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.