Land of the minotaurs lh-4

by Richard A. Knaak

  He was just in the process of doing that when he heard the clink of metal. Tensing, Hecar stretched his hands around toward his back. Most minotaurs favored heavy battle-axes and many, including Hecar, carried them in back harnesses. All he had to do was reach a few inches more, and the axe would be in his grasp, ready to taste the blood of any adversaries.

  "May Sargas watch over you, Brother," intoned a voice.

  Hecar lowered his hands as he turned. He knew the imperious tone, as did all minotaurs. A cleric of the Holy Orders of the Stars. To humans, a minotaur cleric might seem a somewhat humorous sight, for, unlike Hecar and most of his kind, who wore kilts and armor but little else, a cleric was usually clad in a solemn black robe covering him or her from foot to head. The hood and shoulders of the robe were crimson. Both colors were said to be favored by Sargas himself.

  Only the cleric's muzzle was visible, the rest of his face shadowed by the hood. His hands were clasped together and, as he walked toward Hecar, there was the faint clink of metal, indicating that under his garment the robed figure was both armed and armored.

  Behind him trailed a pair of warriors with the look of the guard on their cold features. Members of the guard were generally recruited from the more fanatical warriors in the armies. This pair carried long swords as opposed to axes and looked ready to run Hecar through if he dared resist.

  And what is it I'm supposed to resist? wondered the traveler. "May your ancestors guide you, Brother."

  "You have business with Jopfer de-Teskos?"

  "I sought out an old friend, Cleric. He wasn't home."

  "So I know. How do you know him, Brother?" The cleric reached up and pulled back his hood. The cleric was surprisingly gaunt for a minotaur and much younger than Hecar would have guessed. However, the chill eyes warned that it would be a mistake to cross him.

  "He's an old friend. I've just arrived here and thought I would visit since I was close by."

  "Did you come by ship?"

  A slight sound behind him warned Hecar that the three figures were not alone. He gave no sign that he had heard the others sneaking up behind him, but shifted so as to get his hands as close to his axe as he dared without giving his movements away. "Aye, I came from a ship. Been away for a while."

  The cleric nodded, mouth set. He neither smiled nor frowned. "The Gladiator, wasn't it?"

  Hecar twitched before he could control himself. He had given the name to the old male on the dock, not long before. "Aye, Gladiator."

  The cleric nodded, closed his eyes, and a moment later uttered, "The Gladiator, lost at sea more than a decade ago. Nearly all hands lost with it." He opened his eyes and stared without emotion at the tense Hecar. "Therefore, you could not have just arrived on it."

  Hecar said nothing. His hands were close to the handle of his axe. Any nearer and he would be committing himself to battling a cleric of high standing in the orders, not to mention several members of the guard. Yet, what could he do? He was not as clever as Helati's mate. Not nearly as clever as Kaz.

  "What is your name?"

  He was still debating how he should answer when one of the warriors behind him announced, "His name's Hecar, of the clan Orilg, Holiness. I thought I recognized him earlier."

  The voice was so familiar that Hecar dared peek over his shoulder. There were three minotaurs behind him, one with a sword and the other pair with axes. It was one of the latter who had spoken. The tall, scarred figure grinned at him.

  "Your house, is it not, Captain Scurn?" the cleric asked.

  "The guard is my clan now, Holiness."

  "Scurn?" When last he had seen the disfigured minotaur, Scurn had been an object of pity, defeated in combat by Kaz. The other minotaurs had been forced to lead their companion by hand from Solamnia all the way back to the empire, so broken was he by his loss. This incarnation, however, did not look at all defeated. In fact, he looked even uglier and more vicious than Hecar could ever recall.

  "We are always happy to welcome a lost one back into the fold," commented the cleric. "Come with us, Brother Hecar."

  Scurn and the other minotaurs closed in.

  Hecar reached for his axe… and found that something held it firmly in its harness. The minotaur pulled harder but, despite his great strength, the axe remained stuck fast.

  The gully dwarf? He was the only one who had come within touching distance of Hecar. Had he done something to the harness when they had collided?

  Hecar glanced around, judged the expressions on the guards, and decided that he was surrounded and defenseless.

  What, he wondered, would Kaz do under these circumstances? Of course, being far more clever, Kaz would not have made such a journey in the first place. He had warned Hecar from doing it, but the latter had been too curious and headstrong.

  What would Kaz do in his position? There was really only one choice. If Scum was the captain of this lot, going voluntarily with them did not vouchsafe Hecar's continued well-being.

  Snarling, he charged the cleric. The robed figure was surprisingly swift, so much so that he was easily able to dodge his attacker. The two guards beside the cleric moved in to seize Hecar, as did the three others. Hecar swung a fist wildly and succeeded in catching one guard on the underside of the jaw. His attacker stumbled backward, but did not fall. The other guard who had stood with the priest seized Hecar's arm and twisted it viciously.

  Roaring in pain, Hecar still managed to keep his footing. He brought one foot up and struck his adversary in the back of the leg, just below the knee joint. The guard fell to his knees, losing his grip.

  "Alive!" shouted Scum. "Alive!"

  A heavy foot caught Hecar in the small of the back. He fell forward. Something hard and flat struck him on the head just behind the horns. The world spun.

  "Not too hard, Captain. Save something for the circus."

  Darkness began to creep over Hecar. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, thinking, What's happening? What by Kiri-Jolith's axe is responsible for this madness? I've done nothing!

  Then he was struck hard again. Oddly, the last thing he heard was a voice, a calming voice, say, "There is a balance to maintain. I am sorry."

  Chapter 2

  Kaz's Mission

  Still no word from Hecar, Kaz thought as he gazed over the small settlement. "Small" was perhaps not the proper word anymore, for there had to be at least sixty minotaurs in the vicinity and another thirty down by the river. What had started out as a home for Helati and him, with Hecar, her brother, deciding to remain nearby, had grown into a village. Most of the newcomers had only just arrived during the past year and a half, and the population increased every couple of weeks. Word had somehow gotten back to minotaurs disenchanted with the reborn empire that a free settlement existed. If things continued at this pace, the race could soon claim three kingdoms instead of two.

  And they'll probably try to make me emperor at that point. He snorted, not so much out of the ridiculousness of the possibility but rather at the realization that he was already well on his way to becoming such a figurehead. Already the others looked to Kaz as their leader. His reputation, instead of being sullied by rebellion against his former masters, had earned him respect in the eyes of many. His past glories in the circus also lent him an air of strength, for he was the only one of his rank who had ever chosen retirement rather than demanding his right to challenge the emperor for the throne.

  Kaz grunted. He knew he had to return to Helati and tell her that her brother had missed yet another rendezvous. Hecar should have returned from the capital long ago. There was no denying now that something must have happened. Paladine protect you, Hecar! Why couldn't you listen to me? Going back to Nethosak was asking for trouble!

  The tall, dark-furred minotaur started back to the dwelling he shared with his mate of two years' standing. Perhaps it would have been better to remain in the icy south, but after the snow wraiths and dwarves of frozen Farahngrad, the warmer and quieter north had looked extremely inviting. Mo
re important, the time in the south had brought Kaz and Helati closer to one another in a shorter time than even he could have dreamt. Instead of journeying across all of Ansalon, the two had instead decided to settle in a quiet, wooded region far south of their homeland. Hecar, never one to abandon his sister, had decided to build a place there, too.

  In settling down, Kaz had found a peace that had escaped him all his life. He had really known nothing but battle since he had been young enough to train, and now he realized that quiet solitude, combined with sharing that quiet with someone he loved, was preferable. He and Helati had made a home for themselves, acting in many ways more like humans than like minotaurs. Kaz saw nothing demeaning in that. Despite his race's obvious superiority in some matters, the minotaurs truly were deficient in most important aspects of life. Humans could appreciate things that most minotaurs, not understanding, would have scoffed at. Humans were not perfect, but they were admirable in some ways.

  Of course, he had met one of the greatest humans, so perhaps, Kaz thought, his opinion was biased. Huma of the Lance, the now legendary hero of the war against Takhisis, the dark goddess, had been one of the bravest, most honorable warriors Kaz had ever known. It was a friendship that should not have thrived, but it had, ending only when the young knight had died vanquishing the Dragon Queen. Kaz had been there, a part of the epic battle. He had witnessed the humanity behind the hero, and the lesson had stayed with him, influencing his own decisions and behavior. Like Huma, he had come to want only peace and a quiet life.

  But that never seems to be the way. He snorted. I try to live in peace and only end up mired in one battle after another. Not that I haven't purposely walked straight into a few.

  The first newcomers arrived shortly after the trio had settled here. Once the first travelers arrived, it seemed to him as if half the minotaurs in the empire followed. Worse, they all seemed to know who he was… and had been. The past that Kaz had thought buried seemed more alive than ever.

  I will not go back to Nethosak! he thought, snarling quietly. I will not go back there again!

  Yet if Hecar was in danger, what else could Kaz do?

  He found Helati exactly where he expected her to be, cradling the newly born twins and trying to sing them to sleep. For a minotaur, his mate's voice was surprisingly melodious. He had thought it pleasant from the very first time he had heard it. Then, Kaz had been a prisoner of a band of minotaurs, hunters sent to bring him back on a mission of honorable purpose. The leaders of the band did not have any intention of giving him the opportunity to defend his actions, but a few had believed in him. Helati and her brother had been among those. When the matter had been settled, they remained with him. He could not have been more pleased. She was still the most beautiful female he had ever seen, and a fine companion in battle as well.

  Her features were refined, gentle. Standing, she was a bit shorter than he was. Helati's horns were about half as long as his own. None of this meant that she was weak. She had been a seasoned warrior when he first met her, and the tricks he had taught her since made her better than most larger and stronger warriors.

  The twins shifted restlessly. Both the male and the female were fitful like Kaz, though in looks they favored their mother. He wondered if that would change as they grew older. He wondered if he would be around to witness the changes.

  The dwelling he and Helati had built was simple, a stone-and-wood hut with three small rooms. Some of the newcomers had built larger homes, but Kaz wanted only what his family needed. He was not in competition for status. Perhaps that was why the other minotaurs looked to him for guidance. They knew he cared nothing about fighting for dominance; he intended to live simply, as he and Helati desired.

  Helati looked up as he neared. His expression was all she needed to see. "You're going, aren't you?"

  "I have to."

  "Why?"

  "Because if I don't, Helati, I know you will."

  There was no denying that. "Hecar is my brother, Kaz. By rights, I should be the one to search for him."

  "And if there was not something more important for you to deal with," he said, indicating the two squirming bundles, "then I might let you go." But he wouldn't, in any case. If it weren't for the children, Kaz still would have sought some excuse to prevent his mate from riding off to treacherous Nethosak.

  She looked down at the pair. Kyris, the boy, had a broader face and tiny buds that would someday grow into horns as great in length as those of his father. His sister,

  Sekra, was just a little smaller and more narrow, but darker-furred. The stubs where her horns would come in were barely noticeable, as a female's horns grew in later and to a lesser size than those of a male. Both children were, of course, perfect in the eyes of their parents.

  "You could just as easily take care of them as I." Her tone was hesitant, however, caught as she was between her care for her brother and her love for her children.

  "You know they cooperate with you much more than they do with me, Helati." She could not deny that. The infants loved their father, but their mother had what seemed a sort of magic touch. Where Kaz might take all night to coax them to sleep, Helati would need only an hour… or two. The twins shared his rebellious nature, all right. "And we can't take them with us, now can we? Not if something's amiss in Nethosak."

  Looking up, she locked gazes with him. "You know it might be dangerous for you to go back."

  "Go back where?" asked another voice.

  A shorter, muscular minotaur with a mixture of black and brown fur and a long snout came trotting toward them. One broken horn spoke of his past in the Great Circus. Brogan never talked about his experience there, much the way Kaz never did. Brogan visited them often, possibly because he had no family in the settlement, not even distant kin.

  Kaz saw no reason to hide the truth. The others would notice his absence. "I'm going back. Hecar hasn't returned from Nethosak. I'm going to find him."

  Snorting, Brogan replied, "I'll gather the others. We'll be ready when you are."

  "I'm going alone."

  "Alone?" The other minotaur snorted again. His thick hands curled into fists. "Not alone! You don't know what it's like back there-"

  "Brogan." Kaz's quiet tone commanded silence. "I can't very well go riding into the imperial capital with a conspicuous force behind me. A lone rider will make less disturbance than fifty. Besides, it's been over eight years. It's less likely someone will recognize me. The war and the time since then have made changes."

  "We could follow you."

  "You haven't been gone that long. People will spot you or the others more easily than they would me. Besides, I work better alone." That was not entirely true, but other than Helati or Hecar, there was no one he would trust to follow his lead… Well, there was one more, but "trust" was not exactly the right word where a kender was concerned. "Desperately hope" to follow his lead was more accurate. Fortunately, the kender concerned was not here.

  Brogan looked unconvinced. He turned to Helati, but she looked away. Helati, more than anyone else, knew how Kaz worked best. It was not to her liking, but Helati was aware that he had a better chance of success without others to betray his presence.

  "Was there something you wanted, Brogan?"

  Blinking, the short minotaur nodded. "Aye, but it'll wait. Just some of us wanting permission to put your mark on our places. I told 'em to wait until we knew it was fine with you. It can wait, though."

  He turned and stalked away before Kaz could pull himself together to respond. Helati gazed up at her mate, seeing the consternation in his face.

  "My mark on their homes? They're supposed to put their clan markings there."

  "Perhaps they've decided they belong to a different clan now."

  Kaz was uncomfortable with the image of his name carved into the simple structures. That was reserved for the clan name, which was the way by which minotaurs asked their ancestors to watch over a new home. By putting his mark on instead, they were acknowledging
him as clan leader, much the way Orilg himself had been chosen.

  Clan Kaziganthi… or rather Clan Kaz… since there was a tendency to shorten the title. At one time, Kaz would have felt honored. Now he was unnerved.

  "I leave before dawn, Helati. That should let me escape the others. I can't take them with me. You know that."

  "I know." She rose, careful not to disturb the infants, who were still wakeful. "Would you like to hold them for a while?"

  Kaz nodded, taking his children in his arms. To his surprise, they nestled in close to his chest and began to drift off into slumber. It was the first time they had ever fallen asleep so smoothly. He was almost disappointed. This might be the last time he saw them before he departed.

  Helati turned toward their dwelling. "I've got some things I want to prepare for your journey. Do you want to put the children to bed or hold them a while longer?"

  "I'll hold them until you're ready to take them."

  She nodded, then went inside. The massive minotaur watched her disappear, then returned his gaze to the twins. At the moment, Kaz did not feel like a former champion of the circus, a veteran mariner, or a seasoned warrior. He felt like a proud father, and the feeling was a good one.

  Enjoy it while you can, he suddenly reminded himself. It may be the last time you feel this way for days… or ever again.

  Cradling the twins closer, Kaz looked north.

  Dawn was still nearly two hours away when Kaz began the final preparations for departure. His great warhorse, a cherished gift from the Knights of Solamnia, was impatient to go. Kaz needed only one more item to complete his gear, something long mounted on one of the walls of his dwelling.

  The battle-axe he pulled from the wall was one that had been given him by an elf named Sardal Crystalthorn, an elf who had been dead for more than three years now. Even in the dark, the long, double-edged weapon somehow gleamed, its mirror face able to catch even the slightest illumination. The unknown dwarf who had crafted it had created a masterpiece. The balance was perfect. It had saved Kaz's life many times.