The Game of Fates (47 page)

“Sire,
we tried to dissuade him, but he wouldn’t listen to us.  He already had a band
of mercenaries and he dismissed us,” Gormanor was explaining, almost
apologetically.

“You’re
lying.  You have to be lying!” his voice was almost pleading.  “My son is off
to hire a dragon!  What is he thinking?!”  He sat down in his chair, stunned by
the stupidity of Morigar’s move.

“Wait! 
Where’s Krebbekar?  Wasn’t he there to dissuade him?” Lord Krall was grasping
at straws, but any hope was better than no hope.

Gormanor
shook his head.  “Sire, he had sent Krebbekar to warn you.  When we caught up
with him, Krebbekar immediately turned back and went in pursuit of Morigar.”

Lord
Krall just shook his head slowly in disbelief.  That his son was notorious for
his lapses in judgment he well understood.  This, however, was more than even
Lord Krall had imagined his son was capable of doing.

“Doesn’t
he know anything about chromatic dragons?” Lord Krall said to Gormanor, though
it was more a statement than a question.  Gormanor merely nodded his agreement
at Lord Krall’s assessment of his son’s decision.  “Doesn’t he know they’re
greedy, foul-tempered beasts who call no one master?  What arrogance, to think…
argh!”  Lord Krall was at a loss for words and merely shook his head in
frustration with his youngest son.

The
past day had seen quite a transformation in Kale’s faith in himself and the powers
that seemed bent toward the task of gathering all the descendants of Kale
together.  He realized that the same feelings of confidence and faith in unseen
powers had been with him since a very early age, and had grown over time, but
this past day had seen a fullness of his faith, a complete confidence arising
from it as he worked faithfully to fulfill what Kamuril had commanded him to
do.

He
had gone from one outcast family to another, eventually gathering five families
himself, in addition to those families that were gathered by members of his
family he had sent to the gathering.  In the end only the most primitive,
degenerate outcast families had refused his message, and then only a few of
them.  The rest had responded and even now hundreds of kobolds were gathering
to the amphitheater, all preparing for the journey through the underdark to
their ancestral home.

At
each family’s home cave or caves it had been much the same.  Kale or one of his
warriors had shown up to tell them that a great unknown danger was coming, and
that the Kale Family was going to lead them all back to their ancestral home. 
In each family the experience was the same.  At first there was skepticism, but
after a few moments the leader of each family felt an overpowering confirmation
of the truth of it all, after which they began to gather and flee to the home
of the Kale family.

Kale
was amazed at this confirming feeling that had descended on each of the
families, this feeling that had brought each of them now to gather in the
amphitheater of the halls he called home.  The uplifting power it held, the
converting power it brought, the power to change hearts and minds changed
everything.  It seemed as if only those whose hearts were hardened against him
already would not heed its call, though by the look on their faces they felt it
as well.

Now,
as the outcast families came trickling into the amphitheater, he moved among
them with a smile for the whelps, a helping hand for the aged, and a firm grip
and keen look of acceptance and respect for the warriors of each house.  They
came to the home of the Kale Family in their fives, in their tens, and in their
twenties.  None of them were especially rich, nor were most of them extremely
poor.  They had brought with them their meager possessions, prized as they
were. 

Here
a warrior had strapped his shield over his back and carried an old sword in a
battered scabbard hanging from a strap on one hip, while on his shoulders he
carried a small whelp.  Behind him came straggling along a few other whelps,
one taller than the next until finally the warrior’s lifemate came last with a
babe in arms contentedly sucking under a woven wrap made from the fibers of a
supple young giant mushrooms of the kind that gave them all most of their
sustenance.

Staggering
in from somewhere in a remote cave came an old kobold with horns already bent
far forward with age.  The flaking of his scales showed he was well past half a
century old, more likely three quarters of a century.  Kale welcomed the old
hermit, even as he wondered how such an old kobold had survived all alone in
the underdark for so long, and how he had gotten word of the gathering.

Behind
him came a small band of Krall Gen outcasts; the different look of their
features marked their heritage.  What had probably been young warriors when
they were first exiled now had the longer horns of middle age, having taken
lifemates from among the Kale Gen and northern gen outcasts.  Their children
were a mix of their heritages, but to Kale it didn’t matter; they were all
kobolds, and therefore they were his brothers and sisters.

They
came with their pride, and with their weaknesses in addition to their
strengths.  Here and there Kale had to break up fights and challenges between
families that had long standing grudges.  The last couple of years in the
underdark had been a time of relative calm and peace.  If it had not been, it
would have been near impossible to establish any sort of peace and order among
kobolds who were not used to living in close proximity to anyone else.  The
call of the Kale Stone had made a change among them, however, and Kale found
them more pliable and more willing than he had in the past.  Though it wasn’t
easy establishing some semblance of co-existence among them, the common call of
a higher power and purpose made it easier.

Soon
latrines were being dug, cooking pits were established, and sleeping areas were
partitioned for the short period of gathering prior to their departure.  They
would not stay here long, and they would gather a few more families who were
waiting for them along the Cross Way, which was the long passage to the Kale
Gen that they would travel.

Kale
saw order beginning to be established.  His adult cousins had left off the
preparations for their own families, leaving it to their lifemates, and had
taken up the role of hosts for the gathering of outcasts, using their position
as Kale’s cousins to sort out the problems as they arose and organize people to
accomplish necessary tasks.

Kale
made a quick stop to the storerooms of his family where his lifemate was
working along with the other females, sorting through the equipment and
supplies stored there and preparing it for loading on their small herd of
packgoats or packing it in bags that they themselves would carry.  The look in
her eye, the energy he saw there and the excitement of the gathering that
animated her made him want to linger past a short discussion.  However, seeing
that his younger brother had the preparations for their family well underway,
Kale knew that the gathering was not complete and soon took leave of his family
and headed off toward the caverns of the Deep Gen.

“My
lord,” the wolf-riding scout stopped in front of Lord Karthan and dismounted.

“Yes,
scout?  What news?” Lord Karthan replied.  Behind him a small party of honor
guard warriors who served as his personal guard stood with him.  They waited
patiently as the scout, one of the thirty loyal wolf riders who served Karthan,
dismounted and gathered his breath.  An hundred and twenty-some warriors who were
the remainder of those who had fled with Lord Karthan were marching by the
small party even now in four groups of thirty, led by elite warriors from the
old Honor Guard Warrior Group.  Their straggling lines snaked around the low
hill that Lord Karthan and his personal guards had climbed.  One hundred and
fifty-five total warriors plus his daughter’s small, nearly exhausted team of
four.  That was all the strength Lord Karthan had.

“Sire,
Drok would like to report that the way is unhindered and unobserved all the way
to the entrance of our home caverns,” the scout reported.

Around
Lord Karthan were astonished gasps at their amazing luck.

Lord
Karthan grinned.  “Tell Drok ‘well done,’ and let him know that we will be
there by second meal.  Please remind him to ensure he and his warriors keep out
of sight.  It would not do to give Khee-lar and his lackeys any warning.”

Goryon,
who Lord Karthan had chosen to lead his personal entourage, laughed as the
scout rode quickly down the low hill and into the woods.

“What
do you find so funny, Goryon?” Lord Karthan asked.

“Why,
Khee-lar, of course, sire!” Goryon answered.  “First we get reports that the
Deep Guard Warrior Group has replaced your Honor Guard Warrior Group as the
keepers of peace in the gen, now by the sound of it, they’re the
only
warrior group that’s employed in securing the gen.  It appears that they’re the
only thing propping up Khee-lar’s rule.”

“Why
do you say that, Goryon?” Lord Karthan’s curiosity was piqued.

“Well,
the Patrol Guard aren’t out securing the Picket Line.  We’ve not seen even one
of the Wolf Riders other than the thirty that Drok brought out with him.  The
Trade Warrior Group hasn’t sent out any caravans since Khee-lar took the gen. 
And from the latest refugees’ reports, the Metalsmithies Warrior Group’s forges
and smelters are starved for ore!  What is he doing down there?  He’s certainly
not trying to run a gen, unless he’s trying to run it into the ground!”

“Aye,
lord,” another of his personal guards joined in.  “Perhaps these stories of
wild parties and gathering all the wealth to himself are more true than we had
dared to hoped.”

“Well,
if it is all true, it will likely take quite some time to sort it all out,”
Lord Karthan shook his head in disgust as he began to believe more fully the
reports the last few refugees had given.

They
marched in silence for a while, the atrocities that they’d heard whispers of
weighing heavier on their hearts the closer they came to their beloved home.

“Sire,”
Krall rode up to his father.  “The orcs are taking second meal.  Though they’ve
sighted our scouts, so far we’ve not fallen for any of their traps.  Our
scouting elements have not engaged any of their hunting parties either.  Still
the main body of orcs do not move.  If they continue to delay their advance, we
shall surely arrive at the Kale Gen ahead of them.”

“Good,”
Lord Krall nodded his head in satisfaction as he rode along.  “Tell me, what of
the ants?  Are they following yet?”

Krall
nodded his head.  “Yes, father.  They have discovered our absence in the fort
and are moving cautiously after us.  It is strange how they seem to linger
behind, almost as if they were waiting for something.”

“Or
someone,” Lord Krall spoke.  His son didn’t reply, so after a few moments he
continued.  “This morning as I was riding along, I thought I heard your
mother’s voice calling out to me.  It felt like whispers in the sands of my
consciousness.  I couldn’t understand much of it, but it seemed that she was
sending us a warning through the Krall Stone.”