Chink in the Dragon's Scales

[Poko]

The street was part of a shady maze of walkways and alleys with cobblestones turned up like teeth and stinking mud oozing out between them. The young ferret skirted around holes as deep as her knees and dangerous looking bits of sharp debris. She didn?t usually wear shoes, but places like this made her consider it more seriously, despite the toughness of the pads of her feet. Poko was snooping ? peeking in windows and peering through keyholes as discretely as she was able. It wasn?t too difficult, because there were not a lot of beasts around to ask questions. The traffic was minimal in this part of Carrigul ? especially as night was setting in. Few but the poorer, bottom feeding types lingered here ? beggars and thieves ? her kind of crowd. They weren?t safe by any means, but they were predictable at least, unlike the priests, guards, and merchants downtown. A crash of glass made her jump as she was squinting into an empty storage barn. A weasel was tossing trash over his back as he dug through a dump pile, searching for anything useful, or perhaps trace drips of alcohol. He did have that familiar rheumy-eyed, unfocused stare.

Poko moved on. Disturbing thoughts of a bloody Nyika holding a dripping knife circled in her head. The wildcat was more unstable than ever, yet they were sending her into the deadly lair of a beast even more unstable and violent if the rumors were to be believed. There were reports circulating that the high priestess had killed a servant just the other day for naught more than a spilled drink. It sounded more like a suicide mission to Poko, and she could not understand why the others were so quick to agree to the cat?s death wish. But Nyika was determined, and even Noonahootin did not resist, so who was she to argue? Did she care more for the wildcat than Zevka? No. And that was how she ended up out in this blighted tail end of the city. While they plotted and planned the wildcat?s demise in detail, Poko would do what Poko did best ? become part of the landscape and listen for clues; search the obscure places for traces of Nessa or hints of Zevka?s long lost love. They were somewhere here in Carrigul, and the ferret was slick enough to slip through many a barrier that would stop a grown pine marten or owl in their tracks.

Perhaps she could find them before Nyika had a chance to act on her lunatic strategy. Fates knew her last plan did not go the way she assumed it would, and those twisted forces were probably still laughing about it.

An old stone-carved wall rose to her right. Higher the windows were boarded up, but down low Poko could make out what could be either street drains or narrow, barred windows. She dropped to her knees in front of one and stared into the inky blackness, willing her eyes to adjust.

?Vanessa?? She called in a low voice. Something snuffled and snorted and she pulled back as a scuffing sound floated out of the dank underground space. After a minute, a pasty, wrinkled paw reached out of the gloom and wrapped itself around one of the bars, knuckles bulging grotesquely. Poko gasped at the nearly naked paw with its long, dirty, yellowed claws. Definitely not Nessa.

?Whose sweet musical voice calls me from my sleep? A siren? A Dream? A spirit come at last to fly me home?? The voice was hoarse and raspy, full of phlegm. Another sparsely furred paw joined the other, encircling a different bar while white whiskers delicately touched the base of the small opening. Poko glanced around, back at the place the weasel had been rummaging, but he was gone. She swallowed.

?Sorry, no. I?m looking for a lost friend. An otter.? She tried to get a better look at the beast. He was obviously quite elderly, so the straggles of white fur she could make out might simply be from age. He was missing some teeth, but the few she saw as he sniffed her scent were sharp. His nose was pink and spotted with brown age spots. The shape of it plus the muzzle seemed familiar in a creepy, out-of-place sort of way.

?Naught but a washed-up old stoat in here, I?m afraid.?

Poko perked at the mention of ?stoat.? She shifted her paws carefully to a more comfortable position underneath her and leaned forward again. ?You?re an ermine??

?You?re a ferret.? The stoat showed his yellowed fangs in amusement. Poko experienced a brief moment of deja vu.

?Do you?live down there??

?Unfortunately. Not by choice,? the old ermine intoned, ?but it?s been this way for some time. The fortress was more comfortable ? not as humid. Less fungus. However I?m happier to be without the daily torture sessions.?

?Is that what happened to your fingers?? Poko inquired curiously, realizing only as he withdrew his paws that it may have been a rude question.

?No, sadly that is but the torture of old age.? He sighed. ?Not that this damp cell helps.?

Poko nodded sympathetically. ?So who put you in this damn cell??

The old stoat laughed at her, though she was not sure why. It faded quickly into a cough, however, and once his throat was clear he answered.

?That was long ago, little ferretmaid. Long before your time. I was brought here, along with several others, before this place was even a city.?

Poko gaped at him. ?Wow. You must be really old!?

The ermine chuckled. ?Prison is not kind to anybeast, young one. I am not quite so old as I look. I was actually very young when I first arrived ? full of ignorance and gullibility.?

At the word ?gullibility? Poko looked over her shoulder again to make sure no beast might be coming up on her unexpectedly in the darkness. The road was clear, a single burning streetlamp casting a circle of flickering orange light around it. Poko turned back to the white stoat.

?Did you come from the place in the mountains with the ruptures and poison gas??

Poko?s question was rewarded with a small intake of breath and the pale, boney paws came up again. ?You have seen this place?? he asked. ?Are there survivors?? His voice was edged with an excited urgency.

?Yeah I?ve been there. Just came from there, as a matter of fact. I met another ermine named Takis and we became good friends.?

The paws pulled back again and the old stoat sniffled and Poko craned her neck, aiming an ear at the sounds from the cellar, wondering if he was actually crying.

?They live,? the old voice finally croaked around panting breaths. ?Young one, you say you?re no saving spirit, but I beg to differ. In all my years I have lost nearly all hope that any of my civilization survived after the attack. It was a delicate balance we kept, matching harmony with the earth?s various mood swings. Without us there to measure the currents, we were sure our community would either die or be forced to abandon the city.?

?Well?? Poko hesitated. After making the old beast so happy, she almost didn?t want to tell him his guess was true. Yet he did deserve to know. ?It?s not a city anymore, to be sure, and lots of beasts did die. There are whole villages that were wiped out by poison gases. Takis?s tribe?they don?t even live in the buildings. They have tents and they stay in the shadow of the temple where it?s safest.?

There was silence from the dark, barred window, and then a sigh.

?Oh how we regretted the exclusive nature of our predictive arts after we were taken and realized our civilization would be stranded in their ignorance. Some held out hope that somebeast would break the code ? unveil the secrets once and for all ? for all to see and understand. But we, the engineers ? the bright minds ? the learned and literate?? His voice dripped with self-loathing. ?We were arrogant and elitist, shutting out the commonality and lording our knowledge over them. Priests ? PAH!? He spat. ?We were no more priests than these ?All-Mother? snakes who own this city. And it was our families, friends, and community that paid the price.?

?Oh! But we did break the code! We opened the Hall of the Ancients using the riddles!?

A choking cry of joy arose from the tiny barred opening and Poko smiled, pleased to evoke such a response. She hunkered down close and continued.

?Takis was with us so he learned the secrets of the color-changing stones, and when we left he stayed behind to help his tribe to learn the truth. They even made him into a new priest.? The ferret squinted at the old ermine. ?Takis told me that Carrigul killed all the priests, though, so how is it that you ended up here??

?Oh they killed most of us, ?tis true,? the hoarse voice answered grimly, ?And all of the elders and leaders. But they spared the priests who surrendered their will and brought them back to Carrigul. They had plans for us, you see. They wanted our knowledge and understanding of earthworks.? The old ermine pointed a stained claw at Poko. ?Carrigul is very similar to our city. The earth boils liquid rock beneath, venting gases and heat, albeit more predictably. They wanted to harness its power.?

?They built this city?they built this city on a volcano?? Poko could hardly believe her ears. ?But isn?t that really dangerous??

?It is not the explosive type. With our help they learned to channel the heat and installed vents to prevent unpredictable flows and pressure build-up. You?ve seen the steam and felt the heat indoors, I presume??

?Yeah ? and they have hot water pumps too. Like the baths back in the mountains!?

?Ah yes ? the baths!? The ermine chuckled and wrung the bars with his dirty paws. ?What I wouldn?t give for a good long soak for these old bones??

?You said there were others ? are you alone down there??

?Alas, I am the last of the priesthood. Most of my companions were much older and wiser than I. They rotted in prison, after their usefulness had run out. I am ashamed to say, I continued to make myself useful in an effort to preserve my worthless life. The others helped them build a comfortable, stable city and left it at that. But I?.I gave them the forges. And not a day passes that I do not regret that...inspiration.?

?Forges? Like blacksmith forges?? The ferret thought of the small dome-like structures she had seen in which smithies turned iron and steel until it was red hot.

?Similar, but on a much more massive scale, if you can imagine. Tall forges powered by the heat of the earth itself. Enough heat to not only smelt but to melt iron in vast quantities.?

Poko mulled over this new information. ?What are they doing with all that iron? Making weapons, I guess??

?Weapons, armor, portable blanks for on-sight smithing, and of course, hammers, anvils and presses for making even more weapons and armor. I specialized in ironworks back in the day.?

Poko whistled at the imagined accumulation. ?I?ve heard they?re preparing for war. Gates?they could take over?like?all of Mossflower, huh??

?And beyond.? The ermine confirmed somberly.

Poko looked thoughtful. ?Where exactly ARE these forges? I?d like to see them for myself.?

"Off the side of the mountain rise near near Tikora's fortress  ?  Wait ? are you leaving?"  The old stoat suddenly sounded pleading as Poko got to her feet.

"Yes,? Poko chewed her lip, ?but I?ll try to come back again.? She wanted to do more for the old beast ? perhaps find a way to free him even, but time was of the essence. If what he said was true, the city?s strength could also be its greatest weakness. She had to find out.

?Carrigul's already destroyed a lot more than your home and the lives of your kinsbeasts, and they're fixing to take it even further. Maybe there's a way we can stop them before they destroy even more innocent lives..."

The ermine stuck his nose through the bars so Poko could see his missing eye and scarred face. His remaining eye smoldered in the reflected firelight of the streetlamp as he held Poko?s gaze from behind iron-wrought bars.

"Carrigul is built on a thousand corpses, its mortar mixed with their blood. May justice speed you on your way, young ferret."