Kender, Gully Dwarves, Gnomes (18 page)

Torbin found himself oddly concerned. “What happens tomorrow?”

“Is it pride or love? Is it honor or fear?” The man-beast stood. For the first time,
Torbin noticed the small, neat stack of short spears. Each point had been finely honed.
The best of the minotaur's work. “Forgive me if I leave you so soon. I have preparations
to make which must be made in private. I ask you not to follow me. I will harm no one.”

Torbin protested, but the minotaur held up one massive, clawed paw. “I know what the
village thinks. They are humans, after all, with human idiocies. Let them believe what
they wish to believe. Come the morrow, they will know the truth of things.”

The minotaur chose two of the sharpened sticks and hefted them, his skill and knowledge
evident as he dropped one in favor of another. Eventually satisfied with two, he trudged
off toward the woods, his huge feet leaving deep holes in the soft ground. Torbin
estimated him to be well over seven feet when standing upright, seven feet of fighting
minotaur, undoubtedly a champion among his race if he so chose.

Yet, he had not. Torbin could only guess at the twisted turn the other's life must have
taken.

He returned to the village shortly thereafter, refusing to acknowledge the mocking stares
of the inhabitants. Most of the day was spent checking and rechecking his equipment,
running through his exercises, caring for his horses. It was all done halfheartedly, like
some sort of stalling maneuver. Torbin could not find it in himself to push on, but at the
same time could not stand the thought of staying any longer. He could feel the eyes at his
back, hear the whispers and curses.

He stayed the night at the inn again, this time completely avoiding any meal even remotely
smelling of fish. He had long ago learned to live off the land. He did not even consider
eating something else; food prepared in the village left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He woke at first light, the decision to leave this place firmly planted in his mind.
Despite such grand determination, however, he still found himself packing as the sun
neared midday. That was when the decision was taken away from him. 'The minotaur had
entered the village.

The people were in a panic. Women were pulling children off the streets. Men rushed to the
town elders, demanding that something be done. The town elders, once again led by the
less-than-eager mayor, in turn rushed to Torbin, demanding that he do as he promised or
suffer the consequences. Torbin idly wondered what sort of consequences the mayor could
have in mind if he really thought the minotaur was there to destroy the village. Did he
expect the minotaur to wait his turn?

The man-beast did not slink into the village. Despite being realistically outnumbered
should the villagers discover their backbones, he walked straight and tall. Even the
tallest man in the village came no higher than his shoulder. There was disdain in the
minotaur's eyes; Dragon's Point was no argument for the strengths of man. It smelled. The
people were dirty, cowardly. Among all of them, only the Knight of Solamnia, an outsider,
deserved respect. The others deserved nothing - not even notice.

Minotaur and knight met just before the center of the village. Torbin forewent meeting the
other on horseback, which would have given the knight a psy chological edge. The minotaur
had given no indication that he had come to fight. Torbin could do no less.

Revealing empty hands, the man-beast acknowledged the knight. Torbin returned the
greeting. The villagers had mostly vanished by this time; a few hardy souls dared to stand
in the shadows and watch. The mayor and his allies, more out of fear for their positions
than their lives, actually remained out in the street, only a few yards from the encounter
itself. The minotaur did not even glance in their direction.

“I have come to you because you are the only one worthy of notice amongst this rabble.”
The minotaur's breathing was ragged, as if the man-beast had been running or was anxious
about something. Torbin studied the other's form. With the exception of a loincloth, the
minotaur was

bare of any sort of clothing. Though the fur-covered skin glistened slightly, it was not
the sweat of heavy movement. The knight's curiosity deepened.

“What is it you wish of me?” Torbin did not bother to whisper. No one was close enough to
hear him.

The words were difficult for the man-beast to get out. “I ask that you follow me back to
the shore. Today things will come to a proper conclusion. The village will have no need to
fear me anymore.”

The knight wanted to know more, but his trained eye could see that the minotaur was under
heavy strain and wanted to be away from those he still considered his lessers, despite his
rather peaceful ways. “I'll need to get my horse.”

“One hour. No later.” As an afterthought - “Please hurry. Time is short.”

The minotaur turned to leave and again noticed how the villagers scurried out of sight
whenever he turned toward them. He turned back to Torbin and glared, not at him, but at
the village and what it represented. “They live in constant fear here, yet they will not
leave. A stupid lot. One more thing you can tell them: should they even come near the
shore this day, they will bring the wrath of the supreme race down upon them. There will
be nothing but ashes to mark where this village once stood. Understand that I do not
threaten; what I say is merely fact.”

Torbin stood there and absorbed the full impact of the minotaur's words as he watched him
stalk off, purposefully noticing every human on his way out. The knight doubted any
warning was necessary. It was more stubbornness than bravado that kept the villagers at
the tip of the peninsula. What their ancestors had been like Torbin could only guess. The
present inhabitants of Dragon's Point, however, were not the adventurous type.

He relayed the minotaur's message to the mayor and those villagers who had already dared
to step foot out of their homes and was more than pleased by their reactions. Torbin had
almost as little love for these people as the minotaur had; it was his duty, though, to
protect them in spite of themselves. For that reason alone - not his chief reason,
assuredly - he would be at the minotaur's dwelling by the time of the deadline.

Returning to his restless steed, he mounted up. Though

it would have been to his preference if the horse had charged, he forced himself to keep
the animal under control and make it trot slowly through the village street. The mayor,
who seemed to have nothing better to do than to stand in the streets, wished him the best
of luck in what the people of Dragon's Point had now assumed was at long last the great
battle. Torbin focused his eyes straight ahead and remained silent. He would explain the
truth when it was all over.

The minotaur was at the shore when Torbin arrived. The huge man-beast was startingly
swift. He was sweating and breathing heavily, but he was far from exhausted. He greeted
the knight with a slight nod of his massive, horned head. Torbin dismounted and sat down
beside him. The minotaur waited until his breath returned to him before speaking.

“The village is in no danger from my people. It probably never will be. Dragon's Point is
nothing - a foul-smelling pool of your people's dregs. In fact, its presence may very well
be important to us. It lets us point at humans and say 'see them - see how weak and
pathetic they are.' ”

The dark brown eyes shifted to the familiar horizon. Torbin automatically followed suit
and thought he saw something in the distance. A speck, little more.

Letting loose an animalistic snort, the minotaur said, “My people. Despite their prowess,
their disdain for the 'lesser' races, they are less than gully dwarves in some ways.”

The man-beast's words startled Torbin. From what he understood of the race, such words
were nearly treason. The minotaur gave his equivalent of a smile, one filled with more
mockery than humor.

“We are blind to our faults. The lesser races have no need to fear us. We will continue to
kill and maim one another in order to prove our individual superiority and gain ourselves
rank. We have done so for as long as memory has existed and will do so until the Final
Day. It is our way; it has become . . . habit.”

The minotaur's eyes never strayed from the Blood Sea. Now, they widened ever so little.
Torbin, trained to notice such minor things, turned his attention back to the sea. The
speck was still there, but it was now just close enough to be identified.

It was a boat.

He heard the minotaur groan softly and looked at him. The massive creature stood up and
stretched. His animallike features contorted in an attempt to frown. “Thus it begins
again. For their sakes.”

The words did not seem directed to Torbin. Rather, they were unconscious thoughts
accidentally spoken out loud. The minotaur peered intently at the incoming craft, as if
assuring himself that it was really there. He then bent over and began selecting the best
of his woodwork.

Torbin reacted instantly. If the passengers on the boat meant trouble, he was more than
willing to lend his strength to that of the minotaur, whom he had come to think of as a
kindred spirit. To his surprise, however, a hand prevented him from drawing his blade. He
turned to find himself staring into the bottomless, dark eyes of the man-beast.

“The feeling is appreciated, human, but I cannot permit you to risk yourself. This is my
battle. I ask that you only observe.” The minotaur would not remove his hand until the
knight had sworn an oath.

With incredible speed, the boat made its way toward the shore. Though he should have
expected it, Torbin was still taken aback by the crew's appearances. They were all
minotaurs, to his eyes varying only slightly in appearance; they wore some armor and
carried swords or tridents. He noted that as a group they stared at the first minotaur
whenever ab?e.

As the boat ran aground, four of the creatures jumped out and helped drag it farther to
shore. Watching them work, Torbin could not help being awed by the strength in their arms
and legs. He tried to imagine a large, coordinated force of minotaurs and shuddered.
Better that they should continue to kill one another than turn on the world itself. If not
for their brutal ways amongst themselves, they would have swarmed over the eastern part of
the continent long ago.

Torbin's friend muttered, “I tried to convince them of the idiocy of fighting one another.
Only later did I realize what that would result in. Fortunately, they were too ashamed of
me to listen.”

There were six all together. None seemed as tall as the original minotaur. They saluted
him solemnly. The minotaur saluted them back. The leader of the new band

glanced at the knight. Torbin's companion spoke. "A Knight of Solamnia, here

to observe. The rules permit - no, demand - such a witness." The leader snorted. His voice
was even deeper than the

first minotaur's. “We greet you, Knight of Solamnia. The honor of your order precedes
you.” He paused, considering the other minotaur's statement. “I also accept you as
witness, though I believe it may very well be the first time that one other than our race
has stood for a possible condemned.”

Torbin forced himself to utter an empty, formal greeting. Like and unlike fish, it left a
bad taste in his mouth.

The leader turned back to the original minotaur. “Have you come to terms?”

“I still remain the same. My thoughts have not changed.”

The newcomer seemed almost sad. He tightened his grip on the sword he carried. “Then there
is nothing more to say.”

“Nothing. We may begin whenever you wish.”

Turning to his own companions, the leader said, “Form the circle. Alternate order.”

There were three minotaurs armed with tridents. An equal number, including the leader,
carried huge broadswords. Each minotaur, barring Torbin's companion, wore a breastplate
and arm and ankle guards. The six formed a circle and held their weapons before them in
ceremonial style.

The original minotaur, carrying two of his best hand- crafted stakes, stepped into the
middle. He saluted the others. They returned the salute. The leader gave a shout in some
tongue Torbin could not understand. The si