LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  Khavi leaned forward, sniffing at Jedra, testing her for a smell. Curious, I sniffed as well.

  Her body emitted a kind of musky odor, like linen cloth soaked and left in a drawer.

  “Actually,” said Khavi, “you’re almost ready now.” He nodded to Faala. “And you, probably within the day.”

  They both looked pleased. I felt vaguely ill.

  “What about her?” Faala looked at me expectantly.

  Khavi leaned in to smell me, but I pushed him away. “Not yet,” I warned. “It’s not yet time.”

  Jedra and Faala both looked at me, puzzled looks on their faces.

  “Males can tell better,” said Jedra. “Their noses are attuned for it.”

  “I’m a sorcerer,” I said. “I know these things.”

  Both the newcomers eyes went wide. Khavi groaned, softly, looking away.

  “You’re a sorcerer?” asked Jedra, a new found awe in her tone.

  “I am.”

  Jedra dipped her head in reverence. “Well, Khavi should breed with you first to pass that blood along sooner.”

  “It’s not yet time,” I insisted again. “Look. We have a lot of other things to worry about first. Let’s pool our supplies. We have a map to Ssarsdale, so we should plan out our route. We can deal with the rest later.”

  Jedra, Faala, and Khavi seemed content with this, Khavi less so than the others.

  I pushed us hard, setting a brutal pace into the gloom making for the surface by the most direct route—up. At half a day’s march Faala was complaining that she wanted to stop. At three quarters of a day, Jedra and Khavi joined the chorus, and I could feel my body giving out.

  But I knew what would happen if we stopped. In the end, we went for nearly a full day. By the time I called for a halt, my body was beyond sore and tired. I ached all over, my knees felt weak, and it was a struggle to summon the strength to dig my bedroll out of my pack.

  Jedra tiredly set up her traps. They were two metal jaw-like contraptions that folded neatly when not in use. She used a crank to part their mouths, the fine, jagged teeth laying almost flush with the stone. Very difficult to see and disguised as debris. She set one up before us and one after. This would be a great aid to whoever was on watch.

  Then Jedra and Faala curled up together to sleep. This action prompted moans of complaint and the occasional hiss of anger from Khavi. The two females were annoyed too; they murmured to each other, too quietly for me to hear, and shot me the occasional dirty look. They too wanted to mate, casting forlorn looks Khavi’s way.

  “Go to sleep,” I told Khavi, answering his unspoken question. “I’ll take first watch. You’re on second and Jedra can take the third.”

  “And how do you propose I sleep with three unfertilised females sleeping beside me?”

  “Discipline is a virtue,” I said. “Yeznen said that.”

  Khavi snapped his jaw. “You drive us like slaves!”

  “Good, perhaps this will solve your inability to rest. We need to get to the surface, to get to Ssarsdale.”

  “Yes,” said Khavi. “So urgent is our trip to Ssarsdale. So urgent we could aimlessly wander around for days or spend a whole day visiting a foul copper dragon. But give me ten minutes to save our city’s blood? No, no, that’s asking too much.”

  “Priorities have changed.”

  Khavi affixed a dark look on me as he closed his eyes. “Haven’t they just.”

  Time passed, and the three others slumbered. I desperately wanted to sleep, wanted to embrace the dreaming and let my body rest, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t used any of my magic so my reservoir was full to the brim, but even sorcerers still had their physical limits. In many ways we were more vulnerable to exhaustion than regular warriors; fighting and marching sapped the strength from our bodies while spells stole the energy from our minds.

  I had the power to permit myself to sleep, but even with our traps in place, failing to set a watch in unexplored territory would be an extremely poor decision indeed. Khavi and I had not been killed during our lax time in the underworld, but that was through pure luck. Had any predator decided to attack us, we would have quietly become another meal for any number of the underworld creatures that would feed on our kind. Images of Six-Legs sinking his fangs into me filtered fear enough to keep my eyes open.

  It came time to wake Khavi. I shook his shoulders and, with a low groan, he forced himself awake.

  “Time for my shift already, slave driver?”

  I resented the name calling. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Khavi stretched out his limbs. “I’m going to wake Jedra.”

  I blinked. “But Jedra’s not on till third watch.”

  “Agreed,” he said, “but she can spare the time to get this over with.”

  I was out of excuses. I could do nothing as Khavi shook Jedra awake, then she in turn nudged Faala.

  Kobolds normally didn’t have the same reservations about privacy that humans did. Most didn’t wear much clothing, if at all, and our quarters were shared with dozens. Our bodily functions were no secret, performed in full view with no shame. Including breeding.

  Faala, barely of age and yet almost the same age as I, watched the entire proceedings with an eager fascination that I found off-putting. I had seen Khavi breed others before, taking them like beasts, the entire grunting, groaning procedure over in a few minutes. The act was raw, rough and, for lack of a better description, efficient. When it was done, Khavi had his turn with Faala, who all too eagerly bent to accept him, Jedra looking on approvingly.

  Faala’s was rougher, more painful, as this was her first. She cried, but she accepted the pain as stoically as she could, biting on her lip until the act was complete. Jedra helped dab the blood that was normal with a female’s first, patting the younger kobold soothingly while Khavi merely sat and admired his handiwork.

  “You hurt her,” I said, unable to keep the bitter accusation out of my tone.

  “It’s okay,” said Faala, wincing slightly as Jedra tended to her. “It was necessary.”

  “Was it?” I asked.

  “Of course it was,” said Jedra, frowning in my direction. “She had to be bred at some point. Might as well get it over as soon as possible.”

  I couldn’t look at the mess—the blood—and instead focused my gaze on a wall.

  “What’s wrong with you?” asked Faala, “It hurt, yes, but so much of our lives are pain. We are females; the birthing pain is ours to bear. This is how we live. Zaahi told us that.”

  “I remember the lesson well,” I answered, “but I also feel that perhaps there should be another way.”

  “There isn’t,” said Faala, “and the pain will be lesser next time, especially after my first egg.” Her tone shifted, a distinct edge developing. “You’ll be next, you know that. You should get used to it as soon as possible. Perhaps one of us can use a claw to help beforehand?”

  I snapped my head around, my nostrils flaring. “None of you will do any such thing.”

  “Well,” said Jedra, “Khavi will need his rest tonight, and your scent is not yet high. Soon, though. A day or so at most, and you should be ready to submit to it.”

  I bared a little of my teeth. “I submit to no one.”

  She looked confused. “You mistake my intent,” Jedra said. “It is not a struggle for dominance between individuals. It is your acceptance of your role in society. Of your place as a kobold. It is what you were born to do, born to be.”

  “She’s right,” said Faala. “It’s your duty to help grow the numbers of the community, especially after this tragedy.”

  I wanted to talk about what Tyermumtican said about the strange concepts of love, and what that would mean for my mating choices. I couldn’t put words to my thoughts though, so I tried something else. “I’m a sorcerer,” I said. “We have privileges. We can opt out of many of the customs.”

  “But not of breeding,” said Faala, the confusion in her voice clear. “Why would you want to? You have the
blood of dragons in your veins, your scales shine with power. Your lineage is to be bred into as many as we can manage. This is why Yeznen mates with so many; he is male, but he has the art. He is our only male sorcerer. His lineage should be spread as far and wide as possible.”

  “Make no mistake,” said Khavi, “I was glad to breed these two, but if Yeznen were here I would give them up in a heartbeat. It would be his duty to take my place.”

  “Well, Yeznen is not here, is he.” Fortunately.

  Khavi scrunched up his face. “You know, it’s odd. Yeznen has the art. You do as well. He was probably too closely related to you, or he would have been assigned to you instead of me.”

  No. I inhaled sharply, jerking my head back, shaking my head. I pictured Yeznen in my mind, his scales as dark as an unlit cave, a perpetual scowl on his face. He was a sorcerer of very minor power, only marginally more powerful than I even at his venerable age. That was why he trained the warriors and not sorcerers like Tzala, who was much more skilled.

  Yeznen was aged and attractive, yes, but he had a darkness in him that I found disturbing. He treated the recruits cruelly, punishing them with agony for minor infringements or errors, and I had felt the sting of his cane more than once. We all had. Khavi had hurt Faala during their mating, but he had drawn little pleasure from the act. Yeznen, I suspected, would secretly enjoy her tears.

  “Yeznen is not related to me.”

  Jedra snorted dismissively. “You almost certainly are related. Sorcerers frequently skirt the lines of inbreeding, trying to concentrate their power. This is a well-known fact. This is why they are allowed to breed suboptimally. With such great power extra care must be taken. I would not be surprised if he sired you.”

  My scales crawled. “That is unlikely. Our scales are very different. His are black, and mine are not.”

  “Scale colouration is just one part of a kobold’s appearance,” said Faala. “Your gold burnish may come from a recessive trait or perhaps a random mutation. You do have a similar jaw line to him.”

  Khavi bobbed his head in agreement. “You said yourself it was just a pigment.”

  The very idea disturbed me, not because of how outlandish and false the claim was, but that nagging feeling that they just might be right.

  “Gather the traps,” I instructed, trying hard to keep the bitterness from my voice. “We’re leaving.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  BEFORE WE LEFT KHAVI MATED with both of them once again. This time Faala seemed to enjoy the whole thing more, although it obviously still pained her. Jedra, once again, soothed the small amount of blood. Less than last time.

  I resented that my orders were not being obeyed, but I watched the act again. Not for the pleasure of it, but to know. I had to know what had taken place. I had to see it with my eyes. They were my responsibility. If they did this thing, I had to make sure everything went as smoothly as it could.

  “Twice just to make sure,” Khavi said as he lay between them. “A moment’s rest to recover, then we’ll continue.”

  “We’ve lost a twentieth of a day with this. Where’s your logic and efficiency now?” I asked him, hoisting my haversack onto my back.

  “It’s my duty,” replied Khavi. “And yours as well.”

  “It’s my body,” I said. “I’ll choose what happens to it.”

  “But that’s the thing,” said Faala. “When it comes to matters like this…it’s not your body.” She glanced to the others and received approving nods, so she continued. “We give everything to the community. We surrender our health, our time, our lives for each other. This means that we surrender our choice regarding who we reproduce with and when. That’s part of our sacrifice. We give. That’s the mark of a good creature. Evil is selfish. Evil gives less and takes more. Sometimes they take more than they give. That’s how evil is done.”

  I stammered, shuffling my claws awkwardly. “I can’t refute that,” I said, “but some things should not be given. Some things should remain the authority of the individual.”

  Jedra, Faala, and Khavi’s noses all wrinkled in disgust. I reached under my armour, pulling out the pouch of glowing fragments from my egg. I reached inside, retrieved a piece and held it up. The faint yellow mixed with the blue from the ever-present crystals and bathed the room in an eerie green hue.

  “This is mine,” I said. “I own it. No other can touch it or decide its fate. I could crush it with my foot, but I choose not to. Its fate is tied to my will. Do you understand?”

  Jedra looked at me. She didn’t understand. “Of course I do. You’re a sorcerer. You’re permitted to own things.”

  “It’s more than that. It’s more than me being a sorcerer. I know you disagree, but I think all kobolds should be able to own things, little things. And I think they should be able to own their fate, too, to some extent.”

  Jedra looked like I had offered her excrement to eat. “Why would anyone want that?”

  “Because sometimes individuals like to have control over their destiny. They like to have some part of their lives that is their own.”

  “But why?” Jedra pressed. “Surely you can see it’s inefficient. If there were too many kobolds like you, the race’s growth would be slowed. We would be unable to replenish our losses from war and work. From our losses when food is scarce. Your personal choice affects us all, and your negligence weakens our community.”

  “It’s not a weakness if it’s exercising personal choice.”

  Jedra folded her arms. “I think it is. There’s no logical reason to not mate with someone who’s fertile and not already carrying. None.”

  My exasperation grew. I slapped my hands together. “What if I don’t want to? Shouldn’t that be enough?”

  “If you don’t choose to help the community, you oppose the community. Yeznen said that.”

  “I know what Yeznen said, I’m asking you!” I realised I was shouting and had been for some time. I forced calm into my mind, and lowered the volume of my voice. “Sorry.”

  Jedra looked to Faala and Khavi. “Well, my answer is that I agree with Yeznen.”

  “Me too.”

  “And I as well.”

  I looked at all three of them, then, unable to explain why I felt the way I did, turned and walked into the darkness.

  Two weeks later

  We walked, following the map that Tyermumtican had given us. The others, especially Khavi, distrusted it initially, but after we lost significant time to Khavi insisting he knew a shorter way, and the resultant backtracking, they eventually gave up and followed its instructions.

  I continued to refuse Khavi’s advances, and he eventually gave up. But I didn’t interfere with the others, nor their nightly sessions. What Jedra and Faala did with their own bodies was their choice.

  Jedra laid her egg after two weeks through winding tunnels. I watched, as I had watched when it was conceived, but my heart had softened, and the pain eased with the benefit of time. Since I was in charge, I had to name the egg. Without a wand I had no way of knowing if it was a male or female, so I erred on the side of caution and picked a female name. Oreala.

  Later that day, it was Faala’s turn.

  At the first signs of the birthpain, we stopped our march. Khavi and Jedra went ahead to scout, to ensure that the passage ahead was safe. They didn’t return before Faala began to feel the urge to lay so I attended to her. I could do little but give her water and dab away the blood. Kobolds rarely required assistance with laying, but Faala’s was difficult. She cried and bled. Her wails were loud, and I focused on keeping her alive.

  When she was done, I took the ichor-splattered egg and wiped it clean. I named it Vela. I hoped that I had not named either of the eggs the wrong gender. The odds were in my favour, but that was little comfort. I knew the power an ill-chosen name had over the destiny of a child. It wouldn’t be a significant issue. Because we had no register to draw from, it was completely unofficial anyway.

  I held Faala’s egg in my hand, men
tally comparing it to the fragments I kept in the pouch around my neck. Both of the eggs were slightly bigger and thicker shelled than my own had been. Khavi had made strong kobolds.

  I wrapped the egg's dark shell in cloth and stored it with my haversack, packing it against my bedroll. The new egg nestled up against Jedra’s lighter-shelled child. I moved some of the water and rations into Khavi’s backpack. Now we were five kobolds, technically speaking, and I knew it would only be a matter of weeks before the eggs hatched. The hatchlings could walk, but they would be not be up to a march right away; we would have to carry them. Our pace would be slowed. We would lose time. That, however, was a problem for the future.

  As was Jedra and Faala being ready to breed again. I tried not to think about that.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked Faala, moving back to her. She had lost a significant amount of blood. The flesh around her nostrils was pale and grey, not rich and black as it should have been.

  “I’m feeling better,” she said, giving a weak smile. “The water helped.”

  “We have enough for you to drink your fill.” I reached out and touched her abdomen. “Does it still hurt?”

  “A little,” she said, “but the pain is passing. The first time is the worst, they say. I’ll survive.”

  I sympathised. “You don’t have to do it again, especially if this one was traumatic for you. It’s not unheard of to give first time layers a cycle to recover.”

  Faala shook her head emphatically. “No,” she said, “I will. I’m glad that I was able to do my duty. Now our numbers may begin to regrow, especially when we reach Ssarsdale. There may be more survivors there, or at the very least, a broader genetic pool to draw from.”

  “The Ssarsdalians won’t like you mating with their males and keeping the eggs.”

  “I thought about that,” she said, “and if we don’t join them outright, I thought we might be able to reach some kind of accord. A deal. Half to us, half to them. That seems reasonable.” The idea of trading children like some kind of commodity didn’t sit well with me, but Faala continued before I could object. “It would be better if you could help too. If we had a sorcerer we could offer, that deal would be significantly sweeter.”