The Walking Damned: ECL 3 Phobos Centaur 3: Entry 1

As he rounded the corner after Navarre, his eyes seemed to see Thesius standing proudly again.  Holding his blade relaxed but ready, and even though he still wore a helm, Phobos thought he perceived a hint of quiet pride as his father looked at him.

But the illusion quickly vanished.  He could see the slump, the limp.  The odd way the head turned.  The corpse of Thesius gave a terrible groan and began to charge at them.  Phobos winced as he collided with the door.  Grimly, he reached for his weapons.

But how could he kill his own father?  Not only because it was his father.  He'd never had time to finish training.  If he couldn't even beat Thesius in a spar...

He refused to be overcome by despair.  He nocked an arrow and shot for the head.  He missed.  Were his hands shaking?  He grew angry with his hands.  Again he nocked and shot.  He missed.  He grew angry with himself.

He didn't even hear the strangers approaching from behind.  As he prepared to fire again, one of them put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.  It was a magician.  He explained that he'd spelled the dead centaur to get him under control.  Phobos looked back to his father, and he could tell it was true.  Even the fury had gone out of him now.  All that was left was sadness.

For several moments the magician had been chattering about his strategy, but then he said something that got Phobos' attention.  Once we're done using him, he said, we'll let you finish him off if you want.

Phobos felt the blood drain from his face.  He started to walk past the still-talking magician, whose voice slowly faded away into a dull ringing.  As he cleared the hallway, he broke into a run.