by Joel Babbitt
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.
“Bu
t 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.
Last to stand, the old wizened guard commander Krebbekar turned to Durik and spoke. “Young Durik, don’t be offended. After all, Morigar’s not had the same upbringing you’ve had. He’ll come around in time.” Krebbekar said this none too softly, and it was obvious that Morigar had heard by the look on his face as he turned around, then turned back to the path and continued to walk away, tail twitching behind him. Durik nodded and Krebbekar added, “By the way, I’d be the one your second needs to talk to about supplies and such. Would he be available soon?”
After being affronted with so much conceit and arrogance, Krebbekar’s down to earth attitude was refreshing. “I no longer hear the cadence of the drills,” Durik said. “I’d imagine he’ll be here shortly.”
Almost on queue, Manebrow came walking around the lip of the hollow, axe in hand and sweat beaded on his eyebrows. “Did I miss much, sire?” he asked Durik.
“Not much, Manebrow, just an offer from Lord Krall’s son to take over our company,” Durik answered.
“What?!” Manebrow exclaimed, “I’m sure you told him what you thought of that! Take over our company indeed.”
Krebbekar stepped forward and extended his hand to Manebrow, who took it and looked him square in the eyes. “Please excuse young Morigar,” Krebbekar told him. “My name is Krebbekar and I’m his second for this journey.”
Manebrow nodded, “Well met! So, shall we talk about supplies?”
Krebbekar nodded. “Lord Krall and Khazak Mail Fist have decided to be rather generous to our two groups, but it will take some work on your parts if it is to happen quickly.”
Krebbekar had both Manebrow’s and Durik’s full attention. “What do you mean by ‘rather generous’?” Durik asked.
“In addition to the supplies my team will require and any minor supplies your company will be needing, before he left this morning Khazak Mail Fist paid to outfit your company with armor much akin to what I’m wearing.”
Durik and Manebrow both looked at each other and at Krebbekar’s armor. It was very generous of Khazak, and they both knew it. “What would be required of us?” Manebrow asked.
“Well, we understand that you have warriors that work both metal and leather.”
Durik and Manebrow nodded. Both Gorgon and Ardan were skilled weapon smiths, and Jerrig was skilled in the making of leather goods.
“Since Khazak Mail Fist has paid for the ore and leather, as well as the use of our forges and shops for three days, you’ll need to have your warriors cast the metal pieces and boil and cut the leather. If you request it, we can have one of our own on hand in both shops to help with the task, but it’s your warriors’ responsibility to make it happen in three days’ time.”
Durik and Manebrow were astonished. They had had no idea that Khazak Mail Fist was planning on doing such a thing for them. In a moment, the two of them were up and following Krebbekar back toward their formation. The company was gnawing on trail rations as the three of them approached, mostly a meager first meal of smoked meat. As they arrived, Manebrow called for Gorgon, Ardan, Jerrig, Tohr and Kahn to gather. Telling them the t
ask at hand, and giving the twins Tohr and Kahn the duty of helping Jerrig with the leather, Manebrow asked Krebbekar when they could begin. Behind their leaders, the rest of Durik’s Company were abuzz with the news of Khazak Mail Fist’s generous gift to them.
“Tomorrow morning you may begin,” Krebbekar answered. “Our craftsmen are clearing out their backlogged jobs and preparing the shops today. Tomorrow I’ll come for your warriors and we’ll set them to work in the shops.”
With that Krebbekar asked if Manebrow needed to talk supplies, and the two of them decided to gather supplies together that afternoon after second meal.
As Krebbekar walked away, Manebrow nodded his head in satisfaction. “Things are beginning to shape up for us, sire,” he said as he turned toward the troops. Looking around at everyone listening in to the conversation, Manebrow spoke. “Very well, no one seems to be eating, so it must be time for some chores to get done!”
The warriors groaned, but soon fell in line and listened as Manebrow again listed the tasks that every warrior was to accomplish before second meal was to be eaten as well as the agenda for the rest of the day. Even after the company had spent an entire day working on their equipment, there still wasn’t a wolf skin outfit that didn’t need sewing, and most every weapon needed nicks sharpened out of the blade. Additionally, there would be inventorying to do of the new equipment, animals to be fed and exercised, straps to be repaired, and clothes to be washed and set out to dry. Yesterday’s efforts had accomplished much, but there was still much to be done.
The life of a warrior may have seemed glorious and carefree when the new warriors had started their training just a year now in the past, but that image had long ago been replaced with the reality of the work such a life required. Manebrow had constantly told them, the more you sweat before battle, the less you bleed in battle. From the list of chores it was obvious he still held to that philosophy.