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

the opposite effect,” murmured Zylor, too quietly to be heard over the bubbling of the stream.
    Not long afterwards the companions trudged off again, Zylor complaining about the excessive weight of his damp blanket.
    “Think of it as getting into shape for that battle of yours,” said Harran lightly. He was in his own element now and he felt free once again. All he had to do was drop off the minotaur at the plateau and then go home for a much needed rest. Ah, to be home again.
    Suddenly they heard a noise up ahead. They both stopped and listened intently. There it was again. Drawing their axes, they moved forward cautiously. The tunnel gave way to a cavern filled with stalactites and stalagmites in a variety of hues, ranging from dull yellows to light reds. The rustling noise came from the left. Harran signalled and he and Zylor circled around a large stalagmite, one to each side. Just then a small figure came bounding around the corner and bumped hard into Zylor, causing it to fall flat on its back. “Ooof!”
    Zylor quickly reached down and picked up the culprit. “What do we have here?” he growled.
    “Please don’t hurt me!” squealed a tiny goblin. “M-me didn’t take it. Honest!”
    “Take what?” asked Harran, coming up alongside the minotaur to get a better view of the creature.
    With a shaking hand the goblin reached into a small pouch at its side and withdrew a dead rat. “You can have it. M-me can always get more.”
    Zylor turned his head and spat. “You’re a scrawny looking creature, aren’t you? They wouldn’t even be able to use you in the games.”
    “You play games?” said the goblin excitedly. “Me like games! In fact, me—.”
    “What should we do with it?” asked Zylor, ignoring the goblin’s jabbering.
    “It isn’t even worth killing, is it?” said Harran.
    “No kill me!” screamed the goblin. “Enough of us already killed off!” It pointed to itself proudly and said, “Me looking for our new home!”
    Harran became interested. “Who’s killing you off?”
    “Big green things. Hiss!”
    “Orcs?” asked Zylor.
    “Maybe,” said Harran. “But the two races are related. They usually leave each other alone. Besides, orcs don’t hiss.”
    “That’s it!” growled Zylor. “It’s the lizardmen, isn’t it?” he asked through clenched teeth, shaking his prisoner as he did so.
    “Maybe if you stop shaking him, you’ll get as answer,” suggested the dwarf.
    “Oh, yeah.”
    After his head stopped swimming, the goblin managed to speak. “They grin like a lizard and then hiss when they speak. How they do that? Smile and hiss all at once?”
    “You could be right,” mused the dwarf. “By that description they certainly could be lizardmen. But the dwarves chased them well into the tunnels to the north many years ago. They haven’t been seen in these parts for centuries.”
    “They here, they here!” squealed the goblin. “That’s why we have to find new home!”
    The minotaur and dwarf exchanged glances. “We have to talk,” said Zylor. With that he pitched the goblin away like a stone. It rolled head over heels until coming to rest against another stalagmite. It shook its head, rubbed its neck where Zylor’s fingers had applied pressure, and scrambled to its feet. “Me don’t like this game,” it whined, throwing its rat at the companions. Sniffling, it shuffled off into the darkness to get away from the company it was in.
    “What is it?” asked Harran, kicking the rat carcass after its owner.
    “The day we left Manhar,” said Zylor, “we passed by a square where they were recruiting for the army.”
    “I kind of gathered that by the commotion they were making,” said Harran. “But what’s that got to do with lizardmen?”
    “The one in charge of the recruitment was a lizardman.”
    “What?!”
    “What’s more,” said Zylor, “the word is that the Emperor himself is taking counsel from a lizardman. It seems he’s planning to use their