The Trials of Caste (5 page)

Durik was deep in thought as he and Keryak came
ambling around the corner, almost colliding with their master trainer. 

“Hey, watch it now!”

The two yearlings stopped short of Manebrow who
had just left the arena, the sudden appearance surprising them all and shaking
Durik out of his thoughts.

“Sorry!” Keryak yelped as he stumbled back.  Beside
him, Durik stopped and looked about.  From behind Manebrow’s protective stance,
a young female kobold appeared, lithely sidestepping their brawny trainer’s
outstretched arm.  She was dressed in a high-collared red robe, with copper
bracelets and a necklace of charms.

Durik’s eyes were drawn to hers; they were large
and dark, and moist so that they shone in the dim light of the rush torches. 
It seemed as if she were both sad and hopeful at the same time.  The paradox of
the two emotions playing across her suddenly welcoming face seared the memory
of that first meeting into his heart.  It was all he could do to notice the
others standing there with him, though Keryak’s awkward stammering brought him
back to the moment.

Suddenly, Durik was very conscious of his
appearance, and of how foolish Keryak’s yelp and his stammering must sound to
this… to her.  Grabbing Keryak by the arm, Durik breathed in and forced himself
to speak.

“I am Durik,” he said shyly, keenly aware at the
moment of his bronze scales.  But at the name her whole countenance lit up,
bringing down the young warrior’s guard and leaving him exposed and helpless.  He
was struck suddenly, and his mind was instantly on fire with her.  Durik thought
that hers was a face of the divine, a face that would bring a warrior home
through many trials, and a face that he would see in his dreams.

Keryak was saying something, and Manebrow
responded, then the female spoke and nodded toward Durik.  Durik was certain
that he had heard the name “Kiria” spoken, but he was engulfed as he never had
been before by that moment; a moment he did not yet understand.

A subtle wind had begun to pulse through the
passageway as those who worked the shafts and vents that regulated their
caverns changed their pattern.  Accepting the Winds of Fate, Kiria spoke
gently, her eye-lids half lowering as she demurely followed Manebrow up the
passageway, “We will meet again.”  It was several moments after she had turned
the next corner that the spell was broken and Durik could again speak.

“Hello!” Keryak breathed loudly for the third
time, trying not to be loud enough for Manebrow and Kiria to hear up the
passage from them.  “Durik, are you in there?”

“Did you see how she looked at me?” he mumbled
semi-coherently.

Keryak shook his head.  “She compliments your
bronze scales and all of a sudden you’re love-struck.”

Durik’s eyes widened.  “She what?”

Keryak rolled his eyes and huffed, “She said
Such
an exotic color
.  Weren’t you listening?”

Durik’s heart soared, then he came to a sudden
realization.  “What if she didn’t like me?  What if she meant I look strange. 
Ah!” 

Keryak waved a hand in front of Durik’s face. 
“Hey, are you in there?”

Durik shook his head to clear it and, as if the
magic was gone, he was suddenly standing there in the passageway watching a cloaked
figure who appeared to have quietly stepped out of the large arena doors and
silently closed them.  For all that was going through his mind at the moment,
Durik somehow noticed that something was obviously wrong here, as the guards
didn’t use cloaks, and no one other than the guards was to be in the arena.

Keryak turned Durik’s head, breaking his view. 
“Durik, you fool!  That’s the Lord of the Gen’s daughter!  Don’t get any
ideas!”

Durik threw Keryak’s hands off his snout and turned
to look again toward the arena.  No one was there.  Quickly he began walking
toward the arena doors.

In the meantime, the kobold had stepped off into
an alcove, shed his cloak, wrapped it up and started to put it in the bag at
his side.

Just as the kobold turned to head off into a side
passage, he ran headlong into Durik.

“Hey, what’s that? Trallik!”

Trallik often surprised others, but he himself hated
being surprised.  “What are you doing!” he snapped as he bumped into Durik, the
cloak falling to the ground at his feet.

“I might ask you the same,” Durik replied, looking
down at the cloak.  “What’s that for?” he asked.

“You’re not sneaking around the arena, are you?”
Keryak accused.  “You know that could get you kicked out of the trials.”

Trallik was sweating profusely.  “You didn’t see
anything, alright!” he said through gritted teeth.

“If we didn’t see anything, then why…” Keryak
began to ask.  His words were cut short when Trelkar, the chief elite warrior
of the Deep Guard, came up behind them.

“Yearlings, what seems to be the problem?” the
imposing, muscular warrior asked.

Durik and Keryak both looked at each other. 
Trallik shot them both a pleading look, he was sure they had him.

“Well, what seems to be the problem?”

Durik cleared his throat.  “Chief, we just came
upon Trallik here putting a cloak back in his bag.  We believe he was sneaking
around in the arena.”

Trelkar’s eyes narrowed as he looked sternly at
the three yearlings.  “No, he wasn’t.”

Durik looked at Keryak, both of them knew Trelkar
couldn’t have seen what happened one way or the other.  “But he was coming from
the arena doors with this cloak.”  Keryak pointed down to the ground.

“Trallik!  Pick that cloak up!  I told you to
fetch the cloak for Khee-lar Shadow Hand.  Don’t keep him waiting,” Trelkar
commanded.

Trallik quickly shut his mouth, picked up the
cloak and hurried off down the passage.

Durik and Keryak were just as surprised when
Trelkar turned on them.  “If either of you doubts my judgment, then I will take
you before the council for spying on the arena yourselves.”

“But we didn’t…” Keryak began.  Durik just stood
silently next to him, a mix of unfamiliar emotions swirling around just below
his normally calm demeanor.

“Enough!” Trelkar snapped.  “Be gone!  Both of
you!”

Confused as they both were, Durik pulled Keryak
away and the two yearlings hurried off.  They both were sweating, but both of
them for different reasons.

“
P
lease, please,
please!” the young whelp yelled as he tugged at his older brother’s floor-length
tail.  “Please, before bedtime?”

Grumbling, though not too loudly, Arbelk finally
gave in.  Laying the rough piece of hemp rope he’d been twisting down on the
table, he reached out his arms.  “Come here, little monster!” he growled as he
grabbed the whelp and hoisted him up onto his knee.

That he’d been working on knots or that he was
still very sore from training in the underdark meant nothing to Arbelk’s little
brother.  All he knew was that he wanted a wolf-back ride.  Like always, Arbelk
had put aside his personal interests and obliged.

As the little kobold whelp bounced up and down on
his older brother’s knee, laughing and squealing with glee, Arbelk tried to
shush him.  It was no use, however, and soon their mother came through the tent
flap that partitioned their room off from the rest of the cloth-walled house
that was their home.

“Arbelk and Haam!” she scolded them.  “You two are
making enough noise for the whole warrior group to hear!”  She walked forward and
tweaked the little one’s snout.  “Haam, even with all the dwellings in here,
you know how that high pitched squeal of yours carries through the cavern!”

Haam got a pouting look on his face as he got off
of Arbelk’s knee and sat down on the straw mattress that was his bed.  It was
obvious, though, that the pouting was a shallow façade to hide his smile.

“Arbelk, it’s time for the little ones to go to
sleep now.  Do you have time before your meeting tonight to tell them a story?”
his mother asked.

Arbelk pretended to groan then looked at his
little brother who had his hands over his mouth, trying hard not to laugh.  “I
guess so,” he said with poorly faked despondency.

“Goody!  Goody!” Haam screamed a little too loud
for everyone’s comfort.

“Very well.”  Their mother smiled.  She turned and
let the cloth door fall back into place.  “Fim, Gack, Iggy, Ji and Ki, it’s bed
time.”  Arbelk could hear her calling his youngest siblings in the other room. 
There were several groans and moans until his mom added “Arbelk says he has
time for another story.”  With shouts of glee, Arbelk could hear his little
brothers and sisters coming.  Five more little kobolds came through the tent
flap in a flurry, with his two-year-old twin sisters Ji and Ki trailing behind
the rest.  All of them landed on the bed, giggling as they wrestled around on
the straw mattress for the bed sheet.

Arbelk watched them for a moment, feeling lucky at
being part of such a large family.  He knew only too well how most of the
warrior groups in the outer caverns had lost many of their whelps in the orc
raid six years ago now.  But here in the caverns of the Deep Guard Warrior
Group, his family had been left untouched.  The orc raiders had penetrated deep
into his gen’s home caverns, but not this deep.

“Now, now,” he said loud enough for his siblings
to hear him over their own noise.  “Time to get into bed!  Come now, settle
down.”

As some semblance of order began to take shape
among the six little whelps, Fim, the oldest of them at eight years of age,
looked him in the eyes.  “We want another story, Arbelk!” he demanded.

“Yeah! Yeah!” a chorus of voices echoed in support
of the request as the group of whelps sat up and stared at their oldest brother
with great anticipation.

“Well, just one,” Arbelk answered.  “But you must
lay down and be quiet first.”  So hungry were they for the new stories Arbelk
had learned during his year of training that, amazingly enough, all six of them
obediently laid down and pulled the covers up to their little snouts.  They
were so quiet that Arbelk could hear some of the older group of his younger
siblings eating their evening snack in the other rooms of their dwelling.  They
too were strangely quiet and Arbelk suspected they might be listening as well.

“A long time ago,” Arbelk started.

“Oh, I love it when a story starts with that!” the
oldest of the little ones exclaimed.

“Yes, Fim.  As I was saying, a long time ago there
was a person who had magical powers.  He was called The Sorcerer.”  Arbelk
spoke in a deep voice as held up his arms in a scary fashion.

“Was he a kobold or an orc?” the oldest of the
little whelps asked.

“Neither, Fim.  He was a human.”

“A hooman?” Fim asked.  “What’s that?”

Arbelk got that ‘thinking’ look on his face as he
pondered how to explain such strange creatures to his young audience.  “Well,
they’re like us, but without tails or horns, or even scales.”  Arbelk held up
his hands as he thought about the pictures he’d been shown of human warriors. 
“They don’t have snouts either; their faces are flat, flatter than orc faces even”
he said as he marked the differences off on his fingers.  “They have skin the
color of pigskin.  They don’t have sharp teeth, just short ones.”

All his younger siblings looked at each other in
wonder and disgust.  “Wow, they sound pretty silly looking.”

“Well, I’d imagine that they don’t think so,” he
reasoned.  “Oh, and they’re a little taller than orcs; probably as tall as mama
standing on papa’s shoulders.”

All his younger siblings giggled as they thought
of mama doing something so silly as standing on papa’s shoulders.

“Well, this Sorcerer… some say it was him that
made kobolds,” Arbelk explained.

Fim, who was old enough to know better, piped up. 
“No, that can’t be.  I know how kobolds are made.  They come from mama’s
stomach!”

Arbelk couldn’t argue with that logic.  “Well,
everyone has different opinions don’t they?” he said.  This seemed to placate
his younger brother.  “Anyway, this Sorcerer, he lived in a huge castle, which
is like a cave that someone builds above ground.”  His younger siblings all
looked at him in utter amazement and wonder.  “And do you know who lived there
with him?” he asked.

“More hoomans?” Fim guessed.

“Probably,” Arbelk continued.  “But a long time
ago, it’s said that many kobolds lived with him.  They say that these kobolds
lived in this big castle.  It was called Palacid.”

“Why would they want to live with such a funny
looking hooman in Plashik?” Gack asked.

“Palacid, Gack,” Arbelk corrected.  “It’s even
said that a dragon once lived there,” Arbelk whispered hoarsely as he held his
hands up like dragon’s claws and growled at his younger siblings.  They all
feigned being scared and ended up laughing.

“That’s why they wanted to live there!” Gack
exclaimed.

“I’m scary!” Iggy, the three year old cried,
meaning she was scared.

Arbelk patted her hornless head soothingly.  “Not
only that, it’s also said that the spirits of those who died before the kobolds
came there still haunt the place.”  Arbelk put his hands to his cheeks and
moaned woefully.  All his little siblings jumped under the covers and screamed
with fear, some of it in play.

“Arbelk!” his mother called from the other room. 
“Please don’t scare them just before bed time.  You know they won’t sleep if
you do.”

“Yes, mama,” he called then turned back to the
bright eyes and attentive looks of his younger siblings.  “But anyway,” he
continued, “if Palacid does still exist, it’s probably just an old ruin by
now.”  All his younger siblings moaned.  Arbelk then leaned forward and
whispered, “But I’d imagine it’s still haunted.”

All his younger siblings tried to suppress giggles
as they jumped under the covers.

Arbelk stood.  “It’s time for sleepy time now,” he
said as he patted each one of their hornless heads and watched as they scooted
down into the covers and tried to lay still.  “Good night,” he called back to
them as he turned and walked out of the room.

In the outer room of his family’s dwelling,
Arbelk’s remaining younger siblings were finishing their snack, giving hugs and
getting ready for bed.  One by one they each gave Arbelk a hug, hitting each
other or giggling to each other as they went into the two rooms that they all
shared.

“Goodnight Begat, Chala, and Dora,” he told the
three oldest ones as they shuffled off to bed, Begat calmly to his room and his
two sisters giggling to each other as they went to the other room.  After them
came the older twins who, unlike the younger twins, were not identical at all. 
In fact one was male and the other female.  “Goodnight Epo and Epa,” Arbelk
said as they both hugged him, the two of them slapping at each other as they
fought for the last hug.

“Ok, ok!” Arbelk pushed the two of them away at
the same time, so neither could claim the last hug.  With lips twisted in mock
frustration, the twins continued slapping at each other until Arbelk shooed
them to their respective rooms.

Having seen his younger siblings off to bed,
Arbelk sighed and came and sat down on the sand in the middle of the great
room, across the room from his father who had just sat back down after helping
get the children ready for bed.  On the wall hung a scrap of flaxen parchment
with his drawing of a dragon on it that he had brought home, much to the
delight of his younger siblings.  He smiled thinking of the endless games such
a simple thing had spawned.

 “So many whelps,” his father exclaimed as he
shook his head.  “It wears a kobold out.”

“You didn’t have to carry them!” his mother called
from the other room.

His father nodded his head, “True, true.”  He
turned his attention to Arbelk.  “So, after two moons in the underdark, are you
still determined to be a… um… Bridge Master?” he asked.

Arbelk pondered on the question for several
moments as his father looked on patiently.  Unlike most of his fellow
yearlings, Arbelk’s hopes did not rest on winning tomorrow’s competition.  In
fact, to him it was nothing more than another thing he had to do to get what he
really wanted.  Never the one to step out into the limelight, long before the
year of training Arbelk had found his niche as a Climber’s apprentice in the
Deep Guard. 

The Climbers were a different sort.  They were
warriors of few words, needing and wanting very little leadership.  The Deep
Guard depended on the Climbers to get their warriors from one level to the next
in the great sunken caverns far beneath their gen. 

One of the jobs within the Climbers was that of
Bridge Master.  It was a job with a clear set of responsibilities and a clear
purpose.  He wanted to be the one that everyone trusted with their lives, to
build the bridges that got them over the greatest of chasms.  After a year of
apprenticing with the Climbers, Arbelk had grown to love working in a small,
highly skilled team, and of all the Climber teams none was more highly skilled
than the Bridge Masters.

“Yes, father,” Arbelk finally answered.  “I still
want to be a Bridge Master.” 

As the conversation continued, Arbelk’s mind began
to wander.  He thought back to the year of apprenticing he’d done with the
Climbers before the year of warrior training.  He had gotten so good at
establishing bridgeheads and climbing lanes that the Climbers would often take
him along on exercises to help establish the rope and piton bridges that would
carry the bulk of the Deep Guard troops through the massively uneven terrain of
the underdark.

Though his year of warrior training had gone well,
he knew that he was no match for Gorgon and some of the others.  Arbelk had
resigned himself to the fact that he would not win this competition, but he
certainly would welcome anything positive that the Fates threw his way.  His greatest
hope was that he would not make a fool of himself in front of the entire gen,
and that the Deep Guard would be impressed enough with his performance to grant
him his wish of continuing with the Climbers after his year-group’s quest was
done.

As he sat talking with his father, Arbelk heard
the third gong ring out.  Remembering a meeting that Gorgon had planned, Arbelk
excused himself and made his way quickly toward the upper portions of the Kale
Gen’s home caverns.