The stairs weren’t long, especially compared to those he had climbed in the mid-levels, and Kaz began hearing the sounds of a thriving den about halfway down. A quick glance showed that none of the other kobolds had perked up their ears yet, so he forced his to remain still as well, though they very much wanted to twist and track the noise.

It wasn’t much longer before a particularly loud yelp echoed up to them, and Ija twitched at the sound. She looked back at one of the males and murmured, “Gram’s in trouble again.”

The male, who had seemed no different from any of the others, chuckled, saying, “I’m sure he deserves it. I’ve never seen such a curious puppy.”

The two exchanged a surprisingly warm look, both of their tails wagging gently. None of the other males seemed surprised by this exchange, so Kaz didn’t react either. Ija and the male both wore the necklaces of unmated adults, but perhaps they were courting.

The bottom of the stairs came fast and bright. Balls of ki floated everywhere, to the extent that Kaz couldn’t tell which female they belonged to. In the heights, most females had to attach their ki to an object, producing a stable light that they couldn’t move too far away from, but here every female seemed able to cast their ki into the air, and do it from a very young age. There were several pups of near-gathering age running around with lights following behind them, and a few younger puppies even had dim balls of ki clinging to their hands or, for some reason, the tips of their tails.

Shouts of “Ija!” arose from these young kobolds the moment they realized that they were no longer alone, and a small horde of excited puppies tumbled over themselves to reach her. This gave Kaz time to come to terms with the other strange thing about them.

They were blue. Not all of them, but many, though their fur tended toward the purplish-blue shades, with an occasional blue-green. Some had blue spots or stripes hidden among fur of a more common color, and a dozen pairs of eyes that were all shades of blue stared back at Kaz curiously as they realized he was there.

A particularly bright blue male puppy was clinging to Ija’s hand, glaring almost defiantly toward Kaz. He was adorable, with a short snout, and one ear that pointed up, while the other drooped. In his belly blazed a tiny, brilliantly blue core.

When he noticed this, Kaz actually froze in place, one paw on the step behind him, and then he took another look around. Another of the little males had a dim blue and red core, while a third had one that seemed almost hazy, more the grayish color of mana than properly blue. This one was a little too thin, and though he was smiling as happily as any of the others, his arms were spindly, and his tail drooped as if it was too heavy for him to lift.

Ija leaned down and picked up the first blue pup, tossing him into the air as he howled gleefully. Several other puppies lifted their arms for similar treatment, and two of the males picked them up, nuzzling their fur before tossing them high. Only when all of the puppies had had a turn did the adults start walking again, though they looked noticeably more relaxed.

A female with red fur came through the tunnel on the other side of the cavern in which they stood, and huffed in exasperation. Her fur was deeply streaked with gray, and her jowls drooped, but she still seemed vigorous as she came up and grasped the puppy Ija had just put down by his upstanding ear.

“Gram!” she barked sharply, “You’re supposed to be back in the den, training, not playing with the other puppies.”

Gram glared up at her without a shred of remorse, but wilted when Ija set her hand on his shoulder.

“What did he do now?” Ija asked, and the old female sniffed.

“He was supposed to be out gathering,” she said, “but he wandered away from his group. He fell into a patch of chouchou. I only just got him clean, and it took half our supply of yumi oil to get the smell out.”

Kaz grimaced. Chouchou was a large mushroom with a spherical white cap that looked pillowy and soft. It was almost irresistibly attractive to young puppies, who were always shocked by the foul-smelling cloud of spores it emitted when it burst, in spite of the fact that every adult warned them not to touch it if they found one.

“I thought I could gather it without popping it,” Gram said, “and then sneak it into Shoc’s bed.”

Ija crouched down, looking into the defiant blue eyes. “And why would you want to make Shoc smell bad?”

Gram turned his gaze down, scratching at the floor with one paw. “He was picking on Chix,” he muttered. “So it was only fair.”

Ija sighed, standing up, then turned to look at a purplish puppy who was edging away from the crowd, looking guilty. “Shoc?” she said.

Shoc stopped, then glared toward the weak-looking puppy. “He got an extra serving of tanuo, just because he’s sick! But I scraped my knee, and I didn’t get anything! Everybody just told me to be tough, like a real warrior.” Triumphantly, he pointed to his leg, where a small red scratch was barely visible beneath the fur.

Ija, too, looked toward the little puppy, who wilted beneath the attention. “Shoc, even if you’re upset, you can’t be mean to Chix. He’s… You could really hurt him, so be gentle, all right?”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Shoc looked down, mumbling, “I know. I was just mad.”

Ija smiled sadly and looked back at the older female. “Let it go this time, Sika. But Gram, if I hear that you got into chouchou again, you’re going to have to smell bad until it goes away on its own.”

Gram looked horrified. “But that’d take weeks,” he howled pitifully. “And no one would want to play with me!”

Ija’s ears twitched with suppressed amusement, but she just patted the puppy on the head with firm dismissal and turned to Kaz. “Kaz, these are your cousins.”

Kaz blinked, looking around. There were fourteen puppies here, all less than five years old. A cousin was the child of an aunt or uncle, but how were there so many? And these were just the ones too young to gather, or young enough that they only gathered for a few hours a day, so how many others might there be?

Seeing that Kaz had no response, Ija turned back to the puppies. “Everyone, this is Kaz. He’s your Aunt Rega’s pup. You remember I told you about her, right?”

Kaz’s legs gave out, and he sat on the step with a thump. Everyone turned to look at him, but he barely noticed. He was too busy putting together the pieces of his own story that had just shattered. Oda’s disinterest, and sometimes outright dislike of him and Rega. The fact that Oda and Ghazt had never, not once, spent private time together. The way Oda seemed almost relieved when Ghazt died.

Older images rose. Chalk and paint on the wall, images of Ghazt, Katri, Kaz… and Rega. Never Oda. The way Ghazt and Rega watched each other, but never touched or spoke. Ghazt warning Kaz, again and again, to always listen to his mother and never contradict Oda. But Oda wasn’t his mother at all, was she? She had never acted like one, but Rega most certainly had.

“I don’t understand,” he finally muttered, desperately wishing that Li was with him, rather than fulfilling her part of the plan. He could feel her warm presence in his mind, her worry and love, but it wasn’t the same as feeling the weight of her body, the pressure of her tail around his neck.

Ija tilted her head, eyes narrowing. With a wave of her hand, she urged the puppies to move out of the way, then reached out, offering to help Kaz stand. “The one thing Oda was good at was lying,” she said. “Come on. I’ll explain.”

Kaz set his hand in hers, though he had gathered himself enough by then that he could have risen on his own. The heat of her skin against his was enough to make him want to pull away again, but he managed to restrain the urge until he was upright and she let go on her own.

Ija gave the puppies one more brief yip of farewell, which they echoed back enthusiastically, and then she headed for the tunnel the old female had come through. Kaz moved to catch up, walking beside her so he could listen as she began to speak softly.

“I don’t know how much you’ve been told, so I’ll just start at the beginning, all right?” she asked. At his nod, she grinned slightly, and said, “The voice of the mountain selected Tegra as the first of the Magmablades, or at least so we’ve been told.”

Oh. She really meant she was going to start at the beginning. But Kaz just nodded, and Ija went on.

“But the book of the chief tells us a different story. Tegra wasn’t chosen, she was made, and when she came to us, she was angry. She couldn’t speak of her past, but she wrote it down in the book, because the voice forgot to deny her the ability to write. Of course, we didn’t have anything to write on, not then, because we also had no written language, but Tegra worked until she fashioned something from yumi reed pulp, and taught her daughters to read.

“In her book, she wrote that she had once been a human, and a powerful one, but she was taken and infected with some kind of disease. She didn’t remember much of that time, but when she did come to herself again, she was a kobold, and she was commanded to go join the other kobolds in the mountain, and serve the voice.”

The tunnel opened into a wide cavern, the far end of which was filled with huts. Adult kobolds moved around, performing the familiar actions of a tribe, their expressions calm and untroubled. Ija stepped to the side, watching them, and Kaz followed.

“Tegra couldn’t disobey the voice, and each of her descendants found that they, too, had to do as it commanded. It would reach into their very minds, and when it did, they lost their free will. Still, it came less and less often, until a generation went by without the chief of the time hearing it even once. It has been silent ever since.”

Ija began to walk again, circling along the outside of the cavern, toward the huts. “The tribes, who had been restrained by the voice’s commands, began to fight among themselves. So far as we can tell, Tegra was the only one who found a way to pass on her knowledge to her descendants, so we knew that no matter what anyone said, the ‘voice of the mountain’ was no benign thing. As a result, the Magmablades were the first to defy the command to continue peacefully performing the tasks assigned to us. No matter what the others say, however, we weren’t the only ones.

“Of course, our first effort failed, and though the books don’t tell us exactly why, since the chief of that time died before she could write it down, we do know that it was at least in part because the Woodblades and the Goldblades refused to listen when we told them the voice of the mountain was just using us. Whatever it was, it finished with us, and left us behind like a broken or forgotten tool, and we owe it nothing.”

For the first time, Ija sounded truly angry. Before, she seemed to be reciting a story she’d heard often, but had no particular feelings about. It wasn’t personal, but this last bit most definitely was.

They passed the first few huts, then stopped in front of one that was completely different from any Kaz had seen before. It had only three sides, which seemed intended to separate it from the surrounding area more than keep it private. Nothing covered the top, either, but the walls were higher than most kobold homes.

Ija led him around to the open side, and Kaz stopped, staring. It was filled with books. Row after tidy row, sitting on shelves made of yumi reeds, they waited. Some were thick, while others were thin. There were tall ones and short ones, some with lovingly crafted covers, and others with covers of thick, simple leather much like what was used to make packs for warriors.

“Each and every chief leaves behind a book,” Ija said. “They start writing when they’re young, and the first pages are identical; a copy of Tegra’s story. After that, they change. Some chiefs wrote almost nothing, just a note when someone chose a mate, or a battle was fought. Others wrote every day, speaking about their lives, their joys, and their problems.”

Moving to the end of the line, she traced her fingers over the last few books, which looked newer than any of the others. “Any female who could become chief has a book, though usually only the one who is selected ends up here.” She motioned to the huts around them. “The other books stay with the family, and most of the kobolds here have one or more.”

Pulling one particular book out, she handed it to Kaz. “This is Rega’s.”