The Trials of Caste (3 page)

Lord Karthan studied the pair for a moment before
speaking.  “A great feat nonetheless Arbelk, and…”

“Durik, sire,” Durik quickly filled in.  “Son of
Durim, late of the Wolf Riders.”

Lord Karthan’s piercing gaze seemed to see right
through Durik.  “Ah, yes, grandson of the bronze-scaled immigrant,” he said
referring to Durik’s grandfather who had come from the gens to the north of the
Kale Gen several decades now in the past.

“Yes, sire.”  Durik bowed his head at this mention
of this trait that he had inherited from his father, and from his grandfather
before him.  This difference had been a point of ridicule growing up, for in the
Kale Gen only the scales of the most venerable of kobolds had any bronze to
them.  He counted his cousin Jerrig lucky, as his scales were mostly rust red like
everyone else’s in the Kale Gen, with only a tinge of bronze on them, mostly at
the tips, the same as Jerrig’s father.

“Well, good climb then Arbelk… and Durik,” Lord
Karthan said as he stood and looked over the edge into the darkness.  The
leader of the Deep Guard’s rescue team had just had the torches doused so they
could better see the yearling group’s progress.  Still a distance down the
shaft the hot silhouettes of the yearlings and their master trainer hung from
long ropes like spiders dangling from their silk.  A pair of slighter yearlings
were tethered together on the same rope while on another rope the largest, most
muscular yearling was alone.  Below them the rest of the group was strung out
over a hundred paces or so, all of them hanging helplessly from the winched
ropes, the winds of the Fates swirling powerlessly about them now.

By his look, Khee-lar Shadow Hand, leader of the
Deep Guard Warrior Group, was of noble breeding, the wide eyes and broad snout
of the Kale line protruded from under a light brow and smaller than normal
horns.  But his demeanor had changed his look over time, until finally the
ravages of his excessive emotions, often focusing inward until some provocation
or another brought it all out in a torrent upon whomever was about, had left
him with the look of one who seemed to be continually brooding about something
or another.  In truth, he was rarely a master of his passions, rather they were
often his master, and a hard master at that.

As he stood between two of the winch crews,
Khee-lar watched the first pair of kobolds from the yearling group crest the
lip of the shaft to be helped up onto flat ground.  Beside him stood his chief
elite warrior, a usually quiet but rather determined kobold named Trelkar, who
held the status of second only to Khee-lar among those of the Deep Guard
Warrior Group.  The seeming disparity between Trelkar’s calm, determined manner
and Khee-lar impassioned brooding seemed to belie the fact that they were
cousins; but the similarity of their features definitely confirmed the fact
that both of them were descendents of the Kale line.  For any who knew them
well, it could be said that at times Trelkar was as passionate as Khee-lar
Shadow Hand, and there were times of self-mastery where Khee-lar was more
calculating than Trelkar.  It left everyone about them guessing.

By Khee-lar’s other side was a rather non-descript
looking Deep Guard warrior who seemed to be observing everything with a deep
intensity.  By the brands on his chest, a sword on a banner, he was an elite
warrior.  The cut of his belts showed that he was Deep Guard, though none there
knew him by face, which was deliberate.

Not long after the first pair arrived, Lord
Karthan had arrived with his chamberlain and leader of his Honor Guard Warrior
Group, the brute Khazak Mail Fist.  Khee-lar had paid them no attention, though
the non-descript warrior watched them with an unusually keen gaze.  As they
stood there chatting a third kobold was hoisted up to the lip of the chasm, a
rather muscular yearling from the Metal Smithies Warrior Group whose name
neither Khee-lar nor Trelkar could remember at the moment.  Immediately after him
a fourth kobold arrived whom they did recognize.

“Welcome back, Trallik,” Khee-lar said as this
fourth yearling shed his harness.

Trallik noticed who was addressing him and quickly
hid the arrogant attitude he habitually wore.  “Thank you, sire,” he said as
politely as he could, seemingly over aware that Khee-lar Shadow Hand was not
only the warrior group leader of the warrior group he grew up in, but that he
would probably be his warrior group leader for much of the rest of his life.

“From what your fellow Deep Guard yearling tells
me, Arbelk I believe he’s called, you have had quite the time in the underdark
these past two moons,” Khee-lar said.

“Yes, sire,” Trallik said, not meeting Khee-lar’s intimidating
gaze.

“Arbelk is quite the climber, from what I hear as
well,” Khee-lar continued.  “He appears to have climbed Sheerface tethered to
nothing but another yearling; Durik, the bronze-scaled one, from the Wolf
Riders Warrior Group.”

Trallik scowled.  “Yes, sire.  Arbelk led the
climb, but I should have been chosen to go with him, not Durik.  Being Deep
Guard, I am the better climber.”

Khee-lar Shadow Hand nodded in approval of the
comment, giving a knowing look over his shoulder to Trelkar who stood with him. 
“Well, you seem to be capable enough, from what I have heard in the master
trainer’s reports this past year.”  Khee-lar thought for a moment then
straightened.  “We will talk again, perhaps after the Trials of Caste.  Do your
best there, Trallik.”

Trallik sensed that he was dismissed, so he stood
and turned to leave, not bothering to wait for the rest of the yearling group,
wanting only to go somewhere and rest after so long on patrol in the
underdark.  Khee-lar Shadow Hand’s next comment, however, rooted him in place.

“I believe we have a
special
place for one
of your talents and disposition in the Deep Guard, Trallik.  But first I will
have to assess exactly
how
loyal to me you are willing to be.”  Khee-lar
paused as Trallik looked at him quizzically.  “Go on, now.  I can see that you
are anxious to return to your home.”  Behind him the non-descript warrior’s keen
gaze focused entirely too intensely on Trallik for his comfort.

Not knowing what to think, Trallik left for his
father’s humble tent in the caverns of the Deep Guard.  Bowing his head, he
passed by Lord Karthan who was too busy talking with Gorgon to notice his
passing.

Though it was not his usual custom, but since he
was there he decided to do so anyway, Lord Karthan personally greeted and
congratulated each of the yearlings as they emerged from the shaft, patting
them on the back and telling them how proud he was of their resourcefulness in
dealing with a problem that other year-groups had not had to deal with.  When
Manebrow, the Master Trainer, arrived last of the group, Lord Karthan beckoned
Khee-lar Shadow Hand over as Manebrow was shedding his harness.  Khee-lar
reluctantly complied.  Though Lord Karthan didn’t notice his reluctance, Khazak
Mail Fist, Lord Karthan’s chamberlain, saw it clearly.

“Ah, Khee-lar,” Lord Karthan said, “Manebrow’s
report of discovering signs of industry and organization down among the
outcasts is disturbing.  I want you to get with our good trainer and discover
the strength of the outcast group that the yearlings were facing, and find out
from him their places of refuge.  Then I want you to organize a war party and
drive them out of the upper places in the underdark where our yearlings train. 
We should remember to do this each year before their two moons in the underdark.”

Khee-lar Shadow Hand sneered.  “If it wasn’t for
your overzealous laws, we wouldn’t have so many outcasts,” he quipped.  Behind
Khee-lar his companions grinned in approval of the comment.

Lord Karthan looked at Khee-lar like he was seeing
him for the first time.  Behind him Khazak Mail Fist’s gauntleted hand scraped
against his sword hilt.  Manebrow’s senses immediately sharpened as what little
adrenaline he had left kicked in. 

Lord Karthan looked at Khee-lar in disgust, “Enough,
Khee-lar.  You have your orders, now execute them!” 

Without waiting for a response, Lord Karthan
turned and departed.  Khazak Mail Fist followed after him, not turning his back
to Khee-lar or the assembled Deep Guard warriors until he was at the exit from
the chamber.

Manebrow hastily gathered the yearlings together,
noting that Trallik had already left.  Without even pausing to ensure they had
what little equipment they’d brought up the cliff with them, he quickly led the
yearling group out of the chamber and toward the more inhabited portions of
their gen’s cavern complex.

Not long after the yearlings’ departure the Deep
Guard warriors finished gathering up the winches and ropes they had deployed to
rescue the stranded yearlings, and began hauling it all out of the cavern and
off toward their warrior group’s storerooms.  Taking leave of his leader and
the non-descript warrior, the Deep Guard Chief Elite Warrior Trelkar
accompanied the other Deep Guard warriors, to ensure that they stored the gear
properly.  In a matter of a few minutes Khee-lar Shadow Hand and the
non-descript warrior were alone in the small cavern, looking down into the inky
blackness of Sheerface.

“You were rather impetuous, my friend,” the
non-descript warrior stated.  “Being lifemate of your dead sister has made Lord
Karthan blind to your involvement, I see.  You have done well to put Trelkar’s
face foremost in the conspiracy in Lord Karthan’s mind.”

“Hm, yes, well, the time is swiftly coming where I
will no longer have to hide my intentions in the shadows, or my actions behind
Trelkar and the rest of the Covenant.  Wouldn’t you agree, Mynar?” Khee-lar
turned to face his companion.  “After all, there is but one more piece to put
in place, then the time for action will be at hand and I will be Lord of the
Kale Gen.  Now, tell me, Mynar, where is the Kale Stone?  You have your gen’s
stone.  Surely it must have revealed the location of its brother stone by now.”
 Now that the two of them were alone Khee-lar’s indignation began to show.  By
the tone of his voice, it was clear that Khee-lar was beginning to chafe at his
companion’s condescending attitude.

The kobold Khee-lar Shadow Hand had called Mynar
smiled a strained smile and nodded.  He put a hand in a large pouch on his belt
which held something heavy and spherical and, in a moment, before Khee-lar’s
eyes the illusion vanished and the visage of the non-descript warrior was
replaced by that of a middle-aged kobold, the thickness of his horns and the darker
hue of his scales marking him as a member of the neighboring Krall Gen.

“You have done well,” Mynar the Sorcerer said as
he looked over the edge of Sheerface into the void beyond, deliberately
ignoring the question.  “I agree.  You’ve brought the binding covenants to life
and brought many to your cause.  But I will save my congratulations until the
crown is actually yours.”