LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  “Are you done?” growled Khavi.

  I rubbed my snout with my claw, raising my head. “No.”

  Khavi gave a disgusted groan. “You’re six years old. You’re an adult, and more importantly, you’re a kobold. Stop acting like No-Kill, crying and thinking that’ll change anything. They’re dead. So are the eggs, both of them, probably. Mewing like a wyrmling won’t bring back the dead.”

  Did he have no empathy at all? To so coldly dismiss the two females he had mated with and the eggs he had produced rankled me. “That doesn’t mean I can’t mourn.”

  “Weeping is pointless. Vengeance accomplishes something.” He spoke through teeth pressed together. “We should throw away the map, find another gnome, or something else, and force them to tell us how to get to the surface. Cut off their arms, burn the stumps, weaken them through blood loss. Keep them alive as long as possible until they tell us.”

  “What makes you think whoever we dismember won’t just lie to get vengeance against us?”

  Khavi didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Who cares,” he said. “It won’t matter. We'll find another.”

  “And even if we find Pewdt again, what will we do? He’s stronger than you. A better fighter.”

  His snout snapped around to me, baring his teeth. “Nobody’s a better fighter than me, especially not some juggling, half witted, sing-song-y fey.”

  “He is,” I said. “It’s just a fact. He’s better than me too.”

  “That’s glowbug shit.”

  I didn’t have the energy to argue. “Fine, if we catch him, prove it.” I curled back up again.

  “I still think we shouldn’t trust the map.”

  “I don’t care what you think,” I snapped.

  “Let me read it then,” said Khavi. “Maybe I can find something for us to kill.”

  I fumbled for the pouch with the map, unbuckled it, and threw it across the chamber to Khavi, then clapped my hands over my earholes. “Here! Study it well, don’t tear it, and wake me when it’s my shift.”

  I thought the anger would keep me awake, but I fell asleep almost immediately.

  I was awakened by the smell of smoke. For a moment I was stuck in the strange limbo between the dreaming world and the real one, once again reliving my fiery rebirth in the furnaces of Atikala, but then my mind settled firmly back in Drathari, and I opened my eyes.

  Smoke filled our camp, stinging my eyes. A bright flame, tall and golden, burned nearby. I leapt to my feet, reaching for the rapier at my belt, but my scabbard was empty. It must have fallen out while I slept. I didn’t have time to find it, and instead thrust my hands out in front of me, ready to face whatever threatened us.

  Khavi moved out from the shadows, the golden light bathing his scales in a bright, lurid glow. He had my rapier in his claw.

  “It’s done.”

  My sleep-addled mind was unable to comprehend what I was seeing. “What is? Is it my shift?”

  The fire began to die out. He pointed down at it with my rapier, the edge close to the flames. “The map. I burned it. We’re safe now. No more monsters, no more surprises.”

  As the flames died out completely, I saw the charred remains of the strip of parchment, the very last edge of it consumed by a red line that wormed its way down to the corner, rendering it all to ash.

  The map was our guide to the surface and Ssarsdale beyond. Tyermumtican had given it to me, a gift, and now it was a smouldering pile of worthless nothing. I looked back to Khavi. “I wanted you to keep the map safe. You knew that. I ordered you to keep it safe!”

  He gave a mocking sneer. “Technically, you only told me not to tear it.”

  “You knew what I meant!” My tail twitched. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I’m done following your orders.” Khavi stepped forward, deliberately stepping on the rectangular pile of ash that was our map, twisting and grinding his foot until it was unrecognisable. “You’re addled in the brain. Weak minded. Whatever power the elders used to hold your true nature in check died with them. You’re reverting to your true nature, goldling.”

  He spat the word with such hate, such venom and fire that I had never heard from him before. This was more than the playful teasing he’d given me in the past; this was anger—it was the rage that he used in battle turned into words.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I’m following the best course of—”

  “It’s always words, words, words with you, isn’t it?” Khavi’s grip on my rapier tightened ever so slightly. He shifted his posture as he balanced himself on his toes, falling into a battle stance. “We find some gnomes—our enemies—and it’s words. We find a blind gnome alone in some tunnels, and your first instinct is to use words. We meet a dragon—a copper dragon—and once again, you try to talk to it. You say that it’s strategy, that it’s combat without fighting, but every single time we meet evil you just talk to it. You walked away from the dragon, and you did worse than let evil beat you. You befriended it.”

  “They’re not evil,” I said the words before I knew what I was doing. I thought of No-Kill, and how kindhearted she seemed. Of Tyermumtican and how he had helped me despite what I was. “It’s us. It’s us that are evil.”

  Khavi spat at me, a glob of his saliva splattering onto the jerkin covering my chain shirt. “You slander your own people. You’re not one of us, goldling. You’re one of them. You’re a gnome in kobold’s scales, a traitor to everything we are.”

  My claws trembled, and I fought to control myself. “This is because I wouldn’t breed with you, isn’t it? Because I want love?”

  “Love?” Khavi practically hissed as he said it. “That dribble Laughless blathered on about?”

  “Yes,” I said. “That. I want to have love before I breed. I want to be mare-reed, to be possessed by a ghost or devil, whatever the ritual requires. I want to set my friends on fire, to split my soul into two bodies and have two hearts beating at the same time. Laughless said that’s more powerful than any magic.”

  Khavi stared at me blankly for a moment. “You are completely insane!”

  He was the crazy one, not me. He was the violence prone, unthinking, map-destroying idiot who cut our only lifeline to safety and vengeance because of a petty feud. “I am not. Tyermumtican said—”

  “Laughless is a copper dragon! They’re monsters!”

  “He’s wise, and—”

  “He’s evil!” Khavi’s nose wrinkled, and he gave me a disgusted leer. “Actually I’ve changed my mind about you. I don’t fuck gnomes.”

  There was no greater insult. I snarled at him, baring my teeth. “You don’t mean that. I’m Ren. Your patrol leader. I’ve known you for your entire life.”

  “I mean it.” He snarled right back, his forked tongue flicking at me. “I don’t care how enticing your scent becomes, the lashes from a thousand orcs couldn’t convince me to lay my seed in your rotten belly. I’d rather watch our entire bloodline become extinct. You’re filthy. Mud and shit. You’re nothing to me but the next enemy I’ll drive my weapon through, the next heart I tear open. Your body is a gut locker for me to open and spill.”

  “Killing me with my own weapon,” I spat. “How thoughtful.”

  “It’s not yours. It was never yours. Neither is it mine. It’s ours. It belongs to us.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “How could you fail to understand this basic tenant of our society? How could you forsake everything you are?”

  He’d been holding in these words for days, weeks. Ever since we’d left the city, even before. His discipline was great, as was his ability to suppress his own personality in favour of following orders and obeying his masters, but these thoughts, these doubts, had been eating at him.

  I had words eating at me too.

  “I’m Ren of Atikala,” I said, “and I forge my own destiny.”

  The quote from Tyermumtican pushed him over the edge. Khavi’s eyes widened, red and wild, and he slashed at me with the rapier.
Not the best move for a warrior inexperienced with that kind of blade; rapiers were designed to stab. I hopped back, easily dodging the clumsy strike.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, but Khavi just screamed at me in response, swinging his arm, the blade swinging through the air.

  I dodged, I weaved, and I ducked. I skipped back across the stone, waiting for his rage to play itself out, but Khavi’s anger seemed limitless. He pressed further and further, swinging the rapier like one of his two-handed blades. It was an ineffective style, and I avoided his strikes easily.

  At least initially. Soon Khavi’s strokes became more measured, faster. He was becoming used to the weight, the swing of the weapon. It was lighter and faster than his old blade, and the spear, too. It was something I’d known for a long time. Flesh was tender, and the blade was razor sharp. Long, heavy swings were not required. Now his attacks came in shorter, sharper jabs. I gave more ground, but the tunnel behind me narrowed, and the stone underneath my feet grew treacherous. I slipped my shield over my arm.

  That action cost me. One of his slashes drew a line on my arm. Another thumped into my chest, deflected by my armour. Khavi was too good to be beaten by chainmail. I couldn’t hold out forever.

  I had to fight, or I would die.

  I drew the Feyeater and prepared to kill my friend.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  STEEL ON STEEL. PARRY. BLOCK. Thrust. Dodge.

  Khavi and I had been fighting side by side most of our lives. I could read him and he could read me. We were not master swordsmen, nor were we strong or graceful or empowered by magic, but we knew each other more intimately then anyone could. I’d been to his lessons, sparred against him time and time again; I knew his tricks.

  I readied the Feyeater to block a thrust Khavi didn’t even know he was going to make. I retaliated, a stab right at his throat, but he was guarding before the dagger began to move. I used my shield to block my side, knowing he would strike there. I didn’t even have to hear the clank of steel on steel to know I was successful.

  I stepped into his space, leaning in with my shoulder, aiming my shield at his chest. He stepped out of the way, stabbing at my exposed flank. The Feyeater was there, parrying the blow.

  We stood off, panting softly in the thin air. Khavi stared me down, my rapier in his hands, readied against me.

  “Are you going to burn me?” he said. “I’ve always wondered what your fire feels like.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” I said.

  “Why wouldn’t you? Why would you hold back? Don’t you know that I’m going to kill you if I win?”

  “That’s the difference between me and you,” I said. “I don’t want to kill you.”

  His lips curled back, revealing the row of his sharp, draconic teeth. “Then you’re as foolish AS YOU LOOK!”

  Khavi’s deep voice boomed as he leapt forward. Rapier met shield with a loud clang, denting the round disk of my buckler. It almost penetrated, the force numbing my arm. I jabbed with the Feyeater, slicing open Khavi’s jerkin but failing to penetrate his thick scales.

  “I don’t want to hurt you!” I shouted, trying to get through to the kobold beneath the rage. “I’m not your enemy!”

  His reply was a mindless shriek. I jabbed forward again but overbalanced; my thrust went low, and he stepped out of the way. Instinctively I brought my buckler in close to my chest, a move that paid off as the rapier thunked into it once more. If I hadn’t positioned it just so, I would have been skewered.

  He dropped the rapier, leaping forwards, claws outstretched for my throat. With my weapon low and my shield tucked into my body, I had no way of keeping him back. I dipped my head down, tucking my chin against my chest to protect my vital airway, closing my eyes to stop myself from being blinded.

  Khavi crashed into me, knocking me over onto my back. The Feyeater skipped across the stone, well out of my grasp, and anger took over. We fell at each other in a screaming, biting, clawing frenzy, rolling around on the ground, our tails entangling and our teeth chomping at whatever exposed scales we could find. The bandage on my forearm tore off, the gold-splattered cloth sticking to the ground as we thrashed around on the stone.

  Khavi’s great strength won out, though. He rolled on top of me, his snout an inch away from mine, baring his teeth. I snarled back at him, kicking and jerking underneath him, but couldn’t get free.

  “Damn you, Khavi. Damn you!”

  “You’re in trouble,” he hissed in my face, gripping my arms and keeping them pinned. “I could kill you right now.”

  “Could you?” I snarled right back at him. “Kill me just like No-Kill, kneeling and pleading for death?” It wasn’t wise to taunt him, but I was angry. “You barely had the courage to kill a gnome, let alone me.”

  “Liar!”

  “You hesitated right before you did it. I saw it. You didn’t want to kill her either.”

  “I did not hesitate.”

  “You did.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too!”

  “Did not!”

  I burst out laughing. The absurdity of the situation was just too much for me. Then Khavi started laughing too. That made me laugh more. Soon we were both helpless on the floor, our fight forgotten and our anger evaporated.

  “Fine, fine,” I said between bouts of gasping for breath, “you didn’t hesitate.”

  “Maybe I did,” replied Khavi, his chest heaving for air, “just a little.”

  “Just a little.”

  “But not too much,” I said. “Just the right amount.”

  “Just the right amount.”

  I used my tail to push back onto my feet. Weak from laughter, I could hardly breathe, but I still helped Khavi stand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said between gasps for breath. “I didn’t mean what I said. You’re not a gnome.”

  I couldn’t help but not feel angry anymore. “Don’t worry about it. This trip has been quite taxing on both of us.”

  “And I’m sorry about burning the map.” Khavi extended his arms and I hugged him, squeezing him gently.

  We stood there for a time, then I let Khavi go and patted him on the snout. “We’ll find a way there. It’s close anyway.”

  “What about the gnome?”

  Pewdt would be a long way ahead of us by now, although we didn't know. He might have even been close enough to hear the laughter and the fighting.

  “What you said before was right—tears can’t bring back the dead, but he has a live egg. One of us. We owe it to Faala and Jedra to get that egg back, we owe it to Atikala.” I closed my eyes, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “But we can’t do it today. Pewdt is fleeing to familiar terrain, to allies perhaps. We need allies too if we’re to track him down. We need to get to Ssarsdale.”

  Khavi mulled it over. “I agree. If Pewdt was going to kill the egg, he would have done it already. Revenge can come later. It’s best left to simmer for a while anyway, like a good stew.”

  “Like a good stew,” I said.

  At my insistence we buried Jedra, Faala, and the remains of the egg. Khavi didn’t understand why, and I tried to explain it, but I don’t think I got through to him. Fortunately, though, he seemed to be in a good mood.

  He helped dig the graves, said some words, and then we left. Our path was clear, upwards and ever upwards. We climbed where we could, backtracking occasionally when the limestone passages turned around and began to descend again, but after a time we ran into a significant stumbling block.

  The blue crystals that had lit our passage the entire way began to disappear.

  Fresh air came from the darkness. Khavi could smell it too. There was no way around, or at least, no way we could determine without a map.

  So we stood at the threshold of the gloom, straining to see, but there was nothing but inky blackness ahead.

  It was the Veil of Atikala all over again. A visual but incorporeal barrier that halted our progress, but teased us with the victory ahead. All w
e had to do was walk through it, and we would be closer to the surface than we ever realistically thought possible. We were within half a mile.

  Half a mile on level ground was an easy jaunt. Somewhat more difficult travelling upward, but achievable. We had come this far.

  Half a mile in the dark? Terrifying.

  The scent of clear air wafting in from the darkness mocked our cowardice.

  “Can’t you magic us up some light?” moaned Khavi.

  “I could,” I said. That had been my very first spell…light, a common magic. Yellow was my colour, naturally, as was most of my magic when it manifested.

  “So do it already.”

  I flexed my left hand, my spellcasting hand, at my side, keeping my shield close to my body. “Tzala warned me against it. Spellcasting is loud, and the light is hard to extinguish if we need to hide.”

  “Harder than glowbug juice?”

  “About the same. But it won’t burn us.”

  “So it’s better then.” Khavi ground his teeth. “Just use your magic already, if someone hears you, I’ll deal with it.”

  It was a good suggestion. I inhaled, focusing my concentration, arranging my hands into the arcane symbols required to evoke the spell, then spoke the draconic words of power that would banish the darkness.

  Light!

  A ball of yellow light appeared at the very end of my claw. I held it aloft, the fiery light illuminating the passage ahead, which sloped upwards.

  “I didn’t realise Khavi, the proud kobold warrior, slayer of gnomes and bringer of dragon indigestion, was afraid of the dark.”

  He shot me an angry glare. “I am not afraid of the dark.”

  Our recent quarrel was still fresh in my memory, so I let the subject drop. I stepped forward into the tunnel, Khavi right beside me.

  Despite my magic illuminating the way, I was distinctly ill at ease with our passage. Atikala had always been lit by the light of a million glowbugs and the passages above it by the strange blue crystals, but this darkness seemed complete and unyielding. The surface world was shutting us out, preventing those entombed below from travelling to witness its beauties and its horrors.