Read Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) Online
Authors: Michael Angel
Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) (38 page)
“Good.” I canted my head back to look into Wyeth’s impassive, coffee-brown eyes. “I do speak, and I’d like to know where you picked up your winning attitude. Liam’s traveled to the court of King Benedict and Fitzwilliam, saved hundreds of lives, traveled to another world, and captured the mad wizard, Magnus Killsheven! Tell me, Wyeth: what have you done with your life besides nibble on tender shoots, drink from forest pools, and shag the occasional doe with extremely bad taste in her choice of studs?”
I think my shot must’ve hit home, as the surrounding does recoiled as if I’d bucked and kicked at them. A few hushed words to their male consorts and the other couples picked up the pace, leaving us behind. Wyeth, for his part, gave his own doe a nudge with his muzzle, urging her on. Once she’d trotted ahead, out of earshot, Wyeth gave me a final once-over, as if deciding where to jam the point of his antlers into my hide.
“Prince Liam’s not the only one who has contacts in the human realm,” he said quietly. “I know who and what you are, Dayna Chrissie. And I know that you’re the daughter of a Fayleene murderer!”
That stopped me. I traded a startled, horrified glance with Liam.
How the hell did this son-of-a-buck know?
“Oh, yes,” he went on, “a few words from me at this very moment, and bucks here would tear you apart. A few words from me a little later, when we’re in the Sacred Grove? The Lead Does themselves would flay your Fayleene skin from your human flesh!”
“Never,” Liam declared, as he interposed his body between me and the larger stag. “They could try. But they would have to go through me first.”
Wyeth’s face took on an amused look. But his voice remained as serious as ever as he sniffed, “I don’t need to prove my power that way. When I take our father’s place as the Protector of the Forest, I’ll be gracious. Just this once, I’ll forget that you’ve committed such a blasphemy. Consider it my gift to you, runt of a princeling.”
With that, Wyeth bounded forward out of sight.
I rounded on Liam in an instant.
“Hold on a minute! That arrogant, ill-mannered jerk of a stag…he’s one of the Protector’s sons? We are talking about Quinval, the all-powerful Protector of the Forest?”
Liam let out a snort of his own, this time. “That’s typically how it works in monarchies.”
“But–”
“For obvious reasons, it’s important to ensure that the Protector’s line goes on. Thus, Quinval has long had the right to mate with as many of the Lead Does as he wishes, so long as they consent to the breeding. So Wyeth, myself, the other Fayleene princelings…we’re all brothers or half-brothers.”
“That means…that you’re as much a son of the Protector as any of the others,” I said, understanding.
“True. Not that the family connection counts for all that much. My ‘brothers’ shunned me just as the rest of my people did, all those years. But Wyeth is something different. He’s the eldest of Quinval’s get. He’s always been the biggest, the most aggressive. And he’s always felt that gave him the right to lord his gifts over the rest of us.”
“It shouldn’t give him any right.”
“Yet it seems to. It’s long been assumed that he would take over for Quinval someday. And he’s pushed himself, trained himself to be the fastest, the strongest. Ready to take over as soon as our father started to teeter into old age. It’s admirable, I suppose, but his abilities make it hard for him to understand what it’s like for others not as lucky. I understood this best at the time of my accident.”
“When you broke your antler, escaping a dragon.”
“Even so. I limped back to the herd, burned and badly hurt, hoping the does would show mercy and treat my wounds. It looked like they were going to. I think they were. But Wyeth drove me off into the wilderness. Said that if I were meant to survive, I would prove it by doing so. And so I did.”
The young princeling’s voice trailed off. His face gave nothing away, but his gaze remained fixed on some point immeasurably far off in space and time.
“Liam, I can’t imagine what it must have been like, having him for a brother. But we don’t get to choose our family. Sometimes we just…need to try and find the good that’s within them.”
A moment passed, then two. He looked at me, eyes pleading.
“How do I do that, Dayna?”
“I don’t know. But we all have to try, at least.”
A rush of voices filled my ears, making them flick back and forth. I let out a gasp as Liam and I stepped into a vast, green cathedral of space. Trees the height of California redwoods arched overhead, creating a vaulted ceiling of branches. Dots of sunlight filtered through, dappling the crowd of Fayleene couples below. Off to one side, a line of older, gray-spotted females watched in regal silence as the newly arrived Fayleene sorted themselves out around the huge oval of the clearing.
At equally spaced intervals on the forest floor lay a quartet of wide, flat leaves shaped like lily pads. Atop each leaf were small heaps of seeds, nuts, and a dark, chunky substance I couldn’t quite make out. But there were other things competing for my attention at that moment. Chief among them was Wyeth’s voice, raised in outrage and sorrow.
“No! By the sacred heartwood, this cannot be so!”
He raced forward, stopped, and stared into the shimmering veil of gold light that lay across the very center of the Grove. I recognized the shimmer as Liam and I drew closer. He also let out a cry of dismay, followed by similar shrieks and howls from the other Fayleene around us.
The shimmer came from a preservation spell, one meant to slow or stop decay. I’d seen one before when I examined the body of Good King Benedict. Walking through the magical shield hadn’t been a pleasant experience, but I could attest to the fact that it had kept the corpse fresh.
It looked like it was working now, too.
Resting peacefully under the golden shimmer was an elder stag. His coat was a shiny, healthy slate gray. But his eyes were closed, and his chest did not rise and fall.
“Liam…” I breathed, “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yes,” he said, and his voice came out in a croak. “That’s my sire, Quinval. The Protector of the Forest lies dead before us.”
All of a sudden, I had a really,
really
bad feeling about all of this.
(…continued...)
The full manuscript for
can be found at all major
eBook retailers.
Also by Michael Angel
The ‘Fantasy and Forensics’ Series
A Perjury of Owls (Coming 2016)
Standalone Fantasy and Sci-Fi Novels
The Wizard, The Warlord, and The Hidden Woman
The ‘Apocalypse with a Side of Spam’ Series
Episode
One
Episode
Two
Episode
Three
Episode
Four
Entire
‘Season One’ Compilation
The ‘Fringe Space’ Series
The Complete Collection: Fringe Space Tales
Meet Michael Angel
Michael Angel’s worlds of fantasy and science fiction range from the unicorn-ruled realm of the Morning Land to the gritty ‘Fringe Space’ of the western Galactic Frontier. He’s the author of the bestselling
Centaur of the Crime
, where C.S. Lewis meets CSI. His many books populate shelves in languages from Russian to Portuguese.
He currently resides in Southern California. Alas, despite keeping a keen eye out for griffins, unicorns, or galactic marshals, none have yet put in an appearance on Hollywood Boulevard.
Find out more about his latest works at:
Editing/Proofing services provided
by Cassandra Campbell at
and
Leiah Cooper from
Cover art by Annah Wootten-Pinéles,
whose art can also be found at
