The Game of Fates (28 page)

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Authors: Joel Babbitt

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Young Adult

BOOK: The Game of Fates
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Motioning
for Keryak to stay and keep watch, Ardan moved back to the rest of the party
and explained the situation.  Durik quickly concurred that they should risk
moving down the other passage, using the heat-blindness the candles brought to
hide them.

In
a few moments Ardan moved around the empty doorway into the small chamber,
hugging the wall and moving down the right passage to where it made a left
turn.  He peered around the corner then moved around it quietly.  One by one,
the rest of the party followed suit.

Again
in total darkness, the kobolds could see that around the corner were a few
empty doorways, a couple of passageways breaking off to either side, and a
javelin’s throw to the front was what appeared to be a common chamber, a place
where the dwarves of old must have gathered to talk, to conduct trades, to
stage mining or scouting parties—and to draw water from its pair of wells. 

 

 

As
Durik saw the wells, he remembered Lady Karaba’s words to them on parting, that
the Kale Stone was to be found in a treasure chamber down an old abandoned
well.  His heart was burning within him, urging him onward and confirming that
his actions were in line with the will of the strange and wondrous being
Morgra, whom he now served. 

Catching
Ardan’s eye, Durik motioned for the party to move forward to the common chamber
with its pair of wells.  Ardan nodded and the party moved forward, looking in
each room and down each passage along the way to ensure that no one was present
to raise the alarm.

As
Durik and his companions walked down the few short steps into the common
chamber, the source of the smoke scent they had smelled became utterly clear;
the walls and ceiling of this chamber had been recently blackened by fire, the
blast itself having seemingly focused itself directly above the closer of the
two wells.  The blast seemed to have had no affect on the wells, however.  The
sturdy dwarven construction had left the stone sides of the wells intact.  As
Durik moved closer he could see two lengths of rope still tied around the low
circular stone wall that formed the lip of the well.  The parts of the ropes
that hung down into the well over the lip of stone were slightly singed, but
overall still usable.  Peering down into the cold darkness of the well, Durik
could see that the two ropes had once been a rope ladder, but some powerful
force had sheered the wooden steps free from one of the two ropes, incinerating
much of one of the ropes as well.  Durik gathered the team together.

“As
we were leaving the Krall Gen, Lady Karaba told me the Kale Stone was down a
well.  I think this might be it,” he whispered to the huddled group.

“Right,”
Manebrow nodded, then looked at Keryak.  “Get your rope out, Keryak, you’re
going down first.”

“Me?”
he gasped, then not wanting to appear cowardly, he continued.  “Of course.  I’m
probably the best climber here.”  It wasn’t true, as both Durik and Gorgon had
proved in the past, but no one disputed Keryak’s claim.

“Come
on, in the past someone would have called my bluff!” Keryak remarked.

No
one said anything.

“Alright,
I get it.  Let the condemned kobold have his delusions,” Keryak said,
half-jokingly.

Durik
couldn’t help but smile at his friend of so many years.  “If it makes it any
better, you might want to know that the Kale Stone is in a
treasure chamber
at the bottom of a well.”

Keryak’s
pursed lips and sidelong glance told the whole story.  “Sure, that makes it all
better,” he said sarcastically.  “Fat lot of good wealth will do me if I’m
dead.”

“Just
get going, will you?” Gorgon prodded.  “And cut the chatter, Keryak.  Our best
weapon here is stealth.”

Within
moments Keryak’s rope was out and tied around the lip of the well, just below
and separate from the ropes holding the remains of the shattered rope ladder in
place. 

As
he swung one leg over the edge, Keryak turned and looked Durik in the eyes.

“If
I die on this mission, you better tell Darya I died fighting some dragon or
ogre or something.  Don’t put ‘slipped and fell down well, breaking neck’ on my
remembrance stick.”

Durik
smiled.  “Alright, Keryak.  Enough of this talk of dying, just get going. 
You’ll be fine.”  It seemed like his little sister Darya was a world away, and
the thought of the love that she and Keryak shared only made him worry more
about how he was going to break the news about the state of their gen to his
companions.  For now he put it out of his mind. 
Must focus
, he told
himself until he’d regained control of his thoughts.

As
Gorgon watched the rope, Keryak descended into the inky blackness of the well,
the brightness of his warm, unarmored figure leaving gray spots of warmth on
the well’s walls and on the rope as he slid hand over hand into the cool
darkness.  Soon, Keryak was dangling a javelin’s throw beneath the rest of his
party below the bottom lip of the well.  He could barely make out several dark
shapes in the blackness around him.  He could see nothing warm, however, which
belayed most of his fears.

As
his feet touched the ground of the treasure chamber, he felt something round on
the ground.  Reaching down he discovered it was a partially used candle. 
Keryak took flint and steel from a pouch and struck it to light the candle.

As
the inky blackness of the cold room was chased away by the gentle, warm glow of
the candle, deep shadows hid the corners of the room, but the sparkle from the
myriad of coins, gems, and jewelry lit the small room like a thousand
glittering fireflies.  Keryak gasped audibly, standing still for several
moments, as if moving would make it all disappear.

It
was no illusion, however, and after a glob of hot melted wax brought him back
to reality, he moved to look up the well, giving the ‘all clear’ signal and
motioning for the others to come down.  Having knotted Ardan’s rope, the
descent for Durik and Ardan was quicker.  The small party didn’t want to be
caught in a trap, so they left Manebrow, Kiria, Gorgon and Jerrig waiting up
the well.

Walking
the perimeter of the chamber, Keryak could see that he’d come down in the
middle of an octagonal room no more than ten or twelve steps in diameter.  The
walls and floor were clearly of ancient dwarven construction, with statues
placed in small alcoves in four of the walls.  A large stone arch dominated one
of the four unadorned walls, the stone slab that sealed it off was clearly a
door with its massive stone hinges and a stone handle set in the middle of it.

The
contents of the room, however, were much more impressive than the room itself. 
The splendor of the treasure accumulated over the centuries by the dwarves,
various bandit lords, orc chieftains, and outcasts was startling.  The various
chests and barrels placed around the room were clearly inadequate to hold it
all, as masses of metal coins, gems, jewelry, and ornate items seemed to have
spilled out all over the floor.

As
first Ardan then Durik set foot in the treasure chamber, their eyes were filled
with the wonder of it all as well.  Ardan was a simple kobold who had never
concerned himself with wealth, but he knew the possibilities it could bring. 
Durik, on the other hand, stood with a look of confusion on his face.

“Where’s
the stone?” he whispered.  His reminder of why they were there brought the
other two out of their imaginings.  “It’s not here.”

Keryak
looked over at his long-time friend and now leader.  “What do you mean?  Let’s
get to digging through the piles.  It could be in any one of them.”

Durik
shook his head slightly.  “No.  It’s not in here.  I can feel it.  It’s calling
to me from…” he turned to face in the direction of the rather thick stone door
that was set in one wall.  “It says it’s being held captive behind that door.”

Keryak
and Ardan looked at each other.

“What
sort of a thing holds a stone of power captive?” Keryak asked, quieter than
before.

Durik
shook his head slowly as he searched his feelings.  “I don’t know, but whatever
it is, it has great power.”

Keryak
wished he’d not left his spear up the well. 
At least Ardan and Durik have
their weapons
he thought to himself as he began to look around the room for
something better than his belt knife.  Ardan drew his bow and an arrow from
over his back while Durik drew the gold-hilted steel sword Lord Krall gave
him.  No further warning was necessary.

Keryak’s
eyes caught sight of a short fighting spear whose haft and blade were made of a
fine steel that, though it appeared old, had somehow not become corrupted with
rust.  The long blade had several runes written upon it, with several more
running the length of the steel rod that was its shaft.  As he picked it up,
Keryak was surprised to feel how light it was.  Though it felt solid in his
hand, it weighed no more than the light wooden javelins his gen used.  Holding
it up in a guard stance, Keryak moved up to stand with Durik and Ardan.

“So
what do we do now?” Keryak asked quietly, the sweat was beginning to bead on
his forehead, despite the coolness of the treasure chamber.

Durik
leaned over to Ardan.  “Signal for Manebrow to send down Gorgon and Jerrig. 
Whatever it is, I think we’ll need more help.”

Ardan
nodded worriedly.  “Aye,” he whispered as he moved to comply.

“I
sense great power, not just in that room, but welling up within me,” Durik
said, his voice rising from a whisper momentarily, startling both Keryak and
Ardan.  Looking at him in wonder, Keryak took a step back. 

Suddenly,
as Durik stiffened, a brilliant light appeared around him, seemingly emanating
from every scale of his body.  In a moment his eyes were full of power and
strength as he raised his sword against some unknown foe on the other side of
the door.  As he extended his sword, the cold of the room seemed to gather into
it, jagged wisps of frost seeming to collect in the shadows only to fly with
increasing speed until they were absorbed into the utter cold of his blade.

Keryak
and Ardan stared at Durik in wonder.  Then, with an equal suddenness, the door
at the far end of the room flew open, smashing into a chest of coins and
knocking a couple of silver statuettes to the ground.  Standing in the doorway
two large orcs loomed over the much shorter kobolds, covering their eyes from
the sudden brightness.  Their wicked-looking scimitars and cold metal armor
gleamed darkly in the light that emanated from Durik.

Neither
Ardan nor Keryak could see well.  The brilliance of the light emanating from
Durik and reflecting off the thousands of jewels and coins lit the small
chamber with a brightness that was surreal.  Standing back from Durik, Ardan
squinted and aimed at the nearest orc.  He released the bowstring and the arrow
flew straight and true, striking the orc in the neck.  Screaming in agony, the
orc thrashed about with his scimitar, smashing open his own companion’s head in
his agony as blood spurted from his severed artery.

At
the exact same moment that the two orcs went down in a heap in the doorway, a
chanting voice which they had all but ignored reached a crescendo and a deep
red mass of fire blasted toward the three kobolds from the room beyond the open
door.  Keryak and Ardan both held up their arms to shield themselves from the
fireball.

Standing
erect and staring straight at the orc shaman in the far room, Durik ignored the
ball of fire as it detonated on the shield of his faith, melting much of the
soft metal in front of him and leaving himself and his companions untouched.

Pulling
his sword back, Durik lowered his horns and rushed toward the fire shaman.

 

>> <<

 

Muttering
words of power, Manechar Shaman of Fire brought up a wall of fire between
himself and the strange, shining kobold and his cold sword.  Though he’d
initially thought the robbers were the same kobolds he’d chased away earlier,
that misperception had been quickly dispelled.

He
had not expected to encounter such a powerful magic user, elsewise he’d not
have sent his bumbling guards to their doom.  This little kobold’s magic was
strange, though.  It burned with a holy fire that assaulted his dark venal
heart.  The purity of it burned his consciousness, seeming to melt his unholy
soul like the fragile frost of morning before the rising sun.  Manechar’s sole
thought turned quickly from destroying the little kobold to fleeing from the
overwhelming power of this being of light.

As
if the power of the little kobold weren’t enough, suddenly the stone he’d taken
from the idiot Skunk earlier, the Kale Stone, assaulted his consciousness as
well.  The overwhelming power that emanated from the little kobold, mixed with
the vengeful power of the Kale Stone flanking him, drove Manechar to despair.

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