Into the Heart of Evil (42 page)

Durik looked straight ahead, a look of concern and
unresolved conflict on his otherwise smiling face.  “Well, perhaps all he said
about Kamuril is a lie as well.”

Lady Karaba stopped cold.  Durik noticed the
sudden change in her demeanor and stopped as well, suddenly uncomfortable. 
After the members of Durik’s Company passed by, Lady Karaba spoke.  “What do you
know of Kamuril, young Durik?” she asked probingly. 

Durik didn’t know whether to confide in Lady
Karaba or not, but he knew he had to confide in someone if he was going to
discover the source of his confusion.  “I… have had visions,” he started slowly. 
“They started just a few days ago, before the Trials of Caste.  In them, I see
a bridge that, though I’ve never seen it, I know is the bridge over the Chop. 
In one of these visions I heard… no, I felt the word ‘Kamuril’.  Then, when I
met Mynar in the storerooms, he mentioned Kamuril, and he said that the power
of Kamuril was given to me by a guardian, and he called me the rightful lord of
the Kale Gen.  What does this mean?”  When he finished, Durik realized he’d
said much more than he had meant to say, especially to the sister of the
current lord of the Kale Gen.

Karaba maintained her composure as Durik talked. 
Though she had been there during the final exchange between himself and Mynar,
Durik could detect that she had wanted to avoid this subject.  From in front of
the two of them, Khazak Mail Fist and Manebrow came walking up, wondering what
was keeping the young leader and Lady of the Krall Gen behind the rest of the
procession.  “Is this the quest that my brother sent you to complete, then,
Durik, to find the Kale Stone?” Lady Karaba asked.

Durik nodded his acknowledgement of the quest,
though Khazak had yet to decide whether he and his company would be allowed to
continue the quest or not.  “But what does this Kamuril have to do with the
quest to find the Kale Stone?”

“Kamuril
is
the Kale Stone.  All the stones
of power have a name.  As Matakar is the name of the Krall Stone, so Kamuril is
the name of the Kale Stone,” Lady Karaba said then continued, almost musing to
herself as she turned to walk toward the great hall on the lake with the other
three in tow.  “I thought it strange that veteran warriors would be assigned to
a yearling group… and that a leader caste would be chosen from among the
yearlings.”

Khazak and Manebrow looked at each other, unsure
of why the two were discussing this.

“But why would it be… feeling after me?” Durik
asked in bewilderment.

Lady Karaba smiled, as if remembering a pleasant
memory.  “These visions you say you’ve had, do you sense a powerful presence
when they occur?” she asked, gaining a fire in her eyes as she talked of it.

“Well… yes, my lady,” Durik answered.

“Has it given you power to heal or harm?” she
continued.

“Never to harm, my lady,” Durik said quickly. 
“But with its power I healed Manebrow’s shattered leg in the forest two nights
ago now.”

Lady Karaba nodded.  “Then I have one final
question for you.  Has it asked if you would give yourself to its service?”

The question was so accurate, and so piercing. 
Durik nodded his head slowly, remembering all too well how his life had been
laid bare before the power that he now knew was Kamuril, the Kale Stone. 
Remembering the acceptance he had felt before the power had asked him to give
himself to it completely, Durik raised his eyes again to look at Lady Karaba.

Khazak Mail Fist, silent until now, broke into the
conversation.  “What is this I’m hearing?  Are you saying that the Kale Stone
is calling after Durik here?”  He looked at Durik. “It’s giving you powers and
visions?”

Durik nodded as Lady Karaba stopped again and
turned to look at Khazak.  “It is the way of things.  You may not have realized
it, Khazak, but the Kale Stone has a mind and a will of its own.”  The next
words she said pierced Durik through as surely and powerfully as anything ever
had.

“As surely as the Krall Stone has chosen me to be
its Oracle, so it appears that the Kale Stone has chosen young Durik to be the
Oracle of the Kale Stone.”

No one spoke for several moments as each of the
three warrior leaders struggled to either try to believe it, or come to grips
with what this might mean.

Manebrow was the first of the three warriors to
speak.  “My lady,” he started, almost tentatively, “what will the Kale Stone
want of its Oracle?”  He cared deeply for his leader, and was afraid that this
would lead to tasks too great for one so young.

“Well, to bring it home to the Kale Gen to start. 
But its greater purposes will be revealed by the stone itself,” she answered. 
“In the many years I have served as the Oracle of the Krall Stone, much has
been given me to know, and therefore to do.  I have learned that whenever
Matakar speaks to me, I must act.  I learned that lesson yet again a few years
ago when the Krall Stone was stolen from me.  I was forewarned by the stone,
but chose to not heed the warning in a timely fashion.  As such, Mynar was able
to acquire the stone and use it for his purposes, keeping its power captive as
he bent it to his will.”

“So what has it asked you to do, young Durik?”
Khazak Mail Fist cut to the chase.  He seemed to be only half believing.

Durik hesitated.  Knowing he couldn’t unsay what
had been said, he spoke.  “In the visions, I’ve been shown a bridge.  It has
demons carved in stone, with a small building on one side of it.  It has been
given me to know that the Kale Stone rests below Demon’s Bridge.  Though I’ve
never been there, the impression of that place is burned deep into my
consciousness.”

“If it is calling to you, young Durik,” Lady
Karaba said, “you should go to it.”

Durik nodded, his emotions uncomfortably bare in the
company of hardened warriors.  “I agree.”  After a moment’s hesitation, he
continued,  “I don’t know for what purpose it has been calling me, but I feel
that I should continue my quest.”

Khazak struggled internally.  Slowly, as he chewed
his lip, he gave up his unbelief.  Putting his hands on his hips, he looked
down and shook his head.  “Well, I suppose that if the Kale Stone is calling to
you, you should go after it.”

Durik nodded.  “Perhaps in time its purposes will
be revealed.”

Lady Karaba nodded and smiled at Durik.  “That
they will, young Oracle of the Kale Gen.”

Arriving at the front doors of the great hall,
Durik could see that the stewards of the house had wasted no time.  Already a
number of carpenters were about the tasks of repairing the various doors and
furniture that had been smashed during the melee the evening before.  The house
guard was out in full force as well, a precautionary measure that would last
until the rest of the conspirators were rounded up and executed.

Durik, Manebrow, Khazak and Lady Karaba stopped
just outside the front doors of the great hall as a number of carpenters,
escorted by a pair of household guards, exited with planks over their shoulders
that were stained with much blood and had obviously been taken up from the
floor of the great room.  Continuing on into the great room, Durik and his
company were greeted by one of Lord Krall’s stewards, who led them past the
holes in the floor and past the many tables that were now filling up, directing
them to take seats around the pair of tables that sat closest to the front of
the room.  Lady Karaba seated herself on the dais where Lord Krall and their
sons were already seated.  Krall smiled in his father’s presence while Morigar
had obviously been chastened. 

One of the stewards of the household stood off to
the side holding a silver tray covered with a delicate cloth.  As the last of
the spectators seated themselves, Lord Krall stood and held up a hand. 
Presently the room fell silent.  Seating himself again, Lady Karaba now stood
and addressed the assembly.

“Friends from our sister gen,” she began,
addressing the assembled kobolds from the Kale Gen, “and leaders of this gen. 
I know of no instance recorded in the history of the Krall Gen where warriors
from another gen have saved the life of a lord or lady of this gen.  Though our
two gens have been close for some time now,” she said, looking at Durik and his
company, “your brave actions of last evening have served further to deepen and
strengthen the ties that bind us.”

Around the room many of the assembly pounded the
tables or heartily voiced their agreement.  As the noise quieted down, Lady
Karaba continued.

“As Lady of the Krall Gen, I have the pleasure of
bestowing awards of bravery on those whose deeds merit such.”  She paused in
her speech as the steward who was holding the silver tray stepped forward. 
“Durik of the Kale Gen, would you please bring those who helped in yesterday’s
insurrection forward?” 

Lady Karaba stepped down from the dais, followed
by the steward, and gestured for the assembling warriors to face toward the
audience as she took the cloth off of the silver tray.  On the tray were
several golden items.  Entirely too curious for his own good, Keryak got a good
enough look to figure out that what he thought were golden disks at first were
actually belt buckles of sturdy iron covered with a disk of pure gold stamped
with the symbol of Lord Krall on them; a great tree like those of his forest.

Once they were all lined up, she continued,  “Not
in the collective memory of the leadership of the Krall Gen has such an award
been given to anyone outside our gen.  But not in our recent history have any
done so much for us as you have.  Please accept these tokens of bravery as our
thanks for your actions.”

Holding up the first of the awards for all to see,
Lady Karaba placed it into Durik’s outstretched hand.  After placing her hand
over Durik’s heart in a gesture of affection, Lady Karaba moved down the line,
bestowing a token of bravery in turn upon Gorgon, Keryak, Troka, Jerrig,
Arbelk, Manebrow, Ardan, Tohr, Kahn, and Terrim.  Seeing Kiria at the very end
of the line, she stopped, hesitating as if she didn’t know quite what to do.

“I want one,” Kiria whispered, almost poutingly.

Taking another of the golden belt buckles in hand,
Lady Karaba gave it to Kiria.  “We’ve never given one to a female,” she
whispered back.  “Congratulations, my dear little niece.”  Lady Karaba put her
hand on Kiria’s cheek.  “You’re not so little any more, are you?” she said,
before ascending again to the dais.

Lord Krall now stood up and, taking a gleaming,
golden-hilted sword in hand, he moved up in front of the assembled warriors. 
He looked Durik in the eye, and in a low, gravelly voice he stated rather
matter-of-factly, “You’ve done a wonderful thing here, now don’t let it go to
your head.”

Durik smiled a meek smile.  “I won’t, sire.”

“Good, son, now go ahead and seat your warriors,
but I want you to remain up here for a few moments longer,” Lord Krall said as
he patted Durik on the shoulders.

Durik nodded to the assembled members of his
company and they moved back to the tables where they had been seated, each
examining their new prizes.  Lord Krall motioned for Khazak Mail Fist to come
forward now and join Durik.

“You Kale Gen warriors may not have known that it
is our tradition for the Lady of the Gen to give tokens for demonstrated
bravery,” he said to the seated members of Durik’s Company.  “In the Krall Gen,
however, it is the Lord of the Gen’s pleasure to give tokens and gifts for
deeds performed in our service.  I give gifts of achievement!”

Turning to the rest of the audience, he continued,
“Many of you may not have heard where Mynar was when he met his end,” he
began.  Pointing back toward his personal chambers, Lord Krall raised his
voice.  “He was in my personal chambers, where my life-mate and I were caring
for our son Krall as he lay bleeding.  Through some sorcerous magic, he had
taken upon himself the visage of our son Morigar, who at that moment lay dying
in the storerooms of this great hall.  This warrior,” he said, pointing now at
Durik, “saw through his disguise and killed Mynar the traitor as he was in the
act of drawing his sword to kill myself and my family.”

Lord Krall turned now to Durik.  “For the act of
personally saving my life and the lives of my life-mate and eldest son, I will
be forever grateful.”  Turning back to the crowd, he drew the sword forth from
the scabbard.  It was a sword of the finest steel that the Kale Gen craftsmen
had turned out, though much work had obviously been done on it by one of the
few precious metal workers here in the Krall Gen.  The hilt and pommel ball
were garnished with gold.  Intertwining leaves and branches of silver and gold
and a line of small red garnet gems had been traced down the length of the
highly polished blade.  The scabbard was covered with fine, velvety doe
leather, and the cap and mouth of the scabbard had been gilded with the finest
gold and silver in patterns reminiscent of the tree branches and leaves of the great
forest were etched throughout it.