Kaz the Minotaur

Chapter Fourteen

“You realise,” Darius whispered, “that this plan of yours might be the product of the same sorcerous madness that has affected Vingaard and the lands surrounding it.”

Kaz nodded almost imperceptibly. “Very much so, but then, everyone we’ve been dealing with suffers from the same affliction, so that means what we’re doing is practically normal, doesn’t it?”

The silence of the empty keep was at least as eerie in its own way as that first night when they had been stalked by the winged thing and attacked by the wild knight. Time almost seemed to be holding its breath, waiting. The hair on the minotaur’s back began to rise.

“Look!” Tesela whispered.

Blinking, Kaz joined Darius and Tesela in staring at the scene unfolding before them.

The amassed figures did not resemble the phantom knights, though distance and the flickering light of the torches made it impossible to say for certain. Kaz estimated maybe four dozen. The thought occurred to him that maybe these were phantoms, too, but he discarded that idea almost immediately. These were flesh-and-blood Knights of Solamnia, and they looked ready to defend the stronghold of the Grand Master at any cost.

‘They still haven’t seen us,” Darius whispered quickly. “You two could remain in the shadows. I am one of them.”

In lieu of a reply, Kaz straightened and stepped into sight.

Not one of the knights so much as turned a head. They remained where they were, resolutely guarding against… what?

Darius, accompanied by Tesela, quickly stepped up behind the minotaur. One knight slowly turned his helm toward them. Then another. And another. Like some bizarre puppet show, ten or twelve of the figures turned to stare in the direction of the trio. They stared-and did nothing else.

“I like this not,” Darius muttered.

“Really?”

At Kaz’s whispered suggestion, the three walked toward a knight whose armor indicated he was of some rank in the Order of the Crown. Acting as if he were the minotaur’s captor, Darius ordered Kaz to come to a halt. With great uneasiness, he steeled himself and stepped forward to speak with his fellow knight.

“Knight Darius, late of the keep in the province of Westia.”

With his helm completely obscuring his face, it was impossible to tell whether the other knight even took any notice of Darius.

“I have with me the minotaur named Kaz, brought here at the command of the Grand Master himself.”

A mournful howl filled the air of the keep. It was answered by other howls from all about the citadel.

‘They’re coming!” the knight Darius had been speaking to shouted suddenly. All around them, the forms were beginning to move with a determination that amazed the trio. Lances were made ready. A few knights secured their torches and reached for bows. The arrows they fitted had tiny bits of moist cloth tied to them. Kaz realized the men were making fire arrows.

In the shadows all around, they could hear the padding of feet, the harsh breathing of several large creatures, and the occasional repetition of the mournful wail.

Kaz glanced at the knights. “They’re ignoring us…”

The howling was replaced by growls.

“Interesting timing,” Kaz commented sourly.

“What do you mean?”

“After the day’s quiet and Argaen’s betrayal, I just think that this attack is too well timed.”

“A diversion!” Darius blurted.

“Here they come!” someone cried.

White shapes began to burst from the shadows, long, sinewy white shapes so very familiar to Kaz. Baleful blind eyes, burning red, contrasted greatly with the dead flesh of the hairless beasts.

“Dreadwolves!”

The others looked at him. From him they knew of dreadwolves, but actually to see one was quite another matter. The repulsive dreadwolves charged toward the thin line of valiant knights.

Darius could not stand it. “Kaz, we cannot abandon my brothers! Mad or not, they fight for their lives!”

“Our mission is just as important! Whatever Argaen plans, I want to make certain that he doesn’t end up bringing Vingaard Keep down around us!”

A fiery arrow caught a dreadwolf in midleap. The creature tumbled to the side, then rose again. When it realized it was on fire, it began to roll on the ground. The arrow snapped and the head buried itself deeper in the creature, but it didn’t concern the dreadwolf. It was not alive but was merely a parody of life.

Kaz, frustrated, took Darius by the collar. “Listen, human,” he snorted madly. “In times past, the dreadwolves were controlled by the sorcerer, Dracos! Dracos should be dead, but someone or something is controlling those monsters! I think the key lies in the vaults! Someone should go down there and investigate!”

Another dreadwolf became skewered on the end of a long lance. Somehow the defenders were succeeding in keeping the battle a stalemate.

As Kaz released his grip on Darius, the truth of the situation dawned on him.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, Darius,” he said quickly. “They’re like the knight we fought-illusions!”

They watched another dreadwolf, pinned to the ground, vanish. The knight who had pinned him down with his lance seemed to take this in stride, calmly awaiting the next one.

“Come on!” cried Kaz. “I doubt we have too much time!”

Though they had half-expected it, it was still a bit of a shock to discover that the building was empty. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the halls. Kaz, the only one of the three who had ever been in the Grand Master’s citadel, led the way.

Kaz only hoped that Oswal had no intention of hanging him from the point of a lance. It would certainly spoil the reunion, not to mention any chances of catching Argaen before it was too late. Kaz wondered what the elf’s plan was. What did he intend to do with whatever artifact or power lurked down in the vault?

They turned down the hallway and found two elaborately decorated doors blocking their path. Kaz tried the doors and, when they proved to be locked, clasped both hands together, raising them high in the air and bringing them down hard where the two doors joined.

The doors burst open with a loud crash. Splinters flew everywhere.

Beyond the entrance, seated in a throne atop a dais and guarded by a dozen stern figures, was the still-majestic form of the Grand Master of the Knights of Solamnia. Even from where he stood, Kaz could see the strain that Lord Oswal was under. Despite that, Oswal continued to radiate a power of majesty.

The aquiline features, so much like those of his nephew though tempered by age, came into view as the Grand Master looked up at those who had dared invade his inner sanctum. The eyes seemed to pierce the trio.

“So!” Oswal suddenly raged. He stood up and pointed a condemning finger at the three. “You think to twist my mind with still more of your masks, your illusions? I feel your weakness! The knighthood will triumph!”

With odd dreamlike movements, the guards on the steps of the platform began to draw toward the newcomers. The Grand Master fairly wept with delight. “They see you! I’ve survived your spell of madness, then!”

“How is it things keep getting worse and worse?” snarled Kaz. He stepped in front of Darius and Tesela and raised both hands high in the air, palms toward the guards so that they could see he was unarmed. “Lord Oswal!”

The figure standing before the throne stiffened. “A good ploy, but not good enough!”

“What does he mean?” Darius whispered.

“Quiet!” Kaz hissed. To the Grand Master, he called, “Lord Oswal, you know me! I am the minotaur, Kaz, friend of Huma and the knighthood!”

“Kaz?” A peculiar expression moved slowly over the elder knight’s face. “Kaz is dead! I ordered his capture and execution on nonexistent charges before I realized that there was a spell of madness enveloping the keep and that I had been affected along with the rest of the men. I ordered all their executions-Arak Hawkeye, Lord Guy Avondale, Taggin… So many died before my eyes.”

The guards were nearly upon them. Darius stepped up next to Kaz, his sword committed in the minotaur’s defense. “Milord, I am Darius of the Order of the Crown, from a keep in the south. I know not the whereabouts of Lord Hawkeye or the one you called Avondale, but I do know that we only recently had word from Taggin, ruling knight of one of the southernmost keeps in Ergoth. He is alive and well.”

“Taggin? Alive?” As the Grand Master momentarily faltered, so too did the movement of the guards. It was as if they were extensions of his will.

Kaz suddenly eyed them more closely. Extensions of his will?

“Lord Oswal,” Kaz began, his eyes still on the other knights, “when we-when we buried Huma, you said the world needed heroes, which was why you had such an elaborate tomb built for him.”

The Grand Master seemed to slump a little. “I recall that.”

“I thought it more appropriate to honor him the way he would have wanted it, by a simple burial and a marker noting only his name.”

“The knighthood needed a standard. They, too, needed a hero.” The guards seemed frozen in stride as the Grand Master spoke of that time. “He was a cleric of Paladine in the end, you know. A just reward. He deserved it more than I ever did.”

“He truly lived up to the Oath and Measure, Grand Master.”

“Kaz.” The Grand Master took a step toward them.

Suddenly the loyal guards simply ceased to be. They were, as Kaz had surmised, phantoms. He wondered whether or not the knights combating the dreadwolves had been phantoms as well. Phantoms fighting phantoms.

Kaz bowed his head as the Grand Master approached.

His two companions had already done the same. “My Lord Oswal.”

The Lord of Knights came down the steps and walked over to the minotaur. He clasped Kaz on the shoulders. “It is you. I’m certain of it! More lies! All he ever spoke were lies!”

Kaz cocked an eyebrow. “Argaen Ravenshadow?”

A puzzled look crossed the elder knight’s face. “The elf? Is he still here? I ordered him ousted from the libraries shortly after he came here. No, friend Kaz, I fear the one I speak of is none other than the mortal consort of Takhisis herself, that scaly-faced renegade mage, Galan Dracos!”

“Dracos!” Kaz shook his head, remembering the dreadwolves outside.

“Dracos indeed! Who are your companions, Kaz the Minotaur?”

“I am Tesela,” the healer said.

“A brave friend,” Kaz added.

“Milord.” Darius was down on one knee. “Darius, from a keep in Westia.”

“The province that Kharolis claims but leaves to the knighthood to defend? Where are your brethren? I was told to expect emissaries from most of the southern keeps.”

“They… milord, I’m afraid they are dead. A dragon, so I believe.”

“A dragon?” Oswal looked at the three. “Surely another of the renegade’s lies! He could not have the power to enslave a dragon, let alone drag one from Paladine knows where! All the dragons are gone!”

“None of us have seen the dragon in good light, Grand Master,” Kaz replied hastily. “It may be something else- a rare griffon, perhaps. Be that as it may, I think that you have been duped in yet another manner.” He paused at the brief annoyed look on Lord Oswal’s face. Kaz forced himself to be more delicate with his choice of words. “Argaen Ravenshadow never departed Vingaard Keep. In fact, he’s about the only one left in Vingaard besides yourself and-and a few of your most loyal men.”

“All this time, I thought I was keeping a clear head,” Oswal muttered. “Instead, I’ve been living a delusion. What more?”

“Why was Ravenshadow to be sent away?”

“His interest in the works of Galan Dracos was too intense. I saw in him one who treaded a thin line between red and black robes.” The Grand Master’s eyes lit up with partial understanding. “But if Ravenshadow has been here all this time- Paladine! No wonder he pressed for the secrets of the vaults! The elf does not have the magical skills necessary to ferret them out, but that is something Dracos would not need to worry about!”

Kaz sighed in relief. “You understand the situation now. Good, because we fear that this attack, an illusion like all the rest, is a diversion created by Ravenshadow. He may even now down be in the vaults, working his way through your safeguards at last.”

“Impossible! Argaen might be able to bypass the magical safeguards, which I doubt, but he could never weave through the networks of traps and false locks.” The elder knight tapped the side of his head. “Only I know those secrets, and I have not faltered there.”

The minotaur grimaced. “Lord Oswal, I fear that I’ve brought a kender with me. Another companion, if you can believe that.”

“A kender?” Oswal asked, a quizzical look on his face. “A kender?” The Grand Master shook his head. “A kender!”

“His name’s Delbin, and I think, judging by Argaen’s ability to manipulate people’s minds, he’s helping the elf break open the vaults.”

“By the Triumvirate!”

“How do we reach the vaults, milord?” asked Darius quickly, for Oswal was simply staring out into space, dumbfounded, no doubt picturing the elf plundering armloads of magical treasures-evil treasures.

“What?… Yes, of course. This way!” The Grand Master led them up the dais to the throne. He touched something on one of the arms, and the chair and the floor below it slid to one side. There was a stairway leading down into the earth.

“Get a torch, Darius, will you?”

“At once, Grand Master.”

“I could light the way with this.” Tesela held up her medallion.

Oswal shook his head. “I would not risk that yet. Argaen might feel our presence if we make use of the gifts the gods have bestowed upon us. I want to surprise the elf before he even realizes we are coming.”

As Darius returned with the torch, Kaz looked around for some weapon. He wished now that he had not left his own axe behind. To have it in his hands now…

“I thought you left that behind,” Tesela commented in mild surprise.

Kaz gazed down at his hands. His visage was reflected back by the mirrorlike finish of the head of Honor’s Face. He almost dropped it, thinking it just another illusion. It felt real, however. Somehow, it had materialized in his hands just when he needed it. Was it some minor miracle performed by Paladine, or had Sardal Crystalthorn given him a magical weapon?

“Are you coming, minotaur?” Lord Oswal called from the steps.

Kaz hefted the axe once and, feeling the good, solid weight of the weapon, shrugged. All that really mattered at the moment, he decided, was that now he had the axe. “Coming.”

They descended into the cool earth.

“Lord Oswal,” Darius whispered, “is there more than one entrance to the vaults?”

“There is. There is one in the chamber where he who commands the Order of the Rose-my nephew, Bennett, holds that position-speaks before his men.”

“Where is Bennett now?” Kaz asked sourly. He still was not certain just what to think about Huma’s former rival.

The Grand Master paused, trying to collect his thoughts. “I seem to recall… to recall sending him off to fight… to fight Paladine! But what else have I done these past few years that I do not recall? What have I done to beloved Solamnia?”

The minotaur put a hand on the elder’s shoulder. “The elf is responsible-the elf and something left behind by Dracos. You’ve got a lot of wounds to heal, Grand Master, but none of them are really your fault.”

“You say that even though I almost had you killed?”

“Whose doing was that?”

Lord Oswal shook his head dazedly. “I seem to recall asking, or being asked, who might have knowledge concerning Galan Dracos. Ravenshadow asked me to list those who had been there!”

Kaz snorted. “Perhaps the elf thought to eliminate any who knew about the renegade’s magic. We can ask him if we get the chance.”

They moved in silence now, not so much out of a fear that someone might hear but because each of them wondered what they might soon face. Through the trek down the long, winding steps, they battled their own imaginations.

A sound from below caught their attention. Lord Oswal signaled for a halt. A voice, barely recognizable as the elf’s, echoed upward. What he was saying, they could not understand, except that Argaen was tense, excited.

The Grand Master turned to Darius and indicated that he should give the torch to Tesela and that she should stay to the rear. The cleric wanted to say something, slightly annoyed at being relegated to a “safe” position, but decided against it. This was, after all, Oswal’s domain.

Ever so slowly, they continued their descent. They stopped for a second time when they heard a new, higher-pitched voice. Kaz could not help smiling, for the voice was that of his kender companion. Delbin was not only alive, but he was also his usual self, much to Argaen’s dismay, no doubt.

“How did you first get inside? How long did it take you to learn? The knights must really not want people to get in here, because I never saw such complicated locks! My uncle would’ve loved this place. He’s the best, you know, though he taught me a lot, and I bet he would’ve gotten inside by this time, though maybe this one darn screwy lock would’ve given him some trouble…”

“Be silent, kender!” Argaen Ravenshadow hissed. “I have to concentrate, or I might miss something! If I do, we may both wind up dead! What would your minotaur friend do without you then?”

“I wish Kaz was here. He’s always so much fun. You know, I’m getting kind of hungry. Do you have any more of that bread? I like bread, especially with lots of honey on-”

“How can you concentrate on that lock and babble so?” Obviously the elf was reaching the limit of his patience, but he needed Delbin badly. Had the circumstances been different, Kaz would have found the conversation quite amusing.

“I think I’ve got it!”

“At last! The strain is becoming unbearable!”

Lord Oswal stiffened. The Grand Master reached behind his breastplate and pulled out a chain, at the end of which was a familiar medallion. The elderly knight turned back to Tesela and, with a gesture, indicated her medallion. She nodded and held it tightly with her free hand.

They crept down the remaining steps, Oswal and Kaz in the forefront. A glittering light emanated from the bottom, where the stairs ended in the entrance to what could only be the chamber of the vaults. Kaz leaned down and peered inside, axe at the ready.

At first glance, the chamber of the vaults seemed surprisingly large. The ceiling was almost three times the minotaur’s own height, with enough ground space for a company of mounted knights. Another set of stairs stood opposite those used by the foursome. From the marks on the walls and various odd artifacts lying on the floor or sticking out from the walls, Kaz received a good impression of some of the nastier safeguards the Knights of Solamnia had installed. Those were only the physical traps. Argaen Ravenshadow had evidently dealt successfully with all of the sorcerous traps-at least so far.

In the center of the room, poised beneath the shimmering crystal that was the source of the light, stood the elf, Argaen Ravenshadow. His robe was of the blackest black, leaving no doubt now as to his loyalty. The dark elf held something in his hands, hands that were raised as if he sought to grasp the illuminating crystal, and he stared straight ahead, as if the Dragonqueen herself were about to burst through the vaults. Not something to be ruled out, Kaz thought pessimistically. Argaen’s hair fluttered outward.

The vault doors themselves reached nearly to the ceiling. There were three of them, each with a massive relief of one of the three symbols of the knighthood sculpted into it. Argaen’s attention was focused on the one that bore a single massive rose. Delbin was fiddling with something near the handle. He could barely reach it on his tiptoes.

The Grand Master’s hand touched Kaz. The two looked at one another. Lord Oswal smiled grimly and whispered, “The time is upon us! Be ready to strike when I do!”

Clutching tight the symbol of his belief in the power of Paladine, the elder knight closed his eyes and whispered something.

The effect on Argaen Ravenshadow was immediate. His eyes lit up and he turned to where the four had been concealed. “No! No!” he screamed.

Kaz had already covered half the distance between like a beast, the minotaur swung the massive axe high over his head. One sweep would send his adversary to the floor…

It was like striking a stone wall, only he struck nothing. Instead, he went flying backward, bowling over the hapless Darius as he did so, soon ending his flight with a heavy thud against the wall near the stairway. Kaz hit the floor like a sack of rocks, still conscious but too stunned to do anything.

Oddly unperturbed by the chaos around him, Delbin shouted out, “I got it! I should write this down, you know, because this is the best adventure I’ve had y-”

“Be silent, you fool!”

“Argaen Ravenshadow!” The Grand Master stepped out into the open, the symbol of Paladine gleaming brilliantly on his chest. “Your tricks have proven insufficient! Now face me directly, and let us see if your power can save you from judgment!” Behind him, Tesela crouched, clutching her own medallion.

The elf’s expression became even more desperate. He stuffed the object he had been holding into one pocket of his robe, while with his other hand, he pulled something from another pocket. With amazing speed, he threw a handful of tiny spheres at the elder knight.

As Ravenshadow had done with Kaz, so, too, did the Grand Master do with the spheres. The tiny projectiles bounced off an invisible shield and rebounded to various portions of the chamber.

“Is that the best you can do? You are no mage, elf! As I suspected when first you came, you are nothing more than a thief of magic, with little actual power to call your own-”

The tiny spheres began bursting, filling the chamber of the vaults with shock waves of sound and blinding flashes. Caught unaware by the dark elf’s ploy, Lord Oswal stumbled back, his eyesight blinded and his senses, already weak from his long ordeal, in disarray.

Through watery eyes, Kaz saw Argaen rush to the vault door where Delbin stood. The elf shoved the hesitant kender aside. Kaz forced himself to his feet and stumbled forward.

Argaen Ravenshadow tugged the massive vault door open. Despite his slim appearance, his strength apparently was considerable. The door began to swing outward, and the illumination of the chamber was suddenly transformed into a hellish green glow that sent chills down the minotaur’s spine. There was no warmth in the glow, but rather a malevolent presence that was somehow familiar.

“Aaaah!” The shriek was Argaen’s, and it was not one of triumph.

The intensity of the emerald glow was like a physical force, buffeting the members of the party. The Grand Master fell back, his body too weak, his mind too worn. No one could have done more.

Kaz stumbled to one knee. Two hands helped him up and Tesela, her face aglow with the strength of Mishakal, smiled bravely at him. She, too, was under a great strain.

“I’m not a warrior, Kazl Let Mishakal watch over you, give you strength! It’s the only help I can give!” Though there was no other sound, it was difficult to make out her voice, almost as if she were speaking from a distance.

The minotaur nodded. He thought about turning around and retrieving his battle-axe, only to discover, as before, that it was already in his hands. A grim smile played over his animal features. This was the sort of magic he could learn to like.

“See to Darius and the others!” he shouted, then stalked defiantly toward the open vault.

Even before he reached the doorway, Kaz had a good idea what it was he faced. It was the same tremendous power he had felt from a distance when the surviving dragonriders had swooped down on the citadel of the mad mage…

He stepped in front of the open vault and confirmed his own fears. With the sorcerous staff of his childhood friend, the slain wizard, Magius, Huma had attacked Galan Dracos. Dracos’s power had been shattered, so had Huma said, and this thing that radiated it should have been nothing more than a thousand glass fragments. Yet this evil thing had evidently reformed itself, albeit incompletely, judging by the cracks and gaps, and now it rested solidly on a pile of broken artifacts gathered from the ruins of the magic-user’s citadel.

Like a dragon atop its horde, the great emerald sphere of Galan Dracos, the same sphere that had almost made the renegade sorcerer victorious, glistened malevolently at the minotaur.