[An Epic Fantasy 01.0] Skip

by Perrin Briar

  “I say I eat your heart!” the centaur said.

  She rose up onto her back legs, raised her front hooves high into the air, and brought them down on the bars of the cage. There was a loud resounding CLONG. Jera fell back onto the damp straw. The female centaur chuckled, and then trotted away.

  “I think we can take that as a categorical ‘No’,” Elian said.

  Jera lifted her hand and found it caked in excrement. She wiped her hand on some straw.

  “Will you at least stop trying to talk to them?” Elian said. “You’re drawing attention to us.”

  “If I don’t, they’ll forget we’re here.”

  “We should be so lucky.”

  “Give me your shirt,” Jera said.

  “What?”

  “Your shirt. I need to clean my hands.”

  “With my shirt? Use your own shirt.”

  Jera glared up at Elian.

  “You, sir, are no gentleman,” she said.

  “No, I’m not. But at least I have a clean shirt.”

  Jera wiped her hand on a bamboo cane, and then wiped whatever remained off on her skirt.

  “Do you know, we offered them our technology?” Jera said. “So they could develop and improve their lives? But they refused us! Imagine choosing to live this way.”

  Elian shrugged.

  “I suppose they decided they would be happier this way,” he said.

  “Without culture or refinement?”

  “Culture in your eyes, not theirs. There’s culture everywhere if you just look.”

  “How can you be so calm about all this?” Jera said. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, trapped in a cage and probably going to be served as an entrée in a few hours.”

  “You, maybe,” Elian said. “I’ve got my heart set on being dessert.”

  Jera leaned her back against a bamboo cane.

  “We’d have been better off being caught by Richard,” she said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Elian said. “My head would be on a stick somewhere by now, decorating a reinforced wall. Thank you very much, but I think I prefer my odds here.”

  “What odds? We’re dead meat!”

  “Nice description.”

  “My father will come rescue me,” Jera said. “You watch. In fact, I bet this isn’t even real. I bet my father arranged all this. He wants to teach me a lesson. That’s what’s going on here.”

  “You’re being irrational.”

  “You wait and see.”

  “And what about when we were in the clocktower and there was that flash of light? What was that?”

  “Setting fire to magnesium has been said to cause similar effects.”

  “Sure. Then how about how we ended up out here in the middle of nowhere? How do you explain that?”

  “We must have gotten knocked unconscious and someone brought us here.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone.”

  There was a pause.

  “What’s your explanation, then?” Jera said.

  “You don’t want to hear my explanation,” Elian said.

  “I do.”

  “You’re just going to dismiss it immediately.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Yes, necessarily. All right. Well, I think it’s got something to do with that clock we were in. And those times when time skipped. I think time just skipped a bit more than usual this time.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know, but my body feels weak and tired. I’m covered in dirt and grime and my clothes have more holes than fabric. I’d guess it’s been quite a while.”

  There was a pause.

  “I like my idea better,” Jera said.

  “So do I,” Elian said. “But that doesn’t make my theory any more or less true.”

  Tears sprouted in Jera’s eyes. She buried her face in her hands.

  “We’re going to die in here, aren’t we?” she said. “There’s still so many places I wanted to see. So many things I wanted to do. And now I won’t get to do any of them. How about you, Elian? What is it you wanted to do?”

  There was no answer.

  “Elian?”

  She turned around. The wind blew across the open space, and whistled through a split in a bamboo cane. It took her a moment to realise there was something missing. Jera got to her feet.

  “Elian?” she said. “Are you there?”

  A shadow outside the cage moved, catching Jera’s eye.

  “Elian!” Jera said. “How in God’s name did you get out there? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Let me out of here.”

  “Yeah…” Elian said. “About that… I would, but they’re expecting at least one of us to be in here, so…”

  Jera gripped the bamboo canes with both hands.

  “Let me out!” she said, pressing her face to the gap in the canes, as if attempting to squeeze herself through. “Please!”

  Elian turned away.

  “What are you doing?” Jera said. “You’ve got to let me out of here!”

  “I’ll be less conspicuous on my own.”

  “You can’t leave me here!”

  Elian began to walk away.

  “Fine,” Jera said. “Then I’ll scream and alert everyone.”

  Elian faltered, missing a step.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  Jera took a deep breath. Elian raised his hands.

  “All right, all right,” he said. “Just wait a second.”

  Elian took hold of a bamboo cane and pulled on it.

  “You’ll never break them,” Jera said. “Just do whatever you did to get out.”

  “That’s what I’m doing,” he said.

  He pushed on the bamboo cane and then twisted it.

  “It’s the rain,” Elian said, face turning red with the effort. “It makes the bamboo swell and shrink. After a while the shape becomes distorted and…”

  Ponk!

  The bamboo cane came loose from its moorings. Jera climbed through the hole. Elian replaced the bamboo cane, and when he turned, he found Jera walking down the muddy street, chin held high, her dress held up above her ankles. Elian ran after her and grabbed her by the arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he said.

  “I’m going to go to talk to the chief. Once I explain to him who I am-”

  “He’ll be even more likely to roast you. Don’t you get it? There’s no negotiating with centaurs. They’re single-minded.”

  There was the soft clip-clopping sound of horse hooves in mud behind them.

  “In here, quick,” Elian said.

  “But the chief-” Jera said.

  Elian grabbed her arm and pulled her into a mud hut.

  “Get your hands off me!” Jera said.

  Elian held her close and pressed his hand over her mouth. She muffled around it and tried to pull away, but he exerted his considerable strength over her.

  A pair of centaurs walked past, conversing in a tongue Jera couldn’t make out. Once they were gone, Elian removed his hand. Jera pushed him away and wiped at her face with her dirty sleeve.

  “Don’t you ever do that again!” she said. “Who knows where your hands have been!”

  “I can tell you: in all the same places as yours.”

  The hut was dry and dark. It was a centaur’s home and consisted of a single room. There was fresh straw on the floor and a table on one side with used bowls, plates and cups. There were heavy musty blankets of buffaroo hides hanging across the walls.

  “So, what do you suggest we do?” Jera said.

  “I don’t know,” Elian said. “But we need some way to sneak past them without them knowing.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Jera said. “I always carry a centaur costume for such occasions.”

  “Costume?” Elian said.

  A smile spread across his face.

  “It was a joke, in case you weren’t sure,” Jera said.

  “You might not look it,” Elian said
, “but you’re a genius.”

  Jera folded her arms and shrugged.

  “I’ve been telling people that for years,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The centaurs emerged from their mud huts covered head to hoof with decorations. A group of young foals, similarly decorated, neighed and whickered as they ran down the hill. Their hooves churned up the mud, turning it into a thick brown sludge. There was an excited air of expectation.

  Once all the other centaurs were gone from view, the flaps of one hut rustled, and then peeled open. Elian, his face covered with colourful patterns, peeked his head out and then looked left and right.

  “The coast’s clear,” he said.

  He took a step forward, emerging into the brisk evening air. The sun still held sway, though the moon was beginning to exert its presence. On each of Elian’s feet was half a hollowed-out coconut shell. His legs and chest were bare and plastered with lint and glue. He wore a buffaroo pelt pair of trousers. From the back of his neck down to the small of his back was a long thin line of fur. As he stepped farther out into the street, a pair of hind legs followed him. It too was covered in buffaroo hide. A stub of bristle brush fibres had been stuck to the back as a tail.

  “This is going to fool no one,” Jera said, her voice muffled by the buffaroo hide.

  “It’s getting dark,” Elian said. “They won’t be able to see clearly.”

  “Yes, but they’re not blind.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Elian took a step forward, but the back legs didn’t move.

  “I said we have to go,” Elian said.

  This time Jera stepped forward, and Elian felt a bump like someone had walked into him. Elian looked back at his centaur body.

  “Will you be careful?” he said.

  “It’s not my fault,” Jera said. “I can’t see.”

  “Put your hands on my hips and feel when I walk.”

  “Why do I have to be the rear end? It’s hot in here.”

  “Because you refused to take your top off. Now, be quiet and concentrate. We need to get this right, or we’ll be on a stick faster than you can say roasted human. Follow me.”

  Elian took a step forward, and Jera followed suit. He stepped forward again, and she followed. Next, Elian took a step back and Jera stepped forward, and bumped into him.

  “Careful!” Elian said. “I’m not always going to be walking forwards!”

  “What do you suggest I do?” Jera said. “Get a crystal ball?”

  “Put your hands lower – around my thighs.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Grow up! If you hadn’t noticed, our lives are on the line here.”

  “So is my reputation.”

  “I doubt we’ll bump into many of your high-class friends here. Just do it and follow me.”

  Jera moved her hands down, bracing Elian’s upper thighs. She felt his muscles tense before he made each step. Their combined movements were much smoother.

  “Good,” Elian said. “Let’s head downhill toward the village centre.”

  “Why are we going there?”

  “Because we need to exit via the north end. If we can get to that forest we’ll be fine.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because centaurs only ever have one entry and one exit to any of their camps. And the kid you were ineffectually talking to earlier was wearing ceremonial beads in his mane and war paint on his face. It’s traditional ceremonial wear.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I lived with a herd once. A peaceful one. It’s a long story. I also know that their vision is weakest in twilight. If we’re careful, they’ll never spot us.”

  They walked downhill through the sludge. On either side of the road were squat tents that got larger the closer they got to the village centre. A hypnotic rhythm became audible, and then shadows danced, caused by the flicker of light from around a blind corner. They rounded the corner, and Elian came to a stop.

  “Why are we stopping?” Jera said. “Hello?”

  Jera pulled the buffaroo hide aside and peered through the gap. Her breath caught in her throat. Adult centaurs drank from short hollowed-out bamboo canes. The centaurs stood in a circle around a raging fire. They bent their front legs, bowing to one another, and began a dance. They trotted to the side in a series of slow movements. A group of centaurs played instruments: a drum, a flute and a fiddle. Young centaurs jumped and kicked, tossing their heads, their long hair flicking back in a frantic frenzied show of strength in time to music that was haunting and mysterious.

  The man on a long pole hung over the fire, the apple still in his mouth. A young centaur turned a crank, causing the pole to turn. The man pulled away from the flames in an attempt to avoid the heat.

  “I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Jera said.

  A male centaur turned and accidentally spilled his drink over Elian. He held up his hands in apology. Elian bent down and bowed, showing no emotion on his face. The centaur bowed in return, and went back to drinking.

  The centaur chief, sat at the front of the celebrations, rose. The music and dancers stopped immediately. The chief held up his bamboo goblet, toasting to all those present. He said something in the native centaur tongue. The crowd roared in response, raising their own bamboo goblets.

  The crowd roared as Elian and Jera walked away, the sounds dissipating. Their feet were sucked by the mud. They both breathed heavily but neither slowed as they got to the gate, lit by a single flaming torch.

  The gates were simply made, designed more for spot checks than defence. The centaur on duty raised his torch to Elian’s face, and squinted. He was an ugly gorilla of a creature with a thick solid chest, wide squashed nose and heavy creases on his forehead. Elian said nothing, and maintained his passive expression. The guard waved Elian through. Elian didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until he passed through the gates and emerged on the other side.

  The field seemed a massive expanse after the crowded village. They made their way across it toward the forest. The sounds of the celebration were muffled whispers from here, but the crickets chirruped and owls hooted. They tossed aside their disguise and took off into the forest and the darkness beyond.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Elian splashed his face and body with water from the stream that trickled over rocks and stones from some unseen origin. It was cold and refreshing. He scrubbed what felt like a year’s worth of grime from his body. Then he cupped some of the water in his hands and drank it. Jera stood to one side staring out at the woods.

  “Aren’t you going to have a wash?” Elian said.

  “I’ll have a bath later,” Jera said, eyes fixed on the forest.

  “Where? There’s no bath here.”

  A twig snapped in the woods, and Jera spun around to face it, her breath coming in short gasps.

  “Relax,” Elian said. “It’s not them.”

  “How can you know?” Jera said.

  “Look at the area. There are tree roots everywhere. The centaurs would not risk coming in here just for us. They could easily break their legs.”

  The muscles in Jera’s shoulders unwound a little. Elian looked around at their surroundings. They were in the depths of the forest. Moonlight picked out the edges, corners and crevices. A squirrel on the other side of the stream stood on its hind legs watching them. It sniffed the air and then darted up a tree and disappeared into the high boughs.

  “I think we’re safe now,” Elian said. “We’d best make camp. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. You get some firewood. I’ll get us something to eat.”

  Elian moved to a clutch of brushes lined up to one side. He pushed the foliage apart, inspecting the berries he found there. He plucked a large doc leaf from beside the stream and started picking the berries, inspecting them before adding them to the pile.

  Jera deposited the firewood in the middle of the clearing. Elian sat
down and rubbed the firewood together, breathing gently onto it to coax a spark. It caught, and the flames began to flicker and ignite. They sat down beside it and ate their berries.

  “Doesn’t seem real, does it?” Elian said.

  “What doesn’t?”

  “What happened to us today.”

  Jera shook her head.

  “No,” she said.

  Jera’s eyes were ringed with grey bags, and her movements were slow and drawn out.

  “Get some sleep,” Elian said. “It’s been a long day. And tomorrow will be just as long.”

  “What happened to us?” Jera said. “One minute we were in the clocktower and the next minute... Poof!”

  “I have some theories,” Elian said.

  “Share them, please. I’m all ears.”

  “My first theory, you’re not going to like.”

  “Try me.”

  “The first is we’re star cross’d lovers and for us to touch or even be in the same place causes the universe to shiver.”

  Jera rolled her eyes.

  “Right,” she said. “Next.”

  “Or, what the crazy old man told me actually made a little sense.”

  “What crazy old man?”

  “The one in the clocktower with the long beard, no teeth and peg leg.”

  “Oh, you mean Grandfather Time.”

  “Grandfather Time?”

  Elian smiled.

  “Cruel,” he said, “but apt. He came up to me and started going on about time. About how we are all linked, how it’s all mystical and magical.”

  Elian rolled his eyes.

  “I thought he was a crackpot,” he said. “I mean, who else goes on about stuff like that? And he’s got no teeth, so it’s hard to understand quite what he’s saying. But he said something about the clocktower, and time, and the universe.”

  “Everyone in Time thought he was crazy,” Jera said. “But with what’s going on maybe he’s the only sane one out there.”

  There was a pause as they listened to the sounds of the forest all around them. A bird flapped its wings and beat against a tree branch. Something chittered from a high vantage point.

  “You can use the buffaroo skin as a blanket, if you want,” Elian said.

  “Thank you,” Jera said, snuggling up underneath it. “And I thought you weren’t a gentleman.”