Chapter Text
Mycen strode amongst the soldiers’ bodies, checking for signs of life. To his relief, there were none. The leader—Slayde, Mycen thought his name was—lay a few feet away from the others, Mycen’s lance still in his side.
Gods. Only a handful of men, and they came so close to ruining everything.
If Slayde had managed to escape, Mycen would’ve had to take Celica away – to Novis, probably; it was the only place left where her safety could be guaranteed.
But now Celica was only one of six frightened children whom Mycen had to take home. They’d found a place amongst the trees to conceal themselves, and he approached their hiding place with great care, trying not to spook them. Celica was still gripping her dagger—a shortsword in her small hands—and shaking like a leaf.
She tossed it aside when she saw Mycen and ran towards him, Kliff and Faye hot on her heels. All of Mycen’s worries that they might be afraid of him for speaking so harshly earlier melted away as the three children attached themselves to his legs like tiny limpets.
Kliff tried to disguise his sniffling. Mycen patted the top of his and Celica’s head. Gray and Tobin trailed behind.
“I didn’t mean it, you know,” Tobin said, tugging on Kliff’s sleeve. “It was a little scary.”
Gray watched Mycen for a moment and then patted Faye’s back, making her hiccup with laughter.
Mycen’s gave was inevitably drawn to Alm, lingering. He picked up Celica’s dagger and turned it over in his hands, staring as though it might hold some special meaning. Perhaps it did now. If only the innocence of childhood could last forever…
But all the children tonight had seen blood and nearly come to harm themselves. Mycen intended to get ever one of them into a warm bed before he returned to take care of the bodies. Other things, like the nightmares Mycen distantly remembered from his own first taste of combat, would have to wait.
“Come along now,” he said, gently nudging the children to get them moving.
Kliff rubbed his eyes. “What about the horse?”
Mycen stopped, concealing a wince. He had hoped none of the children would think of it, but of course Kliff would—Kliff, so perceptive for his age that he’d driven the younger children, and many adults, of the village away with his sharpness.
“It’s too good,” Kliff continued. “It’ll be noticed.”
It was, indeed, a fine horse – far too fine not to stick out like a sore thumb around Ram village, and Mycen intended to remove any trace of the soldiers ever having been here. No one could be allowed to discover Celica. It would be a shame to destroy such a beautiful animal, but—
“Maybe it could be a present for Celica?” Faye suggested timidly.
Celica finally lifted her face with a tentative smile, and Mycen’s resolve crumbled.
He limited himself to saying, “Perhaps. We’ll discuss it more tomorrow.”
The walk back to Ram was solemn and quiet, the surge of energy that came with a battle having left the children exhausted. They yawned and rubbed their eyes even though it was only the late afternoon.
They stopped at Kliff’s house first, both because his father was the most important man in the village, and because his mother loved to gossip and would’ve demanded a full explanation anyway – this way Mycen saved time by telling her as much as he was willing, and then directing the other parents to her.
Tobin’s family had barely noticed he was missing, his mother having her arms full with the twins. Mycen tried to reassure her when he mentioned trouble in the woods and a guilty expression flickered across her face.
“He came to no harm,” Mycen said. “He was very brave.”
Tobin beamed at the praise, but his mother sighed. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured. “Thank you for bringing him home, Sir.”
At Faye’s house, she stopped and fiddled anxiously with her pigtails, ignoring her parents’ calls to come inside. Eventually she bit her lip and hugged Mycen’s legs again, and then Celica—but she paused for a long moment in front of Alm.
“Thank you for coming to save me,” she whispered, before kissing his cheek and dashing inside.
Alm blinked and waved goodbye with a confused expression.
Mycen shook his head. The boy will learn eventually.
The last house was Gray’s, and his oldest sister was already waiting at the gate. “Bill came by and said there had been trouble,” she explained, frowning at her little brother. “Gray, what have I told you about getting in over your head?”
“I was trying to protect you and Violet,” the boy grumbled. “And this is the thanks I get?”
“My hero,” Melissa said dryly, but she bent down to wrap her arms around Gray.
Mycen noticed how tightly he held onto his sister and wondered what Slayde and the other soldiers might’ve said. Or maybe Gray was just more frightened than he’d let on to the others? Mycen hadn’t thought to ask the children what happened before he arrived, but perhaps that had been a mistake. It would have to wait until tomorrow now.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I have a favour to ask of you. Could Alm and Celica spend the night here? I’m afraid I have things to… take care of.”
“Of course, Sir Mycen.” Melissa took Celica’s hand with a kind smile. “You can share with Violet and me. Violet snores, though.”
“So do you,” Gray said.
“You little brat, I do not!”
Celica giggled as the two of them descended into familiar bickering.
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning to take you both home,” Mycen said to Alm.
The boy still had not let go of Celica’s dagger. Mycen expected Alm to be afraid, but he only smiled. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll take care of Celica until you come back.”
“I’m sure you will,” Mycen replied very gravely, because Alm couldn’t bear to be a disappointment right now.
But Mycen saw that small blade in his hands, comfortable and natural – and even though he’d always known this day was coming, a piece of his heart broke, knowing the days of peace were coming to an end.
After seeing Alm and Celica settled with Gray’s family, he returned to the woods. The best thing would be to burn the bodies, but the smoke would be visible for miles and Mycen couldn’t risk anyone else coming to investigate and possibly finding Celica. Ram village was tiny and out of the way, in the most south-westerly corner of Valentia, but if there did happen to be a patrol this way…
Instead, he had to dig. Deep in the woods he worked for hours, digging a hole nearly as deep as he was tall. The patch of disturbed ground would be obvious, but the only people likely to stumble across it would be the people of Ram, who would know better than to mention it to anyone. Mycen had settled there because it was so out of the way, but he was gladder of it now than ever; Ram was fiercely protective of its own, and Mycen and Alm—and Celica, more recently—had been welcomed with open arms. He knew none of the villagers there would ever willingly betray them.
Afternoon faded into the pitch black of night, and then into the first hints of the approaching dawn. Mycen worked carefully, conjuring a small amount of fire to find the last of the spears left by the soldiers. He’d never had much talent for magic, but thirty years as a soldier was enough to teach one a few tricks—such as a little nightlight.
Finally, there was just Slayde’s horse. It watched Mycen placidly the whole night, remaining tied to the tree where he left it. It grazed and slept with barely a flick of its ear to show that it was bothered by the blood and death around it. Even when Mycen stride up to it with a sword, it didn’t blink.
Good breeding, or just boredom? Mycen wondered, amused despite the situation.
The sensible thing to do would be to kill it and bury it with the rest. If he sold it on or let it wander, there was the possibility that it would be recognised as Slayde’s mount and traced back to Ram—to Celica.
It seemed such a waste of a good horse, though, and he knew that it would upset Celica and the other children. Not that horses trained for war were generally fit for children…
Mycen sighed and put the sword away. The horse seemed to take this as some sort of cue, and tried to nose at his pockets. He laughed and gently pushed the head away. Already, he was making plans for to explain it away to anyone who might ask. An old acquaintance, a retired knight, who couldn’t afford to take care of a mount any longer? Leave the horse on short rations for a while, neglect to brush the coat and hooves, and it just might pass muster.
I’m going soft in my old age, Mycen thought, shaking his head.
The thought of those delighted little faces softened the blow considerably, however. He would leave the naming to the children. The gods only knew if the beast would ever answer to it, but the children could have that joy. If Rudolf was right about the destiny that awaited Alm – and therefore Celica – then there would be precious little joy to go round in the future.
Far be it from Mycen to give them a harder time than necessary.