felt at one time, back when life was much simpler.
But he felt that wonder no longer. Now, he felt only the shame of what he felt
was his father’s failure in life and the emptiness of a house without his
mother, and the utter determination to leave this past far behind him. He
shook his head at the naiveté of his younger siblings.
“Trallik? Come now, what’s wrong? Are you
nervous about the Trials of Caste?” his father asked, seemingly oblivious as
always to what Trallik thought and felt.
Trallik looked at his father with nothing but
disdain. He barely contained his anger and his desire to spit in his father’s
face.
His father saw the look in Trallik’s eyes and
recognized it for what it was; the same fire and hate he’d had at Trallik’s
age. The old familiar hope welled up in his heart, that somehow the storms
that raged in his son’s soul would pass and that Trallik would not end up
wrecking his life as he had done. Fearing an open confrontation, Trallik’s father
spoke before his son could, his tone very different.
“Trallik, you’ve heard these stories before, and
I’m sure you’re still recovering from your adventures in the underdark. Why
don’t you attend to your preparations for the trials?”
Trallik did not speak. He threw his bag over his
shoulder and, with effort, turned his mind toward the tasks ahead, even as he
turned away from his family.
Chapter 4
– Strengths and Weaknesses
T he
kobold known as Spider watched in morbid fascination as the mass of brown fur
and whip-like tail writhed about on the floor in agony. In a moment of
reprieve from the intense pain, the large subterranean rat raised its head and
sniffed about, its blind eyes unable to fully reflect the fear and anger it was
trying to unleash on its unseen attacker.
Spider raised his club, ready to strike at the
creature just in case it recovered enough of its senses to be a danger to him.
Suddenly the rat cried out again and fell to the
floor as if skewered by a javelin. For several moments it lay twitching on the
ground, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as its shallow, raspy breaths
echoed off the walls of the tiny chamber. After only a few moments, the rat
let out a final gasp, then all was still.
Smiling in cruel satisfaction, Spider poured the
remaining Fang Cap mushroom spores from the little bowl where he had coated the
piece of meat with them into a small leather bag he had prepared for just this
purpose. Grabbing his club, the bitter young kobold struggled to his feet.
Even after recovering from the accident this past year during his preparation
for the Trials of Caste, Spider still had a limp. For that, the master trainer
had not let him back into the year of training.
“Not that I wanted back in, anyway,” Spider
muttered under his breath as he climbed up the walls of the flue he’d used to
trap the rat and over the lip of stone he’d greased with animal fat. “I can
still climb like a spider anyway,” he muttered.
He liked his name; Spider. His long-dead father
had given it to him when he was born. It was the only legacy of his father
that his mother had kept. It almost sounded like an honor name. Of course,
there was little honorable that he’d ever done in his life, but that was beside
the point. If Trelkar’s promise was true, he would soon have a place to fit
in, a purpose for continuing his miserable existence. It certainly wasn’t an
honorable one, but it seemed valuable to Trelkar and his master, Khee-lar
Shadow Hand. And who knows what valuable things he could acquire because of
it?
Struggling again to get to his feet now that he
was at the top, Spider hobbled off in the direction of the main caves, intent
on making the meeting that he was sure would change his fortunes in life.
Gorgon, the strongest of this year-group, was not
concerned with the Trials of Caste. He knew the others well. After a year he
knew their
But he felt that wonder no longer. Now, he felt only the shame of what he felt
was his father’s failure in life and the emptiness of a house without his
mother, and the utter determination to leave this past far behind him. He
shook his head at the naiveté of his younger siblings.
“Trallik? Come now, what’s wrong? Are you
nervous about the Trials of Caste?” his father asked, seemingly oblivious as
always to what Trallik thought and felt.
Trallik looked at his father with nothing but
disdain. He barely contained his anger and his desire to spit in his father’s
face.
His father saw the look in Trallik’s eyes and
recognized it for what it was; the same fire and hate he’d had at Trallik’s
age. The old familiar hope welled up in his heart, that somehow the storms
that raged in his son’s soul would pass and that Trallik would not end up
wrecking his life as he had done. Fearing an open confrontation, Trallik’s father
spoke before his son could, his tone very different.
“Trallik, you’ve heard these stories before, and
I’m sure you’re still recovering from your adventures in the underdark. Why
don’t you attend to your preparations for the trials?”
Trallik did not speak. He threw his bag over his
shoulder and, with effort, turned his mind toward the tasks ahead, even as he
turned away from his family.
Chapter 4
– Strengths and Weaknesses
T he
kobold known as Spider watched in morbid fascination as the mass of brown fur
and whip-like tail writhed about on the floor in agony. In a moment of
reprieve from the intense pain, the large subterranean rat raised its head and
sniffed about, its blind eyes unable to fully reflect the fear and anger it was
trying to unleash on its unseen attacker.
Spider raised his club, ready to strike at the
creature just in case it recovered enough of its senses to be a danger to him.
Suddenly the rat cried out again and fell to the
floor as if skewered by a javelin. For several moments it lay twitching on the
ground, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as its shallow, raspy breaths
echoed off the walls of the tiny chamber. After only a few moments, the rat
let out a final gasp, then all was still.
Smiling in cruel satisfaction, Spider poured the
remaining Fang Cap mushroom spores from the little bowl where he had coated the
piece of meat with them into a small leather bag he had prepared for just this
purpose. Grabbing his club, the bitter young kobold struggled to his feet.
Even after recovering from the accident this past year during his preparation
for the Trials of Caste, Spider still had a limp. For that, the master trainer
had not let him back into the year of training.
“Not that I wanted back in, anyway,” Spider
muttered under his breath as he climbed up the walls of the flue he’d used to
trap the rat and over the lip of stone he’d greased with animal fat. “I can
still climb like a spider anyway,” he muttered.
He liked his name; Spider. His long-dead father
had given it to him when he was born. It was the only legacy of his father
that his mother had kept. It almost sounded like an honor name. Of course,
there was little honorable that he’d ever done in his life, but that was beside
the point. If Trelkar’s promise was true, he would soon have a place to fit
in, a purpose for continuing his miserable existence. It certainly wasn’t an
honorable one, but it seemed valuable to Trelkar and his master, Khee-lar
Shadow Hand. And who knows what valuable things he could acquire because of
it?
Struggling again to get to his feet now that he
was at the top, Spider hobbled off in the direction of the main caves, intent
on making the meeting that he was sure would change his fortunes in life.
Gorgon, the strongest of this year-group, was not
concerned with the Trials of Caste. He knew the others well. After a year he
knew their
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