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Minglings - Book 3 chapter 13: The last words
🕑 Added 2023-03-21 21:48:39 +0000 UTC"Most of us had no warning when the great calamity happened, no more than a sudden news flash. At one point, we were in our homes, and the next, we woke up in a foreign world, with enemies everywhere, our bodies changed beyond recognition."
Mason swallowed. Did we wake up late? Why… how? It took him all of his willpower to keep from spewing questions at Sandra. Instead, he continued looking and reading.
The next image showed a zoomed-out view of a massive black forest bordering a dark sea, with storm clouds above it.
"We arrived in the year seven hundred after the first great Dwarf war, spread out across the continent that was then called Lestral. Clustered in pockets and still reeling from the change, we tried to survive while besieged from all sides by those who called us monsters."
Wait… there's dwarfs?
The following image showed two sides of a battle, one with heavily armored, stocky, and bearded warriors, tall pointy-eared archers, and dozens of other races, only some of which he recognized.
Dwarfs, elves, some kind of leaf-people?
They stood in neat lines, ordered, and with gleaming weapons and armor. On the other side stood goblins, fiends, kobolds, and insectoids. Many wore rags, leather, and partial armor while wielding wooden clubs and rusty weaponry.
"The change had turned us into a myriad of monsters and beasts. We still don't really know how or why all this happened. The few things we do know... No, I'm getting ahead of myself. The consequences of our change were horrifying. This world, Pentara as the people call it, was inhabited by many races we had only read about in stories and seen in movies. The good races, in many tales. Good indeed. They attacked us on sight, hunted us. Killed us. Tried to wipe us out as if we were vermin."
Mason looked at the elves and dwarfs and saw they were all depicted with gruesome rage and hate on their faces, while the now familiar faces of goblins and kobolds, those that had been human, were fearful. He moved to the next image, feeling slightly worried and surreal.
A burning countryside with destroyed cities, bodies strewn everywhere, and marching armies of goblins and fiends. Dragons flew above the army, breathing fire, ice, and other things down on the cities.
"I could speak of the torment, the hunger, the hiding, but... in the end, all of that didn't matter. We resisted and banded together, intent on carving out a place for ourselves. If they were going to try and wipe us out, we would show them what Earthlings were made of. If they wanted to kill us, we would kill them first!"
Mason swallowed as he began to get a bad premonition.
"Kill them we did. As our history has proved many a time… we were very good at it. Too good, perhaps. Using more advanced tactics, guerilla warfare, and single-minded stubbornness, we fought back. They had battles before we came. Skirmishes. War, even. But we showed them a war of attrition. However... the years of war changed us, and what started as a battle for survival and freedom slowly changed, was twisted and turned into a battle of extermination."
There was a small line, then a final, short text.
"Fifty years after we arrived on Pentara, the combined forces of goblins, fiends, and dragons destroyed the last remaining dwarven kingdom. The dwarfs were slain to the last man, woman, and child as the Elves, Fairies, and others were before them."
Mason took a step back, staring at the image with disbelief. "This can't be," he whispered, turning to Sandra who looked at him with eyes big with sympathy.
"Keep reading. There's more…"
Feeling his mind reel, Mason stepped to the next image. On it was an image of a beautiful map showing multiple continents and island chains. It was divided into red, part green, and gray areas.
"Six hundred years after the War for Survival, as we called it, most traces of the elder races had disappeared, wiped away by marauding bands of goblins. Three kingdoms emerged from the ruins. The goblinoids were the most numerous, spreading out at a pace none of the other races could match, their lower physical and magical power more than made up for by their numbers and incredible reproductive prowess. The fiends, less in number, seemed happy with just being left alone. They closed their borders to prevent goblin incursions and began attempting to master the magics of this world. And then there was us. The final and least numerous kingdom. The realm of kobolds and dragons. Of all those that came, only we, the dragons, remembered Earth, the planet we came from almost seven hundred years before. Not that anyone wanted to know about that, not even the kobolds. Even the history books that we tried to spread did not help retain the knowledge, which was scoffed at by mages who could generate energy from the air and communicate with their minds as we did with mobile phones. None of the other races has the longevity that we had or cared about some vague world their great, great ancestors called home. Still, there was peace. Sadly, it was not to last."
The next image showed a massive white dragon hovering in midair. In front of it hung thousands upon thousands of smaller ones, like hummingbirds before a mighty condor.
"Seven hundred years after we arrived in this world, The Hound awoke. A Dragon unlike any other. Powerful, charming, and with a thirst for vengeance, he explained that he and the original dragons were the reason for our arrival. The reason for our whole existence even! He spoke of a beautiful world that had belonged to the dragons until the elder races had come through portals. Dwarfs, elves, gnomes, and many more. With greater numbers and powerful magic, like us them, they had hunted and wiped out the Dragons until only a few remained. They feasted on the powerful flesh and used the bones for their magics and the scales for their armor."
Mason shook his head, barely believing what he was reading.
"The Hound spouted stories of the why and the how, but I have come to doubt much of what he said since. Still, we believed him then. When he said the goblins and fiends would be the death of us, and we should prepare to resist their attacks, we began increasing our armies. Why did we listen? Now, in hindsight, I fear that the Hound has a way of controlling us, although I know not how he did it. Perhaps because he was the last of the ancient dragons? Or something with how they created us? I don't know. Smarter people than me tried to figure it out and failed."
There was a small line added below, the writing slightly different, more crooked.
"There are books in the library for those who read this."
Mason looked at the line and frowned as he gaze drifted along the murals before he gritted his teeth and stepped to the next one.
On it, he saw Goblins and Fiends battling Dragons and Kobolds, while to the bottom, a small row of kobolds with a few Dragons were leaving.
"Our increasing armies drew the ire of the Goblins, and between many machinations too sad to name, another war commenced that ravaged what had been rebuilt since the last one. Small in number as we were, with the help of the Hound, we soon began to crush all opposition. Under the guise of protecting us, the Hound began pushing for the total extermination of all goblins and fiends, and a division occurred in our kingdom. Those who had long questioned the truth of things tried to call for peace and diplomacy, but we failed. Again. When it became obvious what was to happen, we left. We used our powers to transport our kin and friends as far as we could. It... cost us. Those that stayed behind fought a progressively horrible battle with the other races. Although outnumbered, the massive power of flying Dragons allowed the kobold kingdoms to contend against the combined might of the Fiends and Goblins. For a while."
Mason quickly stepped to the next image that showed a map, this one fully grey and green with a small pocket of red in the middle. The small row of kobolds and icons had now moved to the edge of the map, which was filled with images of chaotic monsters and flames.
"We don't know how, but the Fiends and Goblins managed to end the Dragon kingdom in one fell swoop. How they managed it is unknown, but rumors managed to reach even our fleeing selves. While some believed them to be true, I still doubted them, but it no longer mattered. The goblins wiped out all kobolds, committing genocide again. Those of us who were left split into two groups. Those capable of breathing underwater headed out into the uncharted seas and disappeared, never to be heard from again. Some of those said they... sensed something, far away, calling them. I don't know what it was, but unable to join them, the rest of us moved toward the Chaos Island Chains. Legends from the old elf tomes spoke of a great danger buried there and warned about going there. It seemed like a good place to hide."
The next section was made up of multiple images closely cropped together, almost like a comic. The first panel showed a group of dragons and kobolds moving through the sea, leaving a trail of corpses behind them. Hydracii, giant snakes, and other monstrous images seemed to circle them. Then a panel with lush, fertile lands, followed by one with deserts and mountains. The last showed a dragon in a forest, with a few Kobolds moving around it, building huts.
"The trip to the Chaos islands was dangerous, and we encountered monstrous things that almost wiped out what remained. Still, we pushed on and finally found a glimmer of hope. Massive islands, the size of continents on Earth, some lush and beautiful. Better yet, there was no sign of other intelligent life. Finally, without enemies, we slowly rebuild."
Mason stepped aside, his mouth dry and his eyes burning, staring at the next image. It showed a wide, flowing country of hills and forests. A few dragons sat together, seeming sad, while kobolds walked away with bags and wagons.
"But not all was well. We soon found that the number of kobolds that awoke was diminishing at a rapidly increased pace. Where during the first hundred years after arriving, every tenth kobold would awaken to their dragon side, soon it became one in a hundred.
A few generations later, it was one in every thousand, and with every successive generation, fewer and fewer Kobolds awoke. Without the ability to procreate ourselves, our numbers dwindled even more. Perhaps even worse, those that did turn awoke wild and crazed, rampaging the area they awoke in. Many died to the dangerous wildlife before they were found, and even then, it was hard to curtail them. With so few Dragons left, the industrious Kobolds began leaving, creating kingdoms of their own with their own laws."
Another sidestep and Mason was reaching the end of the murals. This one showed a mountain, the entire painting gray and somehow oozing pain and loss. There was more text here than below the others, and it was smaller and less legible.
"Time sped by again, and the self-proclaimed kings and queens began ignoring us. Unless we were to force it, there was nothing the few of us that remained could do. So we left and flew far out to what they now call the chaos seas. Why? I don't rightly know anymore, perhaps the delusional idea that we might rebuild something of Earth? Whatever it was, we flew far, across the seas, until we found this place. The waters between here and there are so infested with Hydracii and other things that none will disturb us unless they can fly. On arrival, we found this mountain and built this place, part sanctuary, part legacy. I don't know why we remain, why we even did any of it. The others find it important, perhaps because we are the only ones remembering Earth. They want to leave something behind. Not all agree. Some want to set out and search the rest of the world for a cure—a cure to our infertility. I'm starting to agree with them more and more. It has been... years since a new dragon found its way to us. If the awakening of kobolds becomes even less, the dragon race will go extinct. Again!"
Another image, this time of dragons flying away from the mountain and a message far messier, almost seeming hurried.
"So exciting! Even those who wanted to stay were convinced. We will head back to the Kobold kingdoms and see what became of them. Perhaps we will find a cure, a way to procreate. I can only hope… When I said I wanted to add more murals, the others laughed. No one will read them, they said. There is truth in those words… but there is something I have always wondered about. Just after we came here, many were missing. Though it is possible they died or were split up, perhaps they came to other places? This world, it is so big. We've tried finding more continents, as there are references in old elven texts, but as far as we flew, we never saw anything. Still, this doesn't have to mean there are none? Pentara is far larger than Earth, so perhaps… one day, someone will find this? Ah! If- if you read this... well, that's great!"
The message sounded final, and Mason frowned as he looked up to find more murals beyond it. Had not everyone left in the end?
The next section showed dozens of crudely drawn images side by side and in rows, depicting a passage of time. Empty maps began filling with towns, cities, roads, and borders began appearing. Slowly, colors emerged, until in the last one, a whole set of islands was covered in kingdoms.
The handwriting of the message below was the same but oddly jittery.
"A thousand years or more has passed. It is hard to tell. After a few hundred years, we begin falling asleep for extended periods. As we grow older, the sleep lasts longer, and now some are no longer waking up. There are only ten of us left, and I am the only one who can still move as I used to. How things have changed… I am almost three thousand years old now, and where I started weakly, I have returned to that state. My magic has wilted, my body is old, and I had to leave or be trapped in the new Grand Kobold Empire. It even spread to our desert-covered haven... But, how they have grown! Cities, merchants, rune-crafters, mages, and powerful warriors, almost like a tale from the old. If only it was all good..."
Mason sighed as he shook his head. Yeah... as if grand empires ever work.
"Ah, I digress. I have returned here and will explain what has happened since we left and as we wandered amongst the Kobolds without them their knowledge."
Wait? What? Did they manage... Mason's eyes widened, and he took a quick look at Sandra, who grinned at him and nodded.
"Yes, when dragons mature enough, they can revert to their kobold form."
"Awesome," Mason muttered before continuing to read.
"We never found a cure, not for our infertility nor for the slowing of kobold awakening. One in each ten thousand, and most are... addled. Worse, the Kobolds are starting to forget who we are to them, having elevated us to a monstrous myth. Before I left the coast, rumors were spreading of Awoken being used as slaves. Some of the Kobolds are spreading rumors that we were the cause of the great war. Odd, how even without being human, they are making the same mistakes? Perhaps humanity thought too much of itself, and even our most horrendous mistakes aren't really that special... A sad thought. They have created many prosperous empires, but there is a shortage of fertile land. The small islands are too hard to guard. So, now calls for war against the goblins and fiends are sounding. Boats are being made, and I fear what will happen."
The next image was roughly drawn, showing lands burned and ravaged, bodies strewn around everywhere.
"It had been fifty years, and I took the risk. The others... they sleep, so why not? I flew to the coast to find out what became of the war effort. Wandering the streets, old and frail, it was easy to hear the stories floating around. It is horrifying. They went through with it and returned to Lestral, the continent we once appeared upon. But out of thousands of boats and millions of kobolds, a single ship returned, sped on by four powerful air mages. Those on it spoke of something horrible... monstrous. A hideous white dragon that dominated the minds of the leaders and mages forced them into war. Made them do unspeakable things! The Hound survived! How? I don't understand how he manages to stay young and awake after all these years. There must be a secret, something I'm missing. Is it because we are different from the ancient dragons? The Kobolds blame the dragons now, and awoken are being hunted and killed. A few actually shot arrows at me as I passed them by... I was hard-pressed not to retaliate. The fools."
The next panel had no image, just more text.
"Another hundred years alone. Horrible. As the sleep had yet to keep me, I left again, flying to Galigin'iz, the largest city on the coast. How the world has changed. Those idiotic kobolds have taken becoming awoken as a mortal sin, a sign of being cursed by the Hound! Rumors speak of a few of the tribes that managed to flee, taking their awoken with them. They were branded heretics and chased after. The Hound's name is used as a curse now; the only good thing I've heard so far. I gleaned more information from what happened when they reached Lestral, and it was horrible. They almost committed genocide! Have they not learned? They almost wiped out the entire race of goblins, banding together with the fiends of all people! If the Beastling hadn't finally stepped in and shown a strength that I can barely believe... if the few stragglers are to believe there were mythical animals that managed to push even The Hound back! Perhaps we were wrong all those years ago to ignore them..."
Yeah... ignore potential allies. Real smart, Mason thought as he felt like growling.
"The few kobolds that survived the central conflict said they left behind a continent riddled with death and destruction. I can hardly believe what has happened. Were we wrong when we came here and prevented the elder races from killing us? Perhaps that would have been better?"
Mason's anger faded again, and he sighed, looking at the remaining murals. Not many left. He wanted to talk with Sandra but moved to the next section, which was split up into different parts.
"The sleep finally came, so much later than the others, and suddenly I am afraid. I fear that what I know, the history of this place, the world, will be forgotten. It is ridiculous, I know. My knowledge has done nothing for anyone for over three thousand years. Still, the idea wouldn't leave my mind, festering and gnawing. I will find a dragon if I can. A young one, and teach him, so it won't be forgotten."
A small line separated the next bit.
"I waited till I had a long sleep, then flew towards the coast. It was dangerous, far more so now that I could become sleepy at any moment. I made it but had to find shelter in a cave near a small town. For months I flew around, even going to the small islands before the coast, marveling at the stupidity I saw. Dragon's wing-clipped, afraid of who they are, what they are, and used as slaves. I almost thought I wouldn't find one that had managed to get away, but then I arrived near the west coast. In a massive mountain range, I found him. As black as night and as feral as a mountain cat, he must be some type of mutant... or a throwback to the true dragons of old? Who can say? I called him Midnight and took him with me, which was a whole struggle. Hopefully, the next messages you find here will be from him…"
The same Midnight? It has to be, Mason thought, stepping to the last, much shorter message.
"The Sleep comes too fast now, and Midnight has not yet learned to write. It is hard on the boy, and I know he doesn't understand everything I've told him. He said I slept for almost a hundred years this time. That means I might not ever wake up again. So my last words, then? Something grand? No... I have no more to share. Goodbye from Earth."
Mason stepped back, feeling sad, tired, angry, and confused.
"Dammit," he growled.
Comments
Carrarn
This is the last of the things I wrote years ago before I put Minglings on hiatus, and parts of it were older then that. Everything going forward is fully written in 2023 ;) (Lots of the previous chapters were heavily edited of course :P)
