Free The Trials of Caste by Joel Babbitt Page A

forge.” 
    Durik handed the bag to Gorgon then sat between
Keryak and his cousin Jerrig, who had the look of one struggling within
himself.  Jerrig said nothing and stared intently at the floor.  In a few
moments, the look cleared and Jerrig sat looking meekly about the room.
    Gorgon placed the bag to the side, cleared his
throat and looked over the assembled group.  “Much thanks to these fine winners
of past years’ tournaments for coming to speak with us.  I’m sure we’ll have
plenty of questions about tomorrow’s trials for you,” he said as he nodded to
the elite warriors seated at the table.
    “Aye, and I’ll start!” Keryak exclaimed.
    “Go ahead,” one of the elite warriors said. 
Gorgon took the cue and sat down.
    “Do you know what obstacles will be placed out
tomorrow for the scouting trial?”
    The elite warriors all laughed.  Most of the
recent winners had been put into the Honor Guard Warrior Group upon winning the
trials, the same warrior group that set up the obstacles and ensured that they
were kept secret from the masses until the day of the trials.  It was
tradition, however, that the winners from previous years gave vague clues about
the obstacles to the yearlings in a secret meeting before the trials.  This was
such a well established tradition that their meeting could hardly be considered
a secret.  Always the scouting trial’s obstacles were the object of greatest
speculation.
    Billik, a rather straightforward young elite
warrior who had won the trials the year before, brought a small roll of soft
leather out of a belt pouch, unrolled it, and, after clearing his voice,
ceremoniously read what was written thereon:
     
    The melee weapons trial has not changed.  He
who wins all matches in hand to hand combat takes the trial.
     
    Trallik groaned.  “Those haven’t changed in
generations.  Why bother telling us that!”
    “Patience, yearling,” Billik said, knowing he was
torturing the yearlings with anticipation.
     
    The ranged weapons trial remains unchanged.  He
who strikes truest wins.
     
    “More useless recital of rules which haven’t
changed since the trials at Palacid!” Trallik snapped.
    “Yearling, hold your tongue!” Billik commanded.
    Trallik grabbed a bag from under his chair, stood
up and walked to the door.  “I’ve heard enough,” he said.  “I know what I need
to know already.”  With that he walked out the door.  Jerrig, with a concerned
look on his face again, stood up as inconspicuously as he could and left as
well, closing the door silently behind himself.  None of the elite warriors
looked at all fazed by their departure as their spokesman Billik continued the
reading.
     
    The scouting trial is still the most difficult
and most rewarding of them all.  All obstacles are arranged in a circle around
the Tower of the Chalice, where the cup that determines the winner always
rests, secured in a chest having eight locks.  To open the locks one must
recover the keys from the eight obstacles that ring the Tower of the Chalice.
     
    Billik paused in mid-stream.  He could see the
eyes of the remaining five yearlings upon him, as he was deliberately delaying
the most important piece.  But none of the yearlings gave him the satisfaction
of complaining.  Nodding his approval of their self-discipline, he read on.
     
    Three of them are one.  One of them has a tower
and a rope.  Another is the home of a being long dead.  Two others come from
the depths of the earth.  The last requires a pole and a jump.
     
    Billik looked up from his reading.  “Unless there
are any other questions, I will leave you with the clues and we shall depart.” 
He looked around at his fellow elite warriors before beginning to rise.
    “Can’t you tell us which of them are new and which
were used before?” Keryak blurted out.
    Billik sat back down.  He wasn’t getting out of
here that easy.
    After a brief pause, an older elite warrior leaned
forward.  He had a