Forging Destiny

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  The cook merely grunted and dipped his ladle back into the pot while picking up the next bowl. Tovak left the line and looked over the numerous tables for an open spot or someone he knew. The rain had picked up slightly.

  “Tovak,” a voice called out. His eyes were drawn to a raised hand, and he picked out Gorabor a few tables down. He saw an open spot across from his friend, so he headed in that direction, weaving his way through the warriors coming and going and between the tables. He finally reached the open space to find that Karn was sitting next to Gorabor, with Torimar and Bettoth across from them. Tovak noticed Torimar eying him almost warily as he approached. Quite a few of the Baelix Guard sat in the same general area, eating, drinking, and talking in low voices. The mess area had been clearly assigned to several companies.

  Tovak set his bowl and tankard upon the table and sat down beside Bettoth.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Bettoth said to Karn, rising from the table, and there was no missing the hint of disdain in his voice. Tovak turned to Bettoth and then glanced at Karn, whose face was suddenly an expressionless mask.

  “Me too,” Torimar added, quickly standing and scooping up his bowl and tankard.

  “We’ll see you back at the tent, Karn,” Bettoth said, picking up his meal. “It’s time we got started on our gear.”

  They both left without another word. And with their going, Tovak found he had lost his appetite.

  “What was that all about?” Gorabor asked, looking between Tovak and Karn.

  “Give them time, Tovak,” Karn said. “They will come around.”

  Quiet laughter from the next table caught Tovak’s ear. He looked to see Logath, Bane, and Mirok from Third Squad exchanging whispers. Logath locked eyes with Tovak, and there was no mistaking the hint of a sneer on his face, nor the deep-seated animosity in his eyes.

  “Not that again,” Gorabor said. “Tovak’s proved himself. Surely they can see it.”

  “I am still a Pariah,” Tovak said woodenly.

  Karn dipped his bread into his bowl, soaked up some stew, and then took a bite.

  “That doesn’t matter now,” Gorabor said. “You’re one of us. You’ve earned that right.”

  “Not fully accepted, but tolerated,” Tovak said, and a sad chuckle slipped past his lips. He looked at Karn once again. There was just the hint of … something … in the corporal’s face. Was it embarrassment? Compassion? Tovak couldn’t tell. No matter how much he proved himself, his father’s shame would stick to him forever, like a bad smell that could not be scrubbed off. He knew he should have expected nothing less. The stigma of Pariah ran deep amongst his people.

  “What? Seriously?” Gorabor asked, looking between Karn and Tovak. The reality of the situation hit him. He turned fierce eyes to Karn. “That’s just shit is what that is.”

  “Gorabor,” Tovak said firmly. “It’s better than what I’m accustomed to, understand?”

  Karn blew out a frustrated breath and set his bread down in his bowl.

  “Give them time, Tovak,” Karn said. “I won’t lie to you. You’re not wrong about why they left, but they’ll come around … just like I did.” His gaze was almost imploring. “They report to me, but I can’t tell them how to think or feel about you. Only you have the power to change their thinking.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Tovak said with a glance over at Logath, who looked like he’d had one too many tankards.

  “I know I am,” Karn replied, and there was an easy confidence in his voice that did make Tovak feel better. “Both are good warriors. Trust me on that. Now eat up and stop worrying about it.”

  Karn picked his bread back up and dabbed it into his stew. He nodded at Tovak’s. Tovak spooned up some stew and started chewing. He found it bland, but his hunger had returned, and with a vengeance.

  Karn took a bite of his bread. “The cooks outdid themselves with this batch. I’ll tell you that.”

  Tovak looked up, surprised by the corporal’s comment. He found Karn grinning at him.

  “Gorabor told me about Jodin,” Karn said, after several moments of silent eating. “Bad stuff, but with the wound he took, it would take a miracle for him to survive.”

  Tovak felt sour at the thought of Jodin dying.

  Once again, they fell into silence. All around them, there was the general drone of loud talking, laughing, joking, and much merriment. The three of them ate quietly, hungrily, until Karn took a last gulp from his tankard and rose to his feet.

  “I’m heading back.” He looked at both of them. “Enjoy your meals, and feel free to have another tankard, but don’t dawdle too long. Your kit needs to be worked on and it sounds like we will be rousted early. The warband will be back on the move again before the suns dawn.”

  “Yes, Corporal,” Tovak and Gorabor said together.

  Karn stood, picked up his bowl and tankard, and strode off.

  Tovak and Gorabor ate for a few more minutes, and the silence stretched out between them.

  “How do you stand it?” Gorabor asked.

  “What?” Tovak looked back over at his friend. “Being a Pariah?”

  “Yes.” Gorabor set his spoon into an empty bowl. “Now that I’ve seen up close what you go through daily ….” His voice trailed off. “I really don’t like it.”

  Tovak spooned up the last mouthful of stew and chewed thoughtfully, contemplating what sort of answer would help his friend comprehend, even a little, how good things were now, compared to what his life had been before.

  “I’m grateful, Gorabor,” he said. “Before … I mean, before the fight with Jodin, I lived a friendless, lonely life. It was faith alone that carried me through it all. My faith sustained me, as it sustains me now.” Tovak paused. “I never dreamed I might have a friend”—he searched Gorabor’s face—“nor could I have imagined I would be a ….” He glanced around. “Well, mostly accepted as a member of a company and a warband. I had hoped and dreamed it would happen, but that was all. Now ….” He looked at the warriors surrounding them. “Well, I’m grateful. I thank Thulla for every blessing I receive, just as I used to thank Him for every painful lesson. My life’s journey has led me here, and so far, it’s been one well worth taking, especially now that I am a Blood Badger.”

  “You’ve earned that right,” Gorabor said, “especially after the last few days. You have earned Legend; you’ve proved you belong. You don’t deserve how they treat you.”

  “I am a Pariah,” Tovak said simply.

  Gorabor was silent for a long moment.

  “You’re a better Dvergr than I am, my friend,” Gorabor said. “Far, far better.”

  Tovak took the last draft from his tankard. He suddenly did not feel like another.

  “Come on,” he said, standing up, “let’s get back to our tent. I’m tired and want to get a start on cleaning my gear. I also need to bathe.”

  “Agreed. That’s two of us.” Gorabor rose and slapped his belly lightly. “I am full.”

  Together, they grabbed what remained of their meals and moved out from between the tables. As they did, Tovak almost ran into a warrior nearly as tall as him coming the other way.

  “Excuse me,” Tovak said, backing up, and then he recognized who it was. The warrior’s face was rounded, fleshy, as if he’d never missed a meal in his life. He had beady, almost piggish eyes, a wide nose, and a sturdy frame draped in an obviously expensive tunic and cloak. Five warriors had been following in his wake. They all stopped short too.

  Kutog.

  He was the insufferable warrior who had given him so much grief during the yuggernok ride from Garand’Durbaad to the warband.

  “Watch where you’re going,” Kutog started, then his eyes flickered with recognition.

  Tovak immediately understood there would be trouble, as a sneer crimped Kutog’s face.

  “Well if it isn’t our resident Pariah,” Kutog drawled loudly. He looked back at one of the warriors behind him. “This is the bastard I was telling you about, Ferock.”<
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  “I can’t believe they let such filth eat with the rest of us,” Ferock said. The warriors behind him gave a laugh and those at the nearest tables quieted to look around at the drama.

  Kutog turned back and narrowed his eyes. “The rumor is you joined the Baelix Guard. Do I have that right?”

  Tovak felt the old, suppressed rage bubbling up to the surface. He was done being treated so badly by the likes of such mean-spirited people. No more would he take such blatant abuse without sticking up for himself.

  “Tovak,” Gorabor warned. “Don’t do it. He’s not worth it.”

  Tovak glanced over at his friend. He knew Gorabor was right.

  “Well,” Kutog demanded. “I’m waiting. What sorry company let you into their ranks?”

  “Yes, I joined the Guard,” Tovak said simply as he turned back to face Kutog.

  “Out there playing with campfires and foraging about for the rest of us, who actually do the hard work and hold the line?” Kutog said loudly. “That sort of work seems suited to a Pariah. It’s not real work.”

  “Hey,” Gorabor objected, anger coloring his tone. “How dare you disrespect our company?”

  “Shut your mouth,” Ferock said to Gorabor. “This doesn’t involve you.”

  “Yes, it does,” Gorabor said. “I am a Baelix and if you disrespect one of us, you are disrespecting me as well.”

  “If you were worth anything,” Ferock said disdainfully, “you’d have made it into a line company, like us.”

  Gorabor’s caution seemed to have gone to the wayside. He looked like he was about ready to launch himself at Ferock.

  “I also heard,” Kutog went on, raising his voice, “that nearly the entire Baelix Guard got wiped out over the past few days.”

  “I guess what they say about Pariahs is true,” Ferock said to Kutog. “They’re bad luck.”

  Tovak struggled to keep himself under control. He wanted so badly to rearrange Kutog’s perfect teeth, Ferock’s too. Tovak despised bullies.

  “I’m going to make you regret those words,” Gorabor fairly growled.

  “You and who else?” Kutog laughed.

  Around them, a number of warriors rose from their tables, kicking back their stools. Tovak looked around and realized that each and every one was a member of the Baelix Guard, and they looked ready to start a brawl. Even Logath appeared pissed, and his gaze was fixed directly on Kutog.

  “I think you had best take those words back, boy,” Logath said, taking several steps forward and towards them, “before I force you with my fist. That is, if you are even conscious when I’m done with you.”

  Kutog looked around, suddenly unsure. There was a grumbling assent from the other members of the Baelix present.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice barked from a short distance behind Kutog.

  Benthok stepped through the warriors accompanying Kutog, pushing them roughly aside. There was fury in his eyes as he brushed past Kutog and turned abruptly to face the young warrior. There was no missing the silver trim of his cloak, indicating he was an officer.

  Kutog paled as he drew himself up to attention, as did the warriors with him. His back was rigid and chin pushed out. There was worry in his gaze.

  Benthok glared at Kutog for several heartbeats, and then Tovak. Looking deeply unhappy, the lieutenant glanced around at the members of the Baelix Guard who stood ready to defend the company’s honor. Benthok slowly turned to the now quaking Kutog.

  Tovak felt the rage within his heart fade and disappear.

  “What company are you with?” Benthok asked in a frosty tone.

  “First Infantry,” Kutog said. There was a proud note in his voice.

  “First Infantry, huh?” Benthok looked Kutog and his friends up and down, as if he were inspecting teska dung.

  “Yes, sir,” Kutog barked.

  “If I see you troubling my boys again, I promise you, I will have a conversation with your captain. Understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Go about your evening and let this be the last I see of you.”

  Kutog offered a crisp salute, which Benthok returned. He and his companions filed by. Benthok watched them until they were out of sight, and then he turned to the Baelix Guard warriors who were returning to their seats.

  “Finish your meals and get back to camp. There’s gear to be cleaned and sleep to be had.” Benthok’s tone was harsh.

  The Baelix Guard warriors focused their attention on their meals, but not before a few of them glanced in Tovak’s direction. Tovak suddenly felt out of place. He knew he was the cause for the problem, but once again, there was nothing he could do about it.

  Benthok looked at Tovak, a hard expression on his face. “You do not need to be brawling with members of other companies, nor challenging them to a Circle. You’ve earned some respect. But that won’t count for nothing if you start breaking the rules, not to mention heads too. As a Pariah, it would not go well for you when punishments are handed down. Got me?”

  “Yes, sir, I do,” Tovak replied. He felt many eyes upon him, the entire mess.

  “I expect we will not need to have this conversation again,” Benthok said.

  “No, sir.”

  “Now get over to Karach’s headquarters,” Benthok said. “Struugar sent a messenger for you to report there.”

  Tovak’s insides did a flip. “Me, sir? Do you know what the captain wanted me for?”

  “I don’t know,” Benthok said, “probably has something to do with those maps you found. Do you know where the pavilion is?”

  Tovak felt his heart quicken. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then get your sorry ass over there.” Benthok spared him one last irritated look, then turned and strode away. Tovak shared a glance with Gorabor, who could only stand there, a worried expression on his face. He saw Logath a few feet away.

  “Thank you for that,” Tovak said.

  “That wasn’t for you, boy,” Logath said with disgust plain in his tone. “That was for the Baelix Guard. Gorabor was correct. No one disrespects our own, even a Pariah.”

  Tovak held Logath’s gaze a moment, then grabbed his empty bowl to return it. He had to report to headquarters.

  Chapter Six

  With the drizzle easing into little more than a mist, Tovak hurried through the camp. His mind raced. He couldn’t imagine what headquarters might want from him. He didn’t know much more about the maps he’d taken than they could figure out themselves. Then something occurred to him and he almost came to a stop. Had Karach found out about his running off against orders? Had Thegdol told Struugar? He ran cold with that thought.

  Was he about to be condemned? Lashed? Forced out of the Baelix Guard? A terrible worry gnawed at him. It was followed almost immediately by a cold, hard resolve. If he was to be punished for his actions, so be it. He would stand and face whatever was in store for him, no matter the cost.

  He knew in his heart he had made the correct decision by going to rescue his comrades. And afterwards, if he was to be punished, he would continue to move forward one step at a time, just as he had and always would. To do any less would be to give in, to surrender, and Tovak was loath to do that.

  His heart pounding in his chest, Tovak threaded his way through a flurry of activity. As he moved along each street, he realized there was significantly more than he’d seen before. Supplies were being moved around, packed up, and stored away. Warriors were attending to their equipment, and more telling, the cook tents he passed were busy preparing what looked like marching rations for the coming day.

  As he moved by one of the artillery parks, he discovered that several of the field pieces had been disassembled and were in the process of being loaded onto two yuggernoks that had been moved into position for towing. Engineers and workers scrambled over several others, dismantling them in preparation for movement.

  After what seemed like an eternity but in reality had only been a short while, he reached the center of the encampment. Tovak w
orked his way around to the small wooden bridge that crossed the defensive trench and wall that protected the headquarters compound.

  Two sentries barred the path that led onto the bridge. They eyed his approach. The last time Tovak had passed this way was when he’d first come to the warband in search of an appointment to a company. Though it had only been a few days, it seemed a lifetime ago.

  Tovak could remember vividly what it felt like to walk this same path, fresh off the yuggernok and full of apprehension and hope. Every turn winding through the tents of the encampment, bringing new sights, sounds, and smells. Each step had taken him closer to his dream of becoming a pioneer or, in hindsight, closer to that dream being crushed. Captain Dagon from Second Pioneers had quickly disabused Tovak on his hopes of joining an elite scouting company. He had been coldly turned away, and with that dismissal, Tovak’s dreams had nearly crumbled. Thankfully, a short time after, Captain Struugar found him and offered him a place with the Baelix Guard.

  “Halt,” one of the two sentries said, holding up his hand. The sentry seemed bored and it came across plainly in his tone. “What is your business?”

  “I have orders to report to headquarters, by way of Captain Struugar Ironfist,” Tovak said. “My name is Tovak Stonehammer.”

  “Written orders?” The sentry looked at him expectantly.

  “No,” Tovak said. “The orders were delivered to me by my lieutenant. I was told to report immediately.”

  “Right. Is he on the list?” The sentry glanced over to the other guard, who held a tablet. He consulted it a moment, then looked up and gave a nod.

  “He’s there.”

  “You may pass,” the first sentry replied and stepped aside. “Go right up the hill to that tent there”—he pointed with his spear—“the main one. The warchief is expecting you.”

  Tovak passed between them, made his way over the wooden planked bridge, and angled for the wide pavilion that had been indicated, where Karach’s Blood Badger banner rose. In the torchlight, the ominous black badger on its crimson background seemed to glare down at him in judgment.

  Off to one side, a few paces from the tent flap, stood a group of four warriors in leather armor, sheltering from the rain and talking quietly beneath the overhang of the tent. Directly in front of the closed tent flaps were two guards. Both were warriors in plate armor, decked out with the red and black cloaks of Karach’s elite guard.