Changing the World: All-New Tales of Valdemar

He had not been there an instant ago, standing between two of the tall gray stones. He was as white as snow, and his eyes were pure and luminous blue. His long mane rippled in the breeze that played around the hilltop.

His nostrils flared at the sharp scent of the mare’s longing, but he was a great deal more than a stallion. He dipped his head to her, respectfully, yet made no move to claim what she offered. There was a hint of regret and apology that he must disappoint her—all in the glint of an eye and the turn of an ear.

Kelyn loved him for that, suddenly and completely. “Thank you,” she said.

:You are welcome,: he answered.

“Everyone thinks she’s just a pony,” Kelyn said, “but she’s a person. I suppose you get a lot of that, too?”

:Occasionally,: he said. His voice in her head was dryly amused.

“Your Herald must get tired of setting people straight,” she said.

:I can see that you do,: said the Companion.

Kelyn started to answer, but then she stopped. It had dawned on her, belatedly, that there was no one in Whites standing near him. Then she realized what exactly he had said.

She went perfectly still, inside and out. The world around her was supernaturally clear. She could hear every rustle of the wind in the grass, and see every glint of sunlight on the stones, and count each flower that sprang around the Companion’s silver hooves.

She wanted to remember everything, every breath, every fraction of this moment.

:You are Kelyn,: he said, :and I am Coryn, and I’ve come for you. Will you sit on my back?:

The pony offered no objection when Kelyn slid out of the familiar saddle and tied up the reins so that she could graze if she chose. For all the stallion’s attractions, the grass to her mind was sweeter.

Kelyn patted her neck a little sadly, because a woman’s clothes had changed little after all, but this changed everything. The pony tilted an ear, otherwise ignoring her. The grass was delicious, and she was hungry.

Ponies were as unsentimental as living creatures could be. Kelyn turned away from her toward the being she had dreamed of since she was small.

He was waiting for her. For her, and no one else.

She sprang onto his back. It was a long way up, but she was agile and strong. Her only regret was that there was no human there to see it.

Nerys would die of jealousy. That brightened Kelyn’s mood beyond measure.

Coryn carried her from one end of the Wood to the other, striding long and smooth, with power that made her heart sing. He was wide through the back and barrel, too, which she would have to get used to. But she would. She had the rest of her life to do it.

She had expected to gallop into Emmerdale in a blaze of glory, but his circle took him back to the ring of stones and her pony dozing peacefully in the light of the westering sun. There he halted and made it clear that she should dismount. “But,” she said, “I thought—”

:I know,: Coryn said. :And you will, I promise. Go home now; keep this as our secret. In a little while the world will know that I have Chosen you; and then you’ll have your dream.:

“That’s not what any of the stories say,” Kelyn said. She should not have been so stubborn, but she could not help herself.

:Every story is different,: the Companion said. :This is yours, and it is wonderful.:

“Not if I have to go home without you,” she said.

:It’s not for very long,: he said, gentle but firm. :Now hurry. Your mother is looking for you.:

That was a shrewd blow. Kelyn glared, but she gave way. “You’d better come back soon,” she said. “Tomorrow. Promise.”

:Soon,: the Companion said. Her Companion, who had Chosen her.

That would keep her warm inside, even if she could not tell anyone. Except maybe—

:Not even your mother,: said Coryn.

“You’re worse than she is,” Kelyn muttered. “She doesn’t read my mind.”

His laughter filled the circle and melted into sunlight. When the dazzle faded from her eyes, he was gone. She was alone with her pony and her temper and the best secret she had ever had or hoped to have.

The next day was market day in Emmerdale. Kelyn and Nerys had duties there: Kelyn in her father’s shop among the bolts of wool, and Nerys in the livestock market, where she kept the records of the sheep as they were bought and sold. It was pure coincidence that the sheepfolds and the cloth market were at opposite ends of the square, but it had served their families well over the years.

The white horse came trotting down the middle of the market at the stroke of noon. His coat was dazzling in the sun. His mane and tail streamed in the wind of his passage.