"And he wins-"
"He killed Raud, Father," interrupted Kaz, unable to keep the fury within him a secret. "He challenged Raud to combat even though Raud hadn't achieved the Grand Champion level yet."
"Raud…" Ganth stared at his son. "By the horns of the Just One!"
"Now that I think about it," Kaz continued, "the combat had to be sanctioned by the circle… and it was, after support for the emperor's challenge by the high priest himself. Not Jopfer, but his predecessor, I think."
"Comes back to the sons of Sargas again," Ganth muttered. There was still a trembling in his voice. "You had just become supreme champion, then…"
"He should've beaten the emperor, Father. Raud was good enough that he could've beaten me, eventually… not that he wanted to face me. Raud said he wanted to become a grand champion, then use the title to get the ship he wanted."
"How'd he lose? How'd Polik beat him?"
How indeed? Kaz recalled the day of the fight. For some reason, he had been kept from visiting his brother, who was preparing for single combat. An emperor could issue his own challenges, in this way eliminating rivals before they were ready to face him, but never could anyone recall someone below the rank of Grand Champion being challenged. Grand Champions were the top gladiators of a minor circus, of which there were eight in each of the two capital cities, Nethosak and Morthosak. Only after achieving this rank could a warrior move on to the next level, the Great Circus.
Although Raud had not been a grand champion, he had risen to fourth on the list at his particular arena and would have achieved his goal in less than a year. Kaz now knew the true reason for the challenge. His other siblings, save for a sister who had just given birth to her firstborn and another sister, Fliara, who was too young herself, had all been active in the arenas; but none had risen as high in ranking as Kaz or Raud, the sons of Ganth and Kyri. They were often touted as the champions of Orilg with the best hope of becoming emperor.
Polik was a tool of his masters. He had been chosen more for his ability to keep the race under control than anything else. It was essential that someone like him and not someone like Kaz be ruler. The human Crynus had desired that. Yet, even the Dark Lady's most devious warlord had known that to outright assassinate a supreme champion would turn the minotaurs on their masters. Even Polik would be unable to keep the revolt from spreading.
Raud had been challenged. Kaz had been shocked. Something was amiss, and he had tried to convince his younger brother of that, but Raud was too honorable and competitive to reject so important a challenge. He did not want to become emperor, but neither did he care to lose face.
They would not let Kaz see his brother, and so he had sat in the stands with the rest. His brother had come out onto the field, but only Kaz had noticed that he moved a little slower than usual and seemed hesitant. Nonetheless, Raud had made it to the huge, rotating platform where a combat against the emperor always took place. He mounted the platform and faced the emperor with determination. To all, save those who knew him as Kaz did, Raud seemed ready and able.
He died within a minute of the fight's beginning. His reactions were too slow, his moves foolish, unthinking. There were only two ways to leave an imperial combat: victory, or death. Kaz could do nothing as Polik brought his axe down and ended Raud's life. He could do nothing, not even voice the truth. Something had been done to his brother to prevent him from making full use of his mind and skills. It was almost as if he had been drugged or bespelled. The outcome had been decided before the start.
Furious, Kaz had almost leapt to the floor of the circus, but then Polik had glanced his way. The look in the emperor's eyes said many things to him. He understood that if he challenged Polik, he would enter the arena in no greater condition than his brother had. More important, his other siblings would also be marked, not because they would ever be any great threats, but because of Kaz.
Shortly after, he had simply quit the circus, given up his special status, and been added to the ranks of the slave-soldiers. As it worked out, he was suddenly thrust into the war as part of the latest advance. It must have galled Polik that he had survived the war. Paladine knew that it galled Kaz to think Polik still ruled.
"The only way Polik could ever win," he finally responded to his father's question.
His statement was enough for Ganth. "Then we can't expect much when they take us out there. There'll be none of this foolish stuff they have been doing with Hecar while they preserved him as bait. Whatever we face will be ready and able to kill us." Ganth tugged at his chain again. "Well, I'll make them remember how I went down. They'll be talking about it for years!"
"We have some hope." Kaz leaned closer to the others. "We have to wait for night before we can do anything, though."
"What've you got in mind, Lad?"
"Given the proper weapon, we could break out of here. That's why they never give out weapons until we're sent out onto the field. They can't know that I have access to a weapon."
A slight gasp escaped Hecar. "You mean Honor's Face!"
"Honor's Face? What's that?"
Kaz told his father the tale of how the good elf Sardal Crystalthorn had given him the battle-axe, and the powers Kaz had eventually discovered the weapon contained, including its ability to materialize for Kaz whenever the minotaur needed it.
"That was the weapon you carried, and you didn't mention all that sooner, Boy? I'd have liked to have hefted it once!"
"You'll get your chance after we're out of here."
"Now I understand why you weren't so disappointed when Jopfer had us sent here."
"Where is the axe now?" Hecar asked.
"Scurn has it. For some reason, he couldn't see his face reflected very well in it."
Helati's sibling grunted. "I'm not surprised… but I guess he'll be a little taken aback when the axe disappears."
"What about your little friend, Lad?" Ganth suddenly asked his son. "Think he'll be okay? I feel sorry for the little one. I've met some kender, and they're not too bad… from a distance. He's a good one, though, a real surprise. I hope he makes it to safety."
"They haven't told us anything, which makes me think he's managed to avoid them. I can only hope Delbin gets out of Nethosak and heads west or south. If west, he can join up with his own kind again and disappear. I'm wondering, though, if maybe he might go to the human areas in Solamnia. He always liked the knights. He might very well ask them for help." Kaz shuddered, thinking what might happen if Lord Oswal or Sir Bennett took Delbin seriously. Would they try to send aid? He hoped not. That would only tangle the situation further.
"He'd go there all by himself?" Hecar asked, astonished the kender was capable of such a trek.
"You'd be unwise to underestimate him, Hecar. Scurn and his bunch have made that mistake. So have a lot of others since I've known Delbin. I cannot guarantee that he will make it, but he has a better chance than most."
"A kender. He's that dedicated to you?"
"He is. Never underestimate their kind. I know."
"Well, his chances are better than ours right now, Lads, so what do you say we think on it while we wait for our meal… We do get one, don't we, Hecar?"
The other minotaur grunted. "Some might call it a meal, Master Ganth. Some might even dare call it food. You'll see what I mean, but I'll warn you now not to smell it, or concentrate your hopes on the taste."
Ganth and Kaz looked at one another. The former finally spoke. "We'd better see about trying to escape soon, then. Dying in combat in the circus is one thing, but dying from bad food would be an embarrassment to our ancestors."