path seemed narrow, barely wide enough for him to pass. Behind him, it was wide and flat. In that direction, the minotaur could make out a beautiful forest and in that forest a dwelling he recognized as his own.
From the mountains in the other direction he heard what sounded like a child crying.
'He who hesitates is lost, they say. Are you lost?' The questioner tapped his staff against the rock again. He was a tall, elderly human… elderly but certainly not frail. He wore a hooded cloak that covered most of his form, and on his hands he wore long gloves that went up his wrists, eventually disappearing into his sleeves. On his feet the human wore boots that rose
up almost knee high.
A long gray beard obscured what was a plain yet somehow intelligent face. The gray beard blended into a gray face, which in turn blended into the gray coloring of the cloak.
Kaz's eyes narrowed. Everything about the man was gray, even his teeth, tongue, and eyes.
The crying continued.
'Will that crying never cease?' Kaz rumbled.
'He is out of balance.' The explanation seemed to suit the gray man despite its vagueness. 'Hail to you. Supreme Champion.'
'NO!' roared Kaz, waving his hand in denial. 'I've not worn that title or-' He suddenly realized that the medallion hung around his neck. With one massive hand, he tore the medallion from its chain and threw it as far as he could. The gray man watched him do it, his expression perfectly bland. 'Not worn that title or that medallion since I left Nethosak! I reject what it stands for!'
'But what swings one way must always swing the other. What one rejects, one must later accept-if one is to remain in balance.'
The crying grew more shrill, as if demanding to be heard.
Kaz tried to ignore the sound. 'I'm not putting up with such nonsense! I'm going home!'
He turned toward the path leading to the woods, only to discover that instead of the forest, he faced the Great Circus of Nethosak. Cheering rose from inside, and a line of minotaurs stood at attention, awaiting him.
Kaz stepped back, but as his foot came down, the mountain path transformed into the flat, sandy floor of the arena. Instead of the gray man and the rock, a high wooden platform stood before him. The platform was several yards across and towered above him. A dozen of Kaz's kinsmen struggled at levers, their efforts causing the structure to slowly rotate.
Frozen, Kaz watched as a figure hove into view. The figure slowly came nearer as the rotating platform brought him around.
Still the child cried, but now he sounded older… not adult… but definitely older.
The face of the figure on the platform came into view.
It was his own face.
'About time you got here,' the other Kaz called.
Kaz tried to speak, but as he opened his mouth, a great shadow darkened the sky. The other Kaz looked up… and was swallowed by that darkness. The arena was gone.
'Definitely out of balance,' remarked the gray man, now standing next to Kaz. 'The past should be past by this time.'
Eyes widening, the minotaur glared at his peculiar gray companion. 'I know you, don't I? I've forgotten you, somehow. I remember about Huma and-' His words were cut off as the shrill voice cried still louder. It was too much for him to stand. 'By Paladine and Kiri-Jolith! Can nothing be done about that?'
'I can do nothing.' The gray man held up his hands, which were bound by what seemed a twisted version of his own staff. He seemed indifferent. 'You must complete what you have left undone.'
Kaz did not care to ask what the gray man meant, his gaze already turning back to the mountainous trail. The cry for help was stronger, closer. He wished he had his axe, then realized it was in his hands. That was the one thing that so far did not disturb him; Honor's Face always returned to his hands when he most needed it. One of its magical qualities.
'Paladine preserve me!' Kaz grunted, starting up the trail.
'Perhaps he will,' replied the gray man from behind him. 'He understands the need for balance.'
This made the minotaur turn, but when he looked, the man in gray was gone. Snorting his annoyance, Kaz listened again to the cry. It was stronger, closer, but now he thought he heard the sound of running feet and the heavy breathing of determined pursuers. Someone was after the voice.
'Did you hear that, Kaz?' asked Delbin, but the kender was nowhere to be seen.
Keeping the axe ready, the minotaur picked up his pace. If there were others, he had to hurry. They might catch up with their prey at any moment.
Despite his hurried pace, though, it seemed as if he walked through a miasma. Ever so slowly, Kaz made progress along the path, but with each renewed cry, he knew he would be too late.
Then the cry came again, so close that he knew its source
must be just out of sight. All he had to do was reach the point where the path before him twisted to the right. There was still time.
Suddenly Kaz was at the turn. He raised Honor's Face in preparation for a swing and followed the twist in the path.
A shadow loomed over him.
It was a dragon.
Kaz woke with a start, realizing that everything had been but a dream. The minotaur cursed. It was still dark outside. Kaz estimated that he had been asleep for perhaps an hour, possibly two, but no more. He peered around the camp, muttered in annoyance, and tried to settle back down to sleep.
He did not hear the single figure that had been observing the camp move off into the night.
'I told you that story earlier.'
'I want to hear it again.'
'Not now, Delbin.'
'Please? It'll help pass the time, and I always like to hear about it, especially the part-'
'All right.' It would be easier simply to relate the tale… again.
'Thanks, Kaz!' piped in Delbin. He reached for his pouch. 'I should write it down this time! I always forget It would-say, I wonder where this came from?'
Kaz eyed the newfound object with some trepidation, but it turned out to be only one of his own fire flints. Giving the kender a look, he reached out and retrieved his property. 'Just forget the book for now, Delbin, or I won't tell the story.'
That gave the kender pause. Kaz sighed, then began, 'In the beginning, there were the ogres. They were not the animals we know today, but beautiful creatures, the envy of all other races, including the elves. They built glorious cities and created great works in all fields. All respected their accomplishments and abilities.'
'What happened to them?' asked Delbin. He asked the same questions at the same points in the story every time Kaz related it.
'They were decadent, vain. They wasted their achievements, instead playing with power that should've been cultivated in order to cement their greatness. Some of them, however, saw that they were destined for savagery if they continued like that and tried to speak sense to their brothers. The others wouldn't listen, and the race sank further and further into degeneracy. They fell from the grace of the Great Horned One, Sargas, so the story goes,
