The Stolen Herd

by K Madill

  Sitting at a table was not possible for Mandamus but Luco’s grandmother had not forgotten him, and beside Luco’s chair, there was a container of steaming oats and molasses.

  After Luco ate two platefuls of breakfast, he leaned back and unfastened his belt with a syrupy smile.

  “I think I like pancakes more than anything else,” he said before pointing at the empty bucket in front of Mandamus. “That must have tasted good. You’re about to lick the finish off that pail.”

  “They sure were,” Mandamus said, giving the bottom of the bucket one last nibble.

  Aunt Geminga sidled up to them “Can I groom your horse?” she asked sweetly. “He could do with a nice bath, you know. His mane is a rat’s nest, and he’s got all this muck stuck in his coat.” She rubbed her hand over Mandamus’ rump, pausing to scratch at the patch of pansy paste that covered his mark. She leaned in for a closer look. “What is that?” she asked.

  Mandamus shimmied away from her. He wasn’t sure about Luco’s aunt Geminga after she had cut a chunk of his mane when they’d first met. He eyed the braided bracelet she wore on her wrist and had a sneaking suspicion it was made from his hair. Luco laughed at his nervousness and told his aunt that they had things to do and brushing Mandamus could wait until later.

  “What things do we have to do?” asked Mandamus as they left Luco’s grandmother’s yard and started through the woods. He had hoped to lie around in the sun and maybe go back to the cherry star grove. Even though he’d just eaten a huge helping of oats, the thought of more cherry stars made his belly rumble.

  “I’m going to learn how to ride you and you’re going to learn how to be ridden,” replied Luco. “I think I can make a saddle and a bridle.” He chewed his lip and stared off distantly. “All I need is some leather, although I don’t know how I’ll make a bit,” he muttered.

  “What’s a bit?” asked Mandamus. He didn’t like the sound of that word, it sounded too much like ‘bite.’

  “Well, it’s this thing that goes in your mouth. It’s attached to the bridle. It’s so I can keep you in check,” replied Luco, scratching his head in thought. They came out of the thicket of woods and started on the road back to town. “The bridle goes over your head and the bit goes in your mouth. I don’t know though. I wonder if I should just get you wearing the stuff first, then try to ride you? I’ve never done this before.”

  “Me either,” Mandamus answered, feeling a bit useless.

  “Luco,” said his mother quietly from behind. The jumped. “Where did she come from?” Mandamus wondered. Patte had not been at breakfast.

  “I have something I’d like to show you,” Patte said. “Both of you, actually. Will you come with me?”

  “Sure,” agreed Luco. He shrugged at Mandamus’ quizzical look as they followed Patte who strode purposefully down the road towards her house.

  They walked in silence and when they reached her front walk, she bypassed the front door and headed down a small stone path to the backyard. Here, there was a large square building with a round, red door. She pushed open the door and motioned for them to follow.

  The windows of the shed were dirty, and the grime muted the light, creating shadows that Mandamus did not like. Cobwebs filled the corners and the floor looked as though it had not been swept in years.

  “What’s this?” Mandamus asked, sniffing a strong-smelling object made of iron.

  “It’s an anvil,” said Luco quietly. “It was my grandfather’s, and here’s his leather apron to go with it. These are all his things. You’ve had them in here this whole time?”

  Patte smiled. “You didn’t think I would throw my own father’s things out, did you? He left you all of his things and I’ve been saving them for the right time. Now is definitely the right time.”

  Luco’s eyes were soft with nostalgia as he gazed around the room at his inheritance. “Here’s his hammer,” he said reverently. Luco took the tool down from two pegs on a wall and blew the dust from its silver head. “Oh, the things we built with this...,” he murmured. His eyes lit up when he noticed an oval, soot-caked oven. “And there’s his forge!”

  Patte moved several boxes, revealing an oddly shaped form that was covered in a dingy blanket.

  “Here it is,” said Patte. “It wasn’t the tools I was looking for, it was this.” She pulled the blanket off the object.

  “A saddle!” Luco exclaimed.

  Mandamus felt a flush of surprise. Why would Luco’s grandfather have a saddle? He reached out and sniffed it. The blanket had protected the saddle and in the dim light the gold stitching and shiny leather gleamed. Luco traced his finger over a small emblem stamped on the saddle’s side. It was a horse’s head in a ring of flames.

  “Why did granddad have a saddle?” he asked.

  “This didn’t belong to your grandfather,” his mother answered, not looking at him, “it belonged to your father.”

  Luco turned sharply to her, but Patte’s eyes stayed fixed on the saddle. “Are you serious? My father had a horse Bond? You never told me that.”

  She nodded. “There are a lot of things I have never told you and as much as I want to—”

  “‘I can’t tell you because it’s best for you not to know,’” Luco finished for her. “That’s what you always say.”

  Luco’s mother reached down and grabbed a large cloth bag. “Now that I can compare Mandamus to this saddle, I think you’ll need a new one. It’s a bit big, but it’s a start. There’s a bridle and reins in this bag.” She handed him the sack then lifted the saddle and gestured at the thick pad underneath it. “That’s a saddle pad, you put that on underneath the saddle. Take Mandamus to Star’s Field and try riding there. The ground is soft, in case you fall off.”

  Luco lifted the saddle up. “It weighs almost nothing,” he said, sounding impressed.

  “I don’t know much about riding horses,” Patte told them with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “And I certainly have no idea how to train them, but I do know it requires a lot of patience and a ton of forgiveness. Your father used to say, ‘It’s never the horse’s fault, it’s always the human’s.’ I’ll see you boys at dinner time.” She left them and Mandamus had many questions about the saddle and Luco’s father but some innate force in him knew he should not ask.

  Mandamus followed Luco as he carried the sack and saddle pad out of the shed and down a short path through the woods then further, down a steep, winding trail to a large, grassy field. Patte’s words about patience echoed in Mandamus’ ears.

  “Here we are,” Luco said, putting the bag onto the grass. “Alright.” Luco held out the pad so Mandamus could sniff it. “You ready?”

  Mandamus took a deep whiff, then sneezed. The saddle pad had the faintest trace of another horse, a sweet grassy smell that seemed vaguely familiar, but it was almost lost under the dull scent of dust and cobwebs. He stood still and allowed Luco to toss the pad and saddle onto his back. He dipped under the weight. It felt awkward and unbalanced and the stirrups tapped uncomfortably against his sides.

  “How does that feel?” asked Luco.

  “Not bad,” answered Mandamus, while quivering his coat. The saddle shifted. He skittered sideways, but it stayed on.

  “Good, but we have to tighten it up,” Luco said. Reaching under Mandamus, he grabbed the girth and belted it.

  “Oof,” Mandamus grunted. “Does it have to be so tight?” He puffed his stomach out so Luco couldn’t pull the cinch any tauter.

  “I don’t want to fall off if the saddle slips,” Luco told him. “Here, I’ll loosen it a little.” He undid the buckle and strapped it back up at a lower notch.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Bearable, I guess,” Mandamus answered, exhaling. Having something on his back felt weird. He fought the urge to buck and instead wove from side to side.

  “Easy, boy,” Luco said, stroki
ng his neck.

  Mandamus couldn’t help himself. He hopped forward, twisting uncomfortably.

  “Whoa,” shouted Luco. “Calm down!”

  Mandamus let out frustrated whinny.

  “It’s okay,” Luco soothed, patting his shoulder. He held the up the bridle. “Now, let’s try this,” and he slipped the bridle over Mandamus’ head and gently placed the bit in his open mouth.

  Mandamus felt trapped inside the bridle which was strapped around his head and over his nose. The bit pressed uncomfortably on his tongue.

  Mandamus hurled himself forward and took off at a gallop. He could hear Luco shouting but the feeling of the riding equipment was too much for him and he figured that, since he could not get the saddle and bridle off by shaking them, perhaps they would come undone and fall off as he ran.

  They didn’t. Instead, the stirrups pounded his sides with each step and the reins streamed in the wind of his run, slapping his flank. The field was ending and the forest loomed before him and if he didn’t stop, he would crash into a tree. Mandamus skidded to a halt. Breathing hard, he reached down for a soothing bite of grass and found it difficult to nibble with the bit on his tongue.

  “That’s enough for today,” panted Luco when he caught up to Mandamus. He bent over, gasping.

  “Good,” said Mandamus through a mouthful of clover. “It’s probably going to be worse with Luco sitting on me,” he thought glumly. “Now I know why Alsvids have never wanted a Bond with man. Saddles and bridles aren’t a lot of fun.”

  “We’re going to have to try again tomorrow though,” Luco said, loosening the girth and pulling the saddle from his back. He undid the throat strap on the bridle and slipped it over Mandamus’ ears and off his head. “I can’t walk all the way to the desert with you and I can’t ride my motorcycle with you walking beside me. It will look weird.”

  Mandamus felt a pinch of guilt as he spat out the bit. Luco was only trying to learn to ride in the first place so he could help Mandamus find his herd. Instead of being helpful, Mandamus had taken off.

  “I’m sorry I ran,” he apologized. “I hate that bridle and that bit, but I’ll try it again.”

  “It’s alright,” Luco said. “You still did well, except for the bucking, and the rearing, and then the bolting—Oh, and the knocking me over, which you didn’t see, because you were running away so fast.” He reached out and tugged Mandamus’ tail in a friendly way, but Mandamus was worried. What if he never got used to having a saddle on his back?

  Chapter 16

  The Blue Bottle

  “They’re called gifts,” answered Luco that evening as he tied a ribbon around a box covered in gold foil.

  “I’m wrapping them. We’ll take them to my grandmother’s tomorrow morning.”

  Arkas crawled across the table and sniffed at the pile of presents.

  “Why?” asked Mandamus. For the past few days, Luco had begun to act secretive. He would come home from town with bulging bags and mysterious, sweet-smelling packages that he said were a surprise.

  Luco finished wrapping his last present and shoved it, along with many others, into a large sack before finally tying the top.

  “It is customary to give each other gifts at the Winter Celebration and we wrap them because they are a surprise. Humans do this once a year. We gather as a family, decorate, and give each other presents, and we always do this at my grandma’s house.”

  Mandamus stomach rumbled.

  “There will be lots of oats too, don’t you worry,” said Luco while heaving the bulging bag over one shoulder and slinging his guitar over the other. “Let’s go.”

  Mandamus and Arkas followed Luco out the door, into the cold night, and through the woods to Luco’s grandmother’s house. They had just come through the white painted gate when the lavender door banged open, spilling light and laughter into the darkening forest. It was Auntie Alfin.

  “Boys!” she cried, kissing both Luco and Mandamus on the cheek. Arkas dodged her peck and darted past her and into the house. “You’re just in time. Dinner is about to be served, but whew,” she fanned herself with the hem of her dress. “Is it hot in here! I need some air,” she said, pushing past them to sit on the steps.

  Luco held the door open for Mandamus. “This way,” he said.

  Mandamus was impressed. Proxima had moved all her furniture out of her large main room to make way for an enormous, decorated fir tree. As Mandamus drew near, he was surprised to find that the tree was teeming with life.

  Tiny reindeer, the size of chipmunks, cantered along the branches, jumping from limb to limb. Miniature owls twittered in silver nests. Miniscule polar bears plodded along the boughs, and a swarm of gold butterflies gathered at the top in the shape of a star.

  Along the walls were tables laden with steaming dishes, sizzling platters and a gigantic bowl of punch. One table was covered entirely in pies, cakes and cookies.

  “Uncle Drollo,” Luco cried, as a portly man with a walrus-like moustache came over to join them. His face was as red as the wine in his glass.

  “Where have you been?” Luco asked. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back. Did you get the message about my bike and guitar?” Luco turned to Mandamus. “Uncle Drollo is married to my Aunt Geminga.”

  Mandamus nodded at him and stepped forward, expecting to be petted or given a treat, as seemed to be the way with Luco’s family, but to his surprise, Drollo shrank away from him.

  “Luco, my boy, how are you?” Drollo asked, eyeing Mandamus warily. He grabbed an empty glass from the nearby bar and thrust it into Luco’s hand. “Have a taste of this!” Drollo picked up a green bottle from the table beside him and poured some liquid into Luco’s glass. “Enjoy!” he said, watching keenly as Luco took a sip.

  “Very nice, Uncle,” Luco said, giving the thumbs up to Drollo who whooped and poured himself more.

  “You were only ten when this vintage was bottled,” Drollo said, pointing the bottle at Luco. “Just a wee lad and you helped pick the grapes, remember that?” He chuckled.

  Luco nodded. “Who could forget all those hours under the hot sun and the stomach ache that came from eating more grapes than I picked?”

  “Ah, yes, the vineyards, my favourite. My dear boy, I am sorry to hear about the tryouts.”

  Luco shrugged. “There’s always next year.”

  “I’m sorry about your motorbike too. I’m not sure what happened. That Sun Marble battery is an exact replication of the one on our hall, and it should have harvested lots of sunlight, moonlight too. I’ll have another look at it. Anyway, yes, I got your message. I picked your bike and your guitar up on my way home. They’re still in the wagon; I only got back a few hours ago. What do you think of the tiny animals on the tree? Aren’t they amazing? I picked them up in the Silver City.” He gestured at the herd of reindeer who had gathered at the base of the tree.

  “They’re neat, Uncle,” Luco said, leaning down to stroke a tiny polar bear his finger. “And don’t worry about the bike breaking down, that actually turned out to be a good thing.” He pointed his thumb at Mandamus. “Did you hear that I’ve got a horse now?”

  Mandamus took a deep whiff of Drollo’s sleeve. He smelled of dirt and rain and wheat.

  “Ah, yes, I did,” Drollo said, his smile faltering as he glanced nervously at Mandamus. “Welcome, Mandamus; welcome, welcome.” Drollo patted Mandamus’ shoulder with a hesitant hand.

  “Well, Uncle Drollo,” Luco said, clapping his uncle on the shoulder, “we will catch up later. I need to put my presents under the tree.”

  “A word, first, please,” Drollo grabbed Luco by the arm. “Mandamus, you come along, too.”

  Drollo ushered them into a quiet corner. “I haven’t been here because I was making a delivery to the castle,” he said in a low voice.

  “Oh, yeah?” Luco asked. “How is everything at th
e castle these days? Did you see Mirtha and Caucus?”

  “No, unfortunately, I did not get to see my daughter or her husband,” said his uncle while twisting the end of his moustache. “You know the queen put a Grower’s Tax on all farms, don’t you? So now, in addition to giving them a portion of our harvest, we have to pay money on top of that.”

  Luco frowned. “Since when?”

  “Since this past year,” Drollo answered. “I was in the city delivering the cash and I saw quite a few of the Rahkana riding around. From what I understand, Caucus was made general a few years back.”

  “Good for him,” Luco said with a shrug.

  “Yes, the Rakhana are all riding horses like the one you have here. Alsvids. Only, those horses, while they have the same eyes and coat as Mandamus does, they were, well, I don’t even know how to describe the difference. They are gruesome.”

  “Gruesome?” Luco repeated, looking puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Let me put it this way,” Drollo said in a hushed voice. “One of them tried to take a bite out of old Bertha, my ox, and its teeth weren’t regular, square horse teeth, they were fanged—with incisors like a cougar’s, and the noises they made,” he shuddered. “They don’t sound like regular horses, their wails are unnatural. Unearthly. Tortured.”

  A shiver coursed through Mandamus. “What does he mean, ‘teeth like a cougar’?” he wondered. “And what is he talking about when he says ‘unnatural’?”

  “Unnatural horses with fangs, Uncle?” Luco said, raising his eyebrows doubtfully. “Were you in the pub before you saw these horses, by any chance?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Drollo said indignantly, pouring more wine into his glass. “I still saw what I saw, and let me tell you, it is not something I ever want to see again.” He pointed his glass at Mandamus, spilling wine onto the floor. “Your aunt told me that your mother told her that you’ve decided to help this horse out, and I think it’s a good idea. Don’t let the army get their foul hands on him. Those horses were evil.”