by Joel Babbitt
Trallik was genuinely surprised yet again. Fear began to form in his heart. “What’s this about an orc tribe coming against the Kale Gen?” he asked, his lips suddenly dry again, despite Trikki’s ministrations.
“Shagra is a champion from the Bloodhand Orc Tribe.”
Trallik’s blood ran cold at the mention of the name of the orc tribe that had raided the Kale Gen’s home caverns barely six years ago now.
“His father, Drakebane the Mighty they call him, Chieftain of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe, has come with what must be a thousand warriors and at least a company of ogre mercenaries, intent on enslaving the Kale Gen.”
Trikki pointed at Klimer. “Klimer says he’s seen their campfires in the northern valley below. They arrived today and have called in all their warriors from their outposts, like this one. I’d imagine they’ll march through the mountains tomorrow and be at the Kale Gen’s caverns by nightfall.”
For the first time, Klimer spoke up, his northern-gen accented voice cracking from the strains of maturation. “Yep, they no want to fight new Kale fort. Fort no have good stuff. They go take Kale Gen caves from new lord of Kale Gen.” Though the language was choppy, it was said with earnestness and a sincerity that showed intelligence in the whelp greater than his mangled attempts to speak The Sorcerer’s Tongue showed.
Seeing Trallik’s surprise at the contrast between how well Trikki spoke and how poorly Klimer spoke, Trikki jumped in. “Apparently the Kale Gen threw out their old lord, and a few hundred others as well. They’ve built a fort in the northern edge of your old valley, up against the mountains. It seems you weren’t the only one that was trying to get rid of your gen’s lord.”
That revelation gave Trallik much to think about.
“Maybe yoo no outcast now?” Klimer ventured.
Trallik slowly nodded. “Yes, I believe I’m no longer an outcast from the gen.” His face began to brighten as he thought about the possibilities. “In fact, I would imagine that they’d probably welcome me home as one of their own! I did kill the old chamberlain,” he said, then felt embarrassed at the exaggerated claim, “well almost. I would have anyway if I hadn’t been ambushed by that horror.” He corrected himself, the memory of the paralyzed helplessness of the ant queen’s silken embrace causing him a sudden shudder.
After a moment, the remembrance of Jerrig’s selflessness and courage that somehow drove his clumsy former companion to face almost certain death to free him awoke a twinge of guilt in Trallik’s heart. Looking back at Trikki, however, he quickly overcame it. Instead a new idea began to form. It involved glory, a female, and wealth as well; surely the stuff that made life worth living.
“I bet they would not only welcome me back, but I bet that when I save all of them by warning them of the orc invasion that they’ll make me at least an elite warrior,” Trallik said, hope of glory and wealth stamping out any remorse he’d felt for his previous treachery. After all, he reasoned within himself, he who wins is he who writes the history books. And he who writes the history books decides who the traitors were.
Trikki was beginning to get excited. Trallik wasn’t the only one forming plans. She had had plans for some time, but the opportunity and the ability to carry out those plans just hadn’t come together… until now that is. Seeing the fire of greed and glory light up the Kale Gen warrior’s eyes, Trikki was ready to help the young warrior meet her deepest desires as well.
Chapter 20 – Leaving the Outpost
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Trallik whispered intensely at the beautiful face above him. This harebrained scheme about sneaking down into the orc shaman’s lair, which doubled as the treasury for the outpost, was insanely dangerous in Trallik’s mind. But she had pled fervently with him until he had relented. ‘With all the wealth the bandits and orcs have accumulated here over the centuries, we’ll have enough money to be free for the rest of our lives!’ she had pled with him. Looking up at her now, he knew he’d do anything to please or impress her. That’s why he’d said yes in the first place. He just couldn’t look into those eyes and say no. Even if it meant climbing down the inside of this ancient well.
Don’t look down, he kept telling himself.
“You’re doing good, love,” Trikki whispered encouragement as Trallik did all in his power to keep hold of the various handholds and footholds he’d found in the crags of the ancient cut stone, beads of sweat trickling down between the small scales that covered his face. Below him the cold blackness was a sharp contrast to the warm brightness of Trikki and her cousin Klimer who stood at the top of the well.
Please let there be nothing down here… with sharp teeth.
It was slow going, but after what seemed like an eternity to him, Trallik could see subtle differences in the inky blackness below him, the subtly square patterns of it indicating a floor of dwarven make. Estimating how far down it was, based on what he’d seen of the flagstone that covered the rest of this old mining outpost, Trallik thought he could probably drop to it if it came to that.
After climbing down only a couple more handholds worth, Trallik’s foot reached out to search for the next foothold and found only air. Reaching out tentatively, he felt around the entire area he could reach with his foot. There was an abrupt edge that seemed to go all the way around the old well, or at least all the way around where he could feel.
Well, I guess it comes to it, then, Trallik told himself. Studying the floor below one last time, Trallik breathed deeply then let go. Mercifully, he had overestimated the distance to the ground, and within perhaps three heights of a kobold his feet hit hard stone. Rolling with the fall, Trallik stood up.
Above him in the well, he could hear an audible, very feminine, gasp. Shifting a step, he looked up the well and waved to calm her fears. Turning his attention back to the inky blackness around him, he could barely make out several shapes in the darkness around him. None of them seemed to be moving, however, and none of them exuded any heat, so after several moments Trallik eventually exhaled.
Taking a candle and tinderbox from the small pouch that Trikki had given him, he knelt down and in a matter of a few moments had the candle lit. Standing to cast the light of the candle a bit further, Trallik could now see that he’d come down in the very middle of a somewhat small octagonal room, probably no more than ten steps in diameter. The walls and floor were clearly of ancient dwarven construction, with statues placed in small alcoves in four of the walls. A large stone arch dominated one of the four unadorned walls, the stone slab that sealed it off seeming to be a door, with massive stone hinges and a stone handle set in the middle of it. The most clearly dominating feature of the room, however, was the mass of glittering objects spilling out of chests and barrels, and lying about in heaps and piles all around the perimeter of the room.
Trallik had never seen so much treasure in all his life. His gen didn’t really use money, but from talking with the traders in the gen, he knew that just a handful of coins were enough to buy a lot among the northern gens. Now here he, lowly Trallik, just a warrior with no real prospects in life, stood looking at more treasure than he could ever haul out. He was overcome by the emotion of it all.
After several moments of staring blankly around himself, pondering what he could do with such vast wealth, a glob of melted wax rolled down the candle onto his fingers. Switching hands quickly, Trallik shook the hot substance off his fingers. He was back to reality.
Seeing a pile of more mundane rope-looking items, Trallik began to sift through it all. There, lying in a heap, was his old kit he’d had with him before the orcs had captured him. Strapping on his old belts and pouches, and his two long knives as well, Trallik began to feel a little better about this whole idea. Taking a handful of stones and jewelry that sat in an open chest and stuffing them into one of his belt pouches, he began to feel even better about it.
After a few more moments he drug out what appeared to be a rope ladder. Counting the wooden steps on it, Trallik estimated it was long e
nough to reach to the top of the well. Of course, that would mean he would have to climb back up there first…
Continuing to dig through the pile of odds and ends, he found a light coil of rope and a crossbow with a number of bolts. Seeing an opportunity to save himself a climb, he tied the light rope to the end of a bolt and coiled it loosely on the floor beneath the opening of the well. Signaling for his two compatriots to move out of the way, Trallik shot the bolt up the well.
The rope caught on his feet on the first shot. The second time the bolt arced off into the ceiling. After retying the rope at a different angle, Trallik tried it again. This time the bolt and rope shot straight up the well, but came down very shortly thereafter. Trallik shot it one more time, this time it flew straight and Klimer appeared with the rope after a few moments.
After a while the kobolds had worked together to get the rope ladder set up and secured around the top of the well. As soon as it was secured, Trikki began the descent, Klimer holding onto the ladder to ensure it remained secured. Trallik’s heart beat faster in anticipation the closer she got. Finally, as she came within sight of the piles of treasure, her face lit up with the wonder of it all.
“Oh,” she whispered. “I’m rich.”
Trallik helped her down from the ladder, grabbing her waist to steady her.
As soon as her feet touched the ground, Trikki ran over to the nearest pile of cold metal coins and began filling the little sack she had brought with her. As soon as she had filled it, however, she saw a pile of small gold ingots. Emptying the sack as fast as she could, she began stacking the precious bars inside it. Then, after a few moments, she saw a pile of jewelry and she immediately emptied the bag again, the ingots thudding to the stone floor.
Trallik was looking in amazement at the confusion. She was clearly obsessed with it all and had lost any sense of caution. As if to make the situation worse, Klimer appeared on the rope ladder, climbing down into the room as fast as he could scramble down the wooden slats. As he arrived, he began an almost identical ritual with his own bag.
Realizing the noise the pair of them were making, Trallik stepped forward and grabbed both of them by the shoulders, pulling them away from the pile of treasure they were sorting through.
“Hey!” his whisper sharp and focused. In Trikki’s eyes he saw a fire of greed he hadn’t seen before. It was as if his angel had been possessed by a demon.
“Let me go!” she spoke, the loudness of her words echoing in the chamber. Batting his hand away, Trikki went back to the pile, grabbing a particularly pretty stone with one hand that was as large as a fist. It was translucent with bronze flecks throughout. As she touched it, her expression changed. It was as if she were in intense pain.
Beginning to feel the beginnings of panic shoot through his heart at the thought of being discovered, and now seeing the pain registering on Trikki’s face, Trallik let Klimer go and rushed over to her.
“Put it down!” he whispered vehemently.
“It… He sees me!” she whimpered.
“Just drop it!”
Behind them the great stone door began to open.
“I… I can’t. He’s holding me!”
Trallik stepped back. Steadying himself, he kicked with all his might. The ball flew from Trikki’s outstretched hand and flew across the room, straight through the open door and into the hands of Manechar Shaman of Fire.
Grabbing Trikki by her still stunned hand, Trallik drug her kicking and screaming toward the ladder, but not before she had grabbed her bag of jewelry with her other hand.
“We must go now!” he yelled into her face, and for the first time Trikki seemed to snap out of the spell of the riches that were splayed before her.
Realizing the danger, she threw the bag over her shoulder and yelled at Klimer.
“Get out, cousin!”
Taking hold of the ladder, she immediately began to climb, Trallik not a step behind her. Behind them the much taller orc shaman was already reciting incantations to spell their doom. As he chanted, the air around him began to pop with sparks and little bursts of fire.
Klimer looked up from the pile of jewels that he’d been sorting through and pulling diamonds out of their settings. Seeing the imminent danger of death or something worse gathering in the air around the shaman, he dropped the bag and jumped for the rope ladder, climbing with all his might.
He wasn’t fast enough.
With a clap of thunder, a bolt of lightning arced from Manechar’s outstretched hands, ravaging through the young dark-scaled kobold and throwing him against the far wall before flashing in a straight line up the well.
Climbing side by side, Trallik had flattened himself and Trikki against the wall of the well when he heard the clap of thunder, and not a moment too soon. With a roar the bolt of lightning sliced past them, disintegrating Trallik’s backpack and taking several of the wooden steps above them with it, leaving half of the rope ladder sagging.
Eyes wide in panic, Trikki held tight to the sagging steps, Trallik trying desperately to hold onto the belt over her singed tunic.
“Come on, Trikki. You can do it! Hold onto the firm side. Come on, you can do it!”
Slowly, almost as if she didn’t trust the side of the rope ladder that had held firm either, she grabbed the taught rope that was the firm side of the rope ladder. Showing her how to climb on the ends of the steps that were still connected, the pair of them began to climb again, the immediate threat of imminent death motivating them to move faster than they would have thought possible.
As the pair reached the top they could hear the sounds of chanting in the depths of the well below them. Trallik jumped over the top of the well and, reaching down, he grabbed hold of Trikki’s hands and pulled with all his might. As her feet cleared the hole, a column of fire erupted out of the well, sending scraps of rope ladder with it as it blasted the ceiling above them, spending its angry strength against the unyielding stone of dwarven construction.
As the blinding light of the fire melted away, Trallik looked down at Trikki, who was nestled in his arms, crying softly.
“Trikki, I’m so sorry for your cousin, but we must go now. The shaman will be here in a matter of moments and if we’re here, we’re dead.”
Trikki nodded her head, slowly getting to her knees, throwing the heavy bag over her shoulder as though it no longer held any value to her. Trallik grabbed her hands and helped her to her feet. Slowly, at first, the pair shuffled off into the darkness, moving faster as the blindness of the fire melted away, leaving visible in its wake the subtle temperature differences of the flagstones as the pair began to run.
Trallik didn’t know how long they had run. At first they had heard the sound of shouting and orc boots coming after them. Once they’d gotten out of the outpost, however, Trikki’s knowledge of the area had led them into a small side passage and down a narrow hole that soon turned into a limestone slide, made slick by many years of water dripping over it. As the flow of water increased the pair had suddenly lost any ability to slow their descent and they dropped down through a hole in the roof of a subterranean cavern lit by green phosphorescent minerals that lined its walls, falling on top of each other into a milky-white pool of cold water.
Splashing and sputtering, the pair came to the surface and slowly made their way to the shore, dragging their cold, wet forms onto the shore of the small, underground pond. Breathing hard, the pair lay side by side, amazed and still stunned by the events that had led them here.
After a few moments, Trallik reached out and took Trikki’s hand in his own.
To his utter surprise, she sat up and took the soggy long tunic that served as a dress off over her head.
Turning quickly away, Trallik’s scales were the deepest shade of red they’d ever been, though the green phosphorescence hid both that and the fact that he was letting off a lot more heat than normal. It was only the strength of his upbringing that had made him turn away, the same upbringing that told him females like this wer
e trouble.
Behind him Trikki giggled as she wrung the water from her dress.
“You’re never been with a female, have you?” she asked.
Trallik, still turning away, shook his head slowly, not wanting to admit his naïveté to the object of his affection. From somewhere deep inside him, his mother’s voice seemed to be telling him that this shouldn’t be happening. The type of young females that make good lifemates and mothers don’t do such things, the voice seemed to be saying. He ignored it.
After a few moments, she had finished wringing the water from her long tunic and put it back on, the sound of the belt fastening in place bringing Trallik relief.
Coming to sit next to him, Trikki looked up into his eyes, her own eyes a mix of sadness and amusement, though for once he saw an honest sincerity in them.
“You are a strange one, Trallik,” she said, “but I love you for it. You kept your head when we lost ours. You got me out of there alive because you could see past the riches.”
“I couldn’t save Klimer,” he said.
“He was a nice kobold, I guess… but he wasn’t my cousin,” she admitted.
Trallik looked at her in confusion. “Who was he, then?”
“Just another kobold slave Mushrat bought a few days before he bought you. I wanted to be sure of you. A young female has to be careful, you know.”
Trallik shook his head at her careful deception. “So are you sure of me now?” he asked.
Trikki smiled a coy smile. “You wouldn’t even take me when I offered myself to you,” she paused, the intent of her action made plain. “You’re a really good person. Any other male wouldn’t have resisted.”
“It’s that in my gen, we don’t do those things until we’re mated,” Trallik explained shyly. “It’s in the Scrolls of Heritage,” he said almost apologetically.
Trikki had never heard of these scrolls Trallik mentioned, but that didn’t deter her. “What does it take to be mated?” she asked.
