Kaz the Minotaur

Chapter Thirteen

The light of day was fading swiftly. Around the Grand Master’s stronghold, Kaz and the others saw the few remaining knights of Vingaard Keep begin what seemed to be automatic rituals. With slow deliberation, a group of some three or four passed among the others, lighting and distributing torches to each. Their pace never faltered, yet never varied, either. Kaz was reminded of folktales about the undead shambling out of their graves. Beside him, Darius watched, his hands clutching the base of the window, his knuckles white. The knights, once all were equipped with burning torches, shifted into a protective shield around the entrance of the building, each man facing the darkness without. Neither the minotaur nor Darius had seen any visible threat. It was almost as if the knights were seeking to hold back the coming darkness. The bell rang its single note for at least the thirteenth time today, though Kaz had lost count.

“How long can this go on?” he muttered.

Vingaard Keep, Kaz mused, was like a limbo of some sort, an unreal place, where everything seemed to slow down, seemed never really to change. There were no conclusions here, just one perpetual emptiness. The knights changed guard several times during the day, but they did nothing else. A few wandered briefly along the walls of the keep, supposedly on sentry duty, but Kaz knew that an enemy horde could stroll in undetected.

“What are we waiting for?” he groused at his companions. Darius nodded agreement with that sentiment. He was all for making some grand plan. The minotaur grimaced slightly. Darius was a good, brave soul, as humans went, but like many of his fellow knights, he seemed to think that what was called for was a glorious attack straight into the teeth of danger. Kaz knew that he himself was guilty of overzealousness at times, but experience had mellowed him somewhat.

Tesela was quiet. She sat on the floor, legs crossed, eyes closed. Kaz could not say for certain whether she was performing some ritual or was just plain bored, like he was. He suspected that she herself was not quite certain what to do.

Sensing his eyes on her, she opened her own and met his gaze. Something was troubling her, the minotaur felt instinctively. “What’s wrong?”

The cleric shook her head. “I can’t really say. I’ve been trying to clear my mind and have been asking Mishakal for guidance all day, but I still can’t determine what it is that disturbs me… only that it concerns Argaen.”

“The elf?” Darius grumbled.

“I’ve prayed to Mishakal for guidance, but where the elf is concerned, I feel nothing. It’s as if there is a-a blockage.”

“And your goddess is not strong enough to remove the obstacles?”

Her glare burned holes into the knight’s eyes, making him turn red. “I don’t snap my fingers and have every request taken care of instantly, Knight of Solamnial Mishakal, like all the other gods, has concerns that go beyond mortal ken. I am not her sole concern, though I feel her love. There may be a hundred different reasons why I can’t see what I want to see. For that matter, where is your Paladine? Why has he not helped his own people?”

Kaz, perhaps the only one of the party who had ever actually met a god-unfortunately, it had been Takhisis-smiled slightly. Gods, in his opinion, had more limitations than people imagined.

Rising from the chair where he had sat polishing his axe and trying to figure out some way to repair the one chipped edge, the minotaur stalked slowly toward the window. Other than the wind and an occasional sounding by the bell, things had been too quiet. On the night they had come here, dark, otherworldly things had been manifest. Now, save for the emptiness and the perpetual cloud cover, things were almost… ordinary.

Kaz did not like that one bit. In his experience, when things turned calm and ordinary, something unusual was about to happen.

“It’s almost as if we’re waiting for a signal,” the minotaur whispered to himself.

“What’s that?” Tesela called.

“Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, it seems.”

“Ah! There you are!” Argaen came stomping in as if he had been searching the entire library for them. The elf always seemed to be at least a little astonished that they were still here, which made Kaz uneasy. It was as if they were temporary diversions from his normal scheme of things and one day would simply cease to exist. No doubt, then Argaen Ravenshadow would probably forget they had ever been here.

“I’ve brought you food!” The elf carried a plate of bread and a pot of thick vegetable soup to the table.

“Most kind of you, Master Ravenshadow,” Darius said politely.

“Where do you get your supplies?” Tesela asked, sniffing the soup. Delbin was trying desperately to pull the pot from her hands. Argaen reached over and pried the kender away with a shake of his head. Delbin smiled and kept his hands at his sides, but his eyes kept drifting to the food.

“There are wells in the keep, and one of them nearby serves as one of the knighthood’s storage areas. Because it is partly underground, it helps to preserve the food. I am afraid that the meat spoiled long ago, but plants can last for months. As for the preparation of the food, you can thank what little sorcery I have. I’ve grown fond of human foods. Elven dishes are too ethereal for my tastes these days.” Argaen gave another broad smile.

“The supplies in Vingaard could help some of those villages to the south,” Tesela said rather harshly.

“You are welcome to try, cleric. I am only one person and the immediate need, if you will pardon me for saying so, is here.”

Tesela’s expression indicated that she did not share the elf’s view. For the past few years, the elf had been working here uselessly while other people were barely surviving. But what could she expect from an elf?

“How do your studies go, Argaen?” the minotaur asked. “Have you discovered something?”

The elf gave him a crooked smile. “I may have learned something that will change the entire situation. You will know before long, I promise you that. Please, eat.”

The smell of the soup was mouth-watering. Kaz, used to rations and living off the land, forgot all his worries and took the pot from Tesela, who was beginning to look as if she was never going to get around to eating. Darius took out a knife and cut the bread into equal pieces. Delbin hopped up and down with anxiousness.

Argaen looked down at the kender. “Delbin, before you eat, could I ask a favor of you?”

Delbin looked at the food, then at the elf, then at the food again.

“It involves an interesting lock.”

The kender’s eyes gleamed. “Where is it?”

‘This way.” Elf and kender swept out of the room. Kaz snorted in amusement. Trust Argaen to come up with the one thing more important to a kender than food.

They each took a share of the soup and the bread. The bread was still warm and had that delicious taste only a fresh-baked loaf could have. Kaz decided there and then that sorcery had its useful aspect after all. Perhaps there was some way that Argaen could teach him the minimum spells for whipping up a stew.

“Truly, this is excellent,” Darius succeeded in saying between mouthfuls.

Tesela, on the other hand, was not so enthusiastic. “It smells good, but there’s a funny taste to it.”

“Tastes fine to me.” Kaz was just finishing the contents of his bowl and trying to calculate exactly how much they had to leave for Delbin.

“I’m not saying it’s not delicious, but the taste just doesn’t seem quite right.”

“Would you trade some bread for your soup? I’ll eat it if you don’t want it.” Kaz hoped she would take his offer.

She gave him a smile but declined. “The bread is good, but the soup is healthier. Maybe it’s just me.”

Kaz, disappointed, watched her take a couple more swallows. As she took the second one, he noticed something.

“Human… Tesela… why does your medallion glow?”

“What?” The cleric put her bowl down with a clatter and stared at the artifact hanging from the chain around her neck. “I’ve never seen it do that before!”

“Does it have to pulse like that, Milady Tesela?” Darius asked. He was sweating. “It makes my head spin.”

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to do, because I don’t know why it’s doing it!”

“It must be… must be…” Kaz could not recall what it was he had wanted to say. Like Darius, he was sweating profusely now. “I…”

A groan from Darius prompted him to turn his head, though the action took an eternity as far as the minotaur was concerned. He watched helplessly as the knight fell to the floor. Tesela moved to aid him, but she herself was having trouble standing straight. Kaz felt his mind begin to separate from his body. With what little of his wits remained, he put one clawed hand against his leg and sank his nails into his leg. The pain washed over him, reviving him somewhat.

Tesela, he could see, was no longer trying to reach Darius. Instead, she was on her knees and holding the medallion above her head. The strain was obvious on her face.

Half-delirious, Kaz rose to his full height and stumbled toward the hall. Delbin, his mind repeated. Delbin had to be in danger! He made it halfway before his legs gave out and he fell onto the floor. Delbin in danger… and Argaenl

Kaz could no longer move. Even breath seemed a laborious thing, almost a waste of time. Argaen. The minotaur’s mind slowly made the connection. It had to be. It simply had to be.

“Mishakal! I plead with you! These two are needed! I know I’m not the best of your clerics and my skills are few, but give me the strength to bring them back!”

The harsh voice broke through the sweet, warm darkness that had enveloped Kaz like a fur. He wanted to tell the voice to leave him in the quiet solitude of his slumber. What right did the voice have to disturb him? He was tired and needed rest, a long rest.

“Kaz! Hear me!”

He wanted to tell the human to go away. The human named Tesela. The human named Tesela who was a cleric. The human cleric named Tesela who was trying to pull him from his sleep.

Wot sleep! a part of him whispered.

His mind, which seemed to have fragmented, began to coalesce again. Tesela was a cleric of Mishakal. She would not disturb him without a reason. The human was trying to help him. The thought of a feeble, human female helping a full-grown male minotaur amused him for some reason, and he started to laugh. It came out as a gurgle.

Tesela must have heard it, for her voice became excited. ‘Thank you, Mishakalf Thank you!”

“Stop…” Kaz forced his mouth and tongue to work. “Stop shouting… in my ears.”

“Kaz!” He felt the warmth of another body on his. The minotaur began to feel other things as well, especially a nauseating sensation swelling in his stomach.

“Move!” He bellowed in a voice loud enough to make his own ears ring. Tesela moved away from him, and Kaz rolled over just in time to keep from drenching his own body with vomit. It seemed for some time that every meal he had ever eaten was departing his body in haste. Gradually, however, he finished. Disgusted, he rolled away.

It was some time before Kaz felt up to facing the others. Tesela gave him water and a cloth. Wiping his snout dry, the minotaur glanced at the two humans. Both were pale, especially Darius, who looked at least as bad as Kaz felt.

“What… what happened?”

“We all became ill,” Tesela said gravely. “We were poisoned, I think.”

“I had a wild notion about that before I-” Kaz’s eyes widened. “Tesela, how close was I to death?”

“As close as Darius. You’re bigger, but you finished your bowl. He was only halfway through.” The cleric beamed. “Mishakal guided my hand. Through the medallion, she could protect me, but not you. I had to act as her channel. That was what the medallion’s glow meant. It was warning us of the danger.”

Kaz stumbled to his feet. The selfsame pot of soup still sat on the table. Kaz sent the pot and its contents flying. “Sargas take that elf! Where is he?” The minotaur turned his gaze toward the window. “It’s dark. How long has it been?”

“Midnight is upon us,” Darius offered. “We owe a great deal to the lady here, and to her mistress.”

Tesela shook her head in wonder. “I didn’t think it was possible to heal someone so quickly. Not someone as near death as you. I think, given practice-Mishakal forbid! — and the will, I might be able to do it as quickly most every time! If only I’d known! The lives I could have saved!”

Kaz felt his legs grow steadily stronger. Try as he might, though, he could not yet lift his battle-axe properly. “Where is Argaen Ravenshadow? For that matter,” Kaz suddenly recalled, “where’s Delbin?”

“Mishakal forgive me!” Tesela leaped to her feet. “He could be dying of poison at this very moment!”

The trio searched the main room of the library as quickly as possible. It became apparent that neither Delbin nor Argaen were in the immediate vicinity. With a sinking feeling, Kaz knew where they should look.

“The vaults!” he muttered.

That Delbin could get past the much-vaunted safeguards of the Knights of Solamnia was a certainty in the minotaur’s mind. Why Ravenshadow would try to poison them was another question.

“What can we do?” a pale-faced Darius asked.

Kaz shook his head, trying to clear it. He lifted his axe and knew that he still lacked the strength to use the weapon properly. Battling against crazed knights was not something he wanted to do, anyway. And Kaz did not doubt the abilities of Argaen Ravenshadow. Somehow he had gotten Delbin to agree to try to enter the vaults, perhaps by holding as incentive the lives of the two humans and Kaz.

“We’ve no choice,” the minotaur said reluctantly. “I can’t leave Delbin, and I can’t fight. I think we should demand an audience with the Grand Master. Sane or not, I think that any warning I give will be enough to stir Oswald interest. You two had better remain here in case I’m wrong.”

“Would you call me a coward, minotaur?” Darius demanded. “And yourself a fool? You have more of a chance of succeeding if you are accompanied by a member of the knighthood as your guard.”

“They might run both of you through without a second thought,” Tesela reminded them. “Argaen said-”

Kaz snorted angrily. “Argaen said a lot of things that I find suspect now.”

The column slowed. Bennett had no desire to call a halt now, but advice from his uncle rang in his head.

“Making good time in the day is no reason to go blindly in the night, lad,” the elder knight would say. “Many’s the time a patrol rode straight into an ambush. Go slow… steady but slow.”

“Steady but slow,” he muttered.

“What was that, milord?” the ranger next to him asked.

“I want you to go scout up ahead. Be careful. We’ll be following at a slower pace.”

The man looked at him critically. “You intend to travel during the night?”

“We must. Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The-” How can I put it? Bennett wondered. “The- presence-has withdrawn! We should have felt it by now, tearing at our minds, threatening our sanity…” The knight let his voice fade away as he recalled some of the things he had done under the sway of that power, that spell. He cursed silently.

The ranger was happy his face was hidden by the darkness. His nervousness always grew worse when Bennett talked like this. There was always the fear that the madness had left a permanent mark on those he rode with. The ranger sighed.

Bennett was still insistent. “We will move on! You have your orders, man!”

“Yes, milord.” The ranger urged his horse forward and rode off.

Staring off into the darkness, Bennett tried to make out Vingaard Keep. He knew that, on a sunny day, the outline would have been visible near the horizon. Sunlit days were a rare commodity in recent months, however. It was almost as if the war were beginning all over again.

A bad feeling was developing, a feeling that something was going to happen very soon, and that Bennett was going to arrive too late to do anything about it. A disquieting feeling.

With a wave of his hand, he summoned one of his aides. The knight saluted his lord. “Sir?”

“How are the men holding up, Grissom?”

“We are Knights of Solamnia, milord!”

At one time, that would have been all the answer Bennett needed to go charging pell-mell through the dark toward Vingaard Keep. Not now. Another knight, these five years dead, had taught him otherwise.

“How are they really holding up, Grissom?”

The broad-faced knight shrugged. “They could use rest, but none of them are unfit. We could ride three more days before the first would begin to keel over. I think some of the horses would go first.”

The hint of a smile touched Bennett’s lips. “If we ride through the night, we can be at Vingaard before morning. Have you felt anything at all, Grissom?”

“Nothing, milord.” The aide sounded hopeful. “Could that mean the threat has been crushed? That the spell has been broken by our brethren who remained behind?”

“Unlikely, if you recall our own minds as we rode off to-what was it, anyway? — to crush our nonexistent enemies to the south or something?”

“I… forget.”

Bennett nodded. “I force myself to remember. We have much to answer for, spell or no spell.”

“What do you think is happening at Vingaard, then, milord?”

Gauntleted hands tightened their grip on the reins. “I cannot say for certain, Sir Grissom, save that I think our final destination will be a true trial of our strength, in mind as well as in body.” Bennett muttered a small oath to Paladine, then added, “It’s time we moved on. Send word down the column. Slow but steady, Sir Grissom.”

“Milord.” The other knight turned his horse around and departed.

Bennett continued to stare in the direction he knew Vingaard Keep had to be, trying not to think too much about what he would do once the column made it there. He wondered whether they would be, as he feared, too late really to do anything.