This was hardly the grand escape Markos had planned. No galloping across the frontier, no heroic stand at the gallows, taking down dozens of scorpions. All this would have been possible had he changed back into a centaur. But Markos was still human, with a pair of legs, useless for running, useless for attack.
It was the Aquarians who had saved him. Hundreds of them with their life-giving waters, spirals of river, uncoiling before him, the perfect carpet for a lightning-fast getaway.
They were clever indeed, placing him inside one very large jug, allowing him to bob and weave and dash like a cork through the turbulent, rushing liquids. While some of them helped him into the jug, others used their water as whips, keeping the scorpions at bay.
Brave, brave Aquarians. Many would go to their death before the dawn. They were happy too, though, not only for Markos but for the queen, whose freedom and return to public life they craved.
Markos so deeply regretted that he could not handle things alone. If only he had his right body.
He was sure when he returned to his cell that he could will it to be so. If Libby could transport herself across the bands of time and space and get to Constellia surely he could break one tiny crab spell.
It wasn’t so tiny, though. And the only thing broken was his heart.
How could Libby have said what she did? After all they had been through together? What did it matter how long they had known each other or how different their backgrounds were? She made his heart sing. She gave his life color and joy, filling him in ways he never knew he needed to be filled. It was like having an opposite to himself, a counterpoint that somehow spiraled back.
By the stars, they had fun. Wasn’t that enough?
Not according to Libby.
“I am sorry,” she said, her voice cold and detached. “It has to be this way. I need to marry a man I can rely on. Someone practical, who practices law like me, or maybe medicine or dentistry.”
Dentistry, of all things. Markos didn’t see it. Libby needed a mate with a spirit of adventure, someone who could bring out her own inner wildness.
“Frankly, Markos, I find you a little immature,” she said.
Why not shoot an arrow through his heart? It would do less damage.
“I thought there was something between us,” he said. “I do not know how I am supposed to accept this.”
“You see?” She twisted his words against him. “That proves my point. You are supposed to save your world and you are worrying about a silly one-night stand.”
He pointed out they did much besides stand, but that only made her angry.
“Damn it, Markos, why can’t you get this through your thick head? I don’t love you, I don’t want you and I don’t need you.”
At this moment his heart closed against her. She would not see him cry or beg. “Go, then.”
“I would like to wish you well,” she replied, completely confusing him.
“Why? You care nothing for me.”
“I will always regard you as my friend.”
“A friend would never betray the trust built between us, Libby. We shared our bodies and our hearts.”
Her lip began to quiver. She seemed to be concealing a number of emotions. “We were fuck buddies, Markos. Get over it.”
He understood the words individually, but together they meant nothing. Perhaps this was a fitting metaphor for their relationship. He suggested this to her and that was when she said goodbye and good luck.
“I don’t believe in luck, Libby.”
With that she turned away, calling for the guards to let her out.
Once she was gone he called for Argos. “You will see that she is returned to Earth,” he said curtly. “You will do this on your life.”
His old friend was momentarily taken aback by the force of his words but he was quick to recover. “I will do all that I can,” he vowed. “On my life.”
Markos quickly apologized. “I am sorry,” he said. “My words indicated a lack of trust. This was wrong. I am…not myself.”
“Oh, no.” His old friend, bidding him farewell. “You have never been more yourself.”
Events moved at breakneck speed after that. He spent the remainder of his alone time trying to will back his centaur body. Unable to do so, he devised the best plan he could to achieve escape as a human.
Which would have utterly failed without his newfound allies.
Not to mention the help of his old allies.
Dalion knocked two scorpions aside all by himself. Argos handled two. Kalos used his fine teeth to untie the ropes that held Markos to the pole. The Aquarians flushed away the Dissolution Spell caster, a particularly nasty scorpion with blue spikes on his stinger.
Just seconds before the deadly dissolution dust reached him, Markos was free.
“No arguments,” said Kalos as Markos was shoved unceremoniously in the jug. “This is for your own good.”
“So is this.” Markos grabbed hold of his Capricorn friend, pulling him into the jug with him.
Thus did he have a companion for the ride, albeit an unwilling one.
“I’ll need your help,” said Markos. “The troops may not respect me as well now that I am not one of them.”
“You’re always one of them,” Kalos replied. “We will all follow you anywhere. Mind you I will never forgive you forever for sticking me in this blasted genie’s bottle.”
Markos laughed. He needed the release as much as he needed the friendship. Closing his eyes and settling at the bottom of the jug he decided to get some shuteye. Outside he heard the roaring waters, conveying them, a carpet made of millions of droplets, amassed for this one purpose, white and foamy, blue and deep.
Soon, very soon they would be in the mountains. Battle would come, just what he needed to forget a certain female, an exasperating woman who had done more to turn his world upside down than any wizard or power-hungry scorpion.
Common sense told him he was better off without her. The trouble was, Markos was a centaur, not always strong on common sense. He happened to like his world upside down. As for Libby, who he prayed to the stars had found her way home by now, he happened to like her too.
No, that was not strong enough. Libby, he loved.
Funny how you never recognize these things until it’s too late.
Settling his mind, he focused on the future. On Constellia. This one battle would determine everything.
For the first time in his life he did not care if he lived or died.
So long as his people lived…and Libby too.
* * * * *
Libby held the amulet tight against her chest. This was going to be her fourth attempt to say the words right and she did not want to mess them up again. “Vorak ge-lan,” she began, easily enough. “Morad…doseen…ba-adoshir?”
“No, no,” interjected the increasingly frustrated Argos. “It is ‘doseen badomir.’ You must get the syllables perfectly or the spell will not work.”
She blew strands of hair back from her face. “All right, give me one more try. I know I can get it.”
“Can’t you say the words for her?” Dalion asked Argos for the third time.
Argos snapped at him. “How many times must I explain this to you, you thick-headed ram. The magic must be initiated by the person who is to be transported.”
“Well, there’s no point getting upset with me,” said Dalion. “I’m not the one who made up this stupid spell.”
Argos sighed. “I’m sorry, Dalion, but I am becoming…frustrated. Libby, you must concentrate. I know it’s hard, but you must.”
Actually it was not that hard. Libby just could not keep her thoughts straight, that was all. She kept thinking of Markos and how he was out there all alone, fleeing for his life with an entire scorpion army after him.
He had looked so terrible when she last saw him, too. Oh, how it had killed her to have to say those awful things to him. He just wouldn’t give up, though, and she had to get meaner and meaner. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that she was cutting off her attachment to him so he would stop subconsciously wanting to be human and stay with her.
He would never buy that argument. He was too stubborn. Not that she wasn’t stubborn herself. What a pair they were. Or would have been. It was history now. He was fighting for his life and she needed to be fighting for hers. Did she want to get stuck on this world? She had to get the words right and disappear, from Constellia, from Markos’ life.
He was a centaur from a realm of astrological magic, she was a lawyer born in Pittsburgh. Not really a good match, was it? Not like you could invite a half man, half horse to the office Christmas party or take him shopping for wedding rings.
Wedding rings. Listen to her…
“Vorak ge-lan,” she pronounced, determined to make it through this time without error. “Morad doseen badomir, delan tikas, oranlikas, shemato—”
This time it was not her own halting tongue which stopped her but a loud banging sound at the door of Argos’ small cottage at the edge of the woods near the castle.
“Open,” cried a voice. “In the name of Scorpos!”
“Hurry,” said Argos. “You must get the rest of the words out before the scorpions come in.”
“I’ll hold them off.” Dalion charged to the door, ready to employ his splendid horns. He pushed with all his might.
The banging sound was replaced with a steady, repetitious boom.
“A battering ram,” growled the real ram.
“Dae koojon,” exclaimed Libby rushing as fast as she could. “Matakaso entor—”
“Look out!” Argos grabbed her, pulling her back from the curtained window.
One of the scorpions had broken the glass and he was aiming his stinger directly at them. Dalion for his part was having trouble at the front door. The wood was splintering all around him. Argos tried to cover Libby. The scorpion at the window was pushing through the wall, cracking it around him.
Dalion couldn’t hold them off any longer. He retreated, prepared to fight for Libby along with his friend. “We will die for you,” he told her.
“No,” said Libby as the scorpions poured through the door into the small house, surrounding them. “I don’t want that.”
“Fear not,” said Zinox, joining them. “There shall be plenty of death to go around before the night is through.”
The scorpions hissed in approval, stingers at the ready.
“Feel free to beg,” said Zinox. “Not that it will do you any good. My only regret is that you will not see me kill Markos.”
“You will never kill him,” exclaimed Libby.
“Who is going to stop me? You?”
“If need be, yes.”
He snorted. “Kill her. Kill them all.”
“No!” roared a voice.
The scorpions backed off, lowering their heads.
“Lord Scorpos,” fawned Zinox. “My heart leaps with joy to see you.”
Scorpos approached him, bending forward with his extra-long stinger. He was the largest of the creatures Libby had seen. Unlike the others, his body was coated in gold. Some kind of armor, perhaps? His stinger also appeared to be specially armed with several black barbs, tipped in red.
“Somehow I doubt that, Zinox,” said the High Protector.
Zinox cowered as Scorpos’ stinger pressed down on his back. “Please, My Lord…mercy.”
“You have outlived your usefulness,” Scorpos pronounced. “You’ve cost me before, but this time you nearly lost me the one weapon with which to beat Markos, no matter how large his army—a hostage.”
It was Libby’s turn to tremble. She was pretty sure he meant her.
“My Lord, I can make up for this…”
“Sorry, too late. Goodbye, Zinox.”
Zinox screamed out, shaking violently as Scorpos stung him. It was over in a matter of seconds. Scorpos lifted the body afterward, tossing it out the door. “You,” he said, pointing with his stinger to one of the others. “You are Captain of my guard now.”
“Y-yes, My Lord,” the new captain stammered.
“Take the human, bring her to the dungeon,” he ordered.
“What of these other two, Sir?”
“Let them go,” Scorpos said, surprising Libby. “They are no threat to me anymore.”
“You’ll live to regret underestimating us,” Dalion vowed.
“Hush,” said Argos. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I want you to deliver a message,” said Scorpos to Argos and Dalion. “To all your friends who plan to hide in the underground chambers. Tell them I know everything. Tell them whomever does not surrender to me in the morning before I defeat Markos will face my wrath.”
“Go to the Four Winds,” said Dalion, defiant to the end.
Scorpos scoffed, turning away. Libby was seized by scorpions for the second time in one day, no less.
She hoped very much that Scorpos’ plan would not work, that Markos would not stop his attack because of her. But she had a funny feeling he would. How did she know this?
Because it was what she would do, that’s why.
* * * * *
The centaurs and lions were more than a little shocked at Markos’ appearance. The very last thing they had expected to see was their leader, transformed into a creature most of them considered both imaginary and inferior.
It was Kalos who rallied them, at least to the extent warriors could be appealed to by practical exigencies.
“What would it matter if Markos came to you as a frog, or if, stars forbid, he did not come to you at all? You all know the truth, how he was falsely accused and arrested, how he managed to coordinate the escape of all of you before Scorpos began throwing you in the dungeon.
“He could easily have died there, by all rights he should have. He didn’t, but that is not the point. Each and every one of you has reason to fight and if you don’t take this risk to gain back our kingdom, then we will have nothing, ever again.
“We’ll never have a better chance to fight. Scorpos won’t expect this. We have allies, hiding below the castle. This is our time. If the king’s memory means anything to you, if Markos means anything, then honor them both. Go into battle. Win…or die.”
Vorius, one of the lions, was first to step forward. “I will fight and I would be deeply honored to carry Markos upon my back.”
Markos stepped forward, his heart overflowing. “Thank you, my friend. I shall be honored to ride upon you. Win or die.”
“Win or die!” called one of the centaurs.
“Win or die!” came the cry from the ranks.
The troops were off in short order. The Aquarians had no water left to convey them but in their place were Pisceans, millions of them, flying fish ready to convey the warriors. A hundred of the brightly colored creatures apiece to lift each lion and each centaur and when they rose into the air en masse, it was like the roar of thunder across the sky.
Never had Markos seen such a sight or believed such a thing possible. “My friend,” he said to Kalos next to him. “You are a hero of Constellia. I will see to it you are knighted for this.”
“Just see to it I don’t get stung to death and I’ll be happy,” he quipped.
“Indeed.” Markos grinned. “That I shall do.”
With that they were off, cloud upon cloud, a moving force of vengeance and of justice bound for the castle, bound for the black heart of Scorpos himself.
* * * * *
Scorpos proved a much better host than Zinox. He neither stung her nor removed her clothes. Nor did he seek to play any head games. Rather, he was quite fascinated to learn about Earth.
He sat with her over a long supper, sipping wine well into the night. Libby was quite careful, of course, as she knew his questions were far from innocent. His intent was conquest, pure and simple.
“So tell me.” He pushed a bowl of surprisingly tasty green leaves in red sauce her way. “What would you say is the best part of living in your world?”
Libby scooped out seconds, amazed at how hungry she was. “I would have to say kickboxing. And potato chips with chocolate ice cream. You’ve no idea how yummy that is.”
“I’m sure it is,” he said with utterly false sweetness. “I wonder, though, aren’t there some things that are better here?”
She took a bite of her food from the end of the fork. “Well, I would say the sky is very clear. And near as I can tell, you don’t have any door-to-door salesmen. Do you?”
“Not that I know of.”
“That’s good.” She took a drink of sweet nectar, pausing for effect. “I don’t suppose you have atomic weapons either, do you?”
“Atomic weapons?”
“Yes, they are bombs. Like thunder and lightning, only it comes out of a rocket. Human governments have them. One or two of them would probably destroy your entire country.”
The scorpion went quiet. No doubt he was doing some serious rethinking of his invasion plans.
After dinner, Libby was allowed to lie down for a while on a very large canopied round bed, covered in red velvet with thick pillows. A trio of pretty Virgos, slender elflike creatures with gossamer gowns, waved fans over her, keeping her cool and comfortable.
She probably shouldn’t have but she fell asleep within seconds of lying down. She didn’t trust Scorpos for a minute but she could not keep her eyes open. Anyway, she felt as safe in dreams as anywhere else. Perhaps she would dream of home, or better still, of Markos.
Nothing came to her however, just a black and eerie silence, the beating of her own heart, the flow of her pulse, time collapsing in upon itself.
She had no clue how much of it had passed when they woke her again.
“It is time,” was all that the scorpion guard would say. “For the battle.”
* * * * *
Markos had not expected to see quite so many scorpions. It seemed Scorpos had conscripted the whole of his kind. At their best, the scorpions were dynamic, magnetic creatures—natural civil servants. At their worst however, they became full of greed and envy.
Scorpos had certainly done his job with this lot. Thousands of them, lined up across the plain. Red and black, like checker pieces, stingers at the ready. Every so often in the ranks was a banner holder, indicating a company or detachment.
Scorpos himself was absent so far.
“The coward won’t show himself,” said Kalos, standing beside Markos on the ridge.
“Or he has some trick up his sleeve, more likely,” said Markos.
Just then a centaur rode up on the right flank. “The cavalry is prepared, Sir,” he announced with a salute.
“Well done, General Tauresius.” Markos nodded to the black-haired centaur, who had been his friend since childhood.
“The infantry is also prepared, Sir,” said a lion, a huge specimen with mammoth paws and a tawny mane.
“Good work, General Ronan. Are we clear on the battle plan?” he asked them both.
The generals answered together, in the affirmative.
Markos’ plan was simple but he hoped effective. The lions would charge over the ridge, having the advantage of height. They would tear into the main body of scorpions, backed by a small number of centaurs. Meanwhile, the main body of centaurs, divided in two, would form pincers to crush the enemy ranks on either side.
There was the slightest chill in the air. The pink sun of Constellia was just peering over the horizon to the east. They were some ten miles from the castle. Markos thanked the stars for their positioning. They had the high ground. Scorpos had been foolish not to claim it earlier. Perhaps he was overconfident.
Again he felt the gnawing in his gut. There could be a trick here. What had Markos overlooked?
As if on cue, a pair of the Piscean scouts came flying up from below the ridge.
“Sir,” they spoke over each other, breathless. “Down there…there’s Scorpos…and…and—”
“And what?” snapped Kalos. “You silly twits! Out with it or I’ll give you a good poke with my horns.”
They collected themselves in unison. “Scorpos has requested to see you. He has a hostage.”
Markos felt a rising panic.
“A hostage? Who is it?” growled Kalos.
“It could be Argos,” speculated Vorius, the lion on whose back Markos was riding.
“Or Dalion,” General Ronan named Markos’ other compatriot.
“Perhaps,” said Markos, though he did not believe it was either one of them. “Where does Scorpos wish to meet me?” he asked the Pisceans.
“He is coming through the ranks, Sir, he wishes to meet you between the two armies.”
Markos nodded. “Well done, brave Pisceans.”
“Thank you, Sir,” they said as they puffed themselves up.
“You will take an escort, Sir?” said Ronan.
“No,” said Markos.
“I will go with you,” said Kalos.
“No. I go alone. This is between Scorpos and me.”
If indeed he had Libby as Markos feared he did, he was not about to endanger anyone else. Nor would he entrust her safekeeping to anyone but himself.
“We ride together, then,” said Vorius.
“No.” Markos dismounted. “I will walk.”
“But, Sir—”
“Do not argue, Vorius.”
“Don’t do this,” said Kalos. “There is no logic to it.”
“War is not logical, my friend.”
Nor is love, he might have added.
Markos proceeded, with no further argument from his men. He descended over the ridge and climbed to the bottom. Curse these human legs, awkward and slow, he growled to himself.
It was slow going over the plain, covered as it was in a fine covering of grass, moist with dew. His sandaled feet were well soaked by the time he reached the impending killing ground.
Adjusting his tunic and sword belt, he stood straight, awaiting his foe. He would be an easy mark, but it would be worse to show fear. Markos could see the scorpions, still as statues, eyes trained. They seemed harmless enough but at a word they would race across this field and attack with a ferocity and venom few could comprehend.
Markos watched as two of the scorpions stepped forward and then to the side, as if opening a gate. Indeed it was a gate, an opening for their leader.
The trumpet’s blare announced the coming of Scorpos, full of pomp and circumstance and boundless ego. Markos noted the gleam from his golden covering. What a joke. Any true king would never adorn himself like that.
But what was this? Behind Scorpos, a golden cage being towed by a Taurean bull. Markos clenched his fists as he identified the figure inside. A human female seated on an ornate chair, wearing a long white robe.
Libby.
Markos’ heart slammed in his chest. The adrenaline raced.
Scorpos continued his approach, stopping some hundred yards away. At this point he ordered the bull to stop and continued forward on his own. Markos did not move, did not breathe. The scorpion did not stop again until he was a mere foot away.
“I see you’ve decided to return,” said Scorpos. “Perhaps one of these times you will actually face justice.”
“What do you know of justice, Scorpos? You are a liar, a thief and a killer.”
“A thief?” He scoffed, not having bothered to answer the other two charges. “But what have I stolen?”
“The hope of the people and their freedom.”
Scorpos lowered himself for a mock bow. “Bravo, well spoken. For an escaped criminal.”
“As you said, Scorpos, I am back.”
“Yes you are, and let me tell you what you will now do.”
“By all means.”
“You are going to disband this ridiculous army of yours and then you are going to march back up to the gallows and face your death like a man, if that is what you are now.”
“And what of Libby?”
“You mean the creature in the cage? I haven’t decided. Surrender and I will consider letting her live.”
“Release her,” Markos countered. “And I will consider letting you live.”
“Bold words for a coward. To show you I mean business, I am going to begin doing nasty things to your little girlfriend, small things at first, one every minute or so, until you surrender. So long, for now.”
“Scorpos, do not turn your back on me.”
Scorpos did not bother to acknowledge. He was crawling away, off to hurt Libby.
Markos raised his fists to the air, screaming. He had no hope of stopping the scorpion, not as a man. “By the stars,” he cried, his veins surging with energy. “Give me the strength and I will not yield, nor will I run, ever again.”
The flash of lightning came from a clear sky. A jagged line of purple, right through Markos and into the ground. The pain was excruciating. His body felt like it was being ripped apart piece by piece. Death would have been a relief.
But death was not Markos’ destiny. For though he collapsed a beaten man, he rose as what he was born to be, much more than human.
“Scorpos!” he called once more, his voice booming in the air. “Did I did not tell you to not turn your back on me?”
The scorpion leader turned back to see what had happened. “You,” he hissed, seeing the form of the centaur.
“Yes,” said Markos. “It is I, rightful Captain of the King’s Guard.”
“Indeed it is. But nothing has changed. I still have the woman. Attack me and she pays the price.”
“No,” said Markos. “You alone will pay. Hear now my price.”
“What price?” he asked.
Markos smiled fiercely. “Your surrender and the disbandment of your army.”
“Not likely. Sorry,” Scorpos replied.
“This is your last warning,” said Markos.
“What are you going to do? You are alone, you have only a sword.”
Markos threw the sword to the ground. “Now I have only my bare hands.”
“Kill the woman!” Scorpos called to his soldiers. It was the last mistake he would ever make.
Markos moved so quickly the scorpion had no chance to react. Galloping up to him, he turned to the side, grasping the scorpion’s powerful stinger near the base.
Scorpos cried out as his back end was lifted off the ground, held in the powerful hands of the centaur.
Markos clenched his teeth. The sinews in his neck strained as he twisted. Farther and farther until he heard the squeals of the scorpion and finally the cracking sound that indicated he had broken off his tail.
Knowing he had not a second to lose, Markos galloped forward, toward the scorpion line. Using the stinger like a lance he struck at the ones closest to the golden cage. Again and again, until a dozen corpses lay on the ground.
With his bare hands, he ripped away the bars and reached for Libby. She took his hand, allowing him to hoist her on his back. Retrieving the broken stinger of Scorpos, he hightailed it back to the open plains, back toward the ridge, so his own troops could see the prize he bore.
A cheer rose up and then the battle cry. The ground rumbled with the paws of a thousand lions and behind these the hooves of the centaurs. Markos longed to lead the troops, but first he had to see to the safety of Libby.
He took her straight to the top of the ridge, where he assigned a small number of the centaur cavalry to her protection.
She offered him a kiss on the cheek as he transferred her to the back of one of one of the others. “Good luck,” she said. “Whether you believe in it or not.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” he said with a grin.
By the time he reached the front, the worst of the fighting was over. With Scorpos gone, his minions had little stomach for battle. The lions ground up the hard-core elements while the centaurs chased those who sought to escape.
The bulk surrendered, seeking the mercy their leader would never have given. “Do not mistake my forgiveness for weakness,” said Markos, sparing them. “You will not receive such clemency a second time.”
“Was that wise?” Kalos asked afterward. “They could well live to fight us another day.”
“I will not risk a cycle of vengeance,” said Markos.
Kalos nodded. “You speak wisely…like a king.”
Markos looked at him. “Stars forbid.”
Kalos smiled. “We will handle the rest if you would like to be with Libby.”
Markos felt the words twist like a knife. “That will not be necessary.”
“As you wish.” Kalos eyed him strangely.
Markos frowned, riding off. He did not look back for fear of seeing her.
Libby, the woman he had saved but who did not want him.
Was there a greater irony in the universe?
Such was the price of seeking to leap between worlds. It was a mistake he would not make again.
* * * * *
Libby returned to the castle on the back of Vorius, the strong and kindly lion. Kalos walked beside them. Libby could tell he was yearning to say something.
“Centaurs can behave unpredictably,” he offered at last. “But they have pure hearts. Markos cares for you deeply. I know this as surely as I know anything.”
Libby spared him his burden right off. “It’s all right, Kalos, you are kind to want to comfort me, but the truth is I spoke cruel words to him earlier. He has no reason to ever speak to me again.”
Kalos went silent for a while. He waited until the castle was in sight before he replied. “If I know Markos, you had your reasons. I doubt you would ever grow angry with him if you did not care for him as he does for you.”
“It doesn’t really matter though, does it? We aren’t the same species.”
“No,” he agreed. “You aren’t.”
“Centaurs live to play, they crave adventure,” she said. “They aren’t made to settle down with underpaid lawyers.”
“Have you asked him?”
Kalos’ question caught her off guard. “No…I’ve been a little busy since I got here.”
“You should consider it.”
“But Markos is happy without me. This is his world. And I can’t live here, it’s not mine.”
“If you say he is happy, it must be so,” said Kalos. “I think you know him better than any of us.”
Libby pondered the words as they went the rest of the way, though she said nothing further, nor did he.
To her amazement there was a large crowd waiting to welcome them.
“Hooray to the heroes.” They cheered the long line of centaurs and lions. “Hooray to the defenders of the people!”
The soldiers were tired, but obviously pleased.
“Look,” said Kalos, pointing to the rampart of the castle. “It’s the queen.”
Now it was the soldiers turn to cheer.
Queen Aquaria raised her arm and gave a wave to her people.
“There is a sight for sore eyes,” said Kalo. “With the threat of Scorpos gone, the queen is ready to return to her public duties.”
“The first order of business had better be a celebration,” said Vorius. “With all the ale I can stomach and a wee bit more.”
“I’m sure that will be arranged. There will be medals to award, as well. I trust you will be there, Libby? I’m sure the queen will want to recognize you.”
“Of course.” She smiled weakly, knowing it would be Markos who would receive the greatest honors. “Though I hardly think I will be noticed.”
Could she face Markos again? She had no choice. To leave Constellia now would be rude. She would do that afterward, assuming her poor twisted heart and tongue allowed her to say the magic words properly.
* * * * *
Markos was suitably impressed by the sight of the impending celebration. The great chamber of the castle had never been so decorated in living memory. Gold garlands were strung on every column, candelabras had been added and even special murals painted on the walls commemorating the Battle of Liberation as it had come to be called.
He was a bit embarrassed to have so much of tonight’s attention focused on him. There were so many others more deserving. Where would he have been without Dalios and Argos and Kalos, not to mention the Aquarians? And there were his fellow centaurs and the lions and on and on.
There was one more too, he thought with a heavy heart. One who did not belong to any astrological species. It was she, Libby, who had done the most to set him free, body and soul.
Markos was not the same creature as before. He had been forced to a place of humbleness and deep struggle and he had only been able to do this because of the example set by Libby.
He had grown up thinking humans were silly fairy-tale creatures but in her he saw they were the bravest beings of all, for they persevered and triumphed without any of the special magic of Constellia.
It was good that the queen was giving her a medal. He only wished that they were not going to receive them together, side by side.
“Have you seen the food?” Dalios came up to him, his horns decorated with sparkles for the occasion. “I won’t eat for a week after this.”
“Liar,” said Kalos, coming up from the other side. “You’ll be hungry an hour after like you always are.”
“That’s because I work for a living,” said Dalion. “Unlike certain sedentary, calculating goats I know.”
“Better to use my head for calculating than for slamming into every hard object I see,” retorted Kalos, who was wearing a golden covering that hung to his hooves.
“Gentle beings,” Argos intervened. “Of all nights to be bickering.”
“He started it,” the two accused in unison.
Argos sighed, turning to Markos. “Well, my boy, we made it.”
“Yes, thanks to all of you.” Markos ran his hand over his head, smoothing his long, tangled locks just a bit. “Argos, may I trouble you this night and ask a favor?”
“Anything,” said Argos.
“After the celebration, assuming Libby wishes to go home still. I assume you can accomplish that now?”
“Yes, without the pressure of a dozen scorpions breathing down on us we should do just fine.”
“Good. I want to make sure it goes well.”
“You can go with her to make sure, you know.”
Markos frowned. “I am not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It’s up to you,” he said with a shrug.
Markos let the matter drop. The next hour or so passed in pleasantries, as the guests began arriving in large numbers. There was a visiting time, in which the award recipients mingled with the spectators. Markos gave little thought as he chatted. Like all centaurs, he had little use for small talk. Especially when his mind was preoccupied.
Slowly, his anxiety built until it was nearly as high as that faced in battle. By the time he was called forward in front of the queen, his stomach was in a fierce knot.
“If it pleases the court,” called the Chief Courtier, having blown his trumpet of announcement. “We call forth Markos, Captain of the Centaur Guard. Come forward, Markos, to receive Her Majesty’s highest honor.”
His friends let out a most undignified cheer. The rest of the guests gave in to thunderous applause. Markos walked forward, praying it would all end quickly.
Queen Aquaria looked stunning, her red hair carefully arranged under a four-pronged crown. Her dress was composed of seashells, interwoven with pearls, with an underlay of wetsilk, a material as fine as anything in the universe.
She looked radiant, though Markos knew her heart was still broken for her fallen husband. There were whisperings about her remarriage, with lots of speculations as to whom she might choose. A few fools had started the ridiculous rumor it would be him. Perish the thought. No offense to Aquaria, but he would never sit still for being consort to a queen. Too much drudgery, too many ceremonies like this to attend.
“We greet you, Markos.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Savior of Constellia.”
“Thank you, your Highness,” he answered politely, praying to the stars that the pompous title never caught on.
The courtier blew his trumpet again. “If it pleases the court,” he repeated his tedious recitation “We call forth Libra Daniels, Attorney-at-Law of the Earth. Come forward, Libra, to receive Her Majesty’s highest honor.”
Markos repressed a small smile of amusement. No doubt Libby was thrilled as could be to have her full name used.
A hush came from the audience. Markos turned in time to see her, splendid as any bride. Quite literally, she took his breath away. Her hair was swept back, decorated with tiny blue flowers. She wore a blue gown, low-cut, cinching at the waist and falling all the way to her feet. Her eyes sparkled like jewels, her lips were ruby red.
“I do believe I’ve just been upstaged,” Aquaria said to Markos, for his ears only.
Markos frowned. The queen was teasing him just a little. Aside from the rumors of his marrying Aquaria there was quite a bit more talk of him and the dark-haired Earth woman.
“No one could upstage you,” said Markos.
“You’re a better soldier than a liar, young man,” chuckled the queen. “If you want my advice, grab her while you still can. You’ll never find another like her.”
“She doesn’t want me,” said Markos. “She said so.”
“And since when does a woman give in easily to the man she loves? Shame on you, Markos, for giving in so easily.”
Markos said nothing. He was watching Libby walk, his eyes lost in her every motion, the tiny turn of her wrist, the shyness in her batted eyelashes. Such a wonderful bundle of contradictions. The heart of a lioness in the courtroom and yet completely unaware of her own devastating beauty.
Here was true modesty and honor.
Halfway down the aisle their eyes met. Her lip trembled. He tried to keep himself calm. He mustn’t show his feelings, what she was doing to him, how she made him desire her with all his centaur body.
By the stars, it would almost be worth being permanently human just for one more chance to make love to her.
“We are gathered in the name of Constellia,” pronounced the queen when Libby had reached his side. “To bestow the Honor of Leo, the highest medal in the land. To have even one recipient in a lifetime would be a blessing but tonight we have two. And not just any two. For in front of me is the product of an interplanetary union, a match made in the stars.”
Markos ground his teeth. Could Aquaria make this sound any more like a wedding service? He cast a quick sideward glance. Libby was expressionless. What in blazes was she thinking right now? He would give anything to know.
“To this pair,” the queen continued her already excessive speech, “we owe most directly our freedom and our lives. Had Libby not won her victory in the courtroom and had Markos not triumphed on the battlefield we would all by now be the perpetual slaves of Scorpos.”
You would have found a way, Markos grumbled to himself. You could have talked him to death, for one thing.
“Because of the special circumstances,” said the queen, “I would like to give the awards in a unique way.”
Wonderful. Now what?
“Each of you,” said the queen, “will place the award around the neck of the other. You will then each kiss one another.”
Markos held his ground. This was beyond preposterous but he would not, could not react. Aquaria was his sovereign and an order was an order. Besides, he mustn’t show emotion to Libby. There would be time for that afterward, as he partook of the world’s largest venting session with Dalion.
Markos was handed Libby’s medal by a Gemini courtier. He took a step forward, positioning his hooves.
Libby was looking straight ahead, beyond him. She looked like she might shatter if he touched her too hard. His heart slamming in his chest, he put the ribbon about her slender neck, lowering it slowly until the gold disc rested on her bosom.
His mouth was dry, he was filled with terror. “On behalf of a grateful Constellia,” he whispered the rote words.
Her lips were soft and supple. He drank them in like a man lost in the desert for a week without water. In a flash the world was gone, hers and his. He longed only to draw her closer, to make it all right and to bind them in flesh once and for all.
But that was not to be. He could not feel her breasts against him, could not enjoy her sighs, touch again and smell her hair or nibble on her pink, ticklish earlobes.
Markos straightened himself, separating them. He had survived his kiss. Now he must survive hers.
Libby took his medal in her hands, hands which could work such soothing wonders on his body. The hands of a woman, a lover, a hero. How different those fingers were from his own and yet how well they intertwined.
“On behalf of a grateful Constellia,” she said, rising on tiptoes to place the ribbon about his neck.
Markos bowed his head to receive the gift of her arms about his neck, her breath against his cheek for a precious fleeting second. Clenching his fists, he resisted every impulse not to sweep her into his arms, stealing her very breath away.
She closed her eyes, offering him the lightest press of flesh. This second contact was so much worse than the first. Not only for how it aroused it him but because he knew this kiss would be the last.
Before long she would be back on Earth and he would be only a distant memory for her.
“Three cheers for the heroes,” called the queen. The chamber resounded with cries, of every pitch and tone, representing the whole of the zodiac.
Markos would treasure this moment his entire life.
The trumpets blared again. Markos took Libby’s arm to walk her back down the aisle. Such was often the symbol of a beginning between two people, but in this case it was the end.
“Thank you,” Libby said to him as they reached the back of the chamber, her voice calm and steady, “for rescuing me.”
“It was my duty,” he said. “And I thank you, for proving my innocence.”
“Justice is everyone’s due,” she said, sounding strangely stiff and formal.
Markos nodded. “The law is your one true love, I know.”
Libby’s veneer broke as pain flashed across her eyes. Markos regretted his words at once. “Libby, I didn’t mean—”
“No apologies,” she cut him off. “I deserve any punishment you choose to give me.”
Punishment made him think of happier times, when he had spanked her in the hotel room, when they had devoured each other with lust and still been left wanting more, like an unquenchable fire. A fire that burned through two worlds and allowed them to change the fate of Constellia.
“You know I would never wish to bring you harm,” he said.
“I know that, Markos.”
He tapped his front hoof. “You will be going home after the celebration?”
“Yes, if not sooner,” she said. “I’m afraid I am feeling rather exhausted. I would really like to sleep in my own bed. Do you suppose it will be night when I get home?”
“It will be less than a second after you left. Something to do with the flow of magic in the stream of time.”
“I suppose Argos would be the one to explain it,” she said.
“He’ll only confuse you more.” Markos shook his head.
Libby smiled. “And what about you? What does your future hold?”
“I’m not sure. What is it retired heroes do?”
“Whatever they wish, I would imagine.”
“Kalos can put me to work,” he quipped. “Adding figures. Or maybe I’ll knock down buildings with my head like Dalion.”
“Whatever you do,” she said, a little moist-eyed. “I know you’ll be the best at it.”
“So will you, Libby. Honestly, you are the bravest creature I have ever known.”
“Me?” she laughed. “You’re the one who destroyed the scorpions single-handed.”
“But you faced the greater challenge—you came here unarmed, to save me. I will never forget that.” He took her hand. “I wish you well, Libra of Earth.”
Markos could feel the slight vibrations in her hand, the tension in her brow, imperceptible to anyone else. So she was still capable of responding to him…
“Likewise, Markos of Constellia. I wish you well, always.”
“Always,” he concurred.
Markos did not stay for the rest of the celebration. Dalion caught up to him at the door. “Where are you off to?”
“To get drunk, what else?” growled Markos.
“There is nothing else.” He shook his head. “At least not when it comes to females.”
“Leaving without me?” called out Kalos.
“So much for a good time,” grumbled Dalion.
“The more the merrier,” Markos replied, stepping out into the night air. The only one missing was Argos but he would be occupied tonight, sending Libby home.
“Just do me one favor,” he told them both. “Get me drunk fast and if I try to go and stop Argos from sending Libby back, knock me out with a large, wooden club.”
“My pleasure,” said Dalion, meaning it.
Kalos said nothing.
“Not a word out of you,” Markos warned him, knowing his sympathies lay with Libby. “She is leaving and that’s it.”
“I’m not the one you have to worry about,” Kalos pointed out.
He’s right, thought Markos. The real enemy is my own heart…which lies as broken as any victim on the battlefield.
The little group set up camp at the edge of the woods. They lit a fire and commenced drinking from a huge barrel of ale. Dalion and Kalos took turns with a long wooden straw while Markos hoisted the entire thing to his mouth, spilling half of it down his bare, battle-scarred chest.
They shared pipes as well and rowdy songs. The moon had traveled well along on her nightly journey when Argos finally arrived.
“It is done?” Markos asked.
“It is done,” said Argos.
“Pass the barrel,” said Markos, taking a deep drink. He did not need to ask if it had gone well. Argos was Argos. Which meant that Libby was home now, safe in her own world.
“We should offer her a toast,” said Kalos.
“No,” said Markos, with sudden harshness. “We will not. I don’t want her name spoken of again.”
The four of them fell into silence, the mood of the evening shattered.
“I am going home,” said Kalos. “Good night, my friends.”
“I will accompany you,” said Dalion. “You’ll surely get lost on your own and stumble into a pit somewhere.”
“You are both drunk as can be,” said Argos. “I will watch you both.”
They said their good nights to Markos.
“Good night,” he replied sullenly, seeing through their little ruse to excuse themselves from his surly presence.
Markos drank some more, then lifted the barrel overhead. Crying out in fury and frustration, he threw it with all his might. It landed somewhere out of sight, alone, forgotten. Just like him.
Markos could not go home like this, sodden in self-pity. It was time to cleanse himself in the manner of the ancients. Tamping down the fire, he turned toward the deep woods. He would enter it and he would not leave until he had an answer to the meaning of his life without Libby.
If it took ten years, twenty or a hundred he would go.
If need be he would walk to the ends of Constellia and jump into the depthless black sea. The only thing he would not do would be to return to Earth to chase after her. Never, ever in a million purple sunsets.