Snippet #1748032

"To the south" said Rion, "Is the Duchy of Prezell, lands belonging to the King himself, Anwen of Avalin. When I was last in the capital, no such laws, governing the use of magic or placing restrictions on magic users, had been drafted. It has been many months, since I last visited, though. With the bestial spirit having taken over my elder brother, I have been forced to remain here in Essyer, acting as regent over his holdings and vessels. I know not of the Duchy of Abeldard though, which lays to the south and west or of those laying beyond of Prezell. When we cross the border, we will find a magistrate and find out for you."

As the Duke-regent and his two new traveling companions, walked up the cliffs and set out southward, the guards for the tax collector split into two groups. A majority marched after the heavy wagon, with a trio of archers and two men armed with spears following their lord, as he headed towards Atlander, home of the dukes of Essyer and a short distance from Esperlin, the fastness of the King. However, they did not get all that far from the other group, before the Duke-regent stopped short a top a small knoll and looked to their left.

In a goodly sized field, maybe caused by a small fire the last year, to judge from the scars on the trees ringing the place, was a herd of centaurs. Devoid of clothing or only wearing the remnants of shirt and blouse, they appeared to frolic and drink, free from the worries of the world. There appeared to be a number of foals among them, if one was to use horse terms to describe the children of the centaurs, all of whom where less then a year old. And then, there was an odd one, standing at the edge, hair like a raven's wing and a dappled gray body of a mare under her human torso. She wasn't wearing clothing but it appeared that she wasn't among the herd just yet.

Rion suddenly had a look of pain and anguish on his face. His hand clasped his temples, as if to keep his skull from bursting, which it felt like doing, as he entered into mental combat. The spirit of the stallion he was fused with, screamed a challenge across the plains of his mind and closed with his spiritual self, attempting to wrest control of the body away from his human mind. Time and time again, the spirits clashed, with each encounter ending with the horse being thrown back, a little less each time, until it was too tired to fight him directly.

With the stallion subdued for the moment, the centaur scanned the herd before them, looking for the faces of his brother, sister-in-law and his two nieces. He was forced to bite the inside of his cheek, to resist the attempts of the horse spirit to sneak into his mind. He was both relieved and saddened, not to see any of his kinfolk among the gathered centaurs but his eyes kept being drawn to the outsider. Maybe she wasn't yet turned, maybe she could be saved yet, from turning away from her humanity.

"Remain here" commanded Rion, as he turned and trotted towards the gathering. With each step, he had to concentrate a little harder on remaining who he was, as both the stallion within and the herd without called to him to release all he held dear. His hand was resting on the pummel of his sword, weary eyes watched his fellow centaurs, as he came up behind the odd one.

"Do not" said the Duke-regent, his tongue covered with the coppery taste of blood, "Allow yourself to be taken in by this curse, my lady. Remember who you are."