The Game of Fates (50 page)

“Well,
what have you to say for yourselves?” Lord Sennak’s bitter voice cut through
the two warrior leaders, causing them to wince as surely as if they’d been
whipped.

“My
lord,” Mirrik began, his eyes to the floor.

Hemmet
shook his head and, grabbing Mirrik by the arm, he stood up in front of Lord
Sennak.  “My lord,” Hemmet spoke with confidence and the beginnings of
conviction.

Their
impertinence in his presence did not go unnoticed by Lord Sennak.

“Bow
yourselves before me, you fools!” Lord Sennak screamed at them.

Hemmet
did not flinch.  Seeing his example, and the example of the Kale Gen warriors
behind him, Mirrik stood a little straighter as well.

“My
lord, this day two warnings of what is to befall our gen were brought before
you.  We all felt the power of the words spoken by these, our brethren from the
Kale Gen,” Hemmet said, indicating Durik and his party, “as well as the power
of the words spoken by the outcast Kale.”

“How
dare you address me, you… you fool!” Lord Sennak’s patience was gone. 
“Guards!  Seize this group, traitors all!  Bow them before me and take their
heads off right now!”

Durik
stepped forward, in his hands was the Kale Stone, and it shone suddenly with a
brilliant light that instantly took the chamber from the pitch darkness of the
underdark to the brilliant light of noon day.

Once
his eyes adjusted, Hemmet could see that the sudden brilliance had stunned the
crowd of guards into inaction.

“My
lord,” Hemmet continued, unperturbed.  “Today these two warnings were brought
to you, that our gen might be saved from what is surely to come.  Will you not
heed the warnings that were brought to you, that you might save our gen?”

Lord
Sennak screeched in anger.  “How dare you bring this sorcerer before me!”

“Sire,”
Hemmet pleaded with his lord, “this is Durik, Paladin of Morgra.  In his hand
he holds the stone of our heritage; the Kale Stone.”  Even as he spoke the
words, all the kobolds in the chamber could feel the power of the stone and all
of them except Lord Sennak and his four remaining warrior leaders had begun to
kneel, feeling the overwhelming, yet unspoken power of the stone.

“Tricks! 
A trap to try to take my throne from me!  Usurpers all!  You will die for your
impertinence this day!” Lord Sennak screamed.  With that, he stood up from his
throne, drew his sword and came at Hemmet who was looking around the room,
amazed at the effect the stone was having on those gathered in the throne room.

As
Lord Sennak approached Hemmet, Durik stepped forward and held up his hand.  “By
Morgra’s holy might, I rebuke you!” he commanded the crazed lord of the Deep
Gen.

It
was as if a wave of power flew from Durik’s outstretched hand as all sound in
the room ceased.  The wave of force slammed into Lord Sennak, stopping him
short of Hemmet and knocking the drawn sword from his nerveless grasp.  Like a
tapestry that’s suddenly been cut loose from the wall, Lord Sennak crumpled to
the ground and all strength left him.

It
seemed as if the spell had been broken with that action, and suddenly all eyes
in the room were on Durik.

Durik
brought the Kale Stone down to chest level and looked at the four remaining
warrior leaders who stood looking in horror at what had just occurred.

“My
brothers,” he said to them.  “The giant ants are approaching these halls even
now.  They will overrun you and they will tear the flesh from your bones even
as you fall screaming in their midst.  They will show you no mercy, only pain
and death.  They will do the same to your females and your whelps.  They will
spare no one.  This is the warning I was sent to give you.  Whether you choose
to believe it or not is your choice.

“But
now you have a choice to make.  By the command of The Sorcerer through the Kale
Stone, the Deep Gen is no more.  Will you take your warriors and their families
back to our ancestral home and reunite yourselves with the Kale Gen, or will
you deny the power of The Sorcerer and His right to guide our race?  The choice
is yours.  But remember that the fate of many lies in your hands.”

Hemmet
and Mirrik stood forward.

“I
will lead my warrior group to our ancestral home,” Hemmet said.

“As
will I,” Mirrik pledged.

Lord
Sennak’s son gathered his unconscious father into his arms, then stood and
carried him away into the side chambers.  There was no expression at all on his
face.

Slowly,
one by one, the remaining three warrior leaders each half-heartedly agreed to
lead their warrior groups to the Kale Gen’s home caverns.  It was obvious that
this was too much for each of them to accept so quickly.

In
his heart, Durik hoped that the truth of their situation would quickly settle
in their hearts and that they would respond… before it was too late.

T
rallik’s hands were trembling as
he fumbled with the keys.  It seemed as if every clink or clank resounded
through the prison area down the hall and straight into the ears of the watch
two rooms beyond the row of prison cells.  His nerves were at the point of
busting, and it was all he could do to not scream out with all the tension.

“Who’s
there?” Khazak Mail Fist asked from inside the cell.  The sound was weak
compared to his normal, booming, jovial self, and Trallik wondered if he wasn’t
weakened beyond usefulness for this task.

“Sire,
please be quiet,” Trallik whispered.  “I’ll have you out of there in just a
moment.”  He continued fumbling with keys until eventually one fit.  The
tumblers took some time to turn, however, as the lock was rusty, and it
screeched as the key slowly turned in it.  Trallik almost wetted his loin cloth
at the tension of it all. 

Finally,
with a click, the door started.  Trallik opened it up slowly on its rusty
hinges until, with a strong waft of sewage smell, he was standing face to face
with Khazak.

“Why
have you freed me, Trallik?” Khazak asked the much younger kobold.

Trallik
hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say.  Really, he wanted Trikki
back, and that was about the extent of why he’d done it.  But yet he had seen
the evil that had seized his gen in the past couple of weeks, and in his heart
he knew that a gen with Khee-lar Shadow Hand at its head was probably not a
place he wanted to live.

“Sire…”
Trallik hesitated.  “Sire, I cannot faithfully serve Khee-lar.  I know that I
was exiled by Durik for trying to kill you and Lord Karthan’s sons, but even
then I could not do Khee-lar’s will.  I know that now.  I have seen his evil
reflected in the eyes of those who serve him, and finally in his latest act.”

“What
has he done now, son?” Khazak Mail Fist asked in something of a detached tone.

Trallik
swallowed and continued.  “Sire, he has taken my lifemate to be his concubine. 
Her name is Trikki, and she came from the outcasts that live below us, though
her mother is a descendant of our gen.”

Khazak
considered the miserable young warrior while he spoke.

“Sire,”
Trallik continued, “I thought if I freed you that, perhaps, we can free her and
together we can escape this gen and Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s evil.  I have enough
wealth from our adventures that all of us can live comfortably among the
northern gens, or among the Kralls,” he offered.

Khazak
held up his hand to stop the young warrior.  He could see tears forming in
Trallik’s eyes, and he didn’t want the young warrior to start babbling and
blubbering at him.

“You
have done well to set me free, young Trallik,” Khazak reassured him.  “And we
will find your lifemate.  But we are not going to escape to any other place. 
No, we will not leave the kobolds of this gen in the hands of one who would
destroy the justice and the rights that the Karthan line has spent generations
building.  You, Trallik, are going to help me to overthrow Khee-lar Shadow
Hand’s rule.”

Trallik’s
eyes got wide with fear.  “How do you think we could do that?”

Khazak
shook his head.  “You do not yet understand our people, do you Trallik?  There
are many good kobolds here in this gen.  Most of them would not stand up
against Khee-lar and his lackeys on their own, but they’ll follow one who
stands against him and will be glad to be led against him and his followers.”

Trallik
was stunned.  He’d certainly let the genie out of the bottle, and there was
nothing he could do about it.

“Tell
me, what news of Lord Karthan and those loyal to him?  Is he dead or has he
fled?”

Trallik
didn’t know how to answer.  “I’ve no news, sire.  I only returned late last
night.”

Khazak
thought for a second.  “Well, then, let’s get weapons and free the prisoners in
the rest of these cells.  I’m sure they will be happy to join our cause.”

Lord
Karthan stood looking down into the sunken meadow that served as the
entranceway to his gen’s home caverns.  Directly below him two guards from the
Deep Guard Warrior Group sat against one wall of the sunken meadow, warming
themselves in the light of the noon sun.  It had been a cool morning, overcast
with clouds, and the cold seemed to cling especially long in the entrance area.

Looking
across the meadow at Drok, who held a bow ready to fire, he held up a hand to
hold off the shot he and five of his warriors were about to take.

“My
fellow Kale Gen warriors,” Lord Karthan called down to them.  The two guards
stood up, grabbed their spears, and whirled around, surprised to see Lord
Karthan standing directly above them. 

“What
do you want?  Why are you here?” the elite warrior of the two asked.

“I’ve
come to reclaim the gen.  Now, tell me, are you loyal to Khee-lar Shadow Hand,
or are you still loyal to me?   Be careful how you answer, I am not alone.”

The
elite warrior, new to his position by the freshness of the brand, sneered up at
Lord Karthan.  “You are not our lord any longer.  Lord Khee-lar is lord of this
gen.  Be gone with you and your rabble of outcasts!”

“Do
you feel the same way?” Lord Karthan asked the other warrior.

“Aye,
that I do.  Lord Khee-lar treats us right.  He’s made us important in this gen,
something you and yours never did,” the other warrior answered.

“So
be it, then,” Lord Karthan nodded grimly as he dropped his hand.  From the far
wall of the sunken meadow six bows sang as one, and the two guards were soon
lying lifeless on the ground of the sunken meadow.

“Drok,
leave only a small handful of warriors behind with the wolves and my daughter’s
team.  Gather the rest of your warriors,” Lord Karthan commanded then turned to
Goryon.  “Goryon, send for the leaders of the four companies of thirty to move
the warriors up.  It is time to reclaim what is ours.”

Khazak
Mail Fist strode forward alone, spear in hand.  The rest of the freed
prisoners, some fifteen warriors who were awaiting execution due to their
continued loyalty to Lord Karthan or due to some crossing of Khee-lar’s will,
all stood anxiously rubbing limbs and stretching muscles.  They knew the next
short while would see either their salvation or their death.  All of them
wanted to be ready for this one chance to avoid execution at the hands of
Khee-lar’s Untouchables.

“Do
not call out, guard,” Khazak said in a low tone as he stood in the doorway of
the watch station looking at the lone elite warrior who manned the station.

“What
are you doing free?!” the guard gasped in surprise.

“Tell
me, will you join us in this insurrection, or do I kill you now?” Khazak
threatened.

The
guard moved to grab his spear from the wall, which was all Khazak needed to
see.  With one fluid motion he hefted the spear and threw it, skewering the
guard and dropping him to the ground.  He took a few steps forward, pulled the
spear from the guard’s lifeless form, and before heading back to bring the rest
of the prisoners forward, he grabbed the lunch that the guard had been eating
and downed it all in a few quick gulps.

“Come,
let us do this thing,” Khazak said as he walked back into the prison guard
station where the fifteen former prisoners and Trallik stood waiting.  He threw
the guard’s spear to one of the warriors and the guard’s still sheathed sword
to another.

The
grins on the faces of the former prisoners were grim yet hopeful, broad yet
focused.  Soon, the group began the walk toward the council chamber and the two
sunken grottos where Khee-lar and the new leaders that he had put in place had
taken up residence.

“As
we planned, Goryon,” Lord Krall was briefing the four leaders of thirty, Drok
who led the dismounted wolf riders, and Goryon who was lead of his personal
guard.  “You lead the entire contingent and head straight for my home’s
grotto.  Remember, don’t stop for anything until you’re past the outer gate. 
And if by any chance they’ve left the doors open to my house, take them before
they can bar them.”

The
brawny blacksmith nodded.  “Aye, and with any luck we’ll get some of his
closest conspirators with him as well.”

Lord
Karthan grabbed Drok by one shoulder.  “Drok, stay with me for now, but I’ll
likely have you take the twenty five that you’ve got with you, and another
group of thirty.  We’ll need someone to go to the entrances to the caves of the
Deep Guard Warrior Group.  If that’s you, then when the time come, I want you
to seal them off and allow no armed warriors through.  If any say they are
loyal to me from that warrior group, you are to bind their hands and feet and
set them off to the side unless you feel you know their intentions are true. 
Any who will not renounce Khee-lar Shadow Hand you may kill.”

Drok
nodded his understanding, as did the other leader of thirty whom Lord Karthan
indicated.

“Then
let’s make it happen.  Remember, Khee-lar first, then we set about restoring
the loyalty of the warrior groups.  If we don’t get Khee-lar, this may all be
for naught.”

The
leaders all nodded grimly.  Soon, the large party of warriors was padding off
into the entrance cave, trying to minimize the noise of their passage and
anxiously looking for anyone who might sound the alarm.

Trallik
and the other fifteen freed prisoners followed Khazak through the empty council
chamber and down the side passage into areas he’d never seen before.  They
passed a grotto named the ‘leader’s grotto,’ where Trallik imagined the various
leader caste of the gen lived.  Instead of turning there, however, they passed
by it and continued down the passageway.  At the end of the passageway a metal
gate stood open, a warrior with a spear and sword lay dozing on the ground in
front of it.  As they approached, Khazak threw his spear, skewering this guard
as well through the chest so that no sound escaped his pierced lungs.  The
party entered the large open area that was the outer courtyard of the Lord’s
House.  Trallik could feel the fresh air and the slight moisture in the air,
and heard the sound of falling water.  To their left a small pool collected
under a slight waterfall which came down from high above.  Moss and hanging
vines adorned this outer courtyard.  Throughout the area, there were small beds
of flowers and plants, though most of them were trampled and in disarray.