The Game of Fates (27 page)

“Um,
no.  He git stinky before long.  Maybe yoo throh off bridge?”

Gorgon
nodded.

“I
Mahtu.  If yoo want, I be merk for yoo?” Mahtu asked.

Gorgon
shook his head.  “I have no need of you or your rabble.  You’d just get in the
way.”  Mahtu was saddened by this, but that certainly didn’t bother Gorgon at
all.

“Maybe
yoo want hear about orc horde?” Mahtu asked.

Gorgon’s
eyes narrowed in distrust of the wretched mercenary.  “What do you mean orc
horde?” he asked.

“You
take me to far end of bridge.  I show you,” Mahtu offered.

Gorgon
accepted the offer and had Arbelk tie Mahtu up separately, leaving his legs
free to walk.  Taking hold of the length of rope Arbelk left as a leash, Gorgon
marched his prisoner toward the bridge, accompanied by Jerrig. 

Let
this be an example to kobolds who willingly serve our enemies
, he thought as he passed the
lifeless body of their former companion.  Stopping for a moment, he called out
to Troka to give the signal for the rest of the company to come up then
continued over the bridge to see this ‘orc horde’ that Mahtu was talking about.

The
rest of the company took almost until dawn to arrive at the top of the Chop. 
The burden of so much equipment, plus the extra six suits of armor, had slowed
them so much that Gorgon had sent Troka and Arbelk down the mountain to meet
the company at the half-way point and help ferry equipment up, a tasking which
Arbelk took in his normal easy-going manner, even though he certainly wasn’t
thrilled about it.  Troka was much more verbal about being chosen for such a
duty, but he did it anyway.

Finally,
as the first light of the morning sun began to illuminate the sky behind the
eastern mountains, lightening the deep darkness that lay like a thick blanket
over the vast expanses of the two valleys, the rest of Durik’s Company appeared
over the southern lip of the pass, their armor carried over one shoulder and
their tongues lolling out to one side, sweat staining their straps and
clothes.  As each member of the company came up they found an empty piece of
ground and, after dropping their armor, rucksacks, and weapons, flopped down in
thankful bliss that the climb was finally over.

After
a few moments of labored breathing, Durik forced himself back up to his feet. 
Troka had been telling him about this ‘orc horde’ that was encamped on the far
side of the Chop that the mercenaries had told Gorgon was going to march
against their gen’s home.  He had to get a good look at it before the dawn took
away any ability to see it with his heat vision.  Staggering to his feet, he
was taken aback by the tall stone demons that served as pillars at each end of
the bridge.  The memory of his visions was brought vividly to life in these
pillars, and he almost cried out in dismay at the sight of them.

After
a few moments, Kiria, who had arrived at the top slightly before Durik, came up
to him.  “Are you heading over to see the orc horde that’s supposedly marching
on our gen’s home?” she said, not quite believing the size of it either, as
described by Troka and Arbelk.

The
spell broken, Durik looked over at Kiria and re-gathered his thoughts.

“Um,
yes,” he replied simply.

“Is
this what you saw in your visions?” she panted as she leaned over, her hands on
her knees, nodding her head toward the bridge.  She had noticed he was fixated
on the statues as she had spoken to him.

Durik
simply nodded, wiping the sweat from his snout with the back of one arm.  “And
in that small square building over there,” he said pointing to the small stone
structure on the far side of the bridge, “Morgra gave me to know that there
lies the entrance that leads down to where the Kale Stone waits for us,” Durik
said, not realizing that he had let Morgra’s name slip.

“Morgra,
you say?  Where did you hear that name?” she asked as she tilted her head and
looked up at him strangely.

Durik
was surprised at the question.  He’d not yet told anyone of the vision he’d had
of Morgra, and he hadn’t planned on sharing that yet either.  But now that the
topic had come up, he didn’t feel to hide it from Kiria either.

“It’s
a name from one of my visions.  Why?  Have you heard of her before?”

“Her? 
I’ve heard of Morgra, but I did not know it was… is a her?” she replied as she
straightened up.  “My father has a book that contains a poem or somethi… a
canticle!  That was it.  A poem that’s supposed to be set to music, I believe. 
He has a book that contains the Canticle of Morgra.  Could this be the same
being?”

Durik
shrugged his shoulders.  “It is she that has sent these visions to me, that I
know.  She says that I must get the Kale Stone to someone else later, that I’m
not the Oracle of Kale, but rather her paladin.”

Kiria
pondered on this new revelation for a few moments before answering.  “Well,
alright.  Is she a god, or is she some other being of great power?” she asked.

Durik
shook his head.  “I know she’s powerful… and pure.”

“So
if you’re her paladin, can you do what paladin’s do?” Kiria asked.

Durik
looked at her with a blank look.  “What can paladins do?”

Kiria
walked over to her satchel and grabbed a small sheaf of papers.  Leafing
through it, she brought it back to where Durik stood.

“Let’s
walk toward the other side of the pass, Kiria.”  Durik began walking and Kiria
fell in next to him.

“There
are stories in some of the Loremaster’s books about paladins, mostly from the
time of The Sorcerer.  They were righteous warriors who fought in the name of
some higher being, receiving powers in return for their loyalty.  Their powers
were mentioned in several stories…” her voice trailed off as she read through
her notes.  “Aha, here we are.  ‘A paladin has power both to heal and to harm,
as well as to resist all evil.’  The healing you performed on Manebrow in the
woods shows that you have power to heal.”

“Yes,
but what of this power to harm?” Durik asked.

“I
don’t know.  Perhaps time will reveal that,” she answered.

Durik
nodded patiently.  “And what do your notes say about the power to resist all
evil?”

Kiria
read for a moment as they finished crossing to the far side of the demonically
decorated bridge.  Finally, as they reached Gorgon, who sat with a still
tied-up Mahtu looking out over the northern valley, Kiria looked up from her
notes.

“I
don’t know what that means either.  But I can only imagine that such strength
from a deity would be a powerful gift,” she said, still fixed on Durik.

“Let
us hope that, whatever its measure is, it’s sufficient to deal with that,” he
said pointing to the large glowing mass of bodies sprawled in various forms and
fashions around Birdstone. 

Noticing
the orc horde dominating the panoramic pre-dawn view for the first time, Kiria
gasped as she looked over the thousand orcs with their numerous ogres and
kobold allies.  “Oh no!  What are we going to do?  Oh no!  It cannot be!  May
the Creator watch over us all!”

“And
may Morgra give me power to save my people,” Durik whispered, concluding her
prayer.

D
urik looked over at Mahtu.  “And
you’re sure there are no more than a handful of orcs left in there, in addition
to the other kobold mercenaries,” he whispered as the pair of them squatted
behind the large block of stone.  Though Mahtu had told them the guards would
all be drunk, Durik was taking no chances—except trusting this mercenary to
give him accurate information.  But considering the circumstances and the
opportunity, he had little choice.

Durik
could hear the not so faint cheers and shouts of both orcs and kobolds.  After
moving around a bit, he knew it was clearly coming from the entrance in front
of him.  From the noises, it seemed that they were either drunk, or brawling,
or both.

The
slightly warmer air coming from the skillfully carved entrance of the old
Dwarven Mining Outpost outlined the entrance well enough, and the natural cave
of a javelin throw’s width as well.  From their position behind the long,
rectangular block of granite spoilage that lay broken on its side opposite the
entrance, the pair of kobolds had been watching the pathway that led
perpendicular to their own position and the entranceway.

In
one direction, Durik’s Company and their five remaining prisoners waited in one
of the outer defensive pockets carefully constructed by the dwarves a millennia
ago.

In
the other direction, Mahtu had told him that the majority of the original mines
and their attendant support caves with their slag piles and smelters were down
that way.  Beyond those lay another series of watch points and defensive
pockets, to guard against anything that might try to crawl up from the
underdark far below the outpost.

Mahtu
nodded his head.  “Yes, only few orcs, no much merks.  Twelve merks and lider. 
They drink much orc drink.  You no hurt kobolds, yes?”

“If
they’re as unalert as you say, then we’ll be in and out without them noticing,”
Durik reassured him, and himself.  He knew in his heart that if they were
caught there would be blood, but it would be worth it if that’s what it took to
find the Kale Stone and get its power to whomever Kamuril designated as its
oracle, for that would certainly bring unity, and therefore peace, to his
beloved Kale Gen.  He knew he was on the right track… his heart told him so.

“Is
no guard.  Ye go?”

“Yes,
we
will go,” Durik corrected him.  With that, the pair of kobold
warriors carefully snuck back down the passage they had come from, padding
softly over barren rock and hard earth.  Not long after they came to the narrow
chamber where the rest of the company was holed up.  The path itself ran down
one side of the chamber, while a wall of almost three kobolds’ height separated
the other half of the chamber from the path.  A small antechamber with narrow
doorways in and out of it was built into the wall on the side closest to the outpost. 
It was in the small defensive chamber beyond that that the company waited, the
loud noises of partying barely reaching them there. 

Keryak,
who was again posted as guard, stood watching through one of the arrow slits at
the base of the defensive wall.  Once word was given, the leaders of the small
company gathered in the ante-chamber.  Durik stood looking them in the eyes. 
Outside, Mahtu had squatted down to sit on his heels, and Keryak had moved out
of the enclosure to ensure he didn’t get away and didn’t overhear.

“Alright,
the options as I see it are two,” Durik began.  “We can either sneak in and
find the stone, or we can sneak in and take the guards by surprise, thereby
taking over the outpost.”

“Aye! 
I’ve no love for orcs, nor the merks they employ,” Gorgon stated forcefully. 
“I say we take the outpost.”

The
rest of the leaders were more reluctant. 

Krebbekar
spoke next.  “I know that Morigar’s mission is to bring back the head of the
leader of the Bloodhand Orcs.  Since he’s apparently out there on the plains, I
don’t see how taking this outpost will help.”  He looked back for a moment at
Morigar, who was sitting over in the corner chewing on a fingernail.  He had
deliberately ignored every huddle that Durik had called so far, stating that it
didn’t pertain to him.  Morigar was an immature fool, and out here, far away
from Lord Krall’s watchful eye, Krebbekar was beginning to feel less and less
inclined to deal with his foolishness.  He would consider Morigar a passenger
on this journey, not bothering to invite him to any more leaders’ huddles if he
was going to ignore them anyway.

Ardan
spoke up.  “I think we should sneak in, get the stone, and get out.  Fighting
orcs, even drunk ones, is a chancy thing.  Best to leave them be and not chance
injury here.  There’ll be plenty of chance for fighting once that orc horde
makes it into the southern valley.”

“Aye,”
Manebrow nodded.  “We’ve no idea what tricks they have up their sleeves.  It
would be good if we could secure the bridge and make the orcs fight to take it
back, which would surely mean we’d have to clear out this outpost” he started,
changing the tone.  “But since your border guards say they’ve got a pass under
the mountains,” he said, looking at Krebbekar, “I’d imagine they won’t use the bridge. 
It’s quite a climb after all.”

The
other leaders agreed, but didn’t know what he was driving at.

“So
now that we’ve taken the bridge, if we now took the outpost,” Manebrow
continued, “after we deal with this orc horde, our caravans could pass unmolested,
without the worry of an orc base below it.”

Durik
nodded his head.  “Ensuring the trade route stays free would be a good thing. 
Of course, if there is a route under the mountains, then Demon’s Bridge may
become irrelevant.”

“True,
but either way, leaving an orc stronghold intact so close to our two gens isn’t
wise,” Manebrow countered.

“Either
way,” Durik continued, “I want to see what’s in there before we decide whether
to drive out its guards or not.  For now, a small scouting force will go in as
we agreed.  We can take the place from there if need be.”

The
small huddle of leaders broke, and within moments armor had been stripped off
so as to not hamper their stealth, belts adjusted and retightened, and weapons
were in hand.  The entire mission was to find the Kale Stone, and Krebbekar was
Krall Gen, so Durik left him in charge of the stay behind force.

Ardan
led the way out of the shelter, followed closely by Keryak. 

Ten
paces after them Durik, Manebrow, and Kiria followed.  Durik normally would
have left her behind, she wasn’t trained in stealth after all, but Kiria had
insisted.  It had been a while since her running off at the First Night’s
Resting Place, and he could sense that she wanted another chance to prove
herself, and her knowledge of lore may be critical to their success, so he had
relented—after Manebrow had tightened a belt she wore.  It had been making an
annoying clicking sound as the tip of it had banged against the hilt of her
long knife.

Bringing
up the rear, another ten paces behind Durik’s small group, Gorgon and Jerrig
padded stealthily along after their leaders.

Following
the narrow, natural passageway the dwarves had widened somewhat in ages past,
the scouting party quickly arrived at the cavern where the entranceway to the Dwarven
Mining Outpost lay, the raucous sounds of its inhabitants growing louder as
they approached. 

As
the rear two teams flattened themselves against the near wall, Ardan knelt and
peered quickly around the carved pillar into the entranceway, pulling his head
back just as quickly.  Looking Keryak in the eye, he shook his head, meaning
that the ‘heat sweep,’ as they called the short, initial look they made for
heat signatures, had shown nothing living in the entranceway.

Ardan
now moved his head slowly into the entranceway, this time smelling the air
coming from the outpost more thoroughly than he’d been able to from up the
passageway and straining to filter out the din of drunken revelry in the
distance to focus on even the slightest sound that might give a clue of any
watch that might have been set near the entrance.  His eyes were open, but he
was only passively aware of what they were focusing on.

After
several moments Ardan could detect nothing else in the gentle exhale of air
coming from the outpost, and he moved back to Durik and Manebrow, leaving
Keryak to watch the entrance.  The two leaders leaned close to him as he
whispered.

“I
can smell the stench of many more orc warriors than just a few, in addition to
several orc females and young.  I don’t know if the warriors are still there. 
If they recently left, then their scent would still be lingering.  I also smell
several kobolds, probably many more than just the merks.  The air in there
smells more like forty or fifty, not ten or so.  There’s also a stench I
haven’t smelled for quite some time.  I think it’s goblin, probably only one,
but no more than a handful.  There was a definite, pervasive stench of orc
brew, bitter wine I believe they call it.  I didn’t smell fresh vomit, so I’m
guessing they’ve begun their drinking bout only recently.  Finally, I smell
fire, which isn’t normal down here.  Orcs don’t normally cook, and I doubt
their mercenaries do.  After all, where would they get the fuel to burn?”

Considering
the entire report for a moment, Durik nodded.  “Good report, Ardan.  Your nose
is finely tuned.  We are lucky to have you on the team.”

“Thank
you, sire,” Ardan nodded humbly.

“Ardan,
do you think those other kobolds could be slaves?” Manebrow asked.

Thinking
for a moment, Ardan nodded.  “Likely as not they are.  The orcs like to take
slaves, to ‘lessen the whining of the concubines,’ as they say it.” 

Durik
looked at him, not quite understanding.

“Someone
has to do all the work, and orcs aren’t particularly fond of it,” Ardan
whispered.  “In fact, in the orc tribes of the great forest I hear that goblins
do most of the work of planting and harvesting, leaving the orcs free to hunt. 
The entire goblin race seems to exist mostly as slaves among the other brutal
races, it would seem.”

Manebrow
nodded, “That would explain their presence as well.”  Changing the subject, he
continued.  “I wonder if we might want to wait a little while before we go in,
let them get drunk to the point of throwing up.  Seems better to me than
possibly finding a bunch of orc warriors and mercenaries who are just numb
enough to not feel pain.”

Durik
thought about it for a second then shook his head.  “I don’t want to be out
here on their doorstep longer than I have to.  The drinking should keep them
occupied, and distracted.  Let’s get in and get out quickly.”

Ardan
nodded and stood up, then crept quickly back to where Keryak kept watch. 
Keryak, seeing him coming back, did another heat sweep of the entranceway, then
moved back shaking his head, indicating he’d seen nothing.

Bracing
himself, Ardan padded across to the far side of the entrance.  Nothing had
moved, nothing had reacted.  He felt pretty sure that there were no guards with
hidden vantage points, and the wind was in his favor.  Kneeling down, he
scanned the first several paces of passageway to where he could see the first
of several broad steps that dropped the passageway into darkness, looking for
any hidden alarms or traps.  Seeing nothing, he moved forward to the edge of
the top stair and scanned the several steps that led downward to the landing
below.  Repeating this process until he reached where the broad passageway
broke into a T of two smaller passageways, Ardan stopped again to smell and
listen as Keryak came up next to him.  The din of the drinking bout was equally
loud from both directions.  They were getting close enough now that individual
voices could be heard from the din, not just random exclamations, squeals, and
laughter.  As Ardan listened, he could hear a strong orc voice above the fray
exclaiming something about ‘their loss is our gain’ and ‘left the wine stores.’

Behind
him, Durik’s small group waited just inside the passageway, watching out the
entranceway for any possible trouble.  Though he couldn’t see them, Ardan knew
that Gorgon and Jerrig were not far behind.

After
several moments, Ardan and Keryak took the passageway to the right, passing
down one staircase, carefully avoiding a side passage whose stale scent of orc
had lingered, though the orcs themselves had already left.  From the main
passage ahead of them the slightest bit of light could be seen. 

Padding
quietly down another staircase they came upon a small barren room.  Two
passageways led out perpendicularly from it.  The light emanated from the left
of the two passageways.  Though the flickering light was weak, probably one or
two candles at most, it was enough to eliminate their native heat vision. 

Somewhat
blinded now, Keryak could feel that the filth of ages seemed to have stained
the empty doorway of this chamber more than the hallway that led him to it.  He
made a note to ensure he washed his feet later.

Standing
to one side of the entranceway outside the chamber, Ardan pointed to his eyes,
then to the left passage out of the chamber ahead of them, then motioned at
Keryak.  Keryak took a deep breath.  In the blink of an eye, Keryak leaned one
eye into the empty doorway, facing the left passage, then back out again. 

From
the hall beyond the next chamber a chorus of cheers filled the air as the thud
of a large barrel being set down on stone was heard.  In a moment the clear,
distinct sound of a tap being plunged into a keg was met by another round of
cheers.

Moving
up next to Ardan, Keryak whispered in his ear.  “There are many in a large
chamber.  I saw probably five or six kobolds and a couple of orcs, but by the
set up of the tables and the sound of it, the chamber is much larger than what
I could see.  None of them seem to be paying attention to anything but the
drinking and the females serving the drink.”