"I'm guessing you'll want to know my name," said the centaur I rode. I nodded, even though she probably couldn't see me.
"I'm Farissa," she explained. "My brother, the palomino centaur with your elf friend on it, is Marshall. And the centaur with your avian friend on it, that is Conan."
"I'm Sam," I said. "That's Jared, Helen, Fallie."
"I have not seen an avian for a long time," mused Farissa. "How is it that he stands here living?"
"None of us know," I explained. "That's what we would like to find out."
Soon we came to a clearing, where a large group of centaurs circled around a small brush fire, just beginning the day. They had apparently finished a morning meal and one of the more unlucky centaur children were cleaning up.
As we neared, all eyes became strained on us.
One black centaur, with a wavy pointed beard and long wavy black hair stood, pounding his hooves on the ground so that his fetlocks shook and his tail swung from side to side.
"What is this, Farissa? You bring a human with his Guardian, an elf, and an avian? Why must you let them ride on your backs? You will shame our tribe with an unmissable stain. They other tribes will laugh behind our backs."
"Hush, Pillan," said Conan. "The other tribes do not believe to fight against Naga and what is right. If Farissa had not done justice with her spears and given permission to let the visitors ride on our backs, they would be dead and all hope for peace would have gone."
"And why would all hopes for peace gone?" thundered Pillan. "We do not need help from foals! They are mere children. The boy carries that sword like a toy."
My cheeks flamed red in shame. Like a toy. And he calls me a child. I wanted to shout that I was very well thirteen, thank you very much!
Conan shushed him. "You are not thinking right," he said. "After all, maybe he is feinting. It could be part of a disguise. Maybe not. You must always give visitors respect, Pillan. This is why we fight Naga, even now, when she controls everything."
Pillan guffawed. "Ha! Feinting! Disguise! I will not give a colt respect."
"Then you should start now, Pillan. These mere 'children' are fulfilling the prophecy, so I suggest you apologize for such a mistake."
Pillan sniffed. "Fine. I apologize, human. But you still have not told me why they ride your back like abusive masters to dogs!"
This time Marshall spoke in an even, level voice that hid the roiling fury within.
"You bastard, Pillan. Why do you talk so disrespectfully in front of our guests? They were fleeing an army, a powerful army. There was no way we could have let them be killed and lived to bear the shame."
"We have something to tell you," said Helen urgently. "Naga is going to start a war. She wants to root out the rebels and kill whoever opposes her. The army you saw in the forest had destroyed the elven city Lan'lienn just two days ago." A hush went through the camp. Even Pillan held his tongue, but not for long.
"I knew it!" he roared. "I knew we should have pledged our allegiance, before--"
"Silence!" a centaur stood up, dark brown with nearly black hair and a beard that stretched over his chest.
Instantly a revered quietness fell over the centaurs. Then I saw a gold circlet that rested on the centaur's head, hidden under his shaggy locks.
"There is ample reason for having this trio ride upon our fellow centaurs' backs. And they have brought news warning us against attack. Even so, we should treat our guests with respect, especially fulfillers of the prophecy." Slow and shy at first, then slowly growing, an applause spread around. At its climax, centaurs rose and cheered, shouting and stamping their hooves on the ground until clouds of dust rose.
The chief raised a sun-beaten arm, and the applause stilled.
"Enough," he said. "We must show our guests true hospitality! Today, we will feast."
"But, Chief Baldasarre, the goblins could attack."
Baldasarre smiled. "They would not dare. Let them come, and we will show Naga our true colors!" A cheer rose, deafening. I grinned and cheered, shouting as loud as I could, trying to equal any other centaur.
And so the feast began. A troop of centaurs was sent off to hunt, and brought back rabbits, fish, and even a deer. I resolved to limit myself to fish, since eating any other animal made me queasy, especially venison.
I helped gather bales of grass for the fires to cook the meat. Large baskets of berries were brought: I counted at least five different kinds. My mouth watered at glistening strawberries, bursting blackberries, and large, full blueberries. There was grass, too, some of it seasoned and stewed in a soup, but some of the foals, centaurs who looked about my age, hovered over the pot, so I thought about trying it.
I helped place the platters of food on the ground in a wide circle. Finally, we ate: first, Baldasarre, then us, as guests of honor, then the old and sick, then the children, and finally the grown men and woman.
This surprised me. Normally men would be served, then woman and children, but apparently the centaurs thought differently. I loaded my plate(a woven grass bowl) with roasted fish, berries, carrots, and later, a ladle of soup. Unfortunately, the soup tasted like what it would: grass. Trying to be inconspicuously polite, I downed it all. Jared thought the same and choked down even more, since he had ladled at least twice as much as me.
Why don't you like the soup? teased Fallie, slurping up the concoction.
I'm not a horse, I spat back. Let's see you eat a rabbit. All I heard was laughing.