Kaz felt his throat tighten. “And?”
Drew smiled, which did not ease the minotaur’s anxiety. “A merchant learns to smell a poor investment if he wants to stay alive. I, for one, have no intention of trying to drag you back to Vingaard Keep, where I doubt they’d reward me anyway.”
“How comforting,” Kaz retorted. He was pleased with the former merchant’s frankness, but something that he could not put his finger on still disturbed him about the human. But the elder was no magic-user, from the look of him. Kaz was wondering if his paranoia was acting up.
“I sometimes begin to wonder if it was not Paladine himself who was defeated, and that the stories of Huma of the Lance are just that … stories.”
The minotaur shook his head. “They’re true, for the most part, I suppose.”
He found it hard to speak. The elder studied his inhuman visage for a moment and said quietly, “Yes … you were there, weren’t you? I’ve heard one or two tales about Huma of the Lance that mention you. I get the feeling that most of the storytellers, however, dislike having a minotaur share the glory with one of their own kind.”
“A lot of them cared little enough for Huma when he lived.” Kaz grew somber as memories flashed by. For his part, the elder paced alongside silently, his gaze oddly anxious as he led the minotaur along.
They had reached the river. Drew hesitated, almost seeming to be torn between continuing on or turning around and returning to the others.
“I wanted to show you something and seek your opinion. Gil thinks it nothing but some animal, but I—I have seen too many things in the war.”
Intrigued, Kaz allowed the human to lead him to a place perhaps a thousand paces north of the village. Trees now dotted both sides of the river. “What is the name of this river? My map did not say.”
The elder shrugged. “I don’t really know. We call it Chislev’s Gift, but, believe me, that’s strictly our name. We were so relieved to find such a wonderful location. I suspect that, if we hold out, this will someday be a fairly profitable site. It will mean some sacrifice, but we will do what we must.”
“Spoken like a true merchant.”
“It’s in the blood. Here we are. Gil was the one who found it, but he thought it might be a good idea to show it to me, just to be safe.”
“It” was a partial footprint on the damp riverbank. Kaz went down on one knee to study it better. If the footprint was made by an animal, the animal weighed at least as much as Kaz, judging by the impression. Not so much a paw as a foot, the print was obviously a couple days old, and this close to the river, it had suffered from the elements constantly. Kaz understood Drew’s worry. Goblins and trolls ranged in this area at times, though there were fewer now than during the war. The front of the print indicated sharp, almost clawlike nails like those of Kaz himself, and the impression itself was facing away from the river.
“It crossed here.”
“Crossed? It? It is an animal, then?”
“I doubt it.” Kaz looked up. “You suspected a goblin or something, didn’t you?”
Drew nodded nervously. “But Gil—”
“Your hunter may not have ever seen goblin or troll tracks, though I don’t think it’s a troll. It’s too muddy to really tell.” The minotaur glanced at the forest on the other side of the river. “Is there any way to cross the river?”
“We have some small boats and a pole raft.”
Remembering the boats, Kaz opted for the raft. The odds were better that it could support him. The river was no monster, but it was always wise to respect the raw power of nature.
“While your people gather what I requested, I’ll go take a look. It may be nothing, but I’ll feel better knowing for certain.”
“Gil found nothing.”
Kaz snorted. “With respect to the human, I am a minotaur and a warrior from birth. I may be able to find something he … overlooked.”
A sigh. “Very well. At the very least, it should help me to sleep a little better.”
The minotaur gave him a toothy grin. “Perhaps … and perhaps not.”
* * * * *
The river—Kaz could not bring himself to call it Chislev’s Gift—proved much stronger than Kaz had imagined. Knowing his own strength in proportion to that of the humans made the minotaur admire Gil that much more. That did not mean that Kaz had changed his mind about the footprint. It belonged to no animal, although goblins and trolls, with apologies to the wildlife, were often lumped into that category based on personality alone.
He climbed aboard and cautiously pushed the raft out into the river. The pole was sturdy, for which he was thankful, and his progress was slow but steady. His thoughts turned to the possibility of goblins in the area. Kaz had a particular dislike for goblins. When he had been hunted by soldiers of the Dragonqueen for killing his sadistic ogre captain, he had fled into the wastelands, only to be captured by a band of goblins who had caught him unawares and kept him drugged.
Thinking about the past, Kaz forgot to pay close attention to his present situation and almost managed to lose the pole. The raft started heading farther downriver. Cursing, he regained control. When Kaz at last reached the other side of the river, he pulled the raft onto the bank and paused a moment to catch his breath. The current had taken him downstream a little farther than he originally planned, and he would have to hike back. Kaz wondered how the cleric was getting along with Delbin, then decided it was something he could worry about after he returned. He might find nothing, but on the other hand, he might find something.
He combed the riverbank opposite where the print had been spotted. When that proved fruitless, he moved farther north. A little more than a half a mile up the river, he found a second print. Enough of it was still visible for him to match it with the first. From there, he began the slow process of backtracking. It was simple at first. The goblin—Kaz had no reason to believe it was anything else—had made no attempt to hide its presence. The minotaur followed a trail of broken branches and crushed plant life deep into the forest, and then the trail broke off into several different directions.
Kaz grunted softly. There was more than one of them. Either the band had left this area for better hunting grounds or they were still somewhere among the trees. There were more than half a dozen, of that he was certain. If they were still somewhere nearby, Drew’s people were in mortal danger.
It was at that point that Kaz realized his own jeopardy. He heard a movement to his right, little more than the shiver of a branch, but something within him, something developed over the course of his lifetime, warned him that the cause of the noise was neither the wind nor some small animal. Carefully, so as to avoid giving the watcher notice, he let his hand drift toward the handle of his axe. He cursed himself for not unhooking it sooner. His peacemaking with the village had put him off guard.
The other made a step toward him.
Kaz tugged his axe free and, without a sound, rose and whirled to the right. The battle-axe was poised, ready to strike.
“Delbin?” The glare he gave the kender should have shriveled his companion to nothing.
“Oops! I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to cry out. After all, you looked so busy. What are you looking for? Tesela had to step away, so I thought that since I had been so good, you wouldn’t mind if I went exploring, and when I saw that someone had left a boat lying around and you had gone off on the raft—”
The minotaur snorted angrily. “Take a breath, Del—”
At that moment, three huge forms charged from behind Kaz, taking him down before he could turn.
Someone with a deep, snarling voice cried, “The kender! Get the kender!”
There was some kind of a reply, but it was lost in the noise of the fight. Kaz, his face buried in the earth, succeeded in shoving one of his would-be captors away. Another one got an arm around his face, blocking his vision. Whatever he fought, it was as big as he was and almost as strong. It also had help, for the third one had a death grip around Kaz’
s legs, and despite his best efforts, the minotaur could not break it. But he would not die passively. With his free hand, he raked a face, then paused in startlement. His discovery proved costly, for the attacker secured his free limb and pinned Kaz to the ground.
“Your honorable surrender is offered. Will you give in freely?”
Kaz could not reply at first, since his snout was still pressed against the ground. Someone realized this and pulled his head up.
Reluctantly he answered by rote. “I submit to honorable surrender. Will you accept?”
“Accepted.” Strong, clawed hands with firm grips pulled him to his feet.
He had been mistaken. He had assumed the footprints had belonged to goblins, but he had forgotten how many races left similar tracks. So much for his vaunted tracking superiority. Kaz had done no better than the archer, and to make matters worse, he had been captured.
By minotaurs.
CHAPTER 5
Of course Kaz knew who the minotaurs were: They were the stubborn posse that had been pursuing him for months over many miles.
Not one of the band of minotaurs was familiar to him, though one eyed him as if they had met before. Kaz studied him but could not recall. The one who had demanded his surrender, broad and a bit shorter than the others, laughed harshly.
“He was right. He predicted that this one would go north and that this was a likely spot!”
“A week of waiting around here,” the one who was binding his arms said gruffly, “and we finally capture the coward.”
“He did not fight like a coward,” retorted the first minotaur, the one Kaz felt he ought to recognize.
“It matters not, Hecar,” argued the short male. “We know his crimes, and he’ll have his chance to speak his case.”
“Such as it is,” completed the one behind Kaz.
Hecar snorted. “If I read the ogre right, Greel, Kaz will not have the chance to defend himself.”
Ogre? Kaz jerked straight. “An ogre? You trust the word of an ogre?”
“Not just an ogre, criminal.” Greel reached into a pouch at his side, then halted. “But we have no time for that now. It will take a good week’s journey to reach the others, and we must be away before one of the humans discovers the duplicity of their elder and the archer.”
“They knew?” Kaz fairly spat the words out. Of course they knew! What a fool I’ve been!
“An easy trap, coward. The war has made many folk pliable. Gold is still valuable, after all.” Greel reached forward and pulled Kaz’s pouch away. He studied the contents, pulling out a few items such as the Solamnic seal, and tossed the pouch on the ground. “We also have a proclamation of our own, like the one the Grand Master has issued, condemning you for murder and cowardice. But really, how many humans care about matters of minotaur justice? To them, only gold counts.”
“The footprint …” Kaz muttered. A trap!
“Other settlements, other traders, have been made similar offers. You have run for far too long.”
Kaz strained at the bonds.
“The bonds are tight,” said the minotaur behind him. Huge hands, even for one of his kind, looped a noose over Kaz’s head. It was lowered around his neck and tightened. “Struggle too hard and you’ll choke yourself.”
His eyes blood red, Kaz snorted, “Listen to yourselves! You pay off humans and take the word of ogres! You are bounty hunters, not servants of justice!”
He saw the fist of the short minotaur coming, but did not flinch. It caught him below the jaw and set his head ringing. He could taste blood in his mouth. Greel stared at him coldly.
“If the other races lack honor so much that they are willing to trade it for a few pieces of gold, it only proves their inferiority to our kind!”
“Even if you are the ones offering them enough gold to make them willing to betray their honor?”
Instead of answering, Greel whirled on Hecar. “Where is Helati? Where is your sister? Is one kender too much for her?”
“One kender is not,” a new voice, strong and pleasing to Kaz, added disdainfully. “But a cleric of Mishakal is.”
“The cleric? That—that—”
“Was it perhaps ‘human’ or ‘female’ you were about to say, Greel?” The minotaur who stepped into Kaz’s range of vision was slightly shorter than Greel and had horns only half the size of any of the males. Muscular beyond the norms of most races, she was well formed for a minotaur. Kaz realized how long it had been since he had last seen a female of his own race. There had been none in the army he had fought with. Ogres believed in separating the minotaurs by gender as much as possible.
“I am no human, Helati, to be bothered by the fact that you are female. I have fought beside many valiant warriors of either sex.”
Helati glanced Kaz’s way and gave him a brief, sour smile. “Then do not underestimate the females of other races. Small she may be, but the cleric is gifted. I tracked the kender to the river, but I could not find him. I only barely escaped her notice. She senses something amiss.”
“Clerics!” The leader snorted. “Weak, useless, simpering creatures—”
“You will see how useless they truly are not if we don’t start back now. The farther we are from here the better.”
Greel pointed at Hecar. “Help Tinos with the prisoner. Helati, you guard the rear. I will scout up ahead.”
In this fashion, they began to move north, following the general weave of the river. Whenever Kaz tried to look over his shoulder, Tinos delivered a swat on the side of his head. Hecar gave Kaz odd glances every now and then.
Kaz wondered where the other minotaurs were camped. His captors had spoken of at least one other small group. That group was probably waiting on the other side of the mountain range. In some ways, Kaz had to admire his own people for their determination and thoroughness—and the human, Drew, as well, for his pretense of reluctance to have Kaz enter the settlement. The elder, Kaz suspected, had been shrewd and successful as a merchant at one time and was able to put on a convincing false face even to the discerning. It was difficult to both admire and despise someone, but the minotaur did nevertheless.
Tinos gave him another swat. “Dragging your feet will not save you, coward. We will drag your carcass along if we need to.”
“I was only thinking of my comrade. Have the minotaurs grown so base that they must kill uselessly? He was only a kender.”
“A kender! That a minotaur, even one lacking honor and the courage to face judgment, would demean himself to call one of those a comrade. You are weak, Kaz.”
“It took three of you to subdue me,” Kaz retorted.
That earned him yet another swat. “The high ones want you alive. You will be proof that honor and justice are still paramount to the minotaur race, despite the few who must always be weeded out.”
Kaz snorted.
Hecar spoke, his tone much more civil, more calm than the fanatical Tinos. “Bad enough to stand accused of murder, Kaz, but to flee instead of facing judgment as you should have …”
The prisoner’s reply was cut off by the reemergence of Greel from the forest. “All clear for some distance. Push him if you have to, but make him move!” The short minotaur smiled toothily. “I want to see the homeland. After all this time …”
The other minotaurs, even Kaz, could not help feeling twinges of longing themselves. Kaz had not been home since the day he was deemed a warrior and sent out to fight for the glory of the Dark Queen, something he had really not believed in. Though the race of minotaurs counted her consort, mysterious Sargas, as their chief god, they had little love for the ways of Takhisis.
At that point, Greel growled at the others. “What are you standing around for? The sooner we meet up with the others, the sooner we return home.”
He turned and began stalking off into the forest once more. Tinos and Hecar each took one arm and began to pull Kaz forward, almost causing him to lose his footing.
* * * * *
At nightfall, Kaz was depo
sited against a tree and tied to it. Both he and his captors were exhausted, but he was pleased to note that they were in worse shape. The hope that Delbin had reached the human cleric and convinced her to help Kaz had slowly dwindled away over the hours. What could a servant of Mishakal, the gentle goddess of healing, do against four heavily armed minotaur fighters? Would she even care?
Greel had snared an animal for food, and now the minotaurs were cooking it over a small fire. As Greel began to divide up the meat, a brief argument developed between the four. Listening closely, Kaz discovered that he was the cause. They were arguing over whether or not he should be fed. Greel finally gave in and handed something round to Helati, who had apparently appointed herself the prisoner’s keeper.
Helati was a grumbling shadow as she stalked over to Kaz. “May Sargas take Greel’s damned hide, and Scurn’s for good measure!”
“Scurn?” Kaz asked quietly.
“He and the ogre lead this farce we call a mission of honor and justice.”
She dropped whatever it was that Greel had given her and fed him a few strips of meat. “I’m sorry that I cannot untie you. Hecar and I argued on your behalf, and even Tinos seemed willing, but Greel wants to take no chances. You are his prize. I daresay that by the time we reach Scurn, the short one will have us believing that he caught you alone, without our aid. Such honorable people we are. These past few years of chasing after you have changed us—much to the worse, I’d say.”
“You and Hecar are siblings?” Helati’s face was deep in shadow. He wished she would move so that he could see her better, be able to read her reactions better. It was always wise to know the enemy, he told himself.
“You don’t remember us, then. Hecar was certain of that. You were a tutor for the younger classes.…”
Kaz grimaced at the memory. “The year before they deemed me ready to give my life for the ogres and humans. You and your brother were in one of the classes? Those were for the young just entering adulthood. You cannot be that young.”
Kaz the Minotaur Page 5
