“At least we can’t smell them yet,” I muttered, looking at the growing mob on the other side of the barrier.

  It appeared each and every one of the mole people had come to get a look at us, blocking our path to safety. This. This is the worst bullshit I’ve ever seen. Though it didn’t look like they would break through the magical barricade, it was clear we would be at a disadvantage trying to get through ourselves.

  Considering I could go through, there was nothing to suggest my spells could reach through to the mole people blocking our way too. Nor if I could attack with any success with a weapon. Like the enchanted sword, which I had forgotten to get identified. Not knowing could really backfire on me, possibly healing them or making them super buff.

  “We need an exit strategy. There’s no way we can just get through the barrier and fight at the same time,” I stated. “Really open to suggestions here.”

  Harper grinned. “If you’re willing, Finn, you could hit them with that Chain Lightning spell of yours. Just stick your hand through and cast it,” she suggested.

  “How effective or safe would that be, though? I really don’t know how that works with the barrier.”

  Harper shrugged and chuckled. “What do you have to lose by trying? Other than your hand, of course.”

  “She’s right,” added Jerseil. “It should work primarily because you can pass through it unhindered. I would just caution against casting it and touching one of them at the same time. Your spell might rebound onto you.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. The mass of repulsive mole people strained against the magic that held them back, black eyes bulging. I did not want to put my hand into that, but I remembered the fight with the quillotes and being pinned by one of them. And how I’d separated its spine with an Ice Shard.

  “I think I have a better idea,” I muttered, walking toward the sizeable crowd of mole people. With contact, I wouldn’t miss with the Ice Shards, and they would go through the flesh and bone like they were butter. Possibly into the second line of the mob. If it worked, I should have the space to cast Chain Lightning and clear out some room for us to work.

  “Everyone get ready. I’m going to make some room, and then we are going to move through,” I said authoritatively.

  Jerseil drew his sword and stepped beside me to the right, while Harper went to my left, pulling two long knives from her inventory. The smack of Druzzik’s shillelagh in the palm of his hand sounded behind me.

  Hold on, little one, I thought. I really hope this works. I chose the cleanest-looking mole person and their neighbor and slapped my hands against their chests, casting Ice Shard. They tensed up beneath my hands as I cast it repeatedly from each hand. The mole people were packed so tight that it took a couple seconds, or four castings each hand, for the two to fall back, not being held up anymore as the ones behind them fell too.

  As soon as I wasn’t touching either, I surge-cast Chain Lightning at the next nearest one, and it hit most of them, but only killing six. Everyone grabbed onto me, and we moved through the shimmering field.

  We immediately laid into the dazed mob of mole people while the hatchling hid under my hood. I cast nine Firebolts and drank a mana potion as my targets’ hair caught on fire. The resulting burned-hair stench did nothing to improve the overall smell of the creatures, and I gagged. Harper efficiently stabbed any that came near her while Jerseil sliced several on the right viciously, spraying blood with each cut. Soon, all the mole people lay dead around us.

  The foul stench of burning hair and excrement filled my nostrils.

  We quickly looted them, gathering proof of our kills, so that the Cinderclaws would let us through their lines. Gagging and coughing, we made our way out of the caves controlled by the mole people. With the last massacre, the area was clear, but we wanted to get out of there before anymore showed up to attack both us and our sense of smell.

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  I couldn’t imagine how bad it was for the pitifully chirping hatchling. I was honestly surprised she hadn’t covered my shoulder with partially digested biscuit.

  As it turned out, the trophies were unnecessary. The Cinderclaw kobolds only had eyes for the hatchling, who stayed on my shoulders and chirped happily at them. The lead Cinderclaw bowed to her. “Child of Great Dragon, welcome sight,” she said. “You Dragon-blessed.”

  The last had been directed at all of us. “Thank you. Is there a way to make sure the other tribes don’t attack us? I don’t want there to be any trouble,” I asked.

  The Cinderclaw kobold smiled genuinely. “Where going to? We send word to all tribes.”

  “Emberveil Tribe’s village,” Druzzik said proudly. “Will have Feast. Celebration!”

  “Good! Will send representative. Suggest other tribes do same,” the Cinderclaw replied before pulling herself to her full height and looking me in the eye. “Protect Child of Great Dragon.”

  “I will continue to do so gladly,” I replied. She accepted this with a nod as the only acceptable response. She gestured, and one of the other Cinderclaw warriors ran off.

  “So Druzzik, does this mean you are no longer exiled from your tribe or a heretic?” I asked as we walked back through the main cavern.

  “Yes, Druzzik no exile. Not Heretic. Can go home!” he replied with a grin. The kobold walked tall, a pep in his step.

  I couldn’t help grinning back at him. This had been a tough couple of days for all of us, but for him, it was a chance to fulfill a dream. The same dream that had led to his being exiled from the Emberveil tribe and labeled a heretic in the first place. I still didn’t fully understand why he was called a heretic, but it was not something I wanted to bring up at the moment.

  When we finally entered the tunnel that led back to the Emberveil tribal village, an excited and triumphant Druzzik led the way. There had been no issues on the way back, just excited kobolds wanting to see my little passenger. She had eaten all of my travel biscuits, too, and was working her way through the food stores we had gotten in Lass Trusen. She was gnawing enthusiastically on a piece of jerky. Her weight had gone up, and no longer looked like skin and bones. At first I had worried that she would overeat, but more and more, she wasn’t badgering me for food.

  I hoped she would do more moving around, but that was a worry for when she had recovered from her ordeal, at least physically. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for her to have found her mother like that or being all alone for God knows how long.

  She was definitely intelligent, but neither knew how to talk, nor couldn’t in the same way I did. I hoped it would come in time. The growing mass of her mental touch in the back of my mind made me wonder if that was how she communicated, which would be limiting. Nobody else had mentioned anything similar.

  The guards at the gate welcomed us back, staring in wonder at my small passenger. Word had already reached the village, as Druzzik’s uncle, the chieftain of the Emberveil tribe, came to meet us.

  Without saying a word, he warmly embraced his nephew in a tight hug. They stood like that for over a minute. A crowd of awed kobolds formed around us.

  Finally, the old kobold released Druzzik, holding him at arm’s length. “Welcome home, Nephew. Found Dragon. Proved belief right,” he said. He continued in a louder voice, “Druzzik not Heretic. Druzzik found New Dragon! Druzzik home. At last!”

  A cheer erupted from the surrounding kobolds, startling in its joy. They wanted him to succeed and come back, despite how coldly they had treated him only days before. Had I misread the situation yet again? These kobolds, these PEOPLE, had customs I didn’t know. I should have asked more questions, learned more from Druzzik.

  It was odd how close I had grown to him in the past two days, yet I assumed so much about him and his people. There were layers of cultural context here that I didn’t understand. To think that I wanted to become a public servant in a capacity to protect and serve my country by understanding other cultures and how they worked. Yet I didn’t take the time to learn more about my kobold friend and his people.

  It made me feel like the asshole here, and there was no denying that truth. But it brought to light my failings in this area as both a friend and as an aspiring Federal State Department worker. I needed to try harder on the first. But maybe my instincts weren’t right for the second. I shelved that thought for later and focused on the joyous crowd of kobolds surrounding us.

  It was a mixed crowd. I watched members of the Cinderclaws and the Blackscales moving among them, as well as other kobolds that were clearly not Emberveils by dress, build, or scale coloration. The last struck me as odd, but I was unsure how long the tribes had been separated, and I didn’t know exactly how they had divided themselves in the first place.

  But now, all the past animosities and biases had been shelved by the different tribes. I didn’t want to jump to any further conclusions, as I wasn’t batting a thousand, but part of me wondered at the power dragons had generationally over these people. I had not gotten the feeling that they had been poorly treated by the baby dragon’s mother, nor did the little one on my shoulders give me any evil overlord vibes.

  “Must have music! Food! All stay and feast! Heir has returned!” announced the leader of the Emberveil tribe. Tears ran down Druzzik’s smiling face. He gave his uncle a side hug, and I realized how big this was for both of them and the tribe.

  I grinned. This was something to celebrate.