Kaz the Minotaur h2-1

by Richard A. Knaak

  Kaz grunted.

  A warning shout came from behind them. Both turned at the noise. For whatever reason, two of the men in the last patrol had backtracked just in time to see the minotaur step out into the open. They had only one viable option, and the minotaur put it into action with but a single word.

  “Run!”

  Horns sounded. Kaz heard more shouts, an indication that the rest of the patrol was nearby. It wouldn’t be long before the alarm alerted others.

  “We cannot… cannot run mindlessly!” Sardal gasped as he ran.

  “Save your breath!”

  Kaz’s footing became unstable. He immediately discovered that he was not alone in his predicament. Sardal was falling forward, and startled cries alerted him to the fact that their pursuers were having problems of their own.

  An earthquake? Kaz wondered.

  “M-Minotaur!” the elf bellowed. Sardal was rolling helplessly down the incline. As much as Kaz would have liked to aid him, he was having enough trouble preventing himself from toppling after him. The tremors continued to toss loose objects about.

  Barely on his feet, Kaz stared wide-eyed as the side of one peak seemed to melt downward. He blinked, but the astonishing sight remained. The emerald sphere had to be the cause of this. Argaen Ravenshadow must be trying to harness its abilities. And he was not succeeding.

  Chaos. Huma had said that Galan Dracos called the sphere his channel into the power of chaos, or something along those lines.

  Something bumped him from behind. Kaz lashed out, only to find his arm snared by the powerful grip of a human almost as tall and broad as himself. The man had to be part ogre. He had to try to fight off this foe before he lost his footing entirely.

  The human was trying to twist the battle-axe out of Kaz’s grip. As he fought back, his left foot slid downward. Minotaur and human compensated, but Kaz found himself at a definite disadvantage. His adversary had the higher ground. Kaz’s grip was loosening, and worse, the soldier was now drawing a dagger. Kaz couldn’t gain more than a temporary foothold.

  Kaz fell into a sitting position. His opponent followed him down facefirst, striking the earth hard. His grip all but vanished, and the two of them separated. The soldier began to tumble over and over uncontrollably. By the time Kaz reached more level ground, his adversary lay absolutely motionless.

  The earth finally ceased rippling, but the games were not over. The formerly solid ground, though no longer rising and falling, was now like mud. Kaz rose and immediately sank to his knees. Beyond him, Sardal cautiously made his way toward the minotaur. He was up to his ankles in the mudlike earth, but each step sank him a little deeper.

  A horrible slurping sound caught Kaz’s attention, and he turned just in time to see the boots of his opponent, the only portion of the man still visible, sink into the earth. The minotaur glanced down at the muck surrounding his own legs and froze in trepidation.

  He began to sink even faster.

  “Don’t stand still!” Sardal shouted. “Spread your mass! It will slow the sinking!”

  The logic was questionable, but the results were evident. Kaz actually succeeded in raising himself up a bit. There was still one problem. “How do we get out of here?”

  A shadow loomed overhead. Kaz didn’t have to look up to know what it was.

  Ravenshadow’s stone dragon.

  The creature circled above them, seeming to debate what it should do. Kaz readied his battle-axe, knowing that even if the unliving creature feared it, it wouldn’t do the minotaur much good if the dragon simply dropped on top of him. At least, however, he would try to get in one blow.

  Several tons of solid stone came hurtling down, blotting out the sun. Kaz closed his eyes, awaiting the final moment, but the moment never came. There was a heavy thud, as if something massive, such as a dragon made of stone, had struck a hard surface and bounced off.

  “Branchala be praised!” whispered Sardal from nearby.

  Kaz dared to open his eyes. Apparently the stone dragon, much to its annoyance, had bounced off something, for it was now careening madly about, trying to regain control. Sardal was smiling wearily. The minotaur looked from elf to dragon to elf again.

  “What’d you do?”

  “I devised a spell that I thought just might be strong enough to repel Argaen’s pet. It worked, I am happy to say.” The elf looked very relieved.

  “Might? You weren’t certain?”

  The dragon had not yet given up. It tried once more to regain control, but with similar results. Still, it was keeping them effectively pinned down. Worse yet, the survivors of the patrol that had been chasing the two were slowly wading their way toward the duo. Kaz counted perhaps seven men, five with swords, one with an axe, the last with a pike.

  Enemies behind him, a monster above him, and his maneuverability nearly nil. Things had been better, even during the war.

  Paladine knows, I’ve tried to live up to your memory, Huma, Kaz thought darkly, but the gods have frowned on this minotaur and I think my luck’s finally run out.

  The sounds of horses running and men in armor jolted him from his somber thoughts. His first inclination was to expect the worst: that the patrol had been joined by reinforcements. Kaz and Sardal looked back.

  A force of knights was cutting its way through the meager resistance. Kaz imagined he saw two or three mages, all elves, riding in the rear of the group.

  Sardal laughed lightly. “I had given up all hope that they would come in time!”

  Kaz turned on his companion, eyes wide. “You knew they were coming?”

  “While you were ensnared in my trap, I spoke briefly with my people and also sent a message off to the nearest of the Solamnic forces. The southern keeps have been pursuing the remnants of the Dragonqueen’s army since the war ended.”

  The minotaur nodded.

  “As for my own people-” Sardal broke off. Kaz looked up, saw nothing but one massive set of stone claws, and realized, even as he was torn from the boggy earth with a schlupp! that Sardal’s spell had been exceeded. The stone dragon rose high in the air, its prey held tightly. Kaz was greatly surprised to find that he was still breathing. Indeed, he was not dead, and the stone dragon apparently had no intention of killing him. The animated horror turned up into the sky and fled from the danger of the elven mages, directly toward the keep of its master.

  The stone claws squeezed Kaz’s arms tight against his body, and the intense pressure made him loosen his grip on Honor’s Face. Before he could react, the battle-axe slipped free and plummeted into the muck below, vanishing beneath the surface of the liquefied earth. He tried picturing the dwarven weapon, tried to call it back to him, but nothing happened. How he had done it before was beyond him. Now he was unarmed and alone.

  The claws squeezed ever tighter. The minotaur could no longer breathe. Perhaps, he thought as things turned to darkness, the stone dragon was going to crush him to death.

  A moment later, he no longer cared. Unable to breathe, he passed out completely, cursing only the fact that he would not go down fighting.

  A part of him knew that this was yet another dream and memory mixed together, but that part was buried in the back of his mind. He only cared that this was the day of oath-taking, a day of both pride and shame, of honor and indignity.

  With the rest, Kaz took his place before those the ogre and human lords had made elders of the minotaur race. There was the one bearing the title of emperor, who had never been defeated in arena challenges, though some said that was due to trickery. There were the elders, supposedly the strongest and smartest of the minotaurs. Some of them were true minotaur champions, like Kaz. Most were suspected of the same treachery as the emperor. It mattered not, for they were as much slaves to the overlords as the rest of their people.

  Long ago, when they had first been conquered, the minotaurs, in order to save their race, had taken oaths of utter obedience. Bound by their own strict code of honor, they trapped themselves in an endless cycle of sl
avery. The few malcontents were quickly and quietly dealt with by the masters. Oath-breakers were very rare, however.

  Now, in the interminable war between Paladine and Takhisis, the minotaurs were an important part in the efforts of the warlord, Crynus. A minotaur was worth any two fighters from the other races-generally more than two. They fought and won battles others would have given up as lost. Parceled out so that the temptation to rebel would never be concentrated in too great a number-the warlord did not care to take chances-the minotaurs strengthened every army tremendously. All that was needed was to insure their loyalty with the oath.

  Crynus was here himself, and he seemed to gaze at Kaz in particular. The minotaur felt both proud and disturbed. Someone signaled for the oath to begin. A horn sounded, yet now it was a Solamnic battle horn, and the man who had been the warlord became Grand Master Oswal. The other figures seated before the assembled throng became knights. Bennett sat on his uncle’s right, and Rennard, smiling merrily-something Kaz had not seen him do in the brief time they had known each other-sat on the elder’s left.

  This is a dream! one part of the minotaur’s mind shouted. This is not right.

  “An oath is only as good as the man,” muttered someone to his right, “and a minotaur is no man.”

  Kaz whirled about and found himself among a legion of young knights waiting to take their own Solamnic oath. The one who had spoken was Huma, who looked at Kaz with contempt.

  “How long will this oath last?” Huma asked with a smirk. “The one you gave your masters lasted only until you tired of it. How long before you turn on me? I’m disappointed in you, Kaz. You have no honor. None whatsoever. You tried to be like me only in order to convince yourself you aren’t a dishonorable coward and a murderer!”

  The minotaur’s eyes grew crimson, and he longed to hold the dwarven battle-axe again, to show the human the truth of it with the blade of the axe. Even as he longed for it, Kaz realized that the axe was in his hands. Matching Huma’s smirk, Kaz raised the weapon up-and found himself staring into the side of the axe head, at his own reflection, which was slowly fading away.

  “How did-?” Huma uttered, but it was no longer Huma’s voice. Instead, it was that of Argaen Ravenshadow, or perhaps Galon Dracos. It was impossible to say.

  With the sudden manifestation of that voice, or those voices, Kaz gained some measure of control of his own dream. He hefted the axe, but he knew the figure he stalked toward could not be Huma. Instead, he imagined it was Ravenshadow. Ravenshadow he was more than willing to deliver to the Abyss.

  “Wake him up, curse you! No more games!” a voice that seemed to come from all around him commanded.

  Kaz was jarred back into reality. That was the only way to describe it. From dream to waking, with no transition in between. It was enough to make his head spin. He started to slump, only to discover that something held him up by the wrists.

  “Open your eyes, old friend!”

  The minotaur did.

  Argaen Ravenshadow lay seated before the malevolent emerald sphere in the center of what seemed to be a makeshift wizard’s laboratory in the keep. He seemed in good health, free of his wounds, although he leaned to one side in an odd manner. He also seemed annoyed, at something other than Kaz’s presence. There was, barring the stone dragon, one other presence of import in what passed for Argaen’s home. It was he, of course, who had welcomed the minotaur. It was he who now floated above the emerald sphere itself, as much a part of it as it was of him.

  He was Galan Dracos, of course.

  Chapter Twenty

  The raiders attacked again. The second time, the enemy did nothing so foolish as to charge the knights. Instead, they kept to the ridges and mountainsides and rained death down upon the band. Two knights were struck down in the first volley, despite raised shields. There were just too many archers above and around them. One or two knights answered with strikes from their own bows, and though each attempt put them in jeopardy, they did not shy away from the task. One man fell across Tesela’s horse, and the cleric, despite herself, could not help gasping in horror. Darius helped her remove the unfortunate knight. There was no time to stop. Indeed, it would have been certain death to do so. From the left of the column, rocks came bounding earthward as someone sought to start an avalanche. A Solamnic archer cut down one man, but others remained hidden. One knight’s horse was toppled as several large stones crushed its hind leg. With amazing speed, the knight brought his sword down across the animal’s neck, relieving it permanently of the terrible pain. Under the protection of his fellows, the man claimed the mount of a fallen comrade.

  While the knights had no intention of retreating, Darius feared for his two companions, especially Tesela. He looked back toward the rear of the column, hoping that his comrades might be able to cut a path for the two, but the attackers were already swarming over the rocks. Sending Tesela and Delbin back now would be tantamount to condemning them to death, though what sort of future they had if they remained was also questionable.

  It was then that Darius first noticed that the kender was gone.

  He whirled around and almost caught an arrow because of his foolish hesitancy. Delbin was nowhere in sight, but the knight was certain he would have remembered if the kender had been killed. Rather, Darius was nearly positive that his kender companion had somehow, in the middle of combat yet, sneaked away.

  “Damn you, Delbin!” Darius muttered as he moved forward with the rest of the column.

  Had he known where the kender presently was, the knight would undoubtedly have withdrawn the statement. Delbin was not heading toward safety, which Darius assumed. He was, in actuality, scurrying through the myriad paths in the range, making his way ever deeper into the mountains. Intent on the knights below, the enemy did not notice the small figure stealthily threading his way through the oncoming forces. If the truth be known, the kender was making better time than the column. Delbin felt some uncharacteristic kender guilt at seeming to abandon the others, but that was outweighed by his determination to reach the stronghold of the magic thief, Argaen Ravenshadow. A trait that many other races overlooked in the kender was their intense loyalty to their friends. Delbin’s best friend, someone who was as close to him as his own family, was probably a prisoner of the dark elf. Nothing would make the kender turn back.

  Not once did Delbin imagine that Kaz might be dead.

  A figure moved in the rocks ahead of him. Delbin, his sling ready, quietly moved closer, as only one of his kind could. The figure sharpened into the backside of an archer. The man had a good supply of arrows and looked ready to use them all. Delbin glanced around and saw other ambushers spread around the area, but only this one blocked his path. The kender chose a proper bullet for his sling, loaded the weapon, and with no hesitation, swung the sling around and around above his head. It seemed a bit unfair to strike the man without his knowledge, but Delbin considered the fact that the human had no such compunction where the knights below were concerned.

  On the next swing, he released the bullet. It soared swiftly through the air and struck the archer soundly in the back of the head. A river of red briefly washed over the man’s backside before the archer fell forward-and over the edge where he had been kneeling. Delbin sincerely hoped he would not hit somebody when he landed.

  Scurrying past the spot where the archer had stationed himself, Delbin saw the keep. It really did not seem that far away.

  Suddenly Delbin felt the shock of the earth itself rippling wildly. There were screams as some of the attackers fell to their deaths, and curses from above and below the kender’s position. Delbin enjoyed the movement of the earth-it seemed like one of the most enjoyable things he had ever experienced-but the liquefying earth that materialized around his feet fast became an annoyance.

  Kender liked to move, and mud was strictly for gully dwarves. It was difficult to find solid ground, for despite its new traits, the ground he moved upon looked no different from unaffected patches nearby. The only wa
y to tell the difference was to actually step on the surface and hope one didn’t sink.

  That concern died when Delbin noticed the stone dragon rise from behind some smaller peaks. Sharp kender eyes saw the shape clutched tightly in its claws. Delbin had seen the creature up close and knew how big those claws were. To him, there could only be one person as big as the helpless figure he saw in the distance, and that was Kaz. Kaz, his friend, needed rescuing, and the only one who would be able to rescue him was the kender himself.

  A mask of stern resolution on his face, or the nearest facsimile he could muster, not knowing how stern resolution was supposed to look, Delbin picked up his pace. He would not let Kaz down.

  After his initial shock, Kaz fell back into the dark realm of unconsciousness and did not revive for quite some time. When he did, he discovered himself chained up in a chamber. This was hardly the way he had wanted to enter the keep. He scanned his surroundings. There was actually very little to see. He could make out a single entrance, where the door stood tantalizingly open- either through great carelessness or overconfidence. The walls of the room were cracked with age but still quite sturdy. Cobwebs decorated the ceiling. The chains that held Kaz looked to be formidable, and whoever had secured them to the wall behind him had known his business.

  He wondered what the situation was like outside. He suspected it was a full-scale battle, something he had hardly expected. Delbin and the others were out there, possibly injured or worse. Nothing was going right. Nothing had ever gone right. Kaz snorted in self-pity. Did the gods have nothing better to do than pick on a lone minotaur who wanted only to live the rest of his life quietly with an occasional trial of blood to keep him from becoming too bored?

  He was still sitting there feeling sorry for himself for all the troubles the world had dumped on him when a guard suddenly materialized. He was not alone, however. There was one very familiar figure with him.

  Argaen Ravenshadow walked in, and Kaz saw immediately that his previous brief encounter with the dark elf had been no figment. Ravenshadow did indeed lean to one side as he walked, and it was obvious he did not feel well enough to actually straighten up. This seemed to annoy the elf only slightly, but it gave the minotaur great satisfaction.