Richard Knaak - Kaz the Minotaur

The battle-axe-Kaz’s battle-axe, he realized-was suddenly there next to the table. Delbin caught only a glimpse of the weapon, for he was already turning toward the origin of the voice.

The wraith that was Galan Dracos looked down at him with eyes that made the kender shiver and turn away.

“There is… nowhere… to go… and I have need … of you!”

An invisible hand took hold of Delbin and began to drag him back toward the emerald sphere. He struggled in vain.

“No,” continued Dracos. “I think… I need… you… a little more… pliable.”

A great shock surged through every inch of Delbin’s body and he slumped, but his body was moved by a force other than its own ever nearer to the sphere and its creator.

“Soon… I will be… alive again,” the wraith said to the limp form, “and my mistress… my forgiving… mistress… will at last… rule Krynn!”

Several dozen tiny black objects went flying toward Kaz and Sardal.

Even as Kaz realized that he was going to take the brunt of the magic thief’s attack, the projectiles faded harmlessly less than two feet from his face.

“You have become what you always thought of our race, Argaen! Much too predictable. Is that the only spell you can perform consistently? Creating those little baubles is a toddler’s trick!”

As Sardal spoke, Kaz noticed a smile creeping onto Ravenshadow’s visage.

The ceiling above the minotaur and his companion collapsed.

Sardal raised his hands in defense, but he was too slow to effectively protect them both. To Kaz’s horror, the elf’s hurried spell stabilized the ceiling above the minotaur, but not above Sardal himself. Great chunks of cut stone rained down upon the elf. Kaz could see that some of the stones were glancing off harmlessly, but enough were still hitting his companion, who had saved his life at least twice now.

All the while, Argaen Ravenshadow laughed insanely. Sardal had underestimated the dark elf. He had always been a magic thief, with little power to call his own. That had changed now, and it looked as if his old friend had become Argaen’s first victim.

Snarling in anger, Kaz turned his gaze on Ravenshadow and charged him. He never made it. Argaen stopped laughing and stared down at the floor before the minotaur’s feet. A gap began to spread across the floor. Kaz leaped over the treacherous chasm, fully intending to land on his adversary.

Stone claws sprouting from both walls caught both his legs and one arm. The sudden stop nearly wrenched one leg out of its socket. Kaz bit back a bitter, painful scream.

Argaen Ravenshadow had decoyed him.

Like a child with a new toy, the dark elf was experimenting with his newfound powers. He twirled one hand before Kaz, remaining just out of reach of the minotaur. Tiny winged serpents fluttered out of the circle he sketched in the air, flitting around Kaz’s face. With his free hand, Kaz tried to swat them away. He was bitten several times in the process and succeeded only in crushing one. They were astonishingly quick, like hummingbirds.

After a minute or two, Ravenshadow tired of this and waved his hand. The winged serpents faded away.

“Once I would have only been able to dream of doing something so extraordinary. My masters said I lacked the aptitude. What they inferred was that there was weakness in my bloodline, that perhaps one of my progenitors had been a human.”

Kaz, who understood what elves could be like, knew what sort of life Argaen must have had. Pure bloodlines were more important to them than to even the Knights of Solamnia.

“Being part human doesn’t necessarily weaken the blood. I’ve met many powerful human sorcerers.”

That produced a smile-a chilling one, but a smile nonetheless. “That is what I believed as well. The rumor was never confirmed, but I chose to study humans anyway and discovered within them a vitality that the elven race lacks.”

“You chose to admire… the wrong aspects of humanity, Argaen,” a familiar voice called out from behind Kaz.

“You still live, Sardal?” the magic thief commented blandly. He took a step closer to Kaz, but his eyes were on the elf behind the minotaur. Kaz eyed the distance separating him from the dark elf. Another two steps and Ravenshadow would be within his reach.

“You still live, Sardal,” Argaen repeated in that same bland tone, “but not for long.”

“More true than… you think, friend.”

Argaen started to take a step forward, but froze in midstep and looked the minotaur square in the eye. Kaz found himself suddenly swung toward one of the walls, one leg temporarily loose. He was slapped against the wall with bone-jarring force. While the minotaur fought to stabilize himself, Ravenshadow walked past him toward the other elf.

“You are dying, aren’t you?” he said at last, his tone odd. Kaz thought he almost detected a slight trace of guilt in the magic thief’s voice.

Ravenshadow stood over Sardal, who lay pinned under several large portions of the ceiling. A gaping hole above indicated just how much stone-more than enough to crush him to pulp-had actually fallen on the elf. Only quick thinking on Sardal’s part had prevented that, but one especially large chunk of stone had slammed into Sardal’s rib cage. It was a wonder he could speak, let alone breathe.

“Argaen… it is still… not too late! No one is… safe around… the forces that Dracos… sought to tap! Even the Dragonqueen… was hesitant!”

“You think that I cannot control such power?” All guilt was gone from the renegade’s voice. He spat down on the dying figure at his feet. “Even you\ Elderly fools! I know more about the workings of magic than all of them combined, including you! While they have been content to play with their powers, I have studied and learned-and now I have access to more power than any of you can imagine!”

“All that power… requires skill.” It was obvious now that Sardal was struggling to stay alive. “You have… have…” He could not finish the sentence.

“Nonsense. I have studied everything I could get my hands on. I know what to do. It is only a matter of proportion.”

“Argaen…” Sardal gasped, his eyes staring.

It took some time before either the dark elf or Kaz realized that Sardal Crystal thorn was dead. The eyes of the battered elf still stared. Ravenshadow muttered something under his breath and bent down beside the body, obscuring it from the minotaur’s eyesight. When he rose and stepped away, Kaz saw that Sardal was no longer there!

The minotaur struggled against the magical hands that held him fast. “What’ve you done with his body? Saving it for another one of your spells?”

The dark elf turned around and gave him a stony stare. “Sardal Crystalthorn will have a proper burial. We might have been adversaries in the end, but I will honor him still.”

Kaz was tempted to say something about his captor’s twisted code of honor, but held back when he looked closer at Ravenshadow’s face. Killing Sardal had taken more out of the dark elf than Argaen might admit.

“At one time, I meant to share what I found with him,” Argaen said quietly. He seemed only marginally aware of the presence of the minotaur. “Sardal was the only one who really tried to help me. I thought he would understand at first.” Ravenshadow looked up at his captive, and his face was abruptly bland once more. “That is neither here nor there, however. Time is extremely precious now, and I cannot afford to deal with you properly. I underestimated your amazing strength, Kaz-my experience with your race is very limited. As it stands, I think I must ask you to accompany me. An old friend has been dying to see you.” The attempt at sardonic humor sounded flat, even to the dark elf. He turned, glanced at the pile of rubble that had killed Sardal, and then stared at the hole in the ceiling.