Reavers of the Blood Sea

by Richard Knaak

  “Who is it, then? Who do you claim confessed? I demand to see him!”

  The subcommander clearly enjoyed his moment. “Why, a warrior named Kamax, I believe … someone who claimed ties to you, as a matter of fact. Close ties.” Drejjen shrugged. “But I’m sorry to say, during questioning he lost his temper, broke free of his bonds, and I was forced to have him killed.”

  “Killed?” Aryx had seen Kamax only the other day. How could he have come to the attention of Drejjen? The furious minotaur looked around, noticing that near the subcommander was the same officer who had nearly led the unordered attack on House Orilg during negotiations. He had seen the warriors talking and probably saw how much Kamax had trusted Aryx.

  Without realizing what he did, Aryx effortlessly drew the Sword of Tears. Shouts went up among the Knights of Takhisis, and at least half a dozen swords fixed on the enraged warrior. Behind him, Seph and Delara pulled free their own weapons.

  “Stop this!” Rand called, but no one paid him any mind.

  “Hold!” Broedius commanded. As for Drejjen, he made no move to join those protecting his honor and his life, instead seeming to savor the moment.

  The Sword of Tears blazed brightly. Aryx felt an immense urge to cut through the ranks before him, lay low each Stygian-armored figure with the enchanted blade.

  “Aryx!” Rand pleaded. “Now is not the time!”

  Carnelia had her uncle’s arm. “Broedius, this isn’t wise.…”

  At that moment, a knight dripping from head to toe burst through the doors. “Lord Broedius! Sir!”

  His abrupt appearance seized everyone’s attention. The knight fought for breath, looking as if he had run from the very sea itself to tell them his dire news.

  Broedius seized the interruption like a lifeline. “Speak, man! What ails you?”

  “The fog, my lord! The fog moves in!”

  Only Aryx truly took that as alarming. Rand glanced his way, seeing how he reacted.

  Broedius frowned. “What of it, man? We’ve nothing to fear from a little fog.”

  “Let him go on,” the horrified minotaur muttered. “Let him go on, Commander.…”

  The knight slipped to one knee, his strength all but gone. He had grown deathly pale, yet somehow he forced himself on. “It moved in … the Predator … she’s stationed near the port.…”

  “I know that, you fool!” After the majority of the forces had disembarked from the three black ships, Broedius had set the Predator the task of guarding the port entrance, utilizing its normal crew. The massive ship had remained near the edge of the fog since then, watching for any unrecognized intruders.

  And the fog had moved in.… Aryx swallowed. Images of the Kraken’s Eye welled up in his mind.

  “The fog … the fog moved in … covered the Predator … and we began to hear shouts, screams … horrible screams …”

  It begins … the sword whispered in Aryx’s head. As if on cue, horns blared in the distance. Those assembled in the room looked about, seeking verification of what they were hearing.

  “It’s the minotaurs!” Drejjen announced. “They betray their hand at last!”

  “Fool!” Aryx looked to the knight commander. “Lord Broedius! You have to issue immediate orders to release the generals, the emperor, and the rest! We all have to band together or we’re all dead! Hurry, before it’s too late!”

  From outside came shouting, confused shouting. Broedius finally signaled one of his men to open a window and peer out. The shouting grew in volume as the officer obeyed. The horns began anew, this time with more urgency.

  “Well? What do you see?”

  The knight turned, looking nearly as pale as the man who had entered. “Nothing, my lord! Nothing! The fog’s spread over the port … but in the distance, there seems to be a battle going on, from the sound of it! Perhaps pirates in the harbor …”

  “Closer than the harbor,” declared another knight. “That sounds as if they’re already attacking on shore!” Even as he spoke, they heard officers outside trying to organize their men, while farther away, cries of shock and pain arose.

  “It’s the minotaurs, I tell you!” Drejjen insisted. “Led by that one!”

  Aryx almost gaped as the knight accused him. Of its own accord, the Sword of Tears rose to battle position. He fought the blade down, though, knowing that his feud with Drejjen would have to wait, providing both of them survived this night.

  “Broedius! This is the way the Kraken’s Eye perished! The fog, the cries—” he sniffed the air venting in through the open window—“and the musky smell of death.” Aryx pointed the tip of the blade toward the window. “You think it any coincidence that Sargonnas has vanished this very night, his temple but a ruin?”

  “No.” Broedius signaled his officers to lower their weapons. “No, I don’t, minotaur. I think you, of all of us, grasp the terrible truth best.” He surveyed the others, many of whom still looked suspicious or confused, and at last uttered what even Aryx had not been able to bring himself to say: “Our Lady’s fears may have come to pass, gentlemen! The forces of Chaos could at this very minute be attacking the islands.…”

  Warriors of the Deep

  Chapter Nine

  From the dark sea bottom surrounding the minotaur isles, they rose. The servant had given word and the Magori would obey. As one, they flowed toward the surface, knowing that the protective fog, the fog that in no manner hindered their own eyesight, now spread forward, the traitorous little god who had held it back no longer their concern. The Magori swarmed, their weapons ready, their minds filled with one purpose: to fulfill the wishes of the servant, who spoke the will of Father Chaos.

  And that most faithful servant watched as they moved, its endless serpentine segments intertwining in growing anticipation and glee. The betrayer Sargonnas—surely destroyed, despite a lack of absolute evidence of his passing—had failed to shield his little toys, his little mortals. They would soon join him in blessed oblivion, the gift that all upon this tiny bit of mud and water called Krynn would before long receive, including even the servant itself.

  Thinking of that, the Coil urged the host on. Yes, the sooner the paltry little mortals were erased from existence, the sooner Father Chaos’s most trusted servant would receive its own reward … sweet, eternal nothingness.

  * * * * *

  “Landren!”

  One of Broedius’s officers snapped to attention.

  “Send word out immediately! Alert all talon subcommanders that I want the shipping district fortified! Have Axus, Basilisk, and Cobra talons stand by in reserve! Go, man! Tell them all we’re in a crisis situation! The enemy is at the doorstep, heavily armored and hidden by the fog! Go now!”

  “Yes, sir!” Landren barged past the minotaurs, nearly flying out the doorway.

  Aryx pressed. “Lord Broedius! The minotaur generals! You must release them!”

  “The minotaur forces will fight under my subcommanders, Aryx! Boroman, Drejjen, Carnelia, Tyco, Ulris!” Carnelia and the other summoned subcommanders gathered at attention. “In addition to your own men, take charge of the native talons that were to have been assigned to you for the expedition! Go!”

  They saluted, then rushed off. Rand started after Carnelia, but Broedius summoned him back.

  “You have no need of me,” the cleric practically snapped. “I will make myself of use in the conflict.”

  “I’ve use for you, cleric! I want you and the Knights of the Thorn to see what you can do about this cursed fog! You know where to find the mages, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Rand replied with much distaste, “and … your idea has merit. As you command, then …”

  With the cleric and most of Broedius’s officers now departed, Aryx attempted one last plea. “Lord Broedius, your people haven’t had the chance to train with our warriors! Release the generals and let them command their own forces, making proper use of their skills!”

  “My subcommanders know their duties, bull.” Broedius ad
justed his helmet. “You have two choices Either come with me or join one of the talons.”

  He bounded out the doors, the last of the knights following closely. Seph and Delara stared at Aryx, awaiting his decision. Frustrated, Aryx stood where he was for a minute, trying to assess the situation. Then the horns blared again, this time much nearer, reminding the bitter minotaur that the time for contemplation had passed. A battle had begun, and now it was the duty of every minotaur to fight.

  “Come on!” Sword in hand, Aryx raced out of the Knight Commander’s chambers.

  Outside, the storm had all but ended, but in its wake, the stifling mists had spread to the very gates of the clan house. The thick stench of musk permeated everything. Figures darted in and out of the fog—a knight on horseback, a talon of minotaur warriors under the guidance of a human commander, even a riderless mount, the last panic-stricken.

  Several more minotaurs came into sight, none part of any organized force. Armed with axes, swords, and lances, they had come from their homes, knowing that the realm required their strong arms. Ahead, the horns blared again and again, on occasion cutting off with an abruptness that bespoke their wielder’s fate. Such knowledge did not deter the defenders, however.

  “The port!” Aryx called. “We’ll head there!”

  Many of the other minotaurs joined them as they ran, perhaps believing that Aryx knew something they did not. Countless generations of breeding and training had created a race prepared even for such sudden catastrophes. Order formed, and with it ranks, Aryx, without realizing it, had become commander by unspoken consensus. Seph followed close behind his brother, and whenever the elder sibling looked back, he ever saw the look of anticipation on his sibling’s face. Seph carried some fear into his first battle, but he also carried determination. Aryx could ask for nothing more. He only prayed that Seph’s first battle would not be his last. Delara, meanwhile, remained at the gray minotaur’s side, a sword in her hand.

  As thick as the fog had grown, on occasion it broke just enough for shadowy scenes to be glimpsed. In the distance, a ship, perhaps the Predator, lay burning in the harbor. Aryx wondered if one of the desperate crew had done as Feresi had, trying to drive the monstrous reavers back with flames. Closer to shore, the flickering lights of torches revealed shadowy forms that could be neither man nor minotaur. While he could not see enough to verify his suspicions, Aryx suspected that what he had feared had indeed come to pass.

  Knights of Takhisis rode into and out of the mists, barking orders. Wave after wave of minotaurs poured into the port area, but in Aryx’s eyes, they moved with stiffness and uncertainty, no doubt brought about by serving under unfamiliar commanders. In truth, Lord Broedius would have been better off to leave the island’s inhabitants to their own devices, for preserving the empire remained the greatest of any warrior’s duties. Forcing his own officers upon them would only lead to friction.

  From out of the mists emerged a mustached knight who, upon seeing Aryx and his ragtag legion, attempted to seize control. “You there! Take that band of yours and report to the great smithy north of here!”

  The others looked to Aryx, who shook his head. “We need to be down there, by the shoreline!”

  “Lord Broedius wants a force built up over by the smithy, one that he’ll send in when the time is right, minotaur! Obey your orders!”

  Aryx hesitated but a moment. If they took the time to gather their forces at the smithy, the invaders would gain too great a foothold in the city. He could not wait that long. If these were the same monsters that had slaughtered his crew mates, they needed to be stopped now, right at the shore.

  He charged past the knight.

  The human drew his sword. “Halt!”

  Too late. Aryx’s action had caused a tidal wave. Delara, Seph, and the rest of the makeshift force poured in behind him, sweeping past the frustrated human. Aryx glanced back just long enough to locate his companions, then picked up his pace. His inner demons now possessed him, and only one thing would drive them away. He took a deep breath, readied the enchanted sword …

  … and came upon a scene directly out of his nightmares.

  They swarmed on the docks, along the shoreline, and already well into the port. Scythe swords and barbed lances cut a bloody swath everywhere. Maddening, inhuman eyes stared without pity at those cut down. Aryx watched a minotaur fall, his head lopped off, and remembered the Kraken’s Eye. A barbed lance skewered not one but two warriors who happened to stand too close to one another.

  “By the Blessed One!” Delara cried out, as stunned as all the rest. “What are those monsters?”

  They were not, as some had suggested, sea elves in armor. Aryx would have welcomed such foes far more than the abominations before him. Crustacean they were, but like lobsters mutated by the Graygem of legend. As tall as, or even taller than, Aryx, horns and all, and nearly twice as wide, they moved about on a pair of clawed limbs with remarkable dexterity. Unlike the tiny crustaceans they vaguely resembled, though, these monsters had but one other set of limbs, ending in three-digited, clawed appendages. Their shells were crimson and brown and covered the horrors from head to foot, save for the face and the throat, which were the color of dead flesh.

  The face. Aryx could not conceive such a face, not even seeing it clearly for the first time. The long, tapering snout, a thing almost with a life of its own, darted about, and from within the tiny yet sinister maw at the end, row upon row of sharp teeth displayed themselves. Worse yet, above the serpentine snout clustered not two but five bulbous red orbs with no discernible pupils. The stunned minotaur found it impossible to believe that even the Blood Sea, where so many strange creatures could be found, could spawn such impossible monstrosities. Yes, these were certainly creatures of Chaos, and now they sought to do to his home what they had done to his ship. Already the horrific jagged swords and barbed lances of the invaders were drenched in blood.

  To Aryx’s surprise, instead of mounting fear, a blood rage filled him. He could not let this happen again, not to his home and family.

  Now is the time to strike, urged the demon blade. Now, while the rage burns strong within you, Master. You know some of their weaknesses. You can lead the others.…

  Their weaknesses. Yes, Aryx recalled vividly the few fortunate strikes against the monstrous reavers. “Go for the gullet or the face!” Aryx cried, raising the Sword of Tears high. “The pale areas! Watch out for their blood; it burns!” The dusky gray minotaur scanned the battle, seeing where the defenders already fighting had the most trouble. “Spread out along the area to the right!” he added, command now seeming almost natural to him. “Fill in that gap there! Don’t bunch up too much!”

  His confidence in the face of such horror galvanized those around him. Fear and shock gave way to determination. What had started out a tattered mob now became an organized force.

  With a bellowed war cry, Aryx leapt into the fray, his makeshift force at his heels.

  Curiously, he saw few knights, and those few he saw mostly remained in the rear, riding horses and giving commands to minotaurs. Then Aryx lost all interest in what Lord Broedius’s men did as he and his companions met the foe. Aryx did not hesitate even as one of the monstrous reavers focused on him, its wicked multibarbed lance fixed on his chest. The minotaur warrior cut a deadly swath with the demon blade, picturing in his mind everyone who had died on his ship. Their ghosts lent him strength, the Sword of Tears wailing as it struck the lower area of the crustacean’s soft region, continuing down and slicing through the armor plating as well. He pulled the weapon back immediately, avoiding all but a few drops of the corrosive blood.

  Others beside Aryx were not so fortunate. One minotaur immediately fell as twin swords crisscrossed through his chest. Another hesitated, clearly daunted by the horrific swarm surging through the fog, and that hesitation, however short, cost him first his leg, then his head.

  The familiar thick, musky smell filled the area, originating, Aryx at last realized, from the
horrors themselves. They virtually stank of the stuff, so much so he finally had to force himself to breathe through his mouth. The stench further dampened the efforts of the minotaurs for, this near, it even made the eyes water.

  Strike! Strike again! the enchanted sword encouraged. Strike or be struck down!

  Aryx obeyed, losing himself more and more in the struggle. His view again filled with the huge, armored form of a monstrous invader, this creature wielding a scythe sword like the one that had killed Hugar. Recalling the veteran mariner and how he had done his best to see that each member of the crew learned to adapt to every situation, Aryx bitterly drove the length of the blade through the fortified chest of the creature.

  It hissed, spat, then tried to fall upon him as the wound took its toll, so close Aryx had to grapple with one hand. A fresh wave of musk invaded his senses, momentarily stunning him. He felt claws around his throat, the same type of claws such as he had felt around his ankle during his earlier search of the beach. The crustacean squeezed, choking off his air supply.

  Acidic blood splattered his head, narrowly missing his eyes. Someone had thrust the tip of his sword through the unsettling eyes and into what passed for the horror’s brain. The aquatic reaver shivered, then grew still. As Aryx struggled underneath its lifeless form, others dragged the gargantuan corpse from him.

  Delara, her blade stained from acid, helped him up. “Are you hurt?” Her eyes quickly scanned him. “Can you stand?”

  “I … I think I’m okay.”

  “You said to go for the throat areas, but I thought surely the eyes would be sensitive, too.”

  Aryx inhaled, then stood. “You were right.”

  A white-furred veteran warrior handed the Sword of Tears back to Aryx as if it were any other weapon. “Your blade, General!”

  He almost argued with the veteran that of all of them, Aryx had the least reason to be mistaken for a general, but the look in the eyes of those around him forced his mouth shut.