by Joel Babbitt
“Trallik, what are you doing here?”
“You know, Khazak,” Trallik answered the kobold who had informed Durik about Trallik’s attempted assassination.
Khazak had a lean, hungry look in his eyes. He was beginning to lose his dignity. His feral instincts were barely concealed behind the mask of his face.
“Yeah, I remember that. Bad thing, that whole thing, wasn’t it. Well, anyway,” he continued without so much as a pause, “I was thinking to myself ‘What’s a good kobold like Trallik doing here?’”
“You know that, too, Khazak,” Trallik said, turning to go.
“No! No! Wait!” Khazak was almost pleading, though his voice sounded more conspiratorial than desperate. Trallik was at least amused, if nothing else, by this reversal of fortunes. The irony of it all made him linger.
“Trallik, come on. Tell me they haven’t got their hooks in you that deep? You’re young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Tell me you’re not falling for Khee-lar’s false promises!”
Trallik shook his head. “So far his promises have turned out true… though I did have to help it along a bit,” he said, looking down at the blistered scar surrounding his other recent scar on his chest.
“He made you an elite warrior?” Khazak asked.
Trallik nodded. “I guess he rewards loyalty.”
Khazak was dismayed at the revelation. He tried one last bid for Trallik’s loyalty. “Trallik, come on, let me out of here. You know Khee-lar is evil. He and his followers have raped and pillaged this gen for their own purposes. Don’t stand with them, Trallik! You can be better than that!”
Trallik just turned and walked back to his post until his relief showed up partway into second meal.
“I can have you pardoned!” Khazak called after him.
Trikki wasn’t one to sit in a room and pine away. She’d never been particularly adventurous, but she wasn’t helpless either. Eventually, she got bored enough that she screwed up her courage and stepped out into the hallway.
No one there.
She wandered out of the guest quarters area and found herself in what Trallik had referred to as a caravan staging cavern, which was essentially a large, empty, sandy floored cavern they’d come through the night before. Next to the entrance she’d come out of stood an empty kennel carved in one wall. In the far wall of the place was a kennel full of large dogs, their keepers tending to them.
Trikki’s eyes wandered curiously over the empty kennel. Whatever dogs that had been there had been hastily removed. Bowls half full of water, feed rotting in dishes, cages unkempt and in general disrepair. She wondered why no one had seen fit to tend to the place.
“Good morning,” a voice broke through her introspection. “You’re the first outsiders we’ve seen since Khee-lar took over the gen.”
Trikki smiled at the older, yellow-horned kobold who was carrying a plate of food from a storeroom near the entrance to her quarters.
“And good morning to you, as well. Tell me, where might I find the market here?” she asked.
“Ah, first time, I see. It’s just down that hallway there,” he pointed, and Trikki went in the direction he indicated.
After Trikki had disappeared down the hallway, the kobold scolded himself. “Ah! I should have told her where to turn! Oh well, I’m sure she’ll figure it out.”
Trikki went straight down the hall, but though she thought she might have heard noises like a market down one of the side passageways, she just continued down the hallway. Soon, she saw a kobold standing guard. He had a particularly intense look about him, and Trikki didn’t want to approach him, but he was blocking the path ahead.
“Is this the way to the market?” Trikki asked.
“And why do you want to know?” he leered at her.
“Please, sire, I just want to buy some food.”
“Where are you from, pretty thing?” The guard’s demeanor, added to his extremely intense gaze, made Trikki very uncomfortable.
Without a word, she turned and started to walk back the way she came.
“Hey, I was talking to you!” The guard started walking toward her.
“Please, just leave me alone!” Trikki pled as she looked back over her shoulder and began to run. Suddenly, the guard stopped chasing her and stood erect. Just as suddenly, she crashed face first into Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s chest.
“Well, see what we have here,” he said as he righted the bronze crown on his head. “And where are you going, my lovely?”
Trikki gasped and went down on both knees in front of the kobold who, by his crown, had to be the lord of the gen.
The rather large kobold warrior next to Lord Khee-lar prodded Trikki with his spear shaft. “Answer him!”
“Gently now, Ham,” Lord Khee-lar said. “This is a delicate flower.”
Trikki’s anger and frustration rose in her, despite being in the presence of the lord of the gen. It seemed like those who were in power in this gen had nothing on their minds other than wealth, blood, fermented drink and females. If this was how the Kale Gen was, then she would not stay here. She’d had enough of males ogling her to last a lifetime.
“Tell me, what is your name, my beauty?” Lord Khee-lar asked again.
“My name is Trikki, and I am lifemate of Trallik,” she answered.
“Trallik? The yearling Trallik? Since when are yearlings allowed to take a lifemate? By whose authority were the two of you mated?” Lord Khee-lar asked.
Trikki could sense that this was a kobold who had much more power than he was capable of respecting. She was very careful with her words.
“My lord, he is an elite warrior. The big kobold who is in charge of his group had him branded last night,” she answered, trying to divert his attention.
“Hm. Well, we’ll have to see if that is valid or not. Anyway, who mated the two of you?”
“We did it ourselves, my lord,” she finally admitted.
“What! A yearling taking a mate by his own authority? I think not!” He turned to one of the Untouchables that escorted him, “I think Trikki here will fit in nicely with the rest of my concubines until this whole matter is sorted out. See to it now, will you.”
“Yes, my lord. It shall be done.”
Trikki’s heart was gripped with terror. “No, my lord! I am Trallik’s lifemate! You can’t do this to me!” she screamed as she grabbed a hold of his robe.
“Learn your place!” Lord Khee-lar snarled as he backhanded her, knocking her to the ground in a crying heap.
It was at that exact moment that Trallik turned the corner by the guard, returning from his shift in the prison. He stood stunned by what he saw and heard as he approached.
“Take her to the concubines’ quarters now!” Lord Khee-lar commanded two of the Untouchables that were with him. With no hint of mercy they picked her up by either arm and began to drag her away. “And see that she’s taught her place before tonight’s festivities.”
The two cold-eyed warriors’ scowls chilled Trikki to the bone.
Trallik couldn’t believe what he’d just seen and heard. Somehow he had the presence of mind to step back around the corner and head back toward the prison.
He arrived at the watch station where a fellow elite warrior from the Deep Guard Warrior Group was manning the watch. He was so shocked and stunned by what had happened that he just stood there for several moments, speechless.
In his heart Trallik realized he had two choices; he could either act or not.
If he didn’t act, he would continue his life as an elite warrior in the gen. He still knew where the cache of jewelry was. He could live comfortably. He could find another lifemate.
‘What am I thinking?! He took my lifemate as a concubine?! How could he do such a thing?! What am I going to do?!’ He continued walking down the hall toward the prison.
His only other option was to take action. Though he knew he’d lose his status as an elite warrior, and probably never be welcome in the gen as long as Lord
Khee-lar lived, it was the only way he could get Trikki back… that is if he lived.
These thoughts were running through his head when he arrived at the prison. By the time he told his replacement he would take his shift, Trallik already had the beginnings of a desperate plan. Stating he’d forgotten to draw a spear, he asked if he could borrow one as a favor. Glad to be relieved of his shift, the other warrior handed over his spear and the ring of keys before waving goodbye and heading back directly toward the Deep Gen Warrior Group’s caverns.
Chapter 12 – Warnings and Preparations
The first light of the rising sun was just appearing over the eastern mountains and the arrival of Ardan’s team and the two Krall Gen scouts had already caused ripples of excitement in the camp of the Krall Gen’s warriors. Ardan had kept his mouth shut, but Lemmekor had let news of the orc horde slip and the wooden fortress was abuzz with the news before Lord Krall had finally summoned them all to his command tent.
“My lord,” Ardan said as he knelt on one knee in front of the lord of his sister gen. Keryak, Tohr and Kahn were all standing back at a distance. Gormanor and Lemmekor had joined with them, but had deferred to Ardan, preferring that he make his report before they talked with their lord. Whatever it was they had to report, they seemed more than happy to delay the news.
“Rise and report, warrior of the Kale Gen,” Lord Krall said.
To one side of Lord Krall stood the leaders of the three warrior contingents that the Krall Gen fielded; the Border Guard, the Archer Guard, and the Heavy Guard.
To the other side of Lord Krall his oldest son Krall stood with arms crossed. The last few days had hardened the veteran warrior that was Lord Krall’s heir, and sharpened him to the point where his countenance was intense beyond what most kobolds could withstand. As Ardan reported to Lord Krall he could feel Krall’s eyes boring holes in him.
“Sire,” Ardan began, “Durik, leader caste of the Kale Gen, sent me to report that a force of about a thousand orcs, with fifty ogres serving them as mercenaries and accompanied by a force of about five hundred northern gen kobold warriors, has passed through a previously unknown passage in the northern mountains. They are led by the chieftain of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe and are headed toward the home caverns of… my gen, the Kale Gen, sire.” The entire report had been delivered with a flat tone, until the end when the emotion was more than Ardan could hold back.
Lord Krall sat down in the deerskin chair behind him, stunned by the news of the overwhelming force of orcs. After a few moments, he looked up at Gormanor and Lemmekor.
“You two scouts. Did you two also see this force of orcs, with their ogre and kobold mercenaries?” he asked.
Gormanor stepped forward to stand beside Ardan in a show of solidarity with his Kale Gen companions, nodding once grimly. Lemmekor just nodded. The pain of being the bearers of this bad news, as well as more bad news, was clearly evident in their eyes.
“A horde of ants, and a horde of orcs,” Lord Krall shook his bowed head. “How are we to stand against so many?”
“Father,” Krall, Lord Krall’s oldest son, started. “If the orcs are already headed toward the home of the Kales, I think the only help we can be is to hedge the ants from the Kales. We have our hands full here. I think we must fight the ants and let the Kales face the orcs. Then, if the orcs are still in the valley after we’ve dealt with the ants, we will see what we can do to help our Kale brethren fight against the orcs.”
Lord Krall thought for a moment, then stood. He paced back and forth several times, obviously struggling with the situation. Finally, he spoke.
“Warrior of the Kale Gen, tell me more of this orc horde. How did you acquire this knowledge? What are your observations of them?” Lord Krall asked.
“Sire, we found the ancient Dwarven Mining Outpost far under the Chop. It had recently been inhabited by one of the orc chieftain’s sons. He had departed to join his father, leaving only a small guard force and a shaman behind. We took the outpost with little resistance and, in questioning the slaves we found there before freeing them and leaving, we heard that the orc chieftain has told his warriors that they are going to march on my gen’s home caverns to raid it and to enslave my people.”
“Did you see these orcs and ogres up close?” Krall asked, deliberately side-stepping the emotion that lay just below the surface of Ardan’s report.
“Yes, sire,” Ardan responded. “One of my warriors and I watched most of them pass and counted their numbers. The number of orcs is an estimate, though I’m sure a thousand is very close to what they have. I can personally confirm the number of ogre and kobold mercenaries, however.”
“How was their discipline and morale?” Krall asked.
“Sire,” Ardan replied to Lord Krall’s heir. “The orcs seemed clearly in high spirits and seemed to be laughing and talking as they went. As for discipline, I saw very little evidence of any, there being only a few groups of orcs with much of any semblance of order to them.
“As for the mercenaries, we could not tell much of the ogres from our vantage point, but they did seem to be determined. The northern gen kobolds, on the other hand, seemed unhappy to be there. There seemed to be four groups of one hundred of them. There was a group of one hundred wolf riders that were well armed and armored, but the rest of the five hundred seemed to be no better than any other levies.”
“And their equipment and weapons?” Krall asked.
“The orcs are mostly armored in chain mail. Their weapons are a mix, though they are mostly melee weapons, with very few bows among them. There are very few shields among them, which leaves them vulnerable to arrow fire,” Ardan began. Krall nodded his head at the observation. “The ogres had huge axes mostly and thick leather armor. The kobolds, however, were armed mostly with spears, except for the hundred wolf riders who had spears, bows, swords and shields in addition to chain mail armor.”
Krall scratched his chin in thought. “Sounds like a mixed bag,” he spoke to his father. “On one hand they seem well equipped enough, but other than the hundred wolf riders, there’s nothing there to indicate any strong discipline.”
Lord Krall nodded absently. He’d only half-way listened to the questions and answers. His mind was very much focused on the political ramifications of the various options he had in front of him.
He knew that if he didn’t come to the aid of the Kale Gen, whoever its current leader might be, that relations between the two gens would become rather estranged. It didn’t matter that they had spent the last several days fortifying this little palisade fortress just west of the only bridge over the Great River, and fighting a sporadic war with a disorganized ant horde.
So far, after an initial unsuccessful assault on the Kralls’ little fortress, the ants had been content to sit and wait. They had gone strangely docile. They’d let the Krall’s caravans make it to the fortress unmolested. They’d only sent out small parties of hunter ants in a bid to drive the Krall’s scouts away, nothing more. But for all their docility, Lord Krall didn’t trust the ants. All his warrior leaders and his son were suspicious that they were just waiting for the Krall force to leave their fortress or to leave the bridge unguarded and therefore leave their home territory open to the ants.
Marching to the support of the Kales would clearly leave them vulnerable.
On the other hand, if he and his warriors didn’t come to the aid of the Kales, and if the Kale Gen was carried away into slavery, the Kralls would all of a sudden be very much alone in this valley and would be that much less secure. In fact, they’d probably be next on the Bloodhand Orc Tribe’s list.
No, there really was no decision to it. Ultimately, it wasn’t a matter of if they would fight the orcs, it was a matter of when. Lord Krall knew that if he didn’t move to support the Kales in their disorganized state, they stood no chance and his only allies would be quickly run over and dragged off into slavery.
“Kale warrior,” Lord Krall spoke to Ardan. “Go to your lord, whichever one yo
u chose. Tell him, or both of them, that the Krall Gen will stand with our brothers of the Kale Gen against this orc horde. Tell him that we will be there the day after tomorrow by second meal at the latest.”
“But father…” Krall began to protest.
Lord Krall raised his hand to cut off his protests. “You know it’s the only way, my son. If we don’t move to support the Kale Gen now, you know we’ll be next in line.”
“Sire,” Ardan interrupted. “If it’s alright with you, my team would prefer to serve with your scouts for now, if you’ll send a messenger ahead. We do not trust affairs at our gen enough to return yet.”
Lord Krall seemed surprised, but nodded his consent. He then turned to his warrior group leaders. “I want a hundred border guards to return to our home. They must guard against any possible ant incursion while our forces march in support of the Kales. We will spare no one else. We must have all our forces if we are to confront the orcs.”
Lord Krall turned to his son again. “I want all mounted warriors and messengers to serve as scouts, save a messenger to warn the Kales about the orcs. Try to draw the ants after us. Give them enough bait, but don’t risk too much. With the orcs, I want eyes on their force from now until we engage them. I want to know every move they make and when they made it. If their chieftain so much as defecates, I want a full report on it. Do you understand?”
Krall stiffened. “Yes, father. It shall be done.”
“Leaders, prepare your warriors. The orcs will be rising soon. If we’re to make it to the Kale Gen before them, we must leave very soon,” Lord Krall commanded.
“Perhaps with any luck we can interest the ants in a bit of orc flesh,” the younger Krall mused mostly to himself as he and the warrior leaders departed the tent to carry out their lord’s orders.
On the other side of the valley, a much more joyful reunion was occurring. The beleaguered remaining members of the leaders’ team of Durik’s Company had arrived at Lord Karthan’s loyalist palisade at the same time that the first light of the coming day appeared over the eastern mountains. Though the two lords didn’t know it, Lord Karthan and Lord Krall received much the same report at much the same time.
