The Game of Fates (13 page)

Gorgon
and Ardan looked on intently as Krebbekar stood explaining the ins and outs of
the forge that the company was to use.  It was a large, open-air forge kept hot
by a sizable bellows.  In a semi-circle around the forge were three anvils with
a large, centrally placed rack of hammers, tongs, and such other tools as a
blacksmith could want to perform his duties placed squarely on the other side
of the forge from the bellows.  To either side of the rack, easily within reach
of each of the anvils, were placed two large, squat barrels filled with water
for cooling the metal.  This setup was almost the same as several they had seen
in their gen.  The one large difference between the two gens was that the Kale
Gen had the knowledge and setup to not only deal with iron, but to smelt and
forge steel.  While the Krall Gen had most of what they needed, they did not
have the knowledge of the process, and that knowledge had brought quite a bit
of prosperity to the Kale Gen.

To
serve as a pattern for the armor they were to make, Krebbekar had set a suit of
armor on a stand near the forge.  Gorgon’s mind was racing as Krebbekar
explained the setup of the shop.  He had spent entirely too long in shops like
this to listen, and he began to wonder if he might not take the ingots that
Khazak Mail Fist had purchased for them and do something better with the
softer, purer iron than just beat it into the shapes they were wanting.  He
determined that, after the others left, he would take a look around and see if
he couldn’t find their smelter and see if something better couldn’t be done.

Durik
and Manebrow also stood looking at the ingots of iron that had come from the
smelters.  Kneeling down and walking his fingers up the layers of ingots,
Manebrow started doing the mental calculations in his head.  He was by far no
expert smith, but by his count, even counting Kabbak and Kiria and allowing
five ingots per kobold, there was more iron here than needed.  In fact, there
was probably an extra twenty ingots or so.  Manebrow stood, his mind churning
on the question of what he could do with the extra iron.  Turning to Durik, he
whispered his findings in his ear.  Durik’s brows raised and he too began to
think.

As
Krebbekar finished his explanation and turned to Durik and Manebrow, Gorgon
turned to Ardan and, in a low tone, asked “Do you know where I could get some
limestone around here?”

Ardan
looked confused, “Why do you….”  Then his look changed from one of confusion to
one of understanding.  “Ah, I get it.”  Thinking for a second, he said “I think
I know just the person.  Wait until the rest are gone.  I’ll slip out and see
if I can’t acquire some.”

Gorgon
nodded, “I’ll come with you too.  I think we’re going to need some stone and
mortar as well.  But before we go, let’s get Tohr and Kahn working on making the
molds for the armor pieces.”

Krebbekar
interrupted Durik and Manebrow’s conversation, “Will you accompany me to the
leatherworking shop?”  With that, the two leaders walked out the small door of
the low, stone building where several of the other warriors were waiting.

“All
right Tohr, Kahn.  Get in there and help Gorgon with the forge,” Manebrow
ordered.  “The rest of you will be working in the leatherworking shop.”

T
he light from the morning sun was
already beginning to blend into day, destroying shadows and wiping away the
chill of early spring.  Karto and Lat, Lord Karthan’s two young sons and
Kiria’s younger brothers, had spent the last two nights with Lord Krall and his
lifemate, Karaba.  But the two young whelps had been having nightmares, and
Aba, as they called Lady Karaba, had asked Kiria to spend more time with them. 
When she asked Durik, of course he agreed.  So that morning all three of Lord
Karthan’s children were loitering about the caravan drivers’ quarters.

On
the porch of the quarters Kiria had finally given up trying to study the texts
and maps she had brought with her.  Not only was she already too familiar with
them, but her two little brothers were entirely too much of a distraction.  Even
now, as she was packing up her materials, Lat had jumped on her back and was
now bouncing up and down.  Grabbing his feet, she stood up and raced around the
courtyard in front of the quarters while Lat squealed with glee and Karto raced
after them crying ‘my turn, my turn.’

As
Kiria rounded the corner of the kennels she stopped abruptly, almost face to
face with another female kobold about her age.  She was dressed in a long
earthen-colored robe with a pair of pouches slung one over each shoulder across
her chest.  She was clear eyed and had a confident look and seemed determined
in whatever purpose she had in coming here.

“Uh,
hello,” Kiria said, putting Lat down on the ground.  He and Karto quickly took
off like two scared rabbits, squealing gleefully at having ‘escaped the scary
orc.’  “May I help you?” Kiria asked.

“I’m
headed for the quarters, if you don’t mind,” the female kobold said as she
moved to get past Kiria.

“Um,
well, there’s no one there right now.  May I help you?” Kiria said.

The
female kobold stopped short.  “What?  Are you with the Kale Gen warrior group?”
she asked, almost startled at the idea.

“Well,
yes, actually,” Kiria said.  “I am a representative of the Kale Gen’s Lore
Master.  Our quest seems to be leading us to the Hall of the Mountain King.  As
I’m an expert in our gen on that place our Lore Master accepted my volunteering
for the task.”

The
female kobold looked surprised, but pleased.  “Well then,” she said, sizing
Kiria up, “Well met.  My name is Myaliae.  I am a healer.  I am the healer who
healed two of your warriors when you first arrived… Jerrik and Trallat I
believe.”

Kiria
smiled and took her hand, “Well met to you too, then, Myaliae, and my thanks
for healing Jerrig and Trallik.  Your help was much appreciated.”

“Oh,
Jerrig and Trallik.  That’s what I meant.  Well, you’re welcome.”  She paused,
then after mustering her courage, she continued, “I’ve come to talk with the
leader of your company.  Where is he?” Myaliae asked.

“I’m
not sure where he is right now, but I do know that he was going to the forges
with most of the rest of the company, either there or the leatherworking
shops.”

Myaliae
stood there thinking.  There were several forges, as well as a handful of
leatherworking shops.  “Well,” she began, “I might as well tell you, as I’m
sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.  I’ve asked my gen’s master healer to
let me go on this quest with you, and he’s consented.”

Kiria
looked stunned, “You asked to go on a quest with us, from the Kale Gen?”

Myaliae
looked a little defensive, “Well, I’m no different than you.  I’d imagine you
joined to get out of your gen and see what the rest of the world was all
about.”

Kiria
couldn’t help but agree.  After all, that was exactly why she had joined
Durik’s Company.  “Well then, I guess you and I have a lot to talk about. 
Shall we talk for a while, maybe here on the porch?”

Myaliae
nodded and the two young females walked over to the porch and sat.

Durik
followed Manebrow’s advice and left with him for the quarters.  He had left Kiria
there for a purpose; he wanted to learn as much as he could about Demon’s
Bridge, and perhaps the Hall of the Mountain King as well.  He also thought it
better to not hover over the warriors he’d left in charge.  As such, the pair
of leaders left Gorgon and Jerrig in charge of the two shops and, as Kabbak was
the only one who had any experience in fitting clothes, he had Kabbak do all
the measuring and draw out the patterns on the leather. 

As
they checked back with Gorgon and his crew they were surprised to see Gorgon
explaining how to make casting molds to Tohr and Kahn.  The iron they had was
pure enough that it could be easily beaten into shape, but when asked about it
Gorgon just said ‘trust me.’  Acquiescing, Durik left the matter to Gorgon’s judgment.

When
they arrived back at the quarters they had another surprise.  Myaliae, one of
the Krall Gen healers, was there waiting for them.  She stated that she’d been
released by the Krall Gen’s master healer to accompany them on this quest. 
Durik and Manebrow looked at each other in surprise.  They didn’t understand
why the master healer, who had been at the council the night before, had let
her come on this journey under their protection instead of as part of Morigar’s
team, but they weren’t about to try to dissuade her from joining their Kale Gen
company.

“Well
met, then, Myaliae of the Krall Gen, and may you feel comfortable within our
company,” Durik said.

“Thank
you, I already do,” she said, motioning in the direction of Kiria and her two
little brothers.  “Kiria has explained much about your… I mean
our
company.  It will be an honor to serve you for the duration of your quest.”

“Sire,”
Kiria started, not used to using the title, “Terrim, Kabbak, and I are three. 
With Myaliae we are four.  Would it not be better to make Myaliae and I a
pair?”

Durik
looked at Manebrow, who turned to Kiria and Myaliae.  “So be it,” Manebrow
said.  “Myaliae, have you ever handled a bow?” he asked, changing the subject.

Myaliae
looked a bit surprised, but nodded.  “Some, though I’m not very good at it,”
she answered.

“Good!”
Manebrow answered.  “I just happen to have an extra bow and quiver of arrows. 
Your first duty is to learn how to use it.  Now, Kiria,” he said, turning his
attention, “get your notes in order.  Durik and I need to spend some time going
over the maps and the writings on the Hall of the Mountain King, but in a while
we’re going to want to discuss it with you also.”

Kiria
nodded, her large, still mostly innocent eyes looking up at the hardened
warrior.  Manebrow pondered on that look after getting the bow and quiver for
Myaliae and as he and Durik entered the quarters and set themselves to the task
of gathering their materials and maps. 

It
had been a long time since Manebrow had felt so young, and so innocent.  Around
him were many young warriors.  They were quickly losing their innocence as
their hands were stained with blood and their hearts and minds were bent to the
tasks of war and death.  In his mind the question of how they would ever regain
their innocence resounded, or if they, or he, would ever want to. 

Perhaps
this was the normal pattern of things, that generations should grow up, meet
the harsh realities of life, either survive or die in the attempt, being
forever changed by the experience, then go on to have children in their attempt
to see again the joy and peace of innocence. 

Manebrow
shook his head.  Whatever the factors were that drove the young ones to face
death and pain, he no longer understood it.  Perhaps he’d seen too much of it.  Then
again, perhaps it was simply because it had been too long since he’d felt any
shred of innocence himself that he valued it so much.

He’d
heard the cries of these young ones in the night and, knowing what they
suffered, he felt guilty.  Though his mind told him it wasn’t his fault, he
couldn’t help but feel that in part it was.  He’d heard it said that this was
the way of old warriors, to carry the burden of guilt long after their hands no
longer carried the burden of war.  Manebrow hoped that it would not be so with
him, though in his heart he knew it couldn’t be any other way.

Durik
and Manebrow passed much of the morning seated at the table in Durik’s room
with the books, papers, and maps that they had been provided by Kiria and the
leaders of the gen.  Both of them already had a basic knowledge of the lore
surrounding both the Hall of the Mountain King as well as Demon’s Bridge, but
before they brought Kiria into the discussion the two of them wanted to have a
much better understanding, and they wanted to have a list of questions ready
for her.

After
spending a brief time pouring through a narrative of a kobold’s quest by the
name of Eekrek who explored the Hall of the Mountain King some hundreds of
years before, Durik and Manebrow turned their attention to a scroll that was
labeled ‘Demon’s Bridge.’

Clearing
the table of the rest of Kiria’s books and scrolls, the two warriors unrolled
the scroll and placed books at each corner to keep it from rolling back up. 
Standing back from the scroll to take a look at the entire thing, Durik was
immediately confronted by a hand drawn image of a demon statue that seemed to
have come directly out of his visions.

Looking
around the scroll, Durik found a small map of the area of the bridge, as well
as the small structure that sat next to the northern side of the bridge.  Next
to the portion of the map where the small structure sat was a depiction of a
rather wicked looking set of runes.  Looking around the scroll at the various
writings, the pair of warrior leaders could find no explanation for the runes. 

After
stepping back and taking in the scroll as a whole, it was clear to both of them
that the scroll had been made by a warrior contingent leader from the Krall Gen
some hundred or so years in the past.  It detailed watches that he’d set,
sleeping areas, lists of supplies to be kept there, and the myriad of details
that goes into establishing and maintaining an outpost.

Though
there was very little else on the scroll that was useful to them, Manebrow
pointed out a couple of paragraphs labeled ‘Warren of Passageways’ that
attempted to describe the passages plunging into the mountain that started at
Demon’s Bridge and which seemed to honeycomb the area around the bridge, even
far below it.  The most interesting part of the narrative was perhaps what it
stated was unknown.

Durik’s
heart suddenly began to burn within him as he read the closing words of the
Krall Gen contingent leader: 

“Though we’ve found the passage
that leads down to the river under the mountain pass, the presence of the giant
spiders has prevented us from continuing further down to scout out the reported
location of the Castoffs’ Stronghold in the old abandoned Dwarven Mining
Outpost.”

“Manebrow,”
Durik started, “there is something to this Dwarven Mining Outpost it mentions. 
I can feel it again so strong.  Despite what Khazak Mail Fist and Lord Krall
think, I can’t see us going to the Hall of the Mountain King in search of the
Kale Stone.”

Manebrow
simply nodded and looked at the young leader.

“My
visions have been too clear,” Durik continued, looking his second in the eyes. 
“And now again I feel the confirming feeling telling me that we should go to
the Dwarven Mining Outpost.”

“Well,
then that’s where we should go,” Manebrow stated simply.  After a couple of
moments of silence, he straightened up, a couple of popping noises coming from
his back as he groaned slightly.  “It won’t hurt my feelings if we don’t get to
fight dragons.”

Durik
shook his head and snorted at the unexpected humor.  “Aye, Manebrow.  I think
the rest of the company would probably be alright with that as well.”