The centaurs who had thrown their spears at Calavia. They had tried to penetrate her body and bring her death.
The noises grew louder, coming out of the mist to his left, and drawing nearer. He tightened his grip on the shaft of his battleaxe and breathed deeply.
A centaur emerged, swirling the fog around it as it moved, and Astegur cocked his head as the stud sniffed the air and looked about. He had a bow and quiver strapped to his side, one long curved sword with it, and in his hand was a spear, the point sharp and gleaming even in the grey haze.
This beastnearly killed Calavia, nearly took her life from my grasp.Astegur gritted his teeth to keep the smoke in his stomach inside. A week ago, he would have let the centaur keep on without engaging it, would have let the horsebeast live. But priorities changed quickly in the labyrinth—survival was like that.
The centaur brought his front hoof up and pawed lightly at the grasses and pursed his lips to whistle.
Another whistle responded in the distance.
Two.
He would be bringing two heads back to Calavia this day.
Astegur surged from his hiding place and tucked his head inward, pointing his long, dangerous horns straight for the horse’s chest. He felt the tips of his horns sink into flesh and sinewy muscle, just as a blood curdling bellow filled his ears. It was soon followed by the cries of other studs beyond his sight.
“Minotaur scum!” the centaur yelled, stumbling back and kicking his leg out to dislodge him.
Astegur braced for the strike. The centaur’s kick nailed him in the gut, dislodging him. But before the centaur could stop itself from falling forward, Astegur righted himself and spun under the stud. The horsebeast reared up. Astegur lifted his head as the centaur came down, and without using his axe at all, the centaur landed on his horns, goring itself.
He dislodged himself again before the body crushed him and twisted to the side, bringing his axe up to cleave off the stud’s head.
A spear whizzed by Astegur’s ear but missed him as he slammed his blade down, sending splatters of blood flying into the air. He drew back to deal the final blow to the beast’s neck when he was kicked to the ground by the hooves of another centaur.
“The minotaur is outside the barrier!” the centaur yelled, swiping his curved sword in Astegur’s direction.
Astegur dodged out of range and caught the blade with his horns. The sound of metal on bone rang out in the night right before he jumped out of range of a second blow.
Astegur rose up as the new beast swiped the air, cutting the mist between them, keeping Astegur away from his fallen brethren already dead at his hooves. He sneered. “Yes. I am outside of Prayer,” he said as he heard the splashes of more centaurs heading his direction. “This will not be a good thing for you.”
The centaur pointed his sword at him. “You have killed the war chief’s brother, Elscalian, and his nephew, Telner. He will have your heart to feast upon!”
“I did not kill your people, but I will take your lives for your mistake.”
“All have been told about the deceit and the human you stole. We will have her back.”
The splashes of the others drew nearer. “My brother killed your war chief’s family, not I, and he is far beyond your reach now along with the human that you seek.”
“Lies!”
Astegur snorted and released the smoke within. His muscles tensed and bulged, seeking use, seeking violence to relieve their strain. He drew his dagger as the first centaur approached. He threw the dagger at a sound behind him and heard a grunt. His blade had hit its target.
He spun to the side as the centaur before him swiped at his head.
Another centaur appeared, notching an arrow on the bow it held. Two more stepped out from the murk with spears pointed in his direction. Astegur flicked the blood from his axe and readied.
“Give up, bull, you cannot defeat us all,” the one with the sword said.
Astegur laughed. “I will never give up, not until every centaur who is after my brother and his human are dead. Not until every beast that terrorizes my female has their head mounted on stakes outside of Bathyr.”
The centaurs snickered back. “There are hundreds seeking your horns as trophies. Our great general Kryiakos is on his way to claim them himself. Do you really think you can go up against us all?”
“I will if I must.” Astegur growled, bracing his hooves, knowing even as he taunted the beast, he could not fight off dozens of centaurs alone. He would be lucky to make it out of this battle with his hearts still pumping. But if he had learned anything in all his years roaming and fighting in the mists, it was that any day could be his last, and a death blow in battle was a glorious death to have. And to die, with free will, defending the female who had given it back to him was a hero’s death.
“Shame it must come to this,” the centaur said. “Kryiakos was looking forward to so much more.”
The others raised their weapons.
