The Maiden of Moonfane Forge

The pair of them must have made for an odd sight to the locals, upon their entering Pasanhal town proper—two disheveled and bone-weary travelers sharing a horse whose head drooped with fatigue, while a beast the likes of which few living humans had ever seen trailed them. It was a blessing then, Vetch thought, that so few people they passed in the streets gave them anything more than a curious glance.

Leaving the forest had been both one of the easiest and yet most difficult things Vetch had ever done. When he had come to the fork in the woodland road, the southward trail leading out of the forest, it had lifted his spirits almost as much as finding Lily alive had. To leave the dark and brooding tangle of trees behind was like escaping a net. The little-used track became a proper road that meandered down through squat hillocks dotted with fragrant bushes and wildflowers, until finally it spilled out across a wide grassy valley—the low flatlands of Hold Pasanhal. The carriage wheel ruts he had followed all the way from Moonfane forge were prominent here, leading straight ahead toward a distant town spread out beside the shore of a lake. It was not Moonfane Forge, with its high pastures and sharp mountain landscape, but as they passed by sedate farmsteads and their patchwork fields, Vetch could not help but be heartened by the sight of civilization and the prospect that they closed in on their quarry’s destination.

It did not dispel entirely the faint tugging at his heart that while he had escaped the woodland, his fellow soldiers had not, and never would. How long would that dark cloud of regret hang over him, he wondered. He knew the answer. Always.

Lily woke from her Slumber just as their shadows were growing long across the road with the setting of the sun. Vetch had offered to stop and make camp, or to at least give her time to stretch and resume her place upon Fae, but she had seen the lights sparking to life in the town before them and told him to press on, that she’d prefer finding an inn to another night of camping rough. So, he had coaxed his weary horse onward and they had arrived in town just as the inns and taverns were becoming boisterous.

But for a few excursions to other villages in Hold Moonfane, Vetch had traveled very little in his life. As he and Lily rode slowly through Pasanhal town, he took in all that was around him like a gawking youngster. Pasanhal was not what most people would refer to as a city, though it was bigger than Moonfane Forge, and most certainly the largest habitation in the hold that shared its name. Where the buildings and streets of Moonfane Forge were compacted and clustered tightly together on hills and slopes, everything in this town was spread out upon the flat, open grassland. He could look down one street and see across miles to the fading haze of twilight on the distant horizon, then turn his head in the other direction and catch a glimpse between buildings of the inky blackness of the lake whose shore the town hugged. He could smell the water, its scent carried to them on the evening breeze, along with aromas of grass and wildflowers, woodsmoke and cattle. Everything was unfamiliar, yet it was still like any town, with people finishing their day’s work and moving off to the taverns, guardsmen and women patrolling with easy strides, shepherds urging animals along.

It was only as they were nearing the town’s center that he reflected upon the fact they’d been able to walk right into town, along with their animals, after sunset. That would have been impossible in Moonfane Forge, thanks to its Barrier. It made the place feel naked and vulnerable. Yet, its people looked happy. Vetch almost felt an intruder, knowing that he came to this peaceful place on a mission of vengeance. Strange it was to him that there were still people in the kingdom whose lives remained unaffected by the destruction that had been visited upon his own town, that they still smiled, shared tankards of ale, bickered over the prices of market goods. Had word even reached this place yet of what had happened only a few days’s ride away to the north and west?

Lily shifted against him and murmured, “Those flowers, they smell delightful.”

A flower seller stood at a corner with a basket of what remaining flowers she’d not sold in the day’s market, their honeyed scent reaching them. “Shall I buy some for you?” Vetch offered.

She was quiet a moment, then shook her head, her hair catching in his scratchy beard where it brushed under his chin. “An inn,” she countered, then added, “And a bath. We don’t smell good.”

He chuckled. “That is true.” There was no point sugarcoating it. They both stank. “But where is a likely inn?”

She shifted in place before him, settling back more against his chest. Her back was warm against his body, driving away the cool of evening. “Anywhere we choose for the coin we have.” She spoke through a yawn and then pointed at an ostentatious looking building. “What about that one?”

He cleared his throat. “I think that’s a brothel.”

There were a couple beats during which Lily said nothing, and though he could not see her expression, he could imagine the flush on her cheeks before she said in a small voice, “Are you certain?” And then followed with, “How would you know what a brothel looks like?”

“I’m a soldier,” he stated flatly.

Her body stiffened and she turned her head back to try to look up into his face. “And that’s supposed to mean? ...”

He smiled. “It means I’ve been sent to them enough times in order to haul back other soldiers who were late for their shifts.”

She made a sound that fell between amusement while simultaneously wanting to convey that she was not amused. She nodded up the street. “And that one? Is that also a brothel, soldier boy? You, being the expert.”

“That ... no. That actually appears to be a nice inn. And it looks to have stables as well.” He reined his horse in before the inn. It came to a halt and stood swaying in the street, its head hanging. Vetch had not felt good about pushing the poor beast so far and hard, yet he was thankful that it had been up to the task. He would find some way to make it up to the animal. There was a good chance they would be in this town for a time searching for The Lady’s stronghold. He decided that, in that time, he’d spare no expense in providing this horse with a well-deserved rest and plentiful food. The same went for Fae, and for himself and Lily, while they could have it.

He dismounted and helped Lily do the same. Her panthegrunn came to her and shoved her big face into Lily’s arms. She kissed Fae between her horns. “Hear that, Fae? No more sleeping in prickly bushes and eating old fodder.” The panthegrunn grunted in response to Lily’s cooing words. Lily took up her reins and those of Vetch’s horse. “I’ll see these two to the stables, while you get us a couple rooms. And hot food. And—”

“And baths,” he finished for her. She smiled. He smiled back and saluted as if she were his captain.

She scoffed but continued to grin as she took the animals away and around the side of the building. Vetch went through the front door and found a well-appointed common room. It was clean and warm, and there was the smell of savory food in the air, and the patrons sitting at tables and around the hearth looked like normal enough patrons and travelers. There was a minstrel standing on a bench in one corner, plucking out a lively tune on some long-necked string instrument. The place looked almost too good after what he and Lily had come through, it was such a drastic change. The candle and firelight, the companionableness, the aroma of fresh bread all combined to make Vetch feel like the trek through the forest had been some kind of extended nightmare he’d finally woken from.

Gazing over the room, he spotted what would be the innkeeper already looking back at him, taking his measure. Vetch knew he looked rough, and the fact he carried a weapon probably did not lift him in the man’s regard. Well, he’d let the gold coins do the talking. Cold hard gold tended to smooth things over in any situation.

When all was said and done, he’d secured for himself and Lily their use of the stables, a sufficient room, hot food, and bath service to be sent to their room at their beckon. As predicted, the innkeeper was happy to look past Vetch’s state as soon as the coins were produced. Vetch had no idea whether Lily would prefer to eat or bathe first, so he told the man to have both prepared and sent up to them as soon as they were ready. After having a peek into the room to ensure it would do for the both of them, he took himself out to the stables.

Full night had closed in around town by then. Warm lanterns lit the small courtyard outside the inn and the path around its side to the stables. The air was fragrant with spring and alive with the soft droning of night insects. Lily was just leaving the stables as Vetch approached. Even as travel-worn as she looked, even with her hair tangled and her dress torn and stained, the sight of her brought a smile to his face. She returned it.

“They’ll bring food up to our room soon, and a tub and hot bath water,” he said, and saw the relief that came over her face. “They only had one room left—some festival or event is happening this week that has brought people in from all around. You can take the use of the room and bath first. I’ll wait in the common room. Perhaps there’s someone here who knows of the black-stoned castle. I’ll ask around.”

She nodded, and he could see the tiredness in the set of her shoulders. But at least she no longer appeared tense and frightened, as she had before. “Thank you, Vetch,” she said, and the tiredness extended to the pitch of her words. “Then I’ll come and find you there when I’m finished.” She touched his shoulder as she passed by on her way into the inn.

A sense of debt to the horse who had carried them here made Vetch enter the stables to check on the animal. Lily knew her way around animals, and he trusted that she had seen to their care with the expertise of a girl raised on a farm—funny how he still thought of her that way sometimes, rather than as a mage’s apprentice—but he would still visit the horse, so it would know he wasn’t abandoning it. Then, perhaps he would have a drink or two in the common room and see what information he might dredge up from the inn’s patrons.

The stable building was small but clean and well-appointed inside. At one end, a handful of stable hands were gathered around Fae, watching as the magnificent charge-beast chewed her food in a most mundane way. Vetch’s horse—for he could come up with no reason why it wasn’t his horse now—was in a stall directly opposite the door. The drowsing animal perked up and nickered at him as he entered.

“There, boy,” he said softly, and let himself into the stall. He stroked the horse’s nose, speaking softly. “You’ve certainly had a rough time of it, haven’t you? Taken away from Moonfane Forge and ridden hard through the woods ... then left alone without even so much as a person to take your saddle off.”

He saw that the horse had been already brushed down. He found the brush and began to run strokes over the its coat anyway. “Well, there will be no more of that. I think you’ve more than earned some time to rest and eat your food and drink clean water for a day or two, eh? And when all this is over, we’ll head back to Moonfane Forge.” He had always found that speaking to horses calmly endeared them to him. Some were more interested in making friends than others, but this one seemed more than pleased to have the company. This animal was a survivor of the attack on the forest path as much as he himself was. For all Vetch knew, this horse had lost stall-neighbors, as he had lost bunkmates.

He put the brush up and regarded the horse before him. Mora had clearly chosen well of the animals they’d taken from the remnants of Moonfane Forge’s stables. Even this animal, given to the care of the horse thief they’d kept semi-prisoner, was a good one. He was a gelding, black all over save for splashes of white down his back legs. He was built strong and sleek, and Vetch had seen how capable he was of short bursts of speed. Vetch wondered who in Moonfane Forge had owned a horse that appeared to be bred for racing, then decided it hardly mattered. This was his horse now.

“I never named the horse I rode out on from Moonfane Forge,” he said, the detail suddenly occurring to him. A strange pang of guilt cut him. “I won’t let that be the case again. What should your name be?” He considered. Smiled. “Ennric?” He chuckled softly to himself. “No. That’d be the name for a much more stubborn beast.” The next idea that came to him erased his smile: Wenzl. He had known the new recruit for less than a dozen days, and still it was the image of the boy bloodied and pale and dead that returned to Vetch most often whenever he thought back on the attack that had devastated his life and home. But using his name here didn’t seem a fitting tribute. The only tribute Vetch wanted to pay to his fallen brethren was attaining revenge for them. Vetch felt a cold chill run through him. “Revenge,” he whispered. “That is your name. Revenge. And we shall have that.”