[rework] Minglings - Book 3 chapter 1: Slavery

Mason sucked the meat of the last bone and swallowed it whole. It slid down easily, and he burped loudly, the gastric gases coloring his breath yellowish.

"That's what I am talking about," he shouted.

He glanced at the sizable stack of bones before scanning the widespread desert.

Empty and desolate...

He tried to suppress his sadness and forced a grin on his face.

"Let's go, Macy. It's time to continue flying! Wouldn't want to go crazy in this lonely place," he said, trying to force himself to believe he wasn't actually going crazy.

He was about to unfurl his wings and continue his seemingly endless trek when he heard something. A deep howl of pain rumbled somewhere in the distance, like a humpback whale with teeth screaming no.

His head snapped up as he tried to hear it again.

"What was that," he muttered.

He waited, half afraid the sound wouldn't happen again, half that it did. Since he flew in here, what felt like weeks ago, all he had found were overly muscled camels and sand, and he desperately wanted to find someone with whom he could talk.

It stayed silent, and Mason's thick golden-scaled shoulders slumped. Damnit. I must really be-

A second howl, longer and incoherent in its apparent agony, came from the left.

Mason jumped forward, unfurled his wings, and shot into the air with a burst of energy. Keeping his head pointed in the direction from which the sound came, he went up as fast as he could, trying to locate whatever it had been.

It sounded in pain... perhaps something is being attacked?

The yellow-white hills stretched far into the distance, and he couldn't see anything that had made that sound, so he continued up and forward. When he was almost a hundred feet in the air, he saw a dark brown smudge between two hills far ahead. Tiny dots, figures circled it, moving in and out as they seemed to attack the smudge.

What the hell is going on there, Mason thought, anger growing.

He continued, and when he finally made out the figure on the ground, he almost froze in surprise.

A dragon!

Surrounding it were smaller things attacking it, and as he rushed forward, he recognized them. Yellow-scaled Kobolds were stabbing the unmoving Dragon with spears, piercing at its flanks.

A low, tired wail of pain came from the Dragon, and Mason felt his rage build. He had no idea what was going on, but somehow he got the impression something terrible and unfair was happening. He couldn't put his finger on it, nor did he care. He folded his wings and plummeted down like an eagle.

Low shouts and laughing from the Kobolds made him want to roar in anger, and when he was a few meters from the first kobolds, he did just that. A pillar of fire blasted down in their midst, sending a few hurling away amidst screams of surprise and pain. Those not hit screamed in fright and ran away in a clutter.

Mason slammed into the ground next to the Dragon. He saw a thick chain wrapped around a bleeding neck and ragged stumps on a back covered in scars.

They tortured it?

Mason's anger turned to fury, and he turned his glare on the half dozen Kobolds staring back at him. Behind them lay three others, motionless, unmoving, scales charred black. Those standing held their spears up but looked more ready to flee than to fight. All of them wore similar, wide brown scaled pants and tight scale armor that left the arms free. Belts and rope hung slung across their shoulders and waist.

So small. Did I grow this much, or are these different kobolds? The thought managed to filter through his bubbling rage. He stared at the kobolds that barely reached his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing!" he growled, barely keeping himself from ripping off their faces.

The Kobold gaped, a few lowering their spears.

It took Mason a second to realize that he hadn't spoken Draconic.

"Why are you hunting him!" he said, this time in the ragged, growling language Bolyr and the change had brought him.

The Kobolds took a step back, looking at each other in utter confusion. After a moment, one turned and carefully inched closer.

"What do you mean, why do we hunt him? He is the property of Mosran Hasrion the third, esteemed leader of the city of Sparkle Sand."

A low, dangerous growl caused the Kobold to leap back, readying his spear.

"What do you mean? Property?" Mason snapped, lowering his head as he stared straight at the Kobold that had spoken. His was barely more than a growl, and white steam slithered from his nose and around his teeth.

"This-" the Kobold said, shivering as he pointed his spear at the still unmoving Dragon, "thing was fairly bought from the hunters. The Mosran has-"

A torrent of fire slammed into the sand before the Kobolds, covering them in scalding particles. Covering their heads with their arms, they screamed as they backed up. When they opened their eyes, they froze. Mason stood inches away from them, glowering down as flames licked from between his teeth.

He'd barely managed not to torch them. He needed answers. Even if he was getting the feeling, he wasn't going to like them one bit.

"Where am I?" his voice was as cold as the flames were hot.

The Kobolds sat on the ground, shivering and staring up at him. Spears lay forgotten beside them. "What do you mean? I don-" the Kobold whimpered as he looked up.

"Shut up, and sit down quietly. I need to think!" Mason roared, causing the Kobolds to cringe and fall silent, huddled together.

Inspecting the lightly armored, well-fed kobolds, Mason frowned. They obviously belonged to a more civilized tribe than the Antraci. And they had said something about a city, one where Dragons were bought and sold.

The idea angered him so much that it took all his willpower not to incinerate them. He forced it down and wondered what he should do now. Should he keep asking questions? Nothing they told him would mean anything to him! The only things he knew about this world were what he had learned from the Antracii. The memory of the Antracii caused him to blink and turn to the Kobold that had spoken so far.

"You. Have you ever heard of the Antracii tribe?"

The Kobold shook his head immediately. "No, is that where you are from? They must be from far beyond the azure desert, becau-"

"Quiet!" Mason snapped, causing the Kobold's panicky torrent of words to silence.

Shit. His mood lowered even more. He wasn't even on Bolyr's old continent? It did explain why there was a dragon here and why the kobolds enslaved them. It just didn't match what he had heard! And the azure desert? Did they mean the sea? A shuffling from the side came as one of the kobolds inched toward his downed spear.

"Try it," Mason hissed.

The Kobold shook its head and stayed put, swallowing audibly.

Can just as well try some truth here. See what happens, Mason thought before fixing the talkative Kobold with a piercing gaze.

"You, what's your name."

"Agrin Lei Haswarti," the Kobold said, puffing out its chest.

The other kobolds seemed to relax somewhat as if trading names was a good sign, and they stared at Mason.

"Mason."

The kobolds seemed confused, and Agrin blinked twice before blurting, "That's it?"

"That's enough for you," Mason said as he glared at them, ignoring their stunned and slightly upset gazes." Where I am from, dragons are sacred. Nobody would dare harm them. Besides, they are kin. How can you enslave your own family?" he continued, repeating what the Antracii had told him.

"Dragons? They are abominations!" one of the kobolds spat back before realizing what he had said.

Lowering his head next to the Kobold, Mason growled dangerously. "What?"

The Kobold called Agrin pulled the other back and gave him a warning look.

"Melarth, don't! If we are careful, we might get out alive to see our eggs hatch come winter."

Melarth snorted but backed off, and Agrin turned to Mason. "I don't know about your continent, but here we know-… believe,"  Agrin almost choked out the word, "that dragons are the souls of Kobolds, stolen and placed into a fake dragon body by the Hound. May his name be forgotten!" The other kobolds echoed the last words as if they were saying a prayer.

Mason stared at the Kobolds in disbelief. Shit, pagan zealots! Where the hell did I end up?

Trying to calm himself, he remembered something the Antracii had told him.

"How did the Kobolds get to this continent after the last great war?" he asked.

Agrin's mouth fell open, and he shook his head. "Great war?"

Suppressing an annoyed groan, Mason nodded. "The war against the Goblins and Fiends?"

The Kobolds exchanged some glances, and Agrin stared at Mason. "Those are fairy tales… fables to scare children."

When Mason didn't respond but just blankly stared at him, he quickly continued. "They are stuff from the origin legend!"

Mason shook his head as his worry increased. Where the hell was he compared to Jake? The slow realization that he was so far away from the others that he might not find them again began to set in. He needed time to think, more information.

"Tell me the legends!" he said, grasping at straws.

The Kobolds looked at him as if he had lost his mind, but Agrin nodded slowly. "My nest-mother told me the legends. I'll try and remember." He seemed to think for a second before starting.

"The legends say that thousands of years ago, our ancestors were abducted from Therath, our ancestral world. The Hound, hating our prosperity and wisdom, put them in this desert world and immediately set his minions to besiege our ancestors. Fiends, Elves, Goblins, Dwarves, insect-like monsters, and horribly unnatural things, part animal, part monster, besieged them from all sides. Although heavily outnumbered, the brainless monsters also fought amongst themselves. In their wisdom and searching for an answer, our ancestors prayed to our holy mother to save us! After many tribulations, she finally heard them. She sent her daughter, the Dragon, to save us from the Hound."

Mason frowned, but Agrin didn't seem to notice.

Elves and Dwarves? he thought as his eyes widened. Those were actually a thing here?

Agrin seemed to get even more absorbed in the story, appearing to forget to whom he was telling it.

Mason tried to keep his attention on the Kobold's story.

"The Dragon and her followers waged a horrible war against the Hound's vicious and evil followers. In the end, and against all the odds, they were victorious. They exterminated all traces of the other races, wiping this world clean of their vile taint. However, it came at a great cost, as The Dragon died to protect us."

Agrin sighed, shaking his head and placing a hand over his heart, the others quickly copying him.

This is bad, real bad. Mason thought, keeping his eyes on the Kobolds. Their constant zealot-like behavior was reminding him of indoctrinations from history, and they were starting to look more than just a little creepy.

"So, if the Dragon saved you… why are you hunting and enslaving them now?" he asked.

"You are not a Dragon!" the loud Kobold screamed, shoving Agrin away. "You are an abomination made to resemble the Dragon, sent by the Hound to infiltrate us, just like your murderous kin in the sea!"

His glare was so intense Mason almost thought he would charge him. Not that he feared the Kobold or all of them gathered before him. Kin in the sea? He must be talking about those Hydraci, Mason thought.

He kept half an eye on the aggressive Kobold while looking back at Agrin. He needed more information to find a way off this continent, or if that wasn't possible, to stay here without being enslaved. There had to be other people or even dragons somewhere!

"Enough legends. Draw me a map on the sand of this continent. Put the nearest cities or towns on them and anything else of importance," he sapped. After a second, he added, "If any areas have wild dragons, put those on too."

Agrin looked stunned, then knelt and began drawing a sizeable elongated shape in the sand, almost the size of one of Mason's wings. It reminded Mason of Greenland more than anything else, but with a more jagged top. Agrin seemed to think for a second before stabbing two holes close to the bottom side at either side of the coast.

"Those are Dewcant and Farthesthaven, the two nearest cities. None of the towns in the area are more than farmer's outposts." His voice sounded pleading, and when Mason didn't say anything, he jabbed his fingers close to the coast and almost in exactly between the two cities. "We are here."

"And wild dragons?"

"Drakes!" 'Melarth hissed.

"Fine, Drakes. I don't care, call us winged geckos for all I care! Now answer the bloody question!" Mason snapped back, his mood growing dangerously low.

Agrin shuddered, then quickly jabbed a finger in the middle of the island and drew a circle. Then he jotted a few points on the coast and drew a small line between them. "There are rumors of drakes in the Hounds eye, a gigantic volcanic area in the middle of the unholy desert," he said, pointing at the circle in the middle, then he pointed at the line. "And there have also been reports of stone drakes near the coast here."

"Stone ones?" Mason asked, getting a bad feeling.

"Yes, large grey drakes. They are wingless and curl up around volcanoes to lay waste to anybody that dares search for mana-wells or mana-mines."

Mana-mines? Mason shook his head and took a step back to take a quick look at the still unmoving Dragon. He couldn't get himself to call it a drake. Should he ask more questions? He knew there were probably things he needed to know, but he just couldn't think of them right now. Worse, he needed to get away from the Kobolds, so he could see if the other Dragon needed care. It would suck if it died right when he found one!

Should I kill them? he thought as he eyed the Kobolds. The thought didn't have the weight he thought it should, and he frowned. Killing them would make it so they couldn't tell on him, but... He stared at Agrin and gritted his teeth. He couldn't get himself to blast them.

"Fine. Leave. I am taking this one," he snapped.

Agrin nodded and made to pick up his spear when Mason growled.

"Leave those!"

The other Kobolds backed up, but Melarth snarled at Agrin. "Mosran Hasrion will throw us in the mines if we come back empty-handed!"

Agrin shook his head, beckoning the other. "Melarth, come. Don't be a fool. At least we can work for our freedom if we are alive!"

Melarth's hand rose to his shoulder, and he shuddered. With a sudden movement, he shoved the other away, glaring at Mason. "No! I cannot go back there, not again!" The unhinged Kobold eyed the spear close to him.

Mason lowered his head and opened his mouth, small flames licking around his lips. He felt little sympathy for Melarth. Someone who had apparently been to mines himself but could still hunt and enslave others was a fool!

"Don't," he rumbled.

Agrin jumped forward, and Mason tensed, but the Kobold didn't move to him. He struck Melarth on the back of his head with his elbow. The other grunted and fell forward, and Agrin jumped on top, unwrapping a length of rope from his waist.

"Thank you for not killing us. I will take him with me," Agrin rattled as he tied up the other Kobold.

Mason quietly observed but kept his eyes on the Kobolds.

When Agrin finished, he signaled two others. They inched closer and quickly picked the unconscious Kobold up, carrying him away. Agrin nodded at Mason and followed them, checking across his shoulder every few steps. None of them took as much as a look at the dead Kobolds they left behind.

Mason waited for them to disappear behind the first sandy hill and then jumped up, flying in the air. He circled the downed Dragon, keeping his eyes on the kobolds. Only when they had left his vision did he go back down, landing beside a motionless shape.

Staring at the Dragon, small bleeding holes across its flank, he saw that most of its scales appeared gone. Only a few small ones grew on its muscled shoulders and back.

Now how am I going to get you out of here?

He waited for a long time before he couldn't hold back.

"Dammit, wake up!" he snapped, shaking the unconscious Dragon.

It was heavier than it looked, bigger than he was, and wholly unmovable. He estimated that the kobolds had left half an hour ago, and the Dragon still hadn't as much as groaned.

The small wounds had stopped bleeding and were closing up almost visibly.

If we stay any longer those Kobolds might return with reinforcement, Mason thought.

Deciding to take quick look, he flew up. High above the ground, but not so far that he wouldn't be able to recognize the kobolds, he circled across the shimmering hot desert.

The burning sun was almost right above him, warming his scales, and he let out a comfortable sigh as he found no apparent danger anywhere.

The only thing moving was the sand, blown around by the harsh wind. He took a last quick scan before diving back down, the scalding hot wind feeling like a nice warm cloak on his thinly scaled belly. Below him, he saw the dragon move, raising its head to look up at him.

"About time you woke up!" Mason roared before slamming down into the ground and scattering sand everywhere.

The Dragon scuttled back, fear and confusion on its long stubby snout but also longing. Its grey-speckled brown eyes seemed locked onto Mason's wings.

"Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but those Kobolds might come back. We need to leave and find a place to lay low."

The Dragon was silent for a while until it blinked twice and finally turned its gaze on Mason.

"Are you from the Shadow Wing? Will you take me there?" the Dragon asked in a decidedly male voice, deep and hollow as if boulders tumbled down a deep cavern.

His eyes had widened in fear, and he took a quick glance at his back before turning back to Mason. The pleading in his eyes almost made Mason go over to hug him.

"I know it looks bad, but my wings, they will heal!" the Dragon said, his voice cracking halfway. Then his head lowered as he looked away from Mason. "I'll not drag you down..."

Mason took a few steps closer, noticing that even with its head bent, the brown Dragon was much taller than him. "Take it easy, big guy. I am not from this continent, and I've got no idea who this Shadow Wing is. But I'm looking for more Dragons myself, so if you tell me where they are, I'll bring you to them."

The Dragon surged back and looked at Mason with a hot and piercing gaze. "Not from- Impossible! Are you one of the Hound's lackeys?"

"I have no idea who the Hound is… I am just a Dragon, lost and trying to find his way back home," Mason said, unable to keep the weary loss from his voice.

"Dragon? You mean drake…" the Dragon rumbled, but he stopped backing up.

"I don't care what these idiot Kobolds here tell you. If it quacks like a duck, moves like a duck, its blood well a duck…" Mason said, angry at the other Dragon but not completely sure why.

The other looked confused, and Mason shook his head as he realized what he had said. He probably doesn't know what a duck is. Damnit all.

"Never mind. My name is Mason," he said, wondering if the other even had a name with how he had been treated.

"Baudron Taintedblood-" the other replied, seemingly mechanically but stopping at the end.

Mason growled before shaking his head and turning to the direction the sun had risen from and taking a few steps.

"The Taintedblooded? Let me guess, that's what those slavers called you? Bunch of stupid wankers. Well, Baudron, let's get the hell out of here."

When he didn't get a response, Mason turned. Baudron was staring at him, uncertain and worriedly.

"What's the matter?"

"That is deeper into the desert. We will die of thirst and hunger if we go there!"

Mason cursed softly. He had forgotten that not all Dragons were the same, and the few scales Baudron still had were brown. That probably meant he wasn't as good with heat as he was.

"How long can you still go without water or food?" he asked.

Baudron's head dropped again with a look of worry. "The last water I had was the day before yesterday, the day I fled. If I don't get water soon, I'll die."

Mason frowned at the almost apologetic one of the other. It made him want to snap back, but he managed to hold it in. There should be water here. He had found a few oases, but the closest was two days flying from where he came. On foot, it would be even longer.

"I have no idea how to find water here…" he grunted angrily.

Baudron looked at him in disbelief. "How… how do you still live if you don't have water?"

Wondering how much the other even knew about Dragons, Mason decided to keep it simple. "Not all of us are the same. The heat makes me stronger, and I have little use for water."

"Inferno drake…!" Baudron gasped, and this time he stumbled back until he was a dozen feet from Mason.

Damnit, now what?

"I won't hurt you, and I have no idea what you are talking about!" Mason said, worried the other might run.

The Dragon was the first intelligent being he had found since coming here that didn't try to kill or attack him, and the idea of being alone again suddenly seemed horrifying.

His words barely seemed to register, Baudron lowering his head but keeping an eye on him.

Mason grunted, trying again. "I am not from here! Where I'm from , nobody fears me! And no dragons are enslaved either!"

This time Baudron looked at him again. "No slaves?"

"No! Instead, Kobolds want nothing more than to become awoken and change into one of their ancestors," Mason said.

Some embellishment never hurt, he thought, just happy that he finally seemed to get through to the other.

"Now, let's go. We can't stay here. And unless you know where we can find your water, going further in or not matters little. At least there aren't any hunters that way."

Baudron sighed before nodding. He trudged back to Mason, and together they ambled up the hill. From the top, the rest of the sprawling, blistering desert lay in front of them, and Mason finally realized it looked a lot bigger now that he knew he might have to walk across it.

As they continued, he turned to look at Baudron who kept silent.

"So, any idea about how to find water?" he asked, not expecting much but hoping to stir up some conversation.

"I do, but we need to find a Taznir stone hill."

Wait, he does? Why didn't he just say something?

"A what?" he asked.

"A tall hill made of dark brown rock. Because they are covered in thick covers of sand, they are hard to find."

Mason blinked. All he had seen were white sandy hills and heat shimmers. There hadn't been any brown stone anywhere. And with how white everything was, he knew he would have seen any from in the air.

"And how do we find them?" he asked.

"To me, they stick out like a beacon in the desert, but…" Baudron looked across his shoulder at the small stubs, and a look of pain crossed his snout.

Mason didn't know what to say. He could no longer imagine a world where he couldn't fly, and the idea of something ripping his wings from his back sounded worse than death.

They continued in silence for a while, the flowing hills passing by slowly as Mason realized how vast the desert was. From the air, he had passed hundreds of hills a day, but on foot? It took them over an hour to cross a single one. When they finally stood at the top of the next hill, Baudron was struggling to keep up.

"Can you see anything from up here?" Mason asked as he gazed around, wishing he could help.

Baudron's heavy, laborious breathing sounded like he could die any minute. That would leave him alone, and that prospect suddenly horrified him.

Baudron struggled to raise his head, staring around. A dull look in his eyes, he shook his head. "Nothing…"

Sand drifting on the harsh, hot wind pelted Mason's scales as he looked around in frustration. He could think of only a single option, but he barely dared try. If he failed, that would mean he could do nothing but watch Baudron.

He looked at the brown Dragon lying on the burning sand and shivered.

The hell! Since when did I become such a sissy!

Stretching himself, he turned to Baudron and examined him.

Although somewhat malnourished, the other probably weighed twice what he did. Spreading his wings and feeling the incredibly powerful muscles, grown strong from flying all day, every day for weeks, he shrugged.

"Baudron, get up. We are going to try something," he said, moving beside the other and staring into his listless eyes.

It took a few moments before the other seemed to realize what was going to happen, and he struggled up. "Are you crazy? There is no way you can get both of us off the ground!"

"And then what? I wait here until you die from thirst and then go on as if nothing happened?" Mason snapped.

He shoved the other to the far side of the hill. "We are going to try. The worst thing that can happen is that we fall!"

Baudron blinked and suddenly barked a laugh. "Oh, right. If that's the worst thing that can happen, what can go wrong?" He burst out laughing.

Thats more like it, Mason thought.

He grinned back at the other. "See? You feel better already! Now get ready. I am going to go up and fly by you. Lie on your back and raise your hands so I can grab them, then we are going to use the drop of the hill to get air. If all goes well, after that, I will try and get up as high as I can. As soon as you see what you are looking for, yell, and point with your tail!"

Silence followed as Baudron gaped at him for a moment. "You can't be serious... No, you are serious! Are you crazy?"

The big earth dragon hesitated for a second before nodding and rolling on his back. "Fine, I mean, if the worst that can happen is we fall…" He snorted.

Mason steeled himself as he stared at the steep drop before jumping in the air and swirling across the hill. Baudron's clawed hands looked small, and he hoped he wouldn't miss.

Mason stretched his hands and prepared himself as the hot, sand-laden air rushed past. With impeccable timing, he and Baudron grabbed each other's taloned hands, and then it felt like he was chained to the ground. Baudron dragged a bit across the ground, but Mason careened forward, held down by the other's immense weight, and he flung across the sandy edge and down the hill. Baudron let go of him, but it was too late, and both toppled and rolled down the hill. When they finally slowed down and came to a groaning halt at the bottom, Mason was so dizzy he felt like vomiting.

A soft chuckle came from beside him, deepening to a dull rumble; then Baudron was laughing so loud the sand around him shook. He attempted to say something a few times, and as Mason rose to stare at him, he finally managed.

"Falling really wasn't that bad," the brown Dragon managed to croak out in between bursts of rumbling laughter.

Mason grinned but knowing that he had failed dampened his mood.

"Damnit, now what?" he muttered, waiting for Baudron to get a grip.

The rest of the day, they continued forward, and Baudron became weaker and weaker until he moved so slow Mason stopped halfway up a hill.

"We need to rest."

Baudron didn't look up at him but kept placing a paw in front of the other.

"Baudron?"

The other shook his head but didn't stop. "If I stop now, I won't get up again. This is my last hill. Let me climb it."

Mason swallowed at the calmness of the other, then nodded and followed the brown Dragon further up the hill. It was almost dark when they arrived, and Baudron slumped into a big heap.

The hill had a slight edge to one side, as did they all, leading to the steep incline down. It reminded Mason of waves just before they broke on the coast. The memory of the sea brought the ever-present memories of Jake and the others, and he wondered how they were doing.

"What's that?" Baudron's whisper took a moment to register, and then Mason looked at the other, who was staring at the sky. Far above, dots flew in circles, seeming oddly familiar.

Mason frowned as he looked. Something about them seemed oddly familiar... the way they moved, the way they-

Bigbirds! he thought! They were those birds that he had hunted to oblivion so long ago on the island! A rumble from his stomach at the memory of their taste made him hungry, but above all, he suddenly felt a wave of hope.

"That's food, and I am going to bring us some! Wait here!" he shouted before jumping up and flapping away. As soon as he was in the air, he felt free and mobile, unlike trudging on the ground.

Nobody will ever take my wings! he thought as he relished in the simple act of flying higher.