The Game of Fates

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The Game of Fates Page 43

by Joel Babbitt


  The brawny blacksmith nodded. “Aye, and with any luck we’ll get some of his closest conspirators with him as well.”

  Lord Karthan grabbed Drok by one shoulder. “Drok, stay with me for now, but I’ll likely have you take the twenty five that you’ve got with you, and another group of thirty. We’ll need someone to go to the entrances to the caves of the Deep Guard Warrior Group. If that’s you, then when the time come, I want you to seal them off and allow no armed warriors through. If any say they are loyal to me from that warrior group, you are to bind their hands and feet and set them off to the side unless you feel you know their intentions are true. Any who will not renounce Khee-lar Shadow Hand you may kill.”

  Drok nodded his understanding, as did the other leader of thirty whom Lord Karthan indicated.

  “Then let’s make it happen. Remember, Khee-lar first, then we set about restoring the loyalty of the warrior groups. If we don’t get Khee-lar, this may all be for naught.”

  The leaders all nodded grimly. Soon, the large party of warriors was padding off into the entrance cave, trying to minimize the noise of their passage and anxiously looking for anyone who might sound the alarm.

  Trallik and the other fifteen freed prisoners followed Khazak through the empty council chamber and down the side passage into areas he’d never seen before. They passed a grotto named the ‘leader’s grotto,’ where Trallik imagined the various leader caste of the gen lived. Instead of turning there, however, they passed by it and continued down the passageway. At the end of the passageway a metal gate stood open, a warrior with a spear and sword lay dozing on the ground in front of it. As they approached, Khazak threw his spear, skewering this guard as well through the chest so that no sound escaped his pierced lungs. The party entered the large open area that was the outer courtyard of the Lord’s House. Trallik could feel the fresh air and the slight moisture in the air, and heard the sound of falling water. To their left a small pool collected under a slight waterfall which came down from high above. Moss and hanging vines adorned this outer courtyard. Throughout the area, there were small beds of flowers and plants, though most of them were trampled and in disarray.

  Passing through the courtyard, the group arrived at the large iron-banded double wooden doors on the far side without alerting anyone. Khazak slowly, quietly turned the handle of the door. It opened with a click and Khazak pushed the door open. Motioning for the party of warriors to follow him, Khazak pushed into the Lord’s House.

  Inside was perhaps the most simple, yet elegant display of architectural beauty Trallik had seen in his entire life. Modeled after pictures in the gen’s library that spoke of Palacid, the stone through which the front entranceway had been carved was cut into the shape of pillars and arches, spaced a little more than four paces apart down the entire length. Between each set of rough-hewn pillars on either side of the wall were pedestals, also carved out of the wall, with intricately inlaid copper and glass vases on them.

  At the end of the hallway, the entrance opened into a great open room with a hallway leading from it on either side, a staircase leading up to a balcony that overlooked the entire chamber, and a pair of doors, one on the balcony and one directly below it. Scattered around the floor of the great room were piles of furs and pillows. On these many cushions sat or lay several of the most beautiful females of the gen.

  Trallik recognized many of them. Some of them were the lifemates of warrior group leaders. Most of them, however, were females who were barely at the age where they could be mated, though Trallik saw Durik’s little sister Darya sitting in a corner crying and knew that Khee-lar Shadow Hand had not held to the minimum age dictated in the Scrolls of Heritage when he picked his concubines.

  On the staircase leading up to the balcony a pair of warriors had a female by either arm and were dragging her bodily up the stairs. Though she’d obviously been beaten and bloodied, she still fought her captors’ efforts to get her into the bedroom at the top of the stairs.

  “Where is Khee-lar Shadow Hand?!” Khazak roared out. The two warriors on the stairs stopped and turned in surprise. Many of the females jumped at his voice, the less submissive ones cried through swollen eyes or bloody mouths. The female they were dragging cried out as the warriors wrenched her bruised arm. Trallik’s heart leapt in his chest; the voice was Trikki’s.

  “Where is that traitor, Khee-lar Shadow Hand? Tell me!” Khazak yelled again. For the first time, the many females in the room began to realize that these warriors weren’t here to abuse them, but rather to save them. As one they began to stand up. Just as quickly, the pair of warriors realized who he was, and began to climb the stairs faster.

  “Sire, two of his warriors are here, but he has gone to the arena, I think. Are you going to free us?” one of them cried.

  “Warriors! Are you Khee-lar’s, or will you swear allegiance to Lord Karthan?!” Khazak bellowed out fiercely, his eyes staring intently at the open doors on the balcony where the two warriors had disappeared with Trikki. He already knew the answer, and his question was more of a challenge.

  Grabbing his spear with renewed intensity, Khazak and Trallik rushed up the stairs, followed closely by several of their companions. As they reached the open doors of Lord Karthan’s bed chamber, they were greeted by the sight of the two warriors, two of Khee-lar’s Untouchables, standing with spears at the ready.

  Trallik looked around the room in desperation until his heart leapt at the sight of her. Trikki sat rocking back and forth in a corner, holding her knees up to her chest, her hornless head buried in her arms and a bloody rag clutched in one hand.

  “Trikki!” Trallik called.

  When she heard his voice, she immediately looked up, the look of despair on her bruised and bleeding face melting into pain mingled with hope as she recognized her love. Seeing him, she began to rise.

  One of the Untouchables turned to her. “Stay there or we’ll cut you to pieces!” he yelled. Seeing she was sufficiently cowed, the Untouchable turned back to the growing crowd of warriors, few of which were armed, but all of which had death in their eyes.

  At that moment Khazak stepped forward and threw his spear. True to their status, his able target dodged to one side, but not quickly enough. With a sound like ripping cloth, the spear tore the muscle from the Untouchable’s left breast and pierced his left arm, knocking the warrior to the ground with the force of the impact where he lay stunned and gasping.

  The other Untouchable immediately dropped his spear, drew his sword, and headed toward Trikki in the corner of the room

  Trallik sprinted toward them, but stopped cold as the Untouchable grabbed Trikki around the neck from behind and held his sword to her back. Trikki’s eyes showed pain and fear as she clutched the bloody rag closer to her breast.

  “Stand back!” the Untouchable commanded.

  Trallik quickly stopped and took a step backward, holding out his arms to urge those who had surged forward with him back as well. The Untouchable on the bed was clearly taking a moment of desperation to think, so Trallik held his hand up.

  “Please don’t hurt her,” he pleaded.

  “Do you know her?” Khazak Mail Fist whispered next to Trallik, the recently recovered spear in his hand dripping blood from the other Untouchable.

  The look in Trallik’s eyes told Khazak everything. This was Trallik’s lifemate he’d spoken of. Khazak took a couple of steps to the side to where the other Untouchable lay bleeding out his life on the stone floor, never taking his attention from the drama playing out around him.

  “Please, we’ll let you go free!” Trallik pleaded. “Just let her go. I promise you we’ll let you go!”

  “How can I be sure of your words? I think you’ll betray me the moment I let her go.” The Untouchable pressed the point into the skin of Trikki’s back. The grimace of pain in her eyes and her muted cry almost brought Trallik to his knees.

  “No, no!” Trallik’s eyes were large. “Come, you can take her with you to the entrance. We’ll
not track you. You have my word on it.”

  The Untouchable seemed to be seriously considering Trallik’s words. He whispered something into Trikki’s ear. The two of them stood up together, the Untouchable pulling the sword away for only a moment to steady himself with that hand.

  In that instant Khazak flung the sword from the other Untouchable’s belt toward the hostage taker. It struck true, piercing the Untouchable’s forearm and lodging a finger’s distance into the Untouchable’s stomach.

  Crying out in pain, the Untouchable’s sword dropped from his nerveless hand.

  In a flash Khazak was at his side, kicking the legs out from under Trikki and the Untouchable. Grabbing Trikki by the arm, Khazak flung her into Trallik’s waiting arms.

  Raising his spear now in both hands, Khazak plunged it down through the Untouchable’s stomach, the force of the impact knocking the breath out of his target and lodging the spearhead deep into the crack between stones in the floor.

  The deed was done, and Khazak stepped back to ensure Trikki was alright. Trallik had already gathered her into his arms, however, and was holding her to him with a look of pain and relief.

  After a few moments of crying into Trallik’s shoulder, Trikki pulled back, the bloody rag in her hand held up. “Trallik, they made me bleed.”

  “It’s alright, Trikki, we’ll put some poultice on your cuts. They’ll heal soon enough.”

  Trikki’s pain was deeper than that, however. She looked up at him with the eyes of one who has lost a part of herself. “No, Trallik, you don’t understand. The baby… they made me bleed. I’ve lost the baby.”

  The tears were shed, the realization was past, Trikki was numb for the moment. Trallik didn’t know what to say, and was relieved when Trikki, eyes wide and empty, lay her head against his shoulder, still clutching the rag to her breast.

  Khazak saw the pain and stepped forward to speak soothing words, but thought better of it. The two lifemates were joined at last, and there was nothing more for him to do for them. He now had to carry on the insurrection.

  Turning to the rest of the warriors who were with him, Khazak Mail Fist spoke. “My friends, our work here is done. We must go now and carry on the insurrection!”

  Grabbing weapons from the two fallen warriors and from a weapons rack on the wall, the small party began to file out of the room. Trallik didn’t even notice until Trikki pushed away from him. The look in her eyes was detached, almost dreamlike as she dropped the bloody rag and turned around. Taking a long knife from Trallik’s belt, Trikki looked at the two Untouchables who had brought her here, beat her and abused her. Seeing that the one who had held her hostage had already expired, Trikki walked toward the other who lay moaning on the floor. Kneeling next to him, she grabbed his head by a horn and exposed his neck. Looking into his eyes with a look devoid of any emotion, Trikki plunged the knife into the Untouchable’s neck. She stood then and, seeing there were more weapons on the rack, she took a sword and belted it around her torn clothing.

  Trallik had stood there speechless during the entire episode. Finally, regaining his composure, he retrieved the long knife from the neck of the Untouchable, cleaned it, and resheathed it. Seeing Trikki walking toward the door, Trallik followed, wanting to wrap an arm around her shoulders as they walked, but not fully understanding the change that had overcome her. Looking back at the scene one last time before hurrying out the door, he saw the rag she had clutched now lying in a puddle of the Untouchable’s blood whom she had killed, the blood from her womb mingling with that of the mangled corpse.

  Down in the main chamber, the females’ joy in being free had quickly mixed with the terror of uncertainty and war. “Please, don’t leave us here!” Darya, Durik’s little sister pled with Khazak Mail Fist. Many of the others echoed her cry.

  In his heart Khazak knew he couldn’t leave these terrorized victims of Khee-lar’s rule in their wretched state. Some of them were the lifemates of fellow council members he’d served with for several years. He could only imagine what had happened to their lifemates. Yet at the same time, he needed every one of the warriors he had with him.

  Reluctantly, he turned to two of the warriors who had accompanied him here. “You two, stay here with them. Lock the gate and bar the door. Arm them if you can find weapons for them. Gather stones if nothing else. But whatever you do, by your lives don’t let Khee-lar and his warriors in.”

  The two warriors nodded grimly.

  “Trallik, are you coming or staying?” Khazak asked as he pulled more spears and swords from a side closet, passed them out, then ushered the rest of the warriors out of the room.

  “Let’s go, Trallik. I must leave this place,” Trikki said with an eerie, detached calmness.

  “I’m coming. We’re coming,” Trallik answered, care for his love, lost somewhere in a world he did not understand, making it hard for him to focus on anyone else but her.

  Khazak grabbed the last spear and threw it into Trikki’s hands. She caught it without a word. “If she’s coming, she’ll be needing a spear,” Khazak said matter-of-factly.

  Trikki accepted the spear without a word, and without a hint of emotion showing through the numbness of the pain she had already experienced that day.

  Grabbing her other hand, Trallik followed after Khazak and his thirteen warriors.

  “Wait!” Goryon hissed as he raised a hand to halt the line of warriors who came up behind him. He could hear the sound of many feet coming down the passage to his left. At his command, Lord Karthan’s other four personal guards raised their bows with him and the five of them waited for whoever was approaching to show themselves. Behind them, Lord Karthan held his breath as the first of the kobolds came around the corner.

  “Khazak?!” Lord Karthan stood up straight. “You’re alive!”

  Khazak Mail Fist turned to his right, spear at the ready until he saw who was addressing him. “Sire! I see they didn’t succeed in killing you either!”

  Lord Karthan stepped through his personal guard and embraced his chamberlain and head of his Honor Guard Warrior Group. “Khazak, I thought they killed you with the others at the first night’s resting place!”

  “No,” Khazak shook his head slowly. “They tried, but like everything Khee-lar’s ever done, he did a poor job of it.”

  Lord Karthan laughed. It seemed for a moment as if the tension of the last several days was gone. “I, for one, finally appreciate his shoddy work!”

  “Aye, if he’d just put his heart into his work…” Khazak joked.

  “Aye. Aye!” Lord Karthan shook his head as he laughed. “Now, tell me. Have you found out where he is?”

  Khazak nodded his head. “I’ve heard that he’s in the arena.”

  “Well then, shall we?” Lord Karthan asked as though they were headed off to some social event or another, rather than off to face Khee-lar Shadow Hand and his supporters.

  The crowd of armed warriors grew as Lord Karthan’s entourage passed the caverns of the Trade Warrior Group and the Metalsmithies Warrior Group. Khee-lar had not treated them favorably, and his grab for all their wealth had rankled even those who had sworn their allegiance to him before his takeover of the gen. Soon, as word spread in front of the main body of Lord Karthan’s loyalists, the warriors of the Patrol Guard Warrior Group began to assemble in their teams and their companies.

  Drok didn’t wait for their assembly, however. With a ‘by your leave’ to Lord Karthan, instead he took his group of twenty-five off at a run toward the home caverns of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group. He was intent on finding their leader caste, a rather hardened elite warrior named Abetor who had murdered Raoros Fang and taken his place. What had made the murder even more vile was that he had been Raoros’ chief elite warrior. Drok had fled shortly thereafter.

  Khazak didn’t wait for the warriors to assemble, either. Once he and Lord Karthan saw the beginnings of the groundswell of support from the warrior groups for Lord Karthan’s return, Khazak immediately pressed on with his g
roup of thirteen, plus Trallik and Trikki. He was intent on trapping Khee-lar in the arena if at all possible. They moved with urgency, knowing that Khee-lar would run if they didn’t get there before he could flee.

  Chapter 15 – A House of Cards

  Khee-lar Shadow Hand sat half reclined in his box up in the stands. The view from the lord’s box, where he currently sat, was much the same as from the leaders’ box where he’d previously watched all the events, but yet from the lord’s box it seemed just a bit better… though he would have to get cushions for these hard wooden chairs. Turning to one of his Untouchables, the remaining eight of whom were seated behind him, he passed his desire along for a cushion. The warrior got up immediately, but Lord Khee-lar motioned for him to sit down. “After,” he said. “For next time.”

  The spectacle this day was average enough; a pack of hunting dogs facing off against a large boar. It certainly wasn’t as entertaining as the executions he’d ordered over the past several days, but he’d grown tired of those anyway. For some reason the executions of his former enemies had grown less entertaining the more of them he did.

  After the excitement wore off, he’d thought of having them fight each other. That was fun enough in concept, but they’d put no spirit into it, knowing they would just be cut down by his archers anyway. He’d thought about pardoning the winners, but he was too cautious to do that. After all, that would mean leaving a potential enemy alive. He wasn’t about to do that.

  After a week of glutting his every appetite, Khee-lar had grown restless. He had been looking for something else to occupy his time other than concubines, elaborate feasts, and executing prisoners. Seeing his lack of enthusiasm for executing the sixteen remaining prisoners immediately, some of his leader caste had come to him with the idea of this boar-dog fight. He’d liked the idea, mostly because dogs and boars didn’t plead for their lives, and they didn’t refuse to fight each other, and they didn’t look you in the eye like they were judging you. No, they just fought viciously and died pitifully, like all good entertainment should do.

 

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