Into the Heart of Evil (9 page)

The kobold on the far side of the table continued,
“New warrior of the Kale Gen, are you a loyal servant of your lord and master
Khee-lar Shadow Hand?”  The question was pronounced more like a statement than
a question. 

Trallik didn’t know what to say.  Was this a
trick?  The title of lord was reserved only for the lord of the gen.  Was this
a test of loyalty? 

“I am.” He hoped his answer would please this
group.

“Do you hereby swear to keep secret the things
revealed to you this night?”

“Yes.”

“Under penalty of death?” the kobold asked.

Trallik’s eyes narrowed.  He did not trust this
group, but had little choice.  Still, there was something familiar about the
voice of the kobold across the table from him.  “If that is the wish of my Lord
Khee-lar, then yes, I swear it.”

The kobold across the room from him nodded. “Very
good.  Then I reveal myself to you.”  Releasing the tie string holding it on
his snout, Khee-lar Shadow Hand lowered his mask, throwing it onto the table. 
None of the other kobolds around the room followed suit.  “Young warrior, I
have commanded for you to be brought here this night.  Before the trials
Trelkar found you sneaking around the arena, attempting to discover the
obstacles you were to face.  You are aware, I assume, that this is an offense
punishable by immediate casting to the servant caste?”

Trallik was aghast.  “My Lord Khee-lar, please do
not do this.  I could not stand life as a servant caste!  Please, I’ll do
anything you ask!”

Khee-lar sat with an almost impassive face.  “You
have shown great skill and courage before and during the trials.  In fact, you
showed that you have the qualities of leadership and tenacity that I most prize
in my elite warriors.” 

Trallik was happy to hear such a complement as
opposed to a pronouncement of punishment, especially from one he held in such
high respect and who wielded such power over his life.  He began to sense that
he had not been called here to be punished. 

“As such,” Khee-lar continued, “I offer you an
opportunity to gain what you deserve.  I offer you the opportunity to become an
elite warrior.”

Trallik almost burst with eagerness and relief. 
“My Lord, what would you have me do?”

Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s face grew still and
emotionless.  “Do you swear to do whatsoever I command you, on your life?”

The question raised no alarm bells in Trallik’s
head.  Though he had grown up with some sense of honor and morals, over the
year of training for the trials his desire to win over his peers had led him to
secretly compromise most every moral tenant his parents had taught him.  From
cheating on academic tests to sabotaging the equipment of his fellow yearlings
to cause them to fail inspections, Trallik had very quietly done whatever it
had taken to not only make it through the year of training, but also to rise
toward the top of his year-group. 

The irony of his loss to Durik, who had done
everything he could throughout the year to help the other yearlings, was more
than Trallik could bear.  Durik’s subsequent branding as leader caste had
shaken Trallik to the core.  He doubted that anything anyone asked him to do
now would be too low for him to stoop to get even for what he saw as the
injustice that had been done to him at the trials.

Without hesitation, Trallik said, “Yes, my Lord. 
I swear by my life that I will do whatsoever you command.”

Khee-lar Shadow Hand nodded. “This day, I give you
a task.  Know this: the current Lord of the Gen is of a lesser bloodline than
my own.  His commands are contrary to the traditions of our great sires, and
his laws have brought great weakness to the elite warriors of this gen, causing
them to trade their true callings as leaders of the gen for the menial tasks of
craft and commerce.  As such, we, the true loyalists of this gen, swear by our
lives that he and his line shall not continue.  Do you so swear?”

Trallik was surprised, but not dismayed by
Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s speech.  “Aye, Lord.  I do so swear.”

“Then I have a work for you.  Will you do it?”

Trallik nodded. “Yes, Lord, I promise to do
whatever you ask.”

“In our quest to overthrow the oppression of
Karthan, we must ensure that no heir survives to reclaim the throne.  You,
Trallik, will ensure that Kiria, the daughter of Karthan, does not survive the
quest.  Do you accept this mission?”

Trallik was stunned.  He had never killed anyone
before, much less a fellow kobold and even worse, a female.  Remembering the
others in the room, he quickly hid his surprise and breathed deeply.  In his
heart, he reasoned that, if this was what it took, then he needed to be willing
to do things he’d not thought about doing before.

“My Lord Khee-lar, I will do as you ask,” Trallik
heard himself saying.

“Then this night, Trallik of the Deep Guard, you
are joined with us in the Covenant of Loyalty.  Step forward to the table and
sign your name to the covenant.” 

Trallik stepped forward and stood in front of the
sheepskin.  He quickly scanned the writing on the scroll, skimming the details
of the covenant, noticing that the bottom of the scroll where the names were
was folded over so as to keep them hidden.  Dipping the tip of the feather in
the ink, he slowly wrote his name in simple, bold strokes where Khee-lar Shadow
Hand indicated.

After Trallik was escorted out and back toward his
dwelling, the group quickly departed and went their separate ways.  Khee-lar
Shadow Hand stayed seated, however, waiting patiently for the room to clear. 
As he did so, two of the other kobolds who had been in the room came up next to
him, taking their hoods off and waiting patiently for the rest to clear out. 
One of them, by his dress under his cloak, was one of Lord Krall’s messengers
from their neighboring gen.  The other was none other than Trelkar, Khee-lar
Shadow Hand’s chief elite warrior. 

When the last of the group had left, Trelkar
handed Khee-lar Shadow Hand a small, folded-up piece of parchment.  Khee-lar
took it, read it briefly, then taking a feather in hand, he signed it.  The two
kobolds all stood waiting patiently for him to finish blowing the ink dry and
refold the parchment. 

“Redar,” Khee-lar looked intensely into the
messenger’s eyes as he handed him the folded parchment, “be careful with this
treaty.  It cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

“Yes, lord.” Redar nodded, his normally infantile
nature carefully hidden behind a thin veneer of discipline.

“And Redar,” Khee-lar looked at him with barely
concealed disdain as he thought of Mynar, “Your master has botched things
lately.  So you make sure to tell Mynar that he better deliver… both the orcs
and the Kale Stone!  We’ll take care of the whelps, quietly, in the wilderness,
in a solitary place where the bodies can be hidden.  He doesn’t have to worry
about that.  But I must have that stone!  There are others who will not join my
cause unless I have it.  He must send out his loyalists to get it now!  Tell
Mynar that we cannot wait for his allies to isolate the gens before we strike.”

Redar nodded his head in understanding.  Their
discussion was short and neither one needed any further explanation of what was
given or what was expected.  The Krall Gen messenger bowed in obeisance as he
departed, though he could not suppress a nervous snicker, tail swishing
passively behind him.

Khee-lar seemed to be taking quite a risk trusting
in Mynar to deliver the Kale Stone to him after not only coming out in open
defiance to his former master, but after showing his dominance as well. 
Indeed, he was pretty confident that Mynar never actually meant to deliver the
stone as promised.  But Khee-lar’s attempts to find out and buy off the kobolds
that were being sent to get it had succeeded, and he was certain they would
deliver the stone directly to him… their lives depended on it.  He would keep
up the façade of reliance on Mynar for the moment, however, as there were still
benefits to keeping Mynar as an ally.

In his mind, Khee-lar Shadow Hand was confident of
his plans and his methods.  Though Mynar had taught him this game, Khee-lar had
mastered it, and Trallik was only the latest in a long line of kobolds who
would do his bidding.  This, for Trallik, was only a test.  Truly, he had not
gotten where he was by relying on yearlings to do his critical jobs for him. 
No, his reach was far, and was growing with every passing hour.

A
n
early morning mist shrouded the sunken meadow, giving an eerie glow to the
torches of the farewell party as they assembled outside the large main entrance
to the caverns of their gen.  Lord Karthan and almost the entire council were
present, as well as the families of all fifteen of the kobolds who made up this
group.  There were several tears shed, but no more speeches given.  What should
have been said had all been said, and now was the time to fulfill promises and
to perform the task at hand.  The entire company, dressed in their wolf-skin
garb, was busily engaged in saying their goodbyes.  Many proud parents were
present, though the only lifemate and children associated with the company were
Manebrow’s.  At the entrance to the tunnel, his three young male whelps all
jumped up and down with excitement at their father’s ‘great adventure.’

Durik’s uncle and aunt beamed with pride.  For
them, this was a dream come true.  As his surrogate parents, they had watched
him pass through many trials.  His bronze scales and thinner horns that made it
hard for him to fit in, also the fact that he’d grown slower than his peers,
though he did eventually catch up to them, the many moons of mourning after his
parents’ death.  After coming to grips with it all, he had begun to build a
momentum in life as he moved from one accomplishment to another.  First, it had
been his accomplishments in the learning centers where he’d led his year-group
in academics, then his selection as an apprentice with the wolf trainers, then
he’d been chosen as his warrior group leader’s personal apprentice wolf
trainer, then his successes in the year of training and how highly his trainer
had spoken of his accomplishments.  Finally, and unexpectedly, the Trials of
Caste had turned out to be a capstone achievement of his life thus far.  As he
transitioned from whelp to adult, his surrogate parents virtually burst with
pride.

Durik said his goodbyes, telling his uncle and
aunt that he would be safe out there, and that he’d bring them something on his
return.  Of course, they both said that wasn’t necessary.

Turning to Darya, his little sister, who was
starting to look so much like their mother, Durik’s heart softened even more. 
“You stay out of trouble while I’m gone, will you?”

“You’re taking Keryak… so how can I get in
trouble?”  Darya smiled, then suddenly hugged her brother fervently. “You come
back in one piece, will you?” Then, sighing, she looked up at him with worried
eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

As she let go of Durik, Keryak came walking up. 
“I’ve already said goodbye to my family, but I figured I should probably say
goodbye to you too,” he said, almost flippantly.

Darya beat her fists against his chest as he
grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him.  “You!” she cried, “You’re
just trying to get me riled up.  First you leave me to watch the stars alone
last night, now you joke with me again.  What am I going to do with you?” 
Darya’s words had no teeth, and were spoken with the same joking intention as
Keryak’s. 

To her uncle and aunt, it was obvious that Darya
cared for Keryak in a way that, perhaps, only a young female’s heart could.

Seeing that Manebrow was forming the company,
Durik said his goodbyes and moved out to take the reins of his wolf from
Kabbak.  As he began to walk away, he gently nudged Keryak to remind him to
come shortly.

As Manebrow called the company into line, Keryak
stepped back as if to leave, then lingered a moment longer within arm’s reach
of Darya, reluctant to leave her.  “I will see you shortly, my young love,” he
said tenderly.

Darya smiled in response. “And when you return, I
will be that much older, and that much closer to the day of my adulthood.”

Keryak smiled and said goodbye.  Suddenly, Darya
stepped forward and hugged him with all the passion of young love.  “You will
come back for me, won’t you?” she whispered.

Keryak held her close. “I will be safe out there,
Darya.”

At that moment, Darya’s uncle Drok reminded them
that the company was forming.  They broke their embrace and, letting their
hands slowly part, Keryak moved up to take his place in the line of warriors.

As one, the group began to move at Manebrow’s
command.  For the departure, Durik was first in the line, tailed by his servant
and Kiria.  Following him was Gorgon and his five new warriors, proud and
mostly unaware of what awaited them outside the gen.  Behind Gorgon’s team came
Manebrow and his five warriors, with Terrim leading the packdogs in the rear.

That it had been a very long evening followed by a
very short night showed in the eyes of many in the company, especially so in
the eyes of Kiria and Kabbak, neither one of them being conditioned to deal
with much in the way of physical hardships.  In contrast, the canines took to
the early morning air with gusto and a zeal that had made them resistant to the
saddle and even more resistant to the packs.  Durik looked at them with pride
and thankfulness in his heart; pride that he’d been somehow chosen to lead this
group, and thankfulness for the prosperity his gen enjoyed, that had provided
his company with so much.

As he walked Firepaw up the pathway toward the
forest above, both kobold and wolf could feel the anticipation in the air. 
Soon, as they passed the picket line, they would leave behind what they had
known for their entire lives, and they would go forward into the unknown. 
Reaching the top of the crest, Durik turned and looked down at the shrouded
torches in the mist below.  As he turned to head into the forest, he thought he
saw his little sister Darya waving goodbye.

Mynar the Sorcerer sat surrounded by a thicket of
raspberry bushes.  Beside him sat the wolf he had ‘acquired’ from the caves
where Lord Karthan’s messengers kept their beasts, and beside the wolf sat the
saddlebags with provisions and the weapons he had taken to help see him safely
on his way back to the Krall Gen; his gen, the gen of his birth, the gen that
harbored the other descendants of the northern gen refugees who were his
supporters. 

His pride had been wounded.  His younger protégé Khee-lar
Shadow Hand had gotten completely out of hand, and Mynar had failed to get him
back under control.  But the same wrath that had smoldered within him for the
entire ride so far had now led him to the only decision he could make; he would
destroy the Kale Gen and all within it; every warrior, every female, every
whelp.  No longer did he wish to claim such a disloyal clan for himself. 

And what made him certain that he could do such a
feat, when just six years ago his orc allies had failed to even conquer the
Kale Gen?  Mynar the Sorcerer, bringer of the orc raid six years now in the
past, grinned as he thought about the hidden power he now held, for he had
never ceased to accumulate power.  And though the orcs were powerful, he would
not rely on them to destroy the Kale Gen. 

No, Mynar had another group, a group of unwitting
allies whose queen he had led into this southern valley, a group that was much
more efficient, much more effective, and much more deadly, a group that was
growing every day and would soon have the strength to not only destroy the Kale
Gen, but to hunt down and tear every one of them limb for limb.

Mynar smiled a wicked smile as he thought of the
sheer terror that Khee-lar Shadow Hand and his disobedient companions would
feel when Mynar guided the queen to lead her forces against them.

As he sat grinning in the thicket not far from the
Great River that ran through the valley between the two gens, Mynar took a deep
breath and let his rage steel his determination.

In his hands he held the fist-sized ball of quartz
known as the Krall Stone.  The surface of the ball was smooth, without a flaw,
while the inside of it was misted with small bronze flecks throughout.  To any
who did not have what it took to use the device, it appeared as nothing but a
smooth rock.  But to Mynar, who was not only of the right bloodline, but was
also touched by magic itself, it was a source of great information, and
therefore of great power.  And now that Mynar had decided to bring down utter
destruction on the Kale Gen, he needed to ensure that all would be ready… for
to ensure their destruction, he needed to catch the Kale Gen when they were
divided. He needed to know what Khee-lar Shadow Hand was planning to do… what
he was hiding from Mynar that made him so confident, and when Khee-lar would
strike.

Peering deep into the crystal, Mynar’s eyes seemed
to focus on something far from him.  In a moment, Khee-lar Shadow Hand came
into view.

“Abetor,” Khee-lar Shadow Hand challenged the
cloaked figure who stood in the passageway as he approached.  The figure pulled
back the hood and opened his cloak, revealing the elite warrior Abetor, who had
been standing patiently, waiting on the master of the covenant.

“Yes, lord.”

“Your appointment as the new chief elite warrior
of the Wolf Riders is fortuitous.”

“Yes, lord.” Abetor nodded.

“Can you bring me the loyalty of the elite
warriors from your warrior group?”

“Yes, lord.” Abetor nodded, then sensing that
Khee-lar wanted more, he continued, “Lord, several of the elite warriors from
the failed insurrection were brothers and fathers of my warriors.  They came
mostly from my warrior group or the Patrol Guard, after all.  As such, my
warriors are not content to sit by and see the last of them executed by Lord
Karthan’s guards.  There are several already who are calling for action.  They
have the sympathy of the rest of my wolf riders.”

“Then administer the oath tonight,” Khee-lar said.

“Tonight, lord?”  Abetor was taken aback, for such
a thing was not to be taken lightly.

“Yes!  Will you sit by and wait for those in
prison to be executed?  Send a messenger to tell me when you’re ready, and we
shall dispose of your obstacle,” Khee-lar stated, as though killing Raoros
Fang, a warrior group leader and a mighty warrior in his own right, were as
simple as that.

“And what of the yearling group?” Abetor asked. 
“Durik came from my warrior group.  He’s already a leader caste.  Would he not
be appointed instead?”

“That depends on who is lord of the gen,” Khee-lar
answered matter-of-factly.  “If you get me the loyalty of your warrior group,
then we can move against Karthan… and you won’t have to worry about who will
take Raoros’ place as leader of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group, will you, my
friend?”

“Aye, lord,” Abetor answered, though in the back
of his mind he questioned whether Khee-lar was really anyone’s friend. 
Sometimes, however, a warrior has to dig in the mud if he’s going to get the
gold.

“And what of Lord Karthan’s whelps?” Abetor
continued.  “I’ve heard that all three have now left the gen, and if Kiria and
the two young males survive, your rule will always be challenged.”