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“What is it?” Fei asked hopping in place to catch a glimpse over the heads of the people much taller than her. Tall and lanky, Harmon could see over most people. He could see the top of a tilted carriage.
“There’s a carriage up ahead.” He said as they inched their way through the people. Nearly every single person around them anxiously shifting their eyes to the darkening sky above but still made way for Harmon and the angry looking mule he was leading.
The insignia of the City Lord was carved into the elegantly gilded carriage. The left wheel was shattered, and a team of servants were working on getting it replaced with what looked like a commoner’s wagon wheel that didn’t quite fit. A handler was walking a beautiful pure white horse, but its gait was marred with a terrible limp. A line of city guards held the crowd at the road. No one would dare go into the forest alone this close to nightfall.
“What happened?” Warren asked anyone and everyone from atop Brute.
“They were racing, I think. Ruined his prized stallion doing it and his buggy.” A man said absentmindedly.
“He really should get this road paved,” Warren replied.
A murmur of agreement rippled around him with someone saying, “we should petition the King.”
“What we should petition him for is to return some Glaives on patrol down here.” A woman said.
“City Lord don’t want to pay the King’s taxes. They’ll never come back.”
“The City Lord can walk to Aurora, but he won’t cause he thinks someone will try to steal his goods, I bet.” Another man said. “Wonder what he’s got in there.”
“But they’re the ones ‘commandeering’ all our things to get his buggy going again.” Another said.
“You there.” An official in violet robes said, pointing at Warren. “The city lord needs your animal to get his carriage going again.” He said it as if he was doing Warren a favor.
Harmon’s grip tightened around Brute’s reigns. Brute was the only thing that was left to him from his old home. “I can’t.” Warren was saying. Of all the things to survive that night, Brute had been one of them. He couldn’t let him go.
A city guard in shiny chain mail approached and yanked the reigns from Harmon. “Let go, kid,” he said. When Harmon tried to resist, the city guard jabbed the butt of his spear into his chest, knocking the wind out of him as he fell to his knees. Brute jerked his head back, stamped his hooves on the ground like blades spearing deep into the earth.
“Wait,” Harmon said meekly. When the guard started cutting Warren free, old ancient Brute started bucking and biting.
The guard screamed, cradling bloodied fingers before being deftly kicked in the chest. Brute didn’t stop with that. He continued to buck, trampling the guard a little and shaking Warren off his back. Free, Brute vanished into the forest, kicking, braying and spilling all of mail from his saddle bags as he went.
“Grandpa!” Fei ran to his side. Heaving, Harmon approached Warren, who was fine, but they were out of time. There had been no time to gather his toys or fetch Brute from the pasture, no time to even pack a meal before they ran.
Harmon, spindly as he was, hoisted Warren over his shoulders and started moving forward and away from the bloodied soldier. Fei moving cautiously by his side.
“Get back!” another city guard shouted and angled his spear at Harmon. Harmon’s hands were trembling, but not from the spear. He had not been outside city walls this late in a very long time. The sun was gone, but they were close, so close, to Aurora. “I said get back!” the guard swung his spear at Harmon, but Fei’s rock was faster. It hit him right on the nose, and the guard shouted, his nose bleeding and probably broken.
“Fei!” Warren shouted, “She meant nothing by it, put me down, lad.” But the damage was done.
“Seize them!” the official ordered, and the guards moved forward but then froze.
It was faint but very distinct—the sound of rhythmic drums beating and a wailing flute piercing the air like a siren. Harmon did not want to look, but the sky had gone nearly black. The tree canopy loomed over them. He didn’t have to look to know the darkness had settled in the forest like a black fog.
“Nightmarchers.” Warren said under his breath. “They’re coming. . .run. . .RUN!” he bellowed, and everyone rich and poor, citizen and soldier, lord and peasant, took off towards Aurora. All blending into a mess of people running over each other.
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