Into the Heart of Evil (25 page)

Before they started to discuss what had happened,
Ardan recommended that they get going, if they were to have a good chance of
making it back to the group while the rest of the ants were feasting.  Durik
nodded his concurrence and the group immediately set out, Durik and Gorgon
leading, Manebrow and Ardan next, with Kiria then Arbelk bringing up the rear.

As Gorgon and Ardan recounted what had happened to
each of their respective groups, Durik, perhaps more than the rest, was
overjoyed to hear that no more of his warriors had died.  Manebrow beamed with
pride as Gorgon gave the account of how they’d used the ‘burning dung trick’ to
avoid confronting most of the warrior ants.  All of them were relieved to hear
that Lord Karthan’s two sons were safe, though of course they were concerned by
the fact that both Khazak Mail Fist and Trallik lay seemingly at death’s
doorstep, Khazak from a conspirator’s arrow and Trallik from a sting.

Finally, it came time for Durik and his small
group to recount what had happened to them.  All fell silent as Ardan asked
whether or not they’d seen Arloch.  Durik bowed his head, then raised it and
looked Ardan in the eyes.  Unable to say the words, he pointed back to where
Arloch’s pack and weapons sat on Manebrow’s wolf’s back. 

Ardan clenched his jaw as he understood what Durik
could not say.  On his face was the look of a warrior who has seen death, as
well as lost a dear brother in arms. 

Manebrow stepped forward and put his hand on
Ardan’s shoulder.  “I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” he said as he looked him
steadfastly in the eyes.  “Arloch died a traitor.  Arbelk’s arrow was the only
thing that kept him from killing Kiria.”

Ardan’s staunch look shattered and was replaced by
a look of utter dismay.  That he had died was shock enough.  That he had died a
traitor would haunt Ardan for a long time to come, perhaps for the rest of his
life.  Truly, this was a night that none of them would ever forget, assuming
they lived through it.

I
t
seemed as if Jerrig had only just laid down when, through the thick mist of deep
sleep, someone’s voice seemed to be calling to him, though he couldn’t make out
what they were saying.  Then his consciousness began to perceive that he was
being shaken by something.  Suddenly remembering where he was, Jerrig sat up
with a start.

Kahn was kneeling next to him.  By the light of
the meager fire, Jerrig could see the alarm and concern on his face.  Around
the room, several of his fellow warriors were already awake and gathering their
gear, grabbing weapons and strapping on shields.  Kahn’s twin brother Tohr was
leaning over the fire, trying to build it up.  In the distance, Jerrig could
hear the singing of bow strings, the shouts of battle, the ringing of sword on
carapace, and the chittering of the ant warriors.

“Jerrig,” Kahn was saying urgently, “the others
are returning.  The dung trick seems to not be working.  We need to help them.”

Jerrig stood up woodenly and started gathering his
equipment.  Around him he could see that everyone else was pretty much ready. 
Remembering he was in charge, he stuffed his blanket into the top of his pack
and cinched it down with a couple of straps.  Quickly he stood up and put his
shield over his back, then remembered he’d left his javelins in the other room.

“Keryak, Troka.  You go first.  I’ll go next. 
Tohr, Kahn, Kabbak and Terrim, you get our two casualties up onto the packdogs
and bring the whelps.  We’re leaving, now!”

Everyone looked at Jerrig with surprise.  It was
obvious that no one had actually expected him to take charge.  In his eyes was
that same look of determination and strength he’d had when they found him
earlier. 

After an awkward pause, Jerrig yelled, “Go!” and
everyone snapped to.  In a moment, the room was a blur of tails and horns,
weapons and shields.

In the meantime, Jerrig hurried into the other
room and, while he was gathering his javelins, took the opportunity to take the
stinger out of the ant queen’s body.  As he stood to leave, he stopped to think
for a second.  Bending down, he cut the queen’s head from her body.  Taking it
by the antennae, he walked out to meet the rest of his party as it formed.  As
Terrim approached with the packdogs, Jerrig stuffed the head and stinger in an
empty sack and tied it to the lead packdog’s rig.

Keryak and Troka started forward, not taking the
time to prepare the path by flinging burning dung as they went.  In their hands,
they held bows at the ready.  The battle was already joined, and this was not a
time for such precautions.

As they approached the nests of the warrior ants,
they could see the warrior ants assembled and pressing against some foe
opposite them.  Lifting their bows, Keryak and Troka fired into the mess of
warrior ants.  One of them fell, while another was wounded.  They fired again,
then one more time before the warrior ants in the rear realized what was going
on.  Turning as one, the rearmost warrior ants surged toward them.

Keryak slung his bow in favor of his spear and
shield.  He braced his spear as Troka drew his broadsword with both hands. 
This was the moment they all had expected would come and the adrenaline was
surging in their veins.  In eager anticipation, they braced to receive the
charge of the frenzied warrior ants.

Keryak immediately skewered the first on his
spear.  Troka bellowed a war cry and swung downward with a mighty swing,
splitting the lead warrior ant’s head in two.  Jerrig threw his first javelin
over their heads, piercing a warrior two ranks back and sending him to the
floor.  Behind them, Tohr and Kahn had both gotten their bows out and were
looking for a clear shot.  Jerrig then moved up with his shield in one hand,
using his javelin like a spear between the first rank. 

Seeing a warrior ant, this one much larger than
his peers, about to break between his two falling comrades, Jerrig stepped
forward and stabbed him squarely in the chest, sinking the shaft deep into
him.  In its fury, the ant grabbed the javelin and broke the shaft near the tip
with his mandibles, then pulled the javelin tip out of his chest.  Looking at
Jerrig, the great warrior ant shot his arm out, grabbing Jerrig by the arm. 
Pulling Jerrig most of the way to him, the great warrior ant took the end of
Jerrig’s javelin and drove it down toward him.  Moving quickly, Jerrig brought
his shield around just in time.  But to his misfortune, the javelin tip that
was meant for his heart still found his leg.  With a scream of pain, Jerrig
fell to the ground as the great warrior ant moved to get past him, looking
dumbly at the shaft of the broken javelin sticking deep into his thigh.

Troka heard Jerrig’s scream and, grabbing his
sword by its crowbar-like hilts, he pulled his sword from the body of the
warrior ant he had just dispatched and struggled to bring the heavy blade
around in time.  The great warrior ant was too quick for him, however, and in a
moment he found himself thrown to the floor, struggling to get back to his
feet.

As the great warrior ant broke through the line,
Tohr and Kahn looked at each other.  Drawing their bows back to their ears,
both of them fired simultaneously.  Two shafts struck deep into the great
warrior ant’s chest.  Drawing another arrow each, they watched as it staggered
then, to their amazement, lurched toward them.  With no time to draw their
swords, the brothers fired their second arrows.  With four arrows in him now,
the great warrior ant finally fell lifeless to the ground between the brothers.

Tohr fired again, killing another warrior ant,
giving Troka a chance to regain his feet as Kahn moved forward and helped
Jerrig move back from the fighting.  Grabbing Jerrig by one arm, Kahn pulled
him up and, with great effort, hoisted him onto his shoulders.  As the battle
raged, Kahn placed him on the back of one of the less burdened packdogs, then,
to Jerrig’s utter dismay, he pulled the javelin tip out in one swift pull. 
Jerrig passed out from the pain of it all.  Ordering Kabbak to take over and
bandage the bleeding wound, Kahn went back to the fight.

Hearing the din of battle on the other side of the
enraged warrior ants, Durik and Gorgon pressed forward, warhammer smashing
carapace and sword rending flesh almost in unison.  With Durik’s magical
strength added to his proficiency with the sword, he was pressing through the
ants as quickly as the much more muscled Gorgon.  Each of these larger warrior
ants stood a head taller than the kobolds, so despite the kobold’s shields, the
warrior ants’ clawed limbs and mandibles flailed the pair incessantly, getting
past their defenses from time to time and tearing holes in their wolf skin
outfits and scales from their arms and torsos.

Already, Durik had the heads of two warrior ants
attached by their mandibles to his shield, and Gorgon had one on the shaft of
his hammer, swinging wildly to and fro as he raised and lowered his hammer in
slow rhythm.  Much to his surprise Durik could see that the group of warrior
ants had grown suddenly thin, as if many of them had run back down the
passage.  He estimated that there couldn’t be more than five or so of them left
trying to hold off his group. 

Durik could feel the advantage they had now and
was determined to end this battle as quickly as possible.  Stepping back and
raising his shield, Durik yelled, “Follow me,” then plunged forward, bowling
over the warrior ant directly in front of him as well as the rather surprised
warrior ant behind the first. 

Manebrow, taking the cue, raised his axe and
jumped forward, taking off both of their heads as he followed Durik.  Stabbing
left, Durik skewered a third warrior ant as Gorgon took down the now surrounded
warrior ant that had eluded his hammer for the moment.  From in front of Durik,
a warrior ant raised its clawed arms and snapped its mandibles down on his
right bracer.  Durik swung his arm against the wall, pinning its head, then
using his shield like a blunted axe, he cut the ant’s head off. 

Durik and Gorgon stood panting, looking down the
passageway where they saw a small number of ant warriors attacking something on
the other side of them.  A sword flashed, then a spear tip could be seen. 
Without an order being uttered, Durik’s small group ran, yelling ferociously,
down the passageway where they quickly felled three of the startled ant
warriors.  Between Troka’s sword and Keryak’s spear, the last two were
dispatched and the two groups were reunited once again.

For several moments, Durik pried and cut with his
sword at the ant warriors’ heads that were still grasping his shield and
bracer, determined even in death to drag him down.  As Durik slung his shield
over his back and leaned on his sword, he reflected on this group of giant ant
warriors they’d just conquered.  He was amazed at the intensity of the warrior
ants.  Even though they were clearly outmatched by the steel weapons and honed
skills of the kobold warriors, they fought with a single-minded fury and energy
that was hard to keep up with.  If these same ants ever learned to use weapons,
he was sure it would be the end of the southern valley gens.  He had to bring
word to both the Krall Gen and his gen of this growing colony of giant ants, so
they could be dealt with before they grew too strong.

Manebrow, on the other hand, was not thinking that
far into the future yet, not while there were things to be attended to. 
Grabbing Gorgon and Ardan by the arms, he demanded to know the status of their
teams immediately.   Motioning for Arbelk and Kiria to follow with the wolves,
he started moving down the passage.  Seeing three warriors strapped to
packdogs, Manebrow turned to find Ardan.

“Where’s this chamber you were talking about?”
Manebrow pressed. 

Ardan pointed straight ahead to where the tiny
flicker of flame from the dried dung still danced against the wall of the
chamber ahead of them. 

Manebrow wasted no time.  With a gentle firmness,
Manebrow brought the horrified Kabbak and the packdogs down the passageway and
back into the chamber.  As he did so, he called for Gorgon and Ardan to bring
their teams and follow.  Gathering dropped equipment and arrows, the rest of
the company followed. 

As the rest of the group was filtering into the
chamber, Durik approached Manebrow.  “What do you think we should do?” 

Alongside Durik came Ardan.  A look of exhaustion
could be seen in everyone’s eyes now as the adrenaline wore off and the effects
of these past two days with very little sleep began to come back to weigh them
down.

Behind them, Keryak was helping Troka limp into
the chamber.  The deep gashes where a set of mandibles had closed around his
left calf only served to accentuate the many smaller cuts and gashes both he
and Keryak had received from the warrior ants during the battle.  Durik looked
around at the others.  Tohr and Kahn had laid Jerrig down on the ground and
were pulling out needles and string to sew the deep hole in his leg together. 
Jerrig moaned loudly with the pain, looking around incoherently. 

Still on the backs of the heavily laden packdogs,
Khazak Mail Fist and Trallik both looked as if they were on death’s door. 
Khazak Mail Fist was semi-coherent, but Trallik was still out cold, a pale look
in his cheeks and the horror of his capture still raging in his unconsciousness. 
Lord Karthan’s two boys stood next to the packdogs with haunted looks in their
eyes, still grabbing the straps they’d been told to hold onto.  His company was
in poor condition.  It was clear to him that, whatever course of action he chose
now, they would have a hard time of it.

“Well, sire,” Manebrow said, considering the
situation, “it seems clears to me that we can beat them handily in a close-quarters
fight, assuming that this is the best they’ve got.”  Pulling a wad of cloth out
of his belt pouches, Manebrow began bandaging a couple of gashes on his left
arm.

“I think it is,” Ardan interjected.  “After all,
their queen is in the other room there.  Jerrig killed her all by himself
before the rest of us arrived.  These warriors we fought, I’d wager she had the
best around her to protect her and her egg chamber.”

Both Manebrow and Durik looked incredulously at
Ardan.

“I’d not have believed Jerrig either.” Ardan grinned.
“But you’re welcome to go and look for yourselves.  He saved Trallik from a
cocoon of silk up on the wall too.  Looks like they were going to feed Trallik
to the new ants.”

“Well!” Durik exclaimed. “Sounds like he not only
won the race to find our lost Honor Guard warrior, but proved himself a genuine
hero as well.”

At that moment, Kiria entered the room and saw her
two little brothers.  With a squeal of glee, she ran forward and picked them
both up in her arms, hugging them close to her.  In her arms, the whelps seemed
to shake off some of the absolute terror of the night and smiled again.  It
wasn’t a moment or two more and they were chattering away, both of them trying
to tell Kiria at the same time about their journey and the attack, the ants and
‘Uncle Khazak.’  After a second of watching the joyful reunion, the leaders turned
back to their discussion.