"The really unexpected affair"~ chapter 6- for The Short Affair Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Links to: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5


Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #1 - Nephew

-Prompt Colour – Green

Author: mrua7

Title: The really unexpected affair~ chapter 6 - ‘No riding off into the sunset for you.’

Word Count: Approximately 1,000

Illya was up early, and after eating a light breakfast of porridge with fruit and a nice cup of tea; much to the dismay Mrs. Dunphy the cook, who wanted to make a proper breakfast for the gentleman.

“Ah sure there’s not an ounce of fat on you a stór.You need some good food to fatten up a shkinny lad such as yourself. Just put your bum down in a chair and I’ll make up some nice bangers and mash. That’ll schitck to your bones.

“So I have been told, but thank you no, Mrs. Dunphy, the porridge will suffice.”

Normally Illya would jump at the chance for such a breakfast, but he was on a mission and needed to do as he planned. Everything needed to look legitimate, besides Mrs. Dunphy kept fluttering her eyelashes at him. It seemed her interest in him had more to do than just fattening him up.

After wolfing down his breakfast, he headed down to the stables dressed in jeans, a polo shirt and his green windbreaker.  He had no interest in wearing the proper riding togs as Cavendish had suggested. There was such clothing available for guests, but Illya took the butler up on the offer, solely for a pair of riding boots.

He entered the stable, seeing a young man looking to be around the age of seventeen or so, saddling Cossack Sun.

“How did you know I was to ride him?” Illya asked.

“Mr. Cavendish sent word sir. Beg pardon but this ‘ere ‘orse is a bit on the wild side...are you sure about riding ‘im?”

“What is your name young man?”

“Tom sir, I’m Mr. Cavendish’s nephew. ’E took me in after me mum and dad died in a car crash back in London.”

“That is very admirable of your Uncle to do so Tom, and to answer your question; I am completely sure about this as I have ample experience with Don horses.”

“Well it’s your neck sir,” the stable boy shook his head. After a few skittery moments, the lad led the horse out to the cobblestoned courtyard, and held the reins as Illya readied to mount up.

Kuryakin paused, patting Sunny on the neck, whispering to him in Russian to calm the beast. Tom had no clue as to what being said to the horse; amazingly the words worked like a charm.

Cossack Sun responded immediately, prompting Illya to hike himself into the saddle with ease.  He held the reins with confidence and guided the horse around, ensuring he would respond to the slightest adjustment in tension on the reins; the Russian knew Sunny was ready.

“‘Sir, you forgot this,” Tom held out a riding crop.

“No thank you. I have no need of it.”

“Well then take this at least?” The stable boy held out a small walkie talkie. “Just in case you run into a bit o’ trouble sir. You never know with this one. I have the other radio with me if you need some help.”

“Thank you, good idea,” Illya accepted it and tucked it into his jacket pocket.  This couldn’t have worked out any better to help make his plan work.

Illya made a clicking sound, and gave a little kick with his heels, giving Sunny the signal to take off.

And Cossack Sun did just that. He headed off at a full gallop, with Illya guiding him across the expanse of the great green lawn and towards the open gate. Cavendish must have taken care of that as well.

Sunny galloped through, running at a good clip down the gravel road until Illya pulled back on the reins, slowing him down to an easy trot.

Though this was a purposeful ride, and not just for pleasure; Illya saw no reason why he should not enjoy himself for a while. It had been some time since he’d been near such a horse.

Kuryakin moved carefully, speaking all the while to Sunny as he began doing his Cossack tricks he’d learned so long ago. * Once he got the horse used to the idea of his rider moving around off the saddle and hanging from it...though with an English style saddle it wasn’t all that easy. Once that was accomplished, he got back in the saddle and Illya urged the horse on to a gallop. Carefully he rose, removing his feet from the stirrups, and timing his movement with that of the horse, Illya got to a kneeling position and finally stood up on the animal's back.

He stretched out his arms, and for a brief second he smiled as the wind blew through his hair as he was one with this great beast.

Everything was going fine until something spooked Sunny, and he reared, throwing Illya to the ground. It was a child, a small ginger-haired boy dressed in what looked like pyjamas. He was barefoot, and just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

The boy darted out from the woods in front of the horse, startling it.  The appeared to be around the age of eight, and was as pale as a ghost; his eyes wide with fear, but not fear of the horse. It was something else. He looked terrified.

It was a hard landing as Illya dropped to the ground, hitting his head. He’d landed at an odd angle. A sharp and unexpected pain that shot up his leg from his ankle.

“Stop! Wait!” He called to the boy, but the child was already gone.  There was no way he’d be able to go after him as he’d moved at an impossible speed.

Illya cursed aloud in Russian as he tried to get up. Was it a sprain. or broken? Either way it wasn’t good.  Napoleon was not going to be happy, especially after he’d given Illya a caution to be careful.

Slowly getting to his hands and knees, he raised himself on his good leg. He wasn’t feeling so good. Things began to spin and before he fell again, he carefully lowered himself to the ground, and sat down.

Sunny took a few steps closer to him, nuzzling the Russian’s head.

Kuryakin reached into his pocket for the walkie talkie, but his fall had shattered it. There was a sharp pain in his side and he reached in, coming back with blood on his hand and a shard of dark plastic, broken off the radio casing. His communicator was missing, probably dropped out his pocket when he was thrown.

“Chyort…” he cursed again, before passing out.

* ref “Zaporoche”

Chapter 7

Comments

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

He wasn't supposed to actually get hurt. Is Illya going to own up to Napoleon that he was showing off?

I loved this chapter. The way you described Illya's stunts had me imagining them so clearly :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! In my story Zaporoche, I had Illya live with a Cossack tribe before going off to serve in the Soviet Navy and it was from them he learned to connect with a horse and to ride like them. Researching that was so cool. trick riding is amazing!

Even Illya can goof off once in a while, and now he's paying the price...though the horse being startled wasn't his fault.

Thanks so much for the great comment!

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

I've been waiting for this part, Illya riding the Don. "Zaporoche" is a wonderful but sad story; I may have to go back and re-read.

Nice imagery in today's chapter! I like the way he talked to the horse. More intrigue here. A pajama clad boy? Hmmmm.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Ahhhh the plot thickens even more. Zaporoche is one of my favorites, so I hope you enjoy rereading it. It was posted here on Section VII with lots of nice illustration/photos. http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/218041.html

So this WIP is just growing and growing...not what I expected it to be at all and has taken on a life of its own.

Thanks for keeping up and commenting. "D