Faris's Story

*Many years before*

Faris grew up within the royal household. He was loved and beloved by all that knew him, especially his cousin, crown prince Tahmasp. The two foals were nearly inseparable, more like twins than cousins.

Faris's mother died in childbirth, and his father was an official of the king, which meant the young excitable foal had little oversight in how he was raised. Faris was brave and kind, but also a little headstrong. Everyone in the herd felt he was a natural born leader of the horsefolk.

Crown Prince Tahmasp, on the other hand, was neither handsome nor particularly charming. His mother had also strained to give birth, and Tahmasp had suffered for it.

The young prince had an injured foreleg that never seemed to work alongside the rest of his body, leaving him with a terrible limp. In addition to his awkward gait, his countenance always seemed to be apologetic.

No matter if the situation was his fault or not, the prince was quick to make peace and take the blame. In other centaurs, it might have been seen as easygoing, but in the young ruler it was labeled as 'timidity.'

Faris did not care what others thought. To him, Tahmasp was the dearest friend and anyone who spoke badly of the prince would meet his cousin's sharp wit or strong fist in return.

So when Tahmasp said that the king wanted him to get better at shooting, Faris was quick to offer his assistance. Hearing of the excursion, the centaur king called Faris into his presence.

"You are taking Tahmasp out to practice archery?" The king's tail was deathly still.

"I heard it was your desire for him to improve. I do think that doing well in the upcoming competition would make Prince Tahmasp rise in the herd's estimation." Faris bowed humbly to show his sincerity.

"You are taking the blunted arrows?" the king inquired.

"Since we do not use blunted arrows to shoot into the targets of hay, I was going to bring the metal tips." Faris quickly realized he was lecturing the king. "Unless you would prefer I take the blunted ones, Your Majesty."

"You may take the metal tips," the king motioned for one of the servants to fetch two quivers. The servant entrusted the weapons to the young centaur.

Taking the quivers, Faris kept his head bowed as he backed away. Something about his uncle, the king, always made him extra cautious in his speech. It was probably the king's commanding presence which most monarchs had. At any rate, Faris did not know any different.

The foal was almost out of the king's presence when the powerful ruler called out to him. "Faris, my nephew, take care of Tahmasp. Do not let him overexert himself."

Faris's head snapped up as he looked directly at his uncle. "I would never let anything happen to my cousin. I would sooner cut off my own arm."

The king flicked his tail in dismissal. Young Faris nearly ran from the clearing to find Tahmasp. He had achieved his goal.

"That boy has so much respect and poise. It is no wonder everyone likes him." An advisor said as Faris left the royal clearing. "It is too bad he is not your son or all your problems would be solved, for he would be a most excellent leader."

The king shook his long, mane-like hair vigorously. "You sell Tahmasp short. I do not think the crown prince has reached his full potential. Perhaps he can yet find his way out of his cousin's shadow and forge his own path. In time, you will see."

--------------------

The timid foal was waiting at the edge of the dwellings. He looked expectantly at his larger cousin. "Well, did you get the quivers?"

"I have bad news…" Faris's tail sagged. "For the rest of the day, you have me for a teacher…" He pulled the bows and arrows from behind his back.

The prince's tail went from sullen to ecstatic in an instant. "I know you can teach me more than any tutor ever could!"

"I'm just a boy, but I'll do my best. Either way, we are sure to have fun!" Faris handed over one of the bows and quivers to his cousin.

Ambling along, the two passed through a few of the harvest fields to one that lay fallow. In the empty space seven hay bales painted with colored rings were setup in intervals. The two foals set up at the far end of the field.

"Now, Tahm," Faris said affectionately, "spread your legs just a little wider. Your back hooves are so close that you look like you need to relieve yourself. You will fall over doing it that way."

The prince took the note and adjusted. He pulled back the string, straining against the weight of the bow, and with his fingers shaking, he released. His arrow shot high and wide. The shaft protruded from the outermost blue ring.

"You hit the target! That is always the first step. You'll be hitting the eye in no time. I can see there will be some stiff competition for the foal's trophy this year at the spring festival." Faris praised his friend.

"My leg is deformed, not my brain. You aren't helping me by coddling me!" Tahmasp pouted.

It had not been Faris's intent to humiliate the prince. But he could see his friend's point.

"Alright. No more fooling around. Straighten up and do what I say." Faris was very young, but his archery was passable. He had already gone on more than one offensive against the jackalopes and was praised for his contributions. In a few years, he would certainly be the best archer of the centaurs.

After an hour of intensive listening and adjustments, the prince was already making vast improvements. However, he was not making the progress he would like. In a bout of frustration, he shot his arrow high into the air and let it fall beyond the bails.

"Don't do that...." Faris began to walk toward the lost arrow. "Your father expects us to return everything we borrowed."

"You do not have to get that for me. I can do it myself," Tahmasp huffed past the other foal into the grasslands. "Go practice your perfect aim while I'm gone. I know you have been dying to..."

The prince limped past the hay bales and disappeared, leaving the other foal with his thoughts. "Don't mind if I do," he said quietly. The boy let off two shots, each hitting the center of their respective targets.

"Too easy..." he muttered to himself. Should he scoot back or try some other method to make the game more challenging?

He mulled over his options for a moment and his tail began to twitch. He memorized the target, and then closed his eyes tightly to aim. With his vision now gone, his hearing suddenly seemed to improve. It was a weird trick, he decided, but an interesting one.

Faris trained his arrow on the selected target and took a deep breath. However, just as he was about to let go, two things took his attention simultaneously. A sound behind him caused him to turn his body and the voice of his cousin in front of him shocked him into releasing his shaft.

"What are you--oh!" Tahmasp screamed.

Faris's eyes shot open as he looked back towards the hay bales. An arrow was protruding from the crown prince's bare chest. Tahmasp was confused, looking past his friend.

"Why?" he asked.

"Tahmasp!" two voices cried out in despair. Both Faris and the king, who had appeared behind him, ran toward the prince and held him as he fell to the ground.

"I--I didn't mean to!" Faris explained quickly. "It was an accident." Panic filled his body. In his own pride, he had unintentionally shot his best friend.

The king shed tears as he watched his son's life drain out of him. "Father," Tahmasp said, his voice faltering, "I'm sorry... I am not strong enough..."

The crown prince's eyes closed, never to open again. The king wailed, a deep sadness that words could not express. The plants nearest him seemed to wither, so affected by his grief.

"You!" he pointed his bloody hand at Faris. "You did this. His blood was shed because of you. You killed him!"

"I'm sorry! This wasn't supposed to happen." Faris could not think about what his own father would say. Would anyone believe it was an accident when the prince's father had seen Faris aim and shoot? As the king was behind him, he had no way of knowing the foal's eyes were closed. He had no way of knowing the consequences would be so dire.

"Your life is forfeit, Faris," the king spoke coldly. Although his face showed no expression, Faris could see hatred in his uncle's eyes. "As much as you were respected before, now you will be cursed. If I ever see your face again, nephew, I will break your neck myself."

"Your Majesty?" Faris was unsure what to do.

The king bent down and cradled his dead son, his animalistic groans filling the air. Soon everyone would come. Everyone would know what the talented archer had done.

There was only one thing the foal could do. Faris ran.