Thinking of Greymir, Kaz wondered how the emissary of Habbakuk was faring. The dreadwolves were nothing if not maddeningly persistent, and they were nearly impossible to kill. Kaz could not help wondering whether Greymir had fallen to them, and if the others were now closing in on the elf and him.

“We waste valuable time,” Sardal reminded him.

Kaz replied in a manner that left it quite clear what he thought about the elf’s comment. While Sardal suppressed a smile, the minotaur scanned the area quickly and, deciding it was safe, stepped out into the open.

“We are fortunate,” Kaz’s companion added, “that Argaen does not dare trust another mage.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Very simply, what Black Robe would not be tempted by the power channeled by the emerald sphere? Argaen is not strong enough to match a true magic-user.”

“Which makes him perfect for Galan Dracos.”

“Yes.” Sardal looked saddened. “Poor Argaen. I wonder if he knows yet what role he may be playing.”

Kaz grunted.

A warning shout came from behind them. Both turned at the noise. For whatever reason, two of the men in the last patrol had backtracked just in time to see the minotaur step out into the open. They had only one viable option, and the minotaur put it into action with but a single word.

“Run!”

Horns sounded. Kaz heard more shouts, an indication that the rest of the patrol was nearby. It wouldn’t be long before the alarm alerted others.

“We cannot… cannot run mindlessly!” Sardal gasped as he ran.

“Save your breath!”

Kaz’s footing became unstable. He immediately discovered that he was not alone in his predicament. Sardal was falling forward, and startled cries alerted him to the fact that their pursuers were having problems of their own.

An earthquake? Kaz wondered.

“M-Minotaur!” the elf bellowed. Sardal was rolling helplessly down the incline. As much as Kaz would have liked to aid him, he was having enough trouble preventing himself from toppling after him. The tremors continued to toss loose objects about.

Barely on his feet, Kaz stared wide-eyed as the side of one peak seemed to melt downward. He blinked, but the astonishing sight remained. The emerald sphere had to be the cause of this. Argaen Ravenshadow must be trying to harness its abilities. And he was not succeeding.

Chaos. Huma had said that Galan Dracos called the sphere his channel into the power of chaos, or something along those lines.

Something bumped him from behind. Kaz lashed out, only to find his arm snared by the powerful grip of a human almost as tall and broad as himself. The man had to be part ogre. He had to try to fight off this foe before he lost his footing entirely.

The human was trying to twist the battle-axe out of Kaz’s grip. As he fought back, his left foot slid downward. Minotaur and human compensated, but Kaz found himself at a definite disadvantage. His adversary had the higher ground. Kaz’s grip was loosening, and worse, the soldier was now drawing a dagger. Kaz couldn’t gain more than a temporary foothold.

Kaz fell into a sitting position. His opponent followed him down facefirst, striking the earth hard. His grip all but vanished, and the two of them separated. The soldier began to tumble over and over uncontrollably. By the time Kaz reached more level ground, his adversary lay absolutely motionless.

The earth finally ceased rippling, but the games were not over. The formerly solid ground, though no longer rising and falling, was now like mud. Kaz rose and immediately sank to his knees. Beyond him, Sardal cautiously made his way toward the minotaur. He was up to his ankles in the mudlike earth, but each step sank him a little deeper.

A horrible slurping sound caught Kaz’s attention, and he turned just in time to see the boots of his opponent, the only portion of the man still visible, sink into the earth. The minotaur glanced down at the muck surrounding his own legs and froze in trepidation.

He began to sink even faster.

“Don’t stand still!” Sardal shouted. “Spread your mass! It will slow the sinking!”

The logic was questionable, but the results were evident. Kaz actually succeeded in raising himself up a bit. There was still one problem. “How do we get out of here?”

A shadow loomed overhead. Kaz didn’t have to look up to know what it was.

Ravenshadow’s stone dragon.

The creature circled above them, seeming to debate what it should do. Kaz readied his battle-axe, knowing that even if the unliving creature feared it, it wouldn’t do the minotaur much good if the dragon simply dropped on top of him. At least, however, he would try to get in one blow.

Several tons of solid stone came hurtling down, blotting out the sun. Kaz closed his eyes, awaiting the final moment, but the moment never came. There was a heavy thud, as if something massive, such as a dragon made of stone, had struck a hard surface and bounced off.

“Branchala be praised!” whispered Sardal from nearby.

Kaz dared to open his eyes. Apparently the stone dragon, much to its annoyance, had bounced off something, for it was now careening madly about, trying to regain control. Sardal was smiling wearily. The minotaur looked from elf to dragon to elf again.

“What’d you do?”

“I devised a spell that I thought just might be strong enough to repel Argaen’s pet. It worked, I am happy to say.” The elf looked very relieved.

“Might? You weren’t certain?”

The dragon had not yet given up. It tried once more to regain control, but with similar results. Still, it was keeping them effectively pinned down. Worse yet, the survivors of the patrol that had been chasing the two were slowly wading their way toward the duo. Kaz counted perhaps seven men, five with swords, one with an axe, the last with a pike.

Enemies behind him, a monster above him, and his maneuverability nearly nil. Things had been better, even during the war.

Paladine knows, I’ve tried to live up to your memory, Huma, Kaz thought darkly, but the gods have frowned on this minotaur and I think my luck’s finally run out.

The sounds of horses running and men in armor jolted him from his somber thoughts. His first inclination was to expect the worst: that the patrol had been joined by reinforcements. Kaz and Sardal looked back.

A force of knights was cutting its way through the meager resistance. Kaz imagined he saw two or three mages, all elves, riding in the rear of the group.

Sardal laughed lightly. “I had given up all hope that they would come in time!”

Kaz turned on his companion, eyes wide. “You knew they were coming?”

“While you were ensnared in my trap, I spoke briefly with my people and also sent a message off to the nearest of the Solamnic forces. The southern keeps have been pursuing the remnants of the Dragonqueen’s army since the war ended.”

The minotaur nodded.

“As for my own people-” Sardal broke off. Kaz looked up, saw nothing but one massive set of stone claws, and realized, even as he was torn from the boggy earth with a schlupp!, that Sardal’s spell had been exceeded. The stone dragon rose high in the air, its prey held tightly. Kaz was greatly surprised to find that he was still breathing. Indeed, he was not dead, and the stone dragon apparently had no intention of killing him. The animated horror turned up into the sky and fled from the danger of the elven mages, directly toward the keep of its master.

The stone claws squeezed Kaz’s arms tight against his body, and the intense pressure made him loosen his grip on Honor’s Face. Before he could react, the battle-axe slipped free and plummeted into the muck below, vanishing beneath the surface of the liquefied earth. He tried picturing the dwarven weapon, tried to call it back to him, but nothing happened. How he had done it before was beyond him. Now he was unarmed and alone.