The Game of Fates (16 page)

N
ot long after Trallik sought
sanctuary in the small mid-passage chamber the flow of bats had finally
ceased.  As the screeches began to recede into the distance, the clanging of
metal armor and iron soled boots on stone could be clearly heard.  Though he’d
found a small ball of clear rock among the bat guano, its inside speckled with
small bronze flecks, he had no time to examine the object and somehow the
memory of picking it up promptly left his stream of consciousness.

Trallik
immediately thought instead of his elf friend left alone in the long
passageway.  Though he felt relatively safe in this tiny chamber inside the
crawlway, he knew that Arren was far from any place of sanctuary.  Even if the
elf did run and hide, in their attempts to find Trallik he was pretty sure the
orcs would find Arren.

At
that moment, he knew what he had to do.  Conquering his fears, he got back down
on his hands and knees and began crawling quickly back toward where he’d last
seen Arren.  Dodging past stands of fungus and dead rats, Trallik poked his
head out of the crawlway.  Looking around, he saw no sign of Arren, but a
stone’s throw down the passageway he saw the heated bodies of several orcs
jogging in his direction.  Looking down quickly, he saw his pack still sitting
behind a rock.  Jumping down quickly, Trallik grabbed the pack and threw it
into the crawlway then scrambled up after it.

Just
as he had expected, as the orcs got close enough for their black and white dark
vision to detect him, they yelled out their discovery and broke into a run
toward the kobold.  Hearing the sound of the orcs grow closer, Trallik quickly
pushed his pack down the passageway and crawled as fast as he could back toward
the tiny mid-passage chamber, content that he had distracted them enough to
give Arren a chance to find a place of sanctuary.

He
had only gotten a short distance into the passage, however, when he heard the
first orc cry out in pain, followed by cries of surprise and alarm.  A moment
later, the sound of a blade severing flesh and bone and a dim light both came
from the passageway behind Trallik.  Looking back, Trallik could see what could
only be the clear, pure light of Arren’s crystal causing shadows to dance on
the walls of the passageway.  Trallik grabbed the strap of his pack and
immediately began to reverse his crawl.  If Arren was going to stand and fight,
then so would he.

As
Trallik arrived at the opening into the large passageway, he dropped his pack
down to where it had originally been and looked around.  The light of Arren’s
crystal cast dancing shadows, spoiling Trallik’s heat vision.  But he did not
need his heat vision to see what was going on.  Not far down the passage the
orcs had stopped.  They were mostly turned around with their backs toward him.  It
seemed as if only about half of the orcs were present.  They all had their
weapons out and seemed to be pressing back the way they had come, as if eager
to get at something.

Trallik
stood up on the shelf of rock and saw Arren on the other side of the orc
contingent swinging his bladed pole weapon in precise, furious arcs.  First one
orc fell to the ground, his neck cut wide open, then another’s arm was severed,
the arm and the sword it still had in its hand dropping to the ground.  As
Trallik watched, the elf slew four more orcs, splitting necks and slitting
unarmored bellies.  He moved with incredible speed, and it seemed as if every
blow struck true.  Trallik was amazed.

In
a matter of moments, the remaining few orcs began to flee back up the passageway
toward Trallik.  Dropping shields and swords and covering their heads with
their arms, the orcs were totally routed.  Behind them on the ground lay at
least ten of their number, killed with amazing precision and almost unreal
speed.

As
they fled, first one, then another was felled by an arrow.  Their armor seemed
no protection as the arrows pierced iron, flesh, and bone.  Trallik watched in
amazement.  He had never seen any arrow that could pierce iron, nor any warrior
who was so skilled or fearless.  The crystal on the front of Arren’s bow was
lit now and, as Arren fired by the light of it, his shadowed features displayed
deadly calm and absolute focus.

The
last three orcs had now almost reached Trallik.  While two of them were running
straight up the passage, it was obvious that the third had his eye on a side
passage.  Trallik could also see that the gentle upward curve of the passageway
would very soon make it impossible for Arren to get any more shots off.

Mustering
all the courage he could, Trallik drew his two long knives and, taking a deep
breath, he jumped out toward the trio of orcs.  Catching them unaware, Trallik
was able to knock the lead orc off his feet as he bowled into him, planting one
of his long knives in the base of the orc’s neck while the other one glanced
off the iron scales on the front of his heavy shirt.  The orc gurgled in
surprise and fell, with Trallik hanging onto him, between the feet of one of
his companions, tripping the other orc as well.

Trallik
rolled off to one side as one of the two orcs began to get to his feet.  The
third orc, having no weapon in hand, swatted at Trallik as he ran past toward
the side passage.  Trallik took the blow full to the face and fell back onto
the stone floor seeing stars.  The adrenaline rush of the moment helped him
keep his wits about him somewhat, however, and he scurried backwards.

As
his vision cleared, Trallik saw that the orc he had struck was writhing on the
ground, blood from an artery spraying rhythmically from his neck.  He was sure
he wouldn’t last long.  The other orc, however, had drawn his own dagger and
was about to pounce on Trallik when, from behind, Arren’s bow sang again.  As
Trallik put his knives out in front to block the orc’s dagger, Arren’s arrow
plunged through the orc’s neck, flying out the other side.  The orc fell
writhing to the ground.

Trallik,
not forgetting the last orc, rolled over and got to his feet.  As he did, the
last orc stumbled back toward him and fell on his back at Trallik’s feet, the
weight of its body pushing the tip of Arren’s last arrow through. 

Trallik
stood looking at the lifeless orc with the arrow protruding from his chest as
Arren approached from behind.  If he’d not seen it with his own eyes, he’d not
have believed what Arren had done.  As he stood there in wonder, the elf came
up behind him, pulling arrows out of orcs as he came.  In a moment the elf
kicked the last orc’s body onto its side and pulled the arrow back out by its
blood-drenched fletching.

Trallik
stood gawking at the elf for a moment, before he noticed that Arren was not
stopping.  With one smooth motion he shook the blood and pieces of orc off the
arrow, nocked it in his bow, drew it back, and fired down the passageway.

Trallik
looked down the passageway toward the heart of the mountain.  Five orcs,
weapons drawn and shields held high, were charging noisily up the passageway at
them.  Trallik had been so fixated that he hadn’t even noticed.

In
a matter of several orc steps, Arren had put five arrows through the five
orcs.  With a sixth arrow nocked, Arren ran forward.  Far beyond the elf
Trallik could hear the retreating footfalls of the remaining orcs.  Arren
stopped at the five orcs he had just felled and recovered his arrows.

Trallik
sheathed one knife, grabbed his kit, and ran after the elf.  Coming up next to
him, he looked up at Arren and wondered why he was not moving after the
remaining orcs.  “Well, what are we waiting for?” he said excitedly.

Arren
put out his hand to calm the young kobold.  “Patience, young one.”

“But
they’re getting away!” he said.

Arren
looked down at Trallik.  “There will be time.  I hear something large, larger
than orcs, moving about near the far exit to this passageway.  Unnecessary
haste gets one maimed or killed, young one, and I would prefer more time to
assess this new threat before we’re confronted by it.  Come, let us see if we
can learn what the orcs were doing here.”

Trallik’s
brows had risen in surprise.  He’d been so focused on the orcs that he’d not
heard the distant stomping and grunting of what was probably a large humanoid
echoing from far ahead of them and outside the passageway.  Trallik watched the
elf warrior.  It appeared that he was not worried at the moment, so Trallik
calmed his fears that the big thing that was outside the passageway might be
coming down toward them. 

Leaving
a path of bodies strewn behind them, the pair of companions made their way
toward the large cavern where Trallik had spied on the orcs.

Trallik
stood looking at the pair of orc bodies lying beheaded in the sand while the
elf was rifling through the contents of a sheepskin pouch that one of the orcs
had tied onto his belt.  He had seen much of gore in the last few days and was
becoming desensitized to it all.  His leaping on and killing one orc in the passageway
had helped to steel his nerves and given him something of a feeling of
bravado.  Though he’d helped kill an orc a couple of days before with a
well-placed arrow, killing an enemy with a knife was much more up close and
personal.  He had foul smelling blood on his hands and knives, and was
beginning to like it.

“How
did you slaughter those orcs like that?” he asked as he stood watching Arren
search through the orcs’ belongings.

“Perfection,”
Arren said without looking up from what he was doing.

Trallik
waited for Arren to explain.  He waited for several moments, but the elf said
nothing further.  Trallik prodded his companion.  “What do you mean
‘perfection’?”

Arren,
who had moved to the second orc’s body, looked up at him with a piercing gaze. 
“Do you remember how I told you I was still mastering my fighting style when
the orc gate was opened some four hundred and twenty years ago?”  Trallik
nodded and Arren continued.  “I did, to a point of perfection.”

Trallik
could not grasp the concept of perfecting one’s mastery of a fighting style and
voiced his confusion.

Arren,
who had found nothing of significance in the orcs’ pouches, stood and looked
down at the young kobold.  “I see that you are full of the curiosity of youth,
my little guide.”  He brought his weapon up from under his arm and rested it on
his shoulder.  “Come, let us continue our journey.  I have heard nothing from
the passageway.  I believe we have routed them.  Let us talk as we go.”

Trallik
nodded his agreement as Arren walked past.  Looking down at the contents of the
orcs’ slit pouches spilt on the ground, he noticed a few shining coins. 
Remembering that the northern gens used coins, he quickly collected them before
catching up to the elf.

“What
is your concept of life, little one?” Arren asked.

“Umm…
what do you mean?” Trallik replied as he half-walked and half-jogged beside the
long-legged elf.

“What
is your plan in life?  What do you plan to do with your life?” he asked.

“I…
uh… I planned to be an elite warrior in my gen, but I don’t think that is going
to happen anymore,” Trallik answered.

“How
did you plan on building this life?” Arren asked.

“Um…
I guess I thought it would just happen.  After all, I was the smartest of my
year-group and the best with locks, traps, scouting, and such,” Trallik
answered.

Arren
nodded and waited a moment before continuing.  “Like most of the members of the
short-lived races, you assume that your goals will be met without a clear
understanding of the entire process of attaining them.”

Trallik
muttered something unintelligible as he began to squirm a bit inside.

“Elves,
however, live a long time.  Because of that, we tend to be very careful about
our planning and our choices.  After all, the longest you may have to live with
a mistake is some seventy five years or so.  In contrast, I have to live with
the consequences of my daily actions for what’s left of my thousand years of
life.”