Harran pulled out his map of the subterranean passageways. “This way.”
They moved down the tunnel, twisting first left, then right, before coming to an intersection.
“These passageways run directly under the city,” said Harran. “You can be sure the guards will search down here as thoroughly as above.” He pulled out another map. “Here we go. If we follow the trail I’ve marked we’ll miss a large part of the inhabited portion of the city and be in the clear in about an hour. It’s a good thing the palace isn’t in the center of the city. If it was, we’d have a long walk ahead of us just to clear the city limits. It looks like luck is really on our side tonight.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” commented Zylor looking anxiously down the left passageway. “We haven’t left the city yet.” As if in answer, the end of the tunnel began to lighten and distant voices could be heard, echoing off the cobblestones overhead.
“Let’s go!” whispered Harran, grabbing the minotaur by the arm. They travelled quickly but quietly, weaving in and out of side corridors and passageways. The lights and voices behind them dimmed and vanished. They ran for what seemed like hours, scampering up steep grades and then back down narrow shoots that gave no indication of having a bottom. Each time they encountered new passageways and each time they ran away from what they suspected could be guards and their torches. They passed numerous waste drains and once even had to hold their breaths while crossing a ledge bordering a large septic pit. From here a trail of aqueducts led to a series of long, deliberately carved tunnels which gradually rose in elevation. Panting, Harran called a halt near the end of one of these long tunnels and pulled out his maps.
“We’ve done it!” he whispered exultantly. “We’ve reached the outskirts of the city!”
“Good,” grunted Zylor. He was more than a little out of breath himself.
“Now there’s only one more problem,” said Harran. “We have to get back up to the city’s level in order to get us away from the city. The only way up is to exit this tunnel. The problem is there’s a guard house located right at the opening. Our best bet is to sneak past them in the dark. You’ll have to douse the torch.”
Zylor complied, throwing the torch into a water-filled ditch nearby and cloaking the area in darkness. Then he swore.
“What’s wrong?” asked Harran.
“I can’t see,” muttered the minotaur.
Harran swore. “Check your pack. The leaves should be in there.”
There was a rustle as Zylor blindly searched his pack. “I can’t find them!” said Zylor in panic. “They’re not here!”
“Let me see!” whispered Harran harshly. He grabbed the pack and rifled through its contents. His dwarven vision allowed him to spot the bag containing the leaves near the bottom of the pack. “Here it is!” He lifted the bag to give it to Zylor. Zylor was still blind, however, and clumsily knocked the bag out of the dwarf’s hand in his haste to get the leaves.
“AAACHOOOO!”
The guards at the guard house looked at each other. “What was that?” asked one.
“Sounded like a sneeze,” said another.
“It came from the underground tunnel!” said a third.
“We’d better investigate,” said a fourth.
“One of us should stay in case he tries to come out while we’re investigating,” said the first.
“I’ll stay,” said the second. “It’s supposed to be my night off anyway. I just came so we could play dice.”
“Let’s go,” said the first. “The sooner we catch him, the sooner we can get back to the game.”
After Harran’s sneeze, Zylor felt the floor and located his pouch of wildhorn leaves. He stuffed some into his mouth and stuffed the pouch securely into his pack. Harran was already half dragging him back down the tunnel. Before they travelled more than a few hundred yards, Zylor’s night vision began to kick in. Rounding a bend, they reached a junction they had passed earlier. Harran led them down the right path and after a moment they reached a three-way junction. Harran turned right again and they reached yet another junction. Here they stopped.
“O.K. You know where the exit is?”
“Yeah,” said Zylor. “Just bear left.”
“Good,” said Harran. He drew out some of his maps. “This map leads to safety beyond the dwarven realm,” he said, indicating one of the maps. “And this one,” he continued, indicating another map, “is a copy of the one Horst and his companions gave me. Use it if you need supplies. This last map is the one we were using to travel between the minotaur realm and the plateau. It joins with the first map when you reach the ‘X’ that I scribbled down here. See?”
“Yes,” answered Zylor. “But aren’t you going with me?”
“No,” said Harran. “I’m going to create a diversion. When the guards start chasing me, you bolt for the exit and keep running in a straight line. From there you can follow the first map out of here.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” asked Zylor.
“You did the same for me,” said Harran. “Consider it a debt repaid.”
“What happens if you get caught?”
“I’ll be back where I started,” said Harran, “with no honour and an outrageous debt.”
“In my eyes, you will always be honourable,” said Zylor proudly. He extended his hand. “Good luck be with you, Harran.”
“And you, honourable Zylor,” said Harran, taking Zylor’s hand firmly into his own. They were both aware it was the first time they had called one another by name since they first met several weeks ago.
“I heard voices down here!” said a voice not far away.
“Quick, go that way!” whispered Harran, taking the opposite path for himself. The two friends parted and scrambled off into the darkness. After a moment the guards reached the intersection the companions had just vacated.
“Which way now?” asked one.
Just then there was another loud sneeze down the corridor Harran had chosen. The guards ran off in pursuit. “We’re gaining,” cried one guard exultantly.
As Zylor bolted for the exit he realized Harran must have kept some of the wildhorn leaves for himself. The crafty devil!
The lone guard at the guard house stood by the entrance to the underground tunnel. What was taking his companions so long? Suddenly he thought he saw some motion in the tunnel. “Halt! Who goes there?” he called. There was a shadow approaching very fast. “Halt, who—ooof!” The guard wondered idly how a shadow could strike with such force as horns circled around his head. Horns? Not stars? He never solved the riddle as blackness finally engulfed him.
Zylor ran without looking back. He didn’t mean to run over the dwarf but there was no room to go around him. He had to make good time right now if he wanted to stay free.
Chapter 12
There was a guard on either side of him when Harran was led before the king the next morning. It appeared he was in a bad mood. There were some nobles present in the great hall and by the sounds of their loud murmurs, they had heard about the previous night’s occurrence.
The king raised a hand and silence descended upon the room. “Present the prisoner!”
Harran was pushed forward and the guards moved back, leaving Harran to bear the brunt of the king’s wrath.
The king looked sternly at Harran. “I had very little sleep last night,” he began. “The minotaur we had in custody was due to be executed this morning and now I find out that you, Harran Mapmaker, are responsible for his escape! How do you plead to this charge?”
“Guilty,” said Harran simply.
“Guilty? Is that all? No extenuating circumstances?”
“No, Sire,” answered Harran.
The king sat back in his throne. “You recall I absolved you of your debt of honour to the minotaur?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, Sire.”
“And still you went against my law stating that all minotaurs who enter the dwarven mountain should be executed?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Why?”
“He is my friend,” said Harran. “He is also honourable.”
“Honourable? A minotaur? Surely you jest?”
“No, Sire.”
“If he really was honourable, wouldn’t he pay the penalty for his crimes?”
“Yes, Sire. But he didn’t commit any crimes in my opinion.”
“In your opinion. Does that mean that if a law doesn’t suit you in your opinion, you would refuse to abide by it?”
“No, Sire. I would abide by the law regardless of my opinion.”
“How is this different then? Because the said offender is a minotaur?”
“No, Sire. The difference is that we do not own the entire mountain and therefore should not regulate who passes through it.”
“You mean we should open the mountain to everyone? Including ogres, goblins, and lizardmen?”
“The creatures you have mentioned are inherently evil, Sire. If we allow passage, it should be to those who are not inherently evil.”
“You mean minotaurs are not inherently evil?” asked the king.
“This one wasn’t,” said Harran.
There was a murmur of surprise at this statement from among those assembled in the hall.
“Some of us find that hard to believe,” said the king, waving his hands to encompass the people present in the hall.
“They do not know him as I do,” said Harran.
“It appears that you do not know many things,” said the king.
“Sire?”
“This morning I received a message from my general. Apparently, the tunnel where you supposedly fought the lizardmen doesn’t even exist! I found it hard to believe there were lizardmen in this part of the mountain after decades of peace. Now I find it even harder to believe. Did you think I would not find out this was a hoax?”
“It is not a hoax!” protested Harran. “I was there! The tunnel was there!”
The king stroked his beard. “I do not know what that minotaur has done to you. If minotaurs wielded magic, I would assume that you were under a spell. But minotaurs don’t wield magic. Therefore, you must be acting of your own accord.” The king stood. “I hereby declare you, Harran Mapmaker, devoid of honour. You will be permitted to keep some essentials with you for use in the outside world and the rest of your possessions will be turned over to the kingdom. You will be banished from the dwarven realm, along with your closest relatives.
“There are three things that can restore your honour and your wealth,” added the king. “You must find and bring back one or more of the following treasures; an item of inestimable worth, an item of extreme rarity, or an item of the distant past. By bringing back and presenting me or the ruling king with one of these treasures, you will have your honour restored and you will be permitted to live within the dwarven realm once again, along with your immediate family. If you bring back two of these items, you will, in addition to the aforementioned rewards, have your wealth restored to its former level. If you bring back all three of these treasures—and very rarely does this happen—you will have not only greater honour than before you left, but you will be rewarded with ten times your original wealth!”
The king sat down again. “Are there any questions?”
“No, Sire,” said Harran. Despite his loss of honour he still held his head high. The guards escorted him out of the great hall and led him from the palace.
At his home he gathered what he thought would serve him best; some of his most valuable maps, some gold for expenses, some clothes, and his axe. He said a fond farewell to his home and walked out the front entrance. His uncle, Red Rockbringer, was already waiting by the guards carrying a packsack full of his own valuables. Harran was glad he had no other close relatives. His mother died when he was born and his father was killed in a mining accident. His uncle was the one who had brought him up and Harran considered him his father.
“Sorry, Uncle Red—” began Harran.
“Not to worry, Son,” interrupted Red. He scratched his curly red beard and smiled. “I’ve been itching to explore the human world for years. Now’s as good a time as any.”
Harran smiled at him. Uncle Red could always make light of a situation.
As they departed, Harran mulled over what the king had said about the tunnel where he fought the lizardmen. Did he mark it incorrectly on his map? Impossible! He was impervious to such errors. Maybe the soldiers looked in the wrong spot? Not likely. They were just as adamant about finding lizardmen as he was. They would search every nook and cranny. Then how could it disappear? Harran could think of no answer to that question. It was a mystery that would have to be solved by someone else, if it was solved at all.
After two days of marching with a contingent of guards, they reached the main entrance into the mountain used by caravans and other convoys. Harran and his uncle stepped out of the tunnel and viewed the land of the humans in the setting sun. On the horizon they could just make out the Tower of the Stars. The last full moon of spring was evident overhead.
“Well, Son,” said Red. “Let’s go start a new life!” With that he marched down the gradual slope of the mountain and was soon lost amid the caravans and rocky slopes below. Harran ran in pursuit, eager to leave behind their surly escorts.
Part III
The Quest Begins
Chapter 13
When Kazin first opened his eyes, he wasn’t certain where he was. There was a healer bending over him chanting the words of white magic. His palms were touching Kazin’s forehead and chest and tingling warmth flowed between these two locations. Seeing Kazin open his eyes, the cleric stopped and smiled. He was a bald, middle-aged man with bright blue eyes and wearing the usual white robe of clerics.
“Good afternoon,” he said cheerfully. “You aren’t in such bad shape considering the ordeal you were just through. I hardly had any healing to do.” He pointed to Kazin’s swollen eye. “The swelling’s gone down considerably. You’ll be as good as new in a couple of days.”
“Thanks,” said Kazin. He remembered where he was now and the “ordeal” the cleric was referring to.
The cleric rose. “I will summon the arch mage.” He turned and left the room. Kazin sat up and gazed around the room he was in. It was a small, plain room with a washstand in one corner. The only other furnishings were some short dressers on one side and the cot upon which he sat. This was probably one of the rooms used to accommodate mages who went on errands for the tower. Rather than renting rooms at an inn or rooming house, it was better to let these mages stay the night in the tower before being sent on more errands the following day.
The door opened and a dark haired, middle-aged arch mage entered, his arm in a sling. “Well, Kazin, would you like to hear the good news or the bad news?”
Kazin stood up. “Give me the bad news first. I’d like to end this day on a good note if possible.”
The arch mage laughed. “Well said! Very well. The bad news is you broke my arm and shattered my shoulder! The cleric says it will be at least three weeks before I get rid of this sling!”
Kazin looked confused. “I’m sorry, but how did I—wait a minute! You were the—in the test—!”
“Very good! Your status as master mage is well earned. You might even earn your way to arch mage if you work at it.”
“But I—.” Kazin’s face turned white. “You mean I—?”
“That’s right,” said the arch mage. “You perfected the test. You managed to cast at least four spells simultaneously.” He scratched his head. “In fact, you managed to cast as many as five at once if my count is correct.”
“Did I?” asked Kazin. He was to
o overwhelmed about perfecting the test to pay much attention to the arch mage.
The door opened and another arch mage entered. It was the long-bearded one who had addressed all the apprentices prior to the test. “Did you tell him?” he asked the younger arch mage.
“Yes.”
The bearded mage turned to Kazin. “Congratulations, Kazin. You did very well.” He pulled two rings out of his pocket which he gave to Kazin. “The smaller ring is yours to keep. It allows access into the next inner level of the tower where all the master mages are permitted. You are free to explore—for now, but do not touch without first asking an arch mage. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir! Thank you,” said Kazin, taking the rings in his hand.
“The larger ring is to be used in one hour, when you are to report to my chambers for your new cloak and staff. Simply wear it and rub the engraving with your finger and you will be teleported directly to my chambers.”
“Yes, Sir,” repeated Kazin.
“I have some pressing matters to attend to right now so you may go and explore if you like,” said the arch mage. “But remember, one hour!”
“Yes, Sir,” repeated Kazin again. He quickly left the room and went in search of Max to tell him the good news.
The younger arch mage turned to the older one and noticed his expression. “Something’s wrong, Krendal. What is it?”
“I was just returning from a meeting when I got your message about Kazin.”
“I’m sorry. I was unconscious for about fifteen minutes after Kazin knocked me down. I would have reported to you sooner—.”
“It’s not that, Valdez,” said the old arch mage irritably. “The meeting I was returning from was a meeting with an apprentice who had just perfected the test!”
“What?! Impossible!”
“Nevertheless it’s true. It is a bad omen. We’ve never had two mages perfect the test in the same year. The Book of Prophesy tells of a forbidding army of evil arising in the same year that two apprentice mages perfect the test. Could this be that year?”
Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy Page 11