Into the Heart of Evil (6 page)

At this announcement, the room again instantly
filled with low murmurings of confusion and gasps of astonishment.  Raoros Fang
and the other warrior group leaders seemed stunned; all, that is, except for
Khee-lar Shadow Hand.  Khee-lar sat back with a look of utter happiness on his
face as if he’d just won a bonus prize.  After a moment, Raoros Fang, seeing
that there was consensus among the warrior group leaders, stood.

“My Lord, with all due respect to your daughter,
there has never been a female on any of the quests!  This is without
precedence!  My Lord,” he cried, exasperated, “a female?!”

Lord Karthan bowed his head and raised an open
hand as he stood in front of the assembled leadership of the gen, commanding
silence as he gathered his thoughts.  After a moment, he spoke.  “My fellow
leaders of the gen, whom I hold in the highest regard, please let us hear this
out.”  The low buzz in the room subsided.  Seeing the stir she had caused,
Kiria started to question whether or not she really should have started this
mess.  Feeling for the strength of her resolve within herself again, Kiria
fought the doubts that were rising in her mind.

“Kiria, what have you to say?”

Kiria took a deep breath. “Council members, I am
the one who you seek.  I am the one who compiled the gen’s book of lore on the
Mountain King.  I have studied Palacid extensively.  I have read the same
prophecies gathered by the last Lord Kale as my father has.  I am fluent in
reading the writings of the dwarves and elves, and I both speak and read
Draconic.”

Lord Karthan looked concerned. “Kiria, are you
sure that you want to do this?  Do you understand how great the dangers are
that you would encounter?”

“I do, Father,” she replied.  “In fact, I would
dare say that no one knows them better than I.”  Knowing she had the council’s
attention, Kiria continued, “There is much that is not known in this quest. 
But the prophecies that we’ve read state that the stones of all five of the
major gens will be gathered to Palacid.  If that is where the Kale Stone is to
be found, then this quest that has been given to Durik’s Company is really
two-fold, for in order to enter the great stronghold of Palacid, one must have
the key to the entrance.”  She paused, looking into the skeptical faces of the
council members.  “The last Lord Kale’s journal records that the key to Palacid
is to be found in a dwarven tomb.  If that is true, then it must lie within the
Hall of the Mountain King far to the north of here.  The lore concerning the
Mountain King and his stronghold is as vast as the halls themselves, from the
Dwarven language that only a handful of us can read to the complex traps,
detailed by the most cryptic clues, that guarded their most closely held
treasures.

“And that would be only the first part of the
quest.  It may be that we must enter our ancient home and, if it still
functions, subdue or defeat the guards that The Sorcerer Himself caused to be
placed there, or perhaps to turn them to our cause that we might reclaim the Kale
Stone.”  She paused a moment, considering her words carefully.  Though she and
her father weren’t sure where the Kale Stone was to be found exactly, the fact
that they thought it might be found at Palacid could certainly serve to
strengthen her argument that she should accompany the yearling group.  She
decided to end her words.

Kiria met the council members’ stares as she
finished. “It is to that end, the reclaiming of the Kale Stone, that I pledge
my life.”

There was silence in the hall.  With much anticipation,
all eyes seemed to be on Lord Karthan, to see if he would allow this, or if he
would protect his daughter from what they all saw as her own folly.  Lord
Karthan looked down, then, raising his eyes to the crowd and holding back the
emotion he felt, he said, “I will not stand in her way.”

Kiria had never felt the fervor of her own
decision burn stronger in her heart than now.  Looking into the eyes of the
council members, she spoke her conviction.  “I also believe in the quest that
is laid before us this day.  I do not go for glory, for despite my birth I too
am without caste as are all females in this gen.  I do not go on the bidding of
my father, for he does not wish me to go.  Rather, I go because I believe in
this path that is laid before our gen.  I would go for the greater good of
this, our gen.”

Durik had been as surprised as the rest of the gen
at Kiria’s move… but in his heart he admired her tenacity.  And the confidence
with which she addressed the entire leadership of the gen seemed part of her,
not summoned for this occasion alone.  Yet as he began to think about the two
months of training down in the underdark that they had completed just before
the Trials of Caste, he began to doubt the wisdom of taking along one so
unfamiliar in the ways of warriors as the daughter of Lord Karthan.  And if she
died!  The thought brought both fear of Lord Karthan’s anger and a sharpened
awareness of his own feelings for her.

With a stern look on his face, Raoros Fang calmly
stood, choosing his words carefully and more precisely than he normally would. 
“Lord,” he began, addressing the stand, “I understand that what you’re doing,
you’re doing with the best of intentions.  I concur with your logic, and I
agree that there is a need to send someone with the warrior group who can help
with the lore they’ll likely encounter in these… almost mythical places you’re
sending them,” he said, almost in exasperation.  “However, I believe that by
doing this, you’ve set a dangerous precedence.”  He raised one hand in a sweeping
gesture that encompassed many of the assembled warriors in the hall.  “My Lord,
this task you lay on this group is great.  I believe that too much is expected
of them.  I and my full contingent of troops, heavily armed and mounted on
wolves, would consider it quite the task to do this.  We are mighty warriors
all, most of us proven on the field of battle.  We are a mighty contingent that
fights as one.  This group you’ve formed will have much training to do before
it will fight effectively as a group.  To add to this group one who doesn’t
even know how to protect herself is not wise.  She will only get underfoot when
battle comes!  If one must go to fulfill this requirement, let it be a male who
has trained in the arts of war!”

Lord Karthan considered the impact of Raoros’
words on the rest of the audience for several moments, but shaking his head
slowly, he finally spoke.  “There are no males who have the knowledge this
company needs.  Kiria shall go,” he said simply.  “Durik’s Company now stands
formed.” 

Kiria came forward and took her place at the end
of the line of warriors.  Her slender, feminine form was a stark contrast to
the muscular shapes of the warriors next to her in the line. 

Throughout the hall, some of the elite warriors
accepted the fact that a female was to go on the quest without hesitation. 
Some would eventually come to accept it.  Many of the assembled elite warriors,
however, saw that Lord Karthan had changed their world again, and for seemingly
no good reason.  The old resentment that they’d felt over his ‘improvements’ to
the gen began to rekindle in their hearts.  Through it all, though he kept a
shocked and outraged look on his face, Khee-lar Shadow Hand smiled within
himself.

A
fter
a few moments, Lord Karthan raised his hands to the assembled elite warriors
and council members.  “As is the custom with every year-group, we have laid a
heavy task on their shoulders, one that we must help them accomplish.  To that
end, let us give them the tools they will need to complete their task!”

As if on queue, the Lore Master twitched to life
with a sudden start, grabbing his cane quickly, which was the last quick thing
he did that night.  With considerable effort, the venerable kobold slowly
stood.  “Young Lord Karthan, I have here the Journal of the Quest for Palacid,
as it is to be known from henceforth…”  He stopped to catch his breath before
continuing.  “…to be kept by Durik’s hand only and to be returned to me to be
archived in the annals of this gen upon completion of the quest.” 

No one else would dare to address Lord Karthan as
‘young Lord Karthan,’ but the Lore Master was a relic of another age.  This was
the third generation of Lords of the Gen he had served, and he knew his days
were numbered.  All of this added up to a certain untouchability.

The Lore Master paused, considering the young,
energetic group in front of him with one stern brow raised.  They were
twitching with pent up energy, so impatiently waiting for him to finish. 

“In the front of the journal, I have included some
few things about the Kale Stone, the descriptions of our ancient home as well
as a treatise written by Kiria here about the Hall of the Mountain King.  I
think you’ll find it all useful.”  He paused again to catch his breath. 
“Though I must say that Kiria knows all of this, so protect her and you’ll not
need to study so much.”  Low laughter sounded among the assembled warriors. 
Turning to Kiria, the Lore Master smiled a good-natured smile and slowly sat
down.

Lord Karthan motioned to the council members on
his left.  Seeing that it was their turn, the leader of the Metal Smithies
stood, his fluid motion and speed a stark contrast to that of the Lore Master. 
“In support of the quest, the Metal Smithies, in conjunction with the Trade
Warrior Group, give the following to the yearling—I mean warrior group,” he
corrected himself smoothly.

From the rear of the chamber several kobolds were
gathering equipment and supplies they had prepared for this moment, one of them
was Gorgon’s father Goryon who beamed with pride as his warrior group leader
spoke.  “That they might defend themselves properly, we took the liberty of
putting them ahead of the others in the queue and, instead of forging for them
weapons of iron, we tied up our new forge and the orcish blacksmith we captured
some time ago and forged for them weapons of steel instead.”  There was a low
murmur of approval from the crowd.  “Goryon, please present these new warriors
with their new weapons.” 

On cue, Goryon and four other elite warriors
walked forward, stopping in front of the seven former yearlings.  With a
sheepish smile, he stepped forward to hand Durik a fighting spear that had a
fine steel head with steel coverings that extended far down the shaft from the
blade.  With his other hand, he handed Durik a shining new sword with brand new
leather handle wrappings, complete with a hard wooden sheath.  “Something extra
for the winner of the tournament.”

“Additionally,” the Metal Smithies leader
continued, “to turn spears and arrows in case diplomacy should fail,” the
assembled warriors laughed at this, brushing away the last of the tension in
the room, “we have made for them these stout rectangular shields.”  He pointed
to the tall, metal-banded wooden shields that two of the other elite warriors
with Goryon carried.  With slightly rounded tops and bottoms, iron rimming, and
a large metal knob in the center of each, these were better-constructed shields
the Metal Smithies group had begun to produce for the various warrior groups. 
Goryon grabbed the top shield on the stack and held it up as Durik took it and
slung it over his back.

Goryon took a step and faced his son.  “You don’t
know how proud I am of you, my son,” he said under his breath.  He turned to
grasp the large, two-handed war hammer that he and his son had spent so many
hours of forging, shaping, and hardening to produce.  Down the length of the
thick wooden shaft ran two strips of steel, one on either side with rivets
through the shaft connecting them to each other.  The head of the hammer had
been beaten and shaped into the form of a pair of dragons’ heads back to back
with their mouths wide open, breathing short, thick cones of fire.  “I only
wish your mother could have been alive to see this day.” 

Gorgon gripped the hammer near the head with one
hand and took the shield with the other.  “Thank you, Father,” was all he said,
though he beamed with pride.

Goryon turned again and continued to make his way
down the row.  To Keryak, he gave a fighting spear identical in construction to
the one he’d given Durik.  To Trallik, he gave a pair of fine long knives with
wooden scabbards.  To Arbelk, he gave a sword just like Durik’s, the gleam of
it clear in the red light of the firepots as he looked at it before sheathing
it again.  To Troka, he gave a long, two-handed broadsword, its hilt a wide,
thick bar worthy of a crowbar, much less a sword.  It was a well-built blade,
with softer iron forming much of the blade, but a hard core of steel with
hardened steel lining the edges.

Finally reaching the last of the new warriors, he
handed Jerrig a long knife with scabbard and a pair of the finest-made javelins
Jerrig had ever seen.  Goryon nodded to Kiria at the end of the line as he
stepped aside and waited.  As he walked from kobold to kobold, another elite
warrior came behind him and handed shields to the new warriors.  Their task
done, Goryon and the other four elite warriors from the Metal Smithies Warrior
Group returned to the rear of the chamber.  If the giving were a competition,
the Metal Smithies had certainly made quite a show of it.

Khee-lar Shadow Hand, leader of the Deep Guard and
almost certainly complicit in the insurrection earlier that day, was the next
to stand.  “Well, apart from the two warriors I’m giving you,” he waved a hand
at Tohr and Kahn, “we’ve managed to put together some of our meager means to
come up with these…”  He turned his head to look at four elite warriors from
the Deep Guard who were entering with arms full of large boar-hide bags.  

Standing next to Lord Karthan, Khazak Mail Fist’s
eyes narrowed as he saw the broadswords over their backs and long knives at
their sides.  He had no reason to trust Khee-lar Shadow Hand, and every reason
to distrust him—and that extended to his inner circle of elite warriors. 
Frowning, he put his hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case. 

As the four elite warriors reached the front of
the chamber, each of them put their burdens down in front of the Lord’s stand. 
Though they didn’t notice, Khazak almost drew his sword when one of the four
seemed to go for the sword at his back.  He relaxed only a bit when it turned
out the warrior was only scratching an itch.

As the first elite warrior opened his bag,
Khee-lar spoke again.  “Strength of arms is, of course, an important part of a
warrior’s life.  However, one’s skills can often be the difference between
success and failure.”  Khee-lar Shadow Hand scanned the assembled audience. 
“To that end, we will provide the adventuring group with the best tool kits
this gen can offer.  Bring out the kits!”

At his command, the first Deep Guard elite warrior
brought out four small boar skin wraps.  Untying the first one, he carefully
unrolled it, revealing a fine set of lock, trap, and mechanical tools to the
assembled group.  He gave one each to Arbelk, Trallik, Ardan, and Arloch.

“And to assist them in getting into and out of
places,” Khee-lar continued, “we will provide them this…”

The next Deep Guard elite warrior pulled out
several lengths of the rough hemp rope this gen twisted, spikes, iron rings,
and small hammers, then, placing them all back in, he placed the long kit bag
next to the new warriors’ line.

“Finally, that they may eat, our farmers and
animal keepers have prepared much food stuffs for them.  Enough to last the
fourteen of you some time, I should think.”

The last two Deep Guard elite warriors held up
bags full of mushrooms, dried meats, and packed fungus.  Finally, at the end,
they brought out several boar stomach waterskins.

“Lord Karthan, that is our contribution,” Khee-lar
Shadow Hand concluded, then sat down as the four elite warriors returned to
their places.

One by one, the remaining warrior group leaders
rose and presented their presents to the new warrior group.  From the Trade
Warrior Group, they received four packdogs.  They were large and well muscled,
with intelligent eyes and thick fur of a deep golden color.  Their narrow
flanks, tight stomachs, and shiny white teeth attested to their youth and
conditioning.  On the backs of each was a packsaddle, complete with hooks for
equipment.  All tack was provided, as was a bag each of dried meat and
marrow-rich bones for their feed.

Following the presentation of the packdogs, two
elite warriors from the Trade Warrior Group came in bringing bows and quivers
of arrows.  There was one bow for each of the warriors, both new and old. 
Additionally, they gave each of the warriors a quiver full of straight,
steel-tipped arrows.

From the Patrol Guard Warrior Group, the members
of Durik’s Company each received a backpack full of the gear they would need to
survive in the wild and in the ancient places they were tasked to explore. 
Even Kiria, who had only now been added, received one.  Additionally, the
Patrol Guard provided the entire group with long knives and small hatchets,
strapped to the outside of their backpacks.  It was obvious to all that Kiria’s
pack had only recently been assembled, as the straps were hastily fastened and
the elite warrior who carried it had the harried look of one who had run far
and fast very recently. 

When it was the Wolf Riders Warrior Group’s turn,
Raoros Fang was not about to be outdone.  From the entrance to the hall four
elite warriors entered, leading great black wolves, complete with saddles and
tack.  It was obvious from the sweat on one of the kobolds, and the wolf he
led, that the last one had been very recently fetched.  They were relatively
young wolves, recently released from the annual training cycle of the Wolf
Riders.  The first of them, and the largest, standing as high at the shoulder
as Durik’s shoulder and weighing more than four times as much as Durik, was an
animal Durik recognized from his time as an apprentice animal handler. 

Unlike the others, who fretted nervously in the
presence of so many kobolds and so much noise, this wolf not only held his tail
high, but also seemed confident in his role as the prime wolf of the four. 
Firepaw was his name, both because of the red sheen the setting sun revealed in
his jet-black fur and because of his exceptional speed.  He was a noble beast
if ever Durik had seen one. 

Durik now understood the sacrifice Raoros Fang had
made, for Firepaw was going to be Raoros’ new mount.  In a moment, Durik caught
Raoros’ eye.  The message of thanks that shone in Durik’s eyes was clear.  For
his part, Raoros looked frustrated, as if someone had disobeyed an order. 
Durik quickly looked away.

Firepaw was given to Durik, the next two wolves to
Manebrow and Gorgon, and the recent addition was given to Kiria.  As Durik took
hold of Firepaw’s reins, Firepaw licked him on the nose and neck, nipping at
his pointed ears.  Durik rubbed the fur of his neck and snout, talking softly
to his new mount.  The old bond that Durik had formed with these wolves came
back to him and to the wolves as they met again in the council hall. 
Remembering the scent of one who had spent long days carefully and lovingly
training him, Firepaw bowed his head in obeisance and nuzzled against Durik’s
shoulder.

Once the wolves and their new masters were briefly
acquainted or reacquainted, Raoros Fang beckoned to one of his elite warriors,
who fetched the sheep skin scroll that he was holding in his hand and handed it
to Durik.  “Durik, this map that I give you details the southern valley in
which we live.  Should you have to go there, it shows the part of the northern
valley you will have to travel through in order to get to the Hall of the
Mountain King.  Also shown is the route that my wolf outriders have used in the
past.”  Durik accepted it with thanks, eager to study it at the first
opportunity.

The Honor Guard Warrior Group, last but certainly
not least, brought forth what appeared to be several wolf hides from the wolves
of the type the Bloodhand Orc Tribe usually employed as guard animals.  As the
two elite warriors held them up, the careful stitching and padded cloth lining
from the extensive tailoring job that the Honor Guard had done to them could be
seen.