15. The Kegaleg night
-15-
The Kegaleg night
A red and long sunset, exactly as red and long as the sunrise that preceded it, gave its place to an opulently illuminated night. Since the travellers had spent their previous night in prison, it was the first time they noticed how beautiful the Kegaleg night was. Kegaleg had no moons but it obviously did not need any, since its silvery white stars were so numerous and bright that they could see as if there were two full moons in the sky. The forest was not as thick as before, a sign that they were close to the plains, which some nomad bariaur tribes usually claimed as home this time of the year.
“I believe it is better if we stopped here. It is not wise to reach the plains before morning. The bariaur are quite suspicious of strangers” suggested Gaella, although her tone was more of an order than of suggestion, unable to shed a habit of hundreds of years of ordering people around.
“Should we set watches, since we are close to hostile territory?” asked Dreide.
“Yes, we should. I’ll go first” said Gaella. “After an hour and a half I’ll wake Arkan up…and please, it’s better if we let the satyr sleep all night through, ok?” And with these words, Gaella left to take a look around. Berthal squatted on the grass and opened his spell book to skim through what he considered more important, while Quath started gathering a few sticks from around, in case they needed to light a small fire. Melancholy started to weigh over Dreide, when Arkan retired a few steps away, thrust his hallowed sword upright on the earth and fell to one knee to pray to the Coiled god. One hour later, everyone except the centaur high priestess, was sleeping.
The grass was soaked with humidity, as was always during the night. Few times in her life had Gaella been so far from home and this filled her heart with a haunting loss. She kneeled on the ground and caressed the grass, wishing it were the grass of her homeland. Centaurs made poor travellers and adventurers. However far they may have gone, they would always languish for their homes. Their own villages would always have greener grass, bluer sky, more fragrant flowers even if they visited the gardens of the Gods. In the hours of loneliness and recollection their fatherland would always return to claim the softest spot in their hearts and the most vivid images of their memories.
She stood up again, unable to make herself feel comfortable. She walked a few steps among the low bushes, then got bored and stopped. Maybe she shouldn’t wake Arkan up. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Her heart was so heavy and everything was a mess. She had allied herself with satyrs and half-breeds, while her beloved and faithful amazons had broken the most sacred rules, those the goddess herself had handed over to them. And then she would have alien mages talking absurdities being her only crutch. Could things get any worse?
A tear trickled down her face. She walked a bit further among the bushes. Her people would perish and she would be condemned to live the failure for eternity; to no avail. Her hide brushed against the foliage gently and quietly. Then she heard the foliage being pushed aside again, almost as soundlessly. Gaella wiped her eyes as fast as she could. Her fingers touched her flail that was hanging from her silver, chainlike belt. She turned slowly scanning the area. Ground mist started to rise and she took her flail in her hands to counterbalance the disadvantage of her suddenly limited eyesight. She felt the cool patches on her face and hands and waited. They made her relax; an untimely feeling. She could not help it though. Her grip loosened and her hands lowered, and as suddenly as it had shown up, the mist started to fade. A chill in the back of her neck made her turn. And then she saw the creature.
The creature was a quadruped. She could see four dark horse legs but she could not make out the exact colour in the black and white night. The rest of the creature was covered from the top of its head to the end of its tail by a white, dirty cloak. It held no weapon. At least none Gaella could see.
“What can I do for you?” she said guardedly.
“The question is ‘what can you do for you?’” The voice was whispery. So soft – softer even than Quath’s – that she could not tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. The words were so impertinent to speak to an ageless high priestess of the Goddess; only that this creature gave out a strange radiance she could not see yet she could feel when she was around it, like it was enfolding her in its comforting aura. It felt familiar, as if it has always been around, yet she had never noticed.
“What are you? Some incarnation of my conscience or something?” she challenged it.
“You can say that if you really like it. Are you sure you like it, though?”
“I don’t understand” gods how she hated cryptic answers!
“If your conscience needs to shake you so much so as to present itself in front of you, wouldn’t that mean you have done a terrible mistake? Do you feel like you have done a terrible mistake?”
“I have done no mistake!” she tried to sound angered instead of apologetic and almost failed.
“So prideful a child…” the centaur said and walked around her half a circle, though without getting closer to her at all.
“I’m not a child; I’ve lived hundreds of years”
“You need a few more millennia if you wish me to call you otherwise” the creature hissed.
Gaella gaped. Silence fell, while the two centaurs stared at each other motionless.
“You are not a centaur” she said finally but the ‘centaur’ did not answer. “Which god has created you?”
“One that now lies dead…” the stranger mused as if the statement was something funny. “There are some things above the gods, my child”
“How dare you?” she took a step forward and this time she did not need to try to sound angered.
“Your faith is appreciable but if you wish to serve your goddess you must attain a higher understanding of the world, than that your goddess has allowed you to.”
Gaella’s hands squeezed the flail again. How could this thing criticise the decisions of the goddess?
“My goddess has told me all I need to know” she replied flatly. “I need know nothing more if she does not want me to.”
“Then why do you need the mages with you? Why can’t you understand the creation without them?”
Gaella gritted her teeth but the creature continued. Her mind drifted strangely and unwantedly to a pair of pervert, glittering eyes and a teasing voice… ‘But it’s not a responsibility matter, you know. It’s a matter of understanding.’… Gaella returned to reality to distinguish a pair this time of amethyst eyes under the hood staring at her eagerly. The creature accosted her. Her hands squeezed on the flail so much that her fingers went numb.
“Do you know that the creators are usually born to destroy?” the voice was now even more soft and whispery and mesmerising, if that was possible. “Do you know that gods can go mad? Do you know that they betray?”
“Enough!” she shouted.
“These” his voice sizzled “history has taught me and have been proven to be true for many worlds that are now lost in oblivion …”
“Shut up!” she screamed and with a speed and strength she could not believe she possessed – which her fury had fuelled – she rose to the hind legs and dealt a blow that would smash the head of every living – or undead – creature. But the creature’s face jerked aside as if it was merely slapped. No bone crushed, no blood rushed, not even a cry of pain was heard. What for the goddess’s sake was he made of?
Gaella froze, her fury dissipating in a moment’s notice and giving its place to fear. She wanted to turn and run but all her four legs were pinned on the earth. The creature turned slowly his slapped face to stare at her again straight in the eyes. Under the hood the purple irises bulged like a beating heart. She trembled. Its hand grabbed her throat violently and an excruciating chill ran through each muscle of her body. She dropped on her knees and the creature bent above her, not letting her go. She tried to scream but her lungs felt cold as well. For a few moments she thought she would turn into a statue of ice… Then the cold started to recede and her body was left numb.
“You are wise, but your centaur pride blinds you” The ‘centaur’ said and released her throat. “A guardian must rise above her race to fulfil her destiny.”
Gaella coughed, rubbed her neck and rose to her feet. She cast a hateful look at the mysterious stranger.
“I will help you, child. Not because of sympathy or pity. The reasons are beyond you to understand yet – you have proven your weakness on that matter. I shall return when you will be more receptive.”
The creature turned and departed hastily, without a second glimpse to the goggle eyed Gaella he was leaving behind. A few seconds afterwards, nothing could betray his passing.
Gaella remained in her place, hearkening the night for a whole ten minutes, with her mind completely blank. Then she walked back to the sleeping travellers. As quietly as she could, she reached a sleeping Arkan. She bent above him and touched his cheek gently. He opened his eyes and whispered.
“Is it time?”
“Yes, please”
Arkan rose immediately and uncomplaining to take a walk around the campsite. Gaella lay on a blanket, closed her eyes and waited without thinking anything at all. A few minutes later, a deep sleep crept over her.
