Chapter 7.4: Nightmare

A chill rolled up Minkus’ spine. His toes twitched nervously. They were in it again, and Penny was at the head of it all, running straight into danger.

“Penny!” Ventyr called out, a ways off to Minkus’ left. The two vigil soldiers, Ventyr and Jindel, had almost caught up with the woman now, putting them all in the open, nothing but wind-blown grass between them and the drawn bows of two centaur warriors on the flanks of their party. “Stop,” Ventyr yelled again. “Don’t go any closer!”

“Centaurs,” Penny called back. It was as much a growl as a yell. “You said centaurs shouldn’t be taken lightly. I’m not—”

With a tight thwip, an arrow buried itself in the ground beside her foot, cutting her words short. “Shit!” she yelled, diving aside as another fell where she’d been standing. The shooter nocked a third.

Without thought, Minkus snatched the sword from his back and disappeared, the air slapping together where he’d stood. He reappeared in a brilliant flash of light, midair and inches from the stunned face of the centaur archer. Both screamed as Minkus slashed ferally at the bow, snapping it in the first swing and catching the centaur’s arm on his descent to the ground.

He hit dirt gracelessly and gasped, looking up at the rust-red centaur towering over him. He’d actually just done that.

The beastial archer blinked hard, recovering from the blindness Minkus had temporarily caused. He turned an acrid gaze first on his bloodied arm and then on the asura at his feet. Minkus rolled aside just as two hooves thundered into the ground. He dodged the wild stomps once and twice more, when the centaur’s short sword came into the fray. As powerful legs repeatedly pounded the earth, the iron sword-tip zipped back and forth past Minkus’ head, threatening to take an ear, or worse. He wove his way around and under the equine form, parrying swings of the sword as he danced between pistoning hooves.

A cry broke his focus. “Do it, you piece of shit!”

His attention shifted. Twenty yards away, Penny was down, on the ground and staring up the shaft of a spear at the centaur scout ready to skewer her.

No thought. Another flash, and energy thrust out in every direction, lifting the stomping centaur and launching him off of Minkus. Without missing a step, the asura passed through his magical dome at a run toward his friend, magic flowing through him and into the magnet—his magical focus—now in hand.

He released the charge, and a beam of light struck the scout blind only an instant before Minkus himself struck her, knocking her into the ground and bouncing off across the grass. The spear was driven harmlessly into the dirt, feet clear of Penny.

After a moment, Minkus rose, wobbly but alright. He looked at Penny, already on her feet and grabbing her pistol from the ground. The scout with the spear wasn’t moving, seemingly unconscious. Remembering the archer, he quickly looked back over his shoulder. That centaur wasn’t moving either, laid out motionless atop the rocks they’d first been hiding behind. Minkus winced. He could only hope that one too was only unconscious.

In the other direction, Ventyr and Jindel were jogging toward them. Only patches of broken earth and smoke clouds drifting on the breeze broke the landscape behind them. They were the only two standing.

“Penny,” he said, “are you alright? I saw you go down and—”

“Is it still alive?” she interrupted, striding toward the mass of chestnut hair and twisted limbs.

“It?” Minkus asked. “You mean the scout? I don’t know. I certainly hope so. I didn’t intend to—”

Penny kicked the body, and not gently.

“Penny,” Minkus continued, hurrying toward her. “Isn’t that a little—”

“It’s just out,” the woman growled, cocking and uncocking the gun in her hand. She didn’t even seem to notice when the others stepped up beside them.

Ventyr spoke first. “Everyone OK here?”

Minkus waited for Penny to respond but took up the responsibility when she said nothing. “We’re fine,” he said, thinking hard over what to say next. “Let’s— I mean, I think we should tie them all up quickly.”

“The others are dead,” Jindel said plainly.

Ventyr nodded. “It couldn’t be avoided.”

Minkus blinked, looking back at the centaur laying before them all. The truth was, he’d never seen a centaur before, and though the horns curling out from the sides of her head seemed unusual, he saw some of the same features in her face that he’d learned were considered beautiful among the humans: full cheeks, fair skin, silky hair, and creases around her mouth that implied she likely smiled often. And that was to say nothing of the chestnut hair that coated her horse-like lower features. Now marred by bleeding bullet wounds and dirt, it must have been lovely just hours ago.

His thoughts were cut short when a pistol suddenly descended before his eyes. He looked up to see fury and fear flickering in Penny’s eye.

“Penny!” he yelped, grabbing her arm, “what are you doing?”

Penny’s gaze was unmoving, her jaw tight. “Finishing it.”

“But—” Minkus faltered for words, latched onto Penny’s arm with both his hands. “she’s disarmed, unconscious. She’s no threat if we tie her up!” Penny only glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“He’s right,” Ventyr agreed, slowly approaching. “This one doesn’t need to die. Gag her and tie her. That’s enough to keep her from alerting others to our presence.”

Without so much as changing her expression, Penny rebutted, “Looks like Minkus broke its leg. Might as well finish the job.” There was no humor, no sass, no conversation. She didn’t for a moment look away.

“Perhaps her people will still find her,” Minkus reasoned. “They could heal her.”

At that, Penny erupted at Minkus. “You want to spare this thing so the others can come help it?” she spat. “We did the world a service putting these things down. These monsters attack innocent villages. They take people as slaves and slaughter anyone who fights back. Slaughter, Minkus. Not threaten. Not hurt. Not even kill. They slaughter.”

Minkus stopped and looked down at the centaur again. “But— what if she has a mate? Or progeny?”

“Progeny?” Penny demanded. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Children. I meant children,” Minkus quickly corrected.

“Well, what if it does?” she retorted, still holding her aim despite the debate. “These are animals, Minkus. They don’t think twice about taking our families. There’s no reason I should.”

She hadn’t realized it, but while her conversation with Minkus went on, Ventyr had moved around to her other side. Gently, he reached toward the gun. “Minkus is right,” he said firmly, wrapping his hands around the pistol and redirecting its aim toward the dirt at their feet. “There is no reason to kill again. We’re safe.”

“Says the man who just killed two of them,” Penny snarled. For a moment she tugged at the firearm but then gave in, looking only briefly into the stern eyes of her sylvari friend. “Fine,” she sneered, lowering the weapon. “Have it your way, but don’t fool yourselves. It’s not innocent. None of them are.” She turned and started back toward the road, calling back over her shoulder, “Find me on the road when you’re done.”

Hours later, they were safely within the walls of Nebo Terrace, a sleepy town with a few blocks of buildings pressed cozily between the walls that kept it protected from centaur raiding parties. From the outside, the town appeared as a small bastion topping a hill that was near impossible to approach from any angle other than the road. From the inside, all a visitor could really see were the decorative, plaster-coated walls that reached thirty feet into the sky, blocking out all the outside landscape and leaving the town feeling isolated and blind. At the same time, if you gave attention only to the quaint homes and shops crafted in the old style, the handful of merchants exchanging their goods in the square, and the children chasing a local drakehound through the streets, it was easy to forget the outside world altogether.

Jindel remembered it all from her visits as a child. Little had changed in the last several years, and she recounted those stories to the group as they ate a rather tasteless but no less filling roast chicken.

As the night went on, it was hard for anyone to miss Penny’s complete lack of involvement. She said nothing, eating and drinking slowly and silently, until at last they all retired for the night.

When Penny opened her eyes, she was in a bed, but not the one she’d remembered going to sleep in. The feather pillow under her head was replaced with a lacy, cream-colored one filled with straw that rustled as she moved her head. There was a stiff quilt laid on top of her: its blue and orange pattern was strangely familiar. She rolled over and blinked hard in the morning light streaming in through an open doorway on the other side of the room.

Though still unclear where she was, she did notice there was something in her arms beneath the quilt. Feeling the objects, Penny took them in hand and extended them out from under the quilt. She blinked again, and the space around her came a bit more into focus. In her left hand, she held a wooden toy carved into the crude shape of a Seraph soldier, evident from the jagged facsimile of a winged shield on the arm. In her right hand, she held its counterpart: a rearing centaur holding a splintered broadsword. Suddenly she knew where she was.

No, not this aga—

Before she could finish her thought, a silhouette appeared in front of the open door across the room. The sunlight stretched out in radial fingers around him. It was clear he was human, tall and slender, but the plate armor that shifted and clanked as he stepped fully into the doorway made him appear broader. He moved with grace across the creaky wooden floorboards, despite the evident weight of his thick armor.

Penny flung the toys and the quilt as she rose in her bed. The man, hearing her move, turned halfway back toward her. The sunlight glanced off the very edge of his face so that she could just make out the corner of his smile. Even that was enough for her to remember it fully: a smile that exuded the most comforting blend of joy and sorrow. She froze, just like she always did. He waved and blew a kiss, then stepped through door, disappearing into the light.

“No. Papa!” She cried, scrambling out of the bed and falling hands-and-knees to the dusty floor. But it was too late; she knew it was too late. Every time she had this dream, it was always too late.

The door screeched shut behind him, and the room fell into darkness. The quilt, the toys, the very room, all evaporated into mist spiraling up away from her as the floor pulled apart beneath her hands. A scream stuck in her throat, and Penny fell into the black, spinning out of control.

Suddenly her body slapped against cold cobblestone, and a new environment materialized around her. Every inch stung from the impact as she peeled herself off the ground, rising to her knees and looking around. She knew this dream; she knew where she was, but still each experience of it felt like the first time. She was just inside the gates of Divinity’s Reach, splayed on the ground in the midst of a dense crowd that didn’t notice her. She saw the people as they passed in every direction: the baker, the blacksmith, the cooper, that man with all the hounds. She saw them all passing through the gates, up the Dwayna High Road, down the Low Road, and off into the Eastern and Western Commons— but none of them saw her. On their various paths to wherever they were going, not one looked down to see her.

Her bag lay on the smoothed cobbles beside her, filled with the handful of possessions she’d managed to hang on to. It was orange, her favorite color. The dye alone had cost her father more than he’d ordinarily make in a season, but it was the exact shade she loved, so he’d purchased the dye and made it for her anyway. For a moment she held it close, remembering.

She stood up, still hugging the bag, and the knot twisting in her stomach rose into an inaudible sob. She stood there, alone in the crowd, silently convulsing as tears flowed over her bright tangerine bag. And then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Not a tear followed; there was just the knot.

A hand settled on her shoulder.

“Penny?”

She looked around—this was not how the dream went. Still, no one was looking at her, but she felt the hand begin to gently shake her.

“Penny, wake up.”

She snapped awake with a gasp, lashing out to grip the person whose hand was still on her shoulder. It was Minkus.

“Penny,” he whispered, now as surprised as she was. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Her heart hammered, and she could feel sweat soaked all the way down the back of her tunic, but she was now aware enough to release her friend. “No,” she said, exhaling. “It was— it was nothing. You should— just go back to bed.”

He nodded. “It’s been a hard trip for everyone. And, well— today seemed like a hard day for you. If you need to talk— well, I’m—”

She nodded, cutting him off. “Yeah, I know.”

His smile was thin and empathetic. He patted her shoulder, and returned to his own bed on the other side of the room. In minutes, Minkus was asleep. Penny was awake the rest of the night.