Reavers of the Blood Sea

by Richard Knaak

  “Your business with me is at an end, generals and councillors,” the ebony-eyed knight announced. “You’ve been given your instructions. Anything else I require … or that you think you might need to know … will be addressed through this warrior from now on. I trust I’m understood.”

  The assembled minotaurs nodded. At a signal from Geryl, they left, with much rumbling accompanying their departure. Hojak again seemed the most vocal, although not once did Aryx hear anything Broedius might take as treason. Still, the knight surely had to know that at some point there would be physical defiance of his demands.

  “You’ll see to it that trouble remains minimal, won’t you, Administrator General?”

  Aryx suddenly realized that other than the commander’s personal guard, he stood alone with Broedius. He turned on the human, ever aware that any wrong move might result in his death. “What do you really gain from this? Why me?”

  The massive, armored figure gazed almost blankly at him. “You heard the reasons.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “Whatever it was that made your god take such an interest in you … and that touches upon the other portion of your duties.”

  Aryx blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Sargonnas has marked you.” The thick black brow furrowed, the first sign that not all went as Broedius would have preferred. “More than I think your simply being aboard the Vengeance warranted. There is something about you, minotaur, and perhaps by throwing you into the thick of matters, I’ll discover what it is … and how it is linked to my Lady’s oft-treacherous consort.”

  He would have liked to shout at Broedius that there were no mysteries, that the only reason Aryx seemed marked had been because others kept marking him. Aryx was a warrior striving to live up to the codes of honor and duty by which he had been raised, nothing more. Now, because he had survived where none of his fellow crew members had, a cascading chain of events had thrown him into this insanity.

  “What would you have of me now?” the new administrator general asked.

  The black eyes bore into Aryx’s own. “For now, I’d like very much if you kept an eye on your patron.”

  “My … you mean Sargonnas?”

  The commander leaned over the charts he had been studying. “More than the rifts between your kind and mine, the state of mind of your Blessed One concerns me, minotaur. Were he not a god, I might suspect his stability. I would be very suspicious of his loyalties. Were I in your place, I would also find those matters of great import.”

  Aryx snorted, at last unable to hold back at least some of his frustration. “That’s it, then, human? You want me to keep an eye on a god? With all my other overwhelming tasks, I should also watch over the Horned One?”

  Broedius stared at his charts, effectively dismissing his visitor. “Yes, that about sums it up.”

  It took much strength for Aryx to hold back, but he knew that arguing with the knight would only bring more trouble. Still, the unwilling administrator general decided he at least had to broach another subject before agreeing to be dismissed. “About the ship now called Ariakan’s Victory …”

  “What about it?”

  “You seized it from my clan, House Orilg. Even changed its name.”

  “To one more suitable.” Broedius remained fixed on his charts, which Aryx at last saw were the latest showing the eastern and northeastern coasts of Ansalon. “It is to become the command ship for one of my officers, Pries Avondale. I’ve appointed him officer-in-charge of the mobilization of forces on Kothas. The ship leaves in two days. That is the end of this discussion and, I think, all others for now. Good day, Administrator General.”

  This time, two of the commander’s personal guards stepped forward, Broedius’s farewell apparently a signal. Aryx waved them off, turning brusquely and marching out of the chamber without any glance back at the knight commander. The human’s immediate dismissal of the subject of the former Hand of Orilg had given Aryx a clear picture of his true position. Broedius had set him up to be a shield, a puppet. Just as he had suspected, the hapless warrior’s main purpose was to deflect the anger of his people.

  There would be anger, too. Much of it. The Knights of Takhisis moved with as little regard as past masters had done, taking whatever they chose without thinking of the consequences. Orilg and the other great houses would not long stand for that.

  And what about Sargonnas? Did Broedius truly think that Aryx would be able to keep an eye on the dark god? What did the human think was wrong with the Horned One? True, Sargonnas acted enigmatically at the best of times, but was that not the way with gods?

  Seph awaited him outside. “What happened in there, Aryx? I saw generals and councillors come out muttering, some of them saying your name! Then, when you didn’t come out immediately, I started to worry!”

  “I’ve been appointed a living target,” Aryx snarled. When his brother looked perplexed, the older minotaur exhaled. “I’ll explain later.” He finally noticed Seph stood alone. “Where’s the human?”

  “The cleric? He left with that female knight. One of the other knights rushed in, saying that some workers on the dock were refusing to obey their orders. The female … she exploded. She said she would bring a talon of knights down on the workers!”

  Images of full-scale rioting shook Aryx. “She did that?”

  “She might have, but the cleric calmed her. He offered to go with her to see that matters were settled peacefully.” Seph’s eyes narrowed as he glared at a passing knight. “They don’t care for us very much, do they?”

  “Not much, no.…” Aryx hoped that Rand would be able to bring matters under control, but even if he did, the fact that the minotaurs already protested their treatment did not bode well. The Knights of Takhisis could not treat his people like cattle and expect them to take it.

  Rand’s words aboard the Vengeance came back to him. You may wish the Maelstrom had taken you instead.…

  Aryx began to believe that the cleric just might have been right after all.

  * * * * *

  As he had feared, tensions only grew over the next two days, the newly christened Ariakan’s Victory finally causing some of that tension to boil over. Aryx had avoided becoming embroiled in matters up to this point, but now, with clan Orilg involved, he had no choice but to try to play the role Broedius had thrust upon him.

  It began as the ship prepared to sail off for Kothas, the tall, aristocratic human Pries Avondale commanding. Aryx had seen the pale avian man only once and, of all of Broedius’s officers, found him the most competent, but that did not mean that Avondale treated or understood the minotaurs much better than his commander. Raising the banner of the knighthood over the ship a day earlier had not gone over well with many of the nearby minotaur captains, especially those with ties to Aryx’s clan, who wondered if their vessels would be next. Then, in response to the growing crowd of frustrated minotaurs watching the pride of Orilg make ready to depart under a human name, Avondale ordered a squadron of mounted knights to drive the throng back to a more acceptable distance.

  Perhaps such arrogant methods of crowd control worked among his own kind, but Avondale had seriously underestimated Aryx’s people. Instead of simply allowing themselves to be pushed around, they pushed back, forcing the riders to struggle with their mounts while fending them off. Fortunately, the matter had ended with no loss of life, but since then, many minotaurs had either slowed down in their tasks or refused to aid the knights at all. Broedius issued threats, threats Aryx knew he would carry out, but still the minotaurs did not acquiesce, becoming more and more militant in their refusal with each passing hour.

  Worse, at the head of that dissension stood clan Orilg.

  From the temple, there came no word. Sargonnas surely had to know what occurred beyond the walls of his sanctum, but not since Aryx had again knocked on the great doors that morning had anyone seen or heard the God of Vengeance. To Aryx, he had said nothing other than to remind him to retu
rn the next morning. The minotaur had never been tempted to interrupt Sargonnas at other times, but this day he made an exception. The moment the news reached him, Aryx returned to the temple, assuming that Sargonnas would keep things from turning disastrous. Behind him came Seph, who now shared with his brother the quarters the priests had grudgingly given him. Seph had never come with him when Aryx had entered the god’s chamber, and the thought of doing so now kept the younger minotaur talking constantly.

  “Do you think he’ll be upset? Don’t you suppose he must know by now? What if—”

  “Be still, Seph.” Aryx barged past two burly acolytes, heading straight for the massive doors to Sargonnas’s sanctum. He nearly shoved them open, then thought better of it and simply knocked.

  Nothing happened.

  The anxious warrior pounded the doors again, this time with so much force that they shook. Still nothing. Aryx glanced around and saw a priest watching with barely veiled amusement. His patience worn thin, the slim minotaur finally tried pushing the doors open. If Sargonnas chose to strike him down, then so be it, but he would not be left standing here.

  Emptiness greeted him. Although the throne remained, the God of Vengeance no longer sat upon it, nor did he seem to have left any trace of his whereabouts. Aryx swiftly scanned the vast room, finding nothing. He charged back out into the hall, followed by a somewhat disappointed Seph, and accosted the priest who had been watching.

  “You there! Have you seen the Blessed One? Is he somewhere about?”

  A slight smirk crossed the elder’s features. “You would know better than I, wouldn’t you?”

  Aryx muttered an epithet that the priest surely could not hear clearly but nonetheless understood well enough. The two brothers abandoned the temple, Aryx’s mind racing. Sargonnas would be no help. No word had come from the palace, but then Chot had been absent often of late, choosing to let the knights do what they would.

  Something had to be done. Aryx didn’t like the role Lord Broedius and the minotaur leaders had thrust upon him, but unless he chose to do something, it seemed everyone else was willing to let Nethosak crumble into disaster.

  Aryx had not yet had the opportunity to return to his clan house and likely would not have done so today if not for the potential catastrophe. However, going there appeared the only hope of resolving this matter without useless bloodshed. As to whether any there would listen to him, the young warrior could not say.

  Seph and he had gone only a few yards from Sargonnas’s house of worship when Rand and Carnelia, both on horseback, appeared without warning. With them rode a full squad of knights, all armed for combat. To Aryx’s surprise, they did not head toward the temple, but rather sought him.

  “You’re to come with us,” Carnelia snapped irritably. “Rand thinks you might be of help in sorting things out with your clan, and he’s convinced Broedius of it.”

  “The other choice might have been the knights having to deal with an armed insurrection,” the cleric added.

  “It may still end that way. We can’t afford this right now.”

  “Which is why we are dealing with it … and need I remind you that Aryx was made administrator general by your own uncle in order to deal with such matters.”

  Carnelia grimaced. “And you think he actually expects something from this bull?”

  Aryx held back his anger. “I’ll go with you to the clan house. I was already on my way there, in fact.” He stared pointedly at the female knight. “Whatever you or your uncle believe, I’ll do whatever I can to preserve my homeland … with or without your support.”

  “Oh, I’ll support you, bull.” The black eyes so much like those of Broedius met his gaze squarely. “Until I see that I’m wasting my time.”

  Snorting, Aryx did not deign to continue the useless conversation. With Seph in tow, he led the riders through the inner recesses of Nethosak, seeking his clan. It did not take too long to reach his former home. House Orilg commanded a great expanse of property in the middle of the imperial capital. In fact, as Aryx neared, he realized that it now commanded even more land than he recalled from before his long and tragic journey aboard the Kraken’s Eye.

  In recent times, portions of the House of Orilg had been rebuilt, in part because of the past war but also because the clan itself had outgrown the older building. The imposing structure, five stories tall and not much smaller than the imperial palace, in many ways resembled a great ship sailing the sea of civilization. The eastern edge narrowed, creating a shape reminiscent of a ship’s bow. Row upon row of massive marble columns, each with the blunt-nosed, broken horned profile of the great Orilg himself carved into the center, lined the lower floor of the edifice like oars. The marble, like the rest of the clan house, had an almost iron shading to it, a trick of Orilg’s artisans. Iron symbolized durability and strength among the minotaurs, especially Aryx’s people.

  Above the building fluttered the great banners proclaiming the clan, Orilg’s brown silhouetted profile, with its broken left horn, dominant. Two twin-edged axes crossing one another stood below the profile, a symbol of the house’s strength and of one of its other champions, Kaz Dragonslayer. Orilg and the axes stood stark in a field of white—no accident, for the two colors also represented Kiri-Jolith. It had been this banner that the knights had so carelessly removed from the minotaur ship, not thinking of the clan’s pride and honor.

  It did not surprise Aryx that his house might be at the root of rebellion, not given its history. Since the time of his august ancestor, Kaziganthi, the worship of Kiri-Jolith—and, to a lesser extent, Paladine—had taken preeminence over all others. Sargonnas might be a god, but to Orilg, he was not the preeminent god, and after the humans’ wretched behavior, this clan had had enough.

  These days, wherever clan Orilg went, many of the other houses generally followed.

  “I can’t believe old Torvak would go this far,” Seph whispered as the brothers and their escort approached the vicinity of the structure.

  Aryx had to agree with Seph. Torvak did not strike him as a great rebel, but even the monetary-minded patriarch could have limits. “There are guards around the building.”

  Indeed there were. Warriors of the clan kept a wary watch from points surrounding the great house, axes, lances, and long swords ready. Minotaurs from some allied clans, badges on their weapon harnesses marking their loyalties, stood ready, as if prepared to lend a hand should trouble result. Such a danger clearly existed, for a fighting talon of the Knights of Takhisis under the command of a scarred veteran filled one end of the street. The knights looked eager for action, as did the minotaurs. Aryx had vast confidence in his clan, but he had to admit that the humans would inflict heavy casualties if it came to a fight.

  “They refuse to follow the dictates of our Lady,” Carnelia reminded him, “and even those of your god.”

  “Sargonnas isn’t their god,” the gray minotaur countered. “Do all humans follow Takhisis?”

  “They will eventually.”

  He saw no more point in bandying with Carnelia. If Aryx could not convince his clan to deal with the humans, he feared for not only Nethosak, but the twin kingdoms as well. Sargonnas had spoken of a threat to all Krynn, and Aryx, with ever-fresh memories of the fog-enshrouded horrors that had slaughtered his friends, suspected that he had already confronted the fringes of that threat.

  “It would be better if Seph and I entered alone,” he informed the knight.

  “Out of the question. I’ll accompany you.”

  “We will accompany you,” Rand corrected. “If I read the banner’s colors correctly, I might be of some good in there.”

  While it was not a choice to his liking, Aryx did not argue. If Carnelia chose to put her life in the hands of his clan, so be it. As for Rand, the cleric likely wanted to come along in order to see that the knight did nothing foolish.

  The others behind him, Aryx walked up to the guards standing near the front gate. Distrustful eyes scoured over the group.


  “This is clan Orilg ground,” one called. “Only those of the blood may enter.”

  “You know the blood flows in my veins, Kamax,” Aryx called. “You tried to spill enough of it during our training together.”

  “Aryx?” The massive brown male took a step forward. “By the Horns of Orilg, it is you!”

  “I’m here to speak with Torvak. You know Seph, too.”

  Kamax peered at the others accompanying Aryx. “I know you and your brother, Aryx. I don’t know these two others, but the fact that they’re both humans eliminates them as clan. They stay here. You and your brother can enter.”

  “Out of the question!” Carnelia blurted. If not for Rand’s hand, she might have charged the guard. Kamax and the others readied their axes. The knights who had ridden in with Carnelia drew their swords and the fighting talon poised for the command to attack.

  “Kamax!” Aryx strode forward until he stood no more than an arm’s length from his old sparring mate. “Kamax, they have to come in with us.”

  “I have orders, Aryx.”

  “Kamax, we may not care for the knights, but this isn’t the time to fight them, not if, as Sargonnas himself said, a threat exists that may engulf Mithas and Kothas eventually! I’ll vouch for these two. The male is a cleric of Kiri-Jolith, Kamax! Do you think he can’t be trusted?”

  The other minotaur eyed the humans. “And I suppose she’s a cleric of Kiri-Jolith, too? I might be able to let him pass, but Torvak’ll have my horns if I let one of those knights through!”

  Aryx forced a smile. “You mean the whole of the House of Orilg can’t take on a single human knight? What do you think she’ll do, Kamax?” He indicated the massive long swords many of the guards wielded, then Carnelia’s smaller blade. “Cut us all down with her little toothpick?”

  The appeal to minotaur pride and superiority worked to ease some of the tension. Kamax actually chuckled. “She’s a terror, Aryx, but I doubt that big of a terror.”