Into the Heart of Evil (12 page)

Kiria didn’t like it, but Kabbak was right.  When
the leaders emerged from the tower and everyone got up to continue the march,
Kiria hoisted herself into the saddle.  With a sigh of longing and a side-long
glance at the cool water of the lake that she hadn’t had time to dip her aching
feet in, Kiria guided her wolf to rejoin the line of warriors as Durik’s
Company left the safety of the picket line.

As Durik walked along taking in the forest,
feeling Firepaw’s hot breath on his shoulder, a strange feeling began to come
over him again.  Slowing almost to a stop, again an image began to form in his mind. 
As suddenly as it had before, his senses were flooded with light and a feeling
of power as a vision quickly formed in front of him.  Looking around, Durik saw
that now he was in front of the opening in the small stone building he’d seen
before.  Behind him the long stone bridge faded off into the searing light that
bounded the vision.

Looking at the opening, he saw writing in a
language he’d never seen before.  Its strokes were sinister in appearance, and
Durik could feel that not only did evil reside behind the portal, but that it
took comfort and refuge in the ancient curses that were scrawled on the
doorway.  Looking about for some other way to enter the structure, Durik now
noticed what he had not seen before, the pillars that made up the moorings of
the bridge were statues of great, evil-looking beasts, their leering visages
and sharp fangs forming the rings through which the ancient, rusted iron chains
that helped suspend the bridge were run.

Again he felt as if something powerful were
calling to him from inside the building.  As his heart yearned to answer, a
single word began to form in his subconscious.  Then, as quickly as it had
come, the vision closed before his eyes and Durik was left somewhat stunned. 
Almost unconsciously, his lips formed a word he’d never heard before nor
understood what it meant.

“Kamuril.”

Moments after the vision had closed and Durik had
started walking again, a deep sense of power and strength still remained with
him.  With the close of the vision came the same doubts as before.  Soon, he
found himself wondering if what had just happened had really happened or if it
was all the result of an overactive imagination.  Never being one to let his
emotions take over, Durik kept his head about him.  The power and strength, however,
were more than feelings.  His mind was clear and his muscles flowed with energy
as if after a good rest.  Focusing on the task at hand was easy as he scanned
the forest ahead of him for the slightest sign of any danger.

T
he
company had continued much as before, with only slight modifications.  Durik
had ordered Gorgon’s team to provide a rear watch, and so Trallik was sent to
the rear of the column and told to stay back ‘about a hundred paces, to make
sure no one is following us.’  Trallik had happily complied.  He’d never had
much of a taste for walking along in a big group, lined up like ducks in a row
just begging for someone to attack them.  He always felt much safer by himself.

So Trallik had passed most of the morning,
watching the wide trail as it wound steadily through the dense broomweed
underbrush that seemed to have mostly choked out lesser plants, passing from
time to time through an open meadow or two under an empty sky of brilliant
blue.  He was unusually happy this morning.  The events of the previous night
had lifted his spirits tremendously.  In fact, he spent much of the morning
mulling over the entire experience and imagining the praise he’d get once his
mission was complete.  Such an important mission, he’d thought as he walked
along. Well, they certainly picked the right kobold for the job.  He wondered
about how many others would die, and if any of the council members would be
killed in the uprising that was sure to ensue while he was gone.  By the time
for the noon meal, Trallik had almost convinced himself that, if he played it
right, he’d be a leader caste before the whole thing was done. 

As the morning wore on and he began to feel more
and more hungry, Trallik watched the leadership of the company more than the
trail behind, soon trying to will them to stop the company so he could eat. 
Eventually, but certainly not soon enough for his liking, he got his wish.  As
they approached a sunken dell in the side of a particularly high hill, he saw
Durik looking at it, gauging whether it was adequate for their group, and at
least somewhat defensible.  A small streamlet ran out of it, cleaving the path
through, then disappeared into the rocks and plants on the other side.  Trallik
longed to soak his sore feet in the water.

Then, as if he’d willed it, Durik raised up his
hand to halt the company and, with his wolf trailing behind him, led the
company into the dell.  As Trallik entered, however, Gorgon told him to ‘get up
to the top of this hill, and keep a lookout.’

“Figures,” Trallik muttered to himself as he
climbed, looking back longingly at the cool trickle of water.  He and Arbelk
had had a bet going about whether or not Kiria would ride that morning. 
Trallik had won, but now he’d have to wait to enjoy the chunk of roast boar
shank that Arbelk owed him.  For now, it was a mushroom cap and salted strips
of squirrel.

After a bit of climbing, Trallik found a rock near
the top of the hill and sat down next to it.  He had a good view of the group
down below as well as the trail ahead.  Taking his pack off and throwing it
down next to him, Trallik examined his feet for a second.  Satisfied with what
he saw, he unfastened the top of his pack and began digging in his food sack,
eventually pulling out a mushroom cap and, taking it in both hands, began
chewing.

As he ate, Trallik stared off into the distance. 
All around the great valley that his gen and the Krall Gen inhabited was a
large ring of tall mountains.  Most of them had no abnormal features, having
obviously been formed by the forces of nature over the eons.  However, one long
ridge stood out as definitely not normal.  It was called the Chop by the Wolf
Riders, from its distinctive shape.  It literally looked like some great titan
of ancient lore had taken a huge axe and sunk it deep into the ground, then, in
pulling it out, had left a huge scar deep in the earth, ringed on either side
by tall, almost vertical cliffs that connected the two ridges on either side of
the Chop, suddenly summiting and falling off to either side at sharp angles. 

If the Chop had not been there, then the place
where it now stood would have been a northern pass through an otherwise
unbroken ridge of mountains.  As it was, however, the Chop stood like an almost
impenetrable wall in the middle of this ridge, sealing the Kale and Krall Gens’
home valley off from the rest of the world to the north.  Legend had it that
The Sorcerer had created this as a barrier to keep the other races out of the
valley after the War of the Races.  Trallik had heard the Krall Gen traders who
came to his gen from time to time call it the Wall.  He agreed more with that
name.

Whatever its origin or name, Trallik was sure that
they would be crossing it, as the Hall of the Mountain King was located in a
mountain on the far side.  As he stared, he could just make out the winding
path that led straight up the near side of the Chop to the pass that contained
the only bridge across the great chasm.  He shook his head in anticipation of
the climb.  He was sure he would not enjoy it.

Letting his eyes focus a bit closer as he munched
on the mushroom cap, Trallik looked at the path ahead.  The closer they got to
the Chop and the Krall Gen that he’d heard lived somewhere near it, the more level
the terrain got.  The hill he sat on marked the end of these rough hills.  From
this point forward, the hills became much more gradual and gentle as the valley
floor eventually flattened out.  Not too far in the distance, the great trees
that marked the perimeter of the Krall Gen could be seen.  They were quite a
sight, from what everyone he had talked to had said, and Trallik was looking
forward to seeing them close up.

Continuing his vigil, Trallik thought he saw
something out of place a few hundred paces further along the trail.  Putting
down what was left of his mushroom, Trallik stood.  He shaded his eyes as he
squinted, trying to see what it could be, his tail whipping side to side in his
attentiveness.  Then, as he watched, whatever it was moved.  Trallik started at
the unexpected movement and, stooping down, grabbed his pack and bow.  Moving
forward a few paces, he now saw it clearly.  With a sense of high urgency,
Trallik took off down the hill toward the others.

Manebrow had been watching Trallik for some time
when he stood and peered at the trail ahead of them, then started running
toward them as if he was being chased by wasps.  Throwing the meat strip he was
working on into his pack, Manebrow grabbed his axe and slung his pack over his
back.

“Get your gear, warriors.  I think our lookout has
spotted something!” he called out, jolting the resting company into action.

Durik turned and looked where Manebrow was
watching.  Trallik was already a quarter of the way down the hill and
accelerating.  Gathering his things and strapping them over Firepaw’s back,
Durik grabbed his spear.  Trallik was almost to them now, heading straight for
where Durik, Manebrow, and Gorgon were assembling.

“Orcs!” he called out as he came to a stop in
front of the three leaders.  “At first, I saw one of them coming through the
trees toward the hill, then as I was coming down I saw at least one more with
him!” 

The company started packing faster.

Durik turned to look into Gorgon’s eyes. “Gorgon,
I want you to take your warriors up to the other ridge of the dell,” he
commanded, pointing to the far side of the dell from where the orcs had been
spotted.  “Ready your bows and prepare to support Manebrow’s team.”  Gorgon
opened his mouth to protest being put in a supporting roll, then, seeing
Manebrow’s sharp gaze, he turned without a word to gather his warriors.

“Manebrow,” Durik started, “I need you and your
team to hold the line.  I don’t know if these two are it, or if they’re only
the advanced guard of a larger group, so I’m going up the hill to see for
myself.  Whatever the case, I need you and your team to keep them from the
animals.”

“Got it,” Manebrow responded.  “I’ll have Terrim
stay with the animals to keep them from panicking once they smell orc.”  He
turned and stepped toward his already assembled group of warriors and started
giving orders.

Durik’s adrenalin had already kicked in, and now
his senses were in high gear.  Around him the sound of running feet and
clanking equipment filled his awareness, as the smell of his warriors’ nervous
sweat filled his nostrils.  Turning, he saw Kabbak trying to help Terrim get
the dogs to the far side of the dell and behind a large stand of broomweed. 
Looking toward his own mount, he saw Kiria struggling to put something in her saddlebags.

“Kiria!” he called urgently.  She turned her head
slightly as she continued to pack.  “Whatever it is, it can wait.  Get to the
far side of the dell with Terrim and Kabbak!” 

Kiria turned quickly, holding a scroll in one hand
and trying to lead Starshine by the reins with the other.

Behind him, Manebrow and his warriors were already
poised at the bottom of the slope closest to where the orcs had been sighted,
waiting with weapons at the ready.  On the far side of the dell from them,
Gorgon was lining up his five warriors and had them draw their arrows and
prepare to fire over the heads of Manebrow’s team to the top of the slope
beyond them.  Durik, seeing that the others were already in place, grabbed his
spear and hopped onto Firepaw’s back.  Nudging the great beast gently, he began
to make his way up the slope to see what was coming their way.

Moments passed slowly in anxious anticipation. 
The fear among the members of the company was almost palpable.  For all but
Manebrow and the two scouts, this would be the first time they would see real
combat.  In their eyes was the fear of wondering whether their skills would be
up to the test.  For orcs were fearsome foes, all savagery and strength, and
easily a head or two taller than any of the kobolds in this company.

Though Manebrow was a veteran of several
skirmishes with orcs and had fought several in hand to hand combat himself,
there was always fear before a battle; fear of the known.  Though he had
trained all of these warriors well, war was not just a matter of skill.  War
was a bloody business, full of chance, and many times the Fates cast their lots
with reckless abandon on the life of the individual warrior.

Manebrow turned to see where the rest of the group
was.  Gorgon’s team was lined up, prepared to fire.  He saw the packdogs and
those that were with them.  Durik rode his wolf up the side of the hill to get
a better view, but not yet in place where his view could help them much. 
Turning back to his team, Manebrow commanded the two scouts, Ardan and Arloch,
to go up the hill and peer over the edge to see what was happening on the other
side.  Ardan took off at an angle to the left, and Arloch at an angle to the
right.  Soon, both of them had reached the lip of the dell and were hiding behind
rocks, peering out cautiously, straining to see anything on the far side. 
After a moment, Ardan stood up, drawing his bow back to his ear, and fired a
single arrow.  Crouching back behind the rock, he watched intently to the front
as he drew another arrow.

Off to the right, Arloch pulled back behind the
cover of his rock as a long, black-feathered arrow bounced off the boulder he
was hiding behind, snapping in half as it struck.  Drawing his bow back, he
stood up and quickly fired an arrow back in the direction the black-feathered
arrow had come from before taking cover again.

Ardan also fired again.  As he took cover behind
his rock, he held his hand up with four fingers showing then pointed over the
lip of the dell.  Manebrow nodded and turned to look at Durik.  He didn’t want
to pull them back if Durik was not under cover.  Catching sight of Durik
dismounted and taking cover with his wolf behind a large row of rocks, Manebrow
decided to see if the orcs would give chase.  The next time the scouts looked back,
Manebrow caught their eyes and beckoned for both of them to return.  Moments
later, Ardan and Arloch were back with Manebrow.  The entire team now got down
behind a thick patch of broomweed for concealment as Manebrow signaled to
Gorgon to get ready.

A few moments later, two orcs dressed in patchwork
hide and iron armor, holding bows at the ready, appeared over the lip of the
dell.  On Gorgon’s command, five arrows flew.  Both orcs staggered as multiple
arrows struck each.  One of them fell to the ground, dead before he hit the
dirt.  The other fell to his knees, grasping at the arrow shafts, then to his
hands as his life blood poured out of holes in his chest and back.  Within
moments, he too was on the ground, lifeless. 

In the adrenalin rush of it all, Gorgon’s team was
slow to reload, however, and when a third orc, who had approached more
cautiously, appeared from behind an outcropping of rock running down the other
side of the dell, they were forced to watch him disappear as they reached for
arrows.

Manebrow, seeing Gorgon’s team rejoicing, put his
axe over his back, took his bow in hand, and yelled for his warriors to follow
him.  Standing up from behind the broomweed, he ran quickly toward the lip of
the dell.  As they reached the top, he led them behind the cover of a stand of
trees to an outcropping of rock where they could get a view of the forest on
the other side of the dell.  From their viewpoint, the five of them had a great
view of the forest beyond, and of the two carcasses of the orcs who had already
been slain, but they saw nothing of the third or the fourth orc.  Not wanting
to fall prey to the same trap they had just sprung on the orcs, Manebrow’s team
stayed put for now.