Kender, Gully Dwarves And Gnomes t1-2 Page 14

  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 handcrafted 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 six dropped into fighting stances. The single figure in the center copied their actions almost immediately.

  A trident flashed toward the encircled minotaur.

  Armed with only the two stakes, the entrapped minotaur ducked below the jab and thrust. The attacker backed away, but two others moved in. A great gash appeared in the right arm of the condemned man-beast. He showed no sign of pain and fended off both weapons.

  The battle began in earnest.

  As one, they moved in with swift thrusts, jabs, and counterattacks. Blood flowed freely. At least one attacker went down. A sword fell near the condemned. He made no move toward it. A trident point caught him in the side ofthe chest. He grunted and stumbled to one knee. The over eager executioner charged into the circle, expecting to bring an end to the fight. He was greeted with a stake to his throat, which the trapped minotaur threw with amazing power.

  The loss of that weapon, though, was the condemned man-beast's undoing. He was not allowed time to reach any of the weapons that had been dropped. Nor could he defend himself completely with only the stake in his left hand. The edge of a blade cut into his good arm. A trident sank deep into his chest. The minotaur fell back, still clutching the simple weapon in his hand.

  Three of the other minotaurs backed away. A single executioner, armed with a trident, stepped toward the bleeding, slumping form. The minotaur on the ground closed his eyes.

  Torbin remembered shouting something at that point, but the exact words would forever be lost. One of the minotaurs turned toward him and made sure he did not interfere. His emotions screamed for him to interfere — to stop the final blow — but the Training and the Oath held him back. The empty words made him pause that one initial moment.

  The trident came down with terrible speed.

  It was over quickly. The outcome had never been in doubt, though the possible damage was. Blades had thrust, tridents had jabbed. All the while, two simple, sharpened sticks had attempted to hold them off while also trying to reach targets of their own.

  The condemned lay crumpled in a large heap, the broken points of a trident sticking out of the side of his chest. The owner of the trident would not care about the loss of his weapon; he lay sprawled no more than a foot away, blood flowing from the opening which had once been his neck. Slightly away from the two, a third limp form lay spread across the ground, a gaping wound in the stomach his undoing.

  Of the remaining four minotaurs, not one had escaped some sort of injury. The leader sported a jagged cut on his right arm, made just before the final thrust of his own weapon. Two of the others, covered with minor cuts, were attempting to remove part of a wooden stake from the leg of the third. Torbin's companion had more than accounted for himself.

  After assisting the minotaur with the leg wound aboard the boat, the other three quietly turned to the task of picking up the dead. They carried both of their fallen comrades to the vessel, but completely ignored the remaining corpse.

  Torbin could stand no more. He had sworn that he would not interfere, and he had not. The pure callousness of the man-beasts, however, had shaken him completely. He pulled forth his sword and stepped forward, shouting such violent curses at them that they could not possibly pretend to not hear.

  At first he thought they would all come charging at him. The leader, though, raised his good arm and prevented any movement by his warriors. Alone, he walked calmly over to the knight.

  "We have no quarrel with you, Knight of Solamnia. You are here as witness, no more. Do not force disaster upon yourself." The minotaur eyed Torbin's weapon as if it were a child's toy. Compared to his own massive weapon, it might have been.

  "You can't leave him there! He fought against impossible odds and fought admirably!"

  The minotaur glanced coldly at the remaining body. "It was to be expected of him… to make up for his cowardice. He brought shame upon his family, so great and strong… until now." The cold stare fixed on Torbin. "You would not understand. You are still only a human, even if one of the Knights of Solamnia."

  Torbin's grip tightened on his sword hilt. "Then explain it to me. Please."

  The man-beast sighed. "His family is great and powerful. For ten generations, they have had a champion, a living symbol of our superiority. He was to be the symbol of this generation." The voice lowered. The coldness slipped away without warning, revealing a figure silently fighting anguish. "Some say he must have met a cleric on one of his journeys to the continent. They are known to seek out our kind, subvert them to the weak gods of the humans and the other races. No one would have expected it of him. Not the preaching of peace, of dwarves and kender being our equals

  ha! — or of us abandoning the games! How else can we

  find our place in society? Who would we choose for our leaders? An unblooded cow?"

  The minotaur stiffened, his mask on once more. "Thus he was given the choice. His family was disgraced. Combat was their only hope. We would see if his cowardice was so great that he would pull his family down with him, for they would have suffered if he had refused combat. Such weakness can only be inherited."

  Torbin sheathed his weapon, but did not otherwise move from his place. "This? This is combat?"

  "He could have run. We gave him days to prepare or flee. The choice was his."

  "That is no choice."<
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  The minotaur sighed once more. "As I said, you would not understand our way of honor. It is not your fault. Forget it and return to your kind. The scales have been balanced; honor has been returned to his family."

  "He deserves burial."

  "His honor has been vindicated. His crimes can never be. It is forbidden to bury criminals on home soil."

  One of the other minotaurs came up behind the leader and whispered something. The leader thought for a moment and nodded. "This one would speak to you alone. He is kin to the condemned."

  The leader returned to the boat. The newcomer sniffed in the direction of Torbin, apparently finding his odor offensive. He pointed at the body. "I have been given permission to make a request of you."

  Puzzled, the knight allowed the minotaur to continue.

  "Despite his weakness, I would have my kinsman buried with some sort of ceremony. He was good before the madness overtook him."

  Torbin mentally questioned who was actually mad. Aloud, he said, "What do you want of me?"

  "You seem to be a fr — companion or acquaintance. I ask if you will give him burial. I will compensate you for your time. I know how much humans value m — »

  The knight cut him off, shocked by the insinuation. "I will bury him. I want no money."

  The minotaur blinked in confusion, then nodded slowly. "Thank you. I must return to the boat now."

  Torbin watched while the creatures pushed the boat back into the water. Only then did he realize that the minotaur who had asked for the burial of his kin had also been the final executioner. He wondered briefly if this were another part of minotaur custom.

  The leader glanced at him briefly, but made no attempt to communicate. Torbin continued to watch the vessel as it began its journey home. He did not turn away until it was no more than a tiny speck on the horizon.