Ren of Atikala: The Empire of Dust

by David Adams

  She half smiled, a ghostly, almost mocking gesture. “You don’t have the training. I could give you my tools, but what good is a hammer to a fungus?”

  “I don’t know many fungi who can bind elder fire elementals into armour.”

  Tzala smiled approvingly. I couldn’t help but smile back, and my tail flicked slightly.

  “A well made point,” said Sirora, settling back into her chair and folding her bone-thin fingers into her lap.

  No further matters were raised. With the meeting closed, I waited until everyone except Tzala had filed out. When I was sure that we were alone, I let all the tension of the meeting flow out of me.

  “How am I going to do this?” I asked, running my hands over my head, tracing along my spines. I had seen, firsthand, the way humans reacted to kobolds—suspicion and fear. “Scouting the humans by myself? What was I thinking…”

  Tzala stood out of her chair, made her way over towards me, then rested her hand on my shoulder. “Do not despair so soon into your journey, Ren. Focus on your task.”

  Focus wasn’t the problem. The prospect of scouting the humans loomed in my mind like a spectre, its dark claws clawing at my heart. “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “First step…how to get to the surface.”

  “Good,” said Tzala, sliding into the seat beside mine. “Do you feel confident travelling to the surface on your own?”

  The way to the surface from Ssarsdale was solid in my mind. “I’ve walked the tunnels around our home several times now, including with you. I can do that.”

  “Very well,” said Tzala, resting her hand on the table. “What next?”

  “I suppose I should pick a place to scout.” I chewed on the inside of my mouth. “There is a human village not far from here; I have been there once.” Memories drifted back to me, of being imprisoned in their barn, interrogated by an elf and her eidolon, and then…blood and dark deeds…from both sides. “My stay was hardly pleasant, but I suspect this is a good place to start.”

  “Good idea,” said Tzala. “Somewhere a little familiar would be good; it will give you the edge.” She leaned forward. “How will you get there?”

  “A short trip across the surface—acclimatising myself to the cold and the bright will be difficult, but not impossible—and then…” I grit my teeth. “Then I have to convince the humans that I’m not a threat to them. If they recognise me, though, I doubt very much that anything in Drathari can sway them. Khavi killed several of their number breaking me out. I’m sure they wouldn’t have forgotten.”

  This, for some strange reason, seemed to please my mother. “Perhaps seeing the lives of those affected by violence will help bring some of your thoughts into focus.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you mean by that? I endured at Contremulus’s hands; I’ve seen my fill of suffering and pain.”

  “No offence was intended.” She smiled reassuringly at me. “A good leader sees the world from a thousand perspectives. I’m very glad you chose to do this; it should broaden and temper your vision.”

  “My vision doesn’t need tempering,” I said, faint frustration creeping in. “It needs information.”

  “I know, I know.”

  I stretched, arching my back. “None of this solves the problem of me infiltrating the humans.”

  A sneaky smile grew across Tzala’s face. “How do you think Sirora’s apprentices were going to do it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I suspect they have some spell to do the trick.” None that I knew would help.

  “Magically cloaking yourself as another species is a difficult illusion to maintain and ineffective; a simple touch can reveal the truth. Polymorphing yourself into one is a better trick, but such magics are typically short in duration. A more powerful one is one beyond most simple spellcasters, even Sirora.” Tzala touched the amulet around her neck. “Fortunately, there are other options than one’s spells.”

  Some days I almost forgot Tzala wasn’t a kobold. She had scales and a tail, and looked for all the world to be one of us, but under the shape changing magic she was a gnome.

  Unfortunately the amulets were attuned to a specific race. Kobolds, in the case of Tzala’s. It would serve no purpose to turn into myself, and it would deprive Tzala of her disguise. The thought of her ending up on Sirora’s dissection table made my stomach turn.

  “You believe Sirora has one of those? Made for humans?”

  Tzala smiled. “If she doesn’t have one already, she is probably in the process of creating one.”

  My mother always had her way of coming through for me. I smiled widely and pushed back my chair. “Thank you.” I said, and I made my way out of the council chamber.

  I took the large stairs down the winding spire, down from the council chambers, down past rows of living quarters and rooms whose purpose I had not yet determined, and past the main entrance. Most of the other council members had their quarters arranged vertically in descending order of status; Pergru did not, however, and Sirora preferred the basement.

  As I pushed open the heavy stone door that closed off the lobby to her chambers, I could see why.

  The entire room was covered in thick cobwebs that hung from the ceiling like curtains; individual strands dangled down, as though to snare anyone foolish enough to enter. It was dark down here; even the glowbugs avoided this place.

  I brushed the webs aside and made my way past the lobby. Waiting was for non-leaders.

  “Sirora?” I called. “It is Ren. I must speak with you.”

  Sirora glided out of one of the side passages, her feet barely touching the floor. Her hands were full of glass vials; each glowed with a dull inner light. How she managed to hold so many with her thin, strengthless fingers I did not know.

  “Hello, Ren,” she said, smiling with a smile that was made with her mouth but not her eyes. “Welcome to my humble lair. Forgive the lack of symmetry in my dwelling; I did not expect to see you so soon. I was…preoccupied with my duties.”

  Symmetry? “Of course,” I said, keeping my tone even and formal. I had no idea what kind of work could involve so many spiderwebs or so many vials of liquid. “Each to their toils.”

  Sirora slipped one of the vials into the webs. As she did so, a swarm of tiny arachnids flowed out, took it, and spirited it away. “What brings you to my home?” she asked, palming off the vials one by one, each carried somewhere I could not see.

  Avoiding the spiders as well as I could, I kept my hands close to my sides. “I need your help.”

  Her false smile widened. “So do many who come here. I suspected that your promise to investigate the humans on your own was rash. Truly, though, I did not anticipate that you would reach this conclusion so quickly. You surprise me.”

  “I have a tendency to do that.” I swallowed her backhanded compliment. I went to say more, but a faint wail echoed throughout the stone of the basement, crying words in Draconic I could not catch. It was suddenly silenced.

  “My apologies,” said Sirora. “My apprentices do try to keep the noise to a manageable level.”

  I would have to find some way to stop her, but we had a war outside to plan first, and I would need her help.

  For now, I let the wail pass from my mind. “I know your apprentices have ways of appearing as races they are not,” I said. “I desire one of your amulets of humankind.”

  Sirora hummed quietly. “Those amulets would certainly help you on the surface. I didn’t think you were even aware of their existence. You are most resourceful, Ren.”

  I gently nipped at the inside of my cheek to avoid letting my true feelings bubble out my mouth. “Thank you,” I said. I could play her game. “But if you don’t have the power to create one, I could always look further afield. Tzala is an accomplished spellcaster. I’m sure if I spoke to her, she could forge me one. I know your power is limited.” I ran my tongue over my canines. “I mean no offence, of course…you do well, despite your considerable disadvantage.”

 
Her whole face seemed to tighten, even if her eyes remained as empty and lifeless as they always did. “To what disadvantage do you refer?”

  “Necromancy is such a limited school, my friend. Certainly, the power to speak with the dead is an enviable one, but the living talk just as well. In Atikala the study of such things was discouraged as ineffective and a waste of perfectly good sorcerers, but fortunately the kobolds of Ssarsdale are much more charitable to those who take up the path. Although it does not speak well to the strength of the Ssarsdale magical academy to appoint one such as you as their headmistress…” I shrugged helplessly. “Very charitable.”

  I thought, for a moment, that I had pushed things too far, and that the next words out of Sirora’s lips would be some horrible spell that would turn me inside out or worse, but she calmed quickly. “A common misconception,” she said, her breathing unnaturally even. “Necromancy is the study of life and death, and while life has its appeals, of the two, death is the greater, the eventual partner of all who walk Drathari. There is no greater calling, no effort more noble, no power so great as to study our inevitable end, and some might say, work against it.”

  “Well,” I said, “then creating one of those amulets attuned to humankind would be a trifle for one so powerful as you.”

  She jammed her withered hand into her pocket. The tinker of tiny chains followed as she pulled out a bronze-chained amulet and tossed it at me. I caught it. It was a large opal stone set around a delicate filigree; I could feel the arcane potential within, a warmth only a spellcaster could feel.

  “I had finished it days ago,” she said, the faintest crack appearing in her emotionless mask. “While you were busy weaving steel into a warrior’s garb, I was focusing on our true goals, living three steps ahead of you and the others.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. “This will prove invaluable.”

  Sirora said nothing, affixing me with a dark glare.

  “Thank you,” I said again, and with no further ado, I left Sirora to her experiments.

  CHAPTER IV

  I HAD THE AMULET. I would need mundane supplies for my journey, so I left the spire and made my way through the city that had so quickly become my home.

  Ssarsdale. The lights of the vast underground cavern stretched out before me. It was a beautiful city, home to tens of thousands of kobolds. They filled every broad street and narrow alley from one end of the cavern to the other, a sea of bodies broken by stone walls and stalagmites.

  So alike to Atikala, with its swelling population, and so distinctly different, too. Atikala was many times the size of Ssarsdale—with that size came development. Atikala had tamed the huge cavern it was built in and expanded it. Its buildings were square, its ropes and ladders stretching far to the ceiling. Ssarsdale, by contrast, had worked with the natural cavern and seemed to blend in with the water-eroded stone. Its buildings were round, tunnelled into the stalactites and stalagmites of the cavern. I preferred Atikala’s structure.

  Now, though, Atikala was rubble.

  Ssarsdale was my home now. I had best get used to the change of architecture.

  I made my way towards the market. Everywhere I went eyes followed me. Approving eyes. Kobolds dipped their heads respectfully as I passed, and the throng parted for me. I ignored them. In the beginning I had always acknowledged those who gave me deference; these days it happened so often I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

  Kresselack emerged from the crowd and fell into step with me.

  “Rarely do Leaders come to the market,” he said. “Is there some way I can assist you?”

  “I am leaving Ssarsdale,” I said, with a finality that I did not intend. Kresselack’s tail jerked in surprise, and I spoke quickly to comfort him. “To scout the surface. I will return when my task is complete.”

  He relaxed, the tip of his tail sinking back down behind him. “Are you certain? We could send scouts in your place—”

  I did not want to rehash the same argument I had with the council. “This is my task, and I must travel alone. Thank you for your concern, but I will be just fine.”

  Kresselack hesitated before speaking, but when he did, his words were genuine. “Your absence will be sorely missed, Leader. The Council are wise, but they do not inspire the same greatness in us as you do.” We arrived in the centre of the bazaar, unattended tables stretching out before us, each covered with supplies of various sorts. “And I am sorry I will miss your breeding season. I had hoped that the breeders would pair us together.”

  I ground my teeth together, making a show of inspecting a table full of dried glowbug meat. My race’s obsession with breeding was a source of constant irritation to me. I did not greatly desire children, and the manner in which such things were arranged—the simple act of planting seed in periodically fertile soil—struck me as vaguely offensive.

  “A tragedy,” I said, breaking off a piece of the food with my claw and sampling it. Adequate.

  “I could accompany you,” Kresselack offered. “At least until…”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  Insubordination? Kresselack must have wanted to breed with me more than I thought. I turned to face him. “I am a sorceress,” I said, “and it behooves me to breed with other spell casters, to concentrate the power in my blood…if they are worthy. This imperative is not to be questioned. I will breed with whomever I determine will produce progeny most useful to Ssarsdale, or none at all, and this shall be the end of the matter.”

  He bowed his head low. “As you wish, Leader Ren. I will inform the keepers of the roster.”

  I snatched a haversack from a rack and began stuffing it full of meat and skins of water. “You do that,” I said. And then he left.

  Questions. Always with the questions. It frustrated me that every kobold from the Council themselves down to the lowest bug farmer questioned me. Asked me, overtly or implicitly, to justify my decisions. I had spoken; my word was enough.

  “Ren! Ren!”

  Standing a full foot above the tallest heads in the crowd bobbed a round face, long hair, and a wide smile. Dorydd, my dwarven friend.

  “Masterful forging! Not bad,” she said, approval painted all over her face as she slid through the wall of kobolds around me, arms wrapping me up in a crushing hug. “Not bad at all! And all this coming from a dwarf. Believe me, friend, that’s high praise indeed.”

  Her arms were like iron, gripping me and crushing the air from my lungs. I held my breath until it was over, and then rested back, propping myself up with my tail. “Thank you,” I managed.

  Dorydd’s smile filled half her face. “You deserve it,” she said. “Standing in there, in that fire…no dwarven smith could do that. When we go to Thunderhelm, you should show them that trick. We’ll be the envy of all.”

  “It’s more than simply a trick,” I said. My magic was not some act put on for the amusement of dwarves. “But I think a show of power would be appropriate.”

  So many people wanted to see my might. It was taking some getting used to.

  “Of course,” said Dorydd. “Of course.” Her eyes fell on the haversack. “You’re leaving?”

  There was a slight edge of hesitation in her voice, and I knew why. “Yes,” I said, standing up properly, giving my tail a gentle swish. “Scouting the surface. But don’t worry. I’ve made sure that you’re safe here; no kobold will lay a claw upon you while you’re my guest, and you’re my guest regardless of if I’m here or not. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Good,” said Dorydd, although the shadow of worry remained. “I can take care of myself.”

  This I knew to be true. Dorydd’s fists were powerful weapons; her whole body was a coiled spring ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice.

  She pointed to the main gate of Ssarsdale. “I’ll walk you out,” she said.

  For some reason, this gesture—heartfelt and genuine as it was—irked me. I was in the heart of Ssarsdale. There was no danger here.

  “
Fine,” I said, and we began to walk.

  “Valen’s getting big,” said Dorydd as the gates grew larger. “Pretty soon I’ll be able to wrestle him without risking snapping him in half!” She laughed. “My parents always told me they grow up so fast, but they had clearly never met a kobold child. Your people continue to impress me, Ren.” Something changed in her voice, and it became slower, a little more cautious. “And worry me.”

  “Worry?” There wasn’t a kobold alive who could fight like Dorydd could, and there was no way to catch her unawares, either. She had eyes that saw everything and a sensible head that interpreted it wisely. “I already told you that I’ve guaranteed your safety.”

  “I’m not concerned about that,” she said. I wasn’t sure how much I believed her, but she clearly had more to say. “At the end of the enchanting. You were saying…war, war, war. People, kobolds or not, don’t just chant that kind of thing idly. I know you’re just trying to solidify your position, but…if you promise your people blood, soon they’re going to call in that debt. You don’t have enough to spare.”

  She knew why we were here. “I’m going after Contremulus,” I said. “Such a thing is war.”

  “By yourself?”

  I wasn’t sure why I’d said I. “I mean, myself and Ssarsdale. Together.” I glanced to her. “And you, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  If Dorydd’s voice held anything but sincerity, I couldn’t find it. “Good,” I said. The gates of Ssarsdale creaked as they opened, the huge metal slabs parting to reveal the underworld.

  “You standing by me in this,” I said, meaning every word, “it means everything to me, Dorydd. You’ve been with me since Northaven, and I couldn’t have gotten here without you. I can’t possibly thank you enough.”

  Dorydd said nothing but wrapped me up in another bone-crushing hug. “Just come back safe,” she said. “That’s thanks enough for me.”

  With the eyes of Ssarsdale on me, and with Dorydd’s huge smile as the last thing I saw, I stepped through the gates and into the underworld.