The Stone of Mercy

by M. J. Evans

  The beautiful Centaurs reared up in the air, waved farewell, and galloped out of the village. Everyone watched them go, feeling just a tinge of jealousy. Slowly the villagers left the town square, several of them stopping first to talk with Carling and Higson, and soon everyone had returned to their homes and shops…except Saleen. She remained in the same spot, as though her feet were nailed to the ground. Still she said nothing.

  When the Duende who had surrounded Carling to ask questions finally dispersed, the girl stepped up to her mother.

  “Mother?”

  “What is this all about, Carling?” Saleen asked. “What happened?”

  Carling proceeded to recount the previous day’s events to her mother, who listened with her brow knotted in apparent concern. When her daughter had finished, Saleen said, “And just when did you learn to shoot a bow and arrow?”

  Chapter 7

  The City of the Minsheen

  The next day, at high noon, two beautiful Centaurs cantered into the village of Duenton. A large crowd of villagers had gathered in the town square in anticipation of their arrival. Saleen was not one of them.

  When the two Centaurs arrived, Carling and Higson were waiting. Carling had been so excited, she hadn’t slept a wink all night. She’d put on her new birthday dress early in the morning, the one her mother had lovingly made. The purple fabric was infused with specks of golden thread that made her violet eyes even more vibrant. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves around her face. The effect was stunning. The beautiful young Duende then rushed through her chores and finished them early as her mother fixed her a breakfast of biscuits and fruit but said nothing. Carling felt badly that her mother was so upset, but that didn’t dampen her enthusiasm for what the day promised to bring.

  Now Carling was standing beside Higson in the center of the town as two Centaurs slid to a stop on the mud, the dirt surface of the square having been moistened by the previous night’s spring rains. “Carling and Higson,” the smaller of the two said by way of greeting. “We have come to take you to the great city of the Minsheen. Please mount up.” The speaker bowed by dropping one knee to the ground, a very humbling position for a proud Centaur to take. Carling climbed up on his dapple gray back. The taller Centaur, chestnut in color, clasped Higson’s forearm and swung him up to his back as though he weighed no more than a bird.

  Both Duende grabbed a hold of the leather belts that were buckled around the Centaurs’ waists to hold in the red shirts they wore over their chests.

  “Are you settled?” the larger Centaur asked.

  Both of the Duende nodded, too excited to speak, while the crowd of villagers cheered.

  The Centaurs pivoted on their hindquarters and cantered out of the village.

  Saleen watched silently from the window of her little home, her hands clutched to her chest. She pursed her lips and sighed deeply. Tears filled her eyes as she watched her little girl ride away. Clearly a feeling of foreboding encompassed her. The little mother turned from the window, cradled her face in her hands, and sobbed.

  Carling dared to look back at her village just before they entered the forest. She knew not that she would never see her village so sweet and idyllic again.

  —

  According to Duende history, no member of their race had ever been in a Centaur city, let alone as an honored guest. But it wasn’t history that Carling was thinking about now as she held tightly to the Centaur she was riding. She was thinking about staying on her mount. When the Centaurs had picked up speed, she’d let go of the belt and wrapped her arms around her escort’s waist, her fingers interlocking over the golden buttons on his red shirt.

  According to Duende records, no one of their race had ever ridden on the back of a Centaur, either. She was truly making history today! As they galloped along, she was filled with excitement and a little anxiety. She had never moved as quickly as she was moving now. She kept herself from looking down at the ground as it whizzed by to avoid getting nauseous. She glanced over at Higson and noticed the set of his jaw. She figured he must be feeling the same way. Gradually she felt herself getting more confident and comfortable and let her body move with the power beneath her. A smile filled her face as she let the wind of heaven flow through her auburn hair.

  They cantered through forest and glen, moving rapidly toward Mount Dashmoore. The fresh green leaves smelled sweet, the spring sun warmed their faces. At one point, they crossed the meadow that had been the scene of the attempted abduction. Once they crossed the flower-filled field, nothing looked familiar. This was new territory for Carling. She wondered if Higson had ever traveled this far from the village on his hunting trips. She made a mental note to ask him later, when she had both feet safely on the ground!

  Gradually, Carling began to feel comfortable on the back of the Centaur. Her body began to move with the rhythm of the cantering animal as his shoulders reached forward and his haunches pushed from behind. She found herself loving the feeling, everything about it, from the warmth of his body next to her legs to the wind brushing her auburn hair back from her glowing face. When she looked over at Higson, she noticed that he, too, seemed to be feeling more confident. His mouth, which had been set in a grim, straight line, was now turning up just slightly at the corners.

  On and on they went, weaving between trees in the dense forest, jumping over rapidly moving streams, following along the base of red stone cliffs they called the Hogback. Birds and squirrels scolded them from the treetops, upset that the tranquility of the forest was being disturbed.

  Eventually, the ground started to slope upward and the Centaurs slowed to a smooth trot. Not much later, the forest opened up and the two Duende were treated to their first view of the city of the Minsheen. Carling’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes opened wide in wonder. The city ahead was completely unlike her little village of plaster-and-beam huts. This city sparkled with tall white towers, glistening windows, and roofs made of gold. Vines covered with flowers crept up the sides of the elegant buildings. Carved doors at the city gates stood open, welcoming all to enter.

  The Centaurs slowed to a walk as they passed through the gates. Once in the city, Centaurs of all ages waved and cheered as Carling and Higson were carried through the streets. The two Duende loosened their grips on the Centaur’s bodies and waved in return. Both their faces were red, reflecting either embarrassment or excitement or, perhaps, a bit of both.

  Their escorts carried Carling and Higson toward a large building in the center of the city, then walked up a gently sloping ramp that opened at a raised city square, a city square that put the little one in the village of Duenton to shame. All around were marble sculptures of Centaurs in various elegant poses. The Centaurs’ beautiful bodies seemed made for imitation in any art form, unlike the squat little bodies of the Duende.

  The buildings, both homes and shops, that surrounded the square were also works of art. They were all white and sparkled as though diamonds were imbedded in them. Each doorframe was beautifully carved with floral designs and surrounded a brightly painted door. Tall, leaded-glass windows were set in the walls. Round towers graced the corners. The effect was magical.

  Just as the two guests were brought to the center of the square, five beautiful fillies of different colors cantered up to them, their dainty hooves, polished with glitter, tapping lightly on the brick surface of the central plaza. With excited giggles, they reached up their slender arms and pulled Carling and Higson off their mounts. They embraced the two Duende tightly.

  “You’re here at last! We thought you would never arrive,” gushed Tibbals. She placed a garland of flowers over each of their heads.

  Her friends surrounded them on all sides and chatted excitedly.

  “How was your ride?”

  “Do you like Minsheen?”

  “We have a fabulous feast planned for you!”

  Carling and Higson looked from one to the other, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

  Tibbals clasped Carling’s hand. “Follo
w me. My father and mother are waiting for your arrival.”

  They walked toward a large building at the far end of the square. This building was more ornate than any of the others. A long row of wide steps, built for easy accommodation by a four-legged Centaur, led up to the front entrance. It was up this staircase that the two Duende were escorted, having been joined by several other young fillies and colts.

  One of the young colts rushed ahead of the others and reached out to open the door. Bowing deeply, he motioned them inside with a sweep of his arm. The fillies giggled like girls of any race would.

  Carling stepped into the foyer of the building with her mouth agape at the beauty all around her. An enormous chandelier was suspended from the center of the domed ceiling. The walls were hung with large oil portraits of Centaurs. Music filled the room. The air smelled of fresh pine and roses. It was pure perfection. She had never seen anything so elegant.

  Higson stopped in place. “Wow.”

  Carling giggled at her friend’s reaction. She felt the same way but hoped she could express it a bit more eloquently. She turned to Tibbals. “This is gorgeous. What building is this?”

  “Our government building. You might call it City Hall. We call it Minsheen Palace. This is where my father, the current leader of the city, holds his meetings.”

  At that moment, a trumpet fanfare filled the air, echoing around the domed chamber. Manti and several other Centaurs, mares and stallions, entered the foyer. One of the mares left the group and trotted up to Carling and Higson. She bent down and scooped both of them into a tight embrace.

  “Oh, my darlings. How can a mother such as I ever express her heartfelt gratitude? You saved my beloved daughter. I have nightmares and nightstallions just thinking about what could have been, had you not fought off those awful criminals.” She let go of them and blew her nose on a dainty handkerchief. She smiled down at them. “You are my heroes.”

  Tibbals stepped forward. “Carling and Higson, this is my mother, Tamah, the lead mare of the city.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” said Carling with a curtsey. “But we didn’t do anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done.”

  Manti stepped up. He was beaming at the young Duende, his arms open wide. “On the contrary, my dear young Duende. Many of both our races would have stood back in fear of the evil Heilodius herd. Others would not have had the skills to shoot them without harming our fillies. By the way, where did you two learn to handle a bow and arrow like that? From what Tibbals has told me, you are accomplished sharp shooters who could challenge any of our soldiers!”

  Carling turned to Higson. “Higson taught me. He’s a great hunter. We’ve been practicing for a long time.”

  “I never had to use my arrows on a Centaur before,” said Higson as he dropped his eyes. “And really, it was Carling who should get all the credit. She sent off the first arrow without a moment’s hesitation.”

  Tibbals’ mother brushed aside their humble responses. “Oh, you are both much too modest. But the trait suits you well. Now it’s time to celebrate with a feast,” gushed Tamah.

  The mare turned and led the large group into a banquet hall, where an enormous table was set with china, crystal, and silver. The chairs pulled up to the table were specially designed to hold a Centaur’s horse-like elongated body. Carling and Higson were escorted to the front of the room. A large chair was pulled out for them.

  “I’m sorry about the chairs,” giggled Tibbals. “They really are much too big for you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Carling with a smile. “We can just sit together on the edge.”

  Carling and Higson made themselves comfortable as they propped themselves on the front of the lounge-like chair. Their feet dangled over the edge; not even their toes could reach the floor.

  Centaurs dressed in gold shirts and white aprons brought out platter after platter of delicious food. Roast beef, venison, pheasant, and pork were passed from guest to guest, starting with Carling and Higson. Fruits and vegetables and baskets of rolls followed. Beverage glasses were kept full of carrot juice and apple juice. Carling laughed as Higson filled and consumed plate after plate.

  As the meal was served and eaten, they were entertained by an orchestra composed of string instruments made using horse-hair bows. Happy chatter and boisterous laughter filled the room. The entire event was unlike anything Carling and her friend had ever seen.

  After a dessert of oatmeal cookies and carrot cake, Manti asked that all the goblets be refilled with apple juice. He then stood before the crowd at the table. Smiling broadly, he addressed the guests. “Mares and Stallions and our Duende guests of honor, I would like to propose a toast. I, the Mayor of the City of Minsheen, declare that from this day forth, we will be the guardians and protectors of all Duende!”

  A cheer went up from the guests and goblets were emptied. Carling and Higson beamed.

  Unfortunately, what was the most wonderful day of Carling’s life was soon to become the worst.

  Chapter 8

  The Attack

  The sun was low in the sky when Carling and Higson, riding on the broad backs of their Centaur mounts, neared their village. Had there been more daylight, they might have seen the smoke earlier. As it was, they were nearly to Duenton before they smelled the smoke and heard the wailing of mourning villagers. As they emerged from the forest, Carling’s hand flew to her mouth. She could not believe what her eyes were telling her. Her entire village was in flames. Each little house and shop was burning and on its way to being destroyed. Flames lapped out the doorways and broken windows. Roofs collapsed. Amid the rubble of many structures, only stone chimneys remained standing.

  Carling screamed and leaped from the back of her Centaur. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she started running toward her home.

  Higson was right behind her. “Carling! Wait! Wait for me!”

  She was not conscious of him calling out to her, nor of the Centaurs cantering beside her. She wove between burning buildings, her lungs aching and her eyes stinging. Up ahead, she could just barely make out flames coming from her home. As she neared the burning house, the village smithy, Ashtic, caught her in his arms. “Stop, Carling. Don’t go in there. There is nothing you can do.”

  She struggled and then, adrenaline giving her strength, began hitting his chest with her fists. “Let go! Let go of me!”

  The Centaurs and Higson came up beside her.

  “Get on my back,” said one. “I will carry you swiftly through the flames and keep you safe. We will search for your parents together.”

  “I’m coming, too,” said Higson as he swung his leg up on the Centaur’s back and pulled Carling up after him.

  The Centaur galloped toward the burning house. One side of the cottage had already collapsed. He chose that place to enter the wreckage that had once been a home. With a powerful push from his haunches, the Centaur lifted his body over the fallen timbers and landed in what was once the main room of the house, where Saleen’s loom now stood as a twisted, blackened skeleton.

  The smoke and heat made it both difficult to see and to breathe. With hearts pounding and hands covering mouths and noses, the three rescuers scanned the room. Large holes had opened in the ceiling, through which pungent smoke and hot, curling flames were now escaping. Sooty shingles littered the floor. Timbers that had once supported the walls and roof were strewn across the entire area, signaling the extreme danger all of them were in by being there.

  A breath of wind coming from the gaping hole that had once been a wall cleared the room for just a moment—just long enough for Carling to see her father. He was lying on his stomach, his legs and feet twisted unnaturally backward. She jumped off the Centaur and ran to him, her heart in her throat. She knew instantly that they were too late.

  Higson pushed her aside. “Find your mother.”

  Carling seemed to be functioning as though she was not even conscious of what she was doing, like a puppet whose strings were being ma
nipulated by someone else. She hurried through the burning room. A soft noise caught her attention. Where it was coming from she could not tell, but her instincts caused her to turn toward the kitchen. She crawled through a former doorway that was now partially blocked by a collapsed doorframe. There, lying on the floor among broken dishes and twisted metal pans, moaning in pain, was her dear mother.

  Carling shouted. “Mother! Centaur, Higson, come quickly! My mother’s in here and she’s alive.” The Centaur crashed through a partial wall and scooped Saleen up in his arms.

  As he did so, Saleen squirmed and with a weak arm stretched down, blood flowing down to the tip of her finger, pointed toward the floorboards. With tremendous effort she coughed and choked out the words. “There…in there.”

  “Hush, mother. We need to get you out of here,” Carling said.

  Carling followed the Centaur out of the house, all of them coughing and gasping, their lungs and eyes seeking the fresh night air.

  But Saleen seemed agitated. Too weak to move more than the tiniest bit, she kept pointing back toward the house. “Carling,” she whispered through parched lips, her eyes open only slightly. “Carling,” she whispered again. The Centaur lowered her gently to the ground.

  Carling bent down, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I’m here, Mother.”

  A frail hand reached up and pulled Carling by the collar of her birthday dress, which was now blackened with smoke. “Carling….”

  “Mother, don’t talk. You are too weak.”

  A slight shake of the head and a tiny tug on the collar brought Carling closer to her face. “Under the kitchen floor….” A violent series of coughs followed and Carling gasped when she saw blood flowing out of her mother’s mouth.

  “Mother, please….”

  “Under the kitchen floor…for you….” Saleen’s hand fell to her chest, and then Carling’s mother closed her eyes for the last time.