by D. M. Almond
“Incredible is an understatement,” Corbin said, patting Bipp’s shoulder as he too became entranced by the mystical forge. “I’m finding it hard to deny the similarities here to the tales of dwarves.”
“The architectural mastery that would be required to build such a structure is unheard of,” Nero said. “Not even the most advanced construction machinery of the Sarvta nation could pull off such a feat.”
Logan laughed. “So you’re saying that you’re impressed?”
“I am,” Nero said.
Isaac was the only one of them not staring at the forge. The river of lava lit up the right side of his face, illuminating his concern with flickering oranges that matched the color of his eyes.
Logan tapped his brother’s shoulder and walked over to the mage. “What is it?” he asked.
“Someone is crying out for help,” Isaac said.
Logan tried to listen but could hear nothing over the roar of the lava river. “Down here? Are you sure?”
The mage responded with a cursory nod and pointed toward an arched doorway, above which the face of a female dwarf was carved. Logan waved for his companions to follow the mage. When they passed under the statue, he felt like the dwarf’s eyes and smiling face were silently measuring his worth. The corridor was much tighter than the last, with a ceiling so low even Logan and his brother were forced to walk in a crouch.
A little way down, he could see light up ahead and hear the cries of a woman in pain. Isaac motioned for them to be still and pointed at Corbin. Logan watched his brother as he touched his temple and closed his eyes, undoubtedly throwing out a psionic probe to detect what might lie in wait.
After a few moments, Corbin opened his eyes and spoke in a whisper. “There are at least a dozen humanoids, maybe more. I wish I could see further, but it’s hard to tell. There is some sort of interference in these halls. It’s as if the rock itself is trying to block my magic.”
“What do they look like?” Logan asked.
Corbin shrugged uncomfortably. “Not sure. They’re bigger than us though. Could be Jotnar.”
“Maybe we should go back the way we came and search for a different route?” Logan asked. After all, was it wise for them to get into a confrontation without knowing what they were up against? And why give their position away to ice giants if there was an alternative?
The woman’s wailing hit them again, and Bipp winced. “We have to help the lass.”
As much as Logan wanted to avoid a fight, he could never turn his back on someone in danger. He nodded to Corbin, and they moved forward, creeping to the edge of the corridor.
Logan could smell burning wood. Firelight cast the shadows back, and they got a good look at the area. Peeking around the corner, Logan caught a glimpse of horned men standing in a semicircle, around a large bonfire, their backs to the tunnel. In front of them he could see a woman’s naked legs on the ground, and another man was over her, waving his muscular arms around vigorously.
“Are those…?” Logan mouthed.
Corbin watched them intently, trying to get a better feel for what they were up against. He pointed to a stack of toppled bricks across from the exit. Logan waved for the group to follow, and they scurried over to the rubble. From this vantage point, they had a clear view, and Logan almost cursed out loud when he saw the closest creature’s face.
All of the horned men were bare-breasted, with chiseled muscles and broad shoulders. Their arms were slightly longer than a human’s and their legs slightly shorter. The man he was looking at had a bull’s head, with large white horns and brown fur running down his neck. A tattered robe draped from one shoulder, tied around his waist. They were minotaurs!
Their leader was chanting something in a foreign tongue, his face aimed toward the ceiling. While he did this, the other minotaurs danced and waved branches with smoldering grey leaves before the fire.
Wide-eyed, Logan turned back to his companions. “Demonspawn!”
Bipp bit his fist and cursed their luck. The last time they had encountered the fearsome bull-headed humanoids was on the open battlefield of Belikar. Duke Thiazi had sent out a wave of the demonspawn to cut down the Acadian army, and they were a formidable foe. None of the companions had any wish to face these dangerous adversaries in battle again.
“But what are they doing here?” Bipp asked.
The woman screamed in agony, and Corbin shook his head. “Whatever it is they’re up to, it’s killing her.”
“The demons are going to sacrifice her,” Bipp said. “We have to get over there.”
Logan grabbed hold of his eager friend’s shoulder and pulled him back before he could rush in and attack the horned men.
“Let go of me. She’s in danger,” Bipp growled.
“We need a plan,” Logan insisted.
“Right,” Corbin said. “Me and Nero will skirt around them from the left. I’ll send out some psionic misdirection to those two so Nero can get off a couple well-aimed shots, while you and Bipp rush them from their right flank. Try and use Gandiva from a distance as much as you can. The way these guys are built, I don’t think we want to get locked in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Agreed,” Logan said.
“Isaac, we’ll need you to…” Corbin’s voice trailed off as he looked around, perplexed. The mage had completely disappeared, yet none of them had seen him wander off. “Where did he—?”
Corbin never had a chance to finish the thought, as the ground shook violently enough to throw them on their backs. The floor exploded, raining bricks around them. Logan had to cover his face to protect it, leaving the rest of him vulnerable. He tried to roll over and get back to his feet, but something wrapped around his leg and lifted him in the air. The sound of exploding stone was still echoing in his ears when he opened his eyes to see a blurry Gandiva lying on the ground, a good eight feet below his body.
A vine as thick as a small tree had sprung up from the floor, and green offshoots shot in various directions, holding his companions aloft.
The half-robed leader of the minotaurs gave a command in his foreign tongue, and the vines twisted to dangle Logan upside down in front of him. Logan could not see the monster’s face clearly with the bonfire behind the minotaur, but he knew a look of anger when he saw it.
The minotaur said something that sounded like a bray and poked him in the chest with a thick finger.
“What?” Logan said.
The bovine face leaned in with flaring nostrils, close enough for him to feel its hot breath as it spoke, this time with words he fully understood. “I said, you have five seconds to explain to me exactly what you humans are doing in my home, little thief.”
Chapter 4
Logan had to think quick, or his next move might be to end up thrust into the great bonfire. He could hear Bipp’s muffled struggle behind him. Corbin was to his left, wrapped right up to his eyes by the vines.
Think, Logan, think. How would Stur handle this situation? Likely the seasoned warrior would use guile to trick the monster into letting him go long enough to retrieve his weapon and then cut the beasts down. That would be the wisest course of action to take here.
“Well? We’re all ears,” the minotaur said as his entourage drifted away from the great bonfire to gather around the intruders.
The vine wrapped tighter around Logan’s body and shook him, as if it could cause his confession to spill out like loose coin. Keep it cool, man, you need to think this through word by word, he thought.
On the ground behind the brooding minotaur, the woman screamed in pain.
Logan snarled. “If you don’t stop hurting her, I’m going to rip those horns right off your fat head and stick them up your arse.”
The minotaur’s eyes widened in shock, like he had never heard such foul language before. Logan flinched when the minotaur quickly turned back to his comrades. When the group of them broke into laughter, he was at a loss for words.
He caught a glimpse of Corbin’s eyes, just as confused a
s his, a moment before the vine suddenly loosened its grip, sending him tumbling head first to the floor.
Logan hit the ground in a roll, reaching out for Gandiva. A sandaled ebony foot came down on the weapon before he could lift it, and he looked up to find Isaac staring down at him.
“What in the name of—” Logan said.
“These minotaurs are not our enemies,” Isaac explained.
“‘Tis true, human,” the large, robed minotaur said while the woman screamed behind him.
“B-but the girl?” Bipp said, running to Logan’s side.
“Is not in any danger,” the minotaur said, “though it warms the cockles of my heart to see such courageous intent.”
“Then what?” Corbin asked, moving to his right.
Isaac’s smile widened, and he stepped aside so they could get a grand view. One of Bipp’s eyes twitched, and he stuck out his tongue. Corbin turned away as fast as he could, and Logan wished someone could scrub the searing image from his brain.
“Good lord, man,” he snapped at Isaac, “you could give me some warning.”
Isaac laughed. “And miss the looks on your faces? I think not.”
Beside the bonfire the woman gave her last push and the sounds of a baby’s crying echoed across the open chamber.
The minotaur seemed to have already forgotten them and knelt with hands clasped together in prayer. “Mara’s blessing be with you, sweet Ira, in this moment of your child’s waking unto this plane,” he said.
The woman wiped away tears of joy and cradled the babe to her naked bosom with a smile of pure elation. Despite the horrendous view they had moments before, the companions could not help but smile at the happy sight. The minotaurs all fell to hugging and congratulating the father.
“Did you know this the whole time?” Logan asked Isaac.
“What, that there was a birth taking place? Only once we came in here. Such things are plain enough to see if you only lead with your eyes for once instead of charging in with closed fists,” Isaac said with a wry grin.
“But…they’re minotaurs, aren’t they? How did you know they wouldn’t harm us?” Corbin asked.
“Oh, that? Everyone knows the Children of Mara are a peaceful lot, though I’ve never heard of any living in Acadia. As soon as I spotted them, I knew we had met some good fortune for once.”
Logan could not help brooding at Isaac’s smug expression. Sometimes he felt like the mage purposefully toyed with them for his own amusement.
“Well…they look an awful lot like the demonspawn that the Jotnar set upon us in Belikar,” Corbin said.
“Surely we cannot compare these goodly folk with those twisted creatures the archduke summoned,” Isaac reasoned. “All one has to do is look ‘round their necks to see they are followers of Mara.”
Logan noted that each of the minotaurs and the woman who accompanied them wore a beaded necklace with a wooden eye in the center.
“I don’t get it,” Logan said. “The large ones look just like the demonspawn we fought in Belikar…except they’re...”
“Rambunctious?” Corbin said.
“Jolly?” Bipp added.
“Downright drunk,” Logan finished.
More minotaur and their women came rushing into the room from many doorways, already pouring jugs of wine into wooden mugs and knocking them together in salute. It was staggering to witness how quickly the new mother and her child were whisked away by the gathering and how suddenly the entire area became alive with laughter and dancing.
“What are they doing?” Logan asked.
“What any respectable Child of Mara would,” Isaac said. “Making merry.”
The large minotaur who had only minutes before dangled them from magical vines came over wearing a broad grin. “My guests, I am Gabriel, Keeper of the Children. I hope you will forgive the welcoming I gave you,” he said with a bow. “The years have not been kind to us, and we have grown quite untrusting of the unknown. To hear you only concerned with the protection of Ira, well, it spoke volumes, and we are embarrassed. Please come now, join us in drink and celebrate the new life which has sprung up among us?”
Logan was still too frazzled by the strange string of events to make heads or tails of what was going on. The minotaur looked fearsome, with his muscular neck and bull head, yet his words were kind and his smile sincere.
“We would be honored to sup among you,” Isaac said with a bow of his own.
Gabriel seemed very pleased with this, and he called for a jug of wine for their guests. A small man, the size of Bipp yet with doe ears and goat legs, came prancing over with a jug, wine sloshing out as he moved. Mugs were shoved in their hands, and wine was poured.
“Salute,” Gabriel said to his new friends, lifting his mug in the air. Logan followed suit. Then Gabriel downed the mug in one deep steady guzzle and held out the mug for more.
“Whoa,” Bipp said. “The big guy knows how to get it done, huh?”
Logan nodded and took a tentative sip of the wine, still on edge that this was all part of some elaborate trap. The wine was tart, like cherries, on his tongue, with an aftertaste of such sweetness that it warmed his whole throat. Quickly he found himself taking large swigs.
Gabriel nudged Isaac with his elbow and gestured to Logan. “Eh, the boy likes a little vino, wizard.”
Normally Isaac would be all over correcting someone who mistook him for a wizard, but he only laughed and took a deep draught of his own wine.
Across from them, a group of women had gathered together. They were quite beautiful, with long, wavy black hair, dark eyes, and bright smiles. All of the Children of Mara, minotaurs, fauns, and women, wore robes that tied around their waists and looped either over the shoulder or in a halter. The women were giggling among themselves and kept looking over at the guests.
Logan found himself admiring one of them, and she turned, revealing her backside, which his eyes naturally roamed to. Above the curve of her rump happily twitched the tail of a deer, white and fluffy. The wine caught in Logan’s throat, and he fell into a spasm of coughs.
“Is your brother okay?” Gabriel asked. “The vino is a bit too much for him, it seems.”
Logan shook his head. “No…just a tickle in my throat.”
“Good.” Gabriel beamed. “Then fill the lad’s mug anew!”
The goat-legged faun happily obliged, and Isaac sidled up to Logan. “They are called faunas,” he said low enough to keep the conversation private.
“They’re not women?” Logan asked.
“Oh, they are all woman,” Isaac said in a lusty voice Logan found mildly disturbing. “Just a different race than you.”
Logan nodded, gathering himself. Studying the women more carefully, he understood. Besides the short fluffy tails, the women also had the ears of a doe.
Across from them, the faunas held out large rings of flower petals that the minotaurs charged through, horns down. When one of them caught three of the necklaces, the faunas fell on him in a heap of laughing and kisses.
Cheers went up from a crowd gathered around one of the doors, and a group of minotaurs and fauns came out with large bowls of food.
“Ah, it is time we broke bread,” Gabriel said. “Come gather ‘round with my people. We will share stories and laughter.” He waved them to follow as all of the Children headed toward the bonfire.
“And more wine,” Bipp yelled.
Gabriel turned and smiled so greatly his eyes became slits. “And wine!”
The feast lasted long hours, with a never-ending stream of drink to accompany it. Logan had to cut himself off at one point, and he could have sworn Bipp nodded off with his eyes open. Nero, on the other hand, continued to drink, though it did nothing to his senses, out of respect for their hosts. Things were beginning to settle down, and many groups of revelers sat in small groups around the bonfire. Isaac had just finished explaining the purpose of their visit to Miradùr, to find a way back to Vanidriell, when Gabriel held up his cup.
“To ancient paths.”
Isaac and his companions shared the toast with a warm smile, though Logan noted a look of sadness behind the minotaur’s eyes.
Isaac’s eyes drifted to the fire, and slowly his face grew serious. “Gabriel, how is it that the Children of Mara should be holed up in the halls of Miradùr? Not that my friends and I mind bumping into such fine folk as yourselves, but aren’t you a long way from home?” Isaac stroked his goatee thoughtfully.
“Indeed,” Gabriel said. The minotaur shared a look of melancholy with his brethren. He carefully set his flagon on the stone floor beside him and leveled his gaze at the mage. “You are a clever one, Isaac of the White Tree. I have a feeling if I were to ask the Mistress Mara of you, I would find you are more worldly traveled than the confines of Acadia’s civilization would allow.”
Logan did not know what that meant, but he was intrigued to see Isaac give a slight dip of his head in acknowledgment.
“So you have been to Alfenheim and seen her green pastures? You have walked Mara’s rivers and swum in her fields?”
“I think you mean that the other way, but, aye, I have seen as much,” Isaac admitted.
“Then surely you must know of the Falling Night.”
Isaac’s face remained impassive.
Gabriel cocked his head and tried again. “Azelban and her dread horde?”
Isaac looked puzzled. “Do you refer to the moon over Alfenheim? Is it childish superstitions you speak of so fearfully?”
Gabriel’s face grew cold and his broad shoulders tensed up. The minotaur leaned closer to the fire, prompting Logan to remember what dangerous creatures these bull-headed men could be. Gabriel looked fit to eat a horse, and his right eye bulged when he spoke. “Superstition? Dare you sit at my table and deign to belittle our suffering? The Hydra has awoken, wizard. And she has only dark plans for the fate of the fair folk.”
Isaac bowed his head in reverence. “Please forgive my foolish tongue. After so many years of solitude I find it has grown a mind of its own. I sincerely meant no disrespect.”