Chapter 27 – Shifting Power

Uiska had grown accustomed to his new home, though he did not care for it. The humans saw him as nothing more than a harmless, adorable curiosity. They fed him well and cleaned his bedding regularly. When the mood struck them, they would let him hop around the parlor, watching with the shallow fascination one might show a toy or ornament.

However, comfort couldn’t disguise captivity. Uiska didn’t feel any less locked in as the Shy or penned as the kobolds. He missed the sweet grass and soil of the prairie, the soft fur and warmth of his family, to be able to run wild against the wind, racing with his warren-mates. At the back of his mind, he knew that even if he escaped the humans, he was still bonded to Sylven. He may be allowed a longer tether with more space to roam back in the caldera, but it still wouldn’t be real freedom. The pika pondered if he would ever get the chance to dig his own burrow and raise his own family of little pikas. If Sylven and Vikka believed that they should rebel against human subjugation, then why shouldn’t the mounts feel the same way about their Shy masters? He had all the time to contemplate these weighty questions as he lounged on his velvet cushion and munched on fresh spinach and carrots.

On quiet days when the humans were less busy than usual, he was given free reign of the room. He took the opportunity to perch on the windowsill, ears alert for any interesting sounds, his body barely moving as he stared out through the glass. Below, the human’s compound stretched before him like a warren of stone and wood. Uiska couldn’t figure out the specific contents or function of each structure, but he was able to track the patterns of its occupants. He noted the squat wooden building from which humans emerged with baskets full of kobold eggs. There was also a barracks of stone where the boy, the same one who had accompanied them down from the caldera, came and went. Uiska noticed that his shifts kept extending later and later into the night over the past week. The pika may be the least equipped of the captives to launch an escape, but he had the best view and the most mobility.

Over the past few days, he also couldn’t shake this odd tingling at the tips of his whiskers. It started out as a vague buzz, grew stronger and more diffuse, then began to coalesce into a more concentrated point close to his body.

Uiska closed his eyes and folded his ears as he tuned out his other senses and zeroed in on the sensation that had been increasingly nagging at him. It wasn’t until he pinpointed the dot of warmth against his chest that he realized it was the arclith embedded in his harness. Since his capture, the shard had been reduced to a useless trinket, and he had gotten so used to its dormancy he forgot it was even there. But now, it was humming again.

Sylven? His thought drifted through their bond, testing the connection.

A familiar presence stirred, then resolved into a voice accompanied by a hazy feed of imagery. Uiska. Happy to hear from you reaching out.

Accessing the bond sent a prickle of energy through Uiska's head, making his nose itch. Sylven, the shard in my harness—I can feel something from it again.

A pause, then a rush of words spiked with excitement came through. It’s charged!? Would you know how that happened? What did you do? Did the humans there do anything to it? Have they noticed anything?

I don’t know. Not sure. Uiska replied, somewhat overwhelmed by Sylven’s interrogation. But there’s something else around here that’s like it. I can feel it. I’ll keep my whiskers out to track.

A while later, as Uiska picked up on a similar hum coming closer to the room, he heard soft footsteps padding across the hallway just outside the door. The pika scurried back down from the windowsill and settled onto his cushion, curling his tail neatly behind him just as the door swung open.

Speaking slowly to another human, the overseer entered, a small wooden box in hand. Uiska stayed still, his whiskers trembling as he watched and listened. Their words were mostly meaningless sounds to him, but he caught the name Wyatt, the same boy from before who Sylven had told him could be their friend, mentioned more than once.

The overseer walked toward the desk, opened the drawer, took out a key and unlocked the box. Uiska’s ears flattened as the pulse of magic strengthened, resonating with his own arclith shard. His gaze was drawn to the magical object. The pika’s eyesight was more sensitive than either Shy or humans to certain wavelengths, and so he noticed a faint blue-violet glow peeking out from under the lid.

Then the lid was snapped shut again, and the overseer locked the box, tucked it away into the desk drawer, and left the parlor with the key in hand, also locking the door to the room.

Uiska stayed still, filing the information away. This seems like something Sylven needed. He just had to find the right moment to move.

He hopped from the sill onto the desk, landing soundlessly. He followed the buzz of power, his whiskers leading him to the drawer. The pulsing next to his chest grew stronger and warmer, almost painfully so, leading Uiska to hop back to the comfort of his cushion.

The overseer is keeping another glowing shard here, he transmitted to Sylven. It’s bigger and has more power than mine, I could feel it from outside the room.

The moment of silence on Sylven’s end told Uiska he was thinking, putting together possibilities.

What should I do, Sylven? The pika asked. My shard warmed up when I got closer to the big one the human is keeping in a box.

The Shy replied. I’m not sure how that’s happening either. I need to ask the others her who may know more about that. But it could be where your shard is picking up a charge.

Before Uiska could collect his thoughts and respond, Sylven continued issuing instructions. Uiska, we need to try using the shard to cast magic. I need to know what it can do. We can try something small.

The pika equivalent of panic flashed through Uiska’s head. He knew nothing about how casting worked. The Shy used words and gestures, both of which he was unequipped to execute, to trigger the magic through the shards. However, their shard bond connected him and Sylven. If the Shy cast something simple through his thoughts, would it pierce through?

Anything nearby that needs to be opened? Sylven asked. Something locked?

Uiska glanced at the window latch. It was a simple hook mechanism, but wedged tight.

There’s a window. It looks easy to open, if I had hands like you.

Uiska could feel Sylven focusing on projecting the part of his mind that flowed across their bond across the space and walls physically separating them.

I’ll cast Knock. You channel it. From my thoughts, through our bond, to the window.

Uiska positioned himself, his tiny heart hammering in his chest. He felt a warmth spreading from the shard, followed by a steady pulse of energy. A soft click echoed in the still room. He squeaked out in surprise and relief as the latch loosened.

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With the pika giving the wooden frame a cautious nudge, the window inched open.

His fur bristled with the rush of triumph. It worked.

Close it, quick before they notice, Sylven urged.

Uiska nudged the frame back into place and carefully hooked the latch back through the combined efforts of his paws and mouth.

That confirms it, Sylven murmured. The arclith in your harness is charged enough to work. We have magic again. And we can cast through our bond.

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The kobolds’ tunnel clawed its way across the compound, slower than they'd hoped. They had dug out quite the distance, but if they hadn’t been able to reinforce the sides, all it would take was one wrong shift, one collapse, and they’d be buried. Exhausted, Vikka glared at the pile of dirt and crushed eggshells at her feet, practically wishing them into stiff mud with her mind if she could.

“You’re getting cross-eyed from staring again,” Nynka noted, tapping Vikka’s tail with hers.

“We’re burning through eggs and energy. And soon, we’re going to have to dig upwards,” Vikka snapped. “I don’t like how this is going.”

“Neither do I,” the other kobold admitted. “But what’s the alternative?”

The only ones in on the plan so far were Nynka, Tesska, and the still-half-hearted Tibbin who would only chip in when convenient. A team of three and a half kobolds didn’t seem to be enough to carve and reinforce a whole tunnel across the compound before the humans would notice something amiss.

She turned to the others, wiping sweat and dirt from her brow. “We need more.”

“More?” Tibbin echoed, shifting uneasily. “More what?”

“More claws. More muscle. More eggs,” she said bluntly.

Tibbin flinched, but Nynka nodded in agreement. “We need to get more of the others to start seeing things our way.”

It was time to expand their circle.

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The tunnel team waited until the late evening lull, when most of the other kobolds were either dozing or humming their mindless songs in the Brood Barn. Vikka slunk toward the loose cluster of nests, her eyes scanning for her targets.

Sidhe, an older kobold, sat in her usual place, idly polishing a pebble between her claws. Not far from her, Rena, one of the barn’s most prolific layers, arranged her newest clutch, gently rotating each egg with an unsettled frown.

Despite being distracted by their digging, the team couldn’t help but notice the change in these two particular kobolds’ attitudes.

Sidhe, once an enthusiastic singer in Grilsha’s mindless chorus, now sat silent, watchful and pensive. The glazed look had faded from her now sharp eyes. Rena, once the most devoted to caring for their makeshift nests, now looked at her own eggs with uncertainty. The two kobolds were inseparable friends, with Rena often relying on Sidhe for companionship and comfort. This made them an easy pick for Vikka to approach first. Rena seemed pliable enough, but Sidhe could pose a challenge.

Vikka stepped forward, her presence rippling through the group like a stone dropped into still water. Her two target kobolds turned, their eyes drawn to her.

“I think there’s something going on in the barn that you both may have noticed,” she began, laying down an assertion rather than a question.

Sidhe met Vikka’s gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean, but I’ll be happy to hear you out.”

Rena flustered, looked at Sidhe for guidance. “What’s happening? Noticed what?”

“The humans. Grilsha.” Vikka gestured around the Brood Barn, at the uneasy susurration that had spread through the barn since the egg numbers began dropping. The usual chorus of hums and honks had dwindled, replaced by anxious tittering.

Sidhe didn’t reply, but her tail curled slightly inward—a sign of thought. Rena, however, stiffened.

Vikka crouched down, speaking quietly. “Things feel different, don’t they?”

Rena’s tail twitched. “They do?”

“You aren’t singing anymore, Sidhe,” Vikka observed.

Sidhe huffed. “Because it’s boring. I don’t know how I stood it before.” She clicked her claws. “It’s like someone finally stopped blowing smoke into my face.”

Vikka looked to Rena next. “And you?”

The young kobold looked downcast, “I keep laying more eggs,” she whined. “But I have to give up more and more of them.”

Vikka’s brow furrowed, dreading where this was going.

Rena’s voice cracked as she continued, her claws trembling. “Tibbin keeps needling me for an extra one or two. The humans take everything else. And the ants—” she shuddered. “I was sure all my eggs were fresh. I know I lay a lot, more than most. But I remember each and every egg I’ve laid. Some that were discarded were barely an hour old, still warm from my body, but the ants crawled all over them anyway! It’s not fair!”

Vikka looked towards her co-conspirators guiltily, neither Nynka nor Tesska could meet Rena’s eyes. Tibbin had already managed to saunter over halfway across the barn to sit closer to Grilsha.

“My whole life, I’ve never been able to keep even one egg to myself,” lamented the frustrated kobold. “I’ve never even tended a clutch long enough for me to stop going into laying heat. I wish… I could stop having my eggs taken and heart broken for once, even just for a short while.”

“Have you spoken to Grilsha about it?” asked Vikka. Rena nodded sadly.

What did she say?” Vikka pressed.

“She said not to disappoint the humans.” Rena’s hissed bitterly. “She doesn’t even care about us or our eggs. She just cares about her hoard of… stuff!”

Vikka waited a beat and let the moment hang between them. “So… as I was saying, I wanted to talk to both of you because…”

“You’re up to something,” Sidhe snorted.

Vikka knew she didn’t need to deny anything. So she just smiled and held up the palms of her claws in a gesture of surrender. “Something is better than nothing in our case, isn’t it?”

Sidhe looked at her with eyes narrowed into slits, then tossed away the polished stone she was fidgeting with. “Whatever it is. I’m in.”

Rena’s tail started tapping on the ground in agitation. “I’m not sure about this…” the younger kobold muttered as she looked at her friend. “Our sacred purpose in life is to lay eggs and tend to them. That’s what the nest revolves around…”

“But this isn’t a nest,” Vikka countered firmly. “It’s a pen. A barn built by humans to keep us captive.”

She watched the flicker of doubt cross Rena’s face before pressing forward.

She gestured to the area that she and the team had commandeered, leading them close to the hole that led to the tunnels, a claw held up to her snout warning them not to react in a way that would call attention. Rena couldn’t hold back a gasp as she saw the team’s claw-work, prompting Sidhe to whack her in the snout with the tip of her tail.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” Sidhe asked.

“We put our eggs to better use.” Vikka explained cooly. “Instead of giving them up to the humans, they can at least help make sure we get out of here. So we can go back to living as kobolds in a real nest, where Rena can finally raise her clutch. Not stay stuck here, a brood tended by humans.”

Sidhe peered into the hole. “If this is where the earth is shifting towards, I’d rather drown in the dirt with you, than keep kowtowing to Grilsha,” the kobold stated.

Rena wasn’t as calm about making a decision. She grasped Sidhe’s arm to steady her, and in that moment felt the strength of her friend’s resolve. With a slow, reluctant breath, she nodded to Vikka. “If Sidhe’s in, I’m in…”

With two more kobolds on their team, Vikka could sense the barn’s balance of power shifting. Grilsha’s hive-mind hold was cracking. It was becoming way more than just about eggs.

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The real test came the next morning. Grilsha's tail lashed as she surveyed the dwindling collection, her claws twitching with barely contained frustration.

When the humans entered the Brood Barn, Grilsha moved to present the eggs. But she hesitated, frowning at a few that had been nudged toward the pile but still had a few ants crawling across their shells.

She sniffed the air, a grimace crossing her face. “No,” she muttered. “These won’t do.”

Vikka watched as Grilsha herself pushed the ant-covered eggs aside—further reducing their offerings. For all her posturing as queen, she lacked even the basic empathy of a nest mother.

The humans had claimed their usual share, but their traded rewards—those precious trinkets that fed Grilsha’s ego—had been significantly downgraded. They were now far from the quantity and quality she had grown accustomed to and it made Grilsha feel unappreciated and irritable.

As she waddled through the nest, she noticed Sidhe sitting quietly, not joining in the brood’s vocalizations. Her eyes narrowed further as she saw Rena protectively hovering over a set of eggs that she had held back from the day’s harvest.

Grilsha's eyes narrowed. She wanted to reprimand the pair, to demand an explanation, but something held her back. Vikka glared at the false queen with a stare sharp enough to crack a shell. Grilsha, for the first time, felt uncertain of her own delusions.

The moment the humans left, Vikka turned to Rena and Sidhe.

“Looks like the humans may have noticed that we’re giving up fewer and fewer eggs. But they’re taking it out on Grilsha,” she smirked. “That’s her problem for now.”

Nynka snorted. “Serves her right."

Tesska trumpeted in agreement. “Maybe this will finally knock her off her high perch.'

Rena swallowed hard, but nodded. Sidhe simply picked up an egg and passed it forward.

Tibbin, watching from the edge of the nest, stared at the scene, shifting nervously. He had spent so long trying to impress Grilsha. But now, her rule was crumbling at the edges, and Vikka was at the center of it. Vikka caught his gaze. A choice had to be made.

Tibbin wavered. For a moment, it seemed as though he might pull back, retreat into the lazy familiarity of Grilsha's shadow. But then, with a furtive, almost imperceptible movement, he handed an egg over, his eyes darting to Vikka as if seeking approval—or acceptance at least.

Vikka responded with a beatific smile.

The tunnel would hold. And so would their plans, as long as the Shy held up their end.