It was impossible to see more than five or ten feet ahead in the jungle. The looming trees and other flora made sure of that. But Kek knew that he was nearing the camp. The smell was inescapable and impossible to forget. He walked past one of the smoke pits on the edge of the mercenary camp, meant to drive away any predators or unwanted animals. Just about everything in the jungle was either afraid of or just plain hated the plant used to create the smoke. Ingesting it would mean a painful death. To get any part of the plant on your skin meant getting a horrible rash. It could blind a person by getting in their eyes. His master had called it death weed, and the mercenaries had gladly adopted the name.
Kek put his hands in front of his eyes and tried not to breathe in through his nose or mouth as he passed the smoke pit. However, the entire camp stank of the stuff and even just staying outside for too long could cause irritation. He hated that stupid smoke almost as much of the hated this depressing camp. As he neared the pathetic establishment he was forced to call a home, he felt like punching himself in the face for coming back.
He heard a reverberating growl from the depths of the jungle to his back, the thought leaving his mind. Better to be a living slave than a free, dead kobold. There were dozens of semi-permanent tents that made up the camp. They were in hiding, after all. The mercenaries had gone to great lengths to hide themselves from the new King of Aleton, after he had overthrown his opposition to the thrown and declared the mercenaries to be traitors to his crown.
"I am holding you personally responsible for this, Prate!" Rufus, the leader, was yelling from the other side of a camouflaged tent.
Kek sighed and bowed his head, walking into the center of the camp. He knew there would be hell to pay for escaping.
"It's not my fault the fuzzy idiot decided to take advantage of our losses. He's probably dead already, so what’s the point of sending more of our men out into that jungle just to find him?"
Rufus was not the type of man to be trifled with. Sure, he looked skinny and was no more than five and a half feet tall, but every mercenary in the camp knew how deadly their leader was in combat. And they knew how cunning and traitorous he could be.
As the fighting escalated, a human, who Kek was very happy to see, appeared from his tent. His master, Hendrik. "Look!" The older man shouted with joy. " I told you my kobold would never run off like that."
Rufus looked up and scowled. "Grab that mangy creature!" he shouted to some of the nearby mercenaries, who did as told.
There was no sense in trying to struggle or get away. This was all Kek's own doing, after all. He couldn't take the risk to grab his own freedom, so as they placed him on a leash made of chain with a metal clasp that fit around his neck to prevent him from slipping free, he didn’t struggle. One of those men had been out with the hunting party when they were attacked by the wasps. Kek had saved his life, yet this was how he thanked him?
They brought Kek in front of Rufus. A crowd started to gather around them, laughing at Kek.
"Why did you choose to run away instead of coming straight back to camp?" asked the leader, his black pupils large in his eyeballs, making it hard to tell what he was thinking. He had long hair, which he tied back and braided behind him. It was well known that he secreted long pins made of metal and hid them in his hair so that he could always stab someone when needed.
"Kobold, I understand that you were the one who drew the giant wasps to my hunting party. Is this true?"
Kek thought to lie for a moment, but he realized no one would believe him. "Yes," was all he said. He looked down at the ground in shame, but also in fear.
"Kill the fucking mongrel!" said Prate with a hint of a smirk on his lips. The horrible man was enjoying this more than anyone else, it seemed.
Kek looked over to his owner, waiting for the old druid to help.
"You will do no such thing," interjected Hendrik. He carefully made it obvious that he was speaking to Prate, not Rufus, in such a rude way. The old druid was an indentured servant to the mercenaries, but he still had quite a bit of sway in the camp and was almost respected by the men. It could have been fear, as lowbrow fighters often showed experienced magic users. “I need my helper if I’m to keep you in potions and herbs,” he said to Rufus.
After a painfully drawn-out pause, Rufus exhaled and put his hands up in the air. "You know, that is exactly what we should do with him. However, I do recognize how helpful he is as your little apprentice. Fine. No one is to harm the blue dog-man or they'll have to answer to me. Unless anyone else knows how to mix potions and remedies as well as our experienced druid friend here?"
Nobody responded. Kek thought it was because nobody could do more than mix themselves a stiff drink.
"All right then." Giving Hendrik a deathly stare, Rufus added, "But if that filthy dog messes up one more time, I am holding you personally responsible, and you can join him in whatever punishment I decide to dish out. Got that, old man?" The words dripped with venom.
Kek almost jumped for joy, but he was well trained in keeping his emotions in check around the mercenaries. And he didn't want to give any of them any reason to hold a grudge, especially Prate, who was already seething without restraint.
"What? You’re going to let him go after he got half my party killed? And clearly tried to escape! There is no other explanation for why he would wander off like that. He probably didn't even mean to come back here but was too stupid to realize it." Prate's bald head was still damp with perspiration, and it dully reflected the light that filtered through the jungle canopy above.
"I'll hear no more of it. I don’t believe that the kobold caused your party to be attacked. You’re trying to deflect the shame of your own failure, Prate.” Turning to Hendrik, Rufus said, “You will keep him on a leash from now on. Do you understand?"
Hendrik only nodded and moved his mouth with uncertainty, as though he was trying to figure out a response that wouldn't enrage the often-violent leader. Rufus said no more as he walked back toward his large tent near the center of the encampment.
4
They went to the druid’s tent, which was almost as solidly made as Rufus’s. While the average member of the camp made do with little more than a lean-to, those with a bit more authority had tents with proper wooden structures, made from materials that actually did a decent job of keeping out the elements. Hendrik’s was almost like a small hut inside, and he even had shoddily build furniture; mostly storage for his precious potion reagents and equipment.
Kek always felt humiliated when he had to wear that thing, but coming back to the little home he shared with his master was always a relief. He felt safer there, and at least there would be no further punishment for the whole wasp and running away incident. The leash never lasted long once they were somewhere private, either.
"I'm sorry you had to wear this thing. But I'm certainly not going to make you keep wearing it now."
Putting his hands over the metal ring that attached the chain to his neck, Kek said, "I don't want to get you in trouble, Master."
Hendrik waved his hand to dismiss the remark and removed the cumbersome restraint from the kobold’s neck. "Nonsense. I am in charge, and I'm willing to take responsibility for my actions. I would hope that you should do the same one day." Coming closer to take off the leash gave the human good look at Kek. "Dear me, you're injured. Were you attacked by one of the giant wasps? I'll need to tend to this before we can get back to work."
Hendrik took a square, white cloth from the pocket of his robe and brought a small bottle down from one of his many shelves of endless containers. Dabbing some of the liquid on the cloth, he crouched down and began to clean the kobold’s wounds. "Why, in all the world, were you running through the jungle if the wasps didn't try to get you? I am starting to think there’s a lot more to what happened out there than I've been told. Was Prate causing trouble again?"
"No," replied Kek quietly. “But look …” He reached into the pocket of his pants and produced the Liathon leaves.
"I was picking these. No one saw them." Hendrik’s face didn’t move, and Kek was worried he had done something wrong, but the minute his master's face changed, Kek knew he had done just the right thing.
"Those are? I mean, they're… There's no way you could have found those so close to the camp. How far were you?"
"So, you're happy with what I did?" Kek was still waiting to be reprimanded or perhaps even reported to the other humans. He knew Hendrik would never really do that, but humans had a funny way of sticking together when the chips were down.
Hendrik reached out his hands like he was going to cup them to collect the only stream of water in a great desert. He moved slowly and with such great care that his hands began to visibly tremble. The old man's eyes began to shine from the moisture that was beginning to coat them. "I can't believe my eyes. And of course, I’m happy. Do you know what this means, my friend?" He took the leaves and moved them to his workstation. It was a sturdy, but simple desk made of wood. Some of the mercenaries had put it together when they first made camp in this part of the jungle. It wobbled slightly when Hendrik and Kek used it to mix ingredients or grind things in the mortar and pestle.
Kek followed to stand beside his master, on right-hand side. "Are you going to make it now?"
"I don't see any reason to wait. The more time we leave, the greater chance someone will discover our ruse And I don't think either of us would fare well being put on trial again, especially after what Rufus just said to us."
While the old druid began to carefully pick apart the leaves, removing the bits that were not needed for the potion, Kek watched with wide eyes.
It was no secret that Hendrik did not want to be a part of the mercenary group. The old man had only given himself as an indentured servant—which amounted to little more than being a slave— to save his home village. When the war had made its way west and began moving southward on the continent, many smaller cities and villages had been completely wiped out in the conflict, if not put under martial law by militias. The ruling council of Hendrik’s home town had been able to find mercenaries to protect them from one of these militia groups, but they did not have the money to pay. Hendrik, having a useful skill, offered to work for them in place of payment in gold.
Now that the war was over and King Plathure was on the throne, the mercenary group was on the run for fighting in the name of the losing side. It wasn’t that they supported the losing side, they just fought for anybody who would pay them. King Plathure hated Rufus and considered him a traitor and coward. During the war, Rufus and his men had fought for whichever group had the means to pay. In the eyes of many, mercenaries were scum. This made it easy for the new ruler to target them as scapegoats and order them to be tracked down and wiped out with no trials to take place.
Now that the mercenaries were forced to hide in borderline unlivable places like the outer jungle, it was finally safe for Hendrik to go home. All that was left to do was find a way to escape, which was no small task.
And Kek was part of this escape plan "I lie at night, and I can't sleep, and just think about how wonderful it can be to live in a town with nice people who aren't interested in killing me or killing others," he said quietly without realizing he'd spoken.
Hendrik shushed him and held a finger up to emphasize the sound. "We must keep talk about plan quiet, especially now that we are so close. Once the potion is made and I have the power to see and game the mechanics of reality, you will have no reason to fear anyone, my little friend."
The way the druid worked was almost like magic itself. His hands moved swiftly, as though they were on rails with cogs turning and guiding them. He barely even looked down at what he was doing, always focused on the next step of the process, the next two or three steps ahead. It was almost certain that Hendrik would be able to create powerful potions even if he went blind, lost a hand, or both. Soon, his sleight of hand display came to an end and he was holding a glass vile in front of him.
"Here it is," he said to Kek. "Now, I need you to heat this to precisely five degrees below boiling point and no more, but no less. You've used the burner before, go on.
Kek's heart began to thunder as though some kind of explosion just happened behind him. "What? No. This is too important. Please don't make me." His confidence in his skills as an alchemy assistant were even lower than his self-confidence in every other aspect of life. "You must do it, Master."
"Nonsense. We are in this together, and I am a superb teacher. There are many times in life when we must be able to rely on our own skills and expertise."
Shaking his head, Kek replied glumly, "I don't have skills. I don’t have expertise in anything." Kek waited and waited. But his master simply held the flask out toward him and waited with half a smirk on his face, as though this was all some big joke. That was another thing the kobold didn't understand about humans. They seemed to find delight where there was none to be found.
He took the flask and moved over to the burner. After lighting it with success, he was feeling a little more confident. He hadn't even knocked anything over this time. And when he had first been learning, he'd set his own arm on fire using the striking plate and flint.
He poured the potion into the beaker. Next, he placed the special beaker on top of a stand and slid it over the bright flame. He carefully adjusted the burner so that it was giving off just enough heat. Next, he took the thermometer and placed it in the potion and waited for it to hit the right mark.
Hendrik started busying himself. Perhaps he was preparing for them to leave. This was becoming real, and Kek let himself believe he might be free soon. Lost in his daydreaming, he lost track of what temperature he was meant to heat the potion to. "Oh, wait, no!" He quickly grabbed the beaker with his bare hand and yanked it away from the flame. Had he gone over the mark and overheated it? That would be an unmitigated disaster. Perhaps nearly as bad, the pad of his hand seared with pain. He was such a stupid kobold! Likely, he was so slow to react to the pain that he had enough time to place the beaker down before throwing his hands in the air and jumping up and down with stifled yelps of agony.
"What's wrong. What happened?" Hendrik came over with a concerned look on his face and immediately grabbed Kek's hand to inspect the damage. "Are you all right?" His first concern had been for his assistant instead of the potion.
More than he ever had, Kek realized that this old man truly valued him as a person, and not just as a slave. They were family. After quickly spreading some ointment on the kobold’s burned hand, Hendrik was eager to see if the potion had been damaged by the heat.
"This looks just fine, my young friend. In fact, I don't think I could have done a more perfect job myself. I'll just pretend there were no mishaps and that you did this on purpose." He held the liquid up to his lips with an almost mindless motion. Then, he stopped himself, and his mouth hung open as though robbed of words. "I, are… Well, I think you already know how risky testing out new potions can be. I don't like drawn out goodbyes, but—"
"Goodbyes? What are you talking about, Master? This isn't a new potion, so we’re not actually testing it, are we? You've made this before."
"If I'd made this before, I certainly wouldn't be here right now. I would already have its power. I can almost sense it in this unassuming liquid. Can you, my young friend? It's waiting for me to absorb it. I can't wait any longer. Even if the potion works, I will need to sleep for at least several hours, maybe an entire day or more. There's a good chance my heart will stop beating, but don't fret. That is perfectly normal, but I suppose the downside is that you won't know the difference."
"How am I supposed to know if you are dead or not?" Kek's heart had gone icy cold and dropped about fifty feet straight down.
"If I don't wake up by midday tomorrow, you must carry out our emergency plan. I trust you remember.” Hendrik moved to the potion near his lips as though he was unable to stop himself.
"Yes, I remember. I must escape alone and head north until I reach your village. Then, I
am to give them the secret message I have memorized, and I am not to utter it out loud until then. What if they kill me on site because I am a kobold? And how will I make it that far?”
Hendrik shook his hand and waved away the questions as though they were completely insignificant. "I have complete faith in you, my friend. But remember that you're not only to do this to save yourself, but so that my family knows just what happened to me and can tell our new ruler where his old enemy Rufus is hiding. My wife and eldest son will know you speak the truth when they hear the message, and they will know that only I could have told it to you. Trust me on that. They will take care of you."
"I could just stay here and say you passed away in your sleep," replied Kek pathetically.
Hendrik laughed. "Do you really believe they would give you the benefit of the doubt? Please don't let those mercenaries get their hands on you."
The whole conversation was making Kek sad, and he just wanted to get on with testing out the potion. "Okay," he said. "Okay."
Seeing the sadness in his furry friend's face, Hendrik took a deep breath, nodded his head, and gulped down the oddly green liquid. His eyes shot open, and he began to shiver until it seemed like he would start to vibrate the dirt beneath them with his movements.
5
Kek took his master by the arm and led him over to the bed, where he had great difficulty getting him to lie on it. The old man's joints had gone stiff, and just making him sit was enough of a chore. Finally, the kobold had managed to bend his knees enough so that he could lower him down without just pushing him onto the bed.
"The whole thing is right here. I have never seen so much." Hendrik said the words as though he was a ghost, completely alone in the tent—alone in the world. It was almost like someone else speaking through the druid, he sounded so very different. "Let the universe flow through you, but do not be gamed. You are the one to take the dice."
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