Chapter 13
THE MOST MAGNIFICENT white stallion I had ever seen stood nibbling hay in a pristine stall.
He was a noble steed straight out of a Disney cartoon. Golden sunlight streaming through an open window made his coat and mane shimmer like freshly fallen snow. His bright blue eyes, the same color as mine, sparkled. Every inch of the beautiful beast was white on white on white. Picture vanilla ice cream topped with whipped cream and wispy cotton candy.
Ah, Daniel, the horse said in my mind. Welcome! It is so, so good to see you once again.
Now, if you ever start hearing horse voices in your head, you should probably call 911 or check in with the school nurse. But I had held telepathic conversations with animals before, including my all-time favorite, Chordata, one of the elephants back home on Alpar Nok.
Hello, Xanthos, I thought back. I don’t remember meeting you before….
The horse let loose a laugh. It wasn’t exactly a high-pitched horse laugh. More like a jolly Jamaican chuckle.
Of course you do not remember, Daniel. You were very, very young. Stinky Boy they called you, yah?
Okay. Time out. Does everybody I meet, including barnyard animals, have to remember that particular nickname?
“Um, I’ll leave you two alone,” said Agent Judge. “It looks like you have a lot to, uh, talk about.”
Shaking his head, the special agent strolled out of the horse barn.
Poor Agent Judge. He does not understand how we communicate. Xanthos rumbled up another soft chuckle. You would like to know more about me, yah, mon?
I nodded.
Very well. I come to Earth from the far, far reaches of the Milky Way, from the planet Pfeerdia, in what your Earth astronomers call the Dark Horse Nebula—a name, I must say, that greatly amuses me.
Xanthos shook out his sleek white mane and flicked his feathery white tail. There was absolutely nothing dark about this horse, unless, of course, you counted his hooves.
My Pfeerdian ancestors were among the first quadrupeds to settle in the Arabian Peninsula.
Of course, I thought. That’s why champion Thoroughbred racehorses all trace their ancestry to Arabian stallions!
Yah, mon. But when we race against Earth animals, we rein ourselves in. To do otherwise would not be sporting. You see, Daniel, four-legged Pfeerdians can easily trot at one hundred miles per hour.
I was impressed. Um, what do you guys consider “galloping”?
When we break the sound barrier, brudda. Heh, heh, heh.
So, I inquired, why did you come to Earth?
For Kentucky, Xanthos replied with a contented sigh. For us, this is heaven. We are treated here like royalty. And the grass? Oh, my, Daniel. It is sooo delicious. Very, very tasty and sweet. I would be so, so sad if anything bad were to befall this beautiful place….
Xanthos’s thoughts drifted off. For the first time since meeting this fellow alien, I sensed a non-mellow vibe. Fear? Dread? Something was definitely upsetting his laid-back mojo.
What is it you are afraid of? I asked.
Much, Daniel. Much. The coming battle. The final struggle. Your mission to take on Number 2.
I needed to clear up that little misconception. Um, taking out Number 2 won’t be the final battle, Xanthos. The Prayer, the most evil alien residing on Earth, is still my primary objective. My mission on Terra Firma won’t be complete until I do to him what he did to my family.
Ah, yes. Revenge. A very powerful, very exhilarating emotion.
I’m not doing this for laughs. That beast killed my parents!
Take care, my yute. Beware of darkness. For in the darkness, it is sometimes difficult to see where the good ends and the evil begins. Do not give sway to the negative way.
Right. I’d almost forgotten: Xanthos was supposed to be my spiritual advisor. Luke Skywalker had Yoda; I got a reggae rocking horse.
Look, I communicated, first things first. I need to prepare myself to take out Number 2. Can you help me or not?
Of course, Daniel, of course. You must know this: a red horse shall be a sign.
A sign of what?
Of all that is written, of all that must be.
Gee. Could you be a little more vague? I was starting to question the whole notion of “horse sense” meaning sound and practical. This particular equine specimen kept speaking to me in riddles. You’re my spiritual advisor, right?
The stallion dipped its head slightly. That I am, mon.
Then come on: Advise me! What do I need to do?
Soon, much. For the moment? Chill. Rest and restore your powers. For you will need each and every one of them—now more than ever.