Into the Heart of Evil (23 page)

It was all that Jerrig could do to not bolt and
run right then.  However, he had a task to do.  Walking carefully between the
bones, he made his way to a pile of bones that still emanated the slightest
amount of heat in the center of the room.  As he stood looking down at them, he
knew he had found the last two attackers.  Shredded wolf-skin cloaks lay cast
off to the side, and weapons lay broken and scattered.  In the pile of cracked
bones, even their marrow having been taken from them, Jerrig found two kobold
skulls.  The mandibles and the tongues of the ants truly had done their job. 
There was nothing left but the desecrated bones of Khazak Mail Fist’s stalkers.

Turning away from the gruesome sight, Jerrig
carefully made his way past the piles of bones: great boar skulls, deer bones,
and the hooves of some animal he didn’t recognize.  At last he came back to the
junction in the passageways.  With one task done, Jerrig felt somewhat reassured. 
He had conquered one fear, but now was the true test of his courage.  Hoisting
a javelin to one shoulder, he walked as quietly as he could down the other side
passageway.

He didn’t have far to go before he saw what
appeared to be a pile of large, glowing melons enmeshed in some sort of
netting.  Jerrig stopped and looked more closely.  As he watched, he saw a
large ant, walking on its back two sets of legs, approach the melon-sized
objects and cut away the netting that surrounded one of them with its
mandibles.  Carefully, the large ant pulled it out of its netting and set it on
the ground.  After a few moments, Jerrig saw the melon-like object move ever so
slightly.  After a few more moments, a small leg poked its way out.

Jerrig was in awe and horror as he watched the egg
hatching; awe at the miracle of life, and horror to think that this thing would
soon regard his kind as food.  If there was one thing Jerrig didn’t want, it
was for him and his companions to share the same fate as the two attackers had. 
With determination in his eyes, Jerrig strode forward.

The two egg tenders turned to look as a creature
entered the chamber.  Behind them, the queen lay resting after having given
birth to yet another egg.  Hanging on the wall in the queen’s own silk was
these hatchlings’ first meal, and now here came more food for the queen’s
brood.  With determination in their eyes, the two egg tenders moved forward to
take down this new food, telling it loudly of its fate as they went.

Suddenly, the new food threw a stick, piercing one
of the egg tenders through its torso.  Chittering a woeful cry, it lay writhing
on the floor.  In only a couple more moments, the other egg tender was also
pierced through, and the new food strode forward to retrieve its sticks.

The queen, however, would not stand for this. 
Food must be taught its place.  Anything other than this and there would be
chaos, and if there was one thing the queen would not tolerate, it was
disorder.  Chittering a war cry loudly and releasing her pheromones, she called
for her warriors.  Weaving back and forth, she approached this new food
cautiously to see if it would accept her dominance, or if she had to assert
herself and bring this food to its knees.

In answer to her dance, the new food raised one of
its piercing sticks again.  If this was its answer, then so be it.  She would
teach it a lesson.  Tonight, she would lick the marrow from its meager bones. 
Lunging forward, she caught the leg of the food and tripped it off its feet. 
Both of its sticks fell to the ground away from it.  Jumping forward, she came
up over it.  Looking down, she flexed her abdomen, still cracked and tender
from the birthing, to expose a long, thin spike, preparing to sting the
insolent food.

Then, as if in a last act of desperation, the new
food raised its hands and a power greater than hers filled the room.  The
unexpected presence of this power distracted the queen from her prey
momentarily.  Suddenly, a bright flame engulfed her head, leaving her blind and
unable to smell anything other than the stench of her own burning carapace. 

Blind and stunned, fear became reality when the
sting of cold, hard steel was felt as a long knife was plunged deep into her
thinly armored underbelly.  Desperately trying to pull away from the pain this
terrible little food had caused her, she jumped up.  Her strength was not with
her, however, and she landed against the wall, not far enough away.  With a
leap, the food was on her, plunging its steely knife deep into her time and
time again.  The pain was tremendous.  She could not drive the food away. 
After thrashing about for some time, with a final gasp the queen released the
last of her pheromones and fell to one side. 

When Jerrig finally thrust a javelin between the
thick chitin plates which protected her neck and up into her head, she thought
no more.

T
he
effects of fatigue on Gorgon and the members of his team were most clearly
visible in the way their tails hung limply behind them.  Now that the adrenalin
high had worn off, the accompanying low was taking its toll.  Seeing how little
they had left to give after the battle in the ant valley, Gorgon had decided
that it was time to go back and see if they couldn’t find Jerrig and Trallik. 
Perhaps,
they will have found some clue.

So it was that Gorgon and the remnants of his team
met up with Ardan and the remnants of his team at the path that led into the
heart of the giant ant hill complex.  Seeing each other through the woods, the
two teams hailed each other silently, not wanting to disturb whatever watch the
ants might have set.

As Ardan and Gorgon talked in whispers about what
had happened since Gorgon’s team’s departure at the enclosure, the rest of the
two teams, also curious, talked amongst themselves.  Before long, everyone knew
that Khazak Mail Fist and Lord Karthan’s two sons were lost somewhere in the
area, and Ardan’s team learned more about the orcs they’d heard about from
Arbelk.

Gorgon, upon hearing who it was that they were
trying to save, seemed to regain much of his energy.  “That’s it.  I’d wager
they’re in the middle of this mess, if they’re anywhere,” he said, pointing to
the hills behind them.  “Khazak Mail Fist must know some secret for dealing
with these things.  He must be trying to use them as protection.”

Ardan considered this for a moment. “I didn’t
really believe that such creatures existed until now, but I do remember some
traders from the Krall Gen mentioning they had run across some.  I thought they
were exaggerating, or lying about what they saw.  I now know differently.” 
Ardan paused, as if in thought. “One thing they did mention is that they
discovered that the burning smell of their own dung is repulsive to these
creatures.”

Gorgon nodded. “Khazak Mail Fist has many dealings
with the Krall Gen on behalf of Lord Karthan.  He must have heard the same
thing if he came
here
to seek refuge.”

After several moments of silence, as the tired
warriors contemplated what had been said, Gorgon stood up.  “Well, then I see
no other alternative than to light torches and go in looking for them.  Here,
warriors,” he said, turning to Keryak and Troka, “empty your meat sacks into
your packs and start collecting up some of the dry dung we’ve seen lying
about.”

Ardan thought for a second then, understanding
what Gorgon was doing, he ordered his warriors to do the same.  Soon both teams
were spread out through the tree line in the shadow of the giant ant hills,
looking for dung and throwing it in their sacks.  Once they all had what they
could find without ranging too far and wide, Tohr and Kahn, as well as Gorgon
and Troka, lit torches.  As one, the group made its way up the trail and into
the giant ant hill complex. 

They hadn’t thought about it much when they
decided to try this method, Ardan thought, but then he also remembered the sage
advice that sometimes its best to not stop and think about things too much,
else one would never progress in life.  The ‘smoking dung’ thing was a total
gamble, but any advantage was better than none against the odds this massive
giant ant colony could bring against them.

Gorgon, at the front of the group, had stopped. 
They’d not seen any ants up to this point in the trail and in front of him was
a crossroads.  Looking up to the right, he could see a trail that wound far up
a hill, almost to the top, before plunging into a solitary dark cave.  The way
ahead was simple enough, as it disappeared around the next hill.  The path to
the left went up and disappeared as it rounded a hill. 

Turning around, Gorgon called to Ardan, near the
rear of the group.  “Ardan, are any of your warriors any good at tracking by
scent?”

Tohr and Kahn, the two Deep Guard brothers, both
raised their hands tentatively.

“Ah, good,” Gorgon said.  “Well, check out these
side trails, will you?  I think the ants pretty much wiped out any traces they
would have left on the main trail, but these side trails look untouched.”

The two brothers began testing the ground for
scent.  After a few moments, Kahn stood up and turned around.  “I don’t have
the best of noses, but the scent is very clear here.  They definitely went this
way,” he said, pointing to the right.

Gorgon smiled. “Now that’s what I like to hear.” 
With that, he started up the trail to the right, followed by the rest of the
group.  As they reached the inky black of the entrance into the hill, Gorgon
called for Kahn again.  Again, Kahn confirmed that the others had gone this
way.  Gorgon handed his torch to Keryak and pulled his hammer out of its
sling.  Looking back at the rest of the company, Gorgon turned and started
leading the group down the passageway.

The older kobolds in the gen who worked above
ground often complained that they could feel it in their joints when a storm
was coming.  Manebrow was the same way.  After much patrolling in the guard,
followed by several years as a trainer, his body was beginning to feel the
aches and pains from the stress he’d put it through.

Tonight, after going constantly for two days with
little sleep, Manebrow ached much less than he thought he would, though not in
the same way as before a storm.  In fact, in many ways he had felt refreshed
since the miracle.  But for how clear the sky was, the air still hung heavy,
and a feeling of something coming their way was still in the air.

As they retraced their steps, eventually hoping to
catch up with the rest of the group, the small band of four kobolds and three
wolves plodded along through the trees.  Eventually, they came to the place
where they’d killed the great boar.  As they approached it, in the distance a thundering
noise could be heard.

Durik called a halt to the group.  Standing there
in the forest, they listened intently as the noise began to grow louder.  It
was much more distinct now, like the stampeding of many feet.  None of the
group had any idea what it could be when, from the underbrush off to the east
of their path, a giant ant appeared, sniffing the air.  Seeing the great boar,
it passed right by the surprised group of kobolds at a fast pace and
immediately began tearing at the dead boar’s flesh.

The group started backing away from the area,
beginning to understand the danger.  The two smaller wolves began to whimper
and whine.  Firepaw began to growl a deep, throaty growl.  As one, however, the
four kobolds backed up, hitting a wall of thorn bushes that stopped their
flight.

Then, like a strong tide coming in suddenly, a
storm of ants burst through the woods, a mass of legs and mandibles all
seething toward the prize with wild, yet determined fury.  The four kobolds
watched in absolute amazement and horror as hundreds of these great ants
swarmed over the body, each ant trying to find purchase to rip pieces of flesh
off of the massive carcass.  As each ripped off a large enough piece of flesh,
they trickled off in a line, making room for others to come in their place. 
Soon, the entire body of the boar was dismantled.  Ants too late for the best
flesh pulled and ripped ribs from the backbone, running back the way they had
come with them, as if they were a great prize. 

A much larger ant, who stood on four of its legs
and seemed to use the first pair of legs like arms, popped the head of the boar
off its now skeletal neck and, cracking it open against a nearby rock like a
melon, began to feast on the contents.  As the remaining ants scrabbled over the
final pieces of the boar, the gruesome procession of great ants headed straight
back in the direction they had come, carrying the spoils of their scavenging
with them.  Behind them, where the boar had been, nothing was left.  Even the
blood had been licked from the ground.  The efficiency and determination of the
ants was absolute.

Durik, Manebrow, Arbelk, and Kiria stood watching
the ants leave with looks of utter disbelief and horror in their eyes.  Never
before had they seen such a thing, and all of them hoped they never would
again.

Gorgon stopped the group suddenly.  Down the
passageway he heard a noise like something large being dragged across a dirt
floor.  In his mind he imagined some large type of ant they had not yet
encountered.  So far the group had been lucky.  The burning dung trick had
worked on most of the warrior ants, with the few that seemed mad enough to
leave their holes being quickly dispatched with a handful of arrows. As they
neared the bottom, he didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. 

Listening carefully, he heard something grunting,
as if with great strain.  A moment later he heard footsteps coming from one of
the two side passageways.  Moving back a step, Gorgon had Troka and Keryak line
up in front with bows at the ready, prepared to deal with whatever this new
threat may be.  In the silence, they held their breath as they listened to the
creature’s heavy footsteps approaching the passageway they now held.

In a moment, Jerrig appeared, trying his best to
carry a very limp Trallik on his shoulders.  Noticing the light flickering to
his left, he turned and looked up at the group.

“Well, hello!” he grunted, straining to keep on
his feet with his heavy burden.

Gorgon didn’t wait a moment longer. “Keryak,
Troka, help him with Trallik.  Move!”

Jerrig just stood grimacing as Keryak and Troka
walked up and helped take Trallik off his shoulders.  It was obvious from the
cuts and sheered-off scales that Jerrig had been in some sort of a fight. 

Gorgon took a couple of steps past Jerrig down the
passageway Jerrig had just come out of.  From where he stood, Gorgon could see
silken cocoons ripped open, large eggs skewered, and on the floor of the
chamber two large ants, pierced through their torsos, lay in their blood.  Near
the entrance to the chamber, lying up against the wall was a huge ant almost
the size of a bear, with wicked-looking claws and mandibles and a large, sharp
stinger at the end of its abdomen.  It lay in a pool of its own blood.  Besides
numerous puncture wounds to its abdomen and burn marks on its head, one of
Jerrig’s javelins was still stuck through its neck and up into its head. 
Gorgon was amazed at what he saw.  As he turned to walk back up the passageway,
he looked at Jerrig with amazement and not a little disbelief… and perhaps a
newfound respect. 

Now that Jerrig had Trallik’s limp body off of his
back, he pointed to the center chamber and, as Gorgon approached, he spoke just
loud enough for the group to hear, “You’ll find Khazak Mail Fist and both of
Lord Karthan’s sons in there.”  Turning slightly, he pointed to the left
chamber.  “That chamber there would be some sort of feeding chamber.  There’s
almost nothing left of them, but you’ll find the last two assassins in there.”

Gorgon quickly made his way past Jerrig, shaking
his head in stunned disbelief and hurrying Keryak and Troka into the chamber as
he went.  As they burst into the chamber, Karto and Lat stood up and clapped
for joy.  Their favorite hero from the trials the day before had come with all
his friends to rescue them.  Patting them both on the head, Gorgon moved
quickly past them to where Khazak Mail Fist lay, pallid and still on the edge
of the firelight.

“Khazak Mail Fist, sire!” Gorgon spoke urgently. 
After a moment, he placed one palm over Khazak’s snout, to see if he could feel
his breath.  All about him, the other kobolds in the group were hugging the two
young whelps and asking them about what had happened.  Holding up his hand,
Gorgon barked a command to be silent.

As the other kobolds gathered around them, Gorgon
could barely feel Khazak Mail Fist’s breath on the tiny scales on the palm of
his hand.  Breathing a deep sigh of relief, he stood up.