Kaz the Minotaur

be in league with the magic thief?

Kaz decided to break the seal and see what Sardal had written.

The amber proved to be more of a problem than he would have expected. A flick of his thumb should have broken it off, but his nail kept sliding away. In exasperation, he pulled out a dagger and worked on it. The dagger, too, slipped from the seal.

Cutting around the amber turned out to be a tricky maneuver, what with trying to hold on to the reins and the bouncing of his horse. Nonetheless, he managed to trace a circle, and the seal fell to the earth. Kaz put away his dagger and started to unroll the parchment.

A golden void opened up before him.

“Kaz!” someone cried, possibly Delbin.

“Pala-” The minotaur had no chance to complete his oath before his horse rode blissfully into the void. The search party, everything, vanished.

The void was beautiful, inspiring, but Kaz had no time for such contemplation. It was all he could do to hang on as the horse fell and fell and fell and fell… until it seemed they were destined to keep falling until the Final Day. Not once did his steed give any indication of panic. It still tried to gallop, apparently ignorant of its predicament.

At last their descent began to slow. The minotaur felt his own movements begin to decelerate. In a matter of seconds, it became nearly impossible to do anything but breathe, and even that was becoming increasingly difficult.

Like a fly trapped in honey, he thought helplessly. A fury was building within him, one that in combat made him a terror. Now, though, it did nothing but further frustrate him. For all his strength, he was unable to move, to defend himself.

As he and his mount came to a complete stop, so, too, did his capacity, even to breathe. Kaz was certain he was going to die now. He waited for suffocation to wash over him. It did not. He almost wished for it, for now came the fear that he was meant to be trapped in this void forever, ever staring off into the beautiful golden nothing.

“Aaahh, minotaur!” a voice boomed all around him. “What have you done to yourself now?”

He knew the voice. It was Sardal Crystalthorn who had snared him.

“Kaz!” Delbin shouted.

Several of the knights were forced to restrain their horses. Bennett stood in the saddle and looked around in vain for the minotaur. Darius cursed, and Tesela prayed to her goddess for some clue as to what had happened to the minotaur.

Bennett sat down. “The Abyss take that dark elf! This must be his doing! He’s been watching all along, waiting for the proper moment!”

“Do you-do you think Kaz is dead?” Darius finally ventured.

“No, but I think the thief must have captured him somehow.” Bennett turned to look at the others. “We have to move on. Kaz’s only chance-our only chance- is to find the elf before he grows any stronger! With any luck, we will be able to save the minotaur. Wherever he is, if he lives, Argaen Ravenshadow will know.”

Tesela removed her hands from her medallion. “I can feel nothing where Kaz is concerned, but that may mean very little. There’s no trace of him in this area. That much I can say with confidence.”

Bennett nodded, as if that were the confirmation he had been waiting for. As far as he was concerned, there was no more time to waste. “It’s settled, then. We move on.”

As the knight turned to signal the others, Tesela and Darius exchanged looks of uncertainty. If Kaz was a prisoner, spirited away by their enemies, what chance did this small force of knights have against such formidable power?

Nonetheless, no one even suggested turning back.

Chapter Eighteen

It was two days after the column had departed in search of Argaen Ravenshadow. The Grand Master was trying to discover everything that had been done in his name over the years his mind had not been his own. What he had discovered shamed him. All this time, he had imagined he had fended off the evil, the madness. Staring longer and longer at proclamations that bore his name, proclamations that he remembered vaguely as having started out as something else, he knew why the general populace had turned on the Knights of Solamnia. After finally having the courage to hope for a brighter future, they had been seemingly betrayed by those sworn to watch over them. It was like the great war all over again, when the knighthood had fought on and on while it was the ordinary citizens who paid the price for decades of stalemate.

Lord Oswal was stirred from his work by the sudden intrusion of one of his guards. “Milord?” the man whispered urgently again.

“What is it?”

“We have a party of travelers at the gates, demanding justice.”

“Justice?” Were the people revolting already?

“It-it might be best if you saw for yourself.”

Oswal pushed his chair back and stood, wishing at that moment that his brother Trake had not succumbed to the poisons of the traitor Rennard, for then he would still be head of the knighthood.

“Give me a few moments. Tell them I am coming.”

“Milord.”

The Grand Master looked around for his boots. His boots discovered-how they had gotten underneath the bed was something he would never understand-the Grand Master readied himself and started for the gates. Knights of his royal guard saluted and fell into line behind him. With all that had happened, the knights remaining in the keep had become virtually paranoid about the safety of their lord. Whether he wanted them to or not, his guards were now determined to be with him during any matter that hinted of trouble.

The captain of the watch saluted him as he reached the gates. “Well, where are they?”

“Outside, milord.”

“Outside? Have you forgotten your manners? Just because someone has a grievance, there is no reason to leave them barred from Vingaard.”

The watch captain paled. “With all due respect, Grand Master, I think you should see for yourself!”

Lord Oswal had found that his patience was short these days. “Nonsense! Not another word! Have they given their word that they come in peace?”

“Yes, but-”

“How many are there?”

“A dozen or so, mi-”

“A dozen? Let this fearsome army in, captain. Now!”

“As the Grand Master desires.” It was obvious that the other knight still had qualms, but he would obey his lord.

The order to open the gates was given and obeyed with great speed. The Grand Master, with his guards standing at the ready, stared in amazement at the newcomers. Small wonder that his men had been hesitant! They were minotaurs!

Other than Kaz, Lord Oswal had seen precious few minotaurs this close up. And the few he had seen were either prisoners or had died by his sword. In all honesty, a band of minotaurs was probably the last thing he had expected.

“Who is in charge here?” a nasty-looking, disfigured giant snarled.

The Grand Master folded his arms and, in a voice that had more than once silenced his rivals in midsentence, replied, “I am in charge here, minotaur. I am Oswal, Grand Master of the Knights of Solamnia! For what reason do