~ The Flight to Ug ~
or
“How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Run Like Heck”
The hundred stairs
Will raise our hairs
And who’s about to run by?
The misty skins
Will pile up sins
And kick out all the small fry
(From the Prophecy of Bulbuzz)
Down in the Underdark, in a deep, dark (well, deepER and darkER) and very evil place, a pair of red eyes glared at a rift of absolute blackness. Seriously, it was really black...
High Priestess Nedylene was power hungry even for a Drow. And even by the standards of the dark elves, she’d been a very bad girl. Now she watched the fruit of a hundred years of sacrificing truckloads of puppies and kittens to the nameless gods of outermost blasphemy slowly expanding outward. The Nothing was coming. It was inexorable, unstoppable. And it was all her fault.
“Time to find new digs,” a servant said behind her.
After Nedylene finished incinerating Captain Obvious, she started running. Fast.
And her whole city followed. With lots of screaming and flailing of arms.
Never take advice about explosives from a kobold with only two fingers.
In a much less deep and dark part of the Underdark, Dak Throqutak checked his tripwire for the umpteenth time that evening and cursed his lack of funds. If it hadn’t been for those third rate blasting caps he’d gotten off of that quack alchemist Matghaash, he wouldn’t be having to restock his lair, wouldn’t need to set new traps, and most of all wouldn’t have to be listening to the taunting of his fellow kobolds about what a lousy craftsman he was.
Damn it, he’d won the annual Fuse & Bruise booby-trap contest three years in a row. That pumpkin grenade filled with steel spikes and itching powder had been bloody brilliant! But one stroke of bad luck with a band of expert adventurers and too high a ratio of bat guano to gunpowder, and here he was: left with barely enough copper pieces to throw together a lousy tiger pit.
And he didn’t even have tiger. It was just a pit!
Still, if a trap was worth doing (barely), it was worth doing right. The long sharp claws on Dak’s nimble scaly fingers gently plucked the trip wire as if it were the string of a finely tuned lute. It made a satisfying tenor note; and he grinned showing stubby little fangs, another gift from his draconic heritage.
Dak was a kobold of the Gundhosh tribe, one of the few clans that had managed to defy the Drow slavers and live. The pointy-ears loved their slaves (loved to torture, kill and occasionally eat, that is), and they did have a lot of dark magic on their side. But Dak’s family had a saying.
Elves take a crap like everybody else.
Dak shoved the safety goggles he habitually wore up to the top of his head and tousled the mop of soft brown fungus that grew like hair from his reddish scalp. Hair was a new concept to kobolds and reptiles in general, but Dak and his fellows were trend-setters in more ways than one. The alchemists were actually growing some very interesting… things… on some of the trendier females these days!
But the most important change Dak was thinking about as his clawed paws ticked and tocked along the cave floor back to his workshop was the prophecy.
“Hey Dak,” a high pitched insistent voice came from behind. It was accompanied by more claw ticks, and a little cackling. “Dak,” it said again. “Dak. Dak! Dak! Dakdakdakdakdaaaaak!”
Dak’s right paw did what it always did and slapped his face in a way that never succeeded in hiding his large rolling eyes and his lolling and testy tongue. “Hi, Dar. You didn't step on my number two pressure plate again, right? Please say you haven't.”
“Umm…”
“You aren't saying anything, Dar.”
Darixenous Shadowscale, his lizard skull hat and cokatrice feather cloak fluttering and clacking even louder than his giggles, was Dak's best friend in the tribe. Both he and Dak had the characteristic red scales of the kobold command caste, Dar’s hide being a shade deeper. He also varied from his friend by being a sorcerer. And that meant that not only was he “bubhosh” (bad ass) in the clan tongue, he was always a little… removed... from everyone else.
Dak liked to think of it as harmless eccentricity. Even when Dar decided casting a “Deep Fry” spell on the bug farmer’s maggots would be a hoot. Fortunately the upshot was that the clan cook got that great new idea for popcorn maggots.
“You heard the news?” Dar gushed.
“You shouldn’t answer a question with a question,” Dak said.
“Huh?”
“Nevermind. What’s the news?”
“The T’orgh are moving out!”
Dak almost dropped the wrench he was carrying. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes involuntarily bugging out. “Say that again?”
“The T’orgh are-”
“I heard you! What does that mean?”
Dar blinked. Then he giggled and started jumping up and down. “Well, isn’t it obvious? Their slaves have been crying it all over the underdark. Where have you been?”
“Darn cheap gunpowder…,” Dak grumbled.
“What was what?” Dar said.
“Nothing.” The T’orgh were the largest Drow enclave in the Underdark. They made lousy neighbors. And they were leaving?
The prophecy again. He had to talk to Bijib.
“Aw, come on,” Bijib whined in that cute voice that made Dak want to pinch her, “not that prophecy again.” She threw the papers she’d been holding up in the air in frustration, some of which Dak’s nose horn punctured, sticking them to his face.
Dak was standing, hands on hips, trying to count to ten. “If you’re through using my nose for a check spindle, I need you to listen to me.”
As Dak picked away the offending sheets, Dar, who’d followed him all the way to the clan library, wagged a slightly chubby digit in his direction. “She’s kind of right. You do bring that up a lot. And you’re totally too sensitive about those horns.” He grabbed one of the big polished prongs sprouting out of the back of Dak’s skull and shook him playfully.
“Cut that out!” Dak exclaimed. “This is serious!”
“More like anal retentive,” Bijib said.
“What!? No! Hey, why are we discussing my horns when we ought to be discussing those?” Dak pointed to Bijib’s chest.
“Hey,” Bijib whined again, patting the two assets on her chest.
“Yeah, them,” Dak said. “I mean, what are those things anyway?”
“I think they’re called breasts,” Dar said, lifting an index finger toward the cave ceiling.
“I know what they’re called,” Dak said. “What are they doing on you, Bij? You’re a reptile, for Tiamat’s sake!”
“Hey, every girl in the clan’s getting them,” Bijib said. “And I suppose that hair on your head is natural too.”
“That’s different.”
“Fly farts!”
“Guys,” Dar said, his usually silly demeanor vanishing. “We’re getting off track here. Look, Dak’s right. It all fits.”
“What fits?” Bijib said, snorting as she adjusted her glasses and went back to arranging the books on her shelves, which she’d been doing before Dak and Dar burst into the room.
“The T’orgh,” Dak replied. “The Misty Skins. They live down the hundredstair beneath us. Right? Bijib, get down the copy of that book. You know the one.”
Bijib rolled her eyes but she obeyed. She started climbing a nearby ladder toward the upper shelves. Then she looked down over her shoulder at her visitors. “No looking up my loincloth,” she said, tucking her tail between her legs.
“Never crossed my mind,” Dar said.
“It crossed mine,” Dak said, grinning.
Bijib growled. “Ooooh… males!” But ten seconds later, she tossed down a book. “There. I hope it burns your perverted eyeballs out.”
Elder Sharkuu rubbed his temples with one clawed paw. “Let me see if I understand this. You two came to this all on your own. And now you want to uproot the whole warren and go… where exactly?”
Dak and Dar stood before the Moot of Elders (translated “stodgy, dreary and boring old people”). Dak was tapping his foot anxiously and Dar was gazing steadily. He’d gotten really serious lately.
“We go anywhere but here,” Dak said.
“Superb plan,” elder Udu grumbled. “We all go someplace. Why didn’t we think of that?”
“Ugh!” Dak threw up his hands in frustration. “This is ridiculous.”
“Not as ridiculous as this cock and bull story you’re feeding us,” Sharkuu answered.
“Elders, the Drow are leaving. And the prophecy mentions hair and the hundredstair. And what do we have?” Dak grabbed a fistful of his own hair and shook it.
“Poppycock,” elder Blahishi hissed. “That prophecy was discredited a hundred years ago. It was written by a crank who probably ate a bad bug, that’s all.”
“Then what are the T’orgh running from?” Dak exclaimed.
“Az-snagahai, patul gothhai.”
All heads turned to Dar. The dark red sorceror’s eyes were closed and his mouth was moving just enough to utter those words in the Old Tongue.
Kill all the slaves. Save all the masters.
“Be careful, Darixenous,” growled Sharkuu. “This tribe is a slave to no one, and this council will not tolerate baseless accusations.”
“Of course we’re slaves!” Dak cried. “Slaves to tradition. The Drow are running for their lives and you three think all we need to do is sit on our asses and everything will be fine.”
“Impudent youngling!” Udu shouted.
But Dak wasn’t finished. “Our tribe’s name is Gundhosh: guts of solid stone. We’re the only kobold tribe that stood up for itself and won! What’s happened to that courage? The courage to think? Yeah, we have to run. But we’ll just find a new and better home. And if it’s occupied by some umber hulk or filthy otyugh then we’ll fight for our home, right?”
The elders were glaring at the young kobold.
“Right!?” Dak repeated.
“That showed ‘em,” whispered Dar in Dak’s ear hole.
Back in Dar’s vision hut, the sorcerer was practicing his arcane gestures while Dak was sulking in a corner, fiddling with a ball peen hammer.
“Don’t be so grumpy,” Dar said, his middle and index fingers intertwining.
“Why not?” Dak growled. “They’re idiots.”
“Of course they are. The tribe will see that soon.”
Dak got up and kicked an old bird skull into the corner of the hut. “If only there was some concrete proof. Then we could overrule those peawits and get the heck out of here.”
“Something’ll turn up,” Dar said, a mischievous smile twisting one lip.
“Like what?”
The rumble shook the entire tent. The two kobolds looked at each other.
“Like that,” Dar said.
“Move!” Dak made wild gestures to wave on the steady stream of near-panicked tribe members as they dodged falling stalactites. “Get to the main ramp!”
“Don’t be afraid,” Dar called, casting shield spells to deflect the larger chunks of stone. “Just keep moving!”
Bijib was running by, a clutch of squeaking Hatchlings in her arms. “Dak, Dar! What’s happening?”
“There’s no time,” Dak said. “Whatever the Drow did down there is coming this way. Take the hatchlings and run.”
“But-”
“But nothing! Bij, you’re those little ones’ only hope. Please, get them to safety.”
The female was clearly terrified, looking all around her at the chaos of disintegrating hovels and cracking walls. Her armful of hatchlings clung to her like their own mother.
“Don’t worry,” Dar said, his voice sounding far away and distracted. “I’ll protect you.”
Suddenly a horrified squawk sounded at the back of the cave. The kobolds turned as one to see a tribe mate… or half a one… crawling on his hands, pleading for help.
His legs were gone. Not ripped or cut off. Just gone.
And the thing that had taken them was right behind him.
Dak and Bijib stared in horror at The Nothing. A solid wall of blackness that was consuming everything, inch by agonizing inch. It made no sound to compete with the tortured rumbling and groaning of undermined rock.
“Skah.” Dak’s whispered curse went unheard, but then he grabbed Bijib by the shoulders. “Bij, look at me. Just get up the main ramp. Go all the way to the surface if you have to. Go!”
Bijib hesitated. But then she nodded and ran.
Dak ran over to Dar. The sorcerer’s eyes were closed and his hands moved in complex gestures that made Dak’s head ache. “Dar, it’s time. We gotta get out of here, now.”
Dar’s lids fluttered open and his eyes rolled forward. “Is everyone safe?”
“Not yet, but we have to go.” Dak pointed to the advancing black wall. “Whatever that is will take the whole cave and you with it. Besides, I’ll need you in case things get rough topside. You’re my best friend, Dar. I can’t lose you to that thing!”
Dar looked around at their home, now rapidly turning into an abattoir. Then he smiled sadly and clapped Dak on the shoulder. “Okay, bud. Let’s go.”
“Oh, Skah,” Dar said.
Dak nodded as he looked at the rubble blocking the cave tunnel. “We just can’t catch a break today.”
“What’s going on?” one of the refugees said a few rows back.
“Why aren’t we moving?” another said.
“Easy back there,” Dar called. “Just sit tight.”
Dak unslung a backpack he was wearing and started rummaging inside. “Crud. I guess it’s plan B.”
Dar raised an eye ridge. “What’s plan B?”
Dak held up a stick of dynamite. “This.”
“But if that goes off in these close quarters-”
Dak held up a hand. “That’s why you’re here. I need you to shield everyone from the blast. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
Dak nodded. Then he unstrapped a pickaxe from his backpack and began swinging, chipping away at the rock.
“What’s happening,” a frightened voice said somewhere in the line. Dak didn’t answer, just swung over and over.
A voice suddenly screamed in the cave. “It’s here!”
Dar, Dak and many others turned their heads. The Nothing was starting to spread around the corridor. “Aw, come on!” Dak said.
Suddenly there was a panicked rush. The whole column compressed forward like a piston in a cylinder, squashing Dak and Dar against the wall in its frantic rush to get away from the advancing blackness.
“Hey!” Dak cried. “Watch it.”
Dar’s breath was driven out of him as a mother with three chicks in tow mashed him against the rock pile and started clawing at him in mindless fright.
Then, all at once, the blackness stopped. Then it began to turn gray. Then white. Soon all the kobolds were shielding their eyes from the glare.
“What’s happening?” Dak said.
Dar shook his head as he regained his composure. “I don’t know. I can sense… interference. There’s something on the other side of this rock pile that’s stopping the blackness.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes and no. It’s stopped it all right. But it’s feeding energy into it too. That wall’s going to explode soon. Right in our faces!”
“Skah.”
“Exactly.”
Dak got his arms free and waved the pickaxe. “All right, boys and girls. You want to live? Then let us do our job. I’m planting dynamite in this rock. Get behind Dar and he’ll protect you, okay?”
All at once, Bijib came forward, her hatchlings still in her arms. “Everyone, listen to Dak and Dar. They’re trying to help you. Please, this is our only chance!”
One by one the refugees started to nod at each other and back away from the rock wall.
“Finally,” Dak said. “All right, people, here we go.” He struck his tinderbox and the fuse began to hiss. With a grunt he shoved the explosive into the area he’d just chipped away.
“Back!” he shouted. “Dar, it’s up to you now. Shield us with your magic, or we’re finished!”
Dar nodded and, as Dak, Bijib and the refugees hid behind, he began to chant.
Duumakai threikal bethuum…
“Is this going to work?” Bijim said, her frightened face inches from Dak.
Gee-eshirak voko-am baiull…
Dak lowered his safety goggles and tried to crack a smile. “The dynamite? Definitely. The magic? You’ll have to ask Dar.”
Tesseracto pinakama keratio uul…
Dak and Bijim held each other and shut their eyes as the fuse burned its last.
Kanatai DICTO!
“Cover your ear holes and open your mouths!” Dak shouted.
The explosion rocked the cave like the wrath of an angry god, the blast wave smashing against the eldritch power of Dar’s shield. Dust and grit battered the refugees. A few cried out in despair.
Then another bright light showed ahead, beyond the destroyed wall. The bright light of day!
Dak, Dar, Bijib, the hatchlings and all their fellow kobolds blinked in the dazzle.
Then Dar’s voice sounded. “All right, everyone. Get out now! Run. That wall’s about to go. Run, damn you!”
They ran, scattering across a grassy field beyond where the cave opened to the surface.
The new explosion knocked them all flat.
Dak, Dar and Bijib stared at the pile of debris that marked the only remains of what had been their home.
“What do we do now?” Bijib said in small voice, her glasses cracked and the hatchlings clinging to her legs.
“Well,” Dak said while wiping away some of the grime from his skin, “technically this is still a cave.” He pointed to the larger surface cavern they’d fled into just before the detonation. “I mean, I know it’s open to the surface, but at least it’s defensible.”
“All the elders are dead,” Dar said, his hands holding a glowing orb that shifted its colors even as he spoke. “We’re going to need new leaders.”
“Don’t look at me,” Dak said. “You’re the sorceror.”
“And you’re the best trap maker in the clan. Someone’s got to take charge of the labor gangs.”
“He’s right, Dak,” Bijib said.
Dak sighed, then glanced at the glowing object in his friend’s hands. “So what is that thing, anyway?”
“I found it poking out of the ground after the dust cleared. I think it’s what saved us.”
“Huh?”
The sorcerer shrugged “It’s a ward of some kind. I don’t know what it is or why it’s here. But it was actually powerful enough to overload that black wall.”
“Well,” Bijib interrupted, “that’s all going to have to wait. You know the humans and elves are going to find out about this sooner or later. And you know what that means…”
Dak made a disgusted noise. “Adventurers. That’s all we need.”
Dar threw one arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Time to get to work, buddy.”
The End
For now...
