Into the Heart of Evil (14 page)

“That’s what I was leading to.  If you notice, the
heads of the stick figures that go along this long path all point back to
there.”  She paused. “I think that’s the lair they came from.  Yes… here, this
stick with a circle looks kind of like a head on a pike.  That’s how orcs, or
at least that’s how the Bloodhand Orcs, represent the place where their home
is.  It looks like an X was drawn over it, though.  Hmm… I wonder what that
could mean.”

Manebrow looked at them both. “I’ll tell you what
it means.  Those were no orc warriors.  Those orcs were vagabonds.  They were
nothings, castoffs.  Their poor equipment and lack of organization screams
‘exiles’.  Perhaps they were thieves, or escaped slaves.  Whatever they were,
these were not highly trained orc warriors.  At the first casualties, they
scattered and ran.  Their armor is a hodgepodge of hide, iron, and fur.  Their
weapons look like they were stolen from some long forgotten store room.  I
think the answer to the riddle is that they’re no longer welcome home, thus the
X.”

Durik nodded. “If that’s so, then we’ll have to
watch out for that area.  It appears to be on the path to the Hall of the
Mountain King.”

Manebrow shook his head. “I don’t like this.  If
the Bloodhand Orcs are establishing outposts again, it must mean that they’ve
gotten back some of their old strength.  We’ll have to warn the Krall Gen when
we get there and send word back to our gen.”

“Or send word back with the Honor Guard we’re
supposed to meet,” Durik said.

Manebrow gave him a look of surprise. “What’s that?”

“Lord Karthan said we’ll be meeting three of his
Honor Guard warriors with a pair of packdogs at the first night’s resting place
before we get to the Krall Gen.  That’s where we’ll make camp tonight.  We’re
to escort them to Lord Krall, for him only to receive.”

Manebrow thought about saying something more about
‘surprises,’ but held his tongue instead.

Later that day, as they marched along, Durik
signaled for Manebrow to come to the head of the column and walk with him. 
Dutifully, he came.  After a moment, Durik spoke, low enough so that Kiria and
Kabbak, who were just behind him in the order of the march, could not hear. 
“Manebrow, thank you for back there… for understanding…”

“Yes, sire,” he said curtly. “Anything else?”

“No, second.  That’ll be all.”

With a ‘by your leave’ Manebrow moved back to take
his place with his team.  That it had been an eventful day for all was
indisputable.  The majority of the group had held up well enough under the
events.  For all but Manebrow, Ardan, and Arloch, this had been their first
combat action.  Having won it without anyone receiving even so much as a
scratch had made them cocky, however, and that was something that Manebrow
would not stand.  After listening to them chatter amongst themselves for some
time, finally he could take no more.  With a ‘by your leave’ to Durik, he
halted the company and brought them all in together, except for the two scouts.

“Listen to me, now.  I do understand that that was
your first action back there.  But I want you to understand something.  Back
there.  That wasn’t real.  That wasn’t a challenge.  That was just proof that
fifteen well-armed and highly trained kobolds can take out a measly four
unsuspecting orc outcasts.”

He looked into their eyes.  It was obvious he’d
gotten their attention.  Some of them looked a little confused.  “Yes, I said
outcasts.  Did you see those orcs?  Those were no orc warriors.  They were
likely exiles or worse.  Now, I know that it feels good to have won so handily,
but don’t think that just because we took out four poorly equipped orcs, that
we’ll be so lucky next time.  The Fates are a fickle thing; one minute they’re
your friend, and the next thing you know they’ve turned against you.”

He paused, looking into their eyes.  It was
obvious they were getting the message. ‘Don’t get cocky.’  

“Now, there’s much that can be learned from that
little skirmish.  That action was a clear example of how much more effective a
disciplined unit that fights as a team is, over an undisciplined group of
individuals.”  Manebrow took a deep breath. “Don’t you ever forget, the moment
you get proud about a victory is the moment you get careless, and the moment
you get careless is the moment you do something stupid, and I end up lugging
your sorry carcass home.” 

Off to the side, Durik nodded in somber agreement.

For all Manebrow’s talk, the group couldn’t help
but be proud of their first kills.  From the back of the group, Jerrig spoke, a
wide smile on his face, “You got to admit, though, we did all right back
there.” 

They all laughed.

“Aye.” Manebrow nodded. “We did just fine.”  As he
had talked, his concern for them showed, but as quickly as it began to show, he
steeled his glance again.  “Now, back to the march!”  After Manebrow’s speech,
a more grounded, more focused group continued the afternoon’s march.

M
anebrow
was not one to let things sit and simmer.  When he was back in the caves, he
took things in a bit more measured fashion, but when it came to being out in
the wilds, he was all about making things happen in as expedient a fashion as
possible.  He wanted to bring Jerrig up to talk with Durik and himself about
the arrow incident.  Durik, however, didn’t feel like the time was right to
talk to Jerrig about it.  So it was that, after talking with Durik for much of
the afternoon about the mission, their company, and the challenges of
leadership as they led their wolves along, they came upon a stand of tall oak
trees and decided to rest there for a bit and take the evening meal.  After
getting Durik’s permission, he posted Ardan and Arloch as sentries and called
for Gorgon to bring Jerrig to them.

Sitting apart from the rest of the group under the
shade of a particularly large oak, Durik and Manebrow began questioning Jerrig as
Gorgon sat watching.  At first, Jerrig was not forthcoming, his tail twitching
nervously behind him as he ducked and looked about furtively.  Then, as he
thought of the trust they’d built over the past year, and after sensing that
they meant him no harm and were perhaps open to what he might say, Jerrig
stilled himself, took a deep breath, and began to open up. 

He started by telling them about his power, how he
could summon force and fire, then as he saw that they were not about to shun
him for being different, he began to open up even more.  Finally, he told them
about an incident in his father’s shop where he’d accidentally unleashed this
nascent power on a boiling cauldron and scalded a couple of kobolds, and about
how after that he’d lived by himself in the woods for a while, not far from
where the company was taking its evening meal right then.  All three of the
kobolds had heard this story through the grapevine, but Jerrig’s version was
certainly much different.

Durik then halted Jerrig in his story and called
Kiria over.  After getting a taste of her knowledge with the orc map incident,
he wondered if she might not have some knowledge of what this power was.  As
Durik asked more questions and continued to encourage him to open up, Jerrig
revealed how he controlled this power that often surged within him, and he told
of the few things he could do with it.  Kiria sat and listened intently as he
described his power.

Manebrow, of all of them, was the most impressed
with Jerrig’s description of the fiery bolt incident that had happened just
before the year of training had begun.  “That could come in useful, I’d wager,
assuming you could do it again.”

Gorgon was intrigued, but confused at the same
time.  Like all the other common warriors, he’d never had any encounter with
magic before.  The only knowledge he had of it was the stories and histories he
had studied of The Sorcerer, and of the magic that the Ladies of the Gen had
supposedly held, several generations now in the past.  Never having encountered
magic before, he had assumed that it was all just one big myth.  Certainly
nothing prepared him for Kiria’s next comment.

“Well, from one spell caster to another, welcome
to the arcane arts.”  All eyes were on her.  “You are what they call an innate
spell caster,” she explained, “whereas I am a learned spell caster.  In the
books of lore that my mother handed down to me she stated that, among the elves
especially and in a much more limited fashion among the rest of the races, this
world manifests its power.  You would be one who has been touched by our world,
by Dharma Kor.  I am amazed.  I never in my life thought that I would actually
see another spell caster again when my mother died… and one who is touched by
the magic of this world itself no less.” 

Seeing that everyone else was sitting there in
amazed stupor, Kiria began to explain.  “The stories of the power of the Ladies
of the Gen are not myths, neither are they exaggerations.  The fact of the
matter is that the Lady of the Gen has always been the keeper of the studies of
magic handed down to us from our first ancestors.  Over the last several
generations, however, no one has magnified the arts; in fact they’ve been kept
mostly secret.  Since my mother died, I inherited the right and responsibilities
she should have borne.”

Durik was excited, but was trying his best not to
show it.  “So, what can you do?  Do you have powers like Jerrig?”

“Well, not exactly like his, but similar.”  Seeing
that they didn’t understand, she continued, “You see, Jerrig’s power is
something inside him, innate you know.  My spell-casting ability is very
different.  I have to memorize arcane words that summon forth this power. I use
focus items to help me summon and control this power; mostly crystals.  When I
cast a spell that I have memorized, it begins to fade from my memory, much like
a scroll that is burned in a fire.  If I wish to be able to cast a spell
multiple times before resting and rememorizing it, I must make the impression
that much deeper in my mind.

“I use words of power, passed down through the
generations, as triggers for my spells.  The words I use are Draconic, from the
language of the dragons, that is, which is what everything in my craft is
written in.  I do not know, but it would seem to me that, perhaps, Jerrig might
gain some magnification of his abilities if he used it too.”

Jerrig was soaking it all in.  This had all come
about so quickly, but now after so long of keeping it in, he finally felt he
could share his ability, at least with his leaders.  He wasn’t sure about
himself with the others in the company yet however.  The walls of distrust he
maintained would only come down slowly with them… if at all.  “So, what can you
do?” he asked Kiria.

“Well, I’ve become rather proficient at several of
the cantrips one learns as a young apprentice in the arts.  However, I’ve not
progressed much beyond that.  Using this,” she said, holding out a small
crystal dangling from a thin leather necklace around her neck, “I can cause
just about any object to glow.  It starts out rather bright then begins to dim
with time.  I can also move and manipulate objects at a distance… small objects
mostly, at about thirty paces or less.  I can also read magical writing… it’s
as if my mind becomes one with the meaning of the inscriptions and sigils; it’s
in much the same way that I can sense the presence, and sometimes the purposes,
of magically endowed items.  But unlike Jerrig, I must recite the words of
power for each spell, and use the focus items, in order for each power to be invoked. 
Here,” she said, “watch this.”

Kiria grasped a steel charm in the shape of a hand
that hung on a leather thong from her thin leather vest.  With her other hand,
she acted as if she were reaching as she began to chant unintelligible, guttural
words under her breath.  As she chanted, Durik could feel the same feeling of
power that he’d felt during his previous visions.  Then, in a moment, Durik’s
sword was flying from his scabbard as if drawn by some unseen hand.  The entire
group, less Jerrig, jumped back in surprise as the sword handle flew into
Kiria’s hand.  After Kiria demonstrated that the sword was still just a sword,
but yet not fully trusting it, the group came back and cautiously sat back
down.  Kiria handed Durik back his sword.

“Jerrig,” Durik began, “can you do things of this
nature or is your power in the energy it releases?”

Jerrig thought for a moment, then got a focused
look on his face and, as he held his hand out, Durik’s spear began to drag
handle first toward him in the dirt.  This time, everyone moved back, but
didn’t react quite like before.  Unlike last time, Durik felt nothing as Jerrig
worked his magic.  With a look of determination and strain on Jerrig’s face,
the spear lifted from the ground then jumped quickly into Jerrig’s outstretched
hand.

With a tired look on his face, Jerrig shook his
head.  “It’s so much harder to control this power than to just allow it to
burst forth.  It would have been easier to break the spear than it was to
carefully bring it into my hand.”

“You look tired, Jerrig, almost as if it took much
out of you to do that,” Kiria observed.

“Yes, it did,” Jerrig responded.  “I can nudge
arrows to hit their targets, and I can blast the bark from trees, but between
those two extremes is where fine control is needed.”  Shaking his head, he
continued, “That’s what is most taxing to me.”

“Hmm,” Kiria responded, “for me it’s much the same
whatever I do.  While it is a bit taxing, I find that it is very manageable. 
It all depends on how much time and attention I’m able to dedicate to the
memorizing of the spells.” 

She paused then continued after a moment or two,
“I suppose as I cast them and the memory of them leaves my mind, they tire my
mind and cause my ability to command this power to lose its edge over time.”

All this intrigued Durik, but seeing the rest of
the company lounging about, having finished the evening meal, he was reminded
of his duties as leader of the company.  Taking advantage of a lull and small
break in the conversation, Durik stood up.  “Kiria, Jerrig, we will speak more
of this later.  Manebrow, form the troops, we must make it to the first night’s
resting place before we rest again this night.  The day grows late, and we
shall be well spent by the time we arrive.”

Manebrow stood and called to Ardan to get his team
together.  Gorgon, seeing his warriors also assembling at Manebrow’s word, went
to where his team was getting up and finished gathering his equipment.  As
Kiria and Jerrig stood and turned to leave, Durik stopped them.  “Kiria, Jerrig,”
he said in a low voice, “I do not understand this power that you two possess,
but I want you to know that I support your use of it.”  Kiria and Jerrig both
seemed pleased not only by how well the leadership had accepted their powers,
but also by Durik’s words.  “And I also want both of you to practice these
powers as much as you can.  We can use all the help we can get in accomplishing
our quest.”

Durik took his wolf’s reins from Kabbak and, when
Kiria came close, he spoke in a lowered voice.  “Kiria, as you cast that spell
back there, I felt a sense of power, the same sense of power that I have felt
in visions recently.”

Kiria looked up at him with deep interest.  “What
visions has my sire had?”

“I see a bridge over a great chasm, with statues
of great beasts, or perhaps demons standing as guards at the edge of it… and a
stone structure beyond it, with an opening that is inscribed with evil-looking
runes.  Through it all, it’s almost as if something is calling to me from
inside the stone structure.  There
was a word, or maybe a phrase that formed in my mind, but I cannot seem to
remember it.  It’s as if it were a dream in the night after the vision
closes, yet the same sense of power is left lingering in me as what I felt when
you cast that spell.  Though I have never been there, I am thinking that
perhaps the bridge is this Demon’s Bridge you mentioned earlier.”

Kiria
thought for a moment before replying. “I do not have a picture of Demon’s
Bridge with me, but it may well be that our travels will take us there. 
Perhaps all will become clearer when we arrive there.  For now, there are many
stories of visions in a book that my mother had, in fact the same book where we
discovered that the Kale Stone is to be found at Palacid.  I made something of
an outline and copied some of the bits of visions that that book records and
brought it with me.  What you speak seems familiar to me.  If you would, I will
study this matter.”

“Kamuril.”
In a moment of remembrance, Durik muttered the word.  “That was it; Kamuril.”

Kiria
thought for a moment. “That word does not sound familiar to me, but I will
research it.”

Durik nodded.  “We shall talk of this again,” he
said, then stood away from Kiria as Ardan and Arloch approached to move past
them and take their places as the forward scouts.  Looking back at Manebrow and
Gorgon, he could see that all was in order.  Waiting for Arloch and Ardan to
reach a point far enough ahead of them, Durik raised his hand and motioned for
the group to move.  Slowly, Durik’s Company moved forward down the trail.

Sitting alone in the semi-darkness the small room
afforded, Mynar the Sorcerer sat grasping the stone of his heritage’s power,
his eyes closed and his chin lifted, as though he were feeling more than
seeing.  Within the Krall Stone small flecks of bronze swirled as his face
twitched.  It had not been long since he had arrived at the gen of his
heritage; the Krall Gen.  And now that he was safely past his unwitting allies
in the forest, it was time to rouse them to do his bidding.

With a look of supreme concentration, his
consciousness reached out to where they lay, her mindless minions in their tens
and in the hundreds, those who were more awake in their small groups or found
singly among the mindless ones, and finally the queen herself.  She was the
exalted one, the daughter of the great queen, and the only one whose sentience
was sufficient to direct such a massive horde.