Taurus Ascendant
by Jason Kahn
Belligor, priest of the Order of Taurus, drifted in and out of consciousness. He sat cross-legged just outside his small enclosure at the center of the great maze that was his prison. He had lost track of the days since he had last eaten. His only contact with the outside world came from the creatures of this isle who were sent down each year to gibber in fear at the sight of him. They needn’t have feared, like all Taureans, he did not eat meat; in fact his Order forbade it. And so he slowly starved, prevented from fulfilling his holy mission.
Time stretched on until Belligor heard the light scrape of sandals upon stone. It was one of the creatures native to this island. Belligor called them "flat-faces," or "shaved heads," as they lacked the majestic, furred head and visage common to his race. Instead, their strange, blunted features were devoid of all hair save a bit at the top, and neither were they crowned with the two horns that symbolized Taurean strength and wisdom.
The flat-face, a mere youth, brandished a sword and clutched a ball of thread that trailed away behind him. His eyes burned with murderous intent.
Weak and listless, Belligor made no move other than to regard the newcomer with dull, glassy eyes. Either the youth was a mere figment, or Belligor would die. He put his faith in the Great Bull and drifted off.
The youth, standing over the Taurean with arm raised, frowned in puzzlement. This was not the fearsome, bloodthirsty minotaur he had been told of at his father’s court in
Theezus raised an eyebrow. The beast had come on a holy quest, and been imprisoned for his efforts. More alarming, Theezus recognized the horn.
Clearly the minotaur was not the man-eater King Minos had claimed. The youth needed to return to his love, but his decision was made, he would help this poor beast who had fallen victim to the cruel whims of circumstance, and perhaps it could aid him in his plan to escape with his lover from the King’s clutches.
The next time the flat-face came, instead of a sword, he carried a tray laden with food. There were lush pears and plums, carrots and grains. And there was a jug of clear water that smelled of cool mountain streams.
With cautious movements, the youth held the food to Belligor’s mouth. Slowly, the Taurean ate, juice running down his furred chin and neck. Color began to replace the sickly pallor of his hide and skin, and he felt a measure of strength return to his body. Between bites, Belligor and the flat-face attempted to communicate. They knew little of each other’s language, but they managed to be understood, starting with their names.
"Belligor," the flat-face said hesitantly.
"Thee-zus," Belligor said slowly.
Over the next several days, Theezus nursed Belligor to health until the minotaur’s strength and vigor returned. On his final visit, Theezus wore the leather armor of a palace guard his love had appropriated for him. He held up the ball of string that trailed away. Then he pointed to the picture on the wall of the sacred horn, again pointing back along the corridor.
Belligor studied the flat-face through narrowed eyes. Why was he wearing the armor of his captors? But Theezus patted the armor and winked, and Belligor understood it was a disguise. A gleam of purpose and determination came into his eyes then, and the Taurean rose. He was an intimidating sight, half again as tall as the youth. Belligor gave a simple nod and stamped a foot, indicating they should go this instant.
Theezus grinned and stood, and the two set off. They followed the thread back through the maze, casting huge, looming shadows down the torch-lit corridors. Belligor strove to contain his excitement, and his eyes shone with the long-abandoned hope of fulfilling his quest. The pair walked for hours, and after what felt like a half-day of travel, they arrived at the beginning of the ball of string. Theezus wound up the thread while Belligor stared at the solid wall before them. The youth pressed his hand on one of the stones in the wall, and Belligor gave a whuffle of surprise as the stone depressed a few inches and a section of wall swung inward, revealing another passage beyond.
Theezus put his finger to his lips, and Belligor understood they were now within the confines of the palace. The lighting was much dimmer here, but Belligor could easily hear Theezus’ movements and follow his scent. Then Theezus stopped and placed his ear to the wall, listening for several long minutes while Belligor held his breath expectantly.
At length, Theezus nodded and turned a hidden latch, causing a small door to open. The priest of the Order of Taurus had to crouch low as he followed Theezus out of the passageway, pushing aside a thick piece of cloth over the opening. Once through, Belligor’s big eyes teared as he adjusted to the surrounding light.
They were in a large chamber, with a single entrance some forty yards away. Chests and urns overflowed with wondrous, gleaming objects. There were shining, golden coins, and faceted, colored stones that dazzled with all the colors of the rainbow. Belligor did not know what they were, but he wondered why such wonderful things were hoarded away and not shared with the rest of the flat-face Herd, as among Belligor’s people.
Theezus cautioned the big Taurean, pointing toward the single, iron-banded door. Through a barred opening near the top, Belligor could make out the plumes of the flat-face soldiers as they guarded the entrance. Belligor motioned for Theezus to lead on, and the two quietly made their way across the chamber to a small alcove that was guarded by a simple iron gate with no lock.
The fur on the back of Belligor’s neck stood straight up, and Theezus felt his scalp go prickly. A sense of foreboding and dread flooded through them. Belligor noted the runic symbols carved over the entrance. This place was protected by powerful magic. Inside he saw strange objects resting atop pillars placed about the small chamber. There was an apple made of gold, a pair of winged sandals, and… Belligor’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the very object of his quest.
The minotaur looked at his companion, who shrugged, readily acknowledging he had no way to counteract whatever magic barred the entrance. The Taurean priest bowed his head and raised his hand. He muttered words in the Taurean tongue to invoke the spirit of the Great Bull.
For long seconds that stretched agonizingly, Belligor continued to chant. Then Theezus’ eyes widened as a soft white radiance emanated from the Taurean’s hand. The mystic light spread until it filled the doorway, and then parted like a curtain being drawn open. When it was gone, Belligor opened his eyes and lifted his head. The feeling of terror had fled.
Belligor put a hand on the gate. It swung freely. He stepped inside and paced directly to where the Horn lay, ignoring all the other objects. Scarcely daring to breath, Belligor lifted one of the holiest relics of his people, the lost Horn of Taurus. It was cast in bronze, with inscriptions etched in the ancient Taurean tongue. Theezus watched, glad that the King, in his pride, had so openly displayed his treasures to the youth.
The horn had a large chain attached at both ends, and Belligor hung it around his neck, holding the object reverently against his chest. Thus preoccupied, Belligor paid little heed as he took a step back, preparing to exit the alcove. Theezus saw it a moment before the Taurean’s foot hit the floor. A stone slightly lower than the surrounding area. The youth launched himself at Belligor just as the stone depressed a fraction under the priest’s weight. There was a barely audible grating sound, and as Theezus hit his companion and knocked him over, a click and a swoosh of air came from the opposite wall. Theezus felt something sharp punch him in the shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to the floor, stunned.
Belligor rushed to his companion. He kneeled over Theezus, looking at the wound in his shoulder, noticing the crossbow bolt that lay nearby. The youth was bleeding, but had been lucky to be wearing the leather armor. Otherwise, the bolt would have put a hole through his chest. Theezus winced at the pain. He made to rise, but Belligor gently restrained him. The Taurean reached into his pouch and pulled out some of the dried healing herbs he kept. He carefully tore several strips from Theezus’ tunic, and then gently loosened the leather straps covering his shoulder. There was a deep gash where the bolt had torn the flesh, and it bled freely. But Belligor had seen bulls of the Herd survive worse wounds while fighting over a cow. Theezus would recover.
The youth remained still while Belligor crushed the herbs and sprinkled them into the open wound. Then he took the strips of cloth and wound them around the youth’s shoulder, binding the wound. Theezus probed the area gently with his other hand, approving of the makeshift dressing.
Taking a deep breath, Theezus rose and the companions silently crossed the chamber and slipped back into the secret passage. Theezus led Belligor through turn after turn, but now the youth breathed heavier and his stride was more halting. Belligor lowed his concern, but the youth indicated he was fine, and urged them on to greater speed.
At length, Theezus halted and pressed his ear against the wall. Satisfied no one was about, the youth turned a latch and another door swung inward. Illuminated by light from the outer passageway, Theezus turned to Belligor and motioned him to await his return. Belligor nodded, but as his companion put on the helmet he had brought with him, completing his disguise, the Taurean grew alarmed. Theezus’ forehead was damp with sweat and his eyes had the dull look that came with fever. Nevertheless, Theezus made his exit, gently closing the secret door behind him. Belligor was left alone to wait in nervous silence.
In the outer corridor, Theezus paused, assuming the bearing of a palace guard. His shoulder burned and his body was bathed in sweat, but the youth pushed his infirmities aside. He rushed around the corner, running down the corridor toward the score of guards that stood sentry. “Quickly, raiders have reached the King’s quarters, he is in mortal danger! We must go to his aid!”
Theezus fell to his knees, both to add credibility and because in truth he could not stay upright. Strong hands pulled him up, and Theezus gasped at the pain in his shoulder. The guards could clearly see the blood seeping through his under-tunic.
“How many?” one asked urgently.
“Don’t know, they appeared out of nowhere, there’s little time!”
“We will go,” the senior sentry said. “You are in no condition. Marcus, take this man to the healers’ quarters, the rest of you, come with me.”
“I will go to the healers myself,” Theezus urged. “The King needs all the men we can spare. Even now the raiders overwhelm his Honor Guard!”
The guards all became alarmed at this. “Very well,” the leader said. “All of you with me!” At once the guards were off at a sprint toward King Minos’ private chambers. Behind them, Theezus waited until the guards were out of range, then sagged with relief. He focused and gathered his remaining strength, and with halting steps made his way back to the minotaur.
Alone in the darkness, Belligor waited until he heard a light tapping and Theezus’ whisper, beckoning him to come out.
Belligor’s eyes adjusted quickly as he emerged, and he did not like what he saw. Theezus swayed where he stood. His eyes were glazed and his face flushed. Belligor reached down and supported the youth by his good shoulder. Theezus breathed thanks, and gestured which direction to take. The big Taurean half carried his companion around the corner and down the hallway toward the now unguarded door. As they went, Theezus explained what lay beyond. Belligor heard the words…ship, sea, escape.
But when they reached the metal-studded wooden door, Theezus slumped unconscious in Belligor’s arms. The Taurean priest gently shook his companion, grunting sharply, but Theezus did not rouse. Belligor turned to the door, testing the latch. It was locked. He pounded on the door in frustration, but it did not budge. Then he bared his teeth in a smile as something occurred to him, a memory of how Taurean calves would often compete against each other by ramming small trees, trying to knock them over. The area between their horns was almost as hard as stone.
In a single motion, the minotaur grabbed his companion about the waist and hefted him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He quickly paced back along the passageway a good distance before turning back. Belligor held Theezus tightly to his shoulder and began to run, propelling his great body faster and faster. At the halfway point, Belligor lowered his head. He bunched his massive shoulders and slammed into the door. It exploded outward, flying several yards through the air.
Panting, Belligor stood for a moment just outside the doorway. It was night. The moon shone out of a clear sky. A gentle breeze caressed Belligor’s body, and he breathed deeply of its sweetness, delighting in the taste. A briny, salty smell reached his nostrils. _The sea, the ship._ Belligor was off, following the smell and downward slope of the land until he approached a serene, moonlit bay. He reached the edge of a pier and followed it around the water’s rim until he came to a tall, well appointed sailing ship. There were figures moving about the pier in the darkness.
The Taurean priest slowed to a walk. A female flat-face who had been peering anxiously into the darkness spied Belligor’s hulking form, and soon a group with drawn weapons and shuttered lanterns was ranged opposite him. The female’s eyes darted between Belligor and the form that lay draped over his shoulder.
The Taurean gently laid his companion on the wooden planks of the pier and began stripping off his armor. As soon as his helmet was removed, the female gasped and approached, kneeling down and grabbing the unconscious youth’s hand while she sobbed silently.
Belligor gently peeled away the makeshift bandage around Theezus’ shoulder. The wound was raw and angry, oozing fluid. Bright red streaks ran from it down his arm and across his chest. Belligor frowned. He leaned closer, his nose over the wound. Belligor detected an odious smell. Poison. He hissed at his foolishness in not checking the crossbow bolt. Leaning back on his haunches, the priest looked at his companion. Theezus’ breath came out in thin rasps, his skin was hot to the touch and shivers ran through his body.
The Taurean priest leaned his head back, breathing deep. The Great Bull would decide. He knelt over Theezus, closing his eyes and holding both hands inches above the wound. He began to chant, his voice like low, rolling thunder.
The female, who had been torn between fear and sorrow, gave a sharp intake of breath when she saw the minotaur’s hands glow with white, ethereal light. The light spread through Theezus’ shoulder, continuing until it suffused his entire body, blinding in its intensity before it slowly faded.
Belligor leaned back. It had been a near thing, but Taurus had answered his prayers. Belligor opened his eyes. Still the female flat-face cried, but now they were tears of joy. For Theezus’ condition had greatly improved. Where the wound had been, now there was pink skin, newly formed. And his flesh shown with color and health, the burning fever banished.
His eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment Theezus lay there oblivious. Then a smile played over his face and he kissed the female flat-face who hovered over him. His gaze shifted to Belligor, his eyes filled with gratitude. The female supported Theezus to his feet, and Belligor, with a creak and a groan, rose as well.
One of the male flat-faces, all of whom had come closer to witness the healing magic, bent to whisper in Theezus’ ear, gesticulating toward the palace. Indeed, lanterns had been lit in several windows, and the sound of raised voices could be heard.
With urgency, Theezus motioned for Belligor to accompany him and his crew, pointing to the ship and off toward the horizon. Belligor appreciated the invitation, but he touched the Horn that dangled from his neck and pointed to his homeland, across the sea in a different direction. Theezus understood, and gave urgent orders to a nearby crewmember. In short order, a small boat equipped with a sail and a pair of oars was lowered into the water. Theezus indicated it was meant for Belligor’s use.
Knowing time was short, Belligor reached out and clasped arms with Theezus. He blessed the youth and his Herd in the name of the Great Bull. Theezus also uttered words of thanks and friendship.
Then they parted ways, the flat-faces boarding the ship and Belligor helming his much smaller vessel. The two crafts shoved off at almost the same time, the Taurean heading east while the flat-faces headed west. There was little wind, so Belligor took great, long strokes at the oars, propelling his small boat swiftly over the water.
His back to the open sea, Belligor sat facing the bigger ship, which steadily dwindled in the distance. He idly wondered at the vessel’s black sails, which were almost invisible against the night sky. Perhaps it was a flat-face custom. Then his thoughts turned toward the journey home, and the end of his long search. The Herd would rejoice at the return of the sacred relic. There would undoubtedly be a feast to celebrate the event. And he would tell the tale of his journey, and the cruel flat-faces, and his long imprisonment, and his friend Theezus who had saved him.
He smiled as the boat skimmed lightly across the water’s dark surface, the Horn glinting in the moonlight against his chest. It was a tale that would be told for generations, he was certain.
The End
After bouncing around the medical journalism/publishing field for over ten years as a writer/reporter/editor, Jason finally settled down and is currently an editor for a New York-based research foundation. He lives in Brooklyn with his lovely wife amidst all of the other young families fleeing Manhattan for more space. His favorite hobbies are rooting for his University of Michigan Wolverines and chasing after two mischievous gnomes who claim to be his children. Jason’s stories have appeared in Baen’s Universe and the anthologies Strange Stories of Sand and Sea (Fine Tooth Press, forthcoming), and Twilight Temptations (Simian Press, forthcoming). Jason has written several unpublished novels.
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