The Game of Fates

by Joel Babbitt

  The visions Durik had shared with the leaders of the Kale Gen and with these Deep Gen types had come true, and the confirmation of what they had only half-believed seemed to build a particular fervor among many, with some of the Deep Gen types calling Durik the Oracle of Kale and a paladin, terms his gen hadn’t used since the last Lord Kale had disappeared on a quest, after which his long-lived grandfather Karthan had taken over lordship of the gen. Truly, the appearance of the Kale Stone loomed large over them all this day, almost as large as the approaching orc horde or the flood of giant ants. He had been seeking decisive results from the quest for the Kale Stone, and as he looked back at the Deep Gen warriors and the skirmishers of the outcast band, he knew he was looking at the first of whatever results the stone would bring.

  Though he didn’t know how else their gen’s stone of power would influence the events ahead, Lord Karthan was determined to do whatever it took, to make whatever sacrifice was necessary, to see this battle through and to ensure the survival of his gen.

  If their stone of power helped with that, well, the more help the better. Right now, his gen could use all the help it could get.

  Lord Krall nudged his riding dog, the spry, strong young animal moving forward much faster than Lord Krall could this morning. Though the adrenaline of an impending battle was beginning to kick in, still he felt his age much more this morning than usual.

  Turning away from the large, shallow lake his gen’s warriors had camped next to last night, he looked back at the flurry of activity in the camp off to his right and saw one of his servants dismantling the wood and cloth frame that had served as his bed last night. Shaking his head, he cursed his lack of attention to his campaigning gear. He should have thought to bring a bed of feathers or furs. As it was, he felt stiff as a board all over and his neck refused to turn much to the left this morning.

  “Father!” Lord Krall’s son and namesake came riding up to his right, spry as the dog he was riding.

  “What!” Lord Krall snapped, his head ringing from his sharp reply.

  Krall was a bit taken aback by his father’s sharpness, but he’d been around him long enough to know what it stemmed from.

  “Father,” he continued in a more subdued tone, “our scouts report that Durik and his wolf riders have slain perhaps a hundred of the orcs and a handful or so of their ogre mercenaries during the night. They met a messenger that he sent out just this morning at dawn.”

  Lord Krall nodded, grimacing with the pain of the motion. “Good, good. That’s less we’ll have to face.”

  “Yes, father. Certainly good news for our side!”

  “Yes. Now, tell me,” Lord Krall looked Krall in the eye, “have you any report from the contingent we sent out to seal up the mid-valley entrance to the underdark? Is it sealed up yet? All of this will be meaningless if this new ant horde decides to go after our home first.”

  Krall shook his head. “No, father, it’s not sealed up yet, but Gormanor of the scouts just returned to report that they reached the entrance without any opposition, and that they had started work on sealing it. Also, our scouts report that the remnants of the ants we were fighting have begun to move toward the Doorstep. Ardan and his team from the Kale Gen have moved to seal that entrance to the underdark, hopefully before either of the ant groups gets there.”

  Lord Krall nodded, though more subtly than before.

  “Father, shall I send for the healer?” Krall asked.

  Lord Krall was about to snap at his son, but instead, with a resigned sigh, he agreed. In a moment one of the house guard was sent to fetch the old kobold and his wondrous elixirs.

  “Father, would you mind if I went ahead to the field of battle to begin the planning process with the Kales?” Krall asked.

  “That would be fine,” Lord Krall answered in a subdued tone. “But don’t get too comfortable taking charge of planning for the whole gen. You know I’ll be back at it soon.”

  Krall just smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be your normal, grumpy self before long, sire.”

  Lord Krall just scowled as his son turned and rode off around the lake to where the wooden tower from the Kale Gen’s Picket Line stood watch over the large road between the two gens. Soon, Krall disappeared from his father’s view.

  At the top of the long slope Lord Karthan, his chamberlain Khazak Mail Fist, Lord Krall’s son Krall, the outcast leader Kale, and Lord Sennak of the Deep Gen all stood at the edge of the broad crest of the hill, looking east out over the field of battle. Behind them to the west the low hilltop was ringed with a mantle of trees and underbrush, the leaves of the trees just beginning to come in as the blossoms had fallen off in these past two weeks and the underbrush not yet having thickened to impassible here on the hilltop after a long winter. The large clearing in the middle of it all, on the very crown of the rather flat-topped hill, would serve well to hide almost all of the Kale forces if that was the plan they decided on.

  From the top of the hill where the leaders stood, a long, broad, gentle slope led down almost a half-mile to the broad main road that ran between the two southern gens. The grass of spring was not yet at full height, and in fact was just beginning to sprout in some places. The place was as flat as an arena, as if someone had plowed the land sometime in the distant past and purposefully worked out the odd ripples that every piece of ground in this region seemed to have.

  On either side of the broad slope were arms of higher ground. On the left of the leaders a berm-like hill bordered the entire slope, creating a sharp northern border that stopped abruptly at the road. Its entire length was covered by trees and sparse underbrush. Where it met the hilltop a small, sharp hill made up of one massive broken shelf of rock rose up out of the ground to dominate the surrounding area. Knowing the importance of that natural tower, Lord Karthan had already ordered Goryon and Gorgon to move their Great Bows to the top of it if they could, and when the forces arrived he thought he would put a small group of warriors with them to serve as messengers and lookouts, and to help their teams get the massive crossbows onto the rock.

  The main road between the two gens passed along the southern border of the long slope, before turning sharply north at the bottom of it. On the south side of the road a broad band of trees covered a number of small, lumpy hills with a number of narrow, tree-filled little valleys between them. This band of hills and trees continued around the front of the battlefield, bordering the east side of the road as it turned north.

  “Brother kobolds,” Lord Karthan said as he turned to the other four, breaking the moment of pondering. “If our counts and reports are correct, then the orc horde now consists of about nine hundred orcs, probably forty-five or so ogre mercenaries, and five hundred northern gen levies, one hundred of which are wolf riding cavalry from our brother Kobold Gen.”

  The other four had all ceased their pondering and were looking squarely at him now.

  “As I think everyone here knows by now, we stopped the ants just this morning, not long before dawn, as they were coming up Sheerface from the underdark,” Lord Karthan continued. “They move very quickly, but I do not believe they will be able to find their way to the Doorstep too quickly. I believe we have to assume that the orcs will arrive and have to be dealt with before the ants arrive.”

  Kale, Lord Sennak, and Khazak all nodded.

  “Our warriors should have the mid-valley exit from the underdark sealed before long,” Krall added in. “That would leave only the Doorstep available to the ants, which the contingent we sent to seal the mid-valley passage will seal up after they get the mid-valley entrance sealed.”

  Lord Karthan nodded. “Very well. In the various talks we’ve had, the sub-leaders I’ve placed in charge of each of our new companies, Khazak, and I have come up with several thoughts about this coming battle.”

  “What’s there to think about?” Lord Sennak said sarcastically. “After all, these are orcs. They’ll rush at us headlong without thinking. What’s so hard about that?”

&nbs
p; Everyone looked at Sennak for a moment, none of them in agreement.

  “Just because they don’t think about how they fight doesn’t mean we shouldn’t either,” Kale said. “I would like to hear what Lord Karthan has come up with.”

  The moment passed… uncomfortably.

  “The greatest strength they have is their size and simple muscle,” Lord Karthan tried to get their thoughts back to the task at hand. “But an orc like Drakebane, their chieftain, doesn’t get to be old without being wily.”

  “Aye, and curse him!” Khazak Mail Fist spat in the dirt.

  “Yes,” Krall added. “Let’s pay him back for his raid on our gens six years ago.”

  “Aye!” Khazak echoed.

  “And how do we intend to do that?” Kale asked.

  Lord Karthan pointed to the end of the field. “Our plan is to rely on their two main weaknesses; lack of good scouts, thanks to the Krall Gen’s efforts, and lack of shields or other effective protections from our arrows.

  “Our plan has a couple of assumptions to it. First of all is that Durik will lead the orcs to us, on this road here,” he said, pointing at the road that emerged from the trees at the bottom of the slope on the eastern edge of the long clearing.

  “Paladin or not, you’ve a lot of faith in this Durik,” Lord Sennak quipped.

  “As do I,” Kale turned and remarked. The divide between the two underdark leaders was becoming more noticeable.

  “The second assumption,” Lord Karthan tried to refocus the group, “is that they will only be able to split into two or three large groups. We’ve based this on the Krall Gen’s reports that they killed one of Drakebane’s leading sons.”

  “Yes,” Krall nodded. “We did. That would leave him with only himself and one champion.”

  “Why not an ogre group?” Kale asked.

  “The ogres will either be spread out among the orcs to provide shock, or they’ll be a unit under Drakebane,” Khazak said. “It’s the way of things with mercenaries. You can’t just depend on them to do the right thing, you have to keep your thumb on them.”

  “Fair enough,” Kale nodded. “But what about the hobgoblin mercenaries?”

  “May be the same way,” Khazak replied, “though they’re generally more reliable. They may be given the levies from the northern gens, or they may be with one of the groups, and have the kobold levies spread between the two orc groups.”

  “The reason why this is important,” Lord Karthan interjected, “is because we plan to ambush them here,” he said as he raised his arms to encompass the large open field. “Here,” he said as he stepped out in front of the other four and raised his arms to form a generally straight line in front of the trees. “When Durik leads the orcs to the road at the bottom of the slope, the Kale Gen companies will march out of the tree line and stop once the rearmost companies are out of the trees. This will focus the orcs on the top of the slope.”

  “And that should let us rain volleys of arrows down on them with those bows our warriors are carrying,” Khazak added in.

  “Yes,” Kale said, “assuming they take the bait and just come running up the slope at you.”

  “That’s where the second assumption comes in,” Lord Karthan said. “We have to assume that they’ll be smarter than that and that they’ll split their force and use at least part of it to try and flank us.”

  “This hill looks rather hard to assail,” Lord Sennak said. “I would think that they will choose the easier way straight up the slope.”

  “Perhaps,” Lord Karthan said, “but if they do not, then we have to protect our flanks. I will have the Wolf Riders on the main road on our right flank. Lord Sennak,” he turned to the least engaged of the five leaders, “would your forces like the honor of hiding in the berm-like hill off there on our left? I would like them hidden in the woods from probably half a bowshot to two bowshots distance from the left flank of my line. It would allow my warriors to act as an anvil, and yours to act as a hammer to smash the orcs between us once they pass, or to repulse an attack on our left flank.”

  Lord Sennak nodded. “Very well. I think that would be acceptable.”

  “Good,” Lord Karthan nodded, then turned to Kale. “To add extra shock to your attack, what do you think about your warriors with their javelins running out ahead of their Deep Gen brethren to throw their javelins while Lord Sennak’s warriors are charging out behind them?”

  Kale nodded. “We can do that.”

  “Very well, then. Now, for the Krall Gen,” Lord Karthan turned to the heir of the Krall Gen. “While I think this simple plan of hammer and anvil will work, I would like a large reserve that I can call upon if needed.”

  “Where would you have us?” Krall asked.

  “Hear me out on this one. I need you to split your forces in three,” Lord Karthan said. “I need all your mounted warriors to form up on the right flank next to Durik’s Wolf Riders, to help secure our right flank. I would think your Archer Guard and Border Guard warriors would help most by forming up behind the Kale Gen companies, to add their arrows to ours. And I would like your Heavy Guard to form a reserve back in the clearing in the woods on the top of this hill.”

  “Why should we not stand in the line with your warriors?” Krall asked.

  “Because you don’t have shields, and cannot form a shield wall to protect your warriors from the few archers the orcs have,” Lord Karthan answered. “I value your bravery, and am thankful for it in this time of invasion. However, these orcs are attacking my gen. When they come to attack your gen, you can stand the line and we’ll shoot arrows over your heads.”

  “Fair enough,” Krall nodded, “though you may change your minds once you see the ants.”

  “Yes! What are we going to do about the ants?” Lord Sennak asked.

  “Once we deal with the orcs, we will send out our scouts to find the ants,” Lord Karthan answered. “If we can get them to fight in the open, then so much the better. If not, then we’ll likely have to fall back very quickly to the Kale Gen’s caverns, where we will have a better chance of fighting them off.”

  “Those ferocious little creatures can dig, you know! They dug up into the middle of our little fort near the Great River,” Krall said vehemently. “They will dig past your defenses there in the caves. We better hope we can meet them out here where we can fight them, rather than lead them back to your lifemates and whelps!”

  Lord Karthan shook his head. “One large, overpowering enemy at a time.”

  “Let us hope that that is how they come,” Kale said.

  Gorgon lay snoring, propped up against the hard rock that ringed the bowl of earth at the crest of the massive tower rock. As he, Jerrig, Arbelk, and Troka lay comatose, yet twitching in their dreams after a long night’s pursuit by great ants, Goryon directed the work of the six warriors that had been assigned to him to serve as messengers, lookouts, and helpers. Before long the twisted, sinewy mass of ropes on either side of the thick wooden arms that served as propulsion for the spear-like bolts had been wrapped and arranged according to the intricate pattern Goryon had carefully recorded on the side of each machines’ body.

  After a pair of warriors grabbed steel levers and rotated the ratcheting gear back fully, with the help of another warrior Goryon set one of the spears in the trough of the first machine, prepared to fire. While everyone else stood back, Goryon picked up the handle on the back of the machine and tilted the head of the massive bow far upward, hoping to drop the spear close to a mound of dirt in the field a few hundred steps down from the top of the hill.

  “Loosing arrow!” he called. With a jerk to the mechanism, the sinew rope snapped forward, throwing the spear before it in the blink of an eye. Almost immediately the warriors around him were cheering and pointing out into the field.

  Goryon let loose the machine and walked up to the front of it to see how close he’d come to his target. As a warrior pointed out to him where it had landed, to his utter surprise the bolt had gone almost half
the distance of the half-mile long slope before sticking into the dirt at an angle. Letting out a yell of victory as well, Goryon danced about.

  “Let’s fire another one, boys! We’ve got to figure out the drop on this thing pretty quick. Elsewise, we’ll shoot far but won’t hit a thing.” Goryon turned around to a warrior who he’d assigned to mark the point he’d fired from. Strangely enough, the warrior was staring out into space. “Hey!” Goryon yelled. “Did you mark the angle for me?”

  “Um, Goryon,” another warrior said as the entire group of warriors suddenly hushed.

  Turning about, Goryon looked annoyed. “What is the…”

  Suddenly Goryon saw what everyone else was looking at. The entire group stood transfixed in horror at the sight until Goryon grabbed the ram’s horn he’d been given for just such a purpose as this and blew with all his might.

  Chapter 11 – A Dragon Above Them All

  “And you’re the last of them, then?” Durik asked Pintor.

  “Aye, sire,” the elite warrior from Manebrow’s half of the warrior group replied.

  “Very well, go back to your team, then.” With that dismissal Durik turned in the saddle to look at Manebrow. “Well then, it would appear that our little ruse is working.”

  Manebrow nodded and looked off into the distance, down the ridge and into the broad, shallow canyon plain where the ring of upright tree trunks known as the loyalist enclosure lay. Surrounding the place, the orc horde had yet to figure out that it was uninhabited. But they would certainly find out shortly. As the pair of leaders watched, a massive brute of an ogre strode forward with his mighty axe and, turning it about to use the spike on the back of the head, he blasted a hole through the gates in the first strike. Two more strikes later and the lead orcs went flooding into the place.