Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy (8 page)

Zylor ducked out of sight. The recruitment was in full swing already. That didn’t surprise him. What bothered him was the presence of the lizardman. How did a lizardman come to be accepted by minotaurs? What’s more, how did it come to be in a position of power like this one was? Minotaurs hated lizardmen; particularly because they used magic. Why did the minotaurs in the booth not slay the beast on sight? Was Traygor now consorting with lizardmen? Was he using them to assist in defeating the humans in battle? It seemed inconceivable that even Traygor would stoop so low. Surely there was no honour in fighting a battle with the help of lizardmen and their magic. Yet here one was, in charge of the recruitment taking place in the plaza. Zylor mulled this over as he crept through the back ways of the city.

At last he came to a small, winding trail that led out and away from town. There were many trees in this area and they provided adequate concealment, allowing Zylor to make good time. He travelled for several hours before hitting the base of the mountains. The trail ended and the going from here on would be difficult. There was plenty of dense shrubbery and bracken to cut through and not far above that was a sparsely wooded tree line. He looked up and viewed the cliffs above. An eagle soared quietly near the apex of the massive mountain, unperturbed by the sheer cliff face nearby where it was too cold and steep to accommodate lesser vegetation. There was still evidence of snow at the higher altitudes and some of the mountain side was covered in ice. Fortunately Zylor wouldn’t have to go to these great heights to reach the cave entrances, which were located just above the tree line. The vegetation would only provide concealment about a third of the way up. After that he would have to travel in the dark to avoid detection by the patrols. It was a good time to do this, thought Zylor. The patrols tonight would likely be reduced due to the recruitment going on in town.

With relief he put down his pack containing his blanket roll and its occupant. He unravelled the blanket and out rolled the dwarf, clothes wrinkled and beard askew.

“Take it easy!” complained Harran. “Do you know how cramped it was in there?”

“You could have stayed in your cell,” commented Zylor.

“Very funny,” grumbled the dwarf, standing up and stretching his muscles. “At least I don’t have to breathe through that disgusting smelling blanket anymore. It was worse than unbearable.”

“You’re still alive,” said Zylor, removing two axes from a holster on his back. He handed the smaller one to the dwarf. “Here, start chopping.”

“Chopping?!” exclaimed the dwarf. “Chopping what?”

“This shrubbery. It’ll go faster with both of us chopping a path.”

“When I agreed to guide you through the mountains, I didn’t say anything about helping to blaze a trail through some shrubbery!” retorted Harran angrily.

“It’s either that or the blanket,” responded Zylor. “Besides, with both of us working at it, we’ll reach the tree line by sundown. Then we can wait until dark and you can guide us to the nearest tunnel entrance.”

Harran glared at Zylor. Zylor returned the look. Harran chuckled. Then he laughed. “Nobody can out glare a minotaur. All right. Give me that thing,” he said, yanking the axe out of Zylor’s hand. “The sooner we get out of minotaur territory, the better.” He began chopping at the shrubbery. Then he stopped abruptly and looked at his axe. “Hey! This isn’t my axe! It isn’t even dwarven!”

“Sorry,” said Zylor. “I couldn’t find out what happened to your original axe so I just grabbed one that looked half decent.”

“Half decent? This one isn’t even a quarter decent! How are we supposed to save time using this piece of junk?” asked Harran, exasperated.

“By chopping with it,” retorted Zylor, taking several huge swings with his own axe. As some chunks of shrubbery began to fall, Zylor said, “See. Mine cuts and it’s not made from dwarven steel either.”

Harran sighed and thought about using the axe on the minotaur instead. He shook his head. If it couldn’t cut mere shrubbery, it certainly couldn’t cut through the tough hide of a minotaur. With another sigh he turned to the shrubbery and attacked it with a vengeance.

The sun was just setting behind the mountain when Harran and Zylor broke through the dense underbrush. Before them lay a scarcely wooded area with several large boulders strewn awkwardly about, covered in places with remnants of the previous winter’s snow. The wind here was strong and cold.

Harran wiped the back of his hand across his face. “We’re finally through,” he commented, relieved.

Zylor re-sheathed his axe. “Now we have to locate the nearest cave entrance.”

Harran examined the cliffs above and squinted against the sun. It was only late afternoon, but this side of the mountain was already covered in shadow. At last he said, “I can see three different entrances.” His knowledge of the mountains made it easy for him to find the locations of the caves. “There are two more not far from here but they’re not visible from this vantage point.”

“Which one do we take?” asked Zylor.

“One of them leads to a large plateau on top of the mountain. There’s plenty of wildlife and berries for you to live on. I assume that’s more or less what you’re looking for?”

“Exactly. Which cave is it?”

“It’s one of the ones we can’t see from here,” said Harran. “We’ll have to work our way to the right and get past that small ridge over there,” he added, pointing.

“Right,” said Zylor. “Let’s go.”

The companions travelled for about twenty minutes before clearing the ridge that Harran had indicated. They stopped and Harran motioned for Zylor to stay low. “The minotaur guard post is not far away from here,” said Harran. “If we want to reach the cave without being seen, we’ll have to go up from here.”

“We’re fairly well concealed right here,” said Zylor. “Why don’t we wait until dark before moving on?”

“Good idea,” said Harran. “In the meantime, where’s the pack with my gear?”

Zylor pulled a small pack out of his larger one and tossed it to him.

Harran opened it and examined the contents inside. “Good. Everything’s still here.” He looked up at Zylor. “I’m surprised nothing’s missing. Some of these maps are quite valuable.”

“We don’t use maps,” replied Zylor. “I don’t think there’s a minotaur alive that can read one; especially dwarven ones.”

“That explains why they only took my axe,” said Harran with contempt.

Zylor merely shrugged and looked away.

“If you want to find your way back from the plateau,” continued Harran, “you’re going to have to learn to read maps. I’ll guide you there but you’ll have to come back on your own. If you don’t follow the map, you’re as good as dead.”

Zylor turned his gaze back to Harran. “Then show me.”

“I can’t teach you everything at once,” said Harran. “You’ll have to learn as we go.” He rummaged through the pack and pulled out a selection of maps. Then he peered intently at each one until he found the one he was looking for. “Here it is.” Harran put the rest of the maps back into the pack and pulled out a blank piece of parchment and a pointed graphite stone. He looked around, spotted a moss-covered boulder, sauntered over to it and sat down.

“What are you doing?” inquired Zylor curiously.

“I’m making a copy of the map for you. You didn’t really think I’d give you my copy, did you?”

Zylor shook his head and looked for a comfortable place to sit down.

Harran looked up from his map making and commented, “One thing you should do before we enter the mountain is gather some leaves from the wildhorn plants in the area. They’ll enable you to see better in the darkness of the tunnels. I’ve got a fluorescent light stone in my pack but it might not be enough to help you to see properly.”

Zylor hesitated.

As if reading his thoughts, Harran added, “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zylor reluctantly agreed and left in search of the plants.

“By the way,” called Harran after him as loudly as he dared, “keep those leaves away from me. I’m allergic.” Then in undertones added, “That’s what got me into this whole mess in the first place.”

Zylor knew the dwarf was telling the truth. Not only about staying put—the dwarf was honour bound to do so—but also about the sight-giving ability of the wildhorn plants. As young minotaurs, he and several of his friends would play in the dark. They would chew the leaves and be able to see as if it was still twilight. No doubt the guards in the area were using these leaves to heighten their own vision. He and Harran would have to be careful, even under the cover of darkness.

When Zylor returned, he found the dwarf in the same position, still drawing. “How big is this map you’re working on, anyway?”

“It’s not really all that big,” said Harran. “There are only seven levels to it. I’m not finished yet because I like to put in some of the finer details. Call it my trademark, if you like.”

Zylor groaned. Seven levels. It was going to be a long journey. “We should have some dried meat,” said Zylor, changing the subject.

“Good idea,” agreed Harran, folding the maps and putting them away. “I can finish this later.”

After they had eaten, Zylor looked at the nearly dark mountainside. “It should be safe to travel any time now.”

“Agreed,” said Harran. “Let’s get packed.”

The two unlikely travelling companions began their trek up the mountainside. Even in the darkness, the dwarf guided the minotaur unerringly up the mountain, never missing a step. They crossed two small streams, the result of spring thaw, and stopped only briefly to fill their water skins. When they finally reached the cave, the mountain was shrouded in darkness, almost as dark as the cave entrance itself. Only the stars were visible. An owl hooted in the distance.

Harran pulled the light stone from his pack and placed it in an oddly shaped sconce. It glowed with a dim blue-green hue. “Well,” he muttered. “Let’s go.” He cautiously entered the cave.

Zylor began to follow but remembered something. He quickly opened a bag containing his collection of wildhorn leaves and put one into his mouth. Chewing intently, he entered the cave. After a few steps, he bumped into the dwarf, dropping his bag of leaves. The dwarf turned to reprimand the minotaur for his clumsiness but instead his eyes widened. The minotaur’s night vision was just beginning to work when he realized his mistake.

The guards in the nearest guard tower were playing a game of dice when they heard it. They both jumped to their feet and knocked over their table, the dice bouncing out of the tower and into the darkness below.

“What the hell was that?” asked one, the hair on his neck standing on end.

“I don’t know,” said the other, “but it sounded big and mean!”

“Aren’t you going to investigate?”

“Are you kidding?”

Throughout the mountainside creatures ran, took to flight, or shuddered where they stood, as Harran’s sneeze reverberated off into the night.

Chapter 8

S
ince leaving the mountain’s surface, the companions made good time, (after Zylor hurriedly gathered the spilled wildhorn leaves and tucked them safely away).

The minotaur was able to keep up with ease due to his improved sight. Harran stopped only a few times along the way to give Zylor the basics on map reading. Otherwise, it was a quiet journey.

The companions travelled for some time before Harran called a halt. They had reached a widening portion of the tunnel with several small alcoves to one side. Harran held the light stone aloft, scanning the area for danger. Finally he grunted in satisfaction. “We’ll camp here for the night,” he said, indicating one of the alcoves with a wave of the sconce. This resulted in a fluctuation of shadows which danced along the walls of the tunnel.

Zylor merely grunted in response and threw his pack into a recess in the alcove’s wall. Then he straightened and stretched his aching muscles, reaching up to the ceiling of the tunnel. At least he could stand up straight at this location. Some previous sections of tunnel were so low he was forced to crouch to make it through. Harran mentioned earlier that there would be some tight places but none were impassable. Zylor could only hope the dwarf was telling the truth.

Harran hacked a piece of coal-like rock from the wall and placed it on the floor in the center of the alcove. Then he reached into his pack and pulled out a piece of flint, striking it against his axe. The sparks jumped onto the black substance and it began to glow a dull red. After a moment it glowed slightly brighter and began to radiate heat. Harran rubbed his hands over the rock, getting the chill of the dank tunnels out of his bones. “Who’s taking first watch?” he asked, looking up at Zylor, who had seated himself with his back to the wall. This was a good question, considering neither one knew if the other could really be trusted.

“You can have the first shift,” said Zylor. “I’m bushed. Walking with your shoulders stooped all day is tiring over the long haul.”

This explanation seemed to satisfy the dwarf. Eventually Harran sat down on a tall, flat boulder near the glowing coal. They sat in awkward silence.

Finally the dwarf could contain his curiosity no longer. “Is there really going to be a war between the minotaurs and humans? The way they were talking when we left, you’d think something big was going on. I couldn’t hear very much, of course, being all wrapped up at the time.”

Zylor looked at the dwarf and managed a small grin. “It certainly looks that way. They’re recruiting more minotaurs than they usually do.”

“Why is it that you wanted to leave at a time like this?” asked Harran. “It must be awfully important for you to pass up a chance to join the army and take part in a big battle.”

“It is,” said Zylor fervently. “I need to hone my skills in peace or I’ll be drawn into the bloodlust of battle and forget about my mission.”

“What mission is that?” inquired Harran casually, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his chin in his hands. He didn’t want to seem too interested in the answer to that, remembering the minotaur’s reaction the first time he asked a similar question back at the prison.

“To best my uncle in combat and avenge my father’s death,” answered Zylor.