Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy

by Carey Scheppner

“Funny,” said Kazin. “He didn’t have that much to buy.”

  “Maybe he’s trying hard to bargain with some of the vendors,” joked Sherman. “You know how dwarves are when it comes to buying stuff.”

  “True enough,” said Kazin. “We’ll give him a bit more time.”

  Since Sherman was dying to hear what they had found out so far, Kazin led him inside the inn so he could tell Zylor at the same time. He left Amelia and Olag to wait for Harran to return.

  The minotaur was sitting on a bed looking like his usual self when the mage and warrior called to him through the locked door. He rose and unlocked the door to allow them to enter and then locked it behind them. It wouldn’t do for an unwary person to accidentally enter the room to see a minotaur standing there. Zylor appeared much happier in his usual form. He had removed the amulet and it rested on the night stand.

  Kazin briefed them on their discovery and both Sherman and Zylor appeared relieved that they were still hot on the trail of their quarry.

  “I still don’t know why they would choose to go through the effort of strangling their victims,” said Sherman. “A quick sword thrust is much quicker and more efficient.”

  “Strangling is a cowardly way to fight,” growled Zylor. “They must sneak up behind their victims while they are unaware of their presence. They should stand and face their opponent and look them in the eye. If we catch up to them, I will show them how true hand-to-hand combat works!”

  “Actually, Zylor has a good point,” said Kazin.

  “Hand-to-hand combat?” asked Sherman. He looked confused.

  “No,” said Kazin. “I don’t mean that. I mean the part about strangling. Don’t you think it’s odd that most of the victims were strangled? I can see a few of them being surprised from behind, but most of them? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “You’re right,” said Sherman. “You would think that many of them would become alerted to the danger and at least put up a fight.”

  “It is unusual,” agreed the minotaur. “There must be a reason for this.”

  “Well, we’ll find out eventually,” said Kazin. He looked at the minotaur. “Zylor, we’ll find a place to eat and return with some food a little later. Are you ok here?”

  Zylor snorted. “No one will bother me here. I have already slept for a bit. You go and do whatever you have to do.”

  Kazin nodded. “Very well. We’ll be back.” He and Sherman went back out to the inn’s entrance where Amelia paced nervously. When she saw them, she walked up to them and displayed her orb. “Something is wrong! When Harran didn’t show, I decided to try using my orb to see if I could find him and it started to vibrate!” she showed the orb to the others and they could see its pinkish colour. Kazin placed a finger on the artifact and could feel the vibrations that Amelia was talking about.

  “Harran is long overdue,” said Olag, who was still invisible. “He should have been back by now.”

  Kazin swore. This was something he had not foreseen. “We’ll have to search for him.”

  “We should search together,” said Amelia. “If we separate, we might run into a trap. For all we know, the strangler or stranglers are still in town and know we are after them.”

  “I sure hope not,” rumbled Sherman. “I was hoping surprise would be on our side.”

  Kazin scratched his head. “We need to cover ground quickly. It would take ages to cover the entire town in one group. If we split into two groups, we can cover twice the territory, while still having someone watching our back.”

  “Make it three,” said the skink warrior. Everyone turned to the invisible voice. When he spoke again, everyone jumped because he spoke from behind them. “I can move more stealthily on my own like this,” said Olag. “I may come across people talking and learn something vital that wouldn’t be learned if I searched with any of you.”

  “Good point,” said Kazin. “You go ahead and see what you can find out. Sherman, you accompany Amelia and try some of the shops on the south end of the vendor district.”

  “What about you?” asked Amelia.

  “I’ll get Zylor and we’ll check the north district.”

  “You could come with me,” suggested Amelia sweetly.

  Kazin shook his head. “I’d be better off going with Zylor. I’m the only one who can transform him into a human warrior. If he gets out of hand, I’m the best one equipped to deal with it.”

  Amelia looked dejected but said nothing.

  “And who’s going to watch your back?” asked Sherman. “If we lose you, we’ll all be stuck in this point in history.”

  “I’ll be fine,” assured Kazin. “Zylor learned a lot from you. He should be able to handle it, even if he turns into a minotaur for a short period. I can change him back into a human and tell people I turned him into a minotaur on purpose.”

  Sherman sighed.

  “And if you’re worried about losing me, stay close to Amelia. She has knowledge of time travel. She can help you get back home.”

  Amelia reddened. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Of course not,” said Kazin, smiling. Then his face became serious. “Now go!” he ordered. “We don’t have time to stand around talking! Harran could be in real danger! We meet back here at sundown!”

  Sherman nodded and he and Amelia raced for the stables to grab some horses. Meanwhile, Kazin bounded up the stairs. He hastily explained the problem to Zylor, expecting some resistance to the plan, but the minotaur instantly grabbed the amulet and threw it around his neck, waiting for Kazin to transform him into a human warrior. Then they bounded down the stairs and ran for the horses themselves.

  Hours of fruitless searching turned up nothing. Kazin and Zylor entered various food related shops starting at the north end of town and worked their way toward the center of town. All of the shopkeepers gave the same answers. Either they had no dwarven customers that day, or, if they did, none of them matched Harran’s description. Granted, most dwarves looked alike to most humans, with long beards and weathered faces, but none wore a horned helmet and chain mail.

  Kazin was beginning to despair. It was getting late and some of the shops were starting to close up for the day. Then Zylor stopped suddenly and pointed.

  “That looks like Harran’s horse. I distinctly remember his horse was brown with a white leg.”

  Kazin looked where Zylor pointed. A horse was tied to a hitching post in front of a shop. As they neared, they could see it was an herb shop.

  “I guess I’m wrong,” said Zylor upon seeing the shop. “It’s not a food vendor.”

  Kazin stopped and looked at the pleasant-looking warrior at his side. “I just remembered! Amelia had asked Harran to pick up some herbs! We should have been checking those vendors too!”

  Zylor groaned and looked back the way they had come. “It’s too late to go back and check those shops. They’ll all be closed by now.”

  “But maybe this one is still open,” said Kazin, starting forward again.

  He and Zylor entered the shop and the owner looked up from her desk in surprise. “Oh! I was just about to close up.”

  “Sorry,” said Kazin, “but we’re merely looking for some information. We’re looking for a friend. He may have been in here to purchase some herbs.”

  “He is a dwarf,” added Zylor as politely as he could.

  “Oh!” said the vendor, nodding. “I had a dwarf drop by earlier today. I don’t often get dwarves as customers.”

  Kazin gave Zylor a quick glance. “What did he look like?”

  The vendor chuckled. “Why, like a dwarf, of course!”

  “What was he wearing?” asked Zylor impatiently.

  “He wore a helmet and chain mail,” said the vendor. “A very pleasant fellow.”

  Kazin and Zylor exchanged excited glances.

  “Can you remember which
herbs he bought?” asked Kazin.

  “Hmm, let’s see now,” said the vendor, thinking. “If I recall correctly, he bought some healing herbs and a jar of wildhorn leaves.” She glanced between the two men. “Is he the one you’re looking for?”

  “I think so,” said Kazin. “When did he leave your shop?”

  “Oh, it was several hours ago now, I would say,” said the vendor, “probably shortly after noon.”

  “Thanks so much,” said Kazin. He and Zylor stepped outside and observed the horse.

  “It must have been him!” exclaimed Zylor through clenched teeth.

  A beggar staggered toward them. “Alms! Alms for the poor!” He held out a bowl with gnarled, shaking hands.

  “Get lost!” snarled Zylor.

  The man cringed and moved on, obviously used to being rejected.

  Kazin had already moved toward the horse and examined it closely. It paid him no heed and merely shook its mane.

  “It’s his horse,” said Zylor behind him. “It has to be.”

  “But why would he just abandon it?” asked Kazin. He reached for the saddle bag and opened it. Inside was a large selection of dried meats. “That’s more than we need,” commented Kazin.

  “I told him to buy extra,” said Zylor. He clenched his teeth angrily. “He came through for me and where was I when he needed me? Cowering in a room in an inn!”

  Kazin contemplated some sausages he had found and recalled how the dwarf liked his sausages. “Don’t let it bother you, Zylor. You couldn’t have known.” He went to the horse’s other side and opened the pack to reveal a stash of herbs. Among them was a jar of wildhorn leaves.

  “You shouldn’t touch what ain’t yours!” said a frail voice a short distance away. It was the beggar.

  “I told you to get lost!” snarled Zylor, stepping forward threateningly.

  The beggar stepped back but Kazin intercepted the warrior. “Hold it, Zylor.” He turned to the beggar. “Do you know who owns this horse?”

  “You shouldn’t take what don’t belong to ya,” mumbled the beggar. He turned and started walking away.

  “Wait!” cried Kazin. He caught up to the beggar. “I’ll pay you for information! It could be a matter of life or death!”

  The beggar stopped. “Wh- what do ya wanna know?”

  “Was the owner of the horse a dwarf?” asked Kazin.

  The beggar nodded. “A mighty good one, at that.”

  “Was he wearing a helmet and chain mail?”

  “Yup.”

  “What happened to him?” asked Kazin anxiously. By now Zylor was beside them.

  The beggar shrugged. “I dunno.” He pointed to the shop behind them. “He went in and didn’t come out.”

  “The herb shop?” asked Zylor.

  “No!” said the beggar, waving his hand dismissively. “The cookware shop.”

  Zylor and Kazin looked at the shop adjacent to the herb shop and then at each other.

  “You said he never came out?” asked Kazin.

  “That’s what I said,” said the beggar. “You deaf or somethin’?”

  Kazin threw a handful of coins at the beggar and sprang after Zylor, who was already halfway to the cookware shop. The door was locked and they tried to peek in the window past the items in the window display.

  “I’m going in,” growled Zylor, circling back to the door.

  “Zylor, don’t -,” began Kazin.

  Zylor kicked in the front door and barged into the shop with Kazin in tow.

  A small torch was lit by the front desk but no one was present. Zylor’s intrusion was loud enough, however, and a storeroom door at the back opened. Emerging from the room was a dwarf with a bushy mustache and a long grey beard. Upon seeing the intruders, he started in surprise. “What! What is the meaning of this?! Can’t you see I’m closed?”

  Zylor took two long strides - longer than his human form should have allowed - and grabbed the dwarf by the collar.

  “Zylor, wait!” pleaded Kazin, running to try to intervene.

  “I’m looking for a friend of mine!” snarled Zylor. Even for a human he looked fierce. “He’s a dwarf!”

  The dwarf winced and would have gulped if Zylor hadn’t had his shirt squeezed so tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he rasped.

  “Yes you do!” growled Zylor. “Talk!”

  “Zylor -,” cautioned Kazin.

  “Talk!” repeated Zylor. He loosened his hold just slightly.

  “I haven’t seen any dwarves,” said the dwarf.

  “That’s not what we heard,” said Kazin. It was obvious the dwarf was lying despite the intimidating man threatening him.

  “Well, I haven’t seen any dwarves recently,” insisted the dwarf.

  “The beggar outside saw him come in here,” said Zylor.

  The dwarf laughed. “And you believe him? Are you daft?”

  A low growl emanated from deep within Zylor’s chest as his rage began to build up.

  Kazin had an idea. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell the truth. If you don’t, I’ll turn my friend into something that any dwarf would have nightmares about.”

  The dwarf snorted. “You can’t make me talk! I’ve got connections. My people will come for you at night when you’re sleeping and pay you back. You’ll see. We own this town!”

  “Zylor,” said Kazin, “it’s time to show him your poker face.”

  Zylor smiled. He slowly drew his axe from its sheath on his back. But it wasn’t his axe that frightened the dwarf. It was the grin on Zylor’s face. The smile widened into the toothy grin of a minotaur. Zylor grew in size to his true height, making the dwarf seem puny in comparison. The dwarf struggled to get free, even as he was lifted off the ground by a hairy, clawed fist. The dwarf’s squeal of fright was cut off as Zylor tightened his grip further. The minotaur’s hot, fetid breath was nauseating to the hapless dwarf.

  “I would talk if I were you,” said Kazin firmly. “There’s no telling what my friend will do. My magic has a tendency to go awry from time to time. I guess I still need practice.”

  Zylor loosened his grip on the dwarf so he could speak. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” pleaded the terror stricken dwarf at last.

  “Then talk!” breathed Zylor in a quiet, menacing voice.

  “Your friend was here!” said the dwarf hastily. “Some of my contacts - they spotted your friend in town wearing chainmail from the king’s personal guard. None of the king’s personal guards ever leave the dwarven realm. They are always on duty. So my contacts figured he was a defector or a thief. Either way, there would be a healthy reward for his capture. They followed your friend to my shop and ordered me to lure him into the back where they ambushed him and took him away.”

  “Where did they take him?” snarled Zylor.

  “Back to the dwarven realm, of course,” said the dwarf. His mustache quivered nervously.

  “When?” asked Kazin.

  “Several hours ago,” said the dwarf. “They left with one of the many dwarven convoys that deliver weapons to the Tower of Sorcery and the human guard posts. The returning caravans carry some human goods and the gold that the weapons were sold for. They are heavily guarded. The return convoys travel quickly. In two days your friend will be at one of the entrances to the dwarven mountains. Beyond that, the dwarves won’t let you past. You might as well forget about your friend. You’ll never see him again.”

  “How do we track the convoys?” asked Zylor.

  The dwarf shook his head, his mustache quivering. “I don’t know very many details about the convoys. I do know they use different routes to confuse the roving bands of ogres, but that’s all.”

  “Where do the convoys gather before departing?” asked Kazin.

  “I don’t know,” said the dwarf, “but caravans are comin
g and going regularly. You just have to be at the town’s north gate to see them depart.”

  “How many caravans leave per day?” asked Kazin.

  “That depends on the volume of goods being transported,” said the dwarf. “Some days there are as many as twelve convoys. The last couple of weeks have been brisk. I’d say at least ten convoys have come and gone today alone.”

  “Are there any more convoys departing today?” asked Zylor.

  The dwarf turned to regard the minotaur who towered over him and nodded. “I’d wager that there is another one or two leaving before nightfall.”

  “Ok, Zylor,” said Kazin at last. “You can let him down now. We have what we came to find out.”

  A look of disappointment crossed Zylor’s features as he put the dwarf down and re-sheathed his axe.

  “I’ll have to change you back to your original form, Zylor,” said Kazin. He chanted and Zylor immediately returned to his human form.

  Zylor frowned and turned to the door. Kazin waited until the warrior had stepped past him and turned to follow when the dwarf called out. “You’ll pay for this! My contacts will deal with you like they did with your friend!”

  Zylor turned and looked past Kazin with a sadistic grin. “I hope they try! Once we dispose of them, we’ll know exactly who to come for next!”

  “I really think it’s in your best interest not to mention us to anyone,” added Kazin. “I’d sure hate to see harm come to your son because of your stupidity!”

  “H - how do you know I have a son?” stuttered the dwarf.

  “He’s been watching his father through the opening in the storeroom doorway,” said Kazin. “I’m sure you’ll have some explaining to do.”

  The dwarf spun to look behind him and just caught sight of his son ducking out of sight. Then he turned back to the front door which stood ajar, the hinges all but torn off. The unwanted guests were gone. The dwarf’s face was white as he contemplated his next move. He decided right then and there not to say anything about this incident to anyone.

  Kazin and Zylor returned to the inn with Harran’s horse. The others waited anxiously out front and looked hopeful when they saw the extra horse. Kazin ushered them into one of the rooms and filled them in on what they had uncovered thus far. Everyone was disappointed at the circumstances surrounding Harran’s disappearance.