by Joel Babbitt
According to the wounded Heavy Guard leader, the flood of worker ants had come at them with absolute fury and determination. They were so eager to get at the kobold warriors that they had crawled over each other in a mad dash. Krall had expected this and was not surprised by it. However, unlike in Durik’s case, the kobold warriors saw no ant commanders, and so they had no choice but to deal with the entire mass of worker ants.
The initial volleys of javelins had done little to slow them, as did volley after volley of arrows, and within moments the flood of ants had smashed into the kobold perimeter. To his credit, Krall had seen that his perimeter was not going to hold when absolute fear began to ripple through the ranks as warrior after warrior went down screaming in agony, their flesh being literally ripped from their bones by the furious great ants. Calling to his leaders, Krall had pushed the Border Guard contingent out of the perimeter and toward the nearest hill top. He then had done his best to withdraw his perimeter without collapsing it. To the Heavy Guard’s credit, the perimeter had held until it approached the bottom of the hill that the Border Guard held, allowing the Border Guard to begin to support the perimeter with accurate arrow volleys at close range.
The momentum of the onrushing ants had then been somewhat slowed and Krall had seen that the majority of his Heavy Guard warriors and several of his Archer Guard warriors had fallen in the withdrawal. To the kobolds’ gruesome fortune, hundreds of the worker ants had been delayed as they ripped apart the bodies of the fallen kobold warriors. The leaders of the army, wrenching their eyes from the gruesome activity of the workers in the valley in front of them, had seen a small cluster of large ants, with upright torsos, standing almost over the far lip of the ridge of hills that formed the perimeter of the valley.
Having discovered the ant commanders’ stratagem of hiding just over the hill, the Archer Guard contingent leader turned volley after volley against the group of ant commanders. In short order the sea of giant ant workers had begun to fall into disarray as many of them wandered about without direction. As the ant commanders had fallen or fled their position on the ridge, it became obvious that no one was directing the worker ants.
Krall had then immediately unleashed the Border Guard on the confused ants, while the archers had kept watch from their vantage point to ensure the ant commanders did not reappear. Within a short space of time, the entire field had fallen into the hands of the kobolds. Victory belonged to the kobolds, but at a great price.
The carcasses of well over a thousand of the ant workers, as well as a score or so of hunter ants had littered the field. Interspersed among them were several kobold dead. The Heavy Guard contingent, who bore the brunt of the assault, had been cut in half. The Archer Guard and Border Guard contingents had suffered almost a score of casualties each. Even among Krall’s ten personal guards there were a handful of casualties. Overall, Krall’s force had been diminished to less than two-thirds its original size, most of the more seriously wounded having been torn to shreds where they lay as the perimeter withdrew.
With the withdrawal from the field of the more seriously wounded, accompanied by a handful of lesser wounded warriors, Krall’s force was now down to almost exactly half-strength.
Shaking his head, the Heavy Guard leader related how he had left the field only after committing to come back with more troops.
When Lord Krall asked him what his son’s current troop dispositions were, the Heavy Guard leader shook his head. “Lord, your son decided to make for the bridge. After all, we know the great ants can’t swim, and the bridge provides a natural choke point. There is a small group of hills just on the far side of the bridge, and he decided to build fortifications on those hills. He’s trying to ring the place with wooden walls that the ants won’t be able to climb before the next onslaught comes. Sire, I’m afraid he’ll be cut off in that little fortress and destroyed.”
Lord Krall held his head in shock, disbelief, and eventually frustration. “So many good warriors dead!” he groaned. “And now Krall is trying to force my hand. I told him I didn’t want to commit any more troops to this. Now I have to!”
As the caravan of wounded passed them by, Lord Krall stood with the Heavy Guard leader and the assembled leaders and minions who had listened to his report. In Lord Krall’s eyes could be seen an intense struggle. It was obvious to all around that the fate of their gen was being heavily debated within him. The battle that raged in the chambers of Lord Krall’s soul was the same one faced by most monarchs at least once in their lifetime, and its results were quick to surface. As he stared into the distance, Lord Krall’s old, tired face began to harden. In his eyes was a look of power and strength that few had seen for many years. It was obvious that determination and resolve had won over fear and indecision.
Lord Krall turned and looked the Heavy Guard leader in the eyes. “Go. Once you’ve seen the master healer, tell the rest of your warriors to prepare, then come to me quickly at the council chambers. Tonight we gather our forces, and tomorrow morning we march!”
With that, Lord Krall sent the servant that was closest to him to pass the word to the sub-leaders of the Border Guard and the Archer Guard to have their troops gathering while they came to the council chambers. He also instructed Krebbekar, who had heard most of the conversation, to have his mount, armor, and weapons made ready, and to have the house guard ready to march at dawn. Striding with more energy than Durik had yet seen in the old kobold, Lord Krall hustled to the crowd of kobolds gathering at the master healer’s house and, grabbing each council member by the arm, called an emergency session of the Krall Gen’s Council.
Standing about the area, the caravan of wounded served to remind the members of Durik’s Company about the dangers they had faced and what the fortunes of war often brought. The Fates had smiled on them so far, though their quest had not been bloodless, but the future was never a certain thing. Miratha, who had been in the Great Hall waiting for Ardan to arrive, now looked Ardan in the eyes and asked what he was thinking. As Ardan pondered what to say, Durik walked up with something over his shoulder.
“We had wanted to present this in better circumstances, but I’m not sure we’ll get that opportunity now.” Opening the boar skin bag that he had slung over his back, Durik pulled out a set of two steel bowls, perfectly round with slightly flattened bottoms.
“Oh, they’re beautiful!” Miratha said.
“Thank you for your help,” Durik said then paused. “We were trying to make helmets out of these, but they ended up being better bowls.”
Ardan leaned over and whispered, “There are two of them, you know.”
The implications were not lost on Miratha. “I know,” she purred as her tail wrapped around his knee. “Maybe we can make a few more… smaller ones.”
The emergency council of the Krall Gen was pervaded by a sense of urgency, yet still the debate was hot and the positions were many. Finally, after many opinions had been expressed, Lord Krall put a stop to it. Holding up his hand, he addressed the assembled council members and military leaders.
“My fellow kobolds, while I respect the many opinions which have been expressed here tonight, the reality of the situation is this: I and many others here and throughout our gen have sons that are in danger tonight. I mobilized our warriors not to debate about whether we should go after this threat to our very existence, but to stamp it out. Though I was reluctant at first to commit this gen too deeply to this cause, I now see clearly that I have no other choice. Clearly these great ants have grown in number so strong that if we do not face them now, we will soon be overrun.” Around the council table, and in the seats around the edges of the council chamber, there were many kobolds who voiced their approval of Lord Krall’s words.
“Fellow members of our gen, I mean to face this threat. Tonight, when the sun first touches the western mountains, I want three companies of fifty warriors each, one from each of the three contingents, to march forth to our army’s aid. This will be the first forces we send. I wi
ll see the three leaders whom you chose immediately following this council. I will exempt from this campaign only the minimum forces necessary to guard the gen in our absence, Border Guard mostly, the rest will be ready to go with me tomorrow morning, when the rays of the sun first strike this great hall on the lake. I will personally ride forth at the head of the rest of our forces.
“Now, I want the leaders of the warriors to go back to their contingents and finish preparations for tomorrow’s march, and don’t be late! As for the rest of you, my minister will ensure that the proper supplies are sent forward.” He then drew the sword he had recently strapped over his back. “My blade will not be sheathed until the last great ant is driven from our valley!”
The roar of approval that met Lord Krall’s declaration was deafening. The Krall Gen was now fully committed to meeting the threat, and there was no turning back. Either the great ant colony would fall, or the Krall Gen. This was absolute war.
Chapter 15 – Orcs and Philosophy
Not long after Trallik sought sanctuary in the small mid-passage chamber the flow of bats had finally ceased. As the screeches began to recede into the distance, the clanging of metal armor and iron soled boots on stone could be clearly heard. Though he’d found a small ball of clear rock among the bat guano, its inside speckled with small bronze flecks, he had no time to examine the object and somehow the memory of picking it up promptly left his stream of consciousness.
Trallik immediately thought instead of his elf friend left alone in the long passageway. Though he felt relatively safe in this tiny chamber inside the crawlway, he knew that Arren was far from any place of sanctuary. Even if the elf did run and hide, in their attempts to find Trallik he was pretty sure the orcs would find Arren.
At that moment, he knew what he had to do. Conquering his fears, he got back down on his hands and knees and began crawling quickly back toward where he’d last seen Arren. Dodging past stands of fungus and dead rats, Trallik poked his head out of the crawlway. Looking around, he saw no sign of Arren, but a stone’s throw down the passageway he saw the heated bodies of several orcs jogging in his direction. Looking down quickly, he saw his pack still sitting behind a rock. Jumping down quickly, Trallik grabbed the pack and threw it into the crawlway then scrambled up after it.
Just as he had expected, as the orcs got close enough for their black and white dark vision to detect him, they yelled out their discovery and broke into a run toward the kobold. Hearing the sound of the orcs grow closer, Trallik quickly pushed his pack down the passageway and crawled as fast as he could back toward the tiny mid-passage chamber, content that he had distracted them enough to give Arren a chance to find a place of sanctuary.
He had only gotten a short distance into the passage, however, when he heard the first orc cry out in pain, followed by cries of surprise and alarm. A moment later, the sound of a blade severing flesh and bone and a dim light both came from the passageway behind Trallik. Looking back, Trallik could see what could only be the clear, pure light of Arren’s crystal causing shadows to dance on the walls of the passageway. Trallik grabbed the strap of his pack and immediately began to reverse his crawl. If Arren was going to stand and fight, then so would he.
As Trallik arrived at the opening into the large passageway, he dropped his pack down to where it had originally been and looked around. The light of Arren’s crystal cast dancing shadows, spoiling Trallik’s heat vision. But he did not need his heat vision to see what was going on. Not far down the passage the orcs had stopped. They were mostly turned around with their backs toward him. It seemed as if only about half of the orcs were present. They all had their weapons out and seemed to be pressing back the way they had come, as if eager to get at something.
Trallik stood up on the shelf of rock and saw Arren on the other side of the orc contingent swinging his bladed pole weapon in precise, furious arcs. First one orc fell to the ground, his neck cut wide open, then another’s arm was severed, the arm and the sword it still had in its hand dropping to the ground. As Trallik watched, the elf slew four more orcs, splitting necks and slitting unarmored bellies. He moved with incredible speed, and it seemed as if every blow struck true. Trallik was amazed.
In a matter of moments, the remaining few orcs began to flee back up the passageway toward Trallik. Dropping shields and swords and covering their heads with their arms, the orcs were totally routed. Behind them on the ground lay at least ten of their number, killed with amazing precision and almost unreal speed.
As they fled, first one, then another was felled by an arrow. Their armor seemed no protection as the arrows pierced iron, flesh, and bone. Trallik watched in amazement. He had never seen any arrow that could pierce iron, nor any warrior who was so skilled or fearless. The crystal on the front of Arren’s bow was lit now and, as Arren fired by the light of it, his shadowed features displayed deadly calm and absolute focus.
The last three orcs had now almost reached Trallik. While two of them were running straight up the passage, it was obvious that the third had his eye on a side passage. Trallik could also see that the gentle upward curve of the passageway would very soon make it impossible for Arren to get any more shots off.
Mustering all the courage he could, Trallik drew his two long knives and, taking a deep breath, he jumped out toward the trio of orcs. Catching them unaware, Trallik was able to knock the lead orc off his feet as he bowled into him, planting one of his long knives in the base of the orc’s neck while the other one glanced off the iron scales on the front of his heavy shirt. The orc gurgled in surprise and fell, with Trallik hanging onto him, between the feet of one of his companions, tripping the other orc as well.
Trallik rolled off to one side as one of the two orcs began to get to his feet. The third orc, having no weapon in hand, swatted at Trallik as he ran past toward the side passage. Trallik took the blow full to the face and fell back onto the stone floor seeing stars. The adrenaline rush of the moment helped him keep his wits about him somewhat, however, and he scurried backwards.
As his vision cleared, Trallik saw that the orc he had struck was writhing on the ground, blood from an artery spraying rhythmically from his neck. He was sure he wouldn’t last long. The other orc, however, had drawn his own dagger and was about to pounce on Trallik when, from behind, Arren’s bow sang again. As Trallik put his knives out in front to block the orc’s dagger, Arren’s arrow plunged through the orc’s neck, flying out the other side. The orc fell writhing to the ground.
Trallik, not forgetting the last orc, rolled over and got to his feet. As he did, the last orc stumbled back toward him and fell on his back at Trallik’s feet, the weight of its body pushing the tip of Arren’s last arrow through.
Trallik stood looking at the lifeless orc with the arrow protruding from his chest as Arren approached from behind. If he’d not seen it with his own eyes, he’d not have believed what Arren had done. As he stood there in wonder, the elf came up behind him, pulling arrows out of orcs as he came. In a moment the elf kicked the last orc’s body onto its side and pulled the arrow back out by its blood-drenched fletching.
Trallik stood gawking at the elf for a moment, before he noticed that Arren was not stopping. With one smooth motion he shook the blood and pieces of orc off the arrow, nocked it in his bow, drew it back, and fired down the passageway.
Trallik looked down the passageway toward the heart of the mountain. Five orcs, weapons drawn and shields held high, were charging noisily up the passageway at them. Trallik had been so fixated that he hadn’t even noticed.
In a matter of several orc steps, Arren had put five arrows through the five orcs. With a sixth arrow nocked, Arren ran forward. Far beyond the elf Trallik could hear the retreating footfalls of the remaining orcs. Arren stopped at the five orcs he had just felled and recovered his arrows.
Trallik sheathed one knife, grabbed his kit, and ran after the elf. Coming up next to him, he looked up at Arren and wondered why he was not moving after the remaining orcs. “Well,
what are we waiting for?” he said excitedly.
Arren put out his hand to calm the young kobold. “Patience, young one.”
“But they’re getting away!” he said.
Arren looked down at Trallik. “There will be time. I hear something large, larger than orcs, moving about near the far exit to this passageway. Unnecessary haste gets one maimed or killed, young one, and I would prefer more time to assess this new threat before we’re confronted by it. Come, let us see if we can learn what the orcs were doing here.”
Trallik’s brows had risen in surprise. He’d been so focused on the orcs that he’d not heard the distant stomping and grunting of what was probably a large humanoid echoing from far ahead of them and outside the passageway. Trallik watched the elf warrior. It appeared that he was not worried at the moment, so Trallik calmed his fears that the big thing that was outside the passageway might be coming down toward them.
Leaving a path of bodies strewn behind them, the pair of companions made their way toward the large cavern where Trallik had spied on the orcs.
Trallik stood looking at the pair of orc bodies lying beheaded in the sand while the elf was rifling through the contents of a sheepskin pouch that one of the orcs had tied onto his belt. He had seen much of gore in the last few days and was becoming desensitized to it all. His leaping on and killing one orc in the passageway had helped to steel his nerves and given him something of a feeling of bravado. Though he’d helped kill an orc a couple of days before with a well-placed arrow, killing an enemy with a knife was much more up close and personal. He had foul smelling blood on his hands and knives, and was beginning to like it.
