by Dragon Lance
Huma stayed poised, but some of his unease vanished. “You owe me nothing. Anyone would have done the same.”
The tall figure chuckled ominously. “Would they?” He turned to face the knight and, even in the dim light, it was obvious that the one he had freed was no man or elf. The horns were part of the creature, as was the thick, dark fur that covered the top and much of the back. As the goblins had so crudely put it, the other resembled nothing less than a bull with a body of a man.
A minotaur.
The minotaur took a few slow steps toward Huma, as if to prove he meant no harm. Although Huma’s training cried out that this was an enemy – and one of the most fierce – his natural curiosity was fascinated by this creature. Few in the region ever saw a minotaur. The creature’s homeland was far away on the eastern cost of Ansalon. Still, Huma’s curiosity did not prevent him from raising his sword to a more defensive position.
The creature’s head seemed overly large, even for a body as massive as the minotaur’s. Dark, thick fur covered the top and the back half, and a thin fuzz covered the rest. The minotaur’s eyes were much like those of a real bull, save that an intelligence lurked within those orbs. The snout was short and broad, and the teeth that the creature’s grin revealed looked more adapted to tearing flesh than green grass. Huma remembered some of the stories about this race, and he took an involuntary step backward.
The minotaur held up his long, wide hands and displayed the chains that bound them together. The fingers were thicker and more blunt than a man’s and they ended in sharp nails – no, claws. Huma’s own hands were like those of a year-old child in comparison.
“Unlike the goblins, who always need six times the number of their adversaries before they even dream of attack, I think you have the advantage over me. I’m sure you know how to use that fine weapon.”
“I do,” Huma finally managed to blurt out. “What were you doing here? Why were you a prisoner of these goblins? I’ve always heard the minotaurs were allies of the ogres.”
The crimson illumination of the moon gave the former captive’s eyes a fearsome look. “Slave soldiers would be a better term, Knight of Solamnia. We are no more than slaves to our cousins. They hold our lands and our families as hostages, though the word they use is protection. That is why we do what they cannot. One day, though, it will be the minotaurs who will rule. We await that day.”
“Which does not explain why you were a prisoner here.” Huma presented as confident a face as he could muster. It would not take much of the minotaur’s strength to snap the young knight’s neck. He had already seen proof of that.
The beast-man dropped his shackled arms and snorted. “I killed my ogre captain, human. I struck him down with my bare hands. A good blow. Cracked his skull with one shot.”
The thought of striking, much less actually murdering, a superior appalled the knight. He raised his visor and dared to step close to the minotaur.
“You murdered him?”
“You like ogres? Thanks to me, no lives will be lost against his ax – and he was good, I’ll give him that. Many died on that ax, human, even the weak, the helpless. I found him over the bodies of an aged male and two children, perhaps the old human’s grandchildren. I did what I thought right. There is no honor in slaughtering the old, the feeble, or the young – at least, not among my kind. Not that they would have tolerated my betrayal. I had thought it was so among the Knights of Solamnia, too. I see that I may have misunderstood.” The minotaur held up the chained wrists once more, causing Huma to take several quick steps back. “Either kill me or free me from these chains. I do not care to discuss this. The goblins have drugged what little food they gave me. This exertion has almost done me in.”
Indeed, the minotaur was slumping. Huma came to a decision, overturned it, came to another, and finally settled again on the first. Even then, he did not act. Could he truly believe the words of the strange figure before him? The minotaurs were supposedly an honorable race, but they served the gods of evil. That was the way it was always taught.
Huma’s sword arm shivered, as much from his thoughts as from the long, awkward position he held it in. The man-beast waited patiently, as ready to die as to be freed. The calm and faith with which the former captive faced his rescuer finally made Huma’s decision for him. He slowly and carefully sheathed his blade.
“Which of these had the keys?”
The minotaur fell to his knees. His breath came in huge huffs, like a bull about to charge. “The one I threw. He will have them if any do. I never saw the keys. They had no reason for them. After – after all, why would they want to release me?”
While the exhausted defector rested, Huma went over to the goblin and checked the numerous pouches wrapped around the creature’s waist. Each held a large number of items, many of them disgusting trophies of war – knowing goblins, more likely looted from the dead – and a few unrecognizable. In one of the pouches, he found the keys.
The minotaur’s eyes were closed, and Huma suddenly worried that one of the goblins had, after all, inflicted some mortal wound. At the clinking of the keys near his face, though, the burly figure opened his eyes.
“My thanks,” he said, after Huma had freed both wrists. “By my ancestors twenty generations back, I will not rest until I have balanced the scale. You have my oath on that.”
“There is no need. It – it was my duty.”
Somehow, the minotaur managed a very human expression of skepticism. “Nevertheless, I will honor my oath as I see fit. Let it not be said that Kaz is less than his ancestors.”
Huma stood. “Can you walk?”
“Give me a moment.” Kaz looked around quickly. “Besides, I have no desire to be out in the open tonight. I would prefer some sort of shelter.”
“From what?” Huma could not imagine what would worry such a powerful fighter unless it was a dragon or some creature of similar proportions.
Kaz rose slowly. “The captain was a current favorite of the warlord. I fear he might have unleashed some of the renegade’s pets.”
“I don’t understand.”
The minotaur suddenly turned his attention to acquiring a decent weapon. He spotted the ax dropped by Huma’s first opponent, picked it up, and tested it. “Good. Probably dwarven.” To Huma, he replied, “Let us hope there is no need. I do not think either of us would live through it.”
In the hands of the goblin, the ax had looked large. Kaz, however, wielded it with the ease of one who was used to weapons of even greater size. The ax was meant for two-handed use; the minotaur needed only one massive paw to grasp it.
“In which direction did you plan to go?”
“North.”
“To Kyre?”
Huma hesitated. He knew that many knights, even Bennett, would never have released such a creature from its bonds. They would have marched it at sword point through the wasteland. Most certainly, they would never tell the minotaur the final destination. If the so-called prisoner was in actuality a spy, such a slip of the tongue might prove fatal for more than just Huma. Yet, Kaz seemed a person of honor.
Huma held back only a moment more, then finally nodded. “Yes, Kyre. I hope to rejoin my comrades.”
The minotaur swung the ax over his own shoulder and attached it to what Huma realized was a harness designed for just such a purpose. It was one of only two pieces of clothing Kaz wore, the other being a sort of kilt, or perhaps a large loin cloth.
“I fear that Kyre is an unwise choice for now, but I will not argue you out of it.”
“Why unwise?”
Kaz gave his imitation of a human smile, a smile filled with anticipation. “Kyre is now the front. My cousins, the ogres, must be there even as we speak.” He chuckled, sounding again like a snorting bull. “It will be a glorious struggle. I wish I could be there.”
Huma grimaced at the obvious pleasure in killing that his new companion expressed. Some of the tales concerning the strange minotaurs were evidently too true.
/> Steeling himself, Huma wiped the drying blood from his weapon. He glanced only briefly at his newfound companion, who seemed to recognize some of the revulsion in Huma’s face.
“You may come with me or go back to your own, Kaz,” Huma said. “Whatever you desire. You may find the knighthood leery of accepting you as a deserter.”
Kaz did not hesitate. “I know some of what you feel, Knight of Solamnia. I understand all too well our many differences. Still, I owe you a debt and I would rather face your comrades than return to my own ranks and to a slow torture before I am executed. I have no desire to face ogres’ tender mercies.”
Something howled in the night, far away. It was a wolf, Huma decided, yet not a wolf. It was too cold, too – evil.
“We had best be off,” Kaz quickly decided. “This is no place to be at night. The scent of death is sure to draw visitors here and I, Knight, would prefer to move on.”
Huma’s eyes were still staring back at the direction of the cry. He nodded sharply, suddenly much more pleased with the minotaur’s companionship. “Agreed.” He reached out his right hand in friendship. “My name, friend Kaz, is Huma.”
“Huma.” The pressure exerted by the hand that covered Huma’s was not enough to crush every bone, but it came close. “A strong name, that. A warrior’s name.”
Huma turned quickly away and picked up his bags. How wrong the minotaur could be! A warrior, indeed! Within his armor, Huma could feel every portion of his body shiver. He tried to imagine Bennett in his place, acting in the proper manner of a knight born to command. The thought only frustrated Huma more, for he knew that Bennett would never have ended up in a situation such as this.
They left the camp, with its dying fire and scattered refuse, and headed in the direction Huma had chosen. Neither spoke now, for varying reasons. Behind them – thankfully, sounding no closer than before – the cry rose again.
Chapter 3
The two wanderers found it impossible to travel too far before being forced to rest. Huma’s head still bothered him, and Kaz was not fully over the effects of the drugged food he had been fed following his capture by the goblins.
“I was a fool! They caught me napping like a newborn and trussed me up good! I am many things, but not crazy enough to try rising to face two pikes that had me pinned to the ground. Even goblins can’t miss at that range.” The last made Kaz laugh, though Huma found little humor in the statement.
They finally agreed to stop at a small rise that would provide some protection. It was uncomfortably too much like the position that the first goblin patrol had chosen. Still, it was better than wide-open terrain. Huma only prayed he would keep his eyes open long enough to wake the minotaur when it was Kaz’s turn to watch.
They talked a little while, perhaps because neither felt safe about sleep. Huma spoke of the knighthood and its basic beliefs and organization. Kaz found the Knights of Solamnia interesting. Many aspects about it appealed to the easterner, especially the great respect for honor.
Kaz went into very little detail about his own people. They were great mariners, it was true, but their lives were now controlled by the ogres. They still had their tournaments of honor, where one rose in rank by defeating his opponent, but the ogres cared little for this method and chose new measures more appealing to their ways. Because of that, Kaz had already built up a great hatred of his so-called masters before his deadly clash with his captain. Anything was better than servitude to their kind, he felt.
That Huma trusted Kaz with his life disturbed the Solamnian a little. He had already seen how savage the minotaur could become. Huma never could have snapped an opponent’s neck with the efficiency and – eagerness – that Kaz had shown. Yet he felt that the minotaur could be trusted where his word was concerned. The debate in Huma’s mind raged on until he fell prey to weariness. Then it became a moot point.
The night passed without incident, as did the first hours of day. They ate what little rations Huma had left. A brief look in the goblins’ bags had made the knight lose all desire for any food the creatures might have been carrying, and besides, the goblins’ food might have been tampered with.
The day was bleak. A chill wind was picking up, and Huma was thankful that he wore good, strong padding beneath his armor. Kaz, however, seemed unbothered by the cool weather. His race was one of explorers and mariners, as well as warriors, and the lands of his birth could get exceptionally cold in the dark months. The barechested footsoldier did not even wear boots. Had Huma walked as far in his bare feet, they would have been scarred, bleeding, and mangled. The lands here had been baked hard and rough by the past.
About midday, Huma noticed the riders in the distance. The riders did not come in Huma and Kaz’s direction, and soon the group was lost from sight. But Huma believed the Knights of Solamnia, and that meant odds were good that the column – or at least a portion of it – waited nearby.
Kaz, on the other hand, was not so confident about the identities of the riders. Here, so close to the front, they could be anyone.
“True, they appeared to be humans – or perhaps elves – but they may have been among those who serve Takhisis. You have never seen the Black Guard, the Warlord’s elite troops. Nor the renegades for that matter.”
The minotaur had used that puzzling word before. “Who are the renegades?” Huma asked.
“Sorcerers unschooled. Mad mages. All of them, somehow or another, have escaped the notice of the orders of magic. Not all are evil. It is said, though, that one with tremendous power has made a pact with the Dark Queen herself, and that she is so desperate for victory now that she has shunned her own Black Robes.”
Magic. Huma knew more about it than most of his comrades. He had grown up with it. His best – his only – friend had turned to sorcery. From the first, Magius had told Huma that some day he would be a great and powerful sorcerer, even as Huma leaned toward the knighthood that his mother had claimed was his birthright.
Thinking of Magius made Huma think too much of his early years, times that, while cherished in some ways, had left him bitter and unsure. He had not seen Magius in years, not since the day his friend had completed his studies and entered the tower for some sort of test that would decide his fate. On that very same day, Huma had made a decision of his own and had set out to confront the Knights of Solamnia and petition for a place among them.
Huma shook away the thoughts.
They continued walking. Kaz continually scanned the horizon, but he seemed a stranger to the terrain. At one point, he turned and asked, “Are all of the human lands like this?”
“You’ve never seen any of them?”
“Only the worst areas. Where else would the ogres put us but in the worst positions? In our own way, we are more expendable to them than the goblins. They trust neither of our races, but they know they can control the goblins.”
Huma nodded his understanding. “There are still lands untouched by the war, but they grow fewer each year. Where my home was, is now a wasteland akin to this.” With that came a rush of bitter memories. He forced himself to concentrate on the path ahead. The past was behind him.
The minotaur’s head snapped forward. “We have company of some sort.”
The knight squinted. More than three dozen figures, all human, headed in their general direction. Survivors of some village, he realized. Lost survivors, evidently, with two broken-down wagons hauled by animals half-dead and led by men who looked no better. There were women, too, and even a couple of children. As they drew closer, he suddenly realized that most of them were gazing at his companion. What he could read in those gazes, he did not care for at all.
“We must be careful, Kaz.”
“Against this pathetic rabble? You needn’t bother. I can take these all by myself.” Kaz started to reach for the ax strapped to his back, but Huma caught his arm.
“No!” he hissed. “That’s murder!”
The usually quick-reacting warrior hesitated. The mind of a minotaur worked m
uch differently from that of a man. Kaz saw a threat; there were more than enough men to take him down if he failed to react. His world did not accept compromise. One triumphed or died. Huma stood dumbfounded; he did not want to fight Kaz, but he could not very well allow the minotaur to go tearing into the refugees.
Though Kaz lowered his hand, the damage was already done. The villagers saw only a monster who had threatened them. They already had seen their homes destroyed, and friends and relatives killed. Frustration at their helplessness had built higher and higher, with no outlet. Now, a lone minotaur who represented all that was evil, all their suffering, stood in their path.
Several men and women shuffled forward, a ragged mob. They were pale and frightened, a suicidal fright. All they wanted was one chance to strike back before they died.
Huma was appalled at the sight. The group moved like living dead. Farm tools, knives, rope, even various household items were clutched as weapons. Kaz stood his ground, but he gave Huma a quick glance.
“If they come a few steps closer, I will strike no matter what you say. I will not stand and die at their hands.” The minotaur’s eyes glared blood red. Before long, he would act. Huma jumped in front of the mob, sword raised in the air. “Stop! He means no harm!”
It was a pathetic attempt, and the results were as he had feared. The murderous mob came to a halt, but only to decide what to do about the young knight barring their path.
“Step aside!” one grizzled elder yelled. A cloth was tied over one eye, and the red stain on it indicated a recent wound. His skin was cracked, and his sparse hair clung to his head. “We want him! He’s got to pay for what he’s done!”
“He’s done nothing to you!”
A woman a little older than Huma, and apparently once pretty, spat at him. “He’s one of them! What does it matter whether he was the one who killed my children! If he’s not done it here, he’s done it elsewhere!”
