Into the Heart of Evil (20 page)

These thoughts ran through Arbelk’s mind mostly
because, at this moment, his lack of ability to track well had gotten him
rather lost.  At first he’d followed the trail pretty well, then he’d come to a
small depression, probably not more than forty or so steps in diameter. 
Somehow, in following the trail into the depression, he’d lost the entire
trail.  Thinking back to how he’d been taught to reacquire a trail, he doubled
back and started trying to make a circle around the depression.  But then he’d
heard what sounded like a great boar charging in the woods, prodded into action
by something, and he’d taken off at a run, not wanting it to vent its fury on
him.  Now, as he’d made his way through the woods trying to find his way back
to where he’d been, the wolf he was riding suddenly stopped and dipped its head
as if it smelled something.

Arbelk jumped off the wolf’s back and sniffed at
the ground.  He could smell why the wolf had stopped—the distinctly female
scent of Kiria and the wolf she had been riding, as well as another scent he’d
smelled earlier in the day, but he wasn’t quite sure whose it was.  He knew it
wasn’t anyone in his team.  After a year of smelling his fellow yearlings, he was
certain it wasn’t any of their scents.  As he pondered, he remembered that
Arloch was out there somewhere, or at least so Ardan had said, and figured it
probably was him.

Walking along at a slow pace, Arbelk continued to
follow the trail of the two kobolds.  He followed it for some time through the
midst of the pines and oaks that inhabited this part of the forest.  It took
him around in something of a loop, then back again and through an open glen. 
On the far side of the glen, the trail led into an old-growth cedar forest. 
The ground here was pretty level, and the underbrush was neither thick nor
tall.  Arbelk had always loved the smell of the cedars near their gen’s caves. 
Unfortunately, the overriding sweet smell of the cedar trees made it impossible
to follow the trail by scent. On the other hand, the soft clover-like
underbrush made tracking by footprint much easier.  Not many steps under the
canopy of the cedar trees and Arbelk stopped suddenly.  There, not far ahead of
him, he could see a kobold lying behind a fallen log, peering around the log in
the opposite direction of Arbelk.  Arbelk was pretty sure that it was Arloch,
though he couldn’t be sure from this distance.

Arbelk wondered what Arloch could be hiding from. 
Whatever it is, I don’t want it to find me either
.  Off to his left, the
cedars gave way to a large stand of the pine trees.  Careful to not make any
noise, Arbelk led his wolf toward these pines, plunging into the midst of them
in an effort to ensure he would not be seen by whatever it was that Arloch was
hiding from. 

Skirting the edges of the cedar forest, Arbelk
measured his steps and mentally gauged how far he was from where Arloch was
hiding.  Twice, as he got closer, he came part way out of the pines to find out
if he was still on track to catch up with Arloch.  The second time, he noticed
that Arloch had moved forward and was now behind a rather large tree with
expansive branches.  In his hand he held a bow with an arrow already nocked. 
He was peering around the tree, as if he was preparing to fire at something.

Arbelk’s curiosity got the best of him and, moving
out of the pines, he moved behind a large stand of bushes next to the closest
cedar tree to the line of pine trees.  Cautiously, he peered out from the side
of the bushes, less than fifty paces from Arloch.  There, in the midst of the
cedars just ahead of Arloch was a wolf and an obviously female kobold, which
had to be Kiria.

Arbelk’s mind began to run faster.  This didn’t
make sense to him.  Kiria’s wolf was lying curled up on the ground, and Kiria
was laying against its side, sleeping.  Whatever the threat was, she was
unaware of it.  He looked around for whatever Arloch was preparing to shoot at…
but he didn’t see anything!  Arloch raised his bow and, drawing it back to his
ear, he fired.  Arbelk, seeing what he was aiming at too late to do anything
about it, held out his hand, a cry for Arloch to stop dying in his lungs before
it ever started.

With a solid thump, the assassin’s arrow sunk deep
into Starshine’s side.  With an almost spasmodic yelp, Starshine rolled over to
his back, his heart stopped instantaneously by cold steel.  Kiria started and
sat up, blurry eyed.  Seeing the arrow sticking out of Starshine’s ribs, she
quickly stood up.  Turning around, wide-eyed, she saw Arloch, bow in hand, step
out from behind the cover of the tree.

“Arloch, what have you done?!” she asked,
astonished.

“Goodbye, Lord Karthan’s daughter,” he said in a
cold, level voice as he drew another arrow and nocked it in one fluid motion. 
Kiria stood speechless as Arloch brought his bow up and drew the string back to
his ear.

Unexpectedly, from off to his left, Arloch heard
the singing of a bow.  For him, however, it was too late.  As he turned to see
who had discovered them, Arbelk’s arrow plunged through his forehead and out
the back of his head.  With a look of surprise on his face, Arloch’s body fell
lifeless to the ground.

T
rallik
had finished sniffing around the area and was standing with his hands on his
hips, chewing his lip in thought as his tail swished about purposefully.  The
large outcropping of hills that they’d seen in the distance now stood
expansively in front of him.  Spreading out to either side, they seemed to rise
almost directly out of the ground.  These were definitely the strangest hills
he’d ever seen.  In the light of the newly risen moon, they looked almost like
huge ant hills, with trails that ran around and over them and small caves sunk
in the sides of them at various different heights.  He was certain that
something lived here.  Whatever it was, it wasn’t kobolds.  He’d heard stories
of many strange things growing up in the gen, but he was certainly no master of
forest lore.

When they had first arrived at this strange
grouping of hills, Jerrig had mentioned seeing something similar to this,
except only one small hill, not tens of large hills, during the time he’d lived
alone in the forest a few hours’ walk from here.  He’d seen large ants, maybe
ten or twenty of them all about the length of a kobold’s arm, take down a deer
and drag the carcass into their small hill after ripping it apart.

Whatever had made these large hills, Trallik was
now certain that the Honor Guard warrior and his two remaining attackers had
gone off to the right, following a pretty obvious trail up and into the center
of the hills. 

Turning to Gorgon, Trallik lied, “I’m not sure
which way they went.  I’m thinking it would be best if we split up.  If you’d
like, I’ll go with someone up the trail through the center of the hills while
you search with the rest around the perimeter hills of this strange cluster.”

Gorgon pursed his lips and looked around him,
mentally ticking his other warriors off in his head; Jerrig, Keryak, and
Troka.  After a moment, he turned back to Trallik.  “All right, I agree.” 
Turning to Jerrig, he said, “Jerrig, since you seem to know so much about the
things that built these hills, why don’t you go with Trallik.”  Then to the
others, “Keryak and Troka, you come with me.  Let’s search the holes of these
outer hills and see if we can find anything.”

Trallik turned immediately and began to head off
up the trail.  Gritting his teeth worriedly and hoisting his pack, Jerrig
followed.  At first the trail wound around the outer hills and Trallik made no
attempts to track.  He was feeling pretty confident and, though he was excited,
he tried to not let any of it show, lest Jerrig should start to suspect that he
knew more than he’d told Gorgon.  As soon as they were out of sight of the
others, however, Trallik began to bow his head again to catch a whiff of the
trail.

They went on this way for only a couple hundred
steps before they reached the first of many crossroads that crisscrossed the
inner hills.  Stopping briefly, Trallik stooped over and smelled the ground. 
He was pretty certain now that they had turned and followed the path up to the
right.  Trallik looked up.  The trail itself wound up the steep side of the
squat, massive hill off to their right, finally plunging into a dark cave
entrance halfway up.

Turning to Jerrig, Trallik whispered, “Let’s
search up there.”

Jerrig looked visibly disconcerted, but nodded his
head and followed anyway.  This place had a foul stench to it, much like the
stench of too many dead things and the carrion that feed on them.  Jerrig was
now much more alert than he had been a few moments ago.  In his hand he held
the two javelins he’d been given, his knuckles showing white with nervousness
through his translucent scales.

Trallik led the way as they climbed up the solitary
trail, winding back and forth along the face of the hill until, having climbed
quite a bit, they arrived at the entrance to the cave.  It was not the largest
of caves that was certain.  For that matter, it looked barely large enough for
a kobold to stand up straight in.  It did, however, seem pretty level as it
sank away into the cold interior of the hill.

Turning to Jerrig, Trallik whispered, “Why don’t
you stay out here while I check inside?”

Jerrig’s eyes got wide with fear, his tail
swishing rapidly from side to side. “Um… I’d rather go in with you.”

Trallik put his hand on Jerrig’s shoulder. “Don’t
worry about it.  You’ll be fine out here.  Besides, I need you to watch out for
those other two kobolds.”  He looked Jerrig in the eyes. “Can you do that for
me?”

Jerrig’s pride was stung, what little he still
had.  He straightened up and pushed his shoulders back. “Of course.  No
problem,” he answered, trying to be brave.  Reaching back, he grabbed his tail
to keep it still.

“Good.  Now I’ll be back before long.  Just stay
out here, though, even if you hear noises from in there.  I need to know that
the entrance is safe.”

Jerrig thought Trallik’s request was strange, but
he nodded anyway.  With that, Trallik entered the cave.

This cave, like the others in the area, had the
stench of death about it so strong that Trallik could smell nothing else.  He
kept an arrow nocked in his bow and walked as silently as he could.  Along the
passageway, as it began to slowly spiral downward through the heart of the hill,
the dung of something large littered the floor.  Some of the dung was warm and
showed bright in his vision; a clear indicator that Trallik was not alone down
here.

Having gone quite some distance already, Trallik
stopped as he saw what appeared to be a cluster of smaller passageways shooting
out from the main passageway.  Cautiously, he approached the first of these,
which was just large enough for him to crawl down if he had wanted to.  It led
down at an angle for probably two or three kobolds’ lengths then it seemed to
open up into a small chamber.  From down inside the chamber, he could hear the
rustling of something moving, though he could see no heat.  After a few
moments, a chittering could be heard coming from several of the passageways, as
if this community were coming to life.

Trallik didn’t like this.  So far, the passageway
had been clear, with no chance for anything to get behind him.  He could now
see that to continue he would have to pass by what obviously were nests for
whatever the nasty creatures were that inhabited these hills.  As he thought
more about it, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to search these nests for the
Honor Guard warrior and whatever it was Lord Khee-lar wanted bad enough to send
five of his co-conspirators after.

Gathering his courage, Trallik ran quickly past
the myriad of small passageways, hoping his passing would go unnoticed. 
Arriving at the far side, he turned around.  Nothing was moving, or at least
nothing was coming after him.  The chittering still continued at about the same
level as before.  Trallik shivered and turned.  Quickly he continued down the
passageway in front of him.

He didn’t have far to go, however.  After only
about forty or fifty steps the passageway ended, branching off into three
distinct rooms.  As he approached the junction between the three rooms, Trallik
heard several low noises.  From the room off to the right of him he heard the
movement of something rather massive.  In the passageway to his left, Trallik
heard the movement of several smaller things, chittering as they swarmed about
something.  The stench of congealed blood and torn flesh could easily be smelt
coming from the left passageway.  Trallik looked at the entrance to the third
room directly ahead of him and saw a low flicker of light dancing against the
near wall.  He really hadn’t liked passing the group of nests that were now
behind him.  He definitely didn’t like the idea of putting yet two more rooms
full of whatever they were behind him, but at this point he was committed.  There
was no going back.

Finally, passing the two rooms on either side and
approaching the room directly to his front, Trallik thought he could hear
someone crying softly, like a kobold child.  He stopped.  Yes, there it was
again.  He wondered what a whelp was doing out here, in the wilderness.  He’d
thought before that he had smelled one, and now his ears were confirming what
his nose had insisted.

Trallik approached the entrance to the third
room.  In the center of the chamber, a small fire, made out of dried dung from
the inhabitants of these hills, cast its flickering light about, giving out an
acrid, almost putrid smoke that lingered in the air as it wafted slowly out of
the chamber and up the passageway, dissipating quickly outside of the chamber.

There, in this desolate place, seated against the
far wall was none other than Khazak Mail Fist, Lord Karthan’s chamberlain and
leader of the Honor Guard Warrior Group.  He lay against the wall holding a wad
of cloth against his shoulder.  The loss of blood he’d suffered had taken its
toll on the mighty warrior and the look of death was on him.  His eyes were
only somewhat open as he lay there, grimacing with the pain.  At first Trallik
wasn’t sure whether he was dead or alive.  Then, as he accidentally scattered a
couple of rocks with one knee, Khazak Mail Fist raised his head and looked
Trallik in the eyes.

Trallik raised his bow, pulling the string back to
his ear.  In Khazak’s eyes was a look of resignation, an acceptance of his
fate.  Then, as Trallik looked closer, he relaxed the bow.  Kneeling there in
the shadows of the passageway, Trallik saw something that reached what little
conscience he still possessed.  Tucked under Khazak Mail Fist’s arm, a young
kobold whelp lay with his head on his lap.  Another slightly older kobold whelp
leaned against his other side, crying softly with both fear and sorrow.  The
older of the two whelps, with great fear on his face, scurried out to the fire
and, taking a dried piece of dung from the pile next to it, threw it onto the
flames, whining about keeping the monsters away.  As the flame took, Trallik
recognized the face of the older whelp.  It was Lord Karthan’s oldest son
Karto.  Looking at the other, he could see that it was Lord Karthan’s younger
son Lat.

Trallik’s mind was reeling.  So here was what
Khee-lar was after!  Suddenly, the full ramifications of what he had committed
to struck him like a hammer.  Perhaps he’d only somewhat realized that Khee-lar
Shadow Hand was trying not only to overthrow Lord Karthan, but also to kill him
and his entire family.  Perhaps he’d thought too much about what he would gain
from his service, and not enough about what the services were that he’d have to
perform.  Perhaps, when he’d promised to kill Kiria, he’d imagined that he
really wouldn’t have to kill anyone he knew.  Somehow, in his heart, he’d
reasoned that being a part of an organization that did horrible things wouldn’t
be so bad.  Now, as he was faced with the task of carrying out those same
horrible things, Trallik was shocked by it.

He had committed to serve Khee-lar Shadow Hand,
and to kill for him, but now that it came down to playing the part of assassin
he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it.  What little conscience he still
possessed was pricked.  How could he kill these two helpless whelps?

As he knelt there debating with himself, all his
attention focused on the scene in front of him, from behind him two large
clawed legs reached out.  Grabbing him from behind, something large drug him to
the ground and, with one swift sting to the neck, rendered him helpless.  The
long knife that he grabbed out of reflex fell from his limp hand.  The cry of
surprise and horror died quickly on his lips.  Trallik was absolutely horrified
as he was dragged, limp and helpless, from the room.

“What in the Fates was that?!” The sense of peace
and calm had obviously worn off and Manebrow wanted answers.  He pushed his
wolf away as he looked steadfastly at his leader.

“I… I’m not sure,” Durik muttered as he looked at
his hands.  The glow had long since faded, leaving him with a feeling of
lingering doubt that the whole healing event had actually happened.

“Was it just me or were your hands just glowing?”
Manebrow pressed as he stood up and walked toward Durik.

“Your leg was broken.  I healed it,” Durik said in
a calm, peaceful voice.

“What?”  Manebrow sat back down on the ground and
thought for a moment.  He remembered the boar coming toward him.  He remembered
slapping his wolf on its flank to get it out of the way, then grabbing his axe. 
But the part between grabbing his axe and seeing Durik’s hands glow he had no
memory of.  Looking around, he saw the body of the great boar with his axe
planted firmly in its brain.

Manebrow stood up and walked over to the tree
where he’d just been sitting.  By the kink in its trunk, he guessed it must
have stopped the boar’s charge.  Warm blood matted in the dirt where he’d just
been sitting.  The heat from the blood made the contours in the dirt stand out,
and Manebrow thought he saw something strange.  He knelt down for a closer look
and found a strange impression.  Tracing the line of the impression, he could
see where he’d been sitting, with both legs extended, but he could also clearly
see that his leg had been twisted at an odd angle about mid-thigh.