Free Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) by Michael Angel

behind us dropped away as I spoke. “This all sounds too damned second-hand to me. Who said that Benedict completed his journey safely, and who sent word back of the murder?”
    “In each case, the same two people,” Kajari said, with a rueful smile. “That would be Captain Vazura, who leads the Air Cavalry for the man who rules these border lands: Lord Behnaz.”
    I groaned.
    “Don’t tell me…Vazura was the one who said I’d only be useful if I moved like a mink in heat, right?”
    The Duke actually blushed. “The Captain has a…rather direct way of expressing himself.”
    “Spare me.” I appreciated Kajari’s courtly manners, but if we got back to that whole ‘beautiful and fine character’ thing again, I was going to scream. “And the other man…that was the male half of Lord and Lady Better-Than-Thou.”
    Galen choked off a laugh with an equine-sounding snort. Kajari threw him a reproachful look. The centaur shrugged in return.
    “Truly, Lord Behnaz has played many roles in his life. But it must be said, he enjoyed being the thorn in the Good King’s side far too much. Vazura may be a competent aerial commander, but he too advocated against Benedict’s peaceful ways. A warrior with too much of a need to prove himself.”
    “I’m really getting a bad feeling about this,” I said.
    “Bad feeling?” Kajari raised an eyebrow.
    “Yes, and in spades!” I twisted the warm, smooth leather of the reins irritably. “You’re telling me that the people who had the closest access to the King—and the people who reported the crime—were ones that had axes to grind with Benedict. That smells like motive to me.”
    “Behnaz and Vazura are difficult. Yet it’s unlikely that two loyal nobles would strike down their ruler.”
    “Agreed,” Galen chimed in, animatedly. “Despite their differences of opinion, Benedict was well liked by all in his kingdom.”
    I looked away for a moment. Towards the end of the clearing lay a vast grove of willow trees, their slender branches and gray-green oval leaves tinted with the color of candle flame in the setting sun.
    “You’re both very convincing,” I said quietly. “But for one thing.”
    “What might that be?”
    “The fact that Benedict’s lying dead on a stone slab right now.”
    Galen flinched like I’d punched him. One of the knights guarding us let out a cough. Kajari set his jaw. His bright blue eyes flicked skyward, and he nodded, as if to himself. He pointed up and to the right as he spoke.
    “Now you get a chance to find out how deep your ‘bad feelings’ run.”
    A shadow flitted by overhead. A disconcertingly large one, at that. I heard the beat of predatory wings, smelled the tiniest hint of musk. Heavy, feline, leonine. Next, the light from the sun flickered like a strobe as a host of wingbeats thumped by overhead. The horses whinnied nervously and pawed the ground.
    My heart skipped a beat as my steed shifted skittishly as if he planned to bolt. Galen put his hand on the horse’s neck, whispering something soothing, calming. I stared in wonder at what had landed in the clearing before us, blocking our way into the Grove of the Willows.
    A flight of a half-dozen griffins, each the size of a full-grown Siberian tiger, landed with surprising delicacy in the short grass. Their leonine bodies shone with golden fur up to the point where any self-respecting lion would’ve had their mane. From that point on, feathers with the color and sheen of elephant ivory led up to a stern eagle’s head and jackhammer-stout black beak. The same feathers, mixed with black bars or dots, lined the backs of their muscular wings.
    But that wasn’t the only thing that got my attention. Their armor and armored riders came in a close second. The griffins’ forelimbs were covered in flexible metal segments which led up to a shining armor breastplate. This in turn hooked into the base of a saddle and harness. A leather-clad soldier perched in each saddle, bearing a