Into the Heart of Evil (26 page)

“I agree with you about Jerrig,” Gorgon said. 
Then he pointed to Jerrig who was now screaming loudly as Kahn sewed the wound
in his leg shut while Tohr held him down.  “Unfortunately, some big ant stuck
the head of his own javelin deep into his leg.  He’s in pain, that’s for sure,
and he’ll not be walking anytime soon.”

“Sire,” Manebrow interrupted. “As I see it, we’ve
basically got two options.  One, we could wait here and hope that the ants rush
us so we fight them in this small passageway until we’ve broken their forces
beyond repair, or that they leave us alone and aren’t vigilant so we can sneak
away.  The other option is to avoid a possible siege and get out of here
immediately before the rest of the ants in this colony find out we killed their
queen and her royal guard.  Either way, if they catch us out in the open where
they can use their numbers against us, they’ll eventually surround us and take
us down, one by one.”

“Amazing, we actually have two options,” Durik
said, the strain of recent events bringing out a sarcastic streak in him that
he usually kept buried.  Turning to Ardan, he asked, “How are Khazak Mail Fist
and Trallik?  Will they survive a day’s journey to the Krall Gen?”

Gorgon looked at Durik strangely. “You’re not
thinking of going on, are you?  After dealing with the actions of these
conspirators, don’t you think we should go back and warn Lord Karthan, maybe
help root out whoever did this?”

Durik looked at Gorgon. “I think Lord Karthan knew
what was coming, which is why he sent his two sons away.  I think he was hoping
they would avoid the coming fight.  He may even have ‘allowed’ Kiria to come
with us for the same reason, though I don’t see how adventuring keeps one
safe.”

“Perhaps he was thinking that it’s safer in the
company of several loyal armed warriors where the enemies are known than at
home where your enemies are unknown,” Manebrow conjectured.  “Unfortunately, he
didn’t foresee that somehow a conspirator had been placed in our group.”

Durik nodded. “That may be, but whatever the
reasoning, I believe Lord Karthan was already preparing for this rebellion. 
Now don’t get me wrong, when we get to the Krall Gen, we’ll see if Lord Krall
can’t send word to Lord Karthan to tell him of what happened.  But our orders
are to take his sons to Lord Krall, and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Sire,” Ardan started, “on the subject of the
wounded, I don’t think the question is whether or not they’ll survive the
trip.  I think the question is whether or not they’ll survive here.  Though I
can probably help Trallik to some degree, the healing he needs is beyond my
skill.  Khazak Mail Fist also has lost much more blood than I thought he could
and still live.  If we keep him here, he may rebuild his strength, but already
he is developing a swelling and infection that is beyond my skill to treat. 
Though it is too soon to know, Jerrig’s wound may well develop that same
infection.  Infections like that tend to spread between the wounded when you
have more than one.  Which, by the way, we need to make sure all the other
lightly wounded we have stay away from Khazak Mail Fist until he’s gotten past
that infection.  Lord Krall has healers who are much more skilled than I.  If
we would save the wounded, I would say that we need to leave here and get to
the Krall Gen with all haste.”

Durik pursed his lips and thought for a moment. 
“If we stay, we give the initiative to the ants, but if we leave and get caught
in the open by their hordes, we’ll not make it, I think.  Either way presents
great danger.  But one thing is certain, if we stay, the wounded will have much
less chance than if we go.  Therefore, I think we should go.”

After a few moments, slowly, one by one all three
leaders nodded their agreement.

“Well, then,” Durik pronounced, grim faced, “it’s
decided.  May the Creator watch over us, and the Fates smile on us… and may we
all find ourselves in safety soon.”

“Aye, sire,” Manebrow agreed.  Turning to Gorgon
and Ardan, and with a ‘by your leave’ to Durik, he gave orders to have the
three wounded loaded onto the three wolves.  It took several moments to
transfer Khazak Mail Fist and Trallik, and longer for Tohr and Kahn to finish
up with Jerrig, but in the end the three of them were loaded onto the three
remaining wolves and tied to their backs to keep them from falling off. 

Troka’s leg was bandaged, as were the many smaller
gashes and cuts that all who had closed with the ant warriors had received. 
There were no spare wolves, however, so Troka volunteered to walk with Keryak’s
assistance.  The packdogs could carry the two warrior’s packs, but they were
not trained to carry riders and were fully laden besides. 

As he looked up the passageway, he saw what had to
be the queen’s head and stinger laying on the ground.  The sack they’d
obviously been in lay on the ground next to them.  Seeing this, Durik also
ordered the queen’s head and stinger loaded onto a packdog again.  He figured
that, if nothing else would help convince Lord Krall of their danger, the
fearsome look of the queen’s head and stinger would.  Curious, Durik walked the
few steps to the entrance of the queen’s egg chamber to see the large form of
the beheaded queen and her two egg tenders.  Blood lay in pools on the ground
of the egg chamber, the blood from the many warrior ants running down in a slow
trickle to add to the gore of the queen, the destroyed eggs and their tenders
in the queen’s chambers.

Several moments later, as Durik stood
contemplating what must have happened there, Manebrow approached him to tell him
that the company was formed and ready.  Turning, Durik met the lead warriors of
the company standing ready to leave.  At the rear of the party, Kabbak and
Terrim were bringing the packdogs into line.  Durik breathed deeply and tried
to refresh his tired mind for the tasks ahead.  Seeing that all were in line
and prepared to leave, Durik turned and led the way up the passageway and
toward the exit from the chamber complex of the ant queen.

K
hazak
Mail Fist was not unconscious for very long.  Though it would certainly be some
time before he fully recovered his strength, the leader of the Honor Guard
Warrior Group and fellow leader caste with Durik was determined to not be
carried as baggage.  With the ropes that had secured him in the saddle off of
him, Khazak Mail Fist sat mostly erect on Durik’s mount.  For all his fierce
independence, however, he did allow Tohr to take the reins and lead Firepaw
along.

His left arm was tucked to his side in the
original sling that Jerrig, who now rode beside him on Gorgon’s wolf, had given
him.  After several changes of bandages, the blood had stopped and his immune
system was beginning to deal with the infection.  Kahn had taken a look at it
briefly and determined that it would be counterproductive now to open the wound
back up and try to sew it shut again.  It might heal less well than if properly
tended to, but considering the amount of blood lost, they didn’t want to risk
it right now.

Behind him, Khazak Mail Fist could see Terrim and
Kabbak struggling with the exhausted packdogs.  Every time the line of warriors
paused to get past an obstacle or to change their formation slightly, the dogs
wanted to sit down and rest.  The pads on the bottoms of their feet were worn
and some were cut and bleeding.  It would be several days before these dogs
fully recovered from this journey.

The wolves, on the other hand, were handling the
journey much better.  Being a race of wanderers and hunters, the wolves were
much more adept at traveling long distances.  Their backs were not made for
riders, however, but the fact that Durik, Manebrow, and Gorgon had walked the
entire day instead of riding had kept them much fresher than they would have
been otherwise.

Khazak Mail Fist looked around at the warriors in
Durik’s Company.  Ardan was far to the front, leading the way through the
undergrowth as quickly as the company could follow.  Probably a hundred steps
behind him were Durik, Arbelk and Kiria.  It was obvious that Kiria wasn’t
conditioned for this type of a march, as much of the time Arbelk and Durik had
to pull or push her along.  The fact that none of them had slept much the night
before was obvious to Khazak.  He guessed much of what had happened the night
before, though he’d not yet had the energy to talk to anyone about it. 

Behind Durik’s small group came Gorgon with what
was left of his team, Keryak and Troka, who leaned against each other as Troka struggled
to keep up.  Gorgon carried Lord Karthan’s whelps on his shoulders as well as
his backpack.  The rest of Gorgon’s team, both Trallik and Jerrig, rode with
Khazak now, back with the wounded, being led by Manebrow’s team. 

Manebrow led the team himself, though he led no
animal.  It was probably best that way, as he needed to be free to move about
the entire company.  The task of leading the three wolves thus fell to Tohr and
Kahn, with Terrim and Durik’s new servant Kabbak behind them leading the
packdogs.  Khazak seemed to remember the company being fifteen, yet here were
only fourteen.  He pondered on it a while and, in an instant, he realized
Arloch was nowhere to be seen.  Pursing his lips, he acknowledged that Arloch
had probably died trying to save him and Lord Karthan’s sons.

Only a third of the kobolds in the company were
unscathed.  The rest of them were either amongst the wounded being carried or
had bandages covering the largest gashes and cuts from the ant warriors,
leaving several more uncovered and seeping blood when they ran out of bandages
or time to tend to them. 

Of all the warrior groups he’d been with, Khazak
couldn’t remember seeing one more motley or damaged.  But for all that, they
still marched with determination in their eyes.

The group was very relieved to not have
encountered any ants on their way out of the giant ant hill complex.  As they
made their way back to the game trail and started on the path to the Krall Gen,
Durik, Gorgon, Ardan and Manebrow had all gathered together toward the front of
the company and discussed their situation more as they marched.  The consensus
was that they should travel all day, taking no stops if possible until they
reached the river that lay between where they were now and the Krall Gen’s lake
dwellings. 

Ardan had brought up the fact that the same Krall
Gen traders who had told him about the burning dung trick, which Khazak Mail
Fist had obviously heard about also, had mentioned that the ants not only
couldn’t swim, but they didn’t seem to like water at all, not going in any
water greater than knee deep to them.  Ardan’s memory of the river they would
be crossing was that at this time of year in most places it came up to a
kobold’s chest.  There was only one bridge on its length that he knew of, and
that was back on the main trail that they were now several thousands of steps
away from.  He didn’t know, but he guessed that this game trail was one of the
trails the Krall Gen hunters talked about, which led to one of many fords along
the river’s length.

As Ardan saw it, their best option would be to
continue along this trail to the river, then from there to the Krall Gen.  They
didn’t know whether or not the ants would track them once they found their
queen slaughtered.  They had the capability to track them by scent, as the
scouts that Ardan and his group had slaughtered had demonstrated.  Whether they
would or not was the question.

The few hours before dawn had passed, the company
had already eaten their first meal of the day as they marched, and the morning
was well spent when the first of the scout ants was spotted on the trail behind
them.  Far to the rear of them, across a clearing they were just leaving, an
ant on all six legs left the tree line and lifted its head as if sampling the
air.  Terrim saw it and pointed to it, calling for Manebrow as he did so.

News of the ant scout traveled through the group
like electricity, shocking everyone out of their exhausted plodding and into
alert action.  In a moment, Manebrow was back studying the situation.  Taking
the bow from his back, he ran forward to Durik, being trailed by Gorgon. “Sire,
if they’ve followed us this far, they’ve got to have a whole horde behind
them.  Let me take Gorgon and his two remaining warriors.  We’ll keep the horde
as blind as we can by killing their scouts and gain you all the time we can. 
Maybe you can make it to the ford.”

Durik kept walking, looking sideways at Manebrow
and remembering how the ant horde had stripped the carcass of the great boar
bare.  He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and he didn’t want his second to get
caught and taken down by them either.  Durik shook his head. “No.  I’ll not
leave you behind.  They’re onto us already.  They’re coming.  It’s time to give
it everything we’ve got left.  I’m not sure how far the river is, but it can’t
be much farther.”

At that moment, Ardan came back to join them.  “He’s
right.  We’d have hit it already if we were traveling on the main path.  It’s
straighter and more level than this.”

The rest of the company had somehow found renewed
energy and had picked up their pace.  The looming specter of an encounter in
the open with an ant horde had begun to cause something of a panic among them.

“Yes, sire,” Manebrow pressed, “but at least let
the able warriors bring up the rear.  Perhaps we can put a few arrows through
their scouts and delay them a bit.”

Durik nodded. “So be it, but I’ll not leave anyone
behind.”

“Yes, sire.” Manebrow left with Gorgon to the rear
of the company.  As they passed, Kabbak asked them if the ants were coming. 
The look in Manebrow’s eyes was all the answer he needed.  With renewed energy,
almost panicking, he pulled and pushed the packdogs along as quickly as they
would go.

Reaching the rear, Manebrow and Gorgon pulled out
arrows and nocked them in their bows.  They were now quite a ways into the
forest again and past the clearing where they’d spotted the ant scouts. 
Scanning the path to their rear, Manebrow saw the first of the ant scouts
rounding a corner only several tens of steps behind them.  Stopping and raising
their bows, the two warriors fired.  One of the two arrows plunged through the
ant’s head and it dropped to the ground.  Watching for a moment and seeing
nothing, the two of them ran to catch up with the rest of the company.

The first shots had been fired, and where there
was one scout, there would be more.

Emotionally bereft after the treachery and
subsequent death of his friend and companion Arloch, Ardan had two things on
his mind, which was about all that his tired mind could focus on—the ants to
their rear and the hope of a ford to their front.  Perhaps it was because of
this that he didn’t see or hear the orcs until he was almost on top of them. 

Coming around a bend in the road, Ardan stopped
suddenly.  Not twenty steps in front of him eight tall, muscle-bound orc
warriors in armor, with spears in hand and swords over their backs had stopped
in their march and were in the process of leveling their spears and moving
toward him.  Stopping cold, Ardan turned and immediately ran back toward the
group, yelling, “Orcs!  Orcs!” as he went.

Manebrow and Gorgon, in the rear, were firing at a
pair of ant scouts that were coming up behind the company.  The rest of the
company raised their tired heads and looked behind Ardan at the orcs that were
approaching the group, spears at the ready.  With the fear of being overrun by
hundreds of great ants driving them forward, and a band of metal-armored orc
warriors to their front, the company seemed doomed. 

Durik turned, wondering what to do.  It almost
seemed surreal.  Time for the members of the small company seemed to pass ever
so slowly as they saw their doom.  Behind him, Manebrow and Gorgon ran for all
they were worth.  Not a hundred steps behind them came a flood of great ants,
their mandibles flexing in anticipation of the kill.  Turning to the front
again, he saw the orcs approaching cautiously.  At that moment, Durik knew what
had to be done.

Running forward, Durik shook his hands above his
head and cried out in orcish to the largest of the orcs, “Help!  Danger! 
Khee-lar Shadow Hand!  Friend!”  That was about the extent of his knowledge of
the orcish tongue.

Upon mention of Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s name, a
murmur went through the orcs.  After a moment, the largest of the orcs ordered
the rest of them to lift their spears.  Durik walked right up to the largest of
the orcs as if it were the most natural thing in the world, showing no hint of
surprise that his guess about Khee-lar Shadow Hand had obviously been correct.

The largest of the orcs, a keen-eyed warrior,
asked in Durik’s language, “What is problem?”

The rest of Durik’s company had seen that the orcs
had raised their spears and were now running as fast as they could past them. 
The fear they felt was obvious in the constant looks behind them.