Chouchou – Page 2 – THE LEGEND OF THE GREAT HORSE trilogy

On the run in the Middle Ages with the Mongolian warpony, Targa, and Knight Henryk’s stout (some would say portly) horse Chouchou.

MEAGAN WAS HAPPY to get back to the road, even if it meant another ballad from Henryk. The path splayed over rolling hills of knee-high grass, then dipped as they entered a thicker part of the woods. It was dark beneath the trees and the air was heavy.

Henryk stopped singing when Targa raised her head and whinnied. A horse’s neigh answered from within the woods. The young knight snapped his head around, looking for the source. Targa pranced in a circle, and as she turned, Meagan looked down the part of the road they had just traveled. Someone was following them. Someone who had not been there before.

Black shapes moved quickly in the far trees.

“Meagan!” Henryk urged Chouchou forward. “We go!”

Crashing vegetation and cries sounded from the right, and Meagan saw distant forms leaping through underbrush. Chouchou continued his leisurely walk, undisturbed by Henryk’s efforts to accelerate.

Meagan hesitated, afraid to leave them behind. Henryk and Chouchou were a waddling target. “Hurry up, Henryk!” she screamed. “They are coming!”

“I try!” Henryk was flailing his legs without result.

On the road behind them, their pursuer dropped to one knee and reached for the bow behind his back. Meagan turned and closed her legs—Targa leapt forward, and before the man could string his arrow the pony was coming fast upon him. The man leaped out of their path, dropping his bow on the road. Meagan pulled up and turned back, deliberately taking Targa over the bow until she heard a sharp snap.

Further up the road, Henryk was still trying to kick his mount into something faster than a slow jog. Meagan galloped back again, passing men just breaking free of the trees. She pulled up beside the hapless knight and together they looked back. Eight men were gaining quickly, brandishing staffs and long knives.

Henryk’s face was blotched with exhaustion. Giving up on Chouchou, he stopped kicking and drew his sword, holding it out and waiting for the attack. On impulse, Meagan reached out and grabbed the sword from him. It was heavier than she realized and the blade drooped.

“Arrêt, Meagan! No!”

Circling Targa, she wrestled with the sword before swinging the flat of the blade across Chouchou’s hindquarters. The startled horse shuffled forward a few steps and slowed again to a creeping walk … and then Targa pinned her ears and bit down on the base of the waddler’s tail. The pony had had quite enough of his dullness.

Chouchou gave a squeal and tripped into higher gear, with Henryk holding on as if riding a runaway. The horse rumbled down the dirt road, his eyes ringed white with fear, as Meagan kept Targa close behind him for motivation.

Their pursuers fell behind. The path rose and trees thinned into open land. Safe now, Henryk pulled on the reins and nearly bounced off as Chouchou broke into a rough trot. He took his sword from Meagan sheepishly, deliberately giving Targa a wide berth.

“That was a good girl,” Meagan said, patting Targa’s neck. “Never mind them.”

Henryk smoothed the ruffled tufts of hair on Chouchou’s plump hindquarters. “Lunatique,” he murmured privately to his scandalized mount. Both sent offended looks in the pony’s direction.

Copyright © 2008 John Royce

« “See all Excerpts” || At a medieval watering trough »

The above excerpt is from “See all Excerpts,” the medieval-era section of Eclipsed by Shadow, and is set in 1240AD. (p. 233 Hbk)

The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy is an adventure through history … each section is about a different time period.

Eclipsed by Shadow (Book #1 of the trilogy) won national awards including the Eric Hoffer Award for best Young Adult Fiction, and the Mom’s Choice Award for best family-friendly Young Adult Fantasy.

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» See All Excerpts from The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy.

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On the run in the Middle Ages…

No day can be good that begins in a tree, Meagan thought irritably, I need to remember that. The sun gave no indication of breaking through the overcast skies, and the night’s drizzle seemed a prelude to more rain.

Hungry, sore and sunburned, Meagan was annoyed by Henryk’s new habit of continual singing. She reached up to the wide bough on which she had balanced through the night and retrieved Targa’s bridle. She struggled to tie her gown up so that she could ride. Her ankle-length garment seemed designed to inhibit motion, and she wished again she had not let the Abbey take away her comfortable Mongolian trousers …

Henryk slipped down from the tree and stretched luxuriously. His new horse lifted his enormous head, nudging the young knight and pushing him off his feet. Henryk gritted his teeth as the horse used him for a scratching post. “Chouchou, no,” he said mildly, pushing the horse’s head away and accepting its immediate return.

“Chouchou? Is that what you named him?”

“Tak, Chouchou! You enjoy?” Henryk murmured something in his horse’s huge, floppy ear. Chouchou—the name meant “teacher’s pet” in French, Meagan was to learn—delicately sniffed in Targa’s direction. The pony flattened her ears and snapped. “Visqueux!” Henryk sniffed, and gently soothed his mammoth horse’s supposedly-hurt feelings.

Meagan rode out into the muddy field, leaving Henryk to follow. The German horsetrader had promised the nearby road led to a castle, and she was determined to find it in the rain if necessary. She turned back and saw Henryk hopping up and down beside Chouchou.

Oh, yes, she remembered crossly. Henryk could not mount his elephant without a leg up. Meagan turned back, deciding there was nothing more useless than a knight. Fairytales could talk about shining knights riding up on white steeds, but she was beginning to think their fabled rescues could do without the knight if one had the horse. If knights were not the only people with swords, she was sure no one would pay them the least attention.

Copyright © 2008 John Royce