by Colt, K. J.
A human woman shrieked. She had a bundle of garments in her arms and was in the process of adding them to the string.
“Kill it quickly!” shouted Khavi.
“No!” I yanked the goat’s hair around, pulling his head back to the south. “We’re not killing any more humans!”
“Bah!”
The woman pulled out a knife as long as my rapier. She slashed at Khavi inexpertly.
I kicked the goat’s side, and he began to move before Khavi could counterattack. Shouts came from the gap between houses, and one more crossbow quarrel shot out. I didn’t see where it landed.
The goat ran and ran. Soon we passed the outskirts of the village, Khavi holding onto my waist as I guided the goat as best I could. We passed a number of trees, heading south and away from the village, and it was only then that I started to feel safe. Our goat was fast. It had carried us way faster than we could manage ourselves.
I stopped the goat and went to hop off, but I stopped. With the air no longer blowing in my hair I could smell blood.
“Khavi?”
I twisted around to look at him. He was still holding tight to me, but I could see his face was scrunched up in pain. A crossbow quarrel was stuck into his back.
“Shit of the dead Gods!”
I tried to hop off the goat but fell. The mold, the thing Melicandra had called grass, cushioned my fall. I scrambled up to my feet, darting behind the goat to see better.
The quarrel had punctured through the humanskin leather, through his scales and into his flesh. I touched the shaft gingerly. It was firmly lodged in.
“Dammit, Khavi.”
“Sorry,” he said between his teeth.
“It’s nobody’s fault. If you weren’t sitting there it would have hit me instead.” I grimaced. “No idea how we’re going to get that thing out.”
“Is it—nng—deep enough to push through?”
I shook my head. “Can’t say. I’m not familiar with these bolts. It looks like your armour took most of the impact though. It’s in maybe an inch?”
“So pull it out then.”
“I can try and cut around it, see if that will help. It will hurt though.”
“Pain is good,” he said with a sarcastic grin. “It reminds you you’re still alive.”
I helped Khavi off the goat, which began eating the grass underneath it. “I thought you said that saying was stupid.”
“Maybe I’m getting used to it.”
“Okay,” I said, “lay down on your chest. I’ll do my best to make this as easy as possible, but it’s going to hurt.”
“I know.” Khavi slowly eased himself down onto his chest. Every movement clearly caused him pain.
I did not know how to best treat this kind of wound. I reached out for the shaft of the arrow. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he said, gripping the grass. “No. Wait.”
“What?”
“Can you gag me? We don’t know if they’re after us.”
I didn’t know if that was his real reason, but we didn’t have anything. I wandered over to one of the trees, where the goat was nibbling on the tree-skin. A piece of the tree had fallen down on the ground. I snapped a suitable length off, testing its strength. It would do.
“Here,” I said, holding it out in front of his snout, “bite down on this.”
He did so, gripping the grass tightly with his claws. I took hold of the shaft of the quarrel and gave it a sharp tug.
Khavi yelped in pain, the sound muffled by the tree limb in his maw. I pulled again and again, each time eliciting a cry of agony from him, his body jerking involuntarily.
“I’m sorry,” I said, over and over. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
I rocked the shaft back and forth, digging and tearing. Finally it came free in a bloody spray. The bolt was tipped with wicked barbs. I tossed the evil thing away.
Khavi wept, mumbling incomprehensible things between muffled groans. He’d almost bitten completely through the tree limb but we weren’t done yet.
I unclipped the straps of his armour, removing the blood-soaked leather jerkin. I removed the padding underneath too, laying it all to the side. Then I drew the Feyeater from Khavi’s belt, holding it out. I positioned my right hand before it and formed the arcane symbol I needed to cast.
Khavi cried, and I cried too, because I knew this would be the worst of the pain.
I cast again and again, each time waves of flame leapt from my clawtips and enveloped the blade. I poured more and more fire onto it until it was red hot with an inner light.
“Are you ready?”
He mumbled something in the affirmative. I pressed the weapon down against his exposed wound, steam rising from the blood it boiled.
Khavi’s sharp teeth bit through the tree limb, and he shrieked over and over again, but I kept the metal pressed to his wound until the steam didn’t come anymore.
Time passed and Khavi writhed in agony. I had no way of stopping his pain. He tore up clumps of the grass, trying his best to keep his maw shut and let only muffled grunts escape.
I’d never been wounded like that. Bumps, scrapes, bruises—some light sword wounds. Even the cuts from Pewdt’s dagger had healed, more or less, with fresh scales growing.
No scales would grow over Khavi’s wound, though. It was far too deep and wide for that, the edges of his flesh torn and ripped, then seared with a burn. He would carry the scar for the rest of his life.
“How is it now?”
“Agonising.”
I rubbed the back of his head. “I’m really, really sorry.”
“You did what you had to do. You saved my life. I would have done the same to you.”
“You were only shot because I was captured. You saved me first.”
“It was my—nng—duty.”
The words stung. “Was that all it was?”
“My duty, and…other things.”
“Other things.” I looked at his wound, as I had constantly since I had sealed it. “It looks better. It’s not bleeding as much anymore. Do you want more water?”
“If you feed me any more water, I might burst.”
“You do need to keep your fluids up. That’s important when you’re losing blood.”
“I remember the lessons,” he said. “Can I look at it now?”
“It’s probably best not to see.”
He arched his back, and his body tensed. Another wave of pain. I held his head, and it soon settled.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Just try to pass the time.”
“Right. I’m trying.” His tail thumped against the ground. “It hurts like the hells. Burning, deep, you know? Like having your scales pulled off one by one.”
“That’s understandable.” I had to tell the truth. “The wound is deeper than I thought. I should have pushed it through.”
“Will I die?”
I scrunched up my face. “I wish I could say definitely not, and it’s unlikely, but…” I tried to lie, but the truth stumbled out. “Maybe.”
He seemed to accept that, his tail coming to a rest. “If I do, what will you do with my body?”
“Bury it. Like we did to Faala and Jedra. To Oreala.”
“On the surface?”
I smiled, reaching up to wipe away a tear. “Hey, what’s wrong with the surface?”
“I don’t like it here. I’d rather be buried underground.”
“Let’s pull that tail when we come to it, shall we? You’re not dead yet.”
“I know.” He grunted in pain, tearing up more of the grass. “I’m not going to let some human get the better of me.”
I gave him a pat on the back of his head. “That’s the spirit.” I tried to think of more things to distract him from the pain and thoughts of death. “What should we call the goat? It seems to like us.”
His answer for a time was laboured breathing. “It needs a name?”
“I think
it should have one. It saved our hides from the humans.”
“It’s just an animal.”
“I know, but it’s pretty smart. Cute, in a really strange way.”
“It likes eating.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe that’s a good enough name for it then. Let’s call it Hungry.”
“I don’t see why we don’t just call it Goat.”
“Would you like just being called Kobold?”
“Your name means nothing. I wouldn’t point claws at simplistic names.”
I found it hard to argue with that point. “Granted, but I didn’t get to choose my name.”
He didn’t answer. “You okay?” I asked.
“I’m probably going to die.”
I shook my head. “No, you won’t. You’re being a hatchling. It’s sealed, you’ll be fine.”
“If it gets infected, I’ll die.”
“It won’t.”
“It probably will.”
“It won’t. I won’t let it. I’ll take care of you.”
Khavi looked up at me. His eyes were full of pain, and he was starting to sink back into the kobold he had been after killing No-Kill. He was starting to give up.
That had been fine while his body was whole, but with such a wicked wound, I couldn’t let him get that low again.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said, doing the only thing I could think of before my rational mind kicked in and stopped me, “if you make it through this, if we get to Ssarsdale and they’ll permit it, I’ll mate with you next time my season comes around.”
He snorted and clearly didn’t believe me, although it could have been the pain.
“I promise,” I said.
“You promise?”
“I do. If you pull through with this, you can mate with me. Once.”
“Just once?”
It hurt me to say even that, but I nodded. “Once. At a time of your choosing. Just once, ever.”
He rested his chin back down on the grass. “I guess I should live then.” He ground his teeth. “Damn this place. I want to rest, but it’s so bright that I can’t close my eyes.”
“Try anyway,” I said, rubbing his side until he was asleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
KHAVI’S DREAMS WERE DISTURBED BY fever and pain. I stood guard over him, watching anxiously, waiting for his whimpering and writhing to end and for true rest to come to him.
Hours later though, before that happened, the ceiling of the world began to cry.
The sky grew darker, and little drops of water fell down everywhere, splattering onto the ground, my head, and Khavi’s back. In the distance I heard the rumbling of a giant beast; had Tyermumtican come to the surface to save us?
One of the drops hit my lips. It wasn’t salt water; it was fresh. Drinkable. I opened my mouth, letting the water splatter in.
I sat like that, my head tilted back, watching the sky cry. The sight evoked a strange feeling. Calm. Peace. Happiness. I wanted to spend more time here on the surface, no matter how much my instincts begged me to return to the underworld. The sight reminded me of No-Kill. Did everything non-kobold cry all the time?
Then it got worse as the falling water intensified. The relaxed, happy feeling slowly evaporated, and I closed my jaw. I knew we should find shelter, but I couldn’t leave Khavi and didn’t want to move him, so I remained by his side as the sky cried down on us. Our gear became waterlogged. The rumbling noise got closer, but I didn’t leave him.
A flash of electricity slammed into one of the trees near our camp. It exploded with a deafening crack, and the tree-skin burst from within. I shrieked, and threw myself on the ground; I knew enough about true dragons to recognise their breath.
The tree toppled, taking with it several of its neighbours. More flashes all around me, more of the deafening roars that followed the flashes, all bright and powerful. The water from the sky came faster and heavier, the wind blowing it sideways, battering my scales. We had angered some terrible dragon. I cried out for mercy, to be eaten and consumed quickly, all to no avail.
The beast moved on, the water from the sky dying down and the bolts of electricity moving away from us. I dared to raise my head from underneath my hands.
Hungry the goat was dead, his coat scorched and burnt. He had been standing underneath one of the trees and the energy had leapt to him.
I did not know what to do. We were a long way away from the passage down into Drathari, and I had no knowledge of where to go, save for a single landmark far in the distance. As the storm retreated, Khavi’s fever became worse. He would shout and groan incomprehensible words. He needed help, but I had no idea how to get to Ssarsdale. His burning of the map would likely kill him.
It didn’t matter. I had to try. But our supplies were running low, and all I had eaten in the last day was the hay from the barn. I felt malnourished. I knew now why Melicandra had told me that hay was for beasts only, it could not feed a talking creature.
So I ate Hungry. I ate as much of his scorched body as I could, slicing off his meat with the Feyeater, then putting it in my mouth before I could properly think about what I was doing. I ate until my belly could hold no more. I would need the energy.
Hungry saved us twice. Once with his legs, and once with his meat. The first time I had thanked him by giving him a name, but this time I had no material way of thanking him. I did that with my tears.
I couldn’t bury Hungry's remains. I couldn’t spare the energy or the time. Instead I covered what was left of his body with grass and fallen tree-limbs. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
As prepared as I could be, I gathered our equipment, then with a pained groan I picked Khavi up, carrying him over my shoulders. I staggered off into the brightness, walking towards the teeth of the world that stood in silent mockery of my efforts.
It was hours. I don’t remember how long. I rarely looked up, except to make sure that I was following the right path. Instead I kept my eyes low, looking at the ground before my feet. I made a game of it. All I had to do was stagger a few more steps and everything would be okay. A few more steps. A few more after that.
My muscles burned. Khavi was too heavy. I considered dumping his armour, but we needed it. I considered dropping my haversack, but it contained our meagre supplies. There was nothing I could do except continue on, using the pain of the effort to encourage me, fighting my body’s instincts the whole time. I would not let the surface kill me.
Khavi trembled as I carried him and occasionally he would throw up, hurling bile onto my back and tail, an overpowering retched smell. The world was damp in the aftermath of the sky’s crying, pungent air that seemed to make every scent stronger. Normally the air would be full of richness, and I liked it a lot, but now instead of life and beauty, I could only smell blood, vomit, and rot.
Infection.
Eventually I could go no further. I had come closer to the distant tooth, if only a little, but my body had reached its limit. I dropped Khavi like a sack of glowbug meat and fell to the ground, gasping for breath. The cool grass enveloped me. I wiggled into it, accepting its grasp, trying to get as low as I could.
Back down into the ground. Back to the underworld.
Back home.
I wanted to go home. I wanted to leave this terrible place. I wanted to walk through Atikala’s bazaar; I wanted to sleep with my patrolmates and live a simple life.
Some part of me knew that was not true, but pain sometimes drove one to desperation. To say and do things they did not want to do, to wish for things they did not truly want.
“I want to go home!”
I thumped my fists into the ground. I kicked and screamed and thrashed around despite the burning in my muscles. “I want to go home! I want to go home right now!”
“Will you shut the hell up?”
I rolled onto my back, using my tail to push up to standing. I stared at Khavi. His eyes were open.
“Khavi!” I ran over to him, grabbing his head and crad
ling it in my lap.
“How long was I out?” His voice was weak. Quiet.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I can’t keep track of time properly up here. It’s been a long time. Half a day.”
“I taste vomit.”
“You threw up all over my back. A few times.” I didn’t care. I was just glad he was awake.
“Where are we?”
I wished I could answer. “Close to the underworld,” I said, hoping it was true. “Close to Ssarsdale.”
“Good.” He squinted, looking up at me. “It’s so bright. Do you think it’s always this way?”
I shook my head. “No. I remember that from my lessons. The Leader’s lessons. The surface has a different environment from the underworld. The ball of light we can see? It moves around; soon it will set, and a lesser light will be seen. The brightness will be softer. Tzala herself told me so.”
“How long will that take?”
I had no idea. “All we have to do is last until the lesser light comes. This glare will fade, I promise.” I searched my memories, struggling to remember what they had called it. “I think it’s called the sun. The greater light. They call the lesser light the moon.”
“Moon. What does that even mean?”
“I don’t think humans think like us. I don’t think there’s any meaning behind it. They don’t give a second meaning to their names, they just name things and don’t think about it.”
“They’re so strange.”
His voice was so quiet and weak. I touched his cheek. “Hey, maybe you shouldn’t talk anymore, okay? You’re still not well.”
“It’s okay. I won’t die. I’m not giving up the chance to mate with you.” He smiled. “We’ll make a strong egg. Strong and gold and magic.”
My stomach tightened as I remembered the deal, but I didn't feel as bad as I thought as I would. Instead, I could see the egg in my mind—smooth, gold, and powerful. Like the others, but with a yellow hue. It would be mine.
Ours.
“Good,” I said, surprised at my own sincerity. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“When I’m better,” he said.
“When you’re better.”
I searched for his wound. It was warm to the touch, sickly and green, weeping black blood, and I could smell foul rot. It leaked pus.