Chapter Two-Hundred Fifty-Five

Chapter Two-Hundred Fifty-Five

Aranya

The red kobold can’t help but keep a hand at her pendant as she, Ragnar, Aelara, and Yvonne follow Teemo and Nova. She should be confident, especially after that miracle from Lord Thedeim and his scions, but she can’t keep her nerves fully in check.

Should she have tried to insist her friends stay behind? What if they get hurt because of her? Not for the first time, she crushes that line of thought. Not only is it pointless to worry about that now, it’s also insulting to her friends to even consider taking credit for their agency. No, they chose to come along, and if she’s honest with herself, she’s glad they did.

Even if she worries for their safety. She does her best to set that cart on a quiet path in the back of her mind. Their safety is her concern, she is their primary support now, but she can’t make their choices for them.Updated chapters at novelhall.com

She turns her attention to the shortcut they’re currently in, both to try to calm herself, but also to appreciate just how skilled Teemo’s become. The trail feels comfortably spacious, but she’s pretty sure a more ordinary worm would make more of a disturbance than the combined efforts of Teemo and Nova. The Voice hurries alongside the wyrm, manipulating distance as she melts through the rock.

Aranya even suspects he’s manipulating the space around Nova, too, as she watches the shy scion slowly add more and more magma to her form. She’s pretty sure Nova is mimicking more advanced forms of dragon, currently what she would consider a drake with four legs and a tail. She suspects Teemo is shrinking her, because she’s seen little ripples in the magma construct, hinting at Nova moving underneath. She doesn’t know how significantly space is compressed there, but she’s confident Nova wouldn’t fit through any of those legs if they’re actually the size they look to be.

“Nervous?” asks Ragnar at her side, looking more serious before this fight than usual.

“Yes,” she admits, turning her head to look at her other two companions. “I don’t know which of the scions would be worse to face.”

“Th’ Redcap,” answers Ragnar without hesitation, earning confused looks all around.

“The Redcap?” repeats Aelara. “I would have thought you’d be more concerned about facing the Harbinger.”

Ragnar shakes his head. “Nah. It’ll be nasty, aye, bu’ I c’n handle a headache. A Conduit’s a whole other vein t’ mine.”

“Even without your usual armor?” asks Yvonne, earning a laugh from the dwarf.

“Are y’ daft, woman? It’s no cragplate, but it’ll take as good a beatin’ fer a while, and weighs nothin’!”

“What about your shield? Isn’t it dangerous?” asks Aranya, still a little confused about why he kept it.

Ragnar smiles and reaches to pat the shield slung on his back. “Even a Conduit’ll ‘ave a ‘ard time takin’ m’ shield. It’s an heirloom an’ ‘as th’ weight a mountains. Tha’ Redcap could take it, but he’d bottom out th’ Maw t’ do it.”

“But your axe would have been easier?” points out Aelara, nodding at the weighty stone hammer at Ragnar’s hip, instead of his usual weapon.

“Aye. B’sides, I figure we could do interestin’ things together wi’ an earth mage an’ an earth hammer!”

“Think ye’ c’n get a scion intae one?”

“Maybe, but the way out would be pretty obvious. It looks pretty weird in there, with the only normal bit being the exit. Anyhow, let’s do this, yeah?”

Aranya inhales and nods as the floor slopes up to the crack in the ceiling, where Teemo waves her forward. He even hops on her shoulder as she steps through into a familiar nightmare.

The air is thick with the scent of bodies, thankfully the scent of living bodies, at least. Breath, waste, and shed scales fill her nostrils as the sight of confused kobolds greet her. Most have ragged clothes, with only the Maw fanatics having anything clean. Even their chains are clean, which is much more than can be said of the others. While the fanatics have thin, practically decorative chains, the ordinary ones have thicker manacles and bindings. Despite them being loose enough to let a kobold move around, the chains serve two purposes. The first is a reminder of their place. They breathe only because the Maw allows it. The second is so there is an easy source of metal to punish any kobold who gets too uppity.

The gathered kobolds murmur before a fanatic cautiously approaches Aranya. “Who are you?!” he demands, relying on the threat of the Maw to see an answer, rather than any weapon to give his question weight.

Oddly, her nerves seem to melt away, instead of spiking. This is the time for action, not for second guesses. She speaks loudly and clearly as she steps aside, letting her friends join her from seeming nowhere.

“I am Aranya, Resident and High Priestess of Lord Thedeim. He has come to free our people.”

The fanatic sneers even as he seems to relax. “What makes you think you can stand before the Great Maw?”

“Jello’s Embrace,” she answers, a wave of orange engulfing the fanatic and holding him still. She directs the magic toward other fanatics, with Aelara soon bringing her own magic to Entomb fanatics up to their necks. The commotion draws the eyes of everyone in the enclave, with even the tunnels filling with curious and nervous eyes.

She inhales to repeat herself, but is interrupted by a wizened old kobold with dusty red scales, leaning on a cane as he steps toward her. “Aranya? Is it truly you?”

She smiles and rushes forward, embracing him. “It’s me, Grandfather! I’m back, and I’ve come to bring everyone with me.”

“But... how?” he asks with wonder, his eyes wandering over her companions and eventually landing on Teemo, still sitting on her shoulder.

“There’s a lot of hows in that one question, hmm?” he answers, only making her Grandfather even more confused.

“There’s too much to explain right now, Grandfather. Just please, get everyone here so we can go. Teemo here has made a shortcut for us all. We need to take it, before the Maw notices.”

“How would it not notice?” he asks, before a crash of metal on metal sounds from just behind Aranya. She quickly turns, seeing Ragnar in a full defensive stance, staring at the entrance to the Enclave... at the Redcap.

“So, the Master was right. You thieves wanted the Master’s precious kobolds.” The lanky fey slowly stands to his full height in the tall cavern, his blue eyes looking disinterested as he takes in the scene. “I should thank you, I suppose. I haven’t had a chance to make a fresh hat in a while.”