Into the Heart of Evil (36 page)

Khazak Mail Fist slammed the door shut and threw
the bar across it.  Behind him, Krall staggered and fell to the ground, gasping
in shallow breaths for air.  Khazak turned around and sized up the room.  It
was a large conference room, with a long table and many chairs.  Two doors led
out of the chamber, both of them were open like someone had recently passed
through them.  Khazak looked at Krall.  He knew the lung was pierced.  He
didn’t want the arrow moving around in Krall’s chest and causing any more
damage, so he knelt next to him, grabbed him and, looking him in the eyes,
pulled the arrow slowly out of his chest.  Krall’s eyes rolled back in his head
and he went limp.  Air bubbled through the blood that ran freely from the hole
in his chest.

“Come on, Krall,” Khazak muttered, slapping
Krall’s face.  The pounding of the conspirators trying to break the door open
resounded through the chamber.  He ripped a strip of cloth off the bottom of
Krall’s shirt and, wadding it up, pressed it against the wound, holding it in
place with Krall’s shoulder belt.  With one hand under Krall’s arm and the
other under his leg, Khazak lifted Lord Krall’s oldest son onto his shoulders,
then bent back down and grabbed Morigar’s sword.

As he carried Krall through the door to the right
back into the Krall family’s personal chambers, the door to the great chamber
burst open and a pair of conspirators came rushing through.

Slamming the far door shut behind him, Khazak Mail
Fist adjusted his grip on Krall and dropped the bar into place.  He looked
around and saw that he was in a large, vaulted ceiling chamber with comfortable
stuffed chairs, exquisitely carved end tables, and other lush trappings. 
Several doorways and a stairway led away from what was obviously a reception
room of some sort. 

Looking up the stairway, he saw Lord Krall and
Lady Karaba helping each other up the stairs to an open area where there were
several bookcases, tables, and chairs as fast as they could.  As they went,
Lord Krall was calling for his guards.  Reaching the top of the stairs, they
looked out over the balcony.

“Khazak, up here!” Lord Krall called out, almost
breathless.  “We can hold them off here.” He pointed to a rack of weapons
nestled between bookshelves against the back wall of the balcony.  “Where are
those guards!” he yelled down the hall at the top of the stairs.

Khazak Mail Fist shuffled to the stairs and,
adjusting Krall’s limp body on his shoulders, laboriously climbed them two at a
time.  When he reached the top, he placed the younger Krall in one of the Krall
family’s bedchambers, leaving him in his mother’s care, and returned just in
time to see the door he’d barred smashed open.

Throwing a couple of short, rectangular study tables
up against the balcony for cover, Khazak grabbed a pair of javelins and joined
Lord Krall behind the cover of the tables.  The first pair of conspirators were
almost to the stairs as the older Lord Krall stood up and fired his bow,
hitting a conspirator near the door in the shoulder.

Khazak grabbed Lord Krall’s tail and pulled him
back down behind cover.  “Sire, they have more bows than you!  Stop standing
up!” he said vehemently.  As if to accentuate his point, a pair of arrows
slammed into the table they were hiding behind, piercing the wood and driving
several inches toward Lord Krall before stopping.

Khazak looked out the right side of the table down
at the stairs.  Two of the conspirators were at the bottom.  The first of the
two, a rather large kobold comparatively, was already coming up.  Lifting one
of the two javelins, Khazak aimed it through the balcony railing and threw it
with all his might.  The javelin flew true and skewered the conspirator’s neck,
lodging in the wall of the stairway and leaving the dying warrior propped up
against the wall, struggling for breath.

At that moment, a pair of Lord Krall’s guards
entered from one of the bottom doors.  Seeing so many attackers, they took
cover behind the door they had just entered.  Several of the conspirators
rushed the pair, however, and soon the door was forced and the pair of guards
were locked in a grapple in the outer hallway they’d just come from.  As they
rolled about, a conspirator threw one of the guards into the outer door to the
Krall family’s personal chambers, which flew open, revealing the outer walkway,
lake, and the bright sky.  Jumping at the guard, the pair rolled out the door,
over the walkway, and into the lake.

Durik followed Morigar through the door into a
small, cool room.  The walls were made of stone, and even the floor and ceiling
were lined with stone.  Wood shavings seemed to be all about the floor of the
room, and a pair of barrels and piles of bags lined one wall.  A small metal
plate mounted in the ceiling of the room glowed with a dim light, though it
shed no heat and Durik did not know the source of its fuel. 

Two thick doors were mounted in the far wall of
the chamber.  Morigar went up to the right one of these and opened it.  The
inside of the small chamber was filled with wood shavings.  “Durik!  Come,
now!  My cousins will be safe in here!” he whispered urgently.

Durik put the two whelps down on the ground.  He
walked up to the heavy door.  He could almost feel the cold exuding from the
room.  “Why is it so cold?”

“There are ice blocks in here.  This is where we
store our meats,” Morigar answered.

In the kitchen, the pair could hear a door
slamming open.

“Come!  Now!  Put them in this one.  Hide them
under the wood shavings!” Morigar’s tail swished excitedly.

Durik hurriedly pushed Karto and Lat into the
small chamber and, finding an empty spot at the rear of the ice closet, he
began to hide them under a loose pile of wood shavings.  As he threw the wood
shavings, behind him he heard the door close with a resounding clank.  He
turned the door handle, but the door would not open.  He’d seen a small bar on
the door frame, and he knew that it had to have been set.

Durik thought for a moment.  He did not know why
Morigar had locked him in here, if in fact it had been Morigar and not the
conspirators.  The stone walls of the chamber prevented him from hearing any
sound, so he could not know what was going on outside.  Not wanting to be
surprised, he propped a piece of wood under the handle.

That way, when whoever is out there takes the
bar from the door, it won’t open… that is until I want to open it.

M
anebrow,
Ardan, and Gorgon were the first three out the front door of the caravan
drivers’ quarters.  With weapons in hand, the three of them sprinted as fast as
they could down the incline that led to the lake.  It didn’t take long, as
there were only a handful of low sod-roofed log houses between the quarters and
the closest of the bridges that led to the amalgam of structures on the lake.

Taking the most direct route, the trio jumped
fences, ran through vegetable gardens, and trampled a couple of lines of
laundry still hanging out to dry in the evening air before they reached the
bridge.  Down on the lake, the three warriors could see a trio of females,
hands covering their hornless heads, running away from the side of the great
hall, apparently going for help.

As they ran the length of the bridge, one of the
kobolds who had fallen in the water was re-entering the great hall.  The shouts
had died down somewhat, or at least the trio couldn’t hear them over their own
heavy breathing, and no one appeared through the door as the trio made it to
the wooden walkways that interconnected all of the structures on the lake. 
From there, it was a very short run to the front of the great hall.

Reaching the front corner of the great hall,
Manebrow looked back the way they had come.  The rest of his company was strewn
out along the route, weapons in hand mostly, and coming as fast as they could
get themselves together.

“Gorgon.” Manebrow paused as he tried to catch his
breath.  “Gather the rest… and come… after us,” he commanded.

Gorgon looked frustrated.  “What?  You want me… to
baby-sit… the rest?”

Manebrow stood.  “Just do it… Gorgon!”  Manebrow
grabbed Ardan by the arm and the pair walked quickly down the walkway along the
side of the great hall, attempting to catch their breath before they entered
the side door.

In a moment, with weapons drawn, they peered into
the hallway, the noise of shouts from just inside rising above their own heavy
breathing in their ears.  In the water behind them, a body floated face down,
blood coloring the water around it red.  Just inside the door, another pair of
kobolds lay, one obviously dead with its throat slit and the other with a sword
in his gut, life blood oozing out as he looked up weakly at the two warriors. 
On his face was the look of one who has very little time left before death
would claim him.

Manebrow poked his head inside.  The door to the
left had been forced open and inside he could see a couple of kobolds with bows
taking cover behind high-backed chairs, peering around them to try to get a
view of some target above them.  The kobolds with the bows were dressed much
like the Border Guard warriors had been, just like the kobold who lay dying in
the hallway in front of him.

Looking at the bodies of the other two kobolds,
Manebrow saw the trademark leather armor embossed with the tree symbol Morigar
had on his leather armor.  In a moment, he understood what was going on.

“The Border Guard warriors have… attacked Lord
Krall’s household guard.  This looks a lot like… treachery to me,” he explained
to Ardan.  “I can see a pair of them in there with bows.  I think there’s
more.”

“Do you think we can… make it in without getting
shot?” Ardan asked, still catching his breath.

“Don’t know…” Manebrow huffed.  “But I guess we’ll
find out!”  He smiled a hopeful smile.

Ardan adjusted his grip on his sword as Manebrow
lifted his axe.  Looking at Ardan, Manebrow nodded.  With as little sound as
possible, the pair rushed through the door.

Kethor had seen Khazak Mail Fist go through the
door into the Krall Family’s personal chambers, but he thought he’d heard
another door open and close.  Looking about, he noticed the other door on the
far left end of the far wall.  Thinking for a moment, he had sent Borgor and
most of his fellow conspirators after Khazak while he and Redar had gone left.

After breaking open the door, they found
themselves in the kitchen.  Kethor immediately saw the door to the outside
flung open and ran to it.  He saw three females hustling toward the front of
the great hall, but no one else.

Turning back to the inside of the kitchen, he and
Redar began opening doors, starting at the innermost to the outermost.  After
checking several pantries full of various foodstuffs and kitchen tools, the
pair came to the last door, the heaviest of all the doors in the room.

Kethor turned the handle and opened it slowly.  A
dim illumination emanated from the ceiling of this stone-lined room.  It seemed
to be noticeably cooler than the rest of the building.  Narrowing his eyes to
adjust to the dimmer light, Kethor stepped through the door into the small
chamber.

In the shadows of the far side of this mostly
empty room, he could see a pair of heavy wooden doors.  After a cursory search
of the barrels and piles of bags, Kethor walked over to the left door of the
pair.  With sword in hand, he opened it and stood back.

There, sitting calmly on his folded-up cloak, the
tip of his tail flipping slightly as he waited, was Morigar.  “You can let down
your disguise, Mynar,” he said in a low voice.  “The ones you seek are in the
next room over.”

“Who?” he asked. “Durik and the whelps?”

Morigar nodded.

The illusion that was Kethor’s face disappeared,
Mynar the Sorcerer’s face emerging in its place.  “Good work,” he said in a
voice distinctly Mynar’s.

“Well, Mynar, you have certainly delivered on your
promise.  I’d imagine that my father and brother are dead by now.  All that’s
left is to take care of the ‘Karthan’ issue,” Morigar said as he stood.  “It
will be good to be Lord of the Gen.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mynar said as he stepped
forward through the door and drove his sword deep into Morigar’s stomach. 
Morigar gasped and breathlessly mouthed words as he slumped, a look of utter
shock on his face.  With both hands on the handle of his sword, Mynar pulled
the blade free of Morigar’s stomach.

“Tohr, Kahn, and Terrim, guard the front
entrance.  Don’t let anyone escape!  Go!” Gorgon commanded.  The three warriors
turned and ran back toward the front of the great hall.

“Jerrig, Kiria and Arbelk, go around the other
side and see if you can’t find another entrance.  Let’s see if we can’t
surround whoever is attacking Lord Krall and the others.”  The two warriors and
Kiria all turned and ran toward the back of the great hall, disappearing around
the corner.  Kiria had been almost frantic, thinking of her little brothers in
the midst of this attack, but she had since gotten herself under control,
remembering what panicking had done for her at the first night’s resting
place.  She had learned the first lesson of a warrior: far better to remain in
control of one’s faculties than to cause more harm by panicking.

Gorgon looked at Troka and Keryak.  “Well, what
are we waiting for?  Let’s get in there!”  With that, he turned and ran in the
side door Manebrow and Ardan had entered several moments before.

Inside Lord Krall’s reception room, Gorgon could
see three of the Border Guard warriors who had accompanied them here backing up
toward the door across the room from him. Ardan wrestled on the ground in the
middle of the room with another of the Border Guard warriors while Manebrow hid
behind a high-backed chair, a Border Guard warrior’s bow in hand. 

As Gorgon assessed the situation, Manebrow yelled
at him to take cover.  At that moment, an arrow, hastily fired by one of the
retreating Border Guard warriors, struck Gorgon in the left arm.  Gorgon howled
with pain and, lifting his hammer with his good arm, he rushed horns first at
the offender.

The first two of the conspirators had already made
it out the door, and the third quickly closed the door as Gorgon came rushing
toward him.  The bar on the door was already knocked clear of the doorframe, however,
and there was nothing to stop Gorgon.  With the full momentum of his rage,
Gorgon bowled through the door and into the council chamber.

As he looked around wildly for the conspirators,
another arrow struck him, this time in the left shoulder.  Staggering, Gorgon
fell back against the wall. 

The warrior who had shot him pulled his sword and
advanced on Gorgon. 

Summoning all his strength, Gorgon stepped forward
and swung his hammer up with his right arm and into the conspirator’s jaw.  He
heard a distinct ‘crack’ and the warrior fell backward to the ground.  Hefting
his hammer again, Gorgon brought the heavy head of it down on his attacker’s
chest, sending shards of rib through many of his internal organs.

Keryak and Troka ran into the room behind Gorgon,
but saw no sign of the other two conspirators.  Rushing to Gorgon, they helped
him to the ground and Keryak began to tend to his wounds as Troka stood watch. 
Behind them, Manebrow and Ardan were tying up one conspirator, who had an arrow
lodged in his shoulder as well, while two more conspirators lay dead by the
stairs, slain by Khazak’s thrown javelins.

For the moment, Lord Krall and Lady Karaba felt
safe, though unknown to them, now both of their sons lay on death’s doorstep.

Mynar stood over Morigar’s writhing form.  He had
often read this one’s mind, and had found out most everything of any interest
some time ago.  But now thoughts of escape were somehow breaking through the
pain.

As Morigar writhed in pain on the floor, the
knowledge of a trap door in the back of the room he had been hiding in became
readable to Mynar, as well as a secret trap door in the guard room of his
family’s personal chambers.  Stepping past Morigar, Mynar climbed over the
blocks of ice until he reached an empty spot toward the rear of the small
chamber.  As Redar watched the door to the other small chamber, he shoveled
armloads of wood shavings off to one side.

There, under the wood shavings, was a large knob. 
Mynar didn’t even have to open it to see what was there.  The path beyond it
was so clear and present in Morigar’s dimming mind now that Mynar felt as if
he’d already been there.

Now that Mynar knew his next step, all he had to
do was take care of the task at hand.