Into the Heart of Evil (29 page)

Manebrow drew another arrow and, keeping his eyes
on the orc champion, he stepped slowly forward.  At Kiria’s casting of a spell,
a brilliant flash of light flared from Kiria’s open palm, blinding the orc
champion.  Durik had drawn his sword, and Gorgon had his hammer in both hands. 
Kiria, choking and crying, got to her feet and ran into Durik’s arms.  Seeing
that the orc champion was blind, stunned and not making any threatening moves
at the moment, Durik sheathed his sword and held up his right hand. 

“Go, and never let our paths cross again, or I
will take your head as a trophy for my dwelling,” he called.

Pulling the arrow out of his side and arm in one
swift motion with his uninjured right arm, the orc champion swooned but did not
faint, and let the arrow fall to the ground.  After a moment, grunting and
still stunned from the pain, the orc champion stumbled blindly off into the
trees.  The entire company watched him until he eventually disappeared into the
forest.

With a collective sigh, they all lowered their
weapons.  Durik looked down at Kiria, crying on his shoulder, and was suddenly
aware of how this must look to the rest of the company.  Feeling awkward, he
held her out at arm’s length and looked her in the eyes.  “Are you all right?”

Kiria nodded as she wiped away her tears.  It was
obvious that not only this latest brush with death, but all the many events of
the last couple of days, from the long march to the brutal battles, had taken
their toll on her.  The soft life of being the pampered daughter of the Lord of
the Gen had ill prepared her for this, but she was doing everything in her
emotional and physical power to adapt and contribute.

Manebrow turned from the scene and saw the rest of
the company also watching.  “All right, now.  Let’s go, you packdogs!  This is
no time for slouching.  Grab those rucksacks and move out smartly!”

Gorgon smiled and shook his head.  Manebrow never
missed a beat.  Turning back to his team, Gorgon picked up the small whelp Lat
and put him on his shoulders.  Troka had walked off the effects of the ant bite
by now, so Keryak took Troka’s rucksack as Troka picked up Lord Karthan’s older
son Karto and put him on his back.

The rest of the company sheathed weapons,
tightened straps, looked at the ants still milling around on the other side of
the water, and began to form up into something of a line.  Manebrow knew they
were exhausted, but with these ants infuriated and determined as they were,
time was critical and he didn’t intend to waste it.  As quickly as he could,
Manebrow pushed Ardan out to the front to act as scout.  Then, as Ardan was
getting his proper spacing, Manebrow walked up to Durik.

“Sire,” he called as Kiria walked up to the line,
Arbelk handing her the backpack she had dropped.  “Sire, all is as ready as
it’s going to get.”

Durik nodded.  “Let’s get to the Krall Gen as
quickly as we can then.”

“Yes, sire,” Manebrow agreed.

“Oh, and Manebrow?” Durik added as Manebrow turned
to go. “Good shot back there.”

“Thank you,” Manebrow replied. “And good thinking
back there with the orcs, sire.  You saved all of our lives.”

“Aye, young one,” a diminished, but still
voluminous voice boomed from behind Durik.  “Saving Lord Karthan’s sons, your
entire company, and my sorry hide as well.  You’re proving yourself to be quite
the leader after all.” 

Durik turned and looked into the eyes of Khazak
Mail Fist, leader of the Honor Guard and Lord Karthan’s chamberlain.  He had
remounted Durik’s wolf Firepaw and now looked almost as commanding as he ever
had.

K
hazak
Mail Fist rode along on the back of Durik’s wolf as if he were again in command
of a warrior group on its way home from a glorious victory in battle.  The
sling on his left arm and the bandage on his shoulder did nothing to diminish
the image.  Aided by the last few drops of an elixir given to him by the
healers in the Krall Gen on one of his previous visits, Khazak had regained
much strength. 

He certainly had not fully recovered, in fact it
would be some time before he was back to normal, but if there was one thing
Khazak Mail Fist was, it was determined.  He was not about to let an arrow
wound keep him down for long.  He’d never been the smartest or the quickest,
but his determination had gained him many things.  For one, his great physical
strength was a result of his determined efforts.  Day in and day out, when not
engaged in other activities, he could be found in his chambers lifting rocks of
various sizes in various different ways, or running through the forest around
their gen at top speed with a full pack and battle gear.

Another thing his determination, applied to
loyalty, had gained him was the absolute trust of his leader, Lord Karthan.  It
was no coincidence that he had come to the position of chamberlain.  The
previous chamberlain and leader of the Honor Guard had come to an untimely end
several years prior during an attempted coup of the gen, and Khazak Mail Fist,
as a young elite warrior in the newly formed Honor Guard, had arrived just in
time at Lord Karthan’s dwellings to fight off the six attackers that had
remained after the chamberlain and Lord Karthan’s previous bodyguard had met their
end. 

After saving Lord Karthan and his family
single-handedly, Khazak Mail Fist then had discovered who it was that was
behind the attack and had immediately gone to confront him.  Grabbing several
other warriors loyal to Lord Karthan, he had laid siege to the academy of
learning where the conspirators had holed up after they heard the attack was a
failure.  Then, when the conspirators escaped into the underdark, Khazak had
personally led the expedition that tracked them down and brought each of their
heads back to lay at the feet of Lord Karthan.  To say the least, Khazak Mail
Fist had gained the Lord’s trust, and several days later his actions were
rewarded with his appointment as the new chamberlain and his marking as a
leader caste, eventually receiving as charge the leadership of the new Honor
Guard Warrior Group.

Since Lord Karthan had taken the greatest source
of the leader caste’s power by giving the common castes the privilege of owning
property, Lord Karthan had been through multiple assassination attempts, and
Khazak Mail Fist had been there for him every time.  His closest elite warriors
had spent most of their time building a network of loyal supporters who served
as informers.  Because of this, Khazak Mail Fist had grown wise in the ways of
espionage and covert war.

It was because of this that the ambush at the
first resting place was such a surprise to Khazak.  They knew that Khee-lar
Shadow Hand was building a coup attempt.  It was for that reason that Lord
Karthan had sent his children away secretly, or in a loyal, armed company.  But
no one foresaw that somehow Khee-lar would find out about the early morning
escape that Lord Karthan’s sons had made.

Khazak knew this was not the end of the attempts
on Lord Karthan’s children’s lives either.  He remembered all too well seeing
Trallik, who now lay strapped over the back of another wolf next to him, draw
his bow back to kill him and Lord Karthan’s two sons.  If Khee-lar had managed
to infiltrate an agent into the yearling group, then truly his reach was
getting long… very long.

This made him wonder about what had happened with
the yearling group since their departure. 

Khazak looked around him for one of the leaders of
the group.  “Gorgon Hammer,” Khazak called to the leader of the small team to
his front.  Gorgon, with Lat on his shoulders, turned and looked at Khazak Mail
Fist.  “Come here for a moment.”

Gorgon waited as the wolves came up to where he
stood in the trail before resuming the march.  “Yes, sire?”

“Tell me of Arloch.  I see he is missing.  What
was his demise?”

Having heard Khazak Mail Fist call for one of his
elite warriors, Durik immediately turned around and headed back to head off any
orders or pointed questions from his fellow leader caste.  He had only recently
been put in charge of this company, and he didn’t want this other leader caste
to start asserting his leadership in the group.  Durik knew such a thing would
do nothing but cause confusion in his company.

Durik spoke up quickly before Gorgon got a chance
to answer, “Khazak Mail Fist, I will be happy to answer your questions.” 

Gorgon got the hint, turned and shut his still
open mouth, moving back up to his place in line with the whelp still on his
shoulders.

“Ah, Durik, I am quite impressed by how you
managed to save our hides back there at the ford!” Khazak exclaimed.  “I wish I
could have been of more assistance, but I’m afraid it was all I could do to
stay on this fine wolf.”

Durik just nodded his weary head.

“I’m glad you had heard about the great ants and
figured out that I would take shelter among them,” Khazak continued.  “If your
warriors had not found us when they did, I do not think the little ones and I
would have made it.”

Durik looked at Khazak quizzically.  “You knew
about the ants before running into them last night?  When were you planning on
telling us?”  Just a day before Durik would not have dared to talk to Lord
Karthan’s chamberlain this way, but fatigue, mixed with the fact that they had
just saved his life, stripped away most of Durik’s social awareness.

“What?” Khazak looked genuinely surprised.  “You
mean no one told you about the great ants?”

“No!” Durik stated with all the emphasis he could
muster.  “There was a circle labeled
danger
on the sheepskin map Raoros
gave me, but nothing more.  Certainly, the picket guards knew nothing about
it!”

Khazak pondered Durik’s revelation for a moment
before responding.  “Well, to the best of our knowledge, the great ant colony
is quite a new thing,” Khazak tried to defend the gen leadership’s lack of
information sharing.  “The first report we received of the ants coming over the
southern passes into our valley was only a couple of weeks ago.  In fact, if
Lord Karthan had not given you the quest to find the Kale Stone, scouting out
this new great ant threat would have been your quest.”

Durik shook his head in frustration.  “Then please
tell Lord Karthan when you see him that he won’t have to decide whether to send
someone else out on that quest; we’ve already completed it.”

Khazak Mail Fist laughed as loud as his battered
and bruised body would allow.  After several moments, he calmed down.  “It is
good to be able to find the humor in any situation.  You are quite a
resourceful kobold, young Durik,” Khazak complimented the young leader. 
“Speaking of resourcefulness, can I see that treaty you acquired from the orc?”

Durik pulled the folded piece of parchment out of
his belt pouch and handed it to Khazak.  “It’s addressed to the Chieftain of
the Bloodhand Orc Tribe, and it’s signed by Khee-lar Shadow Hand and Mynar the
Sorcerer.  I believe that’s the same instigator who brought on the orc raid six
years ago now.”

Khazak’s face turned grim.  He took the treaty,
but his gaze stayed on Durik for a long moment before he unfolded the parchment
and read its contents.

“I see there is more that Lord Karthan or I should
have shared with you, Durik,” he muttered.  Then, as if coming out of thought,
he handed the treaty back to Durik.  “You’ve fought him once already, though
apparently you didn’t know it.”

Durik stopped and looked up at Khazak in shock.

Khazak reined in his mount and looked Durik in the
eyes.  “We believe he was one of the conspirators in the arena,” he said
bluntly.  “One who somehow slipped away after the insurrection.”  He prodded
Firepaw back into motion.

Durik followed along.  “Which one?” he asked in
stupefied amazement.

“You’d not have known him, even if you had seen
him before.  He’s an illusionist.  He can change his appearance at will. 
Something of a spell caster, it could be said.  I don’t know which one he was,
but Troll, the one whose hand you took off, said afterwards that Mynar was one
of the conspirators.”  Khazak waited a moment for that to sink in.  “He is a
close relative to Lord Krall, I’ve been told, which is why his name ends in AR. 
In the Krall Gen, only males who are direct enough relatives of the Lord of the
Gen are allowed to end their names with AR; brothers, cousins, nephews and
such.  All other male names must end in OR.  A strange tradition that one, but
orderly enough I guess.”

Durik walked along in silence for some time beside
Khazak, who was content to let him struggle with the revelation that he’d been
part of capturing the very kobold who had been responsible for his parents’
death six years before, but that Mynar was again on the loose.

After a while, Khazak Mail Fist spoke again.

“From the agreement in this treaty, it appears the
two conspiring groups are trying to isolate the two gens from each other until
they can wrest control of both of them.”  Seeing that Durik’s tired mind wasn’t
grasping what he said, Khazak stated it plainly.  “I think he’s trying to
overthrow his own lord; Lord Krall.  He’s calling himself Lord of the Krall
Gen.”

Durik stopped Firepaw and looked up at Khazak Mail
Fist.  “You mean to tell me that we’re going from one attempted overthrow to
another?”

“That could be,” Khazak said.

“Do you still think it wise that we take Lord
Karthan’s heirs, and our company, to the Krall Gen?” Durik asked incredulously.

Khazak looked down at Durik. “What choice do you
have?  There are hundreds of great ants behind us.”

Durik followed, shaking his head.  “Yes, of
course.  You’re right.  I cannot let my concern for Kiria and the whelps cloud
my judgment.”  Durik opened his water skin and splashed water on his forehead
and snout, then drank some of the cool liquid.  For several moments the pair
walked along in silence.

“What was it that you were going to ask Gorgon?”
Durik broke the silence.

Khazak thought for a moment then remembered.  “Ah,
yes.  I see that you seem to be missing Arloch.  I was wondering what happened
to him?”

“Hmm… yes… well, only a few people in the company
know right now.  I need to address the company as soon as we’re somewhere safe,
out of the reach of those relentless ants.”

Khazak’s somewhat jovial expression changed to one
of concern as he studied Durik’s face intently.  “Tell me,” he asked in a lower
voice, “does it have anything to do with the purpose of the conspirators at the
first resting place?”

Durik grimaced as Khazak hit so close to the mark.
 “You could say that.”  Then pointing discreetly at Kiria, he continued, “Only
it was all about her, not his sons.”

Khazak Mail Fist shook his head.  “His reach
has
grown long, then.  Durik, I have something more to tell you… about this one,”
he said as he pointed inconspicuously at Trallik, strapped to the wolf walking
on the other side of Durik.

Durik shook his head. “Oh, no.  Let me get
Manebrow and Gorgon, I’m sure they’re going to want to hear this also.  For
that matter, why don’t I take you to the front of the march with me and we can
all discuss it up there, a bit more privately?”

Durik felt as if the weight of leadership that
rested on his shoulders had just grown by double in anticipation of what he
feared Khazak was going to say.  Grimly, he gathered Gorgon, who left Lat with
Keryak and Troka, and moved to the head of the line with Manebrow, Arbelk and
Kiria.  He reasoned that this concerned Kiria and her protector also, since it
was her family who had been the target this entire time.  As they moved a short
distance in front of everyone else in the march, Khazak Mail Fist spoke.

“I thought you should know about what happened up
there in that cave where you found me before the rest of you arrived.”  He
paused a moment before continuing.  “Before Jerrig came to our rescue, Trallik
had found us.  He looked at us for a moment from the entrance of the room then
brought up his bow to fire at us.  As I stared into his eyes, I could see that
he was intent on killing me and the whelps.  If the ant queen hadn’t grabbed
him from behind at that very moment, he’d have killed both me and Lord
Karthan’s sons.”

Gorgon muttered something about ‘sneaking
backstabbers’ under his breath as Durik shook his head.  It was a nightmare
come true.  Durik had only personally known Arloch for a day, but Trallik! 
Trallik had been in their group during this entire past year of training. 
True, he’d always been the arrogant one, usually thinking himself too good for
the rest of them, but in the end, he’d always seemed to come around when it
counted.  Durik was finding it hard to believe that Trallik could be a traitor.