The Maiden of Moonfane Forge

The clanging of the alarm bells outside the guardhouse jail walls was like a brick to the side of Slouk’s head. He fell out of his rank pallet and jumped to his feet, wide awake. The lone town guard watching him stood up as well, fast enough that she knocked her chair over.

“Shit,” she said.

Slouk launched himself at the door of his little cell and gripped the bars so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Let me out! You have to let me out of here,” he pleaded.

“Shut up,” his guard said.

“Please!” Slouk pulled on the door and tried rattling it, but the thing was solid and wouldn’t give.

The guardswoman was on him in two strides to snap her truncheon against the bars barely an inch above his knuckles, causing him to jerk back. “Enough! Shut the hell up.” She went to the outer door and peered out to ask someone a question. Slouk couldn’t hear a reply, but he could hear people running and shouting outside. The guard came back in, slammed the outer door shut, and picked up her chair. She set it upright and sat down on it backwards, glowering at Slouk.

“Let me out,” he said.

“Shut up.”

“What’s happening out there?” He didn’t expect her to answer, and was surprised when she did.

“Can’t you hear? Alarm bells. Trouble out at some of the farms. Garrison soldiers’ll take care of it.” After a moment’s consideration, she added, “Don’t worry. No attackers can get through the Barrier at night.” She sounded to Slouk like she was reminding herself of that as much as him.

“Please, you have to let me out,” Slouk said desperately. “I have to be on my way! There’s someone I’m supposed to meet!”

“Too bad,” she replied. “Told you once, told you a thousand times. You get let out when the alehouse’s window is fixed, and it ain’t fixed yet.”

“Please, I have to—”

“Enough! Shut your mouth and take your hands off the bars or I’ll break your damn knuckles.”

Slouk wailed in frustration and started yanking on the cell door’s bars, alternately kicking the door’s timbers and thrashing his body violently against them.

“No! Let me out now! Spirits damn you, let me out! Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me out!”

The guardswoman knocked her chair over again standing up, pulling her truncheon from her belt as she did so. In the two strides it took her to reach the cell door and draw back the instrument, the pealing of bells outside ceased. She paused with her truncheon readied, as both jailer and prisoner listened to confirm that the alarm’s sounding was truly over.

When it clearly was so, Slouk let out a tortured moan and slumped down to the floor of his cell miserably. His guard peered down through the door’s bars at him, then scoffed and shook her head in disgust. She returned her truncheon to her belt, righted her chair a second time, and sat down heavily.

In his dark cell, Slouk dragged himself back to his bed, where he lay down and began sobbing quietly.

*

The dark silhouettes of various farmsteads came into view in the moonlight to either side of the road as the soldiers waded their way through the great throng of loosed yaks. Soon, the mass of placid animals thinned enough to allow the soldiers to re-group and set their horses to running down the road once more. With each farm they passed, they all were expecting to sight these livestock rustlers at any moment. Yet, still they had not caught up to them. Vetch could sense the apprehension in the men and women around him. He felt it, too. How far down the south road must they gallop before they would spot whatever threat had prompted so many farms to raise the alarm? And what of the other two groups of soldiers? Had they, too, found only hoof prints and loosed animals where a threat should have been?

“Something’s not right,” growled Ennric above the drum of hooves.

Vetch did not answer at first, and not because he disagreed with the veteran soldier. Something else had caught his attention. Faint and barely discernable above the sound of their blowing horses. It wasn’t the familiar low timbre of all the yaks they had passed. It was thin and desperate.

“There!” Vetch shouted, and pointed off the road. “Do you hear it? That way!”

“Hear what?” asked Ennric.

Vetch turned his horse off the road and galloped ahead, pounding across a newly sown field. The other soldiers followed his lead. The cries for help were apparent to all before they spotted the old woman standing stark in the night in only a white nightgown before the splintered remnants of what had been a fenced animal pen beside her farmhouse.

“Here! Here!” she wailed across the open field, waving her arms. As Vetch and his fellows neared and the woman was sure they had seen her, rather than beckoning them, she pointed off into the night. “There! They rode that way! Please get my animals back, please!”

And then Vetch saw them—riders fleeing across the open pastures off the road, and, driven ahead of them, a number of Moonfane Forge’s treasured animals. The other soldiers saw them at the same time as Vetch, and suddenly the realization of the chase, and what was being stolen from their town, dashed all apprehension from the ranks. Without Vetch needing to give an order, the men and women of the garrison gave the reins to their mounts and surged forward as one body after the thieves. Vetch unslung his bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver hooked to his mare’s saddle. He was an average bowman, even when not on horseback, but they didn’t need to hit any of the thieves to make their point known.

“Separate them from the animals and drive them off!” he shouted. He held tight to his bow and chosen arrow with one hand, keeping his reins with the other. They weren’t yet in range to try a volley, but they were gaining. Beside him, his companions were also readying their bows and urging their horses on. Vetch looked to his left, expecting to see Ennric, but it appeared the veteran had fallen back; perhaps to give space to the better archers. Ennric was better with his sword than his bow. Vetch hoped it wouldn’t come to swords.

It was apparent then that the rustlers knew they were pursued because, of a sudden, they broke ranks and started to scatter. The soldiers around Vetch raised whoops and jeers at the cowardice of these thieves when presented with more opposition than lone shepherds and yielding farmers. Vetch smiled to himself. They would drive off these thieves and recover the livestock without a fight. By morning, they would set up soldiers all around to keep watch over the herdsman, so they could gather up all of the animals that had been turned out and drive them back to their pens and pastures.

But if he thought it would be easy going now, he was mistaken. He realized he should have expected from the get-go that a band of livestock rustlers this large would be better organized than the small smatterings of thieves he’d encountered before in his time in the garrison. That point was driven home when the mass of night-obscured riders ahead of them did not simply bolt, and nor did they actually scatter in the fashion of people merely trying to escape. They broke off into smaller groups and, to Vetch’s alarm, intentionally charged through the cluster of yaks they’d been making off with, separating the beasts and throwing them into a panic. The great animals grunted and lowed and charged off in all different directions. This action brought the rustlers into bow range, and a few soldiers around Vetch took shots. He didn’t see whether any hit the mark. Almost too late, he and his companions noticed how some of the yaks had intentionally been driven right back at them.

“Ware!” someone screamed, and then the powerful beasts were bearing down on their ranks. Vetch pulled hard on his reins, making his horse whinny and turn in place while tossing her head in agitation. Some of his fellow soldiers did the same, while others attempted to guide their horses aside and out of the way. It was nothing short of luck that no horse was bowled over. The yaks crashed by them, avoiding some horses only at the last second, and continued on beating the earth with their hooves into the darkness.

Vetch cursed, yanked his horse’s reins to point her back in the direction of the rustlers. She danced sideways, but Vetch dropped her reins, nocked his arrow and drew back the bowstring. He sighted down the arrow shaft out across the fields in the moonlight for any of the thieves.

They were gone. All he could see was vague motion well off in the night—their fleeing backs as they made their escape, covered by the confusion they had wrought.

Vetch lowered his bow with a soft oath under his breath. His horse was still dancing nervously under him. He took up her reins again and rubbed her neck, shushing her with a calming voice.

“There, girl, shh shh shh shh ... it’s all over.”

She calmed—grudgingly, it seemed to Vetch. He slung his bow over his shoulder and discovered he’d dropped the arrow. He didn’t care to dismount to pick it up, so he didn’t. His fellow soldiers re-grouped again, bringing their horses in close, likewise calming them and letting them catch their breaths. Everyone was quiet. They all seemed to be waiting for Vetch to say something. Some of these soldiers had been in the garrison since a time when he was still playing with wooden swords, and still they looked to him. He shoved his unruly hair out of his face and put on a grin.

“They sure didn’t want a fight with us, did they?” he called out loud enough for all to hear. A short cheer from all answered him. There were some claps on backs, some rude remarks made at the expense of the rustlers, and a general easing of tension.

“Got a little dicey there,” someone commented, to murmurs of agreement.

“That, it did,” agreed Vetch and patted his horse’s neck once more.

Another soldier scoffed. “They turned tail like frightened hares,” she said. “And not a single blade had to be drawn.” This drew more general voicings of agreement.

Vetch turned his horse around to face everyone. “Exactly like Cap’n Tarese wanted, eh?” He settled into the role of command, eyes scanning over everyone. “But let’s ride a little farther out to ensure they really did keep running, or else she’ll send us right back out here, won’t she?” The other soldiers laughed because they knew it to be true. Vetch smiled and reined his horse back around. He clicked his tongue and set her to an easy trot, and the others followed, out beneath the cold moonlight, across black fields churned up by anxious hooves.

There had been no point trying to discern a trail from all the scattered hoof prints crisscrossing the landscape. Whichever ones belonged to the rustlers’s horses were obscured by the hoof prints of the soldiers’s own mounts, and all of them were intermingled with many more from the yaks. The livestock thieves had evaporated into the night like spirits. It would be impossible to tell in which direction now. It was the same for the yaks that had been chased off. There would be no telling how many of the beasts had been stolen until morning, when the process of rounding up, sorting, and driving home all those let loose and left behind would begin.

But that would be up to herdsman and shepherds and other able farmers and riders. Now that the threat had been chased off, those men and women could gather their animals and put things back to rights. The soldiers of Moonfane Forge’s garrison had done their duty and now returned to town victorious. Tired soldiers handed off tired horses to sleepy stable hands, backs were clapped, news was shared with waiting townsfolk. Vetch sat his horse watching it all. Ennric reined up beside him.

Vetch glanced at the old soldier and raised his brows. “There you are, old man. I lost sight of you out there. Thought maybe those thieves had mistaken you for a gray-haired yak and made off with you.”

Normally good humored in his crusty way, Ennric didn’t smile. Instead, he shifted in his saddle and winced.

Vetch turned in his saddle and leaned in closer. “You alright, old man?”

Ennric stared straight ahead at all the other soldiers coming in. There were some arriving from the West Gate now. He shifted uncomfortably again in his saddle. “My back’s killing me, boy. I can’t ride that hard anymore, let alone fight in the saddle if it came to it.” He spoke quietly and with a strain in his voice making his words sound clipped. Vetch saw then the rigidity in the veteran soldier’s weathered face, the tight set of his jaw, evident signs of pain only held at bay with an effort. Ennric turned his good eye toward Vetch so he could see him in the dim light cast by the stable’s lanterns. “Don’t think I could dismount on my own right now. Not without twisting my back and falling on my ass in front of everyone.”

Around them, the atmosphere was cautiously celebratory. It appeared that the two other groups had also succeeded in driving off the thieves they found out in their sections of pastures. There were congratulations going around, soldiers from different groups greeting each other and confirming to one another that they had seen a certain family member or friend was unharmed. One confirmed as much to Vetch on his way by—that Vetch’s parents were alright out at their tannery on the western Tanner’s Road, that while they had heard all the ruckus, they’d not even caught sight of any of the rustlers. Vetch thanked the man, then patted at his belt in confusion.

“Damn,” he said aloud. “I think I dropped my riding gloves out there on the road on the way in. Ennric, help me ride back a ways and look for them, would you?”

Ennric grunted, but followed as Vetch turned his horse around and walked her easily back into the shadows of the road beyond the stables. When they were out of sight of the stables and South Gate, Vetch reined in. Ennric eyed him dully.

“You didn’t even bring your riding gloves out,” he stated.

“Nice to know your brain is still working even if your back isn’t,” Vetch replied. He dismounted and went to Ennric to offer the man his help. Ennric only grunted again and allowed Vetch to help support him as he braced his hands on Vetch’s shoulders and haltingly swung down from the saddle with an oath of pain. Once his boots were on the ground, he stood gritting his teeth a moment, then Vetch watched as he stiffly walked a few paces, as if confirming to himself he could manage even that. “I’ll take your horse in and put him up, you get on home,” Vetch offered.

“Captain Tarese hasn’t dismissed us yet, you dolt.”

Vetch gathered in both horses’s reins. “If she asks, I’ll say she put me in charge of the group and I said you could go.”

“It’s your hide then,” said Ennric. “But I ain’t arguing.” He shrugged and gave Vetch a nod. It was all the gesture of thanks Vetch would get out of him over such a thing, but he needed no more. Soldiers had their pride; stubborn old ones most of all. Vetch watched him head off up the road, before leading both horses back to the stables.

As he returned, more of the group who had been sent down the east road toward the dairy were arriving. With them was Wenzl, riding amidst a few others, including Neschi. All of them were grinning and laughing and heaping praise upon the new recruit.

When Neschi saw Vetch, she hopped off her horse with the grace of an acrobat, calling, “Vetch! Vetch, wait till you hear what Wenzl did! He got one of ‘em! Nailed one of those bastards with an arrow—riding at a full clip, no less!” She pulled the tie from her ponytail and shook her straight black hair out around her thin face. “Damndest thing I’ve ever seen!” she added with a toothy grin.

“You managed to kill one of them?” Vetch asked in surprise, turning his eyes to Wenzl. The new recruit and the other soldiers around him dismounted, and it took a moment for the jostling and hair-tousling to abate enough for him to answer.

“Not killed, no,” he said. “At least, I don’t think so. It was a lucky shot. Got him in the arm, I think.”

“Lucky, nothin’,” scoffed Neschi. “Should’ve seen it, Vetch. We caught the rustlers by surprise off their horses trying to bust up someone’s corral. And Wenzl here, he looses a shot from distance, same as the rest of us did, just to scare ‘em off, and he actually hits one! The rustler yelped like a scalded cat and dropped his axe climbing back on his horse to escape. They knew we were serious then. What cowards! One boy with barely his moustache in was all it took and they were off fleeing like surprised jackdaws.” She shoved Wenzl and laughed uproariously.

Another soldier put his arm around Wenzl’s shoulders and gave him a shake. “Lay off, Neschi, this ain’t no boy. This here is a Moonfane Forge garrison soldier! And if he isn’t quite a man yet, then he’ll soon be made one when all the young lasses in the taverns hear this tale!”

Wenzl blushed furiously then, but the grin on the young man’s face would have taken a pry bar to remove.

“Maybe I’ll be the first in line to give ‘im a roll!” Neschi joined in, and gave Wenzl a teasing light clap on the cheek with her palm, causing him to blush even brighter. There was no replying to that. But no chance for reply was given before Neschi and the other soldier both burst into laughter, with Neschi adding, “I’m only kidding, Wenzl. You’re not my type. But I will be the first in line to buy you a mug of ale. Where’s Cap’n Tarese to let us out to the taverns?”

Their captain did arrive and, after everyone was done taking care of their horses, and the group leaders had reported, dismissed them all for the night—all those except the unlucky few who had to return to gate duty, or ride back out on patrols to ensure none of the livestock rustlers returned. The impending approach of dawn did not dissuade some of the garrison’s ranks from indeed making their way to the taverns for a celebratory mug or two, though just as many preferred to return to the barracks for what sleep they could catch in the few hours remaining to them. Vetch was amongst these. He had still not slept at all that night. But it wasn’t that which kept him from joining his companions for a toast to their duty carried out. He didn’t feel like celebrating. Not after how effectively the rustlers had used his town’s own yaks against them as a distraction that likely let them escape with a number of the valuable beasts. His group had succeeded in driving their lot of the thieves off, yes, but it had been messy under his command.

And there was something else. Ennric’s words from earlier in the night kept returning to him. Something’s not right, the old soldier had said. The more Vetch thought about it, the more he was inclined to agree. He just couldn’t put his finger on why.

It wouldn’t be until the coming day that that inclination would ring true.