became what the people of his country called a Minotaur, a massive bull-man of rage and muscle. Grimwold had tamed it and driven it into hiding deep within his heart. Yet the beast remained active and always sought to dominate Lethos.
The raider remained staring at Lethos, his sword limp in his hand. Lethos's vision blurred and he began to sweat. The bull was taking him over, and if it did there would be no controlling it. Not with the sickly sweet stench of blood on the air.
"Stay down!" he shouted. The raider shook his head then jabbed at Lethos, driving the point of his sword into his ribs. Again a dull pain, nothing a grown man couldn't handle, radiated from the impact. The sharp sword turned on his flesh and the raider cursed.
Lethos's world became a blur. He was consumed in heat and his mouth filled with the taste of ashes and blood. He was suddenly looking down on the raider, whose face had sunk to his knees and dropped his sword.
A mad, long bellow came from deep in Lethos's chest. The part of him that still held on watched in terror as his two massive arms, covered in glossy black fur, reached down for the raider--his arms now transformed into those of a Minotaur. He tore off the man's head as if he were a doll stuffed with bloody rags. He flung the head and body in different directions, then bounded off for the next group, lowering his head to bring massive horns to bear. His mind screamed for the beast to stop, but the voice grew smaller and smaller as the bull gained control. Soon, he vanished completely.
When he finally regained consciousness, he was still in the shape of a Minotaur, but the sun had slipped across the sky and now settled in the west. He was walking aimlessly, his fur matted with blood that seemed to seep into his flesh. He did not recognize the land. Trees surrounded him on all sides, their leaves turned brilliant autumn colors of gold and orange. Dead leaves rolled along the patchy grass where he walked. He grew colder with every step and the ground drew closer as he walked. Suddenly he fell on his face, a stone knocking him in the teeth. He lay silent on the ground, letting the cool damp of the earth flow over his naked body.
The bull had exhausted itself and withdrew. Lethos immediately felt the pain over his heart, a dull ache like a strong man had just landed a punch. He scrambled up and huddled against the cold evening air. Last he remembered it had been early morning.
"Not good," he said to the emptiness. The birds returning to their roosts for the night sang a discordant song not unlike that of a battle among men. He watched their dark shapes flit among the distant trees before he stood. He was full of strength, feeling as if he could run for hours. The possession of the bull never left him exhausted but instead filled with unnatural vigor. He had to learn what happened with the raiders and, more importantly, what happened to Grimwold.
The location of Grimwold, his Prime, was always foremost in his mind. He had only to think of him and Lethos could nail the location. He tried reaching out with his thoughts again, but got nothing more than a dull hum in return. He jogged across the fields, realizing he was on the southern end of the island. A lone farm squatted in the distance as he ran, the A-frame house and the surrounding wood fences stark shapes against the sky. He skirted the farm, for his nakedness but also for fear of what he might find there. All along his path he saw the deep tracks of bull hooves. If he had come this way while lost in rage, he did not want to see what he might have done.
At last he returned to the site of the battle, and the sun was now blasting red into the clouds as it reached the horizon. Dead bodies and body parts scattered the brown grass. Broken spears pointed skyward and colorful shields were scattered like dried leaves. Sunbirds with red head feathers glowing brilliantly in the final daylight lingered, but most had gorged themselves on the flesh