Chapter One, Scene One

He came awake with a start. Something was wrong, he could sense it. Twenty years as a mercenary and caravan guard tended to hone your sense of self preservation. He sniffed the air. There it was, a faint smell of smoke with a tang of blood.

Shoag grabbed his axe and tapped the boot of the sleeping elf next to him. Kolli sat up quickly, blinking the sleepiness away.

“Shh,” Shaog leaned in and whispered. “Trouble. Wake the boys. No fire, no loud noises. Get ready to defend the caravan.”

“What are you going to do?” The elf asked.

“I smell smoke and blood. I am going to go scout the source.” Shoag gathered the rest of his gear, short bow and arrows, short swords and his bladed gauntlets. “Three hoots of a crag owl and you will know it is me coming back. Keep everybody alive.”

“Right. Three crag owl hoots. Keep everybody alive. Got it.” Shoag could not see the elf rolling his eyes, but felt it.

Moving swift and silent, he made his way off into the night.

Less than two miles later, he found the source of his unease. Raiders had hit a small camp, two wagons and a family. The family stood no chance. The father lay by the fire, dead. Two other male bodies were nearby. One was very small. One wagon was on fire. The bandits were going through the other, contemptuously tossing the contents aside.

Shoag moved silently, circling the wagons. There were seven bandits. They were easy to smell. They were drunkards and had not bathed in weeks. Humans smelled bad on the best of days, these men reeked. He did not complain. Their smell made them easier to locate in the dark. It made them targets. He was at home in the dark. It was his friend, his ally, his protector.

He stopped in the darkness. He was not getting paid to kill bandits. He was getting paid to protect his caravan. This family was gone. Best he get back to his wagons. These bandits would be fools to tackle twelve well armed guards that were already on alert.

That was when he heard it, the whimper of a scared child and the mother trying to comfort her. For her efforts, the mother was kicked repeatedly by one of the bandits until she was quiet. He could hear the man’s cold laughter.

Dammit. He is not getting paid to be a hero. He should go back to his responsibilities. He knew that. But he didn’t do it. Instead, he took three arrows out of his quiver and stabbed them in the ground. Elves are the best archers in world and he was no elf. He might get lucky and hit three of the bandits. Arrows coming from the darkness would scare more than hurt them. He tightened the binders on his dwarf made gauntlets. The spikes and blades gleamed dully in the moonlight. Lastly, he set his axe at the ready, driving the points into the soft ground. His axe was enough to scare a normal man. Its five foot long handle topped with two wicked curved blades. A human could not easily lift it. But Shoag was no human, he could use it with one hand. He was ready.

His first arrow took one of the bandits in the throat, a lucky shot. The second arrow pierced the bandit’s leather armor, the wicked barb sticking out the man’s back. It too was a killing blow. The third arrow was almost a miss, but it opened a gash along one man’s arm as it caromed off into the night. All three shots took less than three seconds.  Kolli’s training was paying off. But the raiders were alerted to an enemy and started to form a ring. Not that it would matter.

He dropped the bow and gathered his axe and with a blood curdling roar, he rushed into the clearing. His seven foot tall frame was barely lit by the burning wagon. Give the bandits credit. They did not run. Many did when facing a minotaur in full rage.

It was an intricate, deadly dance. Step in, swing, his axe an unstoppable force. One bandit’s head bounced off into the night. Spin, dodge a sword, thrust out with the axe, the points of the blades took another raider in the chest, piercing him through and throwing him backwards several feet. He heard the bandit on his left and struck out with his gauntlet. The blades on the gauntlet severed the man’s hand, which along with the sword, flew into the darkness. Screaming, the man fell to the ground clutching the stump. A quick swipe with the axe took his life.

Only two left.

The smarter one tried to run. He dropped his weapon as he ran. Running did him no good. Shoag’s throwing knife took him in the back, knocking him to the ground. Six dead in mere minutes.

The last one was either a better fighter or lucky. He was the one Shoag had missed with the third arrow. He had wrapped a quick bandage around the arm and had his sword up, circling the minotaur warily.

“Who are you,” the raider asked through gritted teeth.

“Your death.”

“Why? Who are these people to you? You are not even a human. What do you care?”

Instead of answering, Shoag took two steps forward; knocking the sword aside with a mighty swing of his axe. The clash of steel rang into the night. The blow was so powerful that the raider could not keep hold of the sword.  With contemptuous ease, Shoag lashed out at bandit, the two spiked blades on the fist of the gauntlet took the man in the face. He was dead instantly and his body toppled into the fire. The whole fight had lasted less than four minutes. It was not surprising. Shoag was a master at carnage.

“Great, I thought he smelled bad before.”  

Surveying the carnage, Shoag leaned his axe against the whole wagon and found the source of the whimpers he had heard earlier. They were huddled under the wagon. They were covered in blood, but it was all from the mother. The child was physically unharmed. The mother had suffered to protect her daughter and it was clear she would not live much longer. Nothing Shoag could do would change that. He prayed to his gods, and her gods for good measure, as he crouched down and gathered the woman in his arms.

“You killed them?” Her voice was thin and raspy. He could hear the blood in her lungs. She had bare minutes to live.

“Yes, good mother. They are dead. I am sorry I did not get here in time to save your family. You deserved better than this.”

“Not many would have bothered to help.” She whispered. “Hard to blame them. My daughter, she is unharmed.  Can you take her? Protect her?”

She stopped talking as she coughed up blood. Her voice was getting weaker as she continued, “Her uncle, Mellar, is a tanner in Willow Falls. He will take her in. Can you…..” The woman’s voice faded off.

“I will take her to him. I promise you no harm will come to her. My word is as the stone.” Shaog did not know why he made that oath but it felt right. It was the strongest oath a minotaur could give. Nothing short of death would deter a minotaur from keeping that oath.

“Thank you. My husband buried our coin under the fire. It is not much, but it is all I can give.”

“I will make sure she has it. I do not need it,” he assured her. But it was too late. She was already gone. He took off his gauntlet and gently closed her eyes and laid her body on the ground. Then he gently gathered the small girl into his arms. She was small, frail and in shock. His heart broke for her. Nothing could have prepared the small child of the evils that seemed to follow the humans in this world.

“Well, girl, if we are going to be travelling together, we should know each other’s names.” He said in his most soothing voice. At least he hoped it was soothing. While he had plenty of experience dealing with humans, they were all adults and for the most part men. “I am Shoag, son of Moag. My father is clan chief of the Black Hills minotaur clans. I am sorry for all of this. But you are safe now. I will keep you safe. I promise. What is your name?”

“Talyssa.” She whispered. “My name is Talyssa. My mamma said she named me after the Green Goddess.”

He could hear the hurt in her voice. The ragged fear and despair burned into his soul. “Well, Talyssa, I have some friends not far from here. I will take you with me to them. You will be safe. We can take you to your uncle in Willow Falls.”

“What about my family? We cannot leave them here like this. Please.”

“My friends will come back and we will bury them proper. You still have one wagon and the horses. They are yours now. We will bring them with the caravan and sell what we can. The coin will be yours to keep.”

The tears streamed down her face, but she was trying to be strong, he could see the steel hiding inside. He stood up, gathered his axe and carried her off into the darkness.