Chapter 48: Dram-Mo, of the Dragon Clan
Dram-Mo opened his eyes.
Heat came from the magma-light slits that had been cut into the walls during the reconstruction, thin channels that let the deep orange glow from the mountain's interior bleed through the stone. The effect was steady and soft, enough to see by, enough to sleep by. The air in the alcoves carried the dank mineral warmth of heated rock and the close, familiar smell of goblin bodies in shared space.
No goblin tribe in living memory had slept with warmth in the walls. The elder goblins still talked about this, the fact of it, the impossible luxury of it, in the tones of people who had spent most of their lives sleeping in cold mud.
Dram-Mo's alcove was narrow and shallow, carved to fit one goblin body in a curled position. His sleeping mat lay over a thin layer of straw, and beneath the mat, pushed against the back wall, sat his personal pile.
He reached under the mat before he was fully awake. His fingers found the coins. Three of them, copper, worn smooth at their edges. A small brass button. A chip of blue glass he had found in the riverbed during a patrol and had kept because the color was good.
He counted with his fingers. All of it was still there.
The queen had accepted his service for another day.
This was their tradition. Every goblin had their own treasures hidden away. They said that if you woke up one day and your treasures were gone, the queen had decided you were worth less than them and your time in her service was over.
The old goblin in the next alcove was already awake and already talking, his voice carrying through the honeycomb with the projection of someone who had been complaining for decades already, just waiting for anyone to listen.
"Sleeping through the First Steam," the old goblin said, to no one in particular and to everyone in general. "Every morning. Every single morning, the young ones sleep through it. Disrespectful. They don’t know how blessed they are to be here."
Dram-Mo pushed himself up. The First Steam was coming.
He could feel the change in the air pressure through the slits, the faint shift that preceded the daily venting. He had never missed it himself, but the old goblin's complaints had the quality of a ritual rather than a genuine grievance.
Goblins filed out of their alcoves and gathered at the dungeon entrance in the hundreds. The obsidian gate stood open, its frame catching the first grey light from outside.
The mountain's internal pressure had been building through the night, the heat from the deep chambers pushing air and moisture upward through the vents, and now it released.
Suddenly, a mass of steam came through the gate in a rolling white wall. It was enough to fog eyesight and to soak hair and skin.
The goblins stood in it. The moisture settled on their skin and beaded on their equipment as many of them scrubbed themselves in it in a washing of sorts. The elders breathed deep with their eyes closed, finding rejuvenation in their lungs.
The queen's breath, the tribe called it. The morning steam passing over them. A blessing for the day ahead.
Then, after a minute, the steam thinned and faded out into the world and rolled down the mountain.
The goblins dispersed to their duties.
Breakfast was salted grain porridge served from a communal pot, and Schnack-Ni was already talking when Dram-Mo arrived.
The goblin sat on an overturned crate at the center of the eating area, his spoon gesturing broadly, his audience arranged around him in a loose semicircle of varying attentiveness. Snik was not a large goblin or a particularly skilled one. What Schnack-Ni had was a story, and the story had gotten him further than skill ever would have.
"She was right there," Schnack-Ni said, his voice carrying. "Right there in the corridor. And I took the coin. Right out from under her. She didn't even see me. That's how fast I was."
The goblins who had heard this story before ate their porridge and said nothing. The ones who hadn't heard it, the newer members and the young ones, watched with open admiration.
"And then what?" asked a young goblin.
"And then she woke up. And she came looking for me. And I stood my ground." Schnack-Ni set his spoon down for emphasis. "Stared her right in the eye. A dragon. And I didn't blink."
Dram-Mo ate his porridge. The story grew in the retelling every day.
The coin had been taken from the hoard room floor, not from under the dragon. Schnack-Ni had run, not stood his ground. The only part that remained accurate was the outcome, which was that the coin had been found and the dragon had arrived to take them in.
The outcome was the part that mattered. Dram-Mo supposed that was why nobody corrected him.
His patrol partner was different today.
Dram-Mo reported to the equipment alcove at the assigned hour and found someone else already there, checking the straps on a leather chest piece. She looked up when he entered.
"Orders came through this morning," she said. "I'm your partner for today."
Her name was Klett-Er.
She was about his age, maybe a season younger. Her ears were sharper than his and her eyes moved faster, scanning the equipment rack and then the door and then him in quick succession. She had already identified the best spear on the rack and taken it.
They knew each other.
"I heard," Dram-Mo said. He took the second-best spear, which was still serviceable. He wanted to say more but didn't find the right way to continue and by the time he did, it felt too awkward to say it.
They checked their equipment in silence, each one working through the list with the methodical attention the patrol manual required. Spears. Armor straps. Signal horns. Water skins. The process took a few minutes.
They stepped out into the main corridor and fell into the patrol stride. The corridor was busy. Goblins moved in both directions on their various duties, the traffic flowing.
Rou-ya walked past them.
The goblin princess wore her practical leather and her golden eyes tracked everything in the corridor.
Both of them bowed. Dram-Mo bent at the waist, his spear held vertical against his side. Klett-Er did the same beside him, a half-beat behind.
Rou-ya passed without stopping. She had already moved on to whatever was next.
They straightened and resumed walking.
The goblin merchant's display sat along the main corridor where it widened near the junction, a flat stone table covered in small items arranged on cloth. Pretty things. Polished stones, copper jewelry, beads, and small carved figures.
Klett-Er slowed.
Her eyes found the nose ring. It was copper with a small green stone set in it, the stone no larger than a grain of rice, but the color was deep and even. The ring itself was thin and well-made.
She stood in front of it for a few seconds. Her fingers rose toward it and stopped. She pulled her hand back.
Too expensive.
They resumed their patrol. Dram-Mo glanced back for a moment.
The human priestess came through the mushroom circle without warning, the air shimmering and then depositing her and the chest she carried on the stone floor of the junction chamber. She was out of place in the mess of goblins, her robes clean, her expression composed.
Dram-Mo did not flinch. Months ago, he would have. The first humans who came through the circles now would have sent every goblin in the area running for cover back then. Now they came through several times a day, carrying tribute chests and messages.
This one nodded at him.
Dram-Mo nodded back. The gesture felt strange every time, the formality of it, the acknowledgment between a goblin and a human that neither of them had been raised to expect. But it had become normal, which was its own kind of strange.
Klett-Er took the priestess's chest. The priestess thanked her and stepped back through the circle, disappearing into the shimmer. They went to deposit it in the intake chamber, where other patrols were returning with their collections.
The dragon whelp had gotten into the storage chamber through a ventilation shaft, apparently.
It sat in the middle of the scattered remains of a sacked dried fish, its belly distended, its eyes half-closed. It hissed at them when they entered, a thin, warning sound that would have been more intimidating if the whelp wasn't so full it could barely move.
"Come on," Dram-Mo said, holding out his hands. "Out! You don't belong in here."
The whelp hissed again and did not move.
Klett-Er tried from the other side, waving her arms. "Shoo. Go on!”
The whelp looked at her. Then it lowered its head onto its swollen belly and closed its eyes entirely.
They tried luring it with a dried fish from the remaining stock. They tried pushing it, which resulted in more hissing and no movement. But it was no good.
The whelp had committed to its position and was now going to sleep where it was regardless of external opinion.
They gave up and sealed the chamber door with a note for the next shift.
They ate lunch on the eastern wall, their legs hanging over the patrol path, the valley below them green and distant. The sun was high and the air was warm.
"I've been selected for ash-duty next week," Klett-Er said. She said it without bragging, but the pride was in the way she held her shoulders. "Tending the fires in the brood chamber's outer sanctum."
Dram-Mo looked at her. Ash-duty was a high honour. The brood chamber was deep, warm, and close to the queen's eggs. Only goblins who had proven themselves were allowed that far down. The selection was a signal, a recognition of trust that meant something to everyone in the clan.
Klett-Er was elevated above him in social station with this. That means they wouldn’t be able to see each other so often anymore. It would cause trouble for her if an elevated goblin were seen spending time with a lower-ranking one like him.
He didn’t want that for her.
"Congratulations," he said, pushing down the sadness in his guts and sounding sincere.
"You should aim for it too," she said. She nudged his shoulder with hers. "Work hard. Get noticed."
"Easy for you to say. You are easy to notice,” he said, only realising how it sounded after he said it.
She laughed.
Both of them looked away from each other.
"Exactly. I'm proof it works." She grinned. "Do your best, Dram-Mo."
They finished their lunch and went back to work.
The stars were out.
The night air was cool on the mountain path, the temperature dropping fast now that the sun was gone. The obsidian gate glowed faintly above them, the residual heat from the stone catching what light the stars provided.
Dram-Mo and Klett-Er had finished their work. Their patrol had covered the full eastern circuit, the river crossing, the forest edge, and the upper switchbacks. They were walking back up toward the gate together.
"Goodnight, Dram-Mo," Klett-Er said, at the point where their paths would separate. “I enjoyed today’s shift with you. I will miss it.”
"Ah, wait. Klett-Er." He said it before he could reconsider.
She stopped and looked at him. The starlight caught the edges of her face.
He stumbled over the first word, recovered, and reached into his pocket. His fingers found the shape of it, small and cool, and he pulled it out.
"Here. For you."
He held out the nose ring, the one she had eyed at the merchant this morning.
Klett-Er stared at it. The green stone caught the faint light from the gate and held it in a small, bright point.
"How?" she said. "When? Are you sure? Dram-Mo, this was a month's salary."
"Two," he corrected. He held it out for her.
Klett-Er took it with both hands. Her fingers worked the clasp, found her nose, and fitted the ring. She adjusted it, tilted her head, and felt the weight of it.
A second later, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He froze.
"Thank you, Dram-Mo," she said. She played with her hair, pushing it behind her ear, the gesture self-conscious in a way he had not seen from her before. "See you tomorrow?"
"We do not have patrol duty together," he replied. “It would not be appropriate for you any longer,” he said, shaking his head and looking down.
"I know," she replied. She tilted her head as he looked back up again, seeing her eyes. "I'll see you when the moon comes. Meet me at the gate."
The cool night air moved between them. She turned and walked back up the mountain.
Dram-Mo stood there.
His heart was beating in his chest. His hand rose to his cheek, where the kiss had been, and touched the spot. The skin was warm.
"Not bad. Not bad."
Dram-Mo turned.
His blood went cold and then hot in the space of a single heartbeat.
The dragon queen sat on a stone ledge above the path, her legs crossed, her chin resting on her hand. Her red eyes caught the starlight and held it. She had been sitting there. Watching.
Dram-Mo dropped to his knees and lowered his head. "My queen."
Barjuchne came down from the ledge with a light step, her feet finding the path without sound. She stopped in front of him.
"I didn't think you'd pull it off," she said. Her voice was conversational and casual. "But look at you. I think she really likes you."
Dram-Mo lifted his head. "It is because of my queen's mercy. Thank you for placing us in duty together."
Barjuchne waved him off. Then she held out her other hand, her fingers wiggling. "A deal is a deal."
Dram-Mo reached down to his belt and pulled out a small bag. It was everything he had left. The brass button. The blue glass chip. The last of his personal wealth, reduced to this after the nose ring.
He gave it to her.
The dragon queen opened the bag and sorted through it with one claw, turning each item over. She picked out the blue glass chip, holding it up to the faint light, turning it, and studying the color.
She kept it. This was what she had charged him for changing the patrol shifts. It was the prettiest thing he owned.
Barjuchne pocketed it and handed the bag back. "Come on. Let's get back inside." She growled. "Damned adventurers love to come out at night. Like rats."
She turned toward the gate, then stopped.
Her head turned, her eyes narrowing at the dark line of the burnt forest below the path. The ashen trees stood in their black rows, stripped and skeletal. Her mouth shone with electricity and she immediately launched a bolt of lightning into the woods at nothing Dram-Mo could see.
The crack of it split the night. Sparks scattered through the dead branches. Somewhere in the dark, cries went up, the sharp, panicked sounds of people who had been hiding and were no longer hiding.
The sounds of running followed, boots on loose ground, moving away from the mountain in a hurry.
She tsked and then gestured for him to come along with her.
Dram-Mo stared at her, then at the forest, then at her again. "My queen?"
She looked back at him. The snarl from the lightning attack was gone, replaced by something else entirely.
"You want to look good, don't you?" She nodded toward the gate. "Come on. You'll be the talk of the town, my little bodyguard." She tapped her head. “I know you guys have your rules. But how can I just stand by and watch? Nighttime rendezvous are cute. But I want to see you two holding hands in broad daylight.”
Dram-Mo stared, taken aback. She was nothing like the stories and warnings.
"...Why, my queen?" He was confused, but not opposed. Walking in beside the queen herself with her blessing would improve his standing in the clan by a margin he could not calculate. He would be socially elevated enough to spend as much time with Klett-Er as he wanted, without tarnishing her status.
She sighed. Her hands clenched in front of her, and she looked at the sky. "I just love a good romance." She turned and walked toward the gate. Dram-Mo followed, two steps behind, his heart still beating in his chest.
The obsidian gate grew closer, its frame lit from within by the magma-light that never went out. The guards at the gate entrance saw them coming and stood at attention, their spears rising to vertical in unison.
The gate guards were dozing off, not paying attention.
A roar, thunderous. The gate shook. Goblins screamed. “GET BACK TO WORK, YOU GRUNTS! I’LL EAT YOU ALIVE!”
A blast of ice washed along the walls.
“Slackers!”
Panic. The guards scrambled, running in fear in circles before crashing into each other. The goblins all around them scrambled, making way as the dragon queen passed them by. She pointed at him. “See? Not like Dram-Mo here. You should all be more like him!” she snarled at the fearful crowd.
A sea of eyes came over, watching from behind cover and from around walls with curious wonder and interest. He even saw Klett-Er with her friends, staring in excitement.
Dram-Mo stood taller, knowing that the dragon queen was going out of her way to do him a life-changing favor. He would never be able to repay such a debt, but he would try.
Barjuchne looked at him and from the side of her head that was turned away from the clan, a wink.
Long live the Dragon Queen.