by Joel Babbitt
“Well, even though we must go north, I would think it safer to take Demon’s Bridge over the Chop rather than follow an orc infiltration route,” Trallik said.
Arren looked down at him curiously. “What is that? The Chop and Demon’s Bridge? Do you mean this flat faced mountain here with the stone bridge on top?”
Trallik nodded his head. “The Hall of the Mountain King is on the other side of it. We will have to climb it to get there.”
Arren’s already almond-shaped eyes narrowed even more. “The bridge is held by a hobgoblin, some outcast from the eastern lands I would imagine, and some kobold mercenaries he’s hired to help him levy a tax on those who would cross the bridge. I have already been, though it was some days ago now. They have crossbows and received me none too kindly. Though I am skilled enough to have a good chance of forcing my way past them, I would prefer to not fight against such odds. I also do not see stealth being of any aid, either. The mercenaries’ heat vision prevents me from passing by stealthily in the night, and their superior vantage point keeps me from approaching undetected in the day.”
Trallik looked up at the fair skinned elf. “It lies to the north, and I know of no other way to get there, other than perhaps these caves you mentioned.”
Arren looked disappointed. “I had hoped to avoid the caves, but I feared that I might have to pass that way.” He turned and looked up at the top of the Chop, then back down to the path cut by orc boots through the forest floor. “It would appear we have no other option.”
Trallik began thinking about his lost bow. Manebrow had not let him take it or his quiver with him when he had exiled Trallik, and he was feeling the lack of it sorely. Casting his eyes about for a stout stick to augment his pair of long knives, he noticed the fist sized rocks that Arren had placed as a border to the small cooking fire. After thinking for a moment, Trallik took an empty sack out of his backpack. Walking over to the now scattered rocks, he began collecting a few of them and putting them in his bag. He noticed Arren watching him curiously. “I lost my bow and quiver,” he explained. After a few moments, he ran the top of the bag through a belt and tied it off.
“Are we ready then?” Arren asked as he stood.
“Sure, why not?” Trallik answered.
“Well then, let’s be off.” With that, Arren turned and began to make his way toward the orc trail and from there to the caves that hopefully led through the northern mountains.
Chapter 5 – The Feast
Durik was greeted by pleasant smells, soft string music, upheld mugs, and the cheers of his warriors as he entered the great chamber through the inner door. In the center of the hall the large stone cooking pit was in partial use. A pig, run through by an iron spit, was slowly turning over a hot bed of coals. The little smoke that rose from the fire itself wisped upward into the stone-lined wooden chimney, rising with the hot air out into the cool of the evening. Off in one corner sat a pair of females about his age softly strumming on lap-harps and humming a tune he did not recognize.
The great hall itself was dominated by the large cooking pit in the center of it. Though it had enough room to simultaneously cook several pigs on separate spits, only one pig was roasting in the pit tonight. The party was small compared to what the great hall could hold. One row of tables ringed the great pit on either side, with the remaining tables and benches stacked or pushed off to either side. On one side of the pit sat the members of Durik’s Company. On the other side of the pit sat council members as well as other members of distinction in the Krall Gen.
Following Durik, Khazak Mail Fist did not hesitate to make for a likely seat among the council members of the Krall Gen. That table had been served the first helpings of pig as well as the first helpings of vegetables and sweet bark cider.
As Durik look briefly around the room, he saw Manebrow, Gorgon, Kiria, and Ardan seated at the end of the table closest to Lord Krall, with a seat reserved at the table’s end. Walking around the pit, Durik took the reserved seat and, hanging his sword by the baldric from the chair’s high back, sat down to join his company as they waited for their turn to be served.
“Sire, all are present,” Manebrow said, the wizened eyes of the much older warrior who had recently been their trainer and who now was second in command to Durik seemed more relaxed than normal.
“Thanks, Manebrow,” Durik said, then as if he had just remembered something, he continued. “Oh, by the way, you might want to know that there’s a dragon in this Hall of the Mountain King, two of them in fact.”
“And what does that have to do with us, sire?” Manebrow asked, caution creeping into his voice. “Isn’t the Kale Stone to be found under the Chop?”
Durik grimaced. “Khazak Mail Fist seems determined to send us to Palacid in search of it, quoting some old prophecy. That same prophecy says we have to go to the Hall of the Mountain King.”
Manebrow’s signature eyebrows, a trait only he and his sons shared, went up in alarm. “What?!” The other warriors looked his way.
“Calm now, Manebrow,” Durik said. “We’ll speak more about it later, but the plan is that we’re to sneak in while the two of them are away visiting the smaller male dragon’s home.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” Manebrow said sarcastically, the revelation breaking even his even temperament, “we’re going to sneak around with a pair of dragons on the loose.”
Durik shushed Manebrow again, “Calm now, Manebrow. I do not believe our quest will lead us to the Hall of the Mountain King. We’ll talk more later. For now, let’s not get anyone upset.”
While Durik and Manebrow were discussing the dragons Keryak had gotten up from his seat and, toting a boar-skin bag with something about the size of a shank of boar meat in it, he approached Durik. He placed the bag next to Durik’s seat and whispered in his ear for a moment.
“Aha! Thanks much, Keryak,” Durik said.
Keryak nodded and returned to his seat. Leaning over, Manebrow asked quietly, “Is that what I think it is?”
Durik nodded and smiled. “We’ll save it for the right moment.”
After the arrival of Lord Krall and his two sons was announced throughout the hall and all present stood in his honor, the guests were asked to take seats and things continued much as they had up to that point. Of course, the servants immediately attended to their lord and his sons, as was to be expected.
For some time, the conversation in the Hall of Lord Krall was light. Everyone in Durik’s Company had been through much and seemed to enjoy the quiet in this atmosphere of safety and trust more than the opportunity to talk about the events of the past couple of days. The additional factor of a hard day’s work also served to dampen the conversation. When they did speak, however, the pride that they felt at having come through so much and having accomplished much for Lord Karthan and the gen showed through. Several of them had been yearlings just three days prior, and it showed. As they talked, it was obvious who were the newest to the ranks of the Kale Gen’s warriors; they were recounting their exploits to each other in tones loud enough for all around them to hear.
Durik’s childhood friend Keryak and their company’s broadswordsman Troka were clearly in that group, with the unlikely hero Jerrig Queen Slayer and the humble climber Arbelk at first participating, then withdrawing as Keryak and Troka got more and more out of touch with reality. As the night wore on the ants they had fought grew taller, with longer spikes on their arms, and more numerous if that were possible. The twins, Tohr and Kahn, and the other veteran warrior Terrim all sat and watched, bemused by it all. As Keryak and Troka continued to talk, the orcs they’d encountered grew much more wicked and devious in their stories, almost to the same degree as their own heroism had grown. Through it all, Manebrow was careful to not squelch their fun and revelry; it was well deserved, though he was less careful at keeping himself from laughing under his breath. Among the cadre of Durik’s Company, there was less of the mirth of new warriors, though they too took the opportunity to talk and re
flect on the events of the past couple of days.
Soon the first of the servants arrived carrying a platter stacked high with sliced shank of pig. Behind him came a supple and well built female dressed in tight robes of flaxen cloth and carrying a platter of vegetables. It was all that many of the young warriors could do to keep from staring at her as she lithely placed the platter on the table then walked casually back to her place near the pit. Between the food and the view, the conversation abruptly ended.
Turning his attention back to his companions, Durik blushed when he noticed Kiria’s annoyed look. He cursed himself for letting down his guard and resolved to not let it happen again. He was now a leader caste, and he felt the weight of higher expectations.
For Kiria, it was simple jealousy; the chemistry between her and Durik was noticeable, though Durik tried hard not to notice.
It was not until some time afterward that the dull rumble of low conversations was broken by the loud thumping of Lord Krall’s staff on the stone of the dais. As the hall quieted down, Lord Krall’s clear, loud voice rang out above the feast. “Esteemed members of the Kale Gen, the council and I welcome you to our halls.”
The assembled council members beat the handles of their knives against the table in approval of Lord Krall’s statement. Durik’s Company, all thirteen remaining members, followed suit, creating quite a noise that reverberated from the vaulted ceiling of the great hall.
After a moment, Lord Krall held up his hand to silence the crowd. “Your news of the clear menace that the great ant colony presents, as well as your news of dissenters in our gens allying with a remnant of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe, brings great distress to us.” The assembled council members voiced their approval of Lord Krall’s words. Stopping to assess the impact of his words on both the company and the council, Lord Krall continued. “After further council with our visitors from the Kale Gen, I have decided to send my son Morigar north with Durik’s Company to investigate the remnant of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe and bring us knowledge of this threat that at this time lies in the shadows. With him shall go a handful of warriors.”
The announcement was received without much discussion on the part of the council members. Lord Krall’s next announcement, however, created more of a stir.
“Members of the council,” he continued, “the threat to our gen from the great ant colony, however, is clear and imminent. Even now many additional Border Guards are posted to rebut any attack they may make this night or in the coming days. Because this threat is imminent and challenges our very right to exist, I have asked my son Krall to lead a combined force of warriors from each contingent to eradicate this threat.”
Lord Krall found acceptance among the council members and moved to solidify their support. Calling the three warrior contingent leaders by name, he spoke in a somber tone, “In order to ensure that the mission is successful and that as few of our warriors as possible are lost in this action, my son will need all three of the stalwart leaders of our various forces to personally lead their contingents. Will you accept this task?”
The three warrior contingent leaders, leaders of the Border Guard, Archer Guard, and Heavy Guard, leapt to their feet and heartily voiced their acceptance almost in unison; their voices almost drowned out by the thunderous pounding of knife handles on the tables.
While Durik was new to the ways of the leader caste, it was obvious to him that, however Lord Krall had done it, he enjoyed a much higher level of support from his council than Lord Karthan did from the Kale Gen’s council. He also noticed how little of an issue Morigar’s quest was. Looking at the two brothers’ faces as they sat in their respective chairs, it was obvious to Durik that Morigar had noticed as well. While Krall basked in the glory of his appointment, with the full support of the council and his father, Morigar sat stone faced and stoic.
Watching the two brothers’ reactions and the expressions they wore on their faces, Durik began to understand that Morigar must have lived much of his life in the shadow of his older brother. While Morigar seemed capable in his own right, a side look of contempt from Lord Krall toward his youngest son made it obvious that their father’s trust was enough for one son, but not both.
Snapping his attention back to the here and now, Durik listened as Krall talked briefly of his plan for finding and destroying the great ant colony.
Krall made it clear that, after they found and forced their way into the queen’s lair and killed the queen, he thought the rest of the ants would scatter and they’d be able to scour the forest for them, killing the scattered remnants as they found them. Heads nodded and agreement was frequently voiced as he confidently briefed his plan to the council.
Durik was stunned, having assumed that what Lord Krall had known he would have passed on to his son. Had Lord Krall not listened to him at all? Hearing this blatantly wrong perception of how the ants were organized, Durik couldn’t sit still.
Standing, Durik caught the young Krall’s attention. “Yes, Durik of the Kale Gen? Do you have something to add to this?”
“I do,” he said as he lifted and opened the bag that had been sitting next to his chair. “While I agree with much of your plan, I think your guess on how they’ll act once the queen is dead is a bit off.”
“And how do you believe they’ll act then,” Krall said, barely keeping his skepticism in check.
“Well,” Durik started as he pulled the queen’s singed head out of the bag, eliciting gasps from all but the hardened warriors in the room, “as soon as Jerrig Queen Slayer here killed her, the entire rest of the colony came after us with an almost insane vengeance. They were so intent on catching and killing us, in fact, that the only thing that stopped their progress was the Great River, swollen with the early spring runoff. And then the first fifty or so of their hunters died trying to cross it in their fury.”
To his credit, Krall dropped his incredulousness. He was as taken aback by the dramatic display as was everyone else. After a moment, he spoke in more earnest tones. “Well, I see. Tell me, in light of this new revelation what do you think the ant colony will be doing now and how do you think we should take it on?”
Durik took a moment to calm himself and to think before speaking. “I am not sure how the queen ant became the queen ant, but I’d imagine that nature has a way of making new queen ants. Whatever process it is that they go through, that process must be starting now. I think that the fury of the hunter ants and the fact that we only saw one of their ant commanders on our tail seems to suggest that the rest of the ant commanders are about the process of making another queen. It’ll probably be one of them, I’d imagine.
“From what we’ve seen, all the smaller ants only act in unison when they’ve got an ant commander there to coordinate them. I don’t know how they communicate, but it’s like as if the commander is speaking to their minds. Once that commander is killed, the smaller ants mill about like they don’t know what to do.
“The hunter ants, on the other hand, are independently intelligent. They go scouting about and will fight on their own. Oh, and the queen’s warrior guards, whatever may be left of them, will also act mostly independently. So, really, the only ants you have to worry about are the hunters, perhaps a small number of queen’s guards, and the ant commanders.
“Since their ant commanders are probably tied up with the process of making a new queen, now might be the time to go to the colony and take out their hunters. Once their hunters are taken out, the colony is essentially blind. Then find high, defensible places that overlook the colony, like their hilltops, and wait for the rest to come. Once the ant commanders are in sight kill them immediately with volleys of arrows. Then once there’s no more commanders left, clean up the rest of the confused and disorganized workers.”
Krall slowly nodded his agreement. “Durik of the Kale Gen, your vision in this matter is rather clear. I will take your advice into consideration.” He then turned his attention back to the council. “What forces will you commit, my brothers in arms? Wh
at will you commit to secure our future?”
After a short time Krall got the warrior contingent leaders to commit themselves and fifty warriors each to his war party. The atmosphere in the hall was one of courage and confidence that they would easily defeat the ant threat. After deciding on a time for the warrior leaders and himself to meet the next day to continue the planning, Krall stood in thought for a moment. Finally, content with the results of his speech and the reaction to it, Krall turned the floor over to his brother.
Acting with all the confidence he could muster, Morigar stood before the council and talked about their old enemies, the Bloodhand Orc Tribe, and how it was important that they not be given the opportunity to encroach into their lands yet again. He mentioned how the Kale Gen had graciously volunteered to provide much of the combat troops, but that the Krall gen must not turn a blind eye to this threat. “As such,” Morigar concluded, “I will lead a group on this dangerous task and I ask to take a contingent from the ranks of this gen with me.”
The council was much less enthusiastic when Morigar spoke. Perhaps it was the fact that he was not immediately in line for the throne, or perhaps it was their history together. Durik wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, when Morigar also asked for a healer to be sent with his group he was met with cautious, but open, rejection from each council member who had one. Turning to his father for support, Morigar received only a blank stare. It was obvious to him that he had no support there. As such, Morigar began to bargain, not ask. As the council members sensed Lord Krall’s lack of support they were like wolves attacking a wounded buck until, finally, Lord Krall interceded.
“Morigar…” he started then waited for the voices to die down. “Morigar shall take the two veteran scouts, Gormanor and Lemmekor of the Border Guard, and Krebbekar from my house guard shall be his second. Three shall be sufficient to accompany you on this mission.” Krebbekar, the leader of his house guard, hearing his name called, choked on the contents of his mug and spat liquid all over those around him. With a very surprised look he began to pay more attention to what Lord Krall was saying.
