“Damn you, Delbin!” Darius muttered as he moved forward with the rest of the column.
Had he known where the kender presently was, the knight would undoubtedly have withdrawn the statement. Delbin was not heading toward safety, which Darius assumed. He was, in actuality, scurrying through the myriad paths in the range, making his way ever deeper into the mountains. Intent on the knights below, the enemy did not notice the small figure stealthily threading his way through the oncoming forces. If the truth be known, the kender was making better time than the column. Delbin felt some uncharacteristic kender guilt at seeming to abandon the others, but that was outweighed by his determination to reach the stronghold of the magic thief, Argaen Ravenshadow. A trait that many other races overlooked in the kender was their intense loyalty to their friends. Delbin’s best friend, someone who was as close to him as his own family, was probably a prisoner of the dark elf. Nothing would make the kender turn back.
Not once did Delbin imagine that Kaz might be dead.
A figure moved in the rocks ahead of him. Delbin, his sling ready, quietly moved closer, as only one of his kind could. The figure sharpened into the backside of an archer. The man had a good supply of arrows and looked ready to use them all. Delbin glanced around and saw other ambushers spread around the area, but only this one blocked his path. The kender chose a proper bullet for his sling, loaded the weapon, and with no hesitation, swung the sling around and around above his head. It seemed a bit unfair to strike the man without his knowledge, but Delbin considered the fact that the human had no such compunction where the knights below were concerned.
On the next swing, he released the bullet. It soared swiftly through the air and struck the archer soundly in the back of the head. A river of red briefly washed over the man’s backside before the archer fell forward—and over the edge where he had been kneeling. Delbin sincerely hoped he would not hit somebody when he landed.
Scurrying past the spot where the archer had stationed himself, Delbin saw the keep. It really did not seem that far away.
Suddenly Delbin felt the shock of the earth itself rippling wildly. There were screams as some of the attackers fell to their deaths, and curses from above and below the kender’s position. Delbin enjoyed the movement of the earth—it seemed like one of the most enjoyable things he had ever experienced—but the liquefying earth that materialized around his feet fast became an annoyance. Kender liked to move, and mud was strictly for gully dwarves. It was difficult to find solid ground, for despite its new traits, the ground he moved upon looked no different from unaffected patches nearby. The only way to tell the difference was to actually step on the surface and hope one didn’t sink.
That concern died when Delbin noticed the stone dragon rise from behind some smaller peaks. Sharp kender eyes saw the shape clutched tightly in its claws. Delbin had seen the creature up close and knew how big those claws were. To him, there could only be one person as big as the helpless figure he saw in the distance, and that was Kaz. Kaz, his friend, needed rescuing, and the only one who would be able to rescue him was the kender himself.
A mask of stern resolution on his face, or the nearest facsimile he could muster, not knowing how stern resolution was supposed to look, Delbin picked up his pace. He would not let Kaz down.
* * * * *
After his initial shock, Kaz fell back into the dark realm of unconsciousness and did not revive for quite some time. When he did, he discovered himself chained up in a chamber. This was hardly the way he had wanted to enter the keep. He scanned his surroundings. There was actually very little to see. He could make out a single entrance, where the door stood tantalizingly open—either through great carelessness or overconfidence. The walls of the room were cracked with age but still quite sturdy. Cobwebs decorated the ceiling. The chains that held Kaz looked to be formidable, and whoever had secured them to the wall behind him had known his business.
He wondered what the situation was like outside. He suspected it was a full-scale battle, something he had hardly expected. Delbin and the others were out there, possibly injured or worse. Nothing was going right. Nothing had ever gone right. Kaz snorted in self-pity. Did the gods have nothing better to do than pick on a lone minotaur who wanted only to live the rest of his life quietly with an occasional trial of blood to keep him from becoming too bored?
He was still sitting there feeling sorry for himself for all the troubles the world had dumped on him when a guard suddenly materialized. He was not alone, however. There was one very familiar figure with him.
Argaen Ravenshadow walked in, and Kaz saw immediately that his previous brief encounter with the dark elf had been no figment. Ravenshadow did indeed lean to one side as he walked, and it was obvious he did not feel well enough to actually straighten up. This seemed to annoy the elf only slightly, but it gave the minotaur great satisfaction.
The gifts of the emerald sphere are tainted.
The dark elf stopped before Kaz and stared at him for quite some time. Argaen started to speak, seemed to think better of it, and turned to the guard.
“You are dismissed for now. I will call you if I need you.”
Oddly, the guard hesitated. Kaz was rather surprised by the open defiance, but Argaen appeared to expect it. He stared the man down, and the guard finally thought better of his insubordination and reluctantly obeyed, closing the door behind him. The elf waited until he was certain they were quite alone before speaking.
“You saw him, did you not, minotaur?”
Kaz shivered involuntarily, but he kept a calm appearance. “I saw. Even expecting something like that, it was surprising.”
Ravenshadow smiled, but his smile had a peculiar quality, almost as if the elf were mocking himself. “A great prize, yes? Not only is the most powerful artifact of Galan Dracos under my control, but I have made contact with the master sorcerer himself!”
“How did he survive, Argaen? Sardal thought he had, somehow …”
“Sardal? Is that whom you are with? I should have recognized his presence sooner. I’m sure I would have, but there is so much to do and so little time to do it, as they say. Still, I feel that you are the one person I should take time out to talk to, if only because of the role you are destined to play.”
Kaz stiffened.
Ravenshadow waved off any comment. “You ask how Dracos survived? He did not. Your comrade, Huma of the Lance … he saw what truly happened. Dracos knew he had failed in his bid to be a god and also knew that he could only expect the most imaginative of the Dragonqueen’s tortures as reward for his folly. Better, I would agree myself, to destroy both body and spirit, to cease to exist.”
“I know all that.”
“Do you know, then, that it did not go as Dracos planned? Even he is not infallible, evidently. Instead of death, he discovered himself in a sort of unlife, a specter floating helplessly in the chaos of his own shattered creation.” The smile on Argaen’s face altered subtly. The thought of Galan Dracos condemned to everlasting emptiness pleased him.
Kaz wondered what the elf would have said if he had known a similar fate had been planned for him at Sardal’s hands. Another failure on my part, the minotaur bitterly recalled. Had Huma ever failed so often and so greatly? Likely not.
“It was all he could do to slowly pull the emerald sphere back together. He thought it would enable him to free himself, but in that he was wrong, and so he patiently waited, seeking one with the skill and cunning he needed.
“I know all too well now that some of the things I thought I was responsible for were his doing. For some reason, he could not draw sufficient power from the crystal itself, but he could extract it from those other objects that the knighthood so foolishly piled with the fragments of the sphere. I daresay that they will find most of those items worthless and powerless now, if they investigate. Dracos is living on borrowed time, though. He was fortunate; if not for my intervention and the timely appearance of you and your little kender friend, he would have failed. Vi
ngaard Keep would have returned to normal. For our success, I thank you, minotaur.”
Kaz, however, was not paying attention to the elf’s sarcastic remark. Instead, at the mention of Delbin, his thoughts had turned fleetingly to his companion and the rest of his friends. Were they still alive?
“You seem pretty calm for someone whose stronghold is under attack by a large force of Solamnic Knights—or don’t you know about them yet? Has anyone bothered to inform you, or do they just alert their true master, Dracos?”
Argaen flinched ever so slightly, a sure sign that Kaz’s remark had struck home.
“The attack goes on, if that is what you were seeking to discover, minotaur,” Ravenshadow replied. He was trying to once more assume the bland mask that Kaz had originally mistaken for the typical elven posturing when dealing with outsiders. Even now, the mask was failing to stay in place. Ravenshadow did have reason to worry about the battle. The elf added, “We will not be disturbed in here, however.”
“You don’t seem completely confident about that.” Kaz smiled back for effect.
With a speed unnatural for any human or minotaur, Argaen struck Kaz across the jaw. A minotaur’s jaw is a bit harder than a human’s or an elf’s, and Kaz had the slight satisfaction—slight because his mouth throbbed with pain—of seeing Ravenshadow wince at the impact.
“If I didn’t need you, minotaur …”
Kaz glared back. “For what? What do you need me for?”
Argaen seemed a bit taken aback. Finally he replied, “To assuage him.”
It was said with such uncertainty that it took Kaz several seconds to actually comprehend what the elf had said. When he did understand, he grew grim.
“He—he wants me to work on freeing him from the wraithlike state he now is forced to endure. Only revenge against the knighthood vies with his desire to be whole again. He was the one who demanded that I send the stone dragon after you. I would have preferred you dead, of course.”
“No doubt.”
“Do not mock me, beast. You are in a disagreeable situation. When he succeeds in teaching me how to give him a true form, when at last he walks the land of Krynn again, Galan Dracos will exact his revenge on the knighthood. First you. The others will follow.”
Kaz had no ready reply. He could only imagine the fate awaiting him at the hands of Dracos. Dracos had cheated death, had even cheated Takhisis! If he became a threat once more, what would happen to Krynn? There was no Huma this time, and Kaz knew his own limits quite well.
Kaz glanced at the elf, who was watching the minotaur’s visage with interest.
“Now that I have impressed upon you your own future, or lack of it, I want you to consider this. Once Galan Dracos becomes a living, breathing creature again, there is, however remotely, the reality that he can die. Very quickly, if necessary.” Argaen gave his prisoner a knowing look.
So that was it! Ravenshadow wanted an assassin to perform the task that he himself did not have the nerve to attempt. The elf was offering Kaz a chance to strike down the master mage before Dracos gained full control of his powers and the emerald sphere. Did the elf think he was that stupid?
No. That desperate.
“Make no mistake about this, minotaur. I will control the emerald sphere, or Dracos will. You have a choice in the matter. I will leave you to decide. It may be that if you take too long, I will find that I do not need you, so I recommend haste.”
Argaen gave his false smile and turned to leave. Kaz waited until the elf was nearly at the door before calling out, “Argaen, where did you learn to create and control the dreadwolves? I thought only Galan Dracos could do that.”
The figure before him stood frozen for an instant, his face turned from the minotaur. Then, with a haste that gave Kaz the answer he had expected, Ravenshadow flung open the door and barged out of the room. His rapid retreat was punctuated with harsh footfalls. After a moment, the guard peered into the room. He gave the minotaur a singularly passive look and then closed the door, leaving Kaz alone with his thoughts.
So it was Galan Dracos, indeed, who controlled the dreadwolves. Imprisoned as he was with no true form, Dracos had still been able to reach out and perform his dastardly spells.
Several more precious minutes passed. Kaz could hear nothing from outside. He tested the chains again. Very sturdy and very constraining. Even with his strength, escape by sheer force seemed next to impossible, yet Kaz did not relish waiting politely for his execution.
Futilely, he tried once more to struggle against his bonds. Kaz thought of his companions—Delbin, Tesela, Darius, and Sardal—and others he knew, like Bennett, Grand Master Oswal, and Lord Guy Avondale, who might die. The minotaur thought of Huma and how, before this had all begun, he had tried to live up to the ideal that his Solamnic companion represented. But he was a minotaur, not a knight—a minotaur and a rebel among his own kind, besides.
The chains strained but held.
Kaz slumped back against the wall and took a deep breath. He did not let up. Though his body was still screaming from his first attempt, he tried again without hesitation. What other choice did he really have?
He fell back against the wall and readied himself for a third attempt. His wrists and ankles were already raw. His only hope was that whoever had installed these chains had thought in human terms. Even for a minotaur, Kaz was strong.
On the next attempt, he felt some part of his bonds loosen. The chain that held his right wrist seemed to give just a little. Encouraged, Kaz put his full effort into that one side and felt it give a bit more. Gritting his teeth and breathing heavily, he again threw the full force of his body into it.
The chain tore loose with a loud clatter.
The scrape of metal breaking free from solid stone reverberated throughout the chamber. Two feet of solid chain dangled noisily from his wrist.
The door burst open even as he flung his arm back into place. The guard glared at him.
“What’s that noise? What’re ya up to, cow?”
From the doorway, it was impossible for the human to make out the fact that Kaz now had one free arm. When the minotaur refused to answer and even turned away from his interrogator, the guard stepped closer. His sword was out, and the tip was on a level with Kaz’s throat.
He repeated his question. “I heard a noise, cow! Ya make that?”
In reply, Kaz brought his right arm around and, utilizing the two feet of chain, caught the guard’s leg. The human had only a moment to realize that a minotaur’s reach far exceeded that of a man, especially when the minotaur held a length of hard chain as well. The guard fell backward, losing his sword and striking the stone floor with a harsh crack. Kaz quickly dragged his prize over to him, his eyes flickering back and forth to the open door where the appearance of just one more guard would doom his escape attempt.
Hope crumbled to frustration when he discovered that the guard had no key. It was probably in the hands of Ravenshadow, who didn’t trust anyone but himself. Kaz spat out several colorful minotaur epithets. Not only did he lack keys, but the guard’s sword was also out of reach, which meant that he could not use it to defend himself if someone came upon him before he succeeded in freeing his other arm and his legs.
If only he had his twibil. The double-edged, dwarven battle-axe had come to him magically before—why not now? What made it decide when to come or not to come? How desperate a situation did Kaz have to be in? Was it lost forever in the muck the stone dragon had torn him from?
He had no more than thought the latter question when he realized that Honor’s Face was there in his left hand.
Now Kaz had a weapon, a weapon of power. Whether it was up to facing a master sorcerer like Galan Dracos or even a cunning magic thief like Argaen was unknown, but Kaz felt certain that the dwarven craftsman who had fashioned it had forged it strong enough to take on something as simple as chains.
Honor’s Face sliced through the metal chains as it might have sliced through the very air. Both the wrist and
ankle cuffs proved impossible to remove without keys, however. So be it; at least they would not interfere with his movements.
Still no one had come, a fact that puzzled Kaz as much as the fact that it was so silent outside the chamber. Slowly making his way to the doorway, he discovered that the outer corridor was windowless. A few torches lit the dim hall. Kaz had begun to suspect that one of the reasons it was so silent was that he was underground now, most likely under the tower. Certainly that would explain the lack of windows.
The shadow of someone carefully moving down a side corridor in his direction made Kaz flatten against the wall. There was nowhere to hide save his former cell, and he had no intention of retreating into it.
With little other choice, he raised the battle-axe high. One adversary or more, his best bet would be to charge the moment the owner of the shadow came into sight. Surprise was on his side.
There was still only one shadow. A lone guard who had heard the noise? Why not summon help, then?
A hand and boot slipped around the corridor. Kaz stiffened in anticipation. A head peeked out.
“Sardal!”
Kaz almost let the battle-axe drop to the floor as he exhaled sharply in relief. The elf looked up at the minotaur in surprise, saw the massive blades, and blanched.
Kaz was the first to recover. “How did you find me? Where did you come from?”
“Lower your voice or speak not at all, friend! Branchala be praised that we have found one another! I pray that together we may find some way to turn that monstrous evil back before it is too late!”
“Too late?” Kaz eyed the elf fiercely. “What’s happened, Sardal? I’ve been chained up until a moment ago. What’s happened?”
“You do not know?” Sardal seemed stunned. It took a few seconds for the elf to collect himself. “No, you would not know, trapped as you were in the lower chambers of this keep.”
Kaz the Minotaur Page 24