Scales and Talons

Chapter 5

Finley almost rode his mare to death. 

The chestnut was foaming at the mouth and pumping her lungs in a rapid rhythm. Not once had Finley broken his gallop since he saw the prince being taken by the wild beast. Finley still could not fully comprehend what had just happened. He had watched his comrades die. He had seen a man turned into a beast, and he had seen his prince tossed around like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. Should he assume that his prince had died in battle, or had he been taken alive? Finley could only guess.

Red Rose, Finley's mare, stumbled and brought him back to the present. Although the ride to Fort Lian had taken more than half a day, it seemed that Finley had travelled much further than he thought. He slowed his horse as the secure walls of the fort loomed on the horizon. At a trot it would only take two hours to get back. Just enough time for Finley to think of a way to report the situation to his king. 

The king would surely be devastated by the news. The whole country would be in shock, but to lose a son was the worst of all. Finley could speak from experience. Now Finley hoped he would not be punished for leaving his prince. For surviving. It should have been the prince who came back. Not him.

And Finley was fully aware of that fact.

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Confused shouts were heard from the walls as a lone rider made his way to the gate of the Great Wall that protected Lian. Many heads peered over the grey stones, looking down to identify the rider. The emblem of the capital could be seen on his clothing, but the rider's head was turned towards the ground, hiding his identity. The dirt that covered him made it seem as if he had ridden straight through a battlefield. He was covered in black gore and dried blood. 

There was some hesitation at the wall, but soon the order was given to let the rider in.

As Finley stumbled through the gates with his exhausted mare, a group gathered in the first defense area - a space that separated the gates from the second, lower wall of the fort. Finley recognized one of his commanding officers and, to his horror, saw the king approaching. Unable to find the strength to face the king, he remained on his horse, his head bowed in shame. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his commander approaching, followed by a few soldiers. "Finley the Red? Is that you? What happened to your squad, why have you returned alone?"

Time to face reality, Finley told himself as he slowly raised his eyes to meet his commanders. As he did so, he saw his commander go slightly pale. Finley had been a soldier for over 20 years and knew all his commanding officers well. And he knew that this man could read him like a book. 

The commander in front of him, Stan, was a little older than Finley. They had been in the same pupil group when they had been drafted into the army. Stan had been the youngest son of a wealthy family, while Finley was the only son of a simple merchant family. They had never got on particularly well at first. The difference in upbringing and class had often come between them. The years had aged them well though, and now a big pint of ale would do the trick after a long day's work. But there would be no ale today. And Finley feared that their good acquaintance would soon come to an end.

A young foot soldier grabbed Red Rose's reins and held her steady as she swayed on her feet. Deciding not to make his horse's life any more miserable, Finley dismounted the tired animal. His mare sighed with relief.

Finley silently took his bags from his horse before turning to the boy holding the reins. "Take her to a nice warm stable. I probably won't be back for a while." He told the boy before turning to his commander. "Not here. Something has gone wrong. Let's discuss it where prying ears can't hear us," Finley muttered to Stan as he made brief eye contact with the king.