Into the Heart of Evil (7 page)

“Warm suits for the entire group, especially
useful in this cold southern climate when one is traveling at night,” Khazak
Mail Fist boomed.  “And,” he continued in a lower voice, “the mottled gray and
black fur of these skins is much better for hiding than red scales.”

Durik held up his wolfskin suit. The legs of the
wolf had been sewn together to cover his arms and legs, and the tail had been
made to fit over his tail.  The head of the beast had been fashioned into a
hood and mask that fit over his own head and snout, and two smaller holes had
been made for his longer, thinner horns.  The soft cotton lining and stuffing
was fastened to it securely and must have cost much wealth to acquire, as their
gen did not have cotton and had only recently established a trade route two
weeks journey to the north and west, near the sea coast where it was warmer, to
acquire the cotton.

In their underground chambers, the kobolds didn’t
suffer the effects of living so far south in the southern hemisphere.  They had
long ago engineered a system of openings to the outside that they could open
and close to direct the airflow as need be.  By their diligence, the geothermal
heat was kept in the caves during the bitter cold winter, and it was vented
outside directly during the summer, leaving the cool of the rocks to keep the
temperatures of the caves moderate.  All year round, the temperature was mostly
the same.  Now, as spring had only just arrived, the kobolds would have much
use of their wolf-skin suits at night out in the open; the chill of a late
winter still lingered in the early spring night air. 

At the end of the presentations, Lord Karthan asked,
“Are there any others who wish to present anything?”  Lord Karthan looked from
side to side, not expecting any surprises. 

Torgal of the Sundered Skull slowly stood up.  “I
have one thing more to present. Kabbak, son of my dearest servant, is a strong
and willing young kobold now in his twentieth year. He is bored of attending to
an old kobold such as myself, waiting for me to die, and I don’t blame him. 
Much better it would be, I think, if he were to serve a much younger master.  Let
him go on the quest and serve our young Durik.”

Kabbak’s eyes shot fully open, and he had sat up
fully in his chair behind Torgal at the mention of his name.  Now, hearing that
not only was his world about to change dramatically, but he was also being volunteered
for this quest, the look on his face resembled that of a skewered pig.

Lord Karthan looked at the warrior group leaders
to see if they would offer the same opposition against this male untrained in
the arts of war as they had against his daughter.  No word was spoken, nor was
there the slightest hint of opposition.  Lord Karthan raised his hand.  “Then
he shall serve Durik.  Durik’s Company stands formed at fifteen members.” 

Lord Karthan looked to his functional leaders and
then to the warrior group leaders.  It was obvious from the look on their faces
that they had nothing more for the new company.

Sensing it was time to bring the council to a
close, Lord Karthan stood.  “Now, as the Scrolls of Heritage demand, the
yearlings shall depart before the first rays of the sun shine upon our gen’s
home in the morning.  Young Durik, I suggest you begin your preparations
immediately.  Durik’s Company, know that our thoughts and hopes are with you. 
May you see this task through to successful completion, and may you return to
us at journey’s end.”

Lord Karthan looked over the assembled elite
warriors and council members.  The time for talk was over, and now it was a
time for the newly formed company to finish their preparations before the
morrow.  “Council of the Kale Gen, this night we move toward recovering the
stone of our heritage.  This night we move to fulfill prophecy.”  With that
pronouncement, Lord Karthan turned to leave.

Khazak Mail Fist stood and addressed the assembled
leaders of the Kale Gen.  “So be it!  This council is adjourned!”

Lord Karthan walked out of the council chamber as
all others in the chamber jumped to their feet and stood in stony silence. 
Once he had departed through the door with his chamberlain close behind him,
the silence was immediately broken by the noise of many voices, most of them
talking in happy tones and congratulations for the new warriors as the
assembled council members and elite warriors filed out of the hall.

But in lower tones, there were still many who talked
of change, frustration, and discontent.

D
urik
doubted he would return to his home that night.  In fact, he wondered if he
ever would see his house again.  Certainly, it would never be the same again. 
No longer could he go walking unnoticed among his kin.  Everywhere he went it
was, “Hello, sire” from a warrior returning from a celebration, and “Yes, sire”
from a female passing on her way to a well.  When he asked a question, kobolds
reacted as if he were going to harm them if they didn’t give a satisfactory
answer.  When trying to talk casually with another kobold, the other would look
at him as if they weren’t sure whether there was some hidden meaning behind
what he was doing.  After only a couple of hours of this before the council,
the culture shock had begun to set in.

Fortunately for Durik’s peace of mind, however,
now that the council was over, most of the gen had gone to sleep.  It was
already late, and the tasks of preparation consumed almost all of his company’s
time.  When Norborib, Lord Karthan’s servant, came to summon Durik to Lord
Karthan’s chambers, Durik had left Manebrow in charge and followed Norborib,
leaving his new servant Kabbak to take care of his personal equipment. 
Manebrow, in the meantime, ensured the equipment got packed and cross-leveled
until everyone had what they could carry comfortably without overburdening the
packdogs.  Once that was accomplished, the small company took their equipment,
the wolves, and the dogs to the Honor Guard’s staging cave, where Manebrow
locked the steel grate for what was left of the night and left the key with the
Honor Guard warrior on watch.  After brief instructions, Manebrow dismissed the
company until early the next morning.

During this entire process, Kiria had felt very
much out of place.  For many, this was just like old times; Manebrow gave
orders, they obeyed, going about the same routines they had for their entire
year of training, and for others this was the same thing they’d done for the
last several years.  Even Kabbak, Durik’s brand new servant, had made it
through much of the year of training before failing, and so had some memory
from a few years previous of the procedures and traditions followed in the
warrior groups. 

For Kiria, however, this was a whole new world,
and being the Lord of the Gen’s daughter did not make her exempt.

When Manebrow had them all dump their packs and
lay out their equipment to ensure it was all in order, Kiria didn’t even notice
that the others had carefully put all their equipment on their blankets until
after she had dumped her equipment in the sand and then, part way through, when
she noticed they were all laying it out according to a specific pattern they’d
been taught, it was all she could do to catch up before Manebrow inspected.  It
was no use, however. She had already gotten sand in much of her equipment, and
so while the others were putting up their equipment, Manebrow had thrown her a
cleaning cloth. 

The others had laughed quietly to themselves at
her misfortune.  When she had protested, stating that it was clean enough and
that she should be in bed now instead of cleaning her kit, Manebrow had cut her
off abruptly.  Now, sitting on the steps leading into the staging cave, she
discovered that when Manebrow said ‘Spotless before you go to bed,’ he really
meant it.  As all the other kobolds wandered off to bed for the few remaining
hours of the night before it would be time to assemble again, she sat there
watching them go with a cleaning rag in one hand, and a small iron pot in the
other.

Coming back out of the staging cave, Manebrow
stood in front of Kiria, elbow on one knee as he bent down to look her in the
eyes.  Kiria could see that the generally friendly attitude she had enjoyed
before was hardened out of him now; he was all business, and she was obviously
screwing up his business.  She braced herself for the hard lecture that she
knew would come next. 

“Kiria, I want you to know that, while I respect
your tenacity and willingness to accompany us on this quest, I refuse to lower
my standards for you.”  Kiria began to speak, but Manebrow raised a hand,
cutting her off with a stern look.  “Durik is in charge now, and I’m his
second.  That means while he’s off talking strategy and world politics with the
higher ups, I’m down here wiping noses and keeping you whelps in line.”  He
paused to ensure she was getting the message. “Now, I have a unit to run here,
something you’ve never learned how to be a part of.  You have two choices,
either you can do what I say, or you can stay home.” 

Kiria just lowered her head, more uncomfortable
than she had probably ever been in her life.

“Now,” Manebrow continued, seeing her submit, “as
you are not one of my warriors, but you are still a member of my company, there
are very few things I will ask of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Kiria blurted out, almost in tears. 
She had raised her head, unwilling to let him break her, but she still couldn’t
look him in the eyes.

“What?!” Manebrow spat out.

“I said I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to contradict
you.  I won’t do it again.  I promise!” 

Manebrow stood considering the young,
tenderhearted kobold before speaking again.  “As I was saying, there are a few
things that I will demand of you.  You will keep your equipment in prime shape,
as there will be no replacements.  You will take care of your body, especially
your feet and the feet of your mount, because I refuse to carry you.  You will
keep your knife and that little camp axe they gave you in the best of order, as
they may well save your life someday.  You will move with a purpose and execute
your duties in a timely fashion.  Finally, if you want to survive on this
little camping trip we’re about to take, you’ll learn to do exactly what I
say.  Is that understood?”

Kiria nodded, then seeing Manebrow was not
satisfied, she spoke.  “Yes, Manebrow.”  After a few more minutes, her
equipment was finally up to Manebrow’s standards.  She put her equipment away
as fast as her exhausted arms could, and then hefted her pack to one shoulder. 
Manebrow pointed where it should go in the orderly line of packs and she
followed his directions, trying to ensure it was lined up with the rest of the
packs.  Stowing her satchel of books and maps and such with the tack and saddle
for her wolf Starshine, she petted Starshine sullenly on the nose for a moment,
then left for her own chambers.

Durik followed Norborib past the Honor Guard
warrior who stood watch at the outer entrance to the Lord’s House.  Entering
the large open area that was the outer courtyard, Durik could feel the fresh
air and the slight moisture, and heard the sound of falling water.  A small
pool collected under a slight waterfall, which came down from high above.  The
moss and hanging vines that had adorned the council members’ grotto also
garnished this, the outer courtyard.  Throughout the area sprouted small beds
of flowers and plants.  Durik was amazed by the well-kept beauty of it all.

Norborib brought Durik quickly to the large
iron-banded double wooden doors on the far side, not allowing him to linger in
the beauty of the place; it was routine for Lord Karthan’s servant.  Motioning
for Durik to enter, Norborib held the door open for the young leader caste,
then closed and locked it behind them.  Inside was perhaps the most elegant,
yet simple display of architectural beauty Durik had seen in his entire life. 
Modeled after pictures in the gen’s library that spoke of Palacid, the stone
through which the front entranceway had been carved was cut into the shape of
pillars and arches, spaced a little more than two kobolds’ height apart down
the entire length.  Between each set of rough-hewn pillars on either side of
the wall were pedestals, also carved out of the wall, with intricately inlaid
copper and glass vases on them.

At the end of the hallway, the ornate entranceway
opened into a great open room with a hallway leading from it on either side, a
staircase leading up to a balcony that overlooked the entire chamber, and a
pair of doors, one on the balcony and one directly below it.  It was from this
lower door that Lord Karthan entered the room, holding a scroll in one hand.

“Welcome, young Durik!” Lord Karthan called,
motioning for Durik to sit on a stuffed fur chair across from him as he took a
seat. 

Hesitantly, not exactly sure of what he should be
doing, Durik came and sat at the edge of the chair.

“Norborib, leave us, will you?”  Lord Karthan
commanded.  He waited a moment for Norborib to disappear down one of the side
passageways, all the while smiling, which made Durik only more uncertain.  “Durik,
you’ve had quite a long day, haven’t you?” he asked as he sat back in his chair
a bit, trying to put Durik at ease.

“Yes, sire,” Durik replied, a bit stiffly, the
luxury of the place still awing him.

“Well, you’ve certainly proven your worth today,
young Durik.” Lord Karthan nodded as he considered the new leader caste.  “You
weren’t but a moment out of the Trials and already defending your lord! 
Certainly, this is a day to be remembered.”

Durik smiled at the recognition, bowing his head a
bit, as he really didn’t know how to respond.

“Several firsts for this generation have also
occurred today,” Lord Karthan continued.  “The first time a yearling group has
taken experienced warriors with them.  The first time I’ve ever seen wolves and
packdogs given to a yearling group.  Perhaps the most significant to me
personally, the first time a female has been sent along on the quest… my
daughter to be precise!”

“Yes, sire.” Durik nodded.

After a moment more of trying to draw Durik out
and put him at ease, Lord Karthan continued.  “Perhaps you’re wondering why I
called you here.”

“Yes, sire,” Durik answered, not understanding the
overtures at openness that Lord Karthan was attempting; to him this was a whole
new world.  He was very unsure of the rules of how one should deal with the
Lord of the Gen, so he stayed formal, which was how he had been trained to
react to any new circumstance.

“Durik,” Lord Karthan started, deciding to get to
the heart of the matter.  “You performed magnificently today, both in the trials
and in the insurrection that happened afterwards.”  Durik sat up a bit
straighter with his lord’s approbation.  “I want you to know that I trust you. 
Similarly, I hope that you trust me and that you continue loyal in your heart
to this gen.”

Lord Karthan’s words were like a splash of cold
water in the face. “But of course, sire.  I’ve pledged my life to this gen!”

“That is good to hear, young Durik.  I hope that
you will carry through with that promise in the times to come,” Lord Karthan
said, somewhat wistfully.  He breathed a bit deeper, then changed the subject. 
“I called you here for two reasons, really, a mission and a bit of advice. 
First let’s talk about the mission.” 

Durik leaned forward expectantly.  Lord Karthan
was getting down to business.

“As you well know, the Krall Gen to the east of
here are our best allies.  Their pig keepers and sheep herders supply us with
most of our meat, and their miners supply us with most of our ore.  We, in
turn, supply them with finely crafted weapons, wooden furniture, leather goods,
and education.

“In recent years, I have traveled often to see
Lord Krall, direct descendent of old Krall himself, to council in matters of
mutual defense and trade.  However, with the political situation how it is
right now here in the gen, I do not feel I could risk another visit at this
time.  Therefore, I need you to deliver a message for me.”

Lord Karthan leaned forward and handed Durik the
scroll he’d been holding.  It was a plain flax scroll, with the wax seal of the
Lord of the Gen on it.  Durik looked up at Lord Karthan quizzically.

“It is imperative that this message and the cargo
I’ll be sending with you be given to Lord Krall only,” Lord Karthan continued. 
“It will be accompanied by three of my Honor Guard warriors, who will meet you
at the first night’s resting place on the way to the Krall Gen.  You’ll have no
need of packing it, as it will come packed already on a pair of packdogs.  You
have only to get this package safely and untouched to Lord Krall.  It is not to
be opened by anyone else, even yourself.  Do you understand me?”

Durik nodded his understanding. “Yes, sire.”

Lord Karthan sat back in his chair. “Very well. 
The other thing we must discuss is a matter of internal politics.  Durik, you
are in the enviable position of being a leader caste without a space open for
you on the council.  That means that it’s most likely that the next slot that
is available on the council, you will take.  That includes that former council
member’s dwelling and all possessions pertaining to his position on the
council.  Now, I wouldn’t be too eager.  After all, usually the only way one
leaves the council is by death or incapacitation.  The other enviable position
you’re in is that you’re leaving the gen for a while, so you probably won’t be
involved in what is already in the works.”