by Lisa Smedman
"But not fully inside it?"
"We're not at the center of it, no," Arvin began. "But I'm not sure if that-"
Dunnald abruptly stood. "This is getting us nowhere," he said. "We can't just sit here all night." He clambered down from the wagon and walked toward the line in the snow, then squatted down next to it.
"Don't touch it!" Arvin warned.
Dunnald drew his sword and used it to prod at the symbol. "It's a trick," he announced. "A feint, to frighten us away from the woods. I'm touching it, and nothing's happening."
"You're touching it with your sword," Arvin noted, wondering if the sergeant would be stupid enough to touch a foot to the line.
He wasn't.
"If it is a magical symbol, it's not very effective, is it?" Dunnald commented as he straightened up. "It's narrow enough to step right over." He gave Burrian a meaningful glance. "If this is what waylaid our two patrols, we need to get a report back to the fort."
Burrian's eyes widened. He wet his lips. "Sir, I…"
Dunnald cocked his head. "Are you refusing my order, Burrian?"
Burrian shook his head. "No, sir.. It's just…"
Dunnald gestured at the track in the snow. "Tangle- mane walked across it without harm. Look here-one of his hooves actually touched it."
"He's a centaur," Arvin interjected. "Perhaps centaurs are immune to it and humans aren't."
"Humans crossed the symbol once already," Dunnald countered. He glowered at Burrian. "Get down from that wagon, Burrian."
The soldier swallowed. "Yes, sir." He glanced at Arvin, lowering his voice to a whisper. "What do you think?"
"I don't know," Arvin said, less certain now. "The sergeant's right about one thing: we did pass across it once already in the wagon. But I'm no wizard. I don't know how these things-"
"Trooper Burrian!" the sergeant snapped. "Now!"
Reluctantly, Burrian climbed down from the wagon. He started to walk up to the track in the snow, then turned around again and came back to wrench a board off the wagon. He laid this across the track, visibly screwed up his courage, and took a long step across, taking care to keep both feet on the board. As his foot touched the board on the far side of the track, however, he crumpled to the ground.
Karrell gasped then leaped out of the wagon. Arvin shot to his feet, calling out a warning to her, but Karrell had the presence of mind to stay well back from the line in the snow. She dragged Burrian away from the dark line in the snow, lifted his arm, tugged up his sleeve, and pressed her fingers to the inside of his wrist. "He's dead," she announced, staring accusingly at Dunnald.
Dunnald's eyes narrowed. He wheeled on Arvin. "This is your fault. You said the center of the symbol was what killed, not the-"
Arvin leaped out of the wagon and caught Dunnald by the collar of his cloak. The sergeant tried to draw his sword, but Arvin batted his hand aside. "Not another word," Arvin growled. Shoving the sergeant aside, he stared at the dead man who lay facedown in the snow, feeling sick. Then he squatted to study the symbol. The line was darker than it should be-blacker than the shadows that filled it. Though both Burrian's body and the board he'd tried to use as a bridge had been drawn back across it, scuffing deep gouges in the snow, the line itself remained intact.
"Can you dispel it?" Arvin asked Karrell.
She looked doubtful as her eyes ranged up and down the symbol in the snow. "It is so large. But I can try."
Spreading her hands, she began to pray. As she did, Arvin watched the line in the snow. When Karrell completed her prayer, there was no visible change. The darkness was just as intense.
The sergeant, meanwhile, rotated his hand in a circle. "Tanglemane! Turn the wagon around and go back across the line. Return to the fort and fetch one of the clerics. We need someone who can dispel this thing."
The centaur snorted, his ears twitching.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," the sergeant said. "You crossed it once already. Go on-move! What's the matter-what are you afraid of?"
"Afraid?" the centaur snorted, his breath fogging the air. His eyes narrowed. "You're the one who's afraid, human. Cross it yourself."
Arvin was still staring thoughtfully at the line in the snow. He noted the ruts the wagon wheels had made as they traversed it and the spot where one of Tanglemane's hoofs had touched the symbol. Perhaps the captain was right about Tanglemane being immune to its magic. Then again, perhaps he wasn't.
Arvin stood and pulled out his lapis lazuli. "Sergeant, there's no need to send another person across. I can use mind magic to send a message back to the fort."
Dunnald wasn't listening. His face red, he glared at the centaur. "That's an order, Tanglemane," he said in a low voice. "Don't forget, you are one of the baron's soldiers now. Shall I report to Lord Foesmasher that you broke your vow by failing to carry out your duties?"
Tanglemane shook his head, a pained look in his eye.
"Then return to the fort," Dunnald ordered, pointing back at the distant bridge.
"As you order… sergeant." Tanglemane began to turn the wagon.
Arvin rushed forward and grabbed the harness. "Tanglemane, wait." He turned to the sergeant. "We don't know how the symbol's magic works. Maybe trying to leave is what activates it."
"Leaving it is what we need to do," said Dunnald. He pointed. "And quickly. The centaurs are headed this way."
Arvin glanced in the direction the sergeant had just indicated. The herd that Karrell had spotted earlier had turned around and was moving toward them at a brisk trot. Arvin glanced at Tanglemane. "Are they hostile?"
"Of course they're hostile," Dunnald snapped. "They're wild things. Not like Tanglemane, here."
"They will be angry, if they see me in harness," the centaur said in a low voice. He started to unbuckle the straps across his chest. "Already they have drawn their bows."
"The centaur's right," Dunnald said. "We need to get moving." He offered Karrell his hand, as if to help her into the wagon. "We'll be right behind you, Tanglemane, in the wagon," he told the centaur. He gave Karrell a sly look. "Won't we?"
Karrell took a step back, folding her arms across her chest.
"We're not moving," Arvin said. "Nor is Tanglemane," he added. "We'll take our chances with the centaurs."
Dunnald climbed into the wagon, muttering under his breath. Then, louder, "You'll all see in a moment there's nothing to fear."
Tanglemane continued to unfasten his harness. "Stop that," the captain ordered. "Get moving." One of the harness straps fell away from the centaur's broad chest.
"Move!" Dunnald shouted, drawing a crossbow bolt and slapping it against the centaur's flank.
At the sting of the improvised whip, Tanglemane's eyes went wide and white. He slammed a hoof against the wagon, splintering its boards. The wagon shot backward, yanking the partially unfastened harness from his shoulder.
Dunnald sprawled onto the floor of the wagon as it rolled away. "You stupid beast!" he shouted from inside the wagon. "When we get back to the fort, I'll have you-"
As the wagon rumbled to a stop just beyond the line in the snow, Arvin suddenly realized the shouting had stopped. Karrell took a hesitant step forward. Arvin caught her arm, holding her back.
Beside them, Tanglemane whiskered nervously. "I have killed him," the centaur said. "Killed the sergeant. When the baron hears of it…"
"It was an accident," Karrell said softly. "You didn't mean to."
Behind them, Arvin heard the sound of pounding hooves. Glancing in that direction, he saw a dozen centaurs racing toward them across the open plain. They skidded to a stop just outside the symbol and aimed powerful composite bows at Arvin, Karrell, and Tanglemane.
One of the centaurs-a male with a white body and straw-colored mane-snorted loudly and stared at them. "Soldiers of Sespech," he said in heavily accented Common. "You yet live?" He tossed his mane then pulled a white feather from a leather pouch that hung at his hip and waved it over the line in the snow. The magical darkness th
at filled it seeped away and the trail through the snow became just that: an ordinary trail of hoofprints. The centaur put the feather away and gestured curtly. "Come you with us."
"What are they saying?" Arvin whispered to Tangle- mane.
The centaur swiveled an ear to listen to the combination of whinnies, snorts, and whickers that made up the centaur language. Thirteen centaurs surrounded Arvin, Karrell, and Tanglemane, herding them along through the ankle-deep snow north along the river, toward Ormpetarr. The Chondalwood lay to their right, but it was falling farther behind with each step. The forest was still close enough that they could have reached it by dawn at a walking pace, even hindered by the snow. But it might as well have been a continent away. Six of the centaurs had their bows in hand with arrows loosely nocked; if the prisoners tried to flee, they'd quickly be shot down.
When the centaurs had first captured them, they had confiscated Karrell's club and Tanglemane's knife, giving the centaur several swift kicks when he didn't surrender it quickly enough. They'd taken an intense dislike to Tanglemane, perhaps because he'd allowed himself to be harnessed to a wagon. Tanglemane, however, showed a stoic indifference to the kicks the other centaurs had aimed at him, bearing them with only the slightest of winces.
The centaurs had also forced Arvin to turn out the contents of his pack. They seemed to have an aversion to rope-they'd tossed aside his magical ropes and twines as if they were poisonous snakes, and declined to search the pack further. Fortunately, they'd made no protest when Arvin gathered the ropes up again and returned them to his pack. Nor had they confiscated his glove, which he'd managed to vanish his dagger into.
The centaurs finished speaking. Tanglemane bowed at the waist to speak in Arvin's ear. "They serve Lord Wianar," he said. "They will turn us over to his soldiers."
Arvin had been afraid of that. Chondath wasn't officially at war with Sespech… yet. But the larger state was overdue for another attempt to oust Baron Foesmasher and reclaim lands they had never given up title to. Lord Wianar would be keen to question "soldiers from Sespech" to learn the current strength of Fort Arran's defenses. The questioning would no doubt be brutal and long.
Arvin swallowed nervously. "Would you tell them we're not soldiers?" he asked Tanglemane.
Tanglemane's eyes blazed. "I am a soldier," he said. Then his voice softened. "I tried to convince them earlier that you and the female are not the baron's vassals, but it was no use. They say you are spies."
Arvin swallowed. "That's worse than being a soldier, right?"
Tanglemane nodded. He lowered his voice. "You are not the first spies to cross the river. Last night, our soldiers took another across. These centaurs spotted him as he slipped into the woods. They laid the symbol in retaliation; they claim the woods as their own."
Arvin blinked. Foesmasher, it seemed, hadn't been content to wait for Arvin to reappear. There were others searching the Chondalwood for Glisena. The search had become a race.
Arvin glanced at the big white centaur. "What's their leader's name?" he asked.
"You could not pronounce it."
"In Common," Arvin said. "What would it translate as?"
"Stonehoof."
Arvin caught Karrell's eye then tipped his head at the centaur leader. "We need to talk him into letting us go," he whispered. "Let's see how… persuasive we can be. If I don't manage to convince him, perhaps you can."
"I cannot help you," she whispered back. "That… ability comes to me only once a day."
"Looks like it's up to me, then," Arvin said. Leaving Karrell, he jogged ahead to a position closer to the centaur leader. Stonehoof was even more powerfully built than Tanglemane, his massive hooves hidden by a fringe of hair. His upper torso was as pale as the rest of his body, covered with the same short white hair. His eyes were ice-blue.
Stonehoof glared at Arvin. "Return you to center of herd," he said sternly.
Arvin spread his hands in a placating gesture. "Stonehoof," he said, feeling energy awaken at the base of his scalp as he spoke. "You've got the wrong people. We don't serve the baron-we're not even from Sespech."
"Came you across river in soldier wagon." Stonehoof said. One of his ears swiveled, as if he'd heard something in the distance.
"That's true," Arvin agreed. "But we were only getting a ride with the soldiers. We're actually from Hlondeth. We were just passing through Sespech on our way to-"
One of the centaurs let out a loud, startled whinny. Instantly, the herd halted. They formed a circle, facing outward with bows raised. Stonehoof planted one of his massive hooves in Arvin's chest and shoved. Arvin stumbled backward, landing on his back in the snow beside Karrell and Tanglemane. He sat up, rubbing his bruised chest.
"The charm did not work?" Karrell whispered as she helped him to his feet.
"Apparently not," Arvin said.
Tanglemane stood next to them, listening. He lifted his head, his nostrils flaring as he sampled the breeze, then snorted.
A moment later, Arvin's less sensitive ears picked up the sound the centaurs had reacted to: the thud of hooves.
"Who is it?" Arvin whispered to Tanglemane. "Soldiers?"
"No." Tanglemane said. "A lone centaur."
As the centaur loped into view, Stonehoof and his herd relaxed. Most lowered their bows-though two kept arrows loosely nocked as they returned their attention to their captives.
The newcomer slowed to a trot and tossed his head. He was black from mane to tail, save for a blaze of white on each of his front hooves. Unlike the other centaurs, whose manes flowed freely down their backs, this one wore his hair pulled back with a thong. A wide leather belt around his waist held his quiver and bow case, as well as a large pouch.
As the black centaur approached, Stonehoof charged out to meet him. When only a pace or two separated them, Stonehoof reared up on his hind legs, forelegs flailing in the air. It looked to Arvin like a challenge of some sort, but a moment later Stonehoof bowed his head, and the two powerful males were slapping each other's hacks in greeting.
"Who is he?" Arvin asked.
"They greet him by the name Windswift." Tangle- mane answered.
"Is he their leader?"
Tanglemane stared appraisingly at the newcomer. "No. But he will lead the herd, someday soon, judging by the way Stonehoof submitted to him."
Windswift turned and trotted toward them, followed by Stonehoof. The other centaurs parted to let him through their circle. Windswift said something to Tanglemane in the centaur language and received an answer, then turned his attention to Arvin and Karrell. After studying them a moment, he spoke. "You're not soldiers." His Common was flawless, save for a slight lisp on the final word. He swayed slightly, causing Arvin to wonder if the centaur was as exhausted as he was. Steam rose from Windswift's back; he must have traveled some distance.
"You're right: we're not soldiers," Arvin agreed, relieved to be speaking to someone who might prove sympathetic. He manifested his charm a second time. This time, Tymora willing, there would be nothing disrupt it. "We're from Hlondeth. I'm a rope merchant's agent, and this-" He reached for Karrell's hand. "Is my wife."
One of Windswift's ears twitched, as if to catch a distant sound, and Arvin smiled. But then Windswift tossed his mane, and his eyes cleared. Arvin's heart sank. Windswift had shaken off his charm.
The centaur's eyes narrowed. "A psion?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper.
As Arvin stood stupidly, blinking-how had Wind- swift known? — Karrell gave his hand a quick squeeze and pressed something into his hand: her ring. He hid his surprise and slipped a finger into it, using her hand to shield the action. And just in time. A heartbeat later Windswift manifested a psionic power. Shielded by Karrell's ring, Arvin no longer had cause to fear Windswift listening in on his thoughts. What did send a shiver of fear through him, however, was the power's secondary manifestation.
A hiss.
By the gods, Arvin thought, feeling his face grow chill and pale, Windswift isn't jus
t any psion.
He's one of Zelia's mind seeds.
Arvin's hands trembled, and his thoughts stampeded in all directions. Should he throw up a defensive mental shield? Launch a psionic attack? Had the centaur-seed realized who he was yet? Arvin had just identified himself as a rope merchant from Hlondeth, and Windswift had heard Arvin's own, unique secondary manifestation, and yet the centaur-seed hadn't attacked him. He didn't seem to know who Arvin was.
Arvin's racing heart slowed-a little. Zelia must have planted the seed in Windswift more than six months ago, before she'd met Arvin.
The hissing of the centaur-seed's secondary display faded. One hoof pawed the snow-covered ground in irritation.
Arvin nodded to himself. Windswift must have been the person Zelia had been waiting to meet at Riverboat Landing; the centaur-seed must have been spying, on Hlondeth's behalf, on Chondath.
It all fit. The centaur-seed couldn't have come into the inn without giving himself away; his appearance was too distinctive. And the fact that he hadn't reacted to Arvin must mean one of two things. Either he hadn't made it to his meeting with Zelia-or Zelia hadn't come to Sespech in search of Arvin, after all.
If the latter, Arvin's secret was safe. Zelia still thought he was dead.
Arvin could see only one way out of his current predicament, and it involved taking a gamble-a big gamble. He caught the centaur-seed's eye and lowered his voice. "Zelia."
Windswift drew in air with a sharp hiss.
"I, too," Arvin said. "Three months ago." He nodded first in Karrell's direction, then toward Tanglemane, turning the motion into the sort of motion a yuan-ti would make: swaying, insinuative. The mannerisms came to him easily-disturbingly so. "We three," he continued in a low, conspiratorial voice, "must reach the Chondalwood."
Karrell, thankfully, kept her silence. The gods only knew what she was thinking about the odd turn the conversation had taken, but she had the good sense not to interrupt. Tanglemane also stood quietly, a puzzled frown on his face. The other centaurs, however, were getting restless. Stonehoof took a step closer to Arvin and Windswift, only to prance back when the centaur-seed launched a warning kick in his direction.