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

asked Harran.
    “No one,” said Zylor, “except Traygor himself, and anyone he may have confided in.”
    “Which is probably no one,” commented Harran. “If he knows what’s good for him that is. Do you know what could happen if word of this got out?”
    Zylor nodded. “That’s why I have to do this the hard way. By taking part in the election duels, I’ll have a chance to challenge for the leadership. By killing my uncle in a duel to the death, any supporters he may have will have no choice but to change their support. That way only one minotaur dies and rebellion is stopped before it even starts.”
    “You realize you’ll have to defeat dozens of other minotaurs before you even have a chance to challenge for the leadership, don’t you? Not to mention defeating your uncle in the end.”
    “Yes,” said Zylor with a sigh. “I know. Like you said earlier; I’m rather large for a minotaur.”
    “I see what you mean,” said Harran, scratching his grey beard thoughtfully. “That’s why you have to hone your skills. You won’t get much peace up on the plateau, though.”
    Zylor looked up. “Oh?”
    Harran looked away, ashamed. “Well, from what I’ve heard, ogres and orcs tend to frequent the plateau from time to time. I didn’t mention it earlier because I, well I…”
    “Perfect!” said Zylor.
    Harran looked at Zylor, startled.
    “I was looking for something to test my skills on,” said Zylor, grinning wickedly. “Ogres and orcs will do just fine!”
    Harran breathed a sigh of relief. This minotaur was easier going than he thought. After a few minutes he asked, “What if you fail?”
    “Then I’ve wasted my time and a murderer rules my people.”
    “Not a very pleasant thought,” said Harran.
    “Nope,” said Zylor, rising and pulling a blanket out of his pack.
    Harran wrinkled his nose. “That blanket needs washing. Badly.”
    “With what?” asked Zylor. “There’s no water here.”
    “We’ll run into an underground stream tomorrow.”
    “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow then. Wake me when it’s my watch.” With that the minotaur went to sleep.
    Harran shook his head. The minotaur trusted him. That much was obvious now. But could he trust the minotaur? Probably. However, he would sleep lightly the next few nights just to be sure. The story the minotaur told was fascinating. If he was indeed the son of the previous Emperor, he had a legitimate claim to the throne. By fighting for the throne in the traditional manner, he was avoiding large scale bloodshed. He was also taking chances. One wrong move in the arena and all was lost. Harran looked at the sleeping form of the minotaur. Would he ever be ready for that challenge? As if in answer, Zylor began snoring loudly, causing Harran to jump. Quickly he rose and began a systematic patrol, keeping his ears tuned to any noise other than Zylor’s snoring. At least he didn’t have to worry about that when it became his own turn to sleep.
    The night (if that was what it was called inside the mountain) passed without incident and after a quick breakfast of dried meat they set out down the tunnel once again.
    They had not travelled for more than a few hours when they reached the underground stream Harran had mentioned. Harran told Zylor that if he refused to wash the smelly blanket, they would part ways right there and then. The minotaur complained but did as he was told while Harran gathered some mushrooms and fungus which grew along the edge of the stream.
    “At least we’ll have a little variety in our diet,” said the dwarf casually.
    “You mean you’re actually going to eat that stuff?” asked Zylor incredulously.
    “It tastes good and it’s good for you,” supplied the dwarf.
    “You’re not gonna make me eat that stuff,” said Zylor firmly.
    “Suit yourself,” said the dwarf, rising and moving to another batch of fungi nearby. “We might need it for medicinal purposes as well.”
    “I’d have thought it would have