The grave was like a bad omen.
Under the tent, his hands resting on his lap, Schimmel looked at the sky unleashing its worst. Rain was pouring like crazy, thunder roaring with fury. Lighting bolts and white flashes were dancing in a peculiar way, as if the gods of thunder decided to make them play a new genre of theatrics. It has been falling hard since a few hours now. Drenching anyone stupid enough to try to get outside their pavilions or hiding spots in the ruins.
The view of the silent and still campsite was rare. Under the wrath of the heavens, the remnants of sky-crappers, broken in half, open to every winds, plainly lying on their sides, were similar to old bones. Washed clean by time. The camp had been curled up in a cranny of what was supposedly a former financial district, overwhelmed with vegetation. One oak, in particular, was massive. Twisting its trunk around a building before opening its canopy just above the gray peak. Nature couldn't have made something so big, thought Schimmel for a second. It was probably the deeds of a playful entity or a practitioner. If they were unlucky, it could also perfectly be the lair of a divine beast or an ancient monster… Elemental's loved this kind of hideout.
He flinched when a ruffle of flurry of rain blew on his skin and he covered his naked shoulders with his hands, searching for heat. What a pity centaurs were forbidden to wear any clothes. Just in front of him, at the other side of the encampment, multiple soldiers were covered with blankets or winter coats. Schimmel couldn't stop a lingering feeling of jealousy. Under the roof of a disassembled superstructure, humans had installed a big pot. Inside it, they put potatoes, red onions, cheese and bacon. Then, they smash the mix and share it between all of them. They were passing bowls full of the mixture, viciously eating their share. Some of them, already finished with their plates, were drinking like there was no tomorrow.
These guys knew they were going to die on the battlefield. They were only cannon fodder, without much experience in battles, probably never having put a foot in any school, or having learned any useful long term abilities. They were requisitioned, as well as the centaurs. Low-level people, traveling with the horses and the chickens, transporting materials and praying to every Gods to never meet any real garrison.
Still, they were dressed up according to the weather, nourished at specific hours… They could even, now and then, find time to sleep and play cards.
Schimmel looked around the stormy night, trying to catch the glimpse of a star, until his eyes met the enclosure where the centaurs were parked. Humans didn't like to be near them, so they were isolated. Not having the right to a roof was common and they were all quietly suffering the rain. Centaurs were mostly unaffected by cold, not easily falling sick, their blood boiling hot in any weather. But still. Half their skin was as fragile as one of a human. But the poor half-beasts, bound by oath and servitude, were not ones to try a revolution. Bone-Sack was among them, wobbling from the cold while keeping his head straight and proud under a pine tree. Bill had tried to convince him to join the pack, regrouped in a warmer cluster of shadowy figures. But to no avail.
Schimmel closed his eyes as the thunder rumbled. Sleep was knocking on his brain. Asking for him to take a rest. But he couldn't. His master hadn't returned. And he had to stay awake, guarding the camp. If anything came up, any danger, he had to run and save the catapult.
This weapon was too precious for him to lose. It wasn't a normal engine. And if he dares let it be destroyed because of a quick nap… He was as good as dead. Him, and all the other centaurs.
They knew it. All of them. Saddle with responsibilities, but no freedom. So, they didn't sleep. They all waited for their handlers to return. To feed them and tell them they could, finally, fall on their sides and let their dreams take them away. Far away from the blood and tears, far from the frosty bite of the storm...
Another rumble rose. But this time, it was from Schimmel's stomach. Twisting as his digestive acid started eating his own flesh. His head bobbed against his chest and he had to shake himself awake.
So exhausted…
The grave he just dug shined when a thunderbolt hit the ground. His eyes were instinctively drawn to it. It was just a small mound, surrounded by grass and a patch of wafting blue wild flowers. Nothing fancy.
But still, it seems to talk to him. It seems to curse him.
"Why me ? Why me and not you ? Bill's right. It was your fault if I ended up in shreds. Stumbling because of a mere explosion ? Tripping for a red colored spark. Ha ! No one else but you, backtracked. Bone-Sack got it on the nail. You are a coward. And it will not be the last act of cowardice you will do. You prayed for me. But didn't even knew my name. You called for my soul, but didn't even stay to see it fly high. You made a show of yourself, to make it easier to forgive your incompetence. You show me a lie, let me show you the truth :
I will not forgive you. They will never forgive you. You will abandon them as you did for me. May your heart find no rest. You undeserving, lying, monster."
Schimmel took a deep and shaking breath, diverting his vision.
"I've always been afraid. This isn't new. And fear is what's keeping me alive. Warning me. Making me dodge the dangers on my way. But it's the first time my fearfulness is… An obstacle."
His gaze landed on his fur. His white pelt was unstained of blood, for he washed himself with earth and dirt before coming under the tent. But his mind was still full of the flesh he had to seize with both hands. And under his nails, still was lying a bit of crimson. The smell of death was lingering. Floating around him. More vibrant than ordinary.
He pinched his lips, grimacing.
"This war is a mess…", he said out loud, taking his face in his palms. "I want it to stop. I don't want to bury anyone, ever again. It's been ten years ! Ten years of this smell of smog while I'm burying… One here, one there… I'm tired… I want to go home. Father..."
A heavy roll of scrolls hit him hard behind the head and he gasped. Schimmel jumped on his feets, startled, before lying down again when his head hit, once more, the roof of the tent and almost destroyed it. His face lit up when he lifted it towards the newly arrived company.
Carved on the rainy night, appearing ostensibly pissed off, his master standed still. Arms crossed, only her wrist moving an impressive cylinder of parchment, the Handler looked down on him with a wrinkled nose and a nasty wince. Covered in the traditional black and red attire of the East Empire, her boots covered in mud and her hood drenching, she was in a visible sour mood.
It didn't stop Schimmel from smiling. Which seems to upset her even more. She passed the centaur with little regard, moving her hands upside-down as to say : Whatever !
"Master Yuan, it's a pleasure to see you safe and sound. You came earlier than expected. Did you have a peaceful trip ?"
The human didn't answer. But that wasn't surprising. As the Handlers, all of them, were mute. Some, mute and crippled. The result of the Centaurs' enslavement. A curse. For the firsts half-beasts warriors who were forced into slavery, had seen a terrible fate unveil for them. Having their tongue and arms cut off, a saddle put on their back and horsebits pushed in their mouths. It was long ago, at the very beginning of the war, a hundred years ago. Most of the elder Centaur's had now died in battle and their children's, raised by men's hands, were utterly unable to live by themselves. Having lost their culture and heritage in the blink of an eye, they stayed loyal to humans. It was a massacre. Binding them to the Empire and the people giving them care was easy after that. But this show of violence and cruelty, had angered an old spirit of nature, once adored by Centaur's. Corrupting it into a wrath spirit. In it's hatred, the spirit doomed the families of those who dared torture and broke the once prideful tribes of the East.
"For each tongue cut, a child will be born mute. Their tongue rotten black, falling apart in agony. Unable to sing, eat, talk and breath, they will be. Their faces will be blue and distorted in horror, as fixated in an eternal scream. They will be rejected, treated as vermin. And only those their parents treated as beasts, will accept them."
That's what Master Yuan had written to him in the sand, the day she ripped Schimmel from his family, his home. It was a pretty damn beautiful day, now that he remembers it. Schimmel was ten at the time. The one he called his father was a human blacksmith. They lived in the mining city of Coban. A rural place, up high in the mountain chain of Cermunos. It was known for its metal and jewelry. Big old factories were abandoned all around, full with buttons and levers no one knew how to activate. All day long, Schimmel was running around the streets and between the forges, his white coat like a lightning bolt in the grey town. People welcomed him as a pet, a child, or the son of an old friend. The sun was burning his nape. The sky was blue. It was never raining. All that ever fell in Coban was snow. And Schimmel loved to roll in it at the edge of the suburbs, looking down the cliffs towards the pine forest.
Everything in Tairngir is deep or high, he realized that day. From lakes with no bottom, to peaks disappearing in the clouds, they were no in between. And nowhere, outside of the small havens of towns and cities, were safe places. Everything, the smallest rock to the most banal tree, could hide the den of a monstrosity.
Coban was his home. The place where his father was living. And all whom he ever cares about.
I will never leave. That was his certainty.
Until master Yuan Mei came into the picture. She was there with a unit of tired soldiers to take every tool, every scrap of metal possible to bring back and melt in the fuselage for some siege engines. And in this cold and sunny mining town, she founded a centaur child.
As the cursed dictated it, only with those once mistreated will she find comfort and acceptance. So, desperate to be regarded as a Handler and not an impaired dead-weight, she took her chance. She bound herself to the young centaur. And, as the former Emperor had asked of every handler, took him away to be on the first lines.
Schimmel didn't hold any grudge. He swore to come back, embraced his father and complied. What choice did he have ? No other.
Resistance was never an option, for him and all the Centaur's orphans left to rot after the East tribe's massacre. And none of these orphans ever lived until the age of thirty. Most didn't even make it until twenty-five.
Ah, it was ten long years ago indeed… That he learned to survive.
Master Yuan took a deep and shaky breath before falling into her couch. A luxury item she brought everywhere. She took away her cloak and her hat, only leaving the piece of tissue hiding her chin and mouth, for it was the only barrier hiding her deformity.
Too bad, the centaur often thought. The human, outside her curse, was pretty. And from a well-known family, with lots of military honors. If she wasn't touched by the spirit wrath, she would probably be married by now to a rich and suitable husband. Safe and sound behind the walls of a big and petulant city. Which was a dream for many, in these tiring times.
But for some, this kind of destiny was also worse than death.
Yuan Mei will never know her preferences. She didn't have the enjoyment of choosing her path.
She passed a hand in her short-cutted hair. They fell like a square around her face. Her skin was fair, her eyes dark and sorrowful. She seemed jaded, faint. She laid down on her bed, a hand on her stomach. Schimmel didn't move, as getting up inside the tent will make it crumble. He took his softest voice before talking.
"Master, I'm afraid you still have some tasks to accomplish before resting."
The human lifted her head before sighing. She palpated around her mattress, without getting up, before finding a black stone plate and a bit of chalk. She wrote slowly, before putting her message in front of her, without moving too much. Schimmel squinted his eyes before reading out loud.
"Food in the paddock… Where you should be."
The centaur shook his head, offended.
"Master ! You can't let me out in this storm !"
Another message popped out. Followed by another as the conversation continued.
"I know you would say that. But the pavilions are forbidden to you. Go back."
"Master, it's not the first time I will sleep here with your blessing. I only abuse your kindness in case of terrible weather. Like tonight. What if I fall sick ?"
"You're a big whiny boy. Still afraid of water after all these years. Even drops."
"Master Yuan, there are only a few battles that I can't fight for you. But we both know that this one is lost already."
"And the one we talked about, with Bill ? Is it lost already too ?"
An embarrassing silence settled in. Yuan turned around in her bed, looking lazily at her Centaur.
"So ? I can't guess, kid. Answer at once."
"I didn't fight. Still. But I will.", said Schimmel while frowning. Master Yuan laughed sharply, in utter silence, wrinkles pointing at her eyes.
"You said that since we arrived in this garrison ! New day, same song !"
"Master Yuan. I don't know what else to say. I'm just taking my time, I suppose. We still have two weeks before we arrived at the bottom of the Koram."
"No." She cut in a fierce movement of writing, the sound of breaking chalk shushing him up. "No. Schimmel. I don't want any new excuse. What do I look like ? I recommended you as a lead position to the other Handlers. You have it in you. So why do you stay so low ?"
"I'm…"
"Hush. I'm not finished."
Schimmel lowered his head a bit, only letting his eyes linger on the white words appearing on the stone.
"Boy. Just before this job, you were running around the frontier. Every night, refueling supplies while these damned practitioners left the battlefield. You were galloping between corpses and magical traps, hitting warriors at full speed, first head among all those who were running with you. Each night, I wondered if you were to come back alive. Not only did you come back, but without a mere scratch on you !"
Schimmel turned his head away a bit, looking outside the tent and towards the paddock. Master Yuan was not wrong. He was never wounded. When Bone-Sack, who ran in the same unit as him, who was stronger and faster, ended up burned from the ankle to the hip. The white-beast looked for him a bit, finally spotting him eating some rice ball beside Bill. Schimmel was too far away to see his expression, but he could easily guess : It was not one of happiness. He focused once more on his master, reading the rest of her admonition with care.
"Schimmel. Your failures are my failures. And I now see that you thrive only when you act alone. In a group, you end up being eaten and your confidence melts away. I understand. It was this master fault. But I rather you lose while trying to challenge Bill for the lead, than just… Let him do as he pleases. So, I'm gonna be harsh, but here is my order : Challenge Bill. Next week, last chance. After that, I force you into an open challenge with Bill's handler. He will be overjoyed to have the official lead. And it will be a public humiliation for you, and me. We will have to leave the unit for another, more dangerous one, as soon as we arrive at the Koram. Which is not tolerable. Understood ?"
Schimmel nodded silently and Yuan let her head cracked before falling heavily on her couch. If she could have talked, she would have been out of breath. In a last effort, she wrote a last message before throwing the black plate at the Centaur. The stone hit the ground and sunk in it. Everything in the South was wet and muddy. On it was wrote inelegantly :
"Good ! Now, out of my sight. You may sleep in the tent if you win. Otherwise, don't bother coming back. And be nice to the new guy. He's a little... Skittish to say the least."
Schimmel's face broke down in despair. A new guy ? So, they founded one ? And, sleeping outside ? In the rain ? Until he won ? And if he didn't ? So there will be consequences if I lose ? Other than changing units ? Don't put it nicely if you're still gonna punish me for my mistakes, Master !
The white-beast was full of questions, but asking was useless. Master Yuan was already asleep, her energy drained by more than a day of staying up and active. The white centaur stayed silent at her side, gleaning every second possible out of the storm.
She was sleeping... Soundly.
The centaur looked outside. Right. Then Left. No one in sight.
I could stay, he thought for a moment. I could stay and sleep here. At least, I'm away from the…
A loud whistle resonated in the tent, making the horse-man jump and bang his hooves on the soil. His instinct and training kicked in. In a minute, he was up and out.
On the already warmer couch, Yuan chuckled discreetly before falling right back into slumber.