Hooked on First Change, Anger #mfrwauthor

 

 This week's excerpt is from "The Unknown Patient," one of the tales recorded in First Change: Legends From The Eyrie. At this point, Falamn still hasn't recovered his memory. But has travelled with Clan Weiss long enough he is participating in a celebration. This post shows a different relationship, the one between a dragon lord and the seidhern that chose him as its rider.

Writing the seidhern that appear in the various tales in the Dragshi Chronicles was fun. Although the seidhern looked like nothing more than a very large horse, they were a magical breed, very loyal to their riders, independent, and sometimes a bit snarky.

To set the scene, Falamn has retreated to the forest to recover from Etianne's unexpected kiss.

Excerpt:

The sound of a heavy body crashing through the brush halted the entertainment. Yells of “Get ’im” were overridden by a beast’s squeal of anger. Falamn ran back to the lantern-lit square where dozen men moved back and forth in an erratic circle, however they weren’t dancing. The object of their attention was a dark-gray horse. Three ropes led from its neck and each had a handful of men hanging on it. Dust lay in a thick layer on the horse’s lathered coat. Ribs pressed against the hide indicated either a long journey or days without meals.  

“Who would treat such an animal so,” Falamn cursed. Despite its emaciated state, the animal fought any attempt at capture. When he dragged one man off his feet, another took the fallen one’s place.

“Lorg,” Falamn yelled. The paralysis left his legs and he raced down the path to the straining men. “Drop the ropes. Leave him be.”

The horse stopped rearing and sniffed the air. He turned his gaze on Falamn. Where before the animal bugled in anger, now it whinnied and headed unerringly towards Falamn.

Although they did not drop the ropes as ordered, the men provided slack and the stallion stumbled forward. He extended his nose to Falamn who absently stroked the soft muzzle. A moment later, the animal nosed into pockets and when nothing was forthcoming added a nudge to his demand for a treat.

Around him Falamn heard the sounds of murmured comments. “He’s crazy. That horse will kill him.”

“No,” said another. “He acts like he knows Falamn.” 

“Sorry, boy,” Falamn said with a laugh. “You won’t find any orange roots down here.”

The snort that followed told the animal’s response. So find one.

“Well, lad,” came a low voice from behind Falamn’s shoulder. He looked back to see Nuanain standing there. The loop of a rope hung loose from his fingers. “Falamn, you may not know your true name, but you sure do his.”

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Additional excerpts from the three novellas (and two bonus short stories) in First Change.