Kobolds Chapter 1 (Pre submission)

Chapter One


Shrike was a very unusual creature. As he sat his rust red scales shone in the fire light flashing and flickering from the grate as she flicked the coin across the knuckles of his scaly hand, and then back again, casting long shadows over the walls of the wooden cabin.
He was small, even for a kobold, and his scales and snout declared his draconic ancestry to all who saw him. But much unlike his species, who usually dwelled underground in gloomy caverns, digging down and down and down into the bowels of the earth, Shrike wore a heavy woollen coat two sizes too large for him, and a pair of thick black boots had been left beside the door of the wooden cabin.
Shrike shivered, as snow drifted down outside into the little fort in which his cabin lay, crammed between the wooden ramparts and a much larger house. He preferred this to life below ground in the dark and damp, but he wasn’t built like humans for these freezing conditions.
Finally, the kobold leant forwards and set the coin down on the little table beside him, and then stood, stretching, worrying.
‘Morven can’t know, how could he?’ Shrike thought. I let nothing slip; he thinks I’ve got the weapons.’
Shrike paced over to a chest next to his large bed and flung it open. Hundreds of coins glinted at him, hundreds of coins that he had stolen.
‘He should have checked’, Shrike thought, trying to convince himself. ‘Of course I don’t have the weapons he asked for, he should have paid after he had seen them, he’s fair game if he didn’t…’
Shrike slammed the lid and turned away. He had been so certain that Morven would not find out, and now Shrike was sure that the game was up. It had all been in the look that Morven had given him an hour earlier, the suspicion and the fury.
Shrike was walking back to his chair, determined to work things out when he heard a knocking on the door. Shrike instantly felt a wave of dread. He should never have entered into an agreement with him, it was so stupid…
Another volley of urgent knocks.
Shrike ran to his bed and scrabbled under the pillow, emerging with a short dagger. Slipping it into his coat he quickly walked over to the door, and threw it open just before a third wave of knocks. He had expected to see Morven’s tall figure, with his thugs flanking him, but instead a teenage girl, shrouded in furs almost fell over the threshold. Shrike was so surprised and relieved that he after slamming the door behind the girl he took several steps back, taking in every aspect of the stranger.
Her bedraggled flame red hair tumbled over her gaunt pale face, but most startling of all were her eyes. One blue, one green. It gave her a slightly disturbing appearance, and Shrike knew from experience to watch his step around this one.
She moved in closer to the fire without being invited, flicking her furs back over her shoulders as she did so. She then turned to Shrike.
‘You’re Shrike, aren’t you?’
It suddenly occurred to Shrike that this could be one of Morven’s stunts. He took a step forwards into the fire light, his hand fiddling with the hilt of the dagger.
‘Who’s asking?’ He growled.
The girl looked surprised, but recovered quickly.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She didn’t look sorry at all. ‘I’m Rosmond. I was told that I could find Shrike here.’
‘Well you found him.’ Shrike withdrew his hand from the dagger. She didn’t look like one of Morven’s lackeys, and he trusted what he saw.
She looked at him for a moment, judging him. Then she said,
‘I need your help.’
Ah. That was it. Shrike knew now. ‘I’m not selling right now.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant.’
Shrike was thrown. Why else would she be here?
‘I need your help with some dragons.’
Shrike already knew that whatever it was, he wasn’t going to get involved. Despite being descended from dragons, kobolds didn’t get on with them very well. Their elder cousins looked down on them for their lack of wings, and kobolds weren’t inclined to accept that.
But either way, every kobold knew that humans and dragons had been at war for centuries, and every kobold knew to stay neutral.
‘No’.
Rosmond looked startled and slightly hurt.
‘But why?’ She asked, ‘I haven’t even told you what I need!’
Shrike shook his head firmly.
‘I’m not getting involved.
Shrike could almost see Rosmond’s heart sink. She started to look desperate.
‘Please,’ she implored looking Shrike straight in the eye, ‘I really need your help. It’s not much, but I can pay you.’
Shrike’s ears pricked despite himself.
‘What do you need?’
She looked relieved. ‘I need to find Angvar. It’s really important. We reckon that this will be the last time to act.’ She fiddled with her furs for a moment. ‘I need to track him down and make sure he doesn’t rise again’
Shrike looked at her for a moment, before bursting into laughter.
‘You mean, you?’ He stared incredulously at the small girl. ‘A, what, fourteen year old girl, going up against the oldest and most powerful dragon to have ever lived? What’s the rush anyway? It’s not like he’s going anywhere, he hasn’t come out of hibernation for the last three hundred Wet Seasons! Anyway! I’d be mad to cross him!
Rosmond looked extremely offended. ‘Well, for your information, he won’t be in hibernation much longer!’ She smiled in a satisfied sort of way at the look of horror that passed over his face.
‘He’s coming back. The Snow season is getting shorter; the Wet season is getting longer. More and more dragons are coming out of hibernation each year. Soon they’ll gather together, and then we humans won’t survive. And kobolds aren’t high on their friends list either.’
Shrike didn’t answer. Rosmond continued.
‘You wouldn’t understand. It would be the end of us.’
‘End of you, you mean.’ Shrike said, quietly. ‘Why you? Decided you could take him all on your lonesome, while better humans, Hunters, even, with powers of their own were incinerated in a moment? Anyway, it’s not my problem.’
He turned away. There was quiet for a moment, the only sound being the wind roaring outside. Then Rosmond murmured,
‘I’m the only one who can.’
Shrike was thrown. He had expected determination, but nothing even bordering the arrogance he was seeing now.
‘Bit Cliché isn’t it?’ Shrike snapped.
I’m the only one, because I’m one of the only ones who know, and the only one who can.’
Shrike whirled about to stare at her, the nostrils of his snout flaring, his scaled tail slapping against the floor. Rosmond stared straight back.
‘Oh,’ Shrike said hotly, ‘So now you’re not only better than all the professional hunters, the ones with magic they took from the corpses of dragons they killed,’ Shrike let the words hang for a moment before continuing. ‘But you also claim to know better than all of them?
Rosmond strode forwards until the two were nose to snout.
She opened her mouth, her eyes flashing with fury. But Shrike had already made up his mind.
‘Forget it. I’m not interested.’
For a moment she looked slightly taken aback, despite her rage. Obviously she thought that Shrike would be falling over himself to help. Idiot.
‘Fine then.’ She snapped. ‘Wait for Angvar to come and burn you. I don’t care. Maybe you’ll wish you helped before he kills you.
She turned on her heel and stalked off towards the door. As she passed over the threshold she called over her shoulder,
‘I guess I should have known. I hear all kobolds are cowards.’
Shrike let the comment pass, and watched as she stepped back out into the snow, slamming the door behind her. Shrike didn’t trust himself to speak. All he could that circulated about his minds were a few scathing comments he wished that he had voiced.
Who did that girl think she was anyway? He stormed over to the fire and slumped down into the chair opposite the fire, where he began fiddling with the coin he had placed there earlier.
‘She was an idiot.’ Shrike muttered, and that one absolute certainty calmed him down a little. She should have known better than to try to mix him into the war between humans and dragons.
Shrike’s tossed the coin into the air and caught it with ease. His anger had faded, and now all he wanted to do was sleep. Morven could at least wait until the morning. That was if he really knew at all.
There was a hammering on the door. Shrike dropped the coin in shock and surprise. It was that girl again, he knew it. Jumping to his feet he strode back over to the door and flung it open.
‘Shrike!’
It was one of the townsmen. It took a moment to put a name to a face.
Jack Townsend. He recalled. The one I sold that fake gem to.
‘Shrike!’ Jack looked scared; his skin was the colour of the snow settling on his broad shoulder blades and blonde hair.
‘Morven!’ He gasped, attempting to regain his breath he had been running. ‘He’s coming! With some of the local men! They’re coming with weapons! I don’t know what to do!’
Shrike felt his heart skip several beats. For a moment he was paralysed, before he slammed the door in Jack’s face.
Turning, Shrike ran over to the chest and began to fill his pockets, looking around for anything else he might need. There! Shrike quickly ran over to his bedside table and snatched up the lump of pyrite his mother had given him before he had gone above ground. Many called it ‘fool’s gold’.
Shrike smiled despite himself. His mother had known him all too well.
But then he was slammed back to reality by shouts in the distance. They had arrived.
Shrike sprinted back to the door and threw it open. He began to run, the rampart on one side, houses on the other. His breath came in wheezing gasps and he already felt a stitch burning in his side. He needed to get out of the town, before they found him.
A large group of men came running around the corner of the street. Shrike lurched right into an alleyway, quickly emerging in the town square. It was packed with people, and none of them looked too friendly. Shrike guessed that Morven would have spread the rumour as far as he could, and humans were such mistrustful creatures towards other species, it must have caught like a spark in dry hay.
There it was, on the opposite side of the yard, the gate. Mercifully the vast slab of timber was hanging open. But something caught his eye. A small figure with flaming red hair was riding out of those gates on a small black horse.
‘There he is!’ A voice shouted from behind him. Shrike made up his mind in a split second. He sprinted across the square towards the receding figure. Shouts rose from all about him and out of the corner of his eye Shrike saw someone lumbering towards him, arms outstretched.
Shrike skipped sideways, barely faltering. Rosmond was starting to pick up the pace. The uproar in the square was making her nervous. With a final burst of speed Shrike charged out of the crowd.
‘Rosmond!’
She turned and Shrike saw a malicious look glint in her eye.
No. She couldn’t.
She didn’t. As the crowd descended on Shrike she slowed the horse, just for a moment, and stretched out her hand. Shrike grabbed hold of it and she dragged him up behind her with startling speed.
‘Ride!’ Shrike bellowed over the din
Rosmond dug her heels into the horse as the words left her mouth.
Somebody shouted her name, and Shrike turned to see a crooked old woman with steely hair waving. Behind her in the dead centre of the crowd, stood a tall, sallow faced man with short brown hair. Morven. Shrike thought he saw him grin wolfishly. He would be able to reclaim the money from Shrike’s house with ease while order was restored.
‘Got to do it Dad!’ Rosmond bellowed, and the horse passed through the gates. Shrike glanced ahead of them and was briefly dazzled by the sun reflecting off the featureless snowy tundra before him. Shrike fought to regain his breath. The shouts behind them began to dwindle into the distance, until they disappeared altogether. He was alone in a barren, freezing wasteland.