The Open Sky: Eternal Forest Saga - Book 3

Chapter 5

 For as unpleasant as Oakleaf found the centaurian city of Ironhoof during the day, it was worse in the evening. The day's labors seemed to end across the city almost simultaneously, and the drinking and feasting weren't far behind. It started with long tables being carried from huts and strung together along the dirt paths. After the tables came the food and wine. Trays of meats poured from huts where woodsmoke bellowed out of chutes on the roofs. Clay jugs of wine didn't even make it to the tables before they were passed around by the men ready to lay down their burdens after a long day's work.

Oakleaf absorbed this spectacle of ostentatious frivolity as she moved through the city towards the outskirt where the rest of her party was camped. The journey into Ironhoof had been far different. Centaur culture hated a lot of things, but it hated outsiders, the Lady, and women of power most of all. As an elven priestess of the Temple, she ticked all of their boxes. She still remembered the stares and whispers the centaurs gave her as Kortath led her into the city. But that was hours ago, and the coupling of her arrival being old news and alcohol being served seemed to make most of her inhospitable hosts dismissive of her presence.

In truth, this evening festival was exactly what she needed. Not that she wanted to partake; she wouldn't be caught dead celebrating with these heathens even if they'd have her. But the chaos seemed to have them distracted enough to not watch her actions so closely. Oakleaf paused as a centaur woman cut into her path. She cradled four wine jugs in her arms. Exhaustion and uneasiness were unmissable in her expression. This was clearly a celebration for men only. The women were there to make sure the boys didn't have to lift a hand unless it gripped a cup. The woman set the jugs on the table and backed away slowly, but not before a nearby male slapped his palm forcefully across her rump. The woman didn't respond save to move her hooves a little faster to get away from the table.

"Blighted savages," Oakleaf cursed under her breath.

The music started when she reached the edge of the city. The sounds of thunderous drumbeats echoed all the way to the thick trees surrounding the camp. Her convoy all sat together in near-total darkness. Many huddled in clusters at the base of trees. Even in the faint light available, they looked hungry, tired, and afraid.

"Oakleaf!" a male human acolyte said as she approached. Some stood as she entered the camp, but many still did not move. He and a trio of other acolytes, all of them female elves, rushed to meet her.

"Why is there no fire, no tents?" Oakleaf demanded. The sun was nearly gone and the weather already foretold of a cold night ahead of them.

"The centaurs ordered that we not set any of that upon their land," one of the women responded.

Oakleaf ground her teeth and shut her eyes. The centaurs were determined to make them as uncomfortable as they were legally allowed. She cursed herself, for she should have seen this coming. If she had, she'd have sent them back to the border when they parted ways. Even though the hour was late, it was still the only option. They couldn't bed down without some form of shelter.

"I need a priestess," Oakleaf ordered. "Is there a priestess among you?"

"I'll fetch Riverbend," the male said before running off. It was only seconds before he returned with a dark-skinned elven woman with shoulder-length straight hair.

"You called," Riverbend asked of Oakleaf.

"You must pull up camp and return to the border," Oakleaf instructed. "You won't beat the setting sun, but if you leave now you won't need torches until you're well out of sight of the city."

"You?" Riverbend questioned. "You say that as if you don't intend to go with us."

"I cannot."