The mist made the image hazy, but the glints of spearheads caught his eye, and before long, more glints appeared. Dozens, possibly a hundred centaurs were gathered, sheathing weapons and packing satchels. Those that had finished, vanished out of sight. The leaders were easily distinguishable by their armor, as they were the only ones wearing protection over their bodies’ weak points. There were only several in the mix with that distinction—armor being a rare and valuable resource in this world, especially armor that fit a centaur.
As the image shifted, he estimated a hundred, possibly more. His hand gripped his axe handle.
He had gone up against a scouting party before but never so many centaurs. His shaft hardened to the point of pain with the thrill of bloodlust and impending death. It wasn’t just Calavia’s blood in his mouth that excited him...
It was the chance to fight an enemy he may not be able to defeat.
The chance to fight against insurmountable odds. It was a battle none of his brothers could win, but Astegur wasn't his brothers. He had strategy. There was a chance he might not defeat them, it made it a worthy challenge.
He didn’t know how long he watched the centaurs and studied their weapons, but when he looked up, the hag was staring at him, stoic and quiet, but shaken. She did not look entirely unnerved, but he could tell something was going on behind her weary eyes, something akin to stress and despair.
He didn’t know why the urge to comfort her arose in him, but saliva pooled in his mouth the longer they stared at one another.
“What did you see?” she asked when he remained quiet.
“They are on the move. Those that are left are still weaving reed armor and crafting newly sharpened weapons. I assume they plan to meet up with the others on the edge of their borders when they are ready.” It was what he and his clan would have done.
She twisted her hands into her ragged dress. “We don’t have much time.”
“The swamps will slow them down. How often do you have centaurs in your lands?”
“Occasionally. I have provided sanctuary to their kind before but it is a rare thing. They do not often leave the coastal lands unless it is a scouting party or a lone deserter.”
“Then we will assume they know what they are up against by coming here.”
She shook her head. “I had nothing to hide from their scouts. Not then.”
“It will not matter. I have thoroughly wandered the edges of Prayer, and the thickened mist that obscures it will be in our favor.” He had more pressing questions to ask her but Astegur knew there was no trust between them. “I will help you defend this place because they are here because of my brother and because if we do not stop them, they will either ascend the mountains to wipe us out or wait for us to emerge to make an already very dangerous passage even more so. We have a week, maybe a fortnight to prepare. But I have one question I need answered first, hag.”
Calavia turned from him and reached for the wax bowl, pouring it out and over the wax coating the bottom of the altar. “A question you say?”
His gaze followed the pink wax as it spread and hardened, wishing he could take the blood within it out and consume it. “One I need answered.”
“And if I refuse to answer it?”
“Then I will protect myself and only myself until such a time your protection falters and the centaurs invade. They will torture and kill you and my escape will be assured,” he lied. If anyone would kill her, it would be him. He owned that right and no horsebeast would take that from him.
She frowned but nodded, straightening as if she had to show him courage. “What is your question?”
“Why, if the rumors are true that you have been dwelling in Prayer since it fell to the mist many years ago, are you unable to protect it now?”
Her frown deepened for a moment before vanishing entirely. “To answer that…” Her lips twitched, and he took a step toward her. She stepped back. “I would need proof that you will not betray me, like you are obviously considering. To answer that, I could never let you leave me or Prayer even if we survive. I could not risk my future safety or those I care for.”
Astegur snarled. “You are risking it now.”
Calavia skirted around him as he took another step in her direction, moving back to the other side of the altar and picking up her knife again. “You have given me a choice, and I have given you one as well. A sacrifice for a sacrifice.”
He stormed back to the altar and reached for her across it, but she dodged away from him. “You have taken my free will from me, witch! Every minute not answering is another minute the centaurs gain.”
“You think I do not know that?” she snapped. “You do not know how much I have risked.”
“You brought me here through pain and offered me death if I do not fight.”
“This is my battle as much as yours now.”
“You say a sacrifice for a sacrifice, but you have not realized the price you will pay for what you want. If you truly want to save Prayer then you would be willing to pay any price.” Astegur slammed his fist down on the broken altar, breaking it a little more.
Calavia jumped back with a small cry. “I should have chosen one of your brothers.”
