The Trials of Caste

by Joel Babbitt

  Chapter 18 – The Final Trial Begins

  The stands started to fill long before the second gong rang. From the high embankment that lifted the steeply sloped stands far above the floor of the arena, spectators pointed and speculated loudly as the two assistant trainers for the day pulled a cart full of wooden weapons and pots of water and red paint to seven points spaced evenly around where the scouting trial would be conducted, placing an identical assortment of weapons and one pot each of red paint and water at each of the points, then turning their attention to the various devices in the center of the seeming tangle of obstacles and netting.

  Slightly off to the left of center, closest to the spectator stands, was the sand ring where the melee weapons trial had been conducted. Servant caste kobolds had worked at the beginning of second meal to disassemble the weapons racks and haul them off into the sub-chambers of the arena, leaving the barrel of weapons untouched in case they were needed to break a tie.

  On the far left of the cavern from the sand ring was the ranged weapons competition area. The orc-sized bags of sand still dotted the length of it, slumped from the blows of the javelins and arrows.

  To the right of the two other trial areas, and stretching out to encompass the entire right half and much of the center of the arena, was the obstacle course and maze set aside for the scouting trial. It was this area that dominated the bulk of the cavern, and it was here that the greatest part of the drama would be played out. For several weeks Lord Karthan’s Honor Guard had spent most of their time taking the wooden partitions, netting, and obstacles out of storage chambers and setting them up in this portion of the arena. Their preparations had been completed only the night before the competition; the guards that had been in place since the first night only standing down when Lord Karthan and the council arrived on the morning of the competition.

  The extent of their preparations was very evident throughout the scouting trial portion of the arena. The majority of the pieces that made up the trial area consisted of short wooden partitions, each of which was less than two kobolds in height. These were arranged to form a series of wide passageways covered with sparse netting. Jutting out of the middle of the wooden maze at odd intervals were several miscellaneous structures surrounded by open area, each of which represented the great deeds of past warriors of the gen.

  Closest to the entrance to the arena was the Orc Guard Complex added a few years ago after the first successful counter raid against the orcs. Past that were the Ruined Bridge, modeled after a battle from the underdark invasion, and the Tomb of Kor, a modicum of traps and tricks that had long been a favorite among the spectators. In the very center of the scouting area rose the Tower of the Chalice where the cup that would make one of these kobolds the winner resided, flanked by two open spaces affectionately known among the warriors as Smoke and Brimstone. On the far side of the scouting area were the last three areas, their three open areas forming a triangle among the tangled maze of passages. These three were known as the Crucible and consisted of one single massive wooden construction made up of platforms, ropes, poles, bridges and such with three bases in three separate clearings, all arranged to span the entire far right wing of the trial.

  The structure where the greatest drama each year almost always played out was the Tower of the Chalice. Its three story tall, open frame stood exposed to the crowd’s view, and the large chest that held the victor’s cup, locked with eight separate locks, sat on the third story.

  Standing above it all, in crows’ nests with an eagle’s eye view, the two assistant trainers took their places. A member of Lord Karthan’s Honor Guard had been placed at each of the obstacles to act as a judge. They each looked smart in their highly polished belts, ceremonial crossed swords over their backs, red flags and white flags in hand.

  Sitting conspicuously on the balcony of the announcer’s booth were seven short clay jugs marked in red dye with the initial of each yearling’s name in plain view for all to see. In a large clay pot next to them sat enough red flags for three kills to be counted against each yearlings.

  “Where is Durik?” Manebrow asked, the surprise in his face clearly evident.

  “He had something to tell Khazak Mail Fist,” Keryak answered sheepishly.

  “He had… What? Khazak Mail Fist?”

  Gorgon looked about, the rest of the yearlings were already lined up down the ramp from them. They had deliberately caught Manebrow at the top of the ramp, intent on causing as little of a stir as possible. Gorgon had insisted on it, as he was skeptical about the whole insurrection thing. It was the first he’d heard about any uprising and he thought it more likely that Durik and Keryak were making it up.

  “We found a barrel full of real weapons out on the arena floor,” Gorgon said. “We don’t know why it’s there, but Durik thinks there’s an insurrection brewing, so he went to tell Khazak Mail Fist, since he’s Lord Karthan’s chamberlain.”

  A sudden chill came over Manebrow’s heart. Stepping back to the door, he looked out onto the arena floor. Durik had been waiting next to the stairs to the Lord’s Box, where he was even now talking with Khazak Mail Fist, pointing to the barrels at or near the trainers’ stand.

  “Gorgon, Keryak,” Manebrow said as he turned to the two yearlings, a worried look on his face. “Go get in line. I’ll be down shortly.”

  Gorgon hadn’t expected this reaction from the master trainer. He’d expected skepticism, maybe outright rejection of Durik’s actions, but not this.

  Grabbing Gorgon by the arm, Keryak pulled his surprised companion back down the ramp to the line of waiting yearlings.

  In precision, the small line of seven yearlings, led by Durik, jogged up the ramp and into the arena, stopping in unison and turning to face the master trainer. Upon finishing the customary inspection of the yearlings before the main event, Manebrow walked up the stairs to where Khazak Mail Fist, leader of the Honor Guard and Lord Karthan’s chamberlain, sat in the Lord’s Box atop the retaining wall. He received a rolled up parchment with Lord Karthan’s seal.

  Lord Karthan had summoned his personal bodyguard, a handful of warriors who for some reason were wearing large cloaks, to crowd into the Lord’s Box with him, Khazak, and his three whelps; Kiria, Karto, and Lat. The intent of the move was not lost on the three conspirators; Mynar the Sorcerer, Troll of the Wolf Riders, and Kort of the Patrol Guard. The timing of it seemed rather strange to Khee-lar Shadow Hand, however, as he was not involved in the conspiracy that day. Strangely enough, the only one worrying about this move of Lord Karthan’s was Raoros Fang, for he was not altogether behind the conspiracy, though he’d allowed his chief elite warrior Troll the warriors he needed to make the attempt.

  Standing there in the line, Durik suddenly noticed that Kiria was among those in the Lord’s Box. Suddenly, the emotions from their brief introduction, and the many thoughts he’d had of her in his spare moments came rushing back. Try as he might to fight them off, he was instantly distracted. Breathing deeply, he tried hard to regain his focus, his discipline. There would be other times to think about such things; not now!

  The announcer, who had shifted over to an adjacent box, took his cue from Lord Karthan and started. “Lord Karthan’s chamberlain has reviewed the obstacles and finds them satisfactory for the trial. Lord Karthan’s seal is given on the order that the results of these trials shall be final upon the completion of this trial. The master trainer will write upon this scroll the names of those who place and will return it to the chamberlain for inclusion in the records of the gen.” The announcer paused. Manebrow turned and began to walk back to the yearling group, parchment in hand. The announcer continued.

  “The winner of the scouting event is that kobold who takes the cup from the Tower of the Chalice. Each of the eight keys must be brought from the eight challenge areas to the Tower of the Chalice to obtain the cup. By mandate of the Lord of the Gen, keys may only be kept in four places: either at an obstacle, on a yearling’s person, dropped clearly in the s
and with the rest of a kobold’s equipment when ‘killed,’ or in the chest at the top of the Tower of the Chalice. In other words, a yearling may not hide a key from his fellow competitors.

  “As only one kobold may win the cup, this is also a test of combat prowess. Unlike the melee weapons trial, all weapons have fresh red paint on their deadly parts. As in the melee weapons trial, a hit to a limb means loss of use of that limb until the yearling is either killed or until the yearling returns to his starting point and washes the mark off.”

  The announcer looked at the crowd to ensure he was being heard, then continued, “Each of the kobolds may suffer three kills. Upon the first and second time of receiving a killing blow, the kobold must immediately drop all items and return to his starting point. If that kobold has a key, he must immediately drop it also.”

  Down in the line, the seven yearlings had all heard these rules a number of times, so Durik’s mind began to wander. He wondered if Kiria was looking at him. Moving his eyes ever so slightly, he suddenly met her gaze and knew that she was looking just at him.

  It was an electric moment, and Kiria quickly dropped her gaze, blushing with the realization she had been caught staring. Durik stood a little taller, however, as he breathed in deeply and riveted his eyes back to the front.

  The announcer cleared his voice and continued, “Judges will hold up a red flag when a kill is scored. Kobolds receiving a third kill will drop all equipment and proceed immediately to the trainer’s stand.

  “The second to last kobold to return to the trainer’s stand takes third place. The last one to return to the trainer’s stand takes second place. If the last kobold standing cannot obtain the cup within one candle’s burning of becoming the last kobold standing, then all kobolds shall have one flag removed from the clay jugs that record their kills, and shall return to the competition. In the case that there are two or more kobolds standing besides the one who pulls the cup from the chest and thereby ends the trial, a melee weapons trial shall decide second and third place. Such is the pattern of this trial.”

  As the announcer finished his explanation of the rules, Manebrow straightened and turned to face Lord Karthan, “My lord, the yearlings are prepared.”

  “Start the final trial, master judge.”

  With a command from Manebrow, the yearlings turned as one and ran in a line toward the first of seven starting points. At the first one, the one closest to Lord Karthan’s stand, Durik broke off and, taking spear in hand, he stood to face the obstacles of the scouting trial.

  Gorgon stopped at the next point on the perimeter of the ring. As he measured the weight of the padded wooden mallet he found there in his hands, he looked over at Durik. It was obvious to anyone watching him that Durik’s lead only motivated Gorgon even more.

  Once the remaining five yearlings positioned themselves around the ring, Manebrow lifted a white flag. The trainers in the crows’ nests scattered around the various obstacles held their white flags up in recognition. With a look to the announcer, Manebrow dropped his flag.

  Throughout the chamber, the announcer’s voice boomed, “Let the trial begin!”

  Keryak had picked a spear from his point around the perimeter of the arena. Being on the far side of the arena behind the obstacles, much of the crowd and all the rest of the yearlings couldn’t see him, except for Trallik far to his right and Arbelk far to his left. As the announcer gave the signal starting the competition, Keryak looked to his left. Arbelk had already selected a wooden sword and shield from his point, and was now heading at a dead run into one of the passages of the obstacle course. “That squatter, I know what he’ll do,” Keryak muttered under his breath, “Ten-to-one says he’s headed straight for the Tower of the Chalice to ambush people and scavenge their hard earned keys.” Keryak shook his head and turned to run toward the passages himself.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Keryak saw something flying toward him very quickly. Acting out of pure reflex, he brought his short fighting spear around in an attempt to knock it away.

  Trallik’s javelin landed with a solid ‘thump’ on Keryak’s left shoulder.

  From one of the crows’ nests, a trainer raised a red flag and yelled “Keryak!” Some in the crowd cheered. Durik was already in the passageway between the Tomb of Kor and Brimstone. He paused briefly, surprised that his friend had been the first kill, and in such a short time.

  Durik had gone a bit to the left, hoping to avoid Gorgon for the present, figuring that if someone else could score a kill on Gorgon first, he’d have a much better chance of taking the cup. Even though he’d seen Gorgon head straight toward the Crucible, Durik paused for several moments to make sure that Gorgon hadn’t doubled back in an attempt to come at him from behind. His mind was spinning, thinking about what the other yearlings would be trying to do and where they’d be heading. After a while, he decided that Gorgon hadn’t decided to follow him and he began to make his way toward the center of the obstacle mass that was the scouting trial. As he ran lightly through the cool sand of the passageway between the wooden partitions, he could see one of the trainers in the crows nests above him watching the Tomb of Kor obstacle area to his left intently.

  “Hmm…” he muttered to himself, “I got it! Watch the watchers!” Knowing that Trallik was on his left just a minute ago, and figuring that no one else could have made it there this quickly, Durik took a left turn at the first branch in the passageway. The wooden partition passageway weaved a bit, then coming into view Durik could see a large wooden palisade of rough cut wooden logs in the center of a small clearing. Knowing that Trallik was expert with the javelin, he approached the entrance to the clearing cautiously, not sure where Trallik could be hiding. He was sure that he could best Trallik in close combat, but it was getting in close with him that was the hard part.

  From the entrance to the clearing, he saw Trallik about twenty paces in front of him working on the front door of the palisade that was the outer wall of the tomb. He was carefully examining the bar on the front of the door. Above the door and Trallik’s head was a wooden platform filled with sand bags. It was an obvious trap, and Trallik was being cautious.

  Durik toyed with the idea of throwing his spear while Trallik was so focused on the task of finding the tripping mechanism on the door and disarming it. Then he thought better of the idea and decided to see whether or not Trallik could disarm the trap. After several moments Trallik stood back, leaving the pole he was using to try to force the mechanism lodged in the crack in the door, and scratched his head. Durik knew that if any of them could disarm a trap, it was surely Trallik. Then the thought came to him that perhaps, even though they were competitors, he didn’t have to fight Trallik at that moment. Perhaps they could work together to gain the key from this obstacle. After a moment more of watching Trallik think, Durik stepped out from the passageway.

  Trallik turned quickly, checking to make sure both wooden daggers were in his belt then quickly grabbing his javelin from where he’d left it leaning against the wall, hoisting it to shoulder height. “Don’t worry,” Durik said with his hands outstretched, “I’m not here to fight you. I see that you may need help.”

  Trallik looked at Durik quizzically. “You… what?” Trallik asked, puzzled.

  “Look, this is supposedly the most complex obstacle in the Trials, right?” Durik began. Trallik slowly nodded, keeping his javelin at the ready. “Well,” Durik continued, “why don’t we break it together?”

  “There’s only one key, Durik,” Trallik countered, cocking his arm back.

  “Wait!” Durik put up a hand. “You can have it!”

  Trallik paused, not sure whether to trust Durik or not. He cocked his head to the side and examined Durik through squinted eyes. If there was one fault that Trallik thought Durik had, it was that he was too trusting. He knew that Durik would be true to his word. If he played his cards right, Trallik was sure that he could get not only a key out of this obstacle, but perhaps more. After a moment of consideration, Tralli
k broke the silence, “Well, you only live one life,” Trallik said, flashing a sly, toothy grin.

  “Or in this case, three!” Durik replied. They both laughed. Durik looked at how Trallik had been prying on the rope fastening that held the trap in place above the door and, after feeling around the opening, found a small bar that he put into place above the pole. As it fell into place, the snap of two pieces of metal fastening together could be heard. “I believe this will hold the pole in place as we open the door, so that we don’t slip and accidentally trigger the trap.”

  “Either that or you just locked it,” Trallik remarked.

  “I guess we’ll see soon enough.”

  As one, the two young kobolds put all their weight onto the pole, looking cautiously above them, watching to ensure the trapdoor didn’t let loose the bags of sand. As they heaved, they felt the weight on the pole increase greatly as the rope came free of its mooring. As they struggled, Trallik kicked the doors open and, on a count of three, the two young kobolds released the pole and jumped inside, just clearing the entranceway as the bags of sand dropped heavily behind them, releasing clouds of sand and dust.

  Coughing and wiping their eyes, the two could see a large inner chamber beyond the entrance. The floor was covered with tar except for the small platform at the entrance where they both had landed. Signs posted in the tar declared the floor to be a “bottomless pit.” Throughout the chamber were wide stumps of various heights, which generally seemed to lead upwards to the other end of the chamber. Above it all in the wall at the other end of the chamber, through the dust clouds the bags of sand had released, they could see the door to the next part of the obstacle.