by Joel Babbitt
Though it seemed forever, eventually a small group of hobgoblins, armed and armored in a strange fashion, brought up the rear. Ardan didn’t get much of a look at them, as they passed so quickly and his attention was almost strained to the limit, but he figured they must be the brains of the operation, as hobgoblins had a reputation for cunning and manipulation far in excess of that which orcs and ogres could muster.
After waiting a few moments to ensure all danger was past, Ardan and Keryak crawled back down the crawlway to make their way back toward their company. But as Keryak slipped over the ledge into the chamber below, Ardan hesitated.
“What is it, Ardan?” Keryak asked.
Ardan chewed his lip as if he were struggling with a decision. “I need to see if they’re moving farther tonight, or if they’re camping on the far side of this tunnel.”
“What makes you think they’d be camping there?” Keryak asked. “They haven’t moved very far from where they were when we last saw them, certainly no more than a day’s journey for a kobold.”
“Yes, but this orc chieftain might be stopping to wait for daylight before he gets on his way again. After all, we can see the heat of his warriors from much further than he and his orcs with their black and white night vision can see us. If he’s smart, he’ll wait for day to eliminate that advantage before moving. Besides, I hear entirely too much noise still for them to be gone.”
Keryak nodded. He’d noticed that the noise hadn’t subsided much after the entire contingent had passed, but hadn’t thought anything of it.
Ardan slipped off the stone balcony onto the sand below. Grabbing his bow, he told Keryak to stay put and padded carefully down one of the two passageways. When he reached the main thoroughfare where the entire horde had passed, he looked in both directions and, seeing nothing, followed the recently passed contingent.
Approaching the far end of the passage, he made his way clear to the end of the passage by listening then inching forward, stopping to listen again, then inching forward again. After several long moments, he arrived at the entrance, relatively confident that no one was in the immediate vicinity.
Looking out at the little canyon that surrounded this entryway into the mountain, Ardan could see far down the length of it bonfires that the orcs had set up to light the night.
‘Fires, a clear sign that they’re staying for a bit,’ Ardan muttered to himself. Withdrawing from the entrance, Ardan ran back to join Keryak, and the two of them hurried back to make their report.
Morigar and Krebbekar stood looking out over the southern valley. Night had fallen again and the late spring air on the pass was cool as it blew over them. It hadn’t taken long on the north side of the pass over the Chop to see that the entire orc horde was beginning to pass into some previously unknown hole in the mountain chain that sprawled out to the west of them. Now, as they stood looking over the southern valley, they saw the head of the long snake of orc warriors poke out from the mouth of a canyon on the southern slopes of the mountains. Though Krebbekar’s eyes weren’t that good anymore, even he could make the connection that somehow the orcs had either opened up or found some long-lost passageway between the two valleys.
As if that weren’t enough, far to the south, at the foot of the southern mountains that ringed their home valley, were seething masses of what had to be the great ants. They seemed to be split into five main groups, and for now they seemed to be stationary.
Sitting directly between the two forces, the two Krall Gen leaders could see the heat rising from what had to be the entire Krall Gen force in the valley not more than a half a day’s journey to the south of where the orc horde was emerging from the mountains. If the orcs made straight for the main path between the Kale and Krall Gens, they’d run straight into the Krall Gen’s forces! If the ants, on the other side, made straight for the Krall Gen forces at anywhere near the same time, it would be a massacre.
“Morigar, the horde is between where Durik’s Company was planning to exit the underdark and where our people are encamped. Durik won’t be able to reach them to give them warning. We have to warn Lord Krall!” Krebbekar stated once the realization of what was happening struck home.
“Yes, we do,” Morigar agreed. After a moment of silence, he turned to Krebbekar. “Why don’t you take your riding dog and go and warn Lord Krall. I can see that there’s not enough time now to hire a mercenary army, and it appears that the orcs will be past this place soon, so I’ll go gather our two warriors and join you and my father later today, not long after sunrise I’d imagine,” he said as he looked up at the stars to see how much of the night had already passed.
Krebbekar, feeling the urgency of the moment, didn’t even notice the disingenuous look on Morigar’s face as he stared fixedly down at the valley below.
“Yes, sire, I believe that’s the right course of action. I’ll be going immediately, then.” He turned and patted his riding dog on the nose. “You ready, old girl?” Turning back to look at Morigar, he extended his hand to grasp his. “Now don’t be getting in trouble while I’m gone, will you? Your father would never forgive me. I’ll see you later today.”
Morigar nodded and smiled faintly, almost distastefully, as Krebbekar and his riding dog began making their way down the southern slope of the Chop.
“Sire, we counted five hundred and thirty orcs, but there were many more who had passed before we got into position. I would say the original estimate we made from on top of the Chop of a thousand orc warriors is probably more accurate,” Ardan was reporting.
“And you say that all of them that you saw wore chain mail,” Durik asked.
“Yes, sire, but it was broad-ringed. I would imagine that our arrows, even the broad-tipped hunting arrows, would have a good chance of passing right through it.”
As Durik had received Ardan’s and Keryak’s report, the entire company plus Mahtu had gathered around the leaders. The descriptions they’d heard of fifty ogres, one hundred wolf-riding armored kobold cavalry, and many hundreds of orcs had brought a mood of near despair to the group.
Manebrow nodded his head, oblivious as yet to the mood of the rest of the company who stood silently listening. “And the fact that there are very few shields among them makes me think that arrows might be our best chance against them,” he said.
Durik raised a brow in pleasant surprise. “I hadn’t thought of that. Yes, clearly they’ve left themselves open for volleys of arrows.”
“Perhaps our gen’s best chance is to do an ambush out in the open where our archers can have maximum effect,” Manebrow pondered out loud.
“But how can our gen stand against so many?” Kiria broke into the conversation. The despair in her voice was clearly evident. It broke the leaders out of their cloistered discussion.
Durik looked over at Manebrow. Gorgon and Ardan both straightened up, as if they realized they had to put on brave faces for the sake of those they led. Looking around at the clustered members of his company, Durik could see the fear in their eyes and knew they were looking to him to say or do something.
“My dear friends,” he started. “I don’t know what the next couple of days will bring. However, I do know this. If that orc horde reaches our home caverns without so much as a warning, all of our families will be enslaved…” Durik paused, the memories of the orc raid six years before rising in his mind, “or they’ll be slaughtered.”
Kiria gasped, and all of them felt the weight of his words.
“If our families and friends… indeed, if our gen is to have any chance of surviving the next few days, Lord Karthan and Lord Krall, and even those who stayed behind in our gen’s home caverns, must be warned. And there is no one else who can do that job but us.”
As the shock of the reality of their situation began to recede, determination began to show in the eyes of some.
“But Khee-lar Shadow Hand won’t listen to us!” Troka said, his face dark with despair.
“Whether he listens or not is his choice,” Durik
replied. “But our duty to our families is clear. We must give them all the time to prepare that we can.”
“How can we be sure he won’t just kill whoever is sent to warn him?” Kiria asked. “And how are we to get around the orc army, anyway?”
Durik was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “We can’t be sure that he won’t just kill the messengers who take the warning to him.”
The group moaned in despair.
“As such,” Durik said, “I will go to warn those in our home gen.”
“Wait, now,” Gorgon stepped forward. “You know he’ll kill you outright. After what you did saving Khazak Mail Fist and Lord Karthan’s sons, and after what you did to fight off the other conspirators in the Krall Gen, I’d imagine that he’s got you marked for death already.”
Durik nodded his head. “It’s a chance I’ll have to take. After all, our entire company did that, not just me. It’s not safe for any of us to return to the gen while Khee-lar Shadow Hand is in charge. Because of that I can’t ask any of you to go, so I will go.”
“Then I’ll go too,” Arbelk stepped forward.
“Aye! As will I!” Gorgon said, looking around as if he dared anyone to tell him he couldn’t.
From the rest of the group came several more voices of support.
Durik held up his hands. “Wait, wait!” he said, pleased by their demonstrated bravery. “Let’s think this one through. We can’t all go back to our gen.”
“I, for one, will not,” Kiria said, a haunted look in her eyes. “He’ll do horrible things to me. I will go to join my father in his encampment.”
Durik nodded his head. “I agree. I believe we must split the company. There are three groups that must be warned. I will go back to our home caves and warn Khee-lar and those who are left behind with him. With any luck, he’ll not kill me outright and we can stand with them against the orc horde.”
“You’re not going alone, sire,” Manebrow stated, matter-of-factly.
“Very true. Arbelk’s the best climber we’ve got. We made the climb up Sheerface together right before the Trials of Caste, we’ll go by way of the underdark and do it again, though this time we’ll take a full climbing kit with us. Gorgon, as he’s part of your team, I’ll take you and your team with me.”
Gorgon and Arbelk both nodded in grim determination, though Jerrig and Troka, the other two members of Gorgon’s team, seemed less than enthusiastic with their assignment.
Manebrow shook his head. “Sire, I’ll not leave you. Not now. Besides, my family is still in the caves. I would rather fall defending them directly.”
Durik nodded his head. “Alright, then. We stand or fall together.”
“I can take my team to warn Lord Krall and his warriors,” Ardan volunteered. “I think that myself, Keryak, Tohr and Kahn are ideally suited for the task of sneaking around the orc horde and finding Lord Krall’s forces in the wilderness.”
“Very well,” Durik nodded. “But I also want you to escort Terrim and the rest of the leaders’ team past the orc horde. You’ll be in charge of them also until they’re safely on their way.” He turned his attention to Terrim. “Once you’re past the horde, Terrim, I want you to take Kabbak, Kiria and Myaliae to Lord Karthan’s enclosure. You’ll be in charge of them. Remember that they’re not warriors. You’ll want to avoid all contact with anything dangerous. And since we can’t take them through the underdark, take the packdogs and the four riding dogs with you. With a riding dog for each of you, you’ll make a lot better time than the rest of us.”
Terrim nodded his head. Looking around at the group, Durik could sense that this was the right thing to do. The future held much uncertainty for them, and there was much danger yet to be faced, but he felt confident that, if the kobold gens of the southern valley were going to have any chance against the orcs, they would have to be warned.
With a word of encouragement, the three teams in the company began to split up, divide equipment, and prepare for the tasks ahead.
Chapter 8 – Journey to the Hall of the Mountain King
Without so much as a greeting, the filthy line of mercenaries arrived at the top of the Chop and unceremoniously flopped down in the dirt to the side of the trail outside the small stone building. Gormanor and Lemmekor, who had herded them here on Morigar’s orders, guided the former kobold slaves and the few orc prisoners and the one goblin that they’d also brought on Morigar’s orders off to the other side of the trail. Before any of them sat down, however, they were directed where to drop the bags of treasure and the spears that Gormanor and Lemmekor had had them carry. All of them were glad for the cool air of the night that lingered in the pre-dawn darkness of the pass.
“Sire, we’ve brought the former slaves, the mercenary prisoners, the orcs, the remaining packdog and all the treasure we could make them carry for us,” Gormanor reported as he passed Minotaur’s reins over to Lemmekor. In his own rather unusual fashion, Minotaur the packdog looked rather non-plussed.
“Very well. You and Lemmekor stand off to the side and look imposing, will you?” Morigar directed.
With something of a confused look, Gormanor stepped away, motioning for Lemmekor to bring the packdog and follow him.
“Ahem!” Morigar tried to get the attention of the various groups in front of him. A couple of the more alert mercenaries prodded the several whose trip up the long passage from the outpost had been absolute torture after so much orc brew. Eventually most of the group’s eyes were on Morigar.
“I have decided your fates,” Morigar started without any other preamble. “The mercenaries I will hire. The kobold slaves I will not release yet.” This announcement brought several of them to their feet in protest. Loudest among them were the two exotic kobolds.
“Gormanor, Lemmekor, get over there and get the slaves back in line,” Morigar commanded.
“Sire, both the Scrolls of Heritage and our gen forbid enslaving other kobolds,” Gormanor said. “I will not enforce this order, it is unlawful.”
Morigar nodded. “Very well. You!” he said pointing to the former kobold mercenary leader. “You are the leader of these mercenaries, is that not correct?”
The kobold Morigar was pointing at stopped holding his head and slowly, painfully, stood up. “Yes. Is leader me,” he said, trying his best to speak Sorcerer’s Tongue despite his splitting headache.
“Get your mercenaries on their feet and get these slaves in line. I don’t want any of them escaping,” Morigar directed.
Seeing their window of opportunity quickly closing, the two exotic kobolds quickly ran off to the north. Long before the mercenaries could react a handful more had followed and all had begun the descent down the northern face of the Chop. None of the mercenaries felt up to chasing them down.
Finally, the mercenary leader got his mercenaries organized enough to begin ringing in the rest of the kobold slaves. With Morigar’s urging, they took spears from the pile Gormanor and Lemmekor had had brought up from below.
Gormanor and Lemmekor stood off to the side fuming about Morigar’s decision.
The remaining group of kobold slaves, the one goblin and the handful of orcs were eventually corralled up together and seated. Seeing that the mercenaries had finally gained control of the situation, Morigar continued.
“Now that everyone knows their place, let me tell you what we’re going to do.”
Though Morigar didn’t know it, the only ones in the group who spoke Sorcerer’s Tongue were his own two warriors and the mercenary leader. He continued anyway.
“My father, Lord Krall of the Krall Gen, has given me the task of taking the head of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe’s chieftain. He didn’t know about the entire horde that’s coming his way, nor that the Bloodhand Orcs lead that horde, when he gave me that task. I was going to hire a kobold mercenary army, but it appears that I’ll not have time to do that. As such, I’m going to hire a much more potent weapon that will take out the orc horde all on its own.”
Gormanor and Lemme
kor looked at each other in skeptical wonder; mostly they were wondering what pain and suffering they’d be asked to go through for whatever wild-eyed scheme Morigar had come up with. The other thing they were wondering was where Krebbekar had gone to.
“I happen to know,” Morigar continued, “that there are two red dragons living in the northern end of the northern valley, in the Hall of the Mountain King I do believe.”
Gormanor’s and Lemmekor’s reactions changed from skeptical wonder to amazement at the stupidity of what they knew was coming next. Even the mercenary leader blanched through his dark, rust-red scales.
“Knowing the infamous greed of chromatic dragons, I plan to take this treasure,” Morigar motioned at the pile of sacks that the slaves had brought up, as well as at the sacks still strapped to Minotaur’s back, “as payment to the dragons for them to destroy the orc horde.”
Now that it had been said, the entire plan felt much worse than when they had only been anticipating it. Gormanor turned to Lemmekor and, with only the movement of his rather expressive brow, asked if perhaps it wouldn’t be better for them to rejoin the Krall forces down in the valley.
“Where’s Krebbekar gone to?” Lemmekor whispered back.
Gormanor just shrugged.
Morigar stood as if he were expecting cheers or some sort of adulation at least for what he saw as a brilliant idea. He was disappointed when the only sound he heard was the whimpering of a few of the kobold slaves, and they hadn’t understood anything past the exotic kobolds’ explanation to them that they were being made slaves again. The mercenary leader wasn’t looking forward to the reaction he was going to get from his warriors, much less the slaves, when he explained to them that they were going to march across the northern valley, through the eastern reaches of it where the dragons hunted, and directly into their lair in the Hall of the Mountain King, all with the intent of talking to the amazingly foul-tempered creatures in an attempt to get them to slaughter a small orc horde for them.
