“Bring it to the storage room,” she said to a creature that could not even hold its head up. When the boy meandered away and aimlessly wandered toward the outskirts to pick up his first piece of wood, his curiosity piqued.
He checked his axe and stepped from his camp to follow the thrall.
One by one, the boy picked up the broken pieces of settlement and gathered it in the crook of his arm, and when he could not hold anymore, he turned for the center of Prayer. Astegur followed the thrall to the steps and watched until he vanished inside, only to return shortly after with his arms empty.
Another thrall, one much older, breezed past him and into the temple carrying an armload of mossrock. He had never seen a thrall do anything more than defend itself and wander the lands without purpose. To see one understand commands and then perform them was something entirely new.
A third thrall stumbled up the stone steps with its arms filled with purple berries and roots.
Astegur stepped into the shadows of the building and watched as Calavia approached each thrall in turn and gave them an order. The only thrall missing was the woman who looked just like her.
So this is how she survives.He had spent the majority of the day before trying to escape, missing information that could be vital for his brothers. When the hag moved away from the last thrall, he made up his mind.
If the centaurs were coming, Prayer was as good as any place to make a stand.
* * *
She knewAstegur was watching her.
“Mitos, I need you to walk the edges of Prayer and be my eyes today,” she told the once elderly man. She only ever sent the eldest to risk their lives on her behalf.
When the thrall staggered away in the opposite direction of her, Calavia swallowed hard, knowing she may have to face the minotaur’s wrath once again. Last night’s storm was a mirror of his mood since she’d compelled him to come to her, and she had stayed awake in vigil so he did not bring the storm to her directly.
She could feel his eyes burning the back of her head, and she straightened her back, reaching for the clump of wax in the pocket of her dress. It had melted slightly in her palm by the time she heard the splash of his hooves emerging from the shadows of her home and plunging into the muck filled water. She stiffened and turned to face him as he headed her way.
The morning glow misted his frame and revealed him clearly for her perusal.
He’s clean.She canted her head as he made his way toward her. The minotaur looked far more human now that he wasn’t dirtied from weeks of travel and battle. Her eyes darted from his brutally edged yet strong features, to his huge neck that quickly became thickly honed shoulders, then to his biceps, all covered in scars.
Some scars were large and wide, while others could only be seen once he’d stopped in front of her. She followed them down over his bare chest and sculpted stomach. There was a scar that started in his pelvic region that trailed below his loincloth. Her eyes stayed there for a moment, curious, then she felt a blush heat her cheeks and she lowered her gaze.
Her eyes settled on his thick, brown-furred legs and hooves. Hooves that could shatter bones with a single kick.
He lifted his hand to catch her attention and she drew her eyes back up to his face.
Her blush grew. “Are you hungering?” she asked quickly.
His nostrils flared, but to her surprise, there was no burning hatred in his eyes. “Are you offering to share your food?”
“I am looking out for you.”
His gaze bored into her. “You command those that cannot be commanded, and you appear to do it well.” He nodded his horns in the direction of a group of thralls. “Do they eat as well under your order?”
“I asked, I did not order, minotaur, and the thralls do not eat, yet they do not want for anything.”
“Ah, they want for nothing. A being that has nothing to want, has nothing to live for.”
Calavia looked at the thralls. “And yet they remain here with me, as they always have and always will.”
Astegur snorted, drawing her eyes back to his. She realized it was the longest conversation they’d had without resorting to heightened voices and violence.
“I have thought about your plea,” he said, taking her aback.
“During the downpour and thunder last evening?”
His eyes searched her face. “Did the storm frighten you, hag?”
“No more than if it really was the sound of a centaur army stomping their hooves and shooting spears to take down my home would.”
