Life on Centaurio: Chapter 1 (Version 2)
Prologue
Far away in a distant corner of the wide universe is a large planet set in an orbit around a sun. The length of time is roughly equal to the length of time upon Earth. With an atmosphere similar to Earth's, the landscape is yet very different as in there are no desserts, or rain forests present upon this works. Prairies and forests cover vast amounts of dry land, lakes the size of seas dot the land with large rivers interconnecting them like a grid. Water is fed into these rivers and seas of fresh water by massive ice-caps at each pole of the planet.
The creatures that live and breed upon the planet are exactly like the ones upon our Earth, with the exception of there being no ape like creatures, or even horses of any kind. Beings much like mythical creatures called centaurs, call this planet home. Some settle in small family communities, while others like the Native American tribes of old, travel the plains like Nomads. Existing of the animals they can hunt, or the crops they have learned to cultivate from the rich soil. These creatures age like humans, yet they live longer than humans because of their clean environment.
This story is mainly about the life of a single centaur, but his one small existence, affects the lives of many more, than just his own. We shall see what affects his choices and his life pattern bring down upon not just himself, but quite possibly his entire family. This is a story about a young centaur no older than nineteen, who just starting to learn the ways of life on Centaurio.
Chapter 1
Located on the edge of one of the vast plains close to the large forests, there is a small village of centaurs. The buildings are made of cut logs, to form longhouses, like the homes of the ancient Vikings, and Norsemen. Each longhouse is sixty to seventy feet long, and as wide as thirty feet, A family of 15 or more centaurs will live, eat and sleep in these buildings. At the far end of the village, there is a smaller building, smoke rising from a chimney, and the sound of metal clashing together resounded through the air. Inside this small building, in the early morning hours was a lone stallion, young and strong from years of hard labor stood before the forge which burned bright with coal. His equine body, as well as his torso was covered in coal dust, obscuring the color of his skin and hair. Salomar is the name of this young stallion centaur; hair from his head was sleeked back from his brow, and braided into a warrior's braid down his torso's spine. Both the hair on his head and body was dark blonde, almost tan in color, his legs had a cuff of white above black hooves. Salomar with-drew a long piece of steel from the forge, and slapped its glowing cherry red form on the anvil. As the left hand held the tong that held the hot steel, the right arm drew up, elbow moving with the wrist stiff. Down came the hammer to meet the heated steel, sparks flew to the side, as the hot metal was pushed by the pressure behind the blows of the hammer. Salomar envisioned the finish product in his mind, his arm rising and fall in a rhythmic fashion top shape the steel. After an hour of the same process of heating, hammering and shaping the steel, he finally had the desired product. The left hand rose and then drove the black steel, still very hot, into a barrel of water, steam rose with a hiss from the barrel as the hot metal instantly boiled the liquid. Pulling the cooled metal from the water, he held it up to the light and smiled at the shape. Salomar had been a blacksmith's apprentice for 9 of his 19 years, and today was the not only the day of his Graduation to a Master Smith, but also his Leaving Day. Smiling still, Salomar moved a vice, and clamped the steel into its grip, picking up a draw file; he started the tedious work of filing it. If he had not so expertly shaped the steel in the forge, he would have spent hours at the file, working the dents and chips out of the steel till it was smooth as ice. A few quick strokes of the file righting minor flaws in the metal, from the vice he moved himself and the steel to a work table. There he fashioned a few last minute items to the steel, and place some ornamental things upon it. Salomar left the force he had grown up using for the final time, in his hand was a simple knife. One that was used mostly by the females of the species to cook and prepare food, it was simple, a 8in blade, with a point that sloped up into a curve. The blade was 2in wide at its widest point, and the handle was a simple one of antler pinned with iron pins. The smooth blade was sheathed in an ordinary sheath of leather that would keep the blade protected and safe to handle when not in use.
Salomar first walked to the river that flowed by his meager village. The crops his villages had planted were sprouting finally in the late spring weather, located on the far side of the river. Placing the finished blade on a tall rock, Salomar trotted into the river, whooping out at its cold temperature. Taking sand from the bed of the river he scrubbed his body free of the dust and sweat that coated him from working the forge. Once clean he got out of the water, and galloped a mile down river and back, the warm winds drying his body and hair. It was an easy run, and left him not gasping for breath, picking up the knife he walked to the longhouse that belongs to his father, and pulled the heavy double doors open to reveal his family and village standing to either side of massive table that parted along the middle of the longhouse. There to greet him at the door was his teacher, Ragonra, a tall roan of a male with a grey white dappled body, and a graying beard of black. Approaching his teacher he held his finished blade for the roan to inspect. Ragonra drew the blade from the sheath, and viewed the blade with squinting eyes, nodding, his great big hand took an apple that sat alone on the long table and tossed it before him. The simple kitchen knife hissed through the air, and seemed to miss the apple for it was Ragonra was aiming for. Only when the apple hit the table with a thud, did it split in two, and show the star pattern the seeds made when cut horizontally. Taking a rag, Ragonra wiped the blade clean of the apple's juices, and turned to Salomar to speak. "This is a fine blade you have crafted. I am proud and honored to call you a Master Smith." These word the first words spoken to the ears of Salomar, looking to his teacher, his torso shift, to be straight and stared into the eyes of his former Master. His head nodded, Salomar accepting the words given to him by his master with joy, which showed itself in a smile. As if on cue, the whole longhouse erupted into cheers from his family, friends and the people of his village. His father, at the very end of the table, made no such noise, but stared at his son, smiled and nodded. Salomar held his head higher then, though his father said no words, and gave no cheer, it was more than enough to show the young centaur his father was proud of his youngest son. Though it was still fairly early in the day, the whole village spent the day drinking, feasting, and telling stories into the long hours of the night
Salomar was very much a man in eyes of his village, and in the morning after the long celebration he was called to the very edge of the village that faced the vast plain. Before him at the edge of the village stood his family, Father, Mother, his father's second wife, and all his siblings. Salomar was the youngest of 4 sons sired by his father, and birthed by his two mothers, two males born to each of them in the past 25-30 years. This was the day he would set out on his own, to find his place in the world. Surprising enough his old teacher stood with his family and behind them was a wagon pulled by a pair of oxen. The wagon was covered with a canvas tarp; it would no doubt contain gifts from the village that would help him in his start of being independent. Walking up to his father, Salomar took his father's arm in a sign of greeting, their palms clutching the other's forearm. "Today is the day you leave the village, and start your own life, my son." His father's voice was deep and pleasant to the ear, as he spoke. Nodding He stepped forward and gave his father a hug, "Thank you father, for raising me and giving me a pleasant life." Releasing his father, Salomar went to each of his family, hugging his mother's and little and older sisters who had not been taken by other males. Turning to his old-teacher he embraced him, sharing a moment with him before releasing him and turning to his father again. After the goodbyes were said, his father spoke once again, "Today Salomar is your Leaving Day, the day you are to go out into the world and start your own life away from your family. The village has given you this cart, oxen and the content under the canvas as a gift." Pausing to wave at the covered wagon, once again talking after the pause," Your family also has gifts for you." His mothers came up and produced a vest of deer hide; the left side had a black hoof mark, with a hammer and tong cross over it. Below the symbol was stitched a black anvil shape. His mother then spoke for the two mares, "This pattern is to show other villagers you are a smith, and great one at that." Taking the gift he shrugged it over his torso, the vest lying easily on his muscles torso. His collective sisters, six of them, came before him and presented him with a large patch work quilt. Each of them had sewn a patch over the last year, each patch had a different design, somehow showing the love they had for their elder brother who cared for them and protected them on their walks into the forest or prairie. Salomar took the quilt and let it rest on his broad back, before turning to his father. The solid black haired old stallion that was his father stepped forward and held out a bow with a quiver of arrows. "You always enjoyed the bow as much as the forge, take my old bow and let it feed you and your family for a long time." Salomar smiled and took the bow and quiver from his father, slinging the quiver over his back; he slid the unstrung bow into the quiver to rest with his arrows. Next his teacher stepped forward, carrying a tall spear and a large sword in his hands. "You have been the best apprentice in my many tears of teaching. Whatever you do, your skills will help you in life." He held the sword and spear to his old apprentice, and Salomar took them both bowing in gratitude. "Thank you Master Roganra", he said to his old teacher, he strapped the swords sheath to his left side, the long sheath was held upright along his flanks. He looked to his family, not allowing a tear to fall though his eyes watered at the thought of leaving them behind. "Goodbye, and take care Salomar", his father waved to his son's retreating back, spear in one hand, and the reigns of the oxen in the other as he led them out onto the prairie's grassy plain. Where would he go, and how would the young centaur male survive?