by Eric Ugland
Then everything went back to normal.
“Everything okay?” I shouted to Fritz.
I got a single screech back.
“Okay then,” I said. “We’re all still on board.”
Another screech.
“Any idea what that was?” I asked.
“Ice wyvern or something along those lines,” Yuri replied. I noticed he had not relaxed his grip whatsoever on Fritz’s leather straps.
“Nervous flyer?” I asked.
“How you find this enjoyable is beyond me.”
“Centaurs.”
“Right,” he said with a nod. “There are many herds within the known world, several of whom fight over the Amber Wastes in a continual battle for dominance. None of them seem to hold the same values and beliefs, save the sole tenet that there is nothing in the world that equals the centaur.”
“I did get a serious superiority vibe from them. There’s something called the Culling that I have to deal with.”
“Not sure I know what that refers to, though from the name, I doubt it is anything pleasant. Bear in mind, I have not had many dealings with centaurs. They are largely their own creatures within their own society. And, as I am sure you have seen, they are not overly keen on interactions with others. Thus, little call for a monster such as myself.”
“What about the behemoths?”
Yuri smiled, then shook his head.
“What of them?” he replied.
“What are they?” I asked. “Are they dangerous?”
“They are, well, behemoths. Huge monstrosities that wander the Amber Wastes. Where they come from, no one knows. Why they exist, no one knows. But they are massive. And most definitely dangerous.”
“How do the centaurs deal with them?”
“Depends on who you ask,” he said, “but most often, they lure the behemoths to become someone else’s problem.”
“So we’ll probably have that to look forward to in the future?”
“I suppose that would depend on how much you irritate them.”
“Well, it’s me, so—”
“So, yes, we will deal with behemoths in the future.”
I shrugged, wanting to say the guy had me all wrong, but let’s be honest.
Yuri leaned down into Fritz’s feathers in an attempt to get out of the wind and the weather. Which also made it clear he was done with our conversation.
18
It took a little longer than usual to get across the valley, with Fritz battling both the weather and intense headwinds. But we managed to land near our wall fortress area a little before dark.
The wall looked impressive, especially considering how short the construction period had been. It went all the way across the opening of the valley, blocking off our little slice of the world from the outside, though it looked imperfect at the present time. It was difficult to build, considering that we had to build across a lake.
There were a series of arches across the front to let water through, with metal bars in the arches to, I guess, keep everything else out. The wall was thick, probably twenty feet, but only about thirty or so feet high. I expected the gate to be in the middle, but it was off to the right, all the way up against the eastern edge of the opening. The gatehouse was still being built around the gate, and it looked like the gate itself wasn’t in place. There was just a portcullis, but judging by the chains and pulleys, it was a working portcullis.
Ragnar and Yuri busied themselves setting up camp, clearing off the snow and starting a fire in one of the already built fire-pits. They took over Lee’s tent.
I steeled myself for the upcoming interaction, and Bear stood bravely on the top of my helm.
“Forward, mount!” she cried out.
“I’m not your mount,” I said.
She hit my helmet with something metallic, and it clanged loudly off the steel.
“Forward!” she called out again.
I fell backward into the snow, arms out to the side.
The soft cry of a brownie being dumped in snow rang out.
I got up, brushed myself off, and pulled the struggling brownie out of the drift.
“Not funny,” she said, shivering under a healthy layer of snow.
“And calling me a mount was?”
“Yes,” she replied.
I shook her so the snow fell off.
She smacked my wrist with something, and once again, it clanged.
“Is that a scepter?” I asked, peering at her hand.
She was, in fact, brandishing a golden scepter with a small yellow sparkling jewel at the end.
“Huh,” I said, thinking maybe of asking where she’d gotten the scepter before I realized I didn’t care. “You coming with?”
“Yes,” she said, “but the snow is too deep for me to walk through and I don’t feel like flying.”
I set her on my pauldron.
“Forward—” she began, scepter leading the way.
I looked at her sharply.
She smiled, and quickly added, “Your grace.”
I sighed, and marched forward through the snow to the gate.
The centaur encampment had grown since my last visit. It was huge, spreading out in every direction the plains allowed. Some tents even connected to form something like buildings. Multi-unit tents, I guess. Pathways between the tents had been tamped down by lots and lots of hooves.
The most notable difference, aside from the size, was a large corral off to the east, up against the river and nearly in line with our gatehouse. Or the structure that would one day become the gatehouse. The corral was jam-packed with centaurs of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. There were too many to count, which was distressing, to say the least. And they were distressed as well. There were plenty of sobs coming from the group, at least as far as I could tell.
Calls went up from the camp as I walked down the snowy embankment, and by the time I’d forded the shallow river, armed centaurs were waiting.
“Evening,” I said, pulling my helm off and putting it under my left arm.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” the guards barked.
“Well,” I said, “funny you should ask. See, I have a little thing I’m supposed to do with, uh, the Culling.”
The centaurs looked at each other, but no one seemed to know what to do.
“Duke of Coggeshall,” I said. “Me. That’s my wall there, and my lands beyond. I met with your, uh, top guy, and he decided I should handle the Culling for him.”
More looks and confusion, but no action.
“Can you just get his horseship out here?” I snapped, growing tired of watching the centaurs look to each other to do something. No one was brave enough to be the first to act.
“Horseship?” one centaur asked, a sleek male with dark hair.
“The Tip of the Spear,” Bear whispered in my ear.
“You speak centaur?” I whispered back.
“With a little magic, I can speak anything.”
“I meant the Tip of the Spear,” I repeated. “Where is he? I’m here to complete his cull. Or the Cull. Whatever.”
Finally, one of the centaurs raced off.
“So,” I said, looking at the remaining eight centaurs, “how were your races?”
“Races?” one of them asked.
“I heard you guys were running some races. Contests.”
They looked confused.
“We do not know about what you speak of,” the speaker replied.
“Okay,” I said, smiling. “Any fun plans for the weekend?”
“What is a weekend?”
“Seen any good movies? Read good books?”
I just got confused looks before the centaurs nervously trotted back away from me, doing a pretty good job making it clear they weren’t interested in small talk.
So we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
It was nonsensical, to me at least. Why were they acting this way? Why were they afraid
of me? Or, you know, why were they afraid of having a social moment with me. Crazy.
“Do you know much about centaurs?” I asked Bear quietly.
“Nope,” she replied.
“Okay then,” I said. “We just wait.”
The sun had gone down, and the sky was fully dark when a shout finally went up. Fires were being lit all across the camp, and torches emerged in a long line as a group of centaurs came charging from the center of the camp. Lots of spears reached into the sky, and the sound of horse hooves tromping was thunderous. It was all a bit of a show, to be sure. The procession took a moment to get itself together, and then, as one, they struck forth toward me.
The Tip of the Spear trotted at the front, looking resplendent. He wore heavy furs and carried nothing, but, instead, he walked with his hands spread out, kind of like he was strutting down a catwalk.
He came to a stop directly in front of me. I think he expected me to be shorter, because he was definitely prepared to look down at me, but wound up just about looking me right in the eye.
We stood there in silence for a moment, him just sneering and me just smiling.
It was definitely one of those he-who-speaks-first loses moments. Since I knew what I was doing there, he was going to have to speak up.
Finally, he did.
“Human,” he said.
“Centaur,” I replied.
“You would speak to us that way?”
“I did. And I would.”
“We find you repellant.”
“You know what’s odd? I don’t know that I’ve thought about you enough to even care. I’m here for the Culling.”
“The Cull?”
“Call it what you will, I’m here for it. Are those them?” I pointed over at the corral.
He turned his head and looked where I was pointing.
“We see nothing there,” he replied.
“Might want to get your eyes tested.”
“As with everything about our person, our eyes are perfect.”
“Listen, sweetness. Maybe you don’t have better places to be than hanging out in the snow and chewing the fat with a hot piece of ass like me, but I’ve got other shit to do. So can we move this along?”
He seethed. He was very clearly not used to being spoken to that way. Hell, he probably wasn’t even used to being spoken to.
“Those are the ones who need to be culled,” I said, “right? So why don’t I take them?”
“We have changed our mind,” he said. “There will be no need of you to do anything.”
I raised an eyebrow and leaned a little to peek at the next row of centaurs. More slim, slender, beautiful people. Well, beautiful human torsos on equally beautiful horse bottoms.
“Why the change of heart, oh Tip of the Spear?” I asked.
“We need to explain nothing to you.”
I looked over at the corral. It had become quiet, and they were watching us.
“See,” I said slowly, “I’m going to have to argue a bit with you on that one. Because, I mean, I dragged my ass all the way out here in this horrible weather, when I’ve got a whole lot else on my plate. I don’t like wasting my time. I also don’t like incomplete quests, and worse, I hate failing them. I am here for the Cull because you made me be here for it.”
“The quest is—”
“You made me take the quest, you feckless fart-nugget. I tried to say no, and you made it mandatory. And now I am here.”
“Fart nugget?” he said slowly.
“Use your perfect ears to hear the words I am saying and understand them. You wanted me? You got me. Live with the consequences.”
“You cannot speak to us this way.”
“You heard me — I just did.“
“We will have you drawn and quartered!”
“One, I’d like to see you try. Two, you touch me and the Empire will bring down the hammer on you. I am an Imperial Duke, not just some yokel out for a snowy stroll on a starlit night. I might be all chummy-chummy with you here, letting you talk like you’re the big cheese, but don’t let my calm demeanor and friendly attitude confuse you. I will crush you if I feel you’re going to be an actual threat to my people or my chosen home. Got that?”
“You think too highly of yourself.”
“Nah, buddy. I’m only as confident as I can prove. I can take on your entire army here if need be, and I can call down thunder like you’ve never seen. So live up to the deal you made and then we’ll go on being wall buddies until the end of our days.”
“We no longer wish for you to take the Cull.”
“Tough titties. I am taking them. You only get to decide if you want to fight over this, not whether it is happening.”
“We are the Tip of the Spear, with over ten thousand ready to die—”
“The big question,” I interrupted to say, “is whether they can kill me before I kill you right now. That’s all you should be worried about.”
With that, a genuine look of fear flashed in his eyes.
“Doesn’t matter how many people you got if they can’t stop that,” I said, “does it?”
He took a tentative step back.
“One more step without agreeing to this Cull thing,” I snapped, “and I’ll cut you back into a horse and a human.”
The centaur leader stood there, staring at me. I think he thought I was bluffing.
I wasn’t.
If I needed to cut down the entire upper crust of this centaur society, I’d do it. Or, you know, I’d die trying.
He so wanted to take a step away from me, but any time I saw his foot so much as quiver, I’d lean forward and he’d freeze.
“We find your threats annoying,” he finally said. “Should you choose to go through with this nonsense, we will consider you an enemy of the herd.”
“Works for me,” I said. “Now—”
“You are fine with being our enemy?”
“Just get in line, kid.”
“I am no child!” He screamed. “I am—”
“Don’t you mean we?”
He reared up on his hind legs and kicked his right foreleg out.
Almost lazily, because I could see exactly what he was going to do, I leaned to the side.
The foot went right past my head.
I sighed and pushed my helm down on my head.
“You want to dance, foal?” I asked, putting one hand on my sword.
For good measure, Bear stood tall on my pauldron, holding a ball of fire in front of her.
An older centaur moved forward and placed a hand on the Tip of the Spear’s shoulder.
“You may take the Cull,” the older centaur said, “but we mark you enemy of the herd.”
“Works for me,” I said with a curt nod. Then I walked over to the corral.
19
As I approached the corral, I saw nothing but wide eyes full of fear. The centaurs pushed back from the wooden fences, trying to get away from me.
I held my hands up.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I shouted. “I’m here to, I mean, I’m technically here for the Cull—”
All the centaurs panicked.
That was a dumb thing to say.
Bear swore softly in a language I didn’t know. Then she swirled up into the air in a spray of golden sparkles. She pulled some spell together, throwing a net of arcane glowy goodness over the entire corral, which drifted slowly down to the ground.
The centaurs all took a collective breath and calmed down.
“Now try again without implying you’re going to kill them,” Bear said, dropping back onto my pauldron and crossing her arms.
“My apologies,” I bellowed, “let me restart. I am Duke Coggeshall of Glaton. That is my land there, right on the other side of the wall.”
The entire group looked over to the wall at the same time.
“I’m offering you a place to live,” I said. “You will become part of the Empire and live in my holding.”
“But we are to
be culled!” a younger female shouted back.
“This is my version of culling,” I replied. “You will no longer be a part of this herd — you’ll be part of my herd. More or less.”
Chatter wound its way through the group as they tried to parse what I’d said into what they thought I meant.
“There are no secrets: you owe me nothing but loyalty,” I said. “And if you’d like to do something else, go somewhere else, I will not hold you back. I only offer my home to you for Fiends’ Night. Ater that, you can do what you want.”
There was a moment of silence. But I knew I’d won them over, at least enough to get them out of the corral and through my portcullis.
I walked up to said corral and tore it open, tossing the heavy wood beams over my shoulder.
“Through the gate quickly, if you don’t mind,” I said with a smile.
None of them obliged. Once again, they all seemed to be waiting for someone else to make the first move.
I glanced over at Bear.
She shrugged.
I looked over the group, doing a quick count and trying to gauge who was who in the mini-herd. Just judging on first appearances, the culled group was made up, mostly, of larger centaurs. More like draft horse types, less like the sleek Arabian types who were more common in the camp. Given that these were bigger centaurs, I couldn’t easily see over them, so I had to climb up on the wobbling corral I had just smashed to find what I was looking for: the biggest centaur in the group.
Somewhere on the farther side was a monster of a horse-man combo sporting a rather hideous amount of muscle and scars. He was one of the few in the group who wasn’t dancing around nervously. He stood still, massive arms crossed over his colossal chest, observing the world around him with what seemed to range from disgust to concern.
“That’s who we need to talk to,” I said, pointing to the centaur with a nod of my nose.
“Looks real friendly,” Bear said.
“Hey! He might be friendly.”
“’Might’ is doing an awful lot of work in that sentence.”
I frowned at her, tempted to give her a gentle shove off my shoulder and into the snow.
