by Joel Babbitt
The implications of Khee-lar’s bitterness was not lost on Khazak. At that moment, however, a fellow councilman was calling for Khazak’s opinion on Durik. Khazak was happily diverted and threw himself into the next hot debate, all the while backing his own opinion that Gorgon would surely teach these ‘scrawny little whelps’ their lesson and take his true place at the head of the year-group.
Though betting was not outlawed by Lord Karthan, he also did not look upon it favorably. Despite his lack of backing and participation, several members of the council still upheld this activity that had been so popular during Lord Karthan’s father’s reign. The tradition, however, was not to bet on the final winner until second meal, when the first half of the trials had already occurred. The older ones, especially those who had served under Lord Karthan’s father, bet heavily with anyone who would take their bets and had the wealth to back it.
The dialogue at second meal that day certainly had a lot less to do with the food or anything related to gen politics. Much wealth had already changed hands that morning on the results of the first two trials. Every minute or two the all too familiar words ‘what’ll you back that opinion with’ were heard. One of the oldest and most wealthy council members, Torgal of the Sundered Skull, who got his honor name in his youth from an incident with a minotaur where he somehow came out on top, was betting heavily on Durik winning. Knowing that Durik was already in the lead, he was still able to pull in several bets by offering some fine pieces of wooden furniture he’d had in his chambers since before the wealth from the caravans began to be distributed more evenly among the members of the gen.
Khee-lar, on the other hand, was easily able to secure several small bets on Trallik winning. Khazak himself wanted much to take a bet against Trallik. Only his loyalty to his master, Lord Karthan, kept him from doing so.
Three of the stoutest council members, the leaders of the Wolf Riders, the Patrol Guard, and the Metal Smithies, pooled their resources and were betting heavily on Gorgon taking the cup for the entire competition. Several prime boar furs, a fine bear fur, and a couple of expertly crafted weapons were put up as collateral and placed against Torgal’s fine furniture. The four of them argued until the deal was struck that if neither Durik nor Gorgon won, neither the three leaders nor Torgal would lose, nor would they gain.
To this point, Lord Karthan had not interjected. He found that, no matter how little control he had over the outcome, whenever he speculated some of the weaker council members immediately took his conjecture as a pronouncement of law. While these displays of loyalty comforted him, few as they had been of late, he was too smart to let such things lull him into a false sense of his own inherent rightness. He knew his fellow kobolds. Though he had won the hearts of many of them in the past through his consistent policies, his leadership through the orc raid crises, and by the prosperity that had come to the gen under his rule, he was well aware that he’d made many enemies as well, and then also there was a good number of them that seemed to go whichever way the political wind blew.
Lord Karthan was not his father, nor did he fully support some of the traditions and laws that his father had upheld. Under his father most of the wealth of the gen was held by the members of the council. Young Karthan, upon taking the position of Lord of the Gen, had abolished the Laws of Plunder and Wealth his father had instituted which gave all plunder to the council and all wealth earned through trade to the elite warriors, instead instituting what he called the new Laws of Merit.
Under his Laws of Merit, warriors of the gen who worked were allowed to keep the wealth they earned, which infuriated several of the elite warriors, who now had to work for a living instead of living off their warriors’ efforts. To pay the standing guard, however, all plunder and a tenth of all merit wealth was given to the council to pay the costs of supporting the guard and, under a much lower cut, the council members. There were a few years of much dissention among his gen after instituting these rules, during which time he had slept with a long knife under his bear skin blanket, and more than one head had rolled under the Honor Guards’ broadswords. But Lord Karthan had seen several of the old council members die, and many of the new council members he picked were progressive, more even-handed kobolds who had supported his policies… at one point in time anyway.
Lord Karthan was no fool, however. He realized that there were several there at that moment in the feast he was hosting that would rather see a return to the old rules. The real question wasn’t who wanted it bad enough, as recent events pointed out, but rather who was willing to take their chances against Lord Karthan, Khazak Mail Fist and his Honor Guard.
Lord Karthan was roused from thought by the awareness of the gong-ringer asking Khazak Mail Fist permission to ring the gongs to signal the end of the second meal. Lord Karthan stood, “Council! Come; let us see to the matters of the day. Then we shall see who has bet on the correct yearling, and who has lost wealth!”
“Keryak,” Durik called half under his breath, “I think I saw the barrel your father was talking about.”
Looking up from the shelf fungus he was holding in both hands, Keryak swallowed. “What do we do?”
“It’s got to have something to do with the conspiracy,” Durik said in a hushed tone. “We should go see what’s so special about it.”
Keryak stood up and poured a last gulp from the waterskin into his open maw, wiping his snout with the other hand. “Let’s go,” he said in a low voice as he cleared his throat.
“Where are you going?” Gorgon asked, looking up from the chunk of boar meat he’d been devouring. The other yearlings all looked up as well.
“Nowhere,” Durik said as he pulled Keryak along with him.
Not satisfied, Gorgon stood up and followed the pair as they walked ever quicker through the bowels of the arena, soon breaking into a run then stopping cold at the door into the large open competition area.
“Go back.” Durik stood up to the larger Gorgon who had sprinted after them.
“Nothing doing.” Gorgon shook his head as they all panted. “You’re up to something, and I want to know what.”
Durik shook his head and turned back to the door, opening it and walking through without another word. Keryak shrugged his shoulders and followed.
“We’re not supposed to be in here,” Gorgon said as he looked about the vast expanse of the arena, the light of midday in the world above pouring through the hole in the roof of the cavern to illuminate the middle of the sand floor. Fortunately no one was in sight as the three yearlings burst into the open.
Durik didn’t answer. He didn’t have a good answer and he knew it. All he had were shadows and threats, and a strange vision that had left disquiet in its wake, certainly nothing to bring up now. He pressed forward without even acknowledging his companions’ presence as Gorgon pressed Keryak to find out what was happening.
Arriving at the trainers’ stand, Durik immediately dug into the barrel of warped old sticks. He was surprised to see the steel pommels of several sharp swords down inside the barrel, hidden among the useless wood. Grabbing one of them, he pulled it out, sheath and all, and turned around to face his two companions.
“This is what we’re doing out here,” he said as he drew the polished steel blade. His two companions both reflexively took a step backward. “Someone is setting up an ambush for Lord Karthan,” he said as he patted the barrel, “and they’re hiding in plain sight.”
Gorgon was stunned by the revelation. He’d not heard anything of the insurrection.
Keryak, on the other hand, stooped into the barrel and pulled out heavy, barbed throwing darts the size of small spears among the swords. “We’ve got to do something with these, Durik,” he said, looking up from the deadly cache, a pair of the wicked looking projectiles in his hands.
Durik looked about, his gaze stopping at a barrel of practice weapons next to the circle used for the melee weapons trial. Smiling, he looked at his two companions. “I think I’ve got just the answer.”
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As the council made their way toward the arena, Lord Karthan and Khazak Mail Fist walked deliberately slower than the rest of the entourage. Admiring a rather solidly built chair at a craftsman’s stand until the rest of the council had passed out of sight, the two leaders turned and took an alternate path toward the arena, passing down a long passageway whose walls were covered with one of the soft, spongy fungi eaten by the common castes of the gen. The passageway had a sandy floor and no source of light other than their heat vision.
In a fungus-lined passageway like this sound was absorbed instead of amplified. Once they knew they were alone, the two leaders’ discussion was brief.
“Khazak, are the preparations ready?” Lord Karthan asked in a low voice.
Khazak Mail Fist nodded then spoke. “Sire, all is as you requested. The messenger that just arrived brought Lord Krall’s acceptance, still sealed with his seal. None but the few who are going know anything, and even they don’t know the actual truth, but rather a cover story instead.”
“Is it still necessary?” Lord Karthan asked, almost rhetorically. “After all, the old servant Krobo is in your jail, Mynar the Sorcerer and Trelkar of the Deep Guard have both fled, and Khee-lar Shadow Hand seems hamstrung without them.”
“Sire, with the attempts on your life last night, and with Trelkar on the loose still, I do not think it prudent to wait until morning,” Khazak replied. “The winds of Fate blow both ways, my lord. They could just as easily blow right back against you. If the next moon or two proves this conspiracy put down and if Trelkar and Mynar prove no further menace, then you can recall them with an assurance of safety.”
After struggling to decide for a moment, finally Lord Karthan acknowledged the truth of Khazak’s counsel and nodded. “They will be disappointed,” he sighed. “Then tonight, I guess, right after the Trials of Caste?”
“Yes, sire, all is ready to depart immediately. And… I will personally see to their safety.”
Lord Karthan’s brow rose. “Then you will go?”
“Sire, I have never left you in your times of troubles before, but if it is your will, I will do it. I just hope that if there is any further trouble, that all the fun doesn’t start until I have made my delivery and returned.”
“You’re a true warrior and friend,” Lord Karthan answered. “And, please, don’t worry about me. I’m sure there will be plenty of ‘fun’ left when you return. Besides, if we are right, and Trelkar left to meet up with some source of support from outside the gen, it may be that this move will reveal that source of support, and allow us to destroy or capture it, and thereby any chance of success for Trelkar and his fellow conspirators.”
“Sire, you can’t understate Khee-lar’s involvement,” Khazak said in a moment of unabashed honesty, his normal subservient manner giving way to the knowledge that he would be leaving his master soon. “I know he is your lifemate’s brother, may she rest with the ancestors, and I know we’ve no direct evidence other than his own fiery speech-making, but the servant never goes where the master does not command. Trelkar is Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s chief elite warrior. He can’t be organizing such a large conspiracy without his master’s help.”
Lord Karthan struggled with his feelings for a moment, his gaze wandering as he sighed deeply. Finally, he looked back at Khazak. “In my heart I know what you say is true; Khee-lar surely is central to this conspiracy. Before we chased Trelkar and Mynar from the gen he had become brazen, insubordinate…”
“And dangerous, sire,” Khazak finished. “Watch your back. He may come at you when you least expect it. He’ll not take your gesture of peace; he’s just waiting for his opportunity to strike.”
Looking Khazak in the eyes with a deep look of resignation, Lord Karthan replied: “When that happens, we will have no choice but to act, will we?”
Khazak bowed his head, knowing Lord Karthan’s feelings of hope for the brother of his dead lifemate. Breathing deeply, Lord Karthan turned and, laying a hand on Khazak’s brawny shoulder for emotional support, began to shuffle along the passage. The pair walked along the narrow passageway in silence for several moments, but the conspiracy was not the only matter that Khazak had to address with his lord. Finally, Khazak Mail Fist’s concern broke the silence. “Sire, if I may, one other thing,” he started.
Lord Karthan had little emotional strength left at the moment. “What concerns you, chamberlain?”
“Sire, the report that Raoros Fang’s outriders gave of a new great ant colony moving into our valley to the south of the caravan route… and the Krall Gen caravan herders’ knowledge of this threat…”
Lord Karthan held up a hand and cut Khazak Mail Fist off in mid sentence. Pausing for a second to steady his aching emotions, he spoke. “Khazak, I know what advice you would give me, but there is more to this quest for the Kale Stone than even you know, my most loyal and informed of supporters. While investigating this new threat may be a worthy quest, I will not change the yearlings’ designated quest. After all, I can’t imagine that this great ant threat could be so vast, not without us noticing it long before now.”
“But my lord, his outriders said they saw hundreds of these great ants streaming into the valley from the southern mountain passes,” Khazak persisted.
Lord Karthan stopped and held up his hand again. “Then Raoros Fang can very well send another patrol out there to better assess the situation. It would be a much better thing for him to focus on, wouldn’t you agree? After all, I think we all know how one enemy can turn into tens of enemies, and how a handful of enemies can turn into hundreds if one is scared enough. I don’t think chasing down some rogue ant hill is worthy of being deemed a quest.”
“Yes, my lord,” Khazak answered, knowing he was not going to sway his lord’s opinion. They both turned and resumed walking.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Lord Karthan felt the need to explain his reasoning for giving the yearlings what many had argued was a pointless quest. They had been through much together, and consistently Khazak had proved himself to be Lord Karthan’s most loyal supporter and most trusted advisor. “Khazak, my friend, I wish I could explain it to you adequately, but there is more at work here than I can explain. I feel a strange certainty that the Kale Stone will be found… and that great power will be brought to us because of it.” After a moment of silence and pondering, Lord Karthan continued his thoughts, “Power perhaps to bring peace to our gen for generations to come.” He stopped and faced his chamberlain, putting a hand on his arm. “I know it’s not the best of explanations, but I just can’t deny the pull of destiny.”
The big warrior pursed his lips and bowed his head, his tail swishing submissively behind him. “Aye, lord. Then so be it.”
Ki eyed her lifemate Kormach Manebrow as he broke the mushroom head into pieces and dipped it in the rat broth she had prepared for his second meal. Around the table, their three sons ate noisily and laughed and played with each other, the action of the trials stirring them up more than usual on this most exciting of days. Manebrow sat oblivious to them, staring intently at his broth. Behind him, hanging on the wall, were his everyday crossed shoulder belts and a broad leather waist belt. Attached to them were his pouches and a long knife, something that he only did when teaching the yearlings how to put their kits together. Additionally his axe, hanging on the wall, was shining with a new luster. It was obvious to Ki that her lifemate had spent a lot of time the night before getting his gear in the best shape she had seen it in years. This, the fact that he could not meet her gaze, and the lack of excitement he showed toward the trials that day gave her a deep feeling of foreboding.
“I…” she started. Then, not wanting to broach the subject, she quickly changed what she was going to say. “I went to the market today and picked up a shank of boar meat to celebrate the ending of another year.” She watched him intently.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to get that spit of yours fixed. I just kept putting it off…” his voice trailed off. “Wi
th what the council has rewarded me lately, I could have gotten us a small fowl instead.”
“It’s all right,” she said, trying to smile. “We’ve gotten by without it for some time and haven’t missed it a bit.” She paused then, breathing deeply and smiling as best she could, she plunged in. “Kormach, how is it that you’ve gotten your equipment ready like it is? I’ve not seen it so since… well, for a long time.”
Manebrow dropped the piece of mushroom he was holding. Pursing his lips, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Then with sadness in his eyes, he met her gaze, “I’m going away. I’ll be accompanying the yearlings on their quest.”
Ki’s jaw trembled and tears began to form in her eyes. The three boys stopped their ruckus and looked at their parents, suddenly sensing something was wrong. “But… you’re the gen’s trainer. They’re not supposed to pick you to go on these quests. It’s supposed to be the yearlings!” Her voice grew more desperate the more she talked.
“I know, Ki. It was not my choice. The council decided that this mission warrants…” he stopped. “Let’s just say that where these yearlings are going, they’re going to need all the help they can get.” The words stung her, and he knew it.
Ki looked helplessly at her lifemate, then to their three whelps. Her heart was in such chaos that she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. After a moment of pure shock, she looked at the faces of her three sons, each of them watching her every reaction, and she knew that she must be strong.
“Ki… sons… I must go now. I must be there before the third trial starts to ensure the weapons are placed correctly.” With that he stood up from the table and, walking past Ki, he stooped to whisper in her ear, “I love you, my dearest. I will be careful. We’ll talk more later.”
His words left little comfort in her heart as he parted the fabric of the tent door and padded through the sand toward the great cavern’s main exit into the rest of the cavern complex. As his footsteps receded into the distance, Ki fought against the sense of helplessness that was threatening to overtake her and turned to see the disturbed faces of her three young whelps.
