by David Adams
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, mentally 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.”
I clenched my fist. “I know,” I said, “but I’ve said all I can say about it.”
Faala seemed to accept that. “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
I had no idea
how to tell her what I really felt. “I suppose not.”
For three more days we pressed on, walking through the endless tunnels high above the gnome settlement. We began to notice something odd the further along we got, something that brought us no end of concern.
The air all around us was getting colder.
It was thinner, too, harder to breathe. We found ourselves being able to make less and less headway every day. Our packs were heavier and our bodies weaker. None of us had received any training in how to survive at altitudes higher than the gnome settlement, but I could extrapolate from what I knew. We were getting close to the surface.
A life spent underground attuned us to subtle changes in air pressure and temperature. Somehow we knew how high we were, more or less, and we could discern the direction to our birthplace. Some called it a homing instinct, a sense as natural as one’s ability to discern which way was up or sense acceleration. It was one we didn’t really have a name for.
We all took turns carrying the eggs. I had them in my haversack on the first day, Khavi on the second, Jedra on the third. Faala, still recovering from the exhausting process of laying her first egg, would be spared carrying them as I had volunteered to take them again on the fourth.
Thoughts danced through my mind as we walked, daydreaming to myself and spinning mental puzzles to keep my mind from weakening. Tzala had always told me that the mind is just like any other muscle; it can grow with work and atrophy when idle. While sorcerers drew their power from their lineages and relied upon the force of their personality to summon their spells, a sharp mind was never an idle asset. It was one of her lessons that I kept close to my heart, especially during these long marches through the cold empty tunnels.
“Halt,” said Khavi, extending a hand out wide. I did so, years of training making the action immediate, Jedra and Faala coming to a stop behind me. I shrugged off my haversack and drew my weapon.
“What?”
Khavi leaned forward, his nose wiggling. “I smell something. Fire.”
I scrunched up my snout, trying to understand. “Fire? But what would be the fuel? It cannot burn stone.”
“It’s fire,” Khavi repeated, “but it’s strange. Burning something I can’t identify. Not flesh, not cloth. More like your old armour.”
The memory of Khavi nearly burning me alive had not yet faded from my mind. I scowled at him, but tried to smell what he could smell, drawing in breath through my nostrils, testing the air.
It was there, wafting down the tunnel. More than half a mile away, coming from above.
I had more experience with fire than Khavi. I’d smelt incense in Tzala’s chambers, scorched stone target dummies in my training, and dreamed of all manner of things aflame. But I’d never smelt anything burning like this.
“I have it too,” I said, inhaling again, trying to sample more of the distant aroma. “It’s coming closer.”
“We should set up a defensive perimeter. Jedra, can you set your traps in this corridor?”
“Of course,” she answered, wiggling her backpack around until it faced her. She withdrew her two jaw-traps, and scurried a dozen feet ahead of us. She laid the first metal contraption on the ground and cranked the lever to pry it open.
“Khavi, let’s hide. See if they pass us by.” He seemed distinctly displeased at that idea, but since losing his sword, he knew that he was less effective than he would otherwise be, having only his claws. Although Faala and Jedra had boosted his mood, the fire that had sustained him until No-Kill died remained gone from his eyes.
“So we are to cower instead of fight,” he muttered. “Typical.”
I turned to the last in our group. “Faala, Khavi and I will handle the fighting if they come through. If we fall, take the eggs and run.”
She bobbed her head. “Of course” Her fighting skills were not the equal of ours. The eggs had to survive.
As Jedra set up the second trap the rest of us retreated down the tunnel, crouching in the corridor. We hid as best we could, using the crystals as cover, pressing ourselves into the gap between the outcropping and the stone wall.
The minutes ticked away, all of us frozen and motionless, pressed in against the stone. The scent grew stronger, mixed in with others. The scent of creatures. Things I didn’t recognise.
An orange light grew from the end of the tunnel, flickering and dancing as it drew close, casting shadows on the wall. I squinted, keeping my eyes as closed as I could to shield them from the glare. I couldn’t see how the others were doing, but this was good. If I couldn’t see them, neither could anyone else.
A large creature as tall as two kobolds lumbered around the corner, holding a flame aloft on a long thin rod. The bright glare of the fire hurt my eyes. Its precise shape was impossible to determine, covered in heavy clothing that was bulky and thick, like the hair on the head of a gnome but much more voluminous. It had the same strange legs as the gnome, which made my scales rustle. The monster seemed almost entirely comprised of clothes, including its legs and arms, even its hands. A sword as long as I was tall rested comfortably by its hip. The only flesh visible was its face, the lower half wrapped in a black scarf, leaving just its eyes uncovered. I could see the glint of armour underneath its strange garb.
Horrifically, a white mist blew from the cloth covering the monster’s mouth in time with its breath. It dissipated in the air within moments, replaced by a fresh cloud. It looked like the Veil of Atikala, and I imagined the creature’s breath to be a scalding hot mist just like the one I had walked through.
Its legs strode forward, walking over Jedra’s traps. I waited for the snap of their release, but there was none.
From behind it more creatures came, dressed like the first. Eight in total. They, too, lumbered forward and Jedra’s traps did not trigger. They walked past us, and fear rose in my belly as a dozen outerfeet much bigger than No-Kill’s stomped by, but soon they retreated down the tunnel.
After a long moment I dared to crawl out of my hiding spot.
“Khavi?” I called softly to the blue-tinged gloom. “Jedra? Faala?”
They emerged, one by one. Faala’s claws shook uncontrollably as she uncurled herself and stood, and I reached forward to steady them.
“Don’t worry,” I said, keeping my tone soft. “They’re gone.”
“What were those things?” said Khavi. “Did you see the fog of their breath? What monster breaths poison so casually?”
I didn’t know. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “They’re gone now. Let’s keep going and put as much distance between us and them as we can.”
Nobody argued. Despite the thinning air, the growing cold, and the lingering smell of smoke, Jedra ran forward to gather her traps.
“Jedra, what happened?” I asked. “Why didn’t the traps trigger?”
She beckoned me over, and I looked. “The triggers were crushed,” she said, gingerly tapping the trigger mechanism with her claw. Nothing happened. “The monster’s weight was too much. They just broke. Both of them.”
So great were the monster’s footsteps that they had stepped into Jedra’s traps without triggering them. Without even knowing they were there.
I reached out and tapped the edge of the wicked device. “Can you fix them?”
Jedra’s nose scrunched up as she examined them. “I think I can try something, but it’ll take time. I’ll need somewhere to sit down to do it.”
I nodded. “But not here.”
“No,” she said. “Not here.”
“Let’s press on then. Put some stone between us and the monsters, and if we find a safe place, we can fix them.”
Jedra looked at me. “What manner of monsters are so powerful?” she asked, her voice wavering, but I did not have any answers.
