Kaz the Minotaur

Who else, he argued with himself, would live high up in a tree but an elf?

‘The pot will not bite, my friend. It never has.”

Kaz whirled and reached for a weapon he had already told himself was not there. Behind him, sitting in a spot the minotaur knew he could not possibly have overlooked earlier, was a tall, handsome elf with long silver hair. If judged by human standards, the elf looked young-until one looked at the emerald eyes. This tree-dweller, Kaz knew, had seen more years pass than several generations of minotaurs.

The elf was clad in a brown and green outfit that made him look like a prince of the forest. There was even a long cloak. Kaz snorted angrily when he saw that the elf was smiling at his inspection.

“Who are you?” he snarled.

“I am Sardal Crystalthorn, my friend. I think this is perhaps the twelfth time I’ve told you that.” Sardal seemed amused by something.

“How long have I been here?” Anger began to give way to surprise.

“Just over two weeks. You were nearly dead when I found you. I am impressed. Everything I have heard about minotaur stamina was evidently true, and then some.”

‘Two weeks?” A sudden, fierce desire to be away from this place, away from everywhere, shook Kaz. He turned and bolted toward the entrance of Sardal’s home. A hand, impossibly strong for being so slender and pale, held him back. Kaz swallowed as he stared down into yet more treetops. He had assumed there would be a ladder or steps, but there was nothing. Evidently elves did not need ladders or steps.

“Come back inside before you do something foolish.”

‘Two weeks!” the minotaur muttered again.

“You were injured worse in spirit than in body,” the elf said gently. He led Kaz away from the opening.

“How did you find me?”

Sardal’s face was empty of emotion. “I did not. Others found you. They wanted nothing to do with you, but they knew that I have a fondness for meddling. It is why I live here and not with them. It is also their excuse to interfere while pretending not to.”

Kaz began to pace. He could not say what bothered him more, the two lost weeks or the thought that he was so very high above the ground in the company of an elf. “Am I in Qualinesti, then? Did the river drag me that far south?”

The elf gave him the slightest glimmer of a smile. “Hardly. It always amazes me that other races are so boundary conscious. Do you think that we stop and turn back the moment the ‘accepted’ border comes into sight? Only races like minotaurs and humans would think like that. When we elves-and those in Silvanesti-created borders, it was only for the peace of mind of others. We do not believe in such things, although we do have our general territories and places no other race travels through. But actual borders we definitely do not have.”

Sardal, Kaz decided, was as convoluted as Delbin when it came to explanations. “So, where am I?”

“Almost directly north of the human city of Xak Tsaroth. If you had looked in any other direction than the way you did, you would have seen the mountains that border this part of the forest on each side.”

Kaz nodded. He recalled vaguely from the map where he was now. If he was correct, the settlement controlled by the elder, Drew, was almost directly east.

“If I may ask you a question,” continued the elf as he reached for a jug containing some liquid, “how did you come to be attempting to swallow the entire river?”

After the aid Sardal had given him, Kaz more than willingly told the elf the entire story. He began with the murder he had supposedly committed, which had actually been a fair combat against an ogre captain who had been needlessly torturing old and young prisoners. The minotaurs did not care about that, however. He had also broken several blood oaths in turning on the ogre and then running off rather that facing the so-called “justice” of his masters. He concluded the distasteful subject with, “I suspect that that is of more concern to my people. Killing or executing to preserve honor is common among us.”

After that, Kaz unconsciously turned to other matters, as if to avoid thinking about his situation. News of the north especially interested the elf, and the more Kaz talked about it, the more questions Sardal brought up. By the time the minotaur concluded, the elf had extracted nearly every bit of information Kaz could think of.

“You must be greatly skilled to have avoided those other minotaurs all this time,” Sardal commented.

“I survived twice as long as most during the war. Wasn’t just that, though. Me, I’ve dealt with humans; I know better than my pursuers what to expect in this territory-the past few days excluded. Besides, while one minotaur might be able to sneak through a land, a group of a dozen or so is about as inconspicuous as an advancing army. Someone always knows, and I generally find out soon enough.”

“Yet they almost caught you this time.”

Kaz grunted. “They’re getting better. Or maybe I’m getting tired. Still, I think I’ve got one edge. There’s dissension in their ranks. I always wondered and now I know. Some of them just want to go home. The only thing holding them back is their oaths, and those are to leaders with no honor of their own, lackeys left over from the days when ogres and humans really ruled. I think a few of them might-and I may only be hoping- actually be slowing the group down purposely because they believe in me.”

The minotaur put his face in his hands and sighed.

“You have a dark shadow over you, minotaur. I think perhaps that the gods have something planned for you.”

He gave a brief smile. “Or you may just attract trouble as a flower attracts bees.”

Kaz began to scoff, then recalled his dreams and visions. They might be merely that, visions and dreams, but there was always the chance they were not, that they were actually omens. Could he dare ignore them?

Sardal, his eyes never leaving the minotaur, continued. “Of your companions or your people, I have no word. Most elves like to avoid the affairs of other races. I have long known the folly of such acts. There were things that occurred during the war against the Dragon-queen that should shame any elf, but still, most would rather continue to ignore the outside world.”

“Delbin knows that I planned to travel to Vingaard Keep and confront Oswal, the Grand Master. He may go there, and it is possible that the human cleric, Tesela, will go there also. If not, I still have to go there myself. I have to discover why my former comrades have turned against me.”

“Not just you. From your words and the stories of others that I have heard, the Knights of Solamnia have turned away from E’li, he who you know as Paladine. If so, we may yet again see the evil of the Dragonqueen.”

“She cannot return. Huma made her swear by something called the Highgod, I think.”

The elf’s eyebrows rose. “Did he, now? A pity, my friend, that you cannot remember the oath. I suspect there are holes in it big enough to fly a dragon through- if there were still dragons, that is.”

Kaz recalled some of the images from his dreams. “She would need the help of another fiend like Galan Dracos.”

“There are other ways. We have no idea what precautions she might have made. What will you do about your countrymen who pursue you?” Sardal asked.

“Like Delbin, no doubt they think I am dead.”

“Yet you might still encounter them.”

The minotaur snorted angrily. “I will deal with them if I have to. It is Vingaard that concerns me. To honor the memory of Huma of the Lance, I will settle with the knighthood one way or the other.” Kaz rose. “Enough prattle. Show me how to reach the ground, and I will be on my way.”

Sardal rose to his feet in one fluid motion. “It occurs to me that I may yet be of some substantial aid to you, minotaur, if you have no objections.”

“What do you intend?” Kaz’s tone indicated he was hesitant to accept yet more assistance.

“Nothing complicated.” Sardal began to gather a few items he thought might come in handy for his guest. His mind briefly flickered to what his fellows would say when they discovered that, not only had he healed the beastman, but he had also given him supplies and even spoke to him like an equal. Smiling, he dropped the thought and continued with the discussion.

“When you get to Vingaard-and I have no doubt that you will-ask for an elf named Argaen Ravenshadow. He is like me and has worked among humans for generations. The elders call him a maverick, but as with me, they never fail to make use of him when it proves necessary to deal with outsiders. Let all who are there know that