Maquesta knew she had to act before she grew much weaker on the meager, gray gruel the guards fed them. She had to do something.
The next day when the guards dragged her and Melas out of their cells, she was ready. Maq watched until the guards unlocked Hvel's cell and started to drag him out. They barked some command in their language at the minotaur prisoner, who shuffled over to the cell. With all three of their backs turned to her, Maquesta braced her back against the wall near one of the hot coal braziers and used her feet to push it over, spilling the coals onto a pile of moldy straw. For an instant, she feared the straw was too damp to catch fire. Then the straw began to smoke and finally flames flickered up, dancing merrily in the still air.
"Fire!" She hoped the guards understood that word in the human tongue. Whether it was that or the smoke, they turned around in alarm.
One of them immediately ran over and began stomping on the straw. The flames licked about his hooves, and he howled as he continued his efforts, even thrashing at the straw with his club. Maq grinned-he was too stupid to realize the fire could not spread beyond the straw. It could not burn the stone floor or walls.
The smoke billowed about him, and he began to cough. Through the haze, she saw the other minotaur guard rush toward the steps. Hoping the smoke provided some cover, Maquesta slipped the dirk from her waistband and ran after the retreating guard. He covered the long distance quickly and placed his weapon against the wall while he fumbled about for his keys. She couldn't let him leave and sound a warning! Her feet pounded over the stones to close the distance, and she grabbed her side, which ached from the unaccustomed exertion.
The guard must have heard her coming, for he turned around and glared at her. She returned the menacing look and leapt forward even as he strode to meet her. Without hesitation, she shoved the dirk into the guard's chest where she expected his heart to be. He merely growled at her, raised his right arm, and slapped her away. She fell to her rump and was momentarily dazed. A shadow loomed over Maq, and she looked up to see the minotaur towering above her. With a grunt, he pulled the dirk out of his chest, looked at it, and growled even more loudly. He tossed the small blade to the ground and bent over to reach out for her. Maq deftly rolled to the side and pushed off from the stone in one fluid motion, landing on her feet. The minotaur's flailing hands closed on air, and he growled again.
Stooping to retrieve the dirk, she danced backward as he lunged at her. This time, however, his outstretched hand found her, his fingers closing about a mass of her curly hair. He pulled her to him roughly, and Maq felt as if he were going to yank her head off. Bringing her in to his chest, her face pressed up against his bleeding wound, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed hard.
A jolt of pain raced up her spine, and Maq realized he meant to break her back! Clenching her eyes shut and futilely trying to block out the horrid sensation, she steeled herself and bit his wound. He howled in pain and eased his grip just enough so she could squeeze her hand out, the one that still firmly clutched the dirk. She jabbed at his side with the blade, repeatedly stabbing him until, with a groan, he let her go. This time he was the one to back up, shuffling to the wall where his own weapon, a large, curved sword rested.
No! Maq's mind screamed. She couldn't let him get that weapon. Then she wouldn't have a chance. "No!" she shouted aloud, as she used the last of her strength to melt the distance between them. She fitted both of her hands about the small pommel of the dirk, the blade pointed away from her. Closing to him, she jumped and shoved the blade upward, ramming it into his throat. The minotaur staggered backward, blood gushing from his wound. He thrashed about, and his hands clutched at his throat, trying to pull the dirk free. But Maquesta had used such force that the blade held, and the hapless guard fell heavily to his knees, then pitched over onto his stomach.
The clomping sound of hooves over stone behind her caused Maq to whirl. The second guard apparently had given up on the blaze and was running over to see what was happening. He was armed with a spiked club, which he swung at her as he approached. Maquesta squatted as the weapon whooshed in the stale air inches above her head.
Pushing off with her legs, she threw herself forward, her head and right shoulder hitting him squarely in the abdomen and knocking him back. The club clattered to the floor, and the guard swung his arms about, trying to keep his balance and stay on his hooves, as all the while he shouted what must be curses at her in minotaur.
Undaunted and determined to be free, Maquesta kicked hard, her foot striking him in the groin. Teetering, he bent forward in pain and surprise, then finally lost his balance and fell backward, his rump thumping hard on the stone floor. He groaned and toppled to his back, laying sprawled like a baby. Maq leapt over him and landed behind him, where his club had skittered. She bent to retrieve it, and her fingers closed about its thin handle just as he decided to struggle to his feet.
"No you don't!" she scolded. "You're not going anywhere."
The minotaur worked himself into a sitting position, his back an easy target for Maquesta. Dashing forward, she pulled the weapon past her shoulder, then swung it in an arc with all her might, aiming at the back of his head. Her aim was a little off, but she hit him between his shoulder blades, and he fell forward, his head striking the stone floor between his spread legs. Not sure if he would rise to fight again, she hit him a second time and grimaced when she heard the bones in his skull crack.
Finished with her ghastly work, she dropped the club and took in great gulps of the smoke-tinged air. Coughing, she staggered to the first minotaur she had killed and rolled him over so the key ring on his belt showed. She pulled it loose and nearly gagged. She needed fresh air! The smoke from her fire had reached all the way over here. Clasping the key ring in her trembling fingers, she ran over to unlock Vartan's cell. He staggered out, disoriented and weak on his feet. Hvel, she saw, wasn't much better. Her heart sinking, Maq realized she would not be able to count on these two to help her get Melas up the stairs. They'd be lucky to make it themselves. She looked up at the captive minotaur, who had busied himself with trying to put out the flames.
"If you help me, we can all go free," she told him.
He simply nodded. "And if you help me stop this smoke, no one should be drawn here to investigate." Maq grinned and helped him extinguish the last of the flames. The smoke was thick where they stood, but it had not yet reached through the barred door that led to the rest of the palace.
Maquesta pointed to her father, who sat with his back against the stone wall. His head had fallen forward on his chest, and he coughed softly. She looked up at the minotaur. "Could you help me carry him?"
"Wait just a minute," the minotaur replied. "Let me try to break my shackles." His voice was deep and rumbled out of his chest. He placed the chain that held his feet together over the brazier that still stood. When the links glowed a fiery orange, he smashed them with a giant mallet the guards had used to drive wedges into the rack, in order to lock the gears in place. The chain broke apart as if it were made out of toothpicks.
"I am Bas-Ohn Koraf," the minotaur said somewhat formally.
"And I am Maquesta Kar-Thon," Maq grunted as she tried to get Melas's arm over her shoulder and lift him to his feet.
"Here, allow me."
The minotaur picked up her father easily, cradling him in brawny arms. Maq herded Hvel and Vartan up the stairs as the smoke started to dissipate around them.