Kaz the Minotaur h2-1

by Richard A. Knaak

  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 Ka
z 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 warhorse 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 warhorse 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 warhorse shook violently beneath him. Kaz struggled for control with the animal, which suddenly seemed crazed. The warhorse 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 warhorse. 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 warhorse 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 Six

  A lone drop of water struck the side of his muzzle. Kaz, already on the verge of waking, shivered uncontrollably in the grip of memories of tumbling and drowning. There had been another dream, too-a bad one, like so many he had had of late, but all he could remember of it was that it, too, concerned water.

  When he was certain that he was neither asleep nor drowned, the minotaur carefully opened his eyes just enough to get some glimpse of his surroundings. When the world around him finally registered in his waterlogged mind, his eyes widened.

  “Now what?” Kaz succeeded in muttering, though someone would have had to put his ear to his mouth to hear him.

  He was alone in a room, staring directly at the top of a tree just outside. It registered almost immediately that the reason he could see the top, even gaze downward at it, was that he was in the tree. It was a very high tree, too, because even from the mat he was lying on, he could see that beyond the treetop were countless more trees, nearly all shorter than the one he now occupied.

  His surroundings were as simple as they were astonishing. This home, this one room, had not been carved into the trunk of the tree. Instead, it was almost as if the tree had obliged whoever had decided to make his home here by splitting apart at this juncture and then coming together higher up. There were natural depressions where the occupant stored a few unidentifiable objects. The floor was covered with mats, obviously woven from plants, and there was no furniture.

  Kaz rose slowly from the mat. With each movement, he expected the return of pain. When the pain did not come, the minotaur began to touch his head and arms. All the wounds-and there had been quite a few-were healed!

  Kaz snorted. Like most minotaurs, he was distrustful of magic tricks. Under other circumstances, he would have shied away even from the healing powers of Tesela’s goddess. Minotaurs believed that the more one succumbed to the simplicity of magical solutions, the weaker one became. Whether that was true or not, Kaz pondered, it was too late to change what already had happened. Someone had heale
d him, and by rights the minotaur owed that person a debt of gratitude.

  Cautiously he stepped toward the open entrance. He looked around for a weapon and noticed a small round pot made of clay that sat in a natural shelf near the entrance. Kaz hesitated. It was a beautiful piece of work and looked incredibly ancient. Intricate patterns and pictures had been painted all around its circumference. Most of the pictures dealt with nature, though one revealed a group of beings dancing in a circle. Kaz studied that picture more carefully. The dancers were elves.

  Who else, he argued with himself, would live high up in a tree but an elf?

  ‘The pot will not bite, my friend. It never has.”

  Kaz whirled and reached for a weapon he had already told himself was not there. Behind him, sitting in a spot the minotaur knew he could not possibly have overlooked earlier, was a tall, handsome elf with long silver hair. If judged by human standards, the elf looked young-until one looked at the emerald eyes. This tree-dweller, Kaz knew, had seen more years pass than several generations of minotaurs.

  The elf was clad in a brown and green outfit that made him look like a prince of the forest. There was even a long cloak. Kaz snorted angrily when he saw that the elf was smiling at his inspection.

  “Who are you?” he snarled.

  “I am Sardal Crystalthorn, my friend. I think this is perhaps the twelfth time I’ve told you that.” Sardal seemed amused by something.

  “How long have I been here?” Anger began to give way to surprise.

  “Just over two weeks. You were nearly dead when I found you. I am impressed. Everything I have heard about minotaur stamina was evidently true, and then some.”

  ‘Two weeks?” A sudden, fierce desire to be away from this place, away from everywhere, shook Kaz. He turned and bolted toward the entrance of Sardal’s home. A hand, impossibly strong for being so slender and pale, held him back. Kaz swallowed as he stared down into yet more treetops. He had assumed there would be a ladder or steps, but there was nothing. Evidently elves did not need ladders or steps.