Hecar was glad that he had chosen to live in the barracks of the great clan house. In return for three years’ guard service, he had been given a clean, small abode. Granted some of his bedmates had not been the friendliest of comrades, but he still considered those years better spent than if he had been forced to abide in squalor. Of course, many minotaurs had no choice.
The marks on the wall were the same ones that he recalled from when he had last visited. Hecar was pleased that the one he sought still lived here, but oddly disappointed at the same time. Surely Jopfer could have raised his status in three years. While more studious than some minotaurs, Jopfer de-Teskos, youngest son of the master of the Teskos clan, had been a favorite of one member of the Supreme Circle. In fact, when last they had talked, Jopfer had hinted that his master intended to groom him for a position as one of his senior aides.
By this time you’d think Jopfer would have risen to be one of the Eight, Hecar thought. Certainly if he knew anyone who fit the criteria for becoming one of the eight minotaurs overseeing the administration of the empire, it was old Jopfer. Yet an aide to a member of the circle would certainly not choose to reside in a place such as this. Such status demanded something larger and more impressive, nearer his master’s quarters.
“Only one way to find out,” he grunted. Marching to the tall, wooden door, Hecar slammed his fist against it. The sound against the wood echoed loudly. Anyone within would have to acknowledge such a racket.
Yet there was no answer. Hecar slammed his fist against the door again. He waited for what he thought a reasonable time, then snorted in annoyance. Either Jopfer’s entire household had departed or everyone within was ignoring visitors. His short time in Nethosak made Hecar seriously consider the latter. Was there some reason that Jopfer would fear visitors?
“Come on, you bookworm!” he growled under his breath. “Answer!”
Still no one came. Stubborn as he was, the minotaur finally tired of waiting. If his friend was not available, then Hecar’s only recourse was to go to his own clan house. He was not certain how the clan would greet him after his and his sister’s decision to stay away, but certainly, after all this time, they could not still be angry with the pair. The others of their party who had returned to Nethosak after that idiotic chase would have explained Hecar’s and Helati’s reasons for remaining behind. All except Scurn, of course, but then he would have returned in shame. No one would have listened much to him.
The sun was already dipping downward. Hecar grimaced, realizing that if he visited the House of Orilg, he would be required to stay the night. It would be a dishonor to the clan if he appeared after an absence so long, only to leave again an hour or two later. The patriarch would certainly think ill of him, something Hecar did not desire. Orilg could not boast of an emperor on the throne in some seven generations—a point of great aggravation—yet Orilg was still one of the strongest clans. Falling out of favor with the present patriarch would have repercussions, especially where Hecar’s immediate family was concerned.
His thoughts entangled over the proper way to present himself to his lord, Hecar did not at first notice the small form darting by. Only when it collided with him did the minotaur take notice of the gully dwarf.
“Sorry, Great One! Galump is sorry!” The dwarf bowed quickly, then ran off, his litter bag falling to the ground as he rushed away in near panic.
“You! Come back here!” His cry went unheeded. Hecar watched as the gully dwarf disappeared into the shadows. He was one of the quickest of the short creatures the minotaur had ever seen.
Hecar had more important things to concern himself with than chasing a gully dwarf whose only crime was carelessness. The dwarf would likely be punished for losing his bag, and in the process littering the very streets he was supposed to clean. But despite the compassion for unfortunate creatures that Hecar had learned from his sister’s mate, the minotaur could do nothing to help save pick up the bag and place it neatly to the side.
He was just in the process of doing that when he heard the clink of metal. Tensing, Hecar stretched his hands around toward his back. Most minotaurs favored heavy battle-axes and many, including Hecar, carried them in back harnesses. All he had to do was reach a few inches more, and the axe would be in his grasp, ready to taste the blood of any adversaries.
“May Sargas watch over you, Brother,” intoned a voice.
Hecar lowered his hands as he turned. He knew the imperious tone, as did all minotaurs. A cleric of the Holy Orders of the Stars. To humans, a minotaur cleric might seem a somewhat humorous sight, for, unlike Hecar and most of his kind, who wore kilts and armor but little else, a cleric was usually clad in a solemn black robe covering him or her from foot to head. The hood and shoulders of the robe were crimson. Both colors were said to be favored by Sargas himself.
Only the cleric’s muzzle was visible, the rest of his face shadowed by the hood. His hands were clasped together and, as he walked toward Hecar, there was the faint clink of metal, indicating that under his garment the robed figure was both armed and armored.
Behind him trailed a pair of warriors with the look of the guard on their cold features. Members of the guard were generally recruited from the more fanatical warriors in the armies. This pair carried long swords as opposed to axes and looked ready to run Hecar through if he dared resist.
And what is it I’m supposed to resist? wondered the traveler. “May your ancestors guide you, Brother.”
“You have business with Jopfer de-Teskos?”
“I sought out an old friend, Cleric. He wasn’t home.”
“So I know. How do you know him, Brother?” The cleric reached up and pulled back his hood. The cleric was surprisingly gaunt for a minotaur and much younger than Hecar would have guessed. However, the chill eyes warned that it would be a mistake to cross him.
“He’s an old friend. I’ve just arrived here and thought I would visit since I was close by.”
“Did you come by ship?”
A slight sound behind him warned Hecar that the three figures were not alone. He gave no sign that he had heard the others sneaking up behind him, but shifted so as to get his hands as close to his axe as he dared without giving his movements away. “Aye, I came from a ship. Been away for a while.”
The cleric nodded, mouth set. He neither smiled nor frowned. “The Gladiator, wasn’t it?”
Hecar twitched before he could control himself. He had given the name to the old male on the dock, not long before. “Aye, Gladiator.”
The cleric nodded, closed his eyes, and a moment later uttered, “The Gladiator, lost at sea more than a decade ago. Nearly all hands lost with it.” He opened his eyes and stared without emotion at the tense Hecar. “Therefore, you could not have just arrived on it.”
Hecar said nothing. His hands were close to the handle of his axe. Any nearer and he would be committing himself to battling a cleric of high standing in the orders, not to mention several members of the guard. Yet, what could he do? He was not as clever as Helati’s mate. Not nearly as clever as Kaz.
“What is your name?”
He was still debating how he should answer when one of the warriors behind him announced, “His name’s Hecar, of the clan Orilg, Holiness. I thought I recognized him earlier.”
The voice was so familiar that Hecar dared peek over his shoulder. There were three minotaurs behind him, one with a sword and the other pair with axes. It was one of the latter who had spoken. The tall, scarred figure grinned at him.
“Your house, is it not, Captain Scurn?” the cleric asked.
“The guard is my clan now, Holiness.”
“Scurn?” When last he had seen the disfigured minotaur, Scurn had been an object of pity, defeated in combat by Kaz. The other minotaurs had been forced to lead their companion by hand from Solamnia all the way back to the empire, so broken was he by his loss. This incarnation, however, did not look at all defeated. In fact, he looked even uglier and more vicious than Hecar could ever recall
.
“We are always happy to welcome a lost one back into the fold,” commented the cleric. “Come with us, Brother Hecar.”
Scurn and the other minotaurs closed in.
Hecar reached for his axe … and found that something held it firmly in its harness. The minotaur pulled harder but, despite his great strength, the axe remained stuck fast.
The gully dwarf? He was the only one who had come within touching distance of Hecar. Had he done something to the harness when they had collided?
Hecar glanced around, judged the expressions on the guards, and decided that he was surrounded and defenseless.
What, he wondered, would Kaz do under these circumstances? Of course, being far more clever, Kaz would not have made such a journey in the first place. He had warned Hecar from doing it, but the latter had been too curious and headstrong.
What would Kaz do in his position? There was really only one choice. If Scurn was the captain of this lot, going voluntarily with them did not vouchsafe Hecar’s continued well-being.
Snarling, he charged the cleric. The robed figure was surprisingly swift, so much so that he was easily able to dodge his attacker. The two guards beside the cleric moved in to seize Hecar, as did the three others. Hecar swung a fist wildly and succeeded in catching one guard on the underside of the jaw. His attacker stumbled backward, but did not fall. The other guard who had stood with the priest seized Hecar’s arm and twisted it viciously.
Roaring in pain, Hecar still managed to keep his footing. He brought one foot up and struck his adversary in the back of the leg, just below the knee joint. The guard fell to his knees, losing his grip.
“Alive!” shouted Scurn. “Alive!”
A heavy foot caught Hecar in the small of the back. He fell forward. Something hard and flat struck him on the head just behind the horns. The world spun.
“Not too hard, Captain. Save something for the circus.”
Darkness began to creep over Hecar. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, thinking, What’s happening? What by Kiri-Jolith’s axe is responsible for this madness? I’ve done nothing!
Then he was struck hard again. Oddly, the last thing he heard was a voice, a calming voice, say, “There is a balance to maintain. I am sorry.”
Chapter 2
Kaz’s Mission
———
Still no word from Hecar, Kaz thought as he gazed over the small settlement. “Small” was perhaps not the proper word anymore, for there had to be at least sixty minotaurs in the vicinity and another thirty down by the river. What had started out as a home for Helati and him, with Hecar, her brother, deciding to remain nearby, had grown into a village. Most of the newcomers had only just arrived during the past year and a half, and the population increased every couple of weeks. Word had somehow gotten back to minotaurs disenchanted with the reborn empire that a free settlement existed. If things continued at this pace, the race could soon claim three kingdoms instead of two.
And they’ll probably try to make me emperor at that point. He snorted, not so much out of the ridiculousness of the possibility but rather at the realization that he was already well on his way to becoming such a figurehead. Already the others looked to Kaz as their leader. His reputation, instead of being sullied by rebellion against his former masters, had earned him respect in the eyes of many. His past glories in the circus also lent him an air of strength, for he was the only one of his rank who had ever chosen retirement rather than demanding his right to challenge the emperor for the throne.
Kaz grunted. He knew he had to return to Helati and tell her that her brother had missed yet another rendezvous. Hecar should have returned from the capital long ago. There was no denying now that something must have happened. Paladine protect you, Hecar! Why couldn’t you listen to me? Going back to Nethosak was asking for trouble!
The tall, dark-furred minotaur started back to the dwelling he shared with his mate of two years’ standing. Perhaps it would have been better to remain in the icy south, but after the snow wraiths and dwarves of frozen Farahngrad, the warmer and quieter north had looked extremely inviting. More important, the time in the south had brought Kaz and Helati closer to one another in a shorter time than even he could have dreamt. Instead of journeying across all of Ansalon, the two had instead decided to settle in a quiet, wooded region far south of their homeland. Hecar, never one to abandon his sister, had decided to build a place there, too.
In settling down, Kaz had found a peace that had escaped him all his life. He had really known nothing but battle since he had been young enough to train, and now he realized that quiet solitude, combined with sharing that quiet with someone he loved, was preferable. He and Helati had made a home for themselves, acting in many ways more like humans than like minotaurs. Kaz saw nothing demeaning in that. Despite his race’s obvious superiority in some matters, the minotaurs truly were deficient in most important aspects of life. Humans could appreciate things that most minotaurs, not understanding, would have scoffed at. Humans were not perfect, but they were admirable in some ways.
Of course, he had met one of the greatest humans, so perhaps, Kaz thought, his opinion was biased. Huma of the Lance, the now legendary hero of the war against Takhisis, the dark goddess, had been one of the bravest, most honorable warriors Kaz had ever known. It was a friendship that should not have thrived, but it had, ending only when the young knight had died vanquishing the Dragon Queen. Kaz had been there, a part of the epic battle. He had witnessed the humanity behind the hero, and the lesson had stayed with him, influencing his own decisions and behavior. Like Huma, he had come to want only peace and a quiet life.
But that never seems to be the way. He snorted. I try to live in peace and only end up mired in one battle after another. Not that I haven’t purposely walked straight into a few.
The first newcomers arrived shortly after the trio had settled here. Once the first travelers arrived, it seemed to him as if half the minotaurs in the empire followed. Worse, they all seemed to know who he was … and had been. The past that Kaz had thought buried seemed more alive than ever.
I will not go back to Nethosak! he thought, snarling quietly. I will not go back there again!
Yet if Hecar was in danger, what else could Kaz do?
He found Helati exactly where he expected her to be, cradling the newly born twins and trying to sing them to sleep. For a minotaur, his mate’s voice was surprisingly melodious. He had thought it pleasant from the very first time he had heard it. Then, Kaz had been a prisoner of a band of minotaurs, hunters sent to bring him back on a mission of honorable purpose. The leaders of the band did not have any intention of giving him the opportunity to defend his actions, but a few had believed in him. Helati and her brother had been among those. When the matter had been settled, they remained with him. He could not have been more pleased. She was still the most beautiful female he had ever seen, and a fine companion in battle as well.
Her features were refined, gentle. Standing, she was a bit shorter than he was. Helati’s horns were about half as long as his own. None of this meant that she was weak. She had been a seasoned warrior when he first met her, and the tricks he had taught her since made her better than most larger and stronger warriors.
The twins shifted restlessly. Both the male and the female were fitful like Kaz, though in looks they favored their mother. He wondered if that would change as they grew older. He wondered if he would be around to witness the changes.
The dwelling he and Helati had built was simple, a stone-and-wood hut with three small rooms. Some of the newcomers had built larger homes, but Kaz wanted only what his family needed. He was not in competition for status. Perhaps that was why the other minotaurs looked to him for guidance. They knew he cared nothing about fighting for dominance; he intended to live simply, as he and Helati desired.
Helati looked up as he neared. His expression was all she needed to see. “You’re going, aren’t you?”
“I have to.”
&
nbsp; “Why?”
“Because if I don’t, Helati, I know you will.”
There was no denying that. “Hecar is my brother, Kaz. By rights, I should be the one to search for him.”
“And if there was not something more important for you to deal with,” he said, indicating the two squirming bundles, “then I might let you go.” But he wouldn’t, in any case. If it weren’t for the children, Kaz still would have sought some excuse to prevent his mate from riding off to treacherous Nethosak.
She looked down at the pair. Kyris, the boy, had a broader face and tiny buds that would someday grow into horns as great in length as those of his father. His sister, Sekra, was just a little smaller and more narrow, but darker-furred. The stubs where her horns would come in were barely noticeable, as a female’s horns grew in later and to a lesser size than those of a male. Both children were, of course, perfect in the eyes of their parents.
“You could just as easily take care of them as I.” Her tone was hesitant, however, caught as she was between her care for her brother and her love for her children.
“You know they cooperate with you much more than they do with me, Helati.” She could not deny that. The infants loved their father, but their mother had what seemed a sort of magic touch. Where Kaz might take all night to coax them to sleep, Helati would need only an hour … or two. The twins shared his rebellious nature, all right. “And we can’t take them with us, now can we? Not if something’s amiss in Nethosak.”
Looking up, she locked gazes with him. “You know it might be dangerous for you to go back.”
“Go back where?” asked another voice.
A shorter, muscular minotaur with a mixture of black and brown fur and a long snout came trotting toward them. One broken horn spoke of his past in the Great Circus. Brogan never talked about his experience there, much the way Kaz never did. Brogan visited them often, possibly because he had no family in the settlement, not even distant kin.
Land of the Minotaurs Page 2
