Into the Heart of Evil (10 page)

Khee-lar nodded, the irritation on his face only
partially suppressed.  “I will worry about them.  They won’t make it to the
Krall Gen.”

“Yes, lord,” Abetor answered, bowing slightly as
he turned to depart.

Khee-lar watched as Abetor left.  Troll’s failed
insurrection had been fortuitous for Khee-lar.  Abetor was more effective and
loyal than Troll had ever been, yet he was controlled by the same thing as
most; the overriding desire for power. 

Khee-lar crossed his arms and stood contentedly in
the passageway as a slight wind blew up from the underdark below.  Now was his
time.  Soon the Kale Gen, his birthright, would be his.  With the Wolf Riders
added to his own Deep Guard, there could be nothing to stand in his way.

Unbeknownst to Khee-lar Shadow Hand, Mynar the
Sorcerer had plumbed the depths of Khee-lar’s mind as he spoke.  In Khee-lar’s
bursts of emotion, his well-guarded mind had revealed more than what his words
conveyed; as Khee-lar’s consciousness grappled with the challenges at hand, he
could not help but give up his plans for killing all of Lord Karthan’s progeny,
by sending the very kobolds who had helped shame Mynar to destroy them in the
wilderness.

This, in turn, made Mynar’s choices clear. 
Suddenly, what he had to do was crystal clear.  An opportunity had been placed
at his feet, and he would take it.

Resurgent in his cold, calculating rage, Mynar’s
cruel smile played across his face as the pieces began to fall into place in
his mind.  Yes, today was the day of
his
power, and he would smash those
who had offended him with his new allies, and they would die alone and in sheer
terror as they were torn limb from limb.

Oh, and so would Lord Karthan’s progeny.  After
all, it wouldn’t due to have heirs to the throne about.

Keryak had a deep love of the forests of his home
territory.  During his time apprenticing with the Wolf Riders, he’d driven
packdogs far and wide through the territories of his gen, stopping to resupply
the various guard outposts.

He loved the feel of the land, the way the gentle
hills and meadows rippled together throughout the great valley they called
home, woven together by an endless line of fir trees weaving throughout.  He
loved the small streams that ran between the ridges and through the glens, and
had often taken shelter from rains under the boughs of the mighty pine trees
that stood like warriors in countless ranks in the deepest parts of the forest.

Of all the times of year, he loved this one the
most.  The late spring was a time of hope and new beginnings.  Bright green new
growth could be seen sprouting from the branches of all the pine trees as they
passed.  Hope was in the early morning air, expressed as much by the vibrant
musical chirps of the song birds as in the loud honking of the geese returning
from their winter migration that could be heard through the mist far above
them.  The signs of the yearly renewal of life could be seen everywhere and was
glorious to behold.

Keryak lifted his head to the east to see if the
sun had risen yet.  Despite the deep mist, the early light that preceded the
coming up of the sun gave an ethereal glow.  The early morning air was clear
and pure, and Keryak breathed it in in great gulps.

“Doesn’t this air make you feel just so alive!” he
turned and exclaimed to Arbelk as they made their way along the winding path. 
His voice echoed in the small mist cocoon that surrounded them.

“Aye, Keryak,” Gorgon interrupted, “and I’d like
to keep it that way.  So keep your voice down.  We may be behind the protection
of the picket line,” he said, referring to their gen’s outer guard posts that
marked the edge of their territory “but I’d still rather not go about
announcing ourselves.”

Arbelk looked at Keryak with a ‘what did you
expect’ look, then turned and continued the pace.

Once the company was safely on their way, Manebrow
sent Ardan and Arloch up to Durik at the head of the column for scouting duty. 
Durik was surprised when they reported, but tried not to show it.  He gave them
orders to scout forward of the company; ‘only go out far enough to where you can
still hear us back here in the mist.’  For where he would like them to stop so
that the company could take morning meal, Durik told them to find a spot just
before the picket line.

In the early morning mist, Durik didn’t feel
comfortable spreading the company out at all, even though the trail lay within
the guarded borders of their land and was wide and well traveled.  He wasn’t
comfortable leading the company yet and the mist clung to the valley like smoke
in a cave, so he wanted to keep the group tight.  Looking back over his
shoulder, he saw Kabbak leading Starshine with Kiria on the wolf’s back,
followed shortly by Gorgon who walked his mount like Durik.  Behind Gorgon,
however, the mist shrouded all but one or two of his friends.

As he walked along, strangely isolated in the cold
morning mist, it was all he could do to stop himself from going back and
talking with Keryak, laughing about old times and patting each other on the
back for having finished the trials.  At first he was happy, even thrilled about
his new station in life as a member of the gen’s leader caste.  But in the past
many hours he had begun to see the downsides of it. 

His role as leader of this adventuring company, on
the other hand, he felt he could take to more readily.  He had already grown
comfortable with leading his yearling group during training and was sure that
leading a company would come to him as easily as leading a small group. 

Manebrow, during the year of training, had ensured
that his entire yearling group got the opportunity to lead.  He remembered well
the endless hours spent conducting raids, ambushes, forced marches, climbs, and
obstacle courses.  It had been miserable at first, as at first most of his
fellow yearlings had had a hard time leading themselves, much less a group of
several peers. 

Durik, however, had taken to it from the very
beginning.  Wanting nothing more than for everyone on his team to succeed
together, Durik had proven himself as a leader among his peers and a good
follower.  More often than not, when a leader was chosen, they would choose
Durik as their second, which is how Arbelk and Jerrig made it through their
leadership tests toward the end of the year of training.

As the path wore on in front of him, Durik’s mind
began to reach full wakefulness.  He pondered on their mission; to find a stone
that was lost to history, though some thought it lay in some ancient castle
that was probably just a ruin by now, and on how little they actually knew
about both how to get to this castle and what it held for them when they did
arrive.  With a start, he remembered the book that was in his saddlebags. 
Leading Firepaw up to his side, he opened the saddlebags and took the map out
of the book, studying it for quite some time. 

After a while, he took the book out and thumbed
through the few pages the Lore Master had recorded for him, finding it
impossible to read much while walking through the uneven terrain the path
followed.  As he walked along, listening to the soft footsteps of his
companions behind him, Durik’s mind raced as he thought about what he should be
doing as a leader and what advice Manebrow would have for him now.

Suddenly, Ardan appeared, coming straight toward
him from the mists ahead, bringing Durik out of the solitary world of tired
thought he’d been in for some time.  “Sire,” he called out in a low voice that
seemed to echo in the mist, “we’ve reached the last set of hills just before
the picket line.” 

Durik hadn’t realized how quickly time had passed.

The company ate morning meal quickly.  Manebrow
reminded them to eat the heaviest food, and foods which would spoil, before
breaking into the trail rations.  The old saying that food substitutes for
sleep was evident in the company this morning.  Many of them dug in with zeal.

Manebrow never took long to eat.  In fact, in
unsafe territory, he would ensure that the rest of the company took as little
‘administrative’ time as possible.  One key tenet he had learned to live by in
his younger years was to minimize the times when you were vulnerable to the
enemy. 

Having finished while the rest of the troops were
still only part way through their meal, Manebrow chewed on a peace of Wallaya
tree root and waited to see what Durik would do.

Durik, in the meantime, had fed Firepaw and was
just now sitting down to eat.  He saw Manebrow looking at him expectantly and a
feeling of guilt he hadn’t felt since his turns at leading during the year of
training instantly came to him. 

No longer was he just another warrior, responsible
only for himself.  He thought about where they were, where they were going, and
how he had not even talked with Gorgon, one of his two elite warriors, since
last night.  And for all of this, they were about to cross the picket line into
unsecure territory that was no longer patrolled by the warriors of his gen. 
With painful clarity, Durik realized that he was slacking in his duties as a
leader.  Packing some salted meat and the head of a large mushroom into his
large belt pouch, Durik hurriedly stood and approached Gorgon.

“Gorgon, leave your wolf and walk with me,” Durik
said. 

Gorgon looked up at him, a portion of boar shank
hanging out of his mouth.  Clearing his mouth, he said, “Can’t this wait?”

Durik considered Gorgon for a second.  In his eyes,
he could see the sting of having lost the competition was still fresh in his
heart.  Looking down for a second, Durik hesitated. 
No, this is not a time
for thought, this is a time for action.
 “Gorgon, when I say move, I mean
now.”  Durik turned and began to walk toward Manebrow.

Gorgon looked up at Durik with something of an
attitude.  “All right,” he replied in a mocking tone as Durik walked away.

Durik spun around.  There was no emotion on his
face; not anger, not frustration, just a commanding look that showed he was not
going to argue with his subordinate team leader, nor would he reprimand him in
front of his subordinates.  He stood and waited as Gorgon sheepishly grabbed
his gear, stood and walked toward him.