was a center of commerce linking north and south. Kaz had hoped his companion might be able to purchase a few of the things they needed. He also hoped that Delbin would be able to overhear some gossip that might explain the Sargas-be-damned rumors floating in from the regions surrounding the knighthood’s seat of power in Vingaard- rumors that could not-must not-be true.
But sending Delbin Knotwillow had been a risk at best. Kaz cringed each time his comrade of four months cheerfully volunteered for any task. It was that cheerfulness that unnerved the huge, powerful minotaur.
Delbin Knotwillow was a kender, and kender were born to mischief.
As if on cue, he heard the sounds of a horse. Delbin had departed three days ago, promising that he would return at the appointed time. If properly motivated, the short kender made an excellent spy. No one paid attention to a kender, except to check their personal valuables. Kender picked up a good deal of information, which they were all too willing to pass on to anyone who made their acquaintance. The kender thought this all one grand adventure, something he could brag about to his kin-and anyone else who would listen. After all, how many kender got to travel with a minotaur?
Kaz was all set to call out to his diminutive companion when he heard the second horse. He quickly reached up and took hold of his horse’s muzzle. The war beast, trained for all combat situations, recognized the gesture and froze.
The trees obstructed the minotaur’s view, but he thought he caught a glimpse of black. It was impossible to say whether what he saw was part of one of the riders or one of the horses. Either way, he knew by now that the newcomers were not his companion.
The riders slowed and then halted their mounts. He heard the clank of armor and the low muttering of the two men as they talked. Their words were unintelligible, but one was evidently angry at the other one. Kaz snorted quietly. This was a fine time and place to have an argument! If Delbin showed up now…
When he heard the third horse, Kaz was ready to look up to the heavens and curse every god. Another rider? Then he realized that this latest one was coming from the south. If this kept up, the minotaur planned to open up an inn. The location was obviously excellent, what with the heavy traffic.
The other riders grew silent. Kaz began reaching for his battle-axe, aware that at least one of the newcomers had started moving in his direction. One sharply clawed hand tightened around the lower end of the axe shaft. Only a few more yards of foliage and the rider would be upon him.
Kaz caught a glimpse of ebony armor as the rider suddenly turned his steed back toward the road. The minotaur’s eyes widened. He had seen armor like that during the war against the goddess of darkness. He had served under men and ogres who had worn that armor and, near the end, had fought alongside Huma against some of the deadliest of them.
This was one of the elite, fanatical soldiers of the deceased warlord Crynus, commander of Takhisis’s armies, who long ago had been dispatched to whatever dark domain his kind deserved by Huma of the Lance and the silver dragon. Kaz remembered the moment all too vividly. Crynus had refused to die; finally it had taken dragonfire to destroy him.
Regardless of the danger to himself, Kaz could not let one-no, two! — of the warlord’s guardsmen roam about the countryside. It was not the first time he had come upon such marauders during the last five years. There were still a great number of the Dark Queen’s servants who refused to acknowledge that their mistress had been utterly defeated. With nowhere to hide, they generally became traveling bands of thieves and murderers-all in the name of Takhisis, of course. The guardsmen were the worst; they still believed that she truly would return.
Kaz tapped the horse on the side of head, a signal that he had learned from the knighthood. The horse would remain where it was until he summoned it. Nothing short of a dragon would make it move, and since there were no more dragons, there was no reason to worry.
Slowly, carefully, Kaz brought his axe around in front of him. Maneuvering his horse in this thick brush would have given him away. If Kaz was lucky, he might be able to bring down his opponent without a struggle, but…
The black figure before him abruptly stiffened, and Kaz knew he had somehow given himself away. A long, wicked blade, hidden from view prior to now, sliced a vicious arc through the air as his adversary half-turned in the saddle. Kaz brought his axe up to fend off the blow, but the guardsman had underestimated the distance between them. The blade jarred to a halt only halfway to the minotaur, its tip caught firmly in the side of a mighty oak.
Cursing, the rider tried to free his sword while simultaneously turning his mount. Kaz altered his grip on the axe and swung. The sword rose up to turn his blow from the rider, so that he struck the horse instead. Bleeding and excited, the animal fought its master for control. Kaz was forced to fall back as the huge beast reared and struck out randomly. The horse began to wobble.
The minotaur blinked. There was no longer anyone in the saddle. Now it was his turn to curse. He had forgotten how swift as well as deadly the ebony warriors could be.
A figure burst from the foliage beside him. Kaz parried the sword thrust, but lost ground in doing so. For the first time, he got a close look at his adversary. The man- he was too short to be an ogre, though possibly he was an elf-wore a face-concealing helm, but the eyes that peered out seemed to stare through the minotaur to some point well beyond. The soldier was building up to a berserker fury.
Briefly Kaz heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the path, but the other solider continued to harry him. An axe, especially a battle-axe designed for two-handed use by humans, was not a good weapon in such close quarters. Every time Kaz tried to back up, his opponent moved with equal speed and pressed yet another attack.
It was the woods that saved him. Almost unmindful of the world about him, the raging guardsman stumbled over the exposed root of a tree. It was not much of a delay-in fact, the soldier regained his balance almost immediately-but the hesitation gave Kaz the opening he needed.
He brought the axe around in one clean swing, his full strength behind it. There was no denying the power in that swing, for very few humans could approach matching a minotaur at full strength. Given the proper tool, a minotaur could chop a fair-sized tree down with one blow.
By comparison, armor was next to nothing.
The head of the axe caught the guardsman just above the elbow of his sword arm and kept going without pause. It tore into the hapless fighter’s side and did not stop until its arc was complete. As Kaz stepped back, his foe, arm and trunk awash in red, toppled forward, the rage and life already gone from his eyes.
Kaz inhaled deeply. Up the path, the sounds of struggle had ceased, to be replaced by the growing clatter of several more mounted riders arriving from the south. Kaz had no way of knowing whether or not the others were friend or foe of the single rider.
No one shouted any commands, but Kaz heard a number of riders enter the woods. It wouldn’t take them long to locate him. Wiping the blade of his axe, he hooked the weapon into place in his back harness. The harness was designed to allow him to carry the axe, sometimes two, at all times. Practice enabled him to unhook the battle-axe in seconds. It was a design suitable only for someone with a backside as expansive as a minotaur’s, and with a reach to match.
He mounted the warhorse just as the first searcher spotted him.
“Stand where you are! In the name of the Grand Master, I order you to stay!”
Kaz twisted around and glimpsed the familiar and once respected armor of a Knight of Solamnia-a Knight of the Sword, if he read the crest right. The knight was on foot, having evidently been forced to lead his horse through the thick brush. Kaz turned away and urged his horse forward even as the knight called out something to his companions.
Long ago, Kaz would have stood and fought, likely taking a good half-dozen of the stubborn knights with him before dying from multiple wounds. Huma, however, had taught him the wisdom of avoiding conflict- and certain death-in some situations. The minotaur understood now the pointlessness of always taking a stand. Many of his own people would have thought him cowardly-not that they didn’t already.
Under Kaz’s guidance, the warhorse picked out a path that led deeper and deeper into the woods. That was his only hope for retreat. Kaz knew that such a path would take him closer to Xak Tsaroth, but to the north of that city, not directly east of it. Kaz realized, too, that he had probably seen the last of his kender companion. Of course, Delbin might have already forgotten him, anyway. There was also a possibility that the young kender had gotten caught in the knights’ trap, for surely that was what it had been. They must have known about marauder activity in this area and had set up a trap of their own in order to catch the band by surprise. No doubt they would be disappointed in their catch: only two renegade guardsmen, at least one dead. If Delbin was a prisoner, he doubted
