My grip tightened around the handle of my sword every time footsteps came from the tunnel beyond the doorway. I couldn’t trust that somewhere out there was someone working for the elders, or if one of them was able to mask their dread aura. My only saving grace was that nothing in our home pricked my magic senses, and the assurance that the hefty door between me and the outside was a solid four inches of intertwined metal and wood.
A pair of heavy feet pounding on the stone grew closer, and I reflexively drew the blade, ready to fight. To my surprise, the footsteps stopped by the door, followed by a soft knocking.
“Kayrux, can you open the door? Tok told me to knock or I'd get stabbed, so please don’t stab me.”
Dummy, why would I ever stab you? I looked down at the sword still clenched in my hand and shook that idea out of my head. I quickly sheathed the weapon before pulling the heavy door aside. Humey filled the doorway with his bulk and had to duck through sideways. He looked awful, as though half of his scales had been plucked in patches around all over. I could see his pinkish-pale skin in spots that were exposed was dry and cracked, and in some spots oozed some liquid. His sword was strapped to his thigh like a dagger, which given how big he was it was beginning to look like one. Actually, he looked a little bigger than before, maybe even a foot taller.
Lumbering through the door and over to the still set table he dropped onto the crate-chair with a groan. With crossed arms over the barrel-table he sagged forward until his head was half-obscured by his biceps. The heat that came off of him was thick, like a physical curtain he had dragging behind him, and didn’t dissipate even as he rested himself at the table. I cautiously approached him and placed a hand on his back. The muscles beneath his scales tensed momentarily before relaxing. His voice was muffled through the muscle and wood around his face, yet still carried through with power to spare.
“Could you get me some water? I’m dying of thirst.”
A cup of water would probably not be enough for him, so I instead just brought the whole pitcher. His hand wrapped around the neck of the vessel, and tilting it back I watched as he poured the entire container into his maw. I refilled the pitcher at the water barrel for him, though for the second one he instead took even sips. The heat pouring from him lessened by a fraction, but the relief he wore on his face told me that his insides must feel better than his hide.
“Ooh, that’s better. Thanks a bunch, sis.”
He remained leaning over the table, with his head propped with a hand under one cheek and his eyes closed. A rumble came from his chest, which I recognized as a snore. The only thing I could do for him right now is to maybe put a few wet towels on his back. I think that there was something about evaporation cooling things down, and it seemed like even a little relief from this heat was the best thing for him.
For the next hour that was all I could do for him. Check the door, sniff around for magic, and change the towels on Humey when they got too hot or dry. For good measure, I even put a towel on each shoulder and one on his tail, and I could tell each time that I came to change them that it was helping a little at a time. My mind wandered to the thought of how many calories he must be burning. I didn’t know if dragon fire was something that didn’t use physical fuel or not, but he hasn’t been eating much for the past week. Maybe I could make something for him.
After clearing an alcove at a good working height of all of the stored materials, I began to collect all of the interesting or tasty ingredients I could find around the den. I hadn’t ever made food in this world, since mom held an iron grip on the seasoning chest she hid behind the barley sack, but mom wasn’t home right now. Inside was a colorful display of different crushed leaves, sticks, and some powders of unknown purpose. A little taste testing told me that these unknown spices were similar to things I recognized as almost-Earth spices. Salt, pepper, dried spicy stuff, more dried spicy stuff but smoked, even more but this one has a distinct bitter note, and more like that but in a dozen different colors. Kobold cuisine seemed to really lean into the hot and spicy profile, but also had a lot of fruit in there for sweet and sour.
If I were to make something for a big overheating lizard, what would I make? Something cold and sweet would be my first choice, but refrigeration was not a household appliance around here. I’ll look into inventing one later. Perhaps something creamy would help, but then we run into the same problem of cooling. Wait, there’s something I’m missing here, perhaps even the most important thing of all.
Savory foods. In one particularly good smelling sack on the wall I appropriated a few links of smoked sausages, and from within the crate of dry food I collected a wedge of cheese. Since Yabtin had so graciously left his traveling bag behind, I decided to look in there for what I hoped would be in a traveler’s bag and was elated to find a loaf of bread, and even a few veggies. Following some more taste testing of ingredients, and maybe a few lost ingredients, I finally knew what I was making.
Once my creation was complete I took a step back and admired the brilliance of simplicity. Two cold-cut ham sandwiches with tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce and cheese served with a cup of freshly squeezed lemon and orange juice with just a pinch of salt. Some of the ingredients were the wrong size and color, and I’m fairly certain that isn’t ham, but to the tongue it tasted just like how I wanted it to. I glanced at the absolute nightmare of a mess I had left behind and shuddered. Mom’s gonna kill me.
I put the food in front of the slumbering giant and took the seat across from him. A slimy puddle of drool had formed on the lid, with a single strand as its source escaping his lips. Even when he was nearly twice my size he was adorable. A memory came to mind, and I knew just how to wake him up: boop the snoot. Humey’s broad, snake-like head came to a blunted point where his nose and mouth coexisted on the front of his face. I knew from Tokols’ pranks and antics that there was a spot in the center where just between the nostrils the scales parted ever so slightly, revealing an incredibly sensitive spot.
I pressed the spot with the blunt side of my claw, and the reaction was almost instantaneous. One moment he was asleep, the next his eyes were wide open and met my stare with confusion. His words tumbled from him lazily.
“Kay, what are ya doin’? Why’re ya pokin’ me there?”
I pointed down to the food that was before him, and his grogginess boiled away.
“Whoah, what’s this? Did you make this?”
Gesturing with wide arms to the empty room I let out an exasperated sigh. Do you see anybody here that could have made it? Ignoring my display of blatant sarcasm, Humey took an exploratory bite of the sandwich before devouring it in one go. I had planned ahead and made each one with his size in mind, so they were thick as bricks with fillings. This fact did not seem to stop him from devouring both of the extra-large portions in record setting time. Even the juice, which had taken a while to make with only my bare hands, was simply chugged with abandon. I had to wonder: did he even taste it? He better hope so, or this will be my first and only time making him any Earth-stlye cuisine.
“Mmm, that was scrumptious. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like that before. Do you think you could teach me how to make those?”
Alright, you win this time buddy, but only because you made me smile with your word choice. I made a hand signal, one of the few ones we had crafted, that meant “later”. Hand signs were a bit harder for them to catch onto, but Humey was pretty good at it. Not as good as Bahruk though, he learned them the first try. He must have some trick for it, because it seemed like nothing escaped his memory.
The two of us sat in silence for a little while, though I never let my attention drift from the door for long. Humey’s hand cautiously slid close to my arm, though he only poked me.
“How’re your legs?”
Thumbs up for a “good” signal. The right one was pretty much healed, but Tokols had accidentally interrupted the healing in my left shin. I point to the left and signal that it’ll be a tomorrow when it’s good.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“That’s good. Tokols keeps telling me that he’s fine too. You two aren’t just saying that, right?”
I’m not saying anything, and even if I was, which I can’t, I’d tell you the same thing he did. I signal “Humey good” to him as my answer.
“Okay. But… do you think mom and dad are disappointed?”
I shook my head at such a notion. They were probably the most proud of him for how valiantly he had fought.
“Are you sure? I messed up though. I could have done better, like mom does. She wouldn’t have messed up.”
That’s it, you’re getting the slate. I scrawled my answer and shoved the board up to his nose.
“Nobody is mad at you. If you want to know, ask them. Don’t compare yourself to mom, you’re too young for that. Just wait until our brothers are home, we’ll all talk honestly. I promise.”
Humey gave me a thumbs up, then returned to having his face hidden by his arms on the table. I’m sorry Humey, I really am, but I need a break from working as this family’s full time therapist, and I can’t tell you what other people think. Besides, I need to prepare for when the others get back.
I left my slate on the table with a message for Humey.
“I’ll be in the dorm. When the others get here, bring them and my slate to the dorm. Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you, I’m just making us something. Watch the door, only let family in.”
I made my way back over to the room and pinned a blanket over the doorway. The far wall of our oval-shaped abode had a decently sized surface that lacked any divots or hanging pictures, and the ones that were hung there could easily be put back once my work was done. Alright Kayrux, time to dive deep into your inner conspiracy theorist.
…
I don’t know how long I was in that room on my lonesome, scarling convoluted character profiles and motivations on the wall, then connecting them with blue lines made with little flakes of some of my own shattered scales. The only indication that I had been in there a while was the arrival of the trio, who stepped into the room and were all staring at my ramblings in concern. Sorry boys, if you think this is crazy, just wait until I get ahold of some decent building materials.
Humey was the first to dare creep closer, my slate held outstretched in his claws.
“Kay, what is all of this? Why do you look like that? Are those your scales?”
Don’t get caught in the little details, they aren’t important. I crutched my way across the room to peek into the living room. Bahruk was here, and it looked like he was busy putting away a wheel-barrow full of provisions. The door was shut, and no magic lingered in the air. Alright, looks like the coast is clear. Time for a strategy meeting.
I corralled the three until all of us were looking at the ravings I had chalked onto the wall up close. At the top were three big circles: “Dragon God”, “Undertaker”, and “Secret Leader???”. Below them was a wide bracket with eight slots labeled “Elders”. Two slots had names, but the others were empty. Below them was a wide box labeled “Lesser Elders/Praetorians”, and below that was a large space that just said “Kobolds”, inside of which was a smaller bubble that said “Family”. Off to the side of this mural were events that I had been a part of, and a line linking it to one of the different tiers. The biggest sidebar was the incident at the Altar, which connected to every tier simultaneously.
Tokols seemed to grasp what it was first and explained it to the others.
“It’s a plan, or at least the base of one. Look, down there at the bottom is us, and right there is that rancid dung-scraper that keeps ruining our lives.”
How he managed to say that while smiling was beyond me, especially since his cheery voice was drenched with contempt. Humey and Mibata snarled at the mention of him. Good, we’re all on the same page. I pointed to the image I had drawn to him and traced the line back to our family bubble and shrugged. I wrote on my slate to explain the question.
“What does he want with me? Why does he keep hurting us? We need to know.”
Their nods of agreement showed that they followed. Next I trailed to the name Undertaker.
“What does this mean? The crowd was scared of this. Should we ask Juaki?”
Humey stepped forward to speak.
“We should ask her. I remember her mentioning it at Tuleni’s clinic when they were plucking my scales, and she seemed to be really mad about it.”
Tok couldn’t help but throw in a jab.
“Is there anything that doesn’t make her mad?”
The two looked to be getting sidetracked until Mibata made a whip-crack with his tal on the floor, freezing the others. They returned to their polite selves and offered their apologies. With that settled, I could carry on and point to the dragon god bubble with a new line of inquiry.
“What did you see in the mirror, and what did the blood do to your mind?”
The three of them went pale. Tokols was the first to bravely step forward and tell his story.
“When I looked into the altar… I saw bodies. They were falling from the top of the city and were hitting the altar. Then I heard some kind of voice, but it was a whole bunch of voices at once saying the same word at the same time. They said “Worthy”, then the blood from the dead people came through the mirror and forced me to drink it. It hurt so much, and I kept getting colder until I couldn’t move, and everything went quiet. I blacked out when we were on the lift, and had those awful dreams about the voices and the broken memories. When I woke up it was like I could move away from where the memories were by running, so I’ve been keeping on the move. They’re still bothering me.”
I’m no expert on symbolism or occult rituals, but people throwing themselves to their death in a ritual vision is never a good sign. Humey steps up next and tells his version.
“We knelt down and looked into the mirror, then to me everything looked like it was on fire. The moons were there in the mirror, but they were red as blood. The mirror got really hot, and the same thing happened to me with the voices. The moons opened up like eyes and started crying blood, and it came through the floor and crawled into me. When they pushed us off the altar I started burning inside. It got hard to breathe, and everything started to go dark. I grabbed you guys and got us home, but once we got there I just blinked and was in this room with no way out. It kept getting smaller and smaller until I woke up, and I felt like I had been sparring with mom all day. Everything hurt and I didn’t want to move, even when you needed me to, Bata. It was only for three nights that I had that dream, but every time I woke up, even after they stopped, I felt more and more tired. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
Eyes in the moon, crying blood, flames everywhere: why does this sound wrong on every level? Maybe there’s some kind of prophetic mumbo-jumbo going on that we have no insight into. Mibata comes forward, though I can tell that he doesn’t want to speak.
“I saw our family being eaten by the dragon. It went after our parents, then took each of you one by one, then it went after me. Those voices you mentioned sounded angry to me, and they were fighting between saying “worthy” and “unworthy”. The dragon opened its mouth and spat blood at me. Then it dripped through and forced its way into my mouth, even though I had my lips sealed. I went limp. Couldn’t move anything below my neck. You carried me home, but I blacked out in the tunnels. When I dreamed, there was something chasing me, and it threw me in the cage from before. Every time I closed my eyes I was back in there, and those voices kept coming back to tell me every awful thing I didn’t want to hear. The dreams stopped once Tok came back, and I’ve been fine since.”
The vision, the dreams, and the voices all seemed particularly worse for him than the others, almost as if they were custom tailored to show him his worst fears. There has to be a pattern, I just couldn’t see it yet. I was just about to start writing some of this down on the wall when Tokols asked me for my story.
“Kay, what did you see?”
It took a few full slates of writing, wiping the slate clean, then writing some more, but eventually I gave them the condensed version.
“The dragon played with my soul. It read my memories and my desires, and said that I was worthy of its blessing. The voices were so loud, and when the dragon didn’t speak they were always talking. Then it gave me blood from its hand, and everything in the mirror started to twist and go wrong. I can’t describe what I saw. Then it became a normal mirror and my eyes stopped working. I don’t remember my dreams. I know I do dream, but when I try to remember there is nothing there, like they were stolen.”
The four of us stood in silence. Nobody knew how to address any of that: none of it made any sense. Visions, dreams, loss of senses or motor control, it was all just so incredibly wrong. Eventually, Mibata stepped into the center of our circle. His voice was a low growl that caused some of my scales to stand on end.
“I do not know how to say this, so I’ll be direct: We are not normal. I’ve already talked with Tuleni, and she had told me that the ritual only awakens the dragon blood in your body by infusing you with a reagent called Ichor of Dragons. Only the Elders know what it really is. Nobody else has visions or dreams, nobody has ever had their functions challenged, and not a soul has ever heard voices from within the altar. I do not know what this means, but I plan to include the rest of the family in these discussions tomorrow. Does anyone contest?”
Silence.
“Good. I suggest we get some rest. Juaki shall return in the morning, and Yabtin will be until midnight with the lesser. Tokols, keep your sword close by. Humey, cover the writings with something. Once you’re done, get to sleep. I will ask Bahruk to seal the main entrance and bring the improvised door to this room.”
With that, he left the room, and the others got about doing what he ordered. I didn’t know that he had that kind of commanding presence. I was worried for him. He obviously wasn’t telling us the whole truth about what he saw, but opening up to use as much as he did was definitely good for him. He still wasn’t talking to me, though. I… I guess I’ll try tomorrow.
For the rest of the evening I sat at the edge of my bed with my slate in hand, idly scribbling down possible ways that I could invent a solution to a magic-less battle against a dark mage like Chalk Eater. Nothing I could think of would work, and by nightfall I had exhausted my mental energy. I laid down in my cozy nook and let myself drift into the world of sleep. Perhaps tonight I will remember my dream.
…
“Kayrux.”
I rolled over in my bed to see Mibata standing there with a hand on his sword, and a dangerous look in his eyes.
“Get up. We need to talk.”