The Game of Fates (38 page)

Looking
around to ensure that all of his warriors were otherwise engaged, Durik spoke
in a low voice to the two Krall Gen leaders.  “Khee-lar Shadow Hand, one of our
warrior group leaders, has overthrown Lord Karthan.  Lord Karthan and several
who are loyal to him have fled to an enclosure north of our home caverns.  You
can see how distracting this news will be to them?”

Wide-eyed,
Morigar nodded his understanding.  Krebbekar chewed on his lip.

“This
is grim news indeed,” Krebbekar said.

“Yes,”
Durik agreed.  “It’s because of that that I don’t want to tell them in front of
the prisoners and the northern gen kobolds.”

Morigar’s
eyes narrowed, and Durik wondered what he was thinking.  He assumed it couldn’t
be anything good.

“I’d
imagine that you will want to take your company to join him then.  So if you
need us to, my team and I can stay behind and take care of the outpost,”
Morigar volunteered unexpectedly.  Krebbekar looked suspiciously at his young
leader.

Durik
looked at him with both caution and tentative gratitude.  “Why would you do
that?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s
simple,” Morigar’s detached tone only made Durik and Krebbekar more
suspicious.  “You and yours need to get back to your gen.  I and mine, on the
other hand, have a charge to bring the head of the orc chieftain back to my
father.  I see here a number of mercenaries, and a number of other northern gen
kobolds as well.  Using the riches my father gave me, I will leave Gormanor and
Lemmekor here and hire these mercenaries that we’ve captured to be their
muscle.  I will give them the responsibility of keeping the orcs and the others
here for a few days, and I’ll have some of the northern gen kobolds take
Krebbekar and I to their lords so I can hire many more.  Though I’ll wait until
the orc horde has gone into the southern valley before descending the Chop, of
course.”

“What
will you do with all these mercenaries you plan to hire?” Durik asked
cautiously.

“Yes,
what?!” Krebbekar asked with much more skepticism.

“Why,
I will lead them against the orc horde, of course.  What did you think I would
do with them?” Morigar asked innocently.

Durik
knew as well as the rest of them what charge Lord Krall had given his son, but
knowing how resistant Morigar had been to helping at all so far, it was hard
for him to believe that Morigar was genuine in his intentions.  Still, he knew
he could not ask any of his warriors to remain behind to watch over the
prisoners, not when their homes and families were in danger.

“Would
you mind sending a messenger to my father telling him about the orcs, when you
get to Lord Karthan?”

Durik
slowly began to nod his head, though he didn’t look happy.  “Alright, then.  I
see no other option.”

Krebbekar
stood there mute.

The
meeting of the members of Durik’s Company occurred out in the entrance cavern
for the outpost, where Durik had seated them in a semi-circle around him. 
Though he had many more questions than answers, Durik did his best to provide
what answers he could to the worried members of his company.

Had
he seen Lord Karthan, and if so who was with him?  Yes, and there were many;
his uncle Drok, Keryak’s father Kodar, and Gorgon’s father Goryon were among
them, though he’d not had time yet to scry through the huddle of lean-tos where
the females and whelps of the loyalists were encamped, and he’d not noticed
anyone else’s parents among them.

Who
had he been able to see among those who stayed behind in their home caverns? 
Khee-lar sat on Lord Karthan’s throne, and several former elite warriors were
in charge of the warrior groups mostly.  He’d seen Manebrow’s family, and that
they were safe.  The only other family that he’d seen was Arbelk’s; apparently
with so many children his father had decided to stay rather than risk fleeing. 
Durik had seen Arbelk’s father coming home from harvesting the fungus that grew
in the deeper, moister places of the gen’s home caverns, a sack of the stuff
perched on his shoulder.  Finally, he’d also seen a place of burial outside the
entrance to their home caverns; a mass grave where many had already been
buried.

What
about my family?  Almost all of them had asked this question.  Durik had no
more answers there.  The caverns were large and no one was in their homes when
he scried.  Some of the homes looked quickly deserted, which could mean that
they were among the loyalists.  He just didn’t know, and he could see that the
unknown of it all was tearing his people apart.

Finally,
the group was quiet and the time felt right to speak.  As he spoke the time
quickly ripened to take action.

“My
dear friends, brothers from my beloved gen, for Kale we all are,” he began,
though Myaliae was there as well.  “I suffer with you.  Our home has been
stolen from us.  I have seen much blood on the floor of our gen’s council
chamber.  I watched, horrified, as Khee-lar and his evil companions slew a
noble supporter of Lord Karthan and made his family slaves to the new Deep
Guard leader.  I have seen rooms full of treasures and goods robbed from those
who fell in battle against his evil, or who he thought might be less than loyal
to his reign, leaving many widows and orphans without anything or anyone to
sustain them.  I have seen lifemates torn from the bosoms of their warriors, to
become a harem to this new evil lord.  Finally, I have seen the look of evil in
the eyes of those whose swords uphold Khee-lar as they go about doing his evil
deeds.

“By
his actions, Khee-lar Shadow Hand shows his true character.  He is a master of
evil and nothing more.  Today I condemn his actions!”  There was a muted, but
determined muttering of agreement from the group. 

“I
will not sit idle to watch this evil!”  Durik continued.  “Will you stand with
me, my brothers?” 

Each
one of the members of the company lifted their heads from their own
contemplations.  One by one they nodded. 

Gorgon’s
passion far exceeded his grief for his people, and he leapt to his feet.  “I
will not rest until I have the head of that traitor!” he growled in a firm,
determined tone.  All around the circle, the rest of the company came to their
feet.

“Nor
I!” Each member of the company echoed as swords, axes, and hammer were drawn. 
Even Kiria stood with arms folded across her chest and a resolute look in her
eyes as she was the last to speak.  “Nor shall I.”

Myaliae
stood uncomfortably off to one side.  Though she was Krall Gen, she had joined
the company, not expecting to join a civil war.

“Myaliae,”
Durik spoke.  “It is much to ask you to join us.  I will understand if you
choose a different path.”

Myaliae’s
face looked pained and troubled, but she spoke without delay.  “I cannot leave
you now, my brothers… and sister from the Kale Gen,” she said as she shook her
head.  “I will go with you, for evil that is not confronted spreads, and that
cannot be allowed.”

Durik
smiled at her in appreciation of her courage.  “Then it is decided,” he spoke. 
“We march at once for the encampment of Lord Karthan and our fellow loyalists. 
May the Creator preserve us, and may all who support Khee-lar’s evil fall
before us!”

The
cheers of the company could be heard echoing far throughout the caverns.

D
urik’s Company did not take long
in preparing to leave the Dwarven Mining Outpost.  What Durik had told them
about the events in their gen’s home drove them better than any words of
encouragement ever could.  After loading a bag for each of them to carry, full
of the most valuable and most portable items from the treasury in the bottom of
the outpost’s well, the company quickly departed, leaving Morigar’s team in
charge of the outpost.

There
had been much talk of how best to get back to the gen.  Here is where the fact
that they had spared Mahtu, the northern gen mercenary sub-leader, became an
especially helpful thing.  The leaders of the company didn’t want to travel
back up the inside of the mountain that was the Chop, just to travel down the south
side of that same mountain, but they didn’t know the area of the underdark that
lay between the outpost and any exits to the southern valley.

Mahtu,
however, did.  So, with Mahtu acting as their guide, the fourteen members of
Durik’s Company left their established base in the Dwarven Mining Outpost for
the unknown of the underdark, with the stated intention of finding an exit that
Mahtu called ‘the Doorstep,’ which he said brought them out about a day’s
journey from their home gen’s caverns.  From there they planned to skirt the
northern mountains and join up with Lord Karthan and his loyalists in their
encampment.

Passing
through several large chambers at the entrances to the various mines, all
supported by stone beams of ancient dwarven construction, the company marveled
at the large smelters they found there, at the ancient molds, rails of rusted
iron with the skeletons of carts burned out or smashed upon them, and even the
piles of slag and tailings of the smelting process that sat unevacuated in the
dwarves haste to leave their mines a millennia or so in the past.  Due to the
sturdy nature of its construction, other than the ravaging of looters and
vandals over the centuries, it was all eerily well preserved, almost as if the
tenants of the place had messed it up and it was even now awaiting the return
of a landlord to put it all back in place and make a few repairs prior to
letting it out again to a new group of dwarves.

Truly
, thought Durik as they passed
through yet another of these smelting chambers,
dwarven construction is made
to last the ages, even ages of orcs and bandits
.  Behind and in front of
him, the rest of the company passed in silent reverence.

Soon
after the company had passed out of the area of the dwarven mines, the company
passed into an area of natural caverns.  Though most of the natural caverns in
the underdark were massively uneven and extremely difficult to traverse, the
dwarves had obviously done quite a bit of construction down here as well. 
There were pathways cut into slopes and cut through walls, their tunnels
supported with the classic, blocky dwarven archway of two side stones and one
across the top, reinforced by wedges in the upper corners to alleviate some of
the pressure on the top crossbar.  It was obvious to see that the dwarves had
eventually planned to mine down here, as there was still dwarven writing cut
into various stones where holes had been drilled.  Kiria had translated the
writing for Durik as they passed.

“This
one says ‘gold’ and this one says ‘iron ore, minor vein,’” she read as they
went.

No
more than a couple thousand steps into their journey, however, the dwarven
paths ended and the company found themselves skirting mud flats, climbing
slopes, and helping the packdogs through narrow chutes in the natural terrain
of the underdark.  Though they’d not noticed it, the company had already turned
around and was heading back toward the west, in the direction of the Doorstep
and their gen’s home caverns.

After
what seemed like a lightless eternity where the only illumination was the heat
given off by his companions and the dogs, Ardan, with Mahtu in tow, came back
down the passageway toward Durik.  Though it had been less than one watch, or
the time between two meals, the treacherous terrain had made it feel like much
more.

“Sire,”
Ardan whispered just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rest of the
company clanking and crunching along beyond his leader.

“Your
report, Ardan?” Durik asked, glad for the momentary pause from the arduous
passage, made only more taxing by the armor they all wore.

“Sire,
Mahtu reports that the Doorstep is just ahead.  However,” Ardan looked
concerned, “we’re hearing the movement of several large creatures through the
passage between the two valleys.  We’d like to take a look and see what it is.”

Manebrow,
puffing from the exertion of helping a packdog up the loose, rocky slope they’d
just been climbing, came up next to his leader.  “I’d say that if we’re near
the Doorstep, that that’s probably the orc horde passing, with their ogre
mercenaries and the northern gen kobolds they levied to fight with them.”

Durik
nodded.  “That’s very likely.  I agree that we should have a look, however,” he
said.  “Ardan, take Keryak with you and have a closer look.  But!” he brought
Ardan up short as he was turning to go.  “Be careful!  Remember they have
kobolds with them, so you’ll not be able to hide your heat from them.  I don’t
want you getting any closer than you absolutely must to make a good report. 
But, if you do get the chance, see how these orcs and ogres are armed and
supplied.”

Ardan
nodded and soon he and Keryak were shedding their armor.  When they were ready
they left Mahtu with Tohr and Kahn.  Behind the forward team Manebrow had
already led the rest of the company off onto a dry shelf of rock where they
could rest themselves and the packdogs for a while.

It
hadn’t taken Ardan and Keryak long to find a good vantage point from which to
watch the orc horde pass.  They’d passed through a chamber where a water chute
came out into a deep pool.  Passing through the little stream that came from it
and a couple of other chambers beyond it they’d found a chamber which had
recently seen orc habitation, as evidenced by the excrement at various points
around the room and the body of a dead orc in the middle of the room, beheaded
in one swift cut it appeared not more than a few days past now.  Most
importantly, however, the pair of scouts found two passageways leading to the
passage beyond.  They’d also found a shelf of rock overlooking this last
chamber, which seemed to be a better bet.  The bats which, by the guano on the
floor, had once inhabited this chamber seemed to have been evicted by recent
activities, or they were out hunting for insects.  Either way, Ardan thought it
opportune.

Hoisting
Keryak up to stand on his shoulders, the pair made their way up onto the rock
shelf and into the little crawlway they could see beyond it.  The crawl space
ran probably thirty steps in length, opening up into a small chamber barely
more than a kobold’s height and width halfway down its length.  The pair rested
there, and, as they were waiting for their breathing to subside, they listened
to the loud tramping of orc boots over the stone of the passageway.  They’d
been hearing it all along, but they were obviously almost on the orcs now; they
could hear their muttering, their grunts of effort, even their labored
breathing as they struggled with whatever burdens they were carrying.

As
they sat there waiting for their breath to still, Ardan noticed another hole
near the ceiling of the little room, somewhat hidden by a jutting lip of rock. 
Standing, he found himself looking into yet another crawlway.  With Keryak’s
assistance, he hoisted himself up into the crawlspace and landed on his chest
in yet another pile of bat guano.  Grimacing, Ardan continued forward for
several body lengths as the passage seemed to narrow slightly.  Soon he was
pushing himself forward on his belly rather than crawling, but he could see the
steam from orc sweat rising through a hole in the floor ahead of him as he kept
going.

Arriving
at the hole and a little stooped chamber that seemed to be made for watching
below, Ardan looked down through the hole.  Not an arm’s length in depth, the
hole started small, probably no larger than a couple of handspans, and grew
like a broad cone providing a panoramic view of the passage below.  Here Ardan
perched like a hawk, noting every detail of their future prey.

Morigar
and Krebbekar decided to climb the long, dark passageway up to the top of the
Chop rather than following Durik and his company to this ‘Doorstep’ that Mahtu
had convinced them to find.  Morigar had preferred it, and Krebbekar had
agreed, wanting to get another look at what was going on with the Krall Gen’s
forces, the ants, and the orc horde from the unique vantage point of the Chop
over the northern and southern valleys.

Krebbekar
had readied the muscular, yellow-furred packdog they were taking with them
while Morigar had given Gormanor and Lemmekor their instructions.  Minotaur, as
the packdog was called, was a massive half-wolf beast, and he’d not shown the
fatigue of the other packdogs, though his burden was clearly heavier.  Compared
to the rest of the dogs he seemed eerily quiet and unusually in control of
himself.  His demeanor, from the perspective of one who’d dealt with dogs for
decades, was almost unsettling. 
Whatever that dog keeps in his head
Krebbekar shook his head,
I’m just glad his back is strong.

Having
finished loading up the bags and having saddled their two riding dogs,
Krebbekar was about to go looking for his leader when Morigar suddenly appeared
from the mining outpost entrance.

“Ready,
then?” Morigar said, his armor cleaned and his helmet under one arm, seeming
almost too eager to get underway.

“Yes,
sire.  I was just going to check with our two scouts to see if they need
anything prior to departing.”

“No
need,” Morigar cut him off, “I left Gormanor, as the most senior of the two, in
charge.  He’s got his instructions, and says he has all that he needs.”

“Well,
I’d still like to check…” Krebbekar began.

“Come
now,” Morigar interrupted him, “don’t you trust me?  They’ll be fine.  Come,”
he said as he grabbed the reins to his riding dog, “we’ve not time to lose, if
we’re going to raise a force to deal with those orcs!”  With that Morigar began
walking up the passage toward the Chop.

Not
feeling quite right about the whole thing, but not sure how to bypass the
situation gracefully, Krebbekar sighed and, after strapping his helmet on,
grabbed the reins to his riding dog with one hand and the packdog with the
other hand.  Reluctantly, he followed Lord Krall’s youngest son up the
passageway.

The
trip up the long, sloping passageway was a bit taxing, but uneventful.  The
effort of it all did much to lift Krebbekar’s spirits.  Unlike the climb up the
Chop from the outside, the spiraling passage they climbed now was much
gentler.  He’d never been the most skilled of warriors, nor the strongest, in
fact he’d been appointed into Lord Krall’s house guard decades ago on the strength
of nothing more than his loyalty and the ties of close kinship that the ending
of his name revealed, but he could walk for days on end if need be.  The
simple, monotonous rhythm of walking was a very cathartic thing for him,
cleansing him of self-doubt, worry, and in general lifting the burdens of
life.  That’s precisely what it did for him this time as well.  By the time
they reached the bridge atop the Chop, he felt more refreshed than he had in
some time.