Sins of the Father Part Two: Chapter 11 (Patreon)

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Chapter Eleven

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Airn dreamt of Illandra in flames.

She stood frozen in the heart of the great city, as the world burned down around her. Flames ravished everything. Choking, acrid smoke seared her lungs. The sky was but a black pall. Somewhere beyond it, the only light was but a horrific, otherworldly glow. Ashes and embers whirled together in ruinous dance. The great conflagration produced a smothering, rushing roar, pieced by crackles like bones breaking. Cries of terror and anguished screams raked her ears, squeezed her heart in cold fingers.

Nearby, survivors clustered in a frightened group, huddled beneath the slate-tiled eave of a tavern. Ash caked their clothes, painted their faces a sickly gray hue. The way they clung together spoke of family, desperate to protect one another. Airn lifted a hand. Somehow, in the dream, her brown-furred fingers were free of soot, and grime. She reached for them, wanting to call out, to usher them to safety.

Hesitation stole her voice. Why bother, she wondered. Would humans even listen to an urd’thin? Surely, they would not help one, were the tables turned. Would it not be better for her long downtrodden people if she simply left their oppressors to burn? And yet, how would that ever be the right thing to do?

Something swooped through the smoke above her. A primal howl shook the burning buildings, rattling what windows had not yet succumbed to the blaze. A burst of brilliant, red-orange light erupted as the beast in the smoke blasted fresh flame across the nearby tavern. In a flash, the entire family sheltered there was incinerated. Their shrieks were sharp, gut-wrenching, and then silent.

Airn cringed, turning away as the beast in the sky made another pass. This time, its fire was aimed for Airn. She sucked in a breath, and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the end. Her indecision let those people die. It was only fitting she shared their fate. Flames washed across her, searing the fur from her skin in an agonizing instant. Airn tried to scream, but the fire raging across her stole her voice.

Then, just as quickly, she was elsewhere. Airn found herself atop a monolith tower, gazing down across the ruined city, wreathed in smoke, and inferno. Four other great towers surrounded her, all part of the grand keep that sat at Illandra’s heart. The blaze had not yet penetrated the great castle’s imposing stone walls. The dreadful cacophony was distant now, muted and sorrowful.

Strange weight pulled at her arms. Airn looked down. Where before her hands were empty, now she grasped strange objects. She lifted them. In her left hand, Airn held a simple watering can, filled to the brim. Water sloshed from it. In the other, she clutched an old bellows of wood, and leather.

You have to make a choice.

In the way of dreams, the voice was both in her head, and somehow distant. Airn swiveled her ears towards the sound, her eyes following. Atop another tower stood a second urd’thin. Cloaked in swirling black smoke, he was little more than a silhouette. But through the suffocating veil, Airn glimpsed uniquely gray fur. Her breath caught.

It was him.

Her beloved Vakaal had come back to her.

You have to choose. Vakaal lifted a hand, and suddenly, he was the one holding the watering pail. To quench the flames. He lifted his other hand, and in it was the bellows. Or fan them.

Airn reached for her lost lover, and in an instant, they stood atop the same tower. The other urd’thin leaned in close, his breath brushing her ear. Again, his voice was somehow both in her ear, and in her head.

You must choose. To flee this place that so mistreats you, and let it burn. Or join with your oppressors, and help them save your home.

Again, Airn grasped for her beloved. But he was already gone, and in his place, there were only flames. Airn squealed, stumbling back. Then the tower too, was gone, and Airn was falling. She screamed, long and loud, as she tumbled into the firestorm below.

Airn woke her to her own terrified shriek. She bolted upright in her bed, heart throat parched, her heart hammering her sternum. Icy dread pooled in her limbs, weighing them down. Airn reached for her mate, seeking his comfort, and to apologize for having surely woken him. But the other side of the bed remained cold, and empty. Airn’s heart sank into her belly, numb heartache replacing cold fear. He was gone.

The love of her life, her great Teller of Tales, was gone, and he was never coming back.

Airn had accepted Vakaal’s loss from the moment she woke to find him gone. She had been prepared to lose him for a long, long time. After all, the urd’thin of the Warren rarely made it to old age. Disappearances were almost as common as birth. She had lost her own father that way, in her youth. Arrested by the city guard, and never seen again.

But Vakaal…

Vakaal was different. He had warned her, from the day they met, that one day he would vanish. And the day he returned to her, covered in some cruel noble’s blood, Airn knew that moment had come. In her mind, she accepted it. She accepted that saying goodbye to him was the price to pay for all the years of joy they shared.

But acceptance of loss rarely made its pain any easier to deal with.

“Airn!” Her sleeping chamber door cracked open. Lamplight flooded her room. Her older brother Deg poked his head in, his tall ears and unusually large horns silhouetted against the orange glow. “Are you alright? I heard you scream!”

Airn tugged her royal purple blankets up to her neck, wishing the bed did not feel so empty all of a sudden. She managed to offer her brother a smile. “Just a bad dream.”

“Another one?” Deg let himself in. He gently closed the door behind himself, and padded to her bed. “Mind if I sit down?”

Airn shook her head. “Go right ahead.”

Deg settled himself on the edge of Airn’s bed. The bed’s wooden frame, and feather stuffed mattress were still new. Even the thick, soft blankets and pillows were recent additions. Her bedclothes were a mixture of purples, darker royal hues and softer lilacs, with silver threading. It all made a far cry from the old, rat-chewed, straw mats she used to sleep upon. In the time since Vakaal left, her Warren’s fortunes had improved, if only slightly. Their operatives brought back more coin, more supplies, and more food than ever.

The older urd’thin brushed his hand back and forth across the blanket, his ears perked. “I think yours are nicer than mine.”

Airn chuckled to herself, leaning back against her pillow. “Well, you picked them out.”

“I know, I know.” Deg swished his tail, smiling. “I just went for pretty colors! Never had anything colorful, before.” He grunted. “At least, not colorful and brand new.”

Airn reached for a spare pillow, hugging it against herself. “I, meanwhile, made a point to find the softest things they offered, then select colors I like.”

“See?” Deg tossed his hands. “That was the smart move, right there. Guess I’m just better at bashin’ brains than usin’ them.”

Airn scrunched up her muzzle, chuckling. “Yes, thank you for that delightful image. Tell you what.” She tossed her spare pillow at him, playfully bouncing it off his head. “Next time, I’ll pick out your new bedclothes for you.”

Deg gave a little yip when the pillow deflected off his horned head. It toppled to the floor. He leaned down and picked it back up. “That’d be nice. Doubt that’ll be for a while, though. Besides, you really think they’d let us go there again?”

“For the amount of money we spent there, I suspect they’d welcome us back with open arms.” She sat up straighter, smoothing the blanket across herself. “And if not, we’ll find someone who will.”

“Still can’t believe we actually bought this shit.” Deg squished the pillow between his hands, grunting. “We shoulda just-”

“You can’t steal from the people you hope to build bridges with.” Airn flattened back her ears, her tail thumping the mattress beneath the blanket. “You steal from the assholes who push you around, instead.”

Deg laughed, setting Airn’s pillow back on her bed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…” He trailed off, looking around the room. “It still feels strange to buy things.”

“I know.”

Airn fell silent, her gaze following Deg’s. The home she shared with her brother was little more than a single large, circular room cut from gray stone. In years past, the only thing dividing Airn’s bedroom from her brother’s were flimsy walls built of stolen fencing draped in cloth and rugs. Recently, though, they’d built real walls, with actual doors. Such things were a rarity once, as privacy was a luxury few urd’thin in the Warrens could afford. But lately things had changed. A surplus of building materials being smuggled into the Warrens meant more and more urd’thin knew the simple pleasures of doors that closed where stolen carpets hanging across open corridors once sufficed. Better yet, no longer did they fear that their makeshift walls built of pilfered railings and carriage wheels might topple over on them in their sleep.

It wasn’t just the dividing walls and door that were new. Two glass-encased lamps in brass fixtures replaced the melted mounds of wax with improvised wicks serving as candles. Incense smoldering in a decorative baked-clay censor tinted the otherwise musty air with a flowery aroma. Freshly built shelves painted a cheery blue color lined a stone wall. Airn’s collection of books filled them completely, overflowing into tidy stacks piled upon the floor. A number of brightly hued dresses, tailored to fit her, hung from poles. Several sharp, shining knives were displayed in little racks, ready to be tucked away beneath her clothes when she ventured above ground. The ragged, threadbare mats that once lined the floor were gone. All the moss and mold that had crept across the ground beneath them was scraped away. In its place were layers of thick, plush golden carpeting that helped hold in the room’s meager warm, and protect her foot pads from the chill of ancient stone.

Airn was most proud of her tapestries. Colorful, woven images now adorned nearly every inch of the cold, stone walls. Each reflected another beautiful, far-flung corner of the world. Spires of striking, crimson stone occupied one of them. Ocean waves crashed in the distance. Another depicted a vast, deep-blue lake abutting a line of towering mountains, their jagged peaks capped with snow. A third shone with colors of silver and gold, where desert sand dunes rolled beneath a full moon. Others showed a primeval forest rising from a sprawling swamp, crystals larger than men jutting from ancient springs, and a city cut into a mountainside like a gargantuan stairway.

Few urd’thin living in Illandra would ever be lucky enough to glimpse such places. For most of Airn’s people, life in the darkness and the grime was all they’d ever know. They dwelled in the city’s margins, eking out a living in its alleyways, its sewers, and its slums. To most of the humans living above them, the urd’thin were a nuisance at best, to be ignored and forgotten as often as possible. And to the worst of them, the urd’thin were vermin to be removed. To be eradicated.

To stay safe, many of city’s myriad urd’thin chose to live in what they called The Warrens, a city beneath a city. The Warrens were a labyrinthine network of tunnels, aqueducts, antechambers, and other elements of a long-forgotten populace buried deep beneath the streets of Illandra. Down there, the urd’thin had developed their own civilization. They had their own markets where good and services were bartered. They had their laws, few as they may be, and their own guards to enforce them. The urd’thin even had their own leaders. Much to her chagrin, Airn was starting to be seen as one of them.

“So, your dream,” Deg said, his voice soft. Hesitation made it clear he wasn’t sure if he should break the pleasant silence, let alone broach the subject. “Was it about him, again?”

Airn flattened her ears, looking away. “He was there, at least.” She kneaded at the blankets, anxiety coiling cold in her belly. “Wasn’t exactly about him, though.”

Deg nodded once, his tail swishing. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Airn glanced back at her brother. “No.” She forced herself to offer him a smile. “But thank you, Deg.”

“Of course.” Deg twisted around, reaching out to gently clasp her hand. “I know it feels like you’re going through this alone, but you’re not. I’m here for you, Airn.” He squeezed her hand tight, then waved at the doorway, and the Warrens beyond. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thank you.” Airn squeezed his hand back, leaning her head against the pillow. “I’ll be alright. Sooner or later, we all lose someone. It’s just…” Airn swallowed, her ears drooping. “Part of life, for us.”

Deg stared at her, his ears splayed, and worry shining in his dark eyes. He gave a little whimper. “We don’t all realize we’re gonna have a pup, right after we lose their father.”

Airn’s shoulders slumped. A low whine escaped her before she could stop it. A sudden flood of anguish squeezed her heart like an icy vice. She wondered, for at least the hundredth time, if he would have stayed, had he known. Airn blinked back tears, and took a shuddering breath. “I’m hardly the only one to ever have to find a way through that tragedy, either.”

“I know, Airn, but…” Deg sighed, his tail going limp. He released her hand to grasp her shoulder, instead. “I just want you to remember, no matter how alone you feel? I’m always here for you.”

Airn leaned her head over to gently nuzzle her brother’s hand. His steadying presence was a warm lifeline to cling to as the flood of cold uncertainty threatened to wash her away. “Thank you, brother. I really do appreciate-”

“And everyone else is here for you, too.” Deg smiled at her, his brown-furred ears perked. “Nork, and all the others.” He blinked, glancing around the room. “Well, not right here, right now, but…”

“Yes, thank you, Deg.” Airn patted his hand, chuckling. “I get the idea.” She sat up straighter, sighing. “I hope I didn’t wake when I screamed.”

“Nah.” Deg shook his head. “Been up a while. It’s probably later in the morning than you think. You…” He pulled his hand back, his eyes dropping. “Did give me a bit of a scare, though.” He furrowed his brow, dark brown-furred ears splayed. “You sure you’re alright?”

Airn idly rubbed her arm, watching the sandy brown fur ruffled up and smoothed back down. “No. But I’m as alright as I’m going to be for a while.” She tilted her head, more than ready to change the subject. “You said it was late morning already?”

Deg grunted, standing up. “Close to noon, in fact.”

“Damn it.” Airn sat up straight, pinning her ears. She’d meant to be awake and ready to venture into the city hours ago. “I hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting.”

“Nope.” Deg stretched his arms up over his head and yawned. His pink tongue curled in his deep-brown muzzle. When his yawn ended, he readjusted the black-hemmed sleeves of his silver tunic. “Ain’t used to havin’ sleeves.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I told the others not to wait for you. They left an hour ago.”

“That’s good, but…” Airn’s muzzle twisted into a scowl. “I hope they remember to be careful. Just because there’s a celebration…” She trailed off, her eyes wandering towards the knives displayed on her wall. “Nevermind.”

“I know, I know.” Deg turned towards her to hug her around her shoulders. “You worry about Nark.”

Airn returned his hug, resting her head against her brother’s warm, savoring his comfort. “I worry about everyone. Nark just doesn’t know when to listen, let alone when to quit. The noble and his men would have killed him, if not for…” An image flickered through her mind, unbidden, and unwanted. Her lover, his striking gray fur caked in blood. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the memory. Airn whimpered, squeezing her brother tighter. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her throat clenched. How she missed him. “Vakaal…”

Deg stroked her ears, cradling her head against his body. “It’s alright, Airn. It’s alright. You know, we don’t have to go anywhere today, if you don’t want to. We can just stay right here. Nark and the others will be just fine without us. And they’ll tell you all about the celebrations when they return.”

“No.” Airn took a shuddering breath, blinking away unshed tears. Slowly, she eased back from her brother, and forced strength into her voice. “I can’t spend the rest of my days, lamenting what might have been. That he might still be here, if…” She snapped her teeth, telling herself not to think like that. “He and I both knew we’d lose each other, sooner or later. He wouldn’t want me to hide away in my room, sulking. Let alone while the rest of us are up in the city, enjoying the sunshine while we can.”

“Exactly right.” Deg smoothed down her ears again, smiling. “He’d have wanted you to go up enjoy yourself.” He flashed her a playful grin. “Before you get to pup-pudgy to fit through the tunnels.”

Airn snorted, snapping at his arm. “Ass.” Her eyes wandered across the many exotic locations depicted upon her tapestries. “Did you know, that I spent more time walking the city streets when I was with him, than I ever did before?”

“I’d noticed that, yeah.” Deg gestured towards the woven image of the desert. “And he’d want you to keep that up. And to tell your stories of the surface to everyone back home who wasn’t able to go with you. Just like he used to tell us about his desert.”

Airn stared at the beautiful weaving, with its golden sand dunes basking in silver moonlight. “I should hope such stories would inspire more of them to venture up onto the streets themselves.” She curled her lip, snarling under her breath. “We spend so much of our lives, hiding in the darkness. Too afraid of them to walk in the light. I…” Airn grit her teeth, a growl rising in her voice. “I don’t want to go back to that. To only slinking out at night, to hiding in alleys, and skulking in the shadows. To fearful of being arrested, and never seen again to even live my life. I don’t want any of us to have to live that way, anymore.” Slowly, with Airn’s every word, her eyes drifted back towards her knives. “Illandra is our city too. They’d damn well better learn to share it.”

Deg tilted his head, a single ear lifted. “Now you sound like those raindrop people.”

Airn chuckled. “You mean the Aran’alians?”

“Yeah.” Deg swished his tail, grinning. “You know I can’t say that.”

“It just takes practice,” Airn said, batting at her brother’s tail.

She’d always been better at wrapping her muzzle around the intricacies of human languages than Deg. And doubly so after her lost lover spent years teaching her to speak and read the common tongues as fluently as he did. The father of her coming pup spoke more languages than Airn ever knew existed. Over their years together, he’d taught them all to her, by reading to her from the many tomes and books they gathered from around the city. Someday, Airn hoped, she’d teach their child to speak and read the same way.

Airn waved at the door. “Give me a moment. I’ll get dressed and ready to go.”

“Sure thing.” Deg padded across the room, and slipped through the door.

When her brother was gone, Airn was from her bed, nude. Having built real walls afforded her a rare modicum of privacy worth savoring while she could. Modesty was something most of the Warren’s urd’thin could ill afford to indulge in. Airn’s living space was but one of many connected to collective cooking areas, with shared social spaces, latrines, and so on. Bathing was often a communal affair by necessity, as there was safety in numbers. The urd’thin bathed and washed their clothes under cover of darkness, in places like old fountains forgotten by the public, or run down inns with bathing chambers that were easily broken into. The water there was cleaner than that in the Warrens, where it too often mixed with sewage.

Airn looked down at her belly, trying to decide if she was starting to show her pup, or if her fur was simply extra fluffed out this morning. She had yet to feel the child move, but changes in her scent made her pregnancy obvious to any who drew near her, even before she’d suffered the first bouts of morning nausea. Which so far had been few and far between, to her pleasant surprise. Airn ran a hand across her stomach, smoothing her fur. She was extra fluffy, today. Just the night before she’d bathed in her favorite fountain, with a handful of other urd’thin. Airn lathered and soaped herself from head to tail and back again, then rinsed herself clean in the cold water pouring from the mouth of a stone fish.

She ruffled a few of the white spots mottling her otherwise tan belly fur, still uncertain. Like many of the urd’thin of the warren, Airn’s fur was layered in the colors of the earth. Her torso was lightest, and the color gradually darkened down her limbs, from sandy tan all the way to hue of rich chocolate. Her face was paler than her ears, her tail darker than her body. Airn flattened her ears, slightly frustrated she could not tell if her pup was ever so slightly starting to show itself, or if she was simply imagining it.

Airn walked to the knives displayed upon one of her walls. After years of carrying an ill-balanced cleaver stolen from a tavern’s kitchen, her current blades were a revelation. They were not showy in the least, and bore no fanciful engravings or carved runes. After all, they were meant to defend their wielder’s life, not to awe onlookers at an auction. Far more importantly, each was sized and balanced not just for an urd’thin, but for Airn. All of them were honed to an edge so fine Airn could have shaved the fur off her muzzle, had she ever wished to do something so odd. Airn had them custom crafted by a bladesmith in the Aran’alian district, the one part of the city unafraid to do business with urd’thin.

Normally, they’d have cost more than Airn could ever afford. How fortunate for her then, that Airn and her brother had recently stumbled upon three crates filled with slabs of extremely rare and valuable Aran’alian walnut, plundered from distant forests. When polished, the wood possessed a nearly iridescent, golden-brown sheen, with swirling black burls throughout. Airn and Deg discovered the boxes carelessly left behind in the back of some noble’s carriage. No doubt they were smuggled into the city, to avoid being inspected and taxed. Airn decided instead to liberate them from the noble, and return the expensive wood back to its rightful Aran’alian owners, if not quite for free. She offered to trade all three boxes to the smith, in return for several weapons with utilizing the wood. A few weeks later, and Airn had four brand new knives made just for her, as well as brand new hammer for her brother. Perhaps more importantly, her deal had also forged a new trade ally for her people’s increasingly bold forays onto the surface.

Airn plucked two of the knives from the display rack. She hefted them, and smiled. Even weeks later, she was still impressed with the balance. They were by far the best weapons she’d ever held. She spun them around her hands, pivoting. Airn whirled around her room, making a few precise slashes and cuts. Then she stepped back, parrying imaginary blows before countering with a slice that would have opened a human’s femoral artery, were she in real combat. With any luck, the resulting spray of blood across her face would be enough to dissuade anyone else from engaging her.

Airn scrunched up her muzzle at the mental image. In truth, she hoped she’d never actually have to use her knives that way. But she’d be damned if she’d let herself end up being disappeared like so many other urd’thin. Arrested for some petty crime, dragged off to a filthy prison, and never seen again. That was how Airn lost her father, in her youth.

The memory made Airn whimper. She could still remember his happy laughter, the scent of his fur, and the gentle warmth of his touch. Airn shuddered to think what must have happened to him, after they took him away. Airn had feared suffering the same fate all her life, yet now she knew she would sooner die, if it came to it. She would fight for her freedom and her life until the end, but one way or another, Airn refused to simply vanish.

Only when her hands ached did Airn realize how tightly she was squeezing her the handles of her knives. Her knuckles stood out against her fur. Her arms trembled. Airn let out the breath she’d unknowingly been holding. She returned to the wall, and slipped her knives into belted scabbards. Then she buckled one around her body, against her ribs. The other would go around her waist, after she was dressed. Airn preferred to keep one knife visible, and the other hidden. That way, she had both a deterrent, and a nasty surprise should the open warning prove insufficient.

Airn decided to wear her favorite dress. It was loose, flowing thing of beautiful sky blue. It was also the first piece of fine clothing she’d ever owned. Her lost mate purchased it for her, years ago. Airn did everything she could to keep it in good shape, since then, going so far as to match the fabric and its color when it needed a patch. In her beloved’s absence, she cherished it all the more, but had dared not put it on again since she lost him. Now, though, heading to a grand celebration with her brother, it seemed as good a time as any to put it again.

When Airn was clothed, she buckled her other knife around her waist. She fetched a small, leather coin purse, heavy with someone else’s coin, and tied it to another loop on her belt. Knives and purses buckled over the top of a dress were hardly the height of fashion, but Airn cared little for what the humans thought. She liked her dress, she liked it’s color, and she wanted everyone who covet her coins to see the knife alongside them. She fetched a pair of rope sandals, and stepped into them. Though urd’thin often went barefoot, Airn often preferred footwear for the surface, if only for the look. As soon as she was ready, Airn went to the door, and into the other front room.

Their circular home was roughly divided into thirds by their recently constructed walls. Each sibling had their own sleeping chamber on either side of the structure. The third room was a shared living space where they kept a dinged and scratched table built from an old carriage wall. Several battered chairs ringed it. Mismatched rugs lined the floor. Sagging shelves held dented cookware. Sticks of smoking incense jutted from random places, their spicy fragrances covering the damn scent of old waterways. One day, Airn was sure they’d refurnish their front room the way they had their bedrooms. But for now, the only thing new adornments in their living space were two bright lamps in brass fixtures that hung from curved poles, along with a new front door.

Deg waited near the exit, flipping his new hammer up into the air and catching it again. Like Airn’s knives, the hammer’s haft was crafted from the same beautiful, gold and black walnut. The head was steel, with a circular flat end opposite a thick spike. Deg had requested a ‘war-hammer’, and though Airn wasn’t entirely certain that’s what he was given, her brother was pleased with it just the same.

Airn crossed her arms, waiting for Deg to catch the hammer again before she spoke so as not to distract him at the wrong time. “You know, for all your talk about cracking skulls, I’m starting to fear the only one that’s going to crack is yours. You’re going to kill yourself with that thing.”

Deg tossed the hammer up one more time. It flipped through the air and tumbled back towards him. Deg sidestepped and deftly snatched it by the handle. “You ain’t my mother.”

“No, I’m not.” Airn slapped him across the head, just behind his horns. “And in her absence, someone’s got to look out for her.” She clicked her teeth at him, a chiding sound. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Deg affixed his hammer through a loop in his own belt. He turned towards Airn, looking her over. A smile slowly crossed his muzzle. “You look nice. I think he’d be glad to see you wearing that, again.”

Airn smiled with him, holding out the hem of her skirt as if appraising it. “I hope so. I figured, it doesn’t do me any good just hanging on my wall.”

“That’s true.” Deg went to the front door. “Shall we?”

“After you.” Airn gestured at him. “You look good too, by the way.”

Deg smiled at her. He’d matched his bright silver tunic and it’s intricate black threading with breeches of the opposite, black with silver diamonds down the outside. “Thanks. Tunnels, or streets?”

“Oh, streets, today, certainly.” Airn followed Deg out of their home. “We’re all dressed up, after all.”

Deg closed the door behind Airn, swishing his tail. “Someone’s feeling bold today.”

“Did I not just get done telling you I wanted to feel the sunshine on my fur?” Airn smirked at him, playfully swatting his arm. “Besides, we might as well give the city a chance to see some finely-attired urd’thin at least once in their lives.”

“Streets it is, then. Here’s to hoping no one wants to kill us.”

Airn only smiled at him. “I promise you, Deg. They’ll regret it if they try.”

The two of them passed through the communal cooking area shared a dozen small homes just like theirs. Some of the other homes had newly built wooden doors, like Airn’s. Others simply had thick curtains draped across openings in the stone. Lopsided, mismatched tables were scattered around the room, along with rugs and tattered cushions for sitting or kneeling on. Dingy lanterns provided flickering, meager light, yet it was more than enough for keen urd’thin eyes used to the darkness. A single large, makeshift cookstove occupied the far end of the room, just beneath an air vent. The stove was constructed from from scavenged bits of metal and stone, and had space enough for two separate fires. An iron grating that once formed protective bars across shop’s window now served as a grill, resting across one of the cookfires. At the moment, the room was mostly empty, with only single pair of other urd’thin busy cooking a meal. Four long slices of enormous mushrooms sizzled atop the grill, alongside a single oversized rat seared clean of its fur, and smothered in spices.

The savory scents of grilled mushroom and spiced meat left Airn’s belly rumbling ominously. Her neighbors offered a cheerful greeting as she passed, inviting Airn and Deg to share their meal. Airn thanked them and declined, despite her hunger. Though it was extremely common for the urd’thin to share whatever they had, Airn did not wish to take food from her kin’s bellies. Besides, she thought, as long as she was venturing to a grand celebration in the city, she may as well enjoy eating something exotic while she was there.

From their housing area, a few tunnels led Airn and Deg towards the main markets. Airn knew the tunnels here by heart, but old urd’thin runes painted on the walls offered directions to those less certain. Scraps of red and gold cloth were strung across moldering walls and along the ceiling. None of the scraps were the same size, nor exactly the same shade. A stolen parade flag of fiery crimson hung from a rusted hook, while the shining golden sleeve of an uppity noble’s blouse was done up with a bit of twine. Here and there, ancient lanterns hung from rickety beams. Crates in recessed nooks held spare wicks and oil. At first, the corridors were mostly empty and relatively silent this time of day. But gradually, the raucous chatter of hundreds of voices overtook the quiet. The noise only grew louder as the tunnel opened up into the markets, an expansive underground plaza teaming with urd’thin.

Day or night, the markets were always busy, and always changing. Vendors and lanes alike were often ephemeral, here one day and gone the next. Pathways sometimes shifted by the hour as one urd’thin packed up and went home only for another to unveil their latest wares nearby. Tables made of wagon wheels nailed together displayed stacked coils of rope. Sacks of cargo netting were filled to the brim with freshly harvested mushrooms and mottled gray shelf fungus. Bolts of colorful cloth spread out across the well-worn stone floor, right alongside rusted hunks of scrap metal. Tools hung from racks affixed to the faded sign from a long-retired fur barber. Stands selling food and alcohol sat alongside a family calling out their laundering services. Butchers kept frogs, snakes, rats, and fat insects inside cages, sometimes chopping them apart on long tables.

Whatever a resident might need, there was probably someone offering it. And if not, it could always be made, or stolen from above. Airn’s people believed that everyone should get what they need to survive, one way or another. Though her people collected coin, they rarely spent it between themselves. Instead, the money was saved to spend on trips to the surface, and on bribes for any Illandran guards willing to take them. Down here, in the Warrens, everything was bartered for. A few flasks of lamp oil might be traded for a new knife. A cookpot might be offered in exchange for new clothing. If any urd’thin had nothing to trade, they might offer services instead. The patching of clothes, the construction of a new bed, or even repairs to a rickety walkway in return for a week’s worth of food. One way or another, they made sure no one was truly left wanting.

The market also served as one of the Warren’s primary social areas. Despite its ever-shifting nature, people congregated there. One day, an open space might suddenly be filled with a table, chairs, and a group of old friends sharing a drink. The next day, the table was mysteriously replaced with toys for infants, and mothers chatting as their young pups played together. Another day, rugs and cushions were spread across the floor around a single chair, where an older urd’thin told stories to enraptured youth, undisturbed by the bustle all around them.

The only real constant were the Watchers. The Watchers were an imposing force clad in piecemeal but sturdy armor, often a mix of leathers, metal studs, and chain. They were also strapped with more knives, clubs, and other weapons than Airn could ever count. The Watchers were the city’s peacekeepers, constantly on patrol. They were so named because it was said that the Watcher’s duty was to watch for trouble, and stop it. In practice, they mostly broke up fights, kept an eye out for dangerous types, and enforced what few laws the warren had. Still, they were often heavy handed, and it was best to not to bother them unless the need was great.

As Airn and Deg wound their way through the plaza, an elderly female urd’thin in a crimson shawl approached them. Her once dark fur was peppered with white, her muzzle had gone mostly gray. But light and life still sparkled in her eyes, glittering in the lamplight. Before Airn could stop her, the older female reached out and gently clasped her hand.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Airn.” The older female bowed her head, her tail low.

Airn splayed her ears. She recognized the elderly female, but could not recall her name. She returned the bow, her voice soft, and sorrowful. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.” The older female patted Airn’s hand before releasing it. “But I’m ever so pleased you’ve chosen to take his place, and continue the telling of tales. They were always such a bright spot, on the darkness of days.”

A smile forced it’s way through Airn’s sorrow. “For me, as well. Continuing the tradition is the least I could do.”

The elderly female nodded, then idly tightened her shawl. “We’re all also so happy to see that despite…” She waved at Airn’s belly. “You’re still continuing your efforts to enrich the warren.”

Airn blinked, her ears slowly shifting back. “You need not speak in code, Elder. I think at this point, everyone knows what I’m up to. Just like they know that my circle’s work on the surface are bringing back a lot more goods and coin for the Warren, these days.” She brushed a hand across her stomach. “And that I’m having a pup.”

“Be that as it may.” The old female stepped closer, her voice dropping to a sibilant whisper. “You never know when they’re listening. When they’re watching. You know of whom I speak. They have-”

“They have eyes everywhere, so I’ve heard.” Airn grit her teeth, trying to keep her frustration from bleeding into her voice. She knew the old female meant well. Airn reached out to gently squeeze her shoulder through her shawl. “But I assure you, Elder, Death in the Night already know all about my operations. But thank you for your concern, and your kind words.” Airn bowed again, hoping to extricate herself from the increasingly uncomfortable conversation. “I’m afraid I must bid you a hasty farewell, though. I’m afraid I’m afraid I’m already quite late to meet my friends.”

“Certainly, love.” The white-furred female stepped aside, smiling. “Just watch yourself. You may have more enemies than you know.” She glanced down. “And not just on the surface.”

Airn scowled as she walked away from the woman. She picked her way between tables and stands, holding her tongue until she was certain they were out of earshot. Finally, she tossed her hand up. “Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, what a rude bitch.” Deg flashed her a playful grin. “How dare she show concern for your wellbeing! You want me to go back and crack her upside her elderly head with my hammer?”

Airn laughed, thumping her brother on the shoulder. “Of course not. And that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“I know, I know.” He tilted his head back the way they’d come. “Think we shoulda told her Death in the Night already tried to recruit you?”

“I think her head would have exploded, if we did.” Airn swished her tail. “I’m not sure she’d have believed me that I turned them down, either.”

“That’s right.” Deg clasped her shoulder, jovially shaking her. “You don’t work for those crazy rebels. You just fence shit for ‘em.”

Airn clicked her teeth. “Occasionally fence shit for them. Most of the people up there we trade with-”

“Don’t pay half as well as Death in the Night?” Deg perked an ear, smirking.

“Well…” Airn twisted up her muzzle, momentarily dismayed with herself. “That much is true.”

“Oh, I get it.” Deg clapped his hands as if stumbling upon a sudden revelation. “That’s why we’re going to a Death in the Night party. For the money!”

Airn grunted, punching Deg’s shoulder again, harder this time. “Keep your voice down.”

“Ow!” Deg glared at her, rubbing his arm.

“You earned that one.” Airn crossed her arms, lowering her own voice. “And we’re not going to a Death in the Night party.”

“Oh no?” Deg perked both ears. “What are we going to, then?”

“A celebration,” Airn said, her voice flat. She walked faster.

Deg matched her pace, his tone all feigned innocence. “A celebration of what, exactly?”

Airn grunted, tail flicking. “A celebration of the dragon’s escape.”

Deg rubbed his muzzle in thought, murmuring to himself. “And who would want to celebrate that? Let’s see… The Illandrans? Nah, couldn’t be them. They just had that big parade celebrating his imprisonment. Now, I wonder who else might celebrate the dragon going free? Hey, Airn. Tell me again where they caught that dragon in the first place?”

Airn heaved a sigh, but her brother’s mischievous insistency melted some of her frustrations. “They caught him in Aran’alia.”

“Yeah.” Deg snorted. “That place I can’t say right. But, wasn’t he fighting against their conquerors? I bet they’d be pretty happy the dragon finally broke out. Say…” He sucked in a breath in mock gasp. “Are they the ones throwing the party?”

“Yes, Deg.” Airn rolled her eyes. “The Aran’alian district is celebrating the dragon’s escape. Now, I can see where you’re going with this, and-”

“Tell me again, dear sister.” Deg ignored her, tapping a finger to his muzzle. “Who was it you told me secretly runs that entire district?”

Airn tried not to smile at his commitment to the bit. “Death in the Night.”

“I see, I see.” Deg rubbed his hands together. “So correct me if I’m wrong, but-”

“Fine!” Airn threw her hands up. “Death in the Night is throwing a district-wide celebration of the dragon’s escape, and we’re attending it. Are you happy now?” Deg opened his mouth to reply, but Airn cut him off. “But just so we’re clear, we’re going because it’s the only part of the city where urd’thin are welcomed. How many chances do we get to attend festivals?”

Deg merely shrugged, looking away. “I’m sorry, all I hear is, yes, brother, you were right and I was wrong. We’re going to a Death in the Night party!” Some of the mirth faded from his voice. “You know, it wasn’t that long ago you were warning me, and everyone else away from them.”

Airn scowled. Guilt suddenly wrapped itself around her heart, dragging it down like an anchor. Deg was right. Until recently, Airn wanted nothing to do with anyone who bore a silver raindrop, or a blue dragon. But in the agonizing months since she lost her mate, Airn’s mind had changed. Thanks to her beloved’s outsized influence, life in the Warrens had slowly changed for the better over the last few years. There was more food to go around, more clothes to wear, and for the first time in memory, no one had simply disappeared on journeys to the surface.

Now that her lover was gone, Airn believed it fell to her to not only continue those changes, but improve upon them. And if she truly wished to better the lives of all the urd’thin in the Warrens, then she had to make hard decisions. The old ways of begging in the alleys and stealing from the dumpsters were never going to be enough. If the rebels hiding in the open were willing to do business with urd’thin, real business, then Airn had to take that chance.

“Things change,” Airn said, unable to meet her brother’s gaze. “Let’s just hurry up and get there while there’s still silver water to go around.” She growled. “And before that damn Mek and his fancy armor talk our friends into joining up with their damn rebellion.”