She laughed quietly. “Poor teacher. You fail to realize that eight years have passed since then. We have changed, my brother and I. We always felt you picked on us especially. Apparently it was not that important to you.”
“Helati, I had to run after I killed the ogre leader. If I had stayed, they would have tied me to a stake and flayed me alive. I would have joined Braag’s victims.”
It was impossible to see the reaction on her face, but Kaz could hear her breathing catch briefly and noticed that her hand, still holding a piece of meat, had paused halfway to his mouth. He regretted causing the latter action most of all, having eaten almost nothing all day.
The female minotaur snorted quietly and continued with the feeding, occasionally taking a small scrap of meat for herself. As she fed Kaz, she spoke. “I could believe you—certainly the stories I’ve heard prove you are no coward and have dealt with others honorably—but Molok has his own proof. Proof that the high ones found convincing.”
This time Kaz snorted, his anger flaring. “If they are the same ones who ruled when we were slave-soldiers to the other races, then small wonder! They are lackeys to the ogres and those who followed Takhisis’s pet, the renegade sorcerer Galan Dracos!”
Greel rose from the fire. “If he cannot keep quiet, he does not get fed, Helati! If that fails to calm him, I can silence him personally!”
“I can handle him, Greel!” To Kaz, she said quietly, “Greel would be only too glad to silence you. He thinks your running away is judgment enough, and that you have forfeited any right to speak on your own behalf. Only his fear of Scurn keeps him from you.”
Kaz swore under his breath. “You and your brother seem levelheaded. How can you be a part of this?”
“We were given a duty, and as minotaurs we will see that duty through to the end.”
It all seemed so futile. This was what he had feared would happen if he allowed himself to be captured.
“Greel wanted me to show you this.” Helati put down the meat and reached for the object the leader had given her. To the prisoner’s eyes, it appeared to be a dark sphere, perhaps the size of an apple.
“What is it?”
“Watch. Stare into it.”
As Kaz stared at it, the sphere began to glisten. Kaz shuddered without thinking. “Magic? Have we weakened so much we have turned to magic?”
Helati quieted him. “It is something the ogres use that they buy from mages. Scurn has one like it, and a proclamation from the emperor claiming the honorable intentions of our mission: the capture of an accused murderer. Now watch.”
Kaz did as he was told, his eyes widening as the dark, opaque sphere suddenly became transparent. Within the sphere, he watched a landscape begin to grow from nothing. Tiny mountains rose in the background, and skeletal trees burst from the earth like mad, undead horrors. Figures began to blur into being, one on the right, the other in the center.
Kaz knew what land this was, though not the name of it. He knew it because he had served there, still blindly obedient to dark-robed mages and ebony-armored warlords. It came as no surprise that the figure at the right was him, and that the one in the center was the ogre who had commanded this army. There was something wrong with the scene, however, something that did not reveal itself to his eye at first.
The humans. The victims. The living toys of his captain, a loyal servant of the Queen of Evil. Where were the old one and the children that Braag’s axe had played with? Instead, the ogre seemed intent on something in the distance and did not even notice the minotaur’s presence. Kaz could predict what was going to happen next.
The Kaz figure raised a club. As the club rose behind the unsuspecting ogre, the real Kaz shook his head and denied the falsity of the scene. The club came crashing down. The ogre collapsed into a lifeless heap. The Kaz figure looked around once and fled. Other forms—ogres, minotaurs, and such—rushed forward even as the scene faded away.
It was another inaccuracy. It had taken only a single blow from his fist, struck while they stood face-to-face, to crack the skull of the ogre and send him to his reward. Not some dishonorable ambush!
“A lie!” Kaz no longer cared whether he remained quiet or not. “That’s a lie! I am no base murderer! He cruelly killed the helpless, the defenseless! His action was without any honor! It was the work of a butcher, not a warrior, and he did it far too many times to be reprieved from death! I gave him a warrior’s death!”
The sturdy ropes designed by the minotaurs to hold anything less than a dragon began to strain under his anger. Helati fell back, dropping the sphere. Greel and the others were already on their feet. One of the ropes snapped, and Kaz, still in a rage, roared as he felt the hold on him loosen. For a brief moment, the knowledge that he was a step closer to freedom urged him on. Then Greel and Tinos were on him.
They struck him relentlessly, Greel laughing out loud at one point. The short minotaur was enjoying every second of it. As Kaz’s mind began to swim, he wondered if Greel had any ogre blood in him.
Greel’s rage burned out under the endless blows, and Kaz blacked out mercifully.
* * * * *
Kaz stood before judgment, but it was not minotaurs who would decide his case. Black, mad Crynus sat on one side of the triumvirate, his head, which had been severed in life, lolling on his neck at an awkward angle. He seemed not to care.
Bennett, proud, arrogant Bennett, hawklike features glowing with the fire of his own magnificence, sat on the opposite side. He appeared less interested in the trial than he was in giving commands to the knights who rushed in an endless stream to and from him. They knelt, heard some whispered order, and each departed in haste, only to be replaced instantly by another knight.
The central figure, seated high above the rest, seemed to have trouble deciding who he was. One second he was Greel; the next he was Rennard. He became one of the goblins who had captured Kaz after the latter had killed the ogre captain. At last the central figure settled on a shape. It was, of course, the ogre captain himself. A portion of his head was missing, but there seemed to be no blood—nothing, in fact.
“A court of your peers,” a mocking voice said.
Kaz looked around and found himself staring into the sightless eyes of a dreadwolf. The bone-white beast, looking like nothing less than a month-dead, skinned animal, winked at him. It was sitting no more than two yards away, on top of a ledge.
“The dead have no right to judge the living,” Kaz shouted.
“The dead have every right,” retorted the dreadwolf. “But you still have a chance to forego a trial.”
“How?” A storm seemed to be brewing. For the first time, Kaz realized that, aside from the seated figures, the dreadwolf, and himself, there was nothing else, not even a landscape.
“Tell me what you know!” the dreadwolf cried.
“Know?” The minotaur’s head was pounding.
“Do you know anything?”
“About—about what?”
“The citadel! When you joined with the knights in the battle against Galan Dracos!”
Kaz was sick of being pushed, beaten, and judged by others. With a roar, he raised a huge axe, one he could not recall having a moment before, and charged the dreadwolf. To his everlasting pleasure, the beast gave a very human scream and fled.
The other figures faded away. Only the storm still raged, but for some reason, the minotaur did not feel threatened by it.
As thunder shook him, Kaz realized that it was calling his name. He tried to answer, but his words came out as a groan. Then he felt himself vanish, even as the others had vanished. He felt no shock, only relief.…
* * * * *
“Great gods, what have they done to you?” a feminine voice whispered at the edge of his dreams. It was a softer, higher voice than Helati’s, and the only one he could compare it to was that of Gwyneth, Huma’s love. She had died, as in his dream, defending the knight from death by the claws of the Dark Queen. Had Paladine allowed her to come back? Was she
here to take him to Huma so that they could fight side by side again?
“Minotaur,” the voice whispered, “you must awake. There is little time. I do not know how strong their resistance is.”
Kaz tried to open his eyes. The memories of his beating came back to him, and with it the anger. He started to breathe fast, his blood boiling.
“No!” the unseen one hissed. Delicate hands turned his head until he could see the newcomer. In the dark, it took him time to place the young human face. Only when he saw the medallion hanging over her robe did he remember her name.
“Tesela?” The minotaur’s words came out as little more than a croak. The cleric quickly shushed him.
“I’m sorry I could get here no sooner, minotaur. The people in the village were no help. They sided with Drew when Delbin and I forced the truth from him.” She took her medallion and leaned toward the ropes. Kaz felt them fall away. With a helpless grunt, he slid to one side, landing on an already sore shoulder.
“I’m sorry!” Tesela whispered hastily. The composure she had worn during their first encounter had slipped away, revealing a frightened young woman.
“No time,” Kaz managed to hiss. “Can you heal me?”
“It would take too long here. I’ve put a sleeping spell on the others, but I have no experience with minotaurs. I don’t know how strong they are.”
“Very. Undo the—the bonds around my wrists.”
She touched the medallion to the ropes. Kaz felt them loosen and whispered thanks to Paladine as the circulation returned to his arms. Tesela helped him to his feet. “We have horses waiting.”
“Horses?” he muttered.
The cleric pointed toward the river.
“Let’s go.” Despite his great pride, Kaz was forced to accept the human female’s assistance. He stumbled several times but did not stop. Each grunt of pain sounded as loud as the thunder in his dream, and he expected the minotaurs to come rushing after them at any moment.
The horses became a shadowy mass ahead of them. Tesela, still helping to support him, was looking down, trying to avoid tripping. With the powers given to her, she could have used the medallion to light their way, but she feared to risk sending up a glow. For now, the darkness was not only a hindrance, but it was also an ally.
The horses were there, but so was something else. For an instant, Kaz thought he saw one of the nightmares of his dream, the dreadwolf. The white, ghostly form seemed to pause only long enough to acknowledge him. When Kaz blinked again, it was gone.
“Is something wrong?” Tesela asked nervously.
“I—I thought I saw something by the horses.”
“That would be Delbin. He was the one who told me everything, only he couldn’t understand how he had escaped. The minotaur who followed him had him trapped, even he knew that, but then she—it was a female—turned away in the wrong direction. It was fortunate for both of you that he was so lucky.”
Kaz made no reply. Instead he asked, “How did you find me?”
“Delbin picked up the trail. I understand kender are good at that sometimes. He’s very surprising.”
“So I keep discovering.”
As the horses became distinctive shapes, Kaz could see that sitting on a pony nearly hidden by the two larger mounts was Delbin himself. The kender succeeded in restraining himself to a simple, “Kaz!” and a wave. From the way he squirmed in the saddle, the minotaur knew that his kender companion had much more he wanted to say. For a kender, Delbin was showing remarkable forbearance.
“We should be safe now. With the horses, we’ll easily be able to outrun the others,” Tesela was saying. “And once we cross the river, I can take the time to heal you properly.”
Kaz felt his head swim. “I … think you … had better … help …”
He went to his knees.
“Delbin, help me!” Tesela cried.
The kender leaped from the saddle and landed feetfirst no more than a yard from the others. He helped Tesela lift Kaz to a standing position.
The minotaur was breathing hard. “Get me … onto the horse. I’ll be … able to manage … from there.”
It took some doing. At last, seated on his horse, Kaz gazed blurry-eyed at the human. “You sound … so uncertain. I thought … you had done this before.”
Despite the darkness, he imagined her face reddening. “I’ve only been a cleric for a short time—two, maybe three months. Another healer had passed through only recently. I saw him heal the bones of a man who had fallen. When my father heard about the cleric—he wanted to marry me off to the son of one of the town officials—he made certain I was never able to speak to him.” Tesela mounted. “I cried bitterly. Helping people seemed like such a wonderful thing to do. I fell asleep crying, only to wake with a weight on my chest.”
“The medallion?” Delbin asked eagerly.
“I found it useful that very night. It can unbind things like ropes and locks. Healing someone takes longer, since it’s more delicate.”
“Then we’d best move on.” Kaz paused, then added, “It would be best if we crossed the river now, while they still sleep.”
“That could be dangerous.”
He did not even look at her. “So is remaining here.”
Kaz urged his horse forward. The riverbank was bright in comparison to the forest, and Kaz glanced up at the two moons. Tonight he would have been happier with no moon at all. He was about to look away when he realized that something was amiss with Solinari, the luminous moon that represented the waxing of white magic. A small portion near the bottom was missing, almost as if a bite had been taken out of it.
“What’s wrong?” Tesela asked.
Kaz blinked, and the moon was restored. He turned his attention to the river before them. “Nothing. I was debating where the best place to cross might be.”
The river raged as he had never seen it. Kaz began to have second thoughts about crossing immediately. He turned to his companions. “How was it where you crossed?”
Tesela glanced at the kender. Delbin shrugged. “No worse, no better. It’s not that deep, though, Kaz, because I was able to get across, and even in the dark, Surefoot should have no trouble. He’s a good pony, and if he can make it, then that huge animal you have should be able to walk across with no problems because he’s so much bigger and stronger than Surefoot.”
“Meaning we should be able to cross. Delbin, you stand the most danger; I want you to go second so that someone is on either side of you. Tesela, you had better go first.” When she started to argue, he stared her down as only a seven-foot minotaur could. “These are my people, human. Even as injured as I am, I stand a better chance of fighting them than you do. I doubt if they will let you catch them unaware twice. Besides”—Kaz reached down and patted the faithful war-horse affectionately—“I have a good comrade here.”
“Why don’t we cross together?”
“I would prefer that we always have someone to watch out for the others. Just in case.”
Tesela gave in. Wasting no more time, she led her animal to the river. It was reluctant at first, but she spoke quietly to it, one of her hands touching the medallion. Under her guidance, the animal had little trouble crossing, despite the swift current. When she was halfway across, Kaz sent Delbin. He watched carefully, afraid that Delbin’s small pony might get swept away. He hoped that would not be the case, for his mind and body were exhausted. Minotaur pride had gotten the better of him, however, and he refused to show any weakness to his companions.
The cleric was safe on the other side, and Delbin, despite the fact that his pony had to swim instead of walk, seemed assured of equal success. Kaz urged his own mount into the river.
The wild water battered his legs, and he was sprayed from head to toe. He was thankful for the bitter cold of the river, for it kept him alert. When his horse was fully into the river, the minotaur saw that the water level came only to his own shinbone. The war-horse moved forward, making slow but steady progress. Delbin’s pony
was just stepping onto the opposite riverbank.
All thought of his companions vanished as Kaz paid strict attention to the river. There was always the chance that his animal might step into a depression the others had missed, or that the current might change for some unknown reason. More than one overconfident rider had been lost in such a fashion.
Over the roar of the river, he suddenly realized that both Tesela and Delbin were calling to him. He looked up just as the war-horse shook violently beneath him. Kaz struggled for control with the animal, which suddenly seemed crazed. The war-horse was stumbling, and the minotaur was in danger of losing his balance. At any other time, he would probably have had no trouble overcoming his mount. The strain of weariness, however, left him in a weakened state.
His leg, slipping back, struck something hard and long. Kaz dared to turn in the saddle. To his horror, he discovered a spear buried in the animal’s flank. No human or elf could have thrown such a huge spear with such perfect accuracy. Suddenly Kaz knew it must have been Greel’s hand that had guided the missile.
Pain and loss of blood, combined with the struggle against the strong current, proved too much for the great war-horse. The animal began to turn in a circle as the river took control. Kaz had a spinning image of at least three minotaurs on the other riverbank and wondered if he was mistaken when he thought he saw one of them strike another down. He never had a second look, however, for with a last defiant cry, the war-horse tumbled helplessly into the uncaring embrace of the river.
Kaz was thrown back, and his head went underwater before he even had a chance to consider holding his breath. His lungs screamed as they filled with water. He struggled to find the surface, only to be pulled down once again.
Unable to cope any longer, Kaz let the river current take him where it wanted. He asked himself, as he did so often, what it was that the gods had against him.
If there was an answer, he did not remain conscious long enough to hear it.
CHAPTER 6
Kaz the Minotaur Page 6
