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FG: Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2024-03-25 12:01:37 +0000 UTCNearly all men can stand adversity. But if you want to test a man’s character, give him power’
-Abraham Lincoln
Klega tried to still his ferocious heart as it knocked against his ribs.
Ratties die-die, his mind told him. Kill. Kill-kill them all for Boss Skegga!
Behind him rumbled the yips and cries of his army – 70 of the big Boss’s finest Skog riders, with complete control over their hopping mounts. Klega had always mocked the Skogs of the North tunnels as a child. He had spat at their spherical bodies and played the game of Skogchase with his companions in his youth – where they would taunt the Skog captives in their pens and jump over their spiny backs and tails as the creatures charged them, their venomous tongues lolling out lamely when they missed their targets. Klega had never imagined that he would ever have such control over one of those beasts – that the harness he held in his hands kept such a stupid looking beastie under his total control. It was right what Boss Skegga said – having control over the creatures of their dark world felt like being a God.
Klega smiled at that, raising his chipped shortsword and shouting over his shoulder at the other riders. His riders.
“Towards Knifegut!” he yelped to his fellow Kobolds. “We kill all rat-rats and then – then we take their Shai-Alud and crush-crush Fleapit! For the Big Yip! For Boss Skegga!”
The sound of his men whooping and bashing their mounts with their sharp claws and clubs reverberated through the tunnel they sped down. They sung songs of triumph, songs that praised the Boss and how they would be his tools that would set the Under-Kingdom on fire.
And Klega joined them, jabbing his Skog in its stupid, dumb, empty belly and laughing as it squeaked in pain.
Perhaps one day soon, he thought, they would be singing his name instead of the Boss’s.
…
Marcus stood atop the crumbling wreck that was Knifegut’s walls. Beside him stood Ix, practically shaking.
They watched Skeever and his men return with their plunder – the results of about two hours worth of sustained combat with the spiderlings of the tunnels. They had hesitated at Marcus’ refusal to come with them, but understood that time was of the essence and he had to inspect the walls. If this plan was to work…
He looked down at the tiny form of the Kobold prisoner beside him.
…then all its constituent parts would have to operate in unison.
“Are you scared?” he asked the creature as Skeever waved his bloody spear up at them.
“I – I…” the little creature stammered. He had the involuntary habit of hopping in place like an eager child, and Marcus had to stop himself before such comparisons went any further. These little demons were not children. What they lacked in brain power, they evidently made up for in two areas: numbers and cunning.
“Speak freely, Ix,” he commanded. “And don’t lie. The Shai-Alud will know.”
He chuckled to himself at this little bit of theatre. If only Mari could see him now. She’d always said he was a bad actor. But then again, you didn’t need acting chops to keep infants entertained.
“Ix fear-fears wrath of God,” the Kobold said. “Boss Skegga is supposed to be new God-God of Underground.”
“And do you believe that?”
Ix gulped out his answer. “We of the Far North tunnels do not have choice. We not ask-ask question. We loyal.”
“Until your commander is defeated, it seems,” Marcus challenged.
It was unclear whether Ix recognized the threat in his voice, for all he did was pull on his long ears and wiggle his toes.
“Ix is having new thoughts,” he said. “Commander Gith not win-win fight. This mean he not strong enough. This means Skegga not choose good leader. So this mean Skegga cannot be God-God. God not-not make mistake.”
Marcus chuckled to himself. A stout deduction! Even if it was phrased a little awkwardly. Their people clearly valued strength. He imagined, from the things he’d heard, that this Boss Skegga probably commanded through sheer determination alone. Probably, he was at least ten feet larger than his subjects. And probably, Marcus thought, he believed that large numbers and a common cause were enough to win a war.”
But even as he listened to Ix’s words, Marcus kept his distance. He was not stupid enough to show disdain like the rats did towards their new comrades. The petty racial squabbles between these creatures did not concern him. But equally, he was not going to go the way of Xerxes, shanked in the back by those soldiers closest to him.
“Are you prepared?” he asked.
The Kobold answered with certainty. “Yes-yes, Shai-Alud. We are ready. You have told us of our role in plan-plan. Plan will work. We will win.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Marcus continued, measured. “Are you prepared to kill your own kind?”
Ix looked up at him again and blinked his beady little eyes as he considered the question. They held each other’s gazes for a time, until finally the Kobold had plucked up enough courage to bear his rotted fangs and squeak out his answer:
“This skin,” he said, pulling at his soft belly. “This mean nothing to Yip-Yip. Kobold stand where there is power. Only want strong-strong. If ratmen strong, we follow ratmen. If Boss Skegga strong, we follow Boss Skegga. Ratmen have not been strong-strong. But now Ix has seen ratmen fight with Shai-Alud. Now maybe ratmen become strong-strong. They become worth following.”
You go where there is power, Marcus thought, taken aback at the little creature’s candor. Irrespective of race or creed. I can respect that. Even admire it. Of course, you could be lying to me. But then, you can’t be, can you? Because you’ve just told me something that you probably don’t think you did.
“Well then,” Marcus said with a slight smile as he turned away to finish up the preparations. “I suppose I better win this next fight.”
A sudden streak of mischief suddenly took him. He’d heard a long time ago that a man shouldn’t ask questions he doesn’t want the answer to. But still, he couldn’t help himself. Maybe the performance of the Shai-Alud General really had taken him over.
“If I become weak-weak, Ix,” he said. “Will you kill me?”
The Kobold looked at him vacantly, and merely shrugged his tiny shoulders.
“Ix no need,” he said simply. “Weak-weak not live long in Under-Kingdom.”
…
When Klegga and his raiders finally reached the end of the tunnel that their prior Yips had cleared to Knifegut, he looked upon the fort as a conqueror looks upon a golden city ready to fall.
He forced his men to a halt with a single raised claw, his figners twitching on the grip of his blade.
Quiet-Quiet, he thought, scanning the big towers that were barely still standing after their constant raids.
“Head Yip Klegga!” one of his men whispered beside him. “Why-why we stop?”
“Klegga is using brain-brain,” Klegga replied. “Fort look abandoned.”
“Then we take-take easy!”
Klegga shook his head. “It is being too easy,” he said. “Could be ratman trap.”
“Trap?” another of his men giggled maniacally. “Stinky rats no clever enough for trap-traps! Not like clever Boss Skegga and clever Head-Yip Klegga.”
“Head-Yip Klegga!” his men roared.
They want fight-fight, Klegga thought. Klegga understands. But rat-rats have Shai-Alud, now. They have leader now. Maybe they ha-
A general shout suddenly went up from the back row of his riders.
“Head-Yip! Look!”
Klegga strained his eyes to watch the movement that was taking place atop the fort’s ruined walls. Kobold eyes were sharp as eagles, and even across the field of battle, Klegga could see the ratmen waving at them with their bows.
Then he saw the defenders turn round, lift their tails, and defecate off the side of the walls, jumping around in mockery of the Kobolds’ war dance.
“The devils!” the Skog-riders wailed. “They make fun-fun of us!”
“How dare they mock-mock the sacred dance of war!”
“Enough waiting! We go! We go now-now!”
“NOW-NOW!”
“W-wait!” Klegga screeched. But his voice was lost in the hail of frenzied whoops and battle cries that sailed from the throats of his warriors. He watched them urge their Skogs on with crazed kicks and saw the hatred burning in their eyes as they charged the walls with their meagre defenders who, Klegga saw, barely took aim at them.
He looked at the chaos of the ordered rows breaking up all around him and felt a deep gulch open up beneath his raging heart. Boss Skegga had chosen him to lead. Why weren’t the Yips listening to him?
He looked back up at the fort and tightened his grip round his shortsword.
It does not matter, he told himself as he threw his entire being into the battle. When Knifegut fall-falls, it will be my name they remember. No one else.
NEXT: FG: Chapter 12
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