Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy by Carey Scheppner Page B

spell, it was intended for someone the size of a dwarf. It certainly wasn’t strong enough to properly slow a minotaur. Who’d have thought a minotaur would risk his life for some dwarves, anyway? This last thought was cut off, along with his head. The lizardmage’s body fell to the floor, the staff falling down beside him. The skull broke loose but the eyes continued to shine brilliantly.
    Turning slowly, Zylor faced a new enemy. The zombie-dwarves had reached him and were swinging their swords and axes haphazardly and unexpectedly. The slow motion battle between the zombie-dwarves and the slow-moving minotaur would have been humorous if it wasn’t so deadly. Zylor didn’t want to kill them but he had no choice. He couldn’t run away fast enough because of the slow spell. Gradually they forced him back toward the edge of the ledge. One zombie blow caused him to stumble sideways across the body of the dead lizardmage, forcing him to accidentally step on the staff’s skull. With a loud explosion, the skull shattered, knocking Zylor to the floor. A wave of varying shades of blue coiled up out of the remnants of the skull into the air. After a moment, they streaked toward the zombies, striking them in the eyes. The zombie-dwarves fell or sat down, all holding their heads and moaning. One by one they looked up, zombies no more. Their eyes were now clear and intelligent.
    Harran and several other dwarves finally ran up, puffing from exertion.
    “Where were you?” demanded Zylor, still lying on the floor.
    “Sorry I’m late,” said Harran. “We ran into a couple more sentries on the way over to help you.”
    “How did you free the prisoners?”
    “I simply waited for the guards to retrieve another dwarf,” said Harran, fingering his axe. “After they unlocked the cell, I had no more need of their services.”
    Zylor shook his head. “If you were a minotaur, I’d say you were suffering from bloodlust.”
    Just then another dwarf came up to Harran and pulled him aside in conversation. An older dwarf nearby noticed the minotaur’s predicament and stumped over to examine his foot, which was cut and bleeding from the fragments of exploded skull. “This needs to be sterilized and bandaged right away,” he said gruffly. “Get some bandages, Zach,” he ordered over his shoulder.
    A young, dark-haired dwarf standing behind the old dwarf immediately turned and ran off for the supplies.
    “We owe you a great debt for saving our lives,” said the old dwarf, addressing Zylor. “By the way, my name’s Horst Hammarhold. By what are you called, friend?”
    “Zylor.”
    The dwarf immediately stopped what he was doing and peered intently at the minotaur. “Was your mother’s name Mylorga, by any chance?”
    Zylor sat bolt upright. “What do you know of Mylorga?” he demanded.
    Horst sat back on his heels and scratched his grey beard. “Let’s see now. Some twenty odd years ago Mylorga, a female minotaur, came to our community carrying an infant minotaur named Zylor. She said she was running from a crazed minotaur lover. She appeared exhausted and low on provisions. The council of elders convened to determine if we should allow her to stay. After a lengthy debate, they decided it would be all right. She didn’t appear to be a threat and she certainly needed food and shelter. There were some objections but the elders had made up their minds.
    “After she settled in, she offered to help around the community. We were suspicious at first, but after a few days of helping to rebuild one of our food storage buildings which was destroyed in a landslide, we saw that she could be very useful indeed. Whenever we needed brute strength, she was always there, her minotaur strength allowing her to carry a lion’s share of the load. While she assisted the community, one of the elders would care for her infant son. After a few months, she announced that she had to return to her people. She thanked us for our hospitality and