Five long years of disease, war and over all bad luck. She had been specifically told to stand down until further notice. Any and all civilians who got the urge had been discouraged. For what? An experiment? A strange curiosity of what would happen if the goat didn’t burn? The Goat Burner was wondering what her employers had been thinking.
You don’t mess with the Gods.
She took a deep draft of her cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke. She was positioned on a roof top overlooking the square where the goat was always built. It stood there, several meters tall and covered with straw and red ribbons. Burning the small, hand crafted goats appeased the gods somewhat, but they craved the sacrifice of the Gävle goat to be truly satisfied.
Most people thought it was just a stupid tradition which had started as a prank. How wrong they were. It was much deeper than that. When the first goat was built, one of the builder was stupid enough to dedicate the goat to the Gods.
Permanently.
Ever since then the Gods expected the goat to be sacrificed by burning it every year. If it wasn’t, bad things always fallowed, which had been proved beyond any doubt these past few years. If it was allowed to continue the Gods would rise up and bring forth complete annihilation. Scandinavia would be no more.
It was time to let it burn.
The Goat Burner set fire to an arrow and readied her bow. She took aim, pulled the string slowly and let the arrow fly. It sailed through the air and hit the goat’s head. A few more followed for good measure, aimed at the body. Small containers of tar on the arrows burst on impact and caught on fire. She knelt and sent up a prayer to the Gods,
The Goat Burner didn’t stay to watch. She left the roof and manage to exit the building undected, blending in with the crowd. She was just an ordinary woman going about her business, buying presents for her family. She smiled when she looked over at the goat. The flames were spreading fast, Soon it would be ablaze.
Her job was done. Hummin a Christmas carol she went home to live her otherwise normal life until next year, when she would be the Goat Burner Again.
John got off his horse and slowly approached the grave. He sat down on the ground with a sigh and looked solemnly at the cross marking Arthur Morgan’s last resting place. He hadn’t been there since he’d dug the grave to bury his friend all those years ago. The cross looked worn, but it was nice to see flowers blooming around it.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, old friend?” John finally said. “I think you’ll be glad to hear that I made it. We made it. Abigail, the boy and I... Even Uncle. That old bastard is harder to get rid of than fleas on a dog.” He let out a short, dry laugh. “I think Uncle will stay with me until the day he dies. We’re the last remnant of the old gang: Uncle, Abigail, Jack and I. Sadie comes by once in a while, too. She’s a bounty hunter now. Charles stayed with us for some time, as well, but he moved up north to find a good woman to settle down with.
I’m a ranch owner, now. Can you believe it? I bought a piece of land outside of Blackwater. It isn’t much, but it’s mine. I even managed to get a loan, thanks to a rancher I worked for for some time. He put in a good word for me so. Did you know that houses can be bought pre-cut now? I ordered one from a catalogue. Uncle and Charles helped me build it. Well, Charles and I build it. Uncle helped in his own way, but you know how he is.
I think you’ll be glad to know that Micah is dead. Sadie found him holed up at Mount Hagen with his new gang. We went there, Sadie, Charles and I. and we killed them all. Dutch was there, too. He actually helped us kill Micah. I let him go. I don’t think we’ll ever see him again. At least I hope we won’t. We found a huge stash of money, so we’re all set for a while. I could pay off my loan in full and still have plenty left.
Abigail and I are married now. She managed to make an honest man out of me. I’m trying my best to keep it on the straight and narrow for her, and for Jack. I do slip up once in a while, but I am trying. Old habits die hard, you know. I don’t steal or rob anymore, but killing is another matter. I try to tell myself that I only do it if I’m provoked or attacked, but it’s not good enough for Abigail. Well, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right?”
John let his eyes drift to look at the view. He’d chosen a good spot for Arthur’s grave. It was beautiful here. He sighed heavily and stood up, brushing himself off. “I guess this is my final good-bye. I miss you, Arthur. I hope I’ll see you in the next life, God willing.”
John got back up on his horse and started on the long way home, his heart a bit lighter for giving himself this closure.
John stopped and did a double take when he saw the familiar horse tied up outside Strawberry’s livery. He whistled his call signal to make sure, and the horse immediately perked up and looked his way, whinnying a greeting.
It was his old horse. It was Old Boy.
John dismounted and went over to the stallion which had carried him for so many years. Old Boy whinnied softly again, and John could do nothing but smile. “Hello, old friend. How’ve you been? I thought I’d never see you again.”
He’d lost Old Boy when he finally fled his old gang with Abigail and Jack. There had been no time to go back for the horse, and John had been sure that Old Boy had died a long time ago. The horse was a bit skinny, and he was definitely older, but he seemed to be at good health. His current owner seemed to be taking good care of him.
“Kindly step away from my horse, sir.”
John turned around and found himself eye to eye with an old and grizzled trapper. He was dressed in skins and had a big, graying beard and long hair underneath his fox skin hat. The man was holding a hand on the gun in his holster, a warning that he would shoot if necessary, so John slowly backed away.
“I didn’t mean no harm, sir”, he said. “You see, this used to be my horse. I lost him years ago, and I never thought I’d see him again.”
The old man gave John a searching look. “Is that so? Well, it’s a fine horse.”
“That he is.” John hesitated for a moment. “Would you mind selling him to me? I’d pay good money to have him back.”
The old man spat on the ground. “Don’t know if I can do that. Good and reliable horses are hard to come by, and this one has carried me through thick and thin the past couple of years. Doesn’t spook easily.”
John knew that all too well. “No, he doesn’t. He’s the best horse I’ve ever had. I can offer you $2000 for him, and you can have my horse in exchange.” John pointed to his thoroughbred. “If you aren’t happy with her you can buy basically any horse you want, but I promise you that she’s just as steady as Old Boy. Please, sir. I just want my Old Boy back.”
If the man said no John reckoned he could always sneak after him and steal Old Boy in the dark of night, but he didn’t want it to come to that if it wasn’t necessary. He’d promised Abigail to keep on the straight and narrow, after all.
The old man looked surprised at the offered sum. It was a lot of money, but to John his horse was worth every penny if the man accepted. Besides, with all the money he and Sadie found when going after Micah he could spare it. John wasn’t usually this sentimental, but this was Old Boy. He wasn’t just any horse.
The trapper looked at John’s thoroughbred for a moment and then back at John again. “2000? And your mare? This horse must be really special.”
“He is, sir. Do you accept my offer?”
“I do know what it’s like to have that one horse you’d give anything to ride again. I accept.”
John smiled warmly and reached for his money to count out the bills. “Thank you, sir.” He gave the trapper his promised money and shortly after his saddle was placed on Old Boy’s back again. He untied the reins and mounted up, giving Old Boy a pat on the neck. “Good to have you back, boy. Come on, Let’s go home.”
---
With a strange sense of everything being right in the world, John stopped outside of the barn on his ranch and dismounted. He gave Old Boy a friendly pat on the neck and led him into the pen to remove the saddle and brush him down. Jack, who’d been playing with his dog, came over to him and climbed up on the fence.
“Hi, Pa. Who’s this horse? Where’s Rachel?”
“I traded her away for Old Boy, here”, John said simply. “Don’t you remember him?”
Jack studied the horse for a moment and nodded. “I think so. You used to ride him when we lived with Uncle Dutch, didn’t you? Where did you find him?”
“Outside of Strawberry. I almost got a chock when I saw him. I thought he was dead.”
Jack jumped off the fence and walked over to stroke Old Boy’s nose. “Does he remember you?”
“He does. He perked right up when he heard my whistle.”
“I’m glad you got him back, Pa. I’ll see you inside.”
John finished up taking care of Old Boy and put his saddle in the barn before going inside to clean up before supper. He might have to buy a younger horse soon so Old Boy could retire, but until then he’d enjoy riding his old friend again.
Måns tried to scream with pain when his throat was ripped out, but all he could manage was a gargle. The next moment he was grabbed by the hair and unceremoniously dragged down stairs to the basement.
“I told you plain and simple, boy”, his creator said with a calm voice which chilled Måns to the core. “That is not how we do things. Now you must face the consequences.”
Måns was thrown into a room with a heavy metal door and heard it slam shut before a key was turned. He rolled over on his back and lay there in the dark, gasping as blood flowed out of the wound. He felt as if he was dying, even though he knew it was impossible.
He had broken the most important rules his creator had laid down for him: don’t feed from humans by biting them, and don’t kill them by feeding on them. He’d been hungry, and the boy had smelled oh so enticing. He had let his predatory nature consumed him. He could still remember the feeling of sinking his teeth into the boy’s neck, his screams music to his ears, as as Måns drank his blood in slow, deep gulps. He hadn’t stopped until the boy was hanging limp from his arms and then he’d just cast him away and left his empty carcass in an alley.
Although he’d cleaned himself of the blood he’d spilled, his creator of course still knew what he’d done. Måns had projected everything through their bond. His punishment had been delivered the moment he came home.
Måns lost track of time in the cell as his throat slowly healed. He tried to mentally reach for his creator, but he’d been walled off. He moved to sit by the wall, legs pulled up to his chest, while he waited to be let out. He was sure that he’d been sitting there for days when he finally heard footsteps outside. The door was unlocked and opened, and his creator appeared in the doorway.
“Do you have something to say to me?”
Måns got to his feet and came to stand solemnly in front of his creator. “Forgive me, father. I unnecessarily wasted a life to feed myself, and willfully broke your rules. I allowed my hunger to consume me. I won’t do it again, I swear it. I did wrong, but I will do better from now on. Please, father...”
HIs father stared at him coldly for what felt like forever, but to Måns relief he stepped closer and embraced him tightly, kissing him on the head. Their bond opened, and thoughts and emotions flowed freely between them again. “Stupid boy. You are forgiven.”
Måns felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He hugged his father back tightly, burrowing his face against his neck so he could breathe in his familiar scent. “Thank you, father.”
Both knew that Måns probably would kill and eat like that again, but Måns vowed that he’d only do it if he was starving and there was no other way. Never again would he let his instincts consume him.
“Humans are complex creatures with a variety of needs. They are not a suitable pet for most dragons, but for the right dragons who have time, patience, and proper resources, these animals can make absolutely incredible pets.”
Ida woke up with a start when her magic warned her that something had crossed the barriers that would keep animals away. The only problem was that the intruders weren’t fully animals, so the barriers didn’t stop them. “Not again!”
Muttering and swearing, Ida got out of bed, put her feet into her bunny slippers and hurried out in nothing but her night gown as fast as her old legs would carry. On the way she snatched up her cane from the hallway stand.
It was almost pitch black outside. The sky was completely overcast and both moon and stars were hidden. It was a bit chilly, and Ida regretted that she didn’t grab a shawl, but there was no time to think about that now.
Faramund, where are they? she called to her familiar with her thoughts.
In the cherry grove!
Ida set course there, mumbling a spell that created a ball of light which flew ahead and lit up the garden. When she came closer, she could hear a great commotion. When she reached the place, she saw her familiar, a big eagle owl, circle the trees and harass a group of werebeasts. Two grey squirrels jumped between the branches and skillfully avoided Faramund’s claws while they threw ripe cherries to a pelican on the ground, which caught them in its mouth.
When Ida came running, the pelican gave out a startled squawk and tried to flee, but crash landed heavily after just a few meters when Ida skillfully flung a spell at it. Keening the pelican got to its feet, opened its beak and spilled out a bucketful of cherries on the ground.
With an ice cold look in her eyes, Ida watched as the pelican turned into a human, indifferent to the sounds of bone breaking, joints dislocating and skin tearing, all accompanied to the screams of pain which sounded more and more human. Shapeshifting as a werebeast was always painful, but it was a lot worse when you were forced to turn.
After several horrible minutes, a sweating and shaking woman finally lay on the ground in what was left of the pelican she just had been. The woman sat up, gasping for air, and glared angrily at Ida. However, some fear could be noticed in her eyes. The commotion in the trees had gone silent, and when Ida glanced up there, the squirrels had climbed to safety in the top of a tree while Faramund stared at them with large, yellow eyes from a lower branch.
“Fucking bitch!” the woman yelled and stumbled to her feet. She was perhaps only 1,75 m tall, but it was more than enough for her to tower over Ida’s humble length of 1,45 m. “Do you have any idea of how fucking much that hurts?”
“That was the point”, Ida said and locked eyes with the woman. “Haven’t I told you and your friends to keep out of my orchard?”
The woman wiped blood off her face and spat on the ground with a smirk. “As you may notice we don’t care. What does it matter if we take some fruits and berries? You always grow more than you need.
“I don’t tolerate being stolen from, no matter what is taken or how much. You and your friends better leave. If I ever see you here again, I’ll curse to to always live as the beasts you can turn into.”
The woman scoffed contemptuously. “Ha! If you do that you’ll soon have all of Cedric’s creatures after you.”
Ida raised her eyebrows. “So you belong to Cedric Roscoe, the vampire?”
The woman’s grin widened. “The one and only. He will trash this place if you don’t let us take what we want.”
“I doubt it, child. You see, I’ve done business with Cedric for over a hundred years. He exclusively gets to sell some of my products. I’d be surprised if he’d do anything to jeopardize our arrangement because some of his beasts got caught red handed.”
The woman started to stammer and looked hesitantly up at the squirrels. Ida suddenly felt that she’d had enough and started to swing her cane. “Leave the orchard right now, the lot of you. Scram! Go away!”
The woman jumped back, turned around and ran to the woods as fast as she could. The squirrels leapt from the tree and were soon at her heels. Ida could even hear what sounded like a deer jumping away from the apple grove a bit further away.
I still don’t get why you just don’t make it so that no werebeast can come here, Faramund said dryly and turned his eyes on Ida.
“Yes, you do”, Ida snorted. “Some of them are my best customers, and it’s too tedious to raise and lower the barrier each morning and night, just because of a few who can’t keep their paws in check. I will, however, give Cedric a stern talking to.
The next day, now dressed in a proper, brown pantsuit which she often wore during errands to town, Ida packed the trunk of her car with vodka, cider, mead and wine, all of it made from the fruits, berries and honey from her gardens. She drove straight to Wellspring Saloon and parked on the currently quite calm street. She said hello to Cedric’s workers who came out to unload the car and carry the cases to the basement. In the meantime, Ida went inside in search for Cedric.
Inside was the same wild west theme the saloon had kept since it was first built in the 1800s. On the walls were pictures of how Benedict Springs looked like with it was first founded. On some of the sepia photos was a man who looked very much like the man who ran the saloon today: a tall, skinny but muscular man in a mustache with a receding hairline. This wasn’t so odd, since Cedric had in fact run the saloon ever since he let build it for almost 150 years ago. A few guests sat by the tables in the otherwise empty room, each of them some kind of supernatural being. All turned silent and stared curiously at the little witch who stalked past them.
“Well, hello there, Ida!” Ceddric happily called out from where he stood by the bar when he spotted her. “How is my favorite witch today?”
“I’ll tell you how I am”, Ida spat as she stepped right up to the almost two meter tall vampire like a tiny, angry terrier. “Some of your werebeasts paid me a visit and stole fruit from me again last night. I would appreciate if you could keep your monsters in line.
Cedric gave Ida a confused look. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play daft, sharp tooth. A pelican and two squirrels stole cherries at the orchard last night. I forced the pelican to turn and she threatened me with you sending your underlings after me if I cursed them next time they came to steal. This isn’t the first time they steal from me. It ends now.”
Cedric shrugged. “I would love to help you, Ida, but what my employees do in their free time can’t possibly be something you can blame me for. It’s not my responsibility.”
“Didn’t you hear me? They threatened me with you sending your monsters to attack me. That makes it your responsibility.”
Cedric just waved his hand dismissively and smiled appeasingly. “That is nothing but empty threats. Is it 100 years we’ve known each other now? I would never allow my underlings to hurt you. You know this.”
“Then you better let them know that, too, while you forbid them from stealing from me.”
“And as I said, it’s not my problem what they do.”
Ida raised her eyebrows and gave the vampire a sharp look. “So you won’t speak to them?”
Cedric shook his head with a wide grin. “Nope.”
Ida gave him an ice cold look and without warning she rammed the head of the cane into Cedric’s groin as hard as she could. The vampire doubled over with a whimper, his second row of sharp teeth suddenly protruding around his human ones, his hands pressed against his most tender body part. Ida reached up and grabbed a hold of Cedric’s shirt. With a hard pull she slammed Cedric’s face into the bar so a vampire tooth came loose and flew away. Cedric fell to the floor with blood gushing from his nose and mouth, coughing and groaning. A few bartenders made a move to intervene, but stopped in their tracks when Ida stared at them.
“What the hell!” Cedric whimpered and got to his feet. “What did you do that for?” He spat and touched the hole in the upper row of teeth with his tongue. “Thanks a lot! That tooth had just grown out again.”
“Listen to me, Cedric Roscoe”, Ida said and jabbed a finger hard into Cedric’s stomach. “If you don’t tell your underlings to leave my orchards alone, our deal is done. I won’t sell as much as a drop to you from here on if I am stolen from again. Is that clear? You know as well as I do that my alcohol sells the most of everything you offer. I doubt that you want to lose that income. Control your monsters!”
Cedric looked as if he wanted to protest, but meekly contracted his vampire teeth, pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ida held his gaze for a few seconds, and then went to search for the tooth. She could make use of it in an amulet or a potion. She found it under a table and picked it up. “I’m keeping this”, she said before she put it in her pocket. “Good day, Cedric.”
When she turned around to leave, her eyes fell on a fat little man who sat by himself in a corner. He jerked when Ida looked at him and seemed as if he wanted to sink through the floor. Ida's eyes narrowed when she realized that he was one of the squirrels who had paid her a visit last night. Ida kept walking, but just when she was about to pass the man she turned to him and shouted, “Boo!” She laughed when the man jumped and gave her a horrified look. Continuously laughing to herself, Ida walked out to her car and drove home. Hopefully things would calm down at the orchards from now on.
