A strange pair, the Grand Master thought.

Impatiently Scurn explained. “In the war, Kaz was sworn to the service of one of the armies sent into Hylo.”

“A slave-soldier.” Oswal was interested to see that some of the minotaurs-he realized that certain of them were female!-cringed a bit at that word.

“Nevertheless,” the disfigured leader growled, “he was sworn to the service of that army, and an ogre captain in particular. Kaz served ably”-Scurn seemed reluctant to admit as much-”until the taking of a human settlement. He disagreed with the decisions of his captain.”

Not surprising, the elder knight thought. Ogres were notorious for their sadistic streaks.

A memory began to surface. Huma and Kaz had told him of this time. As the Grand Master recalled, the ogre captain had been in the process of amusing himself privately with the slaughter of old folk and children, something horribly dishonorable by minotaur standards. Did the group here know that? He doubted they would take his word for it.

Lord Oswal found his eyes drifting to the ogre in the back. What was his part in all of this? Was he a blood relation to the one who had died? A comrade? The knight’s experiences with ogres had always led him to believe they worried little about anything except their own lives. That this ogre had sought out the minotaurs for a crime against one of his own kind, even murder, was unusual. If the minotaurs were not so caught up in their beliefs of honor-as, regrettably, many knights were-they would have seen the incongruity of the situation. No, this ogre had to have some other motive besides justice. Most ogres would have settled for revenge, if they even remembered the incident at all after a few months.

“As further proof of Kaz’s guilt,” Scurn was saying, “we have this…”

Scurn held up a small spherical object in his hands. The Grand Master recognized it immediately as a truthcrystal, a minor magical artifact that reenacted some historical scene over and over again. Lord Oswal watched the magical image as Kaz struck the ogre from behind, murdering him again and again. The Grand Master remained unmoved. The trouble with truthcrystals was that they did not live up to their name. Any decent mage could create distortions. To the minotaurs, however, who shunned sorcery and yet were too ready to believe it, it was all too real.

Lastly, a written proclamation from those who served as elders among the minotaurs was produced, dictating that, by the laws of that race, this posse was performing a deed of honor in seeking out one who was a disgrace, a coward, and a murderer. The proclamation emphasized Kaz’s fleeing from the scene, a dishonorable act, more than the death of the ogre. According to minotaur code, that was enough to have him executed-or, at the least, sentenced to a battle of impossible odds.

Lord Oswal read the proclamation over. He greatly trusted Kaz, but he was, in the end, an avid proponent of justice and law. The minotaurs who ruled their race were, until their own kind removed them, legitimate masters, and their word was lawful.

“We believed the minotaur would come here. Is such the case?” The look in Scum’s eyes dared the Grand Master to He.

He would not. “Kaz was here two days ago. He has gone south with a small force of my own men.”

Oddly, there were some looks of relief and murmured comments among the crowd of minotaurs. A male and female who, as far as a human could discern, resembled one another, seemed most pleased. The leader was not.

“South! We missed him by two days? Where does the coward go in the south?”

‘The ‘coward’ rides to the mountains just north of Qualinesti. He and my nephew ride to face a magic thief who threatens not just Solamnia but also all of Ansalon with his actions!”

“Kaz rides into danger?” asked the female minotaur.

Scum snorted in disdain. “With a force of knights at his back, he can afford to be brave!” To Lord Oswal, he asked, “You claim this as truth?”

The elder knight straightened. “My honor is my life, minotaur! You have my word!”

The disfigured minotaur smiled cruelly and, replacing the proclamation and the magical sphere, pulled out what appeared to be a crude map. “In that case, my lord, I would ask you to show me exactly where they travel… all in the interest of honor and justice, which we also hold dear.”

How long? Has the Final Day come and gone while I remained frozen here, helpless?

Kaz had heard nothing more from Sardal Crystalthorn. Perhaps the elf, satisfied with the results of his trap, had no more need to speak to him. And Kaz would have to remain where he was, forever staring out at the golden void.

No more had the melancholy thought escaped his mind when he found the opposite was true, for motion began to return to him. He could breathe, turn his head, flex his arm, blink! It was astonishing to think how wonderful it was to blink his eyes! Below him, the horse, too, began to move, neighing and shaking its head as it realized that it could run once more-or fall.

For with the return of motion came a return to falling! Kaz frantically tightened his grip as best as possible, hoping, selfishly, that the horse would somehow soften the minotaur’s own landing.

Then, as abruptly as it had first appeared, the golden void gave way to green grass and trees-a forest, in fact. The moment the horse’s hooves touched solid ground, Kaz was tempted to ride as if demons were after him. One important thing prevented him, though. That was the figure of Sardal standing before him, a wizard’s staff held high.

The elf was smiling and his robe was of the purest white. Kaz did not trust him for a moment.

“I thought for a while there I’d never get you out of that trap! I thought minotaurs were competent enough to follow simple instructions like giving parchments to unsuspecting, deceitful dark elves!”

Kaz looked around. The trees told him nothing. He could be in any forest, though he had a suspicion that he knew this one. “Where am I? How long-how long was I trapped in-in whatever that was?”

“You are fairly near your destination. A bit south, in Qualinesti, if you really want to know. It is now three days since you apparently departed Vingaard Keep.”

“I was only trapped for a day or so?” Not an eternity?

“I imagine that it would seem a lot longer, considering that you would have no need to eat, drink, or sleep. It was meant as a punishment.”

“Punishment?” Kaz’s eyes burned red. His hand went to his battle-axe, the same battle-axe that none other than Sardal Crystal thorn had given him.

“Not for you, but for Argaen.”

“Argaen?”

“I knew he had gone beyond all limits. Always, with his lack of ability, he has turned to the younger races for inspiration. He studied the traits of each race, especially the humans, for several years. He even lived among them. Yet, while the humans have many worthy traits, it was the worst of them that attracted Argaen. Argaen was always one who, lacking all but the least magical prowess, felt he had somehow been deprived of a birthright. So, secretly, he began to steal magic. By that I mean he stole items of power from those around him.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“The truth, sadly, was only discovered recently, when he sent me what he obviously believed was an innocent note asking for information about the mad human mage, Galan Dracos! It became very clear that he wanted the treasures of Dracos that the knights had gathered. Until recently, he had been singularly unsuccessful in gaining entrance to the secret vaults. What happened, Kaz? How did he slip past the safeguards of the vaults? Argaen was never much of a thief when it came to physical traps.”

Kaz told the elf all about what had transpired, starting with the party’s first glimpse of Vingaard Keep and leading up to the moment when he had opened up the parchment. Sardal shook his head wonderingly.