#the vine

g-wulfing-author:

An extract from The Vine. 

Riding over the dunes in the blazing starlight was as exhilarating as Afif had imagined. The horses’ ears were pricked, their eyes wide and eager, delighted to be cantering relaxedly in the cool of a night that was almost as bright as day. The world was illuminated with the cold, silver-white light of stars instead of the hot, red-gold light of the sun.

It was so bright that Afif could see colours. The smart bay of Aruna’s coat seemed deeper and richer in the starlight, and he could even make out that some of the jewels in the hilt of the prince’s dagger gleamed ruby-red when the starlight caught them as the breeze blew the prince’s robe back from his waist.

They rode in silence, aside from the muffled sound of the horses’ hooves in the sand and the occasional jingle of harness or snort of the horses’ breath.

As they reached the crest of a dune, the prince reined in his mount, and Afif drew rein beside him. Shadows shook his head happily, with a small snort of satisfaction, and Afif smiled inwardly, happy that his horse was pleased. Beyond them were more dunes, rolling forever in the night, a hundred huge black curving shadows with curving silver tops.

The prince was looking upward, and Afif followed his gaze.

The stars seemed brighter and closer than ever. Afif could almost hear them singing. They swallowed his gaze. Look at us! Look at us! We are so alive tonight!

A million, million of them. As many as the grains of sand that made up a dune. As many as the breaths a mortal might draw in a lifetime. As many as the hairs on a satin-coated horse.

For a long time, Afif and the prince stared at the stars in silence. Occasionally, one of the horses shifted his stance, but the riders’ eyes remained fixed on the sky above. Time seemed to have stood still for a while.

At last, the prince spoke.

“I think they are too beautiful to be human souls,” he remarked calmly, with a touch of wistfulness. “Surely even a good soul does not shine so purely.”

Afif looked at him, not knowing what to say.

If Afif had said such a thing, and someone had looked at him as Afif now looked at the prince, Afif might have felt the need to apologise for saying a thing that was so unusual. The other stable-boys would almost certainly have made fun of him for saying something so poetic, and this was one reason why Afif usually kept his thoughts to himself.

But princes do not need to apologise to stable-boys for speaking their minds.

“What do you think?” the prince asked Afif. “Have you ever met a soul that shone so beautifully as one of those stars?”

Afif thought for a moment, regarding his horse’s piebald mane and the dunes beyond.

“Not in a person, Your Highness,” he said, after a pause. “… But perhaps in a horse.”

The stable-boy was surprised when he glanced up and saw that the prince was beaming at him. Afif saw his dark eyes and white teeth.

There was a pause.

“Why is that, do you think?” the prince asked then. “Why are horses more beautiful, more noble, than we are?”

Afif thought some more.

“Because they are honest, Your Highness,” he ventured, still keeping his voice quiet as the night demanded. “They do not try to be anything other than what they are. But they try to be the best they can be. And they never scorn any other living thing for being what it is.”

Again the stable-boy risked glancing at the prince, and again he saw the prince beaming at him.

“A good answer,” the prince said softly.

Again, the two riders stared at the stars for a long time.

An extract from The Vine. 

Riding over the dunes in the blazing starlight was as exhilarating as Afif had imagined. The horses’ ears were pricked, their eyes wide and eager, delighted to be cantering relaxedly in the cool of a night that was almost as bright as day. The world was illuminated with the cold, silver-white light of stars instead of the hot, red-gold light of the sun.

It was so bright that Afif could see colours. The smart bay of Aruna’s coat seemed deeper and richer in the starlight, and he could even make out that some of the jewels in the hilt of the prince’s dagger gleamed ruby-red when the starlight caught them as the breeze blew the prince’s robe back from his waist.

They rode in silence, aside from the muffled sound of the horses’ hooves in the sand and the occasional jingle of harness or snort of the horses’ breath.

As they reached the crest of a dune, the prince reined in his mount, and Afif drew rein beside him. Shadows shook his head happily, with a small snort of satisfaction, and Afif smiled inwardly, happy that his horse was pleased. Beyond them were more dunes, rolling forever in the night, a hundred huge black curving shadows with curving silver tops.

The prince was looking upward, and Afif followed his gaze.

The stars seemed brighter and closer than ever. Afif could almost hear them singing. They swallowed his gaze. Look at us! Look at us! We are so alive tonight!

A million, million of them. As many as the grains of sand that made up a dune. As many as the breaths a mortal might draw in a lifetime. As many as the hairs on a satin-coated horse.

For a long time, Afif and the prince stared at the stars in silence. Occasionally, one of the horses shifted his stance, but the riders’ eyes remained fixed on the sky above. Time seemed to have stood still for a while.

At last, the prince spoke.

“I think they are too beautiful to be human souls,” he remarked calmly, with a touch of wistfulness. “Surely even a good soul does not shine so purely.”

Afif looked at him, not knowing what to say.

If Afif had said such a thing, and someone had looked at him as Afif now looked at the prince, Afif might have felt the need to apologise for saying a thing that was so unusual. The other stable-boys would almost certainly have made fun of him for saying something so poetic, and this was one reason why Afif usually kept his thoughts to himself.

But princes do not need to apologise to stable-boys for speaking their minds.

“What do you think?” the prince asked Afif. “Have you ever met a soul that shone so beautifully as one of those stars?”

Afif thought for a moment, regarding his horse’s piebald mane and the dunes beyond.

“Not in a person, Your Highness,” he said, after a pause. “… But perhaps in a horse.”

The stable-boy was surprised when he glanced up and saw that the prince was beaming at him. Afif saw his dark eyes and white teeth.

There was a pause.

“Why is that, do you think?” the prince asked then. “Why are horses more beautiful, more noble, than we are?”

Afif thought some more.

“Because they are honest, Your Highness,” he ventured, still keeping his voice quiet as the night demanded. “They do not try to be anything other than what they are. But they try to be the best they can be. And they never scorn any other living thing for being what it is.”

Again the stable-boy risked glancing at the prince, and again he saw the prince beaming at him.

“A good answer,” the prince said softly.

Again, the two riders stared at the stars for a long time.