The Heart of a Warrior

By Dextrousleftie Kichouneko

Jaunty is a young centaur who longs to be a warrior. Will his dream come true? Or will his destiny be very different?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dextrousleftie Kichouneko
• Release date: Aug 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301685974

Dextrousleftie Kichouneko

Dextrousleftie: I am forty years old, and I live in Montana. I love to write, especially romances. My hobbies include reading, drawing, cross stritch, and taking long walks. And I adore my cats, who I am enslaved to. :PKichouneko: I am 32, also live in Montana. I enjoy reading, quilting, knitting and pattern-making. I loooove computers and practically live on mine both at work and home. Also love my pets.

Book preview

The Heart of a Warrior

Dextrousleftie

Copyright 2010 by Dextrousleftie and H & D E-Press, Inc

Smashwords Edition

Cover Art by KichouNeko

The Heart of a Warrior

by Dextrousleftie

Chapter 1

Ever since he could remember, all Jaunty had wanted was to be a warrior. He’d been a mere foal, tottering about on his gangly legs when he’d caught his first glimpse of those magnificent beings. His dam, Silverbrook, had shown them to him. Look, little one, she’d said, pointing. Warriors. They’re on their way to Delhast, to fight for the King of Rezka. All of the other races want our folk in their armies.

He’d stood at her side and gaped up at the sight of the long column pacing by them. So large! To his tiny self, those warriors had seemed like ambulatory mountains. Especially the one in the lead, an enormous coal-black stallion with a wild, bushy black beard. He’d carried a huge sword in a harness at his back and scars had laced his massive torso in places. As he’d stood there, breathless with awe and wonder, the enormous stallion had turned his head. Their eyes had met briefly, and the huge male suddenly smiled toothily at him. One hand had lifted in a salute to the awe-struck foal, and he’d been so dazzled that he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Ahh. It seems that you gained the attention of Nightblade, little one, his dam had remarked as the warriors moved past them. You should be proud. He is the finest warrior among our folk. And Jaunty had been proud. He’d never forgotten that moment, and ever since then all he’d wanted was to be big and strong like that magnificent stallion. To carry a huge sword of his own, and to go into battle. All would tremble at his fearsome countenance and bloody prowess…well, in his dreams, anyway. Because the truth of the matter was, here it was thirty summers later and he’d grown from a gangling foal into a gangly youth with arms like sticks and a skinny body that refused to put on muscle, much to his eternal despair.

He stood in a cleared space behind the round tent that he shared with his mother, father, and two sisters, sighing as he lifted the wooden practice sword in his hands yet again. He swung at the construct of sticks and rope, trying to put all of his power behind the swing. He managed that - and the stick man barely quivered under the blow! His shoulders drooped disconsolately, and he dropped his hands to his sides at yet another failure. His dream was simply that…a dream. He was pitiful.

Jaunty, please stop practicing for a moment and go help your sister, he heard his mother’s exasperated voice say behind him.

He turned to see her standing by the side of the tent, with her arms folded over her breasts in disapproval. He knew that his dam didn’t think much of his efforts to train himself to be a mighty warrior - mostly because she was more practical than he was, and she saw clearly that he had little hope of succeeding. I’m sorry, Mam, he replied, setting the wooden blade aside.

She sighed. My son, I don’t mind if you practice when there aren’t other chores to do. But those hides need to be tanned.

I know, he told his dam, I’ll go and help Briar right now. She gave him an approving look as he trotted past her, heading for the other side of the tent where his sister Briar was working at the drying racks. The accumulated hides of a season’s worth of hunting were stretched out on the racks, and Briar was scraping them with a flat wooden scraper. She grimaced at him when he appeared.

About time you got here, she said tartly. Off hitting your stick man again, weren’t you? When are you going to accept the fact that our grand-dam has more chance of becoming a warrior than you do?

He flinched at her scathing but accurate assessment. Shut up, he muttered, stalking over to collect a scraper of his own and join her at the racks.

She laughed. Even if you were good with a blade, Jaunty, you don’t have the physique to swing one, she pointed out acerbically. Her eyes ran over his thin, long-legged form, and she shook her head before returning to her work. He began to scrape the hides, trying not to pout. He couldn’t help it that he had a body form more like a deer’s than a horse’s! And that his upper, humanoid torso was elongated and skinny as well. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been born this way. He was so tired of his family teasing him about his aspirations…

They worked in silence for a while and Jaunty found that doing the repetitive task helped to calm him down. He knew that his sister wasn’t being malicious when she teased him; just realistic. Miserably he acknowledged to himself that his dream was hopeless, that no matter what he did he’d never be a warrior. He blinked back tears as he came to this belated conclusion, and if his sister hadn’t been right there he would have wiped them away with his hand. But he didn’t want Briar to see him crying. She’d only tease him even more for being babyish.

Jaunty! he heard a voice cry. He turned his torso to see his sire standing behind them. I need your help, colt. Briar, Springleaf will help you finish that. Come with me, Jaunty. He nodded, glad to get away from the monotonous task of scraping the tanning hides. He set the scraper aside and trotted toward his parent. We’re going hunting, his father Ashbow told him. A dire wolf attacked several of our hunters in the forest a few hours ago. They all managed to escape, but two were hurt. We have to hunt the beast down before it kills someone.

Jaunty felt eager about this news. Something exciting! What do you want me to do, Da? he asked.

I want you to stay at the back of the group and run and get help if we’re overwhelmed, Ashbow replied curtly. Jaunty felt disappointed at his words. He wasn’t even going to be allowed to hunt a savage dire wolf? All he got to do was run away like a coward! His body slumped, but his sire was already turning away and didn’t see that.

Come on, Jaunty. We have to get going while the trail’s still fresh.

Yes, Da, he replied, trailing miserably after his sire as Ashbow paced into the center of the village where the other hunters had gathered with their weapons.

Jaunty felt even more miserable as he looked at the group, seeing that even the females were larger and more muscular than he was. With his thin arms, he wouldn’t even make a good archer. Come on, let’s go! Ashbow called, waving his hand at the group. The hunters moved out in a line, with poor Jaunty bringing up the rear. They all headed for the forest that clustered at the edge of the Plain that was their home, the trees a dark smudge in the distance.

The forest had always rather frightened Jaunty, though he’d never admit that to anyone. The trees were enormous, ancient things that had been standing since the beginning of time. His hooves made little sound