Kaz the Minotaur

if we need to.”

“I was only thinking of my comrade. Have the minotaurs grown so base that they must kill uselessly? He was only a kender.”

“A kender! That a minotaur, even one lacking honor and the courage to face judgment, would demean himself to call one of those a comrade. You are weak, Kaz.”

“It took three of you to subdue me,” Kaz retorted.

That earned him yet another swat. “The high ones want you alive. You will be proof that honor and justice are still paramount to the minotaur race, despite the few who must always be weeded out.”

Kaz snorted.

Hecar spoke, his tone much more civil, more calm than the fanatical Tinos. “Bad enough to stand accused of murder, Kaz, but to flee instead of facing judgment as you should have…”

The prisoner’s reply was cut off by the reemergence of Greel from the forest. “All clear for some distance. Push him if you have to, but make him move!” The short minotaur smiled toothily. “I want to see the homeland. After all this time…”

The other minotaurs, even Kaz, could not help feeling twinges of longing themselves. Kaz had not been home since the day he was deemed a warrior and sent out to fight for the glory of the Dark Queen, something he had really not believed in. Though the race of minotaurs counted her consort, mysterious Sargas, as their chief god, they had little love for the ways of Takhisis.

At that point, Greel growled at the others. “What are you standing around for? The sooner we meet up with the others, the sooner we return home.”

He turned and began stalking off into the forest once more. Tinos and Hecar each took one arm and began to pull Kaz forward, almost causing him to lose his footing.

At nightfall, Kaz was deposited against a tree and tied to it. Both he and his captors were exhausted, but he was pleased to note that they were in worse shape. The hope that Delbin had reached the human cleric and convinced her to help Kaz had slowly dwindled away over the hours. What could a servant of Mishakal, the gentle goddess of healing, do against four heavily armed minotaur fighters? Would she even care?

Greel had snared an animal for food, and now the minotaurs were cooking it over a small fire. As Greel began to divide up the meat, a brief argument developed between the four. Listening closely, Kaz discovered that he was the cause. They were arguing over whether or not he should be fed. Greel finally gave in and handed something round to Helati, who had apparently appointed herself the prisoner’s keeper.

Helati was a grumbling shadow as she stalked over to Kaz. “May Sargas take Greel’s damned hide, and Scum’s for good measure!”

“Scurn?” Kaz asked quietly.

“He and the ogre lead this farce we call a mission of honor and justice.”

She dropped whatever it was that Greel had given her and fed him a few strips of meat. “I’m sorry that I cannot untie you. Hecar and I argued on your behalf, and even Tinos seemed willing, but Greel wants to take no chances. You are his prize. I daresay that by the time we reach Scurn, the short one will have us believing that he caught you alone, without our aid. Such honorable people we are. These past few years of chasing after you have changed us-much to the worse, I’d say.”

“You and Hecar are siblings?” Helati’s face was deep in shadow. He wished she would move so that he could see her better, be able to read her reactions better. It was always wise to know the enemy, he told himself.

“You don’t remember us, then. Hecar was certain of that. You were a tutor for the younger classes…”

Kaz grimaced at the memory. “The year before they deemed me ready to give my life for the ogres and humans. You and your brother were in one of the classes? Those were for the young just entering adulthood. You cannot be that young.”

She laughed quietly. “Poor teacher. You fail to realize that eight years have passed since then. We have changed, my brother and I. We always felt you picked on us especially. Apparently it was not that important to you.”

“Helati, I had to run after I killed the ogre leader. If I had stayed, they would have tied me to a stake and flayed me alive. I would have joined Braag’s victims.”

It was impossible to see the reaction on her face, but Kaz could hear her breathing catch briefly and noticed that her hand, still holding a piece of meat, had paused halfway to his mouth. He regretted causing the latter action most of all, having eaten almost nothing all day.

The female minotaur snorted quietly and continued with the feeding, occasionally taking a small scrap of meat for herself. As she fed Kaz, she spoke. “I could believe you-certainly the stories I’ve heard prove you are no coward and have dealt with others honorably-but Molok has his own proof. Proof that the high ones found convincing.”

This time Kaz snorted, his anger flaring. “If they are the same ones who ruled when we were slave-soldiers to the other races, then small wonder! They are lackeys to the ogres and those who followed Takhisis’s pet, the renegade sorcerer Galan Dracos!”

Greel rose from the fire. “If he cannot keep quiet, he does not get fed, Helati! If that fails to calm him, I can silence him personally!”

“I can handle him, Greel!” To Kaz, she said quietly, “Greel would be only too glad to silence you. He thinks your running away is judgment enough, and that you have forfeited any right to speak on your own behalf. Only his fear of Scum keeps him from you.”

Kaz swore under his breath. “You and your brother seem levelheaded. How can you be a part of this?”

“We were given a duty, and as minotaurs we will see that duty through to the end.”

It all seemed so futile. This was what he had feared would happen if he allowed himself to be captured.

“Greel wanted me to show you this.” Helati put down the meat and reached for the object the leader had given her. To the prisoner’s eyes, it appeared to be a dark sphere, perhaps the size of an apple.

“What is it?”

“Watch. Stare into it.”

As Kaz stared at it, the sphere began to glisten. Kaz shuddered without thinking. “Magic? Have we weakened so much we have turned to magic?”

Helati quieted him. “It is something the ogres use that they buy from mages. Scurn has one like it, and a proclamation from the emperor claiming the honorable intentions of our mission: the capture of an accused murderer. Now watch.”

Kaz did as he was told, his eyes widening as the dark, opaque sphere suddenly became transparent. Within the sphere, he watched a landscape begin to grow from nothing. Tiny mountains rose in the background, and skeletal trees burst from the earth like mad, undead horrors. Figures began to blur into being, one on the right, the other in the center.

Kaz knew what land this was, though not the name of it. He knew it because he had served there, still blindly obedient to dark-robed mages and ebony-armored warlords. It came as no surprise that the figure at the right was him, and that the one in the center was the ogre who had commanded this army. There was something wrong with the scene, however, something that did not reveal itself to his eye at first.

The humans. The victims. The living toys of his captain, a loyal servant of the Queen of Evil. Where were the old one and the children that Braag’s axe had played with? Instead, the ogre seemed intent on something in the distance and did not even notice the minotaur’s presence. Kaz could predict what was going to happen next.

The Kaz figure raised a club. As the club rose behind the unsuspecting ogre, the real Kaz shook his head and denied the falsity of the scene. The club came crashing down. The ogre collapsed into a lifeless heap. The Kaz figure looked around once and fled. Other forms- ogres, minotaurs, and such-rushed forward even as the scene faded away.

It was another inaccuracy. It had taken only a single blow from his fist, struck while they stood face-to-face, to crack the skull of the ogre and send him to his reward. Not some dishonorable ambush!

“A lie!” Kaz no longer cared whether he remained quiet or not. “That’s a lie! I am no base murderer! He cruelly killed the helpless, the defenseless! His action was without any honor! It was the work of a butcher, not a