LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

Quennax made a noise half way between a chuckle and a hiss, straightening himself on his tail, four blades outstretched before him. “Foolish. This is but a flesh wound, and I can smell your blood. Now I know your tricks.”

  I took a step backwards, then another. “You don’t know all my tricks.”

  “I know you’re a spellcaster. You use fire as your element. I saw the burning in the night after your escape, when you killed and butchered the goat you fled on. A goat is valuable to farmers. It produces milk from grass, feeding them for years. They will suffer because of you.”

  I had not intended to make the owner of the barn suffer. “I didn’t burn the goat. Electricity from the sky did. My fire was sealing a wound.”

  “It matters not in the end.” He pointed one of the swords directly at my throat, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. “You would do well to surrender yourself now, goldling. Your crimes will earn you a swift death, and one for your friends as well. Refuse and fate will be far less kind.”

  “I don’t think you want to kill me.” I lowered my rapier. There was no way I could fight a creature with four arms. “I think you want to let me go.”

  Quennax’s voice eyes flashed a bright blue, the same colour as his mistress. Suddenly he was speaking with Melicandra’s voice.

  “Why did you kill the men we set to guard you?” There was hurt in her voice. Pain. “I trusted you.”

  “I didn’t kill them.” I glanced down the corridor. “Khavi did. My companion. He thought you would execute me and wanted to save my life. I was angry that he had done this, especially when I heard about the child, but he could not know differently.”

  “Your companion?” Melicandra asked through Quennax, “Some of the farmers said there were two kobolds, but I dismissed their claims as hyperbole. An ally? Comrade? Hireling?”

  The question was easy to answer. “My friend.”

  “Kobolds rarely make such a claim.”

  Not true. We had friends. I understood now why she would think I did not. “I do.”

  Quennax’s face scrunched up. I couldn’t tell which one of them was doing this thinking, but Melicandra’s voice remained. “So you did not kill them, but you ran? If you were innocent, why did you not turn in the true killer?”

  “He is my friend,” I said, “and the act would serve no ultimate purpose. The dead cannot be brought back to life, least of all with good intentions.”

  Quennax sheathed three of his weapons. The edge of his single blade, held in his upper right hand, hovered above the ground. “Correct,” said Melicandra, “and nothing we do here today can undo the past. All we can do is trust our sense of justice.”

  “So is that what you seek, then? Justice?”

  “That, or as close as I can get.”

  Justice. The concept was a strange one to kobolds. Every crime, no matter how minor, was punished with execution. I tossed my rapier to the side, dropping my shield at my feet and easing down onto my knees.

  “Then come. Make things as right as you can.”

  I closed my eyes. I knew then what No-Kill had felt, kneeling beside the gaping rift that had once been her home, and the strange peace that came over her when she accepted she was going to die. There was no anger, no fear, just the realisation of the end.

  The prick of a fine weapon tip against the back of my neck, its point trying to find the gaps between my vertebrae. I didn’t resist, tilting my head forward to help.

  “Goodbye, Ren of Atikala,” said Melicandra. “I believe, even now, that you are different from your kin.”

  Not that it had meant much in the end. “Goodbye,” was all I could say.

  I waited for the death strike to fall, determined to have my final thoughts be happy ones. I thought of the good work I had done for my community. Of talking with Tyermumtican. Of talking with Melicandra.

  Strangely, I thought of Khavi and all we had shared. I had broken my promise to him. We would never make an egg.

  Right as I was about to die, I desperately wanted Khavi here with me.

  “Ren?”

  I opened my eyes. Quennax was nowhere to be seen. “Khavi?”

  It was him. Tzala was with him, crouched beside Praxa, checking his body.

  I threw my arms around Khavi’s shoulders, crushing the air out of his lungs. “I thought the vapour killed you!”

  “That’s what I thought about you!”

  Relief and joy. I hugged him so tight, so closely that his scales rubbed against mine. Without thinking I pressed my lips to his.

  I kissed Khavi. I kissed him because I was so glad to be alive. So glad that we were alive.

  He pulled his snout away. “Blech!” Khavi wiped his lips down. “Why did you do that?”

  “I don’t know!” I laughed. “Does it matter?”

  Khavi stared at me. I wasn’t sure if he enjoyed what had happened or not, but I was too happy to care.

  Tzala, politely ignoring the two of us until now, gave a cough. “If you’re quite finished?”

  The sound of horses from the incline reminded me that our work was not yet done. Khavi wiped his tongue on his sleeve, trying to purge a foul taste. I retrieved my blade, then Khavi and I stood in front of Tzala, ready to fight for our lives.

  We waited and we waited, but the sound became more distant. Daring to hope, I moved between the bodies of my fallen kin, letting my light guide the way as I made my way up to the surface.

  The surviving humans were riding away, back towards the home they had come from, their dead slung over the backs of their horses.

  I didn’t understand, watching just over half the humans sent to hunt us down turn around and retreat, but I was filled with a wild exhilaration.

  We had won.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE JOY EVAPORATED QUICKLY, AND it was a much more solemn march back down the tunnels towards Ssarsdale, just Khavi, Tzala, and I. Although we had survived, we had set out with thirty kobolds and returned with three. Although we had killed a dozen humans, this was a loss by any way it could be measured.

  The only victory was that we were still standing.

  Soon we were standing outside the gates of Ssarsdale. I reached into my haversack and withdrew the severed head of one of the humans, tossing it at my feet.

  “Hail fair Ssarsdale. Your task is complete, and your city is safe.”

  They did not answer immediately. I knew that they wouldn’t. They had not expected us to come back, so our return with proof that we had fought their enemies would seem impossible.

  Soon enough though, the gates opened. This time it was not a lone leader coming to negotiate; it was a tide of the common folk—warriors, caretakers, and gatherers. They swarmed out to us, crowding around in the wide tunnel. Several kicked the severed head I had presented, while others recoiled from it in fear and wonder.

  We were taken into Ssarsdale past the iron gates, and I saw the inside of the city for the first time. Much like Atikala, it was embedded in a naturally occurring cave, a sprawling metropolis that was interwoven into the subterranean land as intimately as any natural growth. Lights came from hundreds of windows and glowbugs crawled all over everything here. Even the omnipresent blue crystals were gone, replaced by the familiar yellow light the insects shone everywhere.

  I had never been a hero before. The attention was too much for me. I tried to answer as many questions as I could, hardly having enough time to catch my breath before the next question was chattered at me. The same questions were repeated over and over. How many humans had I killed? What did it feel like to kill them? Did they really bleed red?

  A team of warriors from Ssarsdale moved through the crowd. Their leader, a scarred and sour looking kobold, introduced herself as Itkhava and offered us escort. I accepted gratefully.

  Her team escorted us through the city, keeping the majority of the throng at bay. They led us through the main bazaar of the city, almost a perfect mirror of the one in Atikala, straight to a spire in the centre.

&nbs
p; “Vrax and the rest of the council will see you at the top.”

  I could barely take my eyes off the rest of the city, but I kept presence of mind enough to nod. Khavi, Tzala, and I walked up the long spiral stairs of cut and polished stone, passing door after door. Artwork adorned the walls, canvas paintings and tapestries so numerous that they seemed to be made from them, and white balls of light provided the illumination. The colour of this place reminded me of the surface with all its vibrant colours and beauty.

  Khavi looked as I felt, nervous and out of place surrounded by such things, but Tzala did not. She must be used to it. Was this where the leaders of the cities lived? The leaders of Atikala had lived below the city. Is this what their building had looked like?

  We reached the top, and the stairs opened into a semicircular room with a dozen kobolds seated before a stone table. Vrax sat at the centre, towering over all.

  We stepped inside, bowing nervously.

  “Lord Vrax,” I said. “Although almost our entire unit was destroyed, the humans retreated.”

  “And you have been granted access to Ssarsdale, as was offered to you.” He did not smile, his expression cold and calculating. “You have done extremely well, former Atikalans, and your return speaks of your strength and prowess. You are valuable additions to this city, and I am proud to call you Ssarsdalians.”

  We bowed our heads again.

  “Tzala, please step forward.”

  She did so.

  “I, Lord Vrax of Ssarsdale, offer you a place on our circle of sorcerers as an advisor. This should better suit your talents than the city guard.”

  “Thank you, Lord Vrax. I accept.”

  I was glad; Tzala would never be a powerful warrior with a missing arm, and she had dedicated her life to sorcery. To work and live amongst her peers would be much more appropriate for her skills and power.

  Vrax folded his claws in front of him. “Regarding the other survivors, including your gold-scaled speaker, I have desires for them also.” He stood, stretching himself up to his full height, the table barely coming past his knees. “Walk with me,” he commanded Khavi and I, “and I will explain.”

  Vrax led Khavi and I out of the chamber. Tzala stayed behind, speaking to the other council members about matters I did not concern myself with. All I knew was that beyond everything we had experienced on the surface, we had finally made it to a safe place. A new home.

  The other refugees occupied my thoughts though, as Vrax led us back through the bazaar. They had died never knowing this joy, falling in a battle they thought was hopeless. I had not forgiven Vrax for this, for the council turning us away when we needed them most, but the battle and day’s travel beforehand had drained all of my will to argue with him away. I wanted to rest, but I knew that if Vrax wanted to speak to us, I should obey. I was not dead on my feet yet.

  “You and your companions fought well today,” said Vrax. Eyes followed us as we walked, the throng of Ssarsdalian kobolds whispering amongst each other, pointing and looking, giving us admiration and congratulations. “You should be proud of yourselves.”

  Pride was not one of the emotions I felt. “Thank you, Leader,” I said, “but many of our number died today. I would prefer to remember their sacrifice over my own glories.”

  Several kobolds, caretakers by their appearance, stopped to pat Khavi on the shoulder and congratulate him. He seemed to be taking the attention a lot better than I was. “But there was a lot of glory to be had,” he said, “and we earned it.”

  “You did,” said Vrax. “Tell me, what weapons did the humans use against you?”

  “Spears and horses,” I answered. “And a spellcaster. An elf with an eidolon.”

  “Where did you dispose of their bodies? I would have another company pick them clean for supplies.”

  Perhaps Vrax was more cunning than his tremendous size would indicate. “Unfortunately the surviving humans took their dead with them.”

  “Did they now.”

  I just wanted to sleep, but his response was odd. “Yes, as one might expect.”

  He said nothing to this. We walked past the bazaar, out towards the gates.

  “I want to show you something.”

  Khavi and I followed obediently. I felt my claws scrape on the ground. “Leader, I’ve been travelling and fighting for over a full day now. I am weary. Could we not do this after some rest?”

  “I had not expected Ren Humanbane to whine so loudly.”

  I felt my scales ruffle. “Is that what they call me?”

  “Titles are earned in Ssarsdale, as they are in Atikala. You have earned this one.”

  “Thank you.” I still had no taste for it, no desire to have anything attached after my name. I wanted only to know who I was—what my real name was—and earn that.

  “Congratulations,” whispered Khavi. I glared at him.

  The gates of Ssarsdale opened at a wave of Vrax’s hand, and we passed through. Khavi and I had to jog to keep up with him, something that did not aid my fatigue.

  “Tell me, Ren Humanbane, how many humans escaped?”

  I tried to think. “At least fifteen, maybe more. Some were wounded. I know not the exact number, Leader. I apologise. It has been a long and tiring day.”

  “Amongst the ones you killed, was there a gold helmed warrior?”

  The question confused me. I tried to think, but I was so tired. “I did not see one, Lord Vrax. It is possible. The site of the battle was dark, and it all happened so suddenly.”

  “Think. Search your memories.”

  I didn’t understand, but I did as I was told. “If one was amongst their group, I did not see them.”

  We turned down one of the tunnels leading away from Ssarsdale. Khavi looked at me in confusion. I couldn’t think, didn’t want to think, and only wanted to rest. Did Vrax have no understanding of how far we had walked? All of this could be done within the city.

  One last sacrifice, that’s all I needed. Then I could sleep.

  “Lord Vrax,” I said, “where are you taking us?”

  “To the southern tunnels, away from the city. It’s important that you understand something about Ssarsdale before you take your posts here.”

  Unable to jog anymore Khavi and I walked. Annoyed, Vrax slowed his pace for us. I tried to make conversation.

  “Lord Vrax, you offered Tzala a post other than that of a warrior. Do you intend to do the same for us?”

  He glared down at me. “Yes.”

  Khavi shot me an excited look. I didn’t share his happiness. “May I ask what that position is?” I asked.

  “You are a sorcerer,” Vrax said, “a talent I do not possess. It is rare indeed, almost unheard of, for one to sit on the council of any city without the blood of dragons. Rarer still to be its leader.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re telling me what I already know, Lord Vrax.”

  “Because it is important you understand. I am not the leader of the kobolds of Ssarsdale through magic, nor through my considerable skill with a weapon. I am the leader of Ssarsdale because while I have extremely rare gifts, and those gifts are powerful, there is power greater than even the mightiest spell.”

  Was it love? Did Vrax feel love as Tyermumtican did? I wanted to ask but didn’t. “I’m sorry, Lord Vrax, I know of no power greater than the dragons.”

  “Then you are smaller minded than I had anticipated. Think for a moment of the humans you defeated. Were they powerful as individuals?”

  “Humans have strength beyond our own, but their skin is soft and frail. Their height makes them easy targets, and they are slower than we are. They are bulking and brutish, Leader, and a force to be reckoned with, but they die just as we do.”

  “Astute observations, Ren Humanbane. How many kobolds were there in Atikala?”

  The question seemed inane to me. Was he testing my wit? My patience? “Fifty thousand, Lord Vrax. Approximately.”

  “And in Ssarsdale?”

  “I do not know.”r />
  “Twenty thousand. How many humans are there on the surface?”

  Over the whole surface? I knew it to be vast. The world spread south, far beyond our tunnels and our knowledge. Pewdt had mentioned Wasp-Men, a people I had barely heard anything about, and I knew there were stranger lands still undiscovered. “I do not know.”

  “Millions.”

  Millions. Millions of lives. The number was staggering to me, but I had seen how vast and flat the surface was. If it were possible to have so many living up there, then I could believe it. It was just another lesson, another set of facts for me to take in.

  “I see. That is a large number of humans, Lord Vrax.”

  “It most certainly is.”

  A worrying thought wormed into my mind. Why had Quennax and Malicandra saved me? Why had the humans just left?

  “Imagine for a moment,” Vrax continued, “my predicament. Humans are a proud, blusterous race who believe their strength easily exceeds our own, but their greatest power lies in their adaptability and resilience. The humans who escaped today will not retreat, lick their wounds and wisely decide against pressing us further. They will summon more armies from afar, and they will try again. They will stop at nothing to mete out justice to those they perceive as having wronged them. To the two kobolds who killed their friends, their children. Tell me, Ren Humanbane, how could my city have survived so close to the surface all these years? What power could keep that tide of strength at bay?”

  How did Vrax know of the human child? I went to answer, but we stepped around a bend. At the end of the tunnel, five humans in warrior’s garb stood, expecting Vrax’s arrival. Their leader wore a gold helm.

  “Appeasement,” Vrax said, and I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head. I slumped forward onto the stone as the world grew black, and then I felt nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  SOMEONE WAS DRAGGING ME. THAT was the first thing I realised when I woke up and felt my knees and footclaws scraping along the stone floor. My head felt like it was on fire, pounding and throbbing, my vision returning in a blurry mist.