Chapter 19 – Cracks in the Shell
Vikka huddled in the farthest corner of the Brood Barn. The humans had kept the setup simple. They brought in food at regular intervals—more than enough to keep the kobolds well-fed, while Grilsha did most of the heavy lifting to maintain order. She kept the brood docile, calming them with her soothing lies and promises of safety, rewards, and belonging, and occasionally doling out a few shiny baubles the humans tossed her way.
"Grilsha neither leads nor helps us," Vikka muttered under her breath, watching the heavyset kobold strut around the barn. "She’s just a puppet, playing along for favors and scraps."
At her side, Nynka squeezed Vikka’s arm. "Careful. If she hears you, she'll—"
"What?" Vikka challenged, keeping her voice low. "Kick me out? Let them drag me off like they do the eggs?"
That silenced Nynka. No kobold in the brood spoke openly of what became of the eggs. Grilsha had reassured them countless times that it didn’t matter since they would never hatch. But that didn’t make things right. She saw the sorrow and longing in every would-be mother’s eyes when they handed over their precious clutches.
Grilsha approached, preening in her patchwork finery, the latest addition being a makeshift crown of various shiny odds and ends perched jauntily on her horns. A few kobolds trailed after her, caught up in the pageantry. Grilsha’s sing-song voice carried through the space. “Our humans care for us because we’re special,” she cooed, holding up a shiny button. “They protect us because they value our eggs. Isn’t that something to be proud of?”
Vikka gave her a sharp-toothed grin as she passed. "Nice crown, “queen” Grilsha. I’m sure our captors are impressed."
Grilsha stopped in her tracks, her tail slapping the floor. "Now, what’s your name again, new kobold?” She turned to face Vikka, her crown slipping slightly to the side as she turned. “Well, as you would know, what a queen does is keep her subjects safe and contented. Maybe you’d like to try it—see how quickly they’ll turn on you when the humans stop playing nice?"
Vikka bared even more of her teeth. "Maybe they wouldn’t turn if their queen can prove she has their best interests at heart."
The kobolds in Grilsha’s retinue shifted uneasily, watching the exchange. Tibbin froze and stared at Vikka with a mix of shock and awe. Nynka grabbed Vikka’s arm with a claw, but it was shrugged off. Grilsha, with the benefit of her extra height and mass, made the effort to look down as imposingly as she could at the younger kobold, before laughing coldly and walking away.
That night, while the others rested and fussed over their unclaimed eggs, Vikka and Nynka huddled together in the shadows.
"You’re going to get us in trouble," Nynka said, her voice trembling.
"Or I’m going to get us out of here," Vikka countered. "Grilsha’s lies keep them chained, Nynka. She’s not a queen at all. She’s our warden."
Nynka’s claws picked at the dirt floor. "So what do we do? Walk out of here? I don’t think we’ll get too far."
Vikka’s gaze drifted to the far side of the barn, where Tibbin was attempting to tie a ribbon around his tail. He had been Grilsha’s lackey since they arrived, always quick to parrot her platitudes. But lately, Vikka had noticed his gaze lingering longer on her and Nynka, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his sycophantic facade.
"Not if we work together." Vikka leaned closer. "We start small. We talk to the others. Pull them out from under Grilsha’s thrall. Make them question things."
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It took time, but Vikka’s sharp assertiveness and Nynka’s calm persistence began to sway a few of the kobolds. They were either those who felt they’d already given up too many eggs, or the few about to give up their first one. Tibbin, ever the opportunist, nervously hovered on the edges of the splintering group. His attention veered constantly between Vikka and Grilsha, his loyalties tugged in two directions.
Tibbin sidled over as Grilsha led the others in another pointless song, his golden eyes darting nervously between Vikka and the queen. “You’ll get us all punished. The humans ” he hissed.
“Only if we get caught,” Vikka retorted. She tilted her head toward the pseudo-queen. “You can’t keep hiding behind Grilsha forever. And what are you so afraid of, Tibbin? Losing your status?”
“But… I’m her favorite!” Tibbin squirmed, his tail trembling nervously. "She... she keeps us safe."
"She keeps you weak and servile," Vikka snapped. "She’s not the kind of leader we need here. You’re smarter than this, Tibbin. Stop waiting for someone to tell you what to do. You call this safe? Letting the humans take everything from us?”
“They’re just eggs!” Tibbin snapped, but his voice faltered. He turned towards the pens where the newest clutches were stored, waiting for the humans to collect them. “They’re unfertilized! They don’t matter.”
“Don’t they?” Vikka replied, her words hitting like a hammer. “Then why does it hurt every time they’re taken away?”
Tibbin stepped back, his tail curling tight into his back. He didn’t answer, but Vikka could see the cracks forming in his resolve.
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The bond with Sylven pulsed faintly in the back of Vikka’s mind, a thread of connection she clung to in the suffocating monotony of the barn. When she focused, she caught glimpses—vague images of Shy in a workshop, assembling parts with their tiny hands, locked inside a wooden box at night.
“They’re making us build things,” Sylven’s voice came, a mix of frustration and determination. “Clocks. Music boxes. Machines. But they think we’re too simple to figure things out.”
“I have a feeling you’re well on your way,” Vikka whispered.
“We’re learning,” Sylven confirmed. “We can do more with what we have than they realize.”
The connection wavered, but Sylven’s revelations sparked more ideas. If the Shy could use their tools and skills to help resist, then maybe there was a way for their groups to combine forces.
The humans were up to something far bigger than just harvesting eggs and crafting gizmos. She felt this strong urge to get to the heart of what was going on. This felt like what she was meant to do.
"We’re going to break it all apart," she told Nynka one night as they plotted their next move. "Grilsha, the humans, all of it."
Nynka looked at her with growing apprehension. "And then what?"
"Then we get our freedom—and answers," Vikka affirmed.
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One restless night, Vikka sat in a corner of the barn, her claws idly scratching at the dirt floor. Her mind raced with schemes and doubts. The humans controlled every aspect of their lives—from their food to their activities, and even the light that filtered dimly through the walls. But they had overlooked one thing right under their useless noses.
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Her claws sank deeper into the soil, meeting little resistance. She paused, a grin spreading across her face.
Nynka stirred next to her, watching curiously. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Finding a way out,” Vikka replied, her voice low. “The humans aren’t worried about us fighting back. We aren’t as strong as they are. But we don’t need strength to escape, just smarts.”
Her claws moved faster, dirt piling up around her. Nynka joined in without hesitation, her own claws cutting into the earth with practiced ease. The ground here wasn’t as hard-packed as the tunnels they had helped carve back in the Cradle Caverns. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was possible.
By morning, a small pit had formed, barely noticeable beneath the straw and dung scattered across the barn floor. Vikka sat back, her chest heaving, and looked at Nynka with a gleam of triumph.
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As the day passed, Vikka and Nynka’s plot gained momentum. Tesska, an older kobold who had already given up more eggs than any of the others, joined their efforts. Her budding misgivings about Grilsha solidified into a firm resolve to keep her next egg to herself. Tibbin turned a blind eye and lingered on the edges, his loyalties still torn, but he no longer defended the queen so fervently.
Grilsha, for her part, remained oblivious. She basked in the glow of her perceived authority, unaware of the cracks forming in her court.
Vikka crouched near the growing hole one evening, her claws aching but her mind clear. Through the bond, Sylven’s presence thrummed with encouragement, a silent reminder that they were not alone.
“We’re going to do this,” Vikka said, her voice firm. “We’re going to dig our way out, find the Shy, and figure out what the humans are really up to.”
As Nynka clawed at the dirt, she cast a sidelong glance at Vikka, who was working with unusual focus. “You keep mentioning the Shy. Why do we need to look out for those little pests?” Nynka probed “Do they really matter to our plans?”
“They do,” Vikka said firmly. “And we’ll need them if we’re going to pull this off.”
Vikka hesitated, her claws pausing mid-scrape. After a moment, she sat back, brushing dirt from her claws. “I didn’t know how to tell you at first, without it sounding too strange,” she began, “but… I have a connection to one of the Shy. His name is Sylven.”
Nynka blinked. “What? How?”
“It’s a long story. He was helping me with… something I thought I had to do. That’s how we ended up being captured together,” Vikka explained. “We have this… bond. I can feel his thoughts, hear his voice. He’s been telling me where they are, what they and the humans around them are doing. Without him, we wouldn’t know which way to dig. And we wouldn’t have as good of a chance at thwarting the humans.”
Nynka stared at her for a moment before giving a short nod. “Months ago, before I was captured by these giants, I would have thought everything you just said would be too crazy to believe. But after all that’s happened to us, I think that’s one crazy story that’s worth believing.”
Without another word, Nynka turned back to digging, her claws slicing into the soil with even more zeal than before.
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By the second night of digging, the mound of dirt had grown large enough to draw attention if anyone looked too closely. Vikka crouched beside the pit, her claws encrusted with soil, staring at the heap with a furrowed brow. Nynka sat across from her, tail shaking nervously.
“We can’t just leave it like this,” Nynka whispered, glancing toward the center of the barn where Grilsha was leading the others in another round of song. “If any of Grilsha’s kobolds-in-waiting notice this, it’s over.”
Vikka nodded, her mind racing. The humans might not check every corner carefully, but Grilsha was careful when it came to maintaining her illusion of order. A pile of dirt would be a dead giveaway.
“Let’s spread it around,” Vikka decided. “Make it look like it was there all along.”
Tesska tilted her head. “How? We can’t just dump it out in the open.”
“We’ll scatter it during feeding times,” Vikka explained, her claws flexing as the beginnings of a plan took shape. “When the humans bring food, they never look at the floor. They’ll step all over the dirt and help us flatten it out.”
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The next morning, when the humans arrived with their usual buckets of roots and hay, Vikka, Nynka and Tesska put their plan into motion. They grabbed handfuls of dirt, concealing it in their palms as they approached the food.
“Kobolds sure are messy eaters,” Vikka murmured to Nynka with a smirk.
As they enjoyed their meal with a new sense of gusto, the two conspirators spilled the dirt near the troughs, grinding it into the straw and muck with their feet. It blended well enough with the barn’s naturally grimy floor to go unnoticed.
Tibbin caught sight of them and sidled closer, his eyes narrowing. “What are you two doing now?” he hissed.
“Cleaning up,” Vikka said dryly, tossing another handful of dirt under the trough.
Tibbin’s expression grew troubled. “You’re going to get caught.”
“Not if you keep quiet,” Nynka said, her tone sharper than usual.
“Let’s keep calm,” Vikka gently interrupted. “If he wanted to tattle, he’d have done it by now.”
Tesska stepped forward, her voice even gentler than Vikka’s. “You don’t have to pick a side right now, Tibbin. But maybe think about this: if you keep following Grilsha, where will it lead you?”
Tibbin bared his teeth, conflicted. After a long intake of breath, he sighed and tamped down some dirt with his tail. “You’re lucky I’m getting tired of playing court jester.”
Fortuitously, Grilsha called for him at that very moment and he turned toward the sound instinctively. As he rushed over, his steps faltered, glancing back at Vikka before scampering away.
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Over the next day, the trio refined their strategy. During Grilsha’s group singing sessions, when the kobolds were otherwise occupied, Vikka and Nynka scattered dirt across the barn floor. Some went beneath the troughs; some were patted down into spots where the straw was thickest.
Tesska took to the work with enthusiasm, using her seniority to elbow past the distracted kobolds and leave small piles of dirt in less conspicuous spots.
Still, the pile grew faster than they could distribute it.
“Once we start digging horizontally towards the Shy, we’ll need a better way of doing this,” Vikka muttered one evening, staring at the remaining dirt mound.
“What about the humans’ buckets?” Tesska suggested. “The ones they use for the scraps?”
Vikka’s eyes lit up. “Yes. If we can sneak some into their buckets, they’ll carry it out for us.”
The next feeding time, Vikka and Nynka made their move. While the humans dumped the day’s rations into the troughs, the kobolds jostled and crowded around them. Under the cover of the commotion, Tesska slipped a few clawfuls of dirt into the humans’ empty container.
When the humans left, the bucket rattling with leftover waste, none of them noticed the added weight.
“It worked!” Nynka gasped, her tail trembling with excitement.
Vikka grinned. “Good. We’ll keep at it. Bit by bit, they’ll help us dig our way out without even realizing it.”
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The next time Sylven made contact, Vikka pressed him for details. How far is the workshop from the barn? Which direction?
Sylven paused, then sent a faint impression—a sense of distance and direction that made Vikka’s head spin. She closed her eyes, focusing. His mind-voice came again. I tried to count their steps when they moved us. It’s about thirty human paces north of where we were separated, then a few paces to the east.
Vikka opened her eyes, looking toward the north wall of the barn. She turned to Nynka and whispered, “We need to angle the tunnel that way—toward the workshop.”
Nynka’s brow furrowed. “What’s the plan when we get there?”
“Once our tunnel reaches a spot under the box they’re locked in, we start digging upwards until we hit the wood, then start clawing away at it," Vikka explained. "Sylven and the Shy will also chip at it from their side. Once we’ve connected, we can better figure things out.”
Nynka nodded, her sharp claws already moving toward the right direction. “All right. Let’s start tunneling.”
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Grilsha, however, had started to notice changes in her domain. The kobolds seemed more restless, the barn messier than usual. Something was up. She watched Vikka and her group with narrowed eyes, her tail twitching in agitation.
One evening, she cornered Tibbin, dangling her latest sparkly souvenir in front of his snout. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that new kobold lately,” she said, running a claw along the edge of her makeshift crown. “I hope she hasn’t been filling your head with nonsense, my dear tiny Tibbin...”
Tibbin’s tail waggled nervously, but he forced a grin. “Vikka? I’ve just been keeping an eye on her like you wanted.”
Grilsha’s eyes narrowed further. “Good. Because I’d hate to see my court… fractured. And I wonder what the humans will do with a kobold who can’t possibly lay eggs… ever.”
“You really have such a wonderful sense of humor my queen!” Tibbin giggled, trying to defuse the tension. “They’ll probably just find another use for him! Maybe try getting him to fertilize all these clutches? Sounds like too exhausting work for fragile little me though…”
Grilsha roared with laughter, “Perish the thought! I can hardly imagine! Oh Tibbin…” Her gleeful honking soon filled the barn.
Tibbin laughed along with her for a while, retreating as soon as she released him. His heart pounded as he rejoined Vikka and the others.
“She’s watching,” he hissed. “If she figures out what you’re doing…”
“She won’t,” Vikka said firmly. “And even if she does, it’ll be too late.”
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The work was grueling, but Vikka and her small group pressed on. They rotated shifts, digging during the hours when Grilsha and the others were too distracted to notice. Dirt was smuggled out through the buckets or spread across the barn floor, blending into the mess.
Tesska proved invaluable, her wiry frame and quick claws perfect for carving out the narrow passage. Tibbin reluctantly began to check in with them more, his anxiety giving way to cautious curiosity.
“Is all this really going anywhere?” Tibbin asked one night, as he brought out a few clawfuls of dirt.
“Yes, we’re meeting up with a friend of mine,” Vikka insisted, her claws working steadily. “And when we do, we’ll be unstoppable.”