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Minglings 47: Slavery [Part 1]
🕑 Added 2020-09-13 09:40:17 +0000 UTC
Mason sucked the meat of the last bone and swallowed it whole. It slid down easy, and a burp came up, the gastric gases coloring his breath yellowish.
"That's what I am talking about!"
He took a last look at the sizable stack of bones before around and looking at a widespread desert. He tried to suppress his sadness and forced a grin on his face.
"Let's go, Macy, it's time to continue flying! Wouldn't want to go crazy in this lonely place!"
A deep howl of pain rumbled somewhere in the distance, like a humpback whale with teeth screaming no.
Mason's head snapped up. Where did that come from?! He waited, half afraid the sound wouldn't happen again, half that it did. Since he flew in here, all he had found were muscled camels and sand, and he desperately wanted to find someone with whom he could talk.
It stayed silent, and Mason's thick golden scaled shoulders slumped. Damnit, where-
A second howl, longer and incoherent in its apparent agony, sounded from the left to the direction he had been heading. Jumping forward, Mason shot in the air; his head pointed in the direction from which the sound came.
The yellow-white hills stretched far into the distance, and he couldn't see anything that had made that sound, and he continued up and forward. When he was dozens of meters in the air, he saw something, a dark brown smudge between two hills. Small dots circled it, moving in and out as they seemed to attack the smudge.
Now, what the hell is going on there! Mason continued, quickly making out the form on the ground. It was a dragon! Closer still, he saw that the things surrounding it were yellow scaled kobolds, and they were attacking the unmoving dragon with spears, stabbing at its flanks.
A low, tired wail of pain came from the dragon, and Mason felt his rage build. He had no idea what was going on, but somehow he got the impression something terrible and unfair was happening. He couldn't put his finger on it, nor did he care, as he folded his wings and plummeted down like an eagle.
Low shouts and laughing from the kobolds strengthened his anger, and when he was a few meters from the first kobolds, he roared, blasting a pillar of fire down behind them. It struck the sand, blasting glowing dust away that struck the kobolds in their back. They screamed in fright, running away in a clutter.
Mason slammed into the ground next to the dragon. He got a glimpse of a thick chain wrapped around a bleeding neck, and ragged stumps on a back covered in scars. Then he glared at the half a dozen Kobolds that were looking back at him. They held their spears up but looked more ready to flee than to fight. All of them wore similar, wide brown scaled pants and a tight scale armor that left the arms free. Belts and rope hung slung across their shoulders and waist.
So small... Did I grow this much, or are these different kobolds? Mason thought as he stared at the kobolds that barely reached his shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing!" Mason growled, barely keeping himself from roaring into their faces.
The kobold gaped, a few lowering their spears.
After a second, Mason realized he hadn't spoken draconic. Damnit!
"Why are you hunting him!" he said, this time in the ragged, growling language Bolyr and his change had taught him.
The Kobolds took a step back, looking at each other in utter confusion. After a moment, one turned and carefully inched closer." What do you mean, why do we hunt him? He is the property of Mosran Hasrion the third, esteemed leader of the city of Sparkle Sand."
A low, dangerous growl caused the kobold to leap back, readying his spear.
"What do you mean? Property?" Mason's head lowered as he stared straight into those of the kobolds. His voice sounded threatening, and white steam slithered from his nose and around his teeth.
"This-" the kobold pointed his spear at the still unmoving dragon, "thing was fairly bought from the hunters. The Mosran has-"
A torrent of fire slammed into the sand before the Kobolds, covering them in scalding particles. Covering their heads with their arms, they screamed as they backed up. When they opened their eyes, they froze. Mason stood inches away from them, glowering down as flames licked from between his teeth.
"Where am I?" his voice was as cold as the flames were hot.
The kobolds sat on the ground, shivering and staring up at him. Spears lay forgotten beside them. "What do you mean? I don-" the kobold whimpered as it looked up at him...
"Shut up, and sit down quietly. I need to think!" Mason roared, causing the Kobolds to cringe and fall silent.
Inspecting the lightly armored, well-fed kobolds, Mason frowned. These kobolds seemed to belong to some city, and from what he got from the short interchange, dragons could be bought. The idea angered him so much it took all his willpower not to incinerate them. He forced it down and wondered what he should do now. Nothing they told him would mean anything to him; the only things he knew about this world was what he had learned from the Antracii. The memory of the Antracii caused him to blink and turn to the kobold that had spoken so far.
"You. Have you ever heard of the Antracii tribe?"
The kobold shook his head immediately. "No, is that where you are from? They must be from far beyond the azure desert, becau-"
"Quiet!" Mason snapped, causing the Kobolds panicky torrent of words to silence.
Shit. His mood lowered even more. He wasn't even on Bolyr's old continent. It did explain why there was a dragon here, and why the kobolds enslaved them. It just didn't match what he had heard. A shuffling from the side came as one of the kobolds inched towards his downed spear.
"Try it," Mason hissed.
The kobold shook its head and stayed put, swallowing audibly.
Can just as well try some truth here. See what happens, Mason thought before fixating the talkative kobold with a piercing gaze.
"You, what's your name."
"Agrin Lei Haswarti." The kobold said, sticking out its chest.
The other kobolds seemed to relax somewhat as if trading names was a good sign, and they stared at Mason.
"Mason."
The kobolds seemed confused, and Agrin blinked twice before blurting, "That's it?"
"That's enough for you." Mason glared at them, ignored their stunned, and slightly upset gazes." Where I am from, dragons are sacred. Nobody would dare harm them; besides, they are kin. How can you enslave your own family?"
"Dragons? They are abominations!" One of the kobolds spat back before realizing what he had sat.
Lowering his head next to the Kobold, Mason growled dangerously. "What do you mean?"
Agrin pulled the kobold back and gave him a warning look. "Melarth, don't! If we are careful, we might get out alive to see our eggs hatch come winter."
Melarth snorted but backed off, and Agrin turned to Mason. "I don't know about your continent, but here we kno-… believe, "-Agrin almost choked on the word- "that dragons are the souls of kobolds, stolen and placed into a fake dragon body by the Hound. May his name be forgotten!" The other kobolds echoed the last words as if they were saying a prayer.
Mason stared at the Kobolds in disbelief. Shit, pagan zealots! Where the hell did I end up? Thinking for a moment, he remembered some of what the Antracii had told him. He needed to find out how to get the hell out of this place.
"How did the kobolds get to this continent after the last great war?"
Agrin's mouth fell open, and he shook his head. "Great war?"
Suppressing an annoyed groan, Mason nodded. "The war against the Goblins, and Fiends?"
The kobolds exchanged some glances, and Agrin stared at Mason. "Those are fairy tales…fables to scare the children with." When Mason didn't respond but just blankly stared at him, he quickly continued. "They are stuff from the origin legend!"
Mason shook his head; he needed time to think, more information. The slow realization that he was so far away from the others that he might not find them again began to set in.
"Tell me the legends!" He said, grasping at straws.
The kobolds looked at him as if he had lost his mind, but Agrin nodded slowly. "My nest-mother told me the legends. I'll try and remember." He seemed to think for a second before starting.
"The legends say that thousands of years ago, our ancestors were abducted from Therath, our ancestral world. The Hound, hating our prosperity and wisdom put them in this desert world, and immediately set his minions to besiege our ancestors. Fiends, elves, goblins, dwarves, insect-monsters, and horrible things; part animal, part monster besieged them from all sides. Although heavily outnumbered, the brainless monsters also fought amongst themselves. In their wisdom and searching for an answer, our ancestors prayed to our holy mother to save us! After many tribulations, she finally heard them. She sent her daughter, the Dragon, to save us from the Hound."
Agrin seemed to get absorbed in the story, appearing to forget to whom he was telling it.
Mason frowned, but Agrin didn't seem to notice. Elves and dwarves? Agrin continued, and Mason tried to keep his attention on the words.
"The Dragon and her followers waged a horrible war against the Hound's horrible followers. In the end and against all the odds, they were victorious. They exterminated all traces of the other races, wiping this world clean of his vile taint. It came at a great cost, however, as The Dragon died to protect us." Agrin sighed, shaking his head and placing a hand over his heart, the others quickly copying him.
This is bad, real bad. Mason thought, keeping his eyes on the kobolds he thought were starting to look more than just a little creepy. "So, if the dragon saved you… why are you hunting and enslaving them now?"
"You are not a Dragon!" The loud kobold screamed again, shoving Agrin away. "You are an abomination made to resemble the Dragon, sent by the Hound to infiltrate us, just like your murderous kin in the sea!"
His glare was so intense Mason almost thought he would charge him. Not that he feared the kobold, or all of them gathered before him. Kin in the sea? He must be talking about those Hydraci.
Mason kept half an eye on the aggressive kobold while looking back at Agrin. He had decided he needed more information, either to find a way off or to stay here without being enslaved. "Enough legends. Draw me a map on the sand of this continent. Put the nearest cities or towns on them, and anything else of importance," after a second, he added, "and if there are any areas that have wild dragons put those on too."
Agrin kneeled and began drawing a sizable elongated shape in the sand, almost the size of one of Mason's wings. It reminded Mason of Greenland more than anything else, but with a more jagged top. Agrin seemed to think for a second before stabbing two holes close to the bottom side at either side of the coast.
"Those are Dewcant and Farthesthaven, the two nearest cities. None of the towns in the area are more than farmers outposts." His voice sounded pleading, and when Mason didn't say anything, he jabbed his fingers close to the coast and between the two cities. "We are here."
"And wild dragons?"
"Drakes!" 'Melarth hissed.
"Fine, Drakes. I don't care, call us winged gecko's for all I care, answer the question!" Mason snapped back, his mood low.
Agrin quickly jabbed a finger in the middle of the island and drew a circle. Then he jotted a few points on the coast and drew a small line between them. "There are rumors of drakes in the Hounds eye, a gigantic volcanic area in the middle of the unholy desert," he said, pointing at the circle in the middle, then he pointed at the line. "And there have also been reports of stone drakes near the coast here."
"Stone ones?" Mason asked, getting a bad feeling.
"Yes, large grey drakes. They are wingless, and curl up around volcanoes to lay waste to anybody that dares search for mana-wells or mana-mines."
Mana-mines...? Mason shook his head and took a step back to take a quick look at the still unmoving dragon. He couldn't get himself to call it a drake.
"Fine, leave. I am taking this one."
Agrin nodded and made to pick up his spear when Mason growled.
"Leave those!"
The other Kobolds backed up, but Melarth snarled at Agrin. "Mosran Hasrion will throw us in the mines if we come back empty-handed!"
Agrin shook his head, beckoning the other. "Melarth, come. Don't be a fool, at least we can work for our freedom if we are alive!"
Melarth shoved the other away, glaring at Mason. "No! I cannot go back there, not again!" The unhinged kobold eyed the spear close to him.
Mason lowered his head and opened his mouth, small flames licking around his lips. He felt little sympathy for Melarth. Someone who had apparently been to mines himself, but could still hunt and enslave others was a fool.
Agrin jumped forward, and Mason tensed, but the kobold didn't move to him. He struck Melarth on the back of his head with his elbow, and when the other grunted and fell forward, he jumped on top, unwrapping a length of rope from his waist.
"Thank you for not killing us. I will take him with me." Agrin spoke hastily while he tied up the other kobold. When he finished, he signaled two others. They carefully came closer and quickly picked the partially unconscious kobold up, carrying him away. Agrin nodded at Mason and followed them, checking across his shoulder every few steps.
Mason waited for them to disappear behind the first sandy hill and then jumped up, flying in the air. He circled the downed dragon, keeping his eyes on the kobolds and only landed when they had left his vision.
Staring at the still unmoving shape, small bleeding holes across its flank, he saw that most of its scales seemed gone. Only a few small ones grew on his muscled shoulders and back.
Now how am I going to get you out of here?
