Kaz the Minotaur h2-1

by Richard A. Knaak

  With mounting rage, Scurn looked left and right as others of his companions abandoned him. Of the entire party, only two minotaurs stayed with the disfigured leader. He looked at them and roared, “Get back with the rest of theml I’ll fight him alone! You heard me!”

  Hesitantly, the two stepped back. Scurn, smiling nastily, moved within an arm’s length of Kaz. The scarred minotaur was an inch or two taller than he and carried a battle-axe, a monstrous weapon far larger than Honor’s Face, a true minotaur’s axe. Still staring at Kaz, Scurn threw the axe aside.

  “I’ve no need of weapons to defeat you!”

  Kaz snorted in wry amusement. “This is what you want, is it?”

  “Pray to the ancestors while you still have time.”

  “I’ll give thanks to them that any blood they shared between our lines is so far in the past that I don’t even have to consider you one of my kin.”

  Scurn bared his teeth. “Whenever you are ready…”

  There was no signal to begin. The two combatants merely tensed and, in unspoken agreement, threw themselves at each other. Scurn caught hold of Kaz’s left arm with his right and tried to drive a stiff hand below Kaz’s rib cage. Kaz caught the hand just in time and forced it to one side. With his free hand, Kaz shoved his opponent back.

  The two minotaurs separated. Again they came together. Kaz tried to put a foot around the back of one of Scum’s legs, but the other minotaur would have none of it. Instead of catching his opponent’s leg and tripping him backward to the ground, Kaz suddenly found himself balancing on one foot as Scum caught the other with his hand and pulled it up. Only a quick twist by Kaz prevented him from falling, but the scarred minotaur now had an advantage in balance and took it, charging into Kaz’s side headfirst.

  Kaz grunted in pain as the tip of one of Scum’s horns caught him in his midsection. He put a restraining hand against the other’s head and kept him at bay. Blood trickled down his legs.

  While Scurn sought to impale him, Kaz reached up with his other hand and chopped downward as hard as possible. His first blow hit Scum on the head, a fairly hard spot on a minotaur. His second blow, however, landed on the softest part of the back of his opponent’s neck.

  Scum cursed and pulled himself away with amazing strength. Kaz refused to let up and charged, one hand held high in front of him. He took hold of one of Scum’s horns while the other minotaur was still backing away, and he turned. The motion pulled his adversary forward to the ground, muzzle first.

  Kaz leapt down, but Scurn was already rolling away, and all the former got for his efforts was a faceful of dirt and a sharp rattle through every bone in his body. Both minotaurs moved away, quickly rising to their feet. Scurn was breathing heavily, but not because of exhaustion. He was caught up in the feverish excitement of the fight. He was one of those who lived for battle. Kaz, an older veteran, eyed him with distaste and a little shame; he, too, had once been like the disfigured minotaur.

  Again and again they struggled, neither gaining much advantage. After ten long minutes of constant engagement, both were battered and bleeding, but ready for the next round. The other minotaurs and several of the knights cheered them on.

  One who did not share the mood of those around him was the ogre, Molok. In the beginning, he had watched eagerly, hoping for a quick humiliation and death for Kaz. That no longer appeared possible. Scum might even lose, and then Kaz would see Molok and know him for who he was.

  The ogre rubbed the side of his head, thinking of where Kaz had struck his brother down all those years ago. Most races believed ogres had almost as little love for one another as they did for outsiders, but such was not true. Like the minotaurs, ogres had some belief in clan, and Molok’s brother had been all he had in the way of blood family. With the dragons gone and Takhisis exiled from Krynn, it was all the ogres could do to keep from being overrun by their enemies and former slaves. They had no time for a single ogre’s vengeance. But vengeance was an ogre trait, and Molok, devious and determined even for one of his kind, at last hit upon a plan that would not only end in the death of Kaz, but also reveal the minotaur’s complete dishonor in the eyes of the minotaur race. Honor meant little to Molok, but he knew that Kaz’s people lived and died for it. To kill and shame his brother’s murderer was the best revenge he could ask. The mage he had paid to create a false truthcrystal had done his work well. The minotaurs, both condescending and ignorant concerning magic, had taken the bait.

  All that work would be for naught, however, if Kaz lived.

  Of course the minotaurs had expropriated the ogre’s weapons. Now there were other choices, however, for some of the horned ones, in their rebellion against Scurn, had laid aside their own weapons. Molok simply had to lay his hands on the proper one…

  As strong and skilled as Scurn was, he had not faced nearly as many challenges in his life as Kaz had. Experience finally began to show as the latter struck more and more telling blows. The scarred minotaur backed away, shaking his head, but Kaz would not let up. He caught Scum’s arm while it was still raised in defense and twisted it inward, forcing his opponent to turn with it or have it broken. As the other minotaur turned, he came in line with Kaz’s knee.

  Kaz bent his leg and swung the knee upward. He did not strike Scurn in the face, as some would have, but rather on the unprotected neck. His kneecap caught Scurn directly in the throat, and the younger minotaur choked. While his adversary fell to his knees and tried desperately to breathe, Kaz put both hands together and hit him squarely in the lower jaw. The first blow, combined with his other injuries, stunned Scurn. He sat back and tried to focus on Kaz, his breathing labored.

  Everyone waited for the final blow. It was all Kaz needed to vindicate himself in the eyes of his fellows. He raised his clenched hands high… and then lowered them, unclenching them as he did.

  He stared at the other minotaurs. “No more! To continue would be dishonorable. I will not strike down a defenseless opponent.”

  “No!” Scurn croaked, but he could do no more than shake a fist. Kaz’s knee kick to his throat had been the deciding blow; he could barely breathe. “Kill me! I’m shamed!”

  Kaz snorted in disgust. “That’s your problem.” He turned his attention back to the rest of his people. “Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge me? Have I proven myself? If so, I-”

  There was a commotion to his right, and Kaz whirled to see Helati standing there, a grim but satisfied look on her face. In her hand, she held a knife. Little more than the handle was visible, for the entire length of the blade-and minotaurs use extremely long blades-was buried in the chest of the ogre, who stood gaping at Kaz with hateful but dying eyes. A short sword, hidden between the ogre’s massive arm and chest, slipped to the ground.

  The ogre, gasping uselessly, collapsed.

  Minotaurs and humans turned, stunned and uncomfortable. Bennett swore as Kaz had never heard him swear, surprising many. In the excitement of the ritual combat, no one had paid attention to the ogre. No one had expected a lone ogre to attempt anything, surrounded as he was by countless armed humans and more than a few minotaurs.

  Helati wiped her blade off on the ogre’s corpse. “I thought he was moving around to get a better view. I didn’t think even an ogre could be so suicidal. He really wanted you dead.”

  “I should have known not to give an ogre the benefit of honor,” Bennett interjected. “Their kind could never know anything but killing.”

  “Less than six years ago, Bennett, you would’ve said the same thing of me.” Kaz studied the face of the ogre, still twisted in hate despite death. His eyes widened in rueful surprise. “In the case of this one, however, I think you’re justified. Their ugly faces are all pretty much the same, but I think this ogre and the one I’m supposed to have murdered are blood kin. There are clan markings that look familiar even after all this time.” He grunted ruefully. “I’d no idea that ogres had such loyalty to one another.”

  “The truthcrystal-” one of the minotau
rs started to mutter.

  Kaz shook his head at the simpleness of a race that prides itself on its supposed superiority. “If the rest of you had seen as much sorcery as I have, you’d have long ago realized that any good mage could create one with a false image.”

  No one replied, but Hecar nodded. Kaz was glad to see that there was at least one reasonable mind among them. He looked down at Scurn, who was still kneeling in the dirt. Now that he had fought Kaz and lost, he seemed not to have any purpose anymore.

  “I take it I’m free to go,” Kaz finally said. No one contradicted him. Kaz looked down at Scurn one last time. “Someone see to him. He fought a good battle. His death would’ve been a waste.”

  Without another word, he turned and walked back to the tent, stopping only to retrieve his battle-axe.

  His friends, seeing the set expression on his face, said nothing. Even Delbin remained quiet.

  Only when he was back in the tent, alone, did Kaz relax. Exhaling sharply, he threw his battle-axe on top of the mat where he had slept and, smiling tiredly, whispered to himself, “At last!”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Bennet was staying in the south to coordinate things with the keeps in that general region, cleaning up what little resistance remained and resupplying Vingaard with both men and materials. He had chosen Darius as his liaison. Tesela remained with the knights as well. There were injuries to heal, she explained to Kaz, but he knew that she and Darius shared a mutual interest in one another.

  Bennett wanted to provide Kaz with an escort to Vingaard Keep, where he swore that his uncle would honor the minotaur with the highest decorations an outsider could receive. Kaz thanked him, but declined that offer and others, except Bennett’s offer of strong horses for each of the minotaurs.

  As for his own people, Kaz saw them off the very next morning. Scurn was in no condition to lead the party; he was one of those who had lived believing in his invincibility, and with that illusion shattered, he seemed to have nothing left. The others were surprised when Kaz refused to return with them. They had grown accustomed to thinking that the only reason he roamed throughout Ansalon was to escape his shame. Only two of them could understand his desire to travel and live among the “lesser” races.

  Hecar and his sister Helati were staying behind as well. Kaz was pleased to have them, especially Helati, who attracted his eye. The smiles she returned gave him hope for the future.

  At the moment, Kaz walked with Bennett toward where the other two minotaurs were preparing the mounts. Kaz and Bennett had talked much during the morning, and there was a deeper respect, a deeper friendship between the knight and the minotaur, than there had ever been before.

  “Where will you go next?” Bennett asked.

  “I don’t really know. I think I’ll let them decide,” Kaz replied, indicating the other two. “As long as it’s peaceful, that’s all I ask.”

  Bennett smiled slightly. “You would get bored in a matter of days. You live for challenge.”

  Kaz grunted. “Maybe, but not as much as I used to. I’ve had enough to last me for some time.”

  Helati looked up, saw Kaz, and smiled. He could not help but smile back.

  “Is she… pretty?” the knight asked quietly, almost reluctant to broach such a personal matter.

  “One of the most beautiful females I’ve ever seen.”

  “Beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder, then.”

  “We’re ready,” Helati called out to them.

  “Mount up. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He reached out and shook hands with Bennett. Kaz gave him a toothy smile. “May Paladine watch your backside.”

  “Yours as well, Kaz.”

  “Kaz! Wait up! I think I’ve got everything, but people keep asking me to return things that don’t belong to me even though I don’t know how they got into my pockets and where they-”

  “Take a breath, Delbin.” The kender, leading his pony by its reins, hurried over to the others.

  “You’re taking him with you?” Bennett’s expression showed relief at the prospect of the kender leaving his camp, but puzzlement that anyone would want to travel with one of Delbin’s race.

  “Someone has to watch over him.” There was genuine affection for the kender in Kaz’s eyes.

  “Do you think that three minotaurs are enough?” Bennett asked.

  Kaz shook his head in a display of mock sorrow. “I doubt it.”

  The minotaur mounted, and as he did, Bennett had a good look at the dwarven battle-axe that Kaz had hooked securely into his back harness. It seemed to glisten.

  Assuring himself that the others, especially Delbin, were ready, Kaz looked down at the human one more time. His mood grew serious.

  “Keep the knighthood vigilant, Bennett. Takhisis is out there, far beyond Krynn, but she has her eye on our home. Someday she might find a way to return to Krynn without the likes of demons such as Galan Dracos or fools such as Argaen Ravenshadow. That’s who we really fought-her, not a mad mage or a magic thief.”

  “We have learned, Kaz. We will be more careful.”

  “I hope so.” With an abrupt change of emotion, he turned with a smile to Helati and asked, “Well, where would you like to go first?”

  She looked at her brother, then returned her gaze to Kaz. “You mentioned something about the icy regions to the south…”

  “South it is, then!” Kaz saluted Bennett and winked.

  “It should be fairly quiet down there this time of year!” The human chuckled and watched as the minotaur led his companions away. Kaz looked back once and waved. Bennett silently wished him luck. With a kender riding alongside him, and with Kaz’s own propensity for getting into trouble, the knight was certain he would need it.

  Bennett almost wished he were going along.

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  Document creation date: 22.03.2012

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