EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (367 page)

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” I said.

“But it’s unnatural to own things.” It was clear by the way Khavi spoke he was reciting one of his lessons. “The community’s goods belong to everyone. To own is to restrict, and to restrict is to devalue. Why would you devalue the society’s property, that which is owned by all?”

I didn’t have a valid answer to the wisdom of the city leaders. Instead I dodged the question and stretched out my limbs, joints cracking as I exercised them. “We should get to the armoury. We have our patrol today.”

Khavi’s muzzle split in a grin, revealing a wide field of razor sharp teeth. Males had duller teeth than females, but Khavi seemed to be an exception. Despite his narrow chest and shorter stature, Khavi was as strong as any female. “We do. Our first patrol as seniors. Our first time in charge.”

I walked to the thin curtain that divided our room from the hallway, pulling it aside and stepping through. Kobolds had no doors, no locks, no internal dividers. Doors were to keep intruders away. Fellow kobolds were not intruders; the cloth was simply to reduce noise.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Khavi’s red eyes glowed with an eager light as he moved to follow, the two of us stepping into the tight passage with a throng of others, all moving either to our duties or returning from them. “I have been waiting for this day for some time,” he said, moving with me through the bustling crowd. “You have your dreams, and I have mine. They’re somewhat less literal, I admit, but it’s the same thing.”

I stepped over a glowbug that scurried underfoot, its bright light flaring as my footclaw scraped its back. “It’s not, it’s different,” I tried to explain for the hundredth time. “My dreams are not ambitions, merely…
things
. Things that I see and feel. Not what I want to be or do.”

“Fortunate that you do not wish to be a dragon!” He laughed, a rasping noise that drew the attention of other kobolds in the corridor. “I fear you are much too small for that, goldling.”

Goldling. My derisive nickname since hatching. I clamped my jaw together, careful not to sever the tip of my tongue with my teeth. “Thank you,” I hissed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Soon the tunnel widened away from the sleeping quarters and out to the city proper. Atikala was built into a subterranean cavern, and despite its massive size, had few buildings. Sleeping quarters were built into the walls, making the best use of the limited open space our people could find. Khavi and I crossed the plaza, a flat area teeming with kobolds moving between sections, until we arrived at the central part of the city.

The great Dome of Daily Reflection. We knelt obediently, as all were expected to do in the morning, reflecting on the lessons we had learnt throughout our lives, focusing on the one we anticipated would be the most important for the day.

As this was my first day as patrol leader, I drew upon a lesson Yeznen had given me about the enemies of our people. His words flowed through my mind as clear as the day I’d first heard them.

We are cousins to dragons. If fate were righteous and fair, this entire world would be ours, with the dragons at its head and us by their sides.

But fate is neither righteous nor fair. We may have the blood of our masters in our veins, but never let your arrogance blind you to reality. We live in a world surrounded by hate, by hungry steel in blood-soaked hands.
 

Humans. Elves. Gnomes. Jealous of our gifts, these wicked races of darkness are your enemies. They hate you as you hate them, seeking only your destruction and the denial of our destiny. Never hesitate to spill their blood, for they would end you in a heartbeat.

The righteous can have no mercy for monsters. Say it with me now, children! Shout it to the stones above! Let all who hear our voices tremble in fear!

No mercy for monsters!

No mercy for monsters!

No mercy for monsters!

“So I hold, Leader,” I said to the dome.

“So I hold, Leader,” said Khavi. I stood, then offered Khavi my hand. As I pulled my friend to his feet, I wondered which lesson had played through his mind. It was probably the same as mine. “No Mercy for Monsters” was his favourite.

Our observance completed, we headed to the open-air bazaar that served as the city’s armoury.

Kobolds did not own things, so we had little use for walls inside the city. No locks or guards protected the weapons and armour supplies; they lay on open benches unattended, and the two of us attracted no attention as we approached our allocated table.

“Do you think we’ll kill anything?” asked Khavi, hoisting his well-worn suit of armour, its humanskin leather plates squeaking as he pulled it over his head. I did the same with mine.

“I doubt it,” I answered, adjusting my straps, making sure the armour was snug and tight without snagging on my scales. “It will be as every patrol we had as wyrmlings. Uneventful.”

“That’s dangerous thinking,” said Khavi, drawing a belt around his thin midsection, and then strapping the shin guards to his legs. “Our eyes should always be alert. If you expect no danger, you’ll find none until it finds you. Yeznen told us that.”

Yeznen was too paranoid for my taste. “The gnomes, may the shit of the dead Gods fall on them, don’t value the minerals below them, and the humans above us know better than to burrow where they are not welcome.”

Khavi reached out and tapped a claw to my leather breastplate. “These one’s didn’t.”

“Perhaps it is good we might encounter some raiders then,” I said, reaching up and tucking my pouch of eggshells under the plates. “The community could always use more armour.”

We shared a laugh, and then retrieved our weapons. Khavi easily hoisted the large two-handed sword that was his trademark weapon. He eyed me as I lifted the delicate short-blade I favoured, slipping my buckler onto my arm. It was an action I’d done hundreds, if not thousands, of times.

“You
are
a sorcerer, are you not?” asked Khavi, a variation of the same question he asked every time we donned our equipment.
 

“Yes,” I answered, an edge of exasperation creeping into my voice. “I am.”

“You cast spells, then.”

“You know that I do. You ask me almost every time we’re here.”

Khavi smiled. “Perhaps I’m expecting a different answer one day. I just want to know why you remain with the patrol teams instead of becoming a leader. You choose to be a warrior.”

“Yes, I choose to be a warrior,” I echoed. This was enough of a reason, enough justification.

“Then I fear I will never understand you,” said Khavi, strapping the weapon over his back. “Nor will I understand your desire to choose things. I go where the Leaders tell me to go.” His voice took on a serious edge. “You know that the only reason they permit you to train as a warrior is those scales of yours.”

My annoyance bubbled and grew into insult. I turned to him, hissing faintly. “You know I hate it when we talk about this.”

“About being a warrior or about being a Goldling?”

“About my scales. About what I am. It’s just a colour.”

Khavi affixed a firm stare on me. “And what is that? Perhaps your hue is more than an innocent pigment. Perhaps you draw your power from the blood of the rotten golds.”

Gold was the colour of the hated metallic dragons, cousins to the silver, bronze, brass, and copper.

The metallic dragons were our mortal enemies. The gold wyrms were lofty and uncaring, the silvers were collaborators with our various enemies, the bronze were foolhardy and destructive and the brass were deceptive and manipulative. The last of them, copper dragons, were maliciously cruel and wicked, delighting in torments and riddles. Plain out-and-out evil. In Atikala the coppers were hated above all the other metallic dragons, especially as one lived relatively close to a neighbouring gnomish settlement.
 

Nothing had come of the copper’s presence yet, but our leaders were always wary. There were no known gold dragons nearby, something that had certainly helped secure my survival. Nobody could be sure of anything except that I manifested spells, but my colour had always been a source of confusion and shame.

Khavi was being more inquisitive than usual, and I didn’t like it. I snarled and thumped my fist into his shoulder. “Don’t,” I warned. “It’s just a pigment. It means nothing.”

He held up his hands defensively, taking a step back. “As you wish,” he said. “It’s just a pigment.” He gave me another smile. “Look, forget it, okay? How about we just enjoy this special day of ours?”

I wasn’t so ready to forget Khavi’s words, but I pushed them to the back of my mind. “Fine.”

I wheeled around and stormed away from the armoury to meet our newly assigned patrol, heading directly for the gates that protected Atikala. Khavi and I climbed the great stairways built into the sheer walls of the city, towards the top of the cavern, watching Atikala shrink as we climbed. When we reached the top, we were hundreds of feet above the buildings below, the entire city stretched out before us and bathed in a golden glow.
 

I wanted to admire the view, as I had many times before, but Khavi's impatient grunt reminded me we had a job to do. We crested the last few steps to the tunnel out to the underworld, sealed by a vast iron door. The guards gave us passage without question. Their eyes were fixed on the outside. Something coming from the inside was no threat to our community.

We had not gone more than a hundred steps, however, when a soft, quiet voice caught our attention.

“Ah, your first patrol. I’m glad I could be here to see it.”

It was Tzala’s voice, my mentor and a sorceress like me. Tzala was truly ancient, but age did not affect kobolds as it affected the other races; we simply grew more powerful and did not wither away. Workers and warriors would inevitably die in their line of work, but a good sorcerer could live a very long time indeed, and Tzala was the best sorceress I knew.
 

She too owned things. Her possession was a necklace, silver with a red stone at its heart, and she was never seen without it.

I gave a deferent bow of my head and Khavi followed suit.

“Good morning, Leader,” I said, “I hope not to disappoint with my performance.”

Tzala’s maw split in a wide smile. “Somehow I do not think you will. Long have I awaited this day, and I hope, so have you. I remember my first patrol well and with fondness.”

“I shall endeavour to be attentive and walk with purpose.” I paused, inhaling slightly. “Actually, I had hoped to see you afterwards, Leader. I was going to talk more to you about Tyermumtican.”

Tzala’s expression clouded slightly, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Khavi pulling a face.

“I have explained to you before,” said Tzala, “the copper dragon is far too powerful and distant for you to visit on your own, and we do not have cause to mount an expedition solely to ask him of your lineage.” Her tone softened. “I know your pain, Ren. I know you want to know where you came from, and why your colour is so unusual, but the matter is settled.”

I bowed my head once again. I knew once a Leader said that a matter was settled that should be the end of it, but words found their way out. “I understand, Leader, but it is…not fair. All in Atikala know their lineage, but my records were destroyed when my egg was thrown in the furnace.” I tried to keep my tone even. “Regrettably, they did not possess my endurance.”

“I know,” said Tzala, “and I wish I could help, but I cannot.”

“The right to launch an expedition is in your hands—”
 

A prod in the side from Khavi’s elbow silenced me.

“I am sorry,” said Tzala, folding her arms in front of her.

“Of course.” I was silent for a moment, then raised my head curiously. From the corner of my eye, I could see Khavi readying to elbow me again, but I spoke up anyway. “Forgive me Leader, but why are you here? Rarely do sorcerers step beyond the gates of the city.”

“Strange words, coming from you.” Tzala chuckled and cast a fond gaze upon me. “Am I not permitted to see my Firstclaw, my most promising student, away on this most special day?”

Firstclaw of her students? It would be quite an honour to be Firstclaw at my age, but I wrinkled my nose. “You flatter me, Leader, but I am not worthy.”

Tzala waved her hand dismissively. “An accolade fairly earned. You should wear the title with pride.”

“I…perhaps, but I am not fond of titles, Leader.”

“So I have learnt.” Tzala shook her head in amusement. “This attitude will change in time, as you move beyond your role as a warrior and grow your power as a sorcerer. Soon you shall acquire a taste for them.”

Unable to disagree about the future and deferent to her wisdom, I bowed my head again. Tzala reached out and patted my snout.

“Good luck, my student. I’ll see you when you return, for we have much to discuss.”

“Discuss?” My heart leapt. Perhaps my words had won her over.

Tzala’s face held a mysterious smile. “Regarding the next step in your training.”

“Of course,” I said, trying to disguise my disappointment, but I couldn’t help a faint rustle running through my scales. “Thank you, Leader. I shall speak to you on our return.”

With that the elder kobold turned and retreated back into the city. She nodded courteously to the guards as the iron doors creaked open and the light of Atikala poured in. A million glowbugs bathed the greatest kobold city in the entire north in light, shining through the open gates. Tightly packed dwellings filled the bowl of a limestone cavern to the brim.

The iron gates closed behind Tzala, and I opened my mouth to speak, to have idle conversation with Khavi while we waited for the rest of our patrolmates.

A planet-shaking roar stole the words from my tongue. The stone beneath me buckled like a wave on water. Drathari roiled and heaved, the stone itself breaking free of the ceiling and falling around us. I was thrown almost into the ceiling. As I plummeted back down, veins opened in the ground, cracking like a spider’s web as the unyielding rock rose and fell. The glowbugs fearfully winked out their lights, plunging the underworld into darkness.