by R. A. Mejia
The kobold peers at me and says quietly, “It doesn’t seem like violence has made you happy.”
I think about my life here on Terra. From the first moments I arrived, I’ve been bombarded by so many things: learning to live here and use the game mechanics of this world, training with Mary in the forest, and then training with Keans, Rex, and Lillian. All the crafting I’ve done. Making a spear in the forest and using magic to create tools and items my group needed. “No, the violence hasn’t made me happy. I’ve been happiest training with my friends and making the tools we needed to survive. Sometimes, those tools were weapons, but a lot of times they weren’t.” I smile, thinking of the past. “The first thing I made was a spear. I called it my ‘horny spear.’ It was made from the horn of a horned rabbit, a branch, and strips of my shirt.” I laugh, remembering how stupid it looked. “It was so ugly. The shaft was crooked, and the balance was off because of the heavy horn, but I was so proud when I got the notification that I’d made something with my own two hands. I used it to get food and protect myself. It was a good spear.”
Token puts down his bowl of food and considers me. His reptilian head tilts to the side, and his metallic hand scratches his chin as he thinks. After all these months, I recognize that pose. He’s considering something important, and he’ll only tell me what he’s thinking when he’s ready. Maybe that’s why they call him Saint Token: because he can sit and think quietly for hours on end, ignoring the world around him.
Over the next two days, I catch the kobold watching me closely. I catch him looking at me when we’re waiting in line for our mining tools, eating a meal, and mining. It seems like, every time I turn around, he’s there studying me and thinking. That evening, Token pulls me aside, and we walk away from our usual eating spot. Meno gives me a questioning look as Token leads me away, but I can only shrug a response. I don’t know what this about either. Still, Token has proven a good companion these last few months, and if he wants to talk alone, I can accommodate him.
Once we’re away from the other prisoners, Token stops and sits on the ground. He motions for me to sit, and I find a small boulder to sit on. It’s getting dark, and since we’re away from the prisoner camp, there aren’t any torches or campfires to see by. I’m looking around for some wood to start a fire when I catch movement from where Token is and a flash of something. When I look towards him, I see that he has a small copper sphere in his hand. He’s holding it in one hand, and the other is pressing a button on the outside of it. There’s a flash of light, and I realize that the sphere has four circular holes in the top of it. Every time Token presses the button, sparks flare on the inside of the small metal orb. Token presses the button one more time, there’s a popping sound, and four flames burst from the holes. Token adjusts something on the sphere, and the flames shrink down. He puts the object on the ground between the two of us and leans in to warm his hands. The light from the yellow flames highlights the kobold’s champagne coloration and his reflective, metallic arm.
I can’t help but laugh as I look at his portable campfire. “That’s such an interesting device. Where did you get it?”
He bares his sharp teeth at me in the kobold’s version of a smile. “I’ve had it with me this whole time. It’s a device I created some time ago. It’s much faster than gathering wood and trying to start a fire, yes?”
I nod in agreement. “It is a very useful device indeed. But, I have to ask: Where have you been hiding it? Before I came here, the court confiscated everything I had in my inventory.”
Token nods and smiles. He looks around to make sure no one is near enough to see and then leans in towards me and whispers, “I have a secret space where I keep all my stuff. The guards searched me and made me empty my inventory just like you, but they didn’t know about my other inventory. Here, I’ll show you.”
His right clawed hand taps a series of runes that are engraved on his metallic left arm. The silver-like metal begins to soften and shifts until a hole the size of my fist appears in his arm. I stare in amazement. The hole opens into a space that appears much larger than his arm should allow. I instinctively look at the underside of his arm to see if the extra room is accounted for there, but, of course, it is not. I am both amazed and baffled that it seems to be bigger on the inside. Token laughs at my puzzlement and then reaches in with his right hand, all the way up to his elbow. My eyes widen at how far he can reach into the seemingly-empty hole and then pop open even further when he pulls out a four-foot staff from the space. Then something clicks, and I realize what he’s done.
“You have a bag of holding in your arm!” Seeing that the kobold doesn’t understand the phrase, I explain, “You have an extra-dimensional space that holds things that you can call for when you want them.”
Token nods at the description. “Yes, it is a special gift from my god. I use it to hold my most special items and call them to my hand at will. That you understand this shows that you are very smart, Armon. Your god has chosen well, it seems.”
“My god? I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m not really the religious type. I don’t have a god.”
“No? Then explain your red hands. It is well known among the kobolds that such markings are a sign of being chosen by a divine entity.”
“I see. Well, when I was made a member of the Red Claw Tribe, my hands were stained red.”
“Was that all that happened?”
“Well, no. I’m also bound to a kobold that has become my brood brother. I can make scales appear along my skin, and I have the ability to see in the dark.”
Token nods once. “Show me.”
I gesture to the collar around my neck. “I would, but this thing stops me from using any of my active abilities.”
Token stands up and walks over to me. He peers at my neck, and then his left arm seems to liquefy as he reaches up and grabs the collar. I instinctively pull back, but he warns, “Don’t move, or you might make it blow up.” I freeze. I certainly don’t want that.
While I can’t see what he’s doing, I can hear a series of clicks and feel the weird metal of Token’s arm spread around the collar. There’s a jolt of electricity from the collar, and my body spasms uncontrollably. I feel my muscles seize up, and I fall over. After a moment, my muscles relax, and I can sit up again.
I rub the still-stinging skin under the collar. “Oww. What was that?”
Token’s right arm has returned to its normal shape, and he answers, “Sorry. It was necessary to short out the magical enchantment in the collar. You should be able to show me how you can transform now.”
The statement takes a moment for my brain to process. “Wait, you disabled the collar?” The kobold doesn’t even bother to answer as he walks back to his artificial campfire. He just nods and waves for me to do as he asked.
It’s hard to believe it’s possible now, but I try to mentally activate [Aspect of the Kobold]. Pain spreads through my body as thousands of small scales grow from my flesh and cover every inch of my skin. But the pain is welcome for once. It proves that Token has indeed altered my prison collar somehow. I can’t help but stand up and do a little jig in celebration. I want to yell and scream a big ‘Woohoo’ but realize that such noise might bring unwanted attention. So, instead, I seek my mana pool and almost weep when I find that the barrier that’s stopped me from touching it is gone. I pull my mana along the channels in my body to tips of my index fingers and begin drawing in the air as I continue to dance, elated. It’s nothing more than a light show, but it just feels so good to be able to use my mana again.
“Hey now, stop that before you get us in trouble with the guards.”
Token’s voice breaks me out of my joyful dance, and I realize he’s correct. I deactivate [Aspect of the Kobold] and stop my little light show. Looking around, I see a nosy human staring in our direction, but no one else seems to have noticed anything. I take a seat near Token on the ground and ask, “How did you disable the collar?”
“I’m an artificer. I make a
ll kinds of magical objects. It’s a small thing to modify ones that are already made.”
“I guess that makes sense. However, I’m curious about something else. Why did you want to see me transform?”
“I had to make sure you were the one I was sent to find.”
I’m suddenly wary. “Who sent you to find me?”
“I already told you: your goddess sent me.”
I try to think of what he means, and then it clicks: “Do you mean the goddess of the Red Claw Tribe?” I try to recall the name of their goddess, a red dragon that lived a long time ago, “Uh . . . Cherax Quad . . .”
Token sniffs. “Her name is Cherax Quadricarinatus.” I hear him mutter something about ‘forgetful humans,’ then he continues, “Even if you don’t remember who she is, you bare the marks of her choosing. The red hands, the ability to transform . . . These are all the gifts of her chosen.” He sniffs once more. “Though, I’ve never heard of one of the kobold gods choosing a human as her agent.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You must be mistaken. I’m no one’s chosen. I’m just me.”
“Hey, it’s hard for me to believe too. But when a god appears in your dreams and tells you to find someone, you listen.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, didn’t I tell you yet? I’m called Saint Token for a reason.” He raises his metallic left hand and turns it so I can see the runic script that runs up and down the limb. “I was chosen by my god as a young kobold to be his agent in this world. He’s a god of creation and magic, thus I became an artificer to further his works. While I’ve spent my life adventuring and advancing my skills, I occasionally get a special quest from my or some other god to do something. About six months ago, your goddess appeared to me in a dream. She said that she’d chosen her agent but that he was special and brought a whole new world of experience that made it difficult for her to communicate with him directly. She asked me to find him and help him connect with her. My own god approved the request, and the experience points for the quest were great. So, I accepted and immediately left to find you. Your goddess told me where your tribe was located, but by the time I got there, the Imperare Empire had already moved into the area.” He pats my leg and looks up at me with sympathy, his eye ridges sloping backwards and a gentle look in his eyes. “When I saw the signs of battle at the tribe’s tunnels, I thought for sure that everyone was killed. However, your goddess appeared in another dream and told me that her agent had traveled west to find the remnants of the kidnapped tribe.”
His mention of what the Imperare Empire did to the Red Claw Tribe brings up painful memories, and my mind is lost in its own thoughts for a while. Token waits patiently for me to sort through my feelings. When I’m ready, he continues, “So, with the hope that you still lived, I traveled east. It wasn’t difficult from there to find your trail. Your journey affected the lives of others like the passing of a great storm. I met a family who was reunited with their son thanks to a message you delivered. There was a thief in the mountains that fled from me at the mere sight of a kobold. The border towns were abuzz with rumors of a man that freed slaves from the Imperare. Even deeper into Monstrum, I heard the stories of a human that had been posing as a half-kobold. Some stories said that he was a spy from the Imperare Empire and that he murdered a beloved goblin professor in Trinitarian. Other rumors said that he saved the city from destruction and that the goblin was the real spy and traitor.”
I tense at hearing what people are saying about me. Rumors about my past will bring the wrong kind of attention, and I don’t just mean from the guards. One of the very few secrets that I’ve kept from Token is that the attack on Restrian was in part initiated because someone powerful was looking for me. But Token continues, “I’d like to believe that, if you’re the same man that went into Imperare territory to free people from slavery, that you had good reason to attack some goblin professor.”
I can only nod numbly. My mind is a confused mess. Token knows so much about me. Could he really have been sent by some god or goddess? Or is he just some con artist using rumors he’s heard to . . . What? Trick me? But why? He hasn’t asked me to do anything. I certainly don’t have money to lend any Nigerian princes.
My thoughts still ajumble, I look and see that Token is staring at me expectantly. I stare back into his slitted eyes and see something that makes me trust him. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s that he’s a kobold like the ones I’m trying to rescue, or maybe it’s his open expression and the hope that he is who he says he is. Hell, it could just be a good charisma score. But whatever the reason, I start at the beginning and tell him everything.
I reveal that I’m from another planet and how one day I suddenly woke up on Terra, how I spent my first months here on this planet blissfully adventuring. I describe the details of the ritual that initiated me into the Red Claw Tribe and made me a member of someone's family, and the horror and heart-rending pain of finding that same tribe slaughtered by the invading Imperare Empire. I tell him about the disappointing journey south to Valse to free the remaining members of the Red Claw Tribe only to find they’d already been sold off, the excitement of the battle to get the citizens of Restrian free, and the shame I felt when I killed my first human. Token listens attentively as I recall the flight into Monstrum to find someone to help me decode the ledgers with the information about where the remnants of the kobold tribe were and then about the betrayal of Professor Jaxson Miltonha.
“Then I was arrested and brought here. I’m just thankful that I at least finally know where the kobolds were sent. They’re in some city called Attilius.”
Token, who had been listening patiently, starts when he hears the name Attilius. “I understand now. Your tale would be too much for anyone to believe, but I can sense the touch of Cherax Quadricarinatus upon you. I could tell from the first day I met you, but I needed to be sure. I understand now how I need to help you.”
“Help me? Oh, you mean by connecting me with the goddess?” I laugh. “What are you going to do? Serve as a goddess-to-human cell phone call?”
Token stares at me, and this time, his bared teeth don’t look as friendly, and I stop laughing. “Yes. I will teach you how to connect to your goddess. But, more than that, I have seen that your soul is in pain from all the violence you’ve had to commit. I believe you are meant to be a creator, not a destroyer. I offer to train you as an artificer.”
Chapter 5
“What? You want to train me as an artificer?”
“Shhh. Lower your voice.” Token looks around to make sure no one has heard me.
In a lower voice, I repeat, “What? You want to train me as an artificer? How is that even possible?”
“I do not just want you to become an artificer. I also want to train you to commune with your goddess. It’s a package deal. No training in one without training in the other.”
The offer to learn how to be a maker like Token is something I’d dreamed about since coming here. I’ve always been drawn to the crafting professions. The fires of the blacksmith’s forge kindled my imagination, and the intricate work of the magical engraver made me dream of powerful magical artifacts I could create.
But the caveat of spiritual training seems like a string I may not want attached since I don’t really know who’ll be pulling at it someday.
“Thank you for the generous offers, Token. But I cannot--no, should not--make such a decision without giving it more thought.”
The kobold gives me a sharp-toothed smile and nods. “That’s fine. That you don’t jump at the chance to take the artificer class shows me you understand the importance of the decision. Take your time. Just promise me you’ll give it due thought. The path I offer to start you on is not one that is to be taken lightly.”
I promise to think on everything he’s said and asked.
Over the next three days, I truly do give my full attention to the matter. On one hand, I suspect they’re offers I’m not likely to get anywhere else. On the other, acce
pting the training might lead me down a path I may never be able to leave. While I don’t even have proof this goddess exists, I don’t have proof that she doesn’t either. After all, since coming to Terra, I’ve seen too many strange things to completely discount the possibility of such a being. I mean, I once met a sentient dungeon whose avatar was a singing skeleton with an afro. Even if I accept the supposition that gods and goddess exists on Terra, what would it mean to be one’s agent? Would I be like the priests on Earth who have to swear off women and worldly possessions? Or would I just be responsible for handing out the collection plate on Sundays?
But then I weigh my uncertainties about spiritual training against my inner desire to make. So often in the past, my hands have been used to kill and hurt. Sometimes, in my nightmares, I find myself floating in pool, only to realize that the pool is not filled with water but the blood of all the monsters and people I’ve had to kill. I know, in my heart, that the violence has been met out in the defense of others, but that does not stop the heaviness on my heart. Perhaps, if I could only be a creator and bring things into this world that offer balance from all that I've taken from it . . . perhaps that would be enough to finally bring peace.