by J. S. Malcom
My dizziness at being flipped through the air like pizza dough starts to clear. I look around to see that I was the last out of the four of us to find herself in this situation. Why, I have no idea. Maybe I just sleep more soundly. Either way, Cade, Esras and Revlen have also been manhandled similarly. Horsehandled? The correct verb escapes me at the moment. They look back at me gravely, from where they sit lashed to their saddles. I open my mouth to speak just as one of the centaurs yells out a command. I have no idea what he says, but evidently our horses do, since they set off at a healthy trot.
There appear to be six centaurs, three riding at the front and three at the rear, leaving us in the middle. Wait, do centaurs ride? Not really, I guess. I mean, the ride is built in. Again, my mind reels at how weird this is. Wait, am I dreaming? I pull against my ropes, making my wrists burn. Nah, dreams don’t chafe. Besides, this is too strange to be a dream.
I look over at Esras. “I assume this can't be good.”
“Probably not,” he says.
At least there's a ‘probably’ in his response. Not much hope to go on, but I'll take what I can get.
I lower my voice to a whisper. “What about your magic?”
Esras wiggles his fingers, from where they're bound to his saddle. Oh, great. His ring is gone. Either the horse-men are very well informed, or naturally suspicious. Either way, shit.
As for my own magic, while I felt it returning last night once we got past the Barrens, now it feels blocked again. I can only guess it has something to do with the centaurs. Guessing my train of thought, Esras nods toward those riding at the front. “In their hair,” he says. “Blocking wards.”
I look to see that each of them wears a glowing green stone woven into his hair. They don't mess around, these centaurs. But what is it with everyone stepping on each other’s magic in this realm? And there I was thinking humans were possessive.
“Where are they taking us?”
“Well, not in the direction of Scintillia,” Esras says. “So that part's good.”
How he can tell out here in the middle of nowhere, I have no idea. Still, I figure he's probably right. This is his realm, after all.
I get jostled and almost say, “I have to pee,” but decide against it. First of all, it will only make things worse. Secondly, it's undignified. And it’s not like there’s anything to do about it, other than call out to the centaurs at the front. Excuse me, Mr. Centaur? I need to pee. Um, no. This sucks.
I look around again, trying not to appear as angry as I feel. “Why didn't anyone mention centaurs?”
Revlen takes this one. “They're not typically an aggressive people.”
Okay, so they're considered people. Good to know. “This seems kind of aggressive. Or is it me?”
“I agree,” Revlen says. “This would seem somewhat aggressive.”
Glad to hear we're on the same page. “So, how to explain it?”
“Well, they can get a little resentful of others crossing through their territory,” Cade says.
“Did we cross through their territory?”
Cade nods. “I think so.”
“Maybe we shouldn't have done that?”
“Maybe not.”
Helpful.
“Even then, they don't usually bother the Unseelie,” Revlen says. “The Seelie, on the other hand, they don't much care for.”
“Understandably,” Esras says. “They hold us accountable for decimating their lands.”
Perfect.
“The question is how they knew,” Revlen says. “We weren't exactly flying the Seelie flag.”
I look over at Esras again. “Do you guys usually ride through centaur territory flying the Seelie flag?”
So far, he’s maintaining his dignity pretty well, all things considered. Now, he looks a little embarrassed. “Not me, personally, but yes. That's the tradition. And usually my people only travel outside the city kingdom in large groups.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “So they can magically kick centaur ass if needed.”
“That would be the idea,” Esras says. “However, in this case it would seem almost as if they were tipped off.”
I look back and forth within our group. “By who?”
“Good question,” Revlen says. “Not my people, if that's what you're thinking. I trust them with my life, and have for years.”
Actually, I was wondering if it could have been her people. I can only hope she’s right.
“I suppose it's possible that they just got lucky,” Cade says.
A few moments of silence follow, and then Revlen says, “That is possible.”
I can tell she doesn't believe that, but right now I'm not sure how much it matters. How we got into this isn't important, it's how to get out of it again. On top of that, I need to pee.
Which doesn’t happen soon. Or at all, as we continue riding for what feels like a lifetime. In truth, it’s probably less than an hour. But tell that to a girl with a full bladder tied to a horse. Meanwhile, the centaurs never once speak to us, while occasionally issuing commands to our horses, who obey. Traitors. Andor and I are going to have a serious talk later.
Finally, we arrive at a stretch of forest beside a river. Unlike Lanisan, this forest is alive. The trees are a little on the spindly side, but their branches display leaves showing fall colors. We ride along a path until we come to a clearing, at the center of which there’s a large stone fire pit. The pit is crossed by a long metal pole, presumably used for cooking. Not exactly comforting, since I have no idea what centaurs eat. All I can do is hope they think of us as people too, because I sure as hell don’t want the word “rotisserie” associated with my death.
To add yet another complication to our current dilemma, the centaur camp is, not surprisingly, home to yet more centaurs. At a glance, I’d say there have to be at least thirty more. What does surprise me is that some of them are women. Why that surprises me, I’m not quite sure. After all, making little centaurs without them would be impossible. I guess it’s just because I’ve never seen them pictured before. Like their male counterparts, they wear no clothes, with just their long hair covering their breasts. As they move about, it becomes evident that they're not too worried about it. If the hair covers the boobs, fine. If the boobs are out there, that's fine too. Also like their male counterparts, the female centaurs are seriously buff. These are definitely not chicks who spend their days chatting at the centaur Starbucks or shopping at the centaur mall. One of them glances at me and snickers, presumably because I’m scrawny. Thanks, lady centaur.
Our captors leave us bound, parked as a group, while they gather with their camp buddies. They talk amongst themselves, again in a language I don't understand. I glance over at Cade, who seems to know what I'm thinking.
“So, yeah, the language thing,” he says. “That only seems to apply to the other dimension's equivalent of ourselves.”
The implication being human equals fae in Faerie. Centaurs are of Faerie, but they're neither human nor fae, strictly speaking.
“Gotcha,” I say. I look back and forth within our group again. “Anyone know what they're saying? Other than our horses, I mean.”
I'm only half-joking, since I swear our horses take in every word. They stand with their ears swiveled toward the centaurs. Not that I blame them. There is something decidedly horsey about the centaur language, which is full of snorting, nickering and neighing. Kind of cool, but also seriously weird. Sort of like being around a group of teenage girls.
“I understand them,” Esras says. “I'm sure Revlen does as well.”
Revlen nods, but keeps listening to the centaurs.
Seriously? When were they going to tell me they speak Centaur? Then again, the centaurs barely spoke while we were riding. The feeling I get is that they're not the most talkative crowd.
Finally, the centaur conversation trails off. They look back at us, some of them appearing very annoyed. Two of them, in particular. Yes, one of them is the same centaur woman who
snickered at me before. Awesome.
Revlen speaks under her breath. “They sent word about our capture to the clan elder. He's riding this way and should be here by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Look at the bright side,” Cade says. “At least they intend to keep us alive that long.”
Thank you, Mr. Brightside. I'm all about optimism but, as optimism goes, that's pretty lame.
“True,” Revlen says. “They also said we stink.”
My mouth drops open. “They seriously said that?”
She shrugs. “When was the last time you showered? I know it’s been two days for me. On top of that, centaurs have very keen senses.” She nods in their direction again. “Two of them have been ordered to take us to bathe.”
I look around, desperately hoping I missed seeing the locker room. I really need to pee. “Bathe where?”
“Presumably, the river,” Revlen says. “Here they come now.”
Two of the centaurs start heading our way. One is male, the other female. They really are built, both of them, bulging with muscle top to bottom. They wear leather belts slung around their waists, holding sheathed hunting knives. They also both wear crossbows strapped to their backs, presumably in case we try to escape. Although, come to think of it, outrunning a centaur doesn’t seem likely. No wonder she was snickering. I only have two tiny little legs.
The two centaurs stop, facing us with stern expressions. The male actually has a handsome face, with a square jaw, dark brown eyes and even features. The female isn’t exactly ugly either, at least as far as horse-women go. She has long sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. The guy actually speaks to us, which is a first for this experience.
“My name is Ozenor,” he says. He gestures toward his female counterpart. “This is Majenic. We will take you to empty your bladders and bowels. Then you may bathe. If you run, we will kill you.”
Okay, a bit blunt, but clearly stated. I can't claim I don't get the rules. It also seems a reasonable deal, all things considered. I finally get to pee somewhere and, if I move slowly enough, I should come out of it alive. I wonder if I should ask about toilet paper.
The centaurs come over, both of them withdrawing their knives to cut our ropes. Majenic takes care of me and Revlen, while Ozenor cuts Cade and Esras loose. I hope this is going where I think it's going, since right now I wouldn't mind splitting up according to gender. It's not like I have body issues, but I draw the line at peeing in the woods for an audience.
“You may get down,” Majenic says.
She watches intently as we do, with a frown upon her face. The feeling I get is that she finds the idea of us separating from our horses kind of repulsive. Okay, sure. I can get where she’s coming from, but I really don’t care. Two legs, four legs, we’re all good. Just point me in the direction of the freaking latrine.
*
Thankfully, we do split up, with Majenic in charge of me and Revlen. She trots behind us as we take a path through the woods. She allows us a little privacy while we take care of business, although she never does offer toilet paper. I'm not sure how horse-women go about things, but I don't ask. Majenic seems only so approachable. I'm also pretty sure I don't want to know.
When we get to the river, on the other hand, privacy is out of the question. Majenic stays right with us as she guides us along the river bank. Finally, she stops and jerks her head toward the water. “Strip and wash,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. She says nothing more as she stares and waits.
I had considered making a go of it fully dressed, but clearly that's not an option. So, I turn away from Revlen and peel off my clothes. I try leaving my bra and panties on, but I make it all of two steps when Majenic gruffly repeats her order. “Strip and wash!”
Okay, okay! Talk about bossy. I guess I'll be adding this one to my Bizarre Experiences Hall of Fame, which is already getting pretty crowded. The time that giant horse-chick ordered me to get naked. Which I do now, making the mistake of sneaking a peek at Revlen just before we submerge ourselves in the water. Geez. Her body is amazing, toned with muscle, and perfectly proportioned from the flare of her hips to the swell of her breasts. Next to her, pale, skinny and soft, I must look like a wet Chihuahua. This experience is doing nothing for my self-confidence.
But I can't deny that the water feels wonderful, with just the right amount of coolness to give me a jolt and make my body tingle, but warm enough that I quickly adjust. I dunk myself again, scrubbing my hands through my hair, rinsing away two days’ worth of sweat, dirt and ash. Despite the extremely weird circumstances, bathing naked in a flowing, fresh river feels like heaven.
Suddenly, I catch movement in my peripheral vision. I turn to look downstream just as Cade and Esras wade out into the river. The water covers them from the waist down, as it does us, but I can't quite tear my eyes away from Esras. His arms and shoulders are ropes of muscle, his chest broad and powerful. His tan skin glistens in the sunlight, as water drips down his torso toward his tapered waist. Once again, I feel that hunger rise up inside me, an instinctive yearning that once again takes me off guard. It’s not just that he’s handsome, although there’s no doubt that he is. It feels more like something deep in my core needs to be with him. It’s strange, and seems to make no sense, but it feels almost like I’ve known him before in some distant past.
My body reacts as a warm breeze caresses my breasts. Obviously, this isn't the time or place for these feelings, but I've been caught by surprise. I can't help but feel what I feel. Then I realize that Esras is staring back. And that, of course, I'm uncovered from the waist up. Amazingly, he never once looks at Revlen. He keeps his gaze focused entirely on me. Even from a distance, I can see in his eyes that he feels the same way.
CHAPTER 13
We walk in silence back toward the centaur camp. Speaking is all but pointless, since Majenic remains close behind us. In the quiet woods, with no sounds loud enough to muffle our words, there's no way we won't be heard. And, of course, the only relevant topic for conversation would be escape.
I keep wondering how we're going to manage that. We're no longer bound, at least for the moment, so that part is good. On the other hand, the centaurs have taken our horses and weapons, we possess no magic, and we're greatly outnumbered. Add to that, Ozenor’s words keep playing in my head. If you run, we will kill you. Yep, that part seemed clear, and I’m assuming it applies across the board. All in all, not a great situation.
We get back to see that the camp has changed. Set about twenty yards apart, there are now two large cages. At first, I think they must have been brought from somewhere, but then I realize they’ve been constructed from the trees themselves. Actual living trees, that have been transformed. Their branches are now inverted and pointing down, woven together and interlocking to leave only gaps a few inches wide between them. Between the blocking wards and now this, it seems clear that the centaurs possess significant magic, powers that clearly don’t play by the Seelie rules. If their magic is in any way compromised, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to face them when they’re in full control.
I keep looking for an angle, thinking there must be a way out, but things just keep getting worse. I have no doubt who those cages are meant for, and soon Revlen and I are marched into one, the interlocked branches creating an opening for just long enough to let us through. Esras and Cade are taken to the other. Again, it's a moment when every fiber of my being wants to resist and fight back. I'm sure the others feel the same way, but in this scenario compliance means continued survival, and so far our lives are not in danger. In fact, other than being captured to begin with, we've suffered no abuse. The treatment has been humane, even approaching considerate of our well-being, although one could argue that the centaurs allowed us to bathe for their own benefit. After all, they couldn't stand the smell of us.
Even now, we're brought a meal of sorts, cups of water and wooden bowls containing berries, other fruits I don't recognize, and strips of what at first I thi
nk must be smoked meat. It’s not. Apparently, it’s some sort of sweet, chewy plant. Revlen and I eat sitting across from each other on the ground.
“I haven't had netchkor in a long time,” she says, seeming to savor her portion.
“You've eaten this stuff before?”
“Sure. It's considered a delicacy, although we never quite seem to get it right. The centaurs are naturals when it comes to vegetarian cooking.”
A sense of relief ripples through me, as I think of the giant cooking spits I noticed before. “The centaurs are vegetarians?”
“Most of the time,” Revlen says.
Okay, great. I should have left well enough alone, and I decide not to pursue it further. Maybe I'm better off not knowing.
Now that no centaur is looming within earshot, it seems safe to talk about our plan. “So, what are we going to do?”
Revlen shrugs, a gesture that doesn't seem quite her natural mode. “Get some rest, I guess. I wasn't exactly ready to get up this morning.”
“I meant…” Rather than say it aloud, I gesture with my head to indicate the cage surrounding us.
Revlen finishes chewing one of the berries. “Not sure what we can do other than wait for the clan elder. At which point, we can argue our case.” She eats another berry, and then confirms what I was thinking before. “There's no way we could outrun them, even if we managed to escape. Even with our horses, it would be all but impossible.”
I try the netchkor again. It's actually not bad. It tastes a little like bacon, but mixed with the tastes of maple and honey. “What do you think our odds are?”
“If it was just me and Cade, I'd say not too bad. I'm not sure what they'd make of you, to be honest. Either way, having Esras with us definitely presents a problem.”
There seems no point in again discussing how the centaurs might have known. Obviously, that part remains a mystery. I try again. “So, like, odds?”
