Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy (13 page)

“Give me the keys,” ordered Harran. “I’ll take him there myself!”

“But it’s against—” stammered the guard.

“Do it!” shouted Harran. “Or do you want to lose your job because of improper treatment of prisoners?”

With a shaking hand the guard pulled out the keys to the chains and handed them to Harran.

Quickly Harran undid the shackles. Zylor’s wrists were bleeding. Apparently the cell was not the only thing designed strictly for dwarves. Zylor slumped to the floor. Harran put the minotaur’s arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet.

“Sorry,” said Zylor apologetically. “I’m a little stiff at the moment.”

Harran swore. “It’s my fault for not coming down to check on you sooner. If I’d have known you were tied up like this, I would have come down right away.” He half dragged, half carried the minotaur to the bigger cell at the end of the hall. “Open the cell!” commanded Harran.

The guard quickly complied and Harran helped Zylor into the new cell. It was higher and wider, perhaps designed to accommodate humans.

Zylor sat on the floor and stretched his aching muscles. “You mentioned coming down from somewhere. Where are we?”

It occurred to Harran that Zylor couldn’t have known where he was since he was unconscious during the trip to the palace. Quickly he related the events leading up to the present, stopping only to bandage Zylor’s bleeding wrists. “So I decided to leave dinner early to check on you and here I am,” he finished.

“You could have come down sooner,” commented Zylor.

Harran hung his head. “I know,” he murmured. “Even though I was tied up in preparations for the celebration, I wasn’t sure I could face you after what happened. I should have come sooner. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Zylor dejectedly. “I’m as good as dead anyway.”

Harran looked at his companion. Then he turned to the guard. “Guard! Get me some more bandages!”

After the guard scurried off, Zylor asked, “What do you need more bandages for? I’m not injured anywhere else.”

“I needed the guard to go away so I could talk,” said Harran in a conspiratorial whisper. “I went to the castle’s library of maps this afternoon and guess what I found?”

“What?”

“A map showing a subterranean passageway linked to this part of the palace! I compared it to some of the other maps and I believe I’ve found a way for you to get out of the dwarven city without being seen! The only part I haven’t figured out yet is how to get you out of the dungeon. I can’t exactly use the same strategy I used in the lizardmen’s cavern. I don’t like the idea of killing my own people.”

“You said I’m to be executed in the morning,” said Zylor. “We don’t have much time to come up with a plan.”

“I’m working on it,” said Harran. Just then both guards appeared, one carrying bandages and the other nervously carrying a tray of food. Harran rose. “I won’t need the bandages anymore. The bleeding’s stopped. The prisoner could use some food though.” He took the bowl and handed it to the minotaur. After Zylor finished eating, he handed the bowl back to Harran, who handed it back to the guard who brought it.

“I’ll have to put the shackles back on again,” said Harran apologetically. “The guards wouldn’t want you to be a threat.”

“As long as they’re bigger than the last ones,” said Zylor, rubbing his wrists ruefully.

As it turned out, the shackles in that cell matched the size of the cell and were more comfortable to wear, if such could be said of them.

Harran, satisfied that the minotaur was as comfortable as could be under the present conditions, gave the guard permission to lock the cell door. The guard obliged with obvious relief.

As Harran left the guard room, two replacement guards came in. The guards that were just on duty were so relieved it was the end of their shift they pushed past Harran and literally ran down the hallway and out of sight. The two new guards looked at each other and shrugged.

On his way down the hall, Harran noticed a shallow alcove with boxes numbered similarly to the cells. This must be the prisoner’s effects, he thought. He reached for box eighteen, Zylor’s present cell number, but remembered he was originally in cell three. Opening box three, he spotted all of Zylor’s belongings, including his blanket roll and axe. Carefully lifting the contents out, he deposited them in box eighteen where they should be. They would be needed if he managed to break the minotaur out of here. If only he could think of a way to accomplish that! He left the palace and headed home to visit his uncle. Maybe uncle Red would have an idea or two. It would be nice to have someone to help out in this matter.

He was only a few blocks away from the palace when a loud wailing noise erupted from the palace’s courtyard. “What’s going on now?” said Harran to no one in particular. There was no one travelling in the dwarven tunnels at this time of night anyway. Despite living underground, dwarves still kept track of time in mostly the same way as surface dwellers, but without the aid of the sun or moon, hence their inability to cast spells.

Harran was about to continue on his way home when it occurred to him they might be preparing to execute the minotaur! He charged toward the palace gate and nearly ran into some sentries who were coming out the other way. “The minotaur’s escaped!” one cried. “Have you seen him?”

Harran shook his head in disbelief. The sentry assumed that was the answer to his question and charged past Harran down the tunnel after his comrades. Harran ran toward the prisoner’s section and descended to the dungeons. He passed the cell boxes in the hall and noticed the box for cell three was open. In the guardroom several guards roamed aimlessly about. The cell keys were on the table. “What happened?” asked Harran.

“The minotaur has escaped!” said one guard in a state of near panic. It was one of the replacement guards. “What are we gonna do?”

“You’re going to help search for him,” said a voice from the doorway behind Harran. It was the commander of the guards. “Come into the courtyard so we can organize the search parties.”

The guards meekly followed their commander out to the courtyard, leaving Harran alone in the guard room. “Now what?” asked Harran aloud, again without an answer. Seeing the keys he decided to see if he could do a little tracking of his own. He picked up the keys and walked over to cell eighteen. On the way he passed the door to cell three. It was ajar. “That’s funny,” murmured Harran. He could have sworn it was closed after they had moved Zylor. Finding the appropriate key, he opened the door to cell eighteen—and almost had a heart attack. Standing there, shackled to the wall, was a grinning minotaur.

“I think someone forgot my change of address,” said Zylor.

When Harran could find words again, he said, “You didn’t escape!”

Zylor shook his chains. “Dwarven steel.” Then his grin vanished. “Now’s our chance. Hurry!”

Harran quickly released the minotaur. “This way!”

Then they ran out of the guard room and stopped so Zylor could get his belongings. Harran opened the box for bin 18 and handed Zylor his axe and pack. Obviously the guards didn’t check the proper bin in their excitement. But then, it was Harran who had moved the contents in the first place. Harran led Zylor to the prisoner’s kitchens and back into a storage room. There was no one about. Either the guards had already checked the area or they were searching in the wrong places.

“Somewhere there’s a trapdoor in the floor,” said Harran after lighting the small torch in the small room.

“At least there’s not much ground to cover,” said Zylor.

“Here it is!” said Harran in triumph. Under an old mat was the outline of a trapdoor. “Help me pry it up.”

Zylor found an old cleaver and dug it into the crack. With a slight creak it opened, revealing a set of stairs down into pitch blackness. Taking the torch with them they descended, closing the trapdoor behind them so that the mat would fall on top, concealing their escape route.

Harran pulled out his map of the subterranean passageways. “This way.”

They moved down the tunnel, twisting first left, then right, before coming to an intersection.

“These passageways run directly under the city,” said Harran. “You can be sure the guards will search down here as thoroughly as above.” He pulled out another map. “Here we go. If we follow the trail I’ve marked we’ll miss a large part of the inhabited portion of the city and be in the clear in about an hour. It’s a good thing the palace isn’t in the center of the city. If it was, we’d have a long walk ahead of us just to clear the city limits. It looks like luck is really on our side tonight.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” commented Zylor looking anxiously down the left passageway. “We haven’t left the city yet.” As if in answer, the end of the tunnel began to lighten and distant voices could be heard, echoing off the cobblestones overhead.

“Let’s go!” whispered Harran, grabbing the minotaur by the arm. They travelled quickly but quietly, weaving in and out of side corridors and passageways. The lights and voices behind them dimmed and vanished. They ran for what seemed like hours, scampering up steep grades and then back down narrow shoots that gave no indication of having a bottom. Each time they encountered new passageways and each time they ran away from what they suspected could be guards and their torches. They passed numerous waste drains and once even had to hold their breaths while crossing a ledge bordering a large septic pit. From here a trail of aqueducts led to a series of long, deliberately carved tunnels which gradually rose in elevation. Panting, Harran called a halt near the end of one of these long tunnels and pulled out his maps.

“We’ve done it!” he whispered exultantly. “We’ve reached the outskirts of the city!”

“Good,” grunted Zylor. He was more than a little out of breath himself.

“Now there’s only one more problem,” said Harran. “We have to get back up to the city’s level in order to get us away from the city. The only way up is to exit this tunnel. The problem is there’s a guard house located right at the opening. Our best bet is to sneak past them in the dark. You’ll have to douse the torch.”

Zylor complied, throwing the torch into a water-filled ditch nearby and cloaking the area in darkness. Then he swore.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harran.

“I can’t see,” muttered the minotaur.

Harran swore. “Check your pack. The leaves should be in there.”

There was a rustle as Zylor blindly searched his pack. “I can’t find them!” said Zylor in panic. “They’re not here!”

“Let me see!” whispered Harran harshly. He grabbed the pack and rifled through its contents. His dwarven vision allowed him to spot the bag containing the leaves near the bottom of the pack. “Here it is!” He lifted the bag to give it to Zylor. Zylor was still blind, however, and clumsily knocked the bag out of the dwarf’s hand in his haste to get the leaves.

“AAACHOOOO!”

The guards at the guard house looked at each other. “What was that?” asked one.

“Sounded like a sneeze,” said another.

“It came from the underground tunnel!” said a third.

“We’d better investigate,” said a fourth.

“One of us should stay in case he tries to come out while we’re investigating,” said the first.

“I’ll stay,” said the second. “It’s supposed to be my night off anyway. I just came so we could play dice.”

“Let’s go,” said the first. “The sooner we catch him, the sooner we can get back to the game.”

After Harran’s sneeze, Zylor felt the floor and located his pouch of wildhorn leaves. He stuffed some into his mouth and stuffed the pouch securely into his pack. Harran was already half dragging him back down the tunnel. Before they travelled more than a few hundred yards, Zylor’s night vision began to kick in. Rounding a bend, they reached a junction they had passed earlier. Harran led them down the right path and after a moment they reached a three-way junction. Harran turned right again and they reached yet another junction. Here they stopped.

“O.K. You know where the exit is?”

“Yeah,” said Zylor. “Just bear left.”

“Good,” said Harran. He drew out some of his maps. “This map leads to safety beyond the dwarven realm,” he said, indicating one of the maps. “And this one,” he continued, indicating another map, “is a copy of the one Horst and his companions gave me. Use it if you need supplies. This last map is the one we were using to travel between the minotaur realm and the plateau. It joins with the first map when you reach the ‘X’ that I scribbled down here. See?”

“Yes,” answered Zylor. “But aren’t you going with me?”

“No,” said Harran. “I’m going to create a diversion. When the guards start chasing me, you bolt for the exit and keep running in a straight line. From there you can follow the first map out of here.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” asked Zylor.

“You did the same for me,” said Harran. “Consider it a debt repaid.”

“What happens if you get caught?”

“I’ll be back where I started,” said Harran, “with no honour and an outrageous debt.”

“In my eyes, you will always be honourable,” said Zylor proudly. He extended his hand. “Good luck be with you, Harran.”

“And you, honourable Zylor,” said Harran, taking Zylor’s hand firmly into his own. They were both aware it was the first time they had called one another by name since they first met several weeks ago.

“I heard voices down here!” said a voice not far away.

“Quick, go that way!” whispered Harran, taking the opposite path for himself. The two friends parted and scrambled off into the darkness. After a moment the guards reached the intersection the companions had just vacated.

“Which way now?” asked one.

Just then there was another loud sneeze down the corridor Harran had chosen. The guards ran off in pursuit. “We’re gaining,” cried one guard exultantly.

As Zylor bolted for the exit he realized Harran must have kept some of the wildhorn leaves for himself. The crafty devil!

The lone guard at the guard house stood by the entrance to the underground tunnel. What was taking his companions so long? Suddenly he thought he saw some motion in the tunnel. “Halt! Who goes there?” he called. There was a shadow approaching very fast. “Halt, who—ooof!” The guard wondered idly how a shadow could strike with such force as horns circled around his head. Horns? Not stars? He never solved the riddle as blackness finally engulfed him.