Into the Heart of Evil (32 page)

The pain of the transition was especially acute
when he looked back at Keryak, his best of friends and now two completely
separate social ranks below his own.  In a moment of sudden resolve, Durik
swore in his heart that he wouldn’t leave Keryak behind.  Rather, he would seek
to include him and the others.  He would strive to unify through consensus, not
divide by letting his new status distance himself from the rest.

With a question, Morigar brought Durik back to the
discussion.

“Hmm?  I’m sorry, what did you say?” Durik asked.

“Well, still full from the events of the journey,
I see,” Morigar laughed.  “Don’t worry, Durik, we at the Krall Gen will make
sure you have the time you need to adequately reflect.  That is, of course,
after the feast.”

Khazak nodded. “I think we should invite young
Durik here to the feast.  I believe his quest would be of interest to you.”

Morigar looked surprised. “What’s this?  A quest? 
And I thought he was just your escort.”

“No, did you not notice the mark on his chest? 
He’s a leader caste in his own right, an adventurer class only, but leader
caste nonetheless,” Khazak Mail Fist stated.  Then with a wink to Durik, he
continued, “Though if he keeps performing well, I’m sure there’ll be a group
leadership for him before long.  After all, I hear that one will soon be
opening up.”

The comment barely registered with Durik.  He
hadn’t thought much about the possibilities and politicking he’d be involved in
after the quest.  One major transition at a time was enough for him.  He
resisted the temptation to let his mind dwell on it, which was entirely too
easy considering how tired he was.

“Well, that’s certainly one step up from the
normal warrior ranks.  But for one so young to be a leader caste in your gen… 
Hmm… Must have been born into it.  Child of a council member most likely,”
Morigar muttered half out loud and half almost to himself.  Khazak got a look
on his face of acquiescence.

Durik wasn’t the most politically-minded kobold,
neither was he the most politically aware.  However, he certainly had no love
of deception or false pretenses.  As such, he was quick to correct Morigar. 
“Actually, I became a leader caste just two days ago in the Trials of Caste.  Before
that, I was the orphan of one of our gen’s wolf trainers, a warrior caste.” 
Even as the words were leaving his lips, Durik realized that he’d said
something that displeased Morigar.

“Oh, well.  Hmm… yes.  So I see.” Morigar stumbled
with his words before falling silent for a moment.  The look on his face had
changed from one of acceptance to one of disdain.  It was obvious that his
opinion of Durik was lessened by this revelation.

Durik was taken aback.  In his gen, the leader
caste had welcomed him with open arms as one of them, and in part the hope for
their future.  Here in the Krall Gen, or at least with Morigar, it seemed that
social position may well be based more on birth and one’s parents’ social rank
than on one’s actual achievements, and that was something Durik was sure it
would take him a while to get used to. 

After a few moments, Morigar continued.  “So what
is this quest, or am I to be left wondering?”

Before Durik could speak, Khazak cut in, “I think
its best left to the imagination for now.  I would hate to spoil the surprise
for your father.”

Morigar pursed his lips. “So be it.  I’ll wait.” 
The three of them continued in silence for some time after that.  Out of the
corner of his eye, Durik could see that Morigar seemed to be examining him,
sizing him up and looking for perceivable weakness.

Durik’s jaw hardened at the scrutiny and the
somewhat haughty attitude that Morigar displayed.  Finally, after some time on
the trail, he dropped the subject in his mind and instead let his thoughts
dwell on other things.  He had pondered very little on how his quest related to
the other gens.  He’d had too many other more pressing things to think about to
waste much time on the subtleties of inter-gen politics.  Now that they were
about to arrive at the Krall Gen, he pondered on the implications of getting
their neighbor gen involved.  His tired mind ran a few scenarios, but lacked
the political depth to flesh them out.

Durik didn’t really see how announcing his quest
as he went was the wisest course of action.  After all, his quest was to
journey to the place of beginnings for the entire kobold race and claim a stone
of great power for their gen, something that, perhaps, could establish his gen
in a position of dominance over the other gens in the area.  He was glad that
Khazak Mail Fist had taken the lead and was even happier that he would be there
tonight with Lord Krall when they discussed the quest.  For now, Durik had all
the leadership he could handle and was happy to leave the subtleties of politics
and ambassadorship to Lord Karthan’s older, wiser chamberlain.

M
ynar
the Sorcerer had been distraught at the loss of the ant queen, for without her
the rest of the ants were nothing but a dangerous, rampaging, uncontrollable
headless beast.  He didn’t know who most of these Kale Gen warriors were,
necessarily, though he did believe that some of them had been the yearlings who
had helped thwart his attempt to overthrow the Kale Gen at the Trials of Caste. 
He certainly recognized Khazak Mail Fist, however.

He had grown strangely attached to the idea of
destroying the entire Kale Gen, but now that the queen was dead… he had had to
adjust his plans.  Though he couldn’t destroy the Kale Gen without the ant queen,
he could now clearly see that the Fates had instead given him the opportunity
he needed to decapitate both the Kale and Krall Gens at the same time.  As he
had reached out through the Krall Stone, he had grown more and more excited,
for the pieces were all falling into place.

Redar, who was but an unruly minion, was here to
tell him just that.  By the blood on his hands, however, it was obvious that
Redar had again run into trouble that his rather average intelligence couldn’t
seem to get him past.

This was not the first time Redar had resorted to
killing someone instead of using his creativity to overcome the problem.  This
bad habit was beginning to grate on Mynar’s nerves.  After all, here in the
Krall Gen, the gen of his heritage, to achieve his political goals he had
always had to use a more… subtle approach. 

Not all of his supporters were fully willing yet
to support the type of wanton killing that Mynar needed performed.  Redar, on
the other hand, not only accepted it, but was rather overt in his support of
it.

“The orc champion must be dead,” Redar was
stating.  “I see our treaty with the orcs being further delayed.”

Mynar nodded his head.  “Yes, I’d imagine so. 
That is most unfortunate.  I had certainly looked forward to using the orcs to
help further our cause.”  Mynar got a look on his face as if he was looking at
something in front of him, though there was nothing there.  “Khee-lar Shadow
Hand’s failed attempt at killing Lord Karthan’s progeny is also disturbing… but
it does confirm what he said, that he would attempt to kill them in the
wilderness.  The ants would easily have covered up any traces of their demise. 
But instead of dying quietly in an obscure place, now Lord Karthan’s whelps
have walked right into our hands.”

Redar snickered uncomfortably.  While he had
mentioned to Mynar that Khee-lar was going to take out Lord Karthan’s whelps,
he had not mentioned what Khee-lar had told him three nights ago now in the
bowels of the Kale Gen’s training caverns about disposing of them in the wilderness,
but somehow Mynar already knew.  Redar had always been uncomfortable with
Mynar’s powers.  Whether he spoke to the dead like he claimed or not, Redar
didn’t know, but however he got his information, it was uncanny.

“Yes, Lord Mynar.  I saw all three of them, the
two whelps and the young female, with a group of Kale Gen warriors who just
arrived.  Morigar met them at the edge of the forest and he called for Krigor
and me.”

Mynar smiled and nodded.  “You have done well,
loyal one.  Tell me, is our expedition ready to depart yet?”

Redar nodded. “They only await the order, sire.”

Mynar turned and faced his assassin with a sense
of confidence and zeal that left Redar confused.  “I’m afraid that our
expedition will have to be delayed a little longer.  Go, bring them here and
also gather to me the rest of the leadership of the Covenant of Royal Blood
while I consult the dead on what should be done.  And stay unseen!  After all,
a few kobolds out there know where you’re supposed to be, and I don’t want you
to have to kill them and bring attention to the Covenant if you’re discovered.”

“Sire, what of Khee-lar Shadow Hand and the Kale
Stone?” Redar asked, his nervous snickering starting to resurface despite his
feeble efforts to control it.  “He’ll want to move against Karthan faster when
he realizes that the assassins he sent against the whelps are not going to
return!”

“That is why I need the expedition and my leaders
here now,” Mynar commanded, annoyed at his orders being questioned by a kobold
he thought of as a mindless, but useful, idiot.  “I am counting on him moving
against Lord Karthan very soon, with or without the Kale Stone.  We must look
to the opportunity the Fates have brought us.  Khee-lar will get his stone in
due course!  Go now and gather the expedition and my leaders.”

“Yes, my lord,” Redar answered as he bowed his
head submissively and stepped from the room.

Mynar smiled as he thought of these fortuitous
circumstances.  The Fates had provided him a chance to destroy Lord Krall and
all who stood in the path to the throne, a chance that he would gather the
Covenant in force to exploit. 

As he sat in his chair with the Krall Stone in his
hands, Mynar’s eyes began to focus on sights and images that seemed to flash in
front of him.  He saw the ground outside the warehouse then he began to will
himself to move.  In a moment, it was as if he was flying.  The ground was
passing quickly by then suddenly he jumped to a familiar spot of forest, near
the inner ring of Border Guard stations.  There, he saw a number of armed
warriors, obviously from the Kale Gen from their crossed shoulder belts and
brands on their chests.  In a moment, he found himself at the head of the
column, listening to what was being said.

“Hmm?  I’m sorry, what did you say?” a rather
exhausted looking Kale Gen kobold that Mynar seemed to recognize was saying.

“Well, still full from the events of the journey,
I see,” Morigar, who walked beside the young warrior said.  “Don’t worry,
Durik, we at the Krall Gen will make sure you have the time you need to
adequately reflect.  That is, of course, after the feast.”

‘Durik,’ Mynar muttered to himself, slowly
recognizing the name as one of the yearlings who had fought against him in the
recent coup attempt in the Kale Gen.

Khazak Mail Fist, Lord Karthan’s chamberlain, was
seated on a large wolf and was abreast of the other two.  Mynar grimaced as he
looked at the fearsome warrior.  Khazak, however, like most of the rest of the
warriors, was clearly wounded and so looked much less fearsome at the moment. 
He spoke from where he sat perched on the wolf.  “I think we should invite
young Durik here to the feast.  I believe his quest would be of interest to
you.”

Pulling back a bit from the conversation, Mynar
focused his powers.  In his mind’s eye, he could feel the thoughts that flowed
muddily through Khazak Mail Fist’s fatigued mind.  It was familiar territory
for Mynar, having plumbed its depths often enough in the past.  He could sense
that Khazak was expecting to see Lord Karthan’s heirs safely to Lord Krall. 
Mynar fished through Khazak’s stream of consciousness, wanting to discover the
memories he was seeking.

There, there it was.  Mynar could sense it.  In a
moment, the memories he desired were laid bare before him.  There was a
conversation in a passageway with Lord Karthan.  There was a council meeting. 
In grandiose fashion, the memory of the pronouncement of the quest at the end
of the Trials of Caste where hundreds of kobolds were present was laid bare
before him, followed quickly by the memory of the insurrection where a number
of elite warriors from the Kale Gen had tried to kill Lord Karthan, then there
was no more.

Durik seeks the Kale Stone… and to claim it for
Lord Karthan.
Mynar nodded, for he too had been at the Trials of Caste and
the failed coup attempt, though he had escaped the fate that awaited his fellow
conspirators.  He’d wanted to see if they knew more about the location of the
Kale Stone; but all he heard about the stone’s location in Khazak’s memories
was confusion. 

He jumped from Khazak’s mind into the calm depths
of Durik’s mind.

Instantly Mynar’s awareness was flooded with a
wealth of memories.  Durik’s mind was wide open and receptive, as if he was
almost yearning to be read.  His earliest memories, several poignant memories
from the last year of training, suppressed feelings for Lord Karthan’s
daughter, memories of a little sister named Darya and his best friend Keryak,
and..,
This is interesting, an exceptionally strong emotion surrounding…
yes, the memory of the orc raid that I brought against the Kale Gen six years
ago now.
 The image of Durik’s father lying dead, his hand still on the
handle of a sword as it lay deep in an orc’s stomach pushed all other less
important memories aside with the powerful emotions attached to it.  Even
seeing the pain in this young kobold’s mind, which was the result of his
handiwork, Mynar felt no remorse.

As Mynar lingered in Durik’s mind, a strange
feeling began to creep into his awareness.  It was almost as if someone else
was there in Durik’s consciousness with him.  He began to pull back, but before
he could escape Durik’s mind, something seemed to grab him and to hold him
where he was.  In a moment, he was transfixed as if by a brilliant ray.  He
felt all of his intentions being made plain and examined by some overwhelming
power that he could not discern.  With great agony, he struggled and strained
like a bug skewered by a needle, trying feebly to break free of this unknown
force.  Then suddenly he felt the unseen power release him and cast him out of
Durik’s mind.

As Mynar withdrew his hand from the Krall Stone,
he fell back into the chair, sweating and breathing heavily.  This was the
first time that he had ever encountered something of this nature.  After
several moments, he regained his composure and began to ponder on what had just
happened.

Whatever that power was, he figured that this
Durik must be the key to it.  He was determined to find this power and, if
possible, either destroy it or turn it to his own purposes.

As Mynar waited for Redar to gather the Covenant
of Royal Blood, he pondered on the implications of what he was about to do.  He
knew that if he could kill Lord Krall and his two sons as well as Lord
Karthan’s two sons, and with a false messenger arriving under the pretenses of
coming ‘from the Kale Gen’ with word of Lord Karthan’s death, then he, Mynar,
as the next closest cousin, would be appointed lord of the gen by the very laws
he had worked so hard to subvert.  He would then have to ensure that Khee-lar
Shadow Hand killed Lord Karthan speedily, lest the truth come out.

Then it would be a simple matter of taking Kiria,
Lord Karthan’s daughter, as his life-mate to give him claim to the throne of
the Kale Gen as well.  He would have to again build up the covenant within the
Kale Gen, but this time to overthrow Khee-lar Shadow Hand, but that was
something he was confident he could do.

He smiled.  It was almost too ironic.  When he’d
first started the Covenant of Royal Blood, he’d used the fact that his father
was of northern gen heritage to his advantage, rallying the downtrodden
descendants of the northern gen refugees the Krall Gen had taken in several
generations before, telling them they were destined to rule not only their gen,
but their entire race.  What’s more, he’d used what was written in the Scrolls
of Heritage to back up his claims.

He thought it ironic because these very same
northern gen descendants who had been his most loyal henchmen in trying to
subvert the throne would soon put him on the throne legitimately.  That is, by
killing everyone who stood in his way, he would inherit the throne
legitimately.  Of course, all he had to do then was to blame the assassinations
on his northern gen supporters and disavow any involvement, and perhaps lead a purge
of those same supporters.  Then the council of the gen would have no choice but
to make him, Mynar, Lord of the Krall Gen.