Yet if the warriors disturbed him, those who commanded them made him pause. Rand had to urge him on, or else Aryx would have remained where he was, staring at Lord Broedius and the two who stood near him. The knight himself, although not quite as tall as a minotaur, was as broad as one, even without the armor. Broedius had eyes of the darkest black, even darker than his garments, and a heavy, furred brow that shadowed those dark, wary orbs. Below the wide, flat human nose hung a thick, ebony mustache that draped down the edges of his tightly set mouth. Lord Broedius wore armor akin to that of his men, save that the patterns were more elaborate. Attached at his shoulders was a long, draping cloak of dark red.
Beside him, clad in similar armor, stood a smaller, wiry figure whom Aryx did not recall. Although, among his own race, female warriors had always been as common as males, the only female knights among humans that Aryx had ever heard of had been some of the dragon highlords during the War of the Lance. While she was certainly too young to have been one of them, this female appeared to have been struck from the same mold. She stood as if poised to attack at any moment. Like Broedius, she wore her visor open, but while her features were a much softer version of his, possibly even attractive by human standards, she had the exact same deep black eyes and an even more determined expression. Her delicate upturned nose and soft, full lips did nothing to detract from her combative image.
“Well, Rand,” Broedius rumbled, sounding almost like a minotaur. “You spoke true after all.”
“I do not make promises I cannot keep.” The pale, blond human looked almost as out of place as Aryx felt among so many black-armored figures, and no wonder. The knights did not seem to be worshipers of the bison-headed god. Judging by their garments, any god they followed had to be of a nature as dark as Lord Broedius’s eyes.
“Yet I thought only a cleric of Mishakal could have saved this one from so near death.”
Rand showed no trace of pride, only acceptance. Despite his relative youth, the thin cleric did not seem at all fearful of the knight. “It came to me in a sudden vision that I could keep him from dying. You, of all people, should understand visions, Lord Broedius. I would not be here otherwise.”
The knight seemed ready to argue the point, but at that moment, another figure spoke. This human should have been the one Aryx noticed most, and yet until the cloaked figure had broken his silence, the young minotaur had completely forgotten him. “You have questions to ask this one. Ask them and be done with it.”
The deep, commanding voice left a trail of silence in its wake. Before Aryx stood the cloaked minotaur from his dreams, the tallest of his own kind that the prisoner had ever seen. He had thought the blood-red color of the other’s fur a creation of his delusions, but Aryx saw now that the stranger’s fur bore a deep crimson tint the likes of which the young warrior had never seen among minotaurs. The cloaked stranger stood off to the side, looking around absently, as if only partially interested in the matter at hand. Indeed, since he had spoken, the mysterious minotaur’s gaze had already turned elsewhere.
Broedius appeared ready to reply, but then he simply nodded toward the female, who suddenly called out, “The minotaur will step forward and identify himself!”
“Answer … don’t ask,” Rand whispered.
Head high, Aryx walked toward Broedius until the latter indicated he should stop. Two more knights abruptly flanked the minotaur. Broedius and the female knight studied him closely. Rand tried to give him a reassuring nod, but Aryx felt no better.
“Your name, minotaur?” Broedius’s aide demanded.
“Aryximaraki—”
“Shortened form only.”
“Aryx.”
“Your vessel?”
“I sailed aboard the Kraken’s Eye.” He felt no concern about revealing such information, not with the ship now lying at the bottom of the Blood Sea.
“How long since you’ve berthed at home port?”
“Just over thirteen months.”
The woman paused briefly, as if mulling over his answer. Then, more carefully, she asked, “What contact have you had with other minotaur vessels in that time?”
Aryx had to think. Jasi had been an adventurer, seeking out regions rarely frequented. “We saw three, maybe four vessels.” What could these knights possibly do with such useless information? “The last one was probably six or seven months ago. They’d been out even longer than we had.”
Broedius nodded to himself, an action that sent an unsettling sensation through Aryx’s stomach. What had he said that so satisfied the human?
The aide continued the questioning. “How many crew aboard your ship?”
So far, all questions had come from the woman, but Aryx saw that her commander observed very closely how the minotaur answered. Aryx wondered how well the human could read a minotaur’s expression. “Just over twenty.”
This response made the woman glance at her commander. Broedius nodded slightly and the other knight went on. “Tell us what happened. Omit no detail, however fantastic you might think it. Your life may depend upon it.”
Aryx longed to look to Rand for some support, but to do so would have been to show weakness, however slight. He stared back into the black eyes of the knight, daring Broedius to find fault with the story he would relate.
Once more Aryx relived the horrible fate of the Kraken’s Eye and its crew, but at no time did he reveal any of his pain to the humans questioning him. They listened intently as he described Hercal’s surprising death, then the swarming of the monstrous marauders. Only when Aryx failed to describe the creatures in enough detail did the woman interrupt, asking for things that the minotaur could never recall because the fog had shielded them from his gaze. The weary minotaur found himself grateful when she finally allowed him to go on with the rest of the story. As the only survivor, Aryx experienced each death acutely, in great part because of the shame he felt for not having perished with his fellow crew members. Delving so long and so deep made those deaths painful all over again.
Not once did Lord Broedius himself interrupt, although occasionally a questioning expression briefly crossed his features. Only when Aryx grew silent did the knight at last speak. “So. A tale of exceptional interest … if it’s true.”
The minotaur bristled. “I do not lie.”
“No, I suppose you don’t. I suppose you tell as much as you can recall.…” Broedius turned, as if he were about to say something to the cloaked minotaur, but to Aryx’s surprise, the tall figure had moved. Instead, he now stood by the rail, staring out into the fog as if searching for something. The knight grunted, again eyeing the shipwreck survivor. “My respects for the loss of your comrades.”
“A horrifying end,” muttered Rand. Only Aryx seemed to notice him glance surreptitiously at the female knight, although the reason escaped the survivor. As for Broedius’s words of sympathy, the minotaur found them wanting. The knight’s tone indicated that he found the crew’s death only mildly disturbing; the monsters who had slaughtered the crew of the Kraken’s Eye interested him much more.
“Shadowy, shelled monsters with clawed hands, swords, and lances … that sums up your description, yes? Not much to go on.”
“Imagine a fog ten times as thick as what you see now,” Aryx returned, angered. The knight had not been there; he had not been fighting for his life. Aryx had not had time to try to study the attackers close up. To do so, he would have had to practically climb into the deadly behemoths’ arms.
Dissatisfied, Broedius forced Aryx to go over every detail he could recall about the creatures. Had he ever seen or heard of such beasts before? Could they have been armored sea elves? What were the dimensions of their weapons, and did it seem they preferred one over another? What tactics did they use? What tactics proved most effective against them? His memory still very hazy, the minotaur could only give vague answers at best, none of which seemed to satisfy the Dark Knight’s appetite for information.
The questions went on for more than an hour, and
by the time the human had finished with him, Aryx almost teetered from exhaustion. Although he had been healed by the cleric and then had been given food and drink, he had not yet had the opportunity to completely recover his strength. Nonetheless, the young warrior kept as straight as he could, refusing to let a human see any frailty.
The commander stared at him. “You’ve nothing more to add?”
“Nothing,” Aryx returned, some of his exasperation evident in his tone.
“Then this interview is at an end,” Broedius abruptly announced. He rose. “Knight-Warrior Carnelia.” The female beside him snapped to attention. “Take charge of this one.”
“Yes, sir.”
Without another word, Broedius turned on his heels and strode away, disappearing a moment later through a cabin door guarded by two visored knights. Carnelia marched over to Aryx, blandly stating, “You are now a member of the crew of the Vengeance. You will obey all orders at all times or you will be punished. Since the wind refuses to blow, you will be assigned to the oars.”
“He needs more time to recover, Carnelia. A day at least.”
The knight jumped at the sound of the cleric’s voice so near her. Aryx fought back a grin, having watched Rand silently join them. A flush of red filled the woman’s cheeks. However, her gaze remained fixed on the minotaur. “What do you say? Are you still weak?”
The last question stirred up Aryx’s blood. Although his body ached and he yearned for sleep, he could not bring himself to admit it to this human. “I can row.”
Carnelia looked up at Rand. “He has made his decision.”
“Just because he is as stubborn as your uncle does not make his decision—”
“Take care, Rand. My uncle suffers your presence aboard this ship, but only because you’re protected.”
“And he has need of my abilities. Let us not forget that.” The cleric eyed Aryx. “If you insist on killing yourself at the oars, minotaur, at least let me give you something to ease the pain you will soon be—”
“Cleric.” This time it was Rand’s turn to jump. Aryx twitched but managed to hide his own surprise. The cloaked minotaur had joined the group without anyone noticing him.
Like Broedius, the crimson minotaur had asked no questions. In fact, he had seemed entirely oblivious to the inquisition, instead staring out at the sea or the shrouded heavens. That he now took interest in Aryx seemed to confuse not only the prisoner, but the others as well.
The cloaked figure towered over all of them. For the first time, Aryx noticed the stranger’s eyes. No minotaur he had ever met had eyes so crimson, even when under a berserker rage. The eyes belied the calm, almost chill attitude the mysterious newcomer conveyed. In them, Aryx saw fury barely held in check, fury and a hint of tremendous frustration.
The cleric’s pale countenance grew paler. Even Carnelia seemed put off by the newcomer. Both humans gave the minotaur respectful berth. Aryx felt an intense, almost primal, urge to kneel, but fought it, not at all understanding why he should want to give this stranger fealty.
“Cleric,” the cloaked figure repeated. “Have you had another vision concerning this warrior?”
Recovering, Rand shook his head. “No, but—”
“Then let all proceed about our business.” With that one sentence, the mysterious figure ended all protest by the human. However, to Aryx’s secret dismay, he now became the subject of the other minotaur’s attention. “Aryximaraki de-Orilg. You fought. You remain true. I accept that … and you. Your patron chose well.”
With those enigmatic words, he turned from the party, heading once more for the rail. For several seconds, no one spoke, all eyes still fixed upon the receding figure. Then, without thinking, Aryx blurted out the questions that had been preying on his mind since he had been brought before Broedius. “Who is he? What’s happening here? Why does a cleric of the state sail aboard a human warship?”
The moment he finished asking, regrets engulfed him. Aboard the Vengeance, he had no rights. The humans had saved him, but only to toil for them as a slave. By demanding answers, he could encourage them to throw him back over the side rather than deal with his mutinous behavior. The young minotaur tensed; if they tried, he would see to it that he did not go overboard alone.
“Calm yourself, Aryx.” Rand put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Aryx shrugged it off. Carnelia began to reach for her blade, but Rand intervened. “A few simple answers would not hurt and would certainly go a long way toward easing present tensions.” He steepled his fingers. “Although I am human and you are minotaur, I believe we follow the same god, Aryx. You follow the ways of Kiri-Jolith, do you not?”
“I may, but that does not make us comrades in arms, human. We’re still of two races, with little love between them.”
“Fair enough, but I hope you will at least believe me when I say I now speak to you the truth.”
The female knight’s face grew flush. “Enough of this politeness, Rand! The minotaur wants the truth? Then he’ll hear it plainest from me!” She thrust a gauntleted finger into Aryx’s chest, a riskier action than she knew. “Here’s what all minotaurs will know soon enough! This ship is the Vengeance, flagship of the Knights of Takhisis! And though you can’t see them in this fog, behind her sail Predator and the Queen’s Veil, equally as commanding in size and strength. Each vessel carries a full contingent of knights dedicated to our lady’s cause. Over the past few years, we have taken control of most of your outer settlements, and now we sail for your capital in order to take full command of your race in the name of her glorious majesty!”
“Humans?” Anger rose. Aryx knew too well the story of his race, how although superior in so many ways to the others, it had nonetheless been enslaved time and time again. The Orilg clan had a long tradition of fighting against such masters, legend stating that Kaziganthi had even slain a great red dragon who had manipulated the minotaurs’ lives for years. Now, only a generation after they had regained their freedom from the dragon highlords, the humans again sought them for slave soldiers. “Not this time! Never again will we follow the madness of humans. Not even a score of warships twice the size of this one would be sufficient to bring us under heel! Fight your own wars; we’ll have none of them!”
Some of the humans on deck looked up at this outburst, but Aryx didn’t care. He would fight here and now if need be.
Rand kept a hand on Carnelia’s sword arm, preventing her from drawing her weapon. Curiously, she did not attempt to remove the cleric’s hand, although he certainly had no right to stop her from acting against Aryx. Fighting down her fury, the knight leaned forward. “Stupid bull! There’s a war barely started that’s already ravaged good portions of Ansalon and will engulf the rest of it before long! This is no longer one race against another! This is for the future of all Krynn, and we, the Knights of Takhisis, are that future!”
He couldn’t believe her audacity. Did these humans think that his people would sit idly by? “And how will you convince my people of your destiny? How, with only these three ships, do you plan to become our masters? Your ships will be sunk before they enter the harbor, and even if that doesn’t happen, once the emperor hears your demands, he’ll merely laugh! By the gods—”
Rand intervened, but not as Aryx might have expected. “Let it pass, warrior. This is a battle you cannot win. Come with me.”
The furious minotaur pulled away from the other human. “What sort of cleric of Kiri-Jolith are you? Where’s your spine? Surely you cannot condone—”
Rand kept his calm. “Only a fool fights a futile battle, Aryx. You do not understand everything that has happened or will happen. Come with me and cool off, or you will be dead where you stand. Look about you if you do not yet see that.”
Rand took hold of Aryx and forced the minotaur to see what his outburst had caused. Nearly a dozen knights had come to reinforce Carnelia, every one of them with his weapon drawn. Aryx might stop one or two of them, but without his axe, he would be cut to ribbons in seconds.
The knights stood ready, awaiting Carnelia’s command. Aryx took a deep breath, surveying those surrounding him. He desperately desired to strike back, but Rand was right. Any action he took would only result in his useless death. Yet to back down seemed so cowardly, so dishonorable.…
It took the greatest of efforts, but Aryx managed to smother his fury. The cleric relaxed, but Carnelia remained poised for attack. It took Rand some time to assuage her, finally succeeding only when he promised to take full responsibility for the minotaur.
The knight glared at Aryx. “Learn your place, bull, or even the cleric’s promise won’t be enough to save you. Now, since you seem so full of vigor after all, I think even Rand can’t argue about your manning the oars.”
“I’ll row.”
The cleric stepped around her. “I’ll take him there, Carnelia.”
“Perhaps that might be better.” She gave Aryx one last dark look, and as he turned to follow the cleric, the Knight of Takhisis called out, “You asked how we’ll become masters of your kind, minotaur? Turn your gaze to the robed one by the rail. Do you see him?”
Aryx stared at the strange minotaur with the crimson eyes. The other paid him no mind, apparently still transfixed by something beyond the fog. Unsettling as the mysterious minotaur might be, he surely could not take on the legions of the emperor by himself. “That’s your answer? One cleric will not turn an entire people into willing slaves!”
“Carnelia!” Rand shook his head. “We have been sworn! Not until landfall.”
Reavers of the Blood Sea Page 3