THE BEAST MUST DIE: Chapter 3
Block, parry, duck, slash...Peter ran the steps through his mind as the clangs of steel on steel rang through the valley. Sweat trickled down peter's face, matted his hair to his forehead, ran down his neck and his chainmail-covered back. Still, the look of undivided concentration stayed locked on his face...it was here he felt truly at his best form...here everything melted away from conciousness...every care and concern of being a teenager, a king, and a big brother all faded from his mind...all that remained was his sword, his opponent's sword, and the beast of a centaur that wielded it. having matched blow for blow, Peter now took the offensive. urging his horse forward, he hacked into the centaur's space, forcing him back, further back, till he was locked against the edge of the forest and the entire clearing was at Peter's back. The Centaur's horse half, foaming from exertion, brushed the trees and suddenly stopped. Peter's sword met the Centaur's guilded chestplate, and just like that the match was over. Peter stepped back, and pulled off his helmet, his trainer did the same.
"Excellent work today Peter. Maybe tomorrow I won't go so easy on you"
"Thank you sir, maybe tomorrow you won't die again" Peter said with a grin.
"Point taken indeed, your majesty." The centaur laughed slowly " tomorrow I'll teach you to fight against a two-sworded opponent." Peter knew the Centaurs were legendary for their prowress in two-sworded combat, and this Centaur was indeed a legend. Peter tried to meet this challenge with as much confidence as he could muster
"I look forward to it sir...till then I suppose" and with a kick of his stirrup, Peter set off through the forest. Slowly as his adrenaline died down and his aching arms stopped throbbing, he looked around himself at the greenery around him. Tall evergreen trunks formed a haphazardline of prison bars. Indeed if not for the trail these woods would have been impassable. Suddenly out of nowhere he heard a voice:
"I do suppose you think you won a great victory today, young Son of Adam." The voice seemed to come from nowhere, and Peter stopped his horse quickly and looked around.
"Did you hear that, boy?" Peter asked
"I sure did, Your Majesty" replied the horse
"I must say your skill has improved...though not your wits." came the voice again
"Oh for Narnia's sake! I'm over here!"
Peter looked and there, sitting on a fallen log by the forest trail was a wrinkled old man, his grey locks tumbled out from under a small black hat and settled about his shoulders. He leaned heavily on his staff and stood to face Peter.
"Nothing in Narnia save the White Witch's Stoning Wand has ever beaten a Centaur in two-sworded combat!"
"Well how can I change that unless I try?" countered Peter. the man's face seemed familiar...almost as if he'd seen it somewhere before.
"Indeed, indeed. Granted it will be an exiting match to watch. Dear me, where are my manners, my name is Manorflaed the Librarian. I am a master of the honoured Wise Arts...I suppose that makes me what you'd call a 'Wizard'...how do you do, your Majesty?
"Very well, thank you" Of course! the Librarian! this was who was always scolding Edmund every time he put the books back in the wrong order! Peter dismounted, still the man barely came up to the golden lion on Peter's shoulder plate. Peter was curious,
"So, what brings you to the middle of the forest? were you watching me fight?"
"I notice you didn't use my name" answered the Manorflaed with a kind smile. "have you forgotten it already?"
"No-...well yes, I'm sorry sir, I'm not that good with names you see. Sorry"
"It's quite alright, young one. My name is not that important these days anyway." a sad look in his eyes momentarily betrayed the smile spread across his face.
"So...the Centaurs...they're a rather famously warlike race in Narnia?" Peter tried to end the awkward silence as the old man snapped back to the present.
"Oh, indeed, indeed. Would you believe young one that the Centaurs were the only race never fully subdued by the Witch's power? In fact, there were those who considered themselves to be the "Right arm of Aslan", though he was nowhere to be found in Narnia in those days. Every time the centaurs got word of Narnians turning to the Witch's side, they took it upon themselves to stop the 'rebels' by any means necessary. They saw it as their sworn duty to keep Narnia loyal no matter what the cost. It's little wonder that when Aslan finally did return he made so many Centaurs generals in his military."
"A wise move, I suppose". mused Peter.
"So it would seem, your Majesty. So it would seem but dear me I've detained you long enough for one day. It was a pleasure talking with you, young Son of Adam. Till we meet again." With that, the wise old man turned and started down the path to Cair Paravel. Peter remounted his horse, and, after retaking the reigns looked up after the old character.
"I say, sir would you like a ride back to Cai-" but stopped when he realized there was nobody to talk to. He'd disappeared just like that! "Strange. I wonder how he does that..." wondered Peter as he headed back to the castle.