In Solamnia, Ergoth, or any of the human lands, she would have seemed perfectly in place. Here in the empire, she was a striking contrast. Humans were not often seen or well-liked here, especially after years of domination by the warlords. Crynus had left a legacy of hatred.
"What do you want of me? Why can't I go home?"
She appeared young, perhaps fifteen, sixteen summers if he was a judge of human looks, but the cleric knew appearances could be very deceiving, and the girl was perhaps the greatest deceiver of all. Her innocent face, draped by long, silver hair that might have seemed more appropriate to an elf, belied what he and he alone knew to be the truth: there was power within her.
"This is your home, female. This will always be your home. Understand that now, and all other things will become much easier for you to accept." He indicated the cell. "You have a comfortable chamber. I have seen to that. The chains are required since you have yet to acknowledge that I am your master. My will is your will. When you truly accept that, then they may be removed."
"I want to go home!"
"What home is that? What life do you recall other than wandering by yourself, surviving by yourself, in the mountains and forests? Running from others who understand less than you yourself do. Surviving on what you were able to scrounge." Despite himself, the high priest grew angry. "Is that what you think your life was meant to be? Do you realize the danger you face, not having been trained in your abilities? You could be killed, either intentionally or accidentally. Do you know what that would mean?"
Her frightened yet still perplexed expression infuriated him. There was much he wanted to tell her, information he needed her to know in order to better understand. But to tell her this soon was to increase the potential of a deadly threat.
"I don't understand you at all," she insisted. "You keep talking as if I'm so very important to you. Of what importance can I be to you? I don't even know you."
"You are very intelligent, female, despite a lack of training. You have always known more, learned easier, than those around you. Look into yourself, then look into my eyes and see how closely we are linked. Look closely…"
She raised her hands, palms toward him. "No!"
Her hands glowed white.
The chains shimmered blue.
With a gasp, the young girl slipped to her knees, barely able to keep from falling to the floor. As her hands ceased glowing, the chains did the same.
"That is an object lesson. You must cease attempting to defy me. I do not like having to hurt you, but I will be obeyed. There is too much at stake here. I have worked too long for either you or a recalcitrant minotaur to disrupt things."
The girl did not answer him. The high priest frowned, deciding this was a waste of his precious time. The female had been in moods like this before. It was a sign of her childishness. Under his tutelage, such moods would soon become a thing of the past.
"Sleep now," he finally commanded. "Tomorrow we will talk again. Tomorrow we will begin new lessons."
As he turned and walked away, he heard her begin to cry. The sound encouraged him. She was at last beginning to break. Soon she would be his obedient servant… and her power, matched with his, would make his dream unstoppable.
Chapter 10
Molus was not as enthusiastic as Kaz would have expected him to be. He soon found out why. Word of the cleric's command to make Kaz the first of the three prisoners to face death had reached the jailer, and the older minotaur was clearly put out by the new orders.
"No sense of timing and drama when it comes to the arena! We should lead off with your friend, who's been out there before and whose blood the spectators are ready to see, then schedule your father, who should make for a good warm-up. Then, and only then, should you go in, Kaziganthi! By Sargas! You should really be the last battle of the day! Word's gotten around, and there're plenty who recall or have heard of you. Heard some good bets as to how long you'll last… 'course it depends on who or what you face, doesn't it?"
"And would you happen to know?" asked Kaz. He would prefer to know whether he was going to face several gladiators or possibly a savage animator two. His attack would be timed accordingly.
"I do know, but it's going to be a surprise. The emperor's own orders. Doesn't want you too prepared, I'd guess. He remembers you well."
"I remember him, too."
Molus studied his expression. "I'll just bet you do."
"At least am I going to be allowed a weapon?"
As they talked, guards had been busy preparing all three. Kaz was counting on the trio being taken up to the waiting area together. That had always been the habit in times past, and he was pleased to see that in typical minotaur fashion no one had bothered to fiddle with tradition. Had Hecar and Ganth been left behind, Kaz would have been hard pressed to devise an escape plan.
"Aye, you'll be carrying a short sword."
Short sword. That probably meant he was fighting another warrior. Kaz was glad to hear that. If so, he wouldn't have to worry about the unpredictability of animals. Gladiators, on the other hand, were quite predictable.
Bracelets replaced the wall chains. Kaz and the others were then led out of the cell and down the corridor leading to the vast field of the arena. Vaguely familiar with the path from years ago, Kaz estimated the time the others would need to escape once they made it across the field. Four minutes, maybe five, to traverse the long corridor through the menagerie. That, of course, did not include any resistance they might meet, but the menagerie was generally guarded by only a pair of sentries and one or two handlers.
Overconfidence. No one expected anyone to attempt such a bold escape. Minotaurs fought and died; they did not flee. He only hoped that Ganth and Hecar could get away in time.
Cheers erupted from above them. The entire corridor shook with pounding feet. There must be a good combat going on. The better the combat, the greater the crowd reaction. Pounding feet was one way in which the spectators sounded their approval, and gaining the crowd's favor had turned many a combat.
As they reached the holding area, a barred space from where they could watch the other duels, Kaz noted a familiar figure waiting for the prisoners: Scurn. In one hand he held an object that Kaz did not at first recognize. Only when the two stood almost face-to-face did Scurn reveal what it was he held.
It was the medallion honoring the supreme champion, the same medallion he had taken from Kaz after the latter's capture.
"I would've preferred to take this from you in combat," the scarred minotaur said.
"You've got the medallion now. Just wear it."
A dark expression covered Scum's mutilated features. "I would not dishonor it so. I never won it, so I can't wear it."
It was odd to think that someone like Scurn could still think in terms of honor. Kaz was about to make a scathing reply when the other minotaur suddenly reached out and offered him the medallion.
"Take it. It's still yours, won in combat in the circus. The high priest and Polik won't like it, but it's still your right to wear it. Even your crimes can't take that away from you, though your death will." He snorted. "I should be the one fighting you. This isn't right, to-"
"Never mind about his combat," the older minotaur quickly snapped. He pointed at the medallion. "Go ahead and take it," Molus added. "It'll make for some added excitement once they see what you're wearing."
Kaz wanted to reject the medallion. He saw no purpose in accepting the honor, not when he did not believe in it. All it meant was that he had wasted a portion of his life fighting and injuring others for the sake of the handful that ruled the minotaur race.