Reavers of the Blood Sea

by Richard Knaak

  An explosion of sand gave him the only warning he had. Aryx whirled toward his blind side, swinging his axe, as a huge shadow loomed over him. The underwater dweller wielded two swords, and with one of them, he readily parried the minotaur’s strike. The force of the crustacean’s counterattack ripped the war axe from Aryx’s hand, sending it flying into the water.

  The attack also threw the warrior back. Aryx lay sprawled on the shore, watching with dismay as the lumbering creature loomed over him, scythe swords raised high. Aryx grabbed at the sand, hoping to find a rock, a stick, anything he could use to defend himself.

  His hand fell upon what felt like the hilt of a sword, perhaps one lost by an earlier defender. Unable to believe his luck, he reacted instinctively, bringing the blade around even as the crimson and white monstrosity attacked. Aryx’s sword shattered one of the attacker’s weapons, then sank into the creature’s unprotected throat. His foe shivered, dropping the other weapon. Aryx and the crustacean stared at one another, neither initially able to believe what had just happened.

  Recovering, the minotaur tried to raise himself up so that he could push the blade in deeper, but in doing so, Aryx brought himself within range of the creature’s massive claws. Hissing, the wounded crustacean swatted him on the injured side of his face, unleashing waves of excruciating pain.

  He heard someone, perhaps Delara, call out his name. A crushing force pushed every bit of air from his lungs. Unable to fight both the pain and the lack of breath, Aryx blacked out, not at all certain that he would ever awaken.

  An Eye for an Eye

  Chapter Ten

  Subcommander Drejjen cursed the fog. He cursed the shelled horrors that had emerged from it, and in the process, he cursed the minotaur warriors under his command, who could not seem to fight the way he intended them to. The fact that the orders he had given had been at times contradictory or put the minotaurs into hard-pressed situations did not occur to him. The failure had to lie in the locals, who did everything they could to frustrate the Knights of Takhisis, even during a crisis.

  Now they even argued against his orders to clear the area of bodies. Thanks in great part to someone’s clever suggestion to use torches against the overgrown lobsters, Drejjen’s talon had finally turned the tide in this sector. The minotaurs had played some small part, adding numbers to offset those of the monsters, but if they thought they could rest now, Drejjen assured them that they were mistaken.

  For creatures claiming to be fastidious, their reluctance to clean up the mess seemed contradictory. Did they expect the knights to dirty themselves with such a task? Drejjen and his men had enough to do, what with patrolling the area and keeping the minotaurs in line. The stench rising from the hideous corpses should have been all the encouragement the natives needed, but some had already sneaked off, supposedly to attend to loved ones.

  “Sloppy,” he muttered. “Undisciplined beastmen!” Drejjen coughed, then coughed again. “Damned fog.…”

  Some of the minotaurs coughed as well, but he paid no mind. A little cough meant nothing, not to a Knight of Takhisis.

  One of the beastmen began gathering the shelled corpses into a pile, clearly with the intention of creating a pyre. Drejjen cursed. The fool minotaur would probably burn down the entire district! Drejjen spurred his weary mount toward the warrior, in the end nearly running the minotaur down.

  “What in the Lady’s name do you think you’re doing, bull?”

  A fresh scar crossed the dark brown minotaur’s muzzle. Tired as he appeared, he still answered defiantly, “Getting ready to burn these foul bodies! What does it look like?”

  The subcommander thought of striking the bull in the face for his arrogant attitude, but decided he had better things to do. “It looks like you’re trying to burn the city to the ground!”

  The minotaur looked at him as if he had gone mad. “The bodies are far from any wooden structure! I checked the direction and strength of the wind and even built up a ring around the mound! This is the best spot to burn them, human! What else would you have me do with them?”

  “Throw them in the harbor, of course.”

  “All these corpses? They’ll all rot and foul the water!” He coughed. “They smell bad enough now. What do you think they’d be like after a few days in the water?”

  Drejjen had finally had enough. “That is an order! You know how to understand a simple order, don’t you? Although judging by the battle, it’s no wonder you can never win your wars!”

  The vein in the minotaur’s neck throbbed. Every muscle on the beastman grew taut. The subcommander put a hand on the hilt of his weapon just in case the creature tried to attack him. Drejjen almost wished the minotaur would attack. He wanted some excuse to punish the whole lot of them for their insubordination and carelessness during the battle.

  Unfortunately, the beastman did not attack. Instead, he snorted and turned back to the pile of stinking corpses. “As you wish … sir.”

  A satisfied grin spread over the subcommander’s narrow, lupine face. Once again he had cowed one of the bulls. The experience gave him tremendous satisfaction. He watched for a time as the once-defiant warrior summoned some of his fellows and began dismantling the makeshift pyre. One of them managed to find a cart and a pair of horses, and the rest of the minotaurs began loading the bodies onto it.

  A coughing fit came over the subcommander, one that would not stop until he managed to take a sip of water from the sack on his mount’s saddle. Drejjen dearly looked forward to leaving the minotaur isles, the sooner the better. The weather here might suit the smelly bulls, but it did nothing for him. Now that the knights had won the day—or rather, evening—perhaps Lord Broedius would see things his way by packing the minotaurs in ships like the cattle they were and sailing off for the mainland. No need to waste all this time training and gathering supplies. The minotaurs were foot soldiers, bodies to be put in the path of lances and arrows so they could weary the enemy for the Knights of Takhisis.

  Another coughing fit overcame him. As he drank, Drejjen watched the first load of dead abominations roll off toward the harbor. No, he would not miss anything about this damnable realm, especially the climate. Once back on Ansalon, the subcommander could at least finally rid himself of this annoying cough.…

  * * * * *

  “… nothing else I can do for him.”

  “What about the other eye? Is it also damaged?”

  “I don’t think so, but—He stirs!”

  Pain wracked Aryx, pain that meant, for the second time, he had cheated death. A small part of him regretted that, for it meant living with his guilt. At least his head didn’t throb so much, and his eyes … eye …

  “Aryx? Can you hear me?”

  Delara’s voice. He thought he had recognized it a moment ago. Aryx started to open his good eye, then hesitated. Delara had feared that he had lost that one, too. What if the last of the crustaceans had left him entirely blind?

  He had no choice. Holding his breath, Aryx forced open his eyelids. New pain jolted the left one, and he saw only darkness. But from the right eye, the wounded minotaur sensed light … light that gradually coalesced into first a room, then shapes, then at last into people.

  The room looked vaguely familiar, but it took the wounded warrior several seconds to identify it as the one occupied by the human cleric. Not so great a surprise, since the only one who could have possibly helped him after his substantial injuries would have been Rand. Intending to thank him, Aryx looked around for the pale, blond human, but instead found Delara again.

  “Aryx …” Noting that he could obviously see her, she reached down and hugged him.

  “By Orilg’s broken horn!” A second figure clutched him, this time Seph.

  Aryx managed to get one arm around Delara, but when he tried to bring the other to Seph, he realized his hand still gripped something. Did he still hold on to the weapon that he had found by the docks?

  Welcome back from the Abyss, Master … the mocking vo
ice of the Sword of Tears remarked.

  He should have known. Somehow it had returned to him just before it would have been too late. Aryx supposed he should be grateful to the enchanted artifact, but he also wondered why it had taken it so long. If the Sword of Tears could come to him of its own volition, it should have been able to do that right after he had lost it. Once again the weakened minotaur realized that he could not entirely trust Sargonnas’s legacy.

  A figure clad in the ebony armor of the Knights of Takhisis loomed over him. It took Aryx a moment to focus on the face of Carnelia. “How do you feel, bull?”

  Aryx started to laugh at the insipid question, but pain wracked him again, especially in what remained of his left eye. “What you see should tell you, human.”

  “I thought as much.” To his surprise, she reached out her hand. “Well fought out there, warrior.”

  He managed to briefly take the proffered hand. “Also you.”

  “Your force kept its lines intact and countered the invaders admirably. The notion of the torches worked well.”

  “I fought only for my land, as any would. As for the torches, the Kraken’s Eye taught me something, I guess.”

  Rand came up beside Carnelia, placing his arm around her in a display so open that Aryx could only stare. Carnelia reddened slightly but did not push the arm away.

  “Would that we had all learned from your ship,” the cleric said. “Perhaps we could have prevented some of the slaughter.”

  Mention of the deaths stirred Aryx. “The underwater dwellers! Have they—are they still—”

  “Have they been driven from Nethosak?” a brusque voice rumbled. The clatter of armor presaged none other than Lord Broedius himself. The ebony eyes looked not so dark now, as if the toll of the battle had taken something from the knight. He looked drawn in the rest of the face, too. “Not yet, but it seems hopeful. Someone”—he eyed Aryx—“found their weakness. Because of that, the city still stands, albeit with terrible damage.”

  “What about the rest of Mithas?”

  “We’ve reports of heavy fighting in places, mostly in the more populated regions. There’s been no contact with some of the settlements on the eastern side of your island. As for Kothas, the Knights of the Thorn finally made contact with their brethren there. Kalpethis—your Morthosak—suffered heavily in its western sector, especially the port.”

  “They’ve been concentrating on the major cities,” Carnelia added. “Especially the capitals. With the fog still hovering over everything and the danger of more of them lurking in the waters of the harbor, we’ve not had time to assess the damage to the ships, but we suspect it’s heavy.”

  Aryx frowned. “If they destroy all the ships, then they could keep us here and eventually starve us out.”

  “That’s a concern we’ve considered, Aryx,” the knight commander agreed, “but I suspect it’s not likely. Whatever commands these creatures doesn’t strike me as willing to wait so long.”

  The wounded minotaur had to agree. He also believed that the crustacean’s master reveled in the carnage, even the deaths of its own warriors.

  “At the moment, we’ve a stalemate,” the mustached commander continued, “but the longer the fog holds, the worse our position becomes. They live within it, see through it as we see on a bright, clear day.” He coughed slightly. “And they can probably breathe the damned stuff a sight easier.”

  Aryx at last attempted to rise to a sitting position. Rand had utilized his own bed for the minotaur, and while Aryx felt grateful, he wondered why everyone gathered around him as if he had been crowned emperor. Lord Broedius surely had more important tasks with which to deal than one minotaur warrior’s wounds.

  “I’m sorry about the eye,” Rand finally said. “Too much of the creature’s acidic blood got into it, and I suspect it had never fully healed after the battle on your ship.”

  “No matter. The pain’s all but gone.” Something of a lie, but the human had already done so much for him that he couldn’t let Rand feel guilty. Aryx started to raise his hands to his face, then recalled that he still gripped the sword.

  “None of us could pry it from you,” Delara explained. “After we dragged the carcass of the monster off you, we tried, but unless we cut off your hand, too …”

  “So you’re sticking with me now?” he asked the demon blade, more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

  No response came from the sword.

  “Release my hand.”

  Immediately he felt his fingers relax. Aryx pulled his hand from the hilt, then flexed his fingers and wrist. Satisfied, he peered around at the others. “What’s going on here?”

  Rand responded first. “What do you mean?”

  “Seph and Delara I understand. Perhaps even you, cleric. Why, though, are these two here?” The gray minotaur indicated the Knights of Takhisis. “Of what importance is one native warrior to you, Lord Broedius?”

  “Normally … none,” responded the knight commander. Some of the spark returned to his ebony eyes. “But my niece has given me a vivid description of a battle that might easily have been lost. Instead, it was salvaged by the efforts of one minotaur, a minotaur who also led a force with which she fought side by side.”

  “I did nothing but try to save my home, and there’s no guarantee I did even that.”

  “But if you hadn’t acted as you did, there wouldn’t be the chance to yet do that, bull.”

  Aryx shook his head. “I didn’t do anything. Chance put me where I was.”

  “Or the hand of Kiri-Jolith,” suggested Rand.

  “Maybe.”

  Carnelia stepped forward. “Aryx, I’ve had little love for your kind. As my uncle has pointed out, your people killed my father, something which I can never forgive. But you weren’t one of those responsible. If not for your efforts, I will willingly admit, I suspect my lines wouldn’t have held against those abominations.”

  “It might have held … especially if you’d been better at using those under your command.” Aryx silently cursed his mouth when he saw the look that flashed over Carnelia’s face. Camaraderie gave way to burgeoning fury. The minotaur immediately explained. “Not through any fault of your own, human! Lord Broedius, your niece spoke of how our two forces fought side by side, pushing back the foe with more success than in most areas.”

  “So she did.”

  “And what were the losses for us, compared to those talons where the minotaurs took their orders directly from your subcommanders?”

  Broedius stroked his dark mustache as he pondered. “For most talons, the casualties were considerably higher.”

  “Especially among the minotaurs?”

  “I fail to see the relevance of—”

  Aryx snorted. “Of course not! You knights never have, although maybe your niece has some inkling.” When Carnelia said nothing, he added, “It’s true there’s no love lost between our two sides, Lord Broedius. We care little for being told that we’re to follow the dictates of a human, someone who understands nothing of our kind. Yet for the most part, my people tried, and in return we were barely treated better than the cattle your race likes to think we’re descended from.”

  “What is your point, bull?”

  The knight commander’s use of the last word only proved Aryx’s case. “There it is. I’m only a young warrior, not even the captain of my own ship, and what I say I know Seph and Delara understand all too well, too, even if you don’t. Lord Broedius, Sargonnas might have delivered us to you, but we’ll not be slave soldiers again! Allies, yes, but not fodder for your overzealous subcommanders, most of whom, like Drejjen, see nothing wrong with throwing minotaurs haphazardly into battle.”

  “Drejjen’s minotaurs suffered the highest casualties,” Carnelia interjected quietly. Her fury at Aryx had abated.

  “You fail to recall that we have been sanctioned by our Lady, minotaur! We are destined, as our great Vision shows, to be the saviors, then masters, of all Krynn!”

  “A tas
k made easier with allies, not slaves. Krynn is our world, too, and after this battle, I can promise you that my people won’t rest until the threat of the Chaos creatures is at an end. But we’ll fight more willingly if our chains are removed, and you should understand that, Lord Broedius.”

  The broad-shouldered knight crossed his arms. His set expression made it impossible for Aryx to judge whether or not he had reached Broedius. Even the eyes told nothing, only reflecting back the minotaur’s disfigured face.

  “I came here, minotaur, to congratulate the warrior who helped us fend off this assault. I might not have done even that if Carnelia had not spoken in your behalf. I underestimated your knowledge of what we faced, I’ll admit that, and so I’ll let you continue to talk, for the moment, without fear of punishment.”

  Jake me up, the Sword of Tears suddenly urged, and he will listen more willingly.…

  Aryx refused to even respond to the demon blade’s suggestion. Instead, he met the knight’s gaze with his own, making certain that Broedius could plainly see the minotaur’s scars of war. “You no longer have any reason to hold the emperor, and especially the generals. By now you must see what truly happened to your missing sentries.”

  “We told him what nearly happened to you when you went to investigate,” Delara added.

  “Then there can’t be any other reason to hold them.”

  “Insubordination, perhaps?” Broedius calmly suggested.

  “They did nothing but protest wrongs against those under their commands, which even the Knights of Takhisis permit at times, I’ve noticed.”

  “Within limits.”

  Aryx grew more and more frustrated at Broedius’s stubbornness. “All right! You want us to fight this war your queen has called your destiny! We want to fight this war for our survival! We outnumber you greatly, even if reinforcements arrive! Worse for you, the Blessed One has disappeared! Nothing binds us to you as servants anymore, Lord Broedius. Treat us as allies, and together not even the greatest host of Chaos’s creatures will be able to overcome us!”