasped onto him like a fifth limb, relishing in the joy of shared motion.

When he slowed to climb out of the ravine, she asked, Why the wild horses Cadfael?

"Elsapeth has lost her lasso of hair—her Glimnkkk Gnomenenbleth. It’s a part of her coming of age as a warrior and a leader of the Rflackttt. For them, the ride is a test of the power of the hair, the courage of the rider, and of the rider’s luck as well. Clearly, Elsapeth has buckets of the first two. It is our task to restore her luck to her."

How do you restore luck?

We recapture the Glimnkkk. She and I both suspect someone else had a hand in this. But then again, since we’re talking about the Rflackttt, Cadfael paused to suck down air, Elsapeth just might have made a mess of things on her own.

So who’s the bad guy?

"We’ve lots to choose from. Her people can be as small-minded as they are noble and generous. There is considerable hair envy among them. Elsapeth is destined to be a great warrior. There are many who would like to see her fail."

But if her hair is so powerful, how could she lose the lasso?

Good question. A very human question, though. Cadfael stopped to catch his breath. Far off in the distance, blocked from their direct view by a rising undulation of the desert plain, clouds of dust were drifting. He snuffled in that direction. The Rflackttt will say that luck is even greater than power. It is a separate thing, having nothing to do with hair. And a great leader needs both.

So is it like being clever?

Ah … in a way, Cadfael nodded. But not in the way you might think. To the Rflackttt, luck is luck. It’s a commodity. Like gold or silver—or hair. And like any commodity, it can be stolen.

You mean you can steal hair, too?

Of course, Cadfael snorted. Hair is the biggest game of all.

He sprang into action then, so quickly that Nevin nearly lost her balance. Only her agility kept her there. Again she became an appendage of Cadfael’s back, his barreling stride her own. In the thrill of the ride, her soreness had disappeared.

The broad expanse of the desert spun before her eyes. She was skimming above it like a bird. Every stone and sage-choked furrow burned into her awareness. The horses were near now—she didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. The desert was a raw map, extending its living shapes in mountains and chiseled layers of ancient terrain, and attached to Cadfael’s back, she was a part of it. Maybe I’m lucky, she murmured to herself—amending that carefully to at least right now.

Cadfael carried his passenger to the top of a rise, stopping abruptly when their height yielded an unobstructed view. The whole world was within reach, including the horses they sought. There were about thirty of them, spread out in a rough ellipsis to the north, grazing on the scrubby growth of the valley they’d traveled through yesterday.

She slid off Cadfael’s back, regretting that she hadn’t grabbed a water bottle before they’d lit out of camp. She surveyed the scattered herd. At first she couldn’t tell who the leader was. The horses were greedily nosing at the wiry thistle and cheatgrass. From time to time various heads would pop up and sniff warily and then plop back down, reassured. They were smaller than she had imagined.

A frantic bellow rose up to them from a gully further on, a short way from the herd. The horse who spoke looked just like she expected a stallion to look: belligerent, fierce and muscular. But his voice held a note of terror. He shook his head repeatedly, pawing the ground, writhing, shuddering, whirling. White froth flew from his lips and shoulders.

There was a noose hanging from his neck, and it pained him. Hugely. He behaved as though it were a burning brand. The dark patches along his neck and shoulder that she first took for sweat were—blood. The noose reminded her of an exposed wire spewing electricity. It seemed to have a will of its own. The greater the dark horse struggled, the more it threw off sparks.

Cadfael, she breathed. We have to help him.

Yes.

Okay. Here goes.

How she got on his back then she didn’t know, but they were flying toward the agonized horse. The stallion spotted them at once and turned and fled, roaring out to his mares to follow. He was remarkably swift despite his wounds. Nevin was throttled by doubts: The Glimnkkk is evil, but Elsapeth is so nice. How could she do such a thing?

And when we do catch up with this horse, what then?

The stallion was more blue than any creature, ever. He threw up glints of violet as he ran. The Glimnkkk popped and sizzled like a firecracker. They could hear it from their great distance, despite the racket made by Cadfael as he pounded the ground in the chase. At this point he was barely managing to keep up.

Cadfael, how do we get the noose without getting burned?

We need … luck. It’s clear to me now that’s what made it turn against the horse—and Elsapeth.

Luck. She paused, bad luck?

Stolen luck. Someone wanted that Glimnkkk. Or Elsapeth to fail. Or both.

So how do we know if we have the luck we need?

"The luck you need, Nevin. This is your chase."

His words surprised her. "Why me?" she groaned.

Because it has to be you.

Nevin’s eyes burned. She was panting almost as hard as Cadfael. He’d broken out in an enormous sweat, his white flanks stained a dark grey. Her shirt and pants were soaked through.

Cadfael, can’t you help me?

I can get you there, Nevin, and then … so much depends on you. I would not place you in danger if I didn’t have faith in you.

So how do I know if I have the luck I need?

You do know. Look and see.

Look and see. The tide of chance had changed abruptly. She was feeling singularly unlucky. She was pursuing what seemed like a matter of life and death, but Cadfael was posing puzzles to her like one of those teachers who ask you an annoying question in response to your question.

They’d been speeding over the desert for ages. Nevin had lost track. The sun was high in the sky. Past midday, she guessed. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink, though she didn’t keenly feel the lack of either.

The stallion was pulling away slowly. A stallion will typically follow his mares when chased to afford them protection, but the Glimnkkk had shattered his defenses. He was abandoning the mares in a long surging messy line behind him.

Cadfael was slowing, from a blazing meteoric sprint to a mere full-on gallop. Nevin knew he was tiring. She also knew he was very, very old. In the time she’d known him, he had always talked in decades, not years, and he’d often make allusions to when he’d be gone, like someone who was near the end of life. Sometimes, especially in the fullest light of day, he’d seemed less substantial. Not like a ghost or anything, more like a small part of him was already somewhere else. Before, she’d always fibbed to herself that if he were centuries old, maybe he was just preparing to die—in the very distant future.

Cadfael’s voice was steady. Nevin, he said, I’m going to do something I rarely do anymore. It requires much, so when I get you there, you’ll be on your own. Agreed? He said it like it was a mere formality on her part to say yes—as if she had fully rehearsed what would follow. His voice carried such confidence in her, such trust that she would see things through.

She didn’t have the heart to say no. Yes, she said, but how about some lunch and a nice long nap first? She paused, adding, that’s a joke, Cadfael.

He didn’t hear her—or he didn’t acknowledge it. Cadfael was flying now, truly flying. Horse and rider were going faster than any mortal horse had ever run. They hissed over the surface of the desert like a rocket, sand spitting behind them.

Out of the blue, Nevin thought of two girls she’d known since preschool, Susan and Patty, who always taunted her for being shy—a label she knew was wrong. Most people thought of her that way since kindergarten, when her teacher’s note on her report card said she was, and it had gotten around. That word had stuck with her like a stain she could never scrub out. To her, shy had meant not being like the kids who were always maneuvering to get attention, who spoke too loud, blurted answers out in class, and campaigned to get picked first. The word her teacher should have said about her, she knew now, was private.

She imagined Susan and Patty watching her charging through the air in pursuit of the blue-black stallion. And for a heartbeat she wondered why she still cared what they thought.

They were ahead of most of the mares now, swiftly approaching the stallion. He was even more amazing close up, bluer than ever, more alive than anything. Every ounce of him was fighting to avoid capture. His head and neck stretched out as if to nose across some eternal finish line, hunkering down to gain more speed and outlast his pursuers—except his tail, a shock of black that stuck up in the air in defiance. Nevin wondered why he didn’t stop to fight. Maybe he’s been chased before, she thought.

Cadfael was zeroing in on the stallion’s right side, slowing to match his stride.

Cadfael, now what?

He was gasping for air. You take the … ride. Grab the Glimnkkk. That’s all.

The two horses were abreast. The stallion showed his teeth and lunged to take a bite from the neck of the white horse. Jerking away, Cadfael nearly unseated Nevin. She had the sensation of falling and then being caught as Cadfael leapt in her direction to compensate.

Wow. That was close.

We’ll try again, quickly now, use your legs to stay on, but get on—and get the Glimnkkk.

Cadfael redirected his massive bulk towards the stallion. For a wild horse, the black was large, but Cadfael was much bigger—easily 17 1/2 hands. That meant all she had to do was lower herself down, but their speed was beyond belief. Nevin banished from her mind everything but the back and withers of the stallion. His coat was gleaming like a patch of black ice under the sun.

By the time he reached for another bite, it was too late. Nevin grabbed his mane with both hands and threw her weight across his withers and upper back. It looked ugly, but it did the trick.

She quickly swung her left leg over and gripped his flanks with her calves. The Glimnkkk, its pyrotechnics and the pain it caused, were all the stallion needed to keep to his mad course.

He ran on. It’s what he knew. Running makes a horse feel better.

Nevin was on, but where was Cadfael? She knew she might lose her balance if she turned around to look. Cadfael, where are you? she called out.

His voice was faint. When you take the Glimnkkk, it is yours to give or to keep. But keep—

Nothing more. She was on her own. Only once had she felt like this before, and now it was she who was doing the rescuing. The Glimnkkk, perched high on the stallion’s neck, continued to pop and burn.

Riding this horse was so different from what she knew. His gait was like a ratchet, a dull knife scraping burnt toast. The stallion’s rock-hard backbone and ribs were just under his slippery coat. It took everything she had to stay on.

Stay on, stay on, she muttered. It was like someone else was singing in her head. It gave her a rhythm, communicated itself to her back, her pelvis, her hips. She stayed on.

The Glimnkkk burned, scorched, and still Nevin didn’t reach for it. It was too alien to her, too deadly.

The reek of burning hair rose into her head, making her gag. Everything was a blur of singed hair, spewing electricity, sweat, blood, and the incessant pa-pound, pa-pound, pa-pound, pa-pound of physical shocks to her frame.

Stay on, stay on … the quest can’t end until the ride is won …

Nevin shook her head. Where was the song coming from? Something had shifted with the blue-black horse. He didn’t slow, nothing like that, he just felt different. The ride was still punishing, but she was having a conversation with the creature beneath her. And he—it was as if he didn’t mind her being there anymore. It was odd that