Keith Baker - The Shattered Land

Apparently Hassalac could feel it as well. “YOU MAY APPROACH.”

The path of fire extended, circling around to the right of the obelisk. Daine noticed that it stayed five feet away from the stone, and he resolved not to test Kess’s warnings. He let Lakashtai take the lead this time; he’d had enough of making embarrassing mistakes. Following Lakashtai, he walked around the edge of the great throne, coming face to face with Hassalac Chaar, the Dragon Prince, the mightiest sorcerer in Stormreach.

He had to choke to hold the laughter in.

A moment earlier Daine had wondered if Hassalac was a giant. Little could be further from the truth. The mighty sorcerer was a tiny, gaunt figure; by Daine’s estimation, Hassalac wouldn’t be much over two feet tall when standing. Hassalac’s skin was covered with rust colored scales, and his long snout was reminiscent of both lizard and dog. His head was crowned with two short black horns.

He was a kobold.

Eberron was home to a surprising number of humanoid species. Khorvaire alone possessed over a dozen distinct humanoid cultures, from the dwarves of the Mror Holds to the orcs of the Shadow Marches. Ogres, halflings, gnomes, trolls-out of this multitude of creatures, kobolds were possibly the most pathetic. They were the smallest and weakest of the humanoids; even a goblin could bully a kobold, and where the goblins and their kin had carved out empires, the kobolds had never risen above simple tribes. Kobolds were cowardly and reclusive by nature, and for centuries they were seen only when they built up the courage to ambush miners or merchant caravans. During the Last War, House Cannith had recruited a number of kobold tribes as laborers, and Daine had dealt with the creatures on a handful of occasions. His strongest memory was of their incessant chattering, and their voices: high-pitched yapping, like the bark of some tiny dog.

“SO YOU ARE THE ONE WHO STRUCK KRYSSH!”

Hassalac’s voice was no yammering yap. His words were like thunder. Even as Daine was wincing from the terrible sound, a wave of force slammed into him, throwing him back against the cavern wall. Hassalac was standing on his throne, his little hand stretched out before him; and Daine could feel that grip, magnified a thousandfold, crushing him into the stone.

“Master Hassalac, I ask that you forgive my companion,” Lakashtai said. “He meant no harm and believed that he was defending me from danger.”

“HE HAS THREATENED MY LOYAL SERVANT, AND HIS LIFE IS MINE! IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG SINCE THE SCENT OF BLOOD HAS FILLED THE AIR!”

Daine’s struggles were useless. He couldn’t move a muscle, and every second the pressure increased. Hassalac’s voice faded to a dull, incoherent roar. Thunder . His vision blurred, and the world began to fade.

Then it was over. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath. His body was worn and sore, and the world’s angriest blacksmith was using his head as an anvil. Lakashtai was speaking to Hassalac, but Daine couldn’t make out the words through his fog of pain. Whatever she’d said, it had kept him alive … though at the moment death seemed preferable to the terrible pounding in his head. He saw that Lakashtai had produced the dragon scale, which floated through the air to the kobold’s throne.

“… the company of that half-breed rat.”

Slowly words began to take shape. Mercifully, Hassalac had lowered his voice. He still spoke in resonant bass tones instead of the squeaking yap of the kobold, but as Daine watched he realized that Hassalac’s mouth wasn’t actually moving when he spoke. The sorcerer wore robes of crimson velvet, and a braided ring of gold was wrapped around his throat. Rosy dragonshards were embedded in the terminals of this torc, and they pulsed with a faint light in time with Hassalac’s words. Apparently the sorcerer didn’t care for the sound of his own voice.

“We only met Gerrion last night, Master Hassalac,” Lakashtai said, “but he helped us find you, and his advice played a vital role in the selection of this gift.”

“HE IS A THIEF AND A GRAY WORM!” Hassalac roared, and Daine winced at the sound. “Surely this is another of his tricks!”

“Calm yourself, Master Hassalac.” Lakashtai’s words were like cool water, and even Daine’s headache seemed to subside at the sound of her voice. “Gerrion told us he was a thief. In fact, he said that he had stolen goods on your behalf on more than one occasion.”

“Perhaps …”

“Besides, if Gerrion was plotting against you, why would he have revealed his presence? We bring no hidden purposes to your door.”

The kobold scratched his chin with a polished claw, running his other hand across the dragonscale that lay across his lap. Rings glittered on his fingers. “Very well. I accept your tale, for now, so what is it you seek?”

“Your name is known even in Khorvaire and Adar, Master Hassalac. Your collection of treasures is a thing of legend.”

“This I know. Make your point, for my patience wears thin.”

“All we ask is the opportunity to study your treasures, Master Hassalac, to examine your collection, that we may know once and for all what wonders you possess.”

Hassalac’s mouth finally opened, producing a series of barking yaps that Daine recognized as kobold laughter. Lakashtai remained unruffled, and eventually the sorcerer’s mirth subsided.

“You have manners, warm one,” he said at last, “to bring a gift with your request. The one who came before did not, and he is lucky that I let him leave; I considered turning him into crystal and adding him to my treasures.”

“We have no desire to take anything from you-”

“Except knowledge,” Hassalac snapped, “and you know well that knowledge is the greatest treasure of all. My secrets are worth far more than mere silver or gold. In return for this fine gift, I shall allow you to inspect those relics placed on display in this chamber and to leave with your lives when you are done, but no one enters my vaults.”

Hassalac’s voice might have been magically generated, but it conveyed emotion well, and the threat hung in the air. Daine’s hand was on his sword, but Lakashtai caught his eye and shook her head.

“We shall avail ourselves of your kind offer, Lord Hassalac. We shall not take long; I am certain that you yearn for your privacy.”

“Than you are wiser than I thought.” The kobold dismissed them with a gesture. “Go. And you-” he fixed Daine with his gaze, and for a moment Daine felt an icy hand around his heart. “Spill another drop of blood in my domain, and your death will be a slow one.”

Get in line , Daine thought. “I understand.”

Hassalac wasted no more words on them, turning his attention to the dragon scale. Daine followed Lakashtai into the main chamber, where Kess was waiting.

“Whenever you are ready, I will arrange for your escort to the surface. Take as much time as you wish. Although,” he lowered his voice and glanced at the back of his master’s throne. “I think you would be wise to act swiftly.”

Lakashtai spent little time examining the various treasures on display in the cavern. There were a number of worn statues, and a pockmarked spearhead that must have belonged to a giant; it was nearly two feet long, and the tip was stained and black. She devoted a few minutes to studying a chunk of crystal the size of Daine’s head. She refused to speak or to acknowledge Daine’s questions, but it had been less than a quarter of an hour when she summoned Kess and asked to leave.

As before, one of the lizard guardians led the way through the maze of tunnels. Daine tried to see if he could remember the way out, but passages kept branching, and he quickly lost track.