by Joel Babbitt
“For the good of the gen,” Lord Karthan repeated, almost wistfully, then breathing deeply, the strange emotion passed like a cloud and he nodded at the pair of veteran leaders. “Be back here at the end of third meal. Have your warrior group prepared to ride immediately following our council of war. I think it best to send you out to keep the orcs blind to our movements until we want them to know, and to have you keep us informed of their progress.”
“Yes, sire!” Durik answered, sobered by the realities of the challenges that lay ahead.
Soon he and Manebrow were talking about organization, scouting tactics, and some possible surprises for the orc horde as they headed toward the home of their new warrior group.
As the new leadership team of the Wolf Riders left for their new assignment, and Khazak Mail Fist left to find the Loremaster, Lord Karthan sat down on the table, his the face of one lost in thought. A sudden idea had come to him, then in his heart a realization began to form.
“I am not the rightful lord of this gen. That is why Durik could not give me the Kale Stone,” he muttered to himself, almost testing his feelings. In his heart, the confirmation of what he had just realized rang true, and Lord Karthan bowed his head, tears welling up in his eyes.
After several long, agonizing moments, he wiped his eyes and thought of the coming battle. These were events of chance, he knew. The arrow falling from the sky can strike lord as easily as warrior. He had never felt so close to death, yet so alive at the same time.
Would he die tomorrow? He did not know. But this he did know; he would do his duty—for the good of the gen.
Section III – Against the Tide of Evil
Chapter 1 – The Great Council of the Kale Gen
As Durik entered the council chamber, he was surprised by the changes in the place. The long, heavy tables and their attendant chairs had been removed, leaving only the stone dais and throne at the far end of the room. The flagstones that had once covered the floor had been taken up and stacked in piles around the edge of the room, revealing the hard-packed dirt underneath.
The entire center of the room, less a small walkway around the edges, had been piled with dirt in seemingly random mounds, most of which were covered with twigs or blades of grass. Spread throughout the entire construction were broad scrapes like miniature paths, seemingly bisecting a couple of lengths of long blue woolen scarfs that had been tacked down along the floor between the mounds. In a couple of places small holes had been dug. One of these had a piece of limestone in it, the other was the nexus of all of the miniature paths.
The honor guard warrior motioned yet again for Durik to keep moving and take his seat. He’d not noticed his efforts initially, but now as Durik looked about the room he could see that there were several elite warriors here, though none were from his new warrior group. At the head of the chamber, standing with a pointing stick in one hand, stood Lord Karthan, flanked on one side by Khazak Mail Fist. Subconsciously, Durik grabbed for his pouch and felt the weight of the Kale Stone within it.
Durik nodded to the honor guard warrior and acknowledged Lord Karthan’s welcoming stare, then quickly moved along the edge of the wall to take a seat near where he’d seen Raoros Fang, his predecessor in the Wolf Riders Warrior Group, seated before.
Following behind him, Manebrow made sense of the neatly arranged mess in the center of the room. “Ah, I see. That’s quite a terrain map! They’ve modeled every hill, every path, every little stream, the main road, even the towers of the picket line. How clever!”
Taking his seat on a pile of flagstones, Durik looked with new eyes on the terrain map. “Aha, then those sticks arranged around the perimeter of the room aren’t to keep us off the map, they’re the towers of the picket line. And I guess the blue wool would be the small creeks that are running now with the spring runoff.”
“Aye, sire,” Manebrow nodded. “They’ve gone so far as to put grass on those hills that haven’t trees, and twigs on the hills and in the valleys that are thick with them.”
Around the pair, the many elite warriors that had gathered here were pointing and talking about the same thing. Looking around, Durik did not see any other warrior group leaders or their chief elite warriors, other than Khazak Mail Fist. He also didn’t see any of the functional council members. Suddenly, however, a very familiar face caught his eye.
“Manebrow, what’s Trallik doing here?” he said, pointing to the other side of the chamber. Trallik sat speaking to a middle-aged kobold that had none of the trappings of a Kale Gen warrior. The strange kobold seemed to sense Durik looking and looked up directly into Durik’s eyes.
Manebrow looked across the room. “I do not know, sire, but I think Khazak noticed that we’ve seen him. Here he comes now.” Durik broke his stare with the stranger and looked up at Khazak Mail Fist.
Khazak came and knelt in front of the pair. “You’re wondering about Trallik, I presume?” Durik and Manebrow nodded. “It is a long story, and we’re about to start, but suffice it to say that he has been pardoned by Lord Karthan, on my recommendation.”
Durik and Manebrow were both stunned by the revelation.
“Without his actions this day, Khee-lar Shadow Hand might still be in charge of this gen.”
“Speaking of outsiders, what did you do with that mercenary from the northern gens you brought home with you?” Khazak asked.
“We sent him back the way we came, on his own request,” Manebrow answered.
“Hm. Could have used another warrior,” Khazak said absently, noticing the signal from his elite warrior posted at the door to take attendance. Apparently everyone had come who had been summoned. Khazak stood and left the pair speechless as he made his way back to the front of the chamber.
As Durik pondered on this, Khazak Mail Fist pounded his staff of office on the remaining flagstone to call the assembly to order. Slipping in almost unnoticed, Lord Karthan’s daughter Kiria and the healer Myaliae from the Krall Gen sat in the shadows next to the side entrance that led off to Lord Karthan’s personal chambers.
“My fellow Kales,” Lord Karthan spoke in a loud voice to quiet down the assembled mass of mostly elite warriors. “By now, all of you have heard about the impending arrival of the orc horde. Thanks to our new Wolf Riders Warrior Group Leader, Durik, we know quite a bit about them.”
Durik nodded as everyone turned to look at him.
“We know that they have about a thousand orc warriors,” Lord Karthan began to list off the forces. “With them, they have fifty ogres, likely mercenaries.” There was a general groan and some voices spoke in fear. Khazak pounded his staff of office to quiet them down again.
“Finally, they have with them five hundred kobolds from the northern gens, a hundred of which are wolf-riding cavalry.” At this, many voices were raised in frustration and protest. Lord Karthan raised his hands.
“I know. I know that it is not something that we like to do, this fighting against our neighbors,” Lord Karthan answered their protests. “But I think this last couple of weeks has seen enough of it. If these kobolds come as lackeys of the Bloodhand Orc Tribe, then we must be prepared to fight them too. In the end, as we showed this day, all those who would destroy our gen, or threaten our families, or try to enslave us must be resisted. Today we have thrown off the evil in our own house. Tomorrow, let us throw off the evil that threatens our very lives!”
The evils of the day were still fresh in everyone’s minds, and they were eager to not be caught napping again, but to stand as one. Many voiced their approval and support of Lord Karthan’s words. After a few moments, Lord Karthan held up his hands.
“Now, my Kale brothers, we are not alone in this fight! Scouts report that the Kale Gen is mobilized, and the bulk of their forces are marching this way even as we speak, with Lord Krall himself at their head.” This was some welcome news indeed, and brought many grunts of approval and voices of gratitude for their cousins of the Krall Gen.
“I would be remiss, however, if I did not spe
ak of the great ant threat. Durik, you discovered much in your quest. Perhaps sharing some of it would help bring to light where we stand with the great ants. Would you stand and speak of this?” Lord Karthan asked.
Durik stood up as all eyes turned to him. The Trials of Caste a couple of weeks before had been unnerving enough, but standing in front of so many competent, able elite warriors to advise them was a bit more than he was used to. Clearing his voice, he looked around at the many eyes that looked expectantly at him. To his relief, though there were some that looked at him judgmentally, most of them looked at him with expectation. Next to him, Manebrow’s eyes held nothing but respect for and pride in his young leader caste, which gave him a boost of confidence.
“My fellow warriors,” Durik began. “As you know, Durik’s Company left the gen a couple of weeks ago. As we were traveling to the Krall Gen in search of the Kale Stone, we came upon some of Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s conspirators who had attacked a caravan of honor guard warriors bearing Lord Karthan’s sons to the Krall Gen. Khazak Mail Fist somehow managed to survive that attack and fled into the woods with the young whelps. We followed him to a strange group of low hills south of the First Night’s Resting Place. There we all discovered a large colony of great hunter ants.
“In number, these hunter ants appear to be definitely more than a thousand workers, probably hundreds of scouts, and a few ant commanders and perhaps ant warriors. Jerrig, whose team is still in the underdark, was given the honor name of Queen Slayer for killing their queen in single-handed combat.”
The entire assembly was surprised by this last comment. Jerrig was well known among them, and they’d never thought he’d make it through the Trials of Caste. To all of a sudden have received an honor name was shocking.
“Believe me, my friends, it was well deserved,” Durik continued. “His bravery saved Trallik, whom you see among us here today, from the ant queen’s very lair!” Murmurs of approval rippled through the group. Saving the life of a fellow warrior on the field of battle was considered one of the most noble things a kobold could do.
“The Krall Gen is not blind to the threat these ants present, either,” Durik continued. “Already they have suffered many casualties because of these ants. But the death of their queen and the Krall Gen’s aggressive hunting of these ants has caused them to scatter and divide into many smaller groups. These ants seem to not be a great hindrance to our battle with the orcs.”
The tension in the room seemed to subside just a bit for a moment.
“Would that there was no other news to pass on, but there is yet another force which comes against us, and another force which comes to join with us,” Durik continued. Lord Karthan’s eyes narrowed and he looked with earnestness at Durik. They had not discussed any other forces.
“Of what do you speak, Durik?” Lord Karthan asked for them all.
“My lord, and assembled warriors of the Kale Gen,” Durik continued. “The queen which Jerrig killed led merely an advance force. She was sent to our valley by one much greater, a terrible ant queen that is as large as this chamber, with armor as thick as many shields, mandibles like great scythes, and spikes like swords on her many limbs. This great beast comes at the head of a great army, and not an army of drones and scouts, but an army of warrior ants.”
A collective groan sounded from the assembly.
“Durik,” Goryon, Gorgon’s father called out, “How can you know this for sure? Have you seen her? Is she and her army far behind you? And in all this, where are the rest of the yearlings we sent out, like my son? Why have you returned when you’ve not completed your quest?”
Several others called out the same thing. While there was respect for him in the room, there were valid questions that had to be answered. Durik waited a few moments for the room to quiet down so he could be heard.
“My fellow Kales,” he said as he reached back into his belt pouch. “Your sons, cousins, and brothers were safe when last I saw them, but they each have a different mission to fulfill right now. Even now, Ardan and his team are with Lord Krall. It is because of that team’s efforts that Lord Krall knows of the impending orc invasion and is moving to assist us.
“Gorgon and his team of warriors have stayed in the underdark to gather the outcasts together, especially those outcasts who call themselves the Deep Gen.”
“Aye, but who cares about a bunch of outcasts? Thieves and murderers! Why did you leave them there when there is a gen to be defended? If you returned, should not they have returned as well?” Goryon pressed.
Durik held up his hand. “Goryon, it is not as you think. This is not a small band of outcasts. They are a large gen, with over a thousand warriors. They left our gen as an entire warrior group some four generations ago now, and have grown large in the relative peace of the underdark. They are part of our gen, and I have been commanded to gather them.”
Lord Karthan and Khazak Mail Fist were as stunned as everyone else in the room at the revelation of another gen nearly the size of their own living in the underdark below their valley. Goryon, on the other hand, was having nothing of these tall tales.
“Now look, lad,” Goryon growled as the noise quieted down a bit. “Here’s where you and I part ways. I’ll not believe such wild tales, not without so much proof. Your word used to be good with me, but you’ve got a lot of proving to do for me to believe you.”
Durik nodded his head. About him, the room had grown quiet as everyone waited expectantly for Durik to the answer the challenge.
Calmly, Durik produced a small object wrapped in a simple cloth. With almost unnerving slowness, he removed one fold of the cloth at a time until a clear ball with flecks of bronze throughout it lay revealed in his hand.
“And what’s that supposed to be?” Goryon asked, still very much in his ire.
At the head of the chamber, Lord Karthan held his breath. He had not wanted the stone revealed, but some unknown force had seemed to quiet him, so that he had not been able to interrupt Durik.
Durik placed the stone in his right hand, dropping the cloth to the ground. Immediately, a slight glow began to emanate from the stone, mixing with the light from the braziers placed at the head of the chamber to light the terrain model. Along with the light came a calming influence, as if an old friend had entered the room.
Durik waited a few moments for the warm light to grow a bit brighter. “My brethren of the Kale Gen, I present to you the Kale Stone.”
The room was silent as everyone took in what had just happened. For several moments no one spoke, until finally, Goryon stood up.
“Durik, what proof have you that this is actually the Kale Stone? There are many stories in our halls of learning about items with magical power of one sort or another. How do we know that you are not deceiving us with some unknown power?”
“If you touch it, you will know,” an unknown voice spoke. Turning, Goryon saw that it was the outcast that Trallik had brought with him who spoke. “It is the stone of our heritage. We will know it when we touch it.”
“And who are you to speak?” Goryon asked, almost offended at the outcast’s presence.
“Outcast, no one asked for your opinion,” Khazak broke in. His lord had been strangely silent, but he was not about to let this get out of hand. “Your voice is not welcome in matters that pertain to our gen.”
“I think you will find that my voice is very relevant in matters pertaining to our gen,” the outcast spoke. “I am Kale, son of Kale, and though I am an outcast, born of outcasts, I and my people have returned to this, the gen of our heritage in our hour of mutual need. We are not here to fight against you, but to fight with you against the orcs and ants that threaten our people.
“That is the Kale Stone,” Kale continued, “and it is the stone of my heritage, just as surely as it is the stone of your heritage.”
“You have no heritage in our gen, outcast!” Khazak spoke vehemently.
Kale stood and walked around the perimeter of the room toward where Durik st
ood with the Kale Stone.
“Stop him!” Khazak commanded. A number of elite warriors stood up and grabbed Kale by the arms.
“Wait!” Durik called out, power reverberating in his command. For a moment, the entire room froze. “The outcast Kale speaks the truth.” Turning, he put Manebrow’s hand on the stone. The look of surprise on Manebrow’s face as the power of the stone began to emanate through him was matched by the looks on the faces of the rest of the group as the stone began to glow brighter with his touch.
Inviting a couple of elite warriors from the Patrol Guard to come forward, soon all four kobolds had their hands on the stone, each one feeling the power of the stone, the stone glowing ever brighter with their touch.
Taking the stone in hand, Durik walked the perimeter of the room, the light of the stone growing ever brighter or dimmer with the touch or release of many hands. Coming to Lord Karthan and Khazak Mail Fist, Durik stopped and held out the stone for them both to touch. Reluctantly, Lord Karthan, who had been speechless until now, placed his hand on the stone.
Khazak’s eyes narrowed. As Lord Karthan placed his hands on the stone, it glowed, but no more brighter than for anyone else. Quickly, he placed his hands on the stone as well, adding a little more light to the situation.
Suddenly, Khazak could feel what he had not felt before. His heart felt great peace, yet great power at the same time. As the stone passed from his hands, he finally was able to describe the feeling to himself. It was as if his father, though dead these many years, were alive again, and had embraced him, it was that same sense of familiarity. That one touch had taken away the mountains of pain and suffering he had experienced over the years. It was as if his heart and soul had been opened to the stone, and found unexpectedly clean and noble. He felt more refreshed than he had in years.
Durik had continued around the circle of warriors, arriving finally where Kale stood, a look of greater strength in his eyes than he had seen in some time. As Durik, Paladin of Morgra, and Kale, Heir of the Kale Gen, placed hands on the stone together, a brilliant light shone throughout the lord’s chamber. It was as bright as mid-day, if not more so. After what seemed like a long moment, Kale withdrew his hand and the light faded.