The Game of Fates

by Joel Babbitt

  “I’ll have to put my shield down to do it, I think. I’ve only done it a few times, though. I can’t always do it on command.”

  “Alright. I’m willing to see if you can,” Durik said. “Step back out of line and get ready.”

  “Alright everyone,” Manebrow broke in as Jerrig stepped back out of line. “Everyone spread out. One arm’s length between you and the person to your right.” The line of Kale Gen warriors reshuffled itself nervously as they saw the press of Deep Gen warriors begin to form up into three distinct groups on the command of their leader. Even more disconcerting was watching as one of the groups passed their spears to a group who spread themselves among the boulders. They then drew swords and interlocked shields in a narrow column, obviously preparing to assault the small line of Kale Gen warriors.

  “There must be at least thirty of them,” Troka said, fear creeping into his voice.

  “I’ve counted forty-three so far,” Gorgon said in a flat tone. “It’s been good knowing all of you.”

  The looks on the faces of the Kale Gen warriors were a mix of despair and resolve. In the center, Manebrow could see that Troka was on the verge of running. Behind the line, Jerrig seemed to be edging backwards. Turning his helmeted head, he gave Jerrig a fierce look that stopped his involuntary backward motion.

  At the bottom of the slope the young watcher they had captured now arrived, his hands free and gesturing up at the Kale warriors as he screamed threats at them, in revenge for abuses he was lying to his companions about.

  “Steady, boys,” Manebrow called in a low, determined voice. He could see the determination hardening in the faces of the Deep Gen warriors as their leader hefted his own shield, slapped a helmet of iron over his head, and walked up the slope to take his place at the head of the assault column. “Remember the rule; the side that breaks first dies. We don’t break! We’ve got steel weapons, steel armor, and larger shields. You’ve also had a year of the best training any warrior could hope for! Our quality can make up for their quantity if we just hold for everything we’ve got.”

  Gorgon smiled an intense, feral smile. “Aye, lads, make them wrest every step from you. Don’t give even a foot of ground without much blood on their parts.”

  “Jerrig,” Manebrow locked eyes with the young spell caster, “get ready to blast that big lout leading them. He’s right out there in the front, making himself a nice target for you.”

  Down the slope from the small line of shields, the leader of the Deep Gen warriors was turned about and shouting last minute instructions to his groups. ‘Just like we practiced lads. Spear throwers make sure you watch for the signal on the second volley. Reserve group, if I go down, don’t let the pressure up.’ The Kale Gen warriors knew they were for it and prepared to receive the rush that was now imminent.

  It was at that exact moment that Durik stepped forward and slung his shield over his back.

  “Deep Gen warriors, I am Durik of the Kale Gen.”

  The Deep Gen warrior leader turned to face Durik as he and his warriors fell silent.

  “We have come by accident into your domain,” Durik continued. “We wish nothing more than to return to our own gen, unmolested.”

  The Deep Gen warrior leader frowned deeply. “You should have thought of that before you assaulted our guards!” he bellowed. Many voices joined his in agreement.

  Durik shook his head. “We did nothing more than tie his hands and take his weapon away.”

  “That’s not what he says! He says you beat him and were about to kill him when we chased you off!”

  Durik looked at the young watcher Tammik, who looked up at him defiantly.

  “He lies!” Durik replied. “Look at him, where are the bruises? We hardly touched him.”

  Tammik got all excited at that accusation, yelling and screaming and putting on quite a show for his fellow warriors. Durik cursed his luck at having captured such a dramatist.

  The Deep Gen warrior leader took a step forward. “I say you did.”

  Durik paused a moment, letting the mood of the Deep Gen contingent settle a bit before speaking again.

  “That we could have killed him at any time is true,” he started.

  Mutterings of ‘proof’ could be heard from the Deep Gen warriors.

  “But the fact that we did not only proves our good intentions. We came to the underdark to find another way to our home in the Kale Gen’s caverns. We did not come here to fight you, nor do we want to fight you. We are all kobolds here. You are not our enemy. The enemy we fight is in the valley above us.”

  The Deep Gen warriors were silent as Durik spoke.

  “Even now, in the valley above us there is a great horde who is intent on raiding the home caverns of my gen and dragging my people off into slavery. They are the Bloodhand Orc Tribe, with their ogre mercenaries. Even now I go to warn my people of their approach!”

  The Deep Gen warrior leader was clearly considering what Durik had to say—he was thankful for that at least. When he had spent several more moments lost in thought, however, Durik began to worry.

  “I cannot let you go,” the warrior leader said. “My lord forbids it. You have a choice. You can either be disarmed and come with us to explain your case to our lord, or we will run right over you and drag any who survive back in chains.”

  Durik turned to look back at his companions. Other than Gorgon, whose eyes clearly showed his desire to fight these Deep Gen warriors to the death, the rest of his party showed their determination to do their duty, but desperately wanted to avoid this fight. Manebrow’s eyes, however, were devoid of any emotion.

  “What shall we do, warriors?” Durik asked his party.

  “Sire,” Manebrow cut in before any of the others could respond. “The choice is yours. We will do whatever you command.”

  After a moment of silence, Durik turned back around to face the Deep Gen warriors, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his responsibility, though in his heart he could feel the now familiar promptings letting him know that he had made the right decision. He twisted his spear around in his hand as if to throw it. Several spears were lifted in response. He then stuck it carefully, but firmly, in the ground.

  The journey from the upper underdark down the massive open staircase into the middle deeps where the Lord of the Deep Gen held his court was a long and arduous affair. The members of Durik’s party had been stripped down to their loin cloths. Their Deep Gen escort carried all of their weapons, shields, armor, and equipment, a fact that none of the Kale Gen warriors was comfortable with, especially Durik who knew that the Kale Stone was in his belt pouches.

  All of them had allowed themselves to be taken prisoner, though it was all that Durik could do to convince Gorgon Hammer that this was the right thing to do. In the end, Gorgon’s arrogance from before the brandings of caste began to show. Manebrow had had to order him to stand down and put down his warhammer.

  Now, as the party was rushed along in the middle of the mass of Deep Gen warriors, they left the broad staircase with its cold, hard steps and were rushed into a sandy-floored cavern, the feel of the sand comforting on their sore feet. On either side of them again were the mud-brick huts, the smaller ones with their giant mushroom roofs, the larger ones with roofs of mud stucco supported by the stalks of giant mushrooms laid horizontally over them.

  Throughout the chamber kobolds came out of their houses to see what all the commotion was about. Wide-eyed whelps were pulled from the path by their mothers, older warriors who were no longer capable of standing in the ranks stood a little taller, as if feeling the scrutiny of the younger warriors, and youths who were not yet of age brought their toy spears out with them to cheer the passage of the war party and their captives.

  The Kale Gen warriors were prodded through a few more natural sandy caverns with their various inhabitants, passed through a cold natural stone ante-chamber, and suddenly found themselves in a wide, square, cut-stone chamber whose roof was supported by a row of thick stone col
umns on either side of the party, all of which proceeded in a line down to the other end of the chamber where a massive throne was set on a dais against the far wall.

  As the mass of Deep Gen warriors parted, Durik and his party could see a very old kobold seated on the throne at the far end.

  “All bow before Lord Sennak the Just!” one of the throne room guards bellowed out. The Kale Gen warriors, even those who were in the process of kneeling, were thrown to the ground as all the Deep Gen warriors took a knee.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the old kobold on the throne stood and demanded. “Why do you barge in here so, Mirrik, and who are these foreigners you’ve brought into the very heart of our gen?”

  “My beloved Lord Sennak the Just, I beg your forgiveness,” the warrior leader Mirrik bowed very low before his lord. “We captured these warriors from the Kale Gen trying to infiltrate our upper defenses. They have news that we felt might be of interest to you. Because of that we did not kill them outright, but thought it best to bring them to you.”

  “Very well, my faithful servant, bring them forward that I may see them and hear their news.”

  The Kale Gen warriors were all brought to their feet and unceremoniously carried forward and thrown at the foot of the dais.

  “Rise, prisoners, our lord would address you!” the guard commanded.

  Durik and his companions, with bruised knees and faces, stumbled to their feet to face Lord Sennak. Concerned about them still, Durik looked from left to right to see how his companions fared.

  “Why have you come here?” Lord Sennak queried, his voice wispy yet forceful.

  “My lord,” Durik began. All of a sudden he stopped, and his companions turned to look at him. It was as if he were frozen, as if his eyes were looking far past Lord Sennak to something none of them could see.

  “My lord,” Durik said again, his gaze still fixed well beyond their captor, “I am sent to you in this hour of your need to warn you of the coming of a great and overpowering danger.”

  “What?! What’s this you speak?! Speak clearly!” Lord Sennak commanded.

  “A great ant queen from the southern reaches of our world has sensed the death of her daughter. She comes now,” Durik’s eyes began to grow wide with fear. “She comes. Even now she sends her minions before her. They come! They come like a flood through the underdark!”

  Durik’s eyes looked straight into Lord Sennak’s. “They will be here before the falling of night in the world above, and all those who are found here in the underdark will die. My lord, when one is sent to gather your gen, you must leave at once or you will be destroyed.”

  Lord Sennak ignored Durik and looked instead at his warrior leader with a look of contempt and disgust. “This is the news you thought worthy to send to me, Mirrik; the babblings of an idiot?”

  The Deep Gen warrior leader just stammered an incomprehensible apology as he groveled on the ground before his lord.

  “Take these Kale Gen interlopers away and their babbling idiot as well!” Lord Sennak commanded. “Tomorrow at dawn, is it? Well, then tomorrow before second meal you shall die, for trespassing in our realm!”

  As they lay strewn about the prison chamber, chained to the walls with thick chains of hand-forged iron, Durik’s companions felt helpless, and some of them felt hopeless. They were condemned to die, all because they were trying to follow the promptings and the guidance Durik had received from some unseen being. The manifestations of the power that Durik had received through the Kale Stone in their presence had done much to bolster their faith, but now the stone had been taken from their leader and instead of getting them out of their predicament it had given Durik words that had infuriated the Lord of the Deep Gen. It seemed to the small group that they were all alone in their fate.

  “Why you say stupid thing like that?!” Mahtu scolded Durik from across the room. “You say stupid thing and now we die in no many times!”

  Manebrow, seated next to his leader, stood up. “Quiet, you fool! There are forces here that you… that none of us understand!”

  “What if he’s right?” Gorgon asked quite unexpectedly from one corner of their cell, catching Manebrow by surprise. “What if the stone has used us to get itself to Lord Sennak? What if it’s done with us and has left us to die?”

  “Then we die,” Durik said despondently.

  “What?” Troka said. “You led us down here to die? What did that stone show you? What do you know that you’re not sharing?”

  “Put respect in that voice, you!” Manebrow snapped.

  “It’s alright, Manebrow,” Durik held up a hand. Manebrow just bit his lip. “It’s a very valid question. It is time that I share what I have seen.”

  All around the room the dejected group of prisoners sat up.

  “My brothers of the Kale Gen. I have been having visions since the night before the Trials of Caste. That night that Gorgon, Keryak and I sat in Goryon’s smithy I had my first vision. I’ve had several since then. Up until after the feast that night in the home of Lord Krall, they had all been of Demon’s Bridge. Rarely were there words, though all the visions served to point us toward where the Kale Stone could be found.”

  Around the room all the kobolds except Mahtu listened in rapt attention. Durik knew that it was because of the very visible power that Morgra had given him in his battle against the orc shaman, elsewise they probably would have thought him crazy. But now that proof had been given, it was much easier to believe.

  “But that night of the feast there in the heart of the Krall Gen, I had a vision of a different kind. I was taken to a room that I felt was far away from this valley, though I know not where it lies, and whether in the body or not I could not tell. It was there that I met a being named Morgra, she was in form like the pictures of humans I’ve seen in books, only much more glorious. The light that came from her penetrated every part of me. It was as if my life were laid bare before her and I was purified in her presence.”

  “What did she want of you?” Jerrig asked tentatively.

  “She called me her paladin, and told me that I am not the Oracle of Kale, but that I would be shown to whom I should give the stone when the time came. Since then she has put feelings in my heart, to guide me.”

  “But what happened in front of Lord Sennak? It looked like you weren’t even there with us,” Troka asked.

  Durik paused, the memory of the horror he’d seen was still fresh, and the emotional impact of it wore on him more than the sentence of death did.

  “A vision was shown me. In it I saw the grief of the great ant queen at the news of the death of her daughter… and of so many of her grandchildren at the hands of the kobolds of this valley, and us especially.”

  Jerrig Queen Slayer lowered his head. “And at my hand especially,” he murmured.

  “Do not blame yourself, Jerrig,” Durik replied, “for in the heart of this great queen is no mercy, only conquest. She sent her daughter and her brood here to our valley to hunt us down and feed upon us. It is not in their hearts to see us as anything more than food.”

  “How large is the force she brings with her?” Manebrow asked. “Did you get a good look at that as well?”

  “Do you remember the royal guards from the ant queen we slew?” Durik asked.

  “Aye, there were some fearsome warriors among them, but hemmed in like they were it was a quick enough affair,” Manebrow replied.

  “For you, maybe,” Jerrig scoffed, the memory of his own javelin being thrust into his thigh by one of the brutes was still fresh in his memory.

  “It was shown me that these ants go through stages in their lives. They begin life as the mindless ones who must be controlled by the ant commanders. The ant hunters or scouts are above the mindless ones. Once they reach adulthood they are hunter ants and they gain an independence from the mind control of the ant commanders and become sensitive to the scent that the queen exudes, which controls them. I think that’s why they went crazy after Jerrig killed the queen, b
ecause they had been enslaved by her scent and were driven crazy its absence.

  “After a while the hunter ants enter a time of metamorphosis, when they go into a cocoon dug into holes in the ground like what we saw in the ant queen’s lair. When they emerge from that they are the queen’s royal guards that we saw, though they are known as warrior ants among themselves. Warrior ants over time gain the ability to control the mindless ones and thus become ant commanders for however many mindless ones they are capable of taking control of from the other ant commanders, like shepherds pillaging each other’s herds.

  “The ant queens, however, are different. They do not come from these lesser orders of ants. This great ant queen is the mother of only a few such queens as the one we killed. I felt her pain at having carried the queen we killed for a year, just to have her die in a far away valley. It is that frustration and anger, and the arrogance in her heart of believing that we should be subjugated and harvested, that drives her to bring her entire horde here.”

  “What is in this horde, sire?” Manebrow pressed. “Is it mostly the mindless ones?”

  Durik shook his head. “This great queen’s family is mature. They have had success in many other places and have gorged themselves on the blood and flesh of the great beasts that roam the steppes far to the east of here. Also, she has spent the last few years producing queens and not producing mindless ones. As such, her horde consists almost entirely of the warrior ants, the same type of ants that served as royal guards for the queen we killed.”

  The entire group was dismayed at the news, though it took Manebrow’s tactically focused mind to discern the real impact of the revelation.

  “That means we must kill each one individually. We can’t just kill the ant commanders and expect the rest of them to scatter,” Manebrow spoke solemnly. “And we can’t just kill the queen, or they’ll just come at us with greater fury and strength.”

  “And this queen is nothing to be trifled with,” Durik said. “She is immense and amazing in her strength and ferocity. Her armor is thick with age and each leg is like a tree trunk. The spikes which cover her body and limbs are like knives. Her mandibles are longer than spears, thicker than an orc’s scimitar, and together they are strong enough to snap several of us in half at once.”