Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy (68 page)

“Is the amulet ready?”

“Yes.”

“How will he know to find the other half?”

“He will know. The amulet will draw him there.”

“And afterwards?”

“The amulet will be complete and he will be drawn to the center, where our magic will make itself manifest.”

“How?”

“I do not know. The writings are vague. All I know is that it is necessary.”

“And how do you know he will use it as he must and then return it? He is a human! Humans are greedy!”

There was a pause. “Very well. We will ensure he returns the amulet to the pool by holding one of his eyes as collateral. He will return to make the trade.”

“I hope so.”

“It is written.”

“What of the conch shell? Can we trust him with it?”

“Yes. He will pass it on to a dwarf.”

“I thought the agreement was to pass it on to a dwarf directly?”

“It may not be possible. Time will not allow us to wait any longer.”

“Then how do you know he will pass it on to a dwarf?”

“With these dice,” said the voice softly, handling the dice with care.

“You have used magic?”

“Yes. He will lose the conch only to a dwarf.”

“Then two things will be accomplished at once?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Call me when it is time to return him to his kind.”

“I will.”

“The portal has been sealed, milord,” said Nimbar.

“Sealed?! How?”

“Unknown, milord.”

“Can’t it be reopened?”

“No, milord.”

Grakath swore. “It took me years to find that portal! Now it’s gone, along with any information on what’s happening down there!”

“Perhaps they will be able to send reports by pigeon—,” began Nimbar.

“Fool!” shrieked Grakath. “Any communication using that means of delivery would take weeks to reach us—not to mention possible interceptions by the mages those birds would have to fly over to get here!”

“Of course, Sir,” said Nimbar unemotionally.

“No, we will have to proceed without the knowledge of what the southern forces are up to,” said Grakath.

“They were doing well according to the last reports,” said Nimbar. “They were gathering to finish off the centaurs.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case,” said Grakath sullenly. “I just wish I knew why the portal collapsed. It shouldn’t have happened. Either there was a flaw in the magic holding it open, or there is someone out there who is more powerful than I realize.”

“Doubtful, milord,” said Nimbar.

“Doubts are what should not be ignored,” said Grakath. “Speaking of doubts, you didn’t hear from that fool Randall, have you?”

“He reported sighting the Guardian and set a trap to snare him,” said Nimbar. “No more was heard from him since.”

Grakath growled and gently brushed his communication orb with his fingertips. “He better have succeeded, if he knows what’s good for him. If he failed, he must pay for his failure, if he hasn’t already done so.”

“Yes, milord.”

“Send a message to the lizardmen, Nimbar.”

“Sir?”

“Tell them to begin the assault on the Tower of Hope.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And tell them to make a more vigorous attempt. There are bound to be a few soldiers still guarding that place after what happened last time.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Nimbar. “They won’t be pleased about it, though. It will mean taking some of their forces from the eastern battle.”

“What are they worried about?” demanded Grakath. “They’re only supposed to cause diversions, not win battles! That’s up to me! Besides, the minotaurs can handle the eastern front without all that extra help.”

“Yes, milord.”

“Are the dwarves still holed up?”

“Yes, milord,” said Nimbar. “The lizardmen have the situation in hand.”

“Good. The longer they are kept out of it, the sooner I can complete my own goal. After that, the dwarves will fall without too much hassle, and by that time, even the elves will be an insignificant threat.”

“Yes, milord.”

“Are the remaining bands of barbarians destroyed yet?”

“Very soon,” said Nimbar. “All opposition will be crushed within a week.”

Grakath grunted. “It’s about time. In the meantime, I’ve got to pacify the nobles and offer them some of the riches we’ve gained in the last while. It’s a good thing undead troops don’t work for money, or I’d be broke.”

“Yes, milord.”

“When the last of the barbarians are taken care of, have the entire army assemble before the Faceless Cliffs. The mages must all rest for the opening of the portal.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Nimbar.

Chapter 55

K
azin eyed the land below. Although cloaked in the dark of night, he could make out the minotaur city on the horizon. He had to land here, out of the city’s lights, in order to maintain the secrecy of his visit.

He landed without incident (the third time in a row), and allowed his passengers to dismount.

He had nine passengers this time, including six additional minotaurs that Zylor said could be trusted.

They had initially flown past their intended destination to stop high in the mountains, where Zylor and Harran met with a group of dwarves and minotaurs who lived there.

After a hasty reunion, Zylor explained his mission and asked them for their support in the days ahead. Several minotaurs insisted on joining Zylor in the election battle in case they were needed to deal with any resistance. Zylor deferred to Kazin on this point.

Kazin said he could carry up to six of the huge beasts without too much difficulty, so they drew straws to determine who could come along.

Meanwhile, Harran spoke with Horst Hammarhold concerning his decline into dishonoured status. Horst did not seem shocked by this. He pointed at several dwarves who were new to the community.

“Almost every week there is a newly dishonoured family of dwarves seeking a safe haven,” explained Horst. “As a result, we’ve decided to call our little community ‘Haven’.”

“Do they say why they have been dishonoured?” asked Harran curiously.

“Because they are ruled by a fool and a coward!” said a shrill voice behind them. It was the dwarven elder, who had somehow snuck up to them. He wore only a light cloak over his bedclothes.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed!” exclaimed Horst.

The elder sniffed. “And miss all the excitement? Don’t be silly! I don’t plan to get my rest until I die. As long as I’m still alive, I’ll do as I please—and no one can tell me different!” Suddenly the old dwarf spied Zylor. “Zylor!” he squeaked. Hobbling as fast as his gnarled legs could carry him, he went over to greet the minotaur.

Horst sighed. “How that old dwarf continues to find the energy I’ll never know.”

“Some people won’t die as long as they have something to live for,” commented Harran.

“And as long as they aren’t controlled by lizardmen,” added Horst smugly.

“What do you mean?” asked Harran.

“There have been several groups exiting the caves below us for the past several weeks,” began Horst. “They are the so-called allies of the minotaurs. The most recent groups to appear consisted mainly of dwarves.”

“What?!” gasped Harran.

Horst held up a hand. “Let me finish. These particular dwarves were not as they seemed. They were under the control of several lizardmages.”

“Zombie-dwarves!” exclaimed Harran.

“Yes,” said Horst. “We were able to intercept one such group and, with the help of Zylor’s minotaurs, were able to destroy the staff controlling our countrymen. Many of those dwarves went home again, but some chose to stay with us and help in our cause. They knew they would become dishonoured for being captured by lizardmen, so they saved themselves the trouble of returning home for nothing.”

Harran growled angrily. “When I have finished helping Zylor to regain his throne, I’m going to see the king and tell him a few things!”

“How do you expect to be allowed to see him?” asked Horst. “Dishonoured dwarves are not to be allowed back into the dwarven realm.”

“Because I have this,” said Harran, showing off his ancient chain mail. “And this,” he added, pulling his ice axe out of its sheath.

Horst gasped. “You have gotten around, haven’t you?”

Harran nodded. “This chain mail is the item of the distant past. It belonged to the king’s ancestor. The axe is the item of extreme rarity. With these, I am permitted to confront the king and prove my honour. By offering these items to him, I will gain full honour and status as I once had.”

“I sure hope it’s worth it for you, Harran,” said Horst doubtfully. “There’s something strange going on in the dwarven realm, and I would personally urge you to be cautious. You never know what the military will do to you if you are caught by them. They might not care about restoring your honour and seize everything you have of value.”

Harran smiled wickedly. “I won’t let that happen to me. I was a map maker, remember? I know ways to enter the dwarven realm without even being seen!”

Horst chuckled. “I don’t doubt that!”

Now the dwarf, warrior, and seven minotaurs stood on the ground just outside the city of Grawn. They waited for Kazin to change back into a mage.

When the transformation was complete, Kazin asked, “So what do we do next?”

Zylor looked at the city’s lights in the distance. “We go to Grawn and I will apply for the battle.”

“In the middle of the night?” asked Sherman.

Zylor nodded. “A minotaur is appointed to take down the names of the applicants for six days and nights before the event. Customarily, most minotaurs wait until the last possible moment to enter, and do so at night to hide the fact that they are entering.”

“What for?” asked Sherman.

“They don’t want to be hassled by spectators or other minotaurs until it is time for battle,” explained Zylor. “Often, in the past, minotaurs have clashed before the event simply because they knew the other was participating.”

“Reduce the competition, eh?” said Harran.

Zylor nodded. “That, or simply to prove they are better fighters.”

“Who’s to prevent you from being seen applying for the event?” asked Kazin.

“No one,” said Zylor. “The entryway to the application booth is heavily guarded. An underground passageway is available to those who wish to exit the booth incognito. Those who wish to leave by the normal exit may do so. It is generally quite dark all around the booth, so anyone entering or exiting is rarely recognized.”

“Good,” said Harran. “The last thing we need is for some upstart minotaur to pick a fight with you.”

“That’s why we’re here,” said one of the minotaurs.

“Where will we be staying for the night?” asked another minotaur suddenly. “The inns will be booked solid by now.”

“True,” said a third. “But I have an uncle that will be willing to allow us to stay in his home for the night.”

“He doesn’t mind that you’re dishonoured?” asked Harran.

The minotaur shook his head. “He was a strong supporter of Zylor’s father.”

“Aren’t you going to draw attention to yourselves as outcasts?” asked Kazin. “I thought you were banned from your realm.”

“What difference does it make?” asked Sherman. “If we don’t say anything, who’s gonna know?”

“They will know by the notched marks in the horns,” said Zylor.

“I was wondering about those,” said Sherman.

“Fortunately,” continued Zylor, “in the week of the election battles, dishonoured minotaurs are permitted to enter the realm to watch or take part if they choose to do so. Many do to regain their honour, but they must reach the top eight to succeed. Anything less and they are sent packing until the next election, or another event where honour can be restored.”

“And if it is?” prodded Sherman. “What happens to the notched mark?”

“It is removed by the emperor or a high official using one of the few magical items in the minotaur treasury,” explained Zylor. “It’s a type of wand.”

Kazin whistled. “I never knew minotaurs had such an item.”

“It’s from the days of the great wars,” said Zylor. “It was traded by the human mages for an arch mage hostage.”

“Interesting,” commented the mage.

“We’d best be going,” urged one of the minotaurs. “Time grows short.”

The group headed into town (Sherman had his ring equipped and Kazin magically made himself disappear), and Zylor applied at the booth without incident. He applied with his first name only to avoid undue attention. His uncle, after all, had the same last name.

Even at this late hour, the streets were crowded, but they located the minotaur’s uncle’s hut and spent the night peacefully.

Two soldiers hefted the body from the gravel shoreline.

“Another one for the pile?” asked a third soldier.

“He’s still alive,” said one of the carriers.

“He’s breathin’ right enough,” said the second carrier.

“Really?” asked the third man curiously. He bent to listen for the injured man’s breath and caught sight of a talisman around his neck. “What’s this?” He reached to touch it but a blue spark struck his hand. “Yeouch!” he exclaimed, yanking his hand back quickly.

The first carrier laughed. “That’s what you get for taking what’s not yours!”

“Har!” laughed the second carrier. “The hand may be quicker than the eye, but it sure don’t fool no magic item!”

The third soldier growled. “Just get him to a cleric! That druid is just up the hill.”

“That’s what we were doin’ ‘till you came along and decided to play with somethin’ that didn’t belong to ya,” said the second carrier.

The third soldier grumbled and stalked off, muttering to himself.

The carriers chuckled and carried the body up the hill. When they reached the temporary outdoor hospital, they gently deposited the body on the ground and informed the druid.

“He was just lyin’ down there by the shore,” said the second carrier. “He’s got some magical stuff on him, too.”

“I’ll check on him in a minute,” said the druid. “Thank you.”

The carriers departed and Milena finished healing a man’s broken arm. “Don’t put any strain on it for a couple of days,” she admonished.

The man grinned weakly. “O.K.”