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The Hammer and the Sword

Chapter 2. Arrival

She entered the audience chamber as usual in the early morning, her mood a volatile mix with the ever present possibility of an eruption of anger that would make all those who could excuse themselves flee and all those who couldn't wish they could. That was also unfortunately usual these days. Whatever may be said about those who wear power, in reality it rarely sits easily on any head.

Sitting on the curiously unadorned couch atop a wide dais, she allowed her gaze to sweep the room, willing her expression into studied neutrality. Better to keep her feelings hidden until required, she mused. Also better to keep them guessing. In her more self-reflective moments she did wonder precisely why she should enjoy the fear she could generate so much, so quickly, and whether it was in reality a deep failing. Those moments were few and far between however.

Narestilla, the Great Mare, third to hold that title since the upheavals that transformed her herd, the Vale, and indeed the destiny of all equines almost a century before. Now five years into her own reign, five years older and perhaps five years wiser. Or just 5 years more tired?

Though the burdens were never far from her mind, she was in truth in her prime. Coming young to the title, she was only just 30, a mare at her peak. She was considered beautiful, even now, and the sight of her had often been enough to render normally headstrong stallions mute. There were days it did not feel that way however.

As always when she was in this mood, her eyes turned to her closest assistant, companion, confidant. Seeing his gaze lock with hers, the look of love, trust, worship even in his eyes, always calmed her. My Martelian. Why should a slave be such a comfort to me? Perhaps because you have been there through it all and yet remained yourself. And in any case are we truly that much apart? I too am a slave, beholden to the forces I must keep in check each day in order to guarantee our survival.

Seeing the gentle smile on his face, one intended for her alone, she answered with her own half smile and settled in to the morning's business.

"First Groom, tell me how the Offering progresses. Are we ready to receive our new guests this day?". It was a game they played, the slightly sardonic formality, the undercurrent of cynical knowing complicity covered by an air of propriety for the consumption of the others. All the while, their eyes communicated their real thoughts. Guests, as they both knew, had long since ceased to be even a polite euphemism but that was part of the game.

With equally studied formality Martelian gave his report, that yes all was ready for the new batch of 'guests'. There was one more personal detail however that they shared, unknown to the rest till now.

"Great Mare, I have made arrangements to inspect all the new arrivals myself before the day is out. I trust you will be able to receive me tonight to report?"

"Of course First Groom. I will await your arrival."

She sensed rather than heard the slight buzz that followed. Let them suspect what they will, they will know soon enough. For her part, the excitement was what she needed most right now and she let it spread through her. A new pet to tame. Since Parthetan had gone, she had felt lost. Now the challenge to come made her feel alive again.

Her improved mood lasted long enough to complete the audience without any explosions, to the great delight of her council. If they guessed or suspected the reason, they were wise enough not to voice it.

For Lieran and Romali, the morning was a mixture of confusion, awe and fear. Arriving in sight of the great gate of Wolf's Gap, they were struck by the magnitude of the work that must have gone into this citadel. They could see it before them, growing it seemed out of the mountains, like a natural extension but in unnaturally perfect lines.

The Vale of the horse was enclosed in the arms of two great ranges, the Taurine Mountains to the south and the White Hills to the North. Each ran approximately parallel, before narrowing and pointing towards each-other at their Eastern ends, creating a gap - the Wolf's Gap. Beyond lay the Wolf lands with its many Nations, warring, tempestuous, and historically, taking every opportunity to raid into the Vale for slaves, loot, or recreation.

Here at the Eastern end of the Taurine Mountains, the range turned slightly Northwards before giving way to the gap with a last sentinel mount , a double peak called the Twin Horns pointing at a companion at the end of the White Hills miles away. This gap between the mountains had been the favoured entry point for raiding wolf bands since the equines had settled in the vale. Now however, things had changed. The great city extended from the foot of the Twin Horns, and from its northern edge a long wall of stone extended to the other side of the Wolf's Gap. Patrolled constantly, the city and the wall had effectively sealed the Vale off from the Wolf nations beyond.

The other main threat had come from the Taurines and their cities South of the Taurine Mountains. A chain of forts in the only accessible passes close to Wolf's Gap had kept them at bay, and it had been many years since a raiding party had been seen in the Vale.

All this could be seen by the approaching equines, the sun glinting off stone, as they made a final approach to the city. Here, the fate of their kind had changed, and the herd of Wolf's Gap had gone from being the most threatened to being stronger than any equine herd throughout history. No longer a herd, they were now a machine, dominating their kind, and using the Offering of their reluctant brethren as the fuel to keep the machine running, and to provide the twin sources of their mastery. Stone and steel, key to their power to resist and to dominate their kind; the hammer and the sword.

Such were the thoughts and fears of Lieran as they came within the shadows of the wall. I can survive I can survive was all the big roan could repeat, over and over, as they were finally herded inside the walls, his friend holding him determined not to lose the one piece of familiarity he had left. Both were suffering the effects of their change, for no equine can easily survive cut off from their herd. Until they were reconnected to a herd structure they would remain vulnerable.

Once inside they moved until they came to a wide square, filled now with equines of all breeds and herds, all attired just as they were and now surrounded by soldiers of the Great Mare. On a platform, one big stallion in the armour of a Commander stood looking over the throng, waiting for the signal that all that were coming were now here. At his gesture, a great drum beat started, like the beating of a thousand hooves across the Vale, before suddenly stopping leaving a profound silence.

"Welcome to Wolf's Gap, Offering to the Great Mare. You are now the property of the great Mare and her Herd, and your lives as you knew them are past. From today, you are the lowest colts and fillies in the city, and you will treat any member of the Great Mare's Herd as you would your own Head Stallions - respect, obedience, duty. Thus you have sworn your oaths, and thus you will be expected to behave. You will not speak unless first ordered, you will not look any member of the Herd in the eye, you will keep your ears down in submission when in the presence of a member of her Herd. If you do not, your punishment will be swift and severe."

Carthenius let that sink in, looking over the crowd now inviting a response. It was part of the game for him, one he was now well experienced in. There was always at least one, one poor stallion who would volunteer to make an example. An example needed by the others to help them adjust. These youngsters were still feeling their seed rising, eager to test themselves, establish their dominance, take a filly. Teaching them submission was a long process. There, that one will do.

His eyes met those of a big Clydesdale, still growing into his imposing body, black fur with white flashes and feathering. The Clydesdale had always been the dominant of his peers, his size and confidence worn like a challenge to all. Now in spite of his oath and in spite of his fears his natural instincts took over and he raised his head further to frankly stare at the Commander, defiance in his eyes, his nostrils flaring, ears pricked, a snort escaping his mouth.

"You!" said Carthenius, pointing at the young stallion, who suddenly had the eyes of all his fellows upon him. "Do you have something you would like to say?"

The youngster swallowed hard, flinching at the hard stare of the older stallion, but he was not so easily cowed. He believed in his own strength, it had always won him admiration. These horses just needed a leader - and who better than me?

"I do!. Property? I am an equine the same as yourself, here as a guest under the Convention. I am your brother and I demand the right to be treated as one, not as a slave!." His speech was accompanied by gasps and surprised whinnies, and a soft murmur of agreement.

No orders were needed for what came next, the soldiers were well trained. Moving quickly, in perfect coordination, a group of them surrounded the truculent Clydesdale and before he could react, swords were pressed against his side. Eyes widened in fear now, he took in the words of the guard sergeant. One less slave would suit him just as well. At the same time all the other soldiers around the square drew their weapons and moved towards the startled equines. The steel hoof was now exposed for all to see.

Still stunned, the stallion made no motion to resist as his arms were brought behind him, his paws now bound with steel wrist cuffs, and then hobbles were attached to his fetlocks, allowing him to shuffle but only with difficulty. Made to kneel in the dust, the final humiliation was inflicted, or so he thought, as a bridle was slipped over his muzzle, cruel bit now between his teeth. Hauled upright, the once proud stallion was now too late coming to the realisation of his true status, but the lesson had only just begun.

Brought forward to the platform, the now terrified stallion was lifted bodily up the steps, only at the top realising that true nature of his predicament as a curtain was drawn to one side, revealing the preparations already in place for him, preparations he had stupidly fallen into. His eyes now bulged and darted and he tried to look for any escape, but none would be coming.

Carthenius addressed the crowd, playing his part as required, hating it but too professional to let that change anything. "You were warned, but this individual chose to ignore the warnings. Let this be a lesson to you all." Gritting his teeth in a perfect scowl, ears pointing at the struggling stallion, Carthenius gave a nod, the only order needed. Dragging the youngster now to the frame revealed on the platform, the guards first tied his powerful legs to the uprights, well spread, then untying his wrists reattached them to the high manacles. Before he could utter a single whinny, the big Clydesdale was tied spreadeagled.

With casual cruelty, the guards then cut his tunic and cloak from his body, leaving him naked but cut in several places, back to his fellow slaves, small drips of blood now staining his coat. All could see the shaking in his muscles, the way his tail tried desperately to cover his hole. Even from a distance, all could smell his fear.

A guard now came forward with a long heavy whip, ignoring the muffled pleas of the Clydesdale. Raising it high, theatrically, he made the youngster wait, building the fear , and looking to the Commander for approval before bringing it down to crash across the bound form, a welt appearing across his shoulders just as the whip crack sound reached the horrified onlookers. The big Clydesdale managed to stifle a cry this time, biting down hard on the bit, but his defiance was destined to be in vain, for the experienced guard proceeded to thrash the shaking stallion slowly, methodically, maximising the pain and humiliation and the value of the lesson.

The whip rose and fell, covering the broad back in a network of overlapping welts that soon saw blood flowing freely under the fur. The victim tried to hold on but soon pitiful screaming whinnies were coming with each new stroke, until he was finally reduced to a constant mewling cry as pain overwhelmed his senses. Mercifully the whipping eventually stopped, but the lesson had not.

In a daze, the stallion registered the end of the assault, dimly aware through the pain. Expecting to be released, he tried to rouse himself so that he would not fall to the ground when unchained in a final act of humiliation, but the expected release did not come. He felt his long tail raised, and tied to a leather cord from his bridle. Exposed now, ashamed and terrified, he waited with his tail hole and the back of his heavy sack on display. Wild thoughts warred inside his brain, fear building on fear, but he soon knew what the import of this was when he felt a paw grip his balls and pull them down.

In a trance almost he felt cruel metal clamps fixed on the stretched skin at the top of his scrotum, cutting off his balls as they were tightened. Refusing to believe what was happening, he looked around wildly before catching sight of the final piece of the puzzle, something he had noticed but not appreciated before; a brazier burning strongly, with a series of metal handles protruding. Finally he put the evidence together and the result hammered in his brain.....gelding....gelding...gelding.

For the Clydesdale this was the straw that finally undid him. His cries came afresh, but this time pure screams and whinnies of terror, begging, pleading. Involuntarily, his long pink cock extended from his sheath as he felt the soldiers paw now start to feel his trapped balls, and he pissed himself, a long stream of urine flowing as his cries became more and more frantic. For Carthenius, the effect could not have been more to his needs. It was always the strongest that broke the worst, he reflected, preparing to finish the scene.

"You have all seen now a demonstration of the fate that awaits you should you forget your place, or your oath. A whipping is however only the least punishment you can expect to receive. For a stallion, if you continue to defy, there is another punishment more severe that can be provided, one that fortuitously also will render future defiance less likely. We are however merciful, and this....specimen may have learned his lesson enough to keep his balls. We will see."

Coming to the stallion, Carthenius willed himself to finish. Taking the bridle from the unhinged young victim, and untying his tail, he spoke softly, but with command in every syllable.

Oh do I hate myself, may the Great Mare be damned. I know the necessity of what we do, it is a price I know I must pay...but why does the price seem to rise each year and each time? I must retire, do something else. But how many times have I said that? Yet here I stand, tormenting a promising youngster I should be teaching the way of the warrior in patient steps instead of breaking into fragments.

Totally broken now, the Clydesdale nodded his head frantically and began a loud babbling apology, begging repeatedly for forgiveness, abasing himself until he finally could not go on and ran down into wracking sobs, his body now limp against the restraints. With a disgusted shake of his head, Carthenius signalled the guard. Time to end it.

The guard walked to the brazier, hooves clattering against the wooden platform in the silence broken only by the Clydesdale's sobs. Reaching for one of the protruding handles, he pulled the implement from the brazier, its red hot glowing end emitting a small wisp of steam.

Unable to see clearly, the Clydesdale heard the movement and the sound of the iron being withdrawn, and smelled the hot metal in his nostrils. He panicked now, trying to break free but unable, beginning to injure himself in desperation as he felt the heat closing on his rear. Carthenius could restrain no longer, moving to the stallion's side, whispering in his ear now, trying to calm him, touching his flanks, telling him it would be all right, it would all be over soon. Somehow he got through, and the youngster finally focussed on the older stallions eyes, whatever he saw there causing him to stop his struggles long enough for the Commander to take his tail gently in one paw, lifting it almost reverently.

The sound of burning flesh reached the Clydesdale's nose at almost the same time as the searing pain of the brand reached his brain and he convulsed one last time in a universe of suffering before finally mercifully blacking out, but a part of his mind had at least the satisfaction of registering before the end that the pain was due to a branding not a gelding. He would still be a stallion, though a very sore and sorry one.

Carthenius now spoke again, and had the grim satisfaction of seeing the crowd now silent and fixed in attention on him. Progress, at least.

"This colt has received just punishment and his contrition has been accepted. Like him however you will face more if you do not heed the lesson of today. As a sign of acceptance he has been gifted with the mark of our herd, a mark you will all receive before this day is out. Treasure it, welcome it, for it is the symbol of your belonging and without it you are herdless."

Through all of this Romali had been holding tighter and tighter onto his friend until his grip was painfully hard, blunt fingers digging into his muscles. The roan had been too intent on what he was seeing however to notice, until with the final scream as the unlucky Clydesdale was branded Romali could hold together no longer and he doubled over vomiting into the dirt. Bending over to tend to his friend, Lieran registered the hurt in his arm for the first time, his nicker of pain brought short as a guard moved to intervene. Hurriedly he brought his friend upright resting on his chest, as he looked again at the quiescent stallion now hanging from the punishment frame. His gaze was drawn to the now raw mark of the brand on the muscular left buttock of the Clydesdale...the symbol he had begun to hate deep within. The hammer and the sword...soon he would have his own version.

As the Commander's words washed over the crowd, the hate built and built inside. Treasure it...welcome it...this magnificent badge of subjection. Silently, not even daring to admit it to himself, Lieran made a vow. One day, I know not how, I will tear this whole city down stone by stone, or die in the attempt.

The Clydesdale, his use as a warning now over, was revived and unshackled. Held on unsteady hooves by two guards, he stood on the platform as his fellow new guests were led away to begin the process of being sorted, selected and prepared for their new lives. Carthenius stood with him, guilt still warring with his duty.

"Have you learned your lesson now youngster?" a humble nod and a whispered "yes Sire" was the only reply. Something caused the old soldier to pause though, and reaching forward a paw he held the young stallion under his muzzle, and raised his face till they were meeting eye to eye.

"You did well young stallion. I have seen many stronger and older horses break worse. Please heed the lesson, I do not ever want to have to do to you again what I did today, let alone geld you, but if you give us no choice I will geld you myself without a moment's hesitation."

The Clydesdale looked down at his hooves again, the words registering both fear and comfort in equal portions.

"What was your name youngster?"

"Darestam, Sire."

The old stallion nodded, a flicker of memory troubling his mind. "Darestam...a name that is strangely familiar, and particularly from a Clyde. Are you from Lontar's herd, over by the Western gates?"

Shocked, Darestam could only nod. How?

Carthenius only stroked the youngster's chin reflectively before turning away to order the guards to tend to his wounds before moving him to the processing hall. Unwilling to look back now, he began to leave the platform, but could not avoid a final word. As he strode to the steps, he called in farewell, "take care Darestam. I will be watching you" before he disappeared with his sergeant in tow into the city.

As he hurried, his mind occupied, he was jolted out of his thoughts by a nicker from behind. Stopping suddenly, he stared at his sergeant, who was now looking at him with an appraising smile. Almost no other could have thought to get away with that impertinence, but the sergeant knew his commander well. They had served together, fought together and suffered together too long for rank to matter too much when they were alone.

"You getting soft in your old age sir?" was the question, though the real questions he could guess at. Mastering his anger, Carthenius gave his friend a withering glance and put his best Commander's tone into his voice.

"We all have our duty to perform soldier. That does not mean we have to like it."

"True sir, true I know, and I will remember it from now on. But forgive me sir, what was that last part about? Do you somehow know that big Clyde?"

"Mind your own business you insubordinate wretch or you will be the next one being flogged."

Carthenius had meant it to sound threatening, but for the sergeant it merely told him what he needed to know. Yes, something going on there. The commander needs to tell me, and he will in his own time.

"Yes SIR!" was however his only reply, and he followed after his Commander, heart now troubled despite the lopsided grin on his face.