The Game of Fates (23 page)

After
a moment, the remembrance of Jerrig’s selflessness and courage that somehow
drove his clumsy former companion to face almost certain death to free him
awoke a twinge of guilt in Trallik’s heart.  Looking back at Trikki, however,
he quickly overcame it.  Instead a new idea began to form.  It involved glory,
a female, and wealth as well; surely the stuff that made life worth living.

“I
bet they would not only welcome me back, but I bet that when I save all of them
by warning them of the orc invasion that they’ll make me at least an elite
warrior,” Trallik said, hope of glory and wealth stamping out any remorse he’d
felt for his previous treachery. 
After all
, he reasoned within himself,
he who wins is he who writes the history books.  And he who writes the
history books decides who the traitors were
.

Trikki
was beginning to get excited.  Trallik wasn’t the only one forming plans.  She
had had plans for some time, but the opportunity and the ability to carry out
those plans just hadn’t come together… until now that is.  Seeing the fire of
greed and glory light up the Kale Gen warrior’s eyes, Trikki was ready to help
the young warrior meet her deepest desires as well.

^“
I
can’t believe you talked me into
this,” Trallik whispered intensely at the beautiful face above him.  This
harebrained scheme about sneaking down into the orc shaman’s lair, which
doubled as the treasury for the outpost, was insanely dangerous in Trallik’s
mind.  But she had pled fervently with him until he had relented.  ‘With all
the wealth the bandits and orcs have accumulated here over the centuries, we’ll
have enough money to be free for the rest of our lives!’ she had pled with
him.  Looking up at her now, he knew he’d do anything to please or impress
her.  That’s why he’d said yes in the first place.  He just couldn’t look into those
eyes and say no.  Even if it meant climbing down the inside of this ancient
well.

Don’t
look down
, he
kept telling himself.

“You’re
doing good, love,” Trikki whispered encouragement as Trallik did all in his
power to keep hold of the various handholds and footholds he’d found in the
crags of the ancient cut stone, beads of sweat trickling down between the small
scales that covered his face.  Below him the cold blackness was a sharp
contrast to the warm brightness of Trikki and her cousin Klimer who stood at
the top of the well.

Please
let there be nothing down here… with sharp teeth
.

It
was slow going, but after what seemed like an eternity to him, Trallik could
see subtle differences in the inky blackness below him, the subtly square
patterns of it indicating a floor of dwarven make.  Estimating how far down it
was, based on what he’d seen of the flagstone that covered the rest of this old
mining outpost, Trallik thought he could probably drop to it if it came to
that. 

After
climbing down only a couple more handholds worth, Trallik’s foot reached out to
search for the next foothold and found only air.  Reaching out tentatively, he
felt around the entire area he could reach with his foot.  There was an abrupt
edge that seemed to go all the way around the old well, or at least all the way
around where he could feel.

Well,
I guess it comes to it, then,
Trallik told himself.  Studying the floor below one last time, Trallik breathed
deeply then let go.  Mercifully, he had overestimated the distance to the ground,
and within perhaps three heights of a kobold his feet hit hard stone.  Rolling
with the fall, Trallik stood up.

Above
him in the well, he could hear an audible, very feminine, gasp.  Shifting a
step, he looked up the well and waved to calm her fears.  Turning his attention
back to the inky blackness around him, he could barely make out several shapes
in the darkness around him.  None of them seemed to be moving, however, and
none of them exuded any heat, so after several moments Trallik eventually exhaled.

Taking
a candle and tinderbox from the small pouch that Trikki had given him, he knelt
down and in a matter of a few moments had the candle lit.  Standing to cast the
light of the candle a bit further, Trallik could now see that he’d come down in
the very middle of a somewhat small octagonal room, probably no more than ten
steps in diameter.  The walls and floor were clearly of ancient dwarven
construction, with statues placed in small alcoves in four of the walls.  A
large stone arch dominated one of the four unadorned walls, the stone slab that
sealed it off seeming to be a door, with massive stone hinges and a stone
handle set in the middle of it.  The most clearly dominating feature of the
room, however, was the mass of glittering objects spilling out of chests and
barrels, and lying about in heaps and piles all around the perimeter of the
room.

Trallik
had never seen so much treasure in all his life.  His gen didn’t really use
money, but from talking with the traders in the gen, he knew that just a
handful of coins were enough to buy a lot among the northern gens.  Now here
he, lowly Trallik, just a warrior with no real prospects in life, stood looking
at more treasure than he could ever haul out.  He was overcome by the emotion
of it all.

After
several moments of staring blankly around himself, pondering what he could do
with such vast wealth, a glob of melted wax rolled down the candle onto his
fingers.  Switching hands quickly, Trallik shook the hot substance off his
fingers.  He was back to reality.

Seeing
a pile of more mundane rope-looking items, Trallik began to sift through it
all.  There, lying in a heap, was his old kit he’d had with him before the orcs
had captured him.  Strapping on his old belts and pouches, and his two long
knives as well, Trallik began to feel a little better about this whole idea. 
Taking a handful of stones and jewelry that sat in an open chest and stuffing
them into one of his belt pouches, he began to feel even better about it.

After
a few more moments he drug out what appeared to be a rope ladder.  Counting the
wooden steps on it, Trallik estimated it was long enough to reach to the top of
the well.  Of course, that would mean he would have to climb back up there
first…

Continuing
to dig through the pile of odds and ends, he found a light coil of rope and a
crossbow with a number of bolts.  Seeing an opportunity to save himself a
climb, he tied the light rope to the end of a bolt and coiled it loosely on the
floor beneath the opening of the well.  Signaling for his two compatriots to
move out of the way, Trallik shot the bolt up the well.

The
rope caught on his feet on the first shot.  The second time the bolt arced off
into the ceiling.  After retying the rope at a different angle, Trallik tried
it again.  This time the bolt and rope shot straight up the well, but came down
very shortly thereafter.  Trallik shot it one more time, this time it flew
straight and Klimer appeared with the rope after a few moments.

After
a while the kobolds had worked together to get the rope ladder set up and
secured around the top of the well.  As soon as it was secured, Trikki began
the descent, Klimer holding onto the ladder to ensure it remained secured. 
Trallik’s heart beat faster in anticipation the closer she got.  Finally, as she
came within sight of the piles of treasure, her face lit up with the wonder of
it all.

“Oh,”
she whispered.  “I’m rich.”

Trallik
helped her down from the ladder, grabbing her waist to steady her.

As
soon as her feet touched the ground, Trikki ran over to the nearest pile of
cold metal coins and began filling the little sack she had brought with her. 
As soon as she had filled it, however, she saw a pile of small gold ingots. 
Emptying the sack as fast as she could, she began stacking the precious bars
inside it.  Then, after a few moments, she saw a pile of jewelry and she
immediately emptied the bag again, the ingots thudding to the stone floor.

Trallik
was looking in amazement at the confusion.  She was clearly obsessed with it
all and had lost any sense of caution.  As if to make the situation worse,
Klimer appeared on the rope ladder, climbing down into the room as fast as he
could scramble down the wooden slats.  As he arrived, he began an almost
identical ritual with his own bag.

Realizing
the noise the pair of them were making, Trallik stepped forward and grabbed
both of them by the shoulders, pulling them away from the pile of treasure they
were sorting through.

“Hey!”
his whisper sharp and focused.  In Trikki’s eyes he saw a fire of greed he
hadn’t seen before.  It was as if his angel had been possessed by a demon.

“Let
me go!” she spoke, the loudness of her words echoing in the chamber.  Batting
his hand away, Trikki went back to the pile, grabbing a particularly pretty
stone with one hand that was as large as a fist.  It was translucent with
bronze flecks throughout.  As she touched it, her expression changed.  It was
as if she were in intense pain.

Beginning
to feel the beginnings of panic shoot through his heart at the thought of being
discovered, and now seeing the pain registering on Trikki’s face, Trallik let
Klimer go and rushed over to her.

“Put
it down!” he whispered vehemently.

“It…
He sees me!” she whimpered.

“Just
drop it!”

Behind
them the great stone door began to open.

“I…
I can’t.  He’s holding me!”

Trallik
stepped back.  Steadying himself, he kicked with all his might.  The ball flew
from Trikki’s outstretched hand and flew across the room, straight through the
open door and into the hands of Manechar Shaman of Fire. 

Grabbing
Trikki by her still stunned hand, Trallik drug her kicking and screaming toward
the ladder, but not before she had grabbed her bag of jewelry with her other
hand.

“We
must go now!” he yelled into her face, and for the first time Trikki seemed to
snap out of the spell of the riches that were splayed before her. 

Realizing
the danger, she threw the bag over her shoulder and yelled at Klimer.

“Get
out, cousin!”

Taking
hold of the ladder, she immediately began to climb, Trallik not a step behind
her.  Behind them the much taller orc shaman was already reciting incantations
to spell their doom.  As he chanted, the air around him began to pop with
sparks and little bursts of fire.

Klimer
looked up from the pile of jewels that he’d been sorting through and pulling
diamonds out of their settings.  Seeing the imminent danger of death or
something worse gathering in the air around the shaman, he dropped the bag and
jumped for the rope ladder, climbing with all his might.

He
wasn’t fast enough.

With
a clap of thunder, a bolt of lightning arced from Manechar’s outstretched
hands, ravaging through the young dark-scaled kobold and throwing him against
the far wall before flashing in a straight line up the well.

Climbing
side by side, Trallik had flattened himself and Trikki against the wall of the
well when he heard the clap of thunder, and not a moment too soon.  With a roar
the bolt of lightning sliced past them, disintegrating Trallik’s backpack and
taking several of the wooden steps above them with it, leaving half of the rope
ladder sagging.

Eyes
wide in panic, Trikki held tight to the sagging steps, Trallik trying
desperately to hold onto the belt over her singed tunic.

“Come
on, Trikki.  You can do it!  Hold onto the firm side.  Come on, you can do it!”

Slowly,
almost as if she didn’t trust the side of the rope ladder that had held firm
either, she grabbed the taught rope that was the firm side of the rope ladder. 
Showing her how to climb on the ends of the steps that were still connected,
the pair of them began to climb again, the immediate threat of imminent death
motivating them to move faster than they would have thought possible.

As
the pair reached the top they could hear the sounds of chanting in the depths
of the well below them.  Trallik jumped over the top of the well and, reaching
down, he grabbed hold of Trikki’s hands and pulled with all his might.  As her
feet cleared the hole, a column of fire erupted out of the well, sending scraps
of rope ladder with it as it blasted the ceiling above them, spending its angry
strength against the unyielding stone of dwarven construction.

As
the blinding light of the fire melted away, Trallik looked down at Trikki, who
was nestled in his arms, crying softly.

“Trikki,
I’m so sorry for your cousin, but we must go now.  The shaman will be here in a
matter of moments and if we’re here, we’re dead.”

Trikki
nodded her head, slowly getting to her knees, throwing the heavy bag over her
shoulder as though it no longer held any value to her.  Trallik grabbed her
hands and helped her to her feet.  Slowly, at first, the pair shuffled off into
the darkness, moving faster as the blindness of the fire melted away, leaving
visible in its wake the subtle temperature differences of the flagstones as the
pair began to run.

Trallik
didn’t know how long they had run.  At first they had heard the sound of
shouting and orc boots coming after them.  Once they’d gotten out of the
outpost, however, Trikki’s knowledge of the area had led them into a small side
passage and down a narrow hole that soon turned into a limestone slide, made
slick by many years of water dripping over it.  As the flow of water increased
the pair had suddenly lost any ability to slow their descent and they dropped
down through a hole in the roof of a subterranean cavern lit by green
phosphorescent minerals that lined its walls, falling on top of each other into
a milky-white pool of cold water.

Splashing
and sputtering, the pair came to the surface and slowly made their way to the
shore, dragging their cold, wet forms onto the shore of the small, underground
pond.  Breathing hard, the pair lay side by side, amazed and still stunned by
the events that had led them here.