CHAPTER#94

Once outside, he squinted against the harsh light of the sun. It was sinking toward the horizon, but MIke figured there was at least an hour before sundown. The tribe was thick around him as he was escorted and, sure enough, a large crowd had gathered out on the floor of the valley. Torches lined the pathway they took him down, and he found himself led to a large clearing with a small hill just above it. Standing on the hill was the Grand Stallion, his staff clutched in a hand that was so tight that his knuckles had gone white. Centaur men and women surrounded the hill, and they spread apart to let him in. The group was eerily silent, and he saw anger and distrust in their eyes.

Just like he had planned. Mike forced a smug grin before he was bodily tossed into the clearing, landing on his face and biting his lip. He moved quickly, standing up and brushing the dirt off his pants.

"I find your hospitality lacking." MIke locked eyes with the Grand Stallion, finally getting a good look at him. His hindquarters were a dark black, and his skin had the deep tan of dozens of summers. Deep lines criss-crossed his forehead and his impressive salt and pepper beard came halfway down his chest before terminating in a braid.

"You are not here for our hospitality," the Grand Stallion told him. "You are here because you have been challenged—"

"My name is MIke, by the way. That's a custom amongst my people, a polite introduction."

The air filled with the sound of anxious murmurs and the Grand Stallion gave him a dirty look.

"You are here because—"

"Zel always told me about how amazing her people were. Polite, refined. Dignified even. So I'll try again. My name is Mike and—" Someone jabbed him in the back with a spear butt and he hopped forward in response. "I'm the Caretaker."

The Grand Stallion glared at him, visibly grinding his teeth. "Are you finished?"

"I'm just trying to observe my own customs as a show of respect, Your Honor."

"You will refer to him as Grand Stallion." This was from a female centaur by his side in battle armor with a silver blade across each hip and chainmail armor. "And you will dial back your impertinence."

"Oh, I apologize. We haven't been formally introduced, per my custom, else I would have known the honorific he preferred. I mean, that is the point of my tradition."

"Your petty human traditions hold little sway over us, Mike the Caretaker. Your kind have brought naught but harm and chaos to the Herd, and therefore we feel no need to honor them."

"Yet you force me to abide by yours? You do realize this entire world is inside of a wardrobe which is inside my house? Human law dictates that, by proxy, summa cum laude, abracadabra, I own this place."

Shouting came from the centaurs around him and an ice cold chill filled his gut and sank down to his legs. He dropped to one knee in response just as a rock flew overhead, crashing against the ground in front of him.

Mike yanked the stopper open and Daisy shot into the sky, disappearing from sight. However, the shaman threw a handful of powder that made everybody start coughing. Rubbing it out of his eyes, Mike saw that it had stuck to his skin, outlining him in yellow.

The shaman waved her staff in a large circle, a glowing trail forming behind it. In response, he threw the bottle at her, cracking her right in the head. She stumbled back, dropping her staff. The Grand Stallion barely caught her before she fell.

"Sorry!" He ran at Zel, who quickly stood up and turned around. With a leap, he landed on her back and she took off at a gallop, hooves thundering on the ground.

"Take us to the tower!" he hollered, grabbing Ratu and coiling her around his neck. Shouts of alarm were followed by a loud acoustical blast from behind. When he looked back, the shaman was blowing into one end of her staff, and the centaurs at the bottom of the valley were already running like crazy to get up the hill.

"I can't outrun them," Zel said between breaths. "They're hunters and not carrying anyone."

"I've already thought about that. Where's the other vial?"

Zel's hand went to her blouse, and deftly plucked it out with her fingers. She held it over her shoulder and he took it with his free hand. He had a death grip on her waist but kept sliding back every few seconds.

"Will this work?" he yelled.

She gave him a thumbs up, her legs thundering loudly beneath them. Down in the valley, the centaurs were charging toward them, bows and arrows drawn. Zel was already heading toward a rocky portion of the mountain in a different direction than where they had come from. Picking her way up the stones carefully, they started moving up a steeper incline. Mike held the vial in one hand, wondering how much devastation it would cause.

"Should I throw it?"

"Wait until we're higher." She grunted between words, fighting for air. The guard was the first one to the rocks, her blade drawn.

Zel stopped long enough to kick a loose rock backward. It rolled toward the guard and she moved out of the way. Zel did this a few more times, but it slowed them down just as much as it slowed the guard. By now, the shaman, Grand Stallion, and the tribal leaders were at the bottom of the incline. Some of the faster centaurs were there as well, and a few of them stopped to draw arrows from their quivers.

"I'm throwing it!" Mike pulled the cork and Zel came to a stop. Mike chucked the vial down the incline, watching it clatter off a few rocks and then roll to a stop several feet from the shaman.