One Tin Soldier

By: Ferretti

&

Braeden looked back over his shoulder. The whole mountain seemed to be on fire as tears streamed down his soot-covered face. The entire fight had been for nothing. The stories that Riddick had come into the village screaming to whoever would listen two weeks ago had been wrong.

&

“You gotta believe me!” Riddick said as the local guard dragged him once more to the stocks for belligerent behavior. Onlookers shook their heads but a few stepped closer, intrigued that Riddick had kept his story for so long. Normally Riddick’s fantasies only lasted a day or two, or until the next time he got drunk off his moonshine.

“Riddick you have to stop this nonsense. Now.” The mayor shouted angrily as the wooden stocks clamped down heavily, the metal lock being swung together with a piercing squeak. The stocks hadn’t seen so much use since the last time Riddick made a particularly nasty batch of moonshine, back before the Mountain’s Lords had moved into the haunted castle near to fifteen harvests ago.

“Ah can prove it!” Riddick shouted to the Mayor’s retreating back. Braeden watched as the mayor stopped in his footsteps, his eyes rolling at Riddick’s persistence of the subject.

“You have been saying that for the past week. You have yet to bring forth any evidence other than your accusations. Now Hawks’ Keep hasn’t bothered our village in their time in residence and I am not going to bother them with your false accusations!”

“You’ll let us starve because you don’t want to bother them. They have more than enough gold to buy any supplies we need.” The mayor turned to keep walking. He made it less than two steps before Riddick’s next words stopped him. “They have food.”

&

Braeden dismounted his tired horse at the nearest stream; taking off the heavy, dirty, sweaty armor to try and breathe. The events of the past forty-eight hours, the time it had taken to siege and overtake Hawks’ Keep, flashed before his eyes when they closed.

Taking a wet rag he started to wipe down his father’s armor that had once shined with pride, despite the amount of dings and dents that his father had acquired in his own tour of service. It was hard work with little shade in the midday sun and Braeden’s mind wandered once more.

&

“They refuse to give us what we’ve asked for.” One of the mayor’s counsel announced at one of the almost nightly torch-lit meetings. Gaunt faces looked up to the committee hoping for an announcement that never changed.

And of course why would it? The definition of insanity was to do the same thing every time and expect different results. That was what the counsel, the Mayor and the people of the village were doing. They demanded enough food to restore the village’s supplies after the drought and money for supplies.

They never tried to lower the amount or work out a way to pay it back. Every other day the counsel sent a messenger up the mountain to Hawks’ Keep. The next day the messenger would return with the same message: “With our brothers we will share all the secrets of our mountain, all the riches buried there.”

The counsel took this as a refusal. The messengers were never let in for rest or food. Water was lowered to them by a bucket on a rope. But every messenger swore that it was the sweetest water they had ever tasted.

After a week the Mayor and the counsel had enlisted all the men of fighting ages to attack Hawks’ Keep and take what was there. The party had attacked at dawn and had besieged the almost impenetrable fortress for less than a day when the soldiers had given up, opening the gates to the castle.

The villagers had been blood-thirsty, slaughtering every man, woman and child that they encountered. When they were done with the slaughter they turned to the granaries and storage sheds.

Riddick had lied. There was no gold, no jewels, no cloths and tapestries. Most importantly there was no excess amount of food. Judging by the number of people in Hawks’ Keep there was just enough food to keep everyone alive. That was still more than the village had but a single message found under the Hawks’ Keep Lord’s dead hand left the villagers feeling sick.

“Peace on Earth.”

&

Braeden stood and donned his father’s tin armor when it once more shone bright in the fading light. Mounting his rested horse, Braeden continued along the path into the sunset. His father had given his permission after the Slaughter of Hawks’ Keep for Braeden to ride away.

One tin soldier rides away…

&

A/N: Based on a song I had to sing in choir last year One Tin Soldier. One shot, let me know what you think.