Heroes at the Gate

    Sean’s shoulders ached by the time the village palisade came into view. The boy may have been relatively light, but even in the peak condition he’d been returned to Sean wasn’t terribly athletic. Carrying a kid around the house? Very doable. Carrying one through a couple miles of bush and bog? Not something his back would emerge from unscathed.

    Owen stirred once or twice in his arms, but didn’t wake up. The boy’s breathing was steady though, and he wasn’t pallid anymore, so Sean felt reasonably sure that the sleep was natural rather than magical. Looking over to Flick he saw that Caitlin was in similar condition. The kids seemed to be ok for now, even if he expected their parents to be dealing with years of nightmares in their future.

    As they emerged from the forest and started across the clear ring around Greenbough, they saw that the search was still going strong. Small groups of people were coming and going from the village, latecomers heading out and some of the original parties returning tired and defeated. Sean noticed that they had emerged from the woods back on the side they’d initially entered instead of near the gate they’d left.

    “I didn’t even realize we’d looped around,” he said, moving closer to Flick. “Was that the bog you took us through the first time?”

    Flick nodded. “Aye, it’s thickest where we found the wee ones, but that mire has tendrils stretching in all directions. Instead of trekking straight through, I thought it might be easier to follow the same bit of dry land out and back.”

    Sean rolled his shoulders, loosening a few of the muscles that had been screaming at him for the last mile. “Definitely easier, thanks.”

    As they walked nearer to the gate, the guard noticed their approach and their cargo. Ryan rushed over to them, his lanky legs eating up the ground in between.

    “By the Trinity!” he said, looking at the two of them with wide eyes. “You lot went into the bog after them?” The man looked the children in their arms over quickly and his mouth split into a grin. “And they’re unharmed!”

    “Physically, anyway, whether they’ve been hurt in other ways remains to be seen when they wake up.” Sean cautioned. “But they’re alive. which is more than I expected an hour ago.”

    Ryan escorted them back to the village, ushering them swiftly through the gate. “You’ve no idea how happy their parents will be. The whole town was sick with worry, but Colin and Nancy were losing their minds. Get inside, quick, they’ll want to see their babes.”

    The pair passed through the gate and moved towards the village. The townsfolk who weren’t out searching – mainly old folks and parents with very young children – shouted praise and directed them towards the inn. As they approached the open palisade at the village center they caught the innkeeper’s eye. Colm barreled toward them with surprising speed for a man his size. Behind him stumbled Colin and his wife. The former’s eyes were rimmed in red, while the latter’s apron looked like she’s tried to twist it in half.

    “Colin! Nancy!” Colm boomed. “They’ve brought them back!”

    The innkeeper’s ruddy face was flushed, his voice a touch hoarse. “Pale Ladies preserve us, you did it!” He clapped Sean on the shoulder. “We’ll not waste another moment.”

    He shouted back towards the Tipsy Thistle. “Alma! Fetch me the horn!”

    The innkeeper’s wife swiftly emerged from the inn, carrying a long wooden horn bound in brass and carved with interlaced knots. Colm lifted it with practiced ease, set his lips to the mouth, and blew.

    In the care of a lesser man, Sean suspected that the horn’s note might have carried to the edge of town. Driven by Colm’s prodigious lungs, the instrument let loose a sound that echoed much farther. The sound wasn’t music so much as a keening wail, a low and mournful call that carried on the wind like the cry of some giant beast. It rattled Sean’s ribs and made Flick flatten her ears against her skull. When the sound died down, Sean could hear half the dogs in the village howling in response.

    “The Thistle’s Thorn,” Colm explained with pride, catching his breath. “Every soul in Greenbough has been trained to know its calls and what each one means. They’ll hear it clear to the river, maybe further. Assuming no one got themselves lost, all of the lads and lasses out in the trees should be back inside the hour.”

    While Colm summoned the scattered villagers, Sean turned his attention to his passenger’s parents. He was honestly surprised they’d waited for Colm to finish before crowding up to him anxiously.

    Sean and Flick barely had time to lower the children before Colin and Nancy were on their knees in the dirt, clutching their little ones and whispering their names between sobs. Owen didn’t stir from his slumber, but the horn’s wail had roused his sister. Caitlin looked at her parents with bleary eyes.

    “Ma? Da? Is it time to come home?”

    Nancy’s voice shook, but she smiled at her daughter through the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t you worry dear, everything’s fine now. You’re already back at home, see?”

    Caitlin looked around her for a moment, seeming lost at first but quickly turning panicked. She faced her mother, her eyes quickly filled with tears.

    “Ma!” The girl choked out. “I-I’m sorry! You said never to go to the bog but we were just following the berries and-” The girl took in a long sniff, her nose running profusely. “Oh Ma, I’m sorry, we lost the baskets!”

    Nancy clutched Caitlin tight, whispering reassurances to the girl between bouts of tears.

    Colin stood up next to his son, looking at the boy and shaking his head. “The boy could always sleep through anything. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that includes the horn.”

    The man, a little older than Sean, walked over to him. He outstretched a calloused hand, which Sean took in a shake.

    “Thank you stranger, you’ve saved my wife and I a wagonload of heartache. Where did you find them?”

    Sean rubbed the back of his head and glanced at Flick. The woman was grinning ear to ear at his apparent discomfort.

    “Aye, lad,” she teased, “tell the tale of your heroism!”

    “Well,” he started, “we’d just passed through the bog on our way here so…”