by Joel Babbitt
“I wish there was another way to work this out,” Krobo groaned. “We never should have promised not to tell anyone. The old Lore Master would know what to make of this. Or maybe we could have gotten Khee-lar Shadow Hand to overrule Trelkar. Does Khee-lar know what Trelkar is planning?” Krobo asked in frustration.
“Or at least you should have waited until after you knew what he was asking,” Spider finally muttered behind a wicked smile he had recently acquired. His entrance into their deliberations was as abrupt as a sudden splash of cold water.
“Son, what’s come over you?” Jezmya asked, a worried look on her face.
“I thought you wanted to see me smile,” Spider sneered, the mask of frustration he had worn for so long had given way to long-suppressed feelings of raw hatred. The look in his eyes deeply worried his mother.
Krobo could see the transformation as well, but didn’t know quite what to make of it. “What did Khee-lar Shadow Hand ask you about in the other room, Spider?”
Spider sat back, his perennial crouch finally giving way to a relaxed seated position. It was as if whatever weight he’d been carrying was gone and he was content. At the same time, the look in his eyes showed that he had reached a darker, more evil place than Krobo had realized. Seated next to Krobo, Jezmya still had a mother’s blind eyes to the depths of her son’s true state.
“Nothing,” Spider answered, his snout upturned in a deliberately condescending manner. “Let’s just say that he recognizes my talents.”
“You look too happy for that!” Krobo said accusingly. “Spider, if he asked you to do something you shouldn’t, don’t do it.”
Spider laughed, a bitter, evil laugh, and shook his head. “Listen to yourself. Just now you’ve decided to help Trelkar steal something. And you tell me not to do something I shouldn’t?”
Krobo was taken aback at the painful truth of the statement.
“Son,” Jezmya said, “what did he ask you to do? What did he promise you?”
Spider grabbed the long handled club he used as a cane and stood up. “I’ve had enough of your constant prying. There’s space at Trelkar’s house for me now. If you’re looking for me, don’t bother.”
Jezmya’s face fell. Despair began to grip her heart for the tender little one she once knew, and the twisted adult he had somehow become.
“Spider!” Krobo commanded. “What did he offer you?”
Turning back around, Spider looked the old, sorry servant caste in the eyes. “Let’s just say he offered me the first vision of what I can become. And I like what I see.”
Both Krobo and Jezmya looked on in stunned silence as Spider walked out of the room. Neither of them understood the transformation that had come over the youth they had thought they could save.
“I agree with Kort! Let’s strike now!” Troll’s voice thundered uncomfortably loud for what was customary in these most secret and exclusive of meetings; even his own small group of elite warriors from the Wolf Riders were surprised. Standing among elite warriors from the Deep Guard and Patrol Guard on the other side of the small chamber, Mynar the Sorcerer smiled a demure smile.
“Kort,” the kobold seated on the high seat interrupted the murmurs of agreement. Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s face was devoid of reaction, something that left those who knew him rather uncomfortable. Standing next to him, Trelkar’s sharp eyes and absolute confidence showed clearly that he was the power behind Khee-lar. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Khee-lar continued as the murmurs subsided, “I do not want all our plans to go to waste, due to one rash move.”
Kort, sub-chief to the Chief Elite Warrior of the Patrol Guard, had been startled by Troll’s vehement support, but he was more surprised by Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s reluctance to act. There were many veteran elite warriors in the room, each of whom led a handful of warriors. Surely they were more than enough to strike down Lord Karthan and any who stood in his defense. Kort himself had brought nearly half of them! Surely there couldn’t be that many, outside of the Honor Guard, who would come to Lord Karthan’s aid.
“Sire,” Kort said, and all eyes returned to him. There was a passion in his eyes, but he was very aware of his lord’s demeanor, and of Trelkar’s stern glare. “I will do whatever you ask, but may I know what piece has yet to fall into place before we can activate the Covenant and wrest control of this gen from that usurper Karthan and his minions?” Murmurs of agreement and support echoed from the assembled elite warriors.
Khee-lar Shadow Hand cleared his voice and Kort’s next question died in his throat. “I would move now, but some who are here today have yet to join the Covenant,” he said, looking over at the leader of the Wolf Riders and the chief elite warriors of the Trade and the Metal Smithies Warrior Groups who had sat silently among the group to this point. “Without your support, my friends, our plans cannot succeed.”
An awkward moment passed as the three warrior leaders from three of the Kale Gen’s six warrior groups sat looking at each other. Finally, Raoros Fang, leader caste of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group, broke the silence.
“Khee-lar,” the large warrior spoke with no sign of deference in his voice, “Troll may be my chief elite warrior, but in this matter he speaks for only himself, and perhaps for the few elite warriors who are with him from my group. I will not stand in your way, but neither am I ready to swear the swords of my warriors to you or this Covenant organization you’ve made. If you obtain the Kale Stone, and if you prove able to wield its power, then I will gladly call you lord. Until then, I have taken your oath of secrecy. Is that not enough for you?” This last was more a statement than a question.
The chief elite warriors from the Trade Warrior Group and the Metalsmithies Warrior Group nodded their agreement as Raoros Fang sat. Trelkar looked flatly at the trio.
After a moment, Khee-lar Shadow Hand smiled a strained smile and turned to face Kort. “Well, Kort, that would be why we cannot strike yet. By my count we have only the Deep Guard leaders. While I am confident in your ability to deliver the Patrol Guard for us when the time comes, and we all know that Lord Karthan’s Honor Guard must not be approached to join the Covenant, without the support of these three groups,” he said, indicating Raoros and the two chief elite warriors seated with him, “we cannot move forward.”
Kort felt acutely the lack of confidence echoing in Khee-lar’s words. “Sire, the heritage of your bloodline in this gen is worth more than Karthan and all who support him. Soon the winds of the Fates will sweep away even their memory.”
“Well spoken. Soon my bloodline will take back what was entrusted for a time to lesser kobolds, but has always been my blood right,” Khee-lar said as he stood, indicating that the meeting was at an end. “My brothers, soon the day will come when the Kale Stone will return to its gen, and to me, its rightful heir. And when that day comes,” he said, deliberately not looking at the three who had yet to covenant, “I shall unify the gen under my rule, and those who stand with me shall see the rewards of their loyalty. This I covenant!”
“Aye!” the word resonated throughout the chamber as those present stood and began filing out of the chamber deep in the training caves of the Deep Guard’s area. Troll looked on impatiently as the small knot of leader caste, functional leaders that Khee-lar had wanted in the covenant, began to slowly file out. They brought no swords to the cause and Troll didn’t know why Khee-lar had bothered. Standing next to him, his own small group of elite warriors from the Wolf Riders Warrior Group looked at him as if to ask if they should stay or go. Giving a gesture toward the door, Troll let them know they were dismissed.
With a look from Trelkar, a few other key kobolds waited patiently for the rest to depart. Finally, as the last of the elite warriors from the Patrol Guard left, and only a handful of conspirators remained, Trelkar silently closed the door and turned to face his master.
“Where is this stone?” Troll asked impatiently.
“Mynar has yet to deliver the Kale Stone,” Trelkar said accusingly.
> Mynar’s wry smile twisted to a frown. “I don’t see why that would keep you from acting,” the sorcerer quipped off-handedly. “After all, when our allies from the north arrive, you should have the strength you need.”
Khee-lar looked around the room to ensure only those who knew of the orc horde were present. This proposed alliance was one of expediency, not one that would be popular with the uninitiated. “If our allies arrive,” Khee-lar countered, “then they will keep our sister gen at bay, and that’s it. Unlike you and your careless approach, I’ll not have orcs rampaging through our halls.”
“Well, then.” Mynar shrugged off the reminder of his failed attempt to use the Bloodhand Orcs to conquer their two gens just six years now past. “It appears that it’s up to you still to wrest the gen from Karthan’s grasp. How are you going to do that?”
“My lord?” Trelkar asked, but it was not a prompt.
Khee-lar looked around the room. Troll stood blank-faced, Mynar the Sorcerer seemed comfortable enough, though wary. Kort had left with his elite warriors, as had Raoros and the two chief elite warriors from the Metalsmithies and Trade Warrior Groups. The small handful of elite warriors from the Deep Guard that Trelkar had quietly asked to stay behind stood patiently waiting on their leader.
“My most loyal ones,” Khee-lar Shadow Hand started. “Without the support of half of our gen’s warriors, I cannot activate the Covenant and take over the gen from Lord Karthan and his supporters.”
Several heads shook in frustration.
“However, if Lord Karthan and his closest supporters died… well, then I would have to step in to claim the throne.”
All eyes were on Khee-lar.
“Then we go forward, my lord,” Trelkar stated.
“Wait, you do have a plan to kill Lord Karthan?” Mynar the Sorcerer asked incredulously. “And why have I, also a founder of the Covenant, not heard about this plan before now?”
“It is what you wanted, is it not?” Khee-lar snapped at his former mentor. For a moment the tension in the room rose. “‘To eliminate Karthan’s claim to the throne of the Krall Gen’ and take him off the throne of the Kale Gen.”
Trelkar’s gaze was full of menace, causing Mynar to back off. “One of Karthan’s servants who lives and works in Karthan’s house wants something of us,” Trelkar stated matter-of-factly. “Something he’d be willing to do us a service to get.”
“Aye, she’s a pretty one,” one of the elite warriors said. Others around the room sneered. “But a bit young for that old Krobo.”
“Enough!” Trelkar glared at the offending warrior. After a moment, he continued. “The time of harvest for Fang Cap spores has arrived. We know that Khazak Mail Fist is watching us, so we have sent an unwitting pawn to harvest a large quantity of this poison for us, following which we will have Krobo put it in Karthan’s house stew.”
Mynar the Sorcerer nodded. “Simple enough, if you’re not discovered. I think Karthan and Khazak Mail Fist are more wily than you suspect, my friend.”
Surrounded by Trelkar and his own elite warriors, this was more than Khee-lar Shadow Hand would bear. “You seek to lecture me?!” he snapped. “You who have been driven from your own gen, who showed up on our doorstep sniveling like a whipped dog? You pretend to lecture me? Go get me the Kale Stone! We’ll see if you can do that!”
“I will bring you the Kale Stone,” Mynar said firmly as he stood among the group he had helped found, his hand instinctively covering the stolen stone of his own gen that he carried in his pouch. “I can see now that without it, you are not strong enough to take possession of your precious gen.” As he said it, suddenly it was very clear to Mynar. He could see the façade of strength for the weakness that it was. While Mynar had been away gathering allies from the north, Khee-lar had failed to get the rest of the warrior groups’ leaders into the Covenant.
Khee-lar could not act without the Kale Stone. He didn’t have the backing to do it. This ruse to poison Lord Karthan was just that; a ruse. It was a diversion meant to deceive Mynar into thinking Khee-lar was fulfilling his part of the bargain. Khee-lar didn’t want Lord Karthan dead yet, because he wasn’t sure he would come out on top in the chaos that would ensue, that someone else might not grasp the throne instead.
Mynar wondered if there was one among the Covenant that had the courage to act, yet could be dominated when the time came. Certainly not Trelkar, he was the action behind Khee-lar’s plans and much more deadly than his master.
Slowly, an idea began to form, and as it grew so did the smile that had begun to crawl back along his snout. Mynar had no more use for this council, for the moment. For the first time since he’d been driven out of his own gen, Mynar the Sorcerer knew the path he must take, and the vision of it brightened his hopes.
Mynar excused himself, and Troll followed quickly after, the pair ranging far through back-alley passageways to finally emerge in a more remote corner of the gen’s caverns; where their presence would not be linked to any meeting at the Deep Guard.
“You can’t let him threaten you.” Troll seemed to be testing the sorcerer’s resolve as they shuffled through the sand.
Mynar stopped and looked at the brute, his lack of subtlety clear. “Troll, before Khee-lar Shadow Hand had Trelkar, he was weak. When he was weak, he was a friend. Now that Trelkar has organized the Covenant for him, Khee-lar is strong, so now he is an enemy. We must make him weak again, so he will be a friend.”
This didn’t make sense to Troll. “Why would you want a weak friend?” he asked.
Mynar shook his head. “Better a weak friend than a strong enemy, don’t you think? So, we must take Trelkar away from Khee-lar. Then he will be weak,” Mynar said. “And we must do what Khee-lar can’t. Then Khee-lar and the rest of the Covenant will follow me.”
The pair walked along in silence through the halls of the Kale Gen. Soon they both were sitting in Raoros Fang’s home in the Leaders’ Grotto, sipping the fermented Wallaya root broth that his servant brought them. As they discussed the plans Khee-lar had put in place, and debated whether or not Khee-lar had the strength to take the gen, Mynar talked much to Raoros about how the Fates had thrown them all the very opportunity they didn’t know they had been seeking.
“If you ride the winds of the Fates carefully,” Mynar spoke subtly to the pair of warriors,
“Then the coming chaos could bring you claim to the throne. Indeed,” Mynar had continued his many flattering words, “the time for action has come, and power waits only for one who is daring and resourceful enough to claim it.”
Though Raoros received his words with reluctance mixed with skepticism, to Troll the dreams Mynar laid out to them were like precious water. He eagerly lapped up every bit of it.
Chapter 7 – The Shell Game
That night brought little rest to Durik, and the morning found him still feeling unsettled. He was full of emotions swirling inside him from his brief encounter with the Lord of the Gen’s daughter, the strange vision of Troll deep in the caverns, and the encounter with Trelkar and Trallik.
In the rare moments when the trouble in his heart cleared enough, he couldn’t help but think of the look on Kiria’s face as she had walked away from him. The strange vision of the night before had faded, including the emotions of it, but the memory of what had happened at the arena had not faded, only growing in intensity as he thought of Kiria and indignity as he thought of Trelkar. Kiria he could do nothing about at the moment, but perhaps the problem with Trelkar he could.
He was not one to let something so clearly wrong as what Trelkar had done go unchallenged, even if he was a chief elite warrior. But what could he do? If Trelkar had judged that Trallik was not scouting out the obstacles ahead of the trials, then who was he to say otherwise? He knew he’d seen Trallik coming from the doors of the arena, but what if he’d only been in the antechambers?
Durik shook his head. He could no more lie to himself than he could lie to anyone else. The footprints in the sand behind Trallik
had led directly to the arena doors where he’d seen someone in a cloak emerge, and Trallik had been guiltily stuffing a cloak into his bag. He’d seen enough guilty looks from Trallik over the past year to know he was right about the situation.
But why had Trelkar, Chief Elite Warrior of the Deep Guard, defended Trallik, a lowly yearling? That was the question he couldn’t answer. That question, and the warning and unrest in his heart that it brought, had led him to this moment.
“What do you want of me, yearling?” Raoros Fang, leader caste of the Wolf Riders Warrior Group, stood with his hands on his hips. Behind him stood his rather large chief elite warrior Troll, a decidedly bored look on his face. A chill ran down Durik’s spine at the sight of the brute. He swallowed and proceeded anyway.
“Sire, I very much appreciate the opportunity to apprentice with the wolf trainers, and I will do all in my power to make you proud tomorrow in the Trials of Caste,” Durik forced himself to say.
Raoros sensed Durik’s reluctance and frowned. “That’s not why you sought me out here in this passageway, though,” he replied flatly.
Durik shook his head. “No, sire. I have a greater concern,” he said hesitantly.
“Well, out with it then!” Raoros said impatiently, his arms crossed.
Durik looked briefly at Troll, then spoke. “Sire, last night Keryak and I found Trallik sneaking out of the arena. We’re sure he was looking at the obstacles and trying to get an advantage for tomorrow’s trials.”
“Why haven’t I heard about this yet? Did you pass that on to Khee-lar Shadow Hand, his warrior group leader?” Raoros was obviously concerned.
“Well,” Durik grimaced, “as we were talking, Trelkar, Shadow Hand’s chief elite warrior came up and told us we were wrong. He said he would drag us before the council and accuse us of scouting out the obstacles ourselves if we said anything more.”