Smarter than the average horse

 

I love some of the animal characters in the books I read. From the heroic nature of Dean Koontz’s goldens, through the tragic descent into madness of Stephen King’s Cujo, to the comic distractions of almost any pet, animal characters just add depth and breadth to any tale.

Right now, I’m having a lot of fun with my MC’s horse in the epic romantasy series I’m writing. Brawn has a bit of faerie blood in him. He’s super-intelligent—a good bit smarter than the MC in many ways—and his frustration at not being able to communicate through speech makes for some interesting scenes.

The following scene in A Verse for Witches was placed in the book after some back-and-forth with my editor on the pros and cons of making the horse one of the major characters. It was an experiment that--as she warned me it might--got out of hand.

And now, more and more scenes are from the horse's point of view in the series.

From A Verse for Witches, Chapter 1:

Trevor stepped out from the shadows as the door closed behind the mercenary. He frowned. The sword Tsing was wearing was not the one he’d expected to see. The one he was looking for would have a glowing red stone in the pommel.

He scratched speculatively at the stiff hairs on his chin. Tsing had admitted to having other weapons, and he would be tied up with the Alchemist for a while. Now would be the perfect time to do some investigating.

The goblin slipped quietly out the front door and gazed down into the street below. A large black stallion was tethered near the water trough at the bottom of the walkway. The mercenary had carried his saddlebags with him into the Alchemist’s office, but a large duffle remained tied across the horse’s withers. The artifact in question might be packed within.

His flat goblin feet slapped against the paving stones as he trotted down the walkway, which may have alerted the horse, because the animal lifted his head from the water trough and fixed him with a single eye as he approached.

“Nothing to worry about, my friend,” he said, as he patted the stallion’s flank. “I just want to take a quick look at what your master has in this—hey!” As soon as his hand had touched the duffle, the horse gripped the collar of Trevor’s tunic in his teeth and lifted the goblin off his feet, flinging him into the street.

Trevor pushed himself from the cobblestones, brushing street dust from his clothing and checking up and down the street for possible witnesses. He fixed his gaze on the horse, which lowered its head level to the goblin’s and squinted a warning at him. Trevor placed his hands on his hips. “So, we’re going to have a problem, are we? I—”

He stopped. There was a distinctly un-equine intelligence in the stallion’s demeanor. What are you? His eyes widened. It couldn’t be!

He spread his arms, palms up, open in a gesture of peace. “I mean no harm,” he murmured, approaching the animal cautiously. He stopped just outside of the horse’s reach and sniffed. Gods of Urgule! “I think there might be some faerie blood in your veins, big fellow. Perhaps we can have a conversation.”

Casting about again for prying eyes, Trevor pulled a small device from the pocket of his trousers. Using both hands, he gave it a twist, pulling it into two pieces, one of which he tucked behind an ear. The other he held up in front of the horse’s muzzle.

“Get that thing out of my face,” the stallion nickered.

“It will help us talk,” Trevor explained.

The horse took a step back, lifting his head, eyes wide. “You understood what I said?”

Trevor nodded. “Yes. This is a universal translator. Standard issue for agents of the Protectorate.”

The horse took a step forward and lowered his head again. “Clever of you,” he nickered, sniffing at the piece in Trevor’s hand and giving the goblin a sideways look. “What’s an agent of the Fae Protectorate doing in Azurith?”

“So, you know of us.”

“Yes. I hear things. Obviously, I don’t get to talk much, so I listen.”

“Clever of you.”

“Don’t be condescending. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m just gathering information.”

“Just gathering information? Taking a job as man servant to the Alchemist of Azurith seems like a lot of trouble to go to just to gather information.”

Trevor shrugged. “The Protectorate is interested in many things, and the Alchemist is one of the better information sources, making this an efficient use of my time. What’s your name, stallion?”

“Tsing calls me Brawn.”

“Ah. It fits you. I bet you’re a great source of information, too, Brawn. May I ask you a few questions?”

“What’s in it for us—me and Tsing?”

“You get the satisfaction of helping out a fellow Fae.”

Brawn snorted. “How about you give us that translator?”

Trevor shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Can’t. It’s against regulations.”

“Do you know how hard it is keeping Tsing out of trouble when the only way to communicate is snorting, nickering, or pawing at the ground with a hoof? It sure would be helpful to have a device like that.”

“It’s against regulations.”

Brawn snorted again.

“You have a very expressive snort. I imagine you communicate with Tsing quite well.”

Brawn glared at him. “What do you want to know, goblin?” he nickered.

“I’m looking for a special sword, one with a glowing red jewel mounted in its pommel. I think your master might have it in his possession.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It is said your master wields a sword that sings. It sounds like the one I’m looking for. Does he have it?”

“Why are you looking for a sword that sings?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s confidential.”

“For the sake of the gods, goblin! If you want me to divulge our secrets, the least you could do is tell me yours.”

“So, you have the Sword?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s confidential.”

“Very funny.”

“Not so funny as ironic, maybe. Come on, goblin—what’s your name, by the way?”

“Trevor.”

Brawn snorted. “Really? Very well, Trevor, your secrets are safe with me. After all, who am I going to tell?”

Trevor pursed his lips. The animal made a valid point. He looked up and down the street, lowering his voice further. “If I explain my mission, will you answer my questions?”

“Of course. It would only be fair.”

Trevor took a step closer. “The Protectorate is trying to recover some important Fae artifacts that have fallen into human hands. One such artifact is Ka’il Idreth, the Sword that Sings. It makes the wielder invincible. Such a weapon, in the hands of an unscrupulous human, could upset the delicate balance of power in your world.”

“Or in the realms of the Fae, I would imagine,” Brawn snorted. “What does it look like? What type of sword is it?”

“It would take the form of whatever type of weapon most suited the wielder. The way to recognize it would be the glowing red jewel in its pommel.”

“You’re not planning to give it to the Alchemist, I hope.”

“Of course not. It goes back to the Protectorate for safekeeping, and we will pay you handsomely for its return.”

“We don’t have it.”

Trevor’s shoulders sagged. “Are you certain? What about the rumors that your master has a sword that sings?”

“First of all, he’s not my master; we’re partners. Secondly, that singing sword stuff is just a way of saying he’s a good swordsman.”

“I’ve not heard that said of other good swordsmen.”

“Tsing is really good. The best in all Panprama, possibly the entire world.”

It was Trevor’s turn to snort. “You’re certain he does not own a blade with a glowing red jewel in the pommel.”

“I’m certain. But, speaking of glowing red jewels, is the one Tsing is delivering to your Alchemist one of the artifacts you’re trying to recover?”

“Yes. It is called the Eye of Ellindrell.”

“What sort of power does it wield?”

“Power, itself. More than that, I cannot say.”

“Can’t, or won’t? I thought we were being honest with each other.”

“I honestly don’t know what all it does.”

“Does the Alchemist know you’re trying to recover the artifact he’s paying us for?”

“Not yet.”

“You’re going to steal it.”

“Is it stealing to take something that rightfully belongs to you?”

“The Alchemist might not find such an argument convincing. I trust you’ll wait until we’re far from Azurith before you take it. A mercenary makes a convenient target to blame for thievery. It’s happened before.”

“I have no intention of involving either of you.”

Brawn lowered his head to look Trevor in the eye. “Good. Because if harm comes to Tsing as a consequence of your actions, you’ll have to answer to me, goblin.”

Trevor swallowed, taking a step back. “You have nothing to worry about. Thank you for your time. Have a good day.” He pulled the piece of the translator from behind his ear, reunited it with its companion piece, and dropped the device back into the pocket of his trousers. As he mounted the walkway up to the Alchemist’s offices, the horse whinnied at him.

It sounded like a warning.