Trojan held his hand out to her reassuringly. “Maybe you just need to practice a bunch more. I just know you’re going to be great at archery.”
She grasped his hand, and he helped pull her to her feet.
“You’re just saying that to be nice.” Her voice was hollow as she accused him.
“No, I’m not! Maybe you’re just bad so you’ll spend hours practicing, and then talfindo! After all that practice, you’re a professional!”
She gazed at him skeptically but with a glint of hope. “You really think so?”
“Yes, of course!” He sighed with relief that she was willing to try again. “Come on. Let’s go get your arrow. I’ll give you a ride.”
Her face lightening up, she jumped onto his back with a grace and ease that came from being a Dragon Rider.
Galloping as fast as he could to the woods just past Jargon’s yard, Trojan suddenly spotted the arrow sticking straight up in the soft, fertile ground beneath the shade of an enormous oak tree.
“See look! There it is!”
After he came to a stop, Stephania slid off his back and ran over to the miniature arrow before grasping it by its shaft and pulling out of the ground.
A sharp gasp parted her lips as she dropped the arrow.
Trojan instantly sensed something was wrong. He took a few steps toward her before the red-haired babe screamed and ran over to him, hiding behind him.
Her face grew pale as she stood, paralyzed by fear.
“What is it? What is it, Steph?” Trojan panicked in worry and his own fear. He had never seen her afraid of anything.
Closing her eyes tightly, Stephania breathed through her tears, “A snake!”
Trojan’s eyes widened in shock. Stephania had never been afraid of snakes or really any other reptile for that manner. In fact, she seemed to be some sort of a snake or reptile charmer. Even the poisonous snakes, which were often seen around the valley and surrounding mountains, had been as tame in her hands as a snake raised by a Centaur since its very first day out of the egg.
Releasing her grip from his arm, Trojan took a deep breath and made up his mind to protect his sister no matter what, even if it meant death.
Slowly walking over to the spot where Stephania had been frightened, he cautiously began to search the ground until he spotted it.
It was a pitch-black snake that was nearly seven or eight feet long. It had strange, shimmering, red scales that weaved together into demonic symbols and writings. Its eyes were blood-red, a slim, black pupil in the middle. A dark blue, forked tongue slipped in and out of its mouth as it tasted the air. He had never seen anything like it. A darkness hung in the air around the snake and moved to envelope Trojan. He gasped as the air grew dark and cold.
Turning its head toward the young Centaur, the demonic snake slowly slithered closer to the frightened youth, its tongue mockingly flicking in and out of its mouth.
Swallowing, his mouth dry, Trojan carefully reached down to the ground, feeling for a rock, stick, anything that he could use to destroy the demonic beast. But before his fingers could wrap around a large stick that he had felt out, the snake struck at him.
Rearing up, the boy leapt back, dancing around the beast. As he evaded its attacks, he suddenly felt calm; adrenaline poured into his veins.
All around him, the world faded.
Stephania’s sobs were the only other thing he heard besides the hissing and slithering of the snake. His focus singled out the snake. He saw every twitch of the creature’s body and heard every breath it took.
Feeling out the beast’s movements, Trojan reared up once more before he brought his hooves crashing directly on the beast, crushing the triangular shaped head beneath his hoof. This instantly killed it, though its death throes caused it to lash about in the most frightening manner.
The courage within him fleeing, Trojan galloped back to Stephania in a frenzy, his eyes wide with fear and his heart pounding in his chest.
Grasping her hand, Trojan dragged Stephania along beside him until she found the footing to launch herself onto his back and grasp his waist.
Neither spoke a word, each too frightened to say anything.
Trojan galloped past Jargon’s house frantically, the cabin vanishing behind them in a blur.
Trees blended together as they tore their way through the woods, not bothering with the roads, which would only prolong their plight.
Galloping through the trees at a surprising pace, a trait he had inherited from his mother, Trojan held his hand out to the trees and traced the carvings he had painstakingly knifed into the bark. This gave him a path to follow. He had made it in order to travel between Jargon’s house and the city quickly if necessary. It was much more efficient than the confusing, winding roads.
Finally, they broke through the trees and into the skirts of the town. From here, Trojan had no trouble in finding his way through the bustling city.
As the two youngsters raced through the crowds, the Centaurs, who were going about their normal everyday duties, cast inquiring glances at the strange couple they had soon grown used to being among them.
They never saw Stephania and Trojan apart. The duo was always seen together, like the moon and stars, or thunder and lightning.
After not finding his mother in any of the places where she usually used to be, Trojan began to panic.
Stephania instantly picked up on his emotions.
“What’s wrong?” It was easy for her to sense the boy’s worry.
“Nothing.” He attempted to brush her off, but she persisted.
“Tell me. I know it’s something. I can feel it from you.”
He sighed, a small smile nearly making its way onto his face. He couldn’t keep anything from her.
“I can’t find Mother. She isn’t anywhere where she should be or where I thought she would be.” Exasperated, he stopped to catch his breath and think.
Stephania, though still distraught from her frightful experience, slid off her brother’s back, and ignoring his pleas for her to stay with him, ran over to the closest Centaur: a large, burly dun male, who was hammering on a sword that he was making. She quickly tapped him as far up his leg as she could reach and waited patiently, her hands still quivering in her fear of the snake.
Growling in anger at being interrupted from his work, the intimidating Centaur flexed his huge muscles and turned to face the small child, who wasn’t the least bit afraid of him.
Seeing who his caller was, the man’s face softened, and he dropped to one leg and knelt before the child in reverence.
Not at all fazed by the gesture, though Trojan was shocked frozen, Stephania waited until he stood back up before speaking.
“Thank you for your time.” Stephania smiled lightly, her voice soft like honey.
“Of course, m’ lady.” His deep voice was gentle and soothing. “What do you ask of me?”
“I need to find Frawnden, my mother. Do you know where she is?”
“Hmm. What a coincidence. As a matter of fact, I do.” He sub-consciously rubbed the recently changed bandage around his arm. “Come, child. Let me carry you upon my back.” He nodded to Trojan. “Come along, son.”
Picking the little girl up, who was as light as a feather to him, he placed her upon his broad back, and she immediately gripped his mane.
Trojan, though he was entirely shocked at the patience that had sprung from this short-tempered warrior, followed quickly behind. It was rare that a Centaur let anything be placed upon his back that would make him equal to a lowly horse, so it was quite the shock to Trojan, and to most of the Centaurs who watched them, that this warrior would let a child ride upon his back.
Very soon, they came to Gauyuyáwa.
Gingerly lifting Stephania from his back and gently setting her on the ground, the warrior bowed to her once more. “You shall find her inside. May the suns smile upon your presence, Lady Stephania.”
“As do the stars sing upon yours, warrior.” Her politeness cause
d a rare smile to spread on the Centaur’s face before he cantered back to his work.
Stephania smiled nervously at Trojan, and he laughed. “By my mane, Stephania! You had that warrior wrapped around your mane!”
A soft giggle parted her lips, and she blushed before mounting his back.
His hooves clopping against the pounded dirt, they slowly approached the elegantly carved door.
Trojan swallowed nervously. Surely, it hadn’t been this large and intimidating the first time he entered it, had it?
With a shaking fist, Trojan knocked as loudly as he could and then stepped back.
Only seconds after announcing themselves at the door, Trojan and Stephania watched as the door opened and a young male Centaur with a gleaming, dark brown body poked his head out.
Smiling at the two youngsters, the Centaur turned his head and shouted as loud as he could.
“Frawnden! Your son and daughter are here!”
The air was abruptly filled with the roaring sound of hooves thundering through the hollow tree as Frawnden hurried to see her children.
When she had made it down the flights of stairs and outside, she cried out, “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you both okay?” She had specifically instructed them to only come get her if it was an emergency.
Before Trojan could answer, attracted by Frawnden’s sudden, anxious actions, Jargon appeared as well, along with Artigal..
Hastily, Trojan told them how they had gone to get Stephania’s arrow, encountered the strange snake, and then how he had killed it and ran to get his mother.
Breathless at the end, Trojan panted as everyone soaked in the information before Frawnden spoke, her voice calm and filled with relief that neither had been hurt, though she was obviously disturbed by the story.
“Jargon, will you come with me to see this snake? Artigal, please forgive my sudden haste.” She lowered her eyes to the ground out of respect to her leader.
Nodding, Artigal placed a hand on her shoulder. “Of course. In fact, I will come with you.”
Turning to the Centaur who had answered the door, the Igentis addressed him.
“Chartin. Come with us.”
Chartin bowed, always willing to obey the orders of his Igentis.
“Lead the way, Trojan.” Artigal motioned solemnly for Trojan to step ahead of him.
With great pride at leading some of the most noteworthy Centaurs, including the Igentis himself, Trojan started off at a canter, hearing and feeling the rumble of the hooves in the soft dirt behind him.
Ducking into the trees where they had exited not long before, Trojan began explaining what he was doing before questions were asked. “This is the way we came from Jargon’s house; it’s quicker than the road.”
“It’s fine. Keep going.” Artigal was cantering just to the right and behind the young leader.
In silence, the Centaurs hurried on, but not without their own troubled thoughts.
Artigal naturally knew of the dangers of such a beast as Trojan described, especially one that Stephania was afraid of. He had come to trust the little girl’s instincts; they were nearly always right.
He also knew that if the snake truly had such strange, demonic symbols on it, then that would mean that it could be a spy from, or at least a creature of, Thaddeus. If it was attracted to Stephania, then that could only mean that she was beginning to develop a magic trace and could be tracked anywhere she went by friends or enemies.
A dark frown creased Artigal’s face. She was growing up faster than he had expected.
Jargon could only think that if there were more of these snakes, then he would have to collect this specimen’s venom to make an anti-venom. He fumbled for a vial in his bag, wondering if it would be large enough to collect the venom if the snake was really as big as Trojan described.
Frawnden repeatedly kept thinking about how her two children could have been killed and how proud she was that Trojan was able to protect his sister. Silent prayers of thanks to the Emperor parted her lips.
Abruptly, the collection of Centaurs broke out of the trees and onto the road that passed in front of Jargon’s house.
Jargon’s eyebrows flew up in surprise at the accuracy of the path that led to his house. Subconsciously, he was brooding over whether to take that path to the village when he went to work or continue to take the road. He shook the thoughts from his mind; he would think about that later.
“Over here!” Trojan called out and galloped over into the woods where he had slain the threatening beast.
Artigal was the first to arrive on the scene.
Kneeling, the white Centaur stared long and hard at the cold body of the now still reptile before he picked it up.
Chartin stood at the ready, his dagger drawn in case he needed to strike out at the snake.
Trojan had done his job well, and the snake was stiff in death.
Frawnden and Jargon gathered around Artigal, and the leader’s face darkened.
A whispered name left the old Centaur’s lips.
Jargon raised his eyebrows in question, wondering if he had heard the name right, but Artigal didn’t explain.
Artigal decided to tell no one of his thoughts, choosing instead to keep them to himself.
Jargon reached out, the small vial in hand, and placed it under one of the four fangs that protruded from the snake’s large mouth. Drip by drip the venom from the smashed head filled the bottle. Once it was full, he capped it before pulling out another bottle.
He filled the second bottle with the dark red blood that still flowed from the beast’s damaged head. He would use these as samples to study the anatomy of the creature. He knew that Artigal would be studying the magical aspects of the creature.
Chartin sheathed his weapon after seeing that there was no more danger and stood in silence as the three high ranking leaders mused among themselves, periodically praising Trojan.
The little Centaur boy didn’t hear more than a few words; he was already picking up the arrow he and Stephania had originally gone out to find.
With Stephania once more riding upon his back, he trotted over to the target and let her slide off.
“Now, we mustn’t shirk your practices just because of failure and fright.” Puffing his chest out proudly, he picked up her little bow and handed it to her.
“Try again, only this time, before you shoot, if you have to, point the bow down lower. Okay?”
Stephania nodded solemnly and took the bow from his hands. Notching the arrow to the string, she took a deep breath and pulled the string back as far as she could to her cheek.
“Good! Good! Good!” Trojan jumped up and down in excitement.
She pointed it at the target, her aim wavering, her muscles burning with the strain, before releasing the arrow and snapping her eyes shut at the last second.
The arrow streaked through the air and landed with a thud, the tip just barely embedded in the target and only a few inches from the edge. It was her first time landing the arrow on the target.
Trojan was yelling and dancing around her in elation, and the girl cracked her eyes open to see.
Her eyes widened, and she giggled with joy before running over to Trojan and hopping onto his back.
“Let’s go show Mother before she leaves!” Stephania’s heart raced in excitement, her face flush with pride.
Trojan, who readily agreed, galloped back to the quaint, little cabin, where the four adults were standing and talking grimly about the situation.
“Mother! Mother!” Stephania’s shrill voice rent the air. “I hit the target, Mother!”
Frawnden turned her attention to her children and allowed Trojan to pull her to the target.
Artigal followed silently.
“I can shoot a bow, Mother!” Stephania danced around the target and waved her small bow around.
“I’m so proud of you, little dragon!” Frawnden quickly hugged Stephania and kissed her on the forehead before rubbing their noses together. Stephania gig
gled gleefully.
“Indeed, you can.” Artigal’s deep voice rang out from behind Frawnden and everyone jumped in surprise.
Bending down, the white Centaur picked up another arrow and handed it to Stephania. “Shoot again, child.”
She quietly took the arrow and walked away from the target as everyone cleared out of the way.
She inhaled deeply once more and pulled back the string. Pointing the arrow as close as she could to the center and holding it for as long as she could, she released it and closed her eyes in fear before she heard the satisfying thud of the arrow striking the target.
Opening her eyes, she turned her gaze from Artigal, whose face dis-played pure, unshielded shock, to where her arrow stood, stuck in the target just mere inches from the center.
Even she was amazed.
“Child,” Artigal turned his face to her. “You truly have a gift for shooting a bow. I want you and Trojan to practice every day for a week and then exactly seven days from today, when the suns are high in their path of the skies, come find me behind the Gauyuyáwa.”
With that, he turned from them and trotted back to the cabin where Jargon stood, with the snake in a bag he had gotten from his home.
Frawnden praised her children and sadly departed from them after a few minutes.
After the adults had gone, keeping their private talk from the children, Stephania and Trojan stood in silence before the older one’s voice broke the still air. “Well! We must keep practicing if you are to be a master marksman by next week.”
He picked the quiver up from the ground and pulled out another one of the red-feathered shafts. Bowing to his sister, he majestically held it out to her playfully. “Shall we?”
Child of the Dragon Prophecy Page 7