Into the Heart of Evil (16 page)

Durik turned to the two scouts and interrupted
them.  “Warriors, the night is approaching, and we must make it to the first
night’s resting place in short order.  There is no more time.  We’ll have to
leave this trail to the Fates.  Can you lead the company back to the main
trail?”

“Sure.” Ardan nodded his head.  “I’m pretty sure
that we are close to the main caravan trail.” 

Arloch spoke up.  “If we’re going to try and find
a pathway to get us back on the main trail, I think we should double back and
head across that meadow a bowshot or so back along this game trail.”

“No use in fumbling around looking for a trail in
the dark,” Ardan agreed. “Better to go with a broad meadow to find our way back
to the main caravan route.”

Durik agreed.  Whatever these other kobolds were
doing, he didn’t want to risk an encounter with whatever denizens lived in this
part of the forest, in terrain that was unfamiliar to his warriors and not
patrolled by his gen; not in the early hours of the night anyway.  There were
more dangers in the forest than those that heat vision could easily detect. 

The Wolf Rider patrols and the caravans that the
Trade Warrior Group sent out almost always used established trade routes, and
the smell of so many armed warriors tended to linger as a warning to all that
the paths of the kobolds were best left undisturbed by any but the strongest,
or most foolhardy, of foes. 

Durik returned to the company with the two
scouts.  “Manebrow,” he called softly as he approached the company, not knowing
who was who in their pepper gray wolfskin outfits.  Many wolf pelt covered
heads turned his way.  Durik was taken aback at the sight of so many wolf
snouts with enlarged eyeholes and horns protruding from the fur.  Besides
keeping the warriors warm, these outfits did add a certain intimidation factor.

“Aye, sire?” Manebrow answered as he stepped
forward, battle axe in hand.

“We need to double back some and get back on the
main trail.  We’ll turn at that meadow we passed a short time ago.”

“Aye, sire.” Manebrow nodded.  Then, turning to
the company, he called in a low voice, “You heard him, get this gaggle back in
line and turned around!  Move it, you packdogs, and gear up!”

As one, the group stooped to pick up their packs,
feeling at the moment like Manebrow was right and they were more packdog than
warrior.  There were many groans as they shouldered their loads and began to
line up.  Terrim began to turn the team of packdogs around as Durik passed by,
the rest of Manebrow’s team lining up in front of the packdogs.

After a short while, the company had gone back
along the side trail several hundred paces and had reached the meadow.  Taking
a perpendicular path, they waded through the waist-high grass until they
eventually emerged onto the main trail.  Very shortly after they had started
this leg of the march, the remaining sunlight disappeared, and the group was
left in almost total darkness until moonrise much later that night.

Walking along under the inadequate light of the
stars, the kobolds began to see somewhat clearly with their heat vision.  Their
company, even as covered as they were with their wolfskin outfits, was a line
of bright figures walking through the blackness of night.  The ground itself
still reflected the slightest amount of warmth from the sunlight of day, and
rocks could be seen even more clearly as they gave back more prodigiously the
heat the sun had given them only a little while before. 

Off in the woods, not twenty paces from the trail,
a doe jumped up suddenly from a thicket, glowing almost bright white with the
heat of fear and sudden exertion as she fled wildly from the group of armed
warriors.  Most of the group watched her go as they walked, until she
disappeared into the trees.

It had often been said among the hunters of the
gen, as they brought back the kills their labor produced, that the best time to
hunt is at night during a new moon.  It was said that of all the beings that
inhabited this great world on which they lived, according to the lore handed
down from generation to generation, kobolds and dragons were the only living
creatures with the ability to see the world according to the patterns and
manifestations of the heat that it reflected.  While almost everything else had
darkvision, which allowed them to see out a short distance in even total
darkness, the heat vision of the kobolds extended as far as their normal
vision.

Both types of vision had their advantages over the
other for certain uses.  For instance, darkvision was exactly like normal
vision, except in black, white, and gray.  So, for instance, one could read a
book, or recognize a friend almost instantly with darkvision.  With the kobold
race’s heat vision, however, it was not so.  One had to get used to the look of
his friend through both normal and heat vision, as through heat vision one
tended to look much more like a body on fire giving off fumes in unique
patterns, rather than a kobold.  Reading a book was a more time consuming
endeavor, as the reader had to press his or her hand against the page to
transfer some measure of heat to the paper and the ink, taking advantage of the
different ways that the ink and paper reflected the heat in order to allow one
to read. 

Though darkvision augmented normal vision in low
light, eliminating shadows, and eventually it took over as the sunlight failed,
heat vision on the other hand was almost an all or nothing proposition.  A
kobold would begin to see the hottest spots after the light had failed and only
the stars and moon were out.  If the moon was not bright, or in the dark
passages of their home, the vision was true, but light a torch somewhere near a
kobold and the vision would fail completely.

In battle, heat vision had proven quite superior
in many cases to the darkvision of the neighboring orc tribe.  For one thing,
it was nearly impossible to ambush kobolds on a dark night, or in a
subterranean passageway, as they could see the fumes of heat rising from you
even if you were behind cover or around a corner.  Just breathing the air
around you caused a glow to emanate that was impossible to conceal.  Additionally,
the darkvision of the orcs was limited, only extending out to several tens of
paces.  The difference was phenomenal, as to the kobolds the orcs looked like
glowing beacons begging to be shot from the farthest range possible.  It was
for this reason that many of the traditional enemies that inhabited the valleys
of the kobolds had mostly taken to traveling in kobold territory in the light
of day.

The kobolds walked confidently under the black
night sky, on the main caravan route between their gen and the Krall Gen.  On
this route, due to the mostly level nature of the terrain and the clearness of
the path, the company was able to make good time on the last leg of their
evening’s march.

N
ot
long before moonrise, the forward scouts raised a hand to call a halt.  Durik
moved forward, leaving Firepaw with Kabbak, to determine the reason for the
halt.  Reaching Ardan’s position behind a large tree, he could see off in the
distance a large open area without the warmth of a covering of trees to
insulate it from the cold night winds.  In the center of the clearing sat a
triangular enclosure of logs and dirt, thrown up to provide protection for
caravans and parties at the midpoint between the two gens. 

Though it was the only established resting place
between the two gens, it was called the first night’s resting place because it
was also the first protected resting place on the caravan route to the less
civilized gens that lived in the warmer valleys of the north.  It was a misnomer
really, as it often took the more heavily laden caravans of packdogs two days
to get to this point.  However, as Durik’s Company had been on the march since
well before dawn, the company was able reach the enclosure not long after night
fell.

Ardan turned to Durik as he arrived and knelt down
next to him.  “Sire, we’ve reached the first night’s resting place. Would you
have us go forward and ensure that the area is safe?” 

Durik remembered the stories he’d overheard the
wolf outriders tell of some of the great beasts of the forest lying in wait for
kobold caravans at their habitual resting places, hoping for an easy meal.  And
besides, there was an ill feeling in the breeze this night, as if the Fates had
turned away from the company.

To ensure they were not ambushed while their
caravans and outrider companies were unsuspecting after such a long march, the
outriders and caravan drivers had taken to sending scouts ahead of the group
into such areas to ensure no ambush was set before they occupied it.  Durik
nodded.  He would follow the tradition, though he took the time to add a
warning as Arloch came over to join them.  “There may be three Honor Guard
warriors with two packdogs already in the enclosure waiting for us, so signal
before entering the enclosure.”

Ardan nodded his understanding.  Arloch, on the
other hand, was visibly surprised at Durik’s knowledge of the Honor Guard, but
he quickly tried to hide his reaction as Durik looked at him questioningly.  In
a moment, the two scouts were off, tails and horns bobbing as one skirted each
side of the clearing, working their way toward the other end of the clearing to
then circle back.

Manebrow came up behind Durik, knowing already
what was going on by his own observations.  He wanted to see what the scouts
flushed out, if anything.  As he came up in the dark of the night, Durik could
see by the look on Manebrow’s face that the cool of the night air had refreshed
not only his spirits, but Manebrow’s as well.  In fact, the relief from the
oppressive heat of day at the going down of the sun had seemed to bring
something of a second wind to most members of the company. 

While the scouts continued their slow
reconnaissance, Manebrow began to whisper to Durik his plan for how they would
run the watch for the night.  As he listened to Manebrow, Durik knelt there
behind the tree watching Ardan on the right.  Suddenly, Ardan stopped cold. 
Durik lifted a hand and he and Manebrow turned their attention to the scouts. 
After several moments of observing something on the other side of the
enclosure, he quickly began to make his way back toward Durik, gaining speed as
he got closer until he was almost at a dead run by the time he made it back to
where Durik and Manebrow were now standing.  Arloch, in the meantime, had seen
Ardan’s sudden movements and was right behind him.

“Sire, Manebrow, there are several warm bodies
lying strewn about the enclosure!” Ardan whispered loudly.  “They appear to be
kobold, and some of them appear to be dressed in the same wolf cloaks that we
saw on the five kobolds we were tracking earlier.”

Durik and Manebrow looked at each other.  “Bring
up the company, we’ll occupy by force right now!” Durik commanded urgently. 

Manebrow nodded and moved back to the rest of the
company to get them on their feet and have them ready their weapons.  With bows
drawn and melee weapons hanging ready, Manebrow led his team, less Terrim and
the dogs, around the periphery of the clearing until they came perpendicular to
the enclosure’s entrance.  Durik was with them, and as they came around, they
could clearly see the still, warm bodies of several kobolds lying in the
entrance and inside the broken door of the enclosure.  As they knelt behind
trees, viewing the carnage from a distance, Tohr pointed out a somewhat faint
trail of cold liquid, presumably blood, going over the top of the enclosure,
trailing down the side, and making its way into the forest just off to their
right.

Suddenly, Durik stood and began walking toward the
enclosure.  Jolted out of his wonder by this, Manebrow quickly followed with
his team.  As they approached the bloody scene, they began to get a clearer
picture of what had happened.  Though he’d not worked with them hardly at all,
Manebrow recognized the two kobolds without cloaks who lay just inside the
entrance, one with three arrows in him and the other with a sword still stuck
in his stomach.  One was the Honor Guard Warrior Group’s chief elite warrior,
and the other was the elite warrior who served as the chief of Lord Karthan’s
personal guard.  This struck Manebrow a deep blow, for he knew that if these
two kobolds were here, then Khazak Mail Fist was almost sure to be here. 
Desperately he began to search among the bodies, tearing off the hoods of the
other kobolds in his search for his former leader and greatest supporter.

Durik stood stunned by what he saw.  Here lay
three of the kobolds with wolf-skin cloaks they’d seen in the forest, who had
assaulted and slain two of Lord Karthan’s Honor Guard, as well as both of the
packdogs.  This made no sense to him.  Why would kobolds from his gen attack
one another?  Why such wanton murder?  Was the damage the orcs had done to his
gen not enough?  Were the dangers of protecting the gen and the caravans from
the creatures of the forest not enough?  He did not know the answers to these
questions and did not understand why anyone could possibly have done this. His
mind swam with the confusion of it all.  As he stood there, Manebrow tore the
hoods off the snouts of the three kobold attackers.  As he watched, he
recognized one of them and his blood ran cold.

Laying before them on the ground, with his warm
hand still on the hilt of the sword in the Honor Guard warrior’s stomach, was
Trelkar, Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s chief elite warrior.  Truly, this attack bore
the signature of Khee-lar Shadow Hand, for the servant never went where the
master did not command.  Durik realized that life for him and his company had
just gotten a lot more complicated.

Looking at the several kobolds in his company
standing around dumbfounded, he felt the need to take immediate action. 
“Gorgon,” he barked. 

Gorgon looked at him, shaking himself out of the
daze he’d been in. 

Durik continued with a very intense look in his
eyes, “I don’t know why these five kobolds attacked the Honor Guard, but by my
count there’s one Honor Guard missing and two of their attackers.  I want you
to take your team and follow that blood trail immediately.  If you encounter
the other two attackers, you’re to try to capture them.  If you can’t, then kill
them.  I’ll not have that last Honor Guard warrior hunted down!”

Gorgon nodded and turned to his team, grabbing
each by the arm and pushing them toward the forest.  Gorgon grabbed his wolf by
the reins as he drove his warriors into the forest.  As they overcame the shock
of it all, each of his warriors’ gazes began to harden with resolve, except for
Trallik, that is.  Though no one noticed, he was initially shocked, then after
a while he seemed almost pleased and possibly encouraged.  He did, however, do his
best to hide this from the others.

Kiria, initially held back from the scene of the
carnage by Gorgon’s team, now moved forward to look on the faces of those who
had died here.  Kneeling next to the two dead Honor Guard, she wept openly. 
Kabbak also was in tears, seeing the faces of two of the more beloved warriors
in the gen among the dead.  Among Manebrow’s team the feeling was a combination
of open wonder and shock.

Wandering around shaking his head, Manebrow
wondered openly, “What was their objective?  Why did they attack the Honor
Guard?”  Then, as if receiving a sudden bolt of inspiration, Manebrow walked
over to the two large baskets that had served as packs for the packdogs.  Both
of them had been opened and their sparse contents scattered.  Pillows and
blankets made of the finest materials lay strewn about.  Manebrow opened a
couple of small bags that sat at the bottom of one of the baskets and a look of
horror came over his face.

“Kiria,” Manebrow called, “please come here.  I
need you to look at something.”

Almost in a daze, Kiria stumbled over to
Manebrow.  From one of the bags, he’d pulled out a pair of traveling outfits
made of wool, one slightly larger than the other.  They were obviously sized
and cut for two young kobolds, probably one of eight years of age, and another
of around six years of age.  The front of the larger outfit was embroidered
with a ‘K’ and the front of the smaller one was embroidered with an ‘L.’

Kiria’s eyes narrowed as she recognized them.  As
the realization of what the two large baskets, the embroidered clothing, and
the Honor Guard warriors all together meant came to Kiria, she stood and looked
at Durik with perhaps the look of greatest horror that he’d ever seen on
anyone’s face. 

“Karto and Lat!  My little brothers!”

Trallik moved with his snout not far from the
ground, his tail trailing behind him.  The trail of blood had initially been
obvious enough for him, but apparently the flow had been staunched, leaving
only the scent of both the remaining Honor Guard warrior and his attackers.  At
one point, he’d found somewhat of a puddle of blood, as well as an arrow that
had obviously been pulled out of a wound cast aside in the grass next to the
trail.  Twice he thought he smelled a couple of other scents, much like those
of young kobolds.  As he went along, stooping and smelling from time to time to
ensure he still had the trail, the rest of the team followed behind him.

After following the trail for some time, past
clearings, deep woods, and over a couple of streamlets, they reached the game
trail they had been on earlier in the evening in pursuit of the then five
mysterious kobolds and found that the scent trail headed in the direction of
the Krall Gen.  As they shuffled out onto the trail, Trallik began sniffing
around.  He wasn’t sure at first, but then after several moments spent
examining the trail, it became very clear to him.  He was sure that not only
had the Honor Guard warrior and the two remaining attackers passed this way,
but he could also detect the distinct smell of orc. 

Once he was sure, Trallik mentioned his discovery
to Gorgon, who grunted his acknowledgement.  It was becoming clear in his mind
that this might become quite a long and complicated chase.  Whoever the Honor
Guard warrior was that the two attackers were trailing, it was obvious he’d had
quite a bit of fight left in him, despite the copious amounts of blood he had
lost. 

Gorgon couldn’t help but feel pride in this
valiant warrior’s endurance.  Throwing the orcs into the mix only made the
chase more urgent.  Turning to the other four warriors in his team, he said,
“We need to send word back to the group that this is going to be a long hunt
and we need to know their plans.”

Jerrig spoke up, “I’ll go.”

Gorgon looked at him shrewdly. “No, magic fingers,
I want you here with me.” 

Jerrig didn’t know whether to be flattered or
offended by the comment.