Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy Read online

  Harran hid a smile.

  Chapter 34

  The overcast skies dissipated as the afternoon wore on and Sherman watched as the sun glided slowly westward, outlining the tree line of a small island directly ahead of them. Despite the headwind, Sherman suspected they would reach the island within the hour. He heard footsteps behind him and turned. It was Zylor.

  The minotaur nodded and grunted, “Sherman.”

  Sherman returned the nod and cast his gaze back over the bow of the boat.

  “I have observed your weapon skills since we first met,” said Zylor.

  Sherman looked at the minotaur but said nothing.

  “I would like to learn those skills,” continued Zylor.

  Sherman still said nothing.

  “In exchange,” pressed Zylor, “I am willing to give you some pointers in hand to hand combat which I’m sure you will make use of.”

  “I’m not sure I should teach you anything,” said Sherman at last. “Our people are at war, after all, and—.”

  “You don’t trust me,” finished Zylor. “And if my guess is correct, you’re even a little afraid of me. Is that right?”

  Sherman sighed and nodded. “I just can’t believe a minotaur is on our side. I know the things you’ve done so far prove you’re with us, but I just can’t quite bring myself to believe it yet.”

  Zylor nodded. “I understand. I have a similar dilemma myself. Here I am among humans, yet my race is at war with you. I may not live long enough to see my people again. In the end, I may be the only hope to end this war before it gets out of hand. I was just hoping you might help, that’s all.” He turned and began to walk away.

  Sherman hesitated. Then he made up his mind. “Zylor, wait.”

  The minotaur turned to face him.

  Sherman located a couple of loose planks on the deck upon which they stood and yanked them free with his massive hands. He tossed one to the minotaur who deftly caught it out of the air.

  “Let’s see what you need to know,” said Sherman, stepping forward to confront Zylor. Somehow the minotaur seemed even larger when he was the opponent.

  Sherman began to think this might not have been such a good idea when the minotaur struck at him with a lightning quick motion. Sherman instinctively batted the plank away and dodged aside, bringing his own plank into the minotaur’s hairy abdomen. Zylor was overextended with his initial swing and tried unsuccessfully to block the warrior’s blow. He grunted as it struck him and stepped back momentarily to catch his breath.

  Sherman lowered his plank. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard!”

  Zylor grinned viciously. “Nonsense! What better way to learn!” He lunged at the warrior again and Sherman did the same thing again, this time dodging to the other side. The minotaur was not expecting this reverse maneuver, and though he parried the blow this time, he staggered off balance and exposed his side to a well-placed counter strike by the warrior.

  This time Zylor did not step back and pressed on the attack instead, swinging his plank back and forth trying to strike the warrior. He succeeded in grazing the warrior’s shoulder several times but left himself exposed after each successful strike. The warrior pounded him firmly and repeatedly with his plank, taking advantage of every opening.

  By now, several of the skink warriors were standing a short distance away, unable to determine what the two combatants were fighting about.

  Finally, Sherman stepped back and shouted, “No, no, no! Don’t bring your weapon straight down like that! Bring it down in an arc and use its momentum to step aside, that way you strike, parry, and move away all in the same motion. You should always be in motion—you’re standing still and fighting! That makes you an easy target! You may be tough, but your agility needs work. Physically weaker people like Kazin need to be agile to survive, but tough people like yourself need to be agile to defeat quicker, stronger opponents. Otherwise, no matter how tough you are, you’re going to be beaten down eventually.”

  Zylor nodded, breathing heavily. “I understand.” He lunged at the warrior and the battle ensued.

  Kazin came on deck and looked around for Sherman. Toward the bow he saw a gathering of skink warriors outlined by the mountainous background of the oracles’ island. Towering above the skinks was the great horned head of the minotaur. A plank of wood came whizzing down toward Zylor’s head and he spun away, bringing a plank of his own up to knock it to his left. As he stepped aside, he revealed the determined countenance of Sherman as the warrior raised his plank to strike at the minotaur with a backhanded sweep. They were fighting!

  Kazin cried out inwardly and ran to the battleground. Milena was just coming onto the deck behind him and he heard her gasp of astonishment.

  Kazin pushed his way past the skink warriors and viewed the battle up close. The combatants were exchanging blows viciously; sweat glistening on the warrior’s forehead and the minotaur’s upper body. They grunted and heaved, struggling to gain a dominant position. Kazin didn’t know what to do. A sleep spell would undoubtedly fail, since the adrenaline level of the fighters was obviously high. His mind raced for an answer.

  Suddenly Zylor broke past Sherman’s defence and struck him a solid blow to his left arm. The warrior winced and went down, dropping his weapon.

  “Enough!” cried Milena, surging through the spectators to stand between the two fighters. “What is the matter with you?!” she demanded, glancing from one to the other furiously. “Can’t we settle this in a more humane fashion? Fighting will get us nowhere!”

  Suddenly Sherman smirked. Then he laughed.

  Milena turned on him with a stern look. This caused the warrior to laugh even harder.

  Kazin was as confused as the cleric. Here was the warrior, knocked down in a vicious battle, his arm bleeding openly, and yet laughing as though a funny joke had been told.

  The skink warriors who had watched the battle didn’t know what to make of this either, not understanding what the whole escapade was all about to begin with. They returned to their duties with silent mutters and shaking heads.

  Finally Sherman stopped laughing. Even Zylor was grinning openly—something he didn’t do often unless it meant there was about to be a fight.

  “What’s going on?” inquired Harran, coming to the scene at that moment.

  “We were training,” said Sherman.

  “Training?!” exclaimed Milena. “With planks?”

  “We would have used our weapons if we had them,” said Sherman innocently.

  Milena gave him a withering look. “It’s a good thing the weapons are locked up.”

  Zylor stepped forward and pulled the warrior to his feet. “Thank you, warrior. I have learned much. One day I will fulfil my part of the bargain. We have battled enough for one day.”

  Sherman nodded and slapped the minotaur on the shoulder. “Somehow, I know you’ll be true to your word.”

  The minotaur pounded his chest with his fist in the dwarven fashion and walked away without saying another word.

  Harran followed, obviously curious as to what had just happened. He half walked, half ran, to keep up with the minotaur’s long strides.

  Meanwhile, Milena treated Sherman’s wounds, complaining that she didn’t come on this expedition just to treat his wounds. One day she would not be there for him.

  Kazin felt the presence of someone behind him and turned to see Olag.

  “Did I miss something?” asked the skink.

  “It’s a long story,” said Kazin.

  “Another time, then,” said Olag. “We will be docking in about ten minutes.”

  The magical ship glided gracefully into a small lagoon on the south-eastern side of the island. Trees and thick vegetation flanked both sides and birds chirped happily in the undergrowth. Ahead, a long dock protruded from t
he shore with small figures scurrying hastily along its length preparing for the new arrivals.

  In the water heads could be seen bobbing, and when the ship was close enough, Kazin was amazed at the sight. All of the swimmers were females, and all of them had long, flowing hair of varying shades. Most were red headed, but some had brown, black, and blonde hair as well. But what stood out the most were the lower portions of their bodies as seen through the clear, blue water. Glittering silvery beneath the surface were tails similar to a dolphin’s.

  Kazin and the others gaped. None had ever seen a mermaid until now; very few people ever had. There were those who even considered them a fairy tale. But here they were, real and in the flesh.

  Kazin glanced at Sherman who grinned and raised an eyebrow. He was not the only one who considered them beautiful to look upon.

  The ship pulled slowly up to the dock and Olag ordered the skink warriors on the dock to make the ship fast. After this was done, Olag gestured for the companions to follow him down the plank to the dock.

  When they stood on the dock, Sherman whispered to Kazin, “Men would die just to spend a day in this place.”

  As if in response, a mermaid swam to the dock and gave the big warrior an enticing smile.

  Sherman reddened and grinned like a fool.

  Milena gave him a scathing glance but he didn’t notice.

  The mermaid splashed some water at him playfully and dived underwater again.

  Olag hissed. “Horrible creatures!”

  Sherman stared at him in shock.

  “No sooner than you follow her into the water, then you never return,” explained Olag. “No human has ever returned after following the lure of a mermaid. Horrible creatures!” he repeated.

  Sherman gulped and looked at the mermaids not far away. Could that be possible? But they were so beautiful!

  Olag must have seen his look. “Be thankful the druids are in power here, warrior. Otherwise, you would have fallen victim by now.”

  Sherman gulped again.

  “Where are we going?” interrupted Harran, “and when do we get our weapons back?”

  “All in good time,” said Olag. “Follow me.”

  The companions weren’t sure if they should comply any further but Kazin beckoned for them to come. There was powerful magic at work here and it would serve them no good to resist. They couldn’t escape regardless. There was nowhere to escape to, and no ship they could use to get away.

  As soon as they approached the end of the dock they reached a wall of impenetrable forest. Once there, Olag kept walking and the trees suddenly gave way, spreading apart to reveal a path before them. After they passed, the trees closed behind them again. Zylor was in the rear and, when he discovered what was happening, turned to push back the way they had come. The trees and shrubs barred their way.

  “There is nothing to fear,” said Olag, from up front. “It is quite safe in these woods. The trees are protectors, nothing more.”

  Silently the companions followed the skink warrior, wending their way up the winding, shrub-lined path. After about half an hour they were at a slightly higher altitude and the breeze off the lake managed to penetrate even the thick foliage around them.

  Suddenly the trees ahead of them stepped in from the path edges and formed into vague human-like figures.

  The companions froze but the skink warrior walked on unperturbed. “We are nearly there,” he said over his shoulder.

  The trees stepped aside just enough to let them pass and then fell into formation behind them, walking stiffly but surely.

  They rounded yet another bend and out of the foliage a building could be seen. As they neared, they discovered that it was a tower. The declining sun highlighted the tower through the trees on the west side. It was simple and cylindrically shaped, and there were many window slits visible all the way to the top, which was crowned by a crumbling, turret style roof. Standing out against the plain, grey structure were colourful arrays of flowers lining all of the windows. It looked like a tower that had fallen to the forces of nature, yet was still maintained by human hands.

  They soon reached a large, wooden set of doors lined with brass fastenings and hinges. As soon as they stood in front of the doors they opened of their own accord, silently and invitingly.

  “I already don’t like this place,” said Harran.

  “I don’t know,” objected Milena. “In my opinion, this place feels kind of welcoming.”

  “Speak for yourself,” grunted the dwarf.

  “Welcome to the Tower of the Moon,” said Olag.

  Kazin started. “The Tower of the Moon? How come I’ve never heard of it?”

  “That’s the general idea,” said Olag, leading them into the structure. The tree men remained outside. He led the companions down a short hallway and pushed open a set of doors at the end. “This is where you are to wait for your hosts,” he said perfunctorily.

  They entered and he closed the doors behind them. They heard a latch lock and then silence.

  Harran turned and grabbed the door handles and tried to open them. “I knew it. We’re trapped!”

  “Don’t be too hasty,” said Milena. She was walking across the large sitting room, her feet making no noise on the heavy, expensive lavender carpet on the floor. She observed the picturesque paintings and banners adorning the walls of the room. The paintings were similar to the ones Kazin had seen in the Tower of the Stars, depicting the dragon battles of a few hundred years ago. One large painting hanging over a fireplace illustrated a wizened old mage with a long white beard. He carried a plain-looking staff, but from it emerged a fierce lightning bolt, surging into an indistinguishable dark object. There was fierce determination in his eyes, and resolve in the jaw.

  “I wonder who he was?” asked Milena absently.

  “Ahhh!” interrupted Sherman, easing into a lavish, comfortable looking chair. “It’s nice to take a load off once in a while.”

  Harran sat down across from him but paid no attention to the comfort the chair had to offer. His mind was preoccupied with finding a means of escape. “The windows are too narrow,” he murmured. “We’ll have to break through the doors.”

  Zylor stood silently by the door and regarded the dwarf thoughtfully. He didn’t seem pleased about being locked up, but chose to remain indifferent, apparently waiting for the others to react first. The mage and cleric were too relaxed to warrant any violent reactions as yet.

  Kazin seated himself on a chair and barely suppressed a sigh of comfort himself. Whatever their hosts had in store for them, it did not seem unpleasant. “Relax, Harran,” said the mage gently. “In order to defeat your enemy—and I’m not sure they are enemies, you have to understand them first. Let’s wait and hear them out first. Then we’ll decide on a course of action.”

  “Kazin’s right,” said Milena. “I sense no danger here.”

  “I hope so,” muttered the dwarf.

  Then the door latch rattled and the door opened. A couple of older ladies, possibly in their fifties, entered. The companions rose respectfully, mesmerized by the brilliant blue of their robes.

  The ladies closed the door behind them, but not before the others could see a complement of tree men standing beyond. Then the ladies turned and gave reassuring smiles to their guests, giving a sense that all was well and good.

  “Please, sit,” said the taller of the two. “I am Adriana, and this is Martha. We welcome you to the Tower of the Moon.”

  Kazin and the others sat obediently, all except the minotaur, who still stood near the door.

  Adriana had a sharp nose and a shrewd gaze, as though she were not to be trifled with. Martha, on the other hand, was more plump and naive-looking. Her eyes danced as though she were enjoying a private joke. Upon seeing Milena, she came forward and held her hands out to the cle
ric. “My child! You’ve come at last! It’s good to see you again! How you’ve grown!”

  Milena looked confused.

  “Speak of it later, Martha,” said Adriana sternly.

  “What difference does it make?” retorted Martha, rounding on the slender woman.

  Adriana smiled nonchalantly. “All in good time, my dear. All in good time.”

  “What do you want with us?” interrupted Kazin.

  “It is the cleric we want,” said Adriana pleasantly but firmly.

  “We must wake Amelia!” said Martha suddenly. “She said to notify her when the guests arrive.”

  “We will,” said Adriana. “After all, she wanted to deal with the rest while we prepare the cleric for the ceremony.”

  “Ceremony? What ceremony?” asked Milena distractedly.

  “Oh, it will be wonderful, child!” said Martha eagerly, putting her arms around the young cleric lovingly.

  Sherman rose. “She goes nowhere without us!” He crossed his arms defiantly.

  Martha gasped and looked at Adriana. “The Guardian?”

  “Probably,” said Adriana stiffly. “Amelia was right, as usual.”

  Sherman was surprised. “What do you know about this Guardian business?” he demanded.

  “He does not know!” whispered Martha in awe.

  “Amelia was right about that as well, I see,” said Adriana contemptuously. “It appears she isn’t as demented as we thought.”

  “Who is demented?” demanded a figure in the doorway. Everyone started in surprise, even Zylor, who was supposed to be watching the door.

  The figure was an aged, gnarled old woman, with thinning red hair. She wore the same brilliant blue robe as the other two. She shambled forward slowly.

  “Amelia!” cried Martha, rushing forward to support the frail old woman. “You shouldn’t be out of bed!”

  The old woman gently pushed aside the younger one. “I can get around well enough, Martha. Allow me some dignity!”