The Trials of Caste (37 page)

From the stands, the crowd cheered and yelled,
each kobold yelling for their favorite to win.  Many of them cheered the much
stronger Gorgon, but surprisingly, many more cheered the seeming underdog,
Durik.  Over the course of this day, it had been his presence of mind that had
gained more than Gorgon’s strength.  His ability to think calmly and
rationally, even while pressed by a superior foe, had won him the respect and
admiration of many.

With Gorgon far behind him and obviously not on
his trail, Trallik gained back his courage and eventually began to make his way
around the obstacles until he came back again to a passage which led back toward
the trainer’s stand and the crowd.  Turning back toward the center, Trallik
began to jog tiredly back in the direction of the tower.

Fortunately for him, he thought, he’d not lost his
bow or either of his two remaining arrows this time.  Checking his belt, he
found that both long knives were still in their sheaths.  Encouraged by this,
Trallik pressed on toward the center.

Reaching the entrance to the central clearing,
Trallik watched as Durik and Gorgon again fought it out on the second level of
the tower.  Taking his bow from his shoulder, he decided that, if ever there
was a prime opportunity to increase his standings in the trials, and possibly
win, this was it.

From a side passage, Jerrig had watched the battle
that he was sure would determine the winner of this tournament.  Though he
would of course be willing to accept either of them as his leader, Jerrig
secretly hoped that Durik would win.  The fact that Jerrig had made it through
the year of training was directly attributable to the number of times that
Durik and Keryak had helped him overcome some challenge or another.  Those two
had consistently taken care of him since the beginning, when most of the others
had shunned him because of the rumors they’d heard.

As he was watching, Jerrig saw Trallik step
slightly out of the shadows of a passageway just out of javelin range.  Trallik
reached over his shoulder, and Jerrig saw him draw an arrow out of his quiver. 
Trallik was focused on the fight in the tower and had not seen him, and it was obvious
to Jerrig that neither of the kobolds in the tower had seen Trallik either. 

If there was one kobold that Jerrig knew he didn’t
want to be in charge, it was Trallik.  Hefting his javelin and focusing all the
control his mind could muster, Jerrig ran forward out of the passageway and
threw his javelin with all his might.  Trallik turned quickly and, seeing the
javelin coming for him, fired an arrow in Jerrig’s direction before stepping
out of the trajectory of the javelin.

Focusing his powers with all his might, Jerrig
reached out with his mind and pushed the javelin, causing it to veer slightly toward
a very surprised Trallik.  With a sharp exhale, the javelin knocked Trallik to
the ground as only a split second later Trallik’s arrow exploded in a cloud of
red dye on Jerrig’s chest.

Durik and Gorgon again were on either side of the
staircase.  Durik had managed to keep Gorgon off balance enough to keep him
from landing a solid blow, but had not yet worn down his patience to the point
where Gorgon would let down his guard enough for an opportunity to strike.  At
the moment Jerrig had stepped out and thrown his javelin Durik was facing in
his direction and, as Gorgon moved slightly to one side, he saw the javelin’s
flight path bend until it slammed into Trallik, knocking him to the ground. 
Though it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d seen that day, Durik was left
wondering.

“I think your problems with Trallik in the trials
are over,” Durik said matter-of-factly as he snapped his focus back to the
moment to fend off another javelin thrust.

Gorgon looked at him quizzically as he thrust
again, this time through the stairs, “Why do you say that?”

From above them in the crow’s nest, the trainer
cried out, “Trallik and Jerrig! Trallik first!”

Gorgon backed up and looked behind him at Trallik
on the ground holding his stomach and Jerrig wiping the die from his face and
chest as best he could.  When he turned back around, his smile was all teeth.

From the stands, the announcer’s voice boomed out,
“Trallik ends the competition with three points.”  After a moment, his voice
boomed out again, “Jerrig takes third place in the scouting competition,
scoring three points.  Jerrig ends the competition with three points overall!” 
The crowd cheered and Jerrig’s father was grinning from ear to ear with pride
that his troubled son had somehow done so well as to place third in the
scouting trial.  The look on Trallik’s father’s face, however, was more one of
concern.

Back in the tower, Gorgon and Durik had realized
that the competition had come down to them.  By Gorgon’s calculations, if he
could take down Durik and get the cup, by points he’d tie with Durik, and in
the past unlike a tie for second or third, a tie for first place had always
gone to the winner of the scouting trial; to he who got the cup. 

As he stepped forward again, intent on breaking
Durik’s discipline and making him slip up, Gorgon started swinging his javelin
from side to side in great, sweeping arcs, holding his hammer at the ready. 

Durik realized that Gorgon was deliberately
exposing one side in hopes that he would take his chances and try to exploit
it.  While he was not terribly fond of tripping other peoples’ traps, Durik did
notice that this new tactic had exposed an error on Gorgon’s part.  As Gorgon
swung his javelin in front of his body, the momentum he was putting into the
javelin caused him to cross his feet slightly.  As Gorgon advanced, Durik
suddenly dropped his sword and leapt forward, but instead of going for Gorgon’s
side and getting a hammer blow as a reward, Durik followed the movement of the
javelin as it crossed in front of Gorgon’s body and grabbed it, pushing the tip
of it until it lodged against the stairway.  He then pushed toward Gorgon’s end
of the javelin, catching Gorgon with his feet slightly crossed and knocking him
slightly off balance.  As Gorgon struggled to recover his balance, Durik
advanced, driving his spear downward as he came.

Gorgon saw it coming and dropped his hammer in
time to grab the end of Durik’s spear before it could strike home.  The
concentration that task took caused him to continue to stumble backwards, but
in turn Durik’s spear clattered away across the platform.  A split second
later, Durik slammed into Gorgon and the two of them stumbled back until they
both fell off the edge of the platform to the sand below, the light from the
chimney above them blinding Gorgon as he fell backwards.

Fortunately for Durik, Gorgon landed on his back,
breaking the javelin in two pieces between him and Durik, who landed on top of
him.  Jumping up, Durik let go of the pieces and dived for a javelin that was
lying nearby in the sand.  Blinking in the bright light streaming down from
above, Gorgon saw what Durik was doing and threw the bottom half of the broken
javelin.  Durik spun around and ducked as the broken haft went flying over his
head then, taking his javelin in both hands, Durik rushed forward.  Though he
had pretty much recovered from the fall and gotten to his feet, Gorgon missed
blocking Durik’s javelin as he swung his javelin like a club, leaving his side
exposed.  Durik saw his opportunity and drove his javelin home, catching
Gorgon’s exposed side and leaving a long stripe along his ribcage.

“Gorgon!” the trainer in the crow’s nest called.  In
the stands the crowd went wild.  Durik’s family jumped up and down ecstatically,
as did most of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group that he had grown up in.  In the
council boxes Torgal of the Sundered Skull, assisted by his servant Kabbak, was
on his feet and was gloating loudly about the large bet he’d just won.  In
front of the trainer’s stand, Keryak beamed with pride for his best friend.

Durik grasped Gorgon’s hand and took the key, then
turned and climbed both flights of stairs to the top in a few bounds.  The
brilliant light of mid-day in the world above streamed down through the first
entrance to their home caverns, wreathing the tower in a bright, lustrous glow
as Durik stood on the top stand; the finish line.  Standing before the chest as
the crowd cheered, Durik placed the remaining two keys into their locks and
opened the chest.  In the middle of the large chest on a low pedestal sat a
much smaller case.  Durik brought it out and opened it, revealing a golden
goblet ringed with precious stones; the cup they all had fought so hard to
obtain.

Turning to the crowd, Durik held the chalice with
both hands above his head for all to see, the light of the world above
reflecting off its many surfaces as the entire gen looked on in exuberant awe.

M
anebrow
dried the ink from his fresh marks on the archival scroll for this Trials of
Caste, where he had listed Durik’s name as overall winner of the Trials of
Caste, Gorgon as second place, and Jerrig and Trallik as tied for third. 
Finishing, Manebrow rolled up the scroll and tied it with a leather thong, then
walked down the steps from the trainers stand, taking his place in front of the
Lord’s Box, facing toward the stands.  From a side door just off the arena
floor a small group of servant caste entered, hurriedly moving to clear the
barrels and other sundry equipment that lay about the place where the
ceremonies would conclude.

Standing almost as one, Lord Karthan, Khazak Mail
Fist, the leaders of the other five warrior groups as well as the remaining
chief elite warriors all converged on the stairs in front of the Lord’s Box and
made their way down to the floor of the arena.  Lord Karthan took his place in
front of Kormach Manebrow, Khazak Mail Fist standing to one side of him, though
Lord Karthan’s grizzled old chief elite warrior was strangely absent from his
spot on Lord Karthan’s other side.  On their right Khee-lar stood alone as
leader of the Deep Guard, while next to him Raoros Fang and Troll both took
their places as leaders of the Wolf Riders.  On their left, the leader caste
and chief elite warriors of the Metalsmithies, Trade, and Patrol Guard warrior
groups all took their places as the servant caste struggled to drag a large
barrel full of practice weapons to the bottom of the trainer’s stand and out of
view of the crowd.

The yearlings marched forward and stopped, turning
to form one rank in front of Lord Karthan, and the crowd quieted in boisterous
anticipation of the conclusion of the Trials of Caste.  Anticipation was high
in the crowd, anticipation of the promise of new status for the yearlings and
the expected surprise that the announcement of the quest always provided.

Within the ranks of the yearlings, there were many
emotions.  Durik’s victory had wiped away all the self-consciousness his bronze
scales had caused him since his earliest memories.  He felt pride, yet
apprehension, the events of the scouting trial having overcome most thoughts of
the insurrection, yet the sudden appearance of the servant caste who were so
interested in these barrels instantly set him on edge.  Could these be the
warriors he had seen in his dream… in his vision?  Durik was certain for a
moment, but the power of the vision had quickly faded and so he doubted.  Besides,
he was the focus of the entire gen at the moment, and that felt very real.

Gorgon and Trallik both felt frustration at having
not placed first, though one of them began the process of accepting his fate
while the other refused to.  Most of the yearlings simply felt relief; relief
that the trials had ended without embarrassing themselves in front of the
entire gen, relief that the year of intense training was over and they were
finally to become warriors, and for some perhaps even relief that they had not
been chosen to lead whatever quest it was that they were to be given.

After Lord Karthan unrolled and reviewed the
scroll, Khazak Mail Fist raised his hands above his head and turned to face the
crowd, signaling for them to be silent.  Looking over at Manebrow, he nodded
and the master trainer turned smartly, jogging to take his place off to one
side to indicate that his role as these yearlings’ trainer and now judge was finally
finished.

As the crowd quieted, Khazak saw Lord Karthan’s
nod as he stood looking at the seven yearlings that had now completed the Trials
of Caste.  He took the cue.  “Sire, the yearlings are prepared to receive your
judgments,” the chamberlain stated for all to hear.

“Yearlings,” Lord Karthan started in a loud, clear
voice, “Since the beginnings of our race, these trials have served many
purposes, primarily they have served as a means for differentiating the
protectors from the protected.  This day is no different in that respect. 
Today you have shown to the entire gen who you are and what you are capable of
accomplishing.  Today, you cross over from being untested whelps to capable
adults.  Today you also make the additional step of crossing over from being
the protected to being the protectors of this gen.  Today, you are warriors of
the Kale Gen.”

The crowd cheered with the pronouncement of seven
new warriors.  Lord Karthan waited for a few moments then nodded to his
chamberlain.  Khazak Mail Fist raised one steel clad fist in a gesture of
silence.  Lord Karthan continued his speech.

“I have said that these trials have served many
purposes, and so it is.  Today as in times past, they serve to differentiate
the leaders from the led.  Be it known this day that Gorgon shall serve this
gen as elite warrior, with all the rights and responsibilities belonging to
this high and difficult calling.  Additionally, Gorgon, you shall henceforth
carry the honor name of Hammer for your skill with the hammer both as a
blacksmith and in combat, as well as for the relentless way you use your great
strength.”

Gorgon was stunned.  The only thing that passed
through his mind was that Lord Karthan must be mistaken.  After all, he had
lost in fair combat to Durik.  Despite his discipline, his jaw hung open as he
tried to grasp what had just happened. 

Standing next to Gorgon, it was obvious from the
look on Durik’s face that Gorgon was not the only one who didn’t have a clear
understanding of why Lord Karthan had made such a proclamation.  His eyes
wandering about in pain, Durik saw his family all murmuring amongst themselves
in confusion.  He looked to the Lord’s Box to see Kiria’s reaction, but she was
not there, which only added to his confusion.

Holding up one hand to quiet the shocked crowd,
Lord Karthan continued, “You will not lead this quest, however, Gorgon Hammer,
though this quest will likely take you and your five new warriors to the depths
of the earth, the heights of the mountains, and perhaps to a place where our
gen has not dared venture since it was sealed to us by our ancestors tens of
generations now past.  I say you and your five warriors, but with you I will
send five more warriors under the leadership of their own elite warrior.” 
Turning to look at the master trainer who stood stiffly off to one side, Lord
Karthan continued, “Manebrow, come forth,” he called.

Manebrow straightened and turned at the call of
the Lord of the Gen, jogging quickly to take a position standing well behind
the new warriors.  Once he was in position, he called out, “Lord, your trainer
is ready to receive your orders!”

As Manebrow made his approach, the servant caste
suddenly began digging into a large barrel full of long, warped sticks.  After
a few moments, with confused looks they all began pulling the sticks out and
throwing them off to the side as discretely as they could.  Though the leaders
of the gen had their backs turned to the servant caste and so did not notice,
Manebrow and the seven former yearlings certainly did.  Troll heard the
movement behind him, however, and misinterpreted it.

Lord Karthan smiled with pride as he looked on his
Master Trainer.  “Manebrow, you have done well as Master Trainer of this gen. 
Your dedication and expertise has helped build this gen’s warrior caste into a
force that none of our enemies have been able to withstand.  Truly you are to
be commended.  I release you now from your duties as Master Trainer for a
season.  I will give you charge over five of this gen’s warriors, which will be
named in private council tonight.” 

As Manebrow left to take his place off to the side,
Lord Karthan paused, turning to look at the crowd.  Slightly confused by the
antics of the handful of servant caste below the trainer’s stand, he tried his
best to ignore it.  “It is written in our law that forming a group of this size
demands that one of the leader caste be called upon to take charge.  As such,”
Lord Karthan turned and looked at the yearlings yet again, “I hereby make
Durik, the champion of this year’s Trials of Caste, a leader caste from this
time forth, at the rank of adventurer class, with all the rights and
responsibilities inherent in this great charge.”

Durik staggered, but didn’t fall.  His uncle,
aunt, and sister stood with jaws wide open.  Gorgon stood a little taller, as
though the world had just been made right, while Trallik looked at Durik in
stunned, angry silence.  Keryak muttered in confusion as he looked at his best
friend like he’d just sprouted a third horn.

Lord Karthan cut through the astonished buzz of
the crowd with his next statement.  “Leaders, warriors, and members of the Kale
Gen,” he paused as the excited noise of the crowd subsided, “this day I give a
quest to our new—and old warrior group.  Durik, your quest is to find the Kale
Stone, the source of our ancestors’ power.  Do you accept this quest, Durik,
not only for yourself, but on behalf of those whose lives are now in your
hands?”

Durik stood in stunned disbelief.  It had all
happened so fast.  One minute he was the orphaned son of a long dead wolf
trainer trying to prove that he too deserved warrior status, as his father
before him.  The next minute, he had been plucked from his humble beginnings
and exalted to the leader caste.  Hearing Lord Karthan’s question, he did what
any sensible being would do in such a circumstance; he stuttered.

“Um… uh…. yu… ye… ye…
Yes?”
he finally managed to spit it out.

“So be it,” Lord Karthan pronounced as the crowd
cheered.  “May the quest for the Kale Stone begin!”

It was at that exact moment that the dour Troll
decided he had had enough.  No matter what was delaying his warriors under the
trainers stand behind him, he had to take action.  Drawing his sword, he turned
and barked “Death to Lord Karthan!”  Without even seeing if his warriors were
with him, Troll leapt at Lord Karthan, sword held high and ready to strike.

Khazak Mail Fist, however, had been waiting
intently for Troll to make his move.  Drawing his own sword and spinning to
face him in one fluid motion, the chamberlain blocked Troll’s strike, their
swords ringing loudly in the massive cavern of the arena.

At the crack of the two blades meeting, everyone
instantly began to move. 

Up in the stands a group of elite warriors from
the Patrol Guard, Kort at their head calling excitedly for Lord Karthan’s death
and for death to his heirs, rushed down the stands toward the Lord’s Box.  Just
as quickly, the small knot of Lord Karthan’s bodyguards that had been
surrounding the Lord’s family got up as one and began to rush down the stairs,
leaving the box mysteriously empty behind them. 

Unbeknownst to the conspirators, Lord Karthan’s
daughter had already gone to the Lord’s House, a strongpoint easily defended by
only a handful of guards, then without Kiria’s knowledge her two younger
brothers, Lord Karthan’s two heirs, had been spirited away under the cloaks of Lord
Karthan’s chief body guard and his chief elite warrior.

Down on the arena floor Lord Karthan jumped away
from his attacker, which threw him into the midst of Durik and the new warriors,
almost bowling Jerrig over.  The leaders of the Patrol Guard, Metalsmithies,
and Trade Warrior Groups seemed genuinely surprised, and all of them began to
back away from the confrontation between Khazak and Troll.  Raoros Fang did not
acknowledge the actions of his chief elite warrior, and neither did Khee-lar
Shadow Hand, but neither of them moved to intervene either. 

For the moment the hulking warrior that was Raoros
Fang and his brooding companion-in-indecision Khee-lar Shadow Hand stood
waiting to see if this insurrection would hand them leadership of the gen. 
Raoros Fang was uncertain yet believed that Troll and Kort were loyal to only
him.  Strangely enough, standing next to Raoros, Khee-lar Shadow Hand was much
more certain that these two members of the Covenant were clearly acting on his
behalf, if not his orders.

Seeing Khee-lar’s hand on his sword, and knowing
exactly where his loyalties did not lie, Manebrow stepped up behind Khee-lar
and cracked him on the skull with the hilt of a sword, dropping the leader of
the Deep Guard like a stone.