The Game of Fates (46 page)

“Gently
now, Ham,” Lord Khee-lar said.  “This is a delicate flower.” 

Trikki’s
anger and frustration rose in her, despite being in the presence of the lord of
the gen.  It seemed like those who were in power in this gen had nothing on
their minds other than wealth, blood, fermented drink and females.  If this was
how the Kale Gen was, then she would not stay here.  She’d had enough of males
ogling her to last a lifetime.

“Tell
me, what is your name, my beauty?” Lord Khee-lar asked again.

“My
name is Trikki, and I am lifemate of Trallik,” she answered.

“Trallik? 
The yearling Trallik?  Since when are yearlings allowed to take a lifemate?  By
whose authority were the two of you mated?” Lord Khee-lar asked.

Trikki
could sense that this was a kobold who had much more power than he was capable
of respecting.  She was very careful with her words.

“My
lord, he is an elite warrior.  The big kobold who is in charge of his group had
him branded last night,” she answered, trying to divert his attention.

“Hm. 
Well, we’ll have to see if that is valid or not.  Anyway, who mated the two of
you?”

“We
did it ourselves, my lord,” she finally admitted.

“What! 
A yearling taking a mate by his own authority?  I think not!”  He turned to one
of the Untouchables that escorted him, “I think Trikki here will fit in nicely
with the rest of my concubines until this whole matter is sorted out.  See to
it now, will you.”

“Yes,
my lord.  It shall be done.”

Trikki’s
heart was gripped with terror.  “No, my lord!  I am Trallik’s lifemate!  You
can’t do this to me!” she screamed as she grabbed a hold of his robe.

“Learn
your place!” Lord Khee-lar snarled as he backhanded her, knocking her to the
ground in a crying heap. 

It
was at that exact moment that Trallik turned the corner by the guard, returning
from his shift in the prison.  He stood stunned by what he saw and heard as he
approached.

“Take
her to the concubines’ quarters
now
!” Lord Khee-lar commanded two of the
Untouchables that were with him.  With no hint of mercy they picked her up by
either arm and began to drag her away.  “And see that she’s taught her place
before tonight’s festivities.”

The
two cold-eyed warriors’ scowls chilled Trikki to the bone.

Trallik
couldn’t believe what he’d just seen and heard.  Somehow he had the presence of
mind to step back around the corner and head back toward the prison.

He
arrived at the watch station where a fellow elite warrior from the Deep Guard
Warrior Group was manning the watch.  He was so shocked and stunned by what had
happened that he just stood there for several moments, speechless.

In
his heart Trallik realized he had two choices; he could either act or not.

If
he didn’t act, he would continue his life as an elite warrior in the gen.  He
still knew where the cache of jewelry was.  He could live comfortably.  He
could find another lifemate.

‘What
am I thinking?!  He took my lifemate as a concubine?!  How could he do such a
thing?!  What am I going to do?!’  He continued walking down the hall toward
the prison.

His
only other option was to take action.  Though he knew he’d lose his status as
an elite warrior, and probably never be welcome in the gen as long as Lord
Khee-lar lived, it was the only way he could get Trikki back… that is if he
lived.

These
thoughts were running through his head when he arrived at the prison.  By the
time he told his replacement he would take his shift, Trallik already had the
beginnings of a desperate plan.  Stating he’d forgotten to draw a spear, he
asked if he could borrow one as a favor.  Glad to be relieved of his shift, the
other warrior handed over his spear and the ring of keys before waving goodbye
and heading back directly toward the Deep Gen Warrior Group’s caverns.

T
he first light of the rising sun
was just appearing over the eastern mountains and the arrival of Ardan’s team
and the two Krall Gen scouts had already caused ripples of excitement in the
camp of the Krall Gen’s warriors.  Ardan had kept his mouth shut, but Lemmekor
had let news of the orc horde slip and the wooden fortress was abuzz with the
news before Lord Krall had finally summoned them all to his command tent.

“My
lord,” Ardan said as he knelt on one knee in front of the lord of his sister
gen.  Keryak, Tohr and Kahn were all standing back at a distance.  Gormanor and
Lemmekor had joined with them, but had deferred to Ardan, preferring that he
make his report before they talked with their lord.  Whatever it was they had
to report, they seemed more than happy to delay the news.

“Rise
and report, warrior of the Kale Gen,” Lord Krall said. 

To
one side of Lord Krall stood the leaders of the three warrior contingents that
the Krall Gen fielded; the Border Guard, the Archer Guard, and the Heavy
Guard. 

To
the other side of Lord Krall his oldest son Krall stood with arms crossed.  The
last few days had hardened the veteran warrior that was Lord Krall’s heir, and
sharpened him to the point where his countenance was intense beyond what most
kobolds could withstand.  As Ardan reported to Lord Krall he could feel Krall’s
eyes boring holes in him.

“Sire,”
Ardan began, “Durik, leader caste of the Kale Gen, sent me to report that a
force of about a thousand orcs, with fifty ogres serving them as mercenaries
and accompanied by a force of about five hundred northern gen kobold warriors,
has passed through a previously unknown passage in the northern mountains. 
They are led by the chieftain of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe and are headed toward
the home caverns of… my gen, the Kale Gen, sire.”  The entire report had been
delivered with a flat tone, until the end when the emotion was more than Ardan
could hold back.

Lord
Krall sat down in the deerskin chair behind him, stunned by the news of the
overwhelming force of orcs.  After a few moments, he looked up at Gormanor and
Lemmekor.

“You
two scouts.  Did you two also see this force of orcs, with their ogre and
kobold mercenaries?” he asked.

Gormanor
stepped forward to stand beside Ardan in a show of solidarity with his Kale Gen
companions, nodding once grimly.  Lemmekor just nodded.  The pain of being the
bearers of this bad news, as well as more bad news, was clearly evident in
their eyes.

“A
horde of ants, and a horde of orcs,” Lord Krall shook his bowed head.  “How are
we to stand against so many?”

“Father,”
Krall, Lord Krall’s oldest son, started.  “If the orcs are already headed toward
the home of the Kales, I think the only help we can be is to hedge the ants
from the Kales.  We have our hands full here.  I think we must fight the ants
and let the Kales face the orcs.  Then, if the orcs are still in the valley
after we’ve dealt with the ants, we will see what we can do to help our Kale
brethren fight against the orcs.”

Lord
Krall thought for a moment, then stood.  He paced back and forth several times,
obviously struggling with the situation.  Finally, he spoke.

“Warrior
of the Kale Gen, tell me more of this orc horde.  How did you acquire this
knowledge?  What are your observations of them?” Lord Krall asked.

“Sire,
we found the ancient Dwarven Mining Outpost far under the Chop.  It had
recently been inhabited by one of the orc chieftain’s sons.  He had departed to
join his father, leaving only a small guard force and a shaman behind.  We took
the outpost with little resistance and, in questioning the slaves we found
there before freeing them and leaving, we heard that the orc chieftain has told
his warriors that they are going to march on my gen’s home caverns to raid it
and to enslave my people.”

“Did
you see these orcs and ogres up close?” Krall asked, deliberately side-stepping
the emotion that lay just below the surface of Ardan’s report.

“Yes,
sire,” Ardan responded.  “One of my warriors and I watched most of them pass
and counted their numbers.  The number of orcs is an estimate, though I’m sure
a thousand is very close to what they have.  I can personally confirm the
number of ogre and kobold mercenaries, however.”

“How
was their discipline and morale?” Krall asked.

“Sire,”
Ardan replied to Lord Krall’s heir.  “The orcs seemed clearly in high spirits
and seemed to be laughing and talking as they went.  As for discipline, I saw
very little evidence of any, there being only a few groups of orcs with much of
any semblance of order to them.

“As
for the mercenaries, we could not tell much of the ogres from our vantage
point, but they did seem to be determined.  The northern gen kobolds, on the
other hand, seemed unhappy to be there.  There seemed to be four groups of one
hundred of them.  There was a group of one hundred wolf riders that were well
armed and armored, but the rest of the five hundred seemed to be no better than
any other levies.”

“And
their equipment and weapons?” Krall asked.

“The
orcs are mostly armored in chain mail.  Their weapons are a mix, though they
are mostly melee weapons, with very few bows among them.  There are very few
shields among them, which leaves them vulnerable to arrow fire,” Ardan began. 
Krall nodded his head at the observation.  “The ogres had huge axes mostly and
thick leather armor.  The kobolds, however, were armed mostly with spears,
except for the hundred wolf riders who had spears, bows, swords and shields in
addition to chain mail armor.”

Krall
scratched his chin in thought.  “Sounds like a mixed bag,” he spoke to his
father.  “On one hand they seem well equipped enough, but other than the
hundred wolf riders, there’s nothing there to indicate any strong discipline.”

Lord
Krall nodded absently.  He’d only half-way listened to the questions and
answers.  His mind was very much focused on the political ramifications of the
various options he had in front of him.

He
knew that if he didn’t come to the aid of the Kale Gen, whoever its current
leader might be, that relations between the two gens would become rather
estranged.  It didn’t matter that they had spent the last several days
fortifying this little palisade fortress just west of the only bridge over the
Great River, and fighting a sporadic war with a disorganized ant horde. 

So
far, after an initial unsuccessful assault on the Kralls’ little fortress, the
ants had been content to sit and wait.  They had gone strangely docile.  They’d
let the Krall’s caravans make it to the fortress unmolested.  They’d only sent
out small parties of hunter ants in a bid to drive the Krall’s scouts away,
nothing more.  But for all their docility, Lord Krall didn’t trust the ants. 
All his warrior leaders and his son were suspicious that they were just waiting
for the Krall force to leave their fortress or to leave the bridge unguarded
and therefore leave their home territory open to the ants.

Marching
to the support of the Kales would clearly leave them vulnerable.

On
the other hand, if he and his warriors didn’t come to the aid of the Kales, and
if the Kale Gen was carried away into slavery, the Kralls would all of a sudden
be very much alone in this valley and would be that much less secure.  In fact,
they’d probably be next on the Bloodhand Orc Tribe’s list.

No,
there really was no decision to it.  Ultimately, it wasn’t a matter of
if
they would fight the orcs, it was a matter of
when
.  Lord Krall knew
that if he didn’t move to support the Kales in their disorganized state, they
stood no chance and his only allies would be quickly run over and dragged off
into slavery.

“Kale
warrior,” Lord Krall spoke to Ardan.  “Go to your lord, whichever one you
chose.  Tell him, or both of them, that the Krall Gen will stand with our
brothers of the Kale Gen against this orc horde.  Tell him that we will be
there the day after tomorrow by second meal at the latest.” 

“But
father…” Krall began to protest.

Lord
Krall raised his hand to cut off his protests.  “You know it’s the only way, my
son.  If we don’t move to support the Kale Gen now, you know we’ll be next in
line.”

“Sire,”
Ardan interrupted.  “If it’s alright with you, my team would prefer to serve
with your scouts for now, if you’ll send a messenger ahead.  We do not trust
affairs at our gen enough to return yet.”

Lord
Krall seemed surprised, but nodded his consent.  He then turned to his warrior
group leaders.  “I want a hundred border guards to return to our home.  They
must guard against any possible ant incursion while our forces march in support
of the Kales.  We will spare no one else.  We must have all our forces if we
are to confront the orcs.”

Lord
Krall turned to his son again.  “I want all mounted warriors and messengers to
serve as scouts, save a messenger to warn the Kales about the orcs.  Try to
draw the ants after us.  Give them enough bait, but don’t risk too much.  With
the orcs, I want eyes on their force from now until we engage them.  I want to
know every move they make and when they made it.  If their chieftain so much as
defecates, I want a full report on it.  Do you understand?”

Krall
stiffened.  “Yes, father.  It shall be done.”

“Leaders,
prepare your warriors.  The orcs will be rising soon.  If we’re to make it to
the Kale Gen before them, we must leave very soon,” Lord Krall commanded.

“Perhaps
with any luck we can interest the ants in a bit of orc flesh,” the younger
Krall mused mostly to himself as he and the warrior leaders departed the tent
to carry out their lord’s orders.

On
the other side of the valley, a much more joyful reunion was occurring.  The
beleaguered remaining members of the leaders’ team of Durik’s Company had
arrived at Lord Karthan’s loyalist palisade at the same time that the first
light of the coming day appeared over the eastern mountains.  Though the two
lords didn’t know it, Lord Karthan and Lord Krall received much the same report
at much the same time.

Lord
Karthan was elated to see his daughter alive and well.  The news of the orc
horde, while it brought a palpable fear to the group of kobolds Lord Karthan
had gathered about himself to hear the report, Lord Karthan’s face showed
nothing but a smile.

No
news could be so bad, not even news of an approaching orc horde, that it could
wipe out the joy of the good news that his precious daughter and his two
innocent sons were alive and well.

“My
lord, we must move now to take back the gen, if we’re to have any time to
prepare defenses for the gen before the orc horde arrives,” Drok, Durik’s uncle
and the leader of the small contingent of wolf riders who were loyal to Lord
Karthan, was saying.

“Hm?”
Lord Karthan’s eyes reluctantly pulled away from his daughter, the joy of her
safe return to him overwhelming his emotions.  “Ah, yes.  I agree.  We cannot
wait until tonight.  Go, all of you.  Gather the strength we have.  Ensure they
eat well, and have them ready to march before the sun has fully risen above the
eastern mountains!”

Standing,
Lord Karthan hugged his daughter one more time.  “I am so proud of you, Kiria. 
You have been through so much, yet showed character greater than I have seen in
you before.  If that Durik and his second Manebrow ever make it back to the
gen, I will have to thank them properly for bringing out the strength in my
beloved daughter.”

Kiria
beamed with her father’s praise.

“Now
go get some rest, my precious one, you and your team.  I wish we had more time
for you to rest, but we must go very soon.  I will wake you shortly.”

“What! 
My son is going to do what?!” Lord Krall screamed.  His eyes were bulging out
of his skull and a vein running down the middle of his forehead seemed almost
ready to burst.  “Why didn’t you stop him?!”