The Broken Knife

A cold, dry wind swept around the mountain peak, tugging at the sparse leaves of a small, stunted tree stubbornly clinging to a deep but narrow crevice. The tree almost seemed to shiver in response, curling its limbs protectively around the three golden fruits that hung there. Another gust blew, but the tree hung on, as it had done for all the long years of its life.

Shadow fell, black and deep, blocking the slight warmth the sun provided the trembling branches. The tree was unused to such shadow, since it stood on the highest peak of the highest mountain in the broad mountain range. Even the clouds lay far below, and the air was too thin to support any but the most tenacious of life.

Tenacious, or powerful. The shadow shifted as a dark wing dipped, its pointed tip just catching the very top of the little tree. Almost playfully, it passed among the nine leaves that were all the tree had managed to produce in that bitterly cold summer. One of the leaves fell, followed by one of the fruits. The leaf swirled away on the wind, flashing gold and green as it began its journey down from the heights.

The fruit landed in the crevice with a soft thmp no one was close enough to hear. It hesitated on the edge of the crevice, teetering between the rocky mountainside and the darkness below. It tipped, and fell into the depths.

=+=+=+=

Kaz hunkered against the back wall of the cave, his body entirely hidden by the patch of thick moss he had slept in the night before. With rapt fascination, he watched as a dragon coiled its long body around its nest, sheltering the pile of eggs resting there. Chirps could be heard from within the shells, and a few had small holes in them, allowing the babies within to breathe more freely.

Kaz himself sometimes struggled to breathe at this height, and he didn’t have the excuse of being inside an egg. Still, that very difficulty was why this place was safe from the others of his tribe. Only his sister ever followed him here, since most of them grew weak, and some would even fall unconscious when forced to remain here for very long.

Which was why Kaz had been so shocked to find a dragon nest in his sanctuary. Of course, the first time he saw it, it was just a pile of eggs, and he had frozen in astonishment at seeing the mound of glittering metal surmounted by gleaming ovoid shapes almost as large as his head. That moment of inaction had undoubtedly saved his life, because as he stood there, the two parent dragons had crawled through the cave opening, one after the other. The larger of the two had curled around the eggs, warming them and the entire cavern with the heat radiating from its body, while the smaller dragon nudged each egg, rolling it over.

Seeing that the parents were distracted, Kaz had instinctively dived for this very patch of moss. When he stayed here for more than a few hours, he slept in it, since it provided both insulation and comfort. His own fur was usually enough to keep him warm, but when the frigid wind blew in through the cave mouth, the dense moss was very welcome.

On this occasion, it was doubly so, since it not only concealed him, but the dusty aroma that surrounded him also covered his scent. He must have made some sound, since both parents had looked in his direction, but after a moment the larger one had laid its head carefully back on top of the mound of eggs. The smaller one, more cautious, had approached the moss, sniffed it once, and then returned to turning the remainder of the eggs.

When the large dragon fell asleep, and the small dragon left, presumably to find food, Kaz had finally dared to emerge from his hiding place. Gently, he brushed the thick fronds of the plant, as he always did, imbuing it with part of the forbidden power that filled his veins. This was how he shed that power, after all, so he could hide the fact that it existed from the others in his tribe.

The adult dragon slept, but the eggs shivered.

=+=+=+=

Since then, Kaz had come again and again. At first, he told himself he had to stay away, and he had, until the power that flooded him nearly overflowed while he and the other males hunted a pack of fuergar.

The rodents weren’t strong, but they were pernicious and plentiful, not to mention tasty. This particular batch of fuergar had chewed a tunnel through the stone around the tribe’s food storage chamber, destroying much of what had been gathered there, and emotions had run high as the warriors raced to hunt down every last one of them. Technically, Kaz wasn’t a warrior yet, since he hadn’t completed his spirit hunt yet, but given his size and age, he went with the warriors whenever they needed numbers to overcome an enemy.

Usually, that wasn’t a problem, since he shared small bits of his power with any living thing he came across in the course of his gathering, but recently, the power had grown, and the area around the den had been picked clean. Soon, they would have to move, which almost certainly meant they would have to fight another tribe for territory. This meant that the fire still raged in his veins as he clutched his stone knife, and when one of the rodents lunged at him, he burned it with a surge of uncontrolled power as he knocked it from the air. Then, frantic, he stabbed it again and again until all evidence of his impossible act was hidden by the viciousness of his attack.

That night, he returned to the dragon nest. Neither of the adult dragons were there, though the almost overwhelming warmth of the chamber told him they hadn’t been gone long. Exhausted, he crept from the narrow fissure in the wall from which he had emerged, crawling to his bed of moss, where he released the power in a flood that made the moss visibly grow, and the dragon eggs clatter gently as they rocked from side to side.

Since then, he had come a hundred times. Each time the power swelled in his body, threatening to overwhelm him and spill out, he trekked through the mountain to the very top level, making his way to the only sanctuary he had ever found.

Even when his mother declared luegat, a battle for territory, against a tribe deeper in the mountain, rather than simply attacking one of the weaker tribes on the same level or above, Kaz had come here the night before they went to fight. And yesterday, as his mother lay dying, he came again. Sometime in the night, the larger dragon had come, and now Kaz was trapped here until it slept or left. Given that the babes within the eggs seemed to be ready to burst free, however, Kaz suspected he had a long wait ahead of him. Which, honestly, was fine.

Then the adult dragon shifted, revealing deep gouges along its ribs. It winced, curling a wing in protectively, covering the wound. Two eggs shifted, and a long crack appeared around the top of the large, blue one nearest the parent. The top of the egg sheared off, falling to the side as a damp, blue head flopped out, flailing at the end of a long, thin neck. Its mouth gaped, and the parent’s head immediately darted to one side, picking up a small lump of meat that blazed with blue fire to Kaz’s sight.

The adult placed this meat in the hatchling’s mouth, and the newborn somehow gulped it down. A flush of blue swelled through the little one’s body, and it convulsed, tiny wings flexing until the remainder of its egg shattered around it.

The eggs hatched quickly after that. One after another, the dragonlings emerged, were fed, and grew flush with power. Soon, the nest was littered with broken shells, mingled with three small, limp bodies. It seemed that the initial burst of power from their first meal was too much for a few of the hatchlings, and instead of growing almost instantly stronger, they instead thrashed, trembled, and fell still.

In the end, nine baby dragons stood beside their wounded parent, who continued feeding them as they demanded more and more of the glowing meat. When all of the meat was gone, the little dragons loudly cried for more, and the adult forced itself to its feet, though Kaz saw that blood soaked the stone where it had lain. The stone itself seemed to glow with the power of the sanguine fluid, while the dragon swayed.

All ten dragons stilled, though, as a deep, booming roar echoed through the cavern. It sounded like a hundred voices in one, all of them filled with triumph. A moment later, the light streaming in through the cave mouth was blocked, and a great, black head thrust inside. It clearly belonged to a dragon, but the beast was so large that it couldn’t fit its whole body through the opening, though it tried again and again, thrusting itself forward as it snapped at the parent dragon.

Dust and small stones cascaded down, and Kaz was worried that the monster would somehow manage to do what the centuries had not, and collapse this cave into rubble. The power grew in him, churning wildly as his fear rose.

The blue and white dragon huddled around its offspring, herding them back, away from the snapping teeth of the black dragon, and then, as the sinuous neck stretched out to its greatest length, the blue’s white teeth latched onto it, angled perfectly so that they dug into the soft flesh beneath black scales that were each the size of Kaz’s torso.

The black dragon screeched, yanking backwards. The blue dragon was latched on so tightly that it, too, was pulled from the cave, and Kaz could just make out the two of them through the dust hovering in the light. The black was clinging to the side of the mountain with wickedly long claws, while the blue wrapped itself around the dark body, trying to keep the behemoth busy without allowing itself to be attacked in return.

The dragonlings crept forward, their still-damp bodies trembling and eyes wide. Those eyes seemed to swim with different colors in a way the adult’s hadn’t, as if they were still deciding what color they would be.

The black dragon managed to scrape the blue off its body, then latched its teeth tightly onto the parent dragon’s right front leg. The blue dragon screamed, its head rolling until it stared into the cave, eyes falling on the young dragons. It whistled weakly, and the hatchlings stilled, then stretched their little wings.

One by one, the baby dragons made their way to the cave mouth, all but falling into the open sky. Eight little ones jumped, then dropped below Kaz’s line of sight, and he hoped they had managed to survive, and were not now tumbling end over end down the unforgiving stone.

The last of the hatchlings tried to extend its wings, but failed, one of them catching halfway, as it hissed pitifully. Outside, the battle continued, with the blue dragon somehow having managed to free itself, though its leg was now a mangled mess. It fought on, however, as the last of its offspring tried and failed to lift off.

Kaz crept out of his hiding place, drawn by the hatchling’s pathetic cries. As he drew near, he was able to see that a piece of eggshell had dried over one wing, and the membrane inside was wrapped around the delicate appendage. The little creature pulled and tugged at the eggshell with its mouth, but just managed to chip a few pieces from the edge, which fell away, along with a sprinkling of glittering white scales.

There were few pups in Kaz’s tribe, but Kaz had been made responsible for them starting from a young age, when even the den-mother, his aunt Rega, had been called away to work. Kaz liked the pups, especially the younger ones, who had no guile in them yet. He had licked their wounds, and cuddled them when they skinned a paw, and he couldn’t bear to see this little one’s suffering now, dragon or not.

Making up his mind, Kaz darted forward, pulling his pack around so he could dig through it. He quickly located the waterbag made from a cured fuergar stomach, and pulled it out. With a flick, he opened the carved stone plug, dropping it to the ground in his haste. It bounced and rolled away as he dumped the water over the eggshell.

The hatchling whipped its head around at the first drop of water, snapping at Kaz’s fingers as he tried to pull the membrane wrapping its wing free. Now that it was wet, the membrane slipped and stretched, nearly coming loose with just the movements of the little body as it tried to bite its benefactor, but Kaz had long since learned that when the power filled him as it did now, he could not only see when others used power, but he was also a little faster and stronger than usual.

Now, his fingers darted out, over and over, plucking away the thin film even as he dodged the snapping teeth. He doubted the dragonling could do him any serious damage, but he didn’t want to lose a finger finding out. Still, Kaz had always been far more stubborn than was good for any male kobold, and he refused to give up until the thin sheath gave way with a damp tearing sound, and shards of eggshell clattered to the ground.

Another cry of pain came from outside, and the hatchling’s head whipped around as Kaz fell back further into the cave. It didn’t take long for the dragonling to realize that its wing was now free, and with a few steps, it launched itself clumsily into the air. Unable to help himself, Kaz hurried to the opening, staring out into the impossibly wide open space beyond.

The black and blue dragons were still locked in battle, and the blue bled freely from a dozen wounds, both large and small. It almost seemed like the black was playing with the smaller dragon, since Kaz could tell that several of the parent dragon’s wounds could have been far worse.

The two dragons rolled in the sky, and the blue managed to tear itself free, though it nearly crashed into the mountain in the process, making Kaz duck back inside as claws scrabbled at the stone outside. More dust and stones fell from the ceiling, along with something that shone a brilliant gold, nearly glowing as it dropped down to land among the broken eggshells and piled metal that was all that remained of the dragon nest. Kaz caught its fall from the corner of his eye, but for the moment, his attention was still caught by what was going on outside.

The baby dragon that he’d freed was still visible, though with every beat of its wings it sank lower and lower, already nearly entering the clouds far below. The blue dragon launched itself from the mountain, wings beating desperately as it followed its young. The black finally seemed to notice that the hatchlings had escaped, and it roared, a petulant sound, and dived after the fleeing family.

When the embattled beasts dropped into the cloud layer, Kaz lost sight of them, and he stared at the misty gap through which they had passed, his breath caught in his throat. The larger, seemingly undamaged black dragon would almost certainly win the fight, but even if the blue dragon won, would it ever be able to gather up its lost young? Could the hatchlings survive on their own?

Stepping back, he shook his head. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it. The dragons were as far beyond him as he was beyond the patch of moss in which he slept. The little dragons would live or die without his interference.

Turning, Kaz made his way back to the nest. He carefully avoided the blood, which was already dimming as whatever power it had contained leached away into the surroundings. Almost enviously, he saw that the stone itself was still dyed faintly blue. Crouching, his fingers hovered above the drying crimson pool. The last thing he needed was to absorb any more power, not when he already had far too much of his own. But how wonderful would it be if he could learn to shed some of his strength into the rock that surrounded him, instead of having to find some living thing each time?

Closing his eyes, he turned his strange inner sight on the limestone beneath the smeared fluid. The blue light glowed lambent in the darkness behind his lids, and he turned toward the streaks and small pool near the cave mouth. They were fading more quickly, presumably because the dragon hadn’t lingered there, and he watched as tiny motes sank into white pockets within the stone, almost too small to see. His brow wrinkled as he leaned closer, until the tip of his snout dipped into the dragon blood, and he reared back, sneezing and gasping as his nose burned.

His eyes flew open and he scrambled back on hands and paws, his tail sweeping through the damp, broken eggshells around him. Sparks of power burst around him, mostly blue, but with an occasional burst of yellow. The yellow sank easily through his fur, followed more reluctantly by the blue, until his body seemed to hum with vitality. Every source of energy around him flared into brilliance as that other sight completely overtook his normal vision.

Kaz blinked rapidly, puppy-like whimpers emerging from his mouth as he pawed at his stinging nose. He had to push the light out, quickly, before the rivers of power inside his body grew any larger, as they were wont to do when he allowed himself to grow too full.

He looked around, trying to make out the bluish-yellow of the patch of moss, but instead his eye caught on two much closer sources of light. They were faint, both of them, but they seemed to be in the bottom of yawning chasms, and somehow he knew they could take in all of the power saturating his body, like the hollow reservoirs that were left after a tribe emptied one of the underground lakes that took millennia to form, and only a few years to deplete.

Reaching down, he fumbled as he picked the larger one up, only realizing that it was an unbroken dragon egg as his fingers brushed the smooth surface of the shell. Deep within the egg, a faint yellow light flickered, guttering and ready to go out. Instinctively, Kaz shoved power at it. The light flared, then faded sharply, and Kaz almost panicked, remembering the dead dragonlings that must now be scattered all around him. Had he given the tiny thing too much? Would it die, like the little ones who had been overwhelmed by the power within the meat provided by the parent dragon?

It flickered, and the egg in his hands seemed to grow cold. Quickly, Kaz cradled it against his belly, letting his blue fur and body heat warm it again. When it touched his skin, a flash leapt from that lump of power hidden within his abdomen, and a tiny, tiny cord of light formed, fluttered, and solidified, leading into the depths of the egg. The light within the egg stabilized, and when Kaz squinted, looking down at it, he realized that while most of the cord was yellow, there were also faint black and white threads wound through it.

Sighing in relief, Kaz sat back, letting one hand fall to the ground beside him as the power drained out of his body and into the egg. His vision returned to normal, and he looked down as something smooth and faintly squishy rolled beneath his hand. He snatched his hand back, horrified when he thought he might be touching the corpse of one of the hatchlings, but saw that instead he had set his hand on a peculiar golden orb.

Frowning, he picked it up, rolling it between his fingers as he stared at it. Was this the thing he’d seen fall from above, shaken loose by the violent battle outside? It was oval, like an egg, but it clearly wasn’t one. When he poked at it with a finger, a sweet scent rose up, filling his nostrils and causing saliva to pool in his mouth.

He had the sudden, desperate urge to eat it, and he licked at his lips, his jaws opening. The egg in his lap shifted, shattering the breathless moment, and Kaz blinked, closing his mouth. What was he doing? Even the tiniest pup knew not to eat strange things found in the mountain. That was why the tribe gathered food and brought it back home. Not only did they need to feed the elderly and the breeding females, sometimes even things that they thought were safe could be deadly poison, and only the chief could tell.

The chief, and a few females who also had enough power to sense what lay within the plants and creatures that lived within the mountain. Power that no male could or should have, even though Kaz very definitely did.

A scuffing sound made him spin, his paws slipping in the mixture of blood, nest material, and broken shells. He stared as a clawed hand reached through the crevice that led deeper into the mountain. Quickly, he bundled the egg and the tasty-smelling thing into the pack that still hung loose in his hand, nearly forgotten, and stood.

A snout covered in deep pink fur followed the hand, and pale silver eyes blinked around at the debris littering the floor of the cavern. Katri’s mouth fell open, and she stammered, “What… happened?” Her gaze returned to him, and he felt his ears and tail droop as she shook her head. “Did you do this?”

He waved his hands. “No! I only watched!”

She stepped fully into the cavern, her fists coming to rest on her hips as she glared at him. “You watched? Watched what, exactly? Why didn’t you leave? Did you know this was here when you came up yesterday?” Her open hand swept out to indicate the nest and its contents.

She didn’t wait for an answer, just shook her head again, resignation darkening her voice. “Of course you did. Eggs aren’t laid and hatched overnight, and you’ve been coming here more and more often lately. I thought you were just worried about your spirit hunt, but you… you’ve been watching them, haven’t you?”

Striding closer, she cuffed his ear, rough but not nearly as hard as their mother would have done in her place. Reminded, he looked up at her. “Is mother-?” he asked, in a voice too close to a whimper for his liking.

Settling back on her paws, Katri sighed. “She is one with the ancestors now. Aunt Rega is chief.”

In its way, this was good news. Oda, their mother, had been too reckless and prideful for her - and their - own good. The balance of power among the kobold tribes was delicate, and since Oda became their tribe’s leader ten years ago, she had gotten into one losing battle after another, forcing them to leave the deep places within the ancient mountain and flee to the higher tunnels among those who were little more than beasts themselves.

In a last-ditch effort to reclaim some small part of their rightful place, and gain better hunting grounds, Oda had challenged the chief of the Longtooth Tribe to luegat, a ritual battle for territory. While the two female chiefs battled, their male warriors fought to protect them. There were only a few more adult males in the Longtooth tribe than the Broken Knives could claim, so Oda had been certain they would succeed, but she had vastly underestimated the strength of their chief, while overestimating herself.

And now she was dead, leaving her younger sister, Rega, as the leader of a tribe with almost no warriors remaining in it. Rega was wily, and she had spoken out against Oda’s arrogance for years, claiming that they needed to stay in one place and build their strength, rather than challenging other tribes for fresh territory. Oda had rejected her pleas, however, and since the word of the chief was absolute, and Rega was too weak to challenge Oda, the tribe had fought, and lost, again and again.

Now, at last, Rega would take power, and since Oda had denied her a mate, she had no children of her own, so Katri would be her heir. Rega, and then Katri, would be good for the tribe, stabilizing them and allowing them to grow.

Unless, of course, Mital, the leader of the Longtooth Tribe, exercised her right to absorb the Broken Knife tribe into the Longtooths. If she did, Rega and Katri would both be killed or exiled, since Mital had several heirs of her own, and would never be able to trust that the former Broken Knife females wouldn’t challenge her for leadership.

Kaz’s fists clenched at his sides. “What will happen now?”

Katri sighed and clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Now, we mourn. At the end of the mourning period, Mital will tell us what her decision is.” Her shoulders hunched. “I hear she has an ambitious daughter. Aunt Rega suspects our tribe will be taken in, then split, with the daughter as your new leader.”

‘Your’, not ‘our’. Katri knew it was unlikely she would live to see it happen.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” he asked.

Katri started to shake her head, when a smooth, strangely accented voice broke in.

“Perhaps we can help with that.”