White Horse Talisman by Andrea Spalding Page A

Divorce was scary, and what if it was his fault?
    Adam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He blocked out the bad thoughts and conjured the horse pasture on a bright sunny afternoon. He and Owen were exercising the racehorses. He rode so well that Uncle Ron asked him to be a jockey in the next race. The race took place, and in a flurry of pounding hooves he won!
    Adam’s eyes sprang open as the memory of the real gal–lop across the hillside intruded. His frustration level rose again. Huh! he thought. Chantel falls and we all think she’s dead. Then she goes on about a magic horse and Holly and Owen believe her. It’s nuts.
    What if it’s true? whispered a voice.
    Adam tossed and turned again. How can it be true? he retorted. Auntie Lynne said Chantel might hallucinate.
    That’s what she’s doing!
    What about the broken token and her knowing about Wayland’s Smithy? answered the irritating little voice.
    I don’t know , admitted Adam wearily. His hand crept under his pillow and found the half-talisman he’d placed there. He wasn’t sure why he’d put it under his pillow. It just seemed the right thing to do. He clasped it angrily in his palm. I’m fed up with being messed around. I wish I could do something about it.
    Suddenly he became aware of something stirring in the darkness, not a real thing, more of a dark presence inside his head.
    You can. I’ll help you, said the voice calmly.
    Adam broke out in a sweat. This voice wasn’t his con–science. It was something else!
    All magic is quite simple, really, continued the voice. Anger is good. It makes you feel with passion. Feel your anger as you clasp the talisman.
    Suddenly, Adam found himself outside, surrounded by the soft darkness of night. He was not scared, just amazed. The velvet sky arched above him. A million stars sparkled. As his eyes adjusted, Adam recognized his surroundings. He was standing on the flat top of a small conical hill. The flank of White Horse Hill towered above him, and the valley called the Manger lay below.
    â€œHoly mackerel! I’m on Dragon Hill. How on earth? Who brought me here? Who are you?” Adam shouted, spinning around.
    With a soft chuckle, the voice in his head spoke again.
    I am the dragon. Some call me Worm. I am an ancient magic. I was old when the White Horse carving was young. But all that’s remembered of me are fragments of stories. It’s not the White Horse who needs help, boy. Its image is there for all to see. I, Worm, need your help. The dragon’s voice grew shrill. My need is greatest. I am trapped. He paused, then spoke again, softly and sweetly. I am almost lost to human memory. Please help me.
    Adam shifted uneasily. The White Horse had said some–thing similar to Chantel.
    Worm read his mind. We can show ourselves because there is a new Magic Child. Through her the old magic is stirring. She gave you the broken talisman. The dragon laughed softly. She did not tell you that whoever holds it holds power. Now you hold the talisman. It is strong and powerful, and your anger makes you strong and powerful.
    You attracted my magic as it began to stir. I grew strong enough to bring you here.
    Adam was aware of the talisman in his hand. It felt warm. He opened his palm. The gold piece gave off a soft beam of light. Adam’s anger stirred deep within him. How dare Chantel hide power from him?
    That’s good, whispered Worm. Let your anger fuel my dragon magic. Watch the light.
    The beam from the token became stronger. A flickering image appeared in its light. Adam cupped his hands and bent closer. A beautiful, blood-red dragon flew in the beam. A laughing boy was perched on his back between his shimmer–ing wings. The boy turned his head. He was Adam.
    Adam gasped.
    Yes. This could be you, whispered Worm’s sly voice. The Magic Child has the horse. Wouldn’t you like the dragon?
    Yes … Yes … I’d love to fly