The Game of Fates (6 page)

Trallik
began thinking about his lost bow.  Manebrow had not let him take it or his
quiver with him when he had exiled Trallik, and he was feeling the lack of it
sorely.  Casting his eyes about for a stout stick to augment his pair of long
knives, he noticed the fist sized rocks that Arren had placed as a border to
the small cooking fire.  After thinking for a moment, Trallik took an empty
sack out of his backpack.  Walking over to the now scattered rocks, he began
collecting a few of them and putting them in his bag.  He noticed Arren
watching him curiously.  “I lost my bow and quiver,” he explained.  After a few
moments, he ran the top of the bag through a belt and tied it off.

“Are
we ready then?” Arren asked as he stood.

“Sure,
why not?” Trallik answered.

“Well
then, let’s be off.”  With that, Arren turned and began to make his way toward
the orc trail and from there to the caves that hopefully led through the
northern mountains.

D
urik was greeted by pleasant
smells, soft string music, upheld mugs, and the cheers of his warriors as he
entered the great chamber through the inner door.  In the center of the hall
the large stone cooking pit was in partial use.  A pig, run through by an iron
spit, was slowly turning over a hot bed of coals.  The little smoke that rose
from the fire itself wisped upward into the stone-lined wooden chimney, rising
with the hot air out into the cool of the evening.  Off in one corner sat a
pair of females about his age softly strumming on lap-harps and humming a tune
he did not recognize.

The
great hall itself was dominated by the large cooking pit in the center of it. 
Though it had enough room to simultaneously cook several pigs on separate
spits, only one pig was roasting in the pit tonight.  The party was small
compared to what the great hall could hold.  One row of tables ringed the great
pit on either side, with the remaining tables and benches stacked or pushed off
to either side.  On one side of the pit sat the members of Durik’s Company.  On
the other side of the pit sat council members as well as other members of
distinction in the Krall Gen.

Following
Durik, Khazak Mail Fist did not hesitate to make for a likely seat among the
council members of the Krall Gen.  That table had been served the first
helpings of pig as well as the first helpings of vegetables and sweet bark
cider. 

As
Durik look briefly around the room, he saw Manebrow, Gorgon, Kiria, and Ardan
seated at the end of the table closest to Lord Krall, with a seat reserved at
the table’s end.  Walking around the pit, Durik took the reserved seat and,
hanging his sword by the baldric from the chair’s high back, sat down to join
his company as they waited for their turn to be served.

“Sire,
all are present,” Manebrow said, the wizened eyes of the much older warrior who
had recently been their trainer and who now was second in command to Durik
seemed more relaxed than normal.

“Thanks,
Manebrow,” Durik said, then as if he had just remembered something, he
continued.  “Oh, by the way, you might want to know that there’s a dragon in
this Hall of the Mountain King, two of them in fact.”

“And
what does that have to do with us, sire?” Manebrow asked, caution creeping into
his voice.  “Isn’t the Kale Stone to be found under the Chop?”

Durik
grimaced.  “Khazak Mail Fist seems determined to send us to Palacid in search
of it, quoting some old prophecy.  That same prophecy says we have to go to the
Hall of the Mountain King.”

Manebrow’s
signature eyebrows, a trait only he and his sons shared, went up in alarm. 
“What?!”  The other warriors looked his way.

“Calm
now, Manebrow,” Durik said.  “We’ll speak more about it later, but the plan is
that we’re to sneak in while the two of them are away visiting the smaller male
dragon’s home.”

“Well,
that’s comforting,” Manebrow said sarcastically, the revelation breaking even
his even temperament, “we’re going to sneak around with a pair of dragons on
the loose.”

Durik
shushed Manebrow again, “Calm now, Manebrow.  I do not believe our quest will
lead us to the Hall of the Mountain King.  We’ll talk more later.  For now,
let’s not get anyone upset.”

While
Durik and Manebrow were discussing the dragons Keryak had gotten up from his
seat and, toting a boar-skin bag with something about the size of a shank of
boar meat in it, he approached Durik.  He placed the bag next to Durik’s seat
and whispered in his ear for a moment.

“Aha! 
Thanks much, Keryak,” Durik said.

Keryak
nodded and returned to his seat.  Leaning over, Manebrow asked quietly, “Is that
what I think it is?”

Durik
nodded and smiled.  “We’ll save it for the right moment.”

After
the arrival of Lord Krall and his two sons was announced throughout the hall
and all present stood in his honor, the guests were asked to take seats and
things continued much as they had up to that point.  Of course, the servants
immediately attended to their lord and his sons, as was to be expected.

For
some time, the conversation in the Hall of Lord Krall was light.  Everyone in
Durik’s Company had been through much and seemed to enjoy the quiet in this
atmosphere of safety and trust more than the opportunity to talk about the
events of the past couple of days.  The additional factor of a hard day’s work
also served to dampen the conversation.  When they did speak, however, the
pride that they felt at having come through so much and having accomplished
much for Lord Karthan and the gen showed through.  Several of them had been
yearlings just three days prior, and it showed.  As they talked, it was obvious
who were the newest to the ranks of the Kale Gen’s warriors; they were
recounting their exploits to each other in tones loud enough for all around
them to hear.

Durik’s
childhood friend Keryak and their company’s broadswordsman Troka were clearly
in that group, with the unlikely hero Jerrig Queen Slayer and the humble
climber Arbelk at first participating, then withdrawing as Keryak and Troka got
more and more out of touch with reality.  As the night wore on the ants they
had fought grew taller, with longer spikes on their arms, and more numerous if
that were possible.  The twins, Tohr and Kahn, and the other veteran warrior
Terrim all sat and watched, bemused by it all.  As Keryak and Troka continued
to talk, the orcs they’d encountered grew much more wicked and devious in their
stories, almost to the same degree as their own heroism had grown.  Through it
all, Manebrow was careful to not squelch their fun and revelry; it was well
deserved, though he was less careful at keeping himself from laughing under his
breath.  Among the cadre of Durik’s Company, there was less of the mirth of new
warriors, though they too took the opportunity to talk and reflect on the
events of the past couple of days. 

Soon
the first of the servants arrived carrying a platter stacked high with sliced
shank of pig.  Behind him came a supple and well built female dressed in tight
robes of flaxen cloth and carrying a platter of vegetables.  It was all that
many of the young warriors could do to keep from staring at her as she lithely
placed the platter on the table then walked casually back to her place near the
pit.  Between the food and the view, the conversation abruptly ended.

Turning
his attention back to his companions, Durik blushed when he noticed Kiria’s
annoyed look.  He cursed himself for letting down his guard and resolved to not
let it happen again.  He was now a leader caste, and he felt the weight of
higher expectations. 

For
Kiria, it was simple jealousy; the chemistry between her and Durik was
noticeable, though Durik tried hard not to notice.

It
was not until some time afterward that the dull rumble of low conversations was
broken by the loud thumping of Lord Krall’s staff on the stone of the dais.  As
the hall quieted down, Lord Krall’s clear, loud voice rang out above the
feast.  “Esteemed members of the Kale Gen, the council and I welcome you to our
halls.”

The
assembled council members beat the handles of their knives against the table in
approval of Lord Krall’s statement.  Durik’s Company, all thirteen remaining
members, followed suit, creating quite a noise that reverberated from the
vaulted ceiling of the great hall. 

After
a moment, Lord Krall held up his hand to silence the crowd.  “Your news of the
clear menace that the great ant colony presents, as well as your news of
dissenters in our gens allying with a remnant of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe,
brings great distress to us.”  The assembled council members voiced their
approval of Lord Krall’s words.  Stopping to assess the impact of his words on
both the company and the council, Lord Krall continued.  “After further council
with our visitors from the Kale Gen, I have decided to send my son Morigar
north with Durik’s Company to investigate the remnant of the Bloodhand Orc
Tribe and bring us knowledge of this threat that at this time lies in the
shadows.  With him shall go a handful of warriors.”

The
announcement was received without much discussion on the part of the council
members.  Lord Krall’s next announcement, however, created more of a stir.

“Members
of the council,” he continued, “the threat to our gen from the great ant
colony, however, is clear and imminent.  Even now many additional Border Guards
are posted to rebut any attack they may make this night or in the coming days. 
Because this threat is imminent and challenges our very right to exist, I have
asked my son Krall to lead a combined force of warriors from each contingent to
eradicate this threat.”

Lord
Krall found acceptance among the council members and moved to solidify their
support.  Calling the three warrior contingent leaders by name, he spoke in a
somber tone, “In order to ensure that the mission is successful and that as few
of our warriors as possible are lost in this action, my son will need all three
of the stalwart leaders of our various forces to personally lead their
contingents.  Will you accept this task?”

The
three warrior contingent leaders, leaders of the Border Guard, Archer Guard,
and Heavy Guard, leapt to their feet and heartily voiced their acceptance
almost in unison; their voices almost drowned out by the thunderous pounding of
knife handles on the tables.

While
Durik was new to the ways of the leader caste, it was obvious to him that,
however Lord Krall had done it, he enjoyed a much higher level of support from
his council than Lord Karthan did from the Kale Gen’s council.  He also noticed
how little of an issue Morigar’s quest was.  Looking at the two brothers’ faces
as they sat in their respective chairs, it was obvious to Durik that Morigar
had noticed as well.  While Krall basked in the glory of his appointment, with
the full support of the council and his father, Morigar sat stone faced and
stoic. 

Watching
the two brothers’ reactions and the expressions they wore on their faces, Durik
began to understand that Morigar must have lived much of his life in the shadow
of his older brother.  While Morigar seemed capable in his own right, a side
look of contempt from Lord Krall toward his youngest son made it obvious that
their father’s trust was enough for one son, but not both.

Snapping
his attention back to the here and now, Durik listened as Krall talked briefly
of his plan for finding and destroying the great ant colony. 

Krall
made it clear that, after they found and forced their way into the queen’s lair
and killed the queen, he thought the rest of the ants would scatter and they’d
be able to scour the forest for them, killing the scattered remnants as they
found them.  Heads nodded and agreement was frequently voiced as he confidently
briefed his plan to the council. 

Durik
was stunned, having assumed that what Lord Krall had known he would have passed
on to his son.  Had Lord Krall not listened to him at all?  Hearing this
blatantly wrong perception of how the ants were organized, Durik couldn’t sit
still. 

Standing,
Durik caught the young Krall’s attention.  “Yes, Durik of the Kale Gen?  Do you
have something to add to this?”

“I
do,” he said as he lifted and opened the bag that had been sitting next to his
chair.  “While I agree with much of your plan, I think your guess on how
they’ll act once the queen is dead is a bit off.”

“And
how do you believe they’ll act then,” Krall said, barely keeping his skepticism
in check.

“Well,”
Durik started as he pulled the queen’s singed head out of the bag, eliciting
gasps from all but the hardened warriors in the room, “as soon as Jerrig Queen
Slayer here killed her, the entire rest of the colony came after us with an
almost insane vengeance.  They were so intent on catching and killing us, in
fact, that the only thing that stopped their progress was the Great River, swollen with the early spring runoff.  And then the first fifty or so of their
hunters died trying to cross it in their fury.”

To
his credit, Krall dropped his incredulousness.  He was as taken aback by the
dramatic display as was everyone else.  After a moment, he spoke in more
earnest tones.  “Well, I see.  Tell me, in light of this new revelation what do
you think the ant colony will be doing now and how do you think we should take
it on?”

Durik
took a moment to calm himself and to think before speaking.  “I am not sure how
the queen ant became the queen ant, but I’d imagine that nature has a way of
making new queen ants.  Whatever process it is that they go through, that
process must be starting now.  I think that the fury of the hunter ants and the
fact that we only saw one of their ant commanders on our tail seems to suggest
that the rest of the ant commanders are about the process of making another
queen.  It’ll probably be one of them, I’d imagine.