Pony Power

The Mahdi The big man had been staked out on a chain like an animal, his only shelter from sun, wind and weather the stable wall and the eaves of the roof above it. The chain gave him about six feet in which to fight, and from the scars visible on his face and neck, as well as his hands, he’d fought plenty. Or been beaten. Nial Marston eyed him thoughtfully from beyond the sweep of his chain. Breaking this man into a slave hadn’t been easy, and it appeared the slavers had no more than halfway managed. Good. This guy was one tough son. He frowned at Nial now. “What are you up to?” he demanded. “I’m Nial Marston. I’m being sent to Nogaynos in the spring,” Nial decided to level with him. “To Gallantry.” The guy’s interest was quick and intelligent. “To Gallantry? Why?” “Not something I can tell you unless you sign on,” Nial told him. “Signing on isn’t a luxury I have at the moment.” “It’s going to be a tough trip,” Nial warned. “Only volunteers need apply.” “I’d be more apt to ditch you and take off for Mahdi.” “Why?” Nial asked him. “What’s in Mahdi for you?” “The murderers who killed my wife and kidnapped my four-year-old son.” Nial sucked his breath between his teeth. “Do you know who they are?” “I know some of them,” the Mahdi bared his teeth. “I’ll find out the rest.” “Huh.” Nial didn’t doubt he would, tossed him the key to his shackles. “Come on,” he added. “Let’s go see some Grannies.” The Mahdi bent and started work on the lock at his ankle. “Why Grannies?” “Because they’re good healers,” Nial returned, “and I suspect you could use some healing and a look into their scrying bowl.” The Mahdi got his leg loose. “That sounds,” he walked up to Nial and tossed him the keys, “like an excellent idea.” He looked towards the house where a group of the King’s guard had gathered, collecting men and placing them in shackles. “What’s going on?” he inquired, conversationally. “Well,” Nial said, “it seems like there is a law against slavery. The man who demanded payment for you will be hanged.” “Good.” “Thought you might like that. What’s your name?” “Kylan Elite.” Nial whistled. “Yea,” Kylan agreed. He tried not to limp as he walked, but the hint of it remained. Nial didn’t ask him if he could make it to the palace. From what he’d heard, he’d suspected this man could have freed himself anytime, but he’d been staying in order to collect more information. Now he knew why. “Winter coming.” “Time to get ready,” Nial nodded. Time for the Mahdi to heal. “Scryers,” the Mahdi repeated. “Yep. We’ll get you cleaned up, get you to the Grannies.” He glanced over sideways at the man. “You can’t say anything about the Grannies.” The Mahdi laughed bitterly. “Who would I talk to?” “You’d be surprised.” Nial said. “There’s already been one attempt to kill King Marc.” “Not surprised.” An hour later a Granny leaned over a scry bowl, while another did the actual scrying and a third worked over him, making small noises to herself as she came upon the damage done to his body. King Marc stood by as Kylan watched the two Grannies scry. “Come and look,” the Granny urged. He lurched to his feet, saw the boy and the girl, standing together beside a lake. They looked clean, dressed warmly enough for the snow on the ground, standing beside a lake making shapes in the air with their fingers. The boy looked to be the right age to be his son, the girl maybe two or three years older. As he watched, they tipped their heads together. The girl put her arm across his son’s shoulders and ruffled his hair affectionately. His son snuggled closer to her, and together, they walked away from the lake towards a fine house. The scry ended. “Even I know that’s not Gallantry,” he growled. “It’s been appearing in our scrys for some time. Apparently, it’s important. Get the map,” she suggested to the other Granny. The scrying Granny fetched a book of maps. Opened it to a page that showed him a map. “This is Gallantry,” she stabbed a finger towards an area in the mountains. She moved her finger. “This is Lake Land.” She turned her attention to Nial. “You might be well advised to go to Lake Land first, and see if someone from there would guide you to Gallantry.” It was a good idea, and Nial knew it. “Why?” King Marc wanted to know. “Because while we can get within a few miles of the rock, the likelihood is, we won’t be able to get to the rock,” Nial explained, “if we don’t have someone to vouch for us, we likely won’t even get to it. A Mahdi might get me close enough to talk. A Nogaynos might get us in.” He nodded. “This Lake Land. There will be a Keeper. If we can get her to speak for us, we might be able to get close enough to talk.” “So,” King Marc concluded, “your finding this particular Mahdi, who has a missing son being fostered nearby, was a stroke of real luck.” “No,” Granny Rose disagreed. “It’s Nogaynos magic.”