The Trials of Caste (30 page)

“My thanks,” he said unconvincingly, rubbing his
stomach.

Durik winked and jumped to the next pillar. 
Trallik muttered under his breath and followed.  Reaching the platform on the
other side, Trallik and Durik examined the large solid wooden door.  Both of
them thought it the strangest door they’d seen.  Being made of one solid sheet
of thick wood, the door itself was firmly set in its doorframe.  The bolts from
the hinges on the other side of the door were large and obvious and there
appeared to be no handle.

“Hmm… so I guess they want us to just push it
open,” Durik murmured.

“Which is exactly why we’d better not,” Trallik
answered.

“Agreed—I don’t see any obvious traps.  Hmm… Any
ideas?”  Durik asked.

Trallik leaned close to where the handle should
normally be on such a tall door and pulled out one of his wooden long knives. 
Placing it in the junction of the door and the doorjamb, he tapped the pommel a
couple of times with the palm of his hand.  The door opened a fraction of an
inch.

Trallik examined the doorframe carefully, letting
his mind try to absorb every detail of the door, in hopes of discovering the
trap he was certain existed.  In an effort to examine the top portion of the
door, he got on Durik’s shoulders.  After a moment, he noticed something
strange.  “The top of the doorjamb is marked up with tar,” he observed,
“strange considering that the rest of the doorjamb is untouched.”  Coming down
from Durik’s shoulders, Trallik stared thoughtfully at the door.  “Lend me your
spear and stand back.”

Durik looked questioningly at Trallik, but handed
him his spear and jumped onto a pillar near the platform, to the side of the
door.  Standing at the edge of the platform, Trallik hit the door twice with
the butt of the spear near where the handle should have been.  Cascading down
from the top of the doorjamb, a green dyed liquid rained down in one quick
torrent.  Trallik yelped and jumped back, landing heavily on his tail on a
stump behind him.  Catching himself with both hands as he rolled off, then
losing his grip with one hand, Trallik was left hanging from the stump by one
hand, only an arm’s length from the tar-covered floor.

As Trallik pulled himself back up onto the pillar,
Durik was laughing almost hysterically.  “You should have seen your eyes!” he
laughed, “They were round as the moon!”  Trallik rubbed his bruised rear end. 
He wasn’t hurt much, except for his ego.  “You squealed like a girl!”  Durik
laughed loudly.  Trallik did not share in his enthusiasm.

In the crows nest almost next to the obstacle, the
trainer was watching intently.  From inside the next room, the Honor Guard
warrior that was assigned as judge of this obstacle walked up to the edge of
the mark made by the green dye.

“Let me see you, Trallik” the judge said.  Trallik
raised his arms and turned around on the pillar.  “Impressive, you didn’t get
even a spot of dye on you.  Neither of you are casualties—yet.”

Trallik looked at Durik with an ‘I told you so’
look.

The judge continued, “The ‘acid’ is now
neutralized, you may continue.  Oh, except for this spear.”  He kicked Durik’s
now green spear off the platform and onto the tar floor.  “Don’t squeal too
loud next time or someone will hear you.”

Durik laughed.

G
orgon
was never one to take the easy route.  Today was no exception.  Straightway,
Gorgon had headed for the three obstacles’ clearings that made up the
Crucible.  Soon he had found himself confronting a mess of bars, platforms,
hanging ropes, and poles.  After several moments of looking around the edge of
the three obstacles, he’d figured out their structure.  Each of the three
obstacles stood separately and were each, in their own right, a difficult
climbing test.  However, at the top of all three and interconnecting them all
was a platform from which hung a room-sized wooden box.  It seemed obvious
enough to Gorgon that that room must be where the keys to all three obstacles
were located.

As he was preparing to climb one of the three
obstacles, Arbelk had taken a shot at him with a bow.  Gorgon was too quick for
him, however, and had hit the floor when he heard the bowstring released. 
Almost reflexively, Gorgon jumped to his feet and charged Arbelk, padded wooden
hammer in one hand and shield in the other.  To his credit, Arbelk did manage
to get another arrow off, striking Gorgon’s shield, before Gorgon was upon
him.  With one swing of Gorgon’s hammer, Arbelk was on the floor seeing stars. 
It was several moments before Arbelk got up and stumbled back to his starting
point, leaving his weapons on the sandy floor of the obstacle.

“Come now, scrawny.  No time to be loafing,”
Gorgon chided.  “You’re lucky I pull my punches or you’d be down for the
count.”  Arbelk grunted an incoherent reply, holding his head.

Gorgon wasted no time.  As soon as Arbelk was back
on his feet and the trainer had announced the kill, he took Arbelk’s bow,
gathered the arrows, and mounted the first platform to begin climbing the rope
up to the next platform.  Several minutes later, after crossing a tightrope,
climbing a wooden wall with rivets sticking out of it, and crossing hand over
hand through a ladder obstacle, Gorgon found himself on the platform at the top
of the crucible looking at a trap door that obviously led to the room that was
hanging from the bottom of the platform.  He could feel the eyes of the entire gen
watching him from the stands.

With a two-handed blow of his hammer and a
follow-up kick the flimsy locked trapdoor gave way, falling in pieces to the
floor of the box below.  The crowd cheered at Gorgon’s unconventional tactic. 
Moments later, Gorgon had climbed down a ladder into the box, and was surveying
his surroundings.  Against one wall seated on a chair was the Honor Guard judge
for the obstacle.  Around the edges of the room were three objects; a rock
about Gorgon’s size, a thick wooden pole twice Gorgon’s height and covered in
grease, and a strong wooden chest with internal hinges and a complex looking
lock on it.

Gorgon laid his weapons down and, after inspecting
the bottom edges of the rock, he squatted down next to it and took hold of the
edge with both hands.  With tremendous effort, Gorgon lifted the rock, slowly
tilting it until he was able to roll it off toward the pole.  The entire
platform shook as the rock rolled once and stopped heavily against the pole. 
From the top of the pole, a metal key with a green piece of cloth on it fell to
the floor.  “Aha,” Gorgon exclaimed.  “There’s more than one way to win this
game.”  Then, looking down at the ground, Gorgon saw another large metal key
with a blue cloth attached to it lying where the rock had been.  The judge in
the corner looked surprised.  He was even more surprised by Gorgon’s next move.

After collecting both of the keys, and stuffing
them in his belt, Gorgon hauled the chest up the ladder by one of its handles,
grunting and sweating as he went.  Upon reaching the top, he pulled the chest
out and, with a mighty heave, threw it over the side of the platform onto the
bottom platform far below.  Again, the crowd cheered Gorgon.  With a crash, the
chest split into many pieces, spilling a large metal key with a purple piece of
cloth tied to it onto the floor.  Gorgon smiled and waved to the crowd, then
went back down the ladder into the box to get his weapons.  A few moments later
he was back up again and looking over the side. 

He was surprised to see Arbelk walking toward the
remnants of the chest.  Pulling out his bow and an arrow, Gorgon took aim. 
“Persistent, isn’t he?” Gorgon muttered.  At that moment Arbelk looked up, saw
Gorgon aiming at him, and ducked underneath the nearest platform.  He was not
quick enough, however, as Gorgon’s arrow struck him on top of the shoulder. 

Dropping his recently acquired sword, Arbelk
headed back to his starting point again.  He had no points in the previous
trials and had two kills against him now.  He was starting to sweat, as one
more kill without scoring would mean that he had failed the trials and would be
a servant caste.  If that happened, the embarrassment of such a spectacular
failure would haunt him for decades to come.

The Honor Guard judge, now standing atop the
platform, raised his red flag and pointed.  The trainer in the tower picked up
the cue and again yelled, “Arbelk.”  The roar of approval from the crowd was
deafening.

In the Lord’s box, Kiria turned to Lord Karthan,
“Father,” she began, “is that allowed?  I thought one was supposed to open the
locks, not break the chests.  Seems rather wasteful to me.”

Lord Karthan looked at his young daughter.  Even
though she had recently reached her time of adulthood, it was obvious to him
that in many ways she was still his little girl.  “Many roads lead to home, my
daughter.  Some are longer, and some are shorter.  Some are more suited to
those with much patience and, clearly, some are more suited to those with much
strength.”  This answer seemed to please his daughter, as she went back to
watching the trials.

Several moments later, Gorgon was on the lower
platform again and, after fishing the key out of the pieces of the chest and
securing it in his belt, he climbed down to the ground and began jogging toward
the center of the obstacles.

“Kiria,” Lord Karthan gently spoke as he nodded
toward a cloak that the chief of his personal bodyguard held up.  “Don’t worry,
it’s just a precaution, like we practiced.”

“But father!” she protested, the need in her eyes
clear.

Lord Karthan smiled something of a mischievous
smile, “I’ll let you know whether Durik wins or not.”

Kiria scowled, decidedly unhappy about her father
meddling in the affairs of her heart as she shot him a venomous glare.  With a
low growl, she scooted along the bench to put on the cloak.

“It is time,” the strong warrior who held it up said,
the staunch look on his face belying the turmoil he felt by leaving his lord at
such a time as this.  But duty was his watchword, and so he would guard Lord Karthan’s
whelps.

Lord Karthan’s keen gaze and approving smile eased
his chief bodyguard’s conscience and stopped any further protest from his
daughter.  It was how it must be. 

Soon, his two boys would go as well.  But Lord
Karthan would wait until their hero Gorgon had slipped out of view again before
giving the word to the other bodyguard who sat waiting patiently next to the
little ones.  He could give them that, at least, as Kiria and his chief body
guard must clear the arena first for the additional movement to not raise
suspicions.

Jerrig and Troka had never been the best of
friends, but they certainly weren’t enemies.  One thing that their year of
training had taught them was the value of working together to overcome
obstacles.  So it was only natural that when they came face to face with each
other at the Orc Guard Complex obstacle they decided to work together to get up
the wall of the windowless tower and get the key.

It didn’t take long, working together.  They
decided the door had to be booby-trapped and so, since neither of them was
particularly good with traps, they decided to bypass it.  Taking a length of
rope they found hanging in a small shack to the side, Troka, the stronger of
the two by far, threw the rope over the top of the tower until it fell down the
other side.  Then with Troka holding his end firm, Jerrig climbed up the other
side to the top of the tower.  Within a couple of seconds, Jerrig had the key
with the orange cloth and was holding it up for the crowd to see.  The crowd roared
its approval from the stands.  After his moment of glory, Jerrig dropped the
key with the orange cloth on it into the sand near Troka.

“Hurry up, you glory hog!”  Troka yelled. 
“There’s still plenty more keys to be gotten!”

Once Jerrig made it down, they took their stances
and began to battle it out for the key.  Jerrig with two javelins thought he
could catch Troka, but Troka proved more able than that and within a few
moments the wooden sword that Troka had acquired from one of the starting
points was poking Jerrig in the stomach.  They grasped hands and Jerrig left
for his starting point.  Troka picked up the key and, tucking it into his belt,
began jogging to the next obstacle, a wide smile on his snout.  He had a kill,
and so knew he would not be servant caste at the end of the trials.

Keryak was never one to give up, but neither was
he one to play bad odds.  Having two kills against him had clearly shaken his
confidence.  Figuring that everyone else must have decided the smoke obstacle
was the easiest to get also, he decided he’d probably better change his focus
and go for something less popular.  After picking up a spear and a javelin from
Trallik’s starting point, he took off around the edge of the scouting area toward
the ruined bridge obstacle.  Though it had been several minutes, Keryak
cautiously peered down the passageway that Trallik had taken then ran by
quickly.  Arriving at the next passageway, he peered into the shadowy corridor
before entering quietly.

Off in the distance, he heard a trainer yell
“Arbelk.”  Moments later he heard the same trainer call “Jerrig.” 
At least
I know they’re on the other side, I wonder where Trallik and Troka are.  Well, hope
I don’t find out too soon.

Following the partitions closely, Keryak made his
way ahead toward a well-lit opening in the nets covering the passageways. 
Coming up to the exit from the passageway into the open area, Keryak could see
that a shallow but wide ditch had been dug from one side of the obstacle to the
other side standing between him and the far end.  He could also see that this
was the only passageway leading into the obstacle.  On both sides of the ditch,
across from each other, there were two wooden platforms that were level with
each other.  Off to the side of both platforms were piles of stuff.  On the
other side of the ditch from him, Keryak could see a low stone pedestal, on top
of which lay a large metal key with a yellow piece of cloth attached to it.

“Aha!  The yellow key!”  Without a moment’s
hesitation, Keryak took off at a run toward the ditch.  He stopped dead in his
tracks as he saw the black tar in the bottom of the ditch and read the sign
‘bottomless pit.’  “Hmm…” he muttered.  The ditch was too wide for him to
jump.  With the Honor Guard judge seated on a stool in the corner, there was no
way he could walk through the tar.  Keryak stood there for a moment, then went
over to the pile of materials and began to rummage around.

“Two boards, neither one long enough to make it to
the far side, a rope that’s only a couple of kobolds tall, and a pile of square
cut stones; what am I supposed to do with this?!”  Keryak sat down on the
platform, cupped his chin in his hands, and began to think.