In the Eye of the Centaur

By Steven Decknick

In the Eye of the Centaur is a Science Fiction tale with Fantasy creatures, featuring Terrah the Dryad from the Orion's Belt constellation. It seems Terrah can't do anything right as she struggles to make friends and strains to win a videogame contest, when she is abducted by space-faring pirates. She escapes to Earth where she is attacked by Captain Moore and chased into the clutches of an ice-breathing dragon. Through her journey, Terrah discovers friendship, self-confidence and self-acceptance from Matthew 22:39.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781489732279

Steven Decknick

A lifelong learner and reader of fantasy and science fiction, Steven Decknick is a Christian medical professional with a love of stories. The author studied the cultures of China, Latin America, Russia and The Middle East and enjoys including foreignness, medicine and Christianity in his writing. He has been married to the love of his life for over 30 years and they have raised six wonderful children in upstate New York. This is his first novel.

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Copyright © 2020 Steven Decknick.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

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without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

LifeRich Publishing is a registered trademark of

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and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3229-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3228-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3227-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020923865

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 11/28/2020

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 Solana Shooter

Chapter 2 Captain Moore

Chapter 3 Market Fair

Chapter 4 The Galley

Chapter 5 Joyride

Chapter 6 Escapade

Chapter 7 The Piqued

Chapter 8 Offline

Chapter 9 Erin

Chapter 10 Lost

Chapter 11 Dryad Disturbed

Chapter 12 Homecoming

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Let us raise our tankards of bubbly ginger ale and foamy mugs of root beer together in honor of the many good folk who helped bring this tome to fruition! First, hail my beautiful wife and magnificent children for not only tolerating my frequent readings of scenes, but for gleefully adding to them. My character Mister Gruff would not have been the same without my family’s input. Much praise for the gentle guidance of Author Christa Parrish, Editor Amy E. Tucker and Author K. M. Weiland—the value of their collective advice is beyond measure. Many thanks to the bold crew of my book cover inner circle: Actors Stephanie Ward and Michael J. Gilbert of the Mis-Adventurers Show, Makeup Artist Jenn Dugan of The Makeup Curio and Photographer Bonnie Mae Bachman of Bonnie Mae Photography—such an amazing assemblage of talent has never before gathered under my roof! Let the bards sing of the valiant deeds of my allies Lena Dun and Johanna Dun-Jones of Moresca Clothing & Costume for graciously welcoming my addition of their shop and fine goods into my story—thank you! Cheers to Digital Artist Braden Walker for bringing a scene to life in a piece commissioned by Paige and Justin Jones. Much gratitude to social media influencer Model/Photographer Tiffany Kaye Sabin for allowing me the free use of her portrait in the likeness of my character Kira during a promotion. Special thanks to Model Olga Germogenova for her willingness to do the same, and to Artisan Jessica Karol Fox for her costume ideas in a promotion featuring my character Erin Hastings. Let it be proclaimed in every village that the brave heroes Stephen Knoop, Paige Jones, Janet Schiavo and Justin Decknick rose to the challenge as I called for aid in the battle to get published—I thank eaach of you! May all of the aforementioned be blessed for having blessed me. These glad tidings would never have come to pass without The Almighty Living God that gave me this story with the desire and fortitude to share it. I will rejoice in thy salvation (Psalm 9:14). Finally, thanks to you my dear reader for taking a moment to share in this glorious celebration of these wonderful doers of good deeds. Amen.

CHAPTER ONE

SOLANA SHOOTER

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Terrah alone

Burn the witch! Desirée shouted from the village gate. I sensed that I was being followed, and now I knew for sure. A loose gathering of townspeople near the village of Tivia’s entry looked disgustedly at me and seemed to agree with her. The crowd was growing by ones and twos, some picking up rocks and a few brandishing stout wooden clubs. I can no longer hide myself—I am who I am.

Burn, witch, burn! she said repeatedly, each chorus growing louder. Her words whipped the group into a frenzy. The mob began to take up her chant and plodded toward me. I was a strong arm’s stone throw away, but they were coming. Desirée extended her arm and pointed at me.

Get her! she shouted. The mob determinedly approached me at an emboldened pace like unthinking robots. Scared, I had to hold myself together. I dared not get caught up in the fervor of hate, yet my kindling anger strained doggedly against the fetters of my tenuous self-control. My breathing slowed, my mouth tasted like peppermint and there was a burning sensation deep within me. I knew I could kill them all with a single whim—and that frightened me more than the mob itself. Killing was not in my nature. Even Desirée, who might deserve an unspecified lengthy painful experience, didn’t deserve that. Splinters under her fingernails perhaps, but not death. God had a plan for her—I just wished it didn’t involve me. Besides, I knew vengeance is the Lord’s—it is not my place to dispense corrective justice.

I had not planned for this encounter, but I knew something like this might happen one day. Although I had dreamt of a diplomatic solution, there was no time for words. Nodding in the direction of the mob, I swept my arms far apart. Finger-like vines burst from the ground in a wide arc around my companions and I in huge overlapping coils. The wall became thicker than I am tall, and stretched upward at least as high as a horse’s head. Thigh-sized columns formed at regular intervals to increase strength. Thorns extended from the vines as long as bristles on a hairbrush. I knew without looking that each thorn had four razor-sharp edges in a cross shape that narrowed to the point. The barrier formed a very large circle around us. It might not stop the overly determined, but I hoped the wall would coax peace from the group.

You’ll burn in Hell! Desirée shouted. Her voice grated on my nerves, but she could do no physical harm. I calmed myself as I sensed the people dropping their stones and clubs and going back to the affairs of their daily lives. I wish I could do the same, but there is no escape from my heritage—I am what I am. I turned my attention back to my guests.

As my friends looked on, I pursuaded living vines with uncertain control into the form of casual seating for them. It was a sunny morning when I joined my companions here in the fairgrounds. We met between the edge of the North Woods and my home village of Tivia, as we sought to piece together what had become of the elusive Captain James Moore. We agreed to share what each of us knew, hopeful that we could find him and stop him. My visitors appeared impressed by what they had just witnessed—given the expressions on their faces. There was some thought on my part, but the vines came together in ways that surprised me.

Please be seated, I said.

The control I managed to exert over the erratic green tendrils was flimsy and some of my results were unintentional. I hadn’t planned on the seat cushions, but layers of pea pods grew there above coils of vines for springiness. The seatbacks were layers of leaves as large as my head covering coils of thin vines. My inexperience showed as bursts of small blue flowers emerged all around us—I had no idea why. Although I was delighted with the outcome, my smile hid the concern I had for our safety. I hoped the flowers were benign. I wordlessly thanked God that no one was harmed.

My guests approached the seating warily. Obviously, my display made them uneasy. Erin was standing at the back of the group and had not cautiously approached with the others. She had a strange look on her face—as if she knew something—and was truly concerned. Did she think I was dabbling in witchcraft? Had I become some kind of a monster in her eyes? Something deeper was amiss, yet there is nothing left to do but calm her fear.

Please, Erin, you are welcome to have a seat, I said as I gently smiled and carefully used a sweeping open palm gesture to indicate the benches. I hoped to appear non-threatening. It was one thing for my friends to know of my lineage, but quite another to see my innate gift of working live plants into shapes before their very eyes. Awkward and embarrassed, I should have met with them somewhere else and crafted the seating beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare anyone.

My trio of companions included a business mogul, a pilot, and a financial genius. Fingers Frasier—the legendary villain smuggler and commander of a transportation empire—would tell us about having dealt with Captain Moore. John Sable the pilot had escorted Erin Hastings—the champion of investment advice—to our gathering. The pair had arrived hand in hand. John agreed to interject some points of interest from his angle, as he was the Helmsman for Captain Hank Hastings. Hank’s sister Erin—practically a magician of financial successes—would tell us how she had impersonated an officer, narrowly avoided starting a war between two star systems, and came to my rescue.

Along with my three friends, Captain Moore’s chief henchman—Mister Gruff—was in attendance. Neatly dressed, clean and handsome, he was unrecognizable as he was formerly known. My companions and I were surprised by his kind offer to assist us, as this pirate had held a knife to my throat in our previous meeting. Fortunately, I had already forgiven him for his past misdeed. If I hadn’t, I imagine my vines would’ve sensed the danger and strangled him by now.

Mister Gruff, kindly sit here near me on my right, won’t you? I asked.

As I viewed my guests, it seemed obvious that I was alone in pardoning him. Mister Gruff received scowls in lieu of any greetings from them, and he sat apart from the others. Oddly, I caught him as he stared at Fingers Frasier and furrowed his brow—I had to assume they shared some past business dealings that went sour. I sensed that it might take some time before my friends would be ready to show him mercy.

With my fellow adventurers now comfortably seated, I started to tell them about how I stumbled across Captain Moore.

My journey began here on my home planet, Verdis, in this same open field at the fairgrounds of Tivia. Prior to that awful meeting with Mister Gruff and Captain Moore, I lived with my Aunt Anja and Cousin Mae. My Aunt Anja took care of me for as long as I can remember. A different set of concerns and goals were in my mind then. That was before I was known to my friends as Princess of the Dryads, but simply as Terrah—the scullery girl.

For much of my life, I practiced hiding my distinct features, as I was ashamed and embarrassed by my appearance. For years, I suffered humiliation from others for my unusual light-sage-green skin, blue eyes, and blond hair—which I, too, considered to be very abnormal.

Just the day before Captain Moore’s ambush on my village, I skulked through the edge of the woods like an escaped criminal, stepping lightly through the small plants.

Farewell my dear forest, I said to the trees, even as I turned back and waved goodbye. In the shadows, I hastened from the last tree to a bush, and then to the dark side of the nearest building. The fairgrounds were beyond the village of Tivia. If I could slip through a few streets and alleys, I could enter at the side of the fairgrounds unnoticed. My flexible black synthahide boots felt softer than real taurus hide. Their lightweight design allowed me to tread quietly wherever I went.

My stomach lurched at the thought of getting caught by Desirée—who I believed was my worst enemy at that time. I knew she would lie in wait for me, yet I was determined to meet with my family at our display area as promised. We had planned to set up for our town’s Market Fair, slated to begin the following morning. I knew that Desirée wanted nothing more than to add to my burden by oppressing me further. I remember feeling angry. I felt angry much of the time, it seemed. The presence of anyone outside of my immediate family easily agitated me. I was angry at the situation and looking for a way out. The ridicule that I received for my appearance wore on me. Females were supposed to look pretty, weren’t they? I paused and looked up at the sky.

God, why did you make me so ugly? I whispered.

Surely, Desirée would know that I would be here with my Aunt Anja and Cousin Mae. To thwart her, I figured I’d find another way into the fairgrounds. But I did not have a route planned. As I approached the edge of the village stealthily, the murmuring sound of people in the streets rose above the gentle song of the woods. It was mid-morning, and the townspeople were actively going about their business. I padded quietly closer with my soft boots.

I was certain that I appeared ghastly to other Verdisians—with their brunette hair, brown eyes and dark green skin. I found it easiest to remain covered. Delving into my small pack, I called upon my trusted tools to shield my features from onlookers. Pushing my hands down into my gloves, I pulled up my hood, being careful to tuck all of my hair inside the folds of cloth. Then, I draped the hood forward to shadow my face.

Darting from behind objects, I eventually found safety near an empty side street. Then I paused, thankful that it was cool that morning. I could wear my hooded cape and gloves without appearing out of place. Despite my covering and quiet approach, I held little hope of slipping through the edge of the village to reach the fairgrounds unnoticed. I was a failure at practically everything—or so I thought, back then.

It occurred to me just then that carefully avoiding detection was one thing I did fairly well—at least when playing my favorite video game, Star Kingdom. This space simulation video game involves players piloting an outdated space ship. The challenges include overcoming the ship’s quirks, disasters and outwitting other players, as you compete to win contests. An accomplished player in the game, I had obtained a top rank. Yet, this achievement provided little consolation, amidst what seemed like a lifetime of failing miserably at everything else.

I hoped that no one would see me. The trees, my refuge of safety and comfort, were too far away. Anxiety welled up within me, and the voices of people grew louder, as I came near. I checked again, to ensure that I was fully covered. Avoiding the fairgrounds main entrance, I slipped between two carts on the side, where I quietly paused to search for my next hiding spot.

As I leaned my back against the rough wooden side of a utilitarian cart, I happened upon a familiar sound: a high pitched and nasally whine—unmistakably Desirée’s voice. I cringed and thought about finding another path to the fairgrounds. I slowly withdrew a step when she spoke my cousin Mae’s name, which alerted me to trouble. I quietly drew closer to the corner of the building flanking the alley, where I could make out every word.

Your whole family are losers and you know it, Mae, Desirée said in a condescending tone. "That bleached cousin of yours is as white as the belly of a river feeder. Is she really even your cousin? I heard that she was so ugly, even her own parents didn’t want her."

I winced at that. It was as if Desirée’s sneer made a grating noise of its own. Her words struck me like an unexpected punch in the gut. While my parentage had been questioned before, what Desirée said was the same devastating truth that I came to believe. When Desirée spoke it aloud, the reproach landed on me like a heap of dead wood. I admitted to myself that Desirée’s words rang true. After all, who would want such a disfigured girl as their daughter?

Who was she to hassle my cousin? Within moments the anger within me simmered hot and vengeful. I wanted to control myself and find a way to let this go—but I couldn’t—she was harassing Mae, and that bothered me more than if she had spat in my face. Outrage won my thoughts, but what could I do? There had to be something. The echo of Desirée’s venomous words in my mind was interrupted by her continued shrill voice.

Why your Mother allows her to live with you is beyond me, Desirée said. Maybe your house is the village home for the unwanted, you know—the garbage. We should call it the dump.

I could’ve exploded in rage at that moment. Instead, I peered around the corner to see Mae pressed against a wall, as if the smug look on Desirée’s face was an invisible hand holding her in place. My well-mannered and sweet cousin Mae was my only friend. She absorbed this verbal beating because of me. She didn’t deserve this! Desirée’s noxious words were abusing us both, and I had heard enough.

I clenched my fists and trembled with rage, but something strange happened. Maybe it happened before, but never so forcefully that I had taken notice. Instead of feeling my face flush with the hotness of my fury, my hands and face became cold. When I pulled off a glove, I saw that my hand was white. I placed it against my cold face, then compared it with the warmth of my throat and chest. My hand was thoroughly chilled. Replacing my glove, I paused to wonder about this additional oddity for me to bear.

Why me? I whispered skyward. The need for vengeance boiled within me, yet the physical reaction of feeling cold didn’t fit. I knew that Verdisians possessed complete self-control of body temperature and other metabolic functions. Although a mental feedback directive could have suppressed the warmth and color of embarrassment or anger, it would not reverse the reaction to this degree. One might expect hormonal changes at my age, but I never heard of anything like this. I pushed aside these thoughts and focused on the need to fight. I would defend Mae from that beast. Where was Aunt Anja, anyway?

Stacked on one of the carts I recently passed were fresh Solana fruits. Some were not very fresh. These smooth red balls of sweetness each held wet and mushy insides. I spotted some that were overly ripe as a plan of retribution came to mind. I dipped my hand into a basket and selected three of the squishiest ones that I could find—one of them was oozing. Each was about the size of my fist. How I wished they were rocks! I imagined they were stones that I would throw them and break Desirée’s skull, splattering her brains. After positioning myself with a clear path into the alleyway, I took aim and launched the crimson missiles one after the next. I was furious and I thew wildly.

Before the first projectile left my hand, Mae spotted me and tried to wave me away. It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t have stopped anyway. My stones of vengeance flew in rapid succession toward the rear quarter of Desirée’s head. I knew that I would miss. I was much too agitated to aim well, and I wasn’t good at throwing things. I wasn’t good at much of anything, really. I accepted this as truth, at the time.

As expected, all three of my rounds were off-the-mark. One struck the street well behind Desirée, the other landed wide to the side. The third shot—the dripping missile—drifted low in its arc, landing with a wide splatter across Desirée’s backside—branding her as if she had soiled herself. I couldn’t help being overjoyed to see my enemy struck. The solid hit distracted Desirée from her tirade, which allowed Mae to slip out and join me.

Desirée turned, emitted a growl and shouted angrily at me. I’ll get you for this, you ghost! Desirée hollered as she raised her fist and shook it at me. You already look like you’re half-dead, so I’ll just finish you off.

Mae joined me near the cart, where we laughed at Desirée’s misfortune. Then Mae and I turned to run away. I expected we would easily reach the fairgrounds, then become lost among the crowd of tents and people setting up their wares. Before we took a step, an angry voice thundered in my ear and I felt like I could barely