Into the Heart of Evil (33 page)

He stood looking out the window of the small
warehouse he and the rest of the Covenant of Royal Blood used to stage their
operations.  As if the irony of the situation was not enough, the warehouse,
owned by one of his northern gen contacts, sat squarely up against the mountain
on the eastern side of Lord Krall’s Lake.  Despite the alert that Lord Krall
had given to the Border Guards to keep him out of the gen’s territory, here he
stood, not more than a couple of bowshots from Lord Krall’s Great Hall where
Lord Krall and his family lived in the middle of the lake, almost right under
Lord Krall’s nose.  He laughed to himself, proud of how well his plans were
working out. 

As he watched the path to the warehouse, he saw
several cloaked figures walking along through the hodge-podge of buildings on
the lake’s edge.  Before long, they converged at the back entrance to the
warehouse, which was hidden between a woodshed and the back of the mountain
from prying eyes.  One by one, the kobolds began to file into the large
building.

Mynar turned from the window and stepped to the
balcony that overlooked the bottom floor of the warehouse.  “Welcome,
brothers!” he called out. 

Each of the kobolds threw back their hoods as they
entered, revealing thinner horns than those of the majority of the kobolds in
the Krall Gen.  As they gathered inside the door, they threw their cloaks onto
a bench by the door.

“Welcome yourself, Mynar,” a rather large kobold,
obviously of northern gen heritage by his longer, thinner horns and subtle
accent, called back.  “What have you called us all together for?  Why do you
delay my expedition?  We’re ready to depart this place!  You know this is
rather dangerous, meeting in such large numbers.  And you know how dangerous it
is for me to travel here within the borders of the gen, since Lord Krall put a
bounty on my head.”

Mynar seemed to not be paying attention.  His lips
moved as he counted each one of his fellow conspirators.  “Eight, nine, ten…
ah, and of course Redar makes eleven.  Well, my fellow kobolds,” he called out
as he descended the stairs down to the ground floor where the other eleven
kobolds stood.  “Today is a great day for all of us!” he pronounced, full of
enthusiasm.

“How so?” the large kobold asked.

Mynar stepped forward and put his hand on the
large kobold’s arm.  “Borgor, my friend, the Fates smile upon us.  The spirit
of our long dead ancestor, Kobold, the First Sire, speaks to me.”

Borgor’s brows rose.  “What?  Finally, after all
this time he’s directly communicated with you?  No more intermediaries?  It’s
about time!  What did he say?”  The rest of the kobolds who stood listening
were also obviously surprised.  As Mynar looked at them, their looks changed
from wonder to anticipation.

“He said that he is proud of us for readying
ourselves to take back from Lord Krall and his line of imposters the leadership
of this gen.  He feels we are ready to take the first step in taking back the
leadership of our race, by claiming this gen in his name.”

Borgor hung on Mynar’s every word.  “He said
that?  Amazing!”

Mynar nodded.  “And to that end, he is gathering
our enemies all together in one place.  Even now, Lord Krall and his eldest son
Krall are in his great hall, and coming through the forest is his youngest son
Morigar, along with both of Lord Karthan’s heirs.  Soon, all who stand in our
way will be gathered for us, and we will strike, and take back what is ours by
right of our royal lineage!”

Krigor dismounted his wolf in front of the large
doors to Lord Krall’s Great Hall on the lake.  Leading the wolf over to one
side, he lashed its reins to a knob put there for that very purpose.  Looking
around, he moved to the large double doors and pushed one open.  Inside, the
shadows in the great hall prevented him from seeing much.  He stepped through
the open door and closed it behind him.

Krigor made his way through the great room that
took up half of the building.  It was lined with tables and benches, and in the
center of the room was a great stone cooking pit with a stone-lined blackened
wood chimney above it to direct the smoke out of the building.  At the head of
the room was an ornately carved wooden chair on a dais.  On both sides of it
were arranged four other chairs of lesser splendor, obviously seats for Lord
Krall’s lifemate and two sons, the fourth chair still set out for Lord Krall’s
middle son who had died some time before.  Krigor passed by the dais to a
slightly larger than normal door on the far side of the room.  As he arrived at
the inner door, the guard, a stout-looking warrior wearing the hardened leather
armor of Lord Krall’s house guard and armed with a sword and spear, stopped
Krigor.

“What is your errand here, messenger?” the guard
asked, recognizing Krigor’s post by the garb he wore.

“I have news for the Lord of the Gen from the
border,” Krigor answered.

“Hmm… I will call for Lord Krall’s minister then,”
the guard stated flatly.

“Morigar’s instructions were clear that I should
tell only Lord Krall,” Krigor persisted.

“Hmm… Well, wait here a moment,” the guard
answered as he opened the door behind him and disappeared through it, closing
and barring it behind him.

As Krigor stood there, somehow his image began to
change, as if his face were transforming.  Then, in an instant, the face of
Krigor, messenger of the Border Guard, was replaced by Mynar’s own face.

Mynar breathed deeply.  The strain of keeping up a
false appearance was not much, but it was somewhat taxing nonetheless.  As he
waited in the semi-darkness of the great room, Mynar examined how the tables
and chairs were set up.  He measured in his mind how far it was from the great
pit to the high-backed chair on the dais that was Lord Krall’s throne.  Then he
looked at the large table that sat in front of the throne.  That would
certainly be a problem.  He would have to see if he had time to rearrange the
furniture a bit before Morigar arrived with Lord Karthan’s heirs.

Mynar’s thoughts were broken as he heard footsteps
coming from further inside the great hall.  Quickly passing a hand over his
face and up over his horns, Krigor stepped forward to meet the lord of the gen.

In a moment, the bar was raised and the door
opened to reveal the leather-clad guard.  Following him, a grizzled but
firm-bodied older kobold in a blue cotton robe stepped out of the door.  Behind
him came a slighter, older kobold who looked as if he had spent too much time
bent over books.

“My lord,” Krigor said as the blue-robed kobold
approached.  “And my lord’s minister,” he said to the slighter of the two
kobolds.

“Hmm, yes, well.  So, what news do you have for
me, Krigor?” Lord Krall asked the messenger, who was not much younger than
himself.

“My lord, Morigar sends that Lord Karthan’s whelps
have arrived safely in the care of Lord Karthan’s chamberlain.  He further
states that he will be arriving in short order and will bring the whelps
directly to you.  He asks that you receive them here in the great room,” Krigor
stated.

“Pomp and ceremony!” Lord Krall rolled his eyes. 
“I’ve had enough of that to last several lifetimes.”  He shook his head then
looked Krigor in the eyes.  “Very well, then.  I do suppose it only fitting to
receive Lord Karthan’s chamberlain and his heirs in a proper formal fashion. 
Tell my son that I shall receive them here.”

“Yes, my lord,” Krigor answered, bowing.  “Oh, I
almost forgot.  Lord Karthan’s chamberlain also requests that your older son,
Krall, be present.”

Lord Krall looked surprised.  “That’s a strange
request.  Very well, then.  We shall see them when they arrive.”  With that,
Lord Krall turned and nodded for his minister to follow.  In moments the two of
them had disappeared back into the inner chambers of the great hall and Krigor
was on his way back to the warehouse next to the mountain.

I
t
was not long before they arrived at the center of the forest. Manebrow, as he
trooped the line of marching warriors, thought he saw Trallik stir out of the
corner of one eye.  He wasn’t sure what the queen’s sting had done to Trallik,
except that he was still alive.  He imagined that the effects would wear off
before too long, and then there would be several trying moments.

Catching up with the next wolf, Manebrow struck up
a conversation with Jerrig, who was now conscious, though somewhat feverish. 
Jerrig reported that he was still in pain, but that the sharper pain seemed to
come and go, having subsided for the moment, leaving only a dull ache and an
uncomfortable, almost queasy sensation from feeling the large stitches in the
muscles of his leg.  He was a bit feverish from the pain and travail of it all,
and the journey since then had certainly not helped his condition any, but
Manebrow was certain that, given proper salves and such from the Krall Gen to
fight the infection that he seemed to have, Jerrig would be fine in time.

Looking ahead of them in the path, Manebrow saw a
number of Border Guard warriors wearing cloaks and hoods over their green and
red clothing standing in two ranks to the side of the path.  Their leader, who
unlike his warriors had thrown back his hood, stood in front of the company on
the path and seemed to be waiting patiently for the group to arrive.

“What do you make of
them
?” Gorgon asked
Manebrow.

“I don’t know, but I am sure we’ll find out
shortly.”

“It seems the Border Guard leader sent them to
escort us,” Durik postulated.

In a few moments, Morigar and Khazak Mail Fist
stopped a few paces in front of the Border Guard contingent leader.  The company
followed suit, glad for a moment to rest and take in the cool forest air.

“Hail, Morigar and warriors of the Kale Gen,” the
Border Guard contingent leader called.  “I am Kethor, leader of the watch.  My
warriors inform me that we have special guests among us this day.”

“Aye,” said Khazak Mail Fist.  “But I’ve never had
an escort before.  Why now?”

“Ahem.” Morigar broke in.  “I believe he means
Lord Karthan’s heirs, my friend.”

“Oh, well, yes.  I guess we do, then,” Khazak
said.

“By your leave, we shall escort you to the great
hall to see Lord Krall,” Kethor spoke with authority.

“Lead on, Kethor,” Morigar stated flatly, and the
procession continued as before, with the hooded Border Guard warriors fanning
out to either side of the company and its leaders.

Several meadows farther down the trail, and more
than a couple of hours after they had entered the forest, the company had
finished passing through the outlands of the Krall Gen. 

They were now approaching the centers of commerce
that sat beside the lake on which was built the great hall of Lord Krall
himself.  Lord Krall had the hall of commerce, larger than the great hall in
size, built to serve as both storehouse for the gen’s goods as well as a
trading floor where the various shepherds, pig masters, ore producers, and such
could trade their wares in bulk with the incoming caravans.

Attached to the side of the hall of commerce were
the quarters of the caravan drivers and kennels for their dogs.  As the Kale
Gen fielded the majority of the caravans among the gens in the area, Lord
Karthan of the Kale Gen had provisioned the caravan drivers’ quarters and the
kennels here in the heart of the Krall Gen with stores of furs, containers with
locks, many of the implements of daily life, and tools to work on damaged
equipment.  This reduced the load the caravans had to carry, allowing them to
carry more goods each trip, as well as ensuring that they rested well when they
arrived and were in the right frame of mind to conduct negotiations.  Many a
caravan driver, both from the Kale Gen as well as the patchwork of traders from
the northern gens, had been thankful for Lord Karthan’s thoughtfulness.

Surrounding the hall of commerce and its attached
quarters was a hodgepodge of shops, mostly consisting of the small stores and
the workshops of the few journeyman-level skilled craft workers that the gen
had.  Their moss-covered roofs and red wood walls blended in well with the
undergrowth of ferns and smaller trees next to the lake.

On Lord Krall’s Lake, the floating houses of the
most skilled and educated sprawled across the water, tethered to the ground by
a few bridges and anchor trunks sunk into the lakebed.  In the center of it
all, and steady as a stone in the midst of the lake, was Lord Krall’s great
wooden hall.

Durik looked from the mountain that cast its
shadow over the entire lake, with its numerous stone entrances and
constructions, to the great hall.  He thought of his own gen, and how different
their living quarters were.  Whereas the Krall Gen lived mostly above ground,
the Kale Gen lived mostly below ground.  Durik’s gen didn’t have to deal with
things such as bad weather, or the cold of winter, or even the heat of summer. 
They did, however, do a lot of digging and reinforcing of stone. 

If nothing else, the entire experience of coming
to the Krall Gen’s home served to build a deeper appreciation in the hearts of
the members of Durik’s Company for their neighbor gen.  Certainly none of them
entered the home of the Krall Gen convinced any longer of their gen’s absolute
superiority over all the other gens in the area.  The Krall Gen had taken
themselves from a much lesser position in years past to an almost equal
position with the Kale Gen, and in some ways a superior position.

Morigar beamed with pride as he talked about the
fruits of the past couple of generations’ labors with Durik.  His father had
striven hard to bring their gen up to its position of wealth and prosperity,
and he was proud of their accomplishments.  The gleam in his eye as he talked
of the new stonecutters’ guild was only enhanced as he pointed to the few
entrances on the facing mountain that had been recently rebuilt in finely
carved stone.  Durik was certainly impressed and, though he’d seen better in
the homes of the council members, he said nothing.

As Morigar explained the renewed emphasis on
skilled labor in the gen, he thumped his chest.  The sound was more like the
sound of ant carapace than flesh.  Durik looked carefully at the overlapping
layers of hardened, boiled leather underneath, acting as an artificial armor. 
Durik had heard about such things in the past, and recently had seen it
firsthand on the orc warriors, but so far his gen had not made the investment
in time and effort to provide such things for their warriors.  The warriors of
his gen fought very light, or at times with just arm shields, and didn’t seem
to like anything that slowed them down.  Durik could see the merit in such
things as armor, however, especially in light of their recent battle in the
heart of the great ant colony.

Looking to either side of his company, Durik
examined the Border Guard warriors.  The jerkins they wore could conceal armor,
but he was pretty certain by the skinny look of some of them that they were not
wearing any.  All of them did carry the standard sword, bow, and quiver of the
Border Guard, though he saw no shields among the few who were near him.  There
were twelve of the warriors altogether, including Kethor, spread out on both
sides of the company; certainly not much, but enough to help the tired company
relax their guard and put their minds at ease.

The warriors in the company were more than happy
to finally arrive at the caravan drivers’ quarters.  They had rarely stopped to
rest, at first because of the threat of ants to their rear, then because of the
anticipation of making it to the end of the march.  The closer they got to the
caravan drivers’ quarters, the faster they seemed to go, until they were almost
jogging as they crested the last hill and came within view of the lake.  Straightening
up their belts and tightening their pack straps, the company marched with some
semblance of pride down toward the hall of commerce on the shore. 

The Border Guard warriors broke off as they
reached the caravan drivers’ quarters and sat in the grass by the side of the
path as they waited for Morigar and Lord Karthan’s heirs to proceed to the
great hall on the lake.  As they broke off, however, their leader was careful
to mention to Durik that it would be best not to bring an armed contingent of
foreign warriors to present the whelps to Lord Krall.

When the members of Durik’s Company reached the
doors to the caravan drivers’ quarters, Manebrow called a halt.  As the company
closed in and began to form ranks by team, Manebrow turned to Durik and asked
if he would give him charge of the warriors while Durik accompanied Khazak Mail
Fist and Lord Karthan’s two sons, Karto and Lat, to see Lord Krall.

Durik nodded.  “Yes, I’m sure you have plenty of
business for the company to attend to.”

Turning back to the company, Manebrow could see
their weariness.  However, Manebrow was not one to allow warriors to rest until
their equipment was properly cared for and stowed.  He quickly dampened their
eagerness to get some sleep by reciting the list of tasks each was to perform
before any rest was to be had. 

Kiria received her tasks like all the rest.  That
she was daughter of the lord of the gen didn’t count in a company.  In a
warrior group like this, the only thing that counted was efficiency and
competency.  Making the maximum effort to fit in with the company, she accepted
the tasking with a nod of agreement and waited for Manebrow’s instructions to
end.

As Manebrow yelled, “Move out,” the warriors of
the group sounded off with a half-hearted yell and broke ranks, each setting
about the list of tasks Manebrow had mentioned.  Gorgon sent Keryak into the
building to stake out quarters for their team while he and Troka moved to help
Tohr and Kahn dismount the wounded and carry them into the building.  In the meantime,
Terrim and Ardan led the packdogs around the side of the quarters to a set of
storage sheds where they could unload their equipment. 

Arbelk and Kabbak both offered to help Kiria with
her equipment, but she declined both offers.  Seeing she was determined to make
it on her own, Arbelk took charge of the two wolves and led them toward the
kennel while Kabbak saw Khazak Mail Fist trying to dismount and moved to help
him.  Khazak had swatted at him and completely refused his help, stating, “I am
not that bad off.”  Taking Durik’s wolf Firepaw after Khazak Mail Fist had
dismounted, Kabbak walked the tired beast slowly toward the kennels after
Arbelk.

Khazak Mail Fist walked over to the steps of the
caravan drivers’ quarters and groaned as he sat down on the steps.  “Tell me
when you’re ready to go, Durik,” he said as Durik shuffled by to stow his gear
inside.  “Oh,” Khazak called out to Kethor.  “Send one of your warriors ahead
to tell Lord Krall that we’ll be arriving shortly, will you?”  Kethor nodded his
head and moved to comply.

Seeing the entire group move to take care of their
various tasks, Kiria walked up the three steps, across the porch and through
the front door of the wooden building known as the caravan drivers’ quarters. 
Her feet were aching worse than they had ever ached in her life, and her pack
had long since succeeded in making her shoulders raw and her arms and neck
numb.  As she walked inside she saw an entryway with a hallway that went off
both to the left and to the right.  Along the hallway on both sides, doors
opened into the hallway. 

Walking the length of the building, Kiria could
see that each door led to a small room where three or four kobolds could lay
out their equipment and furs to sleep on.  Finally, at the end of the hallway
on the left, she found what she had been hoping for, a huge metal bowl, large
enough to fit two or three kobolds in, in the same room as a stone fireplace. 
In the fireplace hung a kettle to heat water and in the corner of the room sat
a pair of large barrels.  Opening the lids of each in anticipation, Kiria’s
hopes were realized as she glanced at her reflection in the still, cool water
they held.

Remembering Manebrow’s instructions, Kiria set her
equipment down in the small room closest to the bathing room and began the slow
walk out to the storage sheds where she’d seen Terrim leading the packdog that
had ended up carrying the equipment she couldn’t carry after Starshine had been
killed.

As she exited the building, Morigar called to her
from where he stood in front of the building.  “Cousin, why don’t you come with
me?  We have quarters fit for a daughter of a lord such as yourself in the
great hall.  We can certainly accommodate you as well as your brothers.”

At first a flutter of hope ran through Kiria’s
heart, and her tail whipped in anticipation.  Then, as quickly as it had come,
Kiria doused it.  No matter how much she would love sleeping in a soft bed and
being treated as the daughter Lord Krall never had, she knew that if she left
now, she would never fully be a part of this company.  When she had made the
vow to serve this company, she didn’t realize all the hardship it would entail,
but no matter what the hardship, Kiria was determined to see it through…
without using her father’s name to get any special treatment.