#amber goode

[akepalsson]

WEEK 2 —Training Challenge: Describe your capall uisce

@thescorpioracesfestival

Maris used to be my brother’s horse, he rode him on his last race, the one where he fatally died; and now I take care of him. Well, partially, because as a way to pay me less than my co-workers, Benjamin Malvern has promised to let Maris stay at Malvern Yard’s own stables, where I still have to look after him but mostly during work hours. Sometimes I stay later than that, I don’t trust most of the goons that work here to look after my horse.

My horse. It was my brother’s, but my brother is long gone so Maris is mine now. He could have gone to my dad, but my dad doesn’t have any interest in the races or the uisce horses, so to the youngest daughter he goes. At first, I didn’t think it was fair, what would a 14-year-old do with a depredator like that? I had to get a job so I could get Maris a place to stay, and I’ve been working at Malvern’s ever since. 

I click my tongue once I enter the stables I know Maris is in. His dark head pops out when he hears me coming closer and I can’t help but smile seeing him.

“Hey, boy!” I greet him, with the same tone a child would use with a puppy. Maris neighs and moves his head up, in an attempt to get close to where I’m standing. “How have they been treating you, my boy?”

I pet his head, brushing the hair on his mane with my fingers. Maris is beautiful, and I’m not only saying that because he’s my horse. He’s tall, just like every other capaill, but his strong, long legs make him look even bigger than the rest. His fur is as dark as the night, it technically is black but I could swear it looks midnight blue when I look at it. He neighs again, shaking his whole head and hitting me with his mane. 

“I know, I know. I should have been here sooner.” I wish I could have brought him something to eat, a treat for keeping him here, but I got distracted talking to Isadora when I could have used that time to go to the butcher instead. It’s not like he’s going to starve, but a treat would be nice. 

I keep petting him, making sure he’s clean and untangling his long mane. I keep my head close to his, which in another time of my life would have gotten me a scolding by any responsible adult (“What are you doing with your face that close to a capall uisce? Do you want to have part of your face missing?”) but it’s something I do in my regular life now. 

I wouldn’t be this close to any other horse, though. It’s only Maris that gets this attention from me. Sure, I’ve come to know some of the other horses that Malvern Yard’s has taken in through the years, but Maris is different. I’ve practically trained him, although one can never truly tame a capaill uisce; but Maris and I know each other. He won’t eat me and in exchange, I keep him comfortable and well-fed.

Plus, Josh Bremner, Isadora’s brother, taught me practically everything I know about capaill uisce. He’s a few years older than me, but when my brother died and I inherited a whole living horse, he was the one who stepped out to teach me how to properly take care of him and eventually, learn to ride him. Josh Bremner, who I always refer to by his full name as second nature, has participated in the races since he was about my age, so he knows how to ride a capall not only with care as to avoid getting eaten, but also he does it faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. I’m not as good as he is, hell, I don’t think I’m ready to participate in a race, but that isn’t stopping me. 

Maris moves around his box, agitated. His ears twitch, hearing something far from where we are. 

“What is it, boy?” I try to pet his neck, but he shakes his whole body, trying to get on his two back legs but the space isn’t big enough for him to do that, so he just moves nervously. I’ve seen him act like this before, sometime a year ago.

They are finally back, emerging slowly from the sea, but back nonetheless. The Scorpio sea calls each capall now, their true nature shows once the rest of them show up in time for the races, just live every other year.

And this time Maris and I will be ready.

[akepalsson]

WEEK 1 —Training Challenge: Introduce your rider.

A little late but I wanted to join the fun @thescorpioracesfestival

The salty wind hits my face, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve grown used to it, everyone who spends their time on this beach has. 

“What are you doing here?”

I turn around to see Isadora Levy, the woman who lives next door to us. Isadora and her husband are good family friends and when Mom went to the mainland they made sure my brother and I were well-fed.

“Waiting for them to come out.” is my unusually short reply, and my gaze returns to the ocean.

Isadora sighs, but she sits on the small cliff next to where I’ve been sitting for hours now. She's wearing her best clothes, which can only mean she's going to Skarmouth, to the church, or maybe the shops. When you don't have to worry about money, those are the kinds of activities you can do in your day-to-day life.

“Don't you have to go to work?” Isadora insists, moving her legs, which are dangling from the cliff. She can tell I’m focused, usually, our dynamic is reversed: I’m the one asking questions and bothering her, while Isadora is calm and collected. Maybe it’s too early for me to be talking a lot. 

“I start in an hour.” I shake my head and she seems to understand, for her face shows no concern. I keep explaining. “I've been coming to the beach early since the beginning of October, waiting.”

“What exactly do you plan to do?” Is her question, because she knows what I'm talking about. Everyone on the island knows it.

“I just want to be the first to see them.”

See them. Them, the capaill uisce. The famous killer horses, who emerge from the sea of ​​Scorpio once autumn begins. Those fearsome horses, gigantic in comparison to a normal animal, which only the strongest of men can tame into their mounts during the annual race, the Scorpio Races, Thisby's foremost event.

“Well, Amber,” Isadora says my name with her weird accent. She's not from Thisby but she's not from the mainland either, she comes from an island not far away that she doesn't like to talk about. “We’re only through the first week of October, I’m almost sure that there is still time for the first capall to emerge.”

I know, but I don't want to miss it. I feel the need to pout, but I don't. I'm practically an adult now, I shouldn't be pouting anymore, much less at someone like Isadora.

Before Isadora says something like ‘You don't want to lose your job either,’ I stand up from the cliff, moving away from where she was sitting. Isadora follows me and we both walk off together, me heading to Malvern’s Yard and Isadora to somewhere in Skarmouth.

“You’re not thinking of joining the races, are you?” Isadora questions me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I smile back at her, she just shakes her head in disappointment but she knew that already, there was no need to ask. “Amber, why are you putting your life at risk? Isn’t it already enough working with those demonic horses in your daily life? Must you also do this?”

“It’s going to be fine, Isadora.” I put my hair in a high ponytail as we walk, the loose blonde curls hanging on my face aren’t exactly comfortable for cleaning horse shit all day, so a ponytail is the best option. “Besides, the money would suit me well.”

“You’re doing this for the money? Oh, Amber. There are better ways to get it than this, the races are practically a suicide!”

“You have so little faith in me, Isa.” 

Isadora sighs, she’s not in the mood for this. “You better than anyone knows how dangerous the races are.”

She’s right, so I shut my mouth. Isadora is referring to my brother, who died in the races years ago. Since then I’ve been taking after his job and his capall, as me and my dad need the money he used to bring. I’m too fond of the horse to sell it and my brother loved the animal so I can’t just let it go like that. Besides, maybe he can help me with my plans of joining the race.

“Amber, if I can’t change your mind, the least I can do is pray for you.” Isadora keeps saying, holding her hands together. “May the ocean watch you, Amber Goode, we need you alive here.”