One of the dekarians paused. His brow wrinkling, he lifted his muzzle as he sniffed the air. Minotaurs bore more than a passing resemblance to cattle-if cattle walked and spoke like men and fought with more skill than most humans-but there was nothing otherwise cowlike in their demeanors. The eyes of a minotaur sparkled with an intelligence nearly human, and those of that particular officer suddenly radiated suspicion.
He tapped the blade of his shining broadsword on the ground, the dull, low thumping quickly gaining the attention of his men. The dekarian silently gestured for three of his warriors to sidle off toward a huge rock only a few yards ahead. As the three hurried away, he indicated to three others that they should slip free the bows they carried. It took but a few seconds for the archers to ready a protective fire for their comrades.
The first of the scouts reached the huge rock formation. With the other two watching his back, he slipped around the rock, briefly vanishing from the dekarian’s sight.
Almost immediately the legionary returned to view, however. He waved his sword in the air and shook his head.
The dekarian let out a snort of annoyance. Under his breath, he muttered to his chief lieutenant, “I swear I sensed something there, and to my nostrils, it stank like an ogre.”
“Perhaps they fled rapidly, Thados,” the other replied softly. “Perhaps they were smart and ran before our swords.”
“Ogres aren’t smart enough to run away. Still … ”
With no threat apparent, the legionaries pushed on. They were already a half hour beyond the boundaries that had been agreed upon and set in place by the late Emperor Hotak and the ogres’ Grand Lord Golgren, not that either side had ever planned on accepting those borders for very long. Ogres had been moving south for the past few months, which, in the eyes of the Imperium, made it absolutely essential for the minotaurs to penetrate the north. Minotaur military logic held that the best way to reduce the odds of an enemy invading was to invade first.
As yet there were no formal invasion plans, but the empress-Hotak’s daughter Maritia and a former legion commander herself-exerted influence on her mate … not that he needed any encouragement to harry or kill his former slave masters.
Some trees still managed to thrive there despite the harsh landscape. Thados had not risen to third dekarian of his legion by ignoring such possible hiding places. Two of his men quickly climbed up the nearest tree, disappearing in the foliage.
A brief glance to his left revealed to Thados that the other squads were also making steady progress. Despite all the recent rumors, they had come across scant signs of ogres; that race did not seem ready for a full-scale raid into Ambeon. The empire would have a distinct advantage if it moved first.
Still, again the scent of ogre-or something akin to ogre-momentarily wafted past his nostrils. “There, do you smell that, Vul?” he asked his second. “You must smell that!”
The other legionary thrust his muzzle into the air. “I think perhaps … I really can’t say, Thados, maybe a trace … ”
Thados removed his helmet, which was skillfully cast to allow for not only the protrusion of his horns, but also for the extension of his long ears. He pricked his ears without success. He let some of the heat dissipate then shoved the helmet back on.
“Get those two out of the tree and let’s move on. The other squads are pulling ahead.” War was a competition among the individual minotaur squads. The quickest way to rise up in the ranks was to bloody one’s weapon before one’s comrades could.
Vul trotted over to the tree. He tapped his sword against the side several times then irritably stared up among the branches.
Growing more impatient by the minute, Thados finally joined him, staring up. “What by the Lady Nephera’s lists is going on? Get them down right-”
But as he joined Vul, the lead minotaur saw what his comrade was staring at … or rather, what his comrade was not staring at.
There was no one in the tree.
Thados circled the trunk. That enabled him to see all sides of the branches and deep into the foliage. Nothing as large as a cat could have escaped his view, much less two full-grown, armored minotaur fighters. No, the tree top was empty.
Leaving Vul still gaping up at the branches, the dekarian backed away warily, looking around. Three of his subordinates were continuing their slow but steady advance, yet he could not spot any of those who had been standing near the rocks.
“Vul! Where did-”
But when the minotaur officer turned back to his comrade, he realized Vul was also among the missing.
Thados searched around the tree then, after a hesitation, glanced up again. Once more he saw branches but no minotaurs.
The fur on the back of his neck stiffening, Thados immediately returned his attention to his remaining soldiers. A tremendous exhalation of relief escaped him when he saw the trio was still there. The dekarian gave a shout, and they came running back.
“Any of you see the others?” he demanded. When they shook their heads, he let out a furious snort. “Something’s playing nasty tricks on us. Maybe it’s magic! We must stick close together! No one loses sight of the others!”
Minotaurs were a stolid race, but anything that smelled of magic made them anxious. Magic did not-at least in general-offer a foe that one could fight with a sturdy weapon.
Thados tried to think. On the one hand, the logical thing would have been to retreat. On the other, such a retreat-with no explanation as to how he had lost Vul and the others-was sure to disgrace him in the eyes of his superiors and comrades.
Disgrace was worse than death. Third Dekarian Thados thus chose instead to push on and hope for the best. His hekturion had given each squad specific instructions as to how deep they were to penetrate the territory, and Thados’s soldiers still had some distance to cover. The dekarian was determined to take his squad at least as far as the tops of the first rocky hills.
It’s only a little farther, Thados pointed out to himself. If we stick together, whatever took the others won’t be able to touch us.
A whistling sound cut through the air, followed by a pair of harsh thunks.
Two legionaries crumpled, silver bolts through the backs of their necks where their helmets and armor left just bare openings. To pinpoint such a target required exceptional marksmanship.
Thados and his surviving soldier whirled in the direction from which the arrows had come-and a third missile suddenly blossomed in the throat of the dekarian’s companion.
Frustration mixed with rage as the last minotaur under his command fell. “Where are you, you damned elf?” He bellowed, waving his sword about wildly. “Show yourself!”
Again he smelled that slight stink, that smell that was and was not ogre. It was so near as to be almost right behind him.
Spinning around, Thados swung his blade at just the level he would guess might behead an elf. However, instead his sword struck some surface so resilient that the weapon snapped in half. The top portion of the blade went flying away.
And as that dire turn of events registered on him, so too did the fact that what stood before the minotaur was much, much taller and even more startling than any elf he could imagine.
“What are you?” Thados blurted, gazing up in awe at the blue-tinged countenance of a creature that suggested elf lineage but also more, so much more.
“The hunter,” the handsome giant responded with a display of sharp teeth. “Though I must say you Uruv Suurt have not offered much sport today. Too easy, the lot of you.”