Hidden Magic

Chapter 3

(I'm giving a claustrophobia content warning for this chapter.)

Phillip inched around the wall taking care not to make a sound. His reason for lurking was a pointless quest given by his master to find something only mentioned in whispered and vague rumors. It was no surprise to him that the apprentice was the one sent on this fool's errand.

To make matters worse, leads he had followed had led him to believe that the rumored thing did in fact exist and was located here. Here, in the same location as a group of orcs and gods only knew what else. If he came back empty handed, or at least without bearing word of its whereabouts, his master would not be at all pleased- and that would be an understatement. The old wizard had never been particularly kind, but over the past year or two he'd become downright... well, evil, in his apprentice's opinion, although "unhinged," "paranoid" and "shady" would be other words said apprentice would throw into the mix, although most definitely not while in his trigger-happy master's presence. He liked his feet where they were, thank you very much.

As inane as this task was, perhaps if Phillip retrieved the magic amulet it would allow his master to lose some of that horrible paranoia and return to normal... or at least to the level of eccentricity that he had started out. If nothing else, maybe it would please the old man enough that he'd finally advance his apprentice to master Illusionist, meaning Phillip could get as far away from Bluecoast as possible and never have to deal with that madman again. 

So maybe this search wasn't so pointless after all.

Phillip had heard no sound coming from within the wall as he looped his way around and was caught by surprised when a ruckus of clangs and thumps came from a section of the wall he'd already checked once. When he stepped away from the wall to look around the curve of the stone, he spotted something that surprised him even further: a male centaur slamming an iron gate with what Phillip could only think of as a tree. As he watched, the stallion- if that was the term for someone with the top half of a human- tossed the large log aside. He let out a growl of frustration and began tugging at the gate with his bare hands, accomplishing nothing more than rattling the iron.

Phillip's sense of self-preservation told him to quickly head the other way, as far from this angry beast as possible, but curiosity led him forward. He crept forward in his soft, silent boots and stopped a few yards away just as the horse-man gave another shout. As Phillip watched, the centaur seemed to give up. He bowed his head low and brought his much-abused hands up to his head to pull at his already disheveled hair. Phillip wasn't sure if that was how centaurs normally wore their hair, but was willing to bet it was from an extended time of frustration.

At a loss about what to do about a distraught centaur, Phillip nervously cleared his throat. 

When the centaur spotted him, he didn't reach for the discarded tree as Phillip had feared. Instead the centaur gestured at the gate. "Please! Your aid I need. My sister in there be!"

And here was another surprise: the pleading centaur spoke his language. While heavily accented, he was perfectly understandable.

"Woah. Hold on." Phillip held his arms out in front of him to deter the pleading in the centaur's voice and bleary brown eyes. "There are orcs in there. I can't just wander in and ask them to hand someone over."

The centaur shook his head hastily, causing the braids mixed into his hair to fling over his shoulders. "No! Gone most of them should be. Her kin cleared them out and left, but never did she leave."

That didn't sound too promising for the missing sister. "But how do you know she's-"

The centaur glared at him with enough vehemence to cause Phillip to take a few steps back.