Chapter 21
A smile came over Starrelocke's face, a smile of peace and comfort; yet the invocation had failed to heal her wounds. "I do thank thee, dear Miagaff," she said, "that thou wouldst take me pain in me final hour." She choked on something. Slowly she turned to her husband. Starrelocke whispered something to him, Mia heard not what. Starrelocke smiled weakly as he said something to her in return. He then laid her head soft upon his shoulder. Nodding gravely, he held her close as she took her final breath.
"NO!!! NO!!! SAAAAAAAA!" Mia screamed. She shook Dielielle violently. Finnegaff took her by the shoulders. She dropped her staff and fell crying into the wizard's arms. The old wizard gently touched Mia on the forehead. “Fanas nah eme morotia.” (Give this one acceptance.) The warm, now familiar wave of Saa swept within her, and with it came a vision. It was one of feelings, one of understandings. It was not a vision as she might have expected a vision to be. Not one of picture or voice: a comprehension of what must be, of destiny, of the sacrifice of the few for the many. Her crying ceased; peace overtook her emotions. Though her grief remained, the remorse, the self-liability that had earlier struck her heavy with guilt now left her with a sense of necessity. The vision had enlightened her that there are times when things must happen in order that bigger things might come to pass. "...Though passing of events even bear teeth, lest their ancestry be strong." She wasn’t certain she had the proverb exactly right. She pulled from Finnegaff's hold, patted him on the arm with a look of thanks and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her tunic. She went to look at Starrelocke's body, yet she could not. Yet she felt she needed to. Still, she could not. Yet she knew, for some reason, that she should. She walked off in the direction of the livery without looking back, her inner battle ended, her head bowed, Finnegaff's arm about her shoulder. Romessee, Carameth and Belemeriath followed. Then they heard, as did all those gathered about the Prince, that about which for centuries to come minstrels would sing ballads; that which historians to this day mark as a major turning point in Centaurian histories; and that of what scholars would forever refer to as “The Avenge of Fasthoof.”
Prince Fasthoof spoke in a clear, loud, deep voice. "This sacrifice shall not go unwant! I shall avenge thine death, Starrelocke! I SHALL AVENGE THEE!" And then, loud and unashamed, he wept. Mia felt like covering her ears. She did not, for in the stead of her anguish came a bitterness, a despise for the dark sorceress, who she knew to be the orchestrate of these events. She stopped in her tracks, stared straight ahead and soaked in the bitterness, the anger, the repulsion. The others waited patiently for her.
Prince Fasthoof wept.
Mia allowed the hatred to penetrate to the depths of her emotion, for know she did that this terrible hate would someday aid her in a time of need. And at that moment she became a different person.
Torches lit the compound as the rapid Morran dusk turned to black. The sheet-covered corpses of fallen Centaurs were placed in a row near the gate, which was now being repaired by a host of Centaurian carpenters. The building directly across from the gate had a log in front of it, two feet in diameter, perhaps forty feet long, with ten foot chains tied to the log to which four darkhounds were collared. Several Centaurian officers were questioning them. The darkhounds were terrified. One of them yelped as does a scared dog, then frantically attempted to scale the building behind the log. He would have succeeded had the chain around his neck not jerked him to a halt, sending him falling onto his back onto the log. He did this several times that Mia saw.
They went into the livery where they found Strongwind cleaning his sword in grim silence. Finnegaff insisted they take a bit of food. They did eat, but very little. In a stall in the back of the livery, Mia, Romessee and Carameth fashioned beds of straw under their bedrolls. They knew they must depart at first light and thus made attempts at sleep, but the attempts were futile.
The bitterness in Mia held fast.
Dawn came crawling over the sorrowing fortress of Blackmane's Point, shedding light on the horrifying scenes of battle. The Centaurs bade bleak good-byes to Mia’s Stand. They crossed the bridge over a moat dotted with floating bodies onto the cadaver-strewn outer reaches of the fortress, all on horseback with the exception of Mia, who rode upon Strongwind. They skirted the fifty-foot wide scorched, blackened straight path that led from the gate to the forest, the witness mark left by the Shadowrought. Dead darkhounds were everywhere. The stench was nearly unbearable. The Centaurs had built huge litters, two manhorses towing each one as others piled the skids high with darkhound bodies. They dragged the litters a mile down wind, where the burning of a growing pile of corpses had begun. The small party was silent as they passed through the battlefield, unable to avert their eyes from the gruesome spectacle of the war-ravaged area. With the warming sun to their left, they departed southward from the somber fortress, and it was not until some time after that any of them spoke.
Mia rode beside Finnegaff. "What was that thing?" she asked.
"That was a shadowrought. It's from another world, like are you."
"It wasn't from my world," she said.
"No, no," Finnegaff verified. "Not a world any of us know. The dark sorceress trans located it."
"Is it a demon or something?" Mia guessed.
"Demon?" Finnegaff looked to the sky. "Demon. No, I don't think so, since I'm unfamiliar with the word. It's an animal that lives in another world. Only three have ever been trans located. I've seen two. None were rid of so quickly. Had we not combined our Saa, the results would have been much, much worse."
Mia wanted to ask about Saa, about what happened when Starrelocke had been mortally wounded, but decided she did not want to approach the subject of the dear fallen Centaur just yet. "Why did it kill the darkhounds, too?" she inquired. "Aren't they on the same side?"
"Well, yes and no,” he stroked his beard. "The shadowrought have little in the way of a brain. They do little more than eat."
"I've not seen such in all me day, honored Carrier," Strongwind joined the conversation. "This black cloud of death that do set all afire with black flame."
"It's been nearly a thousand years since one was last seen," Finnegaff qualified.
"That were before I be known," Strongwind said.
"Yes. Well, during the reign of the dark sorceress, and prior to the Centaurian/ Mantid war, one Shadowrought wreaked havoc for nearly a week. It was the Wizard's Council that ultimately got rid of it. Before that, it was during the second Carrying of the Book of Life, when Karengaff was Carrier. The first known summons was during the reign of Gaff, during the Old Elven War. Gaff had failed with the Shadowrought, being unable to control the indiscriminate monster, and it's said that he himself invoked its leave. But that's not for certain, because few who kept company with him lived. And before that, nobody knows.
"The age of Morrah remains unknown. I, being on the order of 3,235 years of age am not the oldest alive today; I know Sylphs exceeding twelve millenniums in years. They recall the old Elven magic, the creation of the Book of Life, times of harvest and times of famine. They've come to understand one consistency: disasters are gonna happen."
"So you are to say,” paraphrased the Centaur, "disaster always has been, and always will be."
Finnegaff nodded. "Hmmm. Yes. Well. Even then, during the age of the old elves, havoc did occur. There were differences of opinion. That leads to war. At least on one level or another. Saa and Essaa agree on that philosophy, yet one encounters obstacle while the other looks for benefit. The dark sorceress will see the battle of Blackmane's Point as a victory, even though she was defeated. She didn't get what she was after. We also look at this battle as a victory. That is her nature, and this is ours, and it’s been that way for a long, long time."
"What's she like?" Mia inquired.
“That,” Finnegaff remarked, “is not a good question.”
“Okay,” Mia sighed. "I mean, what kind of things does she do that are so evil?"
Finneg
aff gave her a sideway glance. "Now that," he smiled and bobbed his head, "is a good question! She is, my dear, a persecutor of persecutors. She demands utter slavery from all she can, and all under her power do her bidding. If they don't, she'll destroy first their families and then them. She despises all things living that don't benefit her. She's known to kill with Essaa unprovoked, even her most faithful followers." He paused and shook his head. "Even total subservience is no escape from her wrath."
"If she's that way," Mia responded, "what's stopping her from taking over all of Morrah?"
When Finnegaff halted his horse, Strongwind stopped with him. Mia looked into the unspeakable depths of the wise old wizard's deep blue eyes. "That," he said in a low tone, "was not a good question!" He smiled at her.
Mia's eyes went wide as reality found its mark. "WE are!"
"Yes!" Finnegaff spurred his horse to a walk. "As for your first question, which was not a good one: She's tall, about as tall as Aaramerielle and structured similarly. She has long black hair and considers the black and purple robe she wears her signature to office, and will in fact wear nothing else. Maraska pon Durk is her hideous black staff. Gaff gave it to her. It's made from the undying wood from Korr, the Land where Time Stops. And that," he removed his hat and wiped sweat from his brow with his left sleeve, "is where Gaff resides."
"Why is it called the Land where Time Stops?" Mia asked.
"It's more of a place," Carameth joined in. He reigned his horse abreast Strongwind. "Than a land. It's where many evil souls are trapped. Very few can enter or leave it."
"Yes," Finnegaff agreed. "And Gaff is one of them. Should he or the dark sorceress gain control of the Book of Life, the balance of the magic between Saa and Essaa would shift and tilt, much like an overloaded barrow. The result would enable Gaff's escape." This much Mia knew.
Strongwind shook a fist in the air. "And this we want not!"
"No. We don't." Finnegaff continued. "Yes, well. Her home is Rock Island. That'd be across the upper end of the Straits of Many Dreams. Her castle's cut right in to the cliffs of the northernmost mountain. She's clouded the place from horizon to horizon because the sight of the sun repulses her. Or so she says."
"How well do you know her?" Mia asked.
"I've been off and on with her for many, many years," he sighed and turned his eyes to the sky and said not another word.
Mia looked up as well, but for different reasons than those of her mentor. Again, as she frequently did, Mia felt that feeling, a pulling feeling, kind of, as if someone or something was watching over Mia and her stand from the very heaven above. But a good feeling it was, secure, maybe even spiritual. She could even tell from what direction it came, and looked in that direction, but saw nothing. She thought about Finnegaff's answer to her question about the dark sorceress, about how vague it was, how incomplete and disappointing. How wizard-ish.
For three days they rode. Mia came along well with Strongwind, who proved kind and proper and exceedingly generous with the knowledge of his country, of which he was just as exceedingly proud. Finnegaff took the opportunity to recount histories with the Centaur, and sometimes asked questions concerning subjects which Mia knew nothing about. The four-day journey to the capital City of Centauria, Grand Centauria, was enlightening to Mia's Stand. Finnegaff's accounts of histories were, as said many times by himself, "factual, true and right" accounts, that many books had been written, and that said accounts within said books often contained conflicting facts, depending on who the author allied with at the time of the writing. But he does attest to this day that his historical accounts are the “factual, true and right” ones. And to this very day, Mia agrees.
It was nearly midday when Belemeriath reported the upcoming city. He spoke in his best little fairy announcer voice. “Grand Centauria, the grand capitol of Centauria! Home of the grand King Rockheart the fourth!"
And grand indeed was Grand Centauria! Spread over a mile along the shore of a lake so big that one could not see the far bank, Grand Centauria was an empire in itself. Few buildings were multilevel, a design not well suited for Centaurs, yet despite this, the stone and log structures were beautiful in a rustic way, built by generations of master craftsmen. The straight, broad, packed dirt streets added to this rustic atmosphere, and Mia thought it the kind of place where Davy Crockett or Daniel Boone just might come riding in from around the next corner.
The Grand Centaurians would glance in surprise at the sight of Mia riding Strongwind, so Mia soon opted to walk, nothing personal, she told the Centaur. Finnegaff agreed, in that it would be in their best interest to not draw too much attention to themselves. Soon they came upon the castle of the king, Strongheart IV, and his fair queen, Mare Motherlove VIII. The centrally located castle was huge, built with a red stone base and log cabin style walls of immense logs three feet of more in diameter and hundreds of feet long. The south wall, covered with pale green ivy, reached heights of more than forty-five feet in some places. The big, round spires reached even higher. Windows were plentiful, as were the flags that flew at the top of nearly every part of the castle, forming a colorful border against the clear blue sky beyond. The grounds were equally as immense, hedged and adorned with marble statues of Centaur, man, and beast. A carpet of fine-bladed, well-kept grass formed a soft, deep green background to the whole theme, which gave Mia a feeling of serenity and welcome. Centaurs were about, some pruning here, another hauling a barrow there, performing those tasks required to maintain such an elite courtyard. Mia thought it the most majestic real estate she'd ever seen. She then looked at Carameth. He smiled at her. He did that a lot, and it often had extraordinary effects on Mia. This time she changed her mind: Abaradell, the capitol city of Elfwood and home to Carameth, was much cooler than Grand Centauria could ever hope to be.
From the opened double doors of the palace came four Centaurians. The lances and swords they carried and the fine plumed helmets they wore left little doubt as to exactly who they were. Indeed it was the king's own guard, the best of the best. They approached the group of travelers and halted when they met up with them.
"Greetings to Mia's Stand! Be welcome to the kingdom of good King Rockheart the fourth and Queen Motherlove the eighth!" It was the foremost Centaur who did formal announcement. "Great Day, Lord Finnegaff!" Mia noted that the name Mia's Stand had preceded them.
"Great day, good manhorse Horseracer! You look fit, as usual!" Finnegaff bowed in his saddle.
"And you be as youthful as ever, my Lord Finnegaff. Which be the honored Carrier of the Book of Life?"
Finnegaff extended his arm in Mia's direction. "This be Miagaff, Carrier of the Book of Life and friend to the Centaur!"
The four Centaurs drew their swords in Centaur fashion and held them before themselves at chest level. "My sword be thine, honored Carrier!" Horseracer said.
"And be mine!" chided the second Centaurian Guard.
"And mine as well!" The third.
"As me sword be thine!" The fourth.
"The good king be requesting audience with all of thine Stand, honored Miagaff." She wondered why he was asking her instead of Finnegaff, particularly since everyone was being so rigidly ceremonial about this greeting. "He awaits news that be from the battle of Blackmane's Point."
"Yes," she replied. "We were there."
"'Tis ill fate that I be not there!" snapped the second guard. He slammed his sword into the scabbard strapped to his side. The steel made a sound that gave Mia goose bumps, kind of like dragging fingernails across a chalkboard.
"Nor I!" said the first. He, too, drove his sword to its sheath.
"Curse the dark sorceress, I shall have my opportune!" growled the fourth Centaur. They began to murmur among themselves, bitterness abounding.
"Attention!" ordered Horseracer with his authoritative, militaristic voice. Immediately the three guards snapped to attention. Horseracer gave them a stern reprimand. "We be of assign to his Majesty. Our duty be here! Stray thine honor not, countrym
en!" The three guards saluted in unison, hand to chest. Not another word was said, at least not in the company of Mia's Stand.
"Might we care for your weary companions?" the second soldier asked as he stroked the jowl of Romessee's horse, Sheelee.
“Thanks, Horseracer,” Finnegaff said as he dismounted and handed the reins to the manhorse, who lay the reins on the horses neck. Romessee and Carameth also dismounted and lay the reigns about their horse's necks as did the Centaurs. Centaurs had no need to lead horses. They applied their hands but for a moment to the foreheads of the animal, one Centaur on each, to communicate to the animals in the manner of their race, for, as everyone knows, Centaurs know how to talk to horses. The horses then walked off in the direction of the stables under no escort from even a single manhorse. Mia assumed that was where they were destined, since the Centaurians behaved as if the reaction from the horses was the correct one.
"Let's get on with it, shall we?" Finnegaff urged. "I'm a little anxious to visit with King Rockheart."
"Aye, he be anxious as well, as are we all!" Horseracer turned militarily as only Centaurs can, crossing his feet, pivoting about the centerline of his body, and led them to the palace doors. Into the grand entryway they went, with its pale brown sandstone floor, into the fine, extravagant architecture of the Centaurian race. Some six spans immediately across from the door was an elegant staircase that fanned out thirty feet wide with twenty steps a foot high, each step three feet deep. It led to a glorious balcony that overlooked the huge entryway. As the Royal Guard led them into an adjoining room, Mia realized a new point of view on just what great and grand could mean to some Centaurs. They were, after all, much larger than a man. They therefore required more maneuvering room, so naturally, their architecture would demand larger spaces. But this room was huge! Skylights were even built into the ceiling over forty feet from the ground and were plenty. Trees, some bearing fruit of various sorts, grew in places where the floor was left to bare dirt and were surrounded by broad paths of cobblestone. Mia recognized one hedgerow to be motherberry, strong in fruit, the branches artfully trimmed. In this lower altitude and equatorial climate, it never snowed or for that matter frosted; thus the open skylights did grace the courtyard with sun and life giving rain to create an ideal indoor garden. Statues similar to those outside were scattered about the grounds; tables for gatherings were located next to kitchens, Centaurian kitchens. This grand room was centrally located in the palace, and many doors along every wall led to other rooms and corridors within.
The gathering at a near table hosted a rather conspicuous selection of occupants. Four Centaurs stood at the five-foot high table (as Centaurs rarely sat). One was poised over a huge book laid open upon the table before him, pen in hand with inkwell beside. The second stood slightly behind to the side of the third, who was clothed in a light blue silken shirt, finely tailored to compliment his features, which were more pronounced than any Centaur Mia had met so far. This, Mia thought, must be King Strongheart. The fourth, a mare, stood to the King's left. She played with a large parrot-like bird perched on a crossbar that had been built into the table. Mia regarded her as beautiful; the mare’s laughter at her feathered pet was almost music. She gamed with her bird, treats of nuts and large seed being the instrument of entertainment. This, Mia guessed, must be Motherlove.
Strongwind dropped to his knees before his King. "Your majesty, my sword be thine!" His upper man portion bowed, his right fist to his heart.
The king spoke in a casual tone. "Arise, loyal Centaur! What be ye called, manhorse?"
"I be Strongwind of Blackmane's Point, blacksmith and loyal soldier to the crown!" He stood as he dropped his salute.
Motherlove lost her smile. She pulled a lock of her long, auburn hair from the playful parrot’s nibbling beak. She faced Strongwind and spoke in a clear whisper. "Blackmane's Point!"
King Strongheart laid a hand gently on his wife’s. She squeezed . The King’s voice was quiet, solemn. "Finnegaff! It is a delight, as usual, to thine company, yea I wish it be by other circumstance!"
"Your Majesties, good King Rockheart! Fair Queen Motherlove! I, too, would want for better tiding such that I bear!" Mia noted a continuing formality.
"Yes," began King Rockheart. He released Motherlove’s hand with a pat and introduced his court. "This be me scribe and good friend Streamrunner, and this be Thundermane, me first in command." He motioned to two Centaurs, the first one smaller than most, with a studious appearance. The other rivaled even Strongwind in size, who was himself big for a Centaur. He appeared as one would expect a general to appear: hard faced, muscular, disciplined in stance, and even a scar across his chest from a battle of many days past.
"This is Miagaff, Carrier of the Book of Life; Romessee of the Mumbwe; Carameth the elf and Belemeriath the lesser fairy...."
"Oh, yes, we do know Belemeriath!" the queen interjected. "Great day, dear friend fairy!"
Belemeriath hovered in front of her and swept his hat grandly with a flourishing bow. "Great day, fair Queen Motherlove! Good King Strongheart!" He did, in fact, bow twice.
“And Carameth! How be your mother and father, good Prince?”
“Great day, your majesties. They fare well. I have some messages from them we might discuss later.”
Motherlove’s deep green eyes showed concern, perhaps even a great deal of stress. “Is all well in Elfwood? I do fear yet more ill tidings!”
“Yes, queen. All is well. Their messages are casual.”
The queen sighed in relief.
King Rockheart extended an arm to Mia. "Ah! The Carrier! Honored Miagaff, my sword be thine!" Mia grasped his massive forearm. Her grip circled it less than a third of the way.
"As is mine!" echoed each and every one of the remaining Centaurs, including the four of the king's guard.
"No doubt you wanna hear about the battle of Blackmane's Point," Finnegaff stated, dropping the formal talk. The scribe began to write.
"Please, Lord Finnegaff!" The King looked stern and set both hands on the table, palms down. "Tell all!"
Finnegaff recounted the battle: the losses of both sides, the shadowrought, the fall of the king and queen's daughter-in-law. Upon the mention of Starrelocke's name there flowed the tears of Motherlove, for the two had been very close. So close were they that Motherlove had felt her fall through Saa, through Nahaya, yet at the time, was unable to distinguish the Nahaya of Starrelocke from that of the Nahaya of Fasthoof. So strong was it that for two days she in fact believed it to be Fasthoof that had fallen, which was the time that it took for the fastest of Centaurs to carry the truth of what had transpired to the throne. When she received the word that Starrelocke, not Fasthoof, had fallen, her grief only greatened. She had, indeed, grieved twofold.
Mia noted that Finnegaff's account of the battle was very accurate, that he neither exaggerated nor omitted any facts. At that moment, questionable accounts of incidents that he had given her in the past now became solid. She hoped that she recounted happenings with such accuracy.
"This is an act of war," the Centaurian king said.
"Yes, your Majesty. We thought so, too," Finnegaff said. "I gotta ask, though: do you really think that's wise? I understand your grief. You know that. But a lot of lives on both sides are lost in wars."
"I do hear your word, friend Finnegaff, and do take your council to heart, as it be proven by the ages to be sound council." The king spoke calmly. "It be not solely the fall of our beloved Starrelocke that enacts this conflict." He peered at the scribe's writing, though too far away to actually read what he'd written. "The dark sorceress' evils raid Centaurian village and farm, for they do make food of our very flesh."
"They make food of any flesh, even each other's," Carameth said.
"Aye, fair elf, that they do. That they do. The havoc they wreak be terror to those along our border to the north. It be worse these last months."
"Starrelocke was the last straw," Finnegaff concluded.
"Aye. It
were to happen no matter, be it nay 'till midsummer.” King Strongheart yelled in a deep, strong voice and slammed his fist onto the stone table so hard that he nearly capsized a wine decanter. “BUT IT SHALL HAPPEN NOW!" Mia caught the decanter before it spilled. All were silent for a few moments as the king regrouped his thoughts.
"Honored Carrier," the king said. "Do the Book of Life be safe and secure?"
Mia reached for the rope around her neck, pulled the Book of Life from its place of concealment and held it up for all to see. "Right here!" She spoke confidently, though she knew not from where the confidence came. This regal air, the power of this great king, did have a way of making one nervous. She smiled and tried to intermix casual with authoritative at the same time, though she felt neither.
A gasp came over the assembled. "Behold, the Book of Life!" the queen whispered. "Might it be touched?"
Mia turned to Finnegaff, who smiled and extended an arm toward the queen, palm up. Mia removed the Book of Life from around her neck. She handed it to Motherlove, a tear yet glistening on the mare's cheek. The Centaur took the book from her.
Motherlove held the book with both hands. She stroked the soft leather of the front cover and opened it. Wide-eyed and stricken with awe, she fanned through the blank pages, then handed it to Strongheart. Each Centaur took their turn holding the Book of Life. All observed with great intensity. Upon making a round, they returned the Book of Life to Mia, who placed it in the satchel, then around her neck. She felt strangely relieved once the Book was returned to her.
"I do now prepare me troops for battle," proclaimed the king. "Do tell of me allies," he spoke to Finnegaff, "for of this I must know."
Finnegaff discussed the state of affairs of other countries, the results of issues set forth to the Wizard's Council, the enemy and resources available to both sides. The meeting took some time. Upon the conclusion, all were shown to suitable quarters. Finnegaff stayed with some of the king's own guard; he claimed requirement to show honor to tradition for "the meeting of Centaur and Man”. King Rockheart took private audience with Strongwind, and to this day it remains unknown what was discussed between the two in the wee hours following the eve Centauria declared war on the dark, poisoned country of Slagg.
They were off before sunrise. Finnegaff took a breakfast of motherberry while the others ate fruits and vegetables prepared for them by the all-vegetarian Centaurian royal cooks. Soon after sunrise, not three leagues from Grand Centauria did they encounter a Centaurian war camp. Thousands upon thousands of centaurs, manhorse along side mare, many dressed in chain mail or at least leather armor, trained for the battles that lay before them. Many conducted drills with shield and spear, shot arrows at targets, or jousted with dummies. Others performed what Mia later called horse karate, properly termed 'hoof dancing', an art of fighting with a staff while delivering kicks with any of their four feet.
The party would have passed the camp in less than an hour, but Finnegaff stopped to speak with an officer, one who Mia recognized as General Thundermane. By midday they were beyond sight or sound of the Centaurian war camp.
Mid morning of the second day brought a scouting report from the ever-faithful Belemeriath. "We're being followed!" He smiled at his wizard friend.
"And that's funny?" Finnegaff shook his head, something he did frequently when dealing with Belemeriath. "So?" He leaned forward on his horse. "Who's following us? Darkhounds?"
Belemeriath slowly shook his head, eyes wide. "Oh, no! Not darkhounds! Centaurian soldiers! Lots of them!"
"That must be the escort General Thundermane sent for us." Finnegaff said. "Belemeriath, go to the leader of this group and let them know that I told Thundermane that we can't be escorted." In a twinkle, the pinpoint of light that was Belemeriath sped back across the plain.
He returned in less than five minutes. "The Captain, back there," he pointed with his tiny finger, "the ones who are following us."
"Yes, I know the ones you mean," verified the wizard.
"Those ones! The Captain sent a message. But he wasn't too happy." Belemeriath shook his head. "But it's kinda hard to tell with Centaurian soldiers. They're always so serious! I had a Centaurian soldier tell me once that...."
"Belemeriath!" Finnegaff interrupted him. "Just tell us what the Captain said!"
"Oh! The Captain! He said," Belemeriath landed atop Grinnolle, Finnegaff's horse, right between his ears. He sat, tucked his legs in kneeling position, puffed out his chest and lowered his eyebrows. He mocked the deep voice of the Centaurian Captain. "'You tell Finnegaff that we have direct orders from General Thundermane to ignore anything he says!'"
Finnegaff was noticeably startled by that response. His eyebrows raised as he set his chin on his chest. Mia started to laugh, partly for Belemeriath's little performance, partly for Finnegaff's response to hearing the rejection from the captain.
"That do sound like Thundermane!" Strongwind said, who had known Thundermane all of his life. "He be that way even as he were a wee colt!"
"Go tell this Captain to follow in some fashion of stealth." Finnegaff sat up in his saddle. "We still don't need attention drawn to us, and a detachment like that would certainly do so."
"Yes, oooooh great and mighty wizard!" Belemeriath, still on his knees, was bowing, arms stretched out in front of him, bowing until his palms met horse. He stayed bowed, hiding his face. His little body shook. Finnegaff could hear him laughing. Belemeriath would not look up.
"Great and mighty wizard?!" Finnegaff pursed his eyebrows. "Where did you get that?"
Belemeriath popped into flight, hovering amongst the laughing group. "Mia taught me that!"
"Mia taught you that?" He turned to the red-faced Mia, who laughed so hard she was having trouble breathing. "Must you encourage him?" He sneered. Mia nodded her head, unable to respond otherwise. He looked back in Belemeriath's direction, but the little imp had already flown off.
For the next five days the company of Centaurian soldiers kept their distance. They followed through trees whenever possible, at the very least honoring that part of Finnegaff's request. The Plains of Rhammahadra had flattened to a landscape of hardly any hills. They would pass Centaurian farms, acre upon acre of wheat and barley and corn growing close to farmhouses. A few times they had to swim rivers or circumvent a swamp teeming with insects.
The destination of Mia's Stand was Rass, the capitol city of North Mantadia, home to the Mantids, intelligent insects the size of a human. Therein ruled an infamous, pompous, and racist dictator: the great Queen Xyledes.