An Unlikely Bride 22

It was a blur to him, but the murder ended in a haggard gulp.

This distracted the beast just long enough for Thonvar to process it, to grab Anza's unconscious form and toss her toward the rush of people. Somebody, one of the elves actually, caught her like she was a little doll.

Corrick was first to try his hand at slaying the beast, his face red with painful rage, a thrust of his pike found no purchase and he was swatted aside.

Hedrick did the same, the heap of human bodies being crumpled against the rocks was topped with a random adventurer, and then Lowen too as he tried in vain to clutch his spear with a loud and painful cry. After this the beast gave up trying to swallow and spit the body out, tossing it to the side twisted and punctured. Obviously he was too much to chew.

Finally something found purchase against their enemy, a courageous throw by a fearless little kobold nearly put an eye out with that stone missile. For a brief moment there was no noise, just the echo of the impact in the open maw, to Thonvar it sounded a lot like a fallen log receiving a blow. He was still in shock, he was beyond laughing.

Another rock came, a burst of snow and ice scattered across the enemy's snout. Then another. Another.

The assault did not stop.

Amidst the painful shower Declan advanced ahead, armed with a crude kobold-crafted "spear" to finish the job. He seemed to shuffle closer, the boy dancing on the line between bravery and panic with each step, a tenacious grip on his weapon there to steel his own nerves as much as to keep control of the former broom handle. Thonvar found himself in a trance as he watched the scene unfold, the exposed belly was the obvious target and the boy oriented his whole being toward it. Unable to see properly the creature reared up, wings flared, it began to inhale as if to screech again but...

Didn't they breathe fire?

Fifteen paces out, the boy was moving too slow, he was hesitating and tense and didn't close the distance fast enough. Either the beast would come down on top of him, ending his foolish assault, or incinerate him where skulked. His sister noticed it too, she screamed.

No.

No!

Electric will surged through him, his blade trilled in an almost excited way as the wind bit his exposed skin. Run. Go. Faster. These were concepts that he manifested into being, his figure writhed and twisted, he ceased thought and with it ceased to hesitate.

Yet he was too slow.

As he sprinted he saw the hind legs tense to give the body support, the tail flat, the torso twisting to allow that serpentine neck to contort so the evil eyes had full view of the young target. When the jaw dropped he saw inside, saw the ropes of saliva snap and peel back to reveal the necessary glands on both sides. For a brief moment they swelled, puffed out with effort, Thonvar had tried so hard to close the distance but all it earned him was a replacement with the young man's fate. Their impact together sent Declan tumbling in the direction Thonvar had been moving while the red-haired warrior was forced back on his knee. Shieldless. Open.

Vulnerable.

An anguished scream from behind faded, his ears filled with the pulsating drum of himself. All that effort, was it wasted?

Both nodules in the wyvern's throat burst and the world stopped.

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Drond was not a very brave kobold, not really, he just did exactly what he was told and kept his head down as much as he could. Whenever something bad happened he often found himself with something to do away from whatever it was that had gotten everyone else riled up, he truly did not understand why anyone would do differently. This was how it was meant to be, everything worked better if everyone minded their own business! Uzkrig had made Drond take care of the wagon, the wagon was his whole world and he liked it that way. Sure, sometimes it was hard, but it meant he didn't have to do anything else. A very, very special job for a good kobold like Drond.

Then Anza got married and everything started to get tough.

Before that they had gone to the elf lands and nothing happened, then they went to the one place with all the humans, then the other place with the other humans, the big city on the river, he even got to see a real dragon land on a hill! Everything was fine when everyone did what they were supposed to do, but that is _not_ what happened. Anza? Anza made mistakes. She was supposed to be a good wife for the human, that was the plan right? Anza was a bad wife, she did not keep the human from getting into trouble and then everyone else got into trouble too. Uzkrig? A chief makes plans, yes, has ambitions, yes, but this?

They had to run from dead things that were not dead, from evil demons, and then nobody talked to Drond after they went to the one place. Anza kept a new secret that not even Drond got to hear about. Everyone else talked a lot, whispered about this or that, but the ones who went with and saw the secret kept it for themselves. Kix said it was too dangerous to talk about, old Khezde told Drond to mind the animals.

He already did that!

When they heard the cry of a wyvern he was not surprised, all he felt was like he wanted to cry. Anza ran up to save her husband, but then they carried her back hurt and bloody. Khezde tried to help her, but Drond could see her bones in her arms and hands. Everyone looked scared, but then Zan gave Drond a long tziihaka and told him to get ready to fight.

Against that old wyvern?

Drond went with anyway, it was his place to listen to kobolds like Zan and Anza, to help their foreign chief slay the beast. Maybe he would die quick, maybe he would be born again if the Mother smiled on his soul, but he was not so sure.

They joined the others to see the chief save the young human, but the chief got knocked down! One of the humans screamed, she was crying too, he felt bad for her but he felt like crying too because they were all going to die. Drond felt really, really scared when the monster opened its mouth, he knew the fire would come, but Zan had the shields ready.

They watched it happen.

They watched the fire come, the wyvern roared so loud with it that it made his heart jump.

They watched the chief die.

Drond clutched his weapon even harder, knowing the fire would be on them soon. They all knew the wyvern would come one day, Uzkrig wanted to hear none of it, he was more interested in what the elf said. All for what? Drond was not any better now, their krim was still weak, still so far up in the mountain, the elf had tricked them all into being weak! All that fire the wyvern could put out was terrifying, even from so far away he felt the blast of heat go up the path and right in their faces. Nobody could see anything though, not the dead chief, not even the wyvern's body, just barely make out the dark outline of the head as they were blinded by all the red-hot light. It hurt to look, but Drond was supposed to look!

Stupid Zan. A smart kobold would run and hide. Stupid Uzkrig, he was a bad chief! At least the human was brave, at least the human looked out for Drond and the other kobolds even though he was different. Uzkrig was greedy, Anza had a greed in her too just like her father, if they lived through the attack the future would be bad for all the Kozakrim! Stupid elf too, stupid everyone! Even stupid--

His thoughts were shattered apart, Drond gripped his poor ears to save himself from the noise. What was that!?

After a moment he realized he had heard it once before, the roar of their chief. Everyone must have remembered the battle in the forest because they all scrambled to hide.

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That cheerful sword rang like a bell and seemed to glow in the storm, brighter than the orb of flames around him, the grip he had on it was barely able to keep it from rattling away.

Only once in front was he able to keep it still, in the path ahead, the edge focused the power within the blade into a cohesive beam that sprang forth amidst the tempest and cut at unseen flesh. That instant was when he stopped, knocked back by the invisible event, the flames evaporated as his chest settled.

Before him was a wyvern missing a horn, shocked at first, but then it glared with primal rage.

"Gruf, son of Karg," it snarled, butchering the unfamiliar syllables. "Big magic, big honor!"

For a brief second he let go of the fitful power inside, just long enough to glance at Ruran's busted corpse. With two-handed effort he reached down, his soul gathering up the rage again as he had before, just like he had with the demon, but when his memory flickered back to that... that moment...

Thonvar roared with painful rage again, advancing like a man on fire, the beast had only time to swat at him as it retreated. Magic steel, empowered by the tempest within the warrior, clashed loudly with the sharp talons and forced him back with an explosion of sparks. Again he struck, his chest rattling with a primeval cry, but it was Thonvar who had to parry a countering blow.

Fighting the wyvern reminded him of slaying a cat, a dagger versus claws, he longed for a spear and used that anguish in a third assault to drive the beast back.

Being so much smaller it wasn't hard for the wyvern to do just that to him, he was backhanded with a wing across the snow like a toy. Their conversation was over, the wyvern inhaled sharply to roar out another incinerating blast.

Inside Thonvar felt a new knowing of himself, _of his power,_ and he reached down again. This time he felt it, the fingers of his soul caressed... something... in the depths of the unseen universe below him. Above him. His heart yearned for it, needed it, the western wind blew hard and the smells of the Reach came with the breeze. There! His will had summoned it, summoned up the power granted to him, his soul had cried out and his homeland sang back.

With this in his heart's grip he shouted down the flame, but this time it was not raw noise. Thonvar sang the song of the Reach, the True Song, and his hated enemy recoiled in shock.

There wasn't a limit this time! He did it again, from deep inside he sang a song that seemed to shatter the ice beneath his feet as the sword in his hand trilled with a magnificent tone. Pebbles ahead of him danced and scattered across the surface with each step he took, but even in the excitement of the moment he could feel the power waning. Like an unused muscle it was not strong, it could not slay the wyvern, but the beast snarled and snapped at him anyway in an effort to end the sonorous terror.

Only when he stopped could he be struck, but Queenkissed was positively alive with a rainbow luminescence and had the power to stop the sharp claws.

Then, foolishly, the wyvern tried to snap him up like a tasty meal. With great effort the warrior swung the mighty blade and lopped the tongue right off as it passed through the tight flesh of the cheek.

Any more of that ended right there, it screeched in pain and terror as it took flight. Thonvar mustered up the effort again, from a place deeper than his feet, from the root of the mountain he sang again and up to the sky where the air bent to his will. This time it was the blood-curdling rage of the earlier fight, the one with the dauvic foe, and the winds around them began to swirl with debris and snow. With all the effort in him, willed up from places he didn't know he had, he charged forward amidst his tempest and gripped his mighty blade hard.

A hard swing found something ahead, he struggled with waning strength to see what he had hacked into.

Then some claws raked across him as he was send flying, the poor warrior's body bounced off the sharp rocks. From just the impact alone he felt a strap come loose and his armor loosened, but the claws had pierced the leather and cloth weave. He ignored it. His storm had faded and his song had been silenced, but once more he yelled and once more he charged.

Pain guided him this time, morphed into vengeful rage, but his war cry was only loud and lacked the magical touch it had before. Queenkissed still did the job, singing as if nothing had changed, glowing with waning power as he struck again and made another deep slice in an exposed leg.

That time the beast grabbed for him, he struck clumsily at the paw and took off a few fingers as it stumbled to the ground.

For a brief moment, an eternity in time, he locked eyes with the ferocious opponent. It looked surprised.

He must have looked terrifying.

With a savage grunt he wound back with the deadly blade, bringing it down right on the side of the creature's neck. Hot, sticky, smelly blood sprayed him right in the face and he swung again blindly. He hit something soft, something that gurgled and sprayed him with more of the stuff. He swung again and again, screaming like a madman, the forlorn cry of his opponent was drowned by a sanguine fountain.

When he finally stopped and wiped off his eyes he saw he had made ten or so crude hacks into the meaty neck, the body of the creature still writhed as expected, the wings flapped lamely, those deadly weapons that had left him wounded grasped at nothing with each movement of the wing. When the others ran up he looked over, but that's when he saw the eye looking back at him. Blinking.

Wounded and tired he slumped over and looked up at it.

"I am Thonvar," he managed to say, his attention locked on the eye. "Grulf is my brother."

With that the light faded and the pupil went with it, the monster's life ended. Wyverns were vermin, he was glad he killed it, but he wished it had been a troll that had attacked them. Had it been a troll...

"My lord, please, stay still!"

He did not need to be told twice.

"Please, my lord, let me see your wounds," Razalryn instructed, gently turning him over. "By the gods!"

Pain was returning to him quickly, his mind struggled but failed to keep a grip on the situation. As she worked on him, frantically tugging to free him of his armor, Thonvar's vision faded, his body grew still, and then his world went black.

He hoped he wouldn't see Anza on the other side.

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Voices.

Whispering, actually. Foreigners whispering as they milled around him, sharp syllables, sharp words, an alien language spoken by unfamiliar lips. Or were they? Had he heard this before?

He drifted away before he could figure that out.

...

Or did he? His body tried to snap awake, but it wasn't quite up to the actual motion of it. No. What happened was he groaned from the new pain and then from the old, his stiff body slowly fought against the unseen glue that kept him there in the bed. Somewhere, he wasn't sure where, he could smell some burning fragrance that deleted all the scents and replaced them with whatever pleasant odor it was. Immediately his mind went to burning flesh and how it had a similar effect, he struggled to get his eyes open to see if some magic trickery was at play. Then he thought about why somebody would be so enthusiastic to find out if some sadistic mage was making a charred corpse smell so wonderful, but that thought made him want to remember where he was.

Beside him was a familiar figure, her arms wrapped tight, she had a dark red cloth draped over her eyes. Before alarm could set in her lip twitched and she gulped, he sighed in relief and settled down a bit. She was recovering from her ordeal, placed there safely along side her husband.

Where were they? He looked around at the rock walls and guessed that they were safe inside a cave, their cave, and from the silence he guessed their chambers were far, far away from the bustle of the main areas. Above the headboard of their bed was a somewhat crude tapestry, but decorated with bits of metal and wire all across the surface where the artist felt the work needed it. After some examination he recognized it as an elven design, the events depicted were unknown, but the additions obviously done by kobold hands since it was definitely not in the style of elves at all. Looking above that brought some real relief, the ceiling and walls were supported by wooden beams, but more importantly was how purposeful they seemed to be. This was not some haphazard design, not like the usual kobold constructions, but instead it seemed almost religious in significance.

Then he realized exactly where he was. This was for royalty.

Amidst all the trinkets and supposedly fine things were bone decorations and other things expected of a savage kobold, special headwear, feathers, just junk in general littered the many, many shelves. Organization seemed erratic at best, but at least it seemed clean and definitely cared for! He doubted Uzkrig would have been so neat and tidy with the appearance of his private quarters, no doubt there were a few maids here and there.

Speaking of maids...

However long he had been there had been long enough, he needed to get up. Without waking Anza. A familiar pack at the edge of a shelf invited him to slip out of bed and, with some care not to disturb his back and shoulder, he found himself stumbling in the nude to where he needed to be.

By the time the first person found him he was mostly dressed, the sea elf caught him as he stumbled through the curtains and led him to the next room.

"My lord," the mage began, pausing to give him time to acknowledge her, "it is good to see you're awake. You've had us rather worried."

He nodded, unable to speak.

She motioned to a kobold waiting at the end of the table, they immediately disappeared into some dimly lit corridor and left Thonvar wondering why she was giving orders to anyone.

"It has been some time since that day on the mountain, regretfully we have lost--"

"Ruran," he wheezed.

"... Yes, his companions insisted he wished his remains cremated despite my doubts. Lady Anza--"

"Queen."

Razalryn smiled softly. "Queen Anza, of course, my apologies. Queen Anza had them select a proper urn, she was certain you would wish to visit him in due time. There was a respectful ceremony, though I am told he's left some of his worldly possessions with the girl and that foolish boy you've saved. Everything else went with him, I'm sure the other matters can wait if you would like to go see him now."

Thonvar looked across the table at her. "Other?"

Immediately her expression darkened, but after a few moments she went ahead and replied, "Anza has been a capable leader, but she insisted that I take the matter up with you."

That annoying waffle she did got on his nerves immediately, elves did it when they were trying to figure out how best to lie and it reminded him of those two poncy degenerates that got them all into this mess. As far as he could tell she didn't lie to him, but she filled the air with nonsense while she worked up the courage to actually speak to him. Northerners didn't do this, they acted, wasting words or twisting them like an old hag was not something he tolerated. Fortunately, and he silently thanked the gods for it, she noticed his ill-tempered glare immediately and did away with whatever nonsense that had been on the tip of her tongue.

Instead she stood up and walked over to the stone column, carefully running a finger along the wooden bracing.

"Do you know why they call me a 'mongrel' my lord?" she asked without turning around. With her free hand she motioned to her furry ears and remarked, "it certainly isn't just because of these. Or my dark skin, either. There are other halflings like me among the dwarves and svalmer, but they're much more accepted than I am. Outcasts still, you understand, but when they are noticed they're mere ornaments and curiosities to the so-called 'pure' elven masters. Of course I am what I am, but they wouldn't have bothered to ridicule me if I hadn't of dared to try and do something truly important. I failed."

"What did you try?" he asked.

Hearing him speak made her turn around. "I tried to help those in need, I became their advocate to the city masters. Politics, of course, got in the way."

"How?"

She sighed and sat down with her back to the table. "When this war started I knew it was only a matter of time before the campaign of terror started, I assumed that those in support of our efforts would be willing to support the refugees created by this conflict. There's no love between the dwarves and the rahmer, but it seems that the politics in Badzuhnraz have a certain royal stench about them. I was laughed out of the council chambers, even my colleagues in the university were barred from offering support so I could send these poor souls elsewhere. Some managed to flee south in time, across the Nagaea Bay, but others were forced north."

Obviously she was asking if they could go out and get these people, he would have to find a way to tell her it couldn't be done with winter on the way. Not that they had much in the way of supplies either, any new people would tax their already limited supplies. As it was they would need to slaughter animals if Anza hadn't already done it, she knew well enough to leave the horses but he wondered if she had gone after potentially useful animals too. That was a major point in his agenda, he decided he would need to find that out as soon as possible.

"Well," she began, possibly encouraged by his silence, "a group of my people, or perhaps that's not entirely accurate given my parentage, have been fleeing further and further north. We actually met them just outside the cave entrance, the kobolds claim they were laying siege, but Anza was doubtful of that and so am I that they're simple hunters and farmers. They're not at all vulnerable to cold weather, I'm certain they were trying to enter the cave as they've said and opted to rest after being forbidden further passage."

"So they are here then?" he asked.

"Yes, in the week since we've arrived they've--"

"Week?" He had been asleep for a whole week? "How bad are the storms now?"

She frowned. "Terrible, but you will be happy to know that I can say with some confidence that it shouldn't last more than two days!" she replied with growing enthusiasm, standing up to retrieve a dusty tome. Holding it up she added, "Apparently the kobolds saw fit to collect quite a library, weather divination manuals included."

Thonvar sighed and shifted carefully in his seat. "They need food."

"Absolutely, my lord, this was a matter lady Anza wished to bring up with you. Their supplies are limited, but they profess being able to last for several months on their current rations so their impact isn't so detrimental to our own stocks."

"Your doing?" he wheezed, immediately regretting the gentle laugh.

She was there at his side before he had a chance to cough, her healing touch just as harsh as before, but he was relieved of the congestion and his stiffness lessened somewhat. What really helped was her embrace, the mage took him into her arms and held him gently as he endured the remaining agony that flared up. Despite his sickness he was still able to catch her scent, whatever she wore brought images of smoldering flowers being sprinkled with mead and he wondered if she had wore it before. Nothing about the odor was offensive, but it was odd.

Ultimately he decided against asking, instead he gripped the table and slowly maneuvered himself to stand.

"My lord, with respect, I cannot allow this," the mage declared softly.

"Allow?"

"While you are under my care my word is law, I will not have any disobedience jeopardize your health."

Mages! Anza would've sided with her too, he knew it, and begrudgingly he settled back down. Pushing himself would be foolish and he trusted her to know better, much like any jarl or king would trust their own mage under similar circumstances. Good ones, at least, he had difficulty imagining either brother being so open minded. Much like everyone else they shared the mixture of awe, fear, and distrust toward anything and everyone magical that was not explicitly known to be of the natural world. When the wind whispered to them, or they saw the spectral apparition of a wind maiden playfully racing along in the distance they felt a certain amount of peacefulness as it connected them to their homeland. Magic arts? That was the work of elves, southerners, and the supernatural monsters that lurked out in the wilderness.

Even their honored dead were bordering on what was accepted to be a natural form of magic and the weaved format the foreigner had brought to them, even though the legend of Aesmir, the before-god, was believed to be the origin of the nordic undeath. People only visited the tombs when it was necessary, when they had to do it, and the mighty stone temples where the northern monks practiced ancient ways were equally revered as sites of incredible magical power. Indeed they were, so much so that foreigners from all across Anor came to them with their own reasons guiding them. After all, didn't the southerners also worship the same northern gods? There were other temples as well, ones dedicated to dragons, but the Reachfolk were unique in that regard paying homage to draconic lords and heroes.

Then he remembered the battle, how Grulf was supposed to be there in his place, how the _wyvern_ expected him to be there.

"Why would a wyvern know my brother's name?" he muttered.

Razalryn had moved on to doing something else, but when his words cut through the silence she seemed confused by them.

"What? When did that come up?" she finally asked, devoting her full attention to him. "He said your brother's name?"

He scowled and nodded. "It did."

"That is rather strange, isn't it? I was not aware you even had a brother."

"Two, I have two," he corrected. "The beast said 'Gruf, son of Karg' I think, too close to truth."

Confusion evaporated, she stopped looking at him as she drifted away into intense thought and the northerner watched the so-called mongrel for some time. Every once in awhile her ears would fold back, much like a regular cat, but her brow was furrowed sharply like any human or elf which made him wonder what he looked like in a similar state. Riddles and mysteries did not excite him if they were this serious, he had almost been killed and just lost a friend, but a spark of excitement flickered underneath her feline eyes. This mage, _his_ mage, was enjoying the puzzle.

Finally she glanced over at him and visibly gave up, the expression melting into reluctant defeat.

"My lord, as far as I understand it the kobolds were aware of their neighbor for some time," she explained, still not looking at him fully, "but his nest was apparently much further up. His presence near the path seems to be rather extraordinary."

"He was waiting for us."

Razalryn nodded. "Perhaps he was, but if that's true then his advanced knowledge of your presence is... Disturbing. Rather, it wasn't so much your presence as it was your brother, why would he have expected that?"

A voice from behind replied, "Grulf promise to Anza."

What?

Of course! How could he forget? When his friend rode up that was the news, his brother would be married off! Then the giant cat... That feat made the kobolds quite impressed, he took his brother's place on the Lawstone and that's what started him down this path. Where had the wyvern learned this? Through rumor?

Suddenly he chuckled, imagining a farmer's wife whispering to an eager beast hungry for the latest gossip.

"Stupid. He should have kept listening through tavern windows," Thonvar laughed.

His wife smiled, settling herself on the table. "Not good for husband to go far from bed," she replied, holding out her arms to the mage. "Worry Anza."

"Are you okay, wife?"

She smiled and nodded, but Razalryn cut in with, "Her healing has been neglected for your sake, I've focused my energy on you."

"Focus on her now," he ordered.

"I would, my lord, if it were not for the fact that you are still poisoned," the mage fired back as she unwrapped Anza's arms. "With her current level of injury lady Anza will still regain use of both hands, but the muscle and bone tissue has suffered eruption and it will take time for her to heal fully. I've picked all the bone out so there will be no danger, but your flesh refuses to reject the invading toxins."

Immediately he felt like firing back a more forceful order, but Anza glared him into submission. "Husband do what husband told, Anza fine."

"See? Healing perfectly," the mage added, showing off her work on the exposed arms. "Scars will be minimal, infection is nonexistent as expected."

That settled that, Anza punctuated the information with a nod and a triumphant grin. Arguing with her would have to wait anyway, the servants hurried in with a spread of food and behind them came the oceanic elves, the sebekan family, Runa, and a few familiar human faces. Corrick wore a tense smile when he met Thonvar's eyes, Hedrek and Lowen smiled more warmly and sat down closest to the door, but the pikeman was at the far end away from everyone else.

Ruran's absence began to sting in chieftain's heart, he had to look away from the man and put focus on the little kobold dressed like she were a peasant girl from the north. So quiet, but she seemed happy enough and smiled softly when she did look up at him.

"This one hungry?" Saya, the aquatic not-elf asked her, but Runa merely nodded. "Saya sit, yes?"

Agziqoh answered the question by gently shoving her down before nudging her own child next to the expectant mother, the little kobold had nothing to say. Anza seemed amused by it, all Saya could do was sigh softly and accept it while the forceful sebekan shoveled food out in front of them. Then, with a bit more grace, she got Anza a bowl as well.

Bandages had only been applied to the kobold's arms, her wounded hands were left free and she settled herself down next to Thonvar after paying a nod toward the giant huntress.

For all of them it was obviously routine, days had gone by while he had been unconscious and they had already developed a certain casual behavior amongst themselves. Those humans hadn't swore themselves to him, but they were there all the same, and after a few moments others filed in to take a seat. Among them were the trusted kobolds he had adventured with, Zan, Khezde, Kix, and Drond as well, but Reina and Declan came in too. Behind them were a few kobolds he had recognized, the ones he did business with to get their wash tub, and a few he hadn't seen since the wedding. Among his people he felt like an outsider and, indeed, he was in many respects.

Again he looked at Anza and saw not just a kobold, but his wife, his partner, and she had kept them all together and made progress while he slept. She left him with decisions, just as a partner would, and she did so out of love and respect for him. So the very least he could do was perform his own duties and be the chief she needed him to be.

"Tomorrow, when I feel better, we will make preparations for a hunt," he declared, looking directly at the sebekan. "We have new bellies to feed on top of the ones we have already."

Razalryn practically glowed, but it was Anza's warm smile that revitalized him.

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Empty promises never crossed Thonvar's lips, by the time his wife sprang out of bed and into the next room he had already been awake for a few hours. Uzkrig had moved a table into his room and covered it in junk, but all that had been cleared off and made space for a map. One of the maids had been sent to fetch something to write with while another sent to find some paper, in the meantime he found a rather detailed hand-drawn map of the surrounding area and spent his time copying it. Of course that included adding his own plans, a rough outline of the intended place for walls and the future castle keep higher up on the peak. When she stuffed her snout in a clay vase and retched he had been adding the final touches of his first stage intentions.

Having his naked wife empty her stomach next to him was distracting, he caught her eyes when she finally came up for air.

"Anza sick," she offered.

"I thought you were fine," he retorted. "You will be healed first, tell the mage I won't let her near me if--"

"Dummy husband," she snarled. "Not sick this way, not need heal, Anza fine."

"You just threw up on some flowers, I think you do need healing."

"Anza fine," she replied, this time more forcefully.

"No, wife. I can manage without the mage, I want you healthy."

A flush of extra color rose to her cheeks, but instead of saying anything she went to her confused husband and confiscated his right hand. What was this? No explanation was given by her eyes, her expression soft and demure, silently she interlaced her fingers with his and kissed his palm.

"What are you doing?" he laughed, but she said nothing. "I do not understand, but I meant what I said."

"Anza know husband care, make Anza happy."

"I love you, why would I not care?"

Giggling softly she kissed his hand again. "Husband love make Anza happy too. Can Anza make husband happy?"

He smiled and laughed. "Okay, I give you permission."

A flicker of erotic thought crossed his mind when he remembered such odd behavior usually meant she had a "surprise" waiting for him, even though he had become quite familiar with the carnal delights she had to offer. Having his hand brought down so low almost confirmed it, her guiding touch brought him to grasp her side and then her hip as she turned away from him. Thonvar didn't move on his own, he let her show him, it was more fun when she showed him what she was thinking.

Slowly she straddled his knee, her toes still on the ground, and with great care she slid back to press herself against him. Touching her was still forbidden, he resisted, but he did not have to wait long before she started to guide him again. With slow and deliberate care she brought his palm in front, pressing it against her exposed scales, leaning back to allow him to look down at her. She did nothing else, his hand remained there.

Thonvar was a bit confused.

"Yes, I enjoy touching your body, but I had expected you to want it a bit lower," he remarked, moving his hand south.

"No, husband. Feel."

"I am, you are soft."

"Anza very soft, is good. Husband like soft Anza."

That was obvious. "Yes, I do."

Looking up at him she contentedly sighed, rubbing his hand against her belly. "Husband remember night after big noise in sky? Before southmen come?"

"Reiger the Blackbane? Yes, I remember, what--"

She giggled and rubbed his hand against her some more. "Husband give Anza something."

Suddenly a memory rushed back to him, he had been confused and unhappy about the hulder's parting gift and message. They were in the wagon together, she insisted on tending to his arm, and he had been lost in thought about the kobolds, the forest, and mages. That fight with the vampire elf had left him thinking hard, so hard he forgot all about her, but she regained his attention with nudity. Then she used his interest for her own amusement, experimenting with a new position that left them as exhausted as they were happily satisfied and it had left quite the impression on her given how often she wanted a repeat of that incredible night. Of course the whole activity required intense effort from his arms and torso, he simply wouldn't be able to keep her suspended like that.

"I am sorry, but we can't do it that way until I am well. Even I must admit this."

Anza cracked up laughing and snuggled into him. "No, husband, this not what Anza say."

"Then what?" he asked, completely confused.

"Husband _give_ Anza something," she repeated, this time patting the back of his hand for emphasis.

"I don't under..." Thonvar trailed off as his brain struggled to comprehend. Did she...? "I gave you something."

Her smile just grew brighter as she nodded. "Anza have bad feel, need food, need husband, Anza not know why Anza feel. Anza know now."

"You are sure?" he asked, his body alive with sparkling excitement. "Please, wife. Tell me."

"Anza very big sure," she confirmed, beaming with pride as she hugged his arm. "Husband like?"

He scoffed. "Husband like? Husband love!"

Well she didn't need any more encouragement, she dismounted his leg like it were a horse and practically tackled him before showering him in a cacophony of kisses and licks. He didn't care how bad it hurt and he certainly forgot about her bad breath, all he could do was submit and happily laugh as she tried to murder him with affection. Yes, he was happy too! Could it really be? Was that why she was acting so strange? He knew it was true. Somehow, some way, he knew it. She had given him so many signs, he thought back to every time she gorged herself, every late start to the morning, her absolute ferocious appetite for physical affection. Yes, it was like she was some kind of wild animal from time to time!

Everything had made sense, but how? How could it be? Kobolds did not have human children, that was accepted to be impossible. Kobolds were less...

He stopped his train of thought with such effort that even she noticed, but her eyes glittered with happy love. When he looked at her he didn't see a lesser being at all. No doubt those damned knife-ears started such a rumor too, he held her tightly and silently cursed those arrogant, pompous liars to the far south. Obviously other unions could produce mixed-race children, halflings came in all varieties and if some dark elves and some cat folk could populate the family tree of his trusted mage then why couldn't he and Anza have a child? No reason. His own father had sired him with a spryggan, so it made sense he would be able to pass along whatever made that possible.

"Does anyone else know?" he asked.

She giggled and leaned back, rubbing his chest as she shrugged. "Scalekin Agzi make guess, Khezde keep ask Anza to make water in cup."

"What?"

Again she shrugged, but this time immediately said, "Shaman have ways, Anza give piece husband make with cough, Khezde know husband grow strong."

Thonvar shook his head quickly, not wanting to imagine the shaman collecting the disgusting sample at all or what she would do with it. They didn't need to discuss it any further, he imagined that now she had told him any necessary medicine would follow and he trusted it would be done right. After all, this would be the heir to the Kozakrim, to his little mountain kingdom he intended to carve out, so it was in everyone's best interest if the first-born son came out healthy.

Still excited, he leaned forward with a suppressed wince that made his wife practically leap off of him. He was fine, but she called out and a pair of maids appeared to help him sit back up. They seemed entirely unfazed by her nudity, the three of them exchanged rapid-fire words and then in a flash they were gone again! He needed to learn to speak the kobold language. She was about to run off too, but fortunately he was swift enough to apprehend her before she had gone too far.

"You have given me good news, so I will give you good news. Do you wish to see the plans?"

Immediately he had her attention, wish a meek nod she approached the map with bubbling excitement.

"This is the entrance," he began, pointing at his copied facsimile of the crude original, "I will need to walk there to get a better idea, but we will process everything where we have fresh air. Hunters and trappers need not go far, they need not bother themselves with this."

"This is what, husband?" she asked, pointing to the broad strokes in blue ink. "This not real!"

"Not yet, my love," he corrected. "Bandits will come to us soon enough, this will be where we make our defenses first. Stone and wood, as they do in the fjordlands, but first with wood. Blue is what I chose for this, but it is just an idea, but when it is done we will be mostly safe. Armies will not be stopped, that is what the green ink is for."

Since she understood the color scheme he didn't need to explain it, but he imagined that her eyes first fell on the angular patches of green ink that Thonvar had laid down with the fantasy fresh in his mind. Several spots of blue inside the green barrier marked intended spots for simple fieldstone walls and towers, capped with wooden works and strengthened with posts and beams, but he also had drawn the blue outline of wall footings for buildings. A main street went up from the path down the mountain and halfway through it branched out, going up into a clear area in front of the cavern entrance. A few other buildings, intended to be wooden, were scattered here and there for various purposes and would be fine outdoor facilities! A stream above them had crude markings that seemed to indicate it had been diverted away from the original path, the map didn't show it but he imagined the entrance had a plaza of ice in front of it.

This would need some work, possibly through diverting some of it down into the cave system as the original map seemed to indicate a second entrance. There was a part that he didn't quite understand, the original cartographer was inconsistently comprehensible and meandered from well-detailed and organized markings to utter nonsense! At the very least the large pond the stream made was formalized and made neat, but he redesigned the stream leading out to make less of a mess and to have a little stone bridge going over it. Too bad he hadn't been awake to see it for the first time, but his mind could draw an accurate picture that left him wanting that instead.

None of this made a truly impressive settlement though, not one a human would be used to seeing, and that was where the green markings came in. Extending much further beyond the borders in blue, the impressive walls would go right up to the cliff edge and follow it quite closely until it looped around and headed east. From there a series of towers would mark future terraces that would divide the city much like Vidarstad had been built, finally they came to the valley between the Kozakrim's peak and the next one. Perhaps there was a different term for it, he was sure he read the word "saddle" somewhere, but no matter the name it would serve as a good place to end the wall. Quarry work for that section would be carried out further north, widening the space and making it harder for anyone to come from up and over the mountain even if that was entirely unlikely.

When the wall ran along the ridge for a ways it went over to the other side, connecting with the gatehouse and providing a good place for the castle keep to be situated. Defining that was hard because of the ambiguous shape marked there, he wasn't sure what it was and would need to find out for himself. However he fully intended for the keep to somehow connect with their room, underground, and Thonvar intended to move a mountain in the most literal sense to make it possible.

Yet that wasn't what Anza focused on, her claw went to a patch of blue bordering the green line. Thonvar looked at it and sighed, he pulled her close and didn't respond with anything other than a kiss to her neck. How to explain this? In time he would reveal it to the public, as soon as possible actually, but she was above waiting for that.

"We will need to learn the way to make the city walls and how to cut the stone, but we will need a place to look over the valley below as well. This is what he would have wanted, for me to think and prepare first, I remember what he said outside of Sardag to me."

"Yes, husband," the kobold softly replied.

"I have never seen something like this done before, I do not know if it is a good idea, but I want the bottom to be open here," he pointed to a vaguely marked tunnel through the green, "and I want the very top to be no different than the rest of the wall except they are connected by stairs no taller than you."

"Bottom have stairs?" she asked, a claw on the spot where the passage through the wall would be.

He considered it and nodded. "I was not sure, but yes, I think this would be wise. For making defense against invaders easier, if they come in through there they will need to fight up the steps."

Right  away he could tell she comprehended what he meant, with a serious face she nodded.

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Get dressed, I don't care what that elven cat says, I am walking among my people today."

-------------------------------------------------

Perhaps the kobolds had intended to do it, or maybe it was a natural formation that just happened to be perfect, but Thonvar got a first look at the grand underground space of his little kingdom from a privileged balcony view. Beyond the pillars and through a small room decorated sparsely with plain tapestries was a ledge that offered a wondrous opportunity to observe the entire clan all in one panoramic gaze, the entire scene illuminated by a natural skylight augmented by the torches and fires down below.

"Gods above," he gasped.

Somewhere in all of it he realized the ambiguous shape the cartographer had illustrated was, in fact, the natural opening across the span of the atrium and the surrounding rock to support it. Almost level with the balcony was a snowy ledge decorated by spires of glistening ice, a barely visible outline marked where a white fox stared back at him. That would be a major problem, he intended to put a street right about where it sat and if a fox could look at him so could an assassin. Buildings would have to go up to block it off before the wall could, obviously supported from below, and the open space before him was filled as the eye of his imagination saw the fantasy made real. Kobolds were back there, huddled around fires, some were hard at work while others enjoyed more leisurely tasks like weaving and stitching. A few dipped buckets into the pool made by the melting ice and snow, a few children played with a blanket nearby.

All around the space he saw alcoves had been carved, walkways too in order to access the higher levels, and each one had crude wood and leather partitions that left the tops open to the air. Some were a bit more private, Rugs having been recycled into curtains were draped across the front, they almost looked like tents! Some were actually tents, a little market space toward the center was full of them. Everywhere he looked he saw space for kobolds to cuddle up and relax, the poor among them had scattered rugs across the bare floor of the cavern to match their ramshackle partitions. Wealthy kobolds, those with status and dressed for the part, enjoyed better living with wooden platforms and actual walls built much in a style he was familiar with.

They were also the first to notice him standing there, even the pair of guards had failed to see them at first. Soon others looked up, joined by the newcomers of various races, all paying attention to the balcony as Thonvar stood tall next to Anza. Perhaps he could have looked better, he was dressed in a patchwork of wool and burlap from head to toe and draped in a fur cloak and Anza looked no better, but they all seemed to regard him with a bit of the same awe he had moments earlier. Off to his right, toward the south he guessed, a throng of people spilled out from an unseen tunnel to catch a glimpse of him too.

Over toward the north he noticed another tunnel, a crude reinforcement of stone marked where it cut through the unnaturally flat section of rock, and on both sides he noticed it had decorative tapestries and it flanked by lit braziers as well. Stairs did not lead down there from the balcony, but the kobolds had carved out a walkway from the balcony that ran straight into a tunnel, this one unlit even though it was well-swept and quite clean. Anza knew where he wanted to go, so with a bounce in her step she led her husband along.

Voices echoed off the stone as he passed through the darkness, her happy eyes glowed the color of roses.

Then he saw confusion, but it was only for a second before her expression soured. His ears told him why as the echoes cleared into the voice of an elf. They didn't need to skulk, the kobolds were a sneaky race by default and the partitions between the stone columns kept them safe from view as they walked in the shadows.

"Surely there is someone else I can talk to, perhaps?" the elf suggested with an irate tone of voice. "We've discussed this for an hour, I do not understand what could possibly be--"

A familiar voice replied, "Khezde tell elf already."

"Yes, I am to wait, but you must understand the gap in the storm is not long and I would prefer to go the way I came. How much longer shall I wait?"

"Khezde not know."

He sighed. "All this way and I've been stonewalled by a shaman. No matter, your predecessor signed a very clear treaty in good faith. We expect you to honor it, or suffer the consequences."

Thonvar went from curious to wrathful in a second, his entire morning ruined and wonderful mood suddenly completely destroyed,  how dare this damned--

"Husband!" Anza whispered, catching his arm with a firm grip. "Anza have secret... Husband not like."

Their situation almost escaped his attention, but his voice remained still as he calmed his rage for the moment. Whatever she would say to him would be awful, he was sure of that the moment he saw the guilty look she wore. Without even thinking about it he connected one thing to the other, he was a bit stubborn and foolish when it came to the dynamics of _people_ more than he'd like to admit, but Thonvar was not dumb at all. Seeing her mood darken like that left an impression, his adrenaline started to flow as if he was steeling himself for a fight to the death with his own two hands.

She reminded him of Razalryn in a way, afraid to speak to him.

This fear did not last long, in the dark he saw her expression tighten before she leaned in. "Anza hide from Thonvar bad thing."

"What is it?" he whispered back.

Instead of answering she pulled him into the dark again, this time further along the unseen path and left the way they came and the conversation behind them. Khezde would not be able to stall for long, from the sounds of it the elf was sick of the games and whatever he had on them... When an elf sounded sure of himself, that was when a man would be wise to be on his guard. This elf did not fool around, hide behind flowery words, he spoke plain, it was a sign. Good thing she was hurrying, when they were out of earshot she practically ran down the passage, but he was not in the best of shape to follow.

All of it was worth the agony. When she stopped she did so before a carved column of stone, the unmistakable metal supports augmented some old wooden beams.

"This what Anza hide, kobold call this Dwektzizen Hzitzak," she huffed, looking down an unlit passage. "Old times dwarf come, greedy dwarf, not find shiny rock."

"They were looking for gold?"

She shrugged. "Is how story go. Kobold find rock, good rock, keep secrets. Elfe want secret, know Uzkrig has secret, Uzkrig _big_ mouth, but not tell secret. Make promise."

"What kind of promise?" he asked, perhaps a bit more sharply than he had liked.

She jumped slightly, but said nothing.

"Anza. I need to know. Does this elf expect me to--"

"Elf not know Thonvar!" she blurted out. "Khezde not tell, is secret. Khezde not tell anything!"

He scowled in thought. Misdirection, it was the kobold way, to keep the outside guessing and it made them such good thieves. Nobody bothered with stupid kobolds anyway unless they became a problem, no doubt the elves thought the same way. Why would anyone care? He started walking, thinking about the passage she had showed him, he was sure Uzkrig would have loved bragging to the knife-ears every chance he got, but even he would've been smart enough to keep the dwarf outpost a secret. Had the elves known about it they would've tried something sooner, no doubt about that, and even the dumbest kobold would've figured that one out. Too bad Anza did not have enough of a vocabulary to speak, it was just too damned bad she had waited until the very last minute to reveal this to him.

"This was stupid of you, wife," he muttered with a regretful shake of his head. "You've thrown this in my lap, and now I must deal with it."

"Husband..."

"I mean that, this was the most foolish thing, why didn't you say something sooner?" He looked back at her for an answer, but she just looked hurt. "I would expect this from a peasant girl, not from you."

"Yes, husband," the kobold demurely replied. "Anza sorry."

He was being too harsh, his emotions were running too hot and he needed to keep his temper even. Elves took advantage of tempers. When his hand reached out she responded to it with quick eagerness, rushing to him to kiss his knuckles and she allowed him to pull her closer. Of course she was struggling to keep up, but Thonvar had to keep his energy up and had to keep himself focused. They didn't need to apologize, it was in the past, they had to press on as a team.

Still she emphasized her remorse. "Anza love Thonvar," she added, a somewhat hopeful spring in her voice almost made it seem like a question.

"I love you too, I'm sorry. Let's--"

"No, husband. Anza bad. Anza not trust, Anza not think."

"That's not true."

She shook his arm. "Be best wife for husband."

Even though he was seeing through to her real intent his heart still melted, probably even more so once he realized she was prepping him for what was ahead. It was a stupid mistake, had she been given more time he was sure she would've told him all about it with Khezde or somebody else to translate. Whatever deals she had listened in on were irrelevant, he couldn't learn about them in time so they didn't matter, whatever he needed to know would be learned from the elf himself. Thonvar would present his authority and the foreigner, whatever his purpose, would bow to his will or suffer for it. He was done with games and he was done with the elves to the south.

Even as he walked in the elf was whining about a treaty. "This document, a formal copy signed by your late chief, stipulates that without an heir the tribe's holdings defaults to Her Majesty's authority, including--"

"Then you must be lost, or confused," Thonvar muttered, strolling in like a predatory beast. "Give me this document you speak of."

"Wh-Who are you? No! No, it's mine, this is the formal--" A big palm cut him off as the document was yanked from his hands. "How _dare_ you! Do you know who I am?"

"I don't care," the chief muttered, sitting down in his throne. "Khezde, summon the others."

Of course he couldn't read half the words on there, some were in the draconic runes and probably served as stand-ins for the kobold language. Yet he pretended all the same, acting as if he was a master of written word if only to put the elf on the defensive. Indeed he could piece together the general theme, it was a contract between the various powers involved and he'd recognize his own father's insignia anywhere, but the part that concerned him was toward the bottom and was somewhat difficult to follow. That detailed the transfer of something, probably the rock Anza mentioned, ore, and in return the elves would guarantee free passage among their cities and waterways. Amounts listed were by the ton per month, the starting date not until the following year, and yet there was that clause about the heir...

Yes, it was quite clear, without him and without Anza the simple truth was that his people would be removed off their lands if they refused to pay "a reasonable sum to lease the land." Why would anyone agree to this?

When the elf advanced to take back the document he had it thrown in his face, the paper rattled as the soft-handed idiot tried to catch it.

"I have had enough!" he screeched. "Enough of this foolishness, we are quite saddened by the unfortunate death of Anza and her husband, but we have an agreement!"

"So you come here to collect?" the chief replied, suddenly aware of his own appearance. "Just you?"

Steadying his hair, the red-faced elf soothed his ire long enough to mutter, "No, I am a messenger and envoy sent by Queen Viralyna personally to convey this tragic news and to receive the official response. Which I have not had! First a witch doctor and now some nordic peasant, you... people... would be wise to remember your place in the world."

Reachfolk had a way about them, even among their equally stoic cousins in the north they were capable of incredible calm before an impending rage. Thonvar was amused, yes, but he had little time for elves and their mewling about this or that, they complained about everything. Then, when they were done whining, they had the bold-faced nerve to act smug and arrogant. This was a scene that had played out before, so long ago, an elf who assumed himself important talking down to a fire-haired peasant, challenging him to a duel. He was tired of elves.

Slowly Thonvar stood up to tower over his opponent.

"You say we should remember our place, elf?" he asked, gingerly sliding his foot down the first step. "This is good advice. Place is an important thing, elf, but it is a confusing thing if you do not understand it."

"I do not," the elf stepped back, "I do not understand."

Thonvar smiled. "Let me tell you a story."

"Wha--"

Ignoring the elf he continued, advancing still, "Once there was a famous elven swordsman, or supposedly so, he came from the lands to the south of the Reach and I have never heard his name repeated. Perhaps he was not so famous. His name, though, was not what was important, but it was his place that mattered far more. He thought himself high and mighty, such a good sword arm, eyes like an eagle, a heart fierce as a wolf, never before had he been defeated. This elf was good at killing, he did not shy from killing nobles and he did not shy from killing even the lowest of the low, drunken beggars who challenged him.

"Yet still he lusted for battle, he was a sellsword and gave his service to anyone who promised good fights. So to the north he went to sample what the north had to offer, it is said he killed fifteen men in the fjord of Kralvar the Mad, servants of the dark Trickster who corrupted the minds of the finest warriors. People celebrated his deed there, but they feared him, because the elf would challenge anyone to a duel for the smallest of things. When he went to the Reach he found a strong and proud people, never willing to back down to fight and unafraid to die.

"So he dueled every day, many of my kinsmen met their end by his blade. He did not grow tired from slaying Reachfolk, he came and went as he pleased, but he was no longer welcome. He was skilled at killing, but he was not a warrior. An old man said this to him, blind and feeble, and the elf challenged him to a duel on the spot. What the elf did not know was that he sealed his fate when he cut down the old man, for that old man was Otar in disguise, he had judged the elf and said he was not a warrior. Do you know why?"

By that point Thonvar had driven the envoy out of the chamber and into the atrium.

"No, and I do not know what this has--"

"Enough. You will know soon, I will teach you, elf. This is our way so listen carefully.

"His fate sealed, the elf came upon a farmer's field the very next day. His daughter was outside and watched the elf walk by, stop, and then the elf noticed her. So sure of himself he had forgotten his decency back in the south, so he turned and began to relieve himself as a man does in front of her. This angered the farmer who insulted the elf by saying, 'I would spit on your honor, if you had any!' Obviously the elf did not like this. Right there he yelled to the farmer he wanted a duel and, if the farmer had any honor himself, he would duel this elf on the spot.

"This farmer was no swordsman, he had never been in a battle or a duel his entire life, and the farmer said as much to the elf. A clever man need not be a killer, but a killer never lives to be old if he is not. So the farmer said he did not know how to use a sword, but he accepted the duel if he got to choose the weapon. So the elf laughed and laughed, calling the farmer stupid, boasting how he could kill any savage man with any weapon. Then the farmer presented the weapons he picked. Potato sacks.

"Naturally the elf laughed harder. This was funny to the elf. 'A potato sack is not a weapon!' he cried, but the elf reminded the farmer that he had been trained in hand to hand combat as well. Saying nothing, the farmer went to the field where he was to die and stood ready with his sack. Readying himself, the elf wrapped it around his fist tight before lunging for the farmer. Some say he was faster than any elf had ever been, surely he was the fastest swordsman in the land, but he was no warrior. He was greedy, and he was not clever.

"So the elf found himself caught by the potato sack, scooped over his head just like the farmer had done when he needed to catch a chicken or a barn cat. This farmer knew potato sacks and he was clever, he knew how to bait something into that sack too. Do you know what was the last thing that went through the elf's head?"

"No! Of course not," the elf snorted.

Thonvar smiled.

"A rock."

Grimacing with disgust the elf declared, "That's the stupidest story I've ever heard!"

All that time Thonvar had been advancing on the elf, step by step, the haughty knife-ear's true feelings were betrayed when he stumbled over his own robe and fell back. For a moment he looked shocked, then scared, and his amber eyes spoke volumes about how the story had upset him. Gathering himself up, the elf tried to appear as defiant as he could and only managed to look like an even bigger idiot than he did before.

"Do you know who that farmer was?" the warrior asked.

"No, I don--"

"He was not just a farmer. He was my great-grandfather, Brynjar, Jarl of Ivarshold--"

"Ivarshold?"

Thonvar didn't stop, he felt like a righteous Lawgiver and nothing would stop his judgement.

"For weeks we have traveled knowing it has been through the treachery of southern elves, who do not know honor, who have never known honor since Brynjar the Wight-Whisperer's time and before that, that we were tricked into this awful adventure. All of us, those who survived, and we know now the depths your kind will go to steal and lie. I have heard the flowery words of elves in my father's throne room, I was told how it was my duty to marry and to uphold our pact with your so-called queen while she sent agents to scheme and to defile our honored dead. I have endured their deceit, I have endured a great many things.

"I have ran down men on the steppes, slain sabercats bigger than bears, and I have suffered humiliation to preserve my people's honor. I have had dreams of spirits past, I have seen the sky on fire and I have been stalked by an evil so ancient that it has no name. I have fought its armies and the skulking dogs it sent to kill my wife! With my ancient blood I wield a power your queen could only dream to have, and I stand here now thankful you knife-ears lie and cheat and steal because it has made me stronger. I have endured the walking dead, the dauvic menace, spryggan tricks, kobold deceit, and I have killed a wyvern in single combat. Elven words bring trouble, and I am done with them.

"You come here, in my kingdom, to make demands of my people. You come here speaking of our place? I will remind you of your place, you are in the mountains, the kingdom I am building, and you bring news of my death. Who am I?"

The elf's eyes bulged with fear.

With a terrifying glare the fire-haired chief leaned over the elf who cowered, finally down on his knees and without a word he averted his eyes. All around them the crowd stared at him, their contemptuous expressions too much to bear for the humiliated envoy.

"I am Thonvar, son of Kargruuf, I am chief of the Kozakrim clan and I claim these mountains for myself. I am king. Tell your queen to send no more whelps like you, because I will throw them down off this mountain myself."

"Yes, my lord," the elf whispered.

"Tell them she has no pact with Kozaheim, a traditional name for the home of the Koza, we will establish one if I wish it so."

THE END