Underkeeper

Bernt found his wand tucked into the last kobold’s belt. The creature was partially buried—its head had been crushed by a large slab of stone. He also found a golden arm bracelet, a silver amulet, and a gold tooth, which he knocked out of the previous owner’s mouth with a rock.

He felt a little dirty for desecrating a corpse like that—but only a little. Bernt needed gold, and the kobold was an enemy. It wasn’t as though that kobold would be using it anymore. In the meantime, Jori drifted through the surrounding tunnels, looking for any more enemies. They were, surprisingly, empty. He knew not all of the kobolds had come back for him and Jori and been caught in the trap—at least some of them were too injured after she’d finished with them earlier. They would bring back reinforcements before too long, he was sure.

Giving his familiar a quick mental nudge, Bernt made his way toward her. They needed to create some distance from the scene of the battle, and he needed somewhere to tunnel out from in relative safety. If that didn’t work, they would at least need to rest for a while. He had no idea what time it was outside, but he hadn’t slept properly in a long time.

Jori scouted ahead and Bernt followed wearily, hanging back to avoid detection and letting Jori’s superior dark vision guide him along. It wasn’t perfect, and he stumbled around quite a bit, but he didn’t want to make so much light that someone might see him. He had no way to detect traps on his own, so he had to hide near each intersection and wait while Jori got a good view. Watching through Jori’s eyes, he then observed a passing kobold as it revealed the meandering safe path. He copied it, illuminating his path with a torch spell, which he extinguished again when he reached the far tunnel.

It was slow going, and he had to double back every time Jori found kobolds moving in their direction. The entire exercise grew old very quickly, and Bernt soon decided they were far enough away to avoid being swarmed by whatever reinforcements might be coming toward the site of the fight. He ducked into one of the random chambers dotting the sides of this particular tunnel, pulled out his wand, and cast his torch spell to look around.

This was a laboratory of some kind, but it didn’t look like anyone had worked here for a while. Dust covered the equipment, and several of the beakers and bottles had a layer of dried residue sitting at the bottom, as if the place had simply been abandoned and no one had ever come around to clean up.

It was as good as he would get.

Bernt dug around in his bag and pulled out a bottle of water, some half-stale bread and a few bits of dried meat. He brought the latter out to Jori, who was sitting in the tunnel—she’d taken up a sentry position without being asked. Then he sat down for his own meal.

The water was warm and slightly musty, but drinking it felt like draining an ice-cold mug of ale on a hot summer day. Bernt shuddered in relief as it went down, and suddenly felt ravenous. He demolished the old bread in seconds, barely taking the time to chew. Normally, he would have choked it down over the course of ten minutes, wetting it with the water to make it more palatable. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, but he hadn’t stopped to eat or drink since entering the dungeon, and that was… a day ago? More?

He was sticky with dried sweat and blood, from his own wounds as well as the kobolds he’d fought. Bernt would kill for a warm bath right now—and a handful of Cal’s stuffed pickled cabbage loaves. The old bread hadn’t been enough.

His body felt heavy as his muscles relaxed, conscious of the cold seeping into him from the frigid stone floor. His mind, previously cleared by fear and the excitement of the fight, now felt sluggish. He had to get up. Risking his life to sleep was not smart when escape was so close.

Bernt took a deep breath, braced himself, and pushed himself back up onto his feet.

Moving to the back corner, well out of sight of the door, he began casting his tunneling spell again. He was going to tunnel up as steeply as he could and hope to break through to the surface. The kobolds’ complex wouldn’t exactly be close to the surface, or else it would have been discovered before, but he had a little time now.

Considering the size and state of the place, they had to have been here for decades already. It was strange, he thought, that nobody had accidentally broken into the warren before now.

***

A long tunneling session later, Bernt’s shoulders sagged in exhaustion and he sat down on the hard ground. The tunnel was less than ten paces long, terminating in an oddly melted-looking ceiling. Running his fingers through his hair, Bernt tried very hard not to simply give up.

He was absolutely screwed.

Things had gone well enough at first, but a few minutes ago he hit a strange layer of rock. His tunneling spell worked, technically; it just didn’t go anywhere.

It was as if the stone was too dense to compress any further and make room for the tunnel. So he’d tried to go around. That was when he realized just how much trouble he was in. It wasn’t just a big boulder. No, it kept going, perfectly even and far too smooth to occur naturally. It was a ceiling.

He had no idea what kind of stone it might be—he was neither a geomancer nor a prospector—but he could guess what it meant. It was a city wall, or at least the kobold version of one. The warren was protected against intrusion from above, at least here. Anyone digging down would run into this layer of rock and, unless they were a clan of dwarves or an army’s entire geomancer corps, there was little chance they would break through before the kobolds or their dragon master could intervene.

He wasn’t escaping this way. He’d have to either look for a way back to his own entrance or find another way out. The kobolds must have their own exits, but he was sure those would be heavily guarded. He’d already tried to go back to the entrance he’d made himself. That whole area was far too heavily patrolled. He would be overrun.

Both were objectively terrible options. Bernt felt despair settle into his gut, heavy and cold, like stone. What was he supposed to do now? There was nowhere to go.

Drawing his knees up to his chest, Bernt did something he hadn’t done since he was a little boy sitting on a cot at the Halfbridge Orphanage, as a then-middle-aged Farrin explained to him that he would be living there with her from now on.

He cried. Little sniffles at first, followed by hot tears and wracking sobs that shook his entire body.

Always, in the past, there was a path forward somewhere. He’d seen it, even back then. He could work, learn, and build connections to improve his situation. Then, once the magefinders came and took him to the Academy, he knew he could become the equal of anyone in the realm. All it would take was work, time, and an endless well of determination. It didn’t matter that he started from nothing, because all he needed was himself. As long as he was willing to do whatever it took, nothing could stop him.

And he had done that. After graduating, he could have left Halfbridge and set himself up as a low-class but comfortable mage in a small town somewhere, a step above the average hedge mage. He’d taken the harder path—a job with the very lowest formal order of mages, but one that paid reasonably well, and that he could use as a stepping stone for something greater.

But he wasn’t enough. Not today.

All of the work he’d done and the humiliations he’d accepted along the way, more than a decade of sustained effort and compromises—it was all for nothing. He was going to die here or die later, as a slave to a bunch of stupid lizards.

He didn’t know how long he’d sat there when he felt a small, unnaturally warm body settle against him. A tiny hand reached up and gently squeezed his shoulder.

It still hurt a little. Jori had incredibly sharp claws now. But it was an important reminder. He wasn’t alone.

***

Jori felt it through the bond when Bernt finally fell asleep. She stood up, stretching tired limbs and wings. She knew her human was frustrated and he wanted to escape this place, but she was actually starting to like it here.

For the first time in her life, she felt strong—powerful, even. It was an intoxicating feeling, and she wanted more of it. She wouldn’t go around picking fights, of course. No, that was much too dangerous. The nasty scratches on her back were better now, but she still shivered at the memory of claws tearing into her back. The nasty lizard had almost managed to grab a wing.

Taking a moment to make sure Bernt’s sleeping form wasn’t visible from the doorway, she began to make her way down the tunnel—back the way she’d come from before the fight.

Maybe that room with all the dead food lizards would be restocked soon. And, while she was out, she could take a look around. She’d been cornered many times in her short life, and she knew as long as you were still alive, you were never really out of options.

***

Gnugg shuffled along at the back of his hatchling cohort as they hauled another corpse wagon to Great Conperion’s larder. He was carrying a torch awkwardly in both hands and sniffled softly as Auntie Dudru chastised him.

“Being smaller than your peers is no excuse for this laziness,” she said, spitting the last word out with vehemence. “Your response to a little competitiveness should be self-improvement, never self-pity! You will never become a productive member of the community if you don’t adopt a positive, can-do mindset.”

It wasn’t fair. Gnugg always tried his best to do the tasks assigned to him in his cohort. The others just thought it was funny to always give him tasks he couldn’t perform. They liked to watch him fail, and they liked to punish him for it.

He couldn’t pull the cart because he was too small to grab both handles at the same time. He couldn’t stack sacks of food because they weighed more than he did, and nobody would help him.

But Gnugg didn’t say anything. Auntie Dudru didn’t want to hear why he couldn’t do things. She said that making excuses was something lazy people did, and kobolds were not lazy. The beatings the others gave him were justified, because he wasn’t pulling his weight. Never mind that his weight was less than half that of the others.

More than anything, Gnugg wished he had a friend. Someone who would help him with his chores. Someone who understood. Someone who would sit with him when he ate, and wouldn’t hit him when he needed help.

A massive clawed hand clipped him across the back of his head.

“Are you even listening to me, you little waste of dragon’s blood?” Auntie Dudru hissed. Then she just walked off, throwing up her hands.

Gnugg wiped at his gigantic eyes. He wished that scary demon would come back and scratched Auntie Dudru in the face. She was terrible.

Just then, he thought he saw something move in the corner of his eye. He whirled, peering back down the tunnel they’d come from. For a moment, he thought he saw glowing crimson eyes up there, near the ceiling. He watched for another moment, but in the end, he didn’t see anything.

Just to be safe, he gave that dark corner a little wave before turning back to catch up with the group.

There was a rumor that a demon attacked the guards on the upper level earlier. They said the deep dwarves must have sent it to torment the tribe, but Gnugg knew better. He’d met it. The demon wasn’t bad. It had saved him!

It had done something scary with the dead bodies then, but it was still nice to him afterward, before it had run off, clinging to the ceiling almost like a spider. It hadn’t hit him even once! And it had gotten rid of all the mean bullies, at least for a little while. He hoped he would see it again soon.

Maybe the demon would be his friend?

They delivered the bodies to the larder, and the others didn’t kick him this time. Bilat, one of his usual tormentors, even helped him drag a body into the room, throwing fearful glances over his shoulder as he did so. He didn’t see any further signs of the creature, though.

But Gnugg kept his eyes up the whole way back—just in case.