Savage Beasts

Rifle in hand, Bax stood beneath the shade of a tall corrialis tree, his sharp blue eyes scanning the wide, flat prairie. In the distance, he could see a herd of speckled bison grazing as they moved slowly toward the river, their dark brown hides dotted with golden flecks, hence their name. The bison were no danger, unless something spooked them and they decided to stampede through the camp, but the wolves, big cats, and dragons who preyed upon the bison could be. Of course, that wasn’t why Bax and his crew had been hired. The centaurs were.

His team of six maintained a perimeter around the prospectors’ camp, from a hundred feet upriver of their operation to a hundred feet downriver. They had been on Legris for three days with only one centaur sighting — a small hunting party half a mile away, and that was on the day they arrived. If the centaurs knew they were there, they were avoiding them. They certainly weren’t trying to threaten or intimidate the small group of humans who had encroached upon their land. Still, centaurs on other worlds were known to be aggressive, so Bax and his men remained vigilant.

A noise drew his attention and he turned as Ellevia, his second in command, jogged up. “Sir, a hostile has been sighted to the east approaching camp,” she said. “Shall I tell the team to assemble?”

“It’s just one centaur?” Bax asked. She nodded. “No, tell them to stay where they are. This one could be a distraction, to draw our attention while the rest attack, or it may just be curious. If there isn’t a problem, we don’t need to start one.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ellevia said, giving a sharp nod of her head. “I’ll inform the men.”

He watched her jog away, her golden braid bouncing against her back, then turned and headed for the eastern side of the perimeter. The centaur was just standing out on the prairie, the tall grass up to his equine knees. He carried a longbow and had a quiver of arrows slung across his back, but he did not seem menacing. His coat was black as night and splashed with patches of white that dazzled Bax’s eyes, like snow in the sun. His long black hair was also streaked with white and streamed out behind him, tossed by the wind. For several minutes, they just stood, staring at each other, only a thousand feet between them. Bax wasn’t sure if an arrow could travel that far with any accuracy, but he was sure his bullets could.

He heard a footstep behind him and glanced back, but it wasn’t Ellevia. It was one of the prospectors, a weathered man of about Bax’s age, his dark hair cut short and starting to gray, his dark eyes lined and narrowed with suspicion.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, his voice rough. “Shoot it. That’s why we hired you.”

“No, you hired me to protect you,” Bax said, turning back to watch the centaur. “That’s what I’m doing. Now go back to the river and let me handle this.” The prospector grumbled under his breath as he walked away, but Bax didn’t care. The man was a stubborn old fool. Bax had learned long ago that different didn’t always mean dangerous.

Taking a deep breath, he began walking toward the centaur, his rifle held across his chest in a non-threatening position, but it would take him less than a second to ready the weapon if necessary. The centaur watched him approach, his equine ears flicking back and forth as he shuffled his hooves in the tall grass. Bax stopped about a hundred feet away, not wanting to agitate him further. The centaur was immense, standing at least eight feet tall, his body sleek and heavily muscled, his humanoid torso and arms splashed with the same white patches on a black background, his short coat gleaming in the sun. His face was heavy-boned, rough and chiseled looking, but not ugly. Just different. Bax supposed he looked just as strange to the centaur.

After a moment, Bax cleared his throat, the sound making the centaur shy away. Skittish, but he didn’t raise his bow. “Hello,” Bax said, and then again, trying to sound more friendly. “Hello.”

The centaur hesitated, then took a few steps toward him. Bax tensed, but made no move to raise his weapon.

“Ehlen,” the centaur said, his voice deep and resonant. “Ehlen.”

“Ehlen,” Bax repeated. “Hello.”

“Ellow,” the centaur said. He pointed at himself. “Durast.”

Bax repeated the strange word and pointed at the centaur, who nodded. At least their languages had that gesture in common. He hoped. Bax touched his own chest. “Baxane,” he said.

“Bax-ane,” Durast said slowly. Bax nodded. Introductions complete, the centaur began to speak and gesture, but the only thing Bax understood was the urgency in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Bax said finally. “I’d like to help, but I don’t know what you want. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He didn’t want the centaur to think he was refusing his request. Durast stopped, but he didn’t look angry. He looked as helpless as Bax felt. After a moment, he lifted the strap of his quiver over his head and laid both it and the longbow on the ground. Bax hesitated. He might be unarmed, but with his hard hooves, he was by no means any less dangerous. Finally, Bax set the rifle down. He had a handgun tucked under his arm, inside his jacket, and a knife on his belt at the small of his back. He had to fight not to reach for one of them as the centaur began walking toward him.

Stepping away from his rifle, Bax met Durast in the open field, the centaur towering over him by a good two feet. Slowly, Durast held out his hand, palm facing down. Bax had no idea what such a gesture might mean in their culture, but after a moment’s hesitation, he mirrored it. The centaur took another step forward and placed his huge hand on top of Bax’s making the rugged war veteran feel no bigger than a child.

The contact lasted no more than a few seconds, then the centaur turned and galloped away, leaning down as he ran to scoop up his bow and quiver. Not sure what had just happened, Bax retrieved his rifle and returned to the prospector’s camp. As he drew near the corrialis tree, Ellevia stepped out from behind the wide trunk and lowered her rifle.

“I had your back the whole time, Sir,” she said.

“I knew you would,” Bax said, giving her a small smile. She was about his daughter’s age, but reminded him more of himself, twenty years ago.

“What do you think it wanted?” she asked, looking out across the rippling plain, where the centaur was just a dark speck between gold grass and blue-gray sky.

“I don’t know,” Bax said. “I wish I did. He seemed…desperate. I wanted to help him.”

“Just make sure you’re careful, Sir,” Ellevia said. “It is a hostile.” She headed back to her post and Bax leaned back against the trunk of the tree with a sigh. Durast hadn’t seemed very hostile to him.