And just like that, I have a plan of action. My mind is churning with all kinds of creative ideas and I’m unable to sleep despite my exhaustion. I take my guard duty shift soon after Midnight Ghost Time then finally fall asleep in a few pre-dawn hours, cradling the pegasus orb with my body, willing it warmth and affection.
In the morning of day three, multiple ideas come together and evolve, and I explain them to my teammates.
“It’s amrevet,” I say. “The pegasei need to feel your affection, true and real. But I think there’s also color and sound involved. Like the three moons—three elements. How exactly, I’m not quite sure yet, but I’m working on it.”
Zaap listens to me thoughtfully and nods. “Animals need to feel loved or they won’t listen to you.”
“Quick! Everyone hug your pegasus!” Brie quips, rolling her eyes. “As long as you don’t expect me to make out with it, it’s all good.”
I ignore Brie’s nonsense and return my full attention to the orb and its colorful energy occupant. This morning my pegasus is mostly violet and gold, with little ripples of orange. The blue is missing.
“Hey . . .” I say to it gently. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Wish I could make you understand. I wish—”
Suddenly the audience all around the cove erupts in crazy noise. At the same time everyone turns in the direction across the beach. A tall woman with long red-and-gold streaked hair, in a green uniform with the Animal Handler logo, is holding with both hands what appears to be a cord of pure white radiance blazing in the fierce light of Hel. It’s attached on the other end to a wildly struggling, pulsing, monstrous cloud of rainbow-colored plasma.
The pegasus is out of its quantum containment field, but it’s not going anywhere. I notice that there are four harness loops splitting off the single lead of the cord, forming a kind of sparse netting around the plasma creature. The harness must be generating a quantum containment field of its own.
“. . . What an amazing feat of skill, Grail Games worshippers!” an announcer cries. “At last, we have pegasus capture! And the tamer of this beast is Animal Handler Leetana Chipuo, definitely a Contender to watch!”
“Yes, we have a potential new Grail Games star in the making!” another commentator chatters in reply. “Now, let’s take a closer look at Leetana’s score profile and see how she ranks overall—”
“Bashtooh! Tamer? She didn’t ‘tame’ anything, yet,” Zaap grumbles in disgust. “She just has it on a leash. . . . The main work is still to come.”
“So where did she get that harness?” Lolu says in a hard voice. “That’s what I want to know!”
While everyone continues to speculate, Leetana Chipuo wrangles her pegasus on its lead, at the same time singing to it a single, very loud and intense note. It’s not a proper voice command, and I wonder momentarily if I’m simply unfamiliar with it.
“That’s a herding call,” Zaap says, seeing my confusion. “You sing one note to make an animal listen to you. Then you sing another to teach it different things.”
“Okay, so it’s not a special voice command I’ve never heard?” I ask sheepishly.
Zaap shakes his head negatively.
“No,” Lolu replies. “Just a common way to train. I saw them do it on the pegasus program too. The trainers repeated one note over and over when they were teaching them to transform.”
In that moment, as Leetana continues to pull and tug at the fiery cord and sing her power note, the pegasus reacts by suddenly flaring brightly and then, in the span of a second, flash-phasing through all the colors of the rainbow. The scattered cloud of plasma light coalesces and starts pulling together. It grows tangible and solid, taking on a vague shape of a large quadruped animal of a dark grey, silvery hue.
At first the form is crude and rough like a clay figurine. But as we stare, it continues to improve and refine in detail. . . . The animal is now unmistakably a horse with sleek muscular lines.
And then, just like that, it becomes unreal. Two great wings sprout from its back, and it spreads them wide, flapping. It tests its footing and rears up on its hind legs, pawing the air with its forelegs.
I suck in my breath with involuntary awe, seeing the classic mythological Pegasus brought to life . . . immeasurable billions of light years away from Earth on an alien planet. . . .
Leetana sings a different note to it, at the same time shortening the lead. She stands directly in front of it, singing the second note, and holds up her palm. The pegasus makes no sound and simply lowers itself, returning to stand on all four legs firmly on the ground. Its sides heave as it breathes, as though testing its lung capacity, and still remaining silent throughout the process.
The Games audience claps wildly, and the announcers chatter with excited commentary.
“Okay, I see what she’s doing,” Kateb says.
I frown. “What?” At this point I’m quite confused, since my whole wonderful theory about amrevet as the ultimate key to taming these creatures, seems to be falling apart. . . .
“Basic stuff.” Zaap replies. “She imagines the animal shape, then thinks it to the pegasus, who receives her thought and acts on it.”
“Her thought?” Brie echoes him. “What, you mean like telepathy? Holy crap!”
Chihar shakes his head. “Not exactly. Due to its quantum unstable nature, the pegasus seems to have the ability to tune itself to us, to our brain’s physical processes and sensory projections—manifested as thoughts. We’re certain it’s entirely physiological. It picks up very subtle changes in our brain chemistry, brain waves, and other neurological activity. And it responds by echoing the impressions back to us. However, there is still much we don’t know and, regretfully, I’m not an expert in this area—”
“I still want to know where she got that special harness!” Lolu interrupts, watching as Leetana Chipuo now places her hand on the pegasus’s neck and runs her fingers carefully through its short mane of hair.
“Can you—can you make it look any way you like?” Brie asks. “I mean, when you think at it, can you make it become any color and shape you want? Or does it have to be a realistic natural animal?”
“Not sure,” Zaap says. “Again, I have very little experience and information about pegasei. But I think the stronger your mind picture is, the better form it creates.”
Meanwhile, Leetana the Animal Handler leads her pegasus slowly along the beach near the waterline. The expression on her face is confident and somewhat arrogant, and she smiles at other Contenders as she passes by them. Her pegasus meanwhile remains docile in the way of an absentminded ghost. . . .
For some reason, seeing it like that, bland and indifferent, makes me sad.
I’m stubbornly stuck on the idea—there needs to be love.
We finally figure out the secret of the quantum containment harness—by late morning. It’s basically a trick.
It occurs to many of us that the Games officials had to have provided us with everything necessary to deal with the pegasei, otherwise no one would pass this final Game stage. Which means we already have all the materials necessary with us.
It turns out you can take any cord with metallic or magnetic properties and tie it around the containment orb, then sing the keying command. . . . Except, you’re not voice-keying the orb to yourself—you are keying the cord and the orb to yourself, basically binding them together in the process.
In that split-second of quantum field collapse, the solid orb returns to energy form, which “quantum-adheres” to the cord instead of simply dissipating. I imagine it as a kind of energy “breading”—as in, breaded food, fried edibles covered in breadcrumbs that somehow stick. . . . Or better yet, static cling.
The ordinary cord takes on the quantum containment field properties and becomes the substitute for the orb. It doesn’t have to be tied tight—in fact, the looser the better, so that when the pegasus transforms there’s room for its body to fit inside the newly made harness without painfully constraining it—such as ac
cidental choking. As long as the cord encompasses the orb in several loops, it is sufficient.
I don’t recall who among the Contenders figures this whole thing out first, but the word spreads and we all start keying our pegasei with our own equipment.
My teammates and I first watch a few nearby Contenders do this trick before attempting it on our own precious orbs. Even so, there’s still some risk involved—periodically there’s still another escaping pegasus streaking through the sky around the cove—so we know that not everyone is successful.
Zaap goes first. He carefully knots a cord multiple times around his orb, grips it tight, then concentrates very hard on both items and sings the keying command.
There’s a familiar pop explosion as the containment orb dissipates and simultaneously clings to the cord in the form of radiance. . . . The pegasus plasma cloud unfurls and blazes momentarily, while Zaap holds on with both hands, singing his one chosen note.
A few seconds of hard struggle . . . colorful plasma pulses. Then the creature begins to solidify.
We stare at Zaap’s creation—a gorgeous dark brown horse, much better defined than Leetana Chipuo’s attempt. Zaap’s pegasus has immense wings that fold properly into layers of feathers, perfectly sculpted naturally barefoot hooves, and a sleek beautiful head with a long flowing mane. Once it stops bucking and rearing, its near-black eyes watch us with quiet intelligence.
“Nice!” Kokayi says, examining the pegasus while Zaap holds him, still singing the note.
Zaap nods, without stopping. He is intensely focused, all his attention now transferred to the creature in his care.
Which means—it’s time for the rest of us to get cracking.
After much thinking, I select a long orichalcum cord from my bag and tie it with trembling fingers around the orb. Right now my pegasus pulses steady violet, gold, and blue, but no orange. . . . The orb vibrates warmly against my palms. It’s as if the pegasus senses it’s about to get an opportunity to escape.
I take a deep shuddering breath full of nervous energy.
This is it. . . .
If I screw up, I’m disqualified.
In some ways, this is more nerve-wracking and disturbing than having my life threatened during Games combat.
Then I nearly forget that I need to choose a fundamental note. After I key the harness and orb together, this is the note I’ll be singing as I make the pegasus transform.
I decide on my usual, a middle F. . . . I’ll switch to it once the initial voice-keying is done. . . .
I also need to choose the pegasus’s physical form.
Oh lord. . . . My mind races wildly, sorting through hundreds of images of horses I’ve seen in my life, and birds with great beautiful wingspans, and ancient statues of stone depicting the mythic Pegasus, and figurines, and paintings, and classical drawings. . . .
Stop! Just pick one, Gwen, you classical idiot. Pick something real!
I focus and imagine a lovely white horse running through a pasture. Then, for whatever reason, I imagine it with a long golden horn—holy crap, no! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
My heart pounds.
Are you ready?
Somehow the question is directed at both of us—at me and the pegasus.
There’s no meaningful response from the creature. It continues to stir and pulse in different colors.
I take another deep breath. My right hand tightens around the one end of the cord that’s tied in a loop, for an easier grip.
With the orb balanced on the palm of my left hand, I sing the voice-keying command.
The orb explodes in my hand. I can feel its physical snap like an electric shock. There’s a blinding flash and an array of colors. . . . Suddenly I’m engulfed in a purple and orange cloud of rapidly expanding light, and I feel a powerful force of something pulling away from me.
The cord in my right hand tightens, and I hold on to it with a white-knuckled grip as the thing of power jerks wildly, dragging at me in every direction so that I almost stumble. At the same time, I begin singing the F note, while simultaneously imagining the being of multicolor light becoming a white horse with great angelic swan-wings and a long snowy mane and tail.
There’s a buzzing sensation in the middle of my forehead, almost like a strange subdermal itch.
And then I don’t feel it anymore.
Instead I focus very hard on the image in my mind.
And my pegasus transforms.
A huge white animal stands before me, pawing the ground, rearing wildly. It rolls its violet eyes and bares its teeth while I continue to sing the F note in a clean voice with perfect pitch.
Finally, the transformation is complete. I switch to a steady G note to indicate “stop” and put my hand up in a calming gesture.
Steady, steady, beautiful one, I “think” at it. Please, don’t try to run away. . . . Please, I need you so much! Just for one day, tomorrow, and then you’re free of me, I promise!
The white pegasus stands, docile and vacant, barely present, not really listening to me.
For a moment, my heart twinges with unexplainable sorrow.
But I hold on to the radiant cord, keeping it as steady as I can, and then I reach up with my hand to touch the creature’s neck.
Chapter 86
The throat of the pegasus is smooth and warm and solid to the touch. It “feels” like a horse, but then I’m not sure what a horse should feel like, since I’ve never actually touched one.
I take that back—I have touched a small pony once, and this is probably very similar.
So I continue petting it and talking softly to it as I lead it a few steps across the sandy beach, finally daring to take my gaze off it long enough to see what my teammates are doing.
The first thing I see is, Lolu has released her pegasus and given it a proper shape with big fluffy wings, except, its color is a ridiculous pink.
A few feet away, I see Brie has created a beautiful golden palomino with a white mane, tail, and wings. Kateb’s pegasus is a basic brown horse with wings of the same color. Chihar is still struggling with his plasma cloud which has taken a very rudimentary equine shape and is still partially translucent.
But the most amazing pegasus is in the hands of Kokayi. His pegasus is of a gorgeous metallic rainbow color not found in nature, perfectly sculpted as though it’s a crystal figurine come to life. The wings of the rainbow pegasus are paler, a kind of chrome silver with mother-of-pearl highlights.
“Oh, wow! That’s amazing!” I call out to Kokayi, and he turns his lean, androgynous-handsome face to me and flashes a white-toothed grin—all the while continuing to grip the harness.
Zaap meanwhile has become nearly oblivious to us as he continues to work with his elegant dark brown pegasus. He whispers to it, pets it continuously. . . . Then suddenly he leaps with effortless skill and lands on the creature’s back, settling in comfortably like a jockey. He takes care not to interfere with the movement of the wings—which wouldn’t be an issue on a normal horse—so his position is more streamlined, leaning forward.
The pegasus barely reacts to the weight of the human on its back. Had it been a natural horse or some other wild quadruped, it would’ve been rearing and protesting by now. But it doesn’t make a sound, only turns its head slightly, and its dark eyes do not blink. In fact, it’s interesting that after their initial struggle with the quantum energy harness during that first transformation, none of the pegasei protest any of the later commands given to them.
My teammates and I watch carefully, paying attention to Zaap’s skillful handling of the pegasus. A few minutes later, he rides the pegasus at a trot across the beach, and then returns at a canter, past some fascinated onlookers. Zaap is apparently the first of any of us Contenders to become a Rider.
Soon, however, we see Leetana Chipuo and many others around the cove all up on their pegasei’s backs.
But Zaap is ahead of them in progress. He directs his pegasus to run once again, but this time the creature flaps it
s great wings and becomes airborne.
I admit, I wasn’t sure if that was going to be aerodynamically possible. A flying horse? Really?
But this is not really a horse, I need to remind myself. It’s quantum energy in solid form.
There may be no limits to what it can do.
Zaap and his pegasus rise about fifty feet in the air and fly over the water, circling the cove, testing the great wings. When they return, we have many questions for him.
“How did you do it?” Kokayi asks, casually patting his own rainbow pegasus.
Zaap jumps back down on the ground, holding the lead, and thinks for a moment. “You need three basic commands. ‘Go,’ ‘stop,’ and ‘transform.’ Each time you think and visualize the action, you sing a different note to reinforce it. The more you repeat it, the faster the pegasus remembers and responds.”
“What about nuance?” I ask. “Stuff like turn right, left, up, down, slower, faster?”
Zaap shrugs. “Just concentrate hard and think it. Be very clear and specific. The pegasus can pick up what you mean. I imagined us flying and it flew.”
I glance at my own bright white pegasus and see its violet eye watching me. So I try to visualize “happiness” as I pet it gently, hoping it can understand.
The next step is to transform again. Once again we all watch, letting Zaap demonstrate his better techniques.
Zaap leads his pegasus up to the edge of the water, not astride it yet. Zaap and his pegasus pause, and then the pegasus takes a few steps into the gentle surf. Zaap sings the “transform” note and the pegasus turns into a delphit—the Atlantean dolphin. The equine quadruped form collapses, the legs disappear, the wings fold and are absorbed into the torso, while it takes on a sleek beautiful shape of the sea creature. The radiant harness is still attached, encircling it below the head with its long elegant snout.
Zaap mounts gracefully and lies forward, hugging the grey body with his arms, then sings the “go” command. The delphit surges forward, undulating slightly, and in seconds Zaap straightens and holds only the fin. He then switches to another position and then another, testing for what’s best. The two of them swim rapidly, cutting a swath of white foam in the waves behind them, moving farther out into the cove.