The trouble with Christianity in the US

I think the problem with the church in the US today is that it’s afraid to teach the whole message of God.

The Bible contains a message of love as well as a warning of discipline. Churches today are afraid to teach about the discipline of God for fear of driving away the masses. Yes, in many aspects, a church is like a business and it must meet it’s financial obligations, but that doesn’t give it license to ignore part of the message that God has for the world. The whole point of a church is to bring people into a relationship with God. If the message its giving is incomplete, it’s inaccurate and thus the church is inaccurately representing God to the people. Without periodic reminders that God is willing to discipline those He loves, people will push the envelope further and further until we end up with a society that’s, well, what we have today; a people feeling self-sufficient due to living a life already cushy from the blessings God has previously bestowed. We can see this cycle in the history of the Jewish people and now we are going through it ourselves.

Will we learn from what God let happen to His chosen people?
Will we wake up in time to save ourselves? I fear not, which will spell the doom of our once great nation.

Daniel

The Golden Ones – Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – The Disclosure

“Alura,” the Queen shouted as the Princess entered the royal sitting room. She ran to her mother’s outstretched arms and relished in the flourish of hugs and kisses.

“Sir Albert said you fell from a cliff and were killed.”

Alura broke their hug. “Yes, I figured that out while he had his swords to my throat.”

“What!” The Queen shot Albert a deadly look across the polished marble floor of the sitting room.

“It’s okay, Mother, he didn’t hurt me. He was only being cautious. They thought I was a Doppelganger.”

“You’d better be careful around him,” the Queen whispered. “I don’t trust that man. Nobody should be able to do the things he can do.”

“You’re right, Your Majesty.” Albert closed the large oak doors, the sound echoing in the empty sitting room. “No human can.”

The Queen’s deep green eyes took on a surprised look at being overheard.

“You forget my keen hearing, Your Majesty.”

Alura giggled. The Queen sighed.

When all were seated, King Alfred said, “So Albert, you said you believe this unicorn story of Alura’s?”

“A unicorn?” Queen Aria asked.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Alura squirmed in her seat as she spoke. “I rode a pegasus and spoke with a unicorn today.”

“Oh dear,” the Queen said. “She struck her head in the fall.”

“No, Your Majesty,” Albert said. “The Princess is quite whole. The unicorn she speaks of is real. I myself have spoken with him on a number of occasions.”

The King’s dark eyebrows narrowed.

“My Liege, I have been in your service over ten years. In all that time, have I ever once lied to you? Why do you not believe me now?”

“You’ve never lied to me, Sir Albert, this is true. But there have been times when I’ve felt you have not told me the whole truth.”

“His Majesty has very keen senses. But it was not out of deceit that I withheld information, I was simply not allowed to share it. But now that Cavalon has shown himself, those restrictions have been lifted.”

“Then speak plainly,” the King said.

“Your Majesties, you find it difficult to accept the reality of the pegasi and the unicorns because they are races of legend. Tales of old, told and retold until the characters in them become bigger than life. But I tell you those legendary stories are true.” He paused to scan their faces and gauge their reactions.

“You’ve read the Codex of Manzari. Those aren’t fictitious stories of ancient peoples. They are true tales about real people and their lives.”

“Those are stories of races long since gone,” the King said. “Are you asking me to believe that unicorns, pegasi, dragons and the like still exist?”

“Yes, Sire, I am.”

“Horse droppings!“ The King turned away and threw a leg over the gold inlaid arm of his ivory throne.

“I know this to be true, my Liege, because I myself am an Alturian.”

Queen Aria gasped and the King’s eyes widened. Even the Princess looked stunned.

“My Liege, after the unfortunate accident that paralyzed her Majesty’s legs, you held a contest to see who was worthy of being Princess Alura’s Protector. None could best me with a sword, nor in feats of strength or speed. I speak the truth. I am of a legendary race, just as real as the pegasi and the unicorns.”

Albert paused to let his shocking revelation sink in.

“So,” the King said, slowly. “If these legendary races still exist, why haven’t we seen them?”

“Some you have, like myself. But most have kept themselves hidden from your eyes. The Council of Eight thought it best that way.”

“The Council of Eight?” the Queen asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The Council of Eight gathered when the humans first appeared on this continent. It held one representative from each of the major races, and they decided the human race needed time to mature on its own, time to make its own mistakes, as it were, and that the older races shouldn’t interfere with the process.”

“So why are you showing yourselves now,” the King asked.

“That, Sire, I do not know. I need to speak with Cavalon to be certain. But I do know that it must be something very dire.”

“Like a troll invasion,” Alura muttered

“What?” the King and Knight said in unison, both heads turning towards her.

“Cavalon mentioned something about an impending troll invasion. I told him he was wrong, but he insisted.”

The King’s voice went up an octave. “And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“I haven’t had much of a chance.”

“Hmm. I guess you’re right. Go on. What else did this Cavalon say?”

“That the trolls have only been testing our defenses so far.”

“Did he say when they would attack?” Albert asked.

“No. Just that it was an impending invasion. He was called away suddenly so our conversation was cut short.”

The King and the Knight exchanged solemn looks. “This is very serious, my Liege,” Albert said.

“I agree. Do you trust what this Cavalon says, Sir Knight?” The King only used Albert’s title when he was most serious.

“I would stake my life on it, my Liege.”

The King ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head before pulling on the rope to summon the Seneschal. A moment later the side door opened and Carter stepped through.

“Carter, have my advisors meet in the war room immediately. And find Prince Alston, I haven’t seen him all day. Tell them we have much to discuss.”

“Right away, my Lord,” Carter said, with a bow and a quick exit.

“I will travel to see Cavalon first thing in the morning, my Liege. We should have more solid information upon my return.”

Alura stood. “I’m going with you.”

“It’s a long hard ride, your Highness. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable here at the castle.”

“And miss a chance to see a unicorn, no way!”

Albert sighed as he looked at the floor. “As you wish, your Highness,” he replied, with practiced calmness.

“I think we could all use a good night’s rest,” Queen Aria said. “It looks like we’ll all have a very full day tomorrow.” The Queen reached over and hugged Alura again. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“By your leave, my Lord, I’d like to get my armor repaired. I believe the Princess will be safe in the castle for the night.”

“Certainly, Albert,” the King said. “And some day soon you’re going to have to tell me about your battle with the trolls.”

Albert stood a little taller. “Gladly, my Liege.” He turned and headed towards the door.

“And get it cleaned too,” shouted the Princess across the room. “You smell awful.”

“Alura!” her mother said.

Albert smiled. “After all these years around me, your Highness, I’m surprised your nose is still so sensitive.” He shut the door behind him.

The King turned to Queen Aria. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be late.” He rose and headed towards the war room.

“I’m sorry I forgot your flower, mother,” Alura said.

“That’s not important, Alura. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

The two chatted for some time before Alura summoned the servants to help her mother to bed. She always enjoyed talking to her mom. She had a way of looking directly into her heart and addressing the truly important issues in her life. Albert was a good sounding board, but her mother is the one who actually solved the problems. As Alura retired to her bedchamber, she thought of how fortunate she was to have such a loving mother.

Alura awoke in the morning to the pleasant voice of her maidservant Precilla. “Time to wake up, your Highness.” Precilla softly shook her leg.

“Not yet,” she mumbled. Her overstuffed feather bed felt so comfortable this morning. “Just a few more hours.”

“Last night you made me promise to wake you, milady. And to mention a unicorn.”

The unicorn! They were going to meet with Cavalon today! Alura sprang out of bed and down the corridor towards the tubs. “Well, come on, Precilla” she called back to her servant, who was suddenly trying to keep up. “We have to be ready, you know.”

Precilla grabbed the Princess’ soaps, rose petals, perfumes, towels, robe, and the gown the Princess had picked out the night before, and darted down the corridor towards the tubs. Alura was in the water and waiting by the time Precilla finally arrived, bent over and gasping for breath.

“I thought you were never going to come,” the Princess jibed, with a smile at her still panting servant. Alura always liked her morning baths the best. The water was the warmest then.

With the bathing over and perfumes applied, the Princess slipped into her gold gown with black lace trim and hurried back to her room to await Sir Albert.

A wrap on the door announced his arrival. “Are you ready, your Highness?” he asked, after Precilla let him in.

“Yes.” Alura emerged from her vast closet where she had just selected the perfect hat to wear for meeting a unicorn. Her golden hair streamed out from underneath it.

He gestured to her gown. “No, no, no. That won’t do, your Highness. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

“We’re going to see Cavalon today, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but–”

“Then this will do,” she said flatly.

Albert sighed. “As you wish, your Highness.”

She peered at Precilla. “Honestly, men have no appreciation for appearances.”

Precilla covered a giggle with her hand.

When they got to the stable, Albert had a new horse ready for her; a gray appaloosa named Spitfire.

“Change Spitfire’s saddle,” the Knight command the groom. “We need a side saddle instead.”

The stable boy bowed. “Right away, Sir Knight.”

“Did you tell your parents about the loss of Spirit,” Albert asked, while they waited for the new saddle.

“Yes. I told mother after you and father left.” Alura’s eyes got misty. “I’m going to miss that horse.” Alura wiped away a tear. “Spirit was my mount for over three years.”

“He was a loyal beast,” Albert said.

A few moments later they were mounted and on their way. They galloped through the west gate out of town and into the mountains.

“I really wish you hadn’t worn that gown, Alura,” Albert said, when they were out of earshot of the city.

“Why do you do that?”

Albert’s face was a puzzle. “Do what?”

“When we’re alone you drop all the ‘your Highness’ and ‘my Princess’ stuff.”

Albert looked surprised. “Forgive me, your Highness, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay, Albert. Really, it is. I was just wondering why you have two different ways of addressing me.”

“Well, your Highness…”

Alura wrinkled her brow.

“Just testing,” he said with a smile. “I address you more formally when others are around because that’s what’s expected.”

“Not from you.”

“No, but from the others around us. I’d hate for a servant girl to get in trouble because she heard me call you Alura and thought it okay to do likewise. It’s for her sake I remain formal around others.”

“A servant should know how to address me.”

“We all pick up habits from those around us, Alura, whether we want to or not. I’m just making sure no one picks up bad habits from me.”

Alura smiled. Albert always thought of others before himself. That’s probably why she loved him so much.

“Okay,” she said. “As for your statement about my gown, we are going to meet someone very important today. I want to look my best.”

“How good will your gown look after three hours of riding?”

“Three hours! You never mentioned anything about three hours.”

“I said it was a long ride. What did you think it would be, ten minutes?”

The Princess fell quiet. She hated it when he was right.

After two hours of riding through the forest, Thunderbolt, Albert’s charger, started snorting the air. Albert reined him in and dismounted.

“Wait here while I check this out.” He drew his sword and cautiously moved forward.

He was approaching a large boulder when a small goblin jumped out. “Give me your coins!” it said in its tinny voice, brandishing its spear.

Albert threw his head back and laughed as he sheathed his sword. Turning back towards the Princess, he shouted, “It’s okay Alura. There’s no danger here,” and started back towards Thunderbolt.

“No danger, huh,” the goblin whined, and he thrust his spear. The back of Albert’s armor turned its tip.

Albert spun, drew his sword, and lopped off the spear point, in one fluid motion.

The goblin’s eyes went wide. He turned and ran into the trees dragging its useless spear behind.

Albert remounted.

“Why didn’t you kill the horrid little thing?” Alura said. “It was only a goblin.”

Albert scowled at her. “I don’t kill without reason, young lady. You should know that by now. He was no threat to us.” He clicked Thunderbolt into a walk.
“It was just a monster,” she insisted.

“It may not have been made by the Creator, but it’s still life, in a perverted sort of way.”

“The Creator? Don’t tell me you believe in that myth.”

Albert smiled. “A myth? Like unicorns and pegasi are myths?”

“No,” Alura said, defiantly. “Those are legendary races. They really existed at one time. Well, I guess they still do. Oh… you know what I mean. But the Creator. He’s supposed to have existed for all time, even before the legendary races. That’s just not possible.”

“If you say so, Alura.”

“I do,” she said smugly. “I used to think you were a smart man,” she added, with her nose in the air. She really did think he was a smart man. So why would he believe in a myth like the Creator?

“What do I know,” the Knight said. “I’ve only been around for 857 years. You’ve been alive for what, fifteen? I’m sure you know more than I do.” Albert spurred his horse ahead.

“Wait a minute!” Alura, urged Spitfire to catch up. “You can’t just drop something like that on me and then ride off. Did you say you were 857 years old?”

“Didn’t you know Alturians live long lives?”

“No,” she mumbled.

“You really should read the Codex of Manzari. We do live long lives. That’s why none of your father’s men could beat me with a sword. I’ve had 100 years of training.”

“A full 100 years of just training?”

“A little over, actually, but that was only because I liked it.”

Alura couldn’t believe it. 857 years old. How was that possible? Some of her father’s advisors where fifty years old and they had to walk with a cane. How could he be that old and still be fit for battle… or for anything?

They rode on in silence until her curiosity overcame her.

“You were just kidding, right? You’re not really 800 years old, are you?” She couldn’t get it out of her mind. He seemed so young.

Albert reined his horse to a stop. “I’ll be 858 this November.” He said, looking her in the eye. “Now you’ll have to be quiet from here on, we’re almost there.”

All thoughts of how ancient her Protector might be were chased from her mind by images of the unicorn with its long white hair and deep blue eyes. She straightened her hat.

Albert rode ahead, scouting for something. Before long he stopped.

After a short conversation with something she couldn’t see, Albert motioned for her to join him.

As she approached, Albert was still talking to thin air. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision. When she lowered her hands, it was standing there, right in front of Albert. It was a beautiful longhaired white horse with a glistening pearl white horn.

It was Cavalon.

The Golden Ones – Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – An Impostor

Alura slowed her pace upon entering the city walls. She was royalty and needed to carry herself as such, or so her mother always insisted. But ever since she was a little girl, she had desired to walk the streets like a normal person, even if she was royalty.

As she strolled through the marketplace, she noticed the people busy in their daily lives. The smells of the bakeries, the shouts of the vendors, and the colors and scents of the flower vendors all were familiar to her and it warmed her heart. This was home. The gowns, hats, and attention of court were nice, but the people were the life of the city — and the Kingdom. Being with the people is what she enjoyed most.

The aroma of fresh baked bread drew her to a bakery to get a better whiff. As she approached, she heard an argument inside.

“I paid you already,” shouted one man.

“If you paid me, I’d have the money,” the baker yelled back.

“Give me my bread.”

“Not until you pay for the bread I gave you last week.”

Alura entered the bakery and the baker’s eyes widened.

“Your Highness,” he said in a soft tone, and bowed deeply, as did the man he was arguing with and the two other patrons.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

“None worthy of your attention, your Highness,” said the baker, gaze fixed on the floor. “We were merely discussing his bill.”

“Yes, I heard. All the way out in the street.” The two men glanced at each other and then returned their gaze to the floor.

She turned to the patron. “You say you’ve paid your bill, correct?” Not waiting for a response, she addressed the baker. “And you say he has not.” Turning back to the patron she asked “Are you absolutely sure you paid him?”

The man straightened. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said in meek tones. “I gave my money to his son last week.”

“My son?” The baker suddenly looked sheepish. “You didn’t mention anything about my son.” He called over his shoulder, “James!”

A few moments later a young boy appeared.

“James, did Mr. Peterson pay you for his bread last week?”

“Yeah, dad. I didn’t know where to put the money so I stuck it by your ordering book. Why?”

“No reason, James. Thank you.” The baker rubbed his chin. “Mr. Peterson, I owe you an apology.”

“Let this be a lesson to you both,” Alura said, in her most regal tone. “If you discuss things calmly, the truth will make itself clear.”

Both men answered in unison. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good day to all,” she said to the room in general before exiting.

As she walked out she heard the baker say “Mr. Peterson, please accept an extra loaf with my deepest apologies.” She smiled. This is what life was all about; the people.

A few minutes and many greetings later, she arrived at the castle and went straight to Seneschal Carter. “I’d like to speak with the King and Queen, if you please.” She always had to schedule an appointment to see her parents during the day.

The Seneschal looked up from his paperwork. “I’m sorry, Princess, but they’re completely booked until dinnertime. Can it wait until then?”

The Princess was eager to tell her story, but it wasn’t more important than affairs of state. “I guess so,” she said with a little pout that quickly became a smile. “I think I’ll take a bath,” she said cheerfully, before prancing down the corridor toward the tubs.

She didn’t know if commoners took many baths. By the smell of them, probably not. But she always enjoyed soaking in the warm water, the scent of the rose petals in the air, and the soft light from the candles. Yes, a bath would be a good way to end the day in which she met a pegasus and a unicorn.

Albert walked through the dark streets of Green Tree with a heavy heart. He had failed. In over seven hundred years serving as a Protector, never had one of his charges died – until now. How would he tell their Majesties? Where would he find the words?

He walked across the drawbridge and into the castle, ignoring the guards’ dismayed looks at his gore covered armor. He couldn’t even find her body. He steeled his resolve as he approached Seneschal Carter’s desk.

“I have urgent news for their Majesties. I must speak with them immediately.”

The Seneschal’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open when he peered up from his paperwork. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” The Seneschal sprinted down the corridor towards the doors to the royal sitting room.

A few seconds later he reappeared with three people in tow. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” he told them as he hustled them down the hallway. “We shall reschedule first thing tomorrow morning.”

The people were still trying to put their papers in order when Carter gestured for Albert to go in.

Albert went to the door and stopped. This was it. He took a deep breath, and entered. He went before Their Majesties and took a knee, head bowed. “My Liege. My Lady, I have the gravest of news to report.”

“What is it Sir Albert?” King Alfred asked. “Is the Princess alright?”

The Knight took another deep breath. Without looking up he said, “Alas, my Lord, she is not. I have failed you. Princess Alura is dead.”

There was a long silence. Albert dared no raise his eyes, he couldn’t stand to see the pain in the faces of the people he’d considered friends. The people he’d let down.

Queen Aria burst into tears.

“I am so sorry, Your Majesties,” said Albert, finally raising his head. “She died this morning,” he said softly. Tears ran down both cheeks.

It was a few minutes before the King spoke. “How did she die?”

“She fell from a cliff, my Lord. I searched for her body but could not find it. The river may have carried it away. I will take a party and continue the search at first light.”

For a long while the only sounds in the room were the sobs of Queen Aria. Finally King Alfred asked, “Are you sure, Sir Albert?”

Albert could see the tears in his King’s eyes, they matched the pain in his heart. “I’m afraid I am, Sire. I saw her fall myself.”

Albert wanted to cut his own heart out. She had been like a daughter to him. And now she was dead because he couldn’t protect her.

The King slowly reached over the pulled on the rope to summon the Seneschal. A moment later Carter entered the room.

The King cleared his throat. “Carter, cancel our appointments for the rest of the month. We’ve just been informed that Princess Alura died this morning.” “Excuse me, my Liege?” said the Seneschal, with a puzzled look on his face.

The King shot him an incredulous look. “Are you going to make me repeat myself!”

“No, my Liege. My pardon, my Liege. It’s just that I spoke with the Princess not an hour ago.”

The Knight sprung to his feet. “What did you say?” There was a dangerous tone in his voice.

The Seneschal stiffened, his eyes on Albert. “She came in about an hour ago and requested an audience. I told her that Their Majesties were busy until dinnertime and asked if she could wait. She said she could and went to take a bath. If I had known–”

The ringing of Albert’s swords cut the Seneschal off mid sentence.

“I saw her fall myself, my Liege. It must be a Doppelganger. I shall investigate this personally.”

“And I’ll go with you,” the King stated.

The two men sprinted from the sitting room towards the tubs. Many corridors and two sets of stairs later they burst into the royal bathing chambers and found only the attendant.

“Where is Princess Alura?” barked Albert, his demand echoing in the stone chamber.

The startled attendant only stared at the gore-covered Knight and her King.

“Speak child!” commanded the King, “or I shall have your tongue removed!”

“She went for a snack,” the attendant squeaked, bowing profusely.

The two men looked at each other. “The kitchen,” they said in unison, and sprinted out the door.

“Thank you, Peter,” said Alura to the head cook. “This sandwich looks delicious.” She picked up the tray of food and headed back to her bath.

“I could carry that for you, your Highness, if you’d like,” the cook said.

“You have dinner to prepare. I’ll be fine. Thank you though.”

As she turned to leave, Albert came charging through the door, swords drawn.

The first sword stroke sent the food tray flying across the kitchen. Before Alura knew it, a pair of crossed swords had pinned her against the wall.

“Who are you,” Albert hissed, his face only inches from hers.

Alura tried to slow her breathing. Something was dreadfully wrong, this wasn’t like him. “Albert, you’re scaring me. You know who I am.”

How could he not know her? He’d been with her almost as long as she could remember. Always in the background, being the Protector, being a playmate when nobody else would, and later, being her confidant. They were best friends, how could he not recognize her?

“I know who you appear to be,” the Knight said through clinched teeth. “But I saw the real Princess die this morning. You must have seen it also and probably thought the trolls would get me. Well, they didn’t. I’m only going to ask you one more time. Who are you?” Albert’s rage was starting to get the better of him, she could see it in his eyes.
“Albert, it’s me, Princess Alura.” Alura could feel the razor sharp steel ever so close to her throat.

“If you ‘re the real Princess Alura, then where’s the flower the Princess always brings back for Her Majesty?”

Oh no! In all the events of the day, she’d forgotten to get a flower for her mother. Ever since the accident ten years ago she’d made it a point to bring back something for her mother each time she left the castle. What a day to forget.

“Well?” he demanded.

She knew Albert well enough to know he didn’t bluff. She had to do something and do it fast. She started talking very quickly.

“Albert, we were together this morning. You wanted to see the blacksmith in Haven Cove, so we went there. I got bored and insisted on going for a ride while the smith fixed your armor. It took some doing, but you finally agreed. During my ride I was chased by some trolls and you came to my rescue. Then I got knocked off the cliff.”

She searched his eyes for a reaction. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?

“Anybody watching could have seen all that. That doesn’t prove you’re the real Princess. How did you survive the fall?” The swords hadn’t moved an inch. His face was so close she could smell the mutton he had for lunch.

“A pegasus caught me,” she said, carefully. The pegasi were creatures of legend and nobody had seen one in many lifetimes. She worried how her enraged Protector might react to the mention of one, even if it was the truth. But she dared not make up a story.

“A pegasus?” said the King from behind Albert. “There’s no such beast and Alura knows it. This impostor takes us for fools, Albert. Kill it.”

Alura breathing quickened. “No! Wait! Really. It was a pegasus named Marsali and it took me to see a unicorn named Cavalon.” If they didn’t want to hear about the pegasus, they surely weren’t going to want to hear about a unicorn. But it was the truth and she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“A pegasus and a unicorn? Now I’m sure she’s not the Princess,” the King said. “Alura would never spout such rubbish. Albert, you have your orders.”

“No. Wait. Father, please. I can prove I’m Princess Alura. Remember the time–”

“Albert,” the King cut in. “Shut it up or I’ll do it myself.” He pulled a dagger from the Knight’s belt. “Pretending to be my dead daughter…”

Alura’s eyes went wide as the King moved around Albert to strike.

“You may want to hold that blade, Sire,” the Knight said, without moving. “Was this unicorn wearing anything?” he asked his captive.

Alura thought hard. He had beautiful blue eyes. A pearly white horn. Long soft looking hair. “Oh, yes! It had a wreath of flowers around its neck.”

Albert withdrew his swords. “It is indeed the Princess, Sire,” he said, sheathing his weapons.

“How can you be so sure?” The King had an unconvinced look on his face. He positioned himself so Alura couldn’t escape. “Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense about mythical beasts.”

“Not only do I believe it, Sire. I know it to be true. I’ve met Cavalon myself.”

The King’s jaw dropped open, just for an instant. “So are you telling me unicorns are real? And pegasi to?”

“Yes, my Liege.”

Albert turned back to the Princess, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. “Please forgive my actions, Princess. I was only trying to protect the royal family.”

“It’s okay Albert, get up. You’ve done nothing wrong. You scared the wits out of me, but you haven’t done anything wrong,” she said, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

Albert stood. “The Princess is too kind.”

Alura threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re alive. I thought the trolls might be too much for you.”

“Nothing is too much for me when I’m defending you, my Princess,” the Knight replied, with a smile and a soft brush of her cheek.

“Trolls, pegasi, and unicorns?” the King said. “Apparently we need to discuss the day’s events. Albert, you’re sure this is the real Princess Alura?” The King still hadn’t given the dagger back.

“Yes, Sire,” the Knight said, examining the Princess’s throat to make sure he hadn’t harmed her. His glove-covered hands were always so gentle with her.

“Fix Princess Alura another tray of food and bring it to the sitting room,” the King commanded the kitchen staff.

“That’s okay,” Alura said, waving a hand to stop him. “I’m no longer hungry. Between the swords at my throat and Albert’s breath, I’ve lost my appetite.”

Sensing that he was truly back on good terms with the Princess, Albert said, “My breath? What’s wrong with my breath?”

“Nothing, if you intend to use it as one of your weapons,” the Princess said as they left the kitchen. “You really should brush better.”

“But I brushed just last week,” the Knight said, with a wink to the King.

Alura wrinkled her nose. “Albert, some times you’re really gross.”

Albert laughed.

The Golden Ones – Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – A Pegasus and a Unicorn too?

The Princess knew she was in trouble. She never should’ve let herself get separated from her Protector. Where was he?

Winded from her run, she flattened herself against a tree and studied the surrounding forest. There were three of them all right, slinking through the trees almost silently. It was amazing such large creatures could move so quietly. She was thankful she wore her riding pants today and not the gown her handmaiden Precilla had suggested. She started to run again.

The monsters had boxed her in and were driving her towards the Cliffs of Despair. She’d already run a long way since leaving Spirit behind and was not used to this much exercise.

Poor Spirit, she thought as she ran. He’d been a good horse. He fought fearlessly until the troll broke his leg. Spirit’s bravery enabled her to escape. She was going to miss that horse.

A quick peek told her the trolls were keeping pace with her. She’d never outrun them. Where was Albert?

The cliff ledge came into view. She had nowhere to go and slowed her pace.

“Stop running, Princess,” came a voice from behind her. It was a troll. “We mean you no harm. We just want to talk.”

She turned to face them, only three feet away from the cliff ledge. She straightened her back. “What do you want to talk about?”

All three trolls drew close. The one directly in front of her spoke. “We want to talk about you.”

These creatures looked even more hideous up close than they did at a distance. About eight feet tall, they had lumpy green and black skin covered with small patches of scraggly black hair. She looked into their dull gray eyes and found it hard to believe they were intelligent. But they were. As they stood there, Princess Alura couldn’t take her eyes off their hands. Grossly deformed, they could wrap their fingers all the way around her slim waist with room to spare.

“What about me do you want to know?” she asked, backing herself as close to the ledge as she dared.

“Be careful,” the troll warned. “We wouldn’t want you to fall. It’s a long way down.”

Alura sneaked a look. She could barely make out the river in the valley below. She truly hoped all the trolls wanted to do was talk.

“I’m safe here,” she said with more conviction than she felt. “Just don’t come any closer.” Where was Albert? She wasn’t sure even Albert could take on three trolls, but maybe he could allow her to escape.

“Okay,” the troll said, “just come away from the edge a little bit. We really don’t mean you any harm.” All three trolls took a step backward.

“As I said, I’m fine here. What did you want of me?”

“Well, your Highness, my name is Clud,” he said with an awkward bow. He gestured to his left and then his right. “This is Glew, and Lug.”

“How do you know who I am?”

“You are very important to us, Princess. Your whole family is.”

Alura noticed the sun glinting off a piece of metal somewhere behind the trolls. It’s Albert, she thought. A slight smile came to her lips.

As she focused her attention back on Clud, the troll was saying “and because of this we would like to–”

“Leave her alone!” Albert’s booming voice rang out and echoed off the cliff face across the valley. Clud turned just as Albert’s charger came to a skidding halt.

The Knight launched himself from the saddle, sword drawn. He landed square in the troll’s belly, driving his sword clean through the massive beast. The impact caused the giant monster to fall backwards, arms flailing.

One of his long arms struck Alura, knocking her backwards a few feet – a few feet into thin air.

“Albert!” she screamed as she fell.

“Alura!” she heard him scream.

As Alura fell, she couldn’t believe it was actually happening. She was going to die. There were so many things she wanted to do; learn to play the harp, shoot a bow, kiss a boy and eventually get married — be a mother and a queen. Now none of those things were going to happen.

Looking down, she could make out the trees on the valley floor where there’d only been a green spot before.

She surprised herself at how calm she was. If someone had told her she’d die by falling off a cliff, she’d have thought she’d scream the whole way down. But screaming would disrupt the enjoyable sensation of falling. If she wasn’t going to die at the end, she’d actually enjoy the falling sensation.

The river changed from a thin white line to actual flowing water as she plunged closer.

She wondered what kind of man she’d of married. Would he be strong? Handsome? Stalwart? She decided yes, he would be. And they would have three children, a boy and two girls.

Alura looked again. She could clearly see the rocks along the edge of the river. At least she’d die too fast to feel any pain.

When she reached the tops of the pine trees in the valley floor something appeared beneath her. It was solid, light blue, and covered in feathers.

“Clear skies, Princess,” a voice said, as the Princess felt herself being carried upward.

Alura said nothing, still not sure she wasn’t dead. She blinked her eyes. What was happening?

“Princess, are you all right?” the voice asked.

Alura swallowed hard. “I’m okay,” she managed to say through her confusion. Why wasn’t she dead? Or was she? And where was that voice coming from?

“Good. Cavalon would be upset with me if I let you get hurt.”

Alura tried to gather her thoughts. The thing she was clutching looked like a horse, but it was entirely covered in feathers and had wings.

Her mind started to clear. This was incredible. She was on a flying horse. A flying horse that could talk. “You’re a pegasus!”

“Yes, I am,” replied the creature. “My name is Marsali.”

“But Pegasi only exist in legends,” she said cautiously, thinking maybe this was a dream, or maybe she really did hit the rocks below.

“If by legends you mean tales of old, that’s probably true.” The pegasus made a sweeping turn and began to climb. “We haven’t shown ourselves to the humans in a many years. But things are changing now.”

Marsali soared over a ridge and swooped down into the next valley. The change was so abrupt Alura had to grab a handful of the creature’s long blue mane to stay on.

This was no dream and it certainly wasn’t death. This was exciting.

“Where are we going?” she asked, flashing a big smile from the enjoyment of the ride. Her long blonde hair flew out behind her like a streamer.

“I’m taking you to see Cavalon.”

“Who’s Cavalon?”

“He’s the one who sent me after you.”

Sent her? How did this Cavalon know? She was glad he did, but how?

“Do you realize just how difficult it is to make a rescue like yours?” Marsali asked. “First, I have to fly faster than the falling object, you in this case. Then, I have to…”

The pegasus continued talking but Alura’s ears had shut off, overpowered by all her eyes were taking in. The view of the mountains from this height took her breath away. The waterfalls, the sheer cliffs, and the tree tops were incredible to see from this height. Her heart soared as they flew over ridge after ridge. Adrenaline raced through her veins as she tried to take in as much of the views as she possible could. She never wanted this ride to end.

All too soon, the pegasus landed, turning the smooth glide of flight into the jarring ride of a horse. “And landing is another matter,” Marsali said. “You see, in order for me to land I have to–”

“Thank you,” the Princess interjected as she hopped off. Marsali hadn’t stopped talking the whole way and the Princess had to be quick to get her words out. “You saved my life. I won’t forget that,” she said, petting Marsali’s feather covered nose. She wondered if pegasi liked that as much as normal horses.

“It was my privilege,” the pegasus said. Then she stretched out her front legs and bowed her head down between them. The beauty of this sky blue horse with head down and wings extended back put a lump in Alura’s throat.

Even though the ride was thrilling, it felt good to have solid earth under her feet once more. They stood in a grassy glade with yellow wild flowers between the trees of the forest and a cliff. Near the cliff, looking off into the distance, stood a long haired white horse without wings.

“Thank you again, Marsali” Alura said. “I’ll never forget that ride.”

The pegasus stood. “You are very welcome, Princess. That’s Cavalon over there,” the pegasus said, pointing with her nose. “He’ll take care of you from here.”

Alura looked over, but the white horse hadn’t moved.

“May the wind always be beneath your wings,” Marsali said, then she turned, galloped for a short while, and flew off.

Alura stood and watched the creature fly away. It was astonishing such a big animal could fly, but what a joy it was to ride. She stood there for a few moments basking in the memory. Wow!

Coming out of her revelry, she walked towards the white horse. Its long white hair hung below its belly and its tail was so long it dragged on the ground. “Excuse me. Are you Cavalon?” she asked from a safe distance.

When the horse turned around Alura saw a pearl white horn protruding from its forehead. It was a unicorn! Her jaw dropped open.

Cavalon walked over to her. “Good day, Princess Alura,” he said, with a bow of his head. “I trust your ride here was a pleasant one.”

Alura stood frozen. The legends never mentioned anything about unicorns being able to speak.

“Princess, are you all right?” the unicorn asked.

She forced herself to talk. “Um, yes, I am. Thank you for asking.” She was actually speaking to a unicorn! She suddenly wished she’d worn the gown Precilla had suggested.

“Good. For a moment there I was worried.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty, but I’m not accustomed to speaking to legends, and you’re the second one I’ve met today.” The unicorn’s long white hair looked very soft and he was wearing a large wreath of forget-me-nots and daisies around his neck. There was something very majestic about this creature, like it was master of all things.

“Your Majesty? No. I’m not a king, Princess. I’m simply the White Unicorn. I’m sorry we had to meet under such dire circumstances.”

What dire circumstances? A pegasus ride and now talking to a unicorn? This was an unbelievable day. Then she remembered. “You mean the trolls.” The conflict with those horrible ugly creatures came pounding back to mind.

Albert. Even he couldn’t take on three trolls. A warm sadness filled her heart. She couldn’t image her life without him. He’d been her Protector, her playmate, and her confidant for over ten years. He was a good man. Her face contorted as she fought back her tears.

“Yes, the trolls,” Cavalon said. “That must have been frightening for you. I’m not completely sure what they’re up to, but you can bet it’s not what they say it is. Did the trolls tell you what they wanted with you?”

Alura shook her head to clear the pain of Albert’s death. She had to pay attention, a unicorn was speaking to her.

She thought for a moment about Cavalon’s question. She’d been so sickened by the sight of them she hadn’t paid much attention to what the troll said. “No, not really.”

“Oh well. It would’ve been a lie anyway. I had Marsali bring you here so you could relay a message to your parents for me. The time has come for the races of legend to become known once more. We shall no longer keep ourselves hidden from the mortal races. And the unicorn’s first act in the open shall be to side with the humans against the troll invasion that is to come.”

Troll invasion? There had been a few incidents with them lately, but nothing on the scale of an invasion. “I’m sorry, um, ah. How shall I address you?” Cavalon had the presence of royalty, but she didn’t know which title to use.

“Just call me Cavalon.”

“Okay, Cavalon. I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We have had some disruptions from the trolls lately, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“The trolls are testing your defenses, young Princess. Do not underestimate them.”

His sapphire blue eyes stood out against his long white coat. She wanted to reach out and hug his neck. She felt very safe in his presence. “I really don’t think they’re a danger, Cavalon. They–”

“Will you relay my message, Princess?” the unicorn interjected, calmly.

“Of course,” she said, a little startled at being interrupted. At home, no one dared interrupt her when she spoke.

“Good. Thank you. I’m afraid I must go now. I have just been made aware of another matter I must attend to immediately.”

Alura looked around. There was no one else with them.

“We’ll talk again.” The unicorn pointed his horn at her and there was a bright flash of light. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself standing down the road from the main gate of Green Tree. She was home, but how?

“Good day to you, Princess,” a passer-by said.

Quickly gathering her wits she replied, “Good day to you as well.”

Her parents weren’t going to believe this. A pegasus and a unicorn. She started running toward the gates.

A Wild Ride – about 1,300 words

Cirwen drooped wearily on the back of his mare, the smell of wet horse thick in his nostrils. Three days he’d been riding hard through thickets, brambles, and dense forest, and still the Duke’s men pursued him. Who would have thought a simple silver chalice was worth so much trouble? Now in the foothills of the Spine Ridge mountains, his sharp elven eyes spotted a cave entrance hidden in the shadows of a rocky ravine and he headed for it.

The narrow fissure opened into a cavernous room with a soft dirt floor and jagged stony walls. Cirwen set up camp a short ways in and thought about Ardwena. With this chalice he’d be able to buy her a nice wedding ring. He relaxed against the wall. She deserved a fine ring, one that matched the beauty in her forest green eyes. Clutching the cup and thinking of his blonde haired beauty, Cirwen fell asleep.

He awoke with a start. What was that noise? No longer sure he was alone, he decided to explore.

The cave was large, going back forty-five paces from the entrance and twice as wide. He walked slow and listened carefully as he searched, not wanting to stumble across some wild animal in the dark. Even deep inside the cave he dared not light a torch, it might be seen from the outside.

Heading back toward the thin ribbon of light from the opening, his foot snagged on a jutting rock and he fell. What’s this? His hands didn’t land in dirt, but on something soft and luxurious. Fungus? No, it felt more like cloth. He felt it again. It was thick and soft. Cirwen couldn’t think of anything in a cave that would feel like that. He reached out a third time but the thing darted out from under his hand with a whooshing sound.

Cirwen gasped. He wasn’t alone. Dangerous or not, he yanked a torch from his pack and lit it.

The cave was empty, except for Piebald, his horse. What was he touching? Who moved it? And where had it gone? Torch in hand, he decided to find out.

A few moments later his torch illuminated a spot of bright red behind a large boulder. Cirwen pressed himself against the wall. What was that? The latest kill of the animal living here? Cirwen held his breath and listened. His heart raced in the silence, his palms got sweaty and his eyes opened wide. This was more exciting than picking a lock! Hearing nothing, he took another peek.

It was a carpet, royal red with gold tassels on the ends and butterflies woven into its pile. It lay by itself in the soft dirt behind the boulder. An odd thing to find in a cave, especially clean. He recalled how it felt when he fell. It could have been a carpet, but who moved it? Or maybe it was a magic carpet!

Cirwen warily approached, keeping a sharp look-out for the carpet’s owner. He lowered his torch for a closer inspection and one of the carpet’s tassels pointed itself at the flame. Cirwen froze. The thing moved on its own. It was magic! The carpet darted past him with another whooshing sound.

Hazah! He’d found a flying carpet. Now he had to catch it.

Searching again, he found it scrunched between two large pillars. If he could only get on top of it, it would have to obey his commands. Cirwen’s torch hissed and popped when he laid it on the cavern floor. With slow cautious steps he approached. Five feet from it, he dove.

As Cirwen flew one way, the carpet flew the other. Laying face down in the dirt, Cirwen developed a new respect for the speed of a flying carpet. This was going to be harder than he thought. Still spitting dirt out of his mouth, he retrieved his torch. The hunt was on again.

This time the carpet hid deep in a narrow finger in the back of the cave. Cirwen approached, brandishing his torch. “I’ve got you now.”

The carpet tried to escape, but each time it changed direction Cirwen used his torch to block its path. Slowly he crept closer. The carpet tried to feign left and dart right, but Cirwen was quick with his torch. He stepped closer. The carpet darted side to side but had nowhere to go. Cirwen eased closer. Finally, he stood on top its thick soft pile. He had done it! He had captured a flying carpet!

He tossed his torch aside and sat down on the carpet. He dared not stand until he was sure what the carpet would do. A smile came to his face. The Duke’s men would never catch him now.

“Carpet, up,” he commanded.

The carpet leapt off the ground and raced towards the ceiling. Cirwen enjoyed the sensation until he looked up. The jagged rocks above were rapidly approaching, threatening to crush him.

“Carpet, stop.”

The carpet stopped within an arm’s reach of the ceiling. Cirwen didn’t. He crashed into the stones and plopped back on top of the velvety thing. “Very funny, carpet,” he said, rubbing the top of his bruised head.

Something closer to the ground would probably be safer. “Carpet, down.”

The carpet plunged straight down from underneath him, leaving him to free fall. “Carpet, stop,” he shouted, intending the carpet to catch him, but the carpet kept descending.

“Stop. Stop!” The carpet ignored his orders and hurled itself against the dirt floor below.

Cirwen realized he needed to be on the carpet to give it orders, not next to it, above it or below it.

He crashed onto the carpet with a groan that echoed throughout the cavern. The dirt he thought was soft wasn’t so soft after all. He laid there catching his breath. He needed to be more careful with his commands. Apparently, this carpet didn’t want to be ridden.

He sat back up. “Carpet, rise slowly.”

The carpet leisurely ascended.

“Carpet, stop.”

The carpet stopped.

“Carpet, slowly go forward.”

Cirwen practiced flying around the cavern until he felt confident. In a few hours he was ready to face the Duke’s men.

“Carpet, slowly exit this cave.”

Outside, Cirwen grinned at the men searching the foothills for him. He decided to help. “Over here!” he shouted, standing and waving his arms.

A few moments later his three pursuers were below him.

He waggled the silver chalice and smiled. “Looking for this, little men? Sorry, but from up here you look so insignificant.”

“That, and you,” the Sheriff said. “Cirwen of Elm’s Bough, you are hereby under arrest for theft, by order of Duke Grisham. Come down at once.”

Cirwen tucked the chalice back into his pack. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

The Sheriff turned to his henchmen. “Do either of you have a bow?” Both shook their heads.

“Aw. What’s next, Sheriff?” Cirwen taunted, “Cast a spell? But, oops,” he said, putting a finger to his lips, “you don’t know magic, do you.” He laughed, then laid it on thick with a deep belly laugh while pointing at his helpless pursuers.

The next thing Cirwen knew, there was a torch burning at his feet and the bearded henchman was smiling at him. Cirwen stopped laughing. The carpet didn’t like fire. He snatched the torch, but not before the carpet did a spiral in mid air, dislodging both the torch and the elf.

Cirwen grabbed for the carpet as he fell but only caught air. He landed flat on his back with the torch in his right hand and the wind knocked out of him.

“Couldn’t control it, eh kid,” the henchman said, with a smirk. “Even carpets are allowed to defend themselves.” He untied the rope from his saddle and dismounted.

Captured Love – about 2,200 words

The young centaur stomped his hooves in the dirt. “We can’t just leave her a prisoner!”

“Calm down, Thiabald,” his father said. “They won’t get to keep her. We’ll put a rescue party together in the morning.”

“In the morning!” Thiabald’s voice climbed an octave. “Fetty might be dead by then.”

“Thiabald, listen to me. We’ve dealt with their kind before. Fettera’s not the first to be taken from our village for a slave, nor the last. We know how these humans work, and we know how to deal with them.”

“Then let’s go deal with them now.”

His father started walking away. “In the morning, Thiabald. In the morning.”

“I’ll be part of the rescue party, won’t I?”

His father stopped and turned. “Not if you’re like this. You’re too frothed up right now. Maybe if you’re calmer in the morning.”

“I’m of age! I demand–”

“If you’re of age, act like it!”

Thiabald’s breathing quickened and his face turned red. He galloped off into the forest, hooves thundering beneath him.

Fettera was going to be his wife this next equinox, and then she’d be his entirely. What kind of a stud would he be if he couldn’t even protect his own wife? He should be the one to rescue her. His hooves pounded the ground until he was back at the place of her capture.

There they were, her soft, delicate prints in the forest floor. Lovingly, he knelt down and touched them. She was so beautiful with her forest green eyes, smooth chestnut coat, and the grace of a gazelle. Why her? Tears wet his cheeks as his anger turned to fear for his betrothed. What were they doing to her?

He dried his tears. What was it his father said? ‘Act like it.’ He stood. If acting like it is what it took, then acting like it is what he’d do. The sun was starting to set, turning the clouds in the sky a brilliant orange and the trees a misty green, when he began to track his beloved.

The tracking went easily. The prints of the captors’ horses glared from the forest floor. An hour later he came upon the human camp. In the sun’s last light he studied the three rail corral. Then he spotted Fettera and his pulse raced.

Her front legs had been hobbled and her hands tied behind her back. Her head was down and her tail had no life to it. She stood along the far rail, facing away from the gate. His temperature rose at the sight of her bound like some animal. At least there weren’t any wounds.

These humans managed to capture a female, let’s see if they can handle a male.

With no guard in sight, he crept up to the gate. He lifted to latch and eased it open.

He was a couple of steps in when Fettera turned her head. Her eyes went wide. “Behind you,” she whispered.

Thiabald kicked to the rear with both hooves. One struck a man square in the chest. He flew backward and landed with a thump.

Thiabald galloped to Fettera. “We must hurry,” he said as he started unhobbling her.

“See boys,” a big bellied man said as he approached the corral. “Capture one and the others will come to you.” The two men with him each held a rope.

Thiabald’s eyes narrowed. The fat man must be the one responsible for taking Fetty. Thaibald sprinted towards him, but before he could reach him the man pulled out a small wand and shook it at him.

Thiabald awoke lying near the rails with his face in the dirt. He could feel the gravel burns on his chest. They had bound him hand and hoof, just like Fetty. He struggled to his feet and hobbled over to his love. “What happened?”

“The same thing that happened to me. The man’s wand puts you to sleep instantly.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I didn’t know until I saw it in use.”

The fat man returned to the fence. “I see our hero woke up.” The two men with him laughed. “Any more thoughts of attacking me?”

Thiabald struggled futilely against his ropes.

“Don’t you worry,” the fat man said. “Those ropes will hold tight. Jake here saw to that.” One of the men smiled, showing stained and broken teeth.

Thiabald couldn’t stand these smug humans nor what they’d done to Fetty. He charged the man as best he could with his front legs hobbled. The fat man just smiled and shook his wand again.

Thiabald got a couple steps in before hitting the ground hard.

He awoke the second time to the sounds of Fettera gently calling his name. He smiled. He always enjoyed dreaming of her. Then he came fully awake. This wasn’t a dream. He got back to his feet and moved to her side.

“What did you do that for?” she said. “You don’t want to make them mad.”

“They make me mad. They have no right to imprison us like some kind of wild animals.”

“To him, that’s all we are. Our families will rescue us in the morning. All we have to do is to stay alive ‘til then.”

“But I came to rescue you now,” Thiabald said, stomping a hoof and pouting at the ground.

She brushed up against him. “And I appreciate that, my love. I truly do. But now you’re stuck in here with me and we just need to wait for the others to come.”

Thiabald brooded for an hour before the fat man reappeared. He pointed at Thiabald. “There he is. He’s a spirited one, that’s for sure. He’s charged me twice so far tonight.” He was talking to tall slim man with a large mustache and a pointed beard.

The slim man looked Thiabald over at a distance. “Same price?”

Thiabald felt his blood surge.

“I think this one’s worth a bit more,” the fat man said. “He’s already killed one of my men. That kind of spirit has a lot of value on the open market.”

Thiabald started moving over to where the men stood. If he could just get close enough for one good kick

“Now hold on there, little stud,” the fat man said. “You go back over by that filly or I’ll use the wand on you again.”

Thiabald kept moving.

He felt the magic hit him, but it wasn’t as strong as before. His hobbled feet stumbled and he hit the ground. He heard the buyer say “He’s spirited, but a slow learner,” before the world went dark.

“You really shouldn’t be doing that,” Fettera snipped, when Thiabald awoke. “He’s going to hurt us if you make him angry.”

Thiabald got back to his feet. “Didn’t you hear him? He’s going to sell us tonight. We won’t be here in the morning for anybody to rescue.”

Fettera frowned, as if just now realizing what the human’s words meant.

“But I’ve got a plan. That wand affects me less with each use. If I can get him to use it on me a few more times I bet it won’t have any affect at all. Then he won’t be able to stop me.”

“Even if that were the case, your hands are still tied and you’re legs are still hobbled.”

“First things first.” Thiabald walked over by the fence and waited for the men to return. An hour passed, then two, still nobody came. He couldn’t wait too long or the slim man would return and carry them away. “Help! Help! We’re being held captive. Help! Help!”

It didn’t take long for the fat man return at a run, wand in hand. “You’re feisty, but stupid, centaur,” he said, before shaking his wand again.

This time the magic tingled, but that was all. Thiabald intentionally hit the ground and waited to see how long he could stay awake. He got sleepy, but never actually fell asleep. He listened to the men talk about how stupid he was as they walked away.

He waited a while before getting back to his feet. “This is going to work,” he whispered to Fetty. “I didn’t even fall asleep that time.”

“That’s fine for you, but the wand will still work on me. How are we both going to get away?”

“I’ve got an idea.” Thiabald put his front hooves near Fettera’s hind. “Here, step on this stupid hobbling strap.”

He pulled and wiggled and wiggled and pulled, trying to get a leg free. After a short while Fettera lifted her hoof. “Stop that. You’re cutting your leg. You’ll have to find another way.”

“Fettera, there is no other way. We will be sold and hauled off if I don’t get out of this thing now. Please, put your hoof back, I’m almost free.”

Fettera thought for a moment before reluctantly placing her hoof back on the strap. A few more minutes of pulling and tugging and Thiabald had one leg free.

“That’s it!” Thiabald danced in place with the hobbling strap flopping around on one leg.

“But your hands are still tied.”

“Then I’ll just have to get them to cut the rope for me.” With a wicked smile, he pranced over to the fence. He turned and kicked. The top rail went sailing through the air. A second kick sent the middle rail to a rolling stop near the first. One more kick and the bottom rail was gone. “Fetty,” he called softly. “You start towards home, I’ll catch up.” Without waiting for a response, he headed off toward the humans.

Upon entering their camp, Thiabald rushed directly toward the fat man.

“You know, boy, you’re starting to be more trouble than you’re worth.” He took out the wand and shook it at Thiabald. His jaw dropped open when the centaur kept charging.

Thiabald drove his shoulder into the fat man’s chest, sending him rolling backward like a boulder down a hill.

As Thiabald closed on the downed man, one of his henchmen appeared, knife in hand. Thiabald stopped.

“Yeah,” the armed man said, “let’s see how well you like this.” The man slashed back and forth with the knife. Thiabald intentionally put himself in the way of the blade, letting the knife cut both the rope holding his hands where it looped around his torso. It also cut his belly. Yelling from the pain, he quickly backed up and quickly freed his hands. Now it was a fair fight. With a gleam in his eye, he headed back toward the henchman.

He was halfway to him when a rope landed around his chest and pulled tight, pinning his arms to his sides. The man on the end of the rope was about ten feet off to the left. Thiabald turned so the rope ran right over his tail. He leapt, jerking the man forward, and then kicked. The man hit the ground, screaming in pain and holding his shoulder. Thiabald smiled as he freed himself from the rope.

By the time Thiabald got back to the fat man, he and his henchman had both mounted their horses. Thiabald charged up to the fat man, grabbed him by his shirt, and yanked him off his mount. The henchman rode off.

Thiabald’s teeth were clenched as he held the man in mid air. “I want that wand.”

The man put on a weasley smile. “It’s my only possession. If you…”

Thiabald pulled him face to face. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Okay,” stammered the fat man as his shaky hands fumbled around his pockets. His eyes were wide with fear. “Here you are,” he said with a scared smile, holding up the wand.

“Now drop it.”

The man looked a little puzzled, but did as he was told, then reasserted his weasely smile.

Thiabald tossed the man backwards then reared high into the air.

“No!” the fat man yelled as Thiabald brought a hoof down onto the wand, breaking it in pieces.

Thiabald walked up to the man, who was still staring at the broken wand. He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “If I ever catch you capturing centaurs again, I won’t stop at breaking a wand. Do you understand me?”

The fat man quivered. “Yessss, sssir.”

Thiabald spun and the man found himself standing directly behind Thiabald’s rear legs. He closed his eyes and grimaced, waiting for the kick that could very well end his life. Thiabald just walked off, leaving the fat man standing there in his wet pants.

“You made it!” Fettera said in bright tones when Thiabald caught up with her. “You’re hurt!” she added, noticing the cut.

“It’s nothing,” Thiabald said, but the blood stain disagreed. “I brought a knife. Stand still while I cut you free.” A few minutes later Fettera was free of her bonds.

“Thank you, Thiabald,” she said, giving him a big hug and a kiss.

Thiabald smiled the biggest smile of his life. “I’d do anything to protect you, Fetty.”

Fettera kissed him so hard his tail curled.

“We should get back and tend to that cut.”

“If you say so,” replied the dreamy eyed centaur.

Thiabald was stepping high on his way back to their village.

Are Ethics Needed Today?

Ethics. Are they needed in today’s enlightened society? The answer to that question would depend on what ethics are.

In this day of political correctness, people don’t want to be told something is good or bad, right or wrong, black or white. Today everything is simply different, a shade of gray, if you will. People have come to accept their own personal definitions for right and wrong. “What’s right for one person isn’t necessarily right for another,” they say. But, if we are to survive as a society, we must have a common definition of right and wrong. If we leave the definitions up to the individual, we can’t even condemn the actions of someone like Hitler (who, in his own mind, thought he was doing the world a great service by advancing the Arian race). By his definition, his actions were right, although most of us would disagree.

In today’s society, ethics has become a bad word and people are looked down on for saying something is right or wrong. They’re called intolerant, prejudice, narrow-minded, or worse, for saying everything isn’t gray. But everything isn’t gray.

As much as tolerance and acceptance are touted in today’s society, it simply isn’t the way the world works. If a man steals money from a company, he’s a thief. To say ‘he used company funds inappropriately’ doesn’t make him any less a thief. Couching his action in political correctness simply makes it harder to determine exactly what he did wrong (did he spend money without authorization or did he steal the money). Blurring the definition removes the social pressure of the wrong doing, making it easier for him to do it again next time. If the man is to be punished for his actions, we must somehow get back to what’s right and what’s wrong.

Ethics is the term we use to describe the process of peeling off the layers of political correctness to get back to what’s right and wrong.

Most societies base their definition of right and wrong on a religious teaching. In the U.S., it’s Christianity. In India, it’s Hinduism. Its source is less important than society’s general acceptance of its definition. Once accepted, laws can be made based on the definitions and the society can then be governed.

If a society is to exist in any state other than chaos, a definition of right and wrong must be generally accepted and becomes the framework on which that society is built. In order for punishment to be applied for breaking a societal law, there must be mechanism that allows us to get back to that framework of right and wrong, no matter how many layers of indirection we place upon it. The mechanism is called ethics.

Life is tough and often a struggle. In that struggle, it’s imperative that we maintain our ethics. If we don’t, if we disregard that framework of right and wrong, our society will degrade into chaos.

Image a world where every aspect of life was devoid of ethics. Your banker would regretfully inform that your investment went bust, while his account grew the amount of your investment. Your doctor would tell you he could enable you to live longer if you would only write him into your will. A police officer would stop you in the street for the sole purpose of extracting a bribe. The list goes on and on. Would these professional’s be wrong to act that way (black), or would each simply have a different approach to life (gray)? Without ethics, who’s to say?

In summary, ethics are nothing more than a mechanism allowing us to get back to the framework our society was built on, the accepted definitions of right and wrong. That ability enables us to punish those that do wrong. And it’s the threat of punishment that controls how people interact with each other and thus keeps our society civil.

Are ethics needed? Yes. Without them, life is just one big con game.

What is a Christian?

A Christian is one who follows Christ. Notice I didn’t say one who believes in Christ. Even Satan believes that Jesus is the son of God. Following Christ is quite different from believing in Him.

We follow Christ by incorporating His teachings into our everyday life. Jesus said, “But why do you call Me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do the things which I say?” (Luke 6:46) If I claim Jesus as my Lord, then I need to do the things He taught us to do.

Webster’s defines Lord as, “1: one having power and authority over others.” That makes me ask, “Have I allowed Jesus to have authority over me?” If I answer yes, then I should be doing my best to make sure His teachings govern my conduct in life. If I answer no, then He’s not truly my Lord.

Being a Christian is more than just going to church, it’s doing the things our Lord taught us to do, i.e. it’s the way we live our lives. “Therefore by their fruits you will know them.” (Matthew 7:20)

I’m free to choose whether I’ll govern live my life according to Jesus’ teachings or not, and I make that choice every time I choose whether or not to gossip about someone, every time I decide whether to honk my horn at that guy that just cut me off in traffic or not, and every time I help a person in need, or not. Each choice I make in life tells the world around me whether I’ve chosen Christ to be my Lord or not. And believe me, those around you do notice.

In short, we are what our choices in life make us. Are you a Christian?

Satan’s best lie

You’ve heard people say “Truth is subjective. What’s true for you may not be true for me.” I think this is one of Satan’s best lies. If he can get us to reject the truth, he can get us to accept anything.

We get bombarded with tons of information daily, and much of it, from the ads on TV to the gossip at work, isn’t truthful. To survive this onslaught of information, we have to decide for ourselves which bits of information are true and which aren’t. This makes it sound like truth really is subjective, i.e. we decide what is true and what isn’t. But rather than saying it’s subjective I think it’d be more accurate to say truth is concluded. The things we accept as true combine over time to create our definition of truth.

Webster’s defines truth as: 1. Being consistent with reality or fact. Note the lack of subjectivity in that definition. Something is either consistent with reality or it isn’t. To say that truth is subjective goes against the definition of truth. In fact, it’s a self-fulfilling prophesy. The statement is only true if you accept it to be true, because the statement itself is not consistent with reality.

If we accept a falsehood as true, our definition of truth becomes polluted and it becomes more difficult for us to recognize real truth when we see it. Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life…” If we can’t recognize truth, we can’t recognize Jesus and Satan’s plan is fulfilled.

Satan is always trying to entrap us, but Jesus taught, “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” Beware you don’t become entrapped in Satan’s lie. Guard the truth jealously. If we lose sight of it, we lose sight of our Savior.

Christian Misconceptions – Sin

Which is the worst sin? Answer: there isn’t one. Sin is a black and white issue, either something is a sin or it isn’t. There’s no worst or least.

Many people think all they need to do to get into heaven is live by the Ten Commandments. But Jesus taught that sin is much more subtle than murder or theft. Take anger, for example. Anger can be a sin. (Matthew 5:21-22) It doesn’t break a commandment and yet can be counted against us as sin.

So, what is sin? I’ve heard many definitions, but the one I like best is “that which God would disapprove of.” Which begs the question: what, exactly, does God disapprove of? To answer that question you’ll have to get to know God. You do that by spending time with Him, just as you would anyone else. The best way to get to know Him is through reading the Bible. The Bible teaches us about God and you’ll learn, among other things, what He likes and dislikes. The better you know God the better you’ll be able to spot sin in your daily life and avoid it.

Someone once asked me, “Who cares if I sin? God forgives sin, doesn’t He?” Yes and no. If you repent of a sin, it can be forgiven, yes. Forgiven sin is God’s way of honoring our attempt to be good. But the root of sin lies in our intentions. If you intentionally sin and simply expect to be forgiven, you’ve not made an attempt to be good and therefore there’s nothing there for Him to honor, and your sins will stay with you.

The bottom line is this: when you die, you’ll be judged and your unforgiven sins will weigh against you. It doesn’t affect me at all whether your soul goes to heaven or hell, but it does affect you. For your own good, read your Bible. Learn about God. Learn to recognize sin in all its forms and avoid it. Don’t let sin stop you from entering the Kingdom of Heaven.