The Game of Fates (8 page)

Jerrig
was not the only one to awaken in the night.  Somewhere in the dark of night
Durik woke, his blanket and furs soaked in a cold sweat.  Visions of a wild
boar, of orcs and of the ant queen’s royal guards all swirled about in his
head, all threatening to exact the price for their revenge in the only currency
that nightmares know; that of terror.  Desperately his sleeping form tossed and
turned as his imagined self tried everything to keep his company safe, and yet
for all his efforts they wandered off one by one, or even in pairs, to their
doom.  His hands reached out to them, his voice becoming almost shrill as he
called out to them, warning them of the danger, but in his dreams they would
not listen, and Durik was left desolate and alone.

Then,
almost as a lullaby to a child, Durik’s dreams were wrapped in the warm embrace
of an unseen being.  Like a baby, he felt himself being held in the arms of its
love as he rocked gently to and fro.  After a time the hardened exterior he had
of necessity affected began to soften, and with it his heart softened as well. 
In a short period of time the memories of the horrors of the last few days
began to lose their sharpness and a soft, reassuring maternal voice seemed to
breathe peace into his heart and mind.

“I
am with you, son of Kobold.  Be not afraid,” the voice whispered on the edge of
his consciousness.

“But
I am scared, mother,” his mind whispered back, telling the presence what he
could tell no one else, what he could not even admit to himself.

“My
son, I am with you, and I will stand with you in your times of greatest need. 
Know that I will watch over and guide you.  Your days shall not be less than
those appointed to you.”

Durik’s
heart was open, and with it his awareness was caught away into a high
mountain.  Upon the top of it sat a mighty citadel, its granite walls ancient,
yet as mighty as the day they were formed.  Many figures stood watch upon the
walls, though the vision was too clouded to make out who they were.  In a
moment Durik found himself in a great chamber, floating as it were,
weightlessly over the marbled floors, veins of gold and silver standing out in
bright relief against the black of the stone through which they ran.

Standing
in front of him was a being that radiated a power that was almost overwhelming
in its intensity and purity, and yet—she felt somehow deeply familiar.  Indeed,
as the dross of his immaturity and flaws began to melt away in the presence of
this utterly pure being, Durik began to feel the ennobling effect her power had
upon him.  His mind was alive and many things he had not understood before
began to make themselves clear.  With this greater understanding all the doubts
of years past began to resolve themselves.  Gradually his life to this point
became utterly clear, as if all these years he had been struggling in the cold
darkness, and now he had broken through into the brilliant light of day and,
looking back, the ties that had held him in the darkness were laid bare for his
inspection.

Standing
now confidently before the presence of this being, Durik’s heart was on fire
within him and his face shone with a brilliant luster.  With eyes now purified,
Durik looked at the being in front of him.  She was tall, nearly twice Durik’s
height, slender of stature, and light of skin.  Her face was flat with but a
small nose and ears that were small and rounded.  Though the aura of strength
that emanated from her was overwhelming, the appearance of her was one of
gentle grace and loving kindness.

She
appeared to be a human, to the best of Durik’s knowledge, though he knew
instinctively that this was only one of her forms.

“Durik,”
her consciousness swept across his like the tendrils of a wafting breeze.  “Son
of Kobold, will you serve me?”

Durik’s
heart burned within him still, and his desire to please her was intense.  “I
will do whatever you ask of me, my lady.”

“That
is well,” she gave him to feel, and his heart was gladdened at her
pronouncement.  “The stone of your brothers of the Kale Gen must be returned to
them.  When the time comes, you will know to whom it is to be given.”

Though
there was no negative reaction from Durik, he did wonder about Lady Karaba’s
pronouncement that he was the Oracle of the Kale Gen.

“You
are not to be the oracle of your brother’s gen for long, my dear one,” her
presence tenderly assuaged his heart.  “As it was in times of old, so shall it
be in times to come.  You are my paladin.  It is I who guide you, and through
you I will save my children.”

His
heart absolutely willing, and his soul yearning to obey, Durik looked up into
her eyes.  “What may I call you, my lady?” he voiced, his words seeming so
clumsy in his own ears.

All
of a sudden Durik began to feel himself being lifted away from her presence. 
As he went, he could feel the strength of her presence diminishing, though the
utter clarity of her care for him and of her power Durik felt could never
diminish in him.  Seeing nothing but blackness now, Durik could feel power
coursing through him and knew that some portion of that power would remain with
him from that point onward. 

As
the vision began to fade, Durik could feel the last tendrils of her hold on him
release.  As they did so, he heard three words that resonated through his
dreams for the rest of the night.

“I
am Morgra.”

D
urik awoke shortly after dawn the
following day.  Manebrow had entered his room and woken him with the good news
that, for the second night in a row, the Border Guards had seen no sign of the
ant colony’s forces.  As Durik sat up and shook the sleep from his brain,
Manebrow mentioned that he was about to go through the quarters and wake the
troops.  They had not done morning drills their first morning here to allow the
troops some rest, but Manebrow had no intentions of letting the morning drills
slip again. 

Rolling
out of bed, Durik grabbed the magical bracers which had served him so well with
the added strength they gave him, as well as his sword belt and shoulder belts
as he stood to stretch.  Strapping them on, he heard the familiar bark of
Manebrow going through the quarters, banging on doors and calling the troops to
morning drills.

The
intensity of the vision of the night before had dimmed, but the impact of it
left him sobered and, perhaps, more focused.  There was no feeling of
intensity, as though he were meant to be anxiously about The Lady’s business,
but rather he felt a peace that seemed to reside with him and served as a
buffer, even to Manebrow’s sharp barking commands as he woke the rest of the
company.

If
it hadn’t been for Manebrow coming to wake him as he had, the brand new leader
caste might have reflexively jumped out of bed and, in a sleepy haze, fallen
into ranks with the rest of the troops.  As he now looked out his door, Durik
saw his warriors strapping on their gear and hustling out the front door to
line up in front of the quarters, stiffly and never quite quick enough for
Manebrow’s taste. 

Still
adjusting to the many changes in his life, Durik attached the golden-hilted
sword that Lord Krall had given him the day before to his sword belt and walked
out the front doors of the quarters. 

Last
of the company, Jerrig and Kiria came out of the quarters.  Despite their
exhaustion of the night before, Jerrig looked as if he’d not slept much. 
Kiria, on the other hand, looked well rested and confident.  The exertion of
the past few days had served to drive most of her fears away, and instead had
put a keen intensity into her eyes.  Durik couldn’t help but notice how radiant
she looked, and he couldn’t help but feel stronger himself as he saw admiration
for him in her eyes as she greeted him.

The
kobold warriors formed two rows by team to the left of Ardan and Gorgon.  To
the rear of the company Kabbak stood not quite knowing what to do, and Kiria
was up on her toes trying to see what everyone else was doing from the rear of
the company, her movements strangely feminine amongst so many young male
warriors.  Durik was enchanted by it.  Everything she did seemed to be hard to
not notice this morning.  The gentle movement of her tail, the way she held her
hands, the shape of her through her simple flaxen traveling robe, the smell of
her in the early morning air.

Shaking
his head, Durik and Manebrow walked down off the porch with Durik taking his
place behind the formation while Manebrow walked to the front of it.  Seeing
Kabbak and Kiria in a quandary as to how to fit in, Durik put one with each of
the two teams.  In a matter of a few moments Manebrow was leading the company
in a series of stretches.

Moans
of pain and relief could be heard throughout the formation as the warriors
stretched stiff, sore muscles.  It was slow in coming, but the warriors
eventually shook the sleep from their tired bodies and began to feel somewhat
normal again.  As Manebrow started them on calisthenics and
muscle-strengthening exercises, the company began to regain some of its energy
and enthusiasm.  Again, like had been evident early in the feast the night
before, the subtle harassing and lame jokes that were the hallmarks of
camaraderie could be heard, though not too loudly in Manebrow’s formation.

After
the calisthenics and the muscle-strengthening exercises, Manebrow spread the
warriors out even more and began weapons drills.  As they were spreading out,
Durik noticed the various kobolds of the Krall Gen beginning to emerge from
their houses.  Males splashed water over their heads and cleansed the dirt from
their bodies as they prepared for the labors of the day.  Females made their
way, much as they had done for many generations, toward the squat mud-brick
bakeries where the aroma of freshly baking seed cakes emanated.  With the
rising of the sun over the eastern mountain, life began to stir around Lord
Krall’s lake.

Once
the warriors were fully awake the weapons drills were executed with quite a bit
of enthusiasm.  It was obvious to Manebrow that the events of the past couple
of days had given them a new intensity.  Swords and spear tips reflected the
light of the rising sun as they were lifted, swung, and thrust to Manebrow’s
slow, steady commands.

Following
the cadence as well, Durik lifted and thrust in slow, steady motions.  His
movements were deliberate and practiced; his objective not being speed, but
rather to ingrain the motions into his brain and hands until they became as
natural as breathing.  As he was pulling his sword back for another practice
thrust, Durik noticed another glint of steel from farther away down near Lord
Krall’s great hall. 

Dropping
his sword to one side, Durik looked out across the meadow past the bridges on
the lake and noticed Lord Krall’s son Morigar walking toward them with three
other warriors in tow.  In their hands were spears and, as Durik squinted, he
could see that all four of them had bows and swords.  Most impressive of all,
as their cloaks parted with each step Durik could see that they were dressed in
some form of hard leather armor with metal guards covering their shoulders,
forearms, shins, and much of their waists.  Stitched over the left breast of
their hardened leather breastplates was the symbol of Lord Krall; a great tree
like those of his forest. 

This
armor made Durik curious.  If there was any advantage to having armor, he’d
certainly like to see if perhaps he could acquire some for his company as
well.  Coming from a gen which did not use armor at all, Durik wondered about
its advantages and disadvantages.  Heavy metal armor hadn’t done much good for
the orcs, just slowed them down so the ants could catch them easier.  Even when
they stood and fought it hadn’t helped them much, but then they hadn’t had much
of a chance against the flood of ants.

Durik
continued with the drills until Morigar and his companions came within a
stone’s throw of the group.  Sheathing his sword, Durik caught Manebrow’s eye
and signaled to him to keep the drills going while he moved around the
formation.  Manebrow looked to the side and noticed Morigar’s group. 
Continuing to call the cadence of the drill, Manebrow nodded his
understanding.  It was time for politics and careful handling.  Manebrow would
watch with interest, but he was confident of his new leader caste and felt no
need to move to his aid.  Durik had already proven himself to be capable and
competent and so had won Manebrow’s trust.

The
rest of the company, however, was distracted from their drills as Morigar’s
team approached.  Their hardened leather armor, with its fancy designs and
various metal guards attached to it, was new to most of them and was causing
quite a stir.  Manebrow barked a command and the group stood at attention,
ceasing their talk.  After a moment of staring at them crossly, he saw that
they were focused again and continued the drills.

“Welcome,
Morigar and companions,” Durik called out as they approached.  Then, grasping
Morigar’s hand, he said, “There’s no place where so many of us can sit and talk
within the caravan drivers’ quarters, but I saw a tree with roots particularly
well suited to our purposes about a bowshot into the woods.  Will you accompany
me there?”

Morigar
looked at the troops doing drills, musing at how Kiria was trying somewhat
successfully to fit in and follow the rest of the warriors in the drills with
her long knife.  “Very well, though I need to give instructions to whomever you
have put in charge of acquiring materials.  My father has decided to be most
generous to your group.”  A cold, dispassionate look in Morigar’s eyes made
Durik uncomfortable, though he did not know why.

“Excellent. 
My thanks to your father for his generosity,” Durik said.  “My second, Kormach
Manebrow, will follow momentarily, once the drills are complete.  Come, let us
go.”  Durik led the group away from the noise of cadence and shuffling feet a
short distance down the trail to a small hollow at the base of a particularly
large tree.  Two of the largest roots seemed to form natural walls for the
hollow while the smaller roots lining the walls formed natural benches. 
Finding seats in the hollow, the five kobolds adjusted weapons and sat.

“Well,
Morigar, we certainly know each other after the events of two days ago, and
Krebbekar and I met briefly during the cleanup afterwards,” Durik said.

Krebbekar
grunted his acknowledgement.  It was an event whose memory neither Krebbekar
nor Morigar relished.

“But
I do not know your two companions.  Perhaps introductions are in order,” Durik
continued once they were all seated.  “My name is Durik.  I’m a leader caste
from the Kale Gen.  In our gen we still conduct the Trials of Caste.  I won the
Trials of Caste four days ago when half of my company and I passed from being
yearlings to being warriors.  We’re new to this, but our discipline and
training, and the other half of our company which are all experienced warriors,
have seen us through a number of tight spots already.”  Durik looked silently
at the pair of silent warriors Morigar and Krebbekar had brought with them. 
They were about to take the cue when Morigar spoke.

“Well
met again, Durik,” Morigar cut in.  “You know who I am, and after the events of
the past couple of days I’m sure you know more about our internal affairs than
you care to know.  Let me introduce my warriors.”  Pointing to Krebbekar, who
was an older warrior with steely eyes and a practiced ease, Morigar continued,
“Durik, meet Krebbekar.  He’s been the leader of my father’s house guard for as
long as I can remember.”

“And
longer than that, young master,” Krebbekar interrupted.

“Well
met again, Krebbekar,” Durik replied.

“These
other two warriors,” Morigar continued, “are two of the top scouts from the
Border Guards.”  He motioned to the other two kobolds, a pair of rather intense
looking types who obviously felt uncomfortable in their new hard leather armor
and especially uncomfortable about the metal shoulder guards, waist, shin, and
forearm guards that were attached to it.  “Gormanor and Lemmekor are their
names and they’ve traveled the areas we’re going to be traveling through. 
Overall, I think our team is well suited to accomplishing our mission.”

Durik
nodded at Morigar’s remark and turned his attention to the two warriors, “Well
met Gormanor and Lemmekor.  It is an honor to draw blades with you.”  Durik
then turned his attention back to Morigar.  “I am glad to have you coming with
our company, and I’m also more than happy to take on the task of discovering
what is left of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe.”

Morigar
looked a bit unhappy at Durik’s expression, which surprised Durik.  “Perhaps we
should talk about a couple of things,” Morigar said.  “First of all, you must
understand that, though we will travel together, I and my warriors are not part
of your company.”

Durik
was a bit taken aback by this, but he tried not to let it show.  He had left
the council the night before with the impression that Lord Krall had meant for
his son to be a part of Durik’s Company.  But now it was obvious that Morigar
didn’t see it that way.  Durik thought about forcing the issue for a moment
then reconsidered.  “Very well, then in dealing with my company, you are to
talk only with myself and Manebrow.  Since we’ll be operating as two separate
groups, I don’t want my warriors getting confused as to who they take orders
from.”

“I
agree.  The same would apply for my warriors,” Morigar said.

Durik
continued, “It will take much coordination between us to make sure we work
together well.  But even with that, I do believe there is much that our two
groups can offer each other.”

“Yes. 
However, I think it best if you follow my lead,” Morigar said calmly.  “I have
more years than you and have been out with the Border Guard quite a bit,
despite what my father thinks he knows.”  The look in Morigar’s eyes was
unmistakable as he dealt with the younger Durik.  The best way Durik could
describe it was ‘pompous, but pouting, arrogance.’  Morigar continued, “My
scouts have traveled the areas we’ll be going through and will serve well as my
eyes and ears.  Bring your company along and be prepared to fight when called
upon and we’ll get along just fine.”

Durik
couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  Anger began to well up within him as he
was faced with such arrogance.  He was stunned that Morigar would purposefully
try to talk Durik into giving him leadership of his company, a force three
times the size of Morigar’s!  Durik shook his head.  He could see that Morigar
was more arrogant than he’d originally let on. 

When
he finally spoke, it was in a calm, forced tone.  “Morigar, how dare you ask
such a thing!  Of course I will
not
give up my company to your command. 
Your father intended for me to take care of your small team, not for you to
come here and try to take over my company.  I’ll have nothing of the sort.  At
best, we’ll work together as separate, equal units.  If that’s not acceptable
to you, then take your warriors and go back home.”

Morigar’s
arrogance melted quickly in the face of Durik’s resolve.  His ploy having
failed, an underlying weakness began to show through his false bravado.  His
voice was a couple of pitches higher when he answered Durik, struggling to
control his emotions, “Very well, Durik.  We will work together then.”  Morigar
stood and turned to leave.  As he did so, he paused and said, “You may come to
me in my father’s hall when you wish to see me.  Let me know your plans when
you are ready.”  With that, Morigar walked out of the hollow, followed
eventually by the two scouts Lemmekor and Gormanor.