The Stolen Herd Page 2

  Satisfied with this reasoning, Mareva finished grooming the foal. “There you are,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re a Harena now.”

  “I wonder what his name is?” Daleth mused. “Gideon, that twit, he forgot to tell us.”

  “Now, now,” chided Mareva. “Gideon most likely didn’t know. Poor, little fellow; he must have a name and I hate the thought of changing it on him.” She nibbled his neck and shoulders.

  “Well, he can’t tell us his name and we have to call him something,” Daleth said impatiently. “What should it be?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Mareva as she got to her feet. “You’ve never had a foal. Would you like to name him?”

  Daleth looked pleased. “Well”, she licked her lips, “King Prester used to shout a very strange word just before he led me into battle. I don’t know why he said it—it didn’t seem to have any effect on the enemy, but he did it every time. I always loved the sound of that word for to me, it meant victory.”

  “What was the word?” asked Mareva.

  “He yelled, ‘Mandamus.’”

  “Mandamus,” murmured the queen thoughtfully. “What does it mean?”

  “He told me that it meant ‘We command,’ in a very old human language, spoken before creatures decided to use the Common Words that we and the humans share now.”

  “We command,” Mareva repeated. She shook her head. “I don’t know. That sounds dangerous to me, naming him after a human battle cry. It could attract all sorts of problems and we don’t want that for him.”

  Daleth snorted and pawed the ground. “Right, well if you think this little guy is going to go through this life without running into any problems, then guess again—no one gets off that easy. For starters, he is the last of the free Alsvid. I’d say his troubles have already begun, ours too. This foal isn’t going to be like a Harena young.”

  Mareva pricked her ears. “How so?”

  “Well for one thing,” Daleth told her, “Alsvid can run as fast as the wind. They climb better than mountain goats and their swimming abilities are like no other. My gut tells me, he’s going to be a handful. You said I could pick what we call him and that’s the name I’ve chosen; now, let’s make it official.” She leaned in and brushed the sleeping foal with her nose.

  Mareva smiled at her sister’s unusual show of tenderness. “Mandamus,” Mareva said softly, touching the foal’s forehead with her muzzle. “By the Spirit Epona, the Mother of all Horses, hear us name this foal, Mandamus. Mandamus of the Harena.”

  The sisters stood over their new herd member, listening to the distant hoofbeats as his herd was led away and when the sun finally broke through the clouds, the Alsvid and the army were gone.

  Chapter Two

  Unwelcome Visitors

  As the seasons passed, Mandamus grew.

  His herd’s territory was at the edge of the kingdom and it stretched from the sandy shores of the deep emerald sea through the Green Forest to the border of the Deep Woods. At night, the horses sheltered in a cave. The cave was pleasant, warm and dry with a moon-shaped entrance and large opening in the side shaped like a horse’s head that acted like an open window allowing both sunlight and moonlight to stream in.

  As soon as Mandamus reached the tallest spot for a colt on the Marking Tree, a tall cedar that all the animals used to chart their growth, he was allowed to wander on his own. His mother would warn him each time he left that he was to stay within whinnying distance and she would double check to make sure he’d rolled in mud to conceal his birthmark. Mandamus didn’t understand why he had to cover the small spiral of white fur on his coat but his daily rolling in the mud ritual was a habit impossible to forget for his mother hovered over him every morning until it was done.

  Mandamus was also discouraged from speaking to any animals outside of the family, but he didn’t have to worry about that for his aunt Daleth had a reputation across the lands for chasing off any intruders so the Harena herd rarely received visitors.

  Part of being a Harena foal was taking lessons from Caballus, the herd’s elderly teacher horse who had a graying muzzle and slight limp. Mandamus hated lessons for Caballus was a boring old horse who was more interested in a good graze and long nap than he was teaching colts. Sometimes, he would fall asleep during his own lecture and when he did, Mandamus would always tiptoe away and head to the forest to explore.

  When he turned two, he taught himself to swim and would gallop deep into the surf, letting the giant swell lift him up and down while his mother galloped up and down the shore, wailing at him to get out.

  During his lone wanderings, he would spend hours in the Green Woods, nosing nibbling rabbits, admiring hooting owls, sniffing the trails of thieving pine martens, all the while being careful to avoid conversation. Sometimes, his adventures would lead him so far away, that he was still trotting home as the sun sank and the moon rose.

  When this happened, his aunt, or his mother’s mate, Hengist, would be sent to find him and bring him back. Mandamus didn’t mind when Hengist came for the older horse would often show him things along the path that led home, things like the tenderest grass to eat or predator tracks leading into the deep bush. When Daleth was sent to retrieve him, there were no explanations. She would stalk behind him, ears pressed tightly against her head, nipping his flank if he was too slow.

  It was a bright spring day, nearly two years after Mareva and Daleth had found Mandamus, when the trouble began.

  The herd were enjoying a peaceful breakfast along the eastern border of their land under an already warm sun when Chehalis, a young Harena male with a chestnut coat and black mane, charged out of the forest, tail held high in alarm. He galloped straight for Hengist and Mareva. Mandamus moved closer so he could hear what Chehalis had to say.

  “Mareva, we have trouble,” Chehalis panted. A lather of sweat soaked his chest. “There’s a roaming herd at the edge of the Deep Forest and they look ready to approach our borders.”

  “So, let them, Chehalis,” Hengist answered, frowning at the tall horse. “What is the matter with you? Your duty is to guard the edges of our territory, not run away from them.”

  “Yes, Hengist,” wheezed Chehalis through deep gulps of air. “But these horses are not just ordinary grazers, they are the Mares of Diomedes.”

  “The Mares of Diomedes!” Mareva exclaimed and the surrounding herd broke into worried whispers for those mares were the most feared horses of all.

  Mandamus pricked his ears. “The Mares of Diomedes,” he thought. “Here? In our forest?” He felt a flush of excitement as he racked his brain trying to remember everything he’d heard about the mares who lived on the fringes of everyone’s territory doing as they pleased. The entire herd was made up of females only but that was not the most extraordinary thing about them. What made every animal quake in at the very mention of those mares was the fact that even though they looked like regular horses, they were not. The Diomedes mares ate meat and were deadly hunters.

  “What do you want me to do,” Hengist asked Mareva who was sniffing the air anxiously.

  “You are the king of this herd, so they will allow you an audience. The rest of us will stay here and out of the forest until you get back,” Mareva murmured, still testing the air. “The mares are always on the move. I don’t think they’ll be here long but be careful; you know how they are about visitors.”

  Mareva nibbled Hengist’s shoulder. He gave her a distracted nuzzle before racing away.

  “What could those degenerates want in our territory?” grumbled Daleth as she watched Hengist go. “They never come this far out. Hmph. An entire herd of female meat-eaters. Savages.”

  Mandamus’ heart pounded in his ears. The Mares of Diomedes were here and Hengist was going to see them. The thrill of it all was almost too much to bear. He wished more than anything it was he who was off to speak to them.

 
“Maybe they want a meeting with the Forest Council,” Mareva answered thoughtfully. “There have been more and more strange visitors to this part of the land lately.”

  “Oh, please! What would those carnivorous hags want to seek counsel for?” scoffed Daleth. “They disregard every law in the Green Woods and the Deep Forest. They’re nothing but blood-covered troublemakers; they’re probably just hunting for males. Our males.” Mandamus burned with curiosity. What did she mean, ‘our males’? he wondered with a shiver. Would Hengist bring a mare back here? Would he get to see one?

  Mareva turned to Chehalis, who looked troubled for he was a Harena male, still young, but old enough to leave the herd and strike out on his own, the very type of bachelors the Mares of Diomedes usually went for.

  “Go to the caves and rest,” she instructed. “You’ll most likely have to work double duty tonight. We’ll need everyone on guard.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Chehalis replied. “If those mares are still on the move and he happens to miss crossing their path, they’ll end up here. I should be here to protect you.”

  “I’m here,” Daleth told him with a scowl. “You go on now; listen to your Queen.”

  With an apprehensive look, he turned to Mareva but was shoved away by Daleth until he relented and trotted towards the caves.

  “They must be terrifying,” Mandamus marvelled as he watched Chehalis trot away. “Scary enough that even Chehalis, who is one of the bravest horses in the herd, is afraid.”

  Mandamus’ imagination raced, and he pictured himself protecting his mother and the rest of the horses from those mares. He hid his smile in a patch of dandelions and pretended to chew.

  “Mandamus,” Daleth sang, her voice startling him from behind. “Did you hear what we were saying?”

  “Well, I, kind of,” he said, not meeting her eyes. Eavesdropping could get you in quite a lot of trouble around here.

  Daleth glared at him.

  “I heard some things,” he admitted, thinking if he told the truth, then maybe he could ask questions and then just maybe she would tell him a bit more about the mares. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” he added feeling defensive under her cold stare. “I was standing right beside you.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “That the Mares of Diomedes are here,” he said, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, “and that Chehalis was scared off by them. Why is he scared?” He’s not usually frightened of meat eaters; normally, he charges right at them, I’ve seen him do it.”

  “He’s afraid because he’s smart. Diomedes mares favour stallion meat above anything else and what’s more—they are no pretty sight to lay your eyes on when you’re out on border patrol alone. When they’re born, their coats are as white as newly fallen snow, but it sure doesn’t stay that way. When they make their first kill, the spatters of blood that spray across them become permanent and those are the markings they carry on their hides for the rest of their lives.”

  Mandamus gulped.

  “Now, if you were eavesdropping, which you shouldn’t have been, by the way,” his aunt continued acidly, “then you would have also heard that we don’t know why they’re here and until we do, I want you to stay close to the herd. No roaming around in the woods on your own. It’s not safe.”

  “But there are cougars and wolves in the woods all the time!” Mandamus protested. He did not like the idea of having what scant freedom he had taken away just because of some nomadic herd that didn’t even belong in the area. “Why is everyone so afraid of a herd of girls just because they’re meat eaters?”

  “They aren’t just a ‘herd of girls,’” growled Daleth, flicking him with her tail. “They’re untameable and they have teeth as sharp as the sharks that swim deep in the sea and, if they spy you, one of them just might take a liking to you and snap you up.”

  Mandamus could not stop thinking about the mares.

  He’d never seen a horse outside his own herd before and he was brimming with curiosity. He vaguely recalled Daleth telling him about them one night when he had asked her to tell him a scary story. Her eyes alight, she told him how the Mares of Diomedes used to belong to a king, but they turned on him and fled his castle. They were nomadic and roamed freely from territory to territory, hunting, and finding mates. They were led by a vicious queen who could kill a full-grown bear. The oddity of them consumed him and he wanted more than anything to see them. Just one glimpse would do. An idea came to him.

  He waited until early evening and then went to find Daleth, who was snacking alone in a patch of wild corn.

  “What do you want?” she asked, as he hesitantly approached.

  “I was wondering if I could come with you tomorrow.”

  “Come with me where?” She crunched on a dried husk.

  “On border patrol. I know you’ll go to the edges of the territories tomorrow, you always do when a horse herd’s been in the area. I was thinking of going with you, and I promise, I won’t be any trouble at all.”

  Daleth frowned. “What do you want to come along for?” she asked. “You’ve never wanted to do border patrol before.”

  He shrugged.

  “It’s those blasted mares, isn’t it?” his aunt said, curling her lip at him. “Well, you can forget it,” she reached down and tore off another mouthful of corn. “Mareva would have my hide if I took you out there.”

  “I’ll be careful,” he pleaded. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

  Daleth sighed heavily and shook her mane. “Mandamus, when you are older and are the leader of your own herd, then you can socialize with those mares until your heart’s content, but while you are my responsibility, you will stay as far away from them as possible. Besides, males aren’t allowed to go anywhere near that herd without an invitation or unless they are a lead stallion. You are definitely not a lead stallion, nor do I remember hearing about you being invited anywhere.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  Mandamus’ hope deflated. He’d seen that stubborn look on her face before and knew there was no use trying to change her mind.

  It was sunset when Hengist returned. He’d spoken to the Diomedes queen and she had assured him that she and her daughters would be leaving soon. They’d been forced out this far to hunt, for the Rakhana Army had been rounding up animals so meat was scarce. Queen Marushka had said that she didn’t want to go anywhere near the Silver City. She told him that the band would be leaving that evening and travelling through the night, heading to the upper edge of the Deep Forest all the way to the shores of the Azure Sea. Mandamus tried nuzzling up to his mother, in the hopes of getting a better listen, but was rudely shoved out of the circle of adults by his ever-watchful aunt.

  The next morning Mandamus woke unusually early. The dawn was grey, and it cast a gloomy tint on the sleeping herd through the horse-head shaped opening. His mother dozed beside him and Daleth snored loudly from her spot beside the entrance.

  Mandamus breathed the steamy air of his closely sleeping herd while softly nudging his way through to the entrance and tiptoeing past his aunt. His tongue stuck painfully to the roof of his mouth. Because of the mares, the Harena had skipped their nightly visit to the creek and had gone to bed thirsty.

  His mouth felt as though it had been stuffed full of cottonwood but no one else was awake to come get a drink with him.

  “It’ll be fine,” he thought. “I always go for water if I wake up first and Hengist did say that the mares planned to leave last night.” He headed for the trail that led to the Harena watering spot, a wide gentle river that separated the meadow-filled Green Woods from the shadowy Deep Forest, a place he was not allowed to go on his own.

  A vast expanse of old growth, mammoth sized trees, the Deep Forest was dense and dark. It was said that some areas were impenetrable but still, at night, strange animal noises would emanate from th
ose places, noises that no one could identify. There wasn’t a creature alive who knew all corners of that forest and Daleth liked to frighten Mandamus with tales of the horse-eating monsters that dwelt there.

  Of course, when the sun was high, and he was safe under the eye of his mother, Mandamus didn’t believe such stories. It gave him a delicious shiver of fear to cross the river and dash in and out of the shadowy tree line of the Deep Forest, pretending to be chased by some fanged, roaring horror.

  However, in the dark of night, when the stars twinkled, and the shadows grew long, the forest began to make new sounds and Mandamus stayed away from the tree line, for his instinct told him that some shadows had teeth and liked to bite.

  This was the only path that led to the watering hole, so he knew it well. All the animals in the woods used it as a main road from the forest to the beach. He entered the woods, sniffing warily for predators. Nothing. He jogged happily down the trail eager for a cold drink.

  The early morning forest was just coming alive with twitters and croaks. He sighed contentedly as the newly risen sun warmed his mane and shoulders.

  Mandamus finally reached the cold stream which trickled merrily across his path. He huffed the air nervously for other smells, wild smells, wafted out across the water but Mandamus’ thirst was strong, so he bent down for a drink.

  CRACK

  A tree came barreling down towards him, just missing his flank, and crashed to the ground behind in an explosion of leaves and twigs.

  Mandamus shrieked and leapt over the creek, tearing straight into the Deep Forest.

  He didn’t stop to think about the flat-eyed cougars that might be lurking in the rock crevices. He didn’t remember to look out for hungry bears with immense paws that could fell him in one blow. He streaked through the forest, senseless in his fright, and with every hoofbeat he could almost feel the hot breath of some sharp-toothed terror closing in on him.