by David Adams
MY DREAMS WERE BROKEN AND disconnected, a blend of images from my past and ones wholly imagined. It was not restful in the traditional sense; I would require much more than a quick nap to purge the exhaustion from my bones, but it helped. I was so tired that anything helped.
The dreams ended with gentle shaking. I cracked my eyes open, seeing the underworld again. I felt only minutes had passed, and I’d only just fallen asleep.
“Go away,” I groaned, rolling onto my side.
“It’s just me,” said Tzala. “We’re here. We’re all here.”
I forced my eyes fully open and sat up. All of the refugees, including Tzala and Khavi, stood around me. They looked haggard and worn, but there were smiles on every face. They knew as well as I did that we had made it.
“What did the Ssarsdalians say?” she asked. “Will they let us inside?”
“They said that the council would meet and decide what to do with us when the rest of you arrived.” I looked to the wide metal doors of Ssarsdale. They were still closed.
“Well, we are here,” said Tzala. “Perhaps it is time to talk to them.”
I bowed my head. “I will be beside you, Leader.”
She gave a coy little smile. “I was thinking you should be the one to do it, since you have spoken to them before.”
Uncertain of what to say, I simply nodded. “Of course, Leader, if that is your command, but why?”
“You seem to have a rapport with them,” she said, “and besides. I have dreams for you, wyrmling. Dreams and ambitions. You were destined to be a leader. I’ll not let the loss of Atikala rob you of your destiny.”
“But I’m only six,” I said.
“When you become as old as I am, you will understand that age is simply a number. It does not define who you are and what you can do. You will grow into the role of Leader, as all who walk this path do. I know this.”
I did not feel like a leader. I did not feel I would be a better speaker than Tzala could be, but I knew that I should at least try.
“Is everyone here?” I asked.
“Yes, my Firstclaw.”
Standing, I shook the last of the sleepiness out of my head and addressed the closed gates of Ssarsdale.
“Hail Ssarsdale, and well met. These are all the survivors who have travelled with us.”
Silence. I waited a moment then tried again.
“Guardians of Ssarsdale, apologies for the interruption, but as you requested, we are now all here. Have you word on the council’s decision?”
Nothing.
Time passed. Every so often I would try again, but I decided not to push them. Clearly they needed more time and would address me when they were ready.
“What do you think they’re thinking?” Khavi asked me in a moment when I was aside from the others.
My stomach hurt from lack of food. My lips were dry as sand, and my eyes stung. It was becoming more and more difficult to put aside the pain of the moment. “I have no idea.”
“Why wouldn’t they permit us entry? It should not take this long to decide. It should not even require the council’s approval. Unless there were truly thousands, no council would be necessary to allow entry to any amount of Ssarsdale’s residents were our situations reversed.”
“I know,” I said, “and it concerns me too.” I yawned, loudly and at length, trying to think of things other than food, water, and sleep. “But there is nothing we can do but wait. Time, the great revealer of all things, will show us what we need to know when we need to know it.”
Almost on cue, the great iron doors of the city opened a crack. There were cries of relief, joy from the kobolds around me, and I joined in wholeheartedly. Our patience had paid off. Ssarsdale had finally chosen to talk to us. Tzala moved beside me.
A single figure strode from the darkened slit between the doors, and they closed behind him. Twice as tall as a normal kobold, this giant of a creature lumbered towards us, a huge black blade strapped to his back. He came to us alone.
Apart from his size he seemed normal. Scales, claws, teeth, the appearance of any other kobold, but he towered over all of us, including me. His eyes, little red slits, examined all of us with a critical air. I stepped towards the giant kobold.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “It is good to see that Ssarsdale has not forgotten their cousins in this time of great need.”
“Indeed we have not. I am Lord Vrax, member of the Circle of Seven, the rulers of Ssarsdale. I have been sent here to relay the council’s findings regarding your appeal.”
He was enormous, his voice deep and loud, like the sound that accompanied the electricity on the surface. I instinctively knelt before him. I heard shuffling behind me as the rest of our troupe did the same, including Tzala.
“We are humbled by you spending your valuable time with us, Lord Vrax.”
“Your deference is duly noted. The council has decided, in its wisdom, to grant you and the other refugees from Atikala conditional asylum in Ssarsdale.”
Relief flooded me, and I exhaled. “You are very generous, Lord Vrax, for permitting this. We have come a long way. We are tired, pained, and hungry. We have many wounded. When our injuries are tended, and our bodies rested, we are eager to join your community and call Ssarsdale home. We have many talents to offer you, and—”
“Such things will not be necessary,” said Vrax. His voice echoed in the wide chamber as he spoke. “Your place within Ssarsdale has already been decided. You will be all be given positions within the Ssarsdalian guard, effective immediately. You will be known as the Eighth Talon of Ssarsdale.”
I glanced over my shoulder at our ragged band. There were a handful of warriors, but the majority of our group were caretakers. Gatherers. Librarians.
“I do not wish to question the council’s wisdom in this matter, but—”
“Then do not.”
“With permission, Lord Vrax, we are not warriors—”
“Then you are all warriors now. The entry to Ssarsdale is conditional on this acceptance.”
An assignment to the guard would not be problematic to Khavi or me, but it would be miserable for the majority of our group. How would Tzala, with her one arm, wield a spear? What about the caretakers who had never raised a weapon in their lives?
Some home was better than none, though. We had no choice to accept. The others would have to adapt.
“Very well,” I said. “On behalf of the group, as its appointed representative, I accept these conditions of entry.”
“Excellent.” Vrax gestured for us to rise. “Welcome to Ssarsdale, noble defenders. Are you prepared to accept your first orders?”
I stood, reaching out with a hand to help Tzala stand as well, pulling her up by the stump of her arm. “Of course,” I said. “But we require rest first.”
“There will be time enough for rest once the city is secured, and its peril ended.”
I glanced to Tzala, but her face revealed nothing. “I am sorry, Lord Vrax, but I do not understand. What peril do you face?”
“Not far from our gates are a group of...” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Raiders. Humans coming with swords and spells and beasts to attack your city. Your home. It requires defending. The council has decreed that this assault will be met with the full might of Ssarsdale. The Eighth Talon shall march out to meet them. When our foes are vanquished, you will be given a hero’s welcome by your people, as all warriors of the city deserve.”
They were sending us to die.
“My Lord,” I said, “I ask you to reconsider. Our group has been marching for scores of days. We have wounded. There are only thirty of us, largely unarmed, and the humans have horses and swords and twice our number. We cannot—”
“Soldiers of Ssarsdale do not fear death.” Vrax’s red eyes bored into me. “Sufficient courage will overcome any disadvantage.”
“We will be slaughtered to a head.”
It was the truth. Tz
ala’s magic was powerful, Khavi’s arms strong, and I had my spells, but we were in no condition to fight.
“Then this will be your fate. But you will die happy, for you will have died for your community.” The edges of Vrax’s lips curled up in a cold smile. “You should feel glad that we are extending this offer to you in your time of desperation.”
I felt the weight of guilt upon me. Khavi and I had set the humans on the trail of Tzala and the refugees. They were counting on me to save them. “We are desperate for a comfortable rest, food, and water, not execution!”
“I was not aware our cousins from Atikala were so ungrateful.”
I felt my breathing quicken and fought, with limited success, to control myself. Be smart, the leader within me implored, make the best of this.
“I understand,” I said, “but surely a more complete victory would be more devastating to the humans. Victory is almost impossible for this group, but if you were to give us a mere fifty soldiers, we might discourage further attacks.”
“Regrettably, it is the council’s opinion that this is not an efficient use of our resources.”
My claws pressed into my palms, scratching at the scales there, the pain to keeping me focused. “I understand, but—”
“The decision is final. Good hunting.” Vrax turned to make his way back to the gates of Ssarsdale.
“Wait,” I said, taking a step forward. “We have sorcerers.”
“Do you now?” He stopped, looking over his giant shoulders.
“We do.” I pointed to myself. “I am still a student, but already I can cast simple spells. My mentor, Tzala, is here.” I gestured to her. “She is much more powerful. We have warriors too. Proper warriors, trained and battle tested. We would be an asset to your city, far more valuable than a distraction to some...” I tried to keep my tone even. “Raiders.”
He seemed to consider. “Well, if you are truly as you say, we could never be inhospitable to those who bear the blood of dragons in their veins, and warriors are always worthy additions to our armies if they are well trained.”
“I can vouch for Khavi. He has courage and strength beyond measure. He struck a copper dragon as tall as those doors and lived to tell the tale. He is as skilled as he is fierce.”
“Very well,” said Vrax, “we will require proof of these deeds. But it may be in Ssarsdale’s interests if those three be kept as reserves within the city.”
I couldn’t leave everyone. It was our fault that the humans had come in the first place; for Khavi, Tzala, and I to gain entrance to the city, leaving the rest to be butchered, that could not sit on my conscience. “No,” I said. “We came here as a group. It is all of us or none of us.”
“No?” Vrax’s voice rose and he turned to face me properly now, his oversized hands by his sides. “By what right do you disobey my commands, goldenscale?”
“By the right of common decency! By the right of the community!”
“I have made you an offer. Take it, or march with the Eighth Talon.”
I turned to Tzala, the desperation lodged deep in my gut. “What do I do?” I whimpered. “I can’t abandon the others.”
Her face was solemn. I felt as though she were judging me. “You can only do what you think is right.”
I agonised, looking up at the faces of all the kobolds behind me. They were defeated. They knew they were going to die, and that there was nothing I could do to save them with whatever course of action I chose. I saw no anger in their eyes. No resentment. They knew that it was not logical to send thirty to die when one could send twenty-seven. The decision should be easy.
Thirty to die or twenty-seven. I could have a cool place to sleep tonight, food in my belly, and power and prestige. Tzala would continue to mentor me, and even Khavi, that crazy kobold, would have something to give his life purpose. We could spare ourselves a battle we could not win and think nothing more of those who had died to give us this place, and how they were doomed anyway.
We could even grieve for them. Throw ourselves on the stone and wail. Cry for their defeat, for their sacrifice, for their blood spilt in a hopeless battle. We could honour them, hold them in our hearts always, keeping their memories as treasured gifts, and be thankful that they had given us life.
Or we could die beside them.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Vrax. “We came here together, and we’ll join your community as a group or not at all.”
“So be it,” he said. “We can always breed more sorcerers.” He turned and walked back to the gates of Ssarsdale. I watched every step, staring at the back of the giant kobold. The gates slowly swung open. Beyond their iron sheets were hundreds of soldiers, spears ready.
They were not here to defend against the humans.
Vrax stepped into their ranks, then the doors sealed themselves once again.
“I’m proud of you,” said Tzala with a calm, reassuring smile.
Feeling numb, I turned and walked back the way we came.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” I narrowed my eyes at Khavi. “And where did you get that?”
Khavi swung a two handed blade over his shoulder, looking as pleased with himself as I’d ever seen him.
“No, not mad. And one of the wounded had this. I figured I could put it to better use.” His stance was easy, relaxed as we marched away from Ssarsdale. “I have a sword again, and I’m dying for this fight. Humans! I enjoyed fighting them before. They’re easier to kill than they seem.” He grinned maniacally. “I need a new suit of armour anyway.”
I could not shake the wrenching feeling in my gut, that I had doomed us all. “We won’t win. We can’t win.”
“Pah,” said Khavi, “you thought we were going to die when we marched on the gnome city. And what did we do? Marched right back out again!”
“Only because all the gnomes inside were already dead or gone.”
“You underestimate me! How many humans did I kill back in that pissant village, mmm?”
“Fat and lazy guards who were not expecting death to come for them in the dark. They were not warriors as we understand it. The men after us will be their strongest, with horses, too. Horses are killers. I’ve seen them up close, a single kick can break bones. And that’s excluding the rider!”
“Hah. If the humans want to place themselves so high up that their beast’s guts are exposed, then they will simply have further to fall when I cut it out from under them!”
I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. “You are insane.”
Khavi grinned, baring all his teeth. “You say that now, but I’m confident we can win. We have two sorcerers and countless fodder, and they have what? Stink-kickers and their useless riders?”
“Horses. They’re called horses.”
“Call them what they are, I say. They stink, and they kick. Stink-kickers.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and stopped walking, waiting for the rear of the troupe where Tzala walked.
“I’m sorry, Leader.”
She shook her head. “I told you already, I would have done the same.”
I felt tiny and useless. “Would you have?”
“Yes. Although it would have pained me as it pained you.”
“It hurts. I feel like I failed everyone. I did the best I could, and now we’re all going to die.”
Tzala reached out with her remaining claw, resting it on my far shoulder. She drew me to her, leaning her cheek against my shoulder. “May I tell you a secret?”
“You can tell me anything, Leader,” I said, confused by her nearness to me and the softness of her voice.
“This pain you feel now is the burden of leadership. It is the feeling that you could have done better or tried harder, or that you have cost those who trusted in you because you made a decision that leads to death. If you become a leader, this is a burden you will carry for all of your days.”
Tyermumtican had spoken of burdens too. I was trying to be strong, but Tzala’s words made me feel like bursting into tears. “But I’m
going to die. You’re going to die. Khavi is going to die. Every single one of us is going to die, and I’m never going to be the leader of any more than a ragged group of refugees that Ssarsdale couldn’t be bothered to feed. Nobody will remember us.”
“Leaders are rarely remembered, especially because their defeats are so often not their fault. If you want to be a leader for the glory, I’m afraid you are going to be disappointed.”
“I don’t crave glory. I just want everyone to live. I want everything to be okay.”
“And I wish I was a dragon. We cannot always have what we want. We can only do what we can with what we have, and let fate play itself out.”
I shook slightly, and Tzala’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “No, Ren. You cannot cry. You cannot be weak before these warriors, your soldiers. They will need you in the battle; they will need your strength and courage. You must be strong. The situation is hopeless. I know that, and you know that.” She glanced over my shoulder, and I knew who she was looking at. “Your friend, though…he thinks he can walk through fire and not be burned. Somewhere in that head of his, not buried very deep I suspect, is the belief that he cannot ever be beaten in combat. Only death will dissuade him from this notion. I have seen many like him in my days, and they all had one thing in common.”
“What was that?”
“They all died in the end.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek to keep my mind focused on the physical rather than the emotional. “What do I do now?”
“When we reach the mouth of the cave, you will need to inspire them. Give them something to cling to.”
“But there is nothing.”
Tzala lifted her head, moving her claw down to my back, patting comfortingly. “There is always something.”
I didn’t believe her.
