“Somewhere far out across the unforgiving waves, thunder clapped announcing the capaill uisce ’s arrival to Thisby.”
While I was too late to participate in this years Scorpio Races Festival, during the crazy year of 2020 I have been revisiting Thisby and even my own additions to it. I participated once, a shocking 5 years ago, and while life has prevented me for having the time to join again, my love for the world Maggie has created hasn’t dwindled. During these insane times I have found James and Caddoc’s story to be an excellent distraction. For no other reason than Scorpio Season and a little bit of fun, I have decided to post things here!
(After digging up the password after years of not even going on Tumblr, of course)
This was supposed to be a routine eye exam today. This Dr. from Taiwan, pulls out his Bible and started sharing the Word of God with me. Why can’t we all do this? He is from another country, and is more proud of God than we are! What a great Birthday gift to sit in a chair and get told how good God is.
He dances under neither me as we walk onto the beach. The crowd is all around us, cheering on their favorites. Cheering for victory. Cheering for blood.
I take a deep breath as the riders line up. This is it. I think searching the masses for familiar faces, but from atop Caddoc everyone looks so small, so insignificant.
"Hey James!" A voice calls. I turn in the saddle and watch as Marcus pushes his way to the front, Butch limping close behind. "We just wanted to wish you good luck." He smiles offering me his hand.
"Thanks." I say taking his hand tentatively and shaking it.
"I think you'll win." Marcus says with an easy grin before moving away from a crowd of raging horseflesh.
I almost laugh, turning my gaze back to the stretch of beach I front of me. I don’t tell him that I'm not racing for the money; I get enough for managing the bar during the week. I'm not doing it for glory. I am doing this to proof to myself I belong here. To prove even though Thisby is not my birthplace, it is my home.
Earlier
I hold up the silks, turning them over in my hand. The red and gold fabric of the blanket shimmers in the light as I lay them down gently across my weather beaten saddle. The dark brown of the tooled leather makes the colors more vibrant.
“Good colors.” I say out loud to myself before folding the matching shirt and placing it on my disheveled bed. I hoist the saddle up on to my shoulder and start towards Caddoc’s pasture. I can’t help but feel nervous. It is our last day of training,
Ruffian whinnies across the paddock as he sees me approaching and trots along the fence, playfully trying to nip at my hair.
“Shove off.” I laugh, pushing the great black snout away. The old bay snorts a retort and tosses his head, this time pulling at the girth laid unbuckled across the saddle’s seat. With a strong tug, the saddle slips off my shoulder and Ruffian canters off his prize held high, metal buckets jingling like November bells.
“Hey! Get back here ya’ old fool!” I shake my head, climbing over the fence and jogging over to wear the girth has been abandoned. Ruffian nickers innocently and walks slowly over.
“Old demon.” I laugh and pat his nose, only to be sneezed on. Wiping bits of grass and spittle from my shirt I walk back over to the fence. Once over I grab my saddle and endure my way to Caddoc’s stall.
“Wow.” A voice said behind me. “You look like shit.”
I continue to wipe down the saddle, gently rubbing out the sand and grime imbedded in cracks and crevices. Marcus has become my constant shadow ever since I saved his dog. Part of me hates the company, but another part never realized how lonely I’ve been since Charlie’s death.
“Yeah well, so do you.” I mutter in response, sliding past Marcus and Butch. He laughs at that looking down at his blood stained shirt and muddied boots.
“Hey, it was a busy day! All the damn capaill uisce need a bucket of blood it seems like.” I grab the pail from Marcus’s hand and walk over to Caddoc’s water bucket. Marcus doesn’t move; choosing to stay back with Butch, instead of braving the capaill’s toothy grin.
Caddoc sticks his head out of the stall, screaming softly when he catches the scent of the dog. Butch whimpers and cowers behind his master, slowly poking his head out to eye the capaill. The water horse strains against the stall door, reaching his long neck out, tilting his head from side to side to get a better look at his almost meal.
Marcus
“Caddoc, back down.” He say softly, spitting in his hand and pushing the capaill’s head back into his stall, his ear swinging to follow the sound of James’s whispering. The water horse makes a sound, halfway between the mewl of an injured kitten and the howl of a mournful wind.
James slowly shuts the grills of the stall door as Caddoc turns to his fresh bucket of blood and begins to drink it. With Caddoc occupied, Butch jumps out from behind me and barks triumphantly at the horse behind bars.
James watches the dog with a slight smirk and turns back to me. “That attitude is gonna get your dog killed.”
“Here’s to hoping.” I say lightheartedly, jokingly glaring at Butch as he hobbles back and forth in front of the stall.
James’s smirk just widens, his head shaking as his capaill lunges against the stall, screaming in frustration. He grabs a cloth and lifts bridle off the hook next to Caddoc’s stall, and begins cleaning it.
I watch him for a bit the rhythmic movements oddly comforting. “So James.” I say breaking the silence. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” I nod to the racing colors dramatically draped across the dark leather of the saddle.
James’s gaze turns to the red and gold. “No.” he says simply. Like his one word response answers all the questions forming in my mind. I watch James, waiting for something more of an explanation.
“Um . . .Why not?” I say, more curious than anything. I know I’m prying but it’s not like I’m expecting a response. James Rainey is a mystery, and I’m sure he wants to stay that way.
He considers me for a moment, his gaze looking me up and down. In that moment I realize how vey alike the capaill uisce and James Rainey are. His stare is something predatory, something dangerous. “Why don’t you come inside for some coffee?” He says. It’s a suggestion, but something about the way James hangs back up the bridle and opens the grills to Caddoc’s stall makes it seem more like s demand.
I leave the house later that night, Butch at my heels as we walk down the road towards my humble home. The night is dark but in the moonlight I can see the key in my hand. James’s words still ring in my ear.
Take care of my brother’s horse…
James
He dances underneath me. The energy on the beach is electrifying, and the rhythmic pounding of the sea is a steady call to the horses. It isn’t until we all line up, horses screaming in anticipation for the race, that I realize just how many riders are competing. Stone-faced men and women fight to control their eager capall as the crowd of tourists and islanders move to the cliffs to watch.
I lean down and stroke Caddoc’s neck, holding his attention for a brief moment. “Don’t let me die…” I whisper softly.
And suddenly we are all moving. The race begins in an explosion of horseflesh and sand. Caddoc takes me charging down the beach, his ears pricked and following the capaill in front of us with a ribbon weaved through her tail. The white shimmer of the charm has caught his attention, making the race more of a wild hunt across the sands. I move the bit in his mouth, my whisper almost becoming a yell over the music of the races as I call Caddoc’s attention back to me. He opens in mouth and screams, turning sharply from the white-ribboned tail to focus on the stretch of sand ahead.
The cheer of the crowd erupts as the riders thunder past, horses tearing into each other as they vie for the lead. A rider on a dark stallion is to my left, the capaill’s long neck snaking out as we move down the track. I glace over, my eyes meeting that of the rival rider as we gallop, shoulder to shoulder.
And in an instance, our eyes break apart. The rider’s capaill screams and stumbles, crushing the man as he falls to the ground. The stallion lets out one last choking cry and lays still, his throat open and bloody. I tear my gaze away, the scene of gore and death only made worse by the droplets of blood flying up to splatter my face from Caddoc’s jaws.
His stride lengthens as we enter the last turn of the beach. Somewhere in the scrabble Caddoc was bitten and blood leaks down his chest, mixing with the sand below us. Relief floods my body when I catch a glimpse of the waving flags marking the finish line. I made it. I think to myself, patting Caddoc’s neck.
That’s when I see the capaill.
Marcus
They swarm down the track like a storm. A dapple grey and sooty bay fight for first, their riders locked in a wordless battle. The pair holds everyone’s attention, but my eyes dart across the pack of riders looking for the red and gold of James and Caddoc. In the last moments the dapple grey in white pulls ahead of the sooty bay in red and purple for the lead, both closely followed by the dark bay in black.
The crowd drowns out the sea as the dapple grey crosses the finish line, it’s rider lifting a fist in victory. As the cheers echo around the beach, I see him. Caddoc gallops in, his rider pressed close along his back, only slowing slightly as they cross the finish line. I move from my seat and head down the cliffs to congratulate the riders. Butch barks from behind me, his ears pricked towards the screams of horses.
“I’ll be right back.” I yell to the dog and make sure the key is still in my pocket. I can see James better now, his face splattered with dirt and blood. He slips off of Caddoc, the reins held limply in his hand. Our eyes meet for a moment, before he drops to his knees left arm at an odd angle, bleeding profusely.
“James!” I yell my voice hardly a whisper. I push my way through the crowd, dodging photographs and bloodthirsty horses. Caddoc regards me coldly, one ear focused on my approach and the other pinned flat against his head. I slow down, as I try to reach my fallen friend. The capaill hisses, pinning both ears and moving closer to James. The beast snaps his jaws, standing over his rider. Our eyes lock for a moment; my gaze filled with fear, Caddoc’s calculating my every move.
James
I have no clue how I make it home but some how I end up waking up on my clutered couch, a scruffy dog staring up at me intently. Butch whimpers happily, his stump of a tail thumping against the floor as I reach out and pat the top of his head. I wince as I sit up, a pain jolting through my left arm.
“I don’t think it’s broken.” Someone says from the kitchen, as I pick at the blood stained bandage. “But I still wouldn’t take it off.” I look up at Marcus and slowly stand.
“I take it you’re the reason I’m still alive.” I say, a way of thanks as I move slowly over to where Marcus stands in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Me? No.” He laughs pulling over a chair for me to sit in and grabbing a glass of water. “Blame Butch,” he says nodding to the dog that lay curled up in my abandoned spot on the couch. “He said we needed to return the favor.”
I snort a laugh and rotate my shoulder, the memories flooding back with the pain. The capaill had come fast and dangerous, it’s flat teeth digging into my arm as it tried to pull me from my own horse to the sea. I remember think that this was it. I was going to be dragged into the sea and feasted on by a capall. I don’t exactly remember crossing the finish line or stopping Caddoc. But I remember my eyes finding Marcus, remembering his promise, and somehow ending up in the sand.
“What happened?” I ask, leaning back in the chair.
“Well… you didn’t win.” Marcus says taking the chair across from me.
I can’t help but laugh out loud, cringing slightly as my arm screams in protest. “Really? I could have sworn I won.’ I say sarcastically.
Marcus joins in my laughter, running his hand through his hair. “The dapple grey won, in the white. I think his name was Cairde or something. The sooty bay in red and pink won second and the bay in black won third.”
I nod, trying to remember the capaill and their riders from the beach training and rider’s parade.
“I don’t know where he came from but a capaill grabbed your arm and tried to pull you off, somehow you stayed on and you passed the finish line. You fell off Caddoc; so I ran down to see what happened. But Caddoc wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to help you. He was standing over you like a guard dog or something. But he let me get past so I brought you here, and-“
“Where is he?” I interrupt, my eyes searching Marcus’s face for any hint of emotion. He won’t meet my eye.
“Um…” Marcus mutters looking away for a moment. “No one was able to catch him…. James… I’m sorry…we left him on the beach…” Marcus chokes the last part out, unable to meet my gaze.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, my mind racing. “He returned to the sea?” I say finally, my voice quivering.
“I don’t know.” Marcus says, with a sigh. “He followed us for a bit then stopped.”
I stand up abruptly, ignoring my arm screaming in pain, and leave the house.
“James…” Marcus calls after me but I ignore him.
Outside I can’t fight the tears, my whole body shaking in a silent sob as I lean against the fence of Ruffian’s pasture. The old bay stays a good distance away from me, one ear pinned on me and the other focused on something behind him. I can hear the sea all around me, the steady rhythm only cut by a soft keen.
A scream for blood and an evening meal of slabs of beef.
Riders Parade and Sea Wishes (Character Challenges 4 and 5)
James
"I will ride. James Rainey. Caddoc. By my blood." I haven't said the words aloud yet but as I walk down the road towards Skarmouth, I repeat them over and over again in my head. Convinced that if I stop my silent mantra I will forget the words. Ruffian trots along the fence line with me; snorting his displeasure as I show him the content of the bucket I am holding. He bucks slightly as he canters off, nostrils flared at the scent of blood and raw meat. Sometimes, I swear that the old workhorse is worse than any dog begging for scraps. But he is not having any of the meal intend for Caddoc. I set down the bucket and whistle to Ruffian. The old bay reluctantly trots back over and I pat his velvet nose.
"I'll bring you something later." I tease as I walk away, back on my path towards town. In the fading light I can just make out the outline of the capaill uisce’s hindquarters, waiting for his supper.
I never take my eyes off Caddoc as I pour the slop into his feed bucket. Caddoc has never gone after my brother's horse but in the dim light he looks just as wild and dangerous as I know he is. I like to pretend the two have a healthy respect for one another but I think that if the fence delegating them wasn't decorated with metal and charms, Ruffian would be the capaill uisce's next meal. I reach my hand out to stroke the water horse's neck. Caddoc hisses and tosses his head back as my touch startles him. The sound, like a shrieking child, echoes around the lean-to and out across the fields. I slowly back out of the stall wiping blood on to my pants, wary as always. Caddoc turns to regard me as I get to the doorway, his mismatched eyes holding my gaze. He keens to me, pawing the ground softly before turning to his meal. I let out a sigh and turn to go. Caddoc screams, a blood curdling sound, and I spin around, clutching the empty bucket to my chest. Blood drips down from Caddoc's open muzzle just inches from my face. The capaill uisce tilts his head slowly, watching me with each eye like a hunting bird. I slowly press a strip of metal lined with nails into his chest, pushing him back into the stall before hurriedly backing away and over the fence. The iron strip hits the ground with a clang, I hate using it on him but the sea has been singing to Caddoc lately more than usual. The curse of November I guess. I look back over at Caddoc's pasture. I can't see him but the clanging and screaming from the stall is all I need to know that the water horse has forgotten all about the run in with the iron, his meal holding his attention.
Skarmouth is alive. The sounds of men yelling for the crowded bar is only drowned out by the steady beat of the Scorpio Drummers as they march down the main street. I can see the Mare Goddess as she moves with the drummers, a crowd in tow as they wait for the shell to be dropped, everyone vying for the wish. I slide past the group passing by the bonfire and collection of teenagers throwing sea wishes over the cliff. I smile slightly as I watch the papers dance on the wind and then get swallowed by the churning sea below. My mother had outlawed the sea wishes in our household, calling them devil dreams or something like that. But tonight is the first night I have ever considered writing down a name backwards on a slip of paper and launching it over the cliff. With the rhythmic crash and ebb of the waves I can almost picture the scrap floating down to the sea, my mother’s name scrawled on it.
"From the sea to the sea." It was the one of the only phrases I remember my mother muttering as we watched a capaill uisce's head burst from the waves below us. The water horse swam alongside our small boat as it chugged towards the island on the horizon. My mother always said that I was born on the mainland for the island, but as we took our first steps onto the island I couldn't think she was more wrong. We had left in the dead of night from the mainland, my mother dragging Charlie and I from our beds, shrugging off her blackened eye and shoving us onto a boat. Charlie later told me that our mother was our savior. But after I lost Charlie to the sea and my mother to the mainland, I realized the island was my savior. I turn the paper over in my hands; one edge is burned and ripped. Her name would fit perfectly on it, I assure myself as I crumple it up in my hand and toss the scrap in the bonfire. I need to win this race. Not only to prove that I can survive the island on my own, but that I belong on Thisby. I do not need sea wish magic cursing Caddoc and I's ride.
As the night moves on to the beat of the drums I can see a crowd beginning too form around the rock. I move slowly with the flow of onlookers and riders, recognizing a few faces from the beach. The rider of the dapple-grey with a blood spot above his eye stands in front of me, the rider of the sooty bay to my left. We are all waiting for someone to go up and say the words.
"I will ride. James Rainey. Caddoc. By my blood." I mutter under my breath. Riders start to move up, blood dripping onto the rock like a red rain. I take a deep breath and walk up onto the rock. Peg, the butcher’s wife, slices my hand and I pause for a moment watching the blood well up along the cut. I turn my hand over, letting the blood trickle down and splatter onto the rock below. In the crisp evening air the blood seems to smoke as I speak the words, my voice quivering.
"I will ride. James Rainey. Caddoc. By my blood." I look out around the crowd, a slight smile creeping onto m face. I've made it. I'm racing. Stepping off the rock to make way for the next rider, I move back to my place in the crowd. As each steps up onto the rock and says the words, I realize we are battling, fighting to win the race and to stay alive, but the sense of comradely is undeniable.
The festival begins to die down as most of the crowd moves off towards the bars and taverns around town. I begin to head home, leaving behind groups of riders and townsfolk heading off to drink to the health of the racers and to the wild Scorpio Sea. Ruffian is waiting by the fence, as usual, whinnying out as he sees me moving up the road, most likely waiting for some treats. With a wild neigh he flicks his tail and gallops off, clearly startled by something. I furrow my brow and start to jog up towards the paddocks, worried that a ravenous capaill uisce had broken into the yard.
"Ruffian!" I shout reaching the fence. Caddoc stands, his ears pricked to the sound of my voice. He screams softly, making his soft night sounds as he move along the fence line, following me. Ruffian stands a few yards away, his ears flat against his head watching Caddoc intently with fear in his eyes. Caddoc nudges my shoulder with his nose, his dark muzzle still stained with blood. I pat his cheek gently, my own blood smearing the white of his face giving him a ghastly look. He snorts, blue eye fixed on me, a sickening grin on his face. We are partners. Not totally committed to the idea of love and friendship. But nonetheless able to work together. I whisper into the night.
Beach Training: Train Close to the Sea (Character Challenge #2)
James
The tide is stained red with blood, and the screams of the water horses ring out across the already crowded beach. Hooves thunder down the shore, sending sprays of sand up into air. I stand at the edge of the training grounds, Caddoc shivering in my grip. I rest my hand on the massive roan's quivering neck, whistling softly to distract him from the riot of horseflesh and bodies going on around us.
“It's busy today, eh?" The horse snorted in reply, one of his dark ears focused on me, straining to hear my voice of the roar of the beach goers. Vendors line the edge of the beach selling handfuls of charms and bells and insurance hoping to make some quick money off of wary riders on their way to training. I lead Caddoc past them, holding the reins tightening. The bells may distract some capaill uisce from the sounds of the sea but the ringing only drove Caddoc to seek the calming sound of the waves. And honestly the insurance is just as big as a scam as some of the homemade charms blowing in the sea breeze. Safely past the hustle and bustle of the makeshift market, I look out across the beach. As the first few days of training I expected it to be packed, but the complete chaos in the sands is a bit off putting. Caddoc dances from hoof to hoof in my hands, eager to run with one ear on me and the other focused on the sea in front of us. I know it's too early in the season to start training by the alluring tides. But I need this today. And watching Caddoc nervously shift his weight from side to side I realize we both need to get back on this beach. The sea calls to Caddoc like an old friend, but it screams at me like a familiar demon.
I remember the first time I fell off a horse. (Or well slide off the side of one, anyway.) Charlie lifted me up off of the ground and set me back on my feet, with aside ways smile as I stared down at my scraped knee. Tears swiped down my cheeks as I stared over at where Ruffian stood grazing, his tail to us.
"You’ gotta get back on." Charlie had said simply as he dusted off my jacket and walked over to grab Ruffian's halter. I remember looking up at my brother horrified as he lead back over the gelding. To my five-year-old mind, the good-natured workhorse was as fearsome as the capall uisce that came up from the sea. But nonetheless I braved another ride around the yard, holding on for dear life as my brother lead his horse around the yard.
Now I stand holding my own mount, without my brother's easy smile and confident presence, that same fear coursing through my veins. I'm not afraid of Caddoc. I am afraid of the sea, and the monsters vying to return to it. Caddoc screams softly watching a pair of capall uisce tearing into each other. I run my hand down his neck, whispering softly as I quickly swing my leg over the saddle. Pawing the ground as I slide my foot into the stirrup, Caddoc turns to watch the waves, completely ignoring the other capall charging down the beach. Touching the water horse's sides with my heels we started off down the beach, the battle on the beach forgotten as we glided along the sands. But, the sea is still at our side and Caddoc hears her call now. He canters with his head almost turned towards the ocean, neck curled in as his hooves collect up under him neatly. On Charlie's last trip home from the mainland he brought me a tattered poster of some hot shot show horse from America. The dappled grey horse almost seemed to be floating over the arena, it’s head tucked almost against it’s neck as it canter across the grounds like a ghost.
"Won some national award." Charlie had said in his short word way, like that one sentence explained everything. "But they don't move like capall."
Looking back I realize that was the only complement my brother had paid to the water horses. Caddoc suddenly veers to the left, stretching in a full gallop. The sea is calling to him, I realize snapping back to reality. I run my hand along his powerful shoulders, tugging at his dark mane as I had once seen the famed Sean Kendrick do on his horse. One of Caddoc's dark slender ears turns back to me, slowly, as I whisper to him, pleading with him to ignore the sea's song. I tug at the reins, knowing it is useless, trying to pull him to a halt like I would on a normal island horse. Caddoc tosses his head and screams, the scent of the ocean driving him on, but he slows. I let out my breath and continue to play with the reins slowly but surely resetting the capaill's course away from the tantalizing waves. I turn him now away from the shoreline. “Dammit.” I mutter under my breath as Caddoc half-heartedly snaps at a passing capaill. I can see the outline of a storm on the horizon. The winds will pick up soon and the rains will start. Caddoc stretches out his neck and screams as a soft gust knocks the November bells in the market booths, signaling the end of training session.
I leaned up against the door frame looking out onto the field, my morning cup of coffee steaming in the cool breeze blowing the seas’ scent up and over the cliffs. A disgruntled snort broke the morning’s stillness as Ruffian, my brother’s old gelding, moved along the pasture fence in search of grain that may have been missed at last night’s supper. In the next paddock over I can barley make out the dark shape of my horse, or rather my capaill uisce. He stands with his back to us, entirely focused on the cliffs and the sound of the sea below. The waves drive him mad. They always have.
I remember standing absolutely still, every thought had disappeared the moment I saw him illuminated by splintering lightning. The dark shape erupting from the water, and screaming with a sickening vengeance as he tore from the seas cold embrace was impossible to tear your eyes away from. Somewhere far out across the choppy waves thunder clapped announcing the capaill uisce 's arrival. My hands shook as I repositioned the rope in my grip; every tip and piece of advice on the art of capturing one of the demons fled my mind like the tide retreating along the beach. The stallion half reared and spun around smoothly leaping into a canter. He seemed to take flight along the sands, each stride swallowing the ground. I was memorized by the power and danger he seemed to glow with. Enthralled with the stallion, it took a moment for me to register his path. The stallion tossed his head and broke into a gallop right towards me. I took a few steps backwards almost loosing my footing on the wet sand and slick rocks. The stallion stopped and pawed the ground just feet from where I had been crouched before, keening softly in my direction. I could see him more clearly now as he regarded me, head low and mouth slightly open with teeth exposed. The stallion was beautiful blue roan with a few white splashes like foam on the stormy seas. A patch of white covered the right side of his face making his one blue eye all the more striking. I fumbled in my pockets trying to grab one of the many charms and bells I had stuffed them with, the purpose of each long forgotten. The stallion snorted again and reared, his hooves tearing at the air with a mad rage. This was my chance. I moved quickly, throwing the rope over the stallion's head and pulled it taunt. The capaill hardly noticed turning and starting off down the beach in search of better looking prey. I dug my feet into the ground and pulled the rope. Stopping in his tracks the horse turned to regard me again, his blue eye glinting in the moonlight. I remember gasping for breath, trying to plan my next move as the water horse’s attention was focused on me once again. Now I know that without Charlie, he would have killed me. Now I know that my brother’s rope and shouts had saved my life from my own youthful recklessness. That walk home was the hardest four hours of our life, we would later agree on that aspect of the night. The water horse had spent most of the trek back to our place dragging us towards the cliffs or back the way we came just for a chance to be near the sea again. Once we got him into a stall, away from the sounds of waves crashing, he seemed to calm down. “Don’t turn your back on him. Don’t trust him. Don’t get eaten. And don’t come to me for help.” Charlie had said to me, before leaving me alone with my new mount.
But now Caddoc seems almost familiar, as he stands in the pasture, almost as trustworthy as old Ruffian. I guess that is the allure of the capaill uisce; they are seem to be horses.
