The Game of Fates (60 page)

“If
you touch it, you will know,” an unknown voice spoke.  Turning, Goryon saw that
it was the outcast that Trallik had brought with him who spoke.  “It is the
stone of our heritage.  We will know it when we touch it.”

“And
who are you to speak?” Goryon asked, almost offended at the outcast’s presence.

“Outcast,
no one asked for your opinion,” Khazak broke in.  His lord had been strangely
silent, but he was not about to let this get out of hand.  “Your voice is not
welcome in matters that pertain to our gen.”

“I
think you will find that my voice is very relevant in matters pertaining to
our
gen,” the outcast spoke.  “I am Kale, son of Kale, and though I am an outcast,
born of outcasts, I and my people have returned to this, the gen of our
heritage in our hour of mutual need.  We are not here to fight against you, but
to fight with you against the orcs and ants that threaten our people.

“That
is the Kale Stone,” Kale continued, “and it is the stone of my heritage, just
as surely as it is the stone of your heritage.”

“You
have no heritage in our gen, outcast!” Khazak spoke vehemently.

Kale
stood and walked around the perimeter of the room toward where Durik stood with
the Kale Stone.

“Stop
him!” Khazak commanded.  A number of elite warriors stood up and grabbed Kale
by the arms.

“Wait!”
Durik called out, power reverberating in his command.  For a moment, the entire
room froze.  “The outcast Kale speaks the truth.”  Turning, he put Manebrow’s
hand on the stone.  The look of surprise on Manebrow’s face as the power of the
stone began to emanate through him was matched by the looks on the faces of the
rest of the group as the stone began to glow brighter with his touch.

Inviting
a couple of elite warriors from the Patrol Guard to come forward, soon all four
kobolds had their hands on the stone, each one feeling the power of the stone,
the stone glowing ever brighter with their touch.

Taking
the stone in hand, Durik walked the perimeter of the room, the light of the
stone growing ever brighter or dimmer with the touch or release of many hands.  Coming
to Lord Karthan and Khazak Mail Fist, Durik stopped and held out the stone for
them both to touch.  Reluctantly, Lord Karthan, who had been speechless until
now, placed his hand on the stone.

Khazak’s
eyes narrowed.  As Lord Karthan placed his hands on the stone, it glowed, but
no more brighter than for anyone else.  Quickly, he placed his hands on the
stone as well, adding a little more light to the situation. 

Suddenly,
Khazak could feel what he had not felt before.  His heart felt great peace, yet
great power at the same time.  As the stone passed from his hands, he finally
was able to describe the feeling to himself.  It was as if his father, though
dead these many years, were alive again, and had embraced him, it was that same
sense of familiarity.  That one touch had taken away the mountains of pain and
suffering he had experienced over the years.  It was as if his heart and soul
had been opened to the stone, and found unexpectedly clean and noble.  He felt
more refreshed than he had in years.

Durik
had continued around the circle of warriors, arriving finally where Kale stood,
a look of greater strength in his eyes than he had seen in some time.  As
Durik, Paladin of Morgra, and Kale, Heir of the Kale Gen, placed hands on the
stone together, a brilliant light shone throughout the lord’s chamber.  It was
as bright as mid-day, if not more so.  After what seemed like a long moment,
Kale withdrew his hand and the light faded.

Looking
into Durik’s expectant eyes, Kale placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Loyal
servant of The Sorcerer, it is not time yet.  These would not accept me.  But
that time will come and you will know it when it does.”

Finishing
his circuit of the room, Durik sat down.  Though everyone in the room had felt
the power of the stone that Durik carried, all eyes were on Kale.

“My
people will join with your people in your plan, Lord Karthan,” Kale spoke with
a humility and confidence that somehow did not contradict each other.  “But
please understand that the small contingent of outcasts I brought with me are
not all who will return to defend our gen.  Even now I must go and prepare my
people to help gather the remnants of those who have called themselves the Deep
Gen, since the days of their exile.”

Lord
Karthan nodded.

“By
your leave, then, my lord,” Kale bowed slightly.  “I go to the cavern where my
people are your guests.  When you call, I will go to the cliff you call
Sheerface.  Please prepare to receive several hundred more warriors, with their
families.” 

With
that, Kale turned and left.

With
Kale’s departure, it was as if the spell had broken.

“Durik,
where can we expect this second horde of ants to approach from?” Lord Karthan
asked, bringing everyone back to the present situation.

Durik
had been lost in his own thoughts, and it took him a moment to recompose his
thoughts.  “They come through the underdark, my lord.  By dawn they will be
upon the Deep Gen.  I would imagine it would only be a couple of hours before
they’re at Sheerface from there.”

“This
Deep Gen you speak of,” Lord Karthan began, “what of them?  Are they coming to
join with us, and if so, how many warriors do they actually have?”

Durik’s
brow rose as he thought for a moment.  “Sire, they said they were to follow.  I
left immediately after smiting their wicked ruler with the power of the stone. 
All of their remaining leaders had committed to follow me to Sheerface, once
they had gathered their people.  As for their strength, I would not doubt
Kale’s assessment.  I believe they could easily have a thousand warriors among
their six warrior groups and their lord’s personal guard.”

Lord
Karthan thought for a moment.  He looked about at the various clusters of elite
warriors.  There was not a leader caste among them, except Durik, and he’d just
been appointed to leadership of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group not more than a
couple of hours ago.  It was the same with chief elite warriors.  The only one
was Manebrow.  How would he handle so many?  How would they possibly fight in a
coordinated fashion without leader caste and chief elite warriors?

In
a flash of inspiration, it came to him.

“My
warriors,” Lord Karthan spoke.  “We must do three things. 

“First,
we must send forces out to keep eyes on the orc horde, to keep the orcs blind
to our movements, and to lead them into a trap of our choosing.

“Second,
we must prepare to defend our home with the combined might of all of the Kale
Gen, to include the Deep Gen and the outcasts.

“Third,
we must seal up Sheerface, and prevent the second ant horde from coming against
us until we have dealt with the orc horde.  Only in this way will we be able to
defeat both hordes.  Warriors, we shall divide our enemies and conquer them!”

By
now, the focus of all the warriors was on the task at hand.  None of them could
afford to linger on the advent of the Kale Stone.  There was work to be done in
the here and now.

Durik,
prompted by Manebrow, stood up.  “Sire!”

“Yes,
Durik.”

“The
Wolf Riders Warrior Group is ready to do its duty, sire.  We shall be your eyes
and ears, and more than keep them blind, I believe we can lead them on a merry
dance.”

Lord
Karthan looked at Durik quizzically.  “And what do you mean by that?”

“Sire,
we will divert them in their route of march, causing them to delay by several
hours if possible.  That should give time for our forces to equip, organize,
march, and set up a battlefield to their liking.”

“Very
well,” Lord Karthan agreed.  “Go.  Gather your forces and leave as soon as you
can.  Check with me prior to leaving, however, so I can tell you where we shall
set our traps for the orcs, so that you can lead them into them.”

“Aye,
sire,” Durik responded as the two leaders stood up and, donning helmets,
departed the planning chamber.  Behind them, as the pair departed, Lord Karthan
continued to speak.

“Now,
for the matter of how we shall set up our forces.  Knowing the disarray we’ve
suffered these past few days, I believe the right way to organize is to set up
in blocks, with elite warriors forming the first rank of the shield wall and
all of their warriors in a line behind them.

“We
shall establish two separate blocks; one under my command and one under the
command of Khazak Mail Fist.  While it remains to be seen whether the Deep Gen
kobolds will want to fight this way, we will not count on it, but rather we
will give them a wing of our formation to hold.  Let them fight how they see
fit.

“I
think the same is likely to hold true for our brethren of the Krall Gen. 
Assuming they make it here in time for the fight, we shall give them a wing to
hold as well.  Either way, one or both of our two blocks will hold the center.

“As
for the outcasts, I think if we arm them with javelins and train them how to
use them, they’ll likely make decent skirmishers.  I don’t see them being
comfortable in a shield wall with us.  I think it best they fight in a loose
forma…”

Lord
Karthan’s voice had faded to the point where the two leaders could no longer
hear him as they made their way quickly down the main thoroughfare into the
bowels of their gen’s home caverns, where the Wolf Riders Warrior Group was
found.

The
old Loremaster, venerable as he was, had not lived to such an advanced age by
mere luck alone.  He was and always had been a master at lying low when it
really mattered. 

Within
the Scrolls of Heritage was an observation, which simply stated that ‘he who is
lowly shall inherit the house of the mighty.’  Always, it seemed, after the
clashing of swords and the shouting of dissidents faded into history, those who
were left alive were those who inherited what was left, the quiet, lowly ones
to be precise; those who had had enough sense to keep their heads down and ride
out the storm. 

After
yet another overthrow attempt, yet another generation of greedy and
self-important kobolds had gone to the ancestors, and those who had quietly gone
about their way were left to inherit the mighty home of the Kale Gen yet
again.  This particular uprising brought a particular benefit to the otherwise
unassuming old kobold.  As it turned out, Lord Karthan had disbanded the Deep
Guard; Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s old group.  So, taking advantage of the turmoil,
the old Loremaster had his assistants move him in.  After all, it was a much
larger house, with a fireplace that vented directly to the surface instead of
out onto his porch in the leaders’ grotto where the smoke would pool up and
flow back into his house, spoiling the air.  Once things were settled to his
satisfaction, which, being a kobold of few real possessions, didn’t take long,
he was very pleased with the new arrangements.  Indeed, the lowly did inherit
the houses of the mighty.

It
was there, in Khee-lar’s former house, that Khazak eventually found the old
codger.  He had been surprised to find him still alive, as Khee-lar had killed
off not just the warrior group leaders, but several of the functional leaders
as well. 

As
it turned out, however, Khee-lar Shadow Hand hadn’t had any interest in history
or lore, and neither had any of his supporters.  In fact, in the whole two
weeks he had not been sent for even once.

Khazak
simply relayed the message and shook his head in wonderment at the joyful old
kobold enjoying his new house, then left to attend to his other duties.

With
a sigh, the Loremaster eventually got up and sent for an assistant to fetch the
Wolf Riders’ set of the Scrolls of Heritage, and to arrange for Durik to meet
him at Durik’s new house a few doors down from his.  The young ones typically
didn’t listen much to him, being full of the juices of life and distracted by
every passing thing, but this Durik did seem to be a bit more receptive than
most.  Perhaps Durik would have a question that would challenge him.  Now that
would be interesting…