by Tina Daniell
To the north, the giant rocs swept down from the clouds, their wings almost blotting out the sun. They circled out of spear range while the bull-men tossed everything they could think of in their direction. Then, before reinforcements could arrive, each of the rocs hurtled toward the ruins and snatched up huge chunks of ash-encrusted stone, dropping them on two or three minotaur soldiers at a time and crushing the enemy. Kyrie flew with the rocs, giving orders to the giant birds.
Everywhere the minotaurs struggled to regroup. Turning away from a fight was unthinkable to a minotaur, but the attack by this army of monstrous creatures unnerved them. Their eyes goggled. Their responses were disorganized and ineffective. Toth-Ur had never seen, never dreamed, anything like it. The minotaur commander gave the order to fall back.
Sturm, Flint, Kirsig, Yuril, and the other sailors from the Castor hunkered down behind the hatori, dodging spears and tesstos, the barbed clubs favored by many of the minotaurs.
While in hand-to-hand combat with a seven-foot tall brute wielding a katar, Sturm heard Yuril cry out. With a final lunge, the Solamnic stabbed the minotaur soldier through its stomach, then stepped out of the way of the falling beast. He turned to find Yuril.
A short way off, the female first mate stood looking down at the crumpled form of one of her fellow sailors, which lay next to the beheaded body of a minotaur.
"It's Dinchee," she said, looking up at Sturm with moist eyes. "We-we sailed together for many years." Yuril kicked the headless bull-man in the side, then raced back into the fight. Sturm thought about pulling the sailor's body to the side for burial later, but before he could, two hairy, cleft hooves materialized in front of him.
The Solamnic looked up just in time to parry the downward swing of a two-handed sword. The powerful blow cracked his sword in two. The minotaur's nostrils flared as it raised the sword again. Sturm fumbled with the dagger at his belt. Desperately he pulled it free and flung it. It clove into the stomach of the beast, who doubled over. Sturm reached up and pulled the knife sharply upward, then out, disemboweling the bull-man.
The commander of the minotaur army had retrenched inside the perimeter of the city. But his soldiers were in disarray, and the enemy appeared to be all around and above them, swirling and attacking.
A runner approached Toth-Ur. "A band of kyrie, an elf, and a human have penetrated the inner city and are near the Nightmaster's camp, where the human female was being held prisoner."
With an oath, Toth-Ur shouted "Follow me!" to a small band of soldiers and stormed off in the direction of the old library.
The plan had been for the desert creatures and rocs to engage and occupy the perimeter forces, while Caramon, Tanis, Cloudreaver, Bird-Spirit, and the other kyrie would pierce the Nightmaster's enclave, rescuing Kitiara. By now it was almost sundown, but nobody had been able to locate Kit-or Raistlin, for that matter.
Side by side, Caramon and Tanis had fought toward the high shaman's campsite, driving away the few minotaur soldiers who had remained behind to guard it. But when they reached the cage that the kyrie said had held Kit, the cage was empty.
Dangerous though it was, without any flanking support, Bird-Spirit offered to fly quickly over the interior of the ruined city to look for her.
Before he could take off, a shatang, a barbed throwing spear, clattered into their midst. Caramon turned just in time to duck away from the downward stroke of Toth-Ur's studded club. The commander bore down on the Majere twin, slashing at him with the tessto in one hand, a clabbard in another. From the grunts and clanging swords around him, the young warrior surmised that his friends were also engaged in pitched fighting.
The kyries' primitive stone weapons would have put them at a definite disadvantage against the tempered metal of the minotaurs, except that the bird-men were able to lift into the air in an instant, slashing at the minotaurs with their talons while changing the angle of their attack, disconcerting their opponents, whose sword thrusts often went awry.
One of the minotaur soldiers launched a barbed spear that caught Cloudreaver in the wing. With his other hand, the kyrie warrior jerked the weapon out, then stabbed it into the gut of the soldier who had moved too close, pressing his advantage.
Caramon, who had only a sword to work with, began falling back in the face of Toth-Ur's formidable two-handed assault. Suddenly a startled look came over the commander's face. His weapons dropped to the ground. Clutching madly at his back, the huge minotaur crashed forward. Yuril leaned over and put her foot on the bull-man's back, pulling out her sword with a smooth movement. She wiped it nonchalantly on the ground, then touched it to her forehead in Caramon's direction.
"Glad to be of service," she said with a fleeting smile before running off.
As Sturm, Flint, and Kirsig passed through a tumbled-down colonnade, a minotaur who had managed to elude the hatori and the horax jumped out at the dwarf, whirling a tessto. Flint ducked but fell to the ground, cracking his head. Dizzily the dwarf watched as the soldier straddled him, his club upraised.
Kirsig uttered a banshee yell, then threw herself full length at the soldier, tackling him. Flint scrambled away, shaking his head to clear it. Looking back, the dwarf saw the minotaur stumble under Kirsig's surprise assault, then recover. The bull-man snatched up the half-ogre in one hand, then, with the other, bashed her head in.
Too late, Sturm made it to the minotaur, planting a sword neatly between his two horns. The ever-game Kirsig was dead.
"My hero."
Flying with Tanis, Bird-Spirit had spotted the human female tied to a broken column in a nearby part of the city. A lone minotaur stubbornly guarded her, but between them, the kyrie and the half-elf had made short work of the dogged soldier.
Exhausted from struggling against her bonds and frustrated at not being able to take part in the battle she had been observing from a distance, Kitiara greeted Tanis testily.
"You have a bad habit of rescuing me," she said as the half-elf untied her. She looked with wide eyes at Bird-Spirit, who grinned back at her. "Only this time I guess I needed a little help," she added grudgingly.
"You're welcome," replied Tanis, knowing this was as close to a thank-you as he would ever get from Kitiara Uth Matar.
Kit, to his eyes, looked starved and grimy. The half-elf quickly pulled a dried stick of jerky from a pouch and handed it to her. Kitiara gobbled it hungrily. Watching her, starved and grimy though she was, Tanis was struck anew by her hard beauty.
Caramon came running up and gave Kitiara a big hug. Sturm was close behind, and Yuril behind him.
"Where's Raist?" Caramon asked.
Bird-Spirit shook his head. Tanis countered, "Where are Flint and Kirsig?"
"The half-ogre is dead," Sturm said grimly. "She died bravely. Flint is okay." He waved his arm. "He's over there-fighting."
Kit had been rubbing her wrists and ankles. Already she looked refreshed and ready for action. She pointed to Worldscap. "Raistlin was here, but he volunteered to take my place as the Nightmaster's sacrifice. I think they're up there. We don't have any time to lose." Night was falling. "But how can we get to the summit in time?"
Cloudreaver and three other kyrie had landed in the meantime. "We can fly up there in a matter of minutes," said the kyrie warrior.
Kit looked dubious. Tanis assured her that it was possible.
"Sturm," ordered Caramon, "find Flint and tell him and the others to pull back. Leave the minotaurs to the animal army. Get out of this ruined city and meet us back at last night's camp."
"But-" protested the Solamnic.
"There's no time. We don't have enough kyrie to fly all of us," Tanis interjected, "and someone has to warn Flint."
Sturm nodded and raced off.
Cloudreaver grabbed Caramon in his talons and took off. Bird-Spirit took Tanis. The two other kyrie trailed, carrying Yuril and Kitiara.
They soared toward Worldscap.
The furious fighting was left behind. Tonight the bulette, the hatori, and the rocs
would feast.
Chapter 16
The Spell of Sargonnas
According to legend, Worldscap had last erupted during the Cataclysm. Raining volcanic death on Karthay, it wiped the city and its people from the face of the earth. Karthay had been uninhabited ever since, until the Nightmaster with his flock of disciples had arrived to make their secret preparations for bringing Sargonnas into the world.
Worldscap stood like a huge jagged tooth on the edge of the city, where it presented a formidable barrier to the north and west. Its slopes were furrowed by deep ravines and impenetrable clusters of hardened lava. The Nightmaster and his acolytes had spent months carving a swath to the summit, a black and barren crater.
From a distance, it looked as though the top of the mountain had been lopped off. Numerous steep-sided cinder cones dotted the unusually broad bowl. Everywhere were signs of volcanic activity, including lava bombs, molds of tree trunks, and giant groundsels engulfed by hardened lava. Mud pots bubbled. Jets of steam and gas whistled from cracks in the ground.
One oval-shaped depression in the crater was larger and more volatile than the rest. This was the heart of the volcano, crusted over with dried lava. Its center consisted of a plug of rock that had solidified deep down in the volcano's vent.
The Nightmaster believed that under the oval-shaped depression lay the original volcanic crater, whose eruption had precipitated the collapse of the peak into the core of the mountain. And underneath the original crater waited the fire fountain that could re-ignite volcanic activity. For weeks, the Nightmaster's followers had been working with the minotaur troops to dig out the vent.
From his camp on the ash-covered terrace of the dead city's once-great library, the Nightmaster regularly hiked to a mountain plateau west of Karthay to read his signs. But the spell to summon Sargonnas would be cast here, on the summit of Worldscap, in the heart of the volcano.
Everything had been prepared. The acolytes and a select number of minotaur soldiers had been camped on the summit for days, setting up the makeshift laboratory, the rows of ingredients, the charms and stones and dead creatures, the scrolls and books that the Nightmaster would need during the casting of the spell.
After long hours of labor, the cap had been dug out of the original volcano and the mouth of the fire fountain breached. The span of the mouth was roughly a dozen feet. Deep down, one could glimpse fiery orange lava, seething and bubbling.
The soldiers had built a wooden scaffold near the edge of the mouth, with a dozen stairs leading to a platform overlooking the fiery fountain.
The stars had glided into conjunction. Day was turning into night.
All was ready when the Nightmaster and his group crested the summit. Wearing ceremonial furs and feathers, with bells jingling as he moved, the Nightmaster strutted proudly toward the oval-shaped depression that housed the volcano's original crater. He walked between a double line of his acolytes and soldiers who had gathered in formation to greet him.
Trailing the Nightmaster were several armed minotaurs and the High Three shamans. Following them was a young, thin human in a dark robe, who stumbled as he was prodded forward by the sullen Dogz, and a kender without a topknot who chattered enthusiastically about the glorious spectacle of evil he was about to witness.
"Tell me, Raistlin, how you divined that I was going to cast this ancient and generally forgotten spell? Satisfy my curiosity. You know you are going to die anyway."
The Nightmaster bent over Raistlin, leering triumphantly.
The young mage sat in stony silence on a rock near the lip of the crater, his arms bound behind him, his feet also tied tightly with rope. Yet Raistlin refused to let defeat show in his face. Instead, he offered the Nightmaster an enigmatic smile with his reply.
"It was completely by chance. It was only a torn page in a yellowed spellbook that caught my eye. I knew that the spell had something to do with minotaur rituals. That much was obvious. And there was a citation of Sargonnas, the Lord of Dark Vengeance. But I had no hope of assembling the spell components, and beyond that, I cared little.
"Then my friend, Tasslehoff Burrfoot"-here Raistlin nodded in the direction of the kender, who was bounding back and forth between members of the High Three, trying to help them mix potions and ingredients but mostly getting in the way-"happened to make mention of a minotaur herbalist located on the island of Southern Ergoth. A minotaur herbalist… that aroused my curiosity. I asked a kender friend of Tasslehoff's who sometimes sold herbs, roots, and other items to me about certain peculiar ingredients that were mentioned on the torn page of the yellowed spellbook.
"One of these ingredients was crushed jalopwort, and the kender assured me that the minotaur had a supply available. Along with my brother and a friend, Tas volunteered to travel to Southern Ergoth to purchase the jalopwort."
Here Raistlin paused, glancing around. The pale of evening had settled in, promising a crisp night, with the stars clear in their formations.
The acolytes and troops had retreated to the edge of the summit, well away from the staging area. Silent and grim, holding their weapons aloft so that the steel and embroidered gems glinted under the twin moons, the small force of soldiers stood back from the Nightmaster, Raistlin, and the others.
Dogz took a position near the Nightmaster, guarding Raistlin.
"Even then, I would not have thought too much about it," the young mage continued. "It is part of my business to be interested in exotic herbs and rare spells. Except then my brother, his friend, and Tasslehoff vanished. And before they vanished, Tas sent me a magic message bottle that told me all about the strange execution of the minotaur herbalist.
'The person who brought me the message bottle added some curious details about the missing ship and its treacherous captain. After completing his job, it seems the captain was also killed in a manner that appeared to me to be distinctly magical."
Raistlin's eyes glittered with intelligence as he spoke.
"After that, it was mostly guesswork. I went back to the crumbling spellbook and read and studied the partial spell. I discussed my conclusions with-" here he paused-"let me call him a learned advisor.
"Through these efforts, it gradually dawned on me that the jalopwort was just a small part of a magical undertaking grander than anything I had suspected, that this ambitious spell had to involve minotaurs at the highest level, and that the spellcasting that was being planned would, if successful, bring Sargonnas, god of the minotaurs, into the material plane. The most logical place for such a rite would be here, near the ruins of Karthay, the last known place on Krynn where the Lord of Vengeance showed his wrath of fire."
"So you did get my magic message bottle!" chirped Tasslehoff. The kender had bounded up behind Raistlin. "I'm glad it wasn't wast-"
The Nightmaster grabbed Tasslehoff, whose habit of idle chatter was beginning to irritate him, and rather roughly shoved the kender under one arm, blanketing his mouth with a huge hand.
Raistlin looked at both of them coolly.
"Yes," purred the Nightmaster while Tas did his best to get loose from the high shaman's smothering grip. "Tasslehoff sent you a magic message bottle. You and he are old friends, right? So how do you like the new, improved Tasslehoff-to whom one of my disciples has fed a potion and turned into an evil kender? He has been most useful to us so far"-here the Nightmaster gave Tas a hard squeeze-"and I trust he will continue to be useful to us in the future."
Raistlin glanced at the struggling kender, then returned his gaze to the Nightmaster. "So that is how you did it," said Raistlin. "A potion."
"Do you doubt it?" rumbled the Nightmaster. For a moment, the Nightmaster lifted his arm away from Tas's mouth.
"It's true," said Tasslehoff, wrinkling his face into what he hoped was a fierce-looking sneer. "I'm incredibly evil now. Quite a change, huh?"
The Nightmaster clapped his arm back around the kender's mouth, and Tas resumed his struggling.
"I would have thought," Raistlin said blandly,
"that a potion would not have any long-term effect."
The Nightmaster smiled. "You're quite right," he rumbled. "Dogz!" Dogz approached him, and he handed the kender over to Dogz. "Give Tasslehoff his double dose-now!"
Dogz looked at the Nightmaster, then quickly looked away. For an instant, his eyes met Raistlin's. Then Dogz nodded to the Nightmaster.
The Nightmaster returned his attention to Raistlin. "I am grateful to you for reminding me."
With Tas protesting, Dogz led the kender off to a far corner of the spellcasting area, where a small table was set up. Raistlin saw Dogz set the kender down by the shoulders, swirl something in a beaker, and tip the contents into the kender's mouth. After that, Raistlin observed, Dogz watched Tas for several minutes until the kender's head drooped down and he was slumped peacefully in the chair.
All around them, preparations for the casting of the spell had reached their zenith. Fesz and the other two shaman minotaurs were tossing handfuls of components culled from jars and beakers into the dug-out crater. After hundreds of years of dormancy, the volcano had begun to hiss and sputter. A faint orange light spilled forth from the mouth of the fire fountain.
Dogz trotted back in the direction of Raistlin and the Nightmaster.
"I would have considered the kender for a sacrificial victim," rumbled the Nightmaster, "if kender were not such an insignificant race. Sargonnas would much prefer a human, and a young mage such as yourself will, as you might guess, improve the spell greatly." Here he paused and studied Raistlin closely.
"I am so ignorant of the customs of humans. Tell me why you are not wearing the robes of white, red, or black."