The Stolen Herd

by K Madill

  Luco spent a few days renovating his front porch, ripping out the broken-down floor, and building a deck with good, strong wood. He also made an outdoor fireplace out of brick and they passed the cool evenings in front of a crackling fire, with Arkas hanging from a perch that had been put in just for him.

  Arkas had become spoiled after days of being adored and stuffed full of treats by Luco’s family. He never tired of the food or the attention. The trio settled into a pleasant routine and tried not to think of when the visit would end and when they would have to journey on to the desert.

  Luco often told stories about Roseneath when they sat in front of the fire at night. He would recount back to when folks had founded the town and built the Sun Tower and the marble that powered the houses. The townspeople depended on the river for their food, he told Mandamus and Arkas, both who listened intently. The river also provided power and its swift current was used to twirl the large windmill at the edge of town, but the most important thing the river held was tiny nuggets of soft gold. The people who founded the village mined for this gold and it was the gold that funded the building of Roseneath.

  Luco’s great, great, great, grandparents had been two of the town founders and that great, great, great, grandmother been Bonded with a beaver and between the two of them, an enormous dam and windmill had been built, both of which energized the parts of the town that the Sun Marble didn’t. Aunt Alfin’s Bond, Castor, was a descendant of the original beaver but Mandamus had not seen Castor, for he was very old and preferred to stay at home.

  Mandamus wished he could stay in Roseneath forever, but lately an innate sense inside him had begun nagging that, while he enjoyed the comforts of this beautiful place, the Forest Council and the Alsvid herd were relying on him and that he had lingered in Roseneath long enough.

  It was time to go.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Mandamus asked Luco the next morning. He’d been eating his breakfast oats, and some had gotten up his nose. He sneezed. “I’m sorry,” he said after realizing he’d sprayed Luco with half-chewed food. Luco, who was staring gloomily at a bowl of cereal in front of him, didn’t seem to notice.

  “We’ll have to leave soon, you know,” he said, absently wiping oats from his cheek. “We have to leave, and I still haven’t really mastered riding and, let me tell you, the road to the Sleeping Prophets is long. I don’t fancy walking the whole way there.”

  Mandamus did his usual snuffle along the bottom of the trough to make sure not a crumb was missed and tried to think of a suggestion. Luco wasn’t horrible at riding but he was right, he had not mastered it.

  Luco gulped down his milk and pushed his chair back. “Let’s go,” he said, getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket. “We’ll go and practise all day.”

  “You know,” Mandamus as they began tacking up, “you should try riding with no saddle.”

  Luco snorted. “Not liking the saddle so much, eh?” he asked.

  “Well no,” Mandamus admitted, “but also, what happens if we have to get away sometime and there’s no time to put it on?”

  “Mandamus I can hardly ride with the saddle let alone without,” Luco griped.

  “Yeah, I know,” Mandamus answered. “Let’s just try riding today without one. You can still use the bridle and I promise – I won’t take off.”

  Luco eyed him warily but agreed and so they set out today with no saddle, just a bridle and reins.

  “Why don’t we go to the outer ring woods today? I’m sick of practising in Star’s Field.” Luco suggested.

  The two trekked down the smooth road until it ended, turning into a well-trodden path that led into the woods. Hopping up onto a fallen log, Luco grasped a clump of Mandamus’ mane and slung his leg over, settling awkwardly on his back. They started off at a slow walk.

  “You’re pretty bony,” Mandamus told him. “Move more to the middle.”

  “Like this?” asked Luco, but Mandamus had frozen with his tail high and his nostrils flared. A low growl surrounded them. A feeling of dread washed over Mandamus and his heart thumped against his ribcage. The air grew dark and stank of rotten meat.

  “Oh, gross,” Luco gagged. “What is that smell?”

  “Shh,” Mandamus whispered, frantically wheeling around.

  BAM!

  Something crashed into him, knocking him sideways and dragging Luco from his back. A snake-like tail lashed his neck and a black beak snapped inches from his muzzle. It was Aicha.

  “Here I am, Alsvid horse,” Aicha croaked, his wiry arms wrapped tightly around Luco’s neck. Luco was turning red as he flailed, clawing uselessly at Aicha’s grip.

  “You’re coming with me, or I snap his neck,” Aicha shrieked. He drew a curved claw across Luco’s chest. Blood seeped through the torn cloth of his shirt.

  “Move!” a gruff voice ordered, and Mandamus felt himself being roughly shoved aside.

  “Gideon Wanderer, you stay out of this!” Aicha squealed and to Mandamus’ horror, he hurled Luco at a tree. Luco’s crashed into the trunk, headfirst, then landed heavily at the tree’s base. Mandamus let out a furious whinny and pushed past Gideon to get to him.

  Aicha dodged Gideon, leaping high into the air and then landing squarely on Mandamus’ back. Mandamus bucked as the imp raked his claws across his shoulders. He squealed in pain, bucking and twisting, but the imp clung to him. Gideon launched himself at Aicha and dragged him off Mandamus. Mandamus dashed over to where Luco lay unmoving, his back feeling as though someone had set it on fire.

  “Stupid Forest Man,” Aicha shrieked. He flailed in Gideon’s grip, his black beak snapping open and shut. “Stay out of this, you! This horse is the property of Queen Asura, my mistress, and I am taking him to the Silver Castle.”

  Aicha wormed out of Gideon’s grip and lunged at Mandamus, snaring his mane in his long, bony fingers. Out of nowhere, Arkas appeared, and he dove at Aicha, blasting the imp with a stream of fire. Aicha howled and curled into a ball.

  “As if I’m going to let that happen,” Gideon growled. “I should have done this years ago,” He drew a small, shiny knife out from under his sleeve. Mandamus whinnied in alarm. As much as he feared Aicha, he did not want to see him killed, but to his surprise, Gideon did not stab the imp but made a small nick in his shoulder. A black, oil-like substance welled up and trickled down the imp’s arm.

  “No! You can’t!” Aicha shrieked. He clutched the wound and squeezed as if trying to stem the flow, but Gideon’s knife had sliced deeply, and liquid leaked between his fingers. “Hateful, Gideon. I will see you split open for this!”

  Now the nick in Aicha’s arm was pouring out, and Mandamus watched in amazement as a torrent of oily sludge streamed from the imp’s arm and seeped into the ground. Aicha, with one last defiant shriek, shrank to the size of a mouse and withered like a leaf in autumn. Gideon scooped up the dried husk that was once Aicha and tucked him into his belt.

  Mandamus reached over and lipped Luco’s cheek while Arkas perched on Luco’s chest and tugged anxiously on his shirt. Luco stirred and groggily opened his eyes. “What happened?” he groaned.

  Arkas gave a grim squeak, then sprang off his chest and flapped over to Gideon, nestling comfortably in his beard.

  “You were attacked by an imp,” said Gideon, looking closely at the welts on Luco’s chest. He offered his hand and Luco grabbed it, wincing as Gideon pulled him to his feet.

  “Luco Riverman,” said Gideon with a small smile.

  “I am,” said Luco, gingerly touching the lump on his forehead. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

  “My name is Gideon. I was a friend of your grandfather’s. Both grandfathers, actually.

  “You’re Gideon? I’ve heard of you. You’re a Forest Man.”

  “Forest Man?” Mandamus echoed, sniffing Gideon’s long cloak and tangled hair. “What is a Forest Man?”
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  “Shapeshifter,” Luco said, leaning wearily against a tree. “Forest Men can turn themselves into any animal in the woods and when you see him in his human form, it’s supposed to be a positive omen. If you see him, that is. Usually they go around disguised as an animal.”

  Gideon pulled a tiny jar from the pocket of his cloak. Giving it a shake, he dumped the powdery contents onto Mandamus’ back. Mandamus shivered as an icy feeling spread over his cuts. Gideon handed the jar to Luco who sprinkled some dust onto his wounded chest.

  “You’re learning to ride, I see,” Gideon said, dabbing Mandamus’ back with the edge of his sleeve. “That’s good; you’ll need to know how.”

  Gideon crouched down and squinted closely at the puddle of Aicha’s blood. He scooped up a handful and poured it into a pouch on his waistband.

  “What did you do to Aicha?” Mandamus asked, eyeing the imp’s shrivelled form hanging from Gideon’s waist.

  “I drained him of his life force.”

  Luco sucked in his breath. “Is he dead?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Gideon replied, wiping his fingers on his cloak. “As much as I’d love to rid the kingdom of this foul little worm, he will come in handy. He is Asura’s childhood pet, and he’s known her longer than any of us. No, he’s not dead, but hibernating. His heart, lungs, brain, body—everything has been dried, but he can be resurrected, reconstituted is probably a better word for it, with a single drop of blood.”

  A chill stole over Mandamus, but he knew that Aicha couldn’t hurt them now. He gave Gideon an appreciative nicker which Gideon returned with a pat on his shoulder.

  “Mandamus is right, you know,” Gideon said to Luco, as he stroked Mandamus’ mane. “About riding without your saddle. Taking saddles and bridles off and on all the time is too much work and the weight of them slows him down. Trust me, you don’t need equipment on an Alsvid. Their bones are as strong as stone, yet their backs are as soft as sand and the perfect width for humans. Ride bareback with a halter and reins.”

  Luco gave Gideon a dismissive smile. “Yes, well thanks for helping us.” He held Gideon’s container of medicine out. “What’s in this stuff? I can’t feel that scratch anymore.”

  Gideon stared sternly at him.

  “I should probably get back,” Luco said, ignoring Gideon’s look. “I should tell my grandmother that there’s an imp wandering arou—”

  “One more thing,” Gideon interrupted, grabbing his jar. “Aicha is just a taste of what Asura has on her side, you need weapons and you need to be taught how to use them. The Snowbreth tribe have agreed to help you, so you will go there before you go to the Light Sands.”

  “The Snowbreath?” Luco asked, staring at Gideon in amazement. “Are you kidding? Why would I go there? The only thing the Snowbreth are going to help themselves to is a helping of us when we’re on their dinner plates! And how did you know we were going to the Light Sands?”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you really believe all the drivel you heard from the Silver Castle about the Snowbreth eating men?”

  Luco stared at Gideon incredulously. “Everyone knows that the Snowbreth are monsters.”

  Gideon shook his head. “The Snowbreth are at the Azure Caves and they’re expecting you. Don’t make them wait.” He stashed the jar up his sleeve and brushed off his cloak.

  Luco rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, we’re going to the Azure Caves,” he made a circular motion at his temple and mouthed the word ‘crazy’ at Mandamus when he thought Gideon wasn’t looking.

  “Go home and get your things, Luco,” Gideon growled. “You’re leaving tomorrow; do you understand me?”

  “But they eat people!”

  “See you soon,” Gideon said to Mandamus, ignoring Luco’s protests. He pulled Arkas out of his beard and set him gently in the tangles of Mandamus’s mane, watching with a small smile as the bat threaded his claws through the thick strands and clung tightly. When Arkas was comfortable, there was a sharp bang and where Gideon had stood only moments before, hopped a large, horned owl. Beating his wings, he bolted upwards and disappeared into the treetops.

  The imp’s pungent odour came wafting back, but it wasn’t the bad smell that bothered Mandamus, it was the way that Luco had reacted to the creatures Gideon called Snowbreths. Why was Luco so afraid of them? If they were man-eating monsters like Luco claimed, how could they possibly help Mandamus on his journey?

  Chapter 20

  A Last Minute Present

  “Auntie Gem, please take that out. I can’t fit another thing into my bag,” Luco said crossly as he slung a pair of cloth saddlebags over Mandamus’ back.

  It was their last afternoon in Roseneath. Luco wanted to test the heaviness of their luggage along with his own weight on Mandamus’ back so he’d gathered all the things they needed for their journey, spread them out on the lawn in front of his house and was trying to fit everything in two saddlebags and his pack sack.

  Geminga gave him a sour look then pulled out the large bottle of Wellcome water she’d slipped in with his belongings.

  “Go off without at least one bottle of the best water in the Silver Kingdom?” she asked. “That’s just stupid. Look—it fits right in this saddle bag here.” She slid the bottle into the bag then. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she drew out a few small packages and stuck them in too. “See? It’s a fine fit.”

  Mandamus wished he could have some Wellcome water right now, but he stood patiently as Luco tried to find a place to put his silver tea thermos.

  “Luco, my boy,” Uncle Drollo boomed, coming up the road. “Getting ready to leave I see.” He smiled at Geminga. “Giving him a hand, are you, dear?”

  “I brought him some Wellcome water,” she said brightly, patting the bulge in the saddle bag. “I packed a few other things too.”

  Luco groaned but Mandamus gave a nicker of appreciation. Having a better nose than Luco, he knew at least one of those mystery gifts was oatmeal cookies.

  “Isn’t that nice, well, I have something for you too!” Drollo said. “Here, have a look at this.”

  He pulled a tiny cloth bag from his pocket and shook a large pin into his palm. Its pointed tip looked sharp while the head was a tiny ball covered in carvings. Mandamus reached out for a sniff, but Drollo snatched his hand back.

  “Oh, you want to be very careful around this, my dear horse. Don’t ever go near that tip. In fact, don’t even take it out of this bag.”

  Luco slumped then turned to his uncle. “Uncle Drollo,” he said slowly and Mandamus knew he was struggling to keep his cool. “I can’t fit anything else other than what I have here,” he gestured at the ground that was still littered with his sleeping bag, collapsible pot, a bag of oats, and water skins. “I can’t even figure out how to fit all the things I actually need, and if I can’t fit all of that, then why would you think I have room for something I can’t even take out of its bag?”

  “Then get rid of something,” Drollo insisted. “I’d feel better if you took this.” He held the pin gently by the ball at the end.

  “What is that?” asked Luco, squinting at it.

  “This, my boy, was a favourite, oh, I don’t know what you’d call it—shall we say, trinket, of your dear grandfather’s. He left it to me, but I think you should have it now. It’s quite amazing how this thing works, actually.” He chuckled.

  “Oh, yes,” Geminga agreed, clapping her hands, “that’s quite the handy tool, indeed.”

  “Okay,” Luco said, with raised eyebrows. “What does it do?”

  “What is it?” Mandamus asked.

  “Ah, well, you see,” said Drollo stroking his large moustache. Having spent the past few weeks around Drollo, Mandamus had begun to get used to his facial expressions. The one he wore now looked like he was getting ready to tell a long story. Luco’s expression was one of pinched frustration.


  “It is a needle from a weaving loom,” Drollo said, holding the pin up. “Your grandfather got it at a castle auction, if I recall. It is supposed to be very powerful.” Drollo admired the pin for another moment before he carefully stowed it back in the tiny cloth bag. “Now, like I said, be sure to keep it in this,” he said before drawing the bag shut and handing it to Luco.

  “This bag is lined with silver and the needle will not poke through, no matter what, but I do warn you: the person who is pricked with it will fall into a very deep sleep from which they can only be woken by true love’s kiss. It’s not much, but I thought if you ever have an enemy after you and they’re in close range….” A gloomy look came over Drollo’s face, but he shook his head and replaced it with a smile. “Like I said, it’s not much but in a pinch, it could be helpful.”

  Luco face softened. “True love’s kiss, eh?” He examined the small sack closely.

  “Luco, where are you?” Patte called.

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Luco yelled back, glancing at the darkening sky. “It must be dinner time. Uncle, thank you for whatever this is.” He undid the strap of the saddle bag and dropped the pouch inside. “Auntie Geminga, please take that saucepan out of my backpack; I already have my folding one.”

  Luco lifted his father’s saddle pad and the bags from Mandamus’ back before gently placing them on a rack.

  “You’re going to miss them,” said Mandamus quietly, as they made their way to Luco’s mother’s house. “That’s why you were moody with them, isn’t it?”

  Luco nodded. “Sometimes it’s easier to be mad than sad, I guess. Which is dumb.”