Read Online Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy by Carey Scheppner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carey Scheppner
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his oath, and minotaurs respected their honour. Harran knew he would be safe at least until he found a safe hideaway for the minotaur. He would have to lose Zylor somewhere before then. Or kill him. The cold bloodedness of that thought surprised him. Here was the one minotaur he sort of liked; the one who treated him better than any of the other guards; the one who treated his wounds. But most importantly, the one who offered to save his honour and help him escape. So what if Zylor was running from a crime he had committed, or was about to commit? Harran could only wonder about the minotaur’s motives. He would have to make a decision about that subject later.
“Well?” prodded Zylor.
Harran spat in his right palm and extended it. “I’m in.”
The following morning was clear and chilly as the horn sounded for the prison shift change. The sun was already warming the eastern half of the prison yard as Zylor flung his rolled up woollen blanket over his shoulder.
“Oomph!” mumbled the blanket roll.
“Shut up!” whispered Zylor harshly. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”
“Umph,” mumbled the roll again.
Zylor shook his head and headed for the gate, which was allowing in the fresh guards to replace the night watch. Garad entered and, seeing Zylor, headed over and slapped the blanket roll. “Cold night last night, Zylor?”
Zylor, amazed at the dwarf’s ability to keep silent, muttered something about cold spring nights.
“I hear you traded feeding duty to Morlok in exchange for his night watch,” continued Garad, not noticing Zylor’s discomfort. “He’s been aching to bed that young minotaur wench for weeks.”
Zylor laughed. “I couldn’t refuse the trade. I’d take night watch over feeding duty any day.”
“Yeah,” smirked Garad, “and we’d give up both duties to be in Morlok’s place.”
“True enough,” said Zylor.
“I’d better get to my post,” said Garad. “Karlan’s in a bad mood today and I’d hate to be on his bad side. Especially since the recruiters are coming at high noon today. You better get some rest before they get here. The healthier you look, the sooner you’ll be recruited.”
“Garad!” shouted Karlan from within a guard tower. “Garad, where the hell are you!”
“Coming!” yelled Garad, sprinting in the direction of the voice.
Zylor looked at Garad’s receding form. He would likely never see him again. It suddenly occurred to him that he would miss Garad. It was ironic, but although Garad was annoying and hard to get rid of at times, he was the closest thing to a friend that Zylor had while working at the prison. He chuckled and then marched out the gatehouse toward a new life with a blanket-wrapped dwarf on his shoulder.
Chapter 7
Z ylor worked his way down the streets of Manhar, avoiding places and people that might recognize him. Passing by the town plaza, he noticed a crowd gathered around a large recruitment booth. In it were several official looking minotaurs with full armour and various weapons, ranging from dwarven forged axes and swords to small but equally potent crossbows of elven design. There was also another figure present; one that seemed to be in charge of the others. It stood about a foot and a half shorter than the minotaurs but they seemed to defer to it. Its scaly hide and leering mouth gave it a somewhat grotesque look, making it appear to be in a constant state of irritation. The lizardman, as they are called, stood calmly behind a seated minotaur, nodding and shaking its head at intervals. A long line of minotaurs stretched halfway across the plaza, waiting impatiently in line to be examined in the hopes of being recruited into the army. Many were being turned away, obviously too young or too old to be accepted.
Zylor ducked out of sight. The recruitment was in full swing already. That didn’t surprise him. What bothered him was the presence of the lizardman. How did a lizardman come to be accepted by minotaurs?
“Well?” prodded Zylor.
Harran spat in his right palm and extended it. “I’m in.”
The following morning was clear and chilly as the horn sounded for the prison shift change. The sun was already warming the eastern half of the prison yard as Zylor flung his rolled up woollen blanket over his shoulder.
“Oomph!” mumbled the blanket roll.
“Shut up!” whispered Zylor harshly. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”
“Umph,” mumbled the roll again.
Zylor shook his head and headed for the gate, which was allowing in the fresh guards to replace the night watch. Garad entered and, seeing Zylor, headed over and slapped the blanket roll. “Cold night last night, Zylor?”
Zylor, amazed at the dwarf’s ability to keep silent, muttered something about cold spring nights.
“I hear you traded feeding duty to Morlok in exchange for his night watch,” continued Garad, not noticing Zylor’s discomfort. “He’s been aching to bed that young minotaur wench for weeks.”
Zylor laughed. “I couldn’t refuse the trade. I’d take night watch over feeding duty any day.”
“Yeah,” smirked Garad, “and we’d give up both duties to be in Morlok’s place.”
“True enough,” said Zylor.
“I’d better get to my post,” said Garad. “Karlan’s in a bad mood today and I’d hate to be on his bad side. Especially since the recruiters are coming at high noon today. You better get some rest before they get here. The healthier you look, the sooner you’ll be recruited.”
“Garad!” shouted Karlan from within a guard tower. “Garad, where the hell are you!”
“Coming!” yelled Garad, sprinting in the direction of the voice.
Zylor looked at Garad’s receding form. He would likely never see him again. It suddenly occurred to him that he would miss Garad. It was ironic, but although Garad was annoying and hard to get rid of at times, he was the closest thing to a friend that Zylor had while working at the prison. He chuckled and then marched out the gatehouse toward a new life with a blanket-wrapped dwarf on his shoulder.
Chapter 7
Z ylor worked his way down the streets of Manhar, avoiding places and people that might recognize him. Passing by the town plaza, he noticed a crowd gathered around a large recruitment booth. In it were several official looking minotaurs with full armour and various weapons, ranging from dwarven forged axes and swords to small but equally potent crossbows of elven design. There was also another figure present; one that seemed to be in charge of the others. It stood about a foot and a half shorter than the minotaurs but they seemed to defer to it. Its scaly hide and leering mouth gave it a somewhat grotesque look, making it appear to be in a constant state of irritation. The lizardman, as they are called, stood calmly behind a seated minotaur, nodding and shaking its head at intervals. A long line of minotaurs stretched halfway across the plaza, waiting impatiently in line to be examined in the hopes of being recruited into the army. Many were being turned away, obviously too young or too old to be accepted.
Zylor ducked out of sight. The recruitment was in full swing already. That didn’t surprise him. What bothered him was the presence of the lizardman. How did a lizardman come to be accepted by minotaurs?
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