Free The Game of Fates by Joel Babbitt Page A

had
saved Jerrig the embarrassment.  He very much hoped that no one would notice
the new charred spot the next day on the blackened log wall.
    No
one did.
    The
next day would reveal on their faces the extent of their suffering that night,
but for now the anonymous mask of darkness hid their collective nightmares.
     

     
    Ardan,
formerly a weapon smith, bowyer and fletcher, caravan guide and now a scout for
Durik’s Company, was by no means the oldest member of the company; Manebrow
claimed that title by a handful of years.  He was, however, an experienced and
skilled warrior in his own right.  After so many years on the trail escorting
the trade caravans he had learned well the lay of the land and had come to know
the Krall Gen as well as he knew his own gen.  One of their number, in particular,
he had come to know much better than the rest.
    Her
name was Miratha and, like Ardan, she had been left behind in the rush of life,
not having found a lifemate in the furtive days of youth.  Now in his
twenty-fifth year, Ardan was established among the warriors of the gen, and had
begun to think more and more about his future.  Despite how miserable his own
childhood had been, he now felt that he had overcome such things and was
finally warming up to the idea of having children of his own. 
    This
love he had found with Miratha, and the realization that he didn’t want to
spend the rest of his life alone, had eventually brought Ardan to reluctantly
begin to trust Miratha with his heart.  It had been a long process so far, and
was by no means complete, but over the course of the last twenty or so visits
he’d made to the Krall Gen, he’d grown comfortable with her, to the point where
he was now looking forward to seeing her again.
    Miratha,
on the other hand, was more than willing, in fact it could be said she was
eager to bond with Ardan.  Slightly less than a year younger than Ardan, she
had begun to feel the toll of the years on her body, and wanted to enjoy the
fruits of love, children to be precise, in her old age.  When Ardan had begun
to pay her more attention than the other workers at the Hall of Commerce, her
heart had quickly opened to him.  All this time it was mostly her driving the
relationship, which was fine with Ardan.  He was more than happy to sit back
and let her lead such things.  In matters of the heart he was no master.  After
so many years on the trail focusing on his duties, love and relationships were
foreign to him.
    Now
as he sat in the very heart of the Krall Gen, Ardan could almost smell the
sweet scent of her.  Knowing he was only a bowshot from where she made her home
on the southern shores of the lake, Ardan’s spirits lifted in anticipation of
seeing her.
     

     
    Jerrig
was not the only one to awaken in the night.  Somewhere in the dark of night
Durik woke, his blanket and furs soaked in a cold sweat.  Visions of a wild
boar, of orcs and of the ant queen’s royal guards all swirled about in his
head, all threatening to exact the price for their revenge in the only currency
that nightmares know; that of terror.  Desperately his sleeping form tossed and
turned as his imagined self tried everything to keep his company safe, and yet
for all his efforts they wandered off one by one, or even in pairs, to their
doom.  His hands reached out to them, his voice becoming almost shrill as he
called out to them, warning them of the danger, but in his dreams they would
not listen, and Durik was left desolate and alone.
    Then,
almost as a lullaby to a child, Durik’s dreams were wrapped in the warm embrace
of an unseen being.  Like a baby, he felt himself being held in the arms of its
love as he rocked gently to and fro.  After a time the hardened exterior he had
of necessity affected began to soften, and with it his heart softened as well. 
In a short period of time the memories of the horrors of the last few days
began to lose their sharpness and a soft, reassuring maternal voice