He moved to put the blindfold back on her. "I am not going to take you back to the Nightmaster," he explained. "I will leave you here until we return. Then I will decide what to do."
Kitiara struggled furiously against her bonds, trying to speak.
Dogz paused, considering. "If you try to scream or shout, I will smash your head in," he said. Then he took off her gag.
"I—I—I don't care about myself," stammered Kitiara in a choking voice.
The minotaur waited.
"It's Raistlin," she said. "He's my brother. Can you do anything to help him?"
The minotaur started to replace the gag.
"Wait!" she cried softly.
There was a pause as the minotaur regarded her with scorn. "Raistlin is to be the victim," said Dogz. "It is Raistlin's honor to bring Sargonnas, the god of the minotaurs, into this world." Again the minotaur started to replace the gag.
"Then never mind Raistlin," Kit said desperately.
Dogz halted.
Kit’s thoughts whirled. She recalled overhearing the conversation between Dogz and Tas about friendship and betrayal. That gave her an idea. It might be Raistlin's only chance.
"You're . . . you're friends with Tasslehoff, right?"
"Yes," said Dogz warily.
"Then give him something for me."
She told him what it was. His eyes widened.
Dogz backed away from Kit, then turned and kicked at the cold, ash-covered ground. He stood there for several minutes as Kit watched him, knowing that she had struck gold. Strange as it seemed, the minotaur regarded himself as a friend of Tas's.
Slowly Dogz lowered the gag. Kitiara told him where the item was. He searched her body and found it, a tiny thing that nobody had found when searching her before and that no one would notice if Dogz carried it. Dogz tucked the small object into his belt, then brusquely raised the gag and fastened it firmly over Kitiara's mouth.
His eyes stared into hers as he replaced the blindfold.
He found the minotaur soldier and ordered him to stay behind and guard Kit with his life.
Then Dogz sprinted off to catch up with the Nightmaster and his entourage.
Chapter 15
The Attack
By dusk, so many kyrie had arrived at the camp that Tanis lost track of their ever-increasing numbers. Twenty, perhaps two dozen, the half-elf guessed. The winged people flew in and reported in their own tongue to Cloudreaver, then milled around looking at the humans and others. Some flew away again. Others brought out weapons for sharpening.
The odds were getting better, Tanis told Flint. The dwarf, a frown on his face, wasn't entirely convinced. He was impatient for Cloudreaver to share the information gathered from his scouts.
Flint and Caramon went over to talk to the kyrie warrior. "Do we know yet where Kitiara is being held and what we're up against in terms of troops?" Flint asked, speaking in Common out of deference to the kyrie.
The others, including Tanis and Sturm, had drifted over behind them. Cloudreaver stood and addressed the companions intently.
"My scouts flew over the ancient city and saw many dozens of minotaurs camped throughout its ruins, almost all of them soldiers, all of them heavily armed," the kyrie warrior reported. "The high shaman's quarters are near the center of the ruined city, exposed to the open air but well patrolled. A human female is being held in a cage in the Nightmaster's camp. There is a great deal of activity in the camp, obviously preparations for something. My scouts do not dare fly too close for fear of being detected. One of my brothers thought he saw a little person, neither human nor minotaur, scampering about, but he could not be sure."
"That blasted kender," muttered Flint.
"What about my brother?" Caramon looked questioningly at Cloudreaver.
"As yet," Cloudreaver replied grimly, "there is no sign of the mage."
"So we know Kit is imprisoned near the center of the old city," said Tanis. "We also know that she's well guarded. How many are we now . . . twenty, thirty?"
No one volunteered an immediate reply. Tanis looked around the group. Brave but tense faces stared back at him. Everyone realized the numbers heavily favored the minotaur forces.
Cloudreaver shrugged. "Perhaps Bird-Spirit will know something more about the camp when he returns," Cloudreaver said encouragingly. "He is not only my chief of scouts, but an expert tactician when it comes time for battle."
"Whatever the odds, we have to attempt a rescue tomorrow," Sturm said. The other companions murmured their agreement.
"Yes," assented Cloudreaver in a solemn tone. "Tomorrow."
Almost involuntarily, everyone glanced upward. Already the sun had disappeared from the sky. A rosy twilight would precede the cold night.
"I suspect we'll have our fill of fighting tomorrow," Flint said grumpily. "Best thing to do is make sure we're ready." With that, the old dwarf pulled out his battle-axe and whetstone. The rest of the group settled down to similar preparations for battle.
* * * * *
Winging his way back to the temporary camp, something below caught Bird-Spirit's attention. He circled around and backtracked to get a better look. A minotaur soldier was rolling around near a large hole in the ground, apparently fighting, but what was he fighting with? Bird-Spirit risked dipping down for a closer look.
The bull man, at least seven feet tall, was dwarfed by the creature it fought—a hulking, four-legged armored monster with a raised crest on its back, taller than the minotaur and almost twice again as long. The bizarre creature moved low to the ground on four horny paws, striking out repeatedly at the minotaur and snapping at him with its jaws. The creature had knocked the minotaur to the ground and was keeping him from getting up with its vicious assaults.
Waving a forpann, the minotaur attempted to stab the creature with the trident part of his weapon. If he was successful, he could use the weighted net to pin down the beast and finish the kill. Off balance and dodging the creature's attack, however, the minotaur was having trouble landing a blow. Each jab of the creature's claws drew more blood.
Fascinated, trying to determine what the thing fighting the minotaur was, Bird-Spirit dropped farther, hovering just above the fray.
The minotaur managed to jump up and hurl himself across the beast's back. Holding on with one hand, the minotaur stabbed the creature under its crest, where its plate of armor stood out from its back. With a keening cry, the creature leaped several feet into the air, just beneath the hovering kyrie.
Only then did Bird-Spirit realize what the creature was. It was a bulette, sometimes called a land shark, a voracious predator so rare that neither Bird-Spirit nor any other kyrie that he knew of had ever seen one.
From the small basket dangling at his side, Bird-Spirit pulled out what looked like a bundled vine.
Below him, the minotaur's momentary advantage had evaporated. The bulette had managed to twist around in midair, landing squarely on the minotaur's shoulders. The bulette began to slash at the bull-man's legs and back with its clawed feet. At the same time, powerful jaws fastened around his neck.
Just at that point, Bird-Spirit swooped down and threw the tanglenet over the bulette. Consisting of a rare plant called choke creeper, the tanglenet quickly enveloped its target, pinning it down in a living constraint. Whenever the bulette tried to move, the plant constricted, its rubbery tendrils wrapping tightly around the brute monster.
Bird-Spirit doubted whether the tanglenet would have been as effective against the bulette if the savage creature hadn't been wounded. It also helped that the bulette, preoccupied with its own fight, hadn't noticed the kyrie until it was too late.
The kyrie warrior dropped to the ground and cautiously approached the bulette. The monster neither thrashed about nor cried out. It remained exceedingly still, as if dead, regarding Bird-Spirit with malevolent yellowish eyes that chilled the kyrie's blood. Neckless, the bulette's head jutted out from beneath its collar of armor, ending in the ferocious, pointed jaw that resemb
led nothing so much as that of a giant snapping turtle.
The tanglenet continued to weave around the bulette, immobilizing the creature's head, binding its armored, blue-green body and limbs ever more tightly. Off to the side, the minotaur twitched in his death throes. His blood drenched the desert ground, staining it red.
Bird-Spirit knew that the voracious bulette attacked and consumed anything in its territory, burrowing underground when it wanted to rest, breaking to the surface when it detected vibrations that meant new prey was nearby. No person or creature stayed in the locality of a bulette by choice.
Like all kyrie, Bird-Spirit possessed magical knowledge from the ancient world, a body of knowledge that predated by centuries the magic of the three moons and included the ability to communicate with any animal. Despite misgivings about the bulette, the bold kyrie decided to try to talk to the monster.
"I mean you no harm," Bird-Spirit said, speaking in the universal animal tongue. "I wish to speak with you about why I am here—and about the minotaurs who are swarming over this island."
The creature continued to stare at Bird-Spirit in silence. Finally it responded.
"I do not care about you or your petty interests. My interests concern keeping my stomach full. Those stupid bull-men who deny their animal heritage and hold themselves above us are of no concern to me."
Not only was the bulette malicious but it was also thickheaded, thought Bird-Spirit.
"Right now I would think that one additional interest you might have would be to see that the wound on your back is tended to." Bird-Spirit had noticed that a green slime, probably the bulette's blood, was oozing steadily from the wound inflicted by the minotaur. "With my healing skills, I will take care of the wound if you will simply hear me out."
Suspiciously the bulette answered, "Although I am your prisoner, you would find it hard to kill me, kyrie. Even so, it would appear I have few alternatives."
"Minotaurs from Mithas have established an outpost on this island. As you must know, the bull-men either exterminate or subjugate all who stand in their way. This does not bode well for you or any of the other creatures on Karthay." Bird-Spirit paused to make sure the bulette was listening.
"We kyrie have our own reasons for wanting the minotaurs off Karthay as soon as possible, but we are too few to overwhelm them. Only a small group of kyrie warriors, a handful of humans, a dwarf, and an elf make up our company. We would benefit greatly if a skilled general such as yourself, and those animals you chose to command, fought at our side."
Bird-Spirit calculated that an appeal to the bulette's inflated opinion of itself would be useful. He was right. If a great, hulking, beady-eyed monster could be said to puff up with pride, the bulette did.
However, the monster almost immediately reverted to its thickheaded posture. "I need neither kyrie nor anyone else to destroy the minotaurs. If I cared to do such a thing, I would do it myself, slowly, one by one, over a period of time. Why should I join with you?"
Bird-Spirit had no doubt that the bulette was probably right. Left to its own devices, it could eliminate the minotaurs on its own, given enough time. But Cloudreaver, Caramon, and the others couldn't wait for that eventuality.
"If you ally yourself with us, we promise to cede this island to you and the other animals as your domain for the next one thousand years. As the leader in battle, you no doubt would be recognized as the supreme chief of the island," Bird-Spirit added. He couldn't read the effect of his appeal in the bulette's cold, blank eyes. "And then there is the matter of your wound, which through magic I am able to heal."
The bulette remained impassive. Bird-Spirit waited patiently. The wound continued to secrete green slime.
"My injury first," the monster finally said. "Then we can discuss who might join us in a battle against the minotaurs.
The bull-men have no friends among the creatures on this island. Of course," it seemed to chuckle, "neither do I."
* * * * *
In order to dress the bulette's wound, Bird-Spirit had to cut the creature free from the tanglenet first, slashing the chokeweed near the base of its stem, then dissecting the tendrils in as many places as possible. Later he used some of the pieces to make a sling to hold the monster so he could carry it back to their campsite.
It took all of Bird-Spirit's strength to lift and transport the huge creature. Caramon, Tanis, Sturm, Flint, and the rest looked on in horror as the kyrie deposited the land shark in their midst just after dusk. Although the creature appeared docile, it lumbered sullenly to the edge of the camp and stared out into the desert distrustfully.
Cloudreaver greeted Bird-Spirit when he saw him return with the land shark. The two kyrie stood apart and talked together briefly in their own language. Then, beaming, Cloudreaver brought his friend forward to join the others.
"What good is such a creature to us?" asked Caramon.
"The minotaur camp is well defended. We are greatly outnumbered. We need allies wherever we can find them," Cloudreaver explained. "There is no more fearless fighter than a bulette. According to Bird-Spirit, this one has promised to summon other land creatures to come to our aid and has told us as well about a mountain lair of rocs that he feels can also be entreated to join our cause. I will send Star Twin to communicate with the rocs and seek their help."
"Rocs!" Flint exclaimed. Although Flint was a hill dwarf, not a mountain dwarf, he was still well versed in the reputation of these huge birds of prey, which resembled overgrown eagles, with wingspans of up to one hundred and twenty feet. Mountain dwarves who mined in remote regions sometimes were attacked by rocs defending their nests.
"There never was a roc who helped a dwarf, or vice versa," Flint said vehemently.
Caramon looked pleadingly at Tanis, who interceded to calm the dwarf. "Cloudreaver is right—we need help. If Bird-Spirit can capture a bulette, then perhaps Star Twin can tame the rocs for us." Tanis looked at the half-ogre, who as usual was standing not far from Flint. "Kirsig and I will do our best to keep the rocs out of your way and keep you out of theirs."
Kirsig, who was taking the subject of rocs and dwarves very seriously, crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded emphatically.
"When can we expect our unusual allies to join us?" asked Sturm. Since his rescue from the Pit of Doom, the Solamnic had come to have a deep respect for the kyrie and saw no reason to question the wisdom of their unorthodox plan.
Bird-Spirit cocked his head in the direction of the bulette, appearing to listen for a few moments. "The message has gone out. The morning should bring new friends. The best thing to do is wait. We should rest until then."
Following his own advice, the kyrie squatted down, closed his eyes, and went to sleep almost immediately. Or at least he seemed to. After a minute, Bird-Spirit opened one eye. "Wake me to stand guard if necessary," he added before closing his eyes again.
"I rested today while you scouted," Yuril stated. "I'll take first shift and wake someone when I get tired."
Yuril scooped up a blanket from the ground and strode over to sit against a large tree at the edge of the forest cover where they had made camp. The others began moving off to find a comfortable place to sleep. Several kyrie and the rest of the sailors from the Castor had already begun to bed down.
"I, uh, have to sharpen my sword and get my other weapons ready for tomorrow," Caramon mumbled to no one in particular. "I guess I'll go keep Yuril company."
Sturm and Tanis exchanged looks. "Just remember that one of you is supposed to be standing watch," Tanis called out after him.
In truth, Caramon had been preoccupied with the whereabouts of his twin ever since Raistlin had disappeared earlier in the day. He didn't think he could fall asleep even if he tried. Yuril, however, proved to be a soothing presence.
* * * * *
Flint also slept, but not well. His dreams were filled with the rustlings and movements of great wings swooping down on him. Kirsig, who sat up to keep watch over the dwarf, had to pull the blanke
t he had thrown off back up around the old dwarf's neck several times.
When he finally woke the next morning, Flint saw that the sounds disturbing his sleep had been real, only they were produced by curious land animals rather than denizens of the air.
On the southwestern edge of the campsite stood the bulette. Behind it, in the early dawn light, the desert ground appeared to surge and buckle. Flint looked closer. "Great Reorx!" he exclaimed. Dozens of giant, low-slung insects, their backs covered by hard, black, jointed shells, their heads ending in a pair of small but effective-looking mandibles, covered the desert floor.
"Horax."
"What?" Flint asked the kyrie who had come up next to him.
"They live underground and grow to be almost as long as we are tall. They attack in packs," the kyrie explained. "Luckily I've never had the misfortune to run into them. I've heard they crush the life out of you with their curved pincers."
Seeing Flint's jaw drop, the kyrie added, "Don't worry. They're taking orders from the bulette, and the bulette's on our side—for the time being."
"Their pincers are powerful, all right," piped up Kirsig, who had joined them. The half-ogre seemed to have a useful store of information about any given subject. "My daddy said they could really be a nuisance if they got into underground tunnels you were using. They don't much like sunlight, usually. I trust they can put up with it for a few hours during the attack."
All of the companions, the kyrie, and the sailors had risen now and were staring at the strange horde of animals—the bulette, the packs of horax, and in the rear, odd rock formations that shifted and moved. Flint rubbed his eyes wonderingly.
"Kirsig," he whispered, tugging on the half-ogre's sleeve. Flint pointed beyond the horax.
The reddish-brown rocks had shifted again, revealing themselves to be not inanimate stones but the knobby hide of a gigantic reptile. Hint gauged the monstrous serpentine creature to be nearly two hundred feet from the end of its long, whiplike tail to the tip of its pointed, fanged snout. The behemoth appeared to rest flat on the ground, its flipperlike feet splayed out on either side of its scaly body.
[Meetings 06] - The Companions Page 26
