The Centaur Wars by Roz Evans

Author:Roz Evans [Evans, Roz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aljote Press, LLC

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THE UPPER DECK OF the Harlot was long and slick with rain. Small lizards skittered away from Nix’s boots as he walked in front of her. A snake the color of emeralds twined around a mast; something hissed from the ropes as they passed beneath the rigging. Dee focused on walking. Whenever she stumbled Nix snapped his fingers twice, and the strangle snake around her throat tightened until she choked, and he ordered her to walk faster. Lack of oxygen would not help her walk faster, but he seemed to be putting on a show for the other black-coated figures on deck.

He hauled her roughly through a gap in the railing. He hauled her down the slick stairs beyond.

The staircase down to the water creaked. It felt as though they climbed down an inward-curving cliff. At the bottom, Nix halted on a small wooden landing that bobbed on the water. Barnacles crusted the wood. The landing platform was tucked beneath the jutting prow, out of the rain. High above them, the figurehead of the Harlot arched her wooden back toward the sky. The figurehead had her wooden arms thrown wide. Rain dripped off her carved toes, plipping into the water.

Nix whistled. A sea serpent glided through the water. One rubbery ear was scabbed. The sea serpent halted with an eye narrowed at Nix, bad-temperedly.

“Is that a… shivrilee?” Dee gasped. The strangle snake around her neck was loose, now that none of his family could see them.

Sea snakes like legendary serpents of the deep, Moriarty wrote. Shivrilees… a ridiculous and small-sounding name, with none of the majesty I would have chosen. The word sounds like a giddy butterfly…

“Meet Murky. Fall off and he’ll eat you. If you lived here you’d have taken riding lessons since the age of three,” Nix said, as Murky growled. “Shivrilees only respond to perfect technique. And bribes.”

He tossed a bread crust. Murky’s jaws snapped.

“Technique like… what?” Dee managed, her tongue still frustratingly sluggish, her words too slow. She thought of horses who recognized amateurs and immediately bucked them off.

“You don’t need to know. You won’t be steering. Get on. Don’t fall off.”

“I—”

“Now.”

Snap, snap.

The snake around her neck tightened. She cast a silent snarl in Nix’s direction, shuffled her feet forward, and jumped. The shivrilees of Moriarty’s time had not eaten people. She wondered if Nix was lying.

She landed on a gray hide that felt as rough as sandpaper, and fell to her knees. Nix whistled. The snake loosened.

If someone had told Dee, a few months before, that she’d ride atop a sea serpent, she wouldn’t have believed them. If they’d told her she’d do it in a bay of creaking wooden ships, alongside a forest inhabited by centaurs…

Nix landed behind Murky’s head. He stood upright and barely swayed when they accelerated; Dee nearly rolled off Murky’s back. They sped away. The sea serpent swerved like a frothing, fanged sports car. She crouched. Water soaked her knees. She spread her hands wide for balance, and slowly lifted her head to stare.

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