Human-Centaur Relations

by Jack Doe

  Bryce nodded, his speech returning to babble. Grandpa motioned to the water in Bryce's hand, which the young man drank in one draught. He took a breath, which was all he needed.

  "On the way home last night, it wasn't that I lost control, Grandpa," he said. "There was a bright light that appeared behind me, and I thought it must have been a lorry gone off the road. I swerved to avoid it and hit the ground. The light vanished. It made no sound, Grandpa!" His eyes widened at the recollection. "It went over a hill this side of Larkhill. By the time I got up and got my bike collected, it was gone. No sign of it at all."

  Grandpa nodded uncertainly. "That's certainly interesting, Bryce, but that doesn't explain why you wound up out cold on my doorstep!"

  "I was getting to that," Bryce said, standing to get another glass of water. Grandpa sat him back down and got the water for him. Bryce drank another draught of it and put the half-drained glass down. Grandpa topped it off.

  "It's been bothering me since yesterday, Grandpa," Bryce continued. "Not knowing what it was. So I went back tonight to see if I could see anything. Sheila lent me her torch." He gestured to it and continued, "and I hoped with the brighter beam to find something."

  Grandpa nodded, looking curiously at his grandson.

  "I retraced my steps, and right where my bicycle landed yesterday, was a..." he trailed off, his eyes widening again.

  "A what, Bryce?" Grandpa urged. "Did you see a centaur?!" He had risen from his chair and was leaning on the table, his hand clutching Bryce's wrist in excitement.

  "I think so, Grandpa," Bryce whispered. "I–I passed out on seeing him...and then I was here." He looked fearfully at his grandfather. "They know where I live, Grandpa! That must have been what was watching me yesterday!" His voice became shrill with fear. "What do they want from me, Grandpa?" He rose and began moving agitatedly around the room, gesturing wildly with his hands. "What do they want? Why me? Do they want a blood sacrifice? Is that why Stonehenge summoned me?" He began to hyperventilate.

  "BRYCE!" his grandfather bellowed. "Sit down." Bryce caught his breath and sat. His grandfather fetched another glass of water for Bryce and a bottle of gin for himself. This would be a strange night.

  "First off, have you forgotten everything I told you about the centaurs?" Grandpa asked, sitting down heavily at the table and pouring himself a shot, which he downed.

  Bryce shook his head. "Not a word, Grandpa," he said, barely above a whisper. "How could I forget?"

  Grandpa nodded. "Then what traits are truly characteristic of the centaurs?"

  Bryce took a breath and replied, "They were wise and gentle teachers whom our ancestors took for granted."

  "That's right," Grandpa said, a hint of liquid pride in his eyes. "And if that's the case, then why would the centaurs want you for a sacrifice?"

  Bryce bit his lip.

  "I don't know why they're interested in you, kiddo," Grandpa said, "but I have to say that I am so damn jealous right now, I can hardly stand it!" His eyes flashed with excitement. Centaurs! Here! In his lifetime!

  Anul'thek had listened to the conversation from the side of the house, and the linguists aboard the ship relayed the translations back to him. His heart ached when he heard Bryce's terror-induced questioning. It was worse than he'd feared: not only did Grandpa distrust him, but so did the human he'd rescued!

  But his sadness turned to joy, unfathomable joy at hearing Grandpa's response and Bryce's recitation of the old story. All aboard the centaur's ship, the centaurs listened to the translated dialogue, and while some whooped in delight, others wept for joy. Here was living proof that not all the humans believed the lies. Here was their ticket home.

  "Knock on the door, Anul'thek," Ing'ma said.

  "What?"

  "Knock on the door! For goodness' sake, knock on the door! You'll never get a better opportunity than this!"

  Anul'thek steeled himself and rounded the corner. He took a breath and knocked.

  Bryce and Grandpa jumped. "It's them!" Bryce hissed. "I know it." He crouched down, grabbing the torch off the table and holding it defensively.

  Grandpa gave him a dirty look and held out his hand for the torch. Bryce reluctantly gave it to him, and Grandpa put it back on the table.

  "Is that how you'd greet your rescuer?" Grandpa asked reproachfully. He stood, wiped the gin off the corners of his mouth and settled his spectacles. If I'd known I'd be entertaining centaurs tonight, I'd have worn a tuxedo, he lamented. But this would have to do. He stood up and rounded the table, took hold of the door knob, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Before him stood a black horse with a tanned caucasian human's upper body, about six feet tall, with gray eyes and jet black hair that ran the length of his back, joining his withers. The centaur looked a mixture of uncomfortable, excited, embarrassed, and regretful. He rubbed one arm with the hand from the other, one of his hooves digging in the dirt.

  "What are you waiting for?" Ing'ma hissed from inside Anul'thek's head. "Say something!"

  "I don't speak Human!" Anul'thek retorted.

  "Right. What do you want to say?"

  "I'm sorry." Anul'thek said to the interpreter, who gave him the English translation. The words were hard to pronounce, but he managed to get it out.

  "I'm sorry," Anul'thek said to Grandpa. He pointed to Bryce. "Didn't mean to hurt." His face registered sorrow.

  Grandpa stood, dumbfounded. What do you say to someone you've wanted to meet your whole life, that you'd given up on ever seeing, when that person shows up at your door on a pleasant summer's eve and says he's sorry? Bryce stood on his tiptoes, peering over Grandpa's shoulder. "Grandpa, say something!" he hissed.

  "Um," Grandpa fumbled. "It's okay. He's fine."

  The interpreter translated for Anul'thek, who let out a great sigh, his face registering relief.

  "Anul'thek," Anul'thek said, pointing to himself. He repeated it slowly, "ah-nool`TEK." Then he pointed to Bryce and said, "Bryce," and to Grandpa and said, "Grandpa."

  The humans looked at each other. Bryce had been right: the centaurs had been spying on them. Grandpa felt a bit unnerved.

  "What do you want with us?" he asked nervously.

  Anul'thek put his hands up in an 'easy there' gesture. The translators had trouble coming up with an appropriate response, but he did the best he could. "My people want come home."

  Grandpa's eyes widened, and a smile slowly crept across his face until he was grinning ear-to-ear. He shook his head and sprang to action. "Bryce, clear some space, let our guest inside!" he cried as he moved tables and chairs hastily out of the way to give Anul'thek space to enter the little cabin.

  "Come in, come in!" Grandpa said, beckoning to Anul'thek eagerly. The centaur looked nervously at the doorway, took a breath, and stepped inside. His hooves clopped on the wooden floor, and he was very careful to watch all around him. It was a very tight space for a centaur, two men, and the two men's furniture.

  "Will you sit down?" Grandpa invited, then looked helplessly at Anul'thek. He didn't know how—or if—centaurs sat. Indeed, the translators had no way of describing sitting, and they said to Anul'thek that they didn't know what he meant. Anul'thek gave a confused look to Grandpa, who demonstrated "sit," "stand," and "lie down." Anul'thek nodded and likewise demonstrated sitting, whereby he dropped to the ground and tucked his legs under him, lie down, which he declined to do on account of the space, and then stood, balancing one of his back hooves on the toe as a sign of being at ease and goodwill. The humans seemed to understand.

  "So," Grandpa said, getting down to what he thought was the business of the visit, "you said your people want to come home. Is that right?"

  Anul'thek nodded.

  "Why us?" Bryce asked, speaking for the first time.

  Anul'thek shrugged, putting his hands up helplessly. "Fortune cookie?" he said, unsure if it was the right word.

  Bryce frowned, utterly baffled, but Grandpa blinked and then chuckled. "Luck of the draw," he said gently. His to
ne reminded Anul'thek of Ing'ma. He decided he liked this human, although he wasn't sure about the other one, yet. He nodded. "Luck of the draw."

  "How long have you been watching us?" Bryce asked pointedly.

  Anul'thek started to say one day, but the translators sounded confused. It had been two days for them. Ing'ma stopped them. "Ask them how long it has been since the centaurs left," he said.

  Anul'thek addressed the humans. "How long since my people left?"

  Bryce's eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  Anul'thek replied, using words that Ing'ma had translated for him. "Bryce, our time different from your time, we think. Two days for us, but think one day for you. How long since my people left?"

  Bryce's eyes widened again, but he shook his head. He didn't know.

  "About four thousand years," Grandpa interjected.

  The translators confirmed their theory. "Yes," Anul'thek said, "one day for you, two days for us."

  "You say 'us,'" Grandpa chimed in. "Are there more of you?"

  Anul'thek hesitated, waiting for a response to come from Ing'ma. "What do you think?" he asked Ing'ma when no response came. "Do I tell them?"

  "The humans pretty well know at this point," Ing'ma said. "Confirm it, but don't say how many or where we are."

  "Yes, there are more," Anul'thek replied.

  "How many?" Bryce asked. "Where?" His eyes widened in excitement.

  Anul'thek shook his head. "Must protect."

  Bryce looked crestfallen, but Grandpa put a hand on his shoulder. "He's right, Bryce," he said. "He's got to look out for his loved ones, just like we do."

  "But he knows where we live!" Bryce protested.

  "But there's one of him and a whole bunch of us," Grandpa reminded him.

  "What if there are a bunch of them, about to ambush us?" Bryce countered. Grandpa had to admit, he had a point.

  Anul'thek recalled what the two had said earlier, "They were wise and gentle teachers whom our ancestors took for granted. And if that's the case, then why would the centaurs want you for a sacrifice?"

  "You were spying on us just now, too?" Bryce asked warily.

  Anul'thek nodded. "Had to find out if friend or foe. Had to know if you want hurt me or my people." He sighed and held up his hands defensively. A diplomat he was not, but he was doing his best. "Not want fight. Want peace." He thought back. "Wanted peace for ten thousand years." He looked down, crestfallen. "Want friends. Miss cousins."

  "They had cousins?" Bryce asked, puzzled and facing his grandfather, who shrugged helplessly.

  "You. Cousins," Anul'thek said, pointing to the two.

  "No, no," Grandpa said. "Grandfather, or 'Grandpa,'" he said, pointing to himself, "grandson," he said, pointing to Bryce.

  The linguists appreciated that tidbit of knowledge, but Anul'thek shook his head. "No, no. Cousins," he said, holding his arms out as if hugging a huge tree. Grandpa nodded, getting it. "The centaurs viewed mankind as their cousins," he said to Bryce.

  Bryce nodded, then muttered, "Lousy cousins we were."

  That reminded Grandpa of something. Taking a knee in front of Anul'thek, he cleared his throat.

  "Ah-nool tek," Grandpa said, having some difficulty with the words, "I have waited my whole life to say this, and I can't believe I am actually getting to." He mouthed 'thank you, God' before continuing. "To you and your ancestors, on behalf of the whole human race, I say 'thank you.' If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have most of the wonderful things we have today." His eyes misted, and then tears of joy fell down his cheeks. For sixty years, he'd wanted to say that, and it felt so good to finally do it. "Thank you. Thank you," he said again.

  Anul'thek said nothing, just breathed, trying to keep his composure. It was better than he had ever dreamed. Ing'ma had given up on maintaining his composure and was sobbing in joy on the ship. At length, Anul'thek felt compelled to say something.

  "Have no idea happy my people are to hear say that," he said. "My mentor...sobbing for joy."

  Bryce sat, dumbfounded at the turn of events. He couldn't believe it. He'd asked for it, wanted it for such a long time, and in such secrecy, but he still couldn't believe it. He gave an apologetic look. "Anul'thek," he said, having less trouble with the name than Grandpa had, "I'm sorry, but..." he trailed off, embarrassed.

  "Yes?" Anul'thek asked gently.

  "May I touch you?" Bryce asked hesitantly.

  Anul'thek frowned, confused. Bryce took it to mean 'no,' and apologized. Anul'thek shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't understand. Yes," he said.

  Bryce brightened and stood up, tentatively reaching for Anul'thek's hand, who held very still. The human's hand was very soft and warm. The human gently pulled Anul'thek's arm away from him and shook it.

  "I'm very pleased to meet you," Bryce said, the realization finally hitting him. "I'm Bryce."

  "I'm Anul'thek," the centaur replied.

  "And I'm Charles," Grandpa said, standing and extending his hand. Bryce released his hand, and Anul'thek shook Charles's hand. "Anul'thek," the centaur said again, beaming. When the shake was over, he gave a puzzled look. "What was this?" he asked, making a shaking motion with his hand.

  "It's a greeting," Charles said. "It's how we introduce ourselves here. Do you do it differently?"

  Anul'thek nodded and stepped up to him. He placed his fingertips at the intersection of Charles's shoulder blade and spine and stroked downward, stopping at his butt. "I'm Anul'thek," he said again. Charles grinned, placed his fingertips at Anul'thek's spine, and stroked downward along his back, stopping at his withers. "I'm Charles," he replied happily.

  Bryce grinned: it was his turn. Anul'thek introduced himself using his native greeting, and then Bryce tried it. He kept going past Anul'thek's withers, around his leg, and to his belly. Anul'thek winced and gave an embarrassed grin, but said nothing.

  Bryce shrank back. "I'm sorry," he said. "Did I do something wrong?"

  Anul'thek chose his words carefully. "Do not touch a centaur's stomach," he said, "unless you wish for him to be sexual with you." Seeing Bryce's crestfallen expression, he reached out and lifted Bryce's chin. "Don't worry," he said. "I did not take offense." He looked around, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Centaurs like sex," he said cautiously, watching Bryce's expression. The anthropologists had determined that sex was a very touchy subject for many humans. Bryce's eyes lit up and then darted to Charles, who stifled a chuckle. Bryce looked away, embarrassed, but Anul'thek caught the whole sequence. Bryce might be hiding his interest from fear of disapproval from his grandfather, but Anul'thek knew instantly that neither one took issue to the subject. "To touch a centaur's belly is to invite him to mount you," he said, grinning. His grin was not a licentious one, but one of amusement at someone's naive faux pas.

  "Centaurs very sexual," he said. "Touching bellies very common. It says, 'I want sex.' No centaur take offense to another centaur touching belly," he said, "but I think that not what you meant." He raised his eyebrows, looking at Bryce.

  Charles gave Bryce a significant look. He'd seen some of the drawings Bryce had collected that made him wonder whether Bryce knew better or not—not that any of the drawings actually knew how to flirt with a centaur—but Charles wondered whether the desire was there or not. Bryce looked genuinely embarrassed. Anul'thek grinned and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "I won't take you up on it." Bryce's face looked deliberately blank. "Until next time," Anul'thek finished, raising an eyebrow.

  Charles couldn't take it any longer and burst out laughing mirthfully, not a hint of derision in his deep, rumbling laugh. He wiped his eyes and took on a serious demeanor.

  "If you do it," he said, "go outside." Bryce opened his mouth and gave his grandfather a look of confused half-hope-half-protest, mixed with incredulity.

  "I'm serious," Charles said. "I have no problem with you having sex with whomever, so long as you're good to each other and don't do it in he
re!" Anul'thek caught a glimpse of a glint in Bryce's eye before he hid it behind an inscrutable mask. You're only fooling yourself, Anul'thek thought to himself, chuckling in the back of his mind.

  "Roughhoof's got a boy-friend, roughhoof's got a boy-friend," Ing'ma teased in his head.

  "Shut up, old man!" Anul'thek retorted.

  Ing'ma roared with laughter. "Just you wait," Ing'ma said. Anul'thek heard the sounds of bets being taken amongst the translators. He pursed his lips and frowned.

  "Something wrong, Anul'thek?" Charles asked.

  Anul'thek bit his lip and tried to stifle a grin, but it bested him and crawled across his face. "My mentor is teasing me for having a boyfriend," he said candidly. Bryce turned red, and Charles laughed aloud. "And the translators are taking bets as to how long it will take."