The Broken Knife

The deeper darkness turned out to be a tunnel, and Kaz only traveled a short way down it before he found a totem. It was old, but in the dim light of his ki orb, he could tell it was made from the rocky skin of a lopo, dried and stretched over three bones bound together in the shape of a triangle. Two rows of yellowed fangs were sewn on it with thread made of preserved intestines.

Kaz didn’t recognize the totem, but he doubted it mattered. The tribe that made it was probably long gone by now, and its age was a good indication that this area wasn’t under the control of any tribe at the moment.

Glancing behind him, Kaz pushed a little more power into his eyes, ears, and nose. He was immediately assailed by the scratch of sharp claws against stone, and the stench of rodents. The scent was as strong as it had been in the nest they’d destroyed beneath the Broken Knife den, so there were probably dozens of fuergar, at least. He would have to be careful, and it would be good if he had a weapon other than his claws and teeth.

Reminded, he pulled off his pack and knelt, settling it on the ground beside him. Untying the string, he smiled down at the golden eyes looking up at him, surprised at the rush of happiness he felt. Was he really that glad to see the little dragon, or was it sending its own pleasure to him? Did it even matter?

The dragon climbed up his arm as he reached into the bag, and he was so used to it by now that he didn’t even flinch as it latched its claws into his fur. Groping down through the bundles of moss, fungi, and lichen, he did flinch as he brushed a leather bag. His cut finger twinged, reminding him to be careful, and he gently felt around until he found the long hilt of a knife, and grabbed it through the leather, pulling it out. Moss and other things cascaded out of the pack, falling to the floor around him, but Kaz only had eyes for the pouch in his hand.

Like everything else that had been in the bag for a while, the leather was caked and crusted with blood, dust, pieces of eggshell, dried goo from inside the egg, and half a dozen other noxious things. It no longer looked anything like the supple, well-made bag his aunt had given him, and he could see the glint of metal through a long slit in the side. The area around the hole was stained a darker reddish-brown, but the silver gleaming up at him from within was pure and clean.

Kaz didn’t even bother trying to untie the tangled and grimy leather cord that was knotted around the end. He just inserted his fingers to each side of the blade and ripped the hole wider before shaking the contents out onto the mound of moss in front of him.

As Rega had told him, there were two knives in the bag, or at least the remains of them. The first, the whole one, had the sharpest edge and the cleanest metal of any he could remember seeing up close. Even in the heights, the mountain held rich veins of metal ore, most of which the kobolds there simply ignored. Iron and copper were good for making short weapons, but most other metals were too soft or too brittle, and it was easier and faster to make disposable stone knives and arrowheads. Only a particularly powerful female could heat metal enough to get out the impurities, and coal seams were rare and jealously guarded, so most blades were just roughly beaten from raw ore, which left them dull and uneven. The few blades that looked like this one were passed down in a tribe, and only changed hands if the owner lost a luegat or vara.

Kaz turned it over in his hands, staring at the leather-wrapped hilt and the strangely beautiful waves in the metal of the blade. It wasn’t rusty at all, so it either wasn’t iron or had been very well cared for, but it didn’t hold the distinctive color of copper either. The edge, as he’d discovered earlier, was so keen that he could barely focus on it when he looked at it from straight on. The tip was pointed, too, though it was covered in a sort of carved stone cap, which had prevented it from stabbing him or someone else while it was in his pack. The stone was a deep blue, almost exactly the color of Kaz’s fur, and the inside fit perfectly to the tip of the knife, while the outside was carved in long, pointed oval shapes containing what looked like delicate veins branching out from a central seam.

It was a beautiful, perfect blade, and Kaz immediately understood why he’d never seen it before. It was far too precious to be used. Any kobold who saw it would do anything to have it, and the Broken Knives would have been slaughtered just so some more powerful clan could own this weapon. Perhaps in the Deep weapons like this were common, and someone could wear it openly, but Kaz doubted it.

Reluctantly, Kaz set the magnificent knife back down on the moss, turning to the other, far less impressive one that still laid there. Like the first, this had a leather-wrapped hilt, but the leather was grimy and worn. It had no crossguard, and though the inch-long stub of gold-hued metal that was attached to the hilt had the same whorls and waves as the first, it was utterly useless. The remainder of the blade was sheared off so smoothly that it was completely flat, and couldn’t be used to stab or cut. He didn’t understand why Rega had even kept it, unless she’d hoped to someday melt down the remaining metal into something else. There might be enough left for an arrowhead, or some earrings.

Still, Rega had given it to him, and he’d carried it this far. She had told him the other one was for him, so perhaps he was meant to give this one to Katri, and Rega hadn’t been able to tell him? His sister wouldn’t be happy to learn that he’d been given a perfect weapon, while hers was barely a nub attached to a worn-out hilt. He would have to think hard about what to do with his knife when he returned to his tribe.

Tucking the broken knife back into the shredded leather bag, Kaz stuffed it down inside his pack, then started tucking the fallen mosses and lichen in as well. He was reaching for the last mushroom when he heard something skitter in the darkness. He pushed a little more ki into his light, which flared in response. The growing light caught the tail end of a small fuergar, scampering away with a deep red mushroom in its mouth.

Kaz’s hand darted out, picking up a stone from the ground nearby. He threw it after the rodent, hitting it on the hindquarters. It squeaked, dropped the mushroom, and whirled to face him, flashing its long incisors. Its mother must have eaten a lot of copper while she was pregnant, because the teeth were a rich reddish-orange, as was its fur.

Pushing even more power into his light, Kaz stood, clutching the hilt of his father’s knife. He felt a strange thrill at the idea of using it, since he knew he would have to hide it away again before he returned to the humans. He needed a fuergar alive, though, and this one seemed as good as any other.

The rodent dashed at him, its injured leg dragging only slightly. Kaz could see other shapes moving in the dimness at the edge of his light. Fuergar hunted in groups, and while they were being wary because of the bright illumination surrounding him and the weapon in his hand, he knew they would swarm him if he showed any sign of weakness. He was confident he could take down two or three, if they were the same size as the first, but if there were more than five, they might manage to bring him down instead.

Kaz kicked at the copper fuergar, hoping to injure it without killing it. Lianhua had said the rings had a regeneration function, so a minor injury should heal fairly quickly once the ring was on. Unfortunately, the fuergar had other ideas, and instead of lunging for Kaz’s paws or ankles, it launched itself from the ground, heading straight toward his throat. Instinctively, Kaz slashed his weapon toward it in a movement Killik had forced him to practice over and over with his old stone knife. The fuergar squeaked once more, then fell to the ground, cleanly sliced in two.

Seeing this, the other fuergar who had been circling him decided it wasn’t worth trying to take him on, and scampered away, their tinny cries alerting all the other rodents in the area that a dangerous predator had found them.

Kaz sighed, looking down at the mess on the ground. He couldn’t take this back to the humans. Surely, someone would wonder how he’d managed to chop through its body in a single stroke, not even hesitating when he hit the copper-coated bones. He raised his blade to his eyes, turning it this way and that. It was as clean as it had been when he took it from the bag, without a single drop of blood clinging to the blade. The blue stone cap still covered the tip, clinging like it was glued there, though it had only taken a small tug to pull it free when he examined the weapon earlier.

The dragon chirped from his shoulder, and he jumped, having forgotten that it was there. He turned his head, and saw that it was examining the corpse with a greedy eye. He chuckled.

“Go ahead,” he told it. “I’m glad it won’t go to waste.”

The hatchling trilled a gleeful sound, and its wings buffeted his head as it launched from his shoulder, gliding down to perch on top of the fuergar. It began to eat, and Kaz turned away, walking in circles as he tried to figure out where the strongest scent of rodent was coming from. He narrowed in on one particular branch of the tunnel that lay ahead and to his right, then waited impatiently as the dragon finished its feast and sat up again, belly as round as a pup after feeding time.

Kaz’s tail wagged as he leaned over to pick up the greedy creature, which actually seemed to be sated for the moment. “Can you even fly now?” he asked, settling it back on his shoulder.

The dragonling hissed sleepily, offended by the question, and Kaz chuckled as he headed for the tunnel.

“No, no, I know. You can do anything you want.”

Bobbing its head, Li trilled in satisfaction at this response, then wrapped its tail around Kaz’s neck as they rounded the corner. Kaz dimmed his light, hoping to encourage any watching fuergar to take a chance attacking him, and kept his knife up and ready. He’d have to remember to kill a few of them with his bare hands, so he’d have something to take back to the humans.

But no matter how small he made his light, none of the rodents would come for him. As he moved deeper into their territory, drawing ever closer to their nest - if the tiny squeaks that could only be produced by pups was any indication - he kept expecting to be attacked, even if for no other reason than to keep him away from their young.

Nothing happened until he turned one final corner, and the corridor, which had been narrowing quickly, suddenly opened out into a clear space. He caught glints of copper from the walls, and realized he must have found the copper vein they had been eating. Dozens of eyes stared at him from just beyond the flickering edge of the halo of light created by his ki. They ranged in color from brown to a gray so dark it was almost black, with a few pairs of blood-red orbs mixed in.

The ones that attracted Kaz’s attention, however, were brilliant green, luminous, and the size of his fist.