B3 – Chapter 8: Kobolds!

She swept out over the cliff and Tristan gripped the Adamant Wood rapier tightly, instinctively spinning his essence crucible spinning in both directions as he kept his connection to the Fey Realm strong and focused. The Matriarch landed at one of the tunnels below and set Tristan down just inside of it. She shrank down to the size of a dog and padded alongside Tristan as they descended the tunnel. Other fairy dragons followed behind, and Felicity was atop his head with paw-claws shifted to scything blades to protect his head.

The sounds of combat echoed along the passages. Screams, curses, both in Elvish and a language that Tristan did not recognize. “Dögölj meg! Az Underkingért!”

He glanced at The Matriarch, who shrugged. Tristan kept going forward, the sounds of combat growing ever closer when he came upon a gory scene. Corpses, strewn about. All of them were short – coming only up to his knee if they were standing upright.

On one side of the tunnel were Gnomes. He instinctively knew that is what they were; their description matching what he had been told. Short, squat humanoids with pointed elf ears and deep, earthy skin tones. Their wounds looked to have been suffered by claws, tooth, and short, pointed blades. Knives and daggers; not large gashes of swords or axes. Which made perfect sense to Tristan – these small halls and tunnels forced him to crouch down a bit – piercing weaponry that could be stabbed forward was ideal for the scenario. One detail about the bodies that did not go unnoticed were the lack of eyes. But what was left behind was not bloody sockets, rather it looked like a small, clay indentation.

On the other side – predominantly, at least with a few Gnomes mixed in – were small, fuzzy lizard-like creatures. They looked like a dog that stood on two legs with short, stubby arms. They had long snouts with sharp teeth – some stained blue with the Gnome’s blood. He wracked his brain trying to think of what they could be, but no insights came to him.

Felicity tapped the side of his helmet with her sharp claw, “Come on. There’s fighting down deeper.”

The Matriarch had already begun to descend the tunnel, and Tristan followed her. The sounds grew louder, and he could hear prominent cursing in Elvish as the combat drew close. His grip on his rapier was firm, and they turned a corner into a scene of chaos and madness.

The whole room was pitch black save for the occasional sparks created from metal striking metal. And yet he saw with perfect clarity as the world was awash in blue hues. A huge chamber, easily fifty feet long and just as wide with several holes leading off to other corridors. The Gnomes looked to be in the midst of a last stand. Wrecked and ruined furniture, mining equipment, and more were piled around a short dais that led to a carved, stone throne on the wall.

Tristan saw the desperation in the Gnomes’ eyes, the tight grips on their weapons – picks and hammers, primarily – as they fought with reckless abandon that those who are on the verge of death fight with. He took his left hand, balled it into a fist, and rapped his knuckles against his torso. “Flee from your death!” he shouted as he cast Dragon Roar.

The furry creatures immediately fled, screaming and chattering as they vanished into the various tunnels. Tristan walked over to the barricade, “I am Lord Tristan Winterbloom, ruler of the Fey Realm. What happened?”

The Gnomes looked flabbergasted, and they looked between each other before one of them spoke. “It’s been how long?”

Tristan looked at The Matriarch, who spoke softly as her voice was filled with pain. “I don’t know,” she said.

The gathered Gnomes pushed some of the barricade aside, and a few of them dropped weapons, weeping at the sight of reinforcements. But one, dressed in a mix of various bits of scrapped metal that had been ramshackled into some semblance of armor, strode forward with a determined glint in their eye. “The kobolds finally got a good attack in on us.”

Tristan looked at him and let his helmet recede as he ceased the essence flow to that part of his armor. “Explain.”

The Gnome crossed his arms, “Five-hundred years after The Undermount was sealed off, we had an Incursion. At first, it was friendly. They called themselves Kobolds, and their home Realm, Skitterhold. We traded for a while…but then they asked about moving some of their populace over here.” He shook his head, the long nose tracing a thin line through the air as dust particles shook from it. “We could not allow that, and they’ve been sallying back and forth ever since. We push them to the Incursion and hold it, they repopulate and push back.”

Tristan saw that the Gnomes were all male, “Do you have women and children somewhere?”

The Gnome let out a barking laugh and looked at The Matriarch, “Some Winterbloom. Doesn’t even know how we come to be.”

The Matriarch looked up at Tristan, “They make new of their kind by placing the eyes into stone statues they carve. The eyes carry the person, so to speak.”

The Gnome nodded and held up a small pouch, “We take the eyes of the fallen. Thus far none have been smashed.” He tossed a smaller pouch to Tristan, “That’s got the eyes of the Underboss Dorni in it. Should be a statue or two of him somewhere in the Queen’s Wood.” He hefted the mining pick he held on his shoulder, “You going to go show these kobolds what-for?”

Tristan looked to some of the darkened tunnels, hearing silence answer. “We need to seal off this Incursion, at the least.” He looked to the Gnome who had spoke, “And you are?”

“Willham, head miner,” he replied as he tipped his cloth cap forward slightly, the metal plates sewn to the top jangling ever-so-slightly. “I can guide you to the Incursion, but its going to be tight corridors. You might be a bit too big, Lord Tristan, in that armor.”

“Are there not smaller passages?” Tristan asked with genuine concern, not wanting to send the fairy dragons down into the depths on their own when he had such vast power at his disposal through his connection to the Realm.

“There are, but you’d have to take a long way down.”

Tristan looked around the chamber, “Right. Here’s what we do. I seal off every entrance with ice elementalism, except the path we are going.”

Willham looked at him with a slightly askew head, tilted sideways. “You can do that?”

“I can.”

He cracked a grin, “Then outside through the main entrance, and down through the Underboss’ Hall. Come on, I know a shortcut to the outside.”

A few minutes passed at Tristan with the surviving Gnomes and fairy dragons were all outside of the mountain. It was a mighty fortification, towering over the Fey Realm and rivaling the height of the far-off mountain with the destroyed and ruined tree Zeltana originated from. “There’s four entrances,” Willham stated.

Tristan looked at the fairy dragons, “I’m going to seal the mountain in ice except this entrance. I want you lot scouring the Fey Realm surrounding the mountain, looking for any kobolds and dispatching them. The Matriarch, Felicity, and Willham will come with me.” He looked to the rest of the Gnomes, “Stay out here and hold the main entrance along with any non-hunting fairy dragons.”

The different groups nodded and a few fairy dragons took flight – the larger ones, mostly – to go around the mountain and find any kobolds who fled. Tristan knelt and put his fist to the ground with the thumb tucked inside the other fingers, channeling the essence of the Realm through him. “Ich beschwöre eine Wand aus Eis herauf.” (I summon forth a wall of ice).

The icy cascade of energy surged down from him and into his fist, and he willed the wall to grow. Silver slivers of essence flowed from his fist, into the ground, and went racing off along the ground both to his left and right. Closing his eyes, Tristan could almost picture it from a bird’s eye view. The mountain, an enormous circle from above, being encircled by a thin silver line. Once he felt the two streams of essence connect, he pushed. Pushed all the essence of the Fey Realm into his fist and along that conduit.

An enormous tube shot up surrounding the mountain. Far up into the sky, until it towered over the structure, and he willed it to arc inward to create a dome. Then, he pulled the staff from his back. The Matriarch reached up and grabbed his arm, “Where’d you get that?” she asked with intensity.

“I made it,” Tristan replied, knowing why she was concerned. He made sure to soften his tone, “I understand your concern – but I promise you I won’t use this staff to open up other Realms and give them access to ours. Never without your permission and oversight.”

This seemed to alleviate her concern and she pulled back, nodding her head. “Very well.”

Tristan tapped the ice dome with the staff, funneling essence into the staff. The magical power caused the branch to crackle with silver energy, and icy-blue plants and roots spread along the whole length of the object. Tapping it to the dome, he willed it to change shape. He felt the torrential surge that caused him to get cold, as the backlash of the ice elementalism began to coat him in layers of rime and frost. The dome bent inward, molding itself around the mountain and becoming a thick layer over the surface – completely preventing access.

Taking a deep breath, he walked to the large, now-covered cavern entrance. Tapping the staff to it, he used the stored Control Ice spell to create a person-sized doorway, and went into the Undermount. Putting the staff back on his back, he drew the rapier and walked with confidence into the dark entry hall. It was quite spacious – easily twenty-feet tall and a hundred-feet long. Large braziers that once held flickering coals were bowled over and their contents scattered about. The whole place was barren otherwise.

The Matriarch walked behind him along with Willham trailing just behind, and Felicity was atop Tristan’s head. He pushed essence into his helmet to re-cover his form and Willham directed them to a hallway that led to the left and down at a steep angle. The slope was easy enough to navigate, but Tristan heard the skittering and yelping ahead of him. “Flee from your death!” he shouted as he rapped his knuckles against his chest plate and used Dragon Roar once more. The sound of his voice echoed through the halls and down into the depths, and he could hear the skittering fade into the distance.

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They would have been lost if not for Willham’s directions. Tristan kept repeating his spell that instilled fear in the kobolds and forced them to flee, but otherwise they continued traveling through the winding tunnels.

Twenty minutes passed and they reached a last turn. Willham stopped them and pointed, “Around that bend is one of the halls we were mining out for gemstones. That’s where the Incursion happened.”

“Size?” The Matriarch asked as an aggressive edge crept into her tone.

“Big enough for your full size,” Willham replied.

Felicity turned invisible, “I’ll scout it out!” she flew forward and around the bend.

Tristan mentally kicked himself, I should have sent a ton of fairy dragons into this place, all invisible, to clear out the kobolds. Heck, The Matriarch probably could have turned invisible and just traveled to the Incursion to seal it. He knew what he had done – he wasn’t thinking like a ruler, he was thinking like he was out in the Mortal Realm, where he didn’t have an army of fairy dragons willing to obey his commands.

Felicity flew back a few moments later and had a shocked expression on her face, “There’s a lot of kobolds in there! They are all grouped together…scared, I think.”

“Probably from me,” Tristan stated.

“No!” Felicity said as she shook her head while flapping in front of him. “They are scared of what is on the other side of the rift.”

Strange, Tristan thought. He began moving forward, “Matriarch, go invisible and get to the rift to seal it. I’ll draw the kobold’s attention. I doubt their weapons can get through my armor, but I’m going to use an area spell, so do not go until you see the flames.”