“Can you open it?” asked Harran.
“I haven’t encountered a door like this before,” said Kazin, “but I’ll try.” He cast a number of door opening spells he was taught at the tower but none of them worked. Finally he gave up. “Sorry, fellas. I’ll have to ask the arch mages about this one.”
“That’s O.K.,” said Sherman. “We were sent to find the scouting party anyway. Harran, you said the lizardman kept going. Where did the scouting party go?”
“They probably encountered the same difficulties with the doorway as Kazin did,” said Harran. “Judging by the confusion of their footprints, they must have tried another path.”
“What about these orc footprints?” asked Sherman.
“What? Where?” asked the dwarf, coming to see where the warrior pointed.
“Why don’t you ask them yourselves?” said Zylor suddenly, from not far away.
The companions turned to look at the minotaur, who pointed at one of the tunnels intersecting with the cavern. Several orcs had emerged, with more appearing behind them.
“They seen us!” yelled an orc in front. He hefted a nearby stone and flung it in the direction of the companions. Kazin was either unprepared or still blinded by the bright light of the staff because the stone struck him in the side of the head. With a crack he fell to the ground, unconscious. His staff fell beside him, winking out.
“Kazin!” yelled Sherman belatedly. He ran to protect the mage and was thankful he had just eaten another pair of wildhorn leaves. His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly and he could see the dwarf and minotaur flanking him on both sides. The orcs, some fifteen or twenty of them, charged into the companions, feeling confident with their numbers.
Sherman was enraged. They struck down one of his friends. Now it was his turn. He decapitated the first orc with a vicious swing of his sword and fended off the blows of three others simultaneously. A fourth one tried to come in low and Sherman kicked him back. Pretending to be off balance, he lured another one close enough to grab it. Lifting it off the ground, he used it as a shield as three various weapons penetrated its tough hide. It screamed and then gurgled. Sherman heaved it at one of its killers, knocking it to the floor. Oddly enough, the dead creature’s sabre embedded itself in the chest of its assassin, killing it instantly. Then Sherman flicked his gore-covered fingers into the face of another orc, sending it screaming into the darkness. Another orc took its place with an evil smile. With a series of thrusts and slashes, the warrior quickly sliced off the limbs of the orc, leaving it in a helpless heap on the ground.
Two more orcs sprang out of the darkness but Sherman was ready, ducking under their blows and slicing in a wide arc in an attempt to sever their legs. Both went down screaming. He slashed off their heads and looked for more opponents.
Zylor was holding his own. Apparently he had fewer attackers since he looked more intimidating. Harran wasn’t so lucky. Being small, the orcs figured they stood a better chance against him. Sherman made a note to watch the unprotected mage should an orc get close to him and dashed off to assist the dwarf. He fought his way to the dwarf’s side and back to back they fended off the blows, dishing out pain as they saw fit.
Zylor, meanwhile, had things under control. His blood pounded in his veins as his bloodlust engulfed him. Shards of orc flesh went flying as he chopped his way through the forest of orcs. Before he knew it, his opponents all lay in gore-covered heaps on the cavern floor. He turned to his companions and noticed that Sherman was trying to get his attention. The blood rushing in his ears drowned out the warrior’s voice. Sherman was pointing at the mage and Zylor immediately knew what was happening. An injured orc was crawling toward the unconscious mage. With a bellow Zylor lunged at the orc, driving its head into the ground with his foot. The orc moved no more.
The warrior and dwarf took advantage of the confusion created by the minotaur’s bellow and sliced down a couple of their opponents. The remaining ones, noticing the lack of backup, turned and fled into the tunnels from whence they came.
Harran and Sherman looked at each other, panting.
“Nice work, warrior,” panted Harran.
“Ditto,” said Sherman wearily.
Zylor stormed up to Sherman. “I have a score to settle with you, human!” he growled.
“I—uh—what do you mean?” stammered Sherman. He was in no condition to fight a minotaur right now.
“You have slain more opponents than I!” said Zylor. “I am ashamed that a human can outdo me in battle!”
Sherman looked around. He did indeed outdo the minotaur in number of kills. By at least three if his guess were correct. “I—I didn’t mean to—,” he stammered.
“You didn’t mean to?!” raged the minotaur. “You mean you weren’t even trying? I am doubly shamed!”
“But I—,” began Sherman. There was a moan behind the minotaur. Eager to escape, Sherman sprang around the enraged minotaur. “Kazin! Are you alright?”
Kazin moaned. “I think so. My head hurts. What happened?”
“We’ll tell you later,” said Harran. “Let’s get out of here before the orcs return with reinforcements.”
Sherman helped Kazin to his feet. The mage staggered for a moment and would have fallen if Sherman wasn’t there to catch him. “I think I’d better rest for a moment,” said Kazin apologetically.
“I’ll carry you,” said Sherman, bending to support the mage.
“No!” said Zylor. “You have proven your prowess in battle, human! I will carry the mage.” With that he pushed Sherman out of the way and lifted Kazin as though he were feather light. “Lead the way, dwarf!”
Harran hid a smile and guided them to the passageway taken by the scouting party. Kazin cast an inquiring glance back at Sherman and got a confused look in response.
Chapter 28
After a lengthy stop to rest and treat wounds and injuries, the companions made haste to find the scouting party. Kazin was on his own feet now, insisting that Zylor conserve his strength for any further encounters with orcs. Zylor agreed, looking warily at Sherman.
Kazin was unsure of Zylor’s code of honour, and so was unable to help Sherman decipher the minotaur’s strange behaviour. He told Sherman instead to concentrate on their quest. Maybe the minotaur would cool off. Sherman took Kazin’s advice, helping Harran with tracking. That way the mage was between them in case something should happen.
Kazin knew he would O.K. in this position for several reasons. First, he was Harran’s friend, and Zylor would not harm a friend of a friend without losing honour. Second, he felt that the minotaur was a part of the group. It even implied that in the Book of Prophesy, if that were to be believed. Third, despite the sinister countenance, the minotaur was deep down an honourable being. Thinking that of a minotaur seemed odd, but there it was.
“I hope we find them soon,” muttered Sherman after a while. “I’m beginning to get claustrophobic.”
He didn’t have to wait long. They rounded a sharp bend in the passageway and entered a large, dome-shaped cavern. None of them were prepared for the incredible scene before them.
Throughout the room, in various active poses, were many life-sized statues of soldiers. All of them faced different directions and appeared to be frozen in the midst of an imaginary battle only they could see. Some statues were broken, with shards of what was once an arm or head lying in splinters on the ground at their feet. An eerie, ice cold fog permeated the cavern and drifted silently toward the heroes.
“Wow!” whispered Harran, entering the cavern cautiously. “Can you imagine what these statues are worth?”
“Fascinating,” said Kazin, no less awed by the sight.
“Maybe I’m seeing things,” said Sherman, examining a statue closely, “but I think this one just blinked!”
Kazin came over to investigate. The statue had a cle
ar sheen on the outside but inside he could see the image of an almost real, fair-haired cleric. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, and the cloak she wore was identical to the ones modern clerics wore. For a moment, he thought she looked familiar, but the feeling quickly passed.
“Hey! This one blinked too!” called Harran from across the cavern.
The hair on Kazin’s neck stood on end as a thought suddenly struck him. “I think we found our scouting party, fellas.” He touched the statue and withdrew his hand quickly. “Ice,” he confirmed.
Sherman gasped. “You mean these—these statues are—?”
Kazin nodded. “Some of them are still alive. I’m going to try to thaw them out.”
Before Kazin could get set, some slow, deliberate footfalls could be heard. Appearing at the other end of the cavern was a hideous, thick-skinned creature few people have ever claimed to have met. Those who did rarely escaped its gaze.
“A cyclops!” yelled Kazin.
Armed with a gigantic, shimmering axe, the cyclops shambled forward at an alarming rate of speed. “Meat!” it wailed, waving the menacing axe at the companions. Then it changed its tone to a moan, adding, “Look into my eye! Look—my eyeeee!”
Sherman bravely jumped into the beast’s path, causing it to swerve away from Kazin.
“Don’t look at its eye!” Kazin yelled. “You’ll be paralyzed!”
It was too late. Sherman was already glued to the spot. Harran took the initiative at this point and yelled menacingly as he trudged slowly forward, carefully averting his gaze from the cyclops’ eye. The cyclops diverted its attention from the paralyzed warrior, swinging its axe away from Sherman and raising it above its head to meet the oncoming dwarf. The arc the axe left in its wake shimmered with a bright blue light and engulfed the warrior. Within moments, Sherman looked like the other numerous statues in the cavern, frozen in position.
“An ice axe!” Kazin exclaimed. “Get away from it, Harran!”
This advice also came too late. With a vicious downward thrust, the cyclops’ axe crashed into the dwarf’s defending blade. For a split second a loud ringing could be heard as the dwarven steel absorbed the impact. Then, with a resounding explosion, Harran’s axe burst into a thousand tiny ice-covered fragments. Harran was knocked to the ground, dazed.
The cyclops raised its axe for another blow but its downward swing was blocked once again. This time it was facing an opponent of equal size and strength. Zylor’s muscles tensed and with a bellow of strain he threw the cyclops onto its back.
Kazin knew the minotaur would be hard-pressed to defeat a magic-wielding creature like the cyclops. Using the only magic capable of defeating someone with ice magic, Kazin let loose with a couple of fireballs. He aimed for the creature’s arm, hoping to knock the axe from its grip. The cyclops rose at that moment and the fireballs flew wide, striking the floor harmlessly. The mage cursed.
Zylor was already in motion, knowing the damage the axe could do even if it missed him. One swing went by and the minotaur sprang out of the way, narrowly avoiding the magical arc left behind by the ice axe. The cyclops was gaining confidence. It lumbered after the minotaur, swinging its axe haphazardly.
This gave Kazin the opening he was looking for. He cast his fireballs at the cyclops’ arm again. This time they struck their mark and the creature screamed. Its axe swinging became even more chaotic.
The minotaur took advantage of that and attempted to dislodge the axe from the cyclops’ hand using his own weapon. He succeeded; partly. The ice axe was knocked free, but so was his own, the weapons flying in among the statues. The cyclops turned to the minotaur and repeated in a dull monotone, “Look into my eye!”
Zylor nearly fell for it. In rage he threw himself at the cyclops and the two of them fell heavily to the ground. They rolled back and forth, attempting to strangle each other. They rolled right into the statue of Sherman, causing him to wobble dangerously. Kazin ran to prevent his friend from crashing to the ground to his doom. After stabilizing the statue, the mage concentrated on finding an opening to shoot at the cyclops but the battle was too tight and vicious for him to get a decent shot in.
It was then that Harran came forward. Wielding the cyclops’ own weapon, he swiftly and methodically began hacking at the cyclops’ arms and legs. With a scream it broke free of Zylor’s grasp and lunged at the impertinent little dwarf. Zylor quickly grasped its remaining good arm and held it long enough for Harran to bury the axe in its chest. It screamed one last time, turning to ice like its many victims. Zylor let go of the creature and it crashed to the rocky floor, bursting into fragments of ice and gore. The only thing that remained intact was the ice axe. Harran gingerly lifted it up and examined it in awe. “An item of extreme rarity,” he whispered.
Kazin wasted no time in thawing out Sherman. As he did so, the page of the Book of Prophesy came to mind. ‘The frozen axe’ was the third line. He had also seen it in his orb two nights earlier. Their encounter here was somehow necessary, if the Book of Prophesy had any meaning. At this stage, he was beginning to think it had. Ice axes didn’t just appear unjustifiably. Harran was right. They were extremely rare artifacts created by mages with a long lost knowledge. In fact, no ice axes were known to exist anymore. It was a rare find indeed!
“Wh-what happened?” asked Sherman. “I-I’m cold!”
“It’ll wear off,” said Kazin. “You were paralyzed and then turned into an ice statue. I’ll explain after I’ve freed these other soldiers.”
“Who do we start with?” asked Sherman.
“Anyone, I guess,” said Kazin.
“They won’t take kindly to seeing a minotaur,” said Zylor. He was still out of breath from his earlier struggle. “Should I hide for now?”
“No,” said Kazin. “If they see you’re with us, they’ll leave you alone.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Sherman. “Some of them probably saw you already. I was able to see straight ahead for a short distance while I was frozen. It will probably be the same for the others. I was dizzy at one point, though, but it wasn’t for long.”
“That’s when you were nearly knocked down,” said Kazin. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed thawing out your fragments if that happened.”
Sherman looked at the damaged statues nearby and winced. “You mean, I almost—?”
Harran laughed and slapped Sherman on the back. “Just look on the bright side, Sherman. Without all that extra weight, you could climb a mountain like a dwarf! They might even let you live in the dwarven realm!”
“Gee, thanks,” muttered the big warrior.
Kazin was already thawing out a nearby soldier. He was a young soldier, probably still in his teens. When he was thawed out, he shook uncontrollably. It was a few minutes before he could speak.
“Th-thanks,” he stammered. “I w-was afraid the c-cyclops would e-eat us all before s-someone came to r-rescue us.” He looked at the destroyed statue in front of him. “I s-saw him t-take away my f-friend—.” The rest of the sentence was lost in a sob.
“Relax,” said Kazin gently. “The cyclops is dead and you’re safe with us. I need to know who’s in charge of your party.”
The young soldier wiped away his tears and looked around at the other statues. “It’s the cleric. I don’t know which one she is.”
“I know,” said Sherman, leading everyone to the spot. The young soldier staggered and was about to fall when an arm steadied him. He looked up thankfully and then shrieked in fright.
Kazin spun around but then smiled. “By the way, that’s one of your rescuers.”
The soldier would have fallen, jaw agape, if the minotaur wasn’t already there to hold him up.
When the cleric was thawed out, she hugged the companions thankfully, all except Zylor, who was given a weak smile.
“I thought we were goners for sure,�
� she said weakly. “Did the tower send you?”
“Yes,” said Kazin. “Fortunately we were equipped with an expert guide,” he added, indicating Harran.
Harran bowed deeply. “Harran Mapmaker at your service.” As he bent over, the ice axe glittered wickedly in his sheath.
The cleric smiled. “My name is Milena.”
“I’m Kazin,” said Kazin. The mage turned and indicated the others. “These are the protectors of our party, Sherman and Zylor.”
“It was wise for you to bring along such powerful guardians,” said Milena, admiring Sherman’s powerful figure.
Zylor grunted.
Milena turned to him and spoke carefully. “It is rare for one of your species to assist humans and dwarves, Zylor. I only wish that more of your kind would follow your lead.”
Zylor grinned a toothy grin. “Your wish may yet come true, cleric. When I am in my rightful place, I will remember your wish and will invite you to visit so that you may see that wish fulfilled.”
Milena momentarily knitted her brows in confusion but her countenance changed when she saw blood on Zylor’s arm. “You’re bleeding,” she said, alarmed.
“It’s nothing,” said Zylor, shrugging.
“Let’s see,” said Milena. She took hold of his arm firmly. She chanted a spell but nothing happened. “That’s odd. What caused this wound?”
“The ice axe caused that,” said Zylor, still unsure if he should allow the cleric to heal him.
“Is that the shiny axe the dwarf is carrying?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Milena nodded in satisfaction. “No wonder I can’t heal you. We need several white mages to heal an injury caused by a magical weapon.”
Zylor shrugged again and withdrew his arm. “I’ll be O.K.”
Milena nodded and suggested they thaw out the survivors without delay. They could compare notes later.
Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy Page 25