Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 3

This is not how I imagined I'd be visiting Asor's home town...

We carefully make our way up the slope, to the lip of a long valley, stretching away into the mist to the north-east and south-west, then we venture down to the north-west, through rough, hilly territory dotted with sparse patches of vegetation, and onto relatively level open plains where Asor breaks into a gallop. I'm obliged to match his pace, which is no hardship, and soon, we're moving into an area where there are increasing signs of civilisation - agricultural buildings and fields, roads, fences, suspended power lines - and in the distance, more organised structures indicative of the fringes of a city.

Taalsem is quite unlike anything I'd expected. It is a quite sophisticated conurbation, with all the necessary amenities for a technologically competent civilisation, but everywhere, concessions have been made to accommodate the Cursed. No building is taller than three stories, and every house or shop facing the broad road-way has separate areas for both two- and four-legged Gara-Laserma, so that business can at least be attempted at all times, whilst the road itself is almost empty of vehicles, and all of those are parked, empty, at the side of the street, leaving the way clear for the Cursed as they go about what business they can attend to without hands, stopping every so often to graze on the lush grass or the leaves and fruit on the trees that grow along the centre of every road-way...

The city isn't completely idle, for there is a network of suspended rails overhead, along which whirr processions of automated containers, linked nose-to-tail in chains of as many as thirty, moving materials and goods across the city, from computer-controlled factories to similarly mechanised store-houses, where some Cursed are employed in shipping finished product to the shops, pulling fascinating robotic carriages that deposit boxes and crates at communal "way-stations" outside the shops where, one night falls and four legs again become two, the shop-keepers can collect their merchandise at their convenience.

"You surely don't think we just spend the day galloping around, having fun?", says Asor, when he sees my reaction to the delivery service. "Some do prefer to sleep through the sunlight times, so that they can make the most of their two-legged time, but most live in such a way that half their waking time is in four-legged form, the rest with two. They have to find some way to make the most of the working hours - food, energy and the rest doesn't just come from nowhere, you know."

Gara-Laserma society has been like this for centuries - what seems strange, and amazing to me is "how it's always been" for all the generations currently living, and they have come to terms with their duality in quite breathtaking fashion. However much I may admire it, however, I find it a quite daunting prospect - I'm not sure I can live this way...

The Gara-Laserma are the most pleasant and welcoming of people, for that I am especially grateful. Several times, we stop as Asor responds to a greeting from friend or passing acquaintance alike - it appears that he is a person of some note in Taalsem - and more often than not, the conversation soon turns to the subject of me, and my lack of horns or a more serpentine tail. "She... she's not... one of them?", one graceful female Cursed whispers, eyes widening anxiously, and I'm not entirely sure that Asor manages to completely put the female's fears to rest.

The Cursed seem to follow the same general form - a melding of horse and dragon, with long, rear-pointing horns, the slender tail crowned with a fringe of mane, and scales on the face, neck and flanks - although the younger ones have shorter horns, and lack the tail-fringe. From time to time, I see a Cursed walking along with a two-legged Gara-Laserma child at their side, holding onto the mane of the four-legged one, and Asor explains that The Curse only comes into effect when a young one starts the transition to adulthood. "My little sister, Natyari, will feel The Curse at her next anniversary of birthing, I expect", he adds. "Come - you have to meet her..."

We pick up our pace again, trotting along one of the curving roadways arranged concentrically around the centre of the city, and after a few minutes, we start to attract a herd of Gara-Laserma youngsters, running alongside us, calling out Asor's name. I knew Asor was wealthy, but not exactly why - he's wealthy enough to have attracted an invitation from The Keepers, that much is certain - but now it appears that he may be famous...

"Asor! Asor!", calls out one sprightly male Cursed, golden-skinned with a dark mane decorated with jewels. "Your friend - is... is that Mane-of-Night...?"

I shoot an accusatory look over at my companion, and he tries to pretend that he hasn't noticed, concentrating instead on the road ahead in a rather strained fashion. We turn suddenly, heading towards an area of town built around a forested hill, and once we've left the adoring herd behind, we slow, and once Asor gets his breath back, he gives me a rather sheepish explanation.

"I... I wrote down our adventures", he tells me, looking down at my hooves. "They got published... and they're very, very popular..."

By The Skies And The Gods Above - to Asor's people, I'm equivalent of Don'Dalaxir... Loba, The Talking Skoorat... Phasheer The Pirate Sorceress, or... or... "Oh no", I gasp, clattering to a halt. "I... I'm Harry Potter...?"

Asor's home isn't quite a palace, but it is certainly a good deal more lavish than most of the residence's we've galloped past. The road leading up to the house, and the grounds around it, are all neatly fenced off from the rest of the world by carefully-tended regiments of trees, and the front of the house, with ornate spiral columns overlooking a hexagonal fountain, all hark back to an age before machines and effort-saving devices, when wealth was quite openly celebrated.

A female Cursed comes down the ramp leading into the house as we draw near, and strolls out onto the gravel path to meet us. She has the same look and colouration as Asor, although her movements are a little more cautious, her horns are more chipped and dulled, and her muscles are not quite as toned and taut as his - signs, perhaps, that she is his senior by several decades...

"Asor-son", she almost sings, laying her head over his neck. "Back so soon?"

"Rather unexpectedly, yes", he replies, resting his head against her neck in return, "and equally unexpectedly, I brought a guest. Mother, this... this is, despite outward appearances, my dear friend Mane-of-Night."

The female Gara-Laserma looks startled, and skips backwards a step or two. "Oh - oh my", she gasps, wide-eyed. "But - but you..."

"...have four legs and a tail?", I finish for her. "Imagine my surprise."

"You... changed when you arrived?", asks Asor's mother.

"I believe so", I answer. "I wasn't awake to find out."

"Oh, you poor girl!", exclaims the Gara-Laserma female. "Don't just stand there - come in, come in, and rest your hooves a while! Natyari! Natyari, we have a guest...!"

Accepting this most welcome invitation, I'm led inside, into a large hall, specially equipped to receive Gara-Laserma in their Cursed forms, with low troughs of water, baskets of fruit and leaves, and great oval cushions of plain fabric, stuffed with fragrant dried grasses. Thirsty after all the running I've done, I dip my nose into the nearest trough - and nearly choke as I accidentally inhale water - then I lower myself onto one of the cushions, sighing as the toxins of exertion are finally allowed to wash out of my muscles.

Asor soon joins me, and tries to encourage me to eat, assuring me that nothing on offer should react adversely with my body processes: "We've eaten the same things before", he reminds me, "and you must be starving - we didn't exactly have much of a chance to eat back on Wyridaen."

The very idea of eating drags my mind back to the sight of Zserreth feasting on the dead body of Medaa the Gara-Morsa hunter, and nausea and revulsion overwhelms hunger. "Not... not just yet", I murmur to my friend. "I'll be all right..."

A short while later, Asor's mother - her name is Soramma - returns, with an un-Cursed girl about the same height as me, when I'm in my natural form, her hip-length pale yellow hair in two plaits that hang down her back. When she sees Asor, she runs over to him, and throws her arms about his neck in such a gleeful fashion that there can be no doubting her identity - this can only be Natyari.

The two of them laugh, then Asor rises from his cushion, the girl dangling from his neck, and he ambles over to where I'm lying. "Natyari, this is someone very special", he tells her. "Now, she might not look exactly as I described her, but this is..."

The girl lets go, and drops onto my cushion. "...Mane-of-Night...!", she gasps, crouching near to me, but not daring to come any closer. "It has to be - you have golden eyes..."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Natyari", I respond, leaning forward to put my equine nose within reach of her delicate, yet ink-stained hands. The girl raises a hand, then draws it back - she's not quite ready to make physical contact with a "living legend".

"Oh!", the girl cries suddenly, startling everyone, and she leaps up, running out of the room before anyone can say another word.

"I didn't do anything wrong - did I...?", I murmur to my hosts.

"Far from it", says Asor, smiling as much as his Cursed features will permit. "The stories that were published were illustrated - illustrated by Natyari. I suspect she just wants to show you her work."

The girl hurries back, only a minute or two later, several leather-bound books in her arms. Grinning gleefully, she sits down beside me, and opens the first weighty volume in front of me, and does a splendid job of taking my mind off my troubles as she gives me a running commentary on all the sketches and finished pieces in the book. "My brother is good at describing things - and people", she tells me - and every thing she shows me how right she is, and how right her family are to be proud of their youngest member. "He thinks I did a really good job drawing you - wish I could see how good..."

The diversion is, however, fleeting. "...I hope I got your outfits right, especially your boots. I know how much you like them... you - you did bring some clothes, didn't you...?"

"I did", I tell her. "I was forced to leave everything behind, in the wilderness..."

"Then I'll go and get them!", says the girl, springing to her feet. "Asor can take me..."

"Oh no, he won't", interrupts her brother. "It's not safe out there - we ran into Zserreth."

Natyari's enthusiasm evaporates. Clearly Zserreth's notoriety extends beyond the wilderness, and Asor's little sister has heard enough to put her off the foolish idea of attempting a rescue mission for my boots and other gear. I would like my possessions back, but I'd much rather see Natyari stay safe - and as far away from Zserreth as possible...

For now, the most I can hope for is release from my four-legged form when the sun sets, and if the lengthening shadows are anything to go by, that won't be long.

...to be continued...

Please Note: Any reference to other, copyrighted characters should not, in any way, be assumed to be an attempt to breach said copyright. I mean, come on - are we supposed to put in a "TM" and get J.K. Rowling's written permission every time we refer to Harry Potter...?

Posted at 22:15 on 24.04.2009


~ o O o ~


Previously...
Mane-of-Night And The Watcher From Beyond - Chapter 1 - 21.06.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 14 - 17.05.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 13 - 15.05.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 12 - 13.05.2009
Mane-of-Night And The Dark Child's Descent - Chapter 11 - 11.05.2009