The centaurs might not be winning any awards for their bedside manner, but they sure knew how to party. Oscar discovered this on their fifth day in camp, shortly after Jon had informed him that he would be taking Skylar out for a quick ride and, after a slightly awkward pause, asked if he would like to join them. He could tell that Jon had asked more out of courtesy than anything else as it was clear that he would prefer to be alone, so Oscar had declined. Haley was wrapped up in the mysterious tasks that Sunder had set for her, but Jon was obviously still wrestling with the decision to leave Tim and Lauren on their own instead of continuing their search.
Unfortunately that wasn’t an option. In no time at all the storm had progressed to one of the worst hurricanes Oscar had ever seen. According to the centaur chieftain, the dark magic from the heavy winds and rain was seeping into the very ground, poisoning the forest.
At first they had nothing to go on but the centaur’s word, but after a time the effects became visible to the naked eye. The trees around them, so lush and firm upon their arrival, were drying up before their very eyes; the vibrant array of flowers encircling the camp had wilted; and a strange black fungus was creeping over the forest floor. He could only imagine the damage the hurricane was doing to the city. The horrible thought that the weather had claimed lives haunted him, but he hoped that somehow, as naive as it may seem, he was wrong. Damaged houses and property was manageable, but lost lives could never be regained.
It was hard to sit here in this small, foul-smelling cabin day after day and do nothing while Haley was out there desperately trying to repair the damage the Harbingers were causing. And now even Jon was trying to find some kind of purpose here. That left him the only outlier.
Oscar suddenly stood up, as swift and automatic as a machine following orders, and he swept out into the evening air.
He brought with him a coat that he had obtained from a small thrift shop a short ways away from their cabin, which sold a variety of clothing despite the centaurs not being able to wear trousers and preferring to go bare-chested. It was one of those things in life that never made sense but nobody ever seemed to question. In addition to the coat, he was also sporting an umbrella that he had received from the same wood nymph he had tried to talk to on his first day in the camp, who had scurried away as if he was carrying an infectious disease.
It had been a surprise to find her at their doorstop less than two days later, bright spots of pink shining on her pale green cheeks and eyes averted, as she handed him an umbrella made of thickly woven banana leaves stitched together with thick veins of silk. Her apology had been graciously accepted, and looking immensely relieved she gave him a warm smile and introduced herself.
Her name was Vera, and Oscar soon came to realize that she was far less shy than she had first appeared. There was fire in her, a blazing defiance that he greatly enjoyed.
She had also taken him on a tour of the entire camp. All around them bloomed plants that looked like they wouldn’t have been out of place in a cheesy old sci-fi movie: plants that grew twice as tall as the average man, whose vines moved of their own accord, with prominent head-like protrusions stacked with huge red-and-black thorns like fangs. Stranger even was the fact that the wood nymphs seemed to be able to hold long conversations with them.
In addition to the shop, there was a pub known as the Drowsy Ogre not too far away, which seemed to be the most popular spot in the entire camp.
It was a small, dingy, darkly lit place, filled with dozens of centaurs carrying huge tin mugs of a very strong-smelling ale that burned Oscar’s nostrils. On one occasion he had witnessed a very distinguished-looking centaur be reduced to a slobbering mess in mere minutes, chasing a wood nymph as he belted a love song.
She finally managed to escape by running into a nearby tree. Undeterred the centaur followed, ramming headfirst into the bark and ricocheting off like a stray bullet.
The second most popular place in Camp Centaur was the archery range, where they would gather day after day to refine their skills. Their aim was impeccable: once while watching them from afar, he saw one of the centaurs pin a buzzing insect right out of the air from over fifteen feet away.
There was also another field, hidden beyond a barrier of bushes where the centaurs gathered to ride freely, which Oscar soon realized was Jon’s new favourite haunting spot. Of the three main attractions, Oscar knew which one he was most interested in.
During their time at the mansion, where he was under the constant vigil of a multitude of disapproving parents, Oscar had limited himself mainly to an array of family friendly juice choices. But he couldn’t deny that after all they had been through these past few days, he needed a real drink. Hands in his pockets, he wandered down to the Drowsy Ogre, where several centaurs were gathered just outside its walls entertaining a group of nymphs who seemed to be enjoying the attention, tittering behind their hands and blushing.
Oscar was quite impressed: despite the fact the centaurs were clearly drunk out of their minds, they were putting on quite a show.
Centaurs looked up over the tops of their glasses as he walked inside, observing him through bloodshot eyes. Oscar was used to stares. Completely unperturbed, he walked right up to the bartender and requested the same drink he consistently saw render the centaurs into mindless wrecks.
The centaur, who had a dun mane, looked down at him with pronounced mistrust. “Six silver pieces,” he said gruffly, holding out a battered wooden pan already clinking with several coins.
“Coming right up,” said Oscar with a wide smile, twiddling his left index finger behind his back. He opened his palm and a number of gleaming silver coins rolled from his hand into the pan. Fortunately the centaur seemed too preoccupied to notice the distinct absence of metal on metal clinking as the coins were deposited. Barely even looking at Oscar, he slammed down a mug of a bright red liquid in front of him and stalked away to another customer, who was jiggling his coins in his hands.
Oscar took one of the tables at the far end of the room and briefly observed the contents of the mug. It burst with bubbles, sparkling as if liquid stardust was captured in the rim of his mug. Curious, he took a generous gulp of his drink. It was incredible: pleasantly warm and smooth, it rolled over his tongue with a zing that sent his tastebuds into overdrive.
There was a strong tangy aftertaste to it, but it was probably the best drink he had ever tasted, and he had admittedly gone through a very respectable roster of them. He took another sip of his drink, feeling warmth flood his entire body.
“I saw that, you know,” said a voice in his ear.
Oscar choked on his drink. Coughing and spluttering, he thumped himself in the chest and, when he had finally regained control of himself, turned and looked up into the eyes of an aged centaur with a rather dull grey mane that matched his beard.
“Saw what?” Oscar asked innocently.
“Don’t play coy with me, boy. I saw your trick with the coins. Ah, but don’t worry,” he added with a wink, seeing Oscar’s tense expression. “I’ve never been much of a fan of old Caius. It’ll be quite funny at day’s end when he starts tallying up and realizes he’s several pieces short. Serves him right, the old moss-brained twit.”
Oscar chortled.
The centaur smiled and extended a rather large, hairy hand. “Euremon.”
Oscar took it in his own and shook. “Oscar.”
“The illusion god,” said Euremon. “Ay, I know of you. You and your siblings are quite famous in these parts. Been a long time since we’ve had a nature god in our presence.”
“We’ve heard. Almost two hundred years, right?”
The centaur raised his rather bushy eyebrows.
“Sunder told us.”
“He talks too much,” Euremon said gruffly.
“But yes, that’s right.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to the last nature god?”
Euremon eyed him very intently for a moment. A lesser being would have cowered under the intensity of his glare, but Oscar merely took a sip of his drink and held his gaze, not a hint of fear in his face. After a moment the wizened centaur’s expression softened.
“No one knows. It’s one of the greatest mysteries in our tribe’s history. One moment he was doing everything your sister was doing: restoring the forest, tempering the animals, rebuilding our community. Then one day he vanished. Believe me, we searched every nook and cranny of the forest, but not a single trace of him. He just… disappeared. The wood nymphs and the centaurs partnered up after his disappearance, trying to keep things going, but the forest started dying the instant he vanished. All we’ve done is delay the process. But now with this accursed tempest…”
Oscar didn’t respond at once. He took another gulp of his ale, his mind on the storm slowly breaking through the camp’s mystical defenses, and how Lauren and Tim were trapped somewhere out there, alone.
When Valarok had appeared to them, he had singled out Lauren as one of the eldest siblings. There was an innate responsibility as the oldest of the bunch to ensure the safety of their younger siblings, to maintain order when chaos threatened to tear the family apart. Though he had been an only child for all his life, that was the lesson he learned simply by observing other families. But not only had he failed to stop Tim from taking Lauren and rushing off in desperation, he had also failed in the task of locating them afterwards, trusting that Tim would have it covered. But he shouldn’t have to do it alone. That was why Sytris had brought them all back together, wasn’t it? So that they could find strength together.
“You look lost in thought,” said Euremon’s voice, as though from a great distance.
“Just a bit,” Oscar replied automatically.
“Well don’t think too hard, mind you hurt your poor noggin.”
Oscar looked up and saw that the centaur was smiling, holding up his mug in a toast. He raised his own and bumped it against Euremon’s so that a little of the sparkling red liquid sloshed onto the table. Oscar soon came to realize, however, that drinking responsibly was frowned on by the centaurs. The ale that Caius had concocted was far stronger than anything Oscar had ever experienced, and every time he tried to inject some semblance of moderation in his drinking session the older centaur scoffed and urged him to continue. In no time at all he had downed his third mug, his speech was slurred and his vision was blurry.
He couldn’t remember how or when it had happened, only that somehow, he had ended up on top of one of the tables, belting an incoherent musical tragedy at the top of his lungs while several centaurs assumed the position as his backup singers.
The other centaurs were roaring in approval; even Caius was smirking. One of his entourage was just trying to climb on top of the table alongside him when a loud, reproachful voice rang out his name.
“Oscar!”
He turned and squinted at the doorway. It took a few seconds before the speaker came into focus, then he saw Vera, her eyes wide with shock.
“Hey, V!” he shouted, slopping some of his drink onto a nearby centaur’s head. “Hey everyone, make some noise for V!”
The centaurs rose as one and gave a deafening cheer. Completely ignoring them, Vera strode into the bar and up to the table where Oscar was dancing, then yanked him onto the floor.
“Ow!” he cried as his head bumped against the table, but she did not pause, instead seizing him by the scruff of his shirt and leading him swiftly through the door among cries of disappointment from the onlookers.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Away from here. I thought I warned you to stay away from that pub?”
“Did you? Maybe it was the other pub in camp. Yeah, I’m pretty sure of it.”
She did not respond. Instead she quickened her pace as she turned towards the forest. Even in his inebriated state he recognized the path she was taking. They were heading towards a special river she had brought him to on their first tour of the camp. And sure enough, minutes later they arrived at the bank of the river, which was protected by a canopy of trees so dense that even the rain steadily creeping into the camp was unable to penetrate. The river itself was a winding stretch of water that was as clear as glass, allowing a perfect view right down to the bottom of the water, where rocks gleamed in the dim light and schools of glowing fish flickered past like luminescent arrows.
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Vera took a seat by the riverside, forcing Oscar down beside her.
“Why’d you bring me here?” he said, looking around.
“So that your siblings wouldn’t have to see you like this,” she replied curtly. “Now keep still — and hold your breath.”
“Why would I need to —”
Before he could finish his question she had seized him by the scruff of his neck and forced his head under the water. In his shock he had forgotten to hold his breath and the water came flooding in. After a few seconds of this, his survival instincts kicked in at last and he tried to hold his breath, desperately trying to keep the water out, but his head felt like it was going to explode. His arms splashed around above ground, completely futile in their efforts to free him. After what felt like an eternity, she drew him back up and he took a great gasp, as if trying to suck in all the air around them.
“Why did you do that?” he demanded, as he finished a particularly nasty fit of coughing.
“Head feel clearer?”
“Well… Yes actually,” said Oscar, who realized that he was actually able to form coherent thoughts again.
“The River of Chryseis cleanses impurities in the blood. It’s the fastest way to make yourself sober. Unfortunately this is where a lot of the centaurs find themselves at the end of the day to restore themselves.”
Oscar sighed, settling himself on the grass. “I just wanted a drink, that’s all.”
Vera raised an eyebrow. “You mean you wanted to drown your sorrows in one of Caius’s mugs? Unfortunately for you, it seems your sorrows have learned to swim. All you accomplished was making a fool of yourself in front of the centaurs.”
“On the contrary, I think they actually respect me more now.”
“You didn’t need to get drunk and act like a neanderthal to earn their respect. All you had to do was let them get to know you.”
“Really? Is that all it takes?” Oscar asked with mock innocence.
Vera rolled her eyes. “I know from experience that one dip isn’t enough to fully cleanse that awful concoction from your system. The magical properties in the river need more time to work.”
“You’re going to try to drown me again, aren’t you?” Oscar said with a sigh.
“Precisely,” Vera said brightly, and she submerged him once more. She held him under for much longer than she had the first time, so long in fact that he wondered if she actually was going to let him drown. Then he remembered that he couldn’t die by drowning, but if it couldn’t kill him then what was going to happen to him? His arms flailed around furiously, trying to find some anchor to wrench him out, but Vera was clearly much stronger than he had given her credit for. A large, glistening, rainbow-coloured fish flickered up to him and stared into his eyes, then it darted away as Vera yanked him out of the water. Oscar flopped onto the grass, coughing and spluttering.
“Feeling better?”
“Strangely, yeah,” said Oscar, peeling himself from the ground and flicking his sodden hair out of his face. “Once you get past the almost dying part.”
“What could have possessed you to do something like that?”
Oscar did not respond immediately. Staring into the depths of the crystalline water he said, “I just wanted to take my mind off things for a little bit.”
“And this is how you do it?”
“It’s the only way I know how.”
“You could always try talking about the things that trouble you, you know.” Vera moved a little closer, her expression shifting from reproachful to sympathetic. “Your siblings —”
“Have their own drama. I don’t want to add to it.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t think of it like that. But even if you don’t want to add to their burdens,” she continued in a slightly raised voice, when he remained unconvinced, “then I can always lend you my own ear. Us wood nymphs don’t have much to worry about, besides drunken, love-sick centaurs chasing us around camp. It wouldn’t be much of a burden to hear what you’ve got to say.”
Oscar heaved a deep sigh. “Where would I even start?”
“I may be a little old-fashioned, but I’d say the beginning is always a good starting point.”
Again Oscar turned his eyes to the water. That was easy for her to say, but for him everything was knotted so tightly that he wasn’t sure where his troubles even began. He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words had even left his lips, a terrible, blood-curdling cry exploded through the air like a foghorn. Birds took to the air in fright, uttering shrill cries and flapping furiously as they dashed out of the trees and into the sky.
“What was that?” demanded Oscar.
Vera was on her feet at once, looking shocked. “I don’t know.”
Somewhere in the distance, a low, rumbling trumpet sounded.
“Gaia help us,” muttered Vera. “That’s the war horn. The camp is under siege.”
Oscar was on his feet too, staring into the direction the horn had sounded from. “Let’s go.”
The trip back into the camp seemed to be much shorter than it was getting to the river. As they ran, Oscar noticed something strange. The squalor that had loomed throughout the camp for the past few days had ceased at last, but in its stead a dense fog was now drifting through the trees. The unsightly black fungus coating the trees was more widespread than ever. He and Vera arrived in the center of a thick crowd of curious onlookers who like themselves were trying to find an answer to the question they all had.
A horde of retreating centaurs now came into view, faces masked with terror.
“What’s going on?” shouted one of the centaurs Oscar recognized from Sunder’s troop that had attacked them shortly after they touched down in the forest.
“Ghouls!” was all one of their companions replied before disappearing out of sight alongside the rest of his crew.
“What does he mean?” Oscar said. “What are — what —”
The question was being answered for him. Several of the gathered onlookers let out gasps of horror. After everything Oscar had seen in the past two weeks — flying horses made of wind, centaurs, leviathans, monster-doctors, rock giants — he thought maybe he was starting to get used to the magical world. But zombies. Heck no.
What looked like a whole army of the undead was approaching at speed, shrouded in the same thick fog now spreading around them. They looked like ordinary people, clad in colourful skirts, suits and ties, shorts and t-shirts. But their skin was dark and flayed, not as if they had been burned, but as if they too had fallen victim to the horrible fungus now eating away at the forest. Their eyes were glowing blank, white slits, wide and empty, and they were emitting low, animalistic growls.
“What abomination is this?” one of the centaurs beside him said, shifting his horse legs nervously.
As they watched a battalion of centaurs rushed forward, bows and arrows, spears and longswords at the ready. The air was soon thick with arrows, and their aim struck true. Within moments the entire horde of zombies had fallen. But… none of them stayed down. They rose with awful, spine-chilling movements. Joints twisted in abnormal positions, bones cricked and cracked, and they came forward again. The centaurs retaliated with yet another volley of arrows, but every time they struck one of their targets it simply rose again, even more aggressive than before it had fallen.
The centaurs tried to retreat, but the zombie horde was upon them now. More and more arrows were being loosed, but after a time it stopped having effect. Oscar watched as an arrow flew straight into one of the zombie’s eyes and it simply continued to advance, barely even flinching.
The centaur who had fired let out a shrill scream of horror and tried to run, but several zombies launched themselves upon him and brought him to the ground. His screams lit the air, followed by a litany of grotesque rips and tears, and after a moment his screams were silenced.
His comrades roared in a mixture of rage and grief, hacking and stabbing and firing at everything within reach.
But it was to no avail. The resulting exchange was vicious and bloody, but short-lived. Every centaur who was on the frontlines had fallen within minutes. And that was when something truly dreadful occurred. The bodies of the felled centaurs began to stir, twisting and shifting with the same gruesome, unnatural movements of the other zombies, eyes blank and glowing with the same eerie white light.
“Dear Gaia,” one of the nymphs gasped. The zombie army, now strengthened by the latest additions to its ranks, turned their sights upon their newest set of victims and charged.
The scene exploded in chaos as wood nymphs and centaurs alike turned and scattered in every direction, like ants whose nest had been disturbed, screaming at the top of their lungs. Oscar grabbed Vera’s hand and hurtled off. He wasn’t sure where they were going, only that he wanted to be as far from this abominable scene as possible. He kept his eyes fixed firmly in front of him, but every scream, every slash of a sword, every crack of bone behind him painted a very vivid picture. Some of the members of the crowd who were trying to escape had been caught, and by now had joined the army of the undead.
“Oscar!” Vera shrieked, pointing beside them.
One of the centaurs was closing in on them from their right, hidden by the intense fog that was slowly encompassing the whole camp. He was holding a spear, which was spattered with fresh blood. The centaur kicked off and took a giant leap, landing squarely in front of them, then he launched the spear. Oscar tackled Vera to the ground just as the spear embedded itself into the ground behind them.
“Nokk!” he yelled, fingering his necklace. A flash of purple rose through the darkness; his hand now enclosed in his gauntlet, Oscar turned to the advancing centaur. He dodged a sharp kick from his front hooves and threw a fierce blow in his chest, just a few inches above a nasty wound that was still oozing blood; probably the very wound that had killed him.
There was a sound like an explosion and the centaur was repelled into a nearby cabin, demolishing the front wall as he soared through it.
“No, Ayana!” wailed Vera. Oscar whirled around and saw another wood nymph being chased by three zombies, desperately rushing to reach a great pine tree close to the very cabin Oscar and his siblings had been staying in the past five days. Like most of the other flora in this region, it was covered in a thick layer of black fungus. Ayana was faster, reaching the safety of the tree before they could catch her. Or so Oscar had thought. To his horror, Ayana was rebuffed from the tree, unable to meld into it the way they had demonstrated so many times over the course of his stay.
“No! No! Help!”
The attackers reached her before Oscar did. Her heartbreaking screams filled the clearing as they pinned her down, tearing limb from limb as easily as if she was a rag doll.
“Ayana!” screamed Vera, breaking down in sobs as Ayana’s screams were extinguished with a horrifying abruptness. Unlike what happened with the centaurs, however, Ayana did not rise again. The party of zombies now turned to face Oscar and Vera. Oscar grabbed her shoulder, trying to steer her away, but she seemed unable to move.
“Vera, we have to go!” Oscar shouted, but the nymph was paralyzed by despair.
More of the creatures were gathering around them, drawing together in a tight circle to close them in. Oscar raised his gauntleted hand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle all of them, but it was as Jon always said: he would fight to the last breath. All at once the creatures broke from their circle and charged at him. Before they reached him however, a streak of light flew overhead, soaring towards the floor like a stone.
Oscar threw himself into the grass as the glowing orb exploded like a grenade, sending up a flash of light that tore the garrison of zombies apart.
Smoking limbs flew through the air as the flashbang faded, and to Oscar’s immense disgust, a black, scaly-skinned arm flopped onto the grass in front of him.
“Ugh.” He kicked the arm away, but instead of hurtling away into the fog, the fingers wrapped themselves around his ankle with a vice-like grip. “Get — off — me!” he roared, hopping around on his left leg as he wrenched the arm off of his right and tossed it away. Jon appeared at his side, leaping off of Skylar. Haley was just behind him, riding upon Sunder’s back.
Haley looked aghast, staring at the remnants of the zombie army with wide eyes. “What is going on? Are those — zombies? Like actual, real life zombies?”
“Seems like it,” Oscar said, pulling the still-sobbing Vera to her feet. “They must have gotten through the barrier somehow.”
“Impossible!” Sunder gasped, white faced. “No such evil could have passed through our barrier.”
“Then how do you explain that?” Jon jabbed a finger at another approaching wave of zombies, the bodies of centaurs clearly among them.
“Abomination,” Sunder whispered, terror etched in every line of his face. “Filth. Obscenity.”
The zombies were gathering speed, filling the air with their heinous growls.
“Get behind me!” Haley said. She thrust her hands out towards the forest floor. Vines again erupted from the ground, but instead of the enormous shoots that had hoisted Sunder and his companions into the air, these were much smaller and thinner, and lined with thorns. The vines criss-crossed each other in the air, rotating like high-speed jump ropes. The body of an elderly-looking woman in a torn-up nightgown charged at Haley and the vines lashed out, ripping right through the woman’s torso and sending the severed halves of her body cascading into the fog.
“Easy, Haley!” Oscar said. “Those are still people!”
“No they’re not,” said Sunder, who still looked shell-shocked. “They’re plagues, an affront to nature. Any tether they had to the earth is gone. They must be destroyed.”
“Now hold on —” Oscar began, but before he could finish his sentence, an odd whistling sound pierced the air and next thing he knew Jon had divetackled him out of the way of an arrow that lodged itself into the trunk of an old mahogany tree just behind them. The arrow was slathered with the same poison that the centaurs used, and in mere seconds a hole the size of a soccer ball had melted into the bark.
“You were saying?” Jon said.
The herd of creatures continued to rush them, but they never got close. Every time they neared Haley her vines would shoot forward, shredding the bodies apart. For a moment it seemed Haley had everything under control — until an arrow whistled through the space in between her vines and pierced her side. She collapsed with a shriek, her skin sizzling where she had been struck.
The lapse in her concentration allowed the creatures to force their way through the vines. Jon had summoned his sword, Oscar brandished his gauntlet and even Sunder had drawn his bow and arrow, but just by looking at the sheer number of them Oscar could tell that this wasn’t going to end well.
There were just too many of them.
“You three will undoubtedly survive, but I fear this might be the end of the line for me,” Sunder said in a melancholy voice.
“No, nobody’s dying tonight!” Jon shouted.
The creatures were upon them now, pouring over them like a flood. They readied themselves to battle, but before either side could mount an attack, a bolt of lightning blazed through the darkening sky and landed just in front of them. The explosion sent them flying backwards, scattering among the trees. Pain searing through his body, Oscar looked up. When the smoke finally cleared a massive crater lay in the ground between them and the creatures.
Fragments of rock and loose body parts showered down upon them. The few zombies that somehow managed to survive the strike were climbing out of the crater, some of them missing limbs, but still determined to attack.
They were coming at speed, but again, they were spared the need for retaliation. Before the zombies could take more than a few steps, a shimmering azure blur whipped onto the field, ramming into the zombies and catapulting them back into the crater. In less than three seconds, all of them had been thrust back into the pit. Injured though she was, Haley reacted with incredible speed: she wrenched the arrow out of her side and clapped her hands together as if praying. The entire ground trembled, then the walls of the pit smashed together with a horrible crunching noise.
When the dust had settled, the blur came zooming back into view and stopped directly in front of them, and a familiar face appeared from within. It was Tim, smeared in mud and zombie goo, and grinning widely. Lauren was just behind him, her spear sparking with green electricity.