I
am your friend. You want to be my friend
,
The alicorn's hide shuddered, and Rena watched in hope and fear as a wave of relaxation made all of its muscles go a bit slack.
Come be my friends, both of you.
Her magic drifted into their minds, subtle, like a whisper, changing
just
a tiny thing—that killer instinct, the urge to destroy anything that might prove dangerous. Their minds weren't any smaller than a pigeon's or a sparrow's. There was something there to work on. She half-closed her eyes, watching both of them, as her magic wove its way into what they were, soothing the too sensitive nerves, calming the wash of instant and hot emotions.
The mare took a tentative step toward her, the stallion followed. Carefully Rena reached into the pack beside her, and took out another piece of bread, breaking it in half. They didn't react to her movement, except for a slightly nervous flicking of their ears.
I have good things to eat
. She held out both hands, each with a piece of bread in the palm, invitingly. She'd never yet seen a horse that could resist bread.
The stallion's nostrils flared as he took in the scent of the bread, and he shouldered the mare aside, coming to the fore. His eyes fixed first on her, then on the bread in her outstretched hand.
I
will make you more good things to eat
. While she worked her magic in their minds to tame them, she could not work another spell, but if this actually succeeded, she
would
be able to turn plain grass and leaves into alicorn treats. That would be a reasonable recompense for what she wanted out of them.
Come to me, come help me, and I will give you sweet treats to eat. I will keep you warm and dry, and I know all the right places to scratch. Flies will never bite you again
. She wasn't actually sending thoughts into its mind, nor could she sense its thoughts the way Lorryn could, but her magic carried the promises she made to it, and somehow made it understand.
That, and the tiny gentling changes she wrought, were all that was needed.
The alicorn stallion made up his mind—now that
she
had made it up for him. He stepped forward, briskly, the mare right at his heels, and walked calmly right up to the edge of the shelter. He bent his long neck, and accepted the morsel of bread from her hand, his nose soft and velvety against her palm, and only the barest hint of the sharpness of his fangs touching her skin. A moment later, his mate did the same.
They both stood staring at her for a heartbeat or two longer, after the bread was gone. She could still lose them. They wouldn't attack her now, but she could still lose them. When she turned her magic loose, they could flee. Well, for that matter, they could simply
walk
away and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Her magic just wasn't coercive; either they would serve her, or they would not.
She let go of their minds. She had done all that she could. If they were going to flee, they would do it now.
With a sigh, the stallion folded his long legs and lay down at her feet. The mare did the same, placing her head in Rena's lap. She looked up at Rena with eyes that were more brown now than orange, and she waited for Rena to make good on her promise of scratches.
Rena stretched out her hand and tentatively began to scratch the area at the base of the horn, reckoning that it was one place the alicorn couldn't reach for herself. The alicorn's coat was just as soft as it looked, much silkier than horsehair, though a bit longer as well. After a moment, the stallion stretched his head forward to get his own share of caresses.
When they both tired of having their horns, the area under their chins, and their ears scratched, Rena took leaves and began sculpting them, making them tender and enhancing the sugars in them. The alicorns accepted these new dainties with greed, eating until the area around the shelter had been denuded and their bellies were stuffed full.
Then they both laid their heads in Rena's lap again, and slept, one on either side of her, for all the world like a pair of huge homed pet hounds.
And when Lorryn woke, that was the sight that met his astonished eyes.
* * *
"You're sure they'll bear us?" Lorryn asked, dubiously. It was hard for him to even think of trusting an alicorn; their reputation was such that if he hadn't been too stunned to move, he'd have tried to kill both of these the moment he saw them. Only Rena's assurance that she had "changed" them made him—warily—trust them. After all, elven lords had tried for centuries to "change" the alicorns and make them useful, so how could Rena have done what they could not?
Then again, they didn't ask a female to help, did they? Of course not. Their magics are all weak, useless. As useless as keeping me from dying of pneumonia
. Rena was a fount and a wellspring of surprises today.
They were certainly acting tame enough at the moment. He'd petted and scratched them at Rena's direction, and they had actually behaved as nicely as any horse he'd ever owned. Their coats were extraordinary; softer and silkier than any horse. And for once in his life, he'd gotten the chance to touch a still-living horn; it had been warm beneath his tentative caress, very much a part of the creature.
Rena shrugged. "As sure as I can be of anything. I wouldn't ask them to behave like a trained horse, though. They won't take a bit or a bridle, and we'll have to go in the direction
they
want, but they'll take our weight on their backs easily enough. I tried with my pack, and it didn't bother either of them." She patted the mare on the shoulder; the beast didn't even move. There was a certainty in her words and her actions that hadn't been there before today.
Lorryn thought that over; Rena had blossomed in the last day into someone he hardly recognized. Not all that long ago he had wished that she would somehow grow some spine and stop being such a burden—well, perhaps this was a manifestation of the old admonition to be careful what one wished for. It had taken
this
to bring her into her own.
But to trust her to tame an alicorn? Was the risk worth the benefits?
"Well—they're faster than we are, and they won't leave boot-prints," he said, thinking out loud. "That alone, I think, is worth the risk—even if we have to go where they want to. And since I've never, ever heard of an alicorn trying to invade settled lands, at least we won't have to worry about them heading for someone
else's
estate. If you're sure they won't rum on us, that is—"
He couldn't help it; those orange eyes seemed gentle, but could he trust that they would stay that way? That horn was as long as his arm, and sharp as any spear, and he'd heard even the foals knew how to use their horns as weapons almost from birth. Add in the fangs and the foreclaws…
"I'm sure," she said firmly. "I tamed a shrike once, and it was more vicious and had less mind than these do. I can
do
it, Lorryn; it's one thing I am completely sure of."
She had certainly done wonders with her garden full of birds. "Good enough." He walked over to the stallion, the bigger of the two, and cautiously laid a hand on its shoulder. It didn't even look up from the pile of grass that Rena had pulled and changed for it to eat. He hefted his pack in his free hand; would it really bear the weight of him and the pack as well?
"Put your pack on him first," she said, "just over the shoulders. Then get on slowly. Just don't make any moves that might startle him."
That wasn't going to be easy, not without a saddle. Still. He followed her instructions, as she draped her own pack over the mare's shoulders; her pack, like his, was now arranged so that it was a tube with her gear in equal parts at each end and a flat place in the middle. That had been his idea, to make it as much like saddlebags as possible. Staying on bareback would be hard enough; they'd never be able to stay on with packs strapped to their backs.
The stallion looked up, craned his long neck around so that he could peer at the pack, then resumed eating.
Lorryn put both hands on the stallion's warm back, just be hind the pack. This would be something like one of the exercises he'd trained in, just slower. He only hoped his arms were up to it; it was going to be a real strain on his muscles.
He hoisted himself up with his arms alone, moving slowly and leaning his weight onto the alicorn's back, and slid his leg up over the alicorn's rump at the same time. He had a bad moment when the stallion jumped slightly, and fidgeted as it felt his weight. But then the beast settled again, and he got his seat, thankful he'd learned to ride bareback.
Rena was already in place, looking uncommonly cheerful, considering their current condition. She also looked far more alive than he'd ever seen her; there was a faint rosy flush on her cheeks, her green eyes sparkled, and even her hacked-off hair looked better fluffed in untidy curls around her face than it had when it was beaded and braided and beribboned. It was too bad all those so-called friends of his couldn't see her now; they'd never call her "plain" again. She was definitely in her element. Freedom suited her.
"We'll have to wait until they finish eating," she told him. "Then they'll go wherever it was they were heading in the first place when we caught them." She tilted her head to one side. "Are you wearing an illusion?" she added, changing the subject so completely, she took him by surprise.
With a start, he realized that he was; it had become second nature. He nodded. "I can't remember a moment that I've had it off," he told her. "Except very rare times when Mother and I were checking to see that it was solid. I even have it up, sleeping."
"Can I see what you look like without it?"
He considered her request, and shrugged. "I don't see why not." It took an effort of will to cancel the illusion on himself, and he saw from her face that she was disappointed in the result
He grinned at her reaction, in part because he had expected it. "Sorry, little sister. No fangs, no bulging muscles, no horns. The best and easiest illusions are always simply enhancements or slight changes in what was already there, you know."
She tilted her head to the other side, birdlike, and considered him from all angles before she answered him. "Your hair is yellower than any boy's I've ever seen, except the humans," she said at last. "Your ears are blunter and smaller. And you're just a
bit
more muscular. But you're still Lorryn. I'd still know you anywhere."
He bowed, mockingly. "Exactly so, and precisely the point I suspect Mother may have worked some of those
weak
little magics on me as a baby to make the illusion easier to carry—lightening my hair, for instance, and seeing to it I didn't turn into a muscle-bound gladiator. But—"
At just that moment, the stallion finished the last scrap of grass, and without any warning, went from a standstill to a fast walk, heading south, the mare behind him. He lurched onto a deer path with a half-rum, as Lorryn fought for balance.
Lorryn clung to the slick back, wishing the alicorn would at least tolerate some kind of bellyband to give him something to hold on to! Especially if it was going to move off without warning like that!
"They're going the way we wanted to!" Rena exclaimed behind him, pleased.
At least she had a little warning!
"They're also going a lot faster than I thought they would!" he exclaimed, as the stallion moved from a fast walk into an even faster pace—it
wasn't
a trot, but it was just as fast as a trot Fortunately, whatever this gait was, the alicorn moved more smoothly than any horse he'd ever ridden, and from the way it had its ears perked forward, its head up, and its tail flagged, it could probably carry on like this all day. If so—nothing short of magic would have served as well to get them out of danger. Magic—or maybe a dragon.
"This is amazing," he said after a while, full of awe. No
wonder
the alicorns were so hard to track and hunt!
No one
had ever described them moving like this! Why, they would be long out of reach before a hound picked up their scent, even though the trail itself seemed fresh! "I've never ridden a beast like this in my life!"
"They are lovely, aren't they?" Rena agreed. Her voice sounded wistful. "I wish we could stay with them—but I don't think the changes I made run deep enough to hold if they ever begin to hunt. Once they taste blood—I have the feeling nothing would keep them tame. There's a feeling about that under the surface of them. Their instincts are very powerful, and instincts are the hardest things to change."
"Well, we'll have to make certain they don't
get
any blood," he said firmly. But that observation set his own thoughts running; no matter how grave a situation, there was always a stray part of his mind that would analyze everything. His ancestors had bred the alicorns as war-beasts; it might be that if
that
part of their nature could be expunged, and the taste of flesh eliminated, they'd revert to a gentler nature.
Well, gentle enough that girls like Rena could tame them, anyway.
It would certainly be a fine thing to have a mount like this, with its great beauty and easy pace—
And total lack of any way to control it
! he reminded himself, as the stallion made an abrupt leap over an obstacle across the path, jarring him and making him lose his balance and fight to regain it.
No, maybe not
.
He realized a bit later, as he ducked a little to avoid a low-hanging branch, that the only reason the alicorns didn't absentmindedly scrape them off was purely because of the way
they
were built. Their necks were so long that their heads were very nearly even with the rider's—and the horn more than made up for the difference. Anything Lorryn would have had to duck under, the stallion did, too, giving him a moment of warning so that he didn't brain himself on a branch. If they ever got tired of carrying a rider, they would have no problem getting rid of that rider. Perhaps Rena's bribery was the only thing keeping them "tame."