The Game of Fates

by Joel Babbitt

  Seated next to Khee-lar, Kort, the leader of the Deep Guard Warrior Group, basked in his lord’s approval. Khee-lar’s ideas were good, but they quickly ran out of flavor. Kort’s twisted mind always seemed to know how to make them last longer, how to heighten them and enhance the excitement of them all. Kort’s ideas, Khee-lar had discovered, seemed to never loose their freshness. Khee-lar and the other leaders had been glutting themselves on Kort’s debased ideas for days now without any sign of respite, and Khee-lar showed him his appreciation by giving him several concubines and slaves, and much wealth.

  On the other side of Khee-lar sat Abetor, the merciless, moralless new leader of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group, the same who had been its chief elite warrior and who had stabbed his own leader caste in the back to take his place. There was no subtlety in that one, much as there was no mercy. Khee-lar kept Kort close, but trusting Abetor less, he kept him closer.

  “Ah! He ripped his throat out with that swipe!” Kort cried out next to him. Khee-lar brought his attention back to the fight. The boar had just ripped the throat out of one of the dogs with his mighty tusks. Now the fight would be more desperate. With four dogs it had been too much, but three dogs against the boar made things a bit more interesting…

  Kram, Chief Elite Warrior of the Deep Guard Warrior Group, was not one to sleep late. Having taken the night shift, he slept only until second meal, then got up, ate, and began to see to the guards he had posted for the day shift.

  Almost as a testament to the lack of discipline that his leader caste, Kort, seemed to have fostered in Lord Khee-lar’s former warrior group, Kram found several of the guard posts empty. He was going to have to confront Kort about this. If Kort wouldn’t give him power to discipline his own warriors, then what good was it to be a chief elite warrior?

  Kram shook his head. No, Kort would probably just relieve him of his status, promoting someone ‘who complained less’ in his place. That would do no good. Beside, his lifemate had already gotten used to the greater share of wealth that his new status afforded them.

  So it was with these thoughts on his mind that he arrived at the watch station and was surprised to see the elite warrior he’d left there lying in a puddle of his own blood, skewered by a spear he surmised from the grievous wounds he bore in his chest and back.

  Kram thought for a moment about the situation. No use running about without my head. He could see from how the dead one lay that the attack had come from the area of the prison, so he stepped forward and called down the hall to the prison guard station.

  No answer.

  If the prison guard was no more, then the prisoners had to have escaped. And if the prisoners had escaped, then Khazak Mail Fist, the most capable warrior this gen had probably ever known, was on the loose…

  Kram thought about where Lord Khee-lar and Kort likely were at this exact moment. He remembered the work that had gone into capturing the boar, and he thought that the fight was supposed to be taking place about now in the arena.

  Kram turned and ran with all his might toward the arena. As he did so, he came to the long passage that led up to the surface. Looking up it, he saw a number of kobold warriors, armed and coming down the passage as if on the hunt. At their head was the exile Goryon, and not far behind him came Lord Karthan.

  Not stopping to look further, Kram ran for it. He passed the market and called his lolling guards to arms, hoping these many days of lax standards hadn’t ruined them completely. As he went he gathered in his Deep Guard warriors, telling them to assemble at the arena. Soon he arrived at the arena and was relieved to find his two guards still posted there, kept focused on guarding by the promise of an opportunity to catch Lord Khee-lar’s eye if nothing else.

  “You two! Gather the Deep Guard! All of them! Bring them here, now! Karthan and his exiles are upon us! To arms!” he yelled as he strode up to them.

  “What, Lord Karthan is…”

  “You heard me, now get moving! Gather our warriors!” Kram cut the guard short.

  The pair took off at a run as Kram turned to the three guards who had caught up with him here. “You three stay here and guard this door. I’m going in to warn Lord Khee-lar!” With that, Kram entered the bowels of the arena.

  “Aha! Now it’s down to two!” Kort’s blood was up, and he was getting a bit loud for Khee-lar’s liking. Down below them in the arena another dog had succumbed to its wounds. The terrible gash down its side had spilt more blood than it could bear, and the weakness the loss of blood had brought had left the dog moving too slow when the boar came at it again. The boar’s tusks had pierced its ribs and the poor animal had been thrown far, to gasp a few times before drowning in its own blood.

  Khee-lar could certainly appreciate a good fight and, despite Abetor’s rather sullen demeanor, Kort’s rather boisterous manner was starting to rub off on Khee-lar’s normally more reserved nature.

  “That’s it! Get a hold of its throat, you stupid dog!” Khee-lar called as one of the dogs snapped unsuccessfully at the boar’s throat. “Ah! You missed your chance!” Next to him, Abetor grunted and folded his arms in disapproval of the dog’s failure.

  All of a sudden Kram, Kort’s chief elite warrior, appeared through a door and ran out into the arena.

  “What’s he doing out there?” Khee-lar turned to Kort, who looked just as surprised as Khee-lar did.

  “Um… I don’t know, my lord,” Kort replied meekly. “It seems he’s yelling something.”

  One of the dogs had taken a tusk to the back leg and was yelping loudly, drowning out whatever it was Kram was trying to tell them. Seeing he wasn’t being heard, Kram tried to skirt around the animals’ fight. The boar’s blood was up, however, and it charged at him.

  Kram saw the danger coming his way, and taking his spear in both hands he set it firmly in the dirt of the arena to receive the boar’s charge. The boar ran blindly at him, ignoring the set spear, skewering itself on the spear while Kram held it steady.

  Soon, the great pig had stopped kicking as it lay on its side and silently pumped blood on the stadium’s dirt floor. The last two dogs lay licking each other’s wounds as Kram ran to the bottom of the steps up to the lord’s box. Behind Khee-lar, his eight Untouchables came to their feet and drew weapons, in case Kram had lost his mind and was a threat to their lord.

  “What is the meaning of this?!” Khee-lar was on his feet, infuriated by Kram’s actions. After all, it had been quite a good fight up until he had spoiled it… though he did admire the skill with which Kram had dispatched the boar. Seated beside Lord Khee-lar, Kort tried to hide from his lord’s displeasure.

  Kram had stopped cold as the line of Untouchables stood. He knew they were cold-blooded killers and it gave him pause. “Sire, I come with news of great urgency!” He held up his open hands to show he held no unseen blade.

  Khee-lar frowned. What could be of such great urgency as to merit ruining this fight? “And what news do you bring?” Khee-lar asked.

  “My lord,” Kram said breathlessly, “the exile Karthan and his loyalists are in the caverns! They are marching here even as we speak!”

  Khee-lar and the rest of the leader caste all caught their breath at the same time. It was a moment or two before Khee-lar could respond, and even then his voice was pitched a bit higher with the nervousness he felt.

  “And what of my guards?” Khee-lar asked. “Do they not stand firm against him?”

  “Sire,” Kram lowered his head, “they were not enough. He comes with many. My guards alone were not enough.”

  “We should have kept the Patrol Guard out at the picket line! It’s their fault!” Kort pointed at the new Patrol Guard Warrior Group Leader. That accusation immediately launched several other counter accusations as Kort worried more about placing blame for Lord Karthan’s successes on someone else rather than reacting to the immediate danger that Lord Karthan’s forces presented.

  Khee-lar, however, despite a night of fermented Wallaya root broth, saw things entirely
too clearly at the moment.

  “You fools!” he yelled at his warrior group leaders and other leader caste who sat behind him bickering. “Do you not see the danger here? There is no time to spare! If you value your positions—and your lives—get out there and gather your warriors! Stop Karthan now!”

  Khee-lar’s words shocked them into action. Each leader caste hastened off to his warrior group’s home caverns to gather his warriors. Khee-lar and his contingent of Untouchables were last among them to leave the stands. He looked down at the skewered boar as he passed it and saw the fear that its final throws had left in its eyes as death took it. What little courage he had fled at that moment, and he immediately knew what he would do.

  Khazak Mail Fist reached the cavern where the market closest to the arena was arrayed. The news of their arrival had obviously reached here, for everyone was closing up shop as he arrived and many were disappearing in every direction they could as he and his fifteen arrived. They stopped only long enough to raid a weapons stand of its spears and bows before Khazak drove his little group straight through the market to the broad passage on the far side that led to the arena.

  “You will not pass!” a group of no more than ten Deep Guard Warriors stood nervously, but resolutely blocking the passage. Not far behind them Khazak could see the several kobolds who he knew to be Khee-lar’s closest allies fleeing the arena like cockroaches. Last of them all, Khee-lar emerged from the arena, locked eyes with Khazak, then took off running in fear toward the caverns of the Deep Guard. Behind him were eight rather young warriors who were clearly his personal guard. They were equipped the same as the two he had killed in the Lord’s House and the impetuous looks on their faces spoke of their favored status with their lord.

  “Khee-lar! You imposter! Stand and fight!” Khazak called after him.

  The ten deep guard warriors who stood in the passageway spared nervous glances back at their fleeing lord and the Untouchables who accompanied him. Soon one of them ran, then another.

  Khazak saw they were about to break on their own, and he called a charge. Like one, the sixteen of them surged forward. By the time they got to the deep guard warriors, there were only five of them left to oppose them, and those five went down quickly.

  Khazak did not stop to ensure they were dead. The warriors behind him, Trallik and Trikki included, ensured that with the points of their many spears and swords. It seemed almost as if Trikki were cleansing herself of the pain stored up in her heart over the years as she joined Trallik in stabbing the fallen warriors until their cries stopped and their bodies went still. Even then, Trallik had to pull her along with him. Emotion had returned to her, and the look in her eye of fear mingled with her own suppressed pain coming to the surface scared him. He got her away from the bodies as soon as he saw it.

  Khazak’s little group ran for all it was worth after Khee-lar. But for all their persistence, the guards that Khee-lar was able to gather and throw in their path slowed them down enough that Khee-lar and his entourage made it to one of the two entrances to the Deep Guard Warrior Group’s home caverns before Khazak and his little group could block them. There the chief elite warrior Kram had already begun to rally his warriors while Kort stood further back in the entrance, calling for all to gather who could bear weapons and were somewhat loyal to him, pushing them forward to stand in the ranks.

  At that moment both Kort and Kram wished that Kort had decided to provide some sort of leadership to his new warrior group, rather than dithering all his time away with Lord Khee-lar. Kort was dismayed to see how slowly they reacted, at how undisciplined little more than a week of his bad example had left them. He realized at that moment that there wasn’t much Kram had been able to do without a leader caste that supported his training, and who questioned his every move. Kort realized all this, and that he’d had his chief elite warrior running the watch since the take over more than a week before, giving him no time to look to the affairs of the Deep Guard anyway. Kort’s realization that he’d set himself up for failure hit him like a ton of rocks. Seeing the results of his failure, Kort said nothing more and simply began to run after Lord Khee-lar and his entourage, deeper into the caves of the Deep Guard toward the cliff Sheerface.

  From the far entrance into their caves, not much beyond the entrance where Kram rallied the Deep Guard, several kobolds who had been recently enslaved or made concubines by Khee-lar and his minions had taken up arms and were chasing down several of their tormenters when Khazak and his contingent arrived. Apparently word had come before them, causing the uprising.

  The large cavern that served as a gathering point in front of the first entrance to the Deep Guard’s home was empty when Khazak arrived. The Deep Guard were gathering in the entrance to their home, with their backs toward the tents of their families as they faced off with Khazak and his fifteen.

  The Deep Guard warriors seemed to feel pretty confident. So far there were almost thirty of them, and more were gathering as the moments passed. Then, a group of thirty warriors arrived. For a moment Khazak’s group almost panicked, but then the leader of the group of thirty hailed them.

  “Khazak Mail Fist! Lord Karthan sent us after you. Tell us, have you cornered the traitor yet?”

  Khazak and his handful of warriors grinned in delight at the arrival of the Karthan loyalists. In the entranceway, the faces of the thirty or so Deep Guard became much more grim as they realized they were outnumbered.

  “My thanks to our lord for sending you!” Khazak replied. “Trallik, take our fellow former prisoners and go to the other entrance,” Khazak pointed to the far entrance to the Deep Guard’s caves. “You thirty,” he called to Lord Karthan’s loyalists who had just arrived, “you’re with me!”

  Trallik led his small group of warriors and Trikki off to the far entrance where the slaves and concubines were mutilating the bodies of those they had killed. There was much pain there, pain that Trikki could well understand. When they arrived, Trikki held Trallik back.

  “Let them alone, Trallik,” she said, a confidence in her eyes and a firmness in her voice that Trallik had never seen before. He held up his hand to stop the warriors who were with him from going forward as the several slaves and concubines, freed now by their own arms and the appearance of Khazak and his forces, repaid the injustices dealt them in the short time of Khee-lar’s rule over them. On the ground at their feet the Deep Guard warriors who had supported Khee-lar’s rule had paid dearly for their support of Khee-lar’s reign.

  “Kram? You’re the leader caste of this once-proud group?” Khazak asked in contempt.

  “No, Khazak, I am its chief elite warrior now. See? No tower on my right breast,” Kram corrected him.

  “Who’s in charge here, then?” Khazak asked.

  Kram looked about to see if Kort had returned yet, or if Khee-lar Shadow Hand had stayed with his group or moved on. He saw neither of them. Kort’s voice had ceased calling out for his warriors almost immediately after he arrived as well. Kram was feeling rather alone, despite the almost fifty warriors who stood behind him.

  “Khazak, I believe I am,” Kram said.

  “Kram, you were always a good elite warrior in the Deep Guard. You were Bridge Master of all things! Why have you thrown your lot in with Khee-lar?”

  Kram shook his head. “Khazak, you’ll not be convincing me that I’m in the wrong here. You know Lord Khee-lar’s bloodline is closest to that of the last Lord Kale. By blood right he rules. You and your small band of loyalists can’t change that.”

  Khazak desperately wanted to just break past these warriors and catch up with Khee-lar. If Khee-lar and some of his closest supporters escaped down Sheerface, he would always remain a threat to them. That was something Khazak just couldn’t allow.

  “Listen to me, Kram. You’ve lost this thing. The warriors of the gen are rallying to Lord Karthan as we speak. The war is over. Don’t make your warriors die for a lord who won’t even stand with them!” Khazak pled with him.

  Kra
m shook his head. “No, Khazak. You’ll not trick me like that. I don’t believe the warrior groups would rise up against him like that.” In his heart Kram ignored the nagging doubt that it was probably true. In a little over a week’s time, Lord Khee-lar had managed to destroy all of the gen’s good will for his rule and most of their trust. It was a fact he couldn’t dispute. Nonetheless, he knew his duty well and would hold to it.

  Around him, warriors began to murmur, wondering if what Khazak had said was true. But there were many who knew there would be no forgiveness for them. Those whose hands were steeped in blood knew that they had to stand and fight. The Deep Guard had birthed Lord Khee-lar’s overthrow of Lord Karthan, and many of them knew that vengeance would come down without mercy on them if Khee-lar were to lose the throne.

  One of the more innocent Deep Guard warriors stepped forward, dropping his weapon as he went. One of those who knew that he’d die if Karthan took back the gen shot him in the back with an arrow, dropping him before he took five paces.

  “Kram… all of you!” Khazak pleaded as he held his hand up. “Come, there’s no reason to die here this day. We are all Kale. Our gen can still be healed.”

  The other warriors in the group who were the core of the Deep Guard Warrior Group, and who didn’t have blood on their consciences began to look at each other, the mounting anger in their eyes building as they saw it reflected in the eyes of those of like mind. They knew those who were involved in the conspiracy to overthrow Lord Karthan, and they knew who wasn’t. They also knew who had done horrible things, and who hadn’t.

  As one, three of the small group of warriors broke out fighting against the others. First among the dead was he who shot the arrow. Kram commanded them to stop, but their anger was more than their discipline at that moment. Soon everyone had joined one side of the melee or the other. Kram kept ordering them to stop and trying to pull warriors out of the fray. He then jumped into the fray and tried grabbing weapons from the combatants to get them to stop fighting each other. In the middle of it all, one of his warriors stuck a sword deep into his gut, its point sticking out the small of his back. Kram fell face down into the sand.