Reavers of the Blood Sea

by Richard Knaak

  She gave the other human a peculiar smile, as if the two of them shared something that no one else could understand. “I wasn’t going to tell him everything, but he can know this much. Believe what you like, minotaur, but know this: When we dock, all we’ve got to do is wait for the robed one. He’ll deliver your people to us, make no mistake about it, and none will be able to stand against him when he does.”

  The woman turned and stalked off. The other knights returned to their duties. Aryx inhaled deeply, trying not to lose control of himself. Finally he whirled on the cleric. “What does she mean, human? Who is that? What can he do to make my people bend their knee to Broedius and his ilk?”

  Despite the difference in size, Rand took hold of the minotaur by the arm and turned him away. “We are sworn, she and I. She said too much as it is. You will learn all in good time, Aryximaraki, as will your people. Trust me at least when I say that if there were another choice, I would not have matters follow this path.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will, in time. Leave the matter at that. The best thing now would be to do as she said. Go to the oars,” Rand urged. “The Knights of Takhisis are not a patient lot.”

  “How do you come to be with them, cleric? How does one who follows the God of Just Causes come to be with Takhisis’s soldiers?”

  Rand ushered Aryx to the hold. “As with all else, you will know that when the time comes. However, if it gives you some comfort, know that Kiri-Jolith, too, watches over his children. He will not forget us.”

  The young minotaur snorted. So far, Kiri-Jolith had not shown all that much interest in his fate, not if having him rescued by the Knights of Takhisis could be used as an example. However, as they descended into the hold, Aryx did give thanks for one thing. If Kiri-Jolith did not have time to watch over him, then certainly the Horned One, Sargas, had even less interest in following the warrior’s tribulations. Aryx hoped it would remain that way, for it had been said in the Orilg clan that when Sargas—or Sargonnas, as the humans knew him—took interest in one of his so-called children, that interest had a quick and bloody way of shortening the chosen one’s life.

  Nethosak

  Chapter Three

  At times Aryx thought his arms might wrench free at the shoulders, but still he worked. When he rowed he did not have to think. Aryx already had too much to think about, and not only what he had learned on deck that first night. In the days that had followed, he had learned much, much more, yet at the same time, the number of questions clogging his mind had grown a thousandfold.

  Most of what he had learned had come to him from Rand. From the cleric had come the shocking revelation that hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of minotaurs already worked in the service of the Knights of Takhisis. He hadn’t believed what he had been told during his first encounter, but Rand spoke with such a sense of truth that Aryx could no longer deny it. The dark-armored humans had once more enslaved his kind, once more forced them to fight for a cause that meant nothing to them.

  It did not end there, though. Rand would not say why, but it seemed that something drastic had changed the war, that now the humans needed to step up their efforts. Perhaps the war against their rival human factions had turned sour; the human did not say for certain. Rand said only that more than ever the Knights of Takhisis needed the strength and courage of the minotaurs. They had seen it in some vision they all shared, some perverse dream come down from their barbaric goddess.

  A hand fell upon his shoulder, causing Aryx to miss a stroke. “Aryx. Stop. You have gone two shifts. You will kill yourself and not do anyone any good.”

  He shrugged off both Rand’s hand and concern. “I’m fine! Let me row!”

  “A warrior does not shirk from battle,” the cleric reprimanded. “Even if that battle is in his head. Besides, come the morrow, you will not have this to help you hide from your thoughts. Tomorrow we will reach Nethosak.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, tomorrow … and since you have not been on deck for some time, I have other news for you. We left the fog behind a short while back. The wind is finally starting to pick up as well.”

  Aryx eyed the other rowers, for the most part unarmored knights. When he had first entered the hold, he had expected to find slaves or prisoners, but such was not the case on the ships commanded by Lord Broedius. Instead, Broedius had his officers assign each man to different shifts whenever the oars were needed. This he apparently saw as a way of keeping his soldiers fit while aboard ship. On days when the wind sufficed, other forms of exercise were used.

  Utilizing his men served another purpose as well. Carrying slaves or prisoners meant unnecessary mouths to feed and, more importantly, the possibility of insurrection. Broedius had too much on his mind already without adding potential problems.

  As he joined Rand, Aryx wondered about his own status. He did not exactly seem to be a prisoner, but neither did the Knights of Takhisis treat him as a comrade. Yet he had been tolerated in many ways, which further confused the young minotaur. For reasons not apparent, the humans were forcing themselves to show at least a modicum of respect to Aryx, although Carnelia had trouble doing even that. If not for Rand, whom Aryx had decided she must for some reason favor, the female might have tried to run through the young minotaur on two separate occasions. The woman hated minotaurs with more passion than most of her race.

  “Aryx?”

  He blinked, realizing that Rand had been staring at him. “My apologies, cleric. My mind wandered.”

  “Nothing good rest will not help, but first you had better come up top with me and get some fresh air. You will need your senses sharp in the days to come, mark my words.”

  A refreshing sea breeze greeted them as they stepped out on deck. The sky remained overcast, but one could at least see to the far horizon. Aryx felt a sudden release of tension and realized that until this moment he had been constantly poised for an attack by the monstrosities. Now that the fog had lifted, the likelihood of that appeared greatly reduced. The release forced him to lean against the rail and recuperate for a time.

  The grim sailors of the Vengeance continued their tasks, showing scant interest in the pair. The knights’ commander remained secluded in his quarters, and fortunately for Aryx, Carnelia did not seem to be about, either.

  “Wonder of wonders,” Rand murmured. “It’s the first time I have seen you relaxed since we fished you aboard.”

  “I can’t help it, Rand. I can’t forget those creatures. We stood no chance. After seeing my shipmates slaughtered, I expected them to do the same to this vessel, no matter how many armored humans there are on it. Rand, what were those things? I never saw such horrors in my life! We’re trained from birth to face any foe, but if I’d fought those creatures on land, I’m ashamed to admit I might have run!”

  “Under the circumstances, I would say the shame would have been a slight one, Aryx.” The blond human rubbed his jaw. “I have seen nothing like you described to Broedius, although he knows something, I think. I have watched him and the robed one arguing about secret matters … well, Broedius argued, and the robed one ignored his protests. What it concerned, even I am not privy to.” He shook his head. “But that does not matter. You fought as bravely as any from the sounds of it, Aryx, and you should be proud. That is what is important.”

  “Captain Jasi and the others are dead. I should have died with them!”

  “Yes, a great, noble, and useless death! There will be better battles in which to perish, if that is what your destiny is to be, warrior. In the meantime, make what you can of life and do not go burying yourself under regrets.”

  “Sometimes honor and duty leave one nothing but regrets with which to live,” a somber voice intoned.

  Aryx took some small comfort in the fact that Rand also flinched. The cloaked minotaur moved as silent as a shadow. The crimson orbs studied both of them, and Aryx had the uncomfortable sensation that the stranger could see into his very soul. Having kept to the oar
s or his bunk for much of the journey, the young minotaur had managed for the most part to avoid the dark figure. Only once had they crossed paths, but Aryx had managed to avoid a conversation then. He still didn’t even know the other’s name, although from what he had discerned, it seemed to him that only Broedius, his niece, and, possibly Rand knew. The few times he had heard the other humans refer to the stranger, it had been in such terms as “that one” or “the red bull,” the latter never said within earshot.

  “Maybe so, maybe not,” Rand countered, recovering first. “All a matter of perspective.”

  Something flickered in the stranger’s daunting gaze, and his eyes shifted from Rand to Aryx. “And what is your perspective, Aryximaraki?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  The cloaked figure swept past them, taking a position at the rail and staring ahead. After a moment of contemplation, he commented, “Perhaps that is the best answer of all. When one chooses a particular path, a particular perspective, it often means that many other viable possibilities remain forever unrealized.”

  The other two looked at one another, seeking enlightenment but finding none. Their unsettling companion eyed the sea for a short time more before turning back to them. “Tomorrow this vessel docks. Tomorrow begins a time of turbulence, a time that will make even skirting the edge of the Maelstrom seem like a child’s pastime. The knights’ original mission has become a tattered shadow, although only their commanders know some of this yet. They have a newer, more important task at hand. They will demand from your people much that the minotaurs may not find to their liking, yet must accept for the sake of all.” The eyes bored into Aryx’s own. “In times such as this, the need for honor and duty become paramount. Aryximaraki, are you one to whom honor and duty come before all?”

  The question made Aryx bristle, perhaps because in these past few days, he had begun to doubt himself. Could the fear he felt belong to a warrior in whom honor should be foremost? If the creatures from the deep had fought him on land, would he have stood his ground? He prayed so. “Yes, I … I think I am.”

  “A truthful answer … perhaps better than the one I might give right now. Tomorrow you will stand at my side. Only there will you be guaranteed safety.” The cloaked minotaur reached out and touched Aryx on the chest.

  Aryx nearly pulled back, feeling a tingle where the other’s fingers grazed his skin, but he forced himself to stand his ground. He would not shame his ancestors and clan any more than he felt he had already.

  The crimson stranger removed his hand. “I ask nothing but that you remain true to what you have been taught. Honor and duty, regardless of the cost. Sometimes one must sacrifice the present so that the future will survive. Only by remaining true will the minotaur race perhaps live through what is to come.” He glanced briefly at the heavens. “I have been away too long. Dire matters press on, whether I will them to or not. You will remember what I said. My blessing upon you, Aryximaraki … for whatever worth you take it.”

  The tall figure moved off, as silently as ever. The paralysis that seemed to have struck Aryx vanished, and he started after the cleric, intent on dragging some answers out of him. However, Rand blocked his way.

  “Do not follow, warrior. That is asking for trouble.”

  “What does he mean by all that, Rand? Who is he to think that I … that my people … will follow him so blindly?”

  For the briefest of moments, Aryx thought the cleric had an answer for him, but then Rand frowned in frustration. “Tomorrow you will find out just that, Aryx, and this I must tell you: If Lord Broedius believes in him, you had better believe yourself that he is more than just a mad fool.”

  Tomorrow. Aryx both yearned and feared the day to come. Tomorrow he would be home, but with what mystery did he sail to Nethosak? The minotaur suddenly wondered if they would let him arm himself in preparation for their arrival. He hoped so. Aryx had the feeling that arriving home without a weapon at his side just might prove to be a fatal mistake.

  * * * * *

  “Six ships. Closing fast,” Aryx muttered to himself as he leaned back from the rail, his expression grim. “A welcome with sharp horns to it.” The minotaur snorted. “They’ll sink us as soon as they see the humans.”

  Sleeker than the human warships, the minotaur vessels coursed through the waters with ease, clearly able to outsail and outmaneuver the Vengeance and her sisters should that be required. Despite their swiftness, however, the minotaur ships were not tiny. While smaller than any of the warships, each bristled with crew and weapons, all ready to be brought against the invaders at a moment’s notice.

  “They will not,” came Rand’s voice. “Whatever you think of him, Lord Broedius is not a fool. He has put up flags signaling for a parley.” The pair watched the minotaur fleet shift formation, creating a pincer with the black vessels in the midst. “They will let them land, which is all that Broedius needs.”

  Aboard the Vengeance, the Knights of Takhisis had formed an honor guard around their leader. Row upon row of knights stood at attention, eyes straight ahead. For humans, they were an impressive sight to behold, but Aryx did not think they stood much hope of survival once those in Nethosak discovered the reason for which they had come. Brave they were, but foolish as well.

  “It’s time,” growled a newcomer, a knight wearing the insignia of one of Broedius’s subcommanders. Although the man had his visor down, Aryx knew that behind it hid a lupine face with brown, crafty eyes, long narrow nose, and a tiny, trimmed mustache. The minotaur had met the knight, Drejjen, only once during the journey, but once had been enough. Drejjen did not hide his distaste for minotaurs, his belief that they were best suited for pulling plows in the fields. Of course, Drejjen always kept such opinions to himself whenever the tall, crimson minotaur walked by.

  Drejjen did not come alone this time. The subcommander stood flanked by two lesser knights, one bearing a massive war axe of dwarven design. Rand indicated the weapon. “The cloaked one said it would be remiss for a warrior to stand unarmed at this juncture. Aryx, I hope this will do for you.”

  Drejjen raised his hand, and the knight to his right thrust the single-edged axe toward the young minotaur. Aryx took it, admiring the craftsmanship. For all their faults, the dwarves forged excellent weapons, especially axes. He hefted the weapon, noting its superb lines and the way it fit his hand. Some of his anxieties vanished. “My thanks.”

  “It is only your due,” Rand replied.

  “Lord Broedius expects both of you in your positions immediately,” the visored officer said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “We should not delay.”

  Aryx hefted his axe again, eyeing the assembled knights and knowing what they intended for his people. “I don’t know if I want to do this after all.”

  “Too late,” Rand murmured. “Here he comes.”

  The cloaked minotaur glided into view, taking up a place to the side of Lord Broedius. He studied the fleet with what Aryx thought was a mixture of pride and regret, and then, to the warrior’s surprise, turned to look at the pair over his shoulder. Crimson eyes locked briefly with Aryx’s own before returning to the spectacle of the oncoming fleet.

  Drejjen stirred with growing impatience, clearing his throat. Aryx reluctantly swung his axe over his shoulder and started forward.

  “It is the chosen course,” the human cleric uttered as he passed. “Remember, Kiri-Jolith watches over you.”

  Aryx refrained from any outward sign of disbelief, trying to keep his expression as formal as those of the humans around him. With Drejjen in the lead, they made their way to where the others waited. With the exception of Broedius and his niece, Carnelia, the knights gave the cloaked stranger wide berth, whether out of respect, loathing, or fear, Aryx couldn’t say. Rand pointed to the stranger’s right, indicating where the minotaur should stand. Aryx obeyed. The minotaur cleric paid his arrival scant attention. His gaze was fixed on the nearest of the opposing ships.

  Aryx had expected the fleet to clos
e in on the newcomers, but to his surprise, they began to turn. Slowly it dawned on him that they intended to lead the human vessels into port. Not a normal procedure, from what he recalled, especially considering that the Vengeance and its sisters were clearly warships.

  “They did as you said they would,” Broedius remarked to the stranger with a modicum of respect.

  “My servants have prepared the way. There could be no doubt.”

  As the stranger spoke, Aryx caught sight of an unfamiliar form on the deck of the nearest minotaur ship. With effort, he made out the dread gray robes of a cleric of the state. The tall, thin figure faced Aryx’s ship and seemed to be wearing a medallion, no doubt with the symbol of Sargas upon it. His head was bowed, as if in prayer or respect. The dusky minotaur glanced at his unsettling companion, realizing that the other cleric must in part be paying some sort of homage to him. However, the stranger seemed unaware of the respect, almost as if he found it so natural a thing as to be of no consequence.

  With the other vessels escorting them, the humans’ three black ships sailed into port. Aryx’s anxiety gave way for a time to excitement as he drank in the panoramic view of his homeland.

  Immense marble structures filled the city of Nethosak, tribute to the minotaurs’ hard labor and pride in their home. The imperial capital boasted some of the tallest structures in all of Ansalon, including the Great Circus, the upper edge of which could be seen from the deck of the Vengeance. Aryx heard a faint roar, a sure sign that even now the vast arena welcomed a full house.

  His gaze shifted to the port again. Even here the pride of the minotaurs revealed itself. Elaborate stone structures, some of them part of the thriving shipbuilding industry, rose high. Minotaurs by the score rushed into and out of these buildings, most carrying some object or another. Beyond those, a haze of smoke ever above them, stood other examples of the seafaring nation’s industrial might, smithies and ironworks that belched smoke without pause. A little farther inland, Aryx could see more elegant buildings whose sculpted facades included columns carved into the forms of minotaur heroes, a long-standing tradition among the native artisans and clan houses. Many of the great clans had holdings near the port. Aryx’s own clan, the House of Orilg, being one of the greatest and longest-standing houses, lay much deeper in Nethosak, among other great powers of the nation.