by Joel Babbitt
“But what of that warrior group? We can’t just leave them,” Troka said.
“We’re not leaving them,” Gorgon observed. “They’re leaving us.”
“Well, still. What will happen to them when the ants come?”
“Troka, we’ve not been sent to convince them to return,” Gorgon said flatly.
“Gorgon, this is a fool’s errand,” Arbelk said, shaking his head.
Chewing his lip for a moment, Gorgon realized there was no counterargument. “Aye,” he said, nodding. “That it is. Orders or not, there’s no use in us continuing this.”
Troka wasn’t happy about this. “Let me go, then. It may not be our orders, but someone has to try to convince them to come back.”
Gorgon thought for a moment while everyone looked at him expectantly. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, but leave that broadsword of yours. Tall as you are, I’ve still seen you struggling with it, climbing around.”
Troka nodded and unslung the two-handed broadsword from over his back. He still had his shield, bow, quiver, and long knife with him. That was enough of a burden to climb with through the underdark.
“I won’t be long,” Troka said in a conciliatory tone.
Gorgon looked him straight in the eyes. “You better not be. You run, hear me? Tell them no one’s pursuing them. It might make them stop fleeing. But no matter what, you get back to us as soon as you deliver the message!”
Troka nodded, then turned and took off running down the slope.
Gorgon shook his head as Arbelk came up next to him. “I’m going to regret this. I just know I’m going to regret this.”
Chapter 19 – The Challenges of Leadership
Mahtu held up his hand like he’d seen the Kale Gen warriors do. Not far behind him Durik and Manebrow stopped and waited quietly as Mahtu listened. After a few moments he called for them to come forward.
“Is people there,” he stated in a breathless whisper. Down here in the dry caves that led up to the foot of Sheerface anything more than a whisper carried too far. Behind Mahtu the pair of Kale Gen warriors could now hear the low rumble of many voices and many bodies moving about in the caverns ahead.
Durik motioned for Mahtu to continue scouting ahead for the two armored warriors.
Not much farther through the twisting passageways and caves, Mahtu stopped again. Beckoning for Durik and Manebrow to come forward, the three of them looked cautiously around the corner.
The base of the cliff known as Sheerface lay within sight. That place held many recent memories for both Durik and Manebrow, but right now it held many kobolds, all of them apparently awaiting their turn to ascend the cliff. As the trio waited, they saw a lift descend to the base of Sheerface. Several of the waiting kobolds ascended with it as it returned up the cliff.
“Who they?” Mahtu wondered out loud.
Manebrow looked at Durik. “Well, we know they’re not from the Deep Gen. Their first contingents probably haven’t begun the evacuation yet. Besides, they’re not equipped as well as the Deep Gen either. Sire, whoever they are, outcasts probably, they seem to be invited. I doubt our gen’s Deep Guard would let them use the lifts otherwise.”
Durik nodded. “The concern we’ve had is whether Khee-lar Shadow Hand and his lackeys will accept the Deep Gen, and what he’ll want to do with us. If he’s taking in all these… outcasts, perhaps he’ll take the Deep Gen as well.”
“This doesn’t seem very characteristic of Khee-lar,” Manebrow said. “He’s never been much of a friend to the outcasts. I don’t remember him ever saying anything good about them.”
Durik moved back to a side cavern followed by his two companions. Seating himself, he pulled the Kale Stone from his belt and held it in both hands. For several long moments he sat transfixed, staring at something beyond his sight. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. Within moments he was on his feet and sharing the good news of Lord Karthan’s return to power.
Kale and his brother stood surveying the great arena of the Kale Gen. While it was not as elegant and built-out as his own amphitheater back in the bowels of the underdark, it would certainly meet the needs of his family and these outcasts… his people. He had not as yet been led to the Kale Stone, but he knew that the time would come and would wait patiently for that time.
“And you say we can use all that is found in the arena for our needs?” Kale asked the grizzled old warrior who had been asked by Lord Karthan to settle Kale and the outcasts in the arena.
“Yes, certainly,” the old warrior answered. Behind him Trallik and Trikki stood holding spears. He turned to the two young kobolds. “Trallik, have these take stock of what they need to fight, then take a detail from them down to the caverns of the old Deep Guard Warrior Group and have whoever Lord Karthan put in charge down there fill the order from their stores and from the equipment from our dead brethren.” Looking at Trikki for a moment, as if to assess her resolve to actually use the spear she carried, he spoke to her. “And you… don’t let any of these outcasts leave the arena yet. They may be joining us for the battle to come, but Lord Karthan doesn’t want them wandering around our halls without escort.”
Having given his orders, the level-eyed warrior looked about at the outcasts filtering in to the arena, accompanied at every several paces by a warrior from the Patrol Guard Warrior Group, who had been given charge of the old Deep Guard’s tasks for now.
“Hey now, there,” he called out to a Kale Gen warrior who leaned up against the wall to rest. “Stand to, lad! I’ll have no slouching from you.”
Kale turned to his brother as the grizzled old warrior left. “Brother, have the people get to work dismantling that mass of nets and wood,” he said, pointing to the mass of obstacles that had been used for the Scouting Trial not two weeks now in the past. “Our outcast friends are not used to living around others, so we’ll need it to get some privacy for all.”
“Aye,” Kale’s brother nodded. “and whoever they can spare I’ll get to dismembering and cooking that,” he said, pointing at the body of the recently dead great boar that lay still in the bloody sand closest to the stands against the far wall.
Kale nodded. His stomach had been growling for some time, and he knew that most of the outcasts had come with very little food. There was a great battle coming, and there was entirely too much to do to prepare these outcasts for it, but for now they had to put first things first; food and shelter.
“Trallik,” Kale spoke to the young warrior who had undergone such a change since he’d last seen him. In his eyes there was a new-found confidence, perhaps a new sense of purpose in life. While Kale didn’t know what had happened to his young friend, the fact that the young kobold seemed to have been accepted back into his own gen could certainly have a lot to do with it.
“Aye, Kale,” Trallik answered, “shall we get an equipment list together?”
Kale shook his head. “Not yet, my friend. Tell me. You’re a trained warrior of this gen, isn’t that so?”
Trallik nodded.
“How do your gen’s warriors organize to fight?”
Durik stood in the center of the council chamber, closer than he had ever stood to the lord’s throne, but the floor in the center of this once pristine, vaulted chamber was now soaked in blood and smeared in gore so it was the only place he could stand. The filth of it served as a present reminder of the evil deeds done here, and as a hasty memorial to those who had suffered at Khee-lar’s hand.
“In all of this dark evil,” Lord Karthan was speaking to Durik and Manebrow who stood with him in the center of the room, “your finding of the Kale Stone is like the coming of day after a dark night! My congratulations and thanks to you and your company!”
In his hand Durik held the Kale Stone. He knew he was not the Oracle of this stone, but Morgra had not let him known to whom the stone belonged. He had assumed that it was Lord Karthan, but now as Lord Karthan descended from his throne, Durik wasn’t sure…
“My lord,” Durik said as he w
ithdrew his hand. Lord Karthan stopped short, a look of wonder and sudden caution in his eyes. “I… I don’t know if…”
“Durik,” Lord Karthan spoke as he approached, “it’s alright. Give me the Kale Stone. I am lord of this gen. It is my right.”
Durik raised his other hand. “Sire, please, something tells me that this is not right. It’s not Morgra’s will that…”
At that moment, Lord Karthan, knowing what possession of the stone would mean, and not wanting another insurrection to happen from his failing to possess the stone, grabbed Durik by his outstretched hand and made a grab for the stone.
Just as suddenly, Durik sidestepped and broke Lord Karthan’s grasp. The completely unexpected aggressive move by one he trusted implicitly shook Durik to the core, and it was all he could do to not throw Lord Karthan to the ground.
Next to the throne, Khazak Mail Fist moved forward to help Lord Karthan. Durik quickly backed up.
“Wait!” Manebrow stepped forward between Durik and Lord Karthan. Khazak Mail Fist came up next to his lord. “My lord,” Manebrow held up a hand, “let’s hear Durik out, please. For the sake of us all, let’s not do anything that we’ll all regret.”
Khazak Mail Fist, grim-faced and weary from so much blood and from the multiple attempts on Lord Karthan’s life over the past few years, crossed his arms and prepared for yet more betrayal. “And on whose authority are you holding onto the stone, Durik?”
Durik held up the stone, which pulsed with the same power he had witnessed in the home of the Deep Gen. With that power, pure light began to emanate, low at first then growing in both brightness and intensity as it swept away the red, black and gray of heat vision, replacing it with both color and detail.
By the look on his face, Lord Karthan was slowly becoming aware of not only the light, but of the power that emanated from the stone. In a few moments both he and Durik stood a little taller, a little nobler. With the influence of the stone their hearts began to soften, and the trust between them began to come back. Soon, hands left the hilts they had found themselves subconsciously touching.
“My lord,” Durik spoke openly and honestly, “I am, and always have been, your faithful servant. But there is a power here beyond what you have seen.” Lord Karthan nodded slowly, fully under the influence of the power that had slowly changed the situation in the room. “I do not know why, my lord, but I cannot give you the stone… at this time.”
Durik could feel in his heart that the time would not come, but he couldn’t bear to say it. Besides, not everything he’d felt about the future had been absolutely correct, so he dare not say it. It was as if he could see only glimpses of the future when he did, shrouded in thick mists.
Lord Karthan stepped back and sat on the edge of one of the great tables that ringed the chamber. The intensity of the moment had been diffused quickly by the power that had entered the room, and he sat shaking his head. Off to one side, Khazak Mail Fist stood with crossed arms.
“What is going on here, my lord?” he asked pointedly.
Lord Karthan looked up at his closest friend and protector. “Can you not feel the presence, Khazak? It is the same feeling that overcame me the night before the Trials of Caste, when I knew it was time to search for the stone of our fathers.”
Khazak shook his head. “Sire, I feel something, yes, but I don’t see how that changes the reality of what’s going on here. You know, sire, that if that stone ends up in someone else’s hands, that it’ll take much blood to pry it from them.”
Lord Karthan knew Khazak was right, yet at the same time he felt that he needed to trust Durik. For a few moments the struggle re-emerged within him. “Ah! I know, I know! But yet, it doesn’t feel right to take the stone.”
“Sire,” both of the Kale Gen leaders turned to look at Durik. “Already I have carried the stone for a while. It passed from one hand to another until it found me, and I’m sure when the time comes that it will find itself in the hands of whomever it chooses. I don’t think there’s anything you or I can do to change that. Its power is only mine while it chooses to give it, and it only gives me what power it feels I need at the moment. Do not fear, Khazak and my lord. I have no claim on the throne of Kale, and I have no real control over the Kale Stone either. I will carry the stone until it tells me to give it up, at which time I will, for I cannot hold onto it.”
Lord Karthan stood, perplexed by the situation, and torn inside by his desire to possess the stone and end any possible future attempt on his life, yet feeling the truth of Durik’s words as well. Finally, he shook his head.
“Durik, I cannot argue with you on this,” Lord Karthan spoke. “I can feel the truth of your words. I know that if I were to take the stone, that it would not give its power to me. That, perhaps, would be worse than not having the stone at all.”
Khazak rolled back on his heels, uncomfortable with his lord’s decision. Knowing he had no real say in the matter, however, he kept his tongue.
“Durik, Manebrow,” Lord Karthan spoke after a few moments, “I hereby call your quest ended. Congratulations! Sadly, it would seem that Raoros Fang and his chief elite warrior Abetor are no more. We have problems coming. These ants you speak of, and the orc horde that you sent word of with my daughter. At this time we don’t have time to grieve the fallen properly, but must instead see to our defenses.
“So, Durik, I hereby disband Durik’s Company, and make you leader of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group,” Karthan looked the young leader in the eyes. “And Manebrow, though I could use your talents elsewhere, I do hope you’ve spent enough time this past couple of weeks working on your riding skills as well.”
Manebrow nodded cautiously.
“Well, then I hereby make you chief elite warrior, with charge for the Wolf Riders Warrior Group.” Looking at the pair of them, he continued. “Go now, gather your warriors. Put your house in order. Someday we’ll discover the full extent of the damage this strife brought to our gen, but for now go and get your warrior group organized. I would imagine we’ll have need of your strength before the sun sets.”
Both Durik and Manebrow bowed their heads. “Aye, sire. We thank you for the honor, and will discharge our duties to the best of our abilities.”
“Yes, Durik,” Lord Karthan answered. “I know you will.” Lord Karthan turned to Khazak. “Plan a council of war for immediately after third meal. Gather all the leaders we have, and the ones we just put in place, and invite this Kale from the outcast contingent.”
Durik’s heart burned within him at the mention of Kale’s name.
“Further, Khazak, have what’s left of your Honor Guard warriors dig up this floor and make a map out of it. You’ll probably want to get some Patrol Guard warriors to make sure the map’s right. I want to be able to plan the defenses of our gen, from here to the Picket Line.”
The influence of the stone had left, and now Durik and Manebrow could feel the energy of new responsibilities, an impending challenge, and the beginnings of a vision to lead them.
“Also,” Lord Karthan continued, “I’ve yet to see the Loremaster yet, but if he’s still alive, have him personally bring the Wolf Riders’ copy of the Scrolls of Heritage to Durik’s new home in the leaders’ grotto and have him show him the parts that talk about mercy and justice, and what to do with traitors.
“Finally, Khazak, I want you to give Durik here a few warriors from the honor guard for a personal bodyguard until he feels comfortable enough to send them back.”
Durik was stunned. “My lord, there is no need for that. These are my people. My uncle is in that warrior group. I grew up among them. I will have no need of any bodyguards among them.”
Lord Karthan looked Durik in the eyes for a rather long moment. Throughout it all, Durik held his gaze with a surety and a confidence that showed no hint of arrogance, nor of weakness, but only the deep strength of character he had developed in his short sixteen years of life.
“My young Durik,” Lord Karthan finally said. “By all a
ccounts you have done well leading your small company. You even had the character necessary to exile Trallik, a fellow yearling, when the time came, so Khazak tells me. But Durik, if you are to be a leader caste in this gen, you must understand that your loyalty lies first to this gen, not to any family, nor to any friend. If your loyalties lie anywhere else, when the time of decision comes, you will choose the easier wrong choice, rather than the more difficult right choice. There will be times when you will have to sacrifice those you love the most for the good of this gen.
“You think on that, leader caste of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group. Remember, soon you will be leading your warrior group into battle. It is a time of sacrifice, a time of valor, and a time when discipline and obedience must be absolute. Do what is necessary to ensure the success of your warrior group, even if that means condemning a traitor to die before you ride off to battle, or even if that means charging your warrior group down a steep slope into the midst of the orc horde, just to give the rest of the gen time to reform. Before tomorrow is done, there will be many who will be called on to give their all for this gen. Durik, are you ready to give that call?”
This was tough medicine for Durik who, though he was a veteran combat leader and the chosen Paladin of Morgra, was but sixteen years of age. Adventures were one thing, when one could run and hide, or find a more defensible place to fight. But open, pitched battles were a completely different thing entirely. After all, in battle one’s fate depended as much upon the actions of the rest of the gen as on his own actions, though the Fates seemed often to rule the day. Would he be ready to sacrifice his warrior group, those he had grown up around, or would he shirk that duty when the time came?
Pondering for only a moment in his heart, Durik looked Lord Karthan in the eyes. “Aye, lord. If called upon, we shall all fight and die together. For the good of the gen, then, sire!”
