by Joel Babbitt
The Game of Fates
A novel by Joel Babbitt
The Conclusion of the Immersive New Trilogy
Paladin of a Hidden God
Visceral Combat, Moral Odyssey, Powerful Archons,
Dragons, Massive Armies… and Kobolds.
The Game of Fates is a
Double-Length Novel
in Three Sections:
Hand of the Fates
Traitors Must Die
Against the Tide of Evil
Enjoy!
- JDB
THANKS!
Thanks first of all to my wife and children for sparing me the time over the past 12 years to write this series. Thanks to all the many friends that have shared this journey, reading manuscripts, playing the campaigns, and helping with editing. Most of all, thanks to you, the reader, for a book without readers is like an empty house; all echoing walls and no laughter. Enjoy, and may you find a portion of yourself inside these pages.
Copyright © 2014 by the author
ISBN: 978-1-940880-11-2 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-940880-12-9 (paperback)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
Art credits:
Cover Photo by Ted Hendy, Cover Art by Randall Mackey and Kip Ayers
Interior Art by Anna Catherine Babbitt, Darya Tarawneh,
Kip Ayers, and Randall Mackey
Cartography by Casey Stewart
Contact info for all available at www.authorjoel.com
Available from Amazon.com and other retail outlets in print. Available electronically on Kindle and other devices.
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Books by Joel Babbitt
Paladin of a Hidden God Trilogy:
The Trials of Caste
Into the Heart of Evil
The Game of Fates
Life Sticks of Razz Serial:
Clan Lord
Hunt Master
More Novels:
Trouble on Camallay (coming 2015)
Ella Sister-Daughter (coming 2015)
Get a FREE Short Story at AuthorJoel.com:
http://www.authorjoel.com/free-short-story-.html
Kobolds of the Southern Gens…
Lord Krall, Lord of the Krall Gen. A rather gruff older kobold who watches carefully after his gen. His no-nonsense style of leadership is harsh and unforgiving, especially for his sons.
Lady Karaba, Lady of the Krall Gen. She is Lord Karthan’s older sister, but in a deal to cement the relationship between the two gens, she was given to Lord Krall. The Krall Stone has chosen her to be its oracle, which fits well with her unofficial role of gen lore master.
Krall and Morigar, Sons of Lord Krall. Krall is a trusted warrior leader and Lord Krall’s heir. Morigar, on the other hand, is neither of those and everyone knows it but him.
Lord Karthan, Lord of the Kale Gen. A visionary leader who would do anything for his people… if he can but hold on to power.
Khee-lar Shadow Hand, Kale Gen leader caste. A warrior leader whose desires for power have led him to organize a secret society bent on overthrowing the Kale Gen. As a descendant of a nephew of the last Lord Kale, he claims right of rulership over the gen.
Khazak Mail Fist, Lord Karthan’s Chamberlain and Honor Guard Warrior Group Leader. He is the strongest kobold in the gen, and arguably the best warrior the gen has ever known. He is loyal to a fault and would do anything for Lord Karthan, his master.
Durik, leader of Durik’s Company and Oracle Apparent of the Kale Gen. Exalted to the leader caste in the Kale Gen. Chosen servant of an unseen deity. He seeks to reunite his gen, even as the greatest armies ever to trample the southern valley seek to tear his gen apart.
Kormach Manebrow, Durik’s Second. Devoted husband and father, veteran warrior, reluctant adventurer. He doesn’t play much in the world of politics or magic, preferring to focus his efforts on ensuring his warriors are ready for any challenge they must face.
Kiria, Lord Karthan’s daughter. Wanting to forge her own destiny in the gen, Lord Karthan’s daughter has studied the deep secrets of the ancient magics. Though she is no warrior, she will walk the dangerous path laid before her.
Gorgon Hammer, Ardan, Arbelk, Keryak, Troka, Terrim, Tohr, and Kahn, warriors of Durik’s Company. Gorgon and Ardan lead the rest of the warriors in Durik’s Company, with Terrim detailed to take care of Kiria and Durik’s servant Kabbak, as well as the packdogs.
Trallik, outcast from the Kale Gen. One of Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s lackeys, Trallik was caught in the act and couldn’t follow through with an assassination. He lacks character, and now he lacks friends and a home as well. His quest for redemption will leave few lives unaffected.
Jerrig Queen Slayer, Warrior in Durik’s Company. Jerrig is the unlikely hero whose strange connection to magic manifesting at just the right moment helped him slay the ant queen. That single act has sparked a total war in the southern valley.
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Prologue
On the ever changing sea of glass and fire that was His home, the Man sat contemplating the events of the last rotation. Here, in His home where all the elements obeyed Him perfectly and yearned only to do His will, time was such a malleable thing. There, however, in the world where He had spent His mortal probation, a thousand years were nearing their close. Had He prepared those whom He had left behind adequately for the challenges that would soon shatter the uneasy balance of their world? Had He armed them with knowledge and tools enough to handle the extreme challenges of the twilight years of this millennium? He desired to determine how far the free-will of the Creator’s children had altered the course He had set them on, and to see if there was a need for adjustment.
In front of Him the floor rose up in arcs of splendid fluidity to form a frame for Him to hold their destinies. Suddenly, with the utter clarity that accompanies pure knowledge, forms and shapes, and more especially paths and characters were laid out before Him with all of their subtle shifts, their inherent instabilities, and their ever-so-final failings. Perceiving the intentions of those whom He called His servants, He found them to be true, yet blinded by their own circumstances and their inherent mortal weaknesses. Perceiving the will of His children, He found it to be turned too much inward; focusing almost solely on the mundane, having almost completely forgotten their higher purposes.
As the Man gazed upon the face of Dharma Kor, He perceived the stirrings of evil, the corruption of the races, and the spoiling of noble virtues. Yet, among all that was not in accordance with the will of the Creator, still there was pure love without designs, still there was selflessness mixed with determination, and even among the dark, loathsome races still there were some who had a desire to receive light and truth, though few and scattered they remained.
He knew, if the good was to withstand the evil which surely would be unleashed upon Dharma Kor, that the time was now right to send His final servants; the chosen ones. First among them would be the prophets. Then would come those who would lay the foundations for a restoration. Finally, and right before the time of decision, He would send His final servants, those whose call it would be to bring about His will during such dark times.
According to the perfect pattern
set by the Creator, power would begin to flow, not only to His servants, but to all around them. Already there was much power given to the world of Dharma Kor through the ancestors and the Covenant He had made with that great sphere in the days of His mortality.
But the power of the ancestors was fickle, for not all of the ancestors were true; indeed, many of them had fallen away from Him and the Creator. Still, even these would unwittingly serve His purposes. As for the power He gave through the Covenant in the days of His mortality when He had been called The Sorcerer, in like manner He had taken it back from all the races save His children. But even they had mostly laid it aside and forgotten the powers given them.
Though these things weighed heavily on His heart, he lifted up His head and rejoiced, for soon He would see the restoration of His children, before the races were gathered. Soon He would see a returning of His children’s will to His purposes, in preparation for the dark times that were about to break upon the face of Dharma Kor. Soon, a child would be born, and through him He would gather His children.
Turning toward the ball of white crystal that was His communing stone, the Man placed His hand gently upon it. He felt the approbation of Him whom He served, accompanied by the subtly sweet love of she whom He had left behind to watch over their children. His will was one with that of the Creator—and with the birth of a child thought became deed, and spirit became flesh.
Section I – Hand of the Fates
Chapter 1 – Trallik’s Choice
Trallik had considered himself to be superior, better than the other kobolds in his year-group; kobolds like Durik, the new leader caste who just days ago had been his peer, and Gorgon, the new elite warrior who had been another of his peers. He had seen the invitation from Khee-lar Shadow Hand to join in the overthrow of the Kale Gen as a recognition of his obviously superior abilities. He had felt that it was only natural that he should be chosen out of the many others, eventually to become a leader over them; of that he had been certain. But now as Trallik stumbled through the great trees of the neighboring Krall Gen with his tail hanging listlessly behind him, exiled for siding with an evil group of usurpers, he felt weak, inferior and alone.
His mind reflected back on the events of the past couple of days and how he’d come to be exiled from the only home he’d ever known; the caves of his gen, the Kale Gen. After building what he had thought was a life of subtle strength and domination, he had found that his actions instead had left him hollow and caused him to lose everything that he’d longed for. As he walked along in the dark beneath the canopy of the great trees Trallik stopped and, bending over a large root, the young kobold wretched until he sat back, sobbing bitter tears that moistened the rust red scales of his trembling snout as the realization of how he’d ended up here flooded through his consciousness.
Trallik had ruthlessly manipulated circumstances during the entire year of training prior to their final test, the Trials of Caste. To ensure that nothing accidentally happened to take him out of the running, he had carefully eliminated as many of his fellow yearlings from the year of training as possible. An accidental fall resulting in a broken ankle that hadn’t been accidental at all, but which had put that particular competitor out of the competition until the next year, had been his first treacherous act. Unsophisticated, straight forward, not exactly his style, but it had been effective nonetheless.
His second target was a bit more work, but he’d fallen in the end; nothing like sabotaging someone else’s equipment and planting evidence on another yearling to get that yearling out of the running. Manebrow, the veteran elite warrior who helped lead their expedition and who had served as their trainer for the past year, had never tolerated violations of the honor code.
Inspections had been a good opportunity to deal with one particularly troublesome type. He still remembered the look on Manebrow’s face when, for the fifth week in a row, he found one too many gigs in Trallik’s partner’s kit. What had made Trallik even more proud at the time, and what caused him deeper anguish now, was that his partner had never even suspected he was being set up.
Now as Trallik sat sobbing against the trunk of that mighty tree, his conscience, too long suppressed and dormant, was pierced with the pain of a tormented soul. The suppressed teachings and examples of his parents and those who had loved him and nurtured him in his younger years had been waiting for a significant emotional event like this to come thundering back.
And come back they did.
For quite some time Trallik struggled with his emotions. His conscience, what little was left of it, was pricked, yet… he also felt the temptation to simply justify his actions and think of himself as being right.
With a sigh Trallik shook his head. Somewhere deep within his heart he knew he could not give in to that temptation. No, if he’d learned anything from being exiled, it was that he would have to tread the more bitter path of accepting that what he had done was wrong.
In his heart a seed of responsibility began to take shape. As the feeling that he should take responsibility for the consequences of his actions began to grow within him, he did not squelch it with denial; he let it grow instead. Though he did not know it then, this decision was the most critical step he would make in his life; to live a life of taking responsibility instead of a life of blaming others for his shortcomings.
The second major realization that came to Trallik as he wallowed in misery, was that he may not be the most, indeed the only, important kobold in existence. Since his mother’s death, his thinking about those who had repeatedly tried to teach him that he should not lie, cheat, steal, or hurt others, and in general that he should treat others as he wanted to be treated, was that they were simple, stupid kobolds, not forward looking, aggressive, nor smart. Since not long after his mother had died, his ambition had changed him to look on others as somehow less than himself, as stepping stones to get where he wanted to go, or as hindrances to his plans. That view of the world, however, had been challenged by his loss in the Trials of Caste. Then, a few hours ago, it had been utterly shattered when he had been caught trying to escape by Manebrow… who had shown him mercy.
Trallik had convinced himself, as he lay semi-conscious horns over tail, strapped across the back of a wolf during their journey here, that Manebrow would have talked Durik into having Trallik executed for his treachery. He had been certain that they would quickly try him, then mercilessly execute him. He had seen in his mind’s eye the look he thought they would have on their faces; arrogant, dispassionate, uncaring.
Instead of being tried and executed by an emotionless leader, however, Trallik had been confronted by a leader of character, something he felt particularly short of at the moment. He had seen the look on Manebrow’s face. Though his words were firm, it was obvious that he was disappointed at Trallik’s treachery, that perhaps Trallik had let him down.
What surprised him most was that Manebrow, certainly with Durik’s consent, had spared his life. He had been so certain that they would not have… been merciful. In fact, the thought had never even occurred to him that they might let him live.
As the mists of night settled over Lord Krall’s forest, and the realization that he’d been given a second chance at life began to settle in, in his heart he began to feel that he should try to repair the damage he had done. As time passed and the first inklings of character began to grow within him, this feeling grew to a passionate resolve. Though he did not know how, Trallik vowed to make right what he had made wrong.
With a hope of redemption in his heart, Trallik stood and shook with the chill of the night. Pulling his tattered wolfskin outfit from his backpack, Trallik hurriedly wrapped it around his shoulders and began his journey.
The details of that long night in Lord Krall’s forest would fade with time, but the impact of the events that had put him there would stay with Trallik for the rest of his life. It was something of a watershed experience for Trallik, and in fact one could say that he grew more that night than he had grown ove
r the last few years of his life.
Perhaps it was because of the severe emotions, or more likely because of the severe fatigue, that Trallik was not as careful as he might otherwise have been. He had made it to the edge of Lord Krall’s forest before deciding to rest for what was left of the night, however he did not keep an adequate watch as he made his way out of the valley.
Trallik, in near exhaustion, had left the protective shelter of the massive redwood trees, each as thick as a house and hundreds of steps tall, that shadowed out any lesser trees from Lord Krall’s forest. He slipped on the wolfskin outfit from his pack to ward off the chill of an early spring night and made his way up the gentle slope toward the rolling hills that marked the edge of the wild lands. Having found a small thicket of broomweed not a stone’s throw from the edge of the top of the rise, he threw himself to the ground and immediately slept.
That night, however, was the night that another usurper called Mynar the Sorcerer and his band of conspirators made their attempt on Lord Krall’s life. Because of that, and even more so because of the news Durik, the leader of the expedition, had brought of the impending great ant invasion, the Border Guard was at a much higher state of alert than normal, so the glimpses of a warm body lying among the broomweed near the perimeter drew quite a bit of attention from the normally uncurious warriors of the Border Guard.
Pretty soon a team had been dispatched to investigate, while the rest of the group watched anxiously from their walkways and platforms in the lower branches of the trees. Some speculated that it ‘must be one of those ant scouts’ while others speculated that ‘maybe it’s a conspirator that escaped.’ A few of them, the older ones, were a bit less speculative, thinking it was probably a deer or something not so exciting. The one with the best eyes among them thought it had the look of a wolf, but that its skin just didn’t fit quite right.
