Death: Genesis

“Far enough?” asked Pudge, looking around at the gathered refugees. Most bore injuries, though the severity of their wounds varied significantly. Some were missing limbs, others had mere abrasions, but none of the former slaves or kobolds had escaped the Battle of Min Ferilik unscathed.

Even more prominent than their physical wounds were their haunted, often fearful expressions. Pudge was not a good judge of such things, but even he could see that they had all been greatly affected by their time as slaves. Or perhaps it was the battle between the pair of titans who’d clashed during their escape. Pudge hadn’t seen the fight with his own two eyes, but he’d felt it well enough. Even on the surface, the pressure had nearly been debilitating.

Slowly, as Zeke had led the group across the tundra, that ethereal pressure had dissipated until, at last, it had faded completely. Two days of travel had passed since then, and without the evidence of the threat looming behind them, the slaves had lost some of their ardor for flight.

The kobolds endured stoically, and with a faith in Zeke that bordered on fanaticism. Still, even they were troubled, if more by the fact that they were above ground than due to any long-held or well-earned traumas of captivity.

They did look at Pudge with a mixture of hunger, jealousy, and outright hostility, though. But then again, they looked at the former slaves the same way, and more than once, they’d come close to starting fights with the other reptilian humanoids. There was something behind that animosity, but Pudge had neither the time nor the inclination to investigate it further.

Zeke ran a hand through his hair, then looked around at the frozen landscape of the Ianthian Wastes. From recent experience, Pudge knew precisely how vast the tundra was. And how dangerous, he thought with a shiver. He could well remember the horde of yetis he and Sasha had battled on their journey through the frigid tundra. Hopefully, they’d put an end to that threat, but Pudge couldn’t be sure.

“I don’t know,” Zeke said. “Every time I think we’ve gone far enough, I feel another tremor. It won’t be long before Mikaena falls, and after that, the Blood Wraith is going to start digging his way out.”

The Blood Wraith.

Pudge had felt the great wyrm’s power even with miles of earth between them. So, he could only imagine what it had felt like to have confronted such a creature face-to-face. The fact that Zeke had judged flight as their only option for survival told Pudge even more about just how far above them that battle really was.

Zeke continued, “What do you think?”

Pudge scratched his chin, then glanced at Sasha. Since joining Zeke and the refugees, she’d rarely strayed more than a few feet from his side. The fact that Zeke was almost human had surprised her, though she’d been more worried about the reality of their situation. She’d felt the battle as well, and on top of that, she could tell that they were surrounded by powerful people and monsters.

Because that was what the kobolds were. Some had the light of sapience in their eyes, but the bulk of the kobold clan still fell short of that mark. And for someone like Sasha, who’d spent much of her life sequestered in a safe city and surrounded by loved ones, suddenly finding herself amongst such company was more than a bit of a shock. Still, she’d taken it fairly stoically, even if Pudge could easily read her discomfort.

She shrugged. “I’m out of my depth here,” she admitted.

Jasper, the dark elf who routinely followed Zeke around, added his own input, saying, “More distance is always better. I still say we make for Westport. The gnomes guard their city jealously, and no monster, regardless of its power, would challenge them.”

“I told you it’s the wrong way,” Zeke said with a tired sigh. “We’re going north.”

Jasper had made his thoughts clear on that matter, and in a way, Pudge agreed with his assessment. To the north lay nothing but more tundra that went on for hundreds of miles, only ending when it gave way to the more temperate climate of a great, unsettled forest. However, Pudge knew what drove Zeke.

And he agreed wholeheartedly with the plan to go rescue Talia.

Of course, neither of them knew that she needed rescuing. For all they knew, she was thriving. But Zeke was convinced that if she was left alone for too long, she would get into some sort of trouble.

Or truly become the monster she always claimed she was.

So, reuniting with Talia was a priority, even if other paths might prove easier.

“There is nothing up there, my friend,” Jasper said, shaking his head. “Just fanatics, hermits, and monsters.”

“And undead,” Sasha pointed out.

“Surely we will not go so far,” Jasper countered. “We will die the moment we set foot in El’Kireth. Either the unliving will hunt us down, or the very atmosphere will kill us. Of course, death is somewhat subjective in this instance. I knew a fellow once. Fancied himself a great explorer. He traveled all across the land, seeing sights few would believe. His journey eventually took him to El’Kireth.”

“What happened?” asked Pudge, his rumbling voice sounding harsh even in his own ears. The dark elf flinched a bit, reminding Pudge that, with his bestial visage, he was quite intimidating.

However, Jasper quickly recovered his calm and went on, “I saw him again a few years later. He had been converted.”

“What does that mean?” asked Sasha.

“He had been transformed into one of them. Did great things for his longevity,” Jasper said, rubbing his chin. Then, he added, “Not so great for his complexion, though. My people are not meant to be that pale.”

“So, the atmosphere kills people like us?” asked Zeke. “Then raises them as undead?”

“I do not know. Not for sure,” Jasper admitted. “But the point is moot. We shall likely die before we ever reach El’Kireth. As inhospitable as the weather is on this blasted tundra, the creatures who live here are much more dangerous.”

“And the knights,” Sasha said. “Everyone knows about them.”

“Ah, yes. The Knights of Adontis. They smite first and ask questions later,” Jasper agreed. “I cannot imagine they would appreciate an invasion by a horde of kobolds.”

“They hunt anyone they consider evil,” said Sasha. “Long ago, they sent an entire battalion of knights to purge the Pale Moon Territory of evil. They called it a Holy Crusade, and my people were the ‘evil’ they intended to destroy. Only because of Elder Heron did we survive.”

“They sent people against Tesh as well,” Jasper said. “They did not get far. At one point or another, they have been convinced that everyone is evil. In truth, it is rooted in opportunism. For instance, Tesh is one of the wealthiest cities in the world. Doubtless, that played a role in their decision to attack. Pity they did not think to do some research. My people are many things, but forgiving is not one of them. The attackers were slaughtered to the last knight.”

“Are your people so formidable?” asked Zeke.

Jasper shrugged. “With wealth comes power,” was his response.

Zeke nodded, then looked around again at the gathered refugees. Ragged and exhausted, they clearly needed to rest. But was it safe? Pudge was glad he didn’t have to make the decision. It had been difficult enough when it was just him and Sasha, but to be responsible for almost a thousand people? And exponentially more kobolds? The very notion made Pudge’s head hurt.

Silik, the big kobold who seemed to be in charge of his entire tribe, approached. Even in the cold, he wore nothing but his loin cloth, gem-studded belt, and a pair of leather bracers. However, his mottled green-and-brown skin bore a host of complicated symbols that had been painted by one of the kobold spiritweavers. It wasn’t precisely runecraft, but Pudge could still feel power pulsing through those innocuous-looking designs.

He said, “Ak-toh. My people wish to voice a request.”

Pudge cocked his head to the side. The Framework’s translation function was, in a word, peculiar. At times, he understood everything another person said, regardless of their spoken language. At other times, the translation came out garbled and a little halting. As if the person speaking only had a tenuous grasp of another language. And then there were times when the Framework didn’t bother translating at all. Silik calling Zeke Ak-toh was one such instance, though Pudge still knew what it meant.

Savior.

Zeke sighed. “Don’t call me that,” he muttered. “I’ve said it a million times.”

“As you say, Ak-toh,” Silik responded, nodding his head in submission. It was a curious thing, given that the hulking kobold towered over Zeke, both in terms of levels as well as size. To Pudge, who still hadn’t completely left his bestial instincts behind, that seemed backwards. However, he had to keep reminding himself that levels and size failed to tell the entire story of a person’s power.

For instance, Sasha was higher-leveled than him, but she was not nearly as capable of a combatant. Even so, she had, on more than one occasion, proven her worth on the battlefield. The incident with the iron monkeys came immediately to mind, but that was only the most obvious example.

But then again, that just supported the idea that levels weren’t everything. Given time to prepare, Sasha could empower a level of devastation few could rival.

“What do they need, Silik?” asked Zeke, dropping the subject of the title he’d been given. They’d had that discussion more than once, and yet, Silik still called him Ak-toh.

“To see their friends and families,” the kobold answered.

Pudge knew that the bulk of the kobold population – hatchlings, their tenders, the old and infirm, and other non-combatants – were living in the tower. However, how that was possible, he did not know. Pudge didn’t really remember much about his earliest years – not with any clarity – but he did recall what had happened the last time a living being had been left in the tower.

What stuck with Pudge wasn’t the sight of that mage’s dessicated corpse. Nor was it the existential notion that she’d died in only an instant. But what he’d been incapable of forgetting was the smell. When she’d been thrust into the cellar, she’d smelled like a human being. But after? There was a scent of incalculable age to her body, as if hundreds of years had passed in only a moment.

He could only hope the kobolds hadn’t met such a fate.

Zeke sighed. “Well, I guess that’s the final straw, huh?” he said. No one answered, not least because the natives of the Eternal Realm didn’t really understand his idiom. Pudge only managed it because he’d lived with Zeke for years. “Alright. Give me a minute. I don’t want to crush anyone when I summon the tower.” He glanced at Pudge and said, “Come with me?”

Pudge nodded, and when Zeke started walking, he followed. Inevitably, Silik, Jasper, and Sasha did as well. However, they were brought up short when Zeke said, “No. Just Pudge.”

A few arguments were killed by a simple look from Zeke, and soon enough, the pair were trudging through the snow alone. Once they were out of earshot, Zeke said, “How have you been, buddy?”

“Good.”

“That’s it? Good? You’ve barely said three words since you got here,” Zeke said. “And don’t try to say it’s because you’re not confident in your ability to speak. I can get a sense of your emotions, you know.”

Pudge chuffed. Indeed, he’d been avoiding certain things since their reunion. He still hadn’t revealed the details of his harrowing journey. Nor had he spoken of the Pale Moon Territory. Part of that was because he didn’t know how to articulate his struggles, but it was also because, with all the new people surrounding Zeke, Pudge felt almost as if he’d been replaced.

Or like he didn’t belong.

Zeke stopped, then grabbed Pudge by his shoulder. It was a testament to their relationship that Pudge didn’t even flinch. Instead, he allowed himself to be turned so they stood face to face. Or they would have if Pudge wasn’t a head taller than his friend.

No. His brother.

In the beginning, Pudge had simply called Zeke that because it was easier than explaining the nature of their soul bond. However, the longer he’d thought of him in those terms, the more it felt like it fit.

Zeke looked up at Pudge’s face and said, “I need you, buddy. All these people look at me like I’m some kind of leader. I’m not. I just…I just want to help them. It would be so easy to just leave. You and me against the world, right? We could go pick up Talia and find Tucker, and then we’d tear our way through the Eternal Realm like we did the Radiant Isles.”

He shook his head. “But I can’t do that. Not anymore,” he said. “Those kobolds, they’re all looking to me for survival.”

“Why?”

Zeke laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah. I’m not really the type, huh?” he said. “But I made a promise. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but now that we’re out of the mountain and in the real world, I can’t help but realize just how much of a responsibility it all is.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I need you to just be you,” Zeke continued, running his hand through his hair again. Unlike all the others in the group, Zeke never seemed cold. Nor did his hair grow icicles like everyone else’s. In fact, he radiated heat. “If you have something to say, say it. If you disagree, let me know.”

“I will.”

“And always be honest with me,” Zeke added. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about what you’ve been through. I get that. But I want you to know that you can tell me anything, alright? No judgement. No beratement. I’ll just listen.”

It was such a simple statement, but hearing it lifted a weight off Pudge’s shoulders. So, he nodded.

Then, Zeke said, “So, tell me about this girl, huh? You two seem really close.”

“Uh…”

Zeke laughed, then went on, “Oh, the look on your face. Good for you, Pudge. Good for you.” After a second, he said, “Yeah. This seems far enough away from everyone.”

Then, he summoned the tower. Pudge had seen the thing sprout from nowhere a hundred times, but he was still a little taken aback by its sudden appearance. Or perhaps that was due to how much it had changed.

In a lot of ways, it looked similar to how it had in the demon realm of Mal’araxis. All metal, with a crown of sharp flanges at the top. But the details were subtly different. To Pudge, the whole tower looked far more aggressive.

And much bigger, too. But then again, if it could house thousands of kobold civilians, then it would have to be.

“Different,” Pudge said.

“Oh, you have no idea. Come on in. I want to show you around before the others get here.”