Auguries of Dawn

by Peyton Reynolds

Before setting even a single foot upon the grounds of the Tulan Ranch that evening, Flynn had spent much time in the woods flanking the only road leading to and from the property. Here, he and twenty-some Thieves from the Traveler’s home city of Beavihm had done a final run-through of what they were expecting to occur upon this road in only a few short hours, and how they would turn it to their advantage.

  From the trees, they observed the many carriages coming forth and rolling past, heading further up the gravel road and through the wooden gates surrounding the Tulan estate. Four Justice officers loitered there, fastidiously checking invitations to ensure that only those who belonged set foot upon the property. A few would-be crashers were roughly turned away, with one even taking a few hits when he continued mouthing off to the officers. Watching this, Flynn discerned that the Tulans appeared to be taking no chances with their safety this night, although this was probably just a show they were putting on for those they were attempting to impress. It was unlikely the Tulans were anticipating any real threat, which was simply all the better for Flynn and his crew.

  Once darkness fell Flynn prepared himself for his own entry. The moons, both white and green, were sitting at slightly less than three-quarters full, but much of their light was lost in the thick branches of the forest banking both sides of the road. He therefore all but disappeared, with his dark clothing and brown skin, when he lay down at the edge of the laneway. He closed his eyes and waited, quickly feeling the vibrations of the next-approaching carriage just before he heard it rumbling toward him.

  As expected, the driver proceeded on without taking any notice of him. Flynn waited for the horses to pass by, then rolled, aiming himself between the giant, spindly wheels. Timing demanded that his movements be swift and sure as well as perfect, and a moment later he was successfully clinging to the undercarriage, rolling along toward the gates of the Tulan estate.

  There was only a brief pause as the Justice officers looked over the invitation held by the carriage’s occupants, evidently finding no cause for suspicion. They then rolled forward again and followed what appeared to be a long, crescent-shaped laneway leading to the front doors of the estate home. Flynn’s muscles were by this time beginning to cramp and pain him, but he held on, waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to scurry to safety.

  Those in the carriage seemed to take an obscene amount of time to exit, and Flynn silently cursed them as he hung there, waiting. A woman’s voice was going on about a loose stitch in her dress, debating whether or not she should go back to wherever it was she dwelt to change. The man told her that if she did, she’d be going alone, and that appeared to be the end of it. Relieved, Flynn turned his head and watched their feet step away toward the massive dwelling only a few hundred paces distant.

  The driver rambled back up into his seat and, with a jerk, they were off again. They did not go far. Rounding onto a small field before a barn painted dark brown, the driver eased the team to a stop, set the brake, jumped down, and hurried off to whereabouts unknown. Flynn let himself drop to the ground as soon as the man’s footsteps had retreated, and he stayed there for several minutes, just breathing deeply.

  Finally he flipped onto his stomach and pulled himself to the edge of his cover. Looking out, he could see parked carriages all about him, lined up two-or-three deep before the barn. He began rolling outward, staying beneath them as he headed toward the structure.

  Arriving at the end of the line, he cautiously pushed to his feet and looked about. The barn lay directly before him, illuminated from within and throwing shadows into the night. Voices carried faintly from inside, revealed to be belonging to numerous stable-hands as they proceeded to come to and fro, carrying buckets of water out to the many carriage horses. A couple of them took a disinterested notice of Flynn, likely taking him for a driver, but the remaining few failed to even glance his way.

  Flynn turned his attention north-east, seeing the estate home back the way he’d come, sitting upon a slight elevation and lit brilliantly against the night’s darkness. He was sure to hold this position for several minutes, as Knoxx would be watching for his arrival, needing to relay to Tishan that Flynn had made it onto the grounds safely. Flynn proceed to strike together the steel and flint he’d taken from his pocket, creating sparks but no flames, the signal Knoxx would be anticipating.

  Finally he turned away, stowing the items back into his pocket. To the west lay darkness, illuminated only dimly by the light of the two moons. Flynn, however, already knew precisely the details of this area. A huge, grassy field stretched a quarter league, meeting finally with a golden-colored bricked barn. It was here Beran Tulan’s herd of eight prized stallions and mares—all champion racehorses—would be stabled and most likely heavily guarded.

  Warhorses were also bred here, and had their own field farther to the north. But it was the racers Lord Beran truly loved, for it was these creatures that brought to him a rather staggering revenue, between their winnings and services as stud. And so it was these Flynn aimed to take from him.

  He melted into the shadows and started west, easily scaling the wooden fence rungs which enclosed the grazing field. He kept an eye out for sentries as he jogged across the sea of green grass, but saw none, figuring any such men would likely be stationed about the barn where the horses were stabled.

  The barn came into view quickly, well-lit and shining like a beacon once he topped a small knoll. He slowed his pace and approached it cautiously.

  Quickly, two men became visible to his sight. One stood before the open barn doors, doing nothing but staring out into the night, and the other appeared to be making a sweep of the barn’s perimeter. Both were armed with swords. Flynn figured there was a good chance one more guard was within the barn, along with any number of stable-hands.

  He hunkered down into the cool grass, lying flat on his stomach while keeping his eyes trained upon the men ahead, at a distance of about five hundred paces. They would all need to be incapacitated, but he would wait for Knoxx to arrive before advancing to that stage of the plan. Finesse would be key here, not brute force.

  He did not have to wait long. As the guard walking the perimeter rounded a corner and disappeared behind the barn, Flynn saw the second man, standing silent sentry, suddenly pitch to the ground without a sound.

  He was up and running in an instant. “I’ll get the other. You head inside,” he called quietly as he moved past the inert form of the guard. The man was showing a bloody gash upon his forehead.

  “Certainly,” Knoxx’s voice came back genially.

  Flynn followed the same route taken by the one he now sought, allowing him the opportunity to come up behind the man, and he skirted around the side of the barn silently. The guard had apparently sensed nothing suspicious, for his sword remained sheathed, his gait still casual as he now walked along the barn’s outer back wall.

  Flynn picked up speed as he moved soundlessly up behind him, coming to a full-out run before leaping and bringing his elbow crashing down into the top of the man’s skull. The guard gave a startled grunt, and then proceeded to slide bonelessly to the ground. He lay face-down and unmoving. Flynn deprived him of his sword, throwing it out into the field, and then swept along the remainder of the barn wall before swinging back to the front, dragging the unconscious man along with him. He could hear nothing from within the building but for some faint whickers, a good sign, and slowing to a creep, he dropped his burden and risked a quick glance inside.

  The interior of the barn was well-lit. Not far past its threshold lay the sprawled body of a third guard, a huge, bleeding lump protruding from his head just above his ear. Farther in, just before the row of stalls housing the best horseflesh in all of Dhanen’Mar, a stable-hand lay in a similar position. Two more, both boys of about fifteen, stood staring at the inert bodies with mouths agape. Clearly, they had no idea what had just happened—and, just as clearly, had to be handled before they regained their wits enoug
h to send up an alarm.

  Flynn charged through the barn door and straight at one of the boys. The other uttered a slight cry just as a mighty yet invisible blow took him in the back of his head. He went down. The remaining stable-hand stood frozen in shock as Flynn bore down on him, offering no resistance as Flynn’s fist took him square in the jaw. He too fell to the ground, motionless and breathing deeply.

  Knoxx reappeared instantly, looking winded. Becoming invisible caused him strain, growing more severe the longer he remained in this state. He would use the next few minutes to rest and gather himself, for his work this night was still far from over.

  Flynn took in the long, metal branding iron now visible in the mage’s hand. “I wondered what you were using,” he said, rounding back to secure the barn doors. It would not do if anyone were to venture this way in the next few minutes, and with the doors closed, they’d at least have warning if anyone approached. He dragged the body of the unconscious guard in quickly before closing them.

  “It did the job,” Knoxx panted in reply, leaning against the nearest stall door. The horse within, a chestnut-colored stallion, came forth and snorted at him.

  They spent the next several minutes securing their victims, an added precaution in case they should reawaken too soon. Then, Flynn moved quickly to the tack wall and began pulling down bridles. “Get started,” he said, tossing one to the mage. They had eight horses to bridle, and very little time in which to do it. The horses themselves proved to be of little help, displaying much the same arrogant attitude as their masters. By the time he had secured his second, Flynn could hear Knoxx cursing the animals violently for their stubbornness.

  “You’d think they’d be grateful, escaping the likes of the Tulans,” the mage muttered, still wrestling with the same chestnut.

  Flynn began on his third horse. “You’d think,” he agreed. “Now, try to hurry it up. We’re far behind schedule as it is.”

  “I’m trying. By the way, have I ever told you how much I hate horses?”

  “You can walk back to Corbit’s Canyon, then,” Flynn returned.

  Knoxx grumbled, finally falling silent as he managed to secure the chestnut.

  By Flynn’s estimation, it took them at least thirty minutes to bridle all eight horses. Praise Katrien, the Patron of Thieves, that they wouldn’t need to saddle them all as well. Taking the longest length of rope he could find, he began threading it through all the bridles, ensuring that all horses were now connected in a line. It was then he heard the shrillest of whinnies, followed by a noise that could only be the sound of enraged hooves striking at the door of a stall. Peculiar, as this had come from a darkened corner of the barn, and a row of stalls he’d presumed vacant.

  Frowning, Flynn looked back and again counted the horses now all strung together by rope. Eight. Glancing over at Knoxx, he saw that the mage appeared to be sharing his confusion.

  “All reports told eight racehorses,” Knoxx insisted. “Perhaps this is a new acquisition?”

  Flynn shrugged and began walking toward the barn’s darkened corner, grabbing a lamp to light his way. Another loud thunk of hooves hitting wood came to him as he moved, and, now very curious, he raised the lamp and peered into the stalls.

  He almost dropped the lamp.

  “What is it?” Knoxx called, still back with the horses.

  Flynn forced movement into his jaw and tongue. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “Are you certain?” Knoxx returned, his shuffling footsteps now coming forward. “You’d be amazed at what I’ll believe.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Flynn stepped to the side and gave a wordless flourish toward the stalls.

  Knoxx came to a pause, looked in, and stared. “Oh my,” he said.

  Oh my, indeed, Flynn thought. In the stall directly before him was a pegasus. And it was not alone, with two more of its kind inhabiting the stalls next to it.

  “I think I know why the mages are here,” Knoxx then breathed, his tone suddenly ominous.

  Flynn instantly realized the truth of these words. The fire-show had given them an excuse to come onto the grounds, but there was little doubt these creatures were why the mages had come. Just as certain was the presumption that anything standing in their way of reacquiring them would likely not prove long for this world.

  The pegasus in the stall directly before him was a silvery-white color, its mane thick and gray. In the stall to its left stood a tall dapple. The last, and the one responsible for all the kicking, Flynn now saw, was a glossy brown color with a bronze mane and tail. Its wings were brown edged in white, and folded against the confines of its cell. It seemed to be staring at him with interest.

  “By the deepest Chasms of Fire, what were they thinking?” Knoxx exploded, still staring at the mighty beasts.

  Flynn didn’t know, but the Tulans were in for some serious trouble if their crime became known. Pegasi were extremely rare animals, residing only upon the mages’ isle of Venaris Sheea. It was there they were watched over and protected by the mages, the last known herd to exist throughout the entire world. How these three had come to be taken and imprisoned Flynn couldn’t fathom, but he guessed they were meant to be auctioned on the underground markets, sold off as nothing more than common horses—but for a price that would no doubt be near incomprehensible.

  Illegal trading of these creatures would likely land Beran Tulan in jail for many years, no matter how high his noble standing or how generous his bribes. And that was only if the mages didn’t kill him first; those born to Magic tended to have their own rules in the matter of Justice.

  “Villian and Synna must not have been certain they were here,” Knoxx reasoned out now, looking to Flynn. “Chances are they agreed to the fire-show just to give them an opportunity to come and investigate the grounds. Otherwise, Beran Tulan would already be dead.”

  Flynn tended to agree. In general, the mages had absolutely no sense of humor when it came to the protection of the rare species they kept upon their Isle. And the pegasi were their crowning jewel; oh, this night was about to get very interesting indeed.

  “We’d better leave,” Knoxx said, starting to back up. “I don’t want to be caught anywhere near these things.”

  Flynn hesitated, staring into the eyes of the bronze pegasus.

  “What if the mages get caught up? Or simply don’t find them?” he said, tentatively reaching out a hand to stroke the bronze’s muzzle. “We were in this barn nearly a half-hour before we even realized they were here.”

  Knoxx’s upper lip was starting to curl into a grimace, probably because he was beginning to suspect where Flynn was going with this. “What are you proposing?” he asked suspiciously.

  Flynn reached down and began sliding the locks back on the stalls.

  “Ah,” Knoxx said.

  The white and the dapple pushed from their stalls impatiently, their tails swishing and their wings stretching and flapping as they stepped across the barn. The bronze regarded his open stall door, looked at Flynn, and snorted.

  “Come on now, you’re free,” he coaxed, holding the stall door wide.

  The bronze snorted again and slammed a front hoof into the ground.

  “These creatures aren’t stupid, Flynn, he’ll figure it out,” Knoxx said, watching anxiously. “Now, need I remind you that we’d best be moving along?”

  The two guards and three stable-hands they’d knocked unconscious would likely be waking soon. This was not a major concern, as all five were now bound and gagged, but it was possible more would be coming to relieve them at any time, and the scene they’d find would prove alarming.

  “Grab the lead,” Flynn told him.

  The white and dappled pegasi were now prancing all about the barn, flapping their wings and making loud whinnies of excitement. The bronze held to his stall and snorted again.

  Knoxx took hold of the reins of the lead horse and began stepping toward the barn doors. Flynn s
tarted to follow, his senses swiftly coming to high alert. Knoxx still had to get back to Tishan, and he had his own escape yet to make. They had spent far too much time in the barn, much longer than they had planned.

  Knoxx was only steps away from the barn doors when they suddenly burst inward with great force, shattering the thick wooden slats meant to secure them. Flynn wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified to see not Tulan guards standing in the sudden opening, but rather two enraged mages.

  The four of them regarded each other in silence for a long moment. Knoxx was the first to recover, blurting, “We’re here for the horses! Only the horses!”

  The female mage, whose name Flynn knew to be Synna, took a few steps forward while responding.

  “Knoxx,” she said, eyeing him disdainfully. “Please tell me that even you would not be stupid enough to have mired yourself in this.”

  “We’re only here to steal the horses!” Knoxx repeated, his voice raised in alarm.

  “He tells no lie,” Flynn spoke up, coming to stand beside him. “Rest assured that neither of us would be stupid enough to have any involvement in this.”

  Villian, the male, was suddenly chuckling. “It appears Lord Tulan is destined to have a very troubling evening.”

  “Should we let him live,” Synna murmured.

  “I would rather leave him to the humiliation he is soon to face,” Villian went on, still amused. “To have his prize racehorses vanish upon the very night of his ball—genius, Master Fajen. Genius.”

  Flynn nodded back, still uncertain.

  “Let us collect what we have come for, Synna,” Villian said, walking forward to approach the white pegasus, “and leave these men to their own business. Knoxx,” he added, nodding to the younger man as he passed by.

  Synna was not so polite, glaring at Knoxx as she stormed past him toward the dapple.

  Apparently Knoxx was now assured that he and Flynn weren’t going to be killed, or at least not by these two, for he said, “I’ve missed you too, Synna,” before shooting to her a wicked grin.

  She didn’t reply, pulling herself up onto the dapple’s back.

  “Where is the third?” Villian then asked, scanning the interior of the barn.

  “Still in his stall,” Flynn answered, stepping back and gesturing.

  Villian frowned, glancing into the darkened corner of the barn. “Master Fajen,” he then began delicately, “you didn’t happen to release them from their stalls, did you? Personally, I mean.”

  Flynn paused, looked to Knoxx whose expression was blank, and then shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “We figured you’d come for them, but I thought to release them all the same, to ensure their escape from the Tulans.”

  Villian sighed.

  “Fool!” Synna hissed, rounding on Flynn. She then turned to spear Knoxx with her icy blue gaze. “How could you let him?”

  It was clear Knoxx didn’t comprehend the meaning of this any more than Flynn did. “Let him what?” he asked.

  Synna’s eyes rolled and her head shook with exasperation.

  “Perhaps it would have been prudent for you to pay more attention to your studies during your time on Venaris Sheea,” Villian interjected, looking to Knoxx.

  Knoxx didn’t reply, his expression turning haughty.

  Villian focused back upon Flynn. “That one is the herdmaster. It is therefore his responsibility to ensure the safety of all his herd. Because you were the one to free him, as well as the two mares, he now deems himself in debt to you.”

  Flynn frowned. “How so?”

  “By his thinking, you have saved the lives of three pegasi. He will not leave you until he has repaid the debt, saving your own life the same number of times.”

  Glaring, Flynn turned to Knoxx. “How could you not know of this?” he demanded.

  The mage shrugged and held up his hands. “I’m sure it won’t be too long of an inconvenience,” he said, his eyes wide. “Your lifestyle being what it is, your life is constantly in danger.”

  “And how exactly is a winged horse going to save my life? And three times, no less?” Flynn sighed, then looked back to Villian. “Is there nothing you can do to break this?” As magnificent a creature as it was, he had no idea how a pegasus would fit into his life, nor how to even care for one.

  Villian was shaking his head. “I’m afraid not. You have no choice but to see this out, Master Fajen. We can only hope that he will fulfill his debt to you and return home to Venaris Sheea in a timely manner.”

  “Yes, let’s all hope my life is put in danger numerous times, and before much time has passed,” Flynn replied, his tone dry.

  “I would suggest you take the greatest amount of care with him,” Synna said, her dapple now stepping forward, its wings spread gloriously. “Or you will face the consequences.”

  “Master Fajen,” Villian nodded as he rode past atop the white. “Knoxx.”

  Flynn watched the two mages step their mounts out past the barn doors and onto the grassy field beyond. Both of their beasts rapidly picked up speed, their strides becoming long and quick, before their wings took them up as they leapt into the air. It was only moments before the night completely swallowed them.

  Resigned, and knowing that he had no time to continue thinking on this bizarre matter, Flynn turned toward the last occupied stall and whistled. The bronze at last emerged, his hooves clacking across the barn floor as he came to stand next to the one who’d liberated him. Flynn raised a hand to again stroke his muzzle. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” he sighed.

  “I would suggest you figure that out later,” Knoxx said, starting forward at a brisk pace. The rope stringing all the horses together was again in his hand, and the animals filed calmly after him. Flynn and the bronze followed, starting out across the long field.

  “The mage Synna certainly seemed to despise you,” Flynn commented blandly a moment later.

  “Not at all,” Knoxx assured him, turning back briefly with a smile. “For that is only her way of showing affection. And she showed me plenty during our time together on Venaris Sheea. ”

  Flynn snorted, but dropped the matter. When it came to the subject of women, Knoxx loved to both brag and embellish.

  Once about halfway across the field, Flynn glanced upward, calculating the time. “We’ve been too long. You have to get to Tishan.”

  Knoxx glanced back through the darkness. “What about the gates?”

  “I’ve got a plan to handle the gates. Just be sure she makes it out safely.”

  “All right.” Knoxx tossed him the rope and then abruptly vanished from sight. Flynn could just discern the retreating sound of his footfalls as he sped off.

  He kept up leading the horses—and the pegasus—to the very edge of the western field. It then took him several minutes to locate a gate, a hundred paces or so to the south. Opening it, he looked about, giving his position careful consideration.

  Once he set foot off this field, it would be only a matter of moments before he and the horses were spotted. The only way off the property would be through the main gates, and so it was imperative that he get his prizes to it as quickly as possible. He was quite certain, not to mention completely relying upon the fact, that, due to the frequent traffic coming to and from the estate all evening, the gates themselves would still remain open. He therefore had to worry only about the guards, but if his plan worked, they wouldn’t be much of a problem at all.

  But the presence of the pegasus was not something he had factored in.

  He turned, finding the beast at his shoulder, and rose a hand to its mane. “So how would you feel about letting me ride you?” he asked quietly. Villian and Synna hadn’t appeared to have any difficulties with the pegasi mares, but the thought of getting upon one of these creatures seemed almost disrespectful.

  The bronze, however, quickly resolved all conflict. Bending upon his front leg, he lowered himself slightly and stretched back his wing, gi
ving Flynn clear passage to draw himself up and onto his back.

  He climbed up smoothly, taking only a moment to orient himself. There appeared to be no difference in this to riding a common horse, but for the position of his legs, tucked just behind the base of its wings.

  “All right, then,” he said, wrapping the rope he continued to hold about his hand securely, “I hope you can run.”

  He dug his heels into the pegasus and it leapt forward. The following racehorses did likewise, coming to speed in only a few quick strides. But the pegasus kept to the lead, his momentum furious as he pounded across the ground.

  They had just passed the area containing the assortment of parked wagons when the first cry went up. As Flynn had been expecting, he and his spoils had been spotted. An incredibly loud, shrill blast then rent the air, followed by a shout that they were heading for the gates.

  The herd was actually closing in on them amazingly fast. Rounding past the gravel laneway that led up to the estate house, Flynn got a clear look at the gates now not far ahead. As he’d assumed, they lay open—although two of the four guards stationed there were now racing frantically to close them. The other two appeared stupefied, staring at his frenzied approach. It was uncertain whether the sheer audacity of his plan or the pegasus was responsible for their incredulity.

  Flynn knew he had precious few moments before those gates were closed, foiling any chance of his escape. He slowed the pegasus slightly, and then dropped the rope he carried, knowing it would quickly pull loose and allow the beasts to separate. The racehorses, quickly realizing their release, charged past him, ever faster and now in a complete wild frenzy, toward freedom.

  One of the officers attempting to close the gates looked up to see the herd now bearing down on him, and he let out a startled shout. The other scrambled to remove himself from the path of the stampeding horses. The remaining two managed to back themselves to safety.

  Flynn watched as all eight prized racehorses cleared the gateway. They would in all likelihood now scatter into the outlying woods, where the Thieves of Beavihm were waiting to collect them. The Thieves had also, during Flynn’s absence, felled a large tree to lay across the roadway, preventing any of the Tulan’s guests from leaving in their carriages until it had been cleared, an act meant to create further mayhem within the estate.

  Flynn was just closing in upon the gates himself when he chanced to see one of the officers raising a crossbow in his direction. He quickly deduced that the man was unlikely to get off a fatal shot, but he did brace himself to take a wound. The pegasus, however, had apparently seen the danger as well—and he leapt into the air, wings unfurling and flapping furiously.

  All thoughts of danger, or even of the momentous job he’d just successfully pulled off, fled instantly from Flynn’s mind. For the first time in his life, he was airborne.

  Chapter 11