“Artigal. Farloon.” Her bright red eyes were wide. She bowed her head reverently. “It would be my honor, Yelar, to serve you and your people.”
Holding open the necklace just in front of her, Artigal took a deep breath and whispered a spell as he placed the pendent around her neck.
Just like it had on Trojan when he became Synoliki, Artigal’s words became magic and twined into small swirls on the right side of her neck and jaw. At first, the markings were a bright red, but as he finished the spell, they faded until they were just barely visible; the white stone that was inlaid in the pendant had changed to red and still shone brightly.
Artigal bowed to her, and she did the same.
Walking back to her family, she watched, without any embarrass-ment, as all three of the Centaurs knelt before her.
They rose, their faces shining happily and decorated with broad smiles and their eyes glistening with tears of joy.
Stephania embraced her family. Tears streamed down their cheeks. Last whispers of “I love you” and “goodbye” lingered on their lips for what might be the last time.
The clop of hooves captured their attention and they watched as a man rode into the quiet clearing.
The rider dismounted, tied his dark brown horse to a tree, and threw back the hood on the brown cloak he was wearing.
His face, though it had a youthful appearance, looked worn and tired. His light brown eyes sparkled deviously. Only a few gray hairs peeked out from his tousled dark brown hair. A shady stubble decorated his strong jawline. He was the perfect image of an ageless man. Though he didn’t look a day over forty, his eyes betrayed a soul much, much older.
After letting his dark gaze sweep silently over the Centaurs and linger on Stephania, who stared back at him with as little expression as he showed to her, the man strode over to them with long, sure strides.
Holding his forearm out to Artigal, the man spoke out in a ringing tenor voice.
“May the suns smile upon your presence, Artigal.”
The white Centaur gripped the man’s arm back with equal strength.
“As do the stars sing upon yours, Dalton.” He quickly turned around and motioned to the other Ventronovians for introductions.
“I’d like you to meet Aeron, High Chief of Trans-Falls.” Artigal paused as Dalton and Aeron gripped each other’s forearms and exchanged warm courtesies.
“Frawnden, Aeron’s mate and second High Medic of Trans-Falls.”
The dragon-less rider bowed to the buckskin Centaur and kissed the back of her hand.
“Trojan, their son and newly appointed Synoliki warrior.”
The man then ruffled the young boy’s hair, and Trojan smiled broadly.
“And of course, Stephania, daughter of Lord Drox and Lady Andromeda Lavoisier, rightful heir to the Duvarharian throne, and Farloon of the Centaurs.”
Dalton turned to the little girl, who was now standing reclusively beside Artigal and gripping one of his white forelegs.
Her eyes bright and wide, Stephania stepped forward and nodded her head. “May the suns smile upon your presence, Dalton.”
The Duvarharian bowed his head to her. “As do the stars sing upon yours, blessed child.”
He stooped down on his knees in front of her and held her little hands in his.
“I am so honored, Stephania, to finally meet you. You look so much like your mother, and you have your father’s stern eyes. Oh! And such lovely little dimples when you smile!” He laughed, praising her, and she giggled, revealing a small dimple in each blushing cheek.
Dalton loved children and had always had a way with them. Aeron and Frawnden, though brokenhearted to give up their child, felt a measure of ease when they saw how gentle, kind, and familiar Dalton was.
Standing back up, Dalton turned his attention back to Artigal, his face grave once more.
“I already have made up stories so the humans don’t ask too many questions and have prepared a place for her to stay.” Dalton spoke quietly so only the adults could hear. “I have been waiting for her for a long time, ever since I heard that Drox and Andromeda had—” His jaw suddenly clenched, and tears lined his eyes.
Artigal knowingly placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, and Dalton stood taller, determination in his sad eyes.
“She is the child of my only friends. I will guard her with more than my life and will raise her as if she were my own child. It is the least I can do for Duvarharia and Drox and Andromeda.” His voice, though it held a hidden pain, didn’t waver once, and Artigal felt sure that the Duvarharian would be true to his word.
“Good. However, there is one more thing we need to do.” Artigal’s voice was dark, and a mournful glint dulled his soft, multicolored eyes.
Dalton looked at him questioningly. Artigal merely motioned for the adults to follow as he walked toward the waterfall, his steps unusually slow and hesitant.
As her parents walked away, Stephania could hear Frawnden plead, “Artigal. What if we stayed here? Trojan, Aeron, and I?”
Aeron stepped forward and gripped his mate’s arm. Stephania thought he might try to say something against the idea, but he nodded fervently, his eyes sparkling as he too pleaded. “Stephania could visit us, she wouldn’t feel so alone and scared and—”
Artigal’s shoulders sagged. “Actually, Frawnden, there is something else I fear we must do—” His eyes traveled to Stephania, and they locked gazes.
She thought he would be angry that she was listening, but he merely sighed and motioned for the adults to follow him farther away.
Stephania turned her attention back to Trojan. His bottom lip was wobbling, his eyes red. It was quite unbecoming, she thought, of a Synoliki warrior and all of his eight years, but she swallowed, jealous of his tears. She wished she too could cry, could mourn the loss of her family. But she couldn’t. As she clung to Trojan and felt his tears splash on her neck, her eyes remained dry. Something about this was all too familiar, as if this was what family was all about. You love them, and then they leave you.
Frawnden’s wailing and Aeron’s angry shouts drew their attention to the adults. Frawnden stumbled away from Artigal, who was trying to calm her down. Aeron moved between his mate and leader.
“I will not let you do this!” Aeron’s fury echoed off the rocks around the waterfall. “Should we make ourselves monsters to fight monsters? Do you feel nothing?”
Artigal flinched, seeming so small in front of the furious High Chief. He muttered something, and Aeron took a menacing step forward.
Dalton quickly moved between the Centaurs, his voice low. Stephania couldn’t hear what he was saying. After a few minutes, Aeron stepped down, covering his face in his hands. Frawnden cried out, shaking her head as if she were trying to wake from a bad dream.
The adults moved slowly back to the children. Stephania eyed Artigal with suspicion. Aeron’s face was stoic, a mask to hide the desolation she saw in his eyes. Frawnden only bit her lip and gasped through her tears. Dalton and Artigal’s faces were emotionless as stone, but she sensed something amiss behind the cold stares—hearts in pain.
A lump rose in her throat. His grief was something she recognized. Whatever they had planned, she knew she had to trust them—her Centaur parents, brother, Dalton, her Duvarharian parents, and Artigal.
Artigal drew the little girl near to him. “Stephania, I—”
Before he knew what was happening, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheeks.
“I’m going to miss you, Artigal,” she whispered into his ear and gripped him tightly; her eyes squeezed shut, only letting a few tears leak out.
Memories flashed before him—the brown-haired girl hugging him—his adopted child.
“Don’t leave me, Dase!” She clung to him, tears streaming down her face, her eyes red and puffy.
His heart raced. The other Centaurs were getting closer. Any second now, he and his daughter would be dead. He had to get her away again. He had to save her somehow.
<
br /> “I have to, yulu fe. I have to.” Tears poured down his own youthful face. He loved her. He had raised her, but he had to give her back. ‘Help me, Emperor. Help me show them your power to overcome everything’.
“No! Not again!” Her scream echoed in the forest. Her arms tightened around his neck. He could feel her hot tears on his shoulder. “Please don’t leave me again, Dase!”
He tried to pry her from him. They could run no longer; no place was left in Ventronovia where they could be safe. He thought of the spell that would teleport her to the Duvarharian city and back to her lawful guardians. But he couldn’t—she would only escape again. And, if she came back here, he knew the Igentis wouldn’t let either of them live.
He heard their shouts, their cries for blood, as they followed the young girl’s crying.
Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. His stomach turned with the thought. He bit back bile. It was horrible, wretched, and he hated himself for thinking of it. There would be no turning back, but there was no other way.
The words for the spell formed on his lips and rushed out on the wind of his voice before he could change his mind.
Tears streamed down his face. He felt her go limp in his arms as she entered a deep sleep.
Time had run out for them. None was left to explain what he had done, or to tell her how much he loved her, or to tell her how much he would miss her although she wouldn’t miss him …
Suddenly, Artigal couldn’t hold back his fear and pain anymore. He crushed Stephania in his fatherly embrace, tears shamelessly pouring down his face.
Her face portrayed shock only for a moment. She hugged him harder, threading her fingers through his soft mane. Finally, finally, the tears fell from her eyes.
“I’m going to miss you too, Stephania.” He shut his eyes tightly. His thoughts and emotions flowed wildly as he held this small child whom he had helped to raise. All those days spent with him, with Jargon, with her family, all of it would just fade away because of him. Everything they had worked so hard for—all those days spent training, studying, discussing, laughing, hurting—it had all been a waste. In the end, it had amounted to nothing. Gods of all, could he do this again?
His confidence wavered. Horrible memories flashed in front of his mind. He had to. He had to do it again if he wanted to protect this child.
He felt her small, fragile body against him, and he felt the overwhelming urge to hide her from the world and never let anything near her, but he knew from experience that that never worked. He had to let her live her life, and to do that, he had to take something away. He knew there was no other way, so why did it hurt so much?
Letting the foreign tears trickle down his face, he gently pulled Stephania away from him, his heart lurching at the sight of her tear-stained face and her scared, pleading eyes.
Now he had the time—the time he needed to do it right, the time to say what he wanted.
He placed his forehead on hers in the traditional Centaur show of affection. “Me yuwuk fezh, Stephania.” He whispered it so quietly she did a double take to make sure she had heard him properly.
His tears blinding him, a radiant though sad smile spread across his face, and he nodded slowly.
She threw her arms around him again, her warm tears falling down his shoulder. “Rilarseźdachek, Artigal.”
A small smile lifted his lips again, and he pulled away, his hands on her shoulders, her shining eyes staring into his. He could feel the wondering and shocked gazes of the Centaurs behind him, but right now, at least, he didn’t care that they had seen his vulnerability.
He could only bear Stephania’s gaze for a moment before he had to look away, his eyes growing dark.
“Stephania, there is something we have to do, and—” Artigal broke off, unable to tell her, unable to share his darkest action with her, unable to break the heart of the one person he had come to love the most.
She gazed at him expectantly. Yes, she would trust him.
“I just need you to know that there’s one more thing we have to do, but you’ll be even more safe this way.” He bit his lip against his self-hate. He couldn’t turn back. Not now. He forced himself to look into her red eyes.
Though she appeared confused, she nodded. “Of course, Artigal. Whatever we need to do.”
Trojan had been slowly making his way closer to Stephania. He was almost beside Artigal, his face crinkled in apprehension. “No.” Trojan’s normally confident voice wavered. “Wait. What are you doing?” He looked up into Artigal’s face with horror.
Artigal turned from him, focusing all of his attention on Stephania. He forced down his emotions, swallowing against the lump that rose in his throat. “I’ll give it back to you some day. I promise.” Before he could change his mind, he began to clearly speak out the spell.
Stephania’s head began to hurt tremendously, and everything around her blurred.
Trojan raced over to her and embraced her, a cold sweat on his forehead. His eyes burned toward Artigal with pure hatred.
The pain was absolutely horrendous, and she groaned, clutching her head.
Artigal almost stumbled over the words, almost stopped. Hesitation filled him as he gazed into Trojan’s eyes, and horror began to consume him when his mind reached out to Stephania. He could feel her slipping away. He could feel her bond, magic, and memories disappearing into the darkness. He resisted the urge to cry out in her pain and end his own life. He was destined to be the leader everyone needed but never the father, brother, or friend. He felt the ice grow over his heart once more. He would do what needed to be done. He would finish this.
§
The world flashed violently around Stephania. Her memories repeated themselves over and over before fading. She could barely hear Trojan’s words or feel his tears on her cheek.
“I love you, Stephania! I will always be waiting here for you! Please don’t forget me!”
“Of course, Tro. I won’t … forget.” Then everything went silent around her.
Gazing around, she frowned in confusion as Trojan’s mouth continued to move but she didn’t hear the words. He shook her shoulders, begging her for something. She watched as Artigal raised his head to the sky and groaned in desperation. His magic exploded in a ring of fire around him, and he fell to his knees, the fire extinguishing, his head in his hands. Frawnden screamed, resisting all comfort; Aeron’s face was ashen with horror and regret. Dalton was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. The dragon man tried to move Trojan away from her. The young Centaur kicked and screamed against him, and Dalton stepped away.
Slowly, more than just the sound faded. Soon, the familiarity washed away and nothing but strangers in a strange place surrounded her.
Her eyes locked with an almost familiar, emotionless moon-white face. The creature said nothing nor moved to comfort her before simply turning away from her.
Then everything went dark, and of the first five years of her life, she remembered nothing.
Part- Two
New-Fars
Chapter 13
Dalton’s Swordsman Arena
New-Fars, Human Domain
Year: Rumi 6,112 Q.RJ.M.
The clash of metal on metal rang through the brisk autumn air and echoed across the fertile valley.
A small village, which appeared as a collection of assorted dots that represented the many houses, barns, and buildings was nestled in the wide valley between the two mother mountains, Leguows Mountain and Yufloy Mountain.
This almost forgotten haven was the village of New-Fars.
It was peaceful. Farm animals grazed in the lush pastures. Small children played in the distance. Some men worked in the fields. Young women gossiped and sang softly while they washed clothes in the bubbling Rose River. The occasional clanking of a hammer on a sword or shovel rang out in the blacksmith shops.
The sun beat down on the two swordsmen and warmed them, despite the cold breeze that blew from the small, surrounding mountains. Falling from the t
rees, red, yellow, and orange leaves swirled around the opponents as the man and girl masterfully sparred with their shining swords.
The male swordfighter was tall, had mid-length, dark brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a short, scratchy beard. Though he was muscular, his body showed many years of hard work and toil.
The other swordfighter was an unlikely fighter with a strikingly attractive figure. She was a young woman of seventeen years, boasting a strong but petite, curvy figure, a cold personality, and bright flaming red hair. Her eyes were narrowed with concentration, her lips pursed with annoyance.
She was very much unlike the man she was fighting; his eyes sparkled with amusement and tenderness, and his lips casually tugged into a smile.
“Lift up your arms, girl! It's a dance. Poise!” The man gently poked her in the ribs with the tip of his sword before quickly whacking her thigh with the flat of his blade.
Sweat poured down her face, and a fierce snarl twisted her otherwise gentle face. She renewed her efforts and landed a sharp rap on his shoulder.
“That’s it, that’s it. Now you’re getting it!” The instructor licked the sweat off his lips and squinted into the sun. “Come on.” He feinted a thrust at her side, wheeled around, and brought the flat of his blade crashing into her stomach, completely winding her. “Oh, that must have hurt.”
She coughed and wheezed as she tried to regain her posture, struggling to not fall to her knees. By the gods, when we will be finished? They had been sparring since the ninth shadow on the sundial of this morning, and now it was almost noon. Her head throbbed, her muscles burned, and her eyes stung, blinded by the suns and her sweat.
“Stephania, Stephania.” Her mentor shook his head, resting for the moment. “You can't look at the person's appendages; you must consider their eyes. I could have easily killed you. You have to look into your opponent, not at them. Try to become one with them. Feel what they feel, know what they know, see what they see. Become one with them, and you can conquer them.”
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