by Travis Bughi
“Apology accepted,” Emily said, cutting another rope.
“Who said I was sorry?”
They chuckled, and Emily regretted judging Adelpha so harshly before. Perhaps there were friends to be had here after all.
They kept moving down, cutting the restraints until the treant could lift its head and look around freely.
“So tell me,” Adelpha called out. “Why are we here? Why is this important?”
“I promised I would set it free,” Emily grunted as she cut through one tough rope, “before the centaurs came and chopped it up.”
“Wait,” Adelpha stopped and stood up, surprised. “We’re cutting all the rope?”
“Yes,” Emily confirmed. “That would be ‘free’ wouldn’t it?”
“Emily, we can’t do that,” Adelpha explained. “It’ll kill us.”
“No, it won’t,” Emily replied and then turned to the treant. “Will you?”
Emily ended her question with a vain attempt to say the treant’s name. She mustered her vocals and made a strange sound somewhere between crackling and whistling. Adelpha looked at Emily as if she’d lost her mind.
“I will not . . . hurt you,” the treant replied.
“See?” Emily smiled.
“That’s not comforting,” Adelpha sighed, “but for the sake of time, I’ll suspend the argument. If we don’t hurry, we’re dead anyway.”
They cut more rope, skipping about so that the bonds could be tugged free sooner. However, the treant remained motionless on the ground even as the rope slacked over its bark. For all Emily could see, it wasn’t even breathing.
They knelt down to cut the last rope, and Adelpha gave Emily a questioning glance.
“These are the last ones,” Adelpha whispered. “Why hasn’t it moved?”
“I don’t know,” Emily replied, “but we can’t stay much longer. Let’s get going.”
That’s when they heard a twig snap.
It was quiet, to be sure, but the snap might as well have been the thunder of a lightning storm in the encompassing silence of the forest. Adelpha and Emily whirled about, bows drawn, arrows nocked, backs together. Without hesitation, they retreated south, back the way they’d come. They only got two steps in before the centaurs swarmed the area.
Their unbelievable stealth broken by one false step, the centaurs, shouting a war cry, sprang out into the clearing from behind a multitude of trees and tall bushes. They poured in from the north, forming a half circle within moments. There were maybe forty of them altogether, and every one had their bow held at the ready, drawn tight and aimed at the two women.
Emily contemplated running, but threw that thought out almost as quickly as it formed. At this range, the centaurs’ bows were just as deadly as the amazons’ superior treantwood bows. Also, they would never be able to outrun the centaurs. Four legs would beat two anytime, day or night, and they had reached the amazon camp in such a short time. Now Emily knew why the treant had remained still. It wanted to appear dead and avoid the centaurs’ attention.
Damn you, Emily thought. This would be the last time she risked her life for someone she didn’t know.
“Humans,” one centaur spoke, emerging from the group, “lay down your weapons.”
“They’ll fall when we fall,” Adelpha challenged.
The centaur looked much older than the others. His hair was grey and thin, and his skin wrinkled at the joints. Even his pointy ears were drooping a bit, but none of this did anything to hide his anger. With a righteous air, he looked down at the amazons as if they were the bane of all existence and his cause would be to stamp out such evil.
For a moment, he seemed poised to take Adelpha up on her words but then changed his mind and spoke again.
“I am Lok’har, you wingless harpy,” the centaur explained with pride, “leader of the centaurs and ruler of Angor. You will yield yourself to me, or I will strike you down where you stand.”
“Angor has no ruler,” Adelpha taunted.
Lok’har snarled and raised his hand. In unison, the centaurs drew back the arrows on their strings and took aim. Adelpha gritted her teeth but said nothing. She was fire given life and would bend to no one.
Emily, on the other hand, was not yet ready to accept that fate.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Lok’har paused and slowly lowered his hand. The centaurs’ bows stayed drawn, though, and Adelpha gave Emily a warning glare. Emily, in turn, glowered back and sighed in relief when the princess relented.
“One of yours has killed one of ours,” Lok’har explained. “Blood demands blood.”
Emily thought back to when they’d entered the forest, when they’d first met the centaurs. She had caused one to trip, and Iezabel had wounded the young centaur with another shot. Had she done more than wound, though?
“He was,” Lok’har paused, “my son.”
The centaur, for all his hatred, took a moment to stifle a tear.
“I’m sorry—” Emily started.
“You are not sorry!” Lok’har boomed. “None of you will be sorry until you are all dead!”
The centaurs shouted and cheered. They released the tension on their bows to lift them high and closed in around the amazons. Some used their powerful legs to jump on top of the treant, which still had not moved the width of a hair.
“Where are the others? Where is your leader?” Lok’har shouted.
“You know we won’t tell you,” Emily countered.
“Where?” Lok’har commanded. “Where are they? I will slaughter every one of you for what you have done!”
He shook with rage, and the centaurs around him fed off it like hungry ogres. They started to chant, crow, and jeer before closing tighter around the amazons and the treant. They made threats of such brutality that Emily’s mouth fell open in silent shock. Although she was surprised, the centaur ruler saw that fear would not compel either of these two to speak. So Lok’har held up his hand again, fingers splayed instead of touching, and the centaurs went silent.
“This,” Lok’har pointed to a young centaur who stood atop the treant’s head, “is my other son, Darius.”
The centaurs cheered at the mention of their prince’s name. Darius held up his bow to absorb the glory and then turned back to the amazons with fury in his eyes.
“I give him the right and honor,” Lok’har explained, “of making the first kill. The choice, of course, will be his.”
The centaurs cheered again as Darius drew his bow string. They laughed as he made a show of rapidly switching aim between Adelpha and Emily. He toyed with his shot, as if he couldn’t decide which kill would give him more pleasure. His followers offered their own advice with enthusiasm.
“Kill the fat one!”
“No! Make the fat one run! It will be more fun to chase!”
They laughed at that and watched Darius’ movements zoom back and forth until he slowly, but surely, settled his aim on Adelpha. When his target was chosen, the centaurs shouted their approval and chanted again. They wanted human blood this day. They wanted it to run red, and herald their revenge. They would hunt down the rest of the amazons, they told the women, and they’d kill everyone.
Darius let his followers make their threats, letting the chants build until the forest was filled with their voices. Then, with meticulous movements, he drew back his bowstring until the arrow’s tip touched his finger. The chanting slowed and died, until once again the forest was quiet.
Emily held her breath.
“Now, Darius!” Lok’har shouted.
The treant opened its mouth, and Darius fell into the crater. He screamed and released his arrow, but the shot went high and wide. Darius disappeared and his shouts were muffled as the treant closed its mouth. Then a sickening crunch was heard, and the young centaur went silent forever.
The treant swallowed.
Every centaur gasped, Adelpha and Emily gazed in shock, and Lok’har cried out in horror.
“NO!” he
shouted. “NOOO!”
The treant swept its hands out, knocking to the ground or killing those centaurs who were too closely packed to jump away. Lok’har, who had stepped out of the crowd, narrowly avoided the sweeping strike and took out his bow to fire arrow after arrow at the treant’s eyes that were blessedly shut. The tree shepherd stood and swung its arms blindly, kicking out in random directions.
“Let’s move!” Emily shouted.
She grabbed Adelpha by the hand and yanked her, and the two took off at a sprint, bounding across the terrain and running with every fiber in their bodies. They heard the thunder of hooves and looked over their shoulders to see three centaurs chasing them through the forest. One raised its bow to release an arrow.
“Left!” Emily shouted.
Adelpha jumped left, Emily jumped right, and the arrow passed harmlessly between them.
“We have to fire back!” Adelpha shouted.
“Say when!” Emily replied.
“Now!”
As one, Adelpha and Emily turned, dropped to one knee, drew arrows, and fired them at the centaurs.
The range was close, and their return fire had been so sudden that the centaurs had not been prepared for it. Adelpha’s arrow struck one centaur square in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground. Emily’s arrow hit another centaur low, just above the right front leg, and he stumbled and crashed into a tree. The force of the impact caused him to slump to the ground motionless.
The remaining centaur checked his movements, saw the amazons reach up to reload, and retreated back to where the centaurs were shouting and yelling. Emily could just barely see movement between the thick trees, but she clearly heard the sound of wood creaking as the treant fought on.
“Come on,” Emily said.
She wanted to go back and help the treant, but she knew there was no use. They would not be able to save the treant if the centaurs caught it, and they would only die in the process. The treant had waited in silence to ambush the centaurs and give the women who’d freed him one chance to live. If they did not take it, they would only waste its efforts.
Still, knowing all that did not make it any easier for her to turn her back. She owed that treant a great debt, one she’d likely never be able to repay.
She stowed her thoughts and focused on the task at hand. They were running again, heading due south with all the passion and effort they could give. They not only had to catch up with the other amazons, they had to catch up with them in time to warn them. The centaurs would travel fast—much faster than the amazons—and so they could waste no time in their retreat. Not if any of them wanted to make it out of this forest alive.
Chapter 8
“I’m sorry,” Iezabel said, eyes closed in regret. “I’m so sorry.”
Adelpha and Emily had caught back up with the group, and through ragged breaths, explained why the centaurs were chasing them.
“I only aimed to wound him,” Iezabel continued. “I must have hit an artery or something.”
“Well, we can’t do anything about that now,” Hanna said, placing a comforting hand on Iezabel, “so stop apologizing.”
“And to top it off, Lok’har’s other son is dead now, too,” Chara summed up.
The amazons took a moment to reflect. It did not need to be mentioned that the situation was grim, but the problem did need to be acknowledged before it could be solved.
“So, the centaurs are going to chase us until they’ve killed us all,” Chara continued, “and we still have at least another couple of days, even at a rapid pace, to get out of the forest.”
“We can’t fight them,” Hanna said. “There aren’t enough of us.”
“And they can’t be reasoned with, unfortunately,” Emily said after a breath.
“And they run faster than us,” Adelpha chimed in.
Another pause ensued.
“So,” Chara looked around. “What do we do then?”
“May I offer a suggestion?” Heliena said, stepping forward from the back of the group. “We’re in elf territory right now, and the centaur lands lie to the east. So, why don’t we push further west? The centaurs won’t expect it, which will give us time to throw them off our trail and increase the likelihood that the centaurs will fight the elves.”
“And the likelihood that the elves will fight us,” Adelpha replied. “You would throw a third enemy against our forces, sister?”
“No, no,” Emily said. “She’s right. Our group is at least half that of the centaurs, so we can avoid engagements more easily. If we keep advancing deeper into elf territory, the centaurs will have to take more care, move with more caution. It can buy us time.”
“How much time, Daughter? Have you forgotten about the werewolves?” Chara asked.
“We have more than a week until the first full moon,” Heliena said. “If anything, we can use that to add further caution to the centaurs’ movements.”
“Or haste,” Chara warned.
“Well put,” Adelpha said. “The entire southern end of the forest is werewolf territory, and we can’t risk eating up too much time before the full moon. We’ll be trapped here in Angor for a week while the werewolves run rampant every night, and Lok’har will likely use that to pressure us into a corner.”
“And you think we’ll make it there by heading straight to Themiscyra?” Heliena asked.
“It’s only a few days run from here,” Adelpha countered.
“That’s not what I asked,” Heliena said, lifting an eyebrow. “Do you think we’ll make it there with the centaurs so close behind?”
Adelpha paused and then answered honestly, “No.”
“Then what choice do we have?” Heliena whispered and turned away.
Adelpha watched her go and then turned to make the difficult call that everyone knew was coming.
They agreed to Heliena’s plan. The amazons were not going to make it easy for the centaurs to slaughter them. The Forest of Angor, being the dangerous place that it was, offered the chance for the amazons to slip into darkened places too treacherous for the centaurs. They would head deeper into elven land, avoiding notice as best they could, and then into that of werewolves. It was a risk they’d have to take, for they could not outrun the centaurs. Their only bets were to outsmart them or make the price of their blood too rich for centaur vengeance.
They changed their course when the terrain allowed it, trying to move not only fast, but with as few tracks as possible. The centaurs would find them eventually, no doubt, but would waste valuable time hunting them down. Every moment the amazons could steal now was precious.
At first, Emily was at the front of the pack with Adelpha, but then she felt the need to thank Heliena and so dropped back. On her way down, Belen passed her with hands still tied.
“Don’t forget my promise, gremlin,” Belen hissed.
Emily didn’t respond and only watched Belen move forward. Every amazon passed her by until finally, at the very back, Heliena reached her side. Emily smiled, but it was not returned.
“What do you want?” Heliena asked, none too kindly.
“I just wanted to thank you,” Emily replied, trying to swallow the increasing hatred she was being shown. “That was a good idea you came up with.”
“I don’t need your thanks,” Heliena replied. “This is going to put a real strain on making my new bow. I haven’t forgotten that you turned on me.”
Emily looked at Heliena’s back and saw the shaved branch strapped next to her old bow. The new one was already stripped of twigs, leaves, and bark.
“Listen, I’m sorry about that,” Emily asked. “What would you have done in my place?”
Heliena blinked, the words evidently hitting her. She sighed and pursed her lips.
“I’d have done the same. Just give me time, please.”
“Can you at least tell me why you change so much? Sometimes I feel we are close, other times that you hate me. Why? Where do we stand?”
Heliena paused again, taking a m
oment to think things over. For a moment, Emily thought she was about to tell her off again, but then she relented and shrugged.
“You’re Chara’s daughter,” Heliena said. “She’s responsible for my mother’s death, whether she dealt the deed or not. And you’re friends with Adelpha, the bully from my childhood. I try not to blame you for it, but it’s hard sometimes. I like you, and yet not those you associate with. I just need time is all.”
Emily wanted to press the point, but Heliena turned her shoulder, and her blue eyes went cold. It was then that Emily realized she’d pried too much already and decided to follow the beauty’s request. She jogged faster to catch back up with Adelpha, ignoring Belen on the way by. She was troubled by Heliena’s words, but only a little. She felt bad for how lonely Heliena seemed, yet was tired of trying to make inroads with those that would not accept her. Guilty by association, and worst of all, it was for associating with those she loved. Chara was her grandmother and Adelpha her sister if she ever had one. If Heliena could not accept that, then their relationship was doomed from the start. There was only so much one could do before giving in to the inevitable.
Their travels took them deeper into the forest, and to Emily’s surprise, the woods increased in density. There was no more running straight, only making long curves to the left and right around thick groves that choked the landscape. The clearings where light shined through became rarer the further in they went, and Emily wondered if there was some part of the forest where the trees grew so thickly that they blocked out all light.
“No, not in Angor,” Chara said when Emily shared her thoughts. “That kind of foliage won’t be common until we reach the jungle. Trust me, Daughter, when we reach Themiscyra, this place will seem as open to you as the Great Plains.”
“How are you doing, Mother?” Emily asked after a pause, noticing Chara’s heavy breathing.
“Oh, you know,” Chara smiled at her. “I’m much too old for this nonsense.”
As the day dragged on and they kept running, the landscape swept past them. They stopped only for water and food, but no other time could be spared. They could neither guarantee that the treant had held off the centaurs for long nor that it had dispatched enough of them to discourage a rapid chase. They could only keep moving and assume the worst.