Chapter 71. Friend and Foe

abar jolted awake to the sounds of screaming. Instinct caused him to take to his feet but the heavy chains drew him immediately back to reality. The other two centaurs that shared his enclosure were also standing. Their ears were back and their eyes rolled with fear. The earth trembled beneath their hooves with an unnatural anger. Every fiber of his being wanted to flee. Something terrible was happening in that cave.

There were just the three of them now and a handful of the humans who had brought them here. Many had vanished, either at the Mursaat’s whim or desertion into the steaming wilderness. Once the Charr and Avacara had been used for the Mursaat’s dark purpose, a centaur was also taken, and then the Mursaat had demanded three men. There had been a small rebellion but the number of mutineers had proved convenient. Those remaining either thought themselves indispensable or were too frightened by reptile infested jungle.

“Get the smarter of the three mules and put what we need on it. Now!” shouted Justicar Galdron.

Dabar withdrew instinctively from the rough grasp of his captors when the crude bamboo gate of the pen cracked open. They released the iron shackles and looped a rope through his collar. The other centaurs bleated and hissed, spitting at the man who lead Dabar away. He knew better than to resist, knew that any hesitance on his part, whether through fear or insolence, would only lead to more stripes on his back. He stayed still as a pair of men lashed sacks and boxes atop him, neither taking pains to cushion him from sharp edges or distribute the weight evenly. They worked frantically, piling his back high with provisions and water in a matter of minutes. The earth rumbled violently, building to a frenetic pitch.

An exhalation of heat washed over him followed by a pressure wave so intense he and the men attending to him where lifted from their feet and hurled aside like toys before an angry child. His ears burned and popped and he was pinned beneath a shower of rocks and the too heavy burden of his captors. He may have blacked out for only a moment, but his next memory was of awakening to the frightened cries of men and centaur. There was blood cooling on his flanks and he gazed blearily upon it, wondering if death had arrived at last. After all this time and suffering it would be welcome. He would go home.

He heard one of the men groaning and crying out in pain near him. It was only then he realized the blood was not his own. The second man had been crushed between him and the high stone cliff, his body impaled with shards of stone. Still stunned, all Dabar could do was stare until the mouth of the cave spewed rampaging ogres and hordes of enchanted weapons.

At first he thought the Mursaat had turned them loose to slaughter them all as a final act of contempt. When they rushed past the two penned centaurs and a knot of terrified men trapped between the pen and the approaching horde it became clear they were fleeing. Dabar strained futilely to rise. He did not want to meet whatever it was that had the power to frighten two score ogres and their enchanted army. Justicar Galdron and a handful of his men were pressed against the opposite wall of the small box canyon watching the horde pass.

“Take whatever provisions you can carry. We flee,” Galdron roared when silence fell once more. It was something the man need not have said. As soon as they regained their senses, his men were already doing just that. Dabar lay still, hoping they would think him wounded and near death. Just take the burden away and leave him. Dying alone in the wilderness was still preferable to being their slave. He closed his eyes and lay still as they salvaged the packages tied to his back, cutting knots and loosening straps until it was gone. For once it was a fortunate thing they held him in no higher regard than an animal for they did not mourn his passing nor try to revive him.

He waited until they moved away before daring to open his eyes again and watch what was happening. The weight was gone. They had shifted stone and the body of the dead man to gain access to what they needed to survive. Once they had moved on, Dabar would be able to rise and take his chances, free in the end and that was all that mattered now.

A lone figure appeared in the mouth of the cave. Dabar remained still but the other two centaurs squealed and grunted in alarm. The two of them were wounded, bloodied by the stones that had struck them when the sealed entrance had been blown away. No doubt Galdron would have conscripted them if they had been unharmed. Instead he had abandoned them, leaving them penned and chained to die of privation or become easy prey for marauding reptiles.

Dabar assumed the Mursaat would not come forth to admire its handiwork, but as the shadows fell away and the man emerged into the steamy sunlight, he was in for a surprise. It was Pendaran, and yet it was not. He strode into the open burning with chaotic potential, a strange vortex of shadow curling in his wake. The brands upon his ashen flesh were aflame with violet fire. And his face. Dabar swallowed and looked away. How could beauty meld with such hatred? It was terrible to behold.

“Take me to your capitol and I will reward you,” he said to Galdron, his voice smooth as honey but thick with the timbre of power. The Justicar hesitated, a mixture of fury and horror engraved upon his rugged face.

“I do not take orders from prisoners,” the man rumbled boldly even as he stepped back instinctively from Pendaran’s approach.

“I do not suffer fools,” Pendaran said quietly, his face strangely serene as he lifted his hand and the air around him shifted and shimmered. Dabar surged to his feet, simultaneously wanting to stay beneath the notice of Pendaran but also wishing to flee. Being in his presence seemed a violation, an affront to the very laws of nature. He could not tear his eyes away, only look on as the shadows around him coalesced into sweeping claws and shrieking, tearing jaws. Where no raptors had been suddenly the canyon teemed with them. Cold laughter purred from Pendaran’s throat as the beasts swarmed over Galdron in a welter of blood.

“Such simple fears,” he said, lowering his hand. The raptors faded away as quickly as they had come and only the shattered corpse of the Justicar remained to mark their visit, “Now who will guide me?”

No one said a word or moved a muscle for fear of coming under Pendaran’s scrutiny. Finally he turned to one of them.

“Fetch me that animal. I will ride it, for I am weary.”

Dabar backed away when a pair of White Mantle moved anxiously toward him, not daring to contradict their fearsome new leader. He found it strangely gratifying that they were as terrified as he. One of them caught the rope around his collar and tugged him forward. It was no use trying to escape now. And he did not want to tempt another display of that horrible unnatural magic.

“Kneel, beast,” Pendaran said when Dabar stood trembling before him. Once his knees and hocks were touching the ground, the man he had once called friend continued, “See how this creature obeys? That is how all of them shall look upon us henceforth. Serve me well, for I shall need trusted allies in the days to come.”

It was all Dabar could do not to squirm and bleat in horror when the terrible sucking coldness surrounded him. The feel of the man’s legs against his flanks, the unnatural lightness of him, was a violation. Trembling, he rose to his hooves, his fists balled where they lay bound and forgotten against his belly. Fate was cruel. This was far worse than anything he could have imagined.

Somehow he walked with the horrible thing perched on his back. It was not human, he knew that, and yet it was. It was as if all that was most horrible about their entire race had been compacted into one man, and that one man was going to unravel the entire world simply because he could, because it amused him. And he was sitting on Dabar’s back.

Not surprisingly, they encountered no raptors or any other marauding lizards as they moved free of the sanctuary of the canyon and roamed onto the verdant upland. In the open sunlight it was hot and humid. His hide gleamed and foamed with sweat as he labored among the silent, terrified humans. At least they had enough sense to be afraid of the same thing.

An hour passed in this way, and his eyes strayed skyward to watch the angle of the sun. Soon it became too hot for even the insects to chatter as the wind died and the land shimmered. They sought shade, gingerly pausing to take water, and when their new master did not protest, food and rest as well. Pendaran said nothing, nor did he shift from Dabar’s back. Leaving him alone with Pendaran still astride him under the shade of a single tree, the rest withdrew a safe distance to their own island of shade. One by one the dozen men who had survived the journey to and from the Mursaat’s vile cavern nodded to sleep as they often did at this time of day. Even Pendaran slumped forward, his face cool against Dabar’s shoulder as his breath softened. Dabar could feel none of the violating wrongness of the magic. All that he sensed now was a very weary and weak human sitting astride him.

“Is that sunlight?” Pendaran croaked, “Please tell me it is.”

“Yes, it’s sunlight, Pen.”

“I’ve missed it so. And trees and the smell of water.”

Dabar did not want to pity him. He was human after all, one of those who had enslaved and treated him like an animal. But Pendaran had been kind to him when he was trapped in the ship. He had found comfort in the warmth of a kindred spirit, a vulnerable and gentle spirit like himself. But he had seen him summon death out of nothing. Unable to hide his fear, Dabar trembled silently.

“Why are you frightened, Dabar?” Pendaran asked.

What could he say? In this moment he sounded like the poor frail man in the cage grieving for his loved ones and the wickedness of his own kind. How long would that last? Dabar could no longer afford such confidences. He was afraid to move, to do anything that might tell Pendaran that he was aware of him. Just go back to sleep and leave him alone. Maybe, just maybe he would get out of this unscathed if he acted like a stupid animal.

Except that now he felt the man’s tormented body shudder with grief. Too weak even to sit up, Pendaran’s face was still pressed against his back and his tears overflowed and trailed down Dabar’s back. He struggled with the twin urge to comfort another soul in pain or cast him off in anger.

“I dreamed, didn’t I? A man was killed. I didn’t want to do that.”

“I know,” Dabar replied.

“Gods,” Pendaran sobbed, “Kill me, Dabar. I can’t be allowed to live this way.”

Dabar could kill in self-defense or in defense of his loved ones, but this was a friend, someone who had never meant him any harm.

“Don’t ask that of me. There must be another way.”