James Axler – Way of the Wolf

The boy across the glade stepped into the open. And the full impossibility of him stepped into Ryan’s view. From the waist up, the boy looked totally norm, but from the waist down he was all horse. His upper body swayed sinuously as his lower four legs moved him forward. He darted forward in a quick thumping of unshod hooves, like he was going to come right up to Ryan and the Trader. Then he stopped, still a dozen feet away, and galloped back to the tree line.

“Play?” he asked in a melodious voice.

“Got no time to play,” Trader growled. “Go away, boy, you’re bothering me.”

Two other centaurs came from the woods, one male and one female, her pendulous breasts swinging freely. The male carried a bow with an arrow already set to string. The female carried a spear with a long blade set on the other end.

“You didn’t answer my question, Trader.” The man swung around on Ryan and caught him with a backhanded slap that sent the one-eyed man crashing to the ground. Black comets swirled in Ryan’s vision, bouncing crazily off each other.

“Don’t you be getting uppity with me,” Trader snarled. “I made you who you are. I can damn sure unmake you—make you a follower, or a lone wolf.” Ryan forced himself not to draw the SIG-Sauer. After he’d located the Trader, they’d had some harsh words between them, but nothing like this. “Okay, Trader. Sorry. Mebbe I was out of line.”

“You were out of line,” Trader agreed, “and you’re never going to be in line again. You want to know why?”

“Sure.” Ryan went along with the dream, hoping it would end soon.

He walked with the Trader again, threading through the forest. Then the terrain shifted, and the Trader walked without concern across the ocean that stretched beneath him.

Ryan followed, not as able to walk on the water as his companion. His boots sunk ankle deep into the emerald ocean.

“It’s because of your son,” Trader said. “Because of Dean that you’ll never be without regrets. Having children does something to a man. Takes his edge off, takes away his zest for life and the unexpected that makes him the adventurer he’s supposed to be. And having children replaces those things with fear. Lock, stock and barrel, and you better bastard believe it.”

“Dean’s making me stronger in some ways,” Ryan argued.

Trader shot him a murderous glance. “You daring disrespect my view, you worthless baron-get whelp?”

Ryan forced out a no. But he noticed that his disagreement with the Trader caused him to sink in the ocean up past his shins. The going got tougher as he fought the water. Whatever surface he walked on beneath the water also felt more spongy.

“Good, because I don’t want to see you drown out here, Ryan. Truly I don’t. I looked after your ass for a number of years, and I don’t like to see all that time go to waste.”

Ryan struggled to keep up with the older man, losing nearly half a step. And there was no end of the ocean in sight.

“Dean’s going to pull you down,” Trader went on. “You’re going to want more for the boy than you’d want for yourself. A man knows his own limitations, knows the hardships he can handle. Always makes the wrong call when he tries raising children. That’s woman’s work.”

Ryan knew the real Trader didn’t feel like that. Not exactly. But the voice carried a timbre of truth with it.

“You’d been better off if the boy had been stillborn,” Trader said. “You’re always going to be risking what you have to make a better shake for Dean. And for what? Paying penance for a quick roll in the hay with that slut Sharona? Man should put a higher price on his future than that.”

The Trader was out of reach now, and the ocean sucked at Ryan’s boots.

“That’s not true,” Ryan yelled. The ocean drank him down, swallowing him up to his hips. “Dean can carry his own weight.” Suddenly he couldn’t move forward anymore.

The Trader turned and put his hands on his hips. “Look at you now, Ryan. You’re about to be in over your bastard head, and you can’t even admit it. You used to be more pragmatic than that.”