Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy

by Scheppner, Carey

  Harran’s stomach was in knots but he ran into the hole to put the creature out of its misery with a long dagger concealed in his cloak. (His axe was stored safely at the minotaur’s uncle’s house because it would arouse unnecessary suspicion at the arena).

  “He tried to poison the water, Harran,” said a familiar voice behind him. Harran turned but realized Sherman was still wearing his invisibility ring.

  “I should have been watching,” growled Harran angrily. “I could have prevented this from happening in the first place.”

  “It probably worked out better this way,” said Sherman. “You saw what that stuff did to his face. He could have used it on you just the same and poisoned the water with it to boot.”

  Harran shuddered at the idea. “Thanks, Sherman. I owe you one.”

  “Nothing doing,” answered the warrior. “I’d better get back into the stands and get into position. I’ve informed Zylor’s supporters where the lizardmages are located, and we’ll take them out when the time comes.

  “Good,” said Harran. He looked into the arena. The crowd cheered louder suddenly and chanted Zylor’s name excitedly. “It looks like Zylor won!”

  “Good!” said Sherman. “See you later.”

  Harran rushed to conceal the lizardmage’s headless body before Zylor returned, hiding it in the corner of the hole under an old blanket.

  Zylor returned out of breath and bleeding and Harran sprang to deal with the injuries.

  “Never—ever—underestimate a small minotaur,” panted Zylor.

  “He really sliced at you with his sword,” said Harran in concern. “Are you going to be O.K. for the next battle? It’s Tornado this time.”

  Zylor nodded. “You’ll have to make your repairs quickly, dwarf. There’s not much time to rest.”

  “I’m working! I’m working!” exclaimed the dwarf frantically.

  The old minotaur poked his head in the hole. “One minute, and then you’re on!” He paused momentarily and gave Zylor a mysterious look. “If you win; and I ain’t sayin’ you will—Tornado’s a tough bugger; I hope you kick the emperor’s ass!” Before Zylor could respond, the old minotaur left.

  “I’ll bet some minotaurs out there are getting their hopes up,” said Harran quietly. “What do you think?”

  “I think since I’ve come this far, I’ll go all the way—or die in the attempt,” said Zylor. He looked at Harran carefully. “If I fail, at least I’ll know my efforts will not be forgotten.”

  “I’ll proclaim it to the world,” said Harran proudly.

  Zylor held out his large, clawed hand and Harran grasped it with his own small, gnarled one.

  “Good luck,” said Harran.

  Zylor snorted. “I’ll need it.”

  The old minotaur announced the final battle and Zylor and Tornado strode onto the field. The crowd chanted the names of both combatants equally, the arena resounding with cries of ‘Zylor’ and ‘Tornado’ over and over again. The emperor was on his feet, anxiously awaiting the start of the fight. The lizardmage was by his side, sternly observing Zylor. He seemed somewhat upset to see Zylor unscathed by the poison acid his lizardmage accomplice was supposed to have planted in his water bucket.

  There was a slight delay as armed minotaurs had to break up a fight between supporters of Zylor and those of Tornado in the stands.

  When that was settled, Zylor and Tornado drew straws. As usual, Zylor lost. Tornado strode over to the weapons rack and picked out a staff. He raised it over his head with a flourish and the crowd went wild. Then he held the staff in both hands and brought it down hard across his knee, tossing the kindling aside in derision. The crowd, previously loud and boisterous, reached a new level of pandemonium. This was a fight between two large, unarmed minotaurs for the title. It was going to be a furious fight.

  Tornado smiled wickedly at Zylor. Zylor returned the grin. If that was the way he wanted it; that was the way he was going to get it. The crowd’s previous yelling and cheering paled in comparison to this fight. Bloodlust surged through his veins, tingling beneath his hide and flowing into every muscle in his body.

  The horn sounded and both minotaurs charged at each other in total disregard for their own safety. Bloodlust engulfed both of them as they clawed, pounded, and kicked each other into submission. The crowd’s noise was now drowned out by the bloodlust in the combatants’ ears. They were all alone in a slow motion world now. No one else remained. The only thing that mattered was to win this one fight.

  A lizardmage raised his head and nodded silently. He had been given his orders. He rose quietly from his position high in the back of the stands and turned to the walkway directly behind him.

  “Going somewhere?” asked a low voice.

  The lizardmage looked around but all the minotaurs nearby were yelling and watching the fight. He shook his head and moved forward a step.

  “I asked you a question,” said the voice again.

  The lizardmage froze. “Who’s there?” he asked. “Farg? I can’t tell with all this noise.”

  “Yes,” said the voice.

  The lizardmage relaxed. “You startled me. I’ve never heard you talk to me magically so I could actually hear you. Why are you contacting me this way?”

  “I must speak with you this way because I have to talk to you privately,” said the voice, barely loud enough this time to be heard at all. “Tell me what you are to do. Aloud.”

  “But they will hear!” protested the lizardmage.

  “Hardly,” whispered the voice harshly.

  “I am to go to the chosen location and prepare to weaken the minotaur—Zylor—using magic.”

  “Very good,” said the voice. “First, I must tell you something. Sit.”

  The lizardmage complied.

  “You must know one thing,” said the voice.

  “What’s that?” asked the lizardmage.

  “That you will not succeed!” The voice was replaced by the sudden appearance of a human mage.

  The lizardmage half rose but the human mage raised his staff and sent a lightning bolt into its chest. It collapsed in its seat and stared outward into the arena, watching the fight as intently as the minotaurs. That was the last thing it saw. The mage chanted softly and vanished from sight.

  “Now things are going to get tricky,” said Kazin to himself as he made his way to the heavily guarded balcony.

  Meanwhile, Sherman wiped his blade clean on another lizardmage’s body. It sat staring not unlike Kazin’s victim. No one had seen the blade as it deftly slid into the lizardmage’s body and twisted the life out of it. The nearby minotaurs were too intent on the battle being waged below to notice.

  Sherman continued along the walkway and passed the lifeless form of another lizardmage. Zylor’s original six supporters were doing their part, giving up their chance to watch their leader’s heroic battle in order to secure his safety from the magic wielders now and later on. The invisible warrior paused to see how Zylor was doing.

  Zylor grunted as Tornado threw him down with a vicious shove. The huge beast then pounced on him and pummelled him with hairy fists. Zylor twisted around and caught the arena champion with a savage blow to the side of the head. Tornado lost his grip and fell backward.

  Both warriors rose and the crowd cheered them on. This was the duel they had come to see, and it was better than any had imagined. Zylor’s chest was torn open with the slashes of his opponent’s sharp claws, and Tornado’s left leg and arm were a mass of bleeding flesh and torn out hair.

  The combatants continued exchanging blows without stopping, but the blows were getting slower and feebler. They were both breathing heavily now, and their strength was waning.

  Then something unusual happened. Emperor Traygor’s voice rose above the rest as he bellowed, “Go, Tornado! You can do it!
”

  The response was not as he had expected. Zylor’s vision clouded over and an intense rage engulfed him as soon as he heard his uncle’s voice. He bellowed savagely and a renewed strength surged into his veins. He threw himself at Tornado and struck the stunned opponent with a brutal blow to the midriff, followed by one to the head.

  Tornado teetered precariously but did not fall. Zylor followed up his first two blows with a powerful right fist. It contacted Tornado’s jaw with a loud crack, but still the arena champion did not fall.

  With a low growl of intense rage, Zylor bent and picked up the arena champion and held him over his head. Then he threw the massive beast as far as he could. Tornado landed in the dust with a shuddering ‘whump’ and lay still. Zylor vaguely remembered that the minotaur he had just defeated was the crowd favourite. Today a new fighter prevailed. It suddenly occurred to him that it was he who had won.

  He looked dazedly at the old minotaur standing by the officials, his jaw hanging open in amazement. Behind him in the stands, minotaurs of all ages were chanting something he could not hear. Slowly, Zylor’s hearing began to return with the retreating of the bloodlust. The chanting was audible now. It took another moment to realize that they were chanting his name, over and over.

  Zylor raised his head to the sky and bellowed victoriously.

  Chapter 58

  Hold still!” ordered the dwarf irritably. He sponged a huge gash in the minotaur’s chest.

  “Oww!” yelped the minotaur.

  “It serves you right for showing off,” snapped the dwarf. “If you’d have knocked him out in the first place, you would have avoided such an injury. Then you’d have been in better shape for your fight with your uncle. Now, I’d be surprised if you could get very far with all these injuries.”

  “Shut up,” snapped Zylor. “I won, didn’t I?”

  “Now you have to fight your uncle Traygor in a weakened state!” argued Harran. Secretly, though, he was pleased with the minotaur’s performance thus far. Personally, he thought Zylor would lose against the arena champion.

  “It should even the odds a little,” joked Zylor.

  “Do you always have to do things the hard way?” grumbled the dwarf.

  A cough at the hole’s entrance brought both minotaur and dwarf to their feet. It was the old minotaur. He looked at Zylor as though he had seen a ghost.

  “It can’t be,” he whispered. “Is it true?”

  Zylor glared at the dwarf. “He heard us! I told you to keep quiet!”

  “Never mind,” said the minotaur, waving Zylor’s comment aside. “Is it true?”

  Zylor hesitated. “Yes. Just keep in under your horns, will you? If you don’t, I’ll—.”

  “No need,” said the old minotaur. Then he scratched his head. “What proof do you have that you are Emperor Traygor’s son?”

  “You will have to take my word for it,” snapped Zylor. “My mother’s maid, Mylorga, escaped my uncle’s wrath at the minotaur palace and fled to a friend’s house. From there—.” Zylor stopped. The old minotaur’s eyes had opened wide in shock at the mention of Mylorga’s name. “What is it?” asked Zylor.

  The old minotaur regained his composure. “From there you fled into the mountains for several months,” he finished. “Am I right?”

  “Yes,” said Zylor slowly. “But how did you—?”

  The old minotaur held up a hand and looked around nervously. “Shhh! Just one more thing, Zylor. What colour is the fur behind your left ear?”

  Zylor and Harran exchanged glances.

  “There’s a white spot—,” began Zylor.

  “Enough!” said the old minotaur. He crept close to Zylor. “It was me Mylorga had visited that fateful night long ago,” he whispered. “I am Graftor.”

  Zylor gaped. It was the name of the brother of the minotaur he had met in the mountains.

  The old minotaur clasped Zylor’s shoulder firmly. “We cannot talk here, but be forewarned: Traygor uses poison! He used it to kill challengers in the past. He will not hesitate to use it on you—especially if he knows your identity!” With that the old minotaur quickly left the hole.

  Zylor looked at Harran.

  “I held onto some of Milena’s herbs just in case the original ones wore off,” said Harran. “I think you should take them right now.” He handed the herbs to the minotaur.

  Zylor nodded wordlessly. He would have to be extremely careful in the next battle. Everything up until now was only child’s play. The real battle was just ahead.

  The crowd cheered enthusiastically as Zylor made his way to the official’s platform after Graftor called him out to receive his reward. But the officials were not there. They were replaced by the emperor, his advisor, and four muscular guards.

  Zylor approached the platform with his head held high. He was not listening to the crowd, though. His attention was entirely on the emperor.

  Traygor watched him keenly, and a curious expression crossed his face when he thought he saw something familiar about the new champion approaching him. The emotion passed quickly, however, and was replaced by an almost friendly smile. He raised his hand and the crowd quieted to hear him speak.

  “Congratulations on your victory, Zylor! You have fought well! You have earned not only the respect of today’s spectators, you have also made a wealthy sum to boot! With your talents, you should remain an arena fighter. I’m sure Graftor can find you a position here—.”

  “You can keep it,” said Zylor suddenly.

  “What’s that?” asked Traygor. His smile vanished.

  “You can keep it all,” repeated Zylor. “The money, the arena, everything. I want only one thing, and that is to exercise my right to challenge you for the throne.”

  A hush fell over the arena for the first time that day. Suddenly Traygor grinned. “Surely you jest? Look at you! You’re wounded, and you’re in no condition to fight—.”

  “My choice has been made,” declared Zylor.

  “Don’t be silly,” laughed Traygor. “I’ll give you twice the prize money if you put that foolish notion aside. It is a considerable sum—.”

  “I won’t be bribed,” growled Zylor. He took a step forward threateningly and the guards pushed forward to intercept him.

  Traygor took a step back and raised a hand to stop his guards. He scowled at Zylor. “Very well, fool! If that is your decision, then I have no choice but to accept your challenge!”

  The crowd rumbled in anticipation. The fighting was not over!

  The lizardmage advisor seemed agitated and tried to intervene, but Traygor shoved him aside roughly. “Leave me, Farg. You give advice, but you don’t fight my battles!” To Zylor he said, “Take your position on the field. I will select my weapon and show you how a true emperor fights!”

  Zylor went back to the center of the arena. There he waited while the emperor carried on a heated discussion with his advisor. The crowd called out Zylor’s name but there was a nervous tension in the air. Finally Traygor donned his royal belt—which was customary for the emperor to wear in a duel—, selected a weapon—a trident—and left the platform to join Zylor in the arena. Several in the crowd cried out the emperor’s name, but most held their breaths in anticipation.

  The old minotaur followed the emperor onto the field and stood between the two combatants. “This battle must go to the death. Under no condition is the challenger to use the emperor’s weapon. He may seize it and throw it aside only. The horn will signal the beginning of the battle.” Graftor looked at Zylor and nodded stiffly. Then he turned and left the field.

  The combatants were all alone in the middle of the arena. For the first time, Zylor took note of the physical size of his uncle. Traygor was huge, even larger than Tornado, and his muscles bulged in his lithe body. This was the most intimidating minotaur Zylor had ever en
countered in battle, or anywhere for that matter.

  The horn sounded and Traygor grinned viciously, the prongs of his trident glinting wickedly in the sunlight. “Time to die, Zylor!” he taunted.

  Zylor’s vision reddened and bloodlust engulfed him at the moment he heard those words and how they were said. The deaths of his father and countless others at the hands of this minotaur, among other atrocities too evil to mention, were enough to get his blood boiling. The culmination of all his training had come to this moment. This was what he had strived to attempt. The memory of his father and the honour of the entire minotaur realm hung in the balance. He either succeeded, or died in the attempt. The latter option was unacceptable.

  Bellowing in insane rage, he lunged at Traygor.

  The emperor had anticipated this and batted Zylor away with the trident. He stabbed at Zylor with the sharpened prongs of the weapon but Zylor was already spinning away.

  Zylor lunged again and this time Traygor batted him across the head with the butt end of the outstretched trident. The crowd cheered in excitement.

  Zylor recovered his balance and ducked in time to avoid a sweeping blow where his head had been.

  Traygor laughed. “I watched you fight, so I know your weaknesses! You haven’t got a chance!”

  Zylor didn’t answer. He lunged low—something he hadn’t done in the arena battles—and bowled into Traygor with his horns. Traygor didn’t expect this new move and staggered with the impact.

  Farg gripped the railing of the platform tightly as he watched in concern. Traygor was getting careless. Any more mistakes and he would have to intervene. If the emperor would just use his weapon! A simple scratch was all he needed!

  Zylor took advantage of Traygor’s loss of balance and connected with several blows on Traygor’s mid-section. Traygor twisted and batted Zylor away with the trident, grabbing the opportunity to catch his breath.