Moonbreaker

This story is passed across the fields and grazing lanes. It has been told to many generations and is as timeless as the thundering of the herd. It is my burden to tell this tale, as it is my curse to be the last to wear the slaver’s mask. It may be the final time I tie the story bag on, as I am reaching the last of my years; soon to be my time to lie in the grasslands with those that came before.

I speak of the time of the Great Freedom, of The Migration and the one who led us here.

This is the story of the one called Moonbreaker.

He was born on a crisp autumn night, much like this one. As he crowned, his mother screaming, the moon left the sky. It was this, and the crescent-shaped birthmark on his brow, that gave him his name.

From the time that he could stand, he was a runner. Moonbreaker sprinted in the open air, long dark hair flowing behind him as he went. His mother guided him in our ways, chiding when he pushed the boundaries we all test in our youth. As he grew, so too did his curiosity of the world beyond the family borders.

Born to the strong line of Royal Abnezar and Courtesan of the Locke, Moonbreaker was destined to a powerful rule. His father did not involve himself in the boy’s upbringing, only appearing long enough to inspect him. He was awaiting the day that the boy came of age and would either be sent to start his own kingdom or fight for his father’s place.

Abnezar was an imposing sight, tall stature bearing an ebony coat that covered rippling muscles. His dark hair had once been braided, but was made unkempt by time and previous battles. During one of his father’s inspections, Moonbreaker had caught at the edge of his vision the arrival of a challenger to his father’s rule. He stood on a nearby hill, observing the group as they went about their average routines. He made a call of challenge and ran down the hill in pursuit of a maiden. Moonbreaker’s father replied in kin, bearing down his weight as he slammed into the youngblood.

Standing at full height, they engaged each other with bladed strikes. The two battered and bruised each other as the fight went on. The challenger, a dutch with chestnut hair, left the first mark as he cut Abnezar’s thick neck. Blood sprayed and dripped into his coat as he grunted in pain, though he would not relent. They continued to grapple until Abnezar delivered a devastating blow to his adversary’s chest, cutting deep into the tissue. The challenger retreated back, realizing his loss, and ran off as the victor chased him away.

The hard truth of the world became clear to Moonbreaker as he caught his father panting away from the field to a neighboring knoll to lick his wounds.

This life is filled with hardship, he thought. I must become stronger to endure it all.

And strength did he find! Time and the star gods were kind to him, and he gained both height and weight. The Lords of the Sky blessed him with speed and power as they strode the lane way above.

When the time came, when he became a threat to his father’s rule, he left without a fight to find his place beyond the grained horizon. Moonbreaker followed the curves of the valleys and the scent of water as he journeyed the miles away from home and into unknown territory.

I know not how he reached it, how many ancient fence lines he had to cross, before the smell of iron filled his nostrils. The bones of a metal beast were surrounded by fibrous weeds untouched by wandering grazers. Moonbreaker cautiously inspected the scene and turned his nose up at the stench of piss and feces, and the remnants of small game. He had discovered a predator den, nestled in the corpse of some unknown thing. Alone and in no position to fight, he picked up his pace.

The predators had gone, at least for the moment, and Moonbreaker continued on. The ground became loaded with dead metal creatures after some time, and the soil under his feet shifted to a hard surface; one that only the most dense of flora had broken through. The fields that had lined the horizon had been replaced with massive structures like fence posts that touched the sky. The entire thing felt wrong to Moonbreaker, an afront to nature. The scent of death was prevalent, bones littered the ground in scattered layers; a new one under nearly every step.

By his account, Moonbreaker followed this path, later to be known as The Bone Trail, to find the “Last Great Truth”. The knowledge he gained was passed down his line, never to be revealed to anyone. Some say he met with a great prophet and was given insight from the star gods. Others say that he found something in those ruins that changed the trajectory of his life and brought it back with him. Unless one of his descendants ever reveals it, all of it remains as conjecture. What I doknow is that Moonbreaker altered his course afterwards and came upon the place where yours truly enters this tale: a home of the slavers.

I met the legend himself two nights after my brother was lost. I was beginning to lose hope, as so many other had before me, when he strode into the alley. His dark frame seemed almost elemental, like the night itself had come to claim me. He stood at the gate of my ell and surveyed our prison. The cries that came from us still alive were weak from malnutrition and dehydration. He locked eyes with me and spoke, his voice like thunder and morning rain.

“I am Moonbreaker, son of Royal Abnezar and Courtesan of the Locke. What has happened here?”

I responded meekly, “I am Domingo, my lord. You have entered the ranch Montauk, or what’s left of it.” I walked closer to the bars and gestured down the alley.

“Forgive my appearance young lord, it has been long since the slavers have come to feed and water us. We had lost hope that anyone would come. Of the fourteen of us held captive here, only three of us are left alive.”

Moonbreaker stamped into the ground before me in outrage.

“No one deserves such treatment! May those slavers never show themselves or face my vengeance!”

Another captive called for him then, from a distant cell I could not see.

“Lord Moonbreaker, please free me! I am Ophelia; of no noble blood as you, but I offer myself nonetheless. I do not look it now, but I am hearty and of solid stock. I can serve you well.”

“Shut up, you insipid girl,” called the third of us. Her voice came from a cell across the alley from me and down the row a considerable amount, though close enough that i could see her in the meager light. She was the last of our elderly, whose weathered face was framed by white-and-gray-dappled hair.

“Can you not see this is a test from the masters?! Do NOT offer yourself to this deceiver!” She clung to the bars of her cell, foaming at the mouth as she spoke.

“ … and who might you be to call me a deceiver,” he questioned, tilting his head to the side as he met her gaze. Moonbreaker walked over to the cell holding the crone.

She clamored, “No no, you won’t get anything from me! Get away, false liberator!” The old woman had a white tinge to her eyes as she flailed in her enclosure. Moonbreaker, in his magnanimous mood, humored the naysayer and did not speak to her again.

“Domingo, Ophelia; I shall free you.” He nodded several times as he expressed himself.

“You are welcome to join me on my journey. I can bring you to clean water and good food, but cannot guarantee your safety.” I could hardly contain my surprise and beleaguered need to be free.

“My lord,” I answered, “I swear to serve you for as long as I live.” I bowed to him, as weak as I was, and Ophelia did the same; I could hear her scrape against the floor as she bowed.

“I swear my body and will to you, Lord Moonbreaker” was her reply.

He nodded to us and delivered powerful kicks to the cell doors, splintering wood. Each gate took several tries, but each burst open with the satisfying metallic pain of broken hinges.

As promised, he led us from the slaver’s cells, from all I had ever known, to a place with cool running water and soft grasses. I welcomed the free air as it blew through my hair, relished in my newfound freedom.

This was to be a new start for me, a new lease on life.

Little did I know that I would be swept into legend by following him.

Alright little ones, it’s time for bed. No no, I won’t hear it; save your whining for your mares. Don’t worry young colts and fillies, the story will continue tomorrow. There is much to tell of the Legend of Moonbreaker; our illustrious leader and the greatest horse I have ever known.