Pre-Battle Trimmers

Pre-Battle Trimmers

The trimming business was good this year. Mikey was still sore from the previous week's clearing. Baron Harven was a fool for choosing the forest as a battleground when farmer Franklin’s field was cleared for battle not two miles South.

“New emblem?” Hammen asked Mikey as he sawed at an oak beside the cave.

“The fish sees the hook,” Mikey said dryly.

Hammen sawed deeper into the trunk and turned to squint again at the coat of arms on Mikey’s tunic. “That a bird?”

“Herring, actually. It’s Baron Harven’s new coat of arms.”

Hammen moved to a cut at a different tree as three soldiers passed them, hauling wheelbarrows of coal. “Harvy? Never heard of the fellow. What’s he want with the cave?”

“Gold, weapons, and safety from the Bronies, I expect.”

Hammen squinted into the cave.

“The baron needs resources, since the Crown is too occupied to bolster our outer fief.”

“Sounds like a baron,” Hammen said.

“Not as bad as the last one, though,” Mikey said, leaning his weight against the sawed trunk of an elm. There was a sharp crack, and the tree toppled near the cave mouth.

Light glimmered within the cave, casting fractals across the cave floor. Three soldiers emerged from the cave, each pushing a wheelbarrow full of gleaming diamonds. The first soldier frowned at the tree, his eyes falling on the Herring coat of arms of Mikey’s tunic. His scowl deepend, and he turned to Hammen. “Get this out of here or Baron Terrence will have your hide,” the soldier ordered Hammen.

Hammen walked over to the tree and began sawing it into movable sections. He rolled on away, so the soldiers could exit. As the lead soldier squeezed through the gap, his wheel barrel bounced over a stray limb, and a fist-sized diamond leapt through the air. It winked once and landed near a surprised-looking Hammen. The soldier held out his hand expectantly, and Hammen handed it back. The soldiers pushed their diamonds out to the ring of sentries circling the cave some 50 yards out.

“Some trick, spinning coal into diamonds.”

“Been doing that ever since I can remember. Snuck into the cave once to see how they managed it, but it was bare as bones.”

“A fish can’t swim without water.”

Hammen nodded gravely, rolling away another section of trunk. “True enough. Never seen it done without a bit of water.”

Mikey sighed. “There must be something in there. A cauldron, scrolls, there’s always something in the histories.”

Hammen frowned thoughtfully. “Just some stray lines painted around, is all I remember. Nothing much else.”

“Runes,” Mikey said. “Knew there was an explanation.”

“Magic, aint it?” Hammen asked.

Mikey huffed. “A branch of magic. Every oak is a tree, but not all trees are oaks.”

“My wife striped up the barn with paint last spring, but we haven’t got any diamonds yet, or if we have, she hasn’t told me.”

“I expect she hasn’t studied runes, then,” Mikey said. “I’ve studied runic texts at the library for years, and I’m still learning the higher arts.”

“It’s mostly drawing, isn’t it?”

Mikey laughed. “If only. I’d explain it to you, but it’d be worse than when I tried teaching you your letters.”

“Better not, then,” Hammen said with a reddening face.

Mikey straightened and glanced around to the ring of sentries. They were facing away from the cave, watching for any sign of the Herring scouts that may try to survey the landscape prior to the battle. He turned to Hammen, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Fine, I’ll show you.”

Hammen looked uncertainly to the ring of babbling sentries. “What about them?”

Mikey walked to the cave mouth and peered at the trunk, speaking quietly. “Why would they start taking notice of us now?”

“Well, I don’t spill the milk very often, but when I do it’s on the cook’s doorstep.  That’s why I got the extra assignment today, actually. Steward didn’t like water with his oats ‘stead of milk.”

“Suit yourself. I’m taking a look.” With a final glance, Mikey slipped into the cave. Silence stretched for several moments before a brilliant light bloomed within the cave’s depths. A sooty Mikey raced out of the cave, hair frazzled and black with ash. His eyes were wide. Soldiers bellowed and stormed over, pointing and shouting at the blazing cave. Mikey held up his chalk-stained hands apologetically. “Guess I don't know how runes work.”

Story Stats:

• Words: 747

• Writing Hours: 2

• Writing Sessions: 1