Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

Since escaping the betrayal of his force, Khleeg had tried to find a way back to Garantha-despite his sense of loyalty tugging him in the direction he knew Golgren had gone. Khleeg was aware he could serve his master best by seeing that the capital remained a stronghold against the Grand Khan’s enemies. He was doubtful that, for all his resourcefulness and skills, the younger Wargroch was capable of protecting Garantha from the unexpected threats that had arisen. Against warriors alone, perhaps Wargroch would have triumphed. But there was Titan magic involved, and Khleeg trusted only himself to do the best possible against the sorcerers.

The three other surviving ogre warriors kept pace behind him, their lives entirely in his hands. They would do whatever he commanded, not that he had any commands to give them except staying alive. They had been without water and food for several days, and the former was a more desperate need than the latter.

Twice, Khleeg had attempted to steer the survivors to known water sources, but Rauth had moved faster, sending bands of fighters to guard those places. Being kept far from water also meant that finding food was harder, for most plant and animals in the region generally stayed near few pools and streams.

It had been some time since Khleeg had seen any sign of the traitors, but he led the others as if Rauth both dogged his steps and rode ahead plotting ambush. It made the going slow, but the bulky ogre told himself to be patient for his vengeance.

“Ishraali…” muttered one of the warriors, forgetting his Common.

Khleeg snapped to attention. Ishraali . Dust.

Dust as in riders or some great force on the move.

He surveyed the distant cloud. It lay far to the south, more in the direction of Garantha. His first thought was that Wargroch had sent out another hand-but he had given the officer explicit orders to protect the capital. Sending out even one hand would dangerously impair Garantha’s safety.

Another, more ominous notion occurred to him: They were other traitors moving to join Rauth. With a low growl, Khleeg waved the others to crouching positions. The dust cloud was fast approaching. Surely there would be scouts ahead of the main force. Common sense dictated that the four act warily.

But Khleeg could not forget his duty to his Grand Khan. While he intended to be as cautious as possible, he had to know to whom the hand was loyal-or if, by some terrible magic it was even Atolgus’s force. If it proved to be the missing hand from old Blode and the young warrior was riding at its head, Khleeg would have to do something to impede his progress.

And if there was any chance of killing the traitor, even at the cost of losing his own life, Golgren’s second in command was willing to take that chance as well.

With renewed purpose, Khleeg guided the others around the nearest hills. He felt certain the riders were headed to the west of his position. He would try to scout them from behind.

As he and his small party maneuvered around, he wondered at the immense size of the dust cloud. It gave every indication of being a force greater than the twelve hundred warriors of a hand. It looked worthy of at least twice that size.

He pulled out the crystal and muttered Wargroch’s name. When after several moments he still did not receive an answer from the other, Khleeg repeated the call.

Still, no reply. Whatever magic had granted the crystal its amazing powers before, it appeared to have vanished.

Spitting with frustration, Khleeg put the piece away again. There would be no warning Garantha.

His wide nostrils flared. There was a slight scent in the air.

Khleeg glanced at the three warriors, all born of old Kern, not old Blode, as he was. To his mind, those of old Kern did not have the sharp sense of smell he and their other cousins had, which might be the reason they showed no apparent concern at the moment.

“Beware-” he started to mutter.

Their attackers came at them from all sides. They caught the three warriors behind Khleeg entirely unaware. Swords at their throats forced the trio to surrender their weapons.

But the pair that thought to take Khleeg found themselves with their hands full. He had no doubt his companions would be given the chance to swear fealty oaths in the name of Atolgus, but there would be only one fate for him: death.

Worse, Rauth would no doubt take pleasure in drawing out that death with whatever tortures he thought would force secrets from Khleeg’s mouth.

The two scouts from the larger force-they could be nothing less-tried to force him back against a large rock. One of their companions broke away from guarding the other prisoners to join their efforts. Slowly, they maneuvered Golgren’s second in common into a precarious position.

“Surrender!” one growled in passable Common.

“Surrender?” he snarled back, gasping for breath. If not for the lack of water and food, he would not be so hard pressed. “I am Khleeg! I do not surrender!”

The one who had spoken faltered. He pulled back from the fight. “Khleeg?”

The Blodian took the opportunity to lunge at one of his remaining adversaries. He stabbed the scout in the arm, forcing the other ogre to drop his sword.

“Stop!” roared the first scout, dragging the others back. “Stop!” Once the pair had withdrawn behind him, he eyed the Grand Khan’s officer. “You are-Khleeg? The Hand of the Grand Khan?”

Khleeg had heard others refer to him as such, although never within the hearing of Golgren. His weapon held before him, he retorted, “I am his hand, that will slay all enemies.”

The scouts exchanged odd looks, and the speaker suddenly went down on one knee. “Great Khleeg, my neck is bare!”

The scout bent his head down so that Khleeg could easily have chopped it off. The other pair followed suit.

His mind racing, Golgren’s second in command demanded, “Your commander! His name!”

“Syln.”

Khleeg knew Syln well. He was a loyal follower of Golgren.

He was also one of the commanders of the forces protecting Garantha. “Why is Syln in the region? Does he hunt Rauth?”

The scouts looked up, their expressions perplexed.

“Why is Syln in the region?” Khleeg repeated impatiently.

“We are ordered. Wargroch sends us to Varuus Sha.”

“Varuus Sha is not that way! You lie!”

The lead scout shook his shaggy head. “Wargroch sends us there! But Syln commands we march elsewhere. The others, they are marching to Varuus Sha, but Syln insists that way. Says we must find the Grand Khan. He must return to Garantha.”

Khleeg halted his explanation. He understood Syln’s dedication to Golgren, but something he heard astonished him. “Others? Syln’s hand is not the only one to march from Garantha?”

Again, the scout shook his head.

“How many?” the officer roared, growing frustrated with having to peel each bit of information from the warrior. “Two? Three?”

“All four! All four march are ordered to Varuus Sha!”

“All-” Khleeg growled furiously. Wargroch could not be that naive! He wouldn’t have gone against Khleeg’s command! He could not have emptied the capital.

“Fool!” Khleeg muttered, thinking of Wargroch. The young officer had been ambitious, determined to rise to the level of respect that his brothers had earned from Golgren.

Sheathing his weapon, he roared, “You! You lead me to Syln!”

Wargroch still had the city’s guard. Protected by the high walls, that guard could keep any traitorous force temporarily at bay. Khleeg had to turn Syln and his troops around, and get them back to the capital as soon as possible. Garantha would be safe again and ready for its beloved Grand Khan’s return.