Shardkeeper

  Marci became slowly aware that she was lying face down on something cold and metal, which she could feel from head to toe with her… bare skin?

  Something poked at her shoulder.

  "Gerruf," she grumbled, batting at the small reptilian man with scales who was poking at her gingerly with what looked like the haft of a pickaxe.

  Marci frowned, her eyes were still closed, she was face down on a gantry in a circur room, but she could, nevertheless, see?

  What?

  Her eyes snapped open, and she jerked up and away from the reptilian man who was standing in front of an assembled crowd of other reptilian beings, what looked like small Arana, or lizardfolk as people like Tissa were usually known. Well, they weren't small so much as normal sized: between four and five feet, with a few who were taller than Marci—who was, despite what other people said, tall for a fairy.

  They were dressed in little linen tunics and dark trousers and brown jackets not so different to what manufactory workers wore, and had a wide variety of coloured scales which glinted and fshed in the baleful red light of the Shard-

  Marci jerked and turned around, her eyes widening as the memory of what had happened came rushing back: the burning pain, the agony of the Shard's energy coursing through her, her terror as it had seeped into her soul, burning her and filling her up with power until-

  Marci blinked.

  Why wasn't she dead?

  She looked down at her bare, ash-strewn skin. She poked her belly.

  She didn't feel dead.

  But she had felt herself explode, the beginnings of it. She remembered it vividly. She had died, and then…

  And then she had woken up, being poked by weirdly small lizard-people.

  She raised her eyes back to the Shard, staring it and… looking back at herself?

  No, it wasn't looking. It wasn't seeing or smelling or feeling or hearing or any other sense she was familiar with. It was awareness of the contours of the room and those within it, the spherical dimensions, the gantries, the lizard-creatures, herself.

  And not just herself or the room, but beyond, too: past the innermost sanctum she could feel the entirety of the massive structure and all of its innumerable rooms: armouries, barracks, smithies, workshops, bedrooms, kitchens, lounges, libraries, closets, and many, many more. She could feel each and every one of them, either in a general, fuzzy sense, or by focusing more specifically on one of the parts. There was no colour, only a feeling of where objects began and ended.

  She furrowed her brow and began looking for her friends, her eyes flicking from side to side as in her mind's eye she peered into the nooks and crannies of the fortress. She couldn't find a trace of them, which, she supposed, made sense, they would have run. She couldn't bme them, they'd seen her explode—typically, people didn't get better from that kind of thing.

  "Lady Keeps?" said one of the small lizard-folk, the one with copper scales who had poked her, speaking in Infernal.

  She jerked back around and stared at him. Then she yelped and tried to cover herself as her brain suddenly caught up with the fact that she was naked in front of a group of strangers.

  "Who are you!?" she said, her infernal heavily accented and probably rusty, but hopefully intelligible.

  "We is Kobolds," said the small man.

  Kobolds… had she read about that? They were some kind of… sve race, weren't they? That served the demons?

  "OK," said Marci slowly. "And what are you- actually, can I- can I borrow that coat?"

  The Kobold shrugged out of the coat and handed it to her. She pulled it on, buttoning it up and making a makeshift dress. It pinned her wings down, which was a bit uncomfortable, but it was better than being naked in the cold, creepy air.

  "OK, thanks, now… what are you doing here?"

  "We serves the Lady Keeps," said the kobold. "We serves the Dreadfort."

  The Dreadfort? She knew that name. It was one of the Thirteen Shardforts, and had been controlled by a powerful succubus named Aisling, who had been one of the most terrible of the Keepers in the st war. The fort hadn't been seen since shortly before the end of the conflict, with it just vanishing from the battlefields from one day to the next.

  "This is the Dreadfort?" said Marci, taking a half-step back. "Where is the Shardkeeper?"

  The kobolds looked at each other in confusion, muttering to one another in broken Infernal.

  "Is Lady Keeps mad?"

  "Careful, could be trick."

  "Is we being tested?"

  "Keeps is tricksy…"

  "Stop that," snapped Marci. They shut up instantly. "Just tell me where she is. Please."

  "You is Lady Keeps, Lady Keeps," said the copper-scaled man.

  "Lady Keeps? What does that even mean?" said Marci. "Why are you calling me that?"

  "Because Lady Keeps is Lady Keeps," said the copper-scaled Kobold, as if that expined anything.

  "Lady Keep…" began Marci, before her eyes widened and her stupid, thick head caught up with what was being said. "You think I'm the Shardkeeper?"

  The kobolds nodded warily. "You is Lady Keeps," they chorused.

  "But I'm- that's stupid!" said Marci. "I'm not even a demon! And all I did was touch the stupid thing! And, well, it did blow me up…"

  Her mouth went dry.

  There were rumours that Shardkeepers were immortal, and that so long as their Shard endured, so would they. There were several accounts of them being cut down, only to then show up a week or so ter on another battlefield.

  Marci's heart began to thunder in her ears, and she stumbled back from the Kobolds. Her back brushed against the Shard, and she screamed and jerked away, but this time there was no pain, no sticking, no burning, nothing.

  Marci turned to look back at the Shard.

  Marci looked at herself through the Shard.

  "Oh fuck," she whispered.

  ***"So, you're telling me that the Underworld knows that this Shardfort has been reactivated?" said Marci, pulling a book off the shelf, checking the blurb, before shoving it back. "They sent you?"

  The lead kobold, or at least, the one who had poked her and called himself 'Likes-Hammers,' was standing a meter or so behind where she was rifling through tomes in the library. She had managed to locate the rge trove of books a few levels up with her 'Shardsense' as she had mentally dubbed it. For some reason he seemed almost as nervous as Marci felt. No, actually, Marci wasn't nervous—she was terrified.

  Which was why she was doing research. She was a wizard, step one to solving any problem was always to do research.

  "Demons say Dreadfort was reactivated, so they binds Kobolds to Dreadfort," said Likes-Hammers, looking over enviously to where two of his fellows were pying with a rge marble firepce behind a grand desk, alternately turning some kind of dial that clicked and hitting it with rubber mallets. "Then they makes Kobolds take the transporters to Dreadfort. It is taking a while, Dreadfort transporter been offline for a long time-"

  "How- wait, how long?" said Marci. She had just assumed that she hadn't been out long…

  She waved a hand and cast a simple Timekeeper's Charm.

  The book fell from her hands.

  Three days.

  She had been… asleep? Unconscious? Non-existent? For a whole three days?

  "Then we finds Lady Keeps in Shard chamber," continued Likes-Hammers.

  "So, more demons could just… show up!?" said Marci in arm, rounding on him, her wings fring uncomfortably in her makeshift coat-dress. "Through this- this transporter?"

  Likes-Hammers gave her a look that implied he thought she was a bit stupid. "Noes, only those bound to Dreadfort, or allowed by Lady Keeps can use transporter."

  Marci rexed a fraction. Alright, not about to be immediately overrun by teleporting demons…

  "And how do you know that I am the Shardkeeper?" said Marci, reaching down and picking up the book she had dropped, 'Seecrets of thee Yunderwold,' which was written in a particurly archaic looking Infernal. She flicked it open, before nodding and putting it on the small pile she was building up next to herself.

  Likes-Hammer's frowned. "We feels it," he said. He stamped his little feet impatiently as Marci took down another book. "Lady Keeps, can we works yet? We is a good Kobold!"

  "What do you mean, you 'feels it?'" said Marci in an exasperated voice, shoving 'Only you can prevent Sve Revolts!' back onto the shelf. "And why is this so badly catalogued!? What, doesn't the Underworld have book cssification systems? I know they're supposed to be evil, but this is ridiculous!"

  Likes-Hammer's gestured between them. "We feels it, you is Lady Keeps."

  It was true that she could feel some kind of metaphysical bond between the Shard and the kobolds, and thus, apparently, herself. She reached out for Like's Hammer's link, and it grew stronger in her mind, bringing with it hints of the kobold's mind, emotions, thoughts…

  Marci withdrew, not wanting to viote his privacy, and rubbed her face.

  She needed to figure out a way to disentangle herself from the Shard, and quickly, because while she had noticed the ebb of energy away from Goltburg four days beforehand, back then it had been a retively small trickle of power. A slow corruption of the surrounding nature that hadn't been particurly noted by anyone in the way that a Shardfort's typical presence would be.

  That, however, was no longer the case.

  She could feel torrents of ley energy flowing inward from all directions into the Shard, at a vast accelerated rate. If before she had touched the Shard like an idiot, it had been 'asleep,' it was now very much awake.

  That, coupled with the fact that her friends would already have raised the arm in Goltburg meant that probably sooner than ter there would be adventurers and troops showing up to try and smash the Shard.

  Which would most likely kill her. That had been a leading theory amongst academics in the south, and… made sense.

  Which was why she was in the library, trying to figure out how to get herself out of this insane situation.

  She grabbed another book.

  "Lady Keeps!?"

  Marci looked up at Likes-Hammers. "What?"

  "Can we… work?" he said.

  Marci frowned. "You want to work?"

  "We is Kobolds," said Likes-Hammers proudly. "We works!"

  Marci grimaced. What had been done to these poor little people? To like work…

  She shuddered.

  Truly unnatural.

  She could feel the industrious little lizardfolk scurrying about throughout the fortress, doing maintenance, mending broken bits and pieces and cogs and gears and drive shafts that did… things within the guts of the giant, inscrutable fortress, and in the workshops even starting up forges and setting looms. Everything that it probably took to actually maintain this flying monstrosity. Well, currently grounded monstrosity.

  "And this work, do I… pay you?" said Marci, shoving 'Hydras: a solution to world hunger?' back onto its shelf and crossing to the opposite stack.

  She had some money, or, at least, she could sense quite a lot of what she thought was money in a treasury which was off from the throne-room behind a heavily reinforced and pretty well-hidden door. Which was good, because she had… well, nothing, her wallet had burnt-

  She started. Of's poetry. They would have burnt too. She exhaled and put a hand to her chest. That hurt more than it should have given the terrible situation she was in. She could remember most of them, might even be able to recreate a few, but there had only ever been one copy, they'd been for her.

  "Pays?" said the Kobold, drawing her back out of her morose thoughts. "No! We is Kobolds!"

  "But wouldn't you like some money to buy things you want?" said Marci.

  "We- we is Kobolds!" said Likes-Hammers in an outraged voice, as if the very idea was as offensive as if Marci had insulted his brother or insinuated she'd slept with his mother.

  Marci sighed.

  "Look, I'm not comfortable having… sves," said Marci. "So how about I pay you all a sary? The average wage for a worker in Krefeld is about ten silver a week, so… how about fifteen?"

  That sounded fair, didn't it? Marci, back when she'd had a job in a manufactory, had been part of a union. Sure, it had only been brief, but she'd liked the idea of it academically—the powerless working together to wield power. She might not have been the most responsible or, perhaps, ethical person, but she still had some standards.

  Likes-Hammers looked at her suspiciously. "We is Kobolds. We works. No pay!"

  "No," said Marci firmly. "I am not having sves. Fifteen silver a week-"

  "Tens!" said Likes-Hammers.

  "What- that isn't how bargaining works," said Marci. "You should be going up."

  "Nines!"

  "No, that isn't-"

  "Eights!" challenged Likes-Hammers.

  Marci growled in exasperation and rounded on him.

  "Sixteen!" said Marci, jabbing a book at him. "No, actually, twenty!"

  Fear entered Likes-Hammers' eyes. "Okays we takes fifteens!" He scratched one of his small horns. "We works now?"

  Marci nodded. "Yes, fine, OK. Thank-you for your help."

  The deranged little work-a-holic waddled off enthusiastically, and Marci looked over to see the other two cheering as they finally got the weird magi-tech firepce started, which began to pump out heat.

  Marci rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She would have done unspeakable things for a beer: a nice warm bnket to ward off the utter panic that was threatening at every moment to overwhelm her.

  But she couldn't, because she needed to figure out how to not get killed.

  She took a deep breath, gathered up the books that looked like they might be halfway useful to figuring out how Shardforts worked, and then trooped over to the desk.