“Kiri-Jolith …” He almost spat the name out.
“Aryximaraki.” The god inclined his head slightly. Unlike the last time the beaten and battered warrior had seen him, the bison-headed deity looked almost real, almost mortal. Aryx wondered if Kiri-Jolith would bleed if punched hard enough in the mouth. “You have a right to be angry.”
“How gracious of you …” Aryx managed to get to his feet with no help from the god. He stared close at the other, for the first time noting that Kiri-Jolith looked tired … very tired.
“Nothing more could be done, Aryximaraki. The matter had moved beyond the grasp of either Sargonnas or myself. We had planned other—”
“Wait! Are you saying this was all part of a plan?”
“No. Working to protect the minotaurs while bringing them properly into the struggle, that was the plan. Sending my Kazelati to support you, that was the plan. Bringing Sargonnas close enough to confront Father Chaos’s pet wyrm, to ensure its destruction, that was the plan.” Kiri-Jolith extended a hand, indicating the landscape around them. “This—and so much that happened both on the islands and in the Blood Sea—was not part of the plan.”
Aryx looked around, at last seeing the region around him. He no longer lay at the bottom of the shattered cavern but now stood in the immense valley formed in the wake of its destruction. Jagged mountains thrust up everywhere, surrounding the shadowed valley. The incredible formation spread across the neck of the peninsula for as far as the eye could see, even the dragon orb.
Had Sargonnas and the Coil truly raised up the earth so much? Despite his anger, it again amazed the dusky gray minotaur that he had survived. “Did you save me?”
“I? I found you here, just awakening. A marvel to me, mortal. Perhaps a last gift from my erstwhile ally.”
Last gift? “Are you saying that Sargonnas is dead?” Aryx gazed down into the mighty valley. Even from such a great height, he could see that the landscape below lay draped in dripping, foul-smelling bits of what had once been Father Chaos’s most loyal and persistent servant. Massive, burnt segments still remained, some of them still smoldering. The stench they raised would have driven off even the Magori. Aryx wondered whether any scavengers who passed by the region in the future would want to touch such putrid morsels.
Kiri-Jolith shrugged. “Only Sargonnas can reveal the truth of that.” The bison-headed warrior glanced down at the carnage. “As you surmised, sometimes death and gods can become a confusing matter … but not so the destruction of overzealous wyrms.”
The god walked over to Aryx, put a hand on his shoulder. Aryx flinched but did not pull away. “I am truly sorry about your losses. They could not be helped. I did what I could, for it was the least I could do after choosing you for this venture.”
That made the weary warrior turn. “You chose me? I thought circumstance did.”
The god nodded somberly. “Aye, circumstance it was, but after you had fallen overboard in the Blood Sea, I steered them toward you. Sargonnas knew I would send him someone of your race whom I felt worthy to mark my part in this pact, and you happened along just then.”
Aryx snorted. “A poor choice you made, I’d say.”
“You proved yourself more than worthy, young one. And while I feel for your losses, be assured that they could not be prevented.”
Aryx bitterly desired to argue that assumption, but he knew better than to try to convince a god, even one as good as this. “Is it at last over? Have we saved our world?”
An indecipherable expression crossed Kiri-Jolith’s features. “The war is not yet over and Sargonnas’s loss will be felt, for he has vanished on all other planes as well. I can swear to this, for I stand in those places even as I stand here.” The bison-headed warrior’s tone shifted. “But if you wish to know whether your people have been rescued, I can grant you that knowledge.”
“Of course I want to know!” Aryx snapped, finally growing impatient with the god’s manner.
“Ever the temper. Clearly a family trait …” Kiri-Jolith took one last look around. “Curious. I cannot find it.”
Aryx tried to follow his gaze. “What?”
“His favored blade. The wailing sword. I thought it might still be of some use, but I cannot sense it anywhere.”
The thought of seeing the Sword of Tears again unnerved Aryx. Even Sargonnas had not trusted the blade. “It was probably destroyed along with the Coil. Sargonnas … Sargonnas put his entire power through it.”
The God of Just Causes nodded. “You may be correct. A small matter now, and besides, we must make haste.”
He clapped his hands together, and before Aryx understood what the god intended, the air rippled. Suddenly the pair stood in a different place, a ridge overlooking the shoreline where Lord Broedius and the others had been forced to come ashore.
The battle had ended. The only Magori that Aryx could see lay in piles on the beach. Minotaur and human officers could be seen organizing talons and legions of troops, some of them now mixed. Aryx thought he spotted Lord Broedius talking to several minotaurs, including the Kazelati, their taller, slimmer forms unmistakable. Out at sea, the survivors of the fleet had dropped anchor. Several small boats had gone out to some not-so-fortunate vessels that either lay half-sunk or caught up on rocks, waiting for crews to salvage what they could from the wrecks.
Far from the growing pyres of crustaceans, the defenders’ dead lay lined shoulder to shoulder, knights next to minotaurs. Aryx saw that a detail had already been set aside to make certain that those who had fallen to the enemy would receive proper honors. A sense of cooperation he would never had expected had grown between his people and the Knights of Takhisis. While in many ways he applauded it, Aryx wondered if such an alliance would be wise in the long run.
Seeing the dead so well cared for reminded Aryx that Delara, too, needed to be honored. Realizing that her body lay buried with the Coil, he turned to demand that the god bring her to him. However, even as he opened his mouth, Aryx saw that Delara already lay nearby, Kiri-Jolith having apparently anticipated his request. Near her lay another still form … Seph.
“I’m sorry that she was not one of mine. Either way, I could do nothing for her, my friend. The matters of gods are not so simple anymore.” The bison-headed figure reached down to touch her closed eyes. “She has my blessing nonetheless, just as your brave brother always has.”
“What happens now?” Aryx asked, glancing away from Delara’s calm, almost serene expression.
“You return to your people and they go on to fight their battles. Watch them, Aryximaraki, for they will play a significant role in the future, I think. But some of their choices may not be the best.” Kiri-Jolith gave him a fleeting smile. “You will do well, though, at least if you can keep some of that bitterness from overwhelming you. Fight hard, warrior, and watch that eye of yours. I have suspicions that it has a life of its own at times.”
Aryx did not quite understand until he thought of the voice that had at least on two occasions stirred him to consciousness after disaster. He nodded, not knowing how else to respond.
Kiri-Jolith stared off to the heavens. “I must go now. I stretch myself too thin being here as well as there. This war is far from over, Aryximaraki. Remember well what I said. Your people will likely play a great role in the future of Krynn. This is their chance, for good or ill. Whatever you minotaurs do—and that includes the Kazelati—do not keep repeating the same mistakes you have made in the past.”
“We’ll try not to.”
“Kaz Dragonslayer would have been very proud of you,” Kiri-Jolith added. “In fact, I know he must be, for he wished me to give you this.”
From empty air, the warrior god produced a gleaming, single-edged axe that at first Aryx mistook for Honor’s Face. Although he immediately realized his mistake, the minotaur nonetheless stood awed, for clearly if it was not that fabled weapon, it must be somehow related. While not quite a mirror finish, the side of the axe head reflected almost as well. The
edge of the blade curved downward and looked to have been honed to such perfection that Aryx thought it must be capable of cutting through any material. As for the handle, it had been forged from some material with the appearance of platinum, although surely it could not be that rich metal.
“Aryximaraki, this is yours.” Kiri-Jolith held out the new axe. Aryx could make out runes carved in the handle. “It is called Truth’s Guardian.”
Aryx took the axe with reverence. Originating from his grandfather, the axe must have incredible value.
“Wield it proudly, Aryx Dragoneye.”
And with that, Kiri-Jolith vanished.
Aryx stood there for a time, almost expecting the god to return. The emptiness the warrior had felt after Seph’s death had grown with Delara’s, and now even Kiri-Jolith’s departure, although far different, had turned that emptiness into a chasm as great as the Abyss.
He stared one last time at Truth’s Guardian. Then, harnessing it to his back, Aryx went over to Delara. He caressed the side of her face once, then, steeling himself, began to make plans.
* * * * *
“He said I’d find you here, and of course he was correct.”
Aryx turned around to see Carnelia. She wobbled as she walked, at times almost like a puppet with some strings cut. Her left arm dangled loosely.
“Who?”
“Rand … he said that Kiri-Jolith told him before the god wished him farewell.” The knight looked perplexed by what Rand had told her, almost as if she wondered whether he had gone mad.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if it happened just as he said.” The minotaur returned to work. He had almost enough rocks in place. Out here, a pyre would have taken too much time and might have set the entire area ablaze. Aryx had been forced to settle on two simple but well-stacked mounds. Fortunately the grieving warrior had managed to find a depression in which to lay the bodies, aiding his efforts immensely.
“Lord Broedius wishes to speak with you.”
“When I’m done.”
She hesitated before adding, “I’m sorry, Aryx. Rand also said that Delara died … and I see he was right about that, too.” Carnelia did not ask him about the second mound where Seph lay, instead looking beyond him toward the distant but unmistakable mountains. It seemed a strain for her to use her neck. “There are mountains there! My uncle thought the scouts had imagined them. He’s been in this region in the past and said that there were only forests and plains here.”
Aryx stood, the last rock in place. “I’ll explain them later.”
“I don’t understand. Explain the mountains?”
The minotaur waved Carnelia off. He started to walk past her, then eyed the female warrior closely. She looked pale, very pale. “You were wounded.”
She laughed, a humorless sound. “I was dead, Aryx. Worse than you when we found you adrift in the Blood Sea. An underdweller lance in my back. Rand … Rand saved me, although I don’t know how. It cost him, though.”
“How?”
“He’s aged. He looks twenty years older, and he says that a part of him is gone forever. He says he’s no longer a cleric of Kiri-Jolith … that his path will be a different one from now on.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what that means, and I don’t think Rand does either, at least not entirely.”
Aryx, who felt he had suffered far more of the gods’ ambiguous words than anyone, could not help her. “The gods don’t like to make themselves clear. I think it spoils their games.”
“You may be right,” she returned, perhaps thinking of her own missing goddess. “Oh … and he’s blind. Whatever he did to save me seemed to burn out his eyes. Rand didn’t seem surprised, however.…” She exhaled sharply. “Rand and I are leaving the rest of you at first chance. Neither of us are any good to the effort now, and … and we’re going to help each other heal as best we can, without swords or magic.”
The weary minotaur snorted. More casualties of the gods. While he respected some of the deities, it would not have displeased him if they all simply left Krynn alone, as they had once before. Of course, not until the threat to the world had been vanquished.
“You’ll probably be better off than any of us,” he finally told her. Then he added, “Well, Broedius is waiting. We might as well go to him. He’s probably already trying to get the fleet moving. He wouldn’t want to keep his precious Lord Ariakan waiting.” He could not hide some lingering bitterness.
Aryx had to help the human along, the effort to find him having taxed her too much. Where once she had looked with scorn upon the minotaurs, now among them were some who had become close comrades. This war would make for many changes before it was finished. The minotaur felt some certainty that Krynn did have a future, but what shape it would take remained a question.
In the distance, those on shore continued to gather together the dead, bind the wounded, and reorganize the expedition. A great victory had been won here, greater than even Lord Broedius and the human and minotaur commanders yet knew. It would be interesting to see what they thought of his tale, and even more interesting if they believed all of it.
As they neared the army, Aryx heard the knight commander and the minotaur generals talking about the surrounding landscape. Rand, leaning on a staff for support, stood next to Lord Broedius. The former cleric’s eyes were shut as if in thought, but his expression seemed slightly troubled. Broedius spoke with animation and seemed especially interested in the area’s capabilities as a potential jumping-off point for future campaigns … in conjunction with the empire.
“Once this expedition has reached a victorious conclusion, we will establish a better dialogue with your emperor. This area here, our present circumstance notwithstanding, would make an excellent point from which to launch our campaigns to the southern regions.”
“The forest is healthy,” General Hojak returned. “The trees would make strong ships.” He nodded. “As the only surviving member of the Supreme Circle present, I think I can speak favorably to Chot … or his successor, if necessary. Your notion has merit, Lord Broedius.”
“I have the power to make a binding agreement with you now, General.…”
Captain Brae, who had just arrived, stood next to the lead Kazelati representative from the Vengeance. Neither seemed at all pleased with the suggestions. Considering their attitudes toward the empire, Aryx did not find that at all surprising.
“It is obviously far too early for such concerns,” the senior captain admonished. “Krynn is still at war.”
“It’s always wise to think about the future,” the ebony-eyed knight remarked, his gaze flickering from Brae to Hojak. “It’s always wise to build alliance for that future.”
The two Kazelati said nothing, but Aryx knew that this discussion had not ended. If the Knights of Takhisis did forge an alliance with the empire, they might at the same time be breaking whatever fragile bond they had with the other minotaurs.
“The matter of a colony here was discussed not long ago, in fact,” General Hojak continued, paying no mind to his irate cousins. “Had this war not come up, I suspect we would have sent ships here within a year, two at most. The empire desperately needs good timber and room for growth.”
Rand suddenly stirred, turning his face in Aryx’s direction. He seemed almost pleased at the interruption. “Hail, Aryx Dragoneye. I have been telling the knight commander that you have quite a tale to tell.”
The others paused in their conversation to stare at him, many likely having assumed that he had been drowned at sea. Aryx read some awe among the minotaurs, especially the Kazelati, and even Broedius and Hojak eyed him with greater respect.
“Aye, I have a tale.” He let Carnelia wend her way to Rand, happy at least to see the two of them together. For a recently blinded man, the blond human moved with remarkable precision. “Aye, an epic tale … and I would tell it now.”
The ghosts of Seph, Delara, Hecar, the crew of the Kraken’s Eye, and many others surrounded him as he spoke, but for now Aryx welcom
ed them. Tomorrow, he and the other warriors would move on to do their part to save Ansalon and the rest of Krynn from Chaos. The ghosts of those he had lost would stand behind him just as would his own ancestors, Kaz Dragonslayer included, all adding to his strength. Each of the other minotaurs in the army would be flanked by his own spirits, the legacy of hundreds of years of struggle and determination.
When Aryx had finished, Lord Broedius nodded. “A story to be retold once we’ve swept Chaos from Krynn. Your deeds will lend encouragement to both human and minotaur warriors!” He clapped one hand on the minotaur’s shoulder. “And your name will be remembered for your part in strengthening the ties between our forces.”
Aryx fought back a grimace, not at all certain if he wanted the honor.
Determined not to be outdone by an outsider, General Hojak came up and slapped him on the back. “A champion of the empire! You honor the memory of your cousin, the late lamented Geryl!” The general appeared to have forgotten his previous animosity toward his fellow officer. “And in honor of that, I say here and now that we name this new colony after you!”
With the exception of the Kazelati, those in attendance found the suggestion commendable. Aryx, however, fought hard to hide his dismay. He wanted no such honor, no such legacy. He had done nothing in this war for which he wanted to be remembered, not when so many he had known and cared for had perished.
An idea came to him, one that, under the circumstances, even the Kazelati could not argue against. None of them would have likely survived if not for his sacrifice.
“Not me. Don’t name this new colony after me, but rather the one who defeated the master of the Magori.”
Lord Broedius frowned. “Are you suggesting—”
“Sargonnas, yes. Call it Sargonath Ur Seeld.” He looked around, daring them to find fault in the name. In the old style of the minotaur language, it meant “The Shield of Sargonnas.” Or, more simply, just “Sargonath.”
“Another admirable suggestion,” the older minotaur commented. “Sargonath … yes, that might be more appropriate after all.…”
Reavers of the Blood Sea Page 36
