The Dawn of a New Age [PG-13 || Amalgamator]

[Greed]

The heat was scorching. The way it rolled off his back and caused beads of sweat to crawl down her neck; the way the smoke lifted into the sky, making her eyes water to the point she almost couldn’t see at all. The only thing running through Nell’s mind was that she had to get Patriot out of the barn before he died in there. There was no way she was letting the now-full-grown stallion she’d raised from a colt to die in this. There was just no way. Nell wasn’t going to lose her best and only friend like that. The brunette looked behind her at the soot-covered face of her father who was yelling at her and waving his hands, telling her to get out of the barn. The back half of the building had already caught the contagious flames and Nell heard the terrible sound of the terrified horses that were caught up in the back of the barn. Snorts and hooves hitting wooden stalls were enough to break Nell’s heart, but only because she knew she couldn’t save them all. Hell, she could barely even make her way to one horse’s stall, how could she free the other thirty or so horses here?

Nell paused and stumbled towards the wooden edge of a stall, gripping to the wood until she felt splinters on her palm, coughing roughly into the crook of her arm. Wiping the sweat from her eyes, she moved forward until the familiar flicker of black ears was just in her line of sight. Thank God he’s okay, Nell thought as she jogged forward, coughing again and making sure to keep her head down. She untied the handkerchief from her neck as she untied Patriot, placing the piece of cloth over the horse’s nostrils as she tugged on the horse’s halter to direct him. The startled beast fought back until Nell gave an unforgiving tug and swatted the horse’s chest. “Git movin’, ya big lug,” Nell coughed out, shaking her head and keeping the handkerchief pressed firmly on the horse’s muzzle.

“Nell, move!” she heard her father’s stern voice yell. Her father never raised his voice. The man was gentle, caring, and soft-spoken, as it seemed most horsemen and women were. You could never be too loud and controlling with a horse, it just wasn’t right. Nell had, in all honesty, learned that the hard way with Patriot. The dang creature had bit her right in the arse once. Nell nodded and yanked Patriot into a trot, jogging alongside the roan-coated beast until the two of them had cleared the barn doors. Nell turned back after she’d moved Patriot and herself a safe distance away from the burned building. She removed the handkerchief from Patriot’s muzzle, and the horse bobbed his head, seemingly grateful for the lack of the scratchy cloth. Nell could relate. She didn’t like the handkerchief much, herself. The brunette let out a sigh of relief that turned into an ash-caused cough when she saw her father exiting the barn with a pretty chestnut mare heavy with foal. At least he’d managed to save one of the, God forgive her for saying it, more important horses. Her father jogged over with the mare, handing her the horse’s halter.

“I got to get back in there and get the other mare,” her father said, his tongue smoother than Nell’s – her father spent more time around the fancy upperclassmen, and he’d learned to polish up his speak. Nell had never bothered.

“Da, no! It’s gonna fall!” Nell shouted as hers father started back. She looked around for somewhere to tie the horses and go after her father to help him. Where was her mother, anyways? The brunette let out a cry of frustration. The mare snorted and tried to yank away, but her calloused hand kept her steady, “Whoa, girl, it’s gonna be okay,” she murmured, nudging her muzzle with her soot-covered forehead. She tapped her foot impatient as she stared into the barn, now visibly completely ablaze. The smoke clouded the entrance to the barn and she could hardly make out the shapes, and she could only barely hear the screeching neighs of the horses over the roar of the fire. When she saw the black shadows of two figures, her breath caught and a smile spread across her lips. However, the moment she heard the awful creaking of unstable wood the smile faded. Her eyes darted up to the top of the barn, seeing the roof caving in. Nell turned and swung up onto Patriot’s back, kicking the horse into action. The mare struggled to keep up, Nell struggling to keep a grip on her halter, as she forced Patriot to bolt forward, her eyes darting up every now and again to the roof. Just as she reached the entrance of the barn the roof caved, and sparks went flying. Patriot skidded to a halt on his own and reared, nearly sending Nell falling back, the halter yanking unforgivingly on the mare’s head.

“No!” Nell shouted, her voice cracking. Patriot circled, trying to move away from the fire, but Nell kept him in place with a firm hand on his mane and a tight squeeze with her legs on the horse’s barrel. Now the tears in her eyes were caused by heart-wrenching agony, not just the stinging sensation of the smoke. As the fire roared forward, Nell finally allowed Patriot to make a hasty retreat. Her eyes stayed glued to the burning building, hoping with all her heart the beams had fallen in front of them instead of on them…but she’d heard the crunch, and she’d heard her mother’s scream. A sob escaped her lips as she turned Patriot from the burning barn, spurring the horse into a smooth trot so the mare could keep up, not allowing herself to look back.

ˁ˟ˀ

Nell stirred lightly. A gentle breeze was ruffling her already-ruffled hair, sending the bangs in dire need of a trim into her face. It felt nice, even though it did…smell slightly funny. Nell jolted awake, her forehead instantly colliding with something soft and warm…and fuzzy? Nell fell back onto the scratchy hay she’d come to know as her ‘portable bed’ and looked up. A black muzzle hung low, breathing in Nell’s scent and whooshing it back out through flared nostrils. Snorting, Nell pushed the horse’s muzzle out of her face.

“Patriot, that ain’t the way to treat the one who feeds ya,” Nell said, pulling Patriot’s muzzle back down by his nostril and patting the fuzzy muzzle. “Good to see ya, though, buddy. Wish ya could help me muck out yer stalls. That’d be real nice.”

“Nell? Nell, where be yer sorry arse?”

Nell sat up again, rubbing her head, “Right here, Hadrian,” she replied, slowly getting to her feet with a grunt, cracking her back and neck.

“Yer late in gettin’ to work, Nell,” Hadrian scolded. The elderly man was hard to take seriously: blind in one eye, a stick always at the ready to whack Nell if need be, but it was mostly used to help the old man walk. Ever since their liveliest stallion Major had basically trampled over Hadrian’s left leg, the man had been unable to do the things with the horse’s he used to. He was already half-blind when Nell had come to work for him four years ago, but Major had done the old man in for the most part. Nell did ninety eight percent of the work. Hadrian de Grey, the famous horseman of their little town – the only horseman of their little town – worked on buying, selling, stud fees, and things like that. He also kept up connections with shodders, blacksmiths, people who made the horses’ tack,  etcetera, etcetera. Good thing, too, because Nell almost couldn’t keep track of anything but horses and hay. Her talent with breaking and dealing with horses in general were pretty much her only truly redeeming qualities. Not necessarily wife material and not the most incredibly attractive woman around (although she’d look a hell of a lot better with a wash every now and again, though she rarely had the time to do so), the fact she was amazing with the God-given creatures was all she had, and that’s all she’d ever really needed.

A life – a quiet life – and good companions. Ones that didn’t talk back, and horses fit that bill perfectly.

“Sorry, Hadrian, I was asleep,” Nell explained, brushing the hay off of her pants. “I’ll git right on it. Promise.”

“Good kid,” Hadrian said, brandishing his walking stick at Nell in a non-threatening way. It was another day, another horse to saddle up and send away. Nell knew she had no control over current events, and the war wasn’t her fault, but she hated letting them go, especially when she knew the majority of the horses would never come back. They’d stay out there as corpses to feed vultures, and the thought enraged her. Perhaps it was because horses were her only companions aside from Hadrian, and she’d spent a good amount of time around these horses. She knew their habits, what they liked, what they didn’t like. She knew them. Like the back of her hand. And she felt guilty, horribly guilty, sending them away for war like this. She’d be no better sending them off for slaughter. Hadrian had the same feelings, she knew, but neither of them spoke on it. It wasn’t their position, and it Hadrian said it wasn’t even their right. ‘The kingdom comes first,’ Hadrian always said. Screw the kingdom, Nell thought. The kingdom wasn’t only slaughtering horses—it was slaughtering men. Nell pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she picked up a well-worn leather saddle from the tack room, holding it with both of her arms underneath it and taking it to Major’s stall. She hated to say it, but she’d be glad to get rid of this horse. Major was a pain, but he had been bred to be a warhorse. Strong and bold, he’d die, Nell knew, for the man who rode him. Assuming he liked the man who rode him—and Nell knew that was a miracle that would never happen.

She narrowly avoided being bitten by the beast as she put the saddle on his back, smacking his shoulder harshly, “I hate ya, y’know?” she grumbled, tightening the girth harder than she needed to just to show him who was boss. The gesture made the horse neigh loudly and stomp his hooves. Nell merely smirked. She finished tacking him up before leading him out of the stall, his being antsy, prancing as he walked. “Hate ya,” she repeated, tying him to a post outside the barn’s door. One of the king’s men would come and take him away sooner or later. She knew no one would steal him, either. In times like these? Stealing horses were the least of everyone’s concerns.

Nell’s day consisted mostly of doing this: tacking up horses and leading them outside. And every time she brought another few out, some horses were already gone. By the time afternoon rolled around, clouds were covering up the sun and Major and a handful of other horses had already been taken away, doubtless to never be seen again. Sighing, Nell decided to take a break, getting for herself a piece of almost-stale bread, going back to where she’d been sleeping earlier that morning and plopping down on the hay. Curious, Patriot stuck his head over the door and leaned down, sniffing at the bread in her hand. Nell smiled. “That’s mine.” Nell said, pulling her hand further away and throwing some straw into his face. Patriot snorted indignantly and went back into his stall, Nell ate her bread in silence, quite happy to wait a while before sending off any more horses to the slaughter. But, soon enough, Hadrian came rolling around again, threatening to whack her with his cane if she didn’t get back to work, and so she pulled herself up from her less-than-comfortable-but-peaceful place of rest and got back on her chores. Dismal and disappointed. Watching her life walk right out the doors of the barn. But what else was she to do?


[ I realize that’s not an ideal place for me to stop a post. However, I was having a difficult time finding a place to stop and it’s already over 2,000 words and I didn’t want to start rambling—which I fear I’d already done quite a bit of. So, again, my apologies for that but I’m sure you’ll be able to work with it :)]