The Game of Fates (58 page)

Soon
the four warriors arrived at the final landing of the great stairway, to where
Lord Sennak’s warrior group made its home.  From here they’d been told it wasn’t
such easy going.  The great stairway ended, though the shaft continued much
farther into the underdark, down to the great underground sea that permeated
this whole lower portion of the underdark with the stench of salt water and
rotting fish.  On the edge of the landing a stand with a great mountain goat’s
horn on it stood ready.  It was the alert mechanism Lord Sennak’s warrior group
had prepared to call for reinforcements in case of invasion from below.

Before
them a rockslide down into a partially collapsed cavern with a low ceiling was
bisected by a well-worn path.  Along the side of the path some of the larger
rocks had been stood upright to provide something to lean against as one
descended the path to the entryway that was cut into the rock at the bottom of
the slide.

As
Gorgon stood surveying the route, Jerrig, Troka, and Arbelk came up behind him
and stopped short on the small landing.

“Oh
good.  I was growing tired of stairs anyway,” Arbelk mused.

Gorgon
looked worried.  “This warrior group of Bantor’s is traveling faster than I
expected… or they left earlier than we were told.  It can’t be far from dawn in
the valleys above.  Even if we do get the message to them, what good will it
do?”

Jerrig
nodded his head.  “Aye.  We’ve not been sent to bring them back, only to
deliver a conciliatory message.  Meanwhile, if we keep going, there’s no way
we’ll be out of the underdark by dawn.”

Arbelk,
breathing hard even though the party had left their armor and packs with the
guards at the top of the stairway, chimed in.  “Yes, and if these ants show up,
as it is we’ll have to fight our way out.”

“But
what of that warrior group?  We can’t just leave them,” Troka said.

“We’re
not leaving them,” Gorgon observed.  “They’re leaving us.”

“Well,
still.  What will happen to them when the ants come?”

“Troka,
we’ve not been sent to convince them to return,” Gorgon said flatly.

“Gorgon,
this is a fool’s errand,” Arbelk said, shaking his head.

Chewing
his lip for a moment, Gorgon realized there was no counterargument.  “Aye,” he
said, nodding.  “That it is.  Orders or not, there’s no use in us continuing
this.”

Troka
wasn’t happy about this.  “Let me go, then.  It may not be our orders, but
someone has to try to convince them to come back.”

Gorgon
thought for a moment while everyone looked at him expectantly.  Finally, he
nodded.  “Alright, but leave that broadsword of yours.  Tall as you are, I’ve
still seen you struggling with it, climbing around.”

Troka
nodded and unslung the two-handed broadsword from over his back.  He still had
his shield, bow, quiver, and long knife with him.  That was enough of a burden
to climb with through the underdark.

“I
won’t be long,” Troka said in a conciliatory tone.

Gorgon
looked him straight in the eyes.  “You better not be.  You run, hear me?  Tell
them no one’s pursuing them.  It might make them stop fleeing.  But no matter
what, you get back to us as soon as you deliver the message!”

Troka
nodded, then turned and took off running down the slope.

Gorgon
shook his head as Arbelk came up next to him.  “I’m going to regret this.  I
just know I’m going to regret this.”

M
ahtu held up his hand like he’d
seen the Kale Gen warriors do.  Not far behind him Durik and Manebrow stopped
and waited quietly as Mahtu listened.  After a few moments he called for them
to come forward.

“Is
people there,” he stated in a breathless whisper.  Down here in the dry caves
that led up to the foot of Sheerface anything more than a whisper carried too
far.  Behind Mahtu the pair of Kale Gen warriors could now hear the low rumble
of many voices and many bodies moving about in the caverns ahead.

Durik
motioned for Mahtu to continue scouting ahead for the two armored warriors.

Not
much farther through the twisting passageways and caves, Mahtu stopped again. 
Beckoning for Durik and Manebrow to come forward, the three of them looked
cautiously around the corner.

The
base of the cliff known as Sheerface lay within sight.  That place held many
recent memories for both Durik and Manebrow, but right now it held many
kobolds, all of them apparently awaiting their turn to ascend the cliff.  As
the trio waited, they saw a lift descend to the base of Sheerface.  Several of
the waiting kobolds ascended with it as it returned up the cliff.

“Who
they?” Mahtu wondered out loud.

Manebrow
looked at Durik.  “Well, we know they’re not from the Deep Gen.  Their first
contingents probably haven’t begun the evacuation yet.  Besides, they’re not
equipped as well as the Deep Gen either.  Sire, whoever they are, outcasts
probably, they seem to be invited.  I doubt our gen’s Deep Guard would let them
use the lifts otherwise.”

Durik
nodded.  “The concern we’ve had is whether Khee-lar Shadow Hand and his lackeys
will accept the Deep Gen, and what he’ll want to do with us.  If he’s taking in
all these… outcasts, perhaps he’ll take the Deep Gen as well.”

“This
doesn’t seem very characteristic of Khee-lar,” Manebrow said.  “He’s never been
much of a friend to the outcasts.  I don’t remember him ever saying anything
good about them.”

Durik
moved back to a side cavern followed by his two companions.  Seating himself,
he pulled the Kale Stone from his belt and held it in both hands.  For several
long moments he sat transfixed, staring at something beyond his sight.  Slowly,
a smile spread across his face.  Within moments he was on his feet and sharing
the good news of Lord Karthan’s return to power.

Kale
and his brother stood surveying the great arena of the Kale Gen.  While it was
not as elegant and built-out as his own amphitheater back in the bowels of the
underdark, it would certainly meet the needs of his family and these outcasts…
his people.  He had not as yet been led to the Kale Stone, but he knew that the
time would come and would wait patiently for that time.

“And
you say we can use all that is found in the arena for our needs?” Kale asked
the grizzled old warrior who had been asked by Lord Karthan to settle Kale and
the outcasts in the arena.

“Yes,
certainly,” the old warrior answered.  Behind him Trallik and Trikki stood
holding spears.  He turned to the two young kobolds.  “Trallik, have these take
stock of what they need to fight, then take a detail from them down to the
caverns of the old Deep Guard Warrior Group and have whoever Lord Karthan put in
charge down there fill the order from their stores and from the equipment from
our dead brethren.”  Looking at Trikki for a moment, as if to assess her
resolve to actually use the spear she carried, he spoke to her.  “And you…
don’t let any of these outcasts leave the arena yet.  They may be joining us
for the battle to come, but Lord Karthan doesn’t want them wandering around our
halls without escort.”

Having
given his orders, the level-eyed warrior looked about at the outcasts filtering
in to the arena, accompanied at every several paces by a warrior from the
Patrol Guard Warrior Group, who had been given charge of the old Deep Guard’s
tasks for now.

“Hey
now, there,” he called out to a Kale Gen warrior who leaned up against the wall
to rest.  “Stand to, lad!  I’ll have no slouching from you.”

Kale
turned to his brother as the grizzled old warrior left.  “Brother, have the
people get to work dismantling that mass of nets and wood,” he said, pointing
to the mass of obstacles that had been used for the Scouting Trial not two
weeks now in the past.  “Our outcast friends are not used to living around
others, so we’ll need it to get some privacy for all.”

“Aye,”
Kale’s brother nodded.  “and whoever they can spare I’ll get to dismembering
and cooking that,” he said, pointing at the body of the recently dead great
boar that lay still in the bloody sand closest to the stands against the far
wall.

Kale
nodded.  His stomach had been growling for some time, and he knew that most of
the outcasts had come with very little food.  There was a great battle coming,
and there was entirely too much to do to prepare these outcasts for it, but for
now they had to put first things first; food and shelter.

“Trallik,”
Kale spoke to the young warrior who had undergone such a change since he’d last
seen him.  In his eyes there was a new-found confidence, perhaps a new sense of
purpose in life.  While Kale didn’t know what had happened to his young friend,
the fact that the young kobold seemed to have been accepted back into his own gen
could certainly have a lot to do with it.

“Aye,
Kale,” Trallik answered, “shall we get an equipment list together?”

Kale
shook his head.  “Not yet, my friend.  Tell me.  You’re a trained warrior of
this gen, isn’t that so?”

Trallik
nodded.

“How
do your gen’s warriors organize to fight?”

Durik
stood in the center of the council chamber, closer than he had ever stood to
the lord’s throne, but the floor in the center of this once pristine, vaulted
chamber was now soaked in blood and smeared in gore so it was the only place he
could stand.  The filth of it served as a present reminder of the evil deeds
done here, and as a hasty memorial to those who had suffered at Khee-lar’s
hand.

“In
all of this dark evil,” Lord Karthan was speaking to Durik and Manebrow who
stood with him in the center of the room, “your finding of the Kale Stone is
like the coming of day after a dark night!  My congratulations and thanks to
you and your company!”

In
his hand Durik held the Kale Stone.  He knew he was not the Oracle of this
stone, but Morgra had not let him known to whom the stone belonged.  He had
assumed that it was Lord Karthan, but now as Lord Karthan descended from his
throne, Durik wasn’t sure…

“My
lord,” Durik said as he withdrew his hand.  Lord Karthan stopped short, a look
of wonder and sudden caution in his eyes.  “I… I don’t know if…”

“Durik,”
Lord Karthan spoke as he approached, “it’s alright.  Give me the Kale Stone.  I
am lord of this gen.  It is my
right
.”

Durik
raised his other hand.  “Sire, please, something tells me that this is not
right.  It’s not Morgra’s will that…”

At
that moment, Lord Karthan, knowing what possession of the stone would mean, and
not wanting another insurrection to happen from his failing to possess the
stone, grabbed Durik by his outstretched hand and made a grab for the stone.

Just
as suddenly, Durik sidestepped and broke Lord Karthan’s grasp.  The completely
unexpected aggressive move by one he trusted implicitly shook Durik to the
core, and it was all he could do to not throw Lord Karthan to the ground.

Next
to the throne, Khazak Mail Fist moved forward to help Lord Karthan.  Durik
quickly backed up.

“Wait!”
Manebrow stepped forward between Durik and Lord Karthan.  Khazak Mail Fist came
up next to his lord.  “My lord,” Manebrow held up a hand, “let’s hear Durik
out, please.  For the sake of us all, let’s not do anything that we’ll all
regret.”

Khazak
Mail Fist, grim-faced and weary from so much blood and from the multiple
attempts on Lord Karthan’s life over the past few years, crossed his arms and
prepared for yet more betrayal.  “And on whose authority are
you
holding
onto the stone, Durik?”

Durik
held up the stone, which pulsed with the same power he had witnessed in the
home of the Deep Gen.  With that power, pure light began to emanate, low at
first then growing in both brightness and intensity as it swept away the red,
black and gray of heat vision, replacing it with both color and detail.

By
the look on his face, Lord Karthan was slowly becoming aware of not only the
light, but of the power that emanated from the stone.  In a few moments both he
and Durik stood a little taller, a little nobler.  With the influence of the
stone their hearts began to soften, and the trust between them began to come
back.  Soon, hands left the hilts they had found themselves subconsciously
touching.

“My
lord,” Durik spoke openly and honestly, “I am, and always have been, your
faithful servant.  But there is a power here beyond what you have seen.”  Lord
Karthan nodded slowly, fully under the influence of the power that had slowly
changed the situation in the room.  “I do not know why, my lord, but I cannot
give you the stone… at this time.”

Durik
could feel in his heart that the time would not come, but he couldn’t bear to
say it.  Besides, not everything he’d felt about the future had been absolutely
correct, so he dare not say it.  It was as if he could see only glimpses of the
future when he did, shrouded in thick mists.

Lord
Karthan stepped back and sat on the edge of one of the great tables that ringed
the chamber.  The intensity of the moment had been diffused quickly by the
power that had entered the room, and he sat shaking his head.  Off to one side,
Khazak Mail Fist stood with crossed arms.

“What
is going on here, my lord?” he asked pointedly.

Lord
Karthan looked up at his closest friend and protector.  “Can you not feel the
presence, Khazak?  It is the same feeling that overcame me the night before the
Trials of Caste, when I knew it was time to search for the stone of our
fathers.”

Khazak
shook his head.  “Sire, I feel something, yes, but I don’t see how that changes
the reality of what’s going on here.  You know, sire, that if that stone ends
up in someone else’s hands, that it’ll take much blood to pry it from them.”

Lord
Karthan knew Khazak was right, yet at the same time he felt that he needed to
trust Durik.  For a few moments the struggle re-emerged within him.  “Ah!  I
know, I know!  But yet, it doesn’t feel right to take the stone.”

“Sire,”
both of the Kale Gen leaders turned to look at Durik.  “Already I have carried
the stone for a while.  It passed from one hand to another until it found me,
and I’m sure when the time comes that it will find itself in the hands of
whomever it chooses.  I don’t think there’s anything you or I can do to change
that.  Its power is only mine while it chooses to give it, and it only gives me
what power it feels I need at the moment.  Do not fear, Khazak and my lord.  I
have no claim on the throne of Kale, and I have no real control over the Kale
Stone either.  I will carry the stone until it tells me to give it up, at which
time I will, for I cannot hold onto it.”

Lord
Karthan stood, perplexed by the situation, and torn inside by his desire to
possess the stone and end any possible future attempt on his life, yet feeling
the truth of Durik’s words as well.  Finally, he shook his head.

“Durik,
I cannot argue with you on this,” Lord Karthan spoke.  “I can feel the truth of
your words.  I know that if I were to take the stone, that it would not give
its power to me.  That, perhaps, would be worse than not having the stone at
all.”

Khazak
rolled back on his heels, uncomfortable with his lord’s decision.  Knowing he
had no real say in the matter, however, he kept his tongue.