by Joel Babbitt
Krobo shook his head and blinked at her. “Ah, no. Just too much late night reading, I suppose.”
“Are you sure you’re up to meeting with my chief elite warrior?” she asked, her eyes showing concern though it was clear that she had no intention of letting him back down from this.
“How long have we been together, my love?” Krobo asked almost rhetorically.
Jezmya punched him in the shoulder. “Oh, you! Nine moons now you’ve tortured me like this! You’re worse than…” She cut her sentence short.
“Than your first lifemate,” he finished the thought. “Yes, I know. And much older.”
“Krobo,” Jezmya said tenderly as she put her arm around his shoulders and took his snout in her other hand. “Look at me now, Krobo. You know I care for you. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re good for Spider.”
“Well, I’m here, that’s certain.”
“That’s a very important quality!” Jezmya added, her big eyes looking poutingly into his. “And as a servant of Lord Karthan, you’re not going anywhere dangerous!”
Krobo nodded and turned to look at the ground. “That’s me, never a risk-taker, never in danger.”
“Is that so bad?” Jezmya asked. “I’ve had danger and risk… and loss. The lifemate of my youth has been gone far longer than we were together. My son doesn’t even remember his father. I don’t want any more risk in my life… for him.”
As if on cue, Jezmya’s son parted the flaxen curtain that led from the warrior group’s common area into the waiting chamber.
“Spider, where have you been?” Jezmya asked. “We’ve been waiting on you.”
“Out,” the dour-faced young kobold said, deliberately looking at the floor as he always did. The sullen moodiness he had fallen into since failing the preparation for the Trials of Caste and becoming a servant caste for the house of Trelkar, chief elite warrior for the Deep Guard Warrior Group, left his mother longing for the little whelp she had known. Lately he’d taken to sulking in his room whenever he wasn’t doing chores for Trelkar.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile.
“Spider, you know Krobo and I only want the best for you… and for us. Won’t you at least smile on such a joyous day?”
Before he could answer, Trelkar himself parted the leather hanging that covered the doorway into the warrior group leader’s council chamber. At his appearance, Spider straightened up, his defiant look turning fearful.
“Spider” Trelkar pronounced, “Khee-lar Shadow Hand will see you now.” Turning his gaze to the older pair, he continued, “And I have need of you, Krobo. Come, I have a task for you.”
Chapter 6 – The First Vision
Having gained some sense of what they would be facing on the morrow, Durik, Keryak, and Gorgon talked of the recent past and speculated much about what their future held for them. As was tradition and written in the Scrolls of Heritage, each year-group was given a quest to perform as proof of their worthiness to hold their newly attained titles, and from which they were not to return until it was completed. They talked much about past quests that had been given to year-groups before theirs, and of the goings on of the guard and the leaders of the gen. Gorgon was of the firm belief that their quest would have to do with the recent rumors of a new colony of giant hunter ants having been found. Keryak speculated about the quest being centered on the need for more wolves for the Wolf Riders Warrior Group. “Your skill will come in handy there, Durik,” Keryak said, referring to the apprenticing that Durik had done with the wolf trainers of the warrior group they both belonged to.
Though he liked the idea, Durik’s thoughts strayed to other things. In his mind he thought it most likely they’d be given a small quest like what his companions talked about. But in his heart, he felt something different that he could not explain. At that moment a single fleeting thought formed in his mind. After a moment it began to take shape, and then with a flood of light and power the image formed and Durik was transfixed. Caught by this sudden burst of light, he was surprised and stunned, yet unable to escape its stark yet soothing embrace. He felt as if somehow he had been spirited away to another place.
He found himself standing, though his feet did not touch the ground just below him, looking out across a long natural stone bridge which spanned a chasm that dropped off on either side of the bridge. The light that surrounded the place was brilliant, brighter than the sun at noon-time in the white limestone quarry near their gen’s caves. On the far side of the bridge, almost at the edge of the brilliant light that bounded the vision, Durik could see through the haze the bulky form of a muscular kobold warrior carrying a large leather sack over his shoulder. As Durik wondered at the vision, slowly, and without any conscious thought on Durik’s part, he began to glide effortlessly across the bridge toward where the warrior was looking about furtively. Deep within himself, Durik could feel that something evil was occurring. There was such a feeling of sadness within him that tears began to form in his eyes even as he was transfixed by the vision.
Suddenly, the warrior hefted the large sack and threw it out into the void, where the heavy leather sack dropped swiftly off into nothingness. In a moment of clarity, the kobold warrior’s face appeared clearly through the mist. Durik was taken aback as he saw the face of Troll, the chief elite warrior of his own warrior group. He felt a great desire for justice begin to well up within him. It was as if he knew that he must take action, yet didn’t know what to do.
I will help, Durik thought meekly, if you will tell me what to do.
Suddenly his heart burned within his chest, and a deep sense of power came over the young kobold. Suddenly he knew that there would be much expected of him, but that much help would be given as well. Then, almost as quickly as it had come, the vision disappeared from before his eyes, leaving him alone and small again, back with his friends in the caves of his heritage.
Durik was shaken, but a remnant of that feeling of power lingered still in his heart. It seemed so unreal that, after a second of silence, Durik wasn’t sure whether or not what had just happened had, in fact, really happened or if it was just his imagination running wild. Either way, his friends sat looking at him strangely. After a moment of embarrassment as he came back to reality, Durik stated, “I do not know, my friends. I do feel something coming our way, however; perhaps something greater than ourselves.”
“What do you mean, Durik?” asked Keryak, a questioning look on his face.
“I don’t know, Keryak,” he answered. “I guess we shall see… perhaps at the Trials.”
At that moment, Goryon entered from the forge room. “That you will, whether you sleep before then or not! You’ve had enough of root and talk. Now is the time for rest, not talk!”
Durik and Keryak said their goodbyes and left Gorgon’s home. It was late and the first gong would sound sooner than they wanted to think. As they walked together on their way to the large common cave of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group, they chatted a bit, but without any enthusiasm until Keryak brought up the subject of Troll’s missing lifemate.
“So, you think Troll did it? You know. Do you think he killed his lifemate?” he said off-handedly.
With much greater passion than Keryak was expecting from him, Durik stopped and looked Keryak in the eyes. “Yes!” Realizing he’s startled Keryak, Durik demurred. “I don’t know why, but I just know.”
Keryak raised his brows and nodded slowly. “Alright… I guess.”
Durik turned and continued to walk, followed closely by his friend. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We’ve got nothing to do with whether the chief killed his lifemate or not,” he muttered, mostly for Keryak’s sake. However, in his own heart he could feel that wasn’t true.
“Well… whatever,” Keryak answered, and the pair walked along in silence for a while.
“So, Troll,” the non-descript Deep Guard warrior said from the shadows of the passageway. “I see that the rumors are true.”
Start
led, Troll turned away from the chasm where he had just thrown the heavy leather bag. “What? Who’s there?” he called out, his face clearly showing the guilt even one so hardened as he could not hide when caught in the act. The phosphorescent minerals found in the deeper places of their gen’s home caverns washed out his heat vision, effectively cloaking the stranger in their shadows.
The stranger pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and walked confidently into the light. “Your lifemate, she was quite a burden to carry. Too bad she stood up to you. Too bad you had to kill her.” The stranger smiled maliciously as he stopped not far from where Troll stood.
Troll licked his lips and straightened up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he bluffed, poorly.
The stranger shook his head and smiled. “You don’t have to lie to me, Troll. It’s me. Remember me, Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s friend?” With that, the stranger passed a hand over his face, revealing the face of Mynar the Sorcerer.
“You’re that sorcerer.” Troll looked warily at Mynar. He had never known much about magic, and all he’d heard was of its destructive power. Stories from his whelping full of fire and lightning had frightened him then, and had left a lingering fear in his subconscious. “What do you want of me?”
Mynar looked at Troll, feeling the fear emanating from the brute. “Well, it would appear that you and I now have a secret.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come now,” Mynar said, “don’t be coy with me. That is your lifemate’s body you just threw into this chasm. Nice and windy it is… windy enough to carry away the stench. Ah! And all wrapped in a leather bag to help make her body hard to spot in the shadows down at the bottom I see.”
Troll was sweating profusely. The thin scales of his face had lost much of their color as the blood left from behind them. “Don’t tell anyone!” Troll blurted out. “Remember the Covenant!” Desperately he thought of trying to throw the sorcerer off the edge as well, even though he was one of the founders of the Covenant, but his fear of magic kept him in check.
“Now Troll.” Mynar’s smile was anything but warm. “You may be a member of Khee-lar’s Covenant, but you also know that Khee-lar has yet to accept you into his inner circle. He has no obligation to cover for you, my friend.” This last word was almost hissed out.
“Wha… what would you have me do?” Troll fell to his knees. “Please, please! I ask you as a brother of the Covenant. Please don’t tell anyone!”
Mynar stepped forward until he loomed over the desperate brute. “Will you covenant with me?”
Troll was caught like a fish in a net. How could he not? “Yes, Mynar.” He rocked back and forth.
“If you will covenant with me, then I will make you a member of my inner circle,” Mynar the Sorcerer said.
All of a sudden Troll stopped rocking back and forth. Had he just understood… Had the sorcerer offered him the chance to covenant into his inner circle… into the inner circle of a founder? “I… I… of course I will!”
Mynar smiled a thin-lipped smile. “Well, then, Troll, go ahead and swear, by your head!”
Almost exuberant with his change of fortune, Troll rose to one knee. “I, Troll, Chief Elite Warrior of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group, swear by my head that I will do whatever you ask of me.”
Mynar smiled and nodded. “Now let us discuss your first task.”
Passing the entranceway to the common chamber of the Trade Warrior Group, Durik and Keryak were surprised to see Jerrig sitting in the entrance with his knees up to his chest. The rush lights that cloaked the area near the entrance with their smoky light threw shadows over Jerrig’s still form.
When Durik stopped and asked what was the matter, Jerrig did not respond immediately. Throughout the year of training they’d undergone together, Durik and Keryak had gotten used to this. It was almost as if he were struggling for some sort of inner control, which didn’t surprise Durik. He’d heard several stories about his cousin.
Keryak put his hand on Durik’s arm and bade him farewell until the morrow. Durik nodded and came up next to Jerrig, kneeling next to him in the cool sand of the caverns.
Presently, Jerrig looked up from where he was staring and smiled meekly at Durik. “Hi, Durik. Strange finding you here at this time of the night. I thought you would be home already from the meeting.”
Durik smiled back, putting his hand on Jerrig’s shoulder, “I was just going to say the same thing about you. Come now, Jerrig, it’s time to rest.” Durik stood, reaching a hand out to Jerrig, the bronzed tips of Jerrig’s otherwise rust-red scales and Durik’s completely bronze scales showing a sign of their kinship.
Jerrig took his hand and stood slowly. As they came eye to eye, Jerrig spoke, “Durik,” he started. Not waiting for a response, he quickly continued, “I want you to know that I appreciate what you’ve done for me this past year.”
Durik looked oblivious, “It was nothing, Jerrig. It’s an honor and a pleasure being your cousin, even if it did mean pushing and pulling you on every march for the past year,” he said in a joking tone.
The appreciation in Jerrig’s eyes was clear to see as he began counting off the ways Durik had helped him. “Or catching me on the cliff, or spending extra hours practicing weapon play with Arbelk and me, or giving Troka and me your water when we ran out deep in the underdark, or convincing the others to not give up on me.”
“Enough, enough already,” Durik cried. “You make it sound like more than it was.” Durik put his hand on Jerrig’s shoulder, “Besides, it was you who never gave up, cousin. And soon, we will all get the reward for our efforts of this past year.” He paused then added, “Now, I’ve got to get to bed, and if your father is anything like uncle Drok, and like my father used to be,” Durik said, “then I would imagine he’s out looking for you.” Jerrig nodded and the two said their goodbyes as they left for their respective homes.
Though they were soon to face the day that many a yearling before them had dreaded, Durik was calm and sure of his preparations. Putting the images of the vision out of his mind, he let the assurance of this year’s preparations calm his soul. Reaching the entrance to the cave where the Wolf Guard Warrior Group his father had belonged to in life was quartered, Durik headed toward his uncle’s tent dwelling, where he met him just as his uncle was about to go out looking for him. After a few brief words, Durik went straight to bed while his uncle continued to wait more impatiently for Durik’s little sister’s return.
As he lay in his cot, Durik’s mind turned again to the vision he’d seen and pondered the meaning of it. Was it just some dream? Yet the emotions were so strong, and the vision so real! Had he really seen his chief elite warrior throwing a body into a chasm? That was crazy... and yet he could not deny that he had seen it. He knew that his life was about to change dramatically with the coming trials, and yet this vision had brought with it a feeling like no other he’d felt before.
Like footprints in the sands of his soul, the hints and marks of what was to come seemed to fade with each passing wave of thought and doubt. Soon all that remained of the vision as he dropped off to sleep was a lingering sense of destiny.
“But how can I betray my lord?” Krobo lamented to the two kobolds seated near him in the large, empty cavern where he and Jezmya had often stolen away. His head in his hands, he was still stunned at what Trelkar had asked of him.
“Did he say what the potion would do?” Jezmya tried to calm her future lifemate by stroking the back of his neck.
Krobo sat up, “‘Put them into a deep sleep’, he said.” He spat in the sand. “How can I trust him? And besides, why would he want Lady Kiri’s old magic books anyway? The power is long gone from them. It died with her. And what would he do with the power if he could bring it back?”
Seated not far from them, Spider’s ears perked up. What was this about power?
“He said that he’s close enough to the Kale bloodline. Maybe that’s why the old powers died, because the bloodl
ine died,” Jezmya speculated. “Maybe he can bring it back.”
Krobo shook his head. “In the vaults of the Lore Master it speaks of a time when there were several who held this power, and only a couple of them were in the lord of the gen’s bloodline. This covenant magic, as they call it in the oldest of scrolls, was mostly lost when the last Lord Kobold led many of our warriors north into the Great Forest against some orc threat or another. That was probably four hundred years ago now.”
Jezmya smiled. “You speak like a scholar, my love.”
Krobo sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. Trelkar said he would not allow us to be joined unless I put the potion in the household stew so he can go ‘reclaim the books of magic,’ as he says. Knock them out or not, it smacks of treason. I even offered to just get the books for him, but he wouldn’t have it. I wonder what Khee-lar Shadow Hand thinks of all this?” he shook his head. “And what if someone does die? The Honor Guard’s broadswords would have my head off for that!”
“But without my chief’s permission, we cannot be joined. The law wouldn’t allow it.” Jezmya looked longingly at her love.
The two of them sat in silence for several moments before Jezmya spoke again.
“Perhaps his claim to the books of magic is stronger than Lord Karthan’s,” Jezmya offered. “After all, he and his master Khee-lar Shadow Hand are both direct descendents of the last Lord Kale’s nephew, just like the late Lady Kiri. She was sister to Khee-lar Shadow Hand after all. Maybe they should have belonged to him all along.”
Krobo thought for a moment, sighed, then thought for a moment more. “Maybe so.”
“What does your heart tell you?” Jezmya asked.
Krobo thought for a moment. “My heart tells me I want you for my lifemate.”
“As does mine.” Jezmya smiled.
“Maybe that’s the answer, then.” Krobo looked down at his feet, resigning himself to whatever was to come, yet waiting for Jezmya’s answer. She didn’t answer and the silence dragged on.
