11. From the Earth
1702 Words
11
From the Earth
Before they managed to choke down the rest of their breakfast, hooves trotted gently up behind them. The centaur Raven approached them, his black hair glinting blue in the sun.
“If you would please follow me, Grays,” Raven said. “I am to take you to your lesson.”
“Lesson?” Claire asked.
“Come on, Claire.” Jacob lifted Claire to her feet, and they followed Raven into the trees.
“I’m just saying,” Claire whispered, “if we’re living in the woods with no electricity, you would think we would at least get a break from lessons.”
“We have been instructed by the head of your Clan to teach you to defend yourselves,” Raven said without looking back. “You should be honored. We do not allow many wizards to learn centaur magic.”
“Is centaur magic different?” Jacob jogged to catch up to the centaur.
“Yes,” Raven said.
Jacob paused, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, Jacob asked, “How is it different?”
“Centaurs do not use talismans. Talismans are things wizards created. We use the magic that feeds from the earth through our hooves. We do not fight the magic, or take more than is rightfully ours,” Raven said, still walking steadily down the path.
“Do you use spells?” Jacob asked. It had never occurred to him that there could be different kinds of magic. But then, he hadn’t known centaurs could do magic at all.
“Centaurs do not learn magic from books,” Raven answered with a hint of derision in his voice. “Our magic is passed down from generation to generation. We learn from our kind, not from lifeless pages.”
“We learn from our kind, too.” Claire skipped up to Raven, her head barely reaching his waist. “We just write it down in books to make sure we get it all right. Professor Eames and Aunt Iz still taught all our lessons.”
Claire stopped talking when Emilia grabbed her arm.
“The centaurs have very ancient magic. And we are incredibly grateful that Proteus and the rest of your Tribe are willing to share your knowledge,” Emilia said, the sweetness in her voice contrasting with the glare she shot at Claire.
“What?” Claire mouthed.
“We owe a debt to Isadora Gray for finding us new land. We owe a debt to Jacob Gray for avenging our own.” Raven bowed his head at Emilia’s compliment.
“I guess Iz is pretty great like that,” Claire said, pulling away from Emilia to trot alongside Raven again. “And Jacob’s not so bad either.”
“Thanks, Claire,” Jacob muttered as they reached a clearing in the trees where the grass had been worn down to hard-packed dirt. Jacob stared at the scene before him, trying to convince himself he hadn’t fallen into a strange fairytale.
Archery targets lined the far side of the clearing. A child centaur with a small bow received a lesson off to one side, but the rest of the archers looked like seasoned warriors with quivers of arrows slung across their backs, calmly aiming at the targets. The high buzz and heavy thud of arrows striking their marks sounded through the clearing. Jacob spun around as a series of heavy clangs echoed behind him.
Another group of centaurs dueled with heavy swords and shields. Yet another group hit each other with spells Jacob didn't recognize―long ribbons of red light that lashed out like whips.
“Welcome to your lesson.” Proteus strode up to them.
This was the first time Jacob had seen him since the shadowing the night before. He looked tired and worn.
“Thank you for delivering them, Raven,” Proteus said.
Raven bowed and left, joining the group with the swords.
“I hope you are all well,” Proteus said as he led them to the far end of the clearing.
“We’re fine,” Emilia said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Jacob wanted to add his thanks but was too distracted by two centaurs charging at each other with lances. It looked like jousting, only the horse and rider were one.
“You are most welcome,” Proteus said, his deep voice drawing Jacob’s attention back.
“Are we going to learn to do that?” Connor pointed over to the sword practice.
“Yes.” Proteus nodded.
“But why?” Claire asked. “If we’re going to use weapons instead of spells, shouldn’t we use a g*n, or a grenade, or maybe a tank? I think a tank could be really handy.”
Jacob couldn’t help but agree. Swords were cool, but how much good would they do against a g*n or a spell?
“Arrows and swords can be infused with magic,” Proteus said without any sign he had taken offense at Claire’s question. “An arrow with a spell on it can break through most wizarding shields. And a sword can be used to cut through a barrier.”
“How do you know?” Claire asked.
“Wizards and centaurs have not always lived in peace,” Proteus said.
Jacob didn’t like the idea of fighting a centaur. Especially not Raven, who was now throttling a large, dappled centaur with his sword.
“Even now, when we live in peace with the Gray Clan, we must again fight wizards. Wizards who will stop at nothing to destroy us”―Proteus pointed at Claire―“or you.”
“Actually, in this group, I’m at the bottom of the Dragons’ people to kill list,” Claire said. “It’s shocking, but true.”
Proteus did not seem amused.
“But still, I need to be able to defend this lot when the Dragons come,” Claire added.
“Thanks, Claire.” Connor patted her on the back. “I’ll sleep better tonight.”
“Where do we start?” Emilia asked, looking around the field.
“The first thing you must do is learn to shoot. If you wish to place a spell on the tip of an arrow, the arrow must land where you intend,” Proteus said.
For a moment, Jacob thought he saw the shadow of a smile on the centaur’s face.
Jacob turned, expecting to go to the targets where the centaurs practiced. But Proteus stomped a hoof, and out of the ground rose a target and four bows and quivers. The quivers were filled with arrows with shining black feathers on their shafts.
The target was larger than the ones the centaurs were using and much closer to them as well.
“We will begin simply.” Proteus pulled the bow from his back.
He nocked an arrow in his bow and, without even seeming to aim, hit the target perfectly in the center.
“Sweet,” Claire said with a smile. “Can I try?”
Connor crossed in front of Claire and picked one of the bows up off the ground, pulling a single arrow from a quiver. He pulled the bowstring a few times before shooting the arrow, hitting mere inches from the center of the target.
He turned to hand Claire the bow, but she didn’t take it.
“What?” Connor asked, grinning at all of their shocked faces. “My parents live on a preserve. We do this sort of thing.”
“Right,” Claire said, nodding slowly.
It was weird to think of Connor living in the woods with wizards Jacob had never met before. But then, it was hard for Jacob to imagine other wizards who weren’t trying to kill him and his family.
Proteus began teaching all of them to shoot, working with each in turn, telling them to breathe and steady the bow. By the time the sun began to set, Jacob could barely lift his arms, but he had at least hit the target. Connor had been sent to the other targets with the centaurs. Claire was showing real progress, though she kept closing her eyes before shooting. But Emilia had barely managed to get an arrow to fly, let alone hit anything.
As they made their way back to the tents, Jacob tried to walk with Emilia, but she quickened her step, hurrying in front of the rest of the group.
She was waiting at the fire outside their tent when the rest arrived. A pot hung over the flames. Jacob’s stomach growled at the rich scent of the stew. He hadn’t realized they hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Maybe centaurs didn’t believe in lunch.
“Well, that was a good day,” Connor said, taking a large helping of stew and sitting on the ground by the fire.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Claire said. “You already knew how to do the whole Robin Hood bow and arrow thing. And this creepy stew probably tastes homey to you, too.” Claire let some of the thick stew glop off of her spoon and into her bowl.
“Just because I know something that’s useful, and you only care about the pink computer you weren’t allowed to bring out here with you, doesn’t mean I like goop stew.” He took a bite and shrugged. “Face it, Claire, when it comes to being out here, I’m just better at it than you.”
Jacob snorted into his stew.
“It doesn’t matter,” Claire said with a smile. “He can be a butt if he wants. I’ll have the rest of our lives to get back at him.”
“Rest of our lives?” Connor raised a ginger eyebrow.
“Sure.” Claire swatted him on the back of the head. “We’re getting married someday, so we’ll spend our whole lives together.”
“Wait, what?” Emilia asked, knocking the pot of stew into the fire. Emilia started to reach into the flames after the pot but Jacob caught her hand.
“Laevium.” The stew pot righted itself, flying back onto the hook. The remains of their dinner smoldered on the fire.
“Sorry,” Emilia said quietly to Jacob before rounding on Claire. “You’re not old enough to be contemplating marriage. You’re kids.”
“Well, we are now.” Claire shook her spoon at Emilia in a spot on imitation of Molly. “But someday, if we don’t end up dying tragically, we’ll grow up, and it’ll be time to get married. And since Connor and I really only know each other and we’ll never be able to find someone else who understands the immense trauma we’ve been through, we’ll have to marry each other. So it only makes sense for Connor to accept right now that he’s going to be my groom in a pink-themed wedding.”
“I’m not wearing pink.” Connor shook his head. “You do what you want, but I’m not wearing pink.”
“You agree with her?” Jacob asked.
“Well, yeah, but not about the pink.” Connor shrugged.
“It’s all right.” Claire smiled. “I have at least eight-and-a-half years to convince you.”
Jacob laughed as Connor scowled silently.
Emilia stood and walked into the tent.
“Was it the stew or the pink wedding?” Claire asked as the green flap fell shut.
“Neither,” Jacob said, staring at the tent.
- Writer
