Fisher (Prince of Tigers, #3) - Kathi S. Barton Page 0,41

clearly, returned with her.

“You are a captive of the troll? Would you and the others like to be free?” The horse told him not only were they captives, but they were also shorn of their wings. “Why would he do such a thing to such a creature as yourself?”

To keep us from flying away, my lord. Can you help us? We will stand with you and your mate, should you need us. He told him he would be just fine with him and his faeries. However, he said he would set them free to go to their homeland. You help us, my lord, and we will bow before you to be your servants for life.

“The queen. She is the one you will bow before.” The horse told him he was the one they’d work with. The queen would have to deal with it. Fisher laughed. “I can live with that. This is a dream.”

The horse looked at him oddly but said nothing. He took his smaller blade from his sheath and held it tightly in his hand until the gems and stones on it cut deeply into his hand. Once his hand was covered from fingertip to wrist with his own blood, he dropped the blade and put his hand on the snowy nose of the horse. With his other hand, he slammed his sword deep within the soil beneath his feet. The sound of the magic he was using was deafening in its wake.

The sword, a gift from the queen Aurora, was made especially for him. He had no idea when she’d given it to him nor how he knew how it had been made. But in dreams, he knew all sorts of things were easily explained. No other creature or human would ever be able to use his sword. It was light, so it wouldn’t tire him using it in a long battle.

The pummel was made from the earth, a gift to him so that he might protect the very thing it was made of from others that might wish to hurt the earth. The blade was made of the finest steel, forged in the greatest fires of the earth’s volcanoes. It would never rust, never break so long as it was used for good. When he used the sword, nary a sound would be heard except for the wind, which would allow him to kill his foe before they even realized he was near.

It was a sword made for a warrior, a warrior that would defend the castle he was helping until death. Not his own, but the death of those that dared to try and breach the doors of the castle. Fisher fed the sword with his blood, completing the ritual that would help him win battles.

“I, Lord Fisher Prince, black tiger of the queen Aurora, give you all that was stolen from you. For you and all of your kind.” The ground rumbled beneath him, and Fisher had just a moment of worry. Could this be real? But it was a dream. “You will now have my protection so long as you need it.”

He removed his bloodied hand and saw the mark that marred the beauty of the white horse. On some level, Fisher knew the mark would be there for all time. It was his mark that claimed the horse as his own.

As soon as his wings appeared on his back, great wings that would be needed to carry such a horse, the horse took to the skies only to return and stand beside Piper. He bowed low before her. Wings opened wide, he looked magnificent—a true beauty in contrast to the blood that would be shed this day.

I shall be your steed, my lady. You need only to climb upon my back, and I will help you in your fight. Piper climbed up on the horse and asked him what she should call him. My name is too hard in your language. So if you’d call me something you like, I shall come to you when you call.

“What is the meaning of your name?” The horse told Piper what he thought it meant. “Avalanche. It’s a good name. You will be called that. The thundering snow coming off a mountainside is the perfect name for one such as yourself.”

As Fisher looked out over the field where the troll was standing now, he saw that all that had been riding were now on the ground. Their horses, now with their wings, were flying in