The Centaur Read Free Page A

ground visibility less than a quarter mile. They had stopped only a day’s march south of New Babylon and sent dispatches by horseback on into the city to deliver messages to the Emperor’s ‘mother’. The messages would pronounce the pursuit and battle a success, giving their approximate arrival date at the city gates. The envoy would wait for a return message and in this way, they hoped to learn whether she had any idea of the true story of the rout and disaster and the destruction of the Ancient Evil.
    Omar was convinced that she would somehow know that he had been dispatched to the beyond, and she would be waiting on them with some new terror. He wanted to go into the city with guns blazing and take the palace by storm. Luke assured him that it would not be necessary. He already had the Fox behind him. After two weeks, moving at a snail’s pace back toward New Babylon, he had completely won over the men left under his command. Jozsef Daniel’s forces had been decimated. They were returning with less than half of what they had started out with. Most of their transport vehicles had been destroyed and many of the survivors were injured. Along the way, Omar had used his considerable talent to heal as many of them as he could, but some were so badly injured they died along the road and were buried where they fell. Omar was demoralized and devastated by the loss of so many. In all his campaigns in his younger career as Prophet, he had lost very few troops and for the most part, his General and his chief advisor had kept the truth from him whenever casualties had occurred. Now he was unshielded by lies and deceit, and the full impact of what had come of his dreams settled upon him like a black depression, and he still had to face Huber. The Prophet felt sure that he was now paying for his sins once and for all.
    “Don’t be so sure.” Luke said after a moment, startling him from the depths of his gloom.
    “Of what?” Omar crumpled onto his cot and leaned his elbows on his thighs. He ran his fingers through his messy hair. His grandfather’s skills as a barber were somewhat lacking.
    “Of either. She probably don’t know and don’t care, and I’m sure that you can do what you have to do.” Luke smiled at him as he slid the imposing blade of twisted gold into the black scabbard. “You underestimate yourself. You always have. Even when I thought you were a wimp, you were a force to be reckoned with. I guess you could have kicked my ass any time you pleased back then. My question is why did you put up with me in the first place? I must have been a real ass-hole tried and true.”
    “You are my uncle, more like a brother. Blood means a great deal, Luke. During the time we spent together with your father, the King, I began to see things in a different light. We were intolerable. I have to assume that your father saw more in us than what we exhibited outwardly. He could have destroyed both of us then with the wave of his hand, and yet it was blood that held him back.” Omar looked away from him. “My father taught me that much. I should have listened to him more….” Omar’s voice trailed off and he frowned. “Where is he, by the way? I haven’t seen him since noon.”
    “He said something about wine or women or something.” Luke shrugged. “I think he’s tired of the provisions. He’ll probably show up with a picnic basket any minute.”
    “He still takes care of your father’s Templars. They serve him well.” Omar changed the subject of food and commented on the fifty or so Templars that Mark Andrew had rescued from purgatory. They kept to themselves, made their own camp and provided their own way. Luke had spent some time with them in Tibet and Arabia and he was still not quite sure if they were alive or dead. They rode great prancing horses and could be heard talking, laughing and even singing together, but they never got dirty. Their Templar uniforms were always pristinely clean, much like