Gallimaufry

Golden Horse Shoe

The sun was rising through the mists off the water, the sound of the lake birds calling out and fish jumping at the insects echoing across the small settlement. What used to be a humble log farm home was now a pile of cinders, though the smell of smoke was still acrid in the air. The modest vegetable garden, enough for a mother and daughter to eat and preserve to survive the winter, perhaps share with neighbors or trade, had been ruined.

Beyond the smell of devastation, Samin could smell the relaxing scent of pine and cedar, from the trees that towered over the small patch of land that someone had cleared to make a home. Their branches creaked in the morning breeze, though their massive trunks did not appear to move at all. They had not moved in a few hundred years, judging by how old and powerful the spirit of this forest was.

Samin wondered idly if it was her imagination, or if she felt the woods' feelings, the condemnation at the crimes that had been committed. Was it her subconscious, or the soul of the forest that felt pain for the families that had been devastated by the criminals?

A guard dog lay slain on the dirt road leading away from the small homestead, it's blood pooling from arrow and sword wounds. It was facing outwards, meaning it had either tried to protect or chase after the perpetrators.

Samin crouched down as she glanced around, before letting her eyes fixate on the shining piece of metal that was half buried in the dust from her own arrival. She shifted her sword belt and shrugged her cloak back over her shoulders as she reached out and picked up the only clue that had been left behind. It hummed with magic, which tickled down her arm as her fingers brushed, then clasped, it.

A golden horseshoe.

Not real gold. Real gold would not withstand being hammered onto an animal's hoof and being run on by a creature weighing almost a thousand pounds over the rocky terrain that surrounded this mountain lakeside farm. This was good news and bad news. Samin wondered for a moment if they could decline to take the job, now that she knew who was burning down and destroying all the farmsteads throughout the thick forests of this mountain territory.

"Sam, the woman is awake." A voice came from behind her.

She almost dropped the magical item, letting it fall for a brief millisecond before catching it and standing up straight, turning to look at her partner. The metal hummed and tugged slightly, down the road, as if seeking to follow its owner. To stop it from draining her own power to accomplish that task, she shoved it into her pocket and frowned at the large woman in front of her.

Deklian was taller than most men were, built sturdy. Some people called her a giant, Samin preferred the term Amazon. She was strong, smart, and wicked with the battle axes that were holstered on her back.

"I'm surprised they left her alive." Samin frowned at her friend, then let her eyes drift to where the female was crying silently on the ground where they had put her. She had bruises on her face, and she was covered in soot, but she was alive.

"Something made her different than the others." Deklian offered a shrug, before nodding down to Samin's pocket.

"Golden horseshoe." Samin muttered, grimacing in agreement when Deklian offered a curse of surprise.

"I'm not Clara's mother." The woman offered, glancing up at the two of them, tears still streaming paths down her dirty face. "They took them. Sue told me to run, made a distraction. It was Clara's father, they had left him a couple years ago. Sue had ended their marriage..."

Samin cursed. Deklian glanced to the sky and shook her head.

It appeared that they had been hunting the leader of a gang of mercenaries and outlaws that fashioned themselves after Norse warriors, going by what they considered to be some sort of "Viking code", sans spears and boats.