Megan CrauthersPage 21 of 21

“Of Centaurs and Swords”

By Megan Crauthers

Kara toyed with the thin gold band on her right ring finger. Without warning a tear traced its way down her cheek. Whenever she thought about the ring, which had belonged to her deceased mother, she started crying. Kara wiped off the tear. She didn’t want Breon to start fussing over her.

Breon! Kara glanced up at the setting sun, casting its dying golden rays over the tips of the pine trees. “Dang it,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s going to be wondering where I’ve gotten off to and if I’ve become a snack for a werewolf.” She quickened her pace and just as the sun completely set, she reached a clearing in the forest, the sea of trees splitting to admit a small cottage, flanked by a vegetable garden. Smoke was rising from the chimney.

Kara tentatively opened the door and stuck her head through the gap. Her centaur friend, Breon was standing over the fireplace, the leaping flames casting a warm glow over his brown coat.

“Sorry I’m late. I got a bit distracted.”

Breon smiled gently. “It’s alright. The stew’s just about done.”

Kara took her cue and got down two wooden bowls from the red oak shelves while Breon extended a hand, waiting for a bowl.

The corners of Breon’s mouth turned down and he sniffed the air. “You went through burbry bushes, didn’t you?”

“I guess. It was just a bush I brushed past. Flat leaves, unripe berries. Nothing special.”

“That’s a burbry. Only bush to have berries this early in the summer.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t sound too sure of my judgment.”

“Well, it’s just -”

He turned to face her, his pond-scum green eyes staring into the distance. “Just?”

“How can you tell, being ….You know, the big ‘B’?”

“You mean ‘blind’? I was able to see, once upon a time.”

“I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine.”

Kara and Breon sat down to eat the rich venison stew that Breon had prepared. Kara took a bite and then sighed. Breon stopped, his spoon halfway to his lips. “What’s wrong?”

She set her chin in her hand. “I’ve been thinking about Mother and Father again.”

Breon grunted thoughtfully and slipped the spoon into his mouth.

“I remember them telling me that you are my godfather and that I’d be safe with you, and then they shooed me off. It doesn’t make sense. What were they trying to protect me from?”

Breon suddenly began coughing, the movement throwing some of his long black hair into his face. He patted his chest and when he was able to speak again, he said, “You remember the old cottage, don’t you?”

“You mean the one I was a child in?”

Breon nodded.

“It was burned down,” said Kara, squinting at Breon. “ I know that. I have a tin with some of the ashes in it.”

“It was burned because the villagers from Welston were afraid that your mother was a witch.”

Kara’s jaw went slack. “But she wasn’t a witch! She wasn’t even an herbalist!”

“I know. But that didn’t stop them from destroying anyone or anything suspected of witchcraft.”

Kara stared at the far end of the cottage, tears streaming down her face. Breon gently placed one of this big hands over hers. For many long minutes, neither one of them spoke.

Finally, Kara withdrew her hand from under Breon’s, wiped the tears from her face, then stretched and yawned. “Agh. It must be getting late.”

Breon chuckled and sat down in front of the fire, his legs tucked neatly beneath his belly. “Past your bed time, is it?”

Kara shook her head and playfully swatted his flank. “I’m not a child. I don’t have a set bedtime, as you well know.” With that, she yawned, laid her head down upon his back, her coppery hair fanned out across his side, and promptly fell asleep.

“Of course it’s not your bedtime, little Kara,” Breon murmured.

When Kara woke up, her head was no longer resting on Breon’s strong back. It was instead lying on the old braided rug in front of the fire. Above her crouched a strange man with keen black eyes and a wicked looking dagger. He smiled, his long vampire fangs drawn out to their full length. “Ah, you’re awake. Good. Now get up.”

Kara had a feeling that whoever this vampire might be, he had no patience for rebellion or dawdling. She hastily rose to her feet. The vampire stepped behind her, laying his dagger against the back of her neck, his voice quiet and deadly. “Go outside, and remember: I have no time for silly games.”

Kara swallowed and walked out the door and into the clearing. There were six other vampires standing outside, all dressed in a dark green tunic and black trousers, exactly like the vampire who had a knife to her neck. They stood in two rows, separated by Breon. The two front vampires had their swords drawn, the tips crossing and making a “V” close to Breon’s neck.

A red-tailed hawk came out of nowhere and swooped down towards them. Kara tightly closed her eyes, knowing that she couldn’t safely move, yet wanting to be as small as possible and not have the hawk settle on her.

The hawk began to flutter its wings, slowing its decent until with the grace of a true hunter it landed gently on the vampire’s shoulder.

A wicked smile crossed his lips. “This, little one, is Jesse. She goes with me wherever I go. She also makes a good messenger.” Kara frowned, unsure of what that had to do with anything.

His smile widened. “What it means it that when we leave here and you start acting up, I’ll send Jesse back here. And my men,” the vampire said, indicating the troops in front of the cottage, “will kill your friend. Then I’ll have to kill you. Are we clear on that?” Kara nodded vigorously, not wishing to incur the vampire’s wrath.

“I want you to do something for me. See that castle in the distance?” Kara glanced to the south and nodded. “That castle is the home of a werewolf who stole a sword from my master, Lord Evverett. It is my mission to get it back, and you are going to help me with that mission. As I have already told you, if you do not assist me, I will kill your friend. It’s your choice.”

Kara’s eyes leapt from the vampire’s face to Breon’s and back again. With pursed lips she said, “Alright, I’ll help you. But I want your word that you won’t hurt him.”

The vampire laughed. “I don’t believe that you’re in any position to be bargaining. But you do have my word that if you do what I tell you, your friend will be safe and unharmed. Agreed?”

Kara gave a short, curt nod. “Agreed.”

“I want to get moving immediately. Get whatever things you’re going to need, but pack very lightly. No clothes.”

“I understand.” With that, Kara slipped back into the cottage and grabbed a small bundle of lock picks that her career as a locksmith depended on, a bit of food for the road, and an old water skin.

She came back out. “I’m ready. I have everything I need.”

“Good.” He strode into the forest and, when Kara did not immediately follow, turned and stared at her. “Are you coming, or have you changed you mind?”

Kara glared and hurried to his side but said nothing.

They walked for many hours, not stopping for anything until Kara was worn out. She looked forward, trying to see the edge of the old pine forest. She didn’t see the tree root in front of her feet, and tripped, landing in a pile of leaves. She winced but quickly got up, brushed off the leaves, and caught up to the vampire. She was breathing hard and fast but she kept pace with him until he stopped near a small stream.

“This is a good place to stop for the night.” The vampire lowered himself onto a protruding tree root. “So, do you actually have a name?”

Kara looked him straight in the eye. “Yes. Do you? Or would you prefer that I just call you ‘vampire’ for the remainder of this journey.”

“If you want to play it that way. My name is Captain Victor Klashenko, an officer of the army of Lord Evverett.”

“I am Kara Lenerath, daughter of exiles.”

“Daughter of exiles?”

“Yes. My father was cast out from his home village for a crime he did not commit. My mother killed a man in self-defense. She would have been hung, but she chose exile.”

“Hmm. Well Kara, I think you’d better get some sleep. We leave at first light.”

“First light? But I thought vampires couldn’t travel while the sun was up.”

Victor snorted. “We vampires can do a good many things that oppose the things you hear in legends.”

“Like walking in the light of the sun without burning up?”

With a sneer, Victor said, “Yes. Vampires can walk in the sunshine without becoming a pile of ashes. Only the old ones are limited by the myths of the past.”

Kara opened her mouth, but Victor cut her off. “They hold to the old ways, the legends about burning up in the sun, not crossing the threshold a house without an invitation, while the rest of us know that we are able to do most anything, even in the daylight.”

Kara swallowed. “What about drinking blood?”

Victor smiled, his fangs sparkling in the moonlight that filtered through the branches of the pine trees. “Of course we drink blood. Otherwise we would simply be humans.”

Kara shuttered and tried not to look Victor in the eye. She stared up at a tree and saw a hawk watching Victor, the very same hawk that acted as his messenger. Kara had been wondering where the hawk had been.

Finally Victor said, “Enough talk. Go to sleep, then we leave first thing in the morning.”

Kara grunted in understanding, then laid her head down on the ground and slept.

Morning came far too early for Kara’s liking. It seemed only moments before that she had fallen asleep.

“Get up, lazy-bones. I want to get there before the guards change.”

Kara moaned and groaned to herself, but she was up and walking, watching the castle grow larger with each step they took.

Kara bit her lip. “Why me? I mean, you have an army at your command. Why don’t you just send them in to get the sword?”

Victor turned and glared sternly at her. “There’s an enchantment on the room that the sword is kept in. No vampire can enter there, with or without an invitation.”

Kara frowned. “But why me?”

“Because I needed a human to get the sword. I can’t touch it until it’s out of the his home.”

“So I just happened to be a convenient human? That’s your only reason?”

“There is the added benefit of being able to drain you if you try to double cross me. Beyond that, yes. You were in the area and supposedly good with locks, thus making you a good choice.”

Kara swallowed hard, but kept her eyes on the castle ahead. She just wanted to be done.

By noon, they reached the edge of the orchard that was in back of the castle. Victor muttered under his breath. “The guards are just changing shifts. Good. The crack. There it is.” After a while, he turned to Kara and pointed at a black hole in the side of the castle’s foundation. “See that? That’s where we need to go. When I tell you to, run as though your life depends on it.”

Kara nodded in mute understanding and crouched low to the ground, muscles bunched and ready to spring.

“Go!” Victor whispered hoarsely. Kara ran until she was inside the hole in the foundation. She hunkered down and hid in the shadows offered by the large stone pillars within the foundation. Moments later, Victor flew into the hole, just barely stopping soon enough to avoid hitting a pillar. “Now, follow me.”

He led her toward a black ribbon that ran through the floor. Kara stretched her neck to look at the ribbon, but when she saw the reflection of the torches that hung on the walls, she pulled back. It was a channel carrying deep blue water, fully five feet wide. Victor sized up the gap then took a few steps back and made a flying leap. He cleared the channel and landed gracefully on the other side.

“Your turn,” he called back to Kara.

“I can’t. I just can’t!”

Victor glared across the channel. “Just jump! It’s not far.”

Kara backed away from the lip. “No. I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

Memories came flooding back, memories of that deep dark swimming hole and of her childhood companion, Gizell. They had been playing in the swimming hole on a hot day not far from were Kara’s father was chopping wood. Gizell, who had dived underwater, grabbed Kara’s feet. With a playful tug, Kara was submerged in the murky water. She franticly tried to reach the surface or even the bank, but something was holding her foot and would not relinquish its grip. She was afraid that there was a monster at the bottom and that it was pulling her down. Kara screamed, but no sound was heard above the water. The muddied water flowed into her open mouth, causing her to swallow quite a bit. The long pond weeds which had encircled her foot beckoned her, drawing her into their slimy grasp

Gizell swam to the bank, pulled herself out of the water, and sat down, watching Kara as she struggled beneath the surface. Kara flailed around, her limbs kicked up massive amounts of mud, darkening the water. Gizell laughed and shouted, “Okay, you can stop pretending.” But Kara didn’t resurface and bubbles began to form on the water’s surface. “Kara, come on. It’s not funny any more. Kara?” The bubbles disappeared and still Kara didn’t come back up. Gizell looked around, trying to find someway to force Kara to come out of the water but she saw nothing. “Kara!”

Kara’s father jogged over to Gizell’s side. “What’s going on? Where’s Kara?”

Gizell burst into tears and choked out, “We were playing and I tugged on her feet and she went under and hasn’t come back up!”

He didn’t let Gizell finish, but dove into the water and resurfaced moments later holding Kara in his arms. “Come on,” he muttered, laying Kara on the grassy bank. He started pressing her chest, trying to get her to breathe. “Come on, baby girl. Come on.”

“Come on!”

Kara opened her eyes. It wasn’t her father’s strong warm voice, but a harsh, impatient voice. Kara opened her eyes and slowly rose into a crouch. She knew she had to do this, if not for her sake, for Breon’s.

She stood with a grimace and shuffled over to the edge of the channel. Its water was still deep and dark, but now it had a sinister quality to it, taunting her and throwing her fear back in her face. She took a few steps back and, with her eyes tightly shut, ran toward the channel. She pushed off of the lip of the channel and soared over it like a doe leaping over a stream.

She landed on her feet then she lost her balance and fell to the ground with thud, but she shook herself and got up. Kara’s gaze wandered over her shoulder. She’d done it. She’d really done it.

Victor snorted. “Took you long enough. You had better not be this slow all the time. It certainly doesn’t bode well for your friend.” They were at the far end of the old foundation. A stairway led up and then branched out into three separate stairways. He began scanning the stairways. “That one,” he muttered under his breath. “This one is to the wine cellars, that other one is to the cold storage.” He looked over his shoulder. “Go up the stairs and follow the stair on the left. I’ll be right behind you. Mind that you don’t make much noise.”

Kara pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes but she finally nodded and silently walked up the stairs

As Kara reached the top of the steps and found herself in an enormous kitchen. It looked as though it had been built for giants to use. She craned her neck, trying to make sure that there were no people who might see her. There was not a soul around, so she darted into the shadow of a pantry. The walls were made of cold gray stone that contrasted with the warm woods of the numerous cabinets and pantries. There was even an empty fireplace that looked like it could have roasted whole bull on a spit.

Victor also stuck his head out of the door and checked the area for people, but still found none. “Now,” he growled, “we have to find the room with the sword. Be silent as the grave or I’ll put you into an early one.” Victor turned and walked down a long hallway that connected to the kitchen. His lips keep moving and at every door along the hall, he nodded once as though he were silently counting. He looked into a room off to the right. “Check in there. I’m fairly certain that’s where it is.”

Kara muttered under her breath, “Only fairly certain?”

Victor turned around and glared at Kara. He pointed at the entrance of the room. Kara decided that it would be in her best interests to move and not use the response that played along the tip of her tongue.

Kara padded into the room and hid next to a enormous bookcase. The room luscious, obviously an undisturbed study for the master of the castle. She suddenly realized that there was a problem: two maids dusting the furniture, giggling and gossiping. Kara suddenly felt her sinuses itching. She buried her nose in her hands, hoping that the itching would stop. The itching erupted in a monstrous sneeze, drawing the attention of the maids.

They peeked around the corner to see what naughty stable boy had been spying on them. Instead of a stable boy they found a slender young woman of twenty in dirty clothes, her faced smudged with dirt.

Victor rounded the corner and snarled in an undertone, “I thought I told you to-”. The maids began shrieking and ran from the room.

With a growl, Victor unsheathed his sword. “Look for that sword. I’ll hold off any guard who might come snooping around here.”

Kara gave a sharp nod and scanned the room. No sword was in sight, but there was a dark door held shut by a heavy box. She pushed the box away from the door, panting from the exertion. Kara reached out a hand and touched the door’s handle. The door slid back on its hinges without a noise, reveling a small room with a chest in the middle, shut with a scuffed padlock. Digging out her small bundle of lock picks, Kara pulled out a thin wire attached to a slender but solid base. She gently fed it into the lock and leaned her ear close to it, listening for the faint click of the wire hitting a gear. When she was satisfied, she got out another tool, a small hook, and began poking around within the lock. It seemed that time had slowed to a snail’s pace when the lock snapped open. Kara grinned. She hadn’t thought that she’d be able to remember how to open up a complex padlock after years without doing it, but it was as her father said: It’s like riding a horse. You never forget how to do it.

She wedged her fingers underneath the chest’s lip when there were shouts in the hallway. It sounded like the guards had found Victor. Kara shook her head and pried open the chest. Inside was a sword wrapped in an old stained piece of leather. It was so magnificent to see. The blade seemed to shine as though it had never been used and the hilt was pale gold, wrapped with burgundy leather. It was light to hold, and responsive to her touch, almost like magic. Yet there was something about it that wasn’t right. Something nameless, yet evil.

A scream of pain and fury split the air, breaking the magical moment. Kara remembered why she was there. She swiftly closed the chest and shut the door. She turned toward the kitchen, but she stopped short. She could feel someone watching her, eyes boring into her back. A primeval fear seized her. She wanted to run but her feet were feet felt rooted to the ground. Ever so slowly her neck and shoulders rotated, forcing her to face the thing that caused so much fear in her. Through the open door that lead into yet another room, she could see a man: tall and lean, dark iron gray hair, and hard steely eyes. His face was entirely void of expression and his looks and manner appeared harmless, but there was an aura of malice and violence that radiated from him.

Victor came charging into the room. “Why are you standing there? Move!”

Kara’s mouth opened, but she could not coax out any sound. Victor looked past her. Cursing, he walked past her and pushed her aside, knocking her to the floor. “Run,” Victor growled. “Run and don’t look back.”

Kara picked herself up and ran down the hall way, toward the stairs. She could hear voices and the distinctive clash that metal makes when it strikes metal. She jumped over the broken, bleeding bodies of the guards that lay on the floor and leaped down the stairs three at a time. Even when she reached the channel, she leaped over it without hesitation. Through the hole and off the grounds she ran, clutching the sword and never stopping, never looking back.

She had been running for what seemed like hours when she began seeing tan shape out of the corner of her eye. She had heard that werewolves could change their shape even when the moon wasn’t full. Don’t let this be the end, she silently pleaded. Don’t let me die like this.

Suddenly a cougar came dashing up to her side as she ran, dodging in and out of the pine trees. Kara glanced at the cat out of the corner of her eye and kept on running. The big cat easily matched her speed. Kara knew she had no chance to out run a cougar, so she pulled herself into a ball, trying to protect her vital organs and throat, pinning the sword under her at the same time. The cat was panting, but it did not bite her. It gently prodded her leg with its nose and when she didn’t respond, it stuck its wet nose onto her ear.

Kara twitched and uncurled, but she fiercely clutched the sword to her chest. The big cat stared at her with laughter in its eyes. It slowly took on the form of a man wearing a tattered white shirt and ripped black trousers. Kara recognized the face of the man standing before her. “Victor? What-? How-? You never told me vampires could turn into cougars!”

Victor smiled. “I just distracted him. It bought you enough time to get out. That was the entire point of it. As for turning into a cougar, all vampires are able to change into an animal form. That’s just what mine happens to be. ”

Kara nodded slowly, digesting the information. She could see Victor staring at her. No, not at her, at the sword. His eyes glinted hungrily as he offered her a hand. She accepted his help, but kept the sword close to her.

Victor glanced away for a moment, but then looked back at her, his eyes no longer hungry and wild. “It would best if we got going.” Kara nodded. It definitely would.

They traveled until dawn the next morning, when they finally reached the clearing. The other vampires from Victor’s troop were no longer standing with their swords at Breon’s throat but sitting around on logs playing cards, leaving Breon teathered to a sturdy pine with a length of rope.

Victor looked around disgustedly. “Atten-tion!”

All of the vampires looked embarrassed, having been found laying down on the job. One of them threw Victor a smart salute. “Sah!”

“We have what we came to get. Time to start moving.”

Within seconds everything was ready and the entire troop stood at attention.

Victor turned to Kara. “I’ll take that sword now.”

Kara squinted, looking deep into Victor’s eyes. Finally she handed over the sword. “There. Now leave. You don’t belong here and you have neither right nor invitation to be here.”

The corner of Victor’s mouth turned up, giving his face a sly smirk. “Of course. We shall leave and you and your centaur may live in peace.” With a low mocking bow he said, “Thank you for your help, my dear lady.”

Kara didn’t reply, but simply glared at Victor. He unbent and ordered his men to start moving. Kara watched as they walked away in stiff military fashion and disappeared between the trees.

When she was sure that they were gone, Kara grabbed a small knife from her belt and began sawing the ropes that bound Breon’s wrists. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Breon shook his head. “No, they only mocked me for a while. They got tired of that rather soon, so they tied me up and started playing cards. The one you left with. He didn’t try anything, did he?”

“No. He may have saved my life, though. The werewolf would have killed me if Victor hadn’t done something.”

“Victor?”

“The vampire.” Kara dug the knife’s blade deep into the tree bark.

“Ouch. Watch out, now.”

Kara looked up. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Just mind what you’re doing with that knife. I’d rather you didn’t cut my wrists.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But something’s bothering you.”

“The werewolf. When I was in the castle, he…”

“He what?”

“He saw me. I think he’ll look for me. And- and he if he found me-”

Breon grunted. “He’ll kill both of us, even if we knew where the vampire was headed.”

The knife severed the last few strands of the rope, freeing Breon’s hands. He gingerly rubbed his wrists. “We’ll need to get moving quickly. Grab anything you need and anything you wish to take with you. But be mindful to keep it light.”

Kara nodded mutely and packed some clothing and a few sentimental items. Her eyes rested on the tin of ashes. She pressed her lips together, deep in thought, then picked up the tin. She went outside and opened. Grabbing a handful, she gently released the ashes and watched as they were carried away on the wind, a memorial to her past.