Snippet #1727562

Nephelle day wasn’t going to be as she planned. For much of the passed year, Duke-regent Rion, had ordered the boarders of the duchy of Essyer watched. Yeomen and young boys patrolled the rocky coast and the mountains of the southwest or prowled along the open plains that touched the duchy of Prezell. What had they been ordered to watch for? Magic users and in particular, a redheaded witch, rumored to live in Iverna. Now they hadn’t turned up much, just a few mostly harmless hedge witches. These, depending on how they used magic, had been either been fined, thrown in the stocks or banished, all mild punishments given the lord’s loathing of the magical arts.

So not only was the witch watched when she deposited the sailor on the beach and transformed, by a pair of boys up on the cliffs but Sir Rion was nearby. He had been traveling out from Penbagad, with his brother’s tax collectors. In the pasted weeks, the knight had grown restless and edgy, cooped up in Atlander, the duchy’s capital, sick of dealing with the administration of his brother’s holdings, in his brother’s name.

The two boys raced away, running as fast as their short legs could take them, heading towards the coast road. If they could meet up with Duke-regent, there would be a handful of gold pennies for each of them, for news of the redhead witch. Luck was with them this day, as they spotted the rearguard of the small caravan and managed to get them to pay attention to a pair of peasants. The knight had been so eager to race off and catch the witch, he hadn’t bothered to count out the coinage but at simply thrown a purse at them, not stuffed but full of silver and gold pennies.

Rion was almost snarling, as he pounded down the narrow path to the beach. He was being reckless, in both his speed, having nearly broken one of his legs and in leaving his guards behind, as they scrambled behind him on only two feet. He wasn’t even wearing a coat of mail, just his sleeveless surcoat over a blue tunic. As his hooves tore into the sand, he clawed Herugrim from it’s sheath, gripping the hilt so hard his knuckles blanched white. This was the day he was going to catch her, the witch who had ruined everything for him. He could force her to reverse the spell, so he could bring his brother and his nieces home.

With a wordless bellow of hate, the centaur knight thundered down the beach, his eyes locked on a pair of figures and his sword held high. His twin hearts hammered, one pounding against his human chest and the other beating against his lower set of ribs. Blood surged through the large body, as he felt the feral urges in the back of his mind grow stronger.