“Might? You weren’t certain?”
The dragon had not yet given up. It tried once more to regain control, but with similar results. Still, it was keeping them effectively pinned down. Worse yet, the survivors of the patrol that had been chasing the two were slowly wading their way toward the duo. Kaz counted perhaps seven men, five with swords, one with an axe, the last with a pike.
Enemies behind him, a monster above him, and his maneuverability nearly nil. Things had been better, even during the war.
Paladine knows, I’ve tried to live up to your memory, Huma, Kaz thought darkly, but the gods have frowned on this minotaur and I think my luck’s finally run out.
The sounds of horses running and men in armor jolted him from his somber thoughts. His first inclination was to expect the worst: that the patrol had been joined by reinforcements. Kaz and Sardal looked back.
A force of knights was cutting its way through the meager resistance. Kaz imagined he saw two or three mages, all elves, riding in the rear of the group.
Sardal laughed lightly. “I had given up all hope that they would come in time!”
Kaz turned on his companion, eyes wide. “You knew they were coming?”
“While you were ensnared in my trap, I spoke briefly with my people and also sent a message off to the nearest of the Solamnic forces. The southern keeps have been pursuing the remnants of the Dragonqueen’s army since the war ended.”
The minotaur nodded.
“As for my own people-” Sardal broke off. Kaz looked up, saw nothing but one massive set of stone claws, and realized, even as he was torn from the boggy earth with a schlupp!, that Sardal’s spell had been exceeded. The stone dragon rose high in the air, its prey held tightly. Kaz was greatly surprised to find that he was still breathing. Indeed, he was not dead, and the stone dragon apparently had no intention of killing him. The animated horror turned up into the sky and fled from the danger of the elven mages, directly toward the keep of its master.
The stone claws squeezed Kaz’s arms tight against his body, and the intense pressure made him loosen his grip on Honor’s Face. Before he could react, the battle-axe slipped free and plummeted into the muck below, vanishing beneath the surface of the liquefied earth. He tried picturing the dwarven weapon, tried to call it back to him, but nothing happened. How he had done it before was beyond him. Now he was unarmed and alone.
The claws squeezed ever tighter. The minotaur could no longer breathe. Perhaps, he thought as things turned to darkness, the stone dragon was going to crush him to death.
A moment later, he no longer cared. Unable to breathe, he passed out completely, cursing only the fact that he would not go down fighting.
A part of him knew that this was yet another dream and memory mixed together, but that part was buried in the back of his mind. He only cared that this was the day of oath-taking, a day of both pride and shame, of honor and indignity.
With the rest, Kaz took his place before those the ogre and human lords had made elders of the minotaur race. There was the one bearing the title of emperor, who had never been defeated in arena challenges, though some said that was due to trickery. There were the elders, supposedly the strongest and smartest of the minotaurs. Some of them were true minotaur champions, like Kaz. Most were suspected of the same treachery as the emperor. It mattered not, for they were as much slaves to the overlords as the rest of their people.
Long ago, when they had first been conquered, the minotaurs, in order to save their race, had taken oaths of utter obedience. Bound by their own strict code of honor, they trapped themselves in an endless cycle of slavery. The few malcontents were quickly and quietly dealt with by the masters. Oath-breakers were very rare, however.
Now, in the interminable war between Paladine and Takhisis, the minotaurs were an important part in the efforts of the warlord, Crynus. A minotaur was worth any two fighters from the other races-generally more than two. They fought and won battles others would have given up as lost. Parceled out so that the temptation to rebel would never be concentrated in too great a number-the warlord did not care to take chances-the minotaurs strengthened every army tremendously. All that was needed was to insure their loyalty with the oath.
Crynus was here himself, and he seemed to gaze at Kaz in particular. The minotaur felt both proud and disturbed. Someone signaled for the oath to begin. A horn sounded, yet now it was a Solamnic battle horn, and the man who had been the warlord became Grand Master Oswal. The other figures seated before the assembled throng became knights. Bennett sat on his uncle’s right, and Rennard, smiling merrily-something Kaz had not seen him do in the brief time they had known each other-sat on the elder’s left.
This is a dream! one part of the minotaur’s mind shouted. This is not right.
“An oath is only as good as the man,” muttered someone to his right, “and a minotaur is no man.”
Kaz whirled about and found himself among a legion of young knights waiting to take their own Solamnic oath. The one who had spoken was Huma, who looked at Kaz with contempt.
“How long will this oath last?” Huma asked with a smirk. “The one you gave your masters lasted only until you tired of it. How long before you turn on me? I’m disappointed in you, Kaz. You have no honor. None whatsoever. You tried to be like me only in order to convince yourself you aren’t a dishonorable coward and a murderer!”
The minotaur’s eyes grew crimson, and he longed to hold the dwarven battle-axe again, to show the human the truth of it with the blade of the axe. Even as he longed for it, Kaz realized that the axe was in his hands. Matching Huma’s smirk, Kaz raised the weapon up-and found himself staring into the side of the axe head, at his own reflection, which was slowly fading away.
“How did-?” Huma uttered, but it was no longer Huma’s voice. Instead, it was that of Argaen Ravenshadow, or perhaps Galon Dracos. It was impossible to say.
With the sudden manifestation of that voice, or those voices, Kaz gained some measure of control of his own dream. He hefted the axe, but he knew the figure he stalked toward could not be Huma. Instead, he imagined it was Ravenshadow. Ravenshadow he was more than willing to deliver to the Abyss.
“Wake him up, curse you! No more games!” a voice that seemed to come from all around him commanded.
Kaz was jarred back into reality. That was the only way to describe it. From dream to waking, with no transition in between. It was enough to make his head spin. He started to slump, only to discover that something held him up by the wrists.
“Open your eyes, old friend!”
The minotaur did.
Argaen Ravenshadow lay seated before the malevolent emerald sphere in the center of what seemed to be a makeshift wizard’s laboratory in the keep. He seemed in good health, free of his wounds, although he leaned to one side in an odd manner. He also seemed annoyed, at something other than Kaz’s presence. There was, barring the stone dragon, one other presence of import in what passed for Argaen’s home. It was he, of course, who had welcomed the minotaur. It was he who now floated above the emerald sphere itself, as much a part of it as it was of him.
He was Galan Dracos, of course.
Chapter Twenty
The raiders attacked again. The second time, the enemy did nothing so foolish as to charge the knights. Instead, they kept to the ridges and mountainsides and rained death down upon the band. Two knights were struck down in the first volley, despite raised shields. There were just too many archers above and around them. One or two knights answered with strikes from their own bows, and though each attempt put them in jeopardy, they did not shy away from the task. One man fell across Tesela’s horse, and the cleric, despite herself, could not help gasping in horror. Darius helped her remove the unfortunate knight. There was no time to stop. Indeed, it would have been certain death to do so. From the left of the column, rocks came bounding earthward as someone sought to start an avalanche. A Solamnic archer cut down one man, but others remained hidden. One knight’s horse was toppled as several large stones crushed its hind leg. With amazing speed, the knight brought his sword down across the animal’s neck, relieving it permanently of the terrible pain. Under the protection of his fellows, the man claimed the mount of a fallen comrade.