Jason Jones in the Centaur Herd

The sheriff, the deputy, the martial-arts instructor and Jason Jones, fourteen-year-old boy, sat down with the centaur chieftain, Killforth "the Magnificent". The sheriff, as was his right, began the discussion. "Three centaurs attacked our town without apparent provocation. Do you know why they might have done that?"

The chieftain nodded solemnly. "Those were... reckless, young men. They wanted to go on a blood-hunt, to prove their manhood. It is a foolish custom, from the old country. We do not practice it, in these days. I told them that they should not do this thing; but their blood was high, and they would not heed me." Jason's instructor looked at him significantly; Jason ignored him.
Continuing, the chieftain asked with a sudden note of hope in his voice: "I don't suppose that you captured and - jailed them? It's better that they're jailed than roamin' the countryside or..."

His voice trailed off as the sheriff shook his head. "I'm very sorry. They're dead, all three of them."

Killforth sighed, then looked again to the sheriff. "In any case, you can see that we have nothing to do with their actions."

Again the sheriff shook his head. "We'll see. You'll understand that I'm reluctant to just take your word on something like this. I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about taxes, trespassing, that sort of thing. But first, tell me: where did you come from? You understand that I've never seen anyone... quite like you before."

The centaur chieftain considered how to phrase his answer for a full minute. Jason fidgeted; a bird circled high overhead. Finally, Killforth began: "We lived in the far east - I believe you call it China? - for over two-hundred and fifty moon's turnings. Ten years ago, the land became too heavily populated for us, too polluted. We had less food by the month. So we left. We traveled by cargo ship westward, to the port of Baton Rouge. From there, we slipped into the countryside - there were fewer of us then - and lived off the fat of the land. This is a vast country of yours! There is so much space, so much room. We learned English from hermits and misanthropes and hunters. Perhaps some of them spoke of us. Certainly the gov'ment never heard, or never believed." Jason heard a buzzing in his ears, as of mosquitoes. He looked around, but saw nothing.

After absorbing this, Sheriff Brown asked, "You lived in the far east for... however long. Where did you live before that?"

Killforth the Magnificent again began his lengthly consideration. It was interrupted by a scream. The entire party looked up, and saw a commotion at one end of the herd. Another scream rang out, lower-pitched than that which would issue from a human throat, and the centaurs began to scatter. Jason Jones got to his feet with the rest, and finally saw the cause of the panic. Half a centaur stood upright in the center of a patch of headless corn, dripping blood unpleasantly. As Jason watched, horrified, it slowly toppled over. And then it struck him - the patch was growing. Heads were toppling from corn seemingly without cause, all at the same height. The patch - or whatever was trimming it - caught up to a centaur and sliced through him (no - her) just as easily as it had the corn.

Jason Jones, trying to avert his eyes from the gore, looked around him. Killforth the Magnificent, victor of a hundred combats, master of a thousand warriors, was on his knees, seemingly praying. He mumbled, "Ignicis Alvars, Ignicis Alvars, the terror, the day-killer... why is it here? How are there so many of them?" Jason Jones looked away - and realized that there was more than one of the creatures.

The centaurs fled, moving incredibly fast, blasting themselves forward with their leg-wings. It did them no good. They all died, caught from front or rear and... sliced. The sheriff, terrified as anyone, nonetheless went to the car to fetch his shotgun. He asked Killforth, "Can you kill these things?"

Killforth, barely able form coherent sentences, nonetheless responded, "Yes, yes, hit them with a stone, an arrow, a bullet, they will fall - but so many of them. So many. Why here? Why here?" Jason Jones went to the car, hoping to make himself useful either by getting out of the line of fire or finding another handgun.

Sheriff Brown took aim and fired at the nearest slicer-creature. Corn was shredded, and the slicing stopped. Deputy Smith and Mr. Worthy (Jason's instructor) cheered from where they stood near Killforth, still trembling. Brown aimed again and fired on another creature. Again, he hit. He stopped to reload as Jason continued searching the car for a gun. He'd checked the glove compartment and was finishing with the seats.

Jason turned, having given up on his search, to see a trail of chopped corn heads rapidly approaching Sheriff Brown from behind. Panicking, he shouted, "Sheriff! Behind you!"

Sheriff Brown turned, raising his shotgun in preparation for firing. The creature caught him in the chest and sliced him in two. Killforth the Magnificent, Deputy Smith and Mr. Worthy shortly suffered the same fate.

Jason stood, all alone, in a shrinking circle of shorn corn.