Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy (10 page)

“Time to get some shut-eye,” yawned the dwarf. “While you’re on guard, you should study the map some more. You seem to be getting the hang of it.” Secretly he was pleased with the minotaur’s ability to pick up the map reading technique. He didn’t think the ugly beasts had the intellect for that kind of thing, but this one had proved him wrong. Of course, this was an unusual minotaur. He heated up another chunk of coal and put away his light stone. Then he rolled out his blanket and went to sleep.

There was no conversation that night. That was O.K. with Zylor. He rolled out his own blanket, which was already surprisingly dry, and began his patrol. So far this had been an interesting trip. A skirmish with a couple of dozen goblins was the highlight of the day. He and the dwarf fought surprisingly well considering the odds. Only one wound between the two of them and a minor one at that. He looked down at his leg and cursed. The bandage was coming loose. He looked over at the sleeping dwarf but decided against waking him. The bandage would have to wait.

After making sure the area was secure, he sat near the heated coal and pulled out the maps. He squinted in the dark orange glow of the coal before remembering about the wildhorn leaves. He ate one and in moments he could see much better. It seemed he needed leaves less frequently now. At first they only lasted only about an hour. Now they lasted up to four hours. The dwarf explained that his eyesight would become accustomed to the dark in time and eventually he wouldn’t need the leaves any longer. Zylor once suggested eating all of his leaves at once, but the dwarf quickly smothered that idea, indicating that too many leaves at once caused blindness. He backed up this fact with a story where an army of renegade minotaurs thought they could storm the dwarves out of the mountain. They ate a large quantity of wildhorn leaves and entered the mountain, capable of seeing as if it were bright as day. After travelling for about an hour, they were struck with blindness one by one. They were found a few days later by a group of dwarves on their way to a new amethyst mine. Only one minotaur was still alive and he was raving mad.

After putting him out of his misery, the dwarves reported this to the king. He in turn sent a message to the minotaur Emperor stating that any more intrusions into the mountain would result in a swift execution of the trespassers.

The minotaur emperor responded with an equal threat for any dwarves exiting the mountain. This embargo held for over a century until a different emperor came up with the idea of using ransom as a means of acquiring dwarven weapons. That agreement still remained to this day.

They marched off the next day with Harran leading the way, taking side corridors and passageways that proved to be shortcuts according to the map. Zylor insisted they should be exiting the far side of the mountain by now, but Harran assured him they were merely circling ever higher in the mountain. At one point Harran even let Zylor lead the way, just to let him test his map reading skills. Things went smoothly for about an hour when Harran saw Zylor make a left turn too soon to correspond with the map. Apparently the tunnel Zylor had chosen wasn’t even marked.

“That’s odd,” said Harran, stopping at the intersection.

Zylor, who had gone a few more steps, turned. “What?”

Harran consulted his version of the map. “According to my map, this tunnel shouldn’t even—.” His sentence remained unfinished as he looked up again. Barrelling toward him with an axe raised over his head was the minotaur. The fearsome visage and guttural growl made the dwarf’s hair stand on end. Harran could only gape in shock as the minotaur swung the axe downward. At the last possible moment, Harran squeezed his eyes shut and listened to the sound of the axe as it shattered bone and flesh. Oddly enough, there was no pain. In fact, he wasn’t even hurt!

Slowly, he opened his eyes. His first sight was Zylor’s hairy abdomen, moving in and out as he breathed. Shaking slightly, Harran turned and discovered what had received the minotaur’s blow. Lying on the floor in a pool of greenish ichor was what was left of a lizardman. Nearby was a long, curved dagger.

Zylor was already in motion. He quickly scanned the tunnels to see if there were any more lizardmen lurking nearby. When he returned to the intersection, Harran had finished retching and was sitting some distance away with his back against the wall. He still appeared shaken from his ordeal moments earlier.

“You gonna be O.K.?” asked Zylor.

“Yeah. Just give me a few minutes,” mumbled Harran.

“Sorry I scared you like that,” apologized Zylor. “The lizard was so intent on sneaking up on you, it didn’t notice me. If I yelled a warning, it would have struck you before you could turn around anyway.”

Harran looked up with fire in his eyes. “Next time, yell! I’d sooner have a knife stuck in my back than die of fright!” Seeing Zylor’s chastised look, Harran amended, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just upset, that’s all. I’m not used to excitement like this. Thanks for saving my life. Again.”

“What was it you were going to talk to me about?” asked Zylor after a few moments. “Something about the tunnel.”

Harran, eager to change the subject, pulled out his map. “This tunnel isn’t shown on the map. Granted, the map is about ten years old, but there’s no indication that there should even be a tunnel here.”

Zylor compared his map to Harran’s. “You’re right. The left turn I was supposed to make should have been another five hundred yards or so down the tunnel we were travelling. Obviously this is not the way we should be going.”

“Hang on,” said Harran, raising a hand. “I think we should explore this tunnel further. I’d like to know where it leads and why that lizardman was trying to prevent us from going down it.”

“How do you know he was preventing us from going down it?” asked Zylor.

“Just a hunch,” answered Harran. Seeing Zylor’s sceptical look, Harran added, “Maybe there’s a bunch of lizardmen to kill!”

Zylor grinned. “What are we waiting for?”

It did not take them long to find where the tunnel led. After travelling at a brisk pace for about twenty minutes, they rounded a bend in the trail and heard a chanting noise some distance away. Moving another hundred yards along the corridor, they saw a faint light emanating from a passageway on the right. The chanting seemed to originate there.

Harran looked at Zylor and put a finger to his lips. Zylor nodded. They moved slowly along the passageway and a few moments later the light brightened and an opening appeared before them. Standing at the opening and looking down into the cavern beyond was another lizardman. Deftly, Harran pulled his axe out of his sheath and raised it above his head. With an expert swing, he severed the lizardman’s head from its body, all the while making no noise. The lizardman’s body slumped to the ground and Zylor caught its spear before it could clatter to the floor. Together they dragged the corpse into a shallow alcove nearby.

“Nice swing,” murmured Zylor.

“It’s all in the shoulders,” returned the dwarf, “although I’m surprised the axe was sharp enough to do the job.” He pointed to the cavern. “Let’s go see what our slimy friend found so interesting, shall we?”

The two spies crept toward the opening and peered down into a vast cavern lit by torches all around the perimeter. To one side they could see a ledge containing an elaborate altar inscribed with runes of some forgotten magic. Behind it stood a lizardmage dressed in a dark red cape. In his right hand he held a staff topped with a small white skull. The eyes of the skull glowed with a sinister red light. He chanted a spell and waved it over the altar, which contained a small dwarf-like figure. The figure struggled feebly against its bonds but slowly began to relax. Suddenly a bolt of sapphire light shot from the figure’s head and entered the eyes of the skull, causing the eyes to glow even more fiercely. The lizardmage raised his staff and two lizardmen approached the altar. They freed the figure—it was a dwarf—and stepped back. The dwarf rose and moved with almost mechanical motion toward a row of benches which stood at the side of the ledge. There were at least ten other dwarves sitting on the benches. The dwarf sat down next to one of them and stared straight ahead. The others were in exactly the same position. There was no movement among them.

“Fetch the next one!” commanded the lizardmage.

The two lizardmen promptly obeyed, heading toward a side tunnel nearby. There was a small commotion for a few minutes and finally they reappeared, dragging another dwarf by the arms.

“Unhand me!” yelled the dwarf. “I demand to know what you want with me!”

The lizardmen continued to drag the struggling dwarf up to the altar and bound him to it in the same manner as the previous one.

“I will answer your question,” said the lizardmage in a calm, even tone. “I want your mind to power my staff and your body to do as I command.”

Harran gasped.

“You’ll never get away with this!” screamed the dwarf. “I’ll die before I serve you!”

The lizardmage chuckled. “Your friends seem to think differently,” he said, gesturing toward the benches. “In fact, you might say they changed their minds on the subject!” With that, the lizardmage let out a loud hiss, cognizant of laughter.

Harran pulled Zylor back from the opening. “He’s stealing their minds!” Harran whispered harshly. “We’ve got to do something!”

“How do you propose to get down there?” murmured Zylor softly. Whispering was something minotaurs were not good at. “And if we do go down there, how are we going to stop a magic wielding lizardmage?”

Harran scratched his head. “We’ll need to surprise him before he can react. We have to attack him while he’s busy.”

“You didn’t answer my first question,” said Zylor.

Harran looked at Zylor. “That’s easy. Follow me.” They quietly rose and worked their way back to the main tunnel. After checking the area to be sure they were alone, they stopped for a brief discussion.

“So that goblin was telling the truth about the lizardmen after all,” said Harran.

“Yeah, so?”

“That means the lizardmen are back! Hundreds of years ago the dwarves purged this part of the mountain of lizardmen. Now they’ve returned! The king needs to be warned!”

“First we have to free those dwarves,” said Zylor.

“Right. Let’s find a way down first. Then we’ll make a plan.”

Harran soon found a way down to the cavern and by accident they located a small room where the prisoners’ weapons were kept. A short distance further along the winding passageway they could hear a low murmur of voices. Approaching slowly, they peered around a bend and saw an iron door separating a room from the passageway. It was from here that the voices could be heard. There was a small grate high in the door but not too high for Zylor to reach. When he tried to look through it, there was a feeble shout from inside the room and Zylor and Harran quickly backed around the corner again.

“What’d you see?” asked Harran.

“Nothing. My guess is it’s the prisoners.” He wrinkled his nose. “And you said minotaurs smelled bad.”

“We have to get them out,” said Harran, ignoring Zylor’s comment. “I have an idea. First let’s check the other passageways. There was another entrance into the cavern almost directly behind the lizardmage. If we can find it, my plan might just work.”

It wasn’t long before they found the desired tunnel but it was guarded by two lizardman sentries.

“Now what?” asked Zylor, peeking cautiously around the corner.

Harran drew Zylor back. “Stay here and get ready,” he whispered. Confidently he stepped around the corner, humming softly to himself. “Oh, I say,” said Harran, feigning surprise at seeing the sentries. “I seem to have gotten lost. Could you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the dwarven realm?”

The sentries looked at one another. With a low hiss they charged forward, drawing their swords.

“Oh dear,” said Harran innocently, turning and running back around the corner. Moments later two well-placed blows brought the sentries down.

“Looks like they fell for it,” said Harran, casually wiping his axe on his dead victim.

“That was too easy,” agreed the minotaur.

“Don’t get too confident. The hardest part is coming up.”

A quick check confirmed the tunnel was the right one. “All right,” said Harran. “Here’s my plan….”

“Bring me the next one,” commanded the lizardmage. Graf would be pleased at the results of this experiment, he thought. Only twelve dwarves and already the staff hummed with power. Imagine the effect a whole army would have on it! This plan was sure ingenious. He wished he’d thought of it. The lizardmage scowled. Here he was, testing out a theory and doing all the work, and if it succeeded, Graf would be the one to get all the credit for it. A loud shout pulled him from his reverie.

Looking toward the entrance to the prison area, he didn’t notice a shadowy figure sneaking up on him until it was almost too late. Spinning around, he cast a slow spell followed by a spell intended for his zombie-dwarves. Slowly, shakily, they rose and picked up some weapons from a nearby table, turning their attention to the imposing figure approaching their master.

Zylor felt as though his feet were made of lead. The spell had struck him squarely and his axe seemed to weigh ten times as much, causing his muscles to expand to the breaking point. He hesitated upon seeing the dwarves rise. The lizardmage, seeing this, took the opportunity to gloat. “I was hoping to try out the staff’s power. This is as good a time as any.” He waved his staff and chanted. The zombie-dwarves began shambling forward, waving their weapons threateningly. Another urgent shout from the prison area diverted the lizardmage’s attention.

Now was Zylor’s chance. With a tremendous lunge, he threw himself at the spell caster. The lizardmage turned in surprise. Too late he realized his mistake. While casting spells on dwarves, he used less power because of their small size. When he cast the slow spell, it was intended for someone the size of a dwarf. It certainly wasn’t strong enough to properly slow a minotaur. Who’d have thought a minotaur would risk his life for some dwarves, anyway? This last thought was cut off, along with his head. The lizardmage’s body fell to the floor, the staff falling down beside him. The skull broke loose but the eyes continued to shine brilliantly.