Kirk Mintson had a good life, though it didn’t start that way. Born in Los Angeles, CalFree (California Free State), he was set to suffer a squatter’s fate, a miserable, orphaned dwarf eking out a pitiful existence between the cracks of society. But, at the age of 9 during the Surge, his hair and skin turned a fiery orange during the Year of the Comet. Something within him awoke, and little Kirk tapped into the world of magic.
A wise woman, skilled in the craft of hermetics, took note of the little scamp and saw within him something unique, something she could not understand. That this one was special, there could be no doubt, for though the world was saturated with magic, those that could wield it were still quite rare. Stranger still, there was something more to this one.
Curious, she took little Kirk into her home, caring for him and teaching him the craft. She was an angel descended to pluck the young boy from his hell, and quickly he became like a son to her, gobbling up her food and her wisdom as he reveled in what was once a foolish fantasy of his.
Kirk had a home.
He never knew her real name, but to him she was Mama Vette. She lived within the hills of Calfree, in a secluded cabin surrounded by decayed sprawl, virtually unknown to the world, venturing out only to pick up supplies in the city nearby.
By the age of 20, Kirk was a respectable mage in his own right. Mama Vette never figured out what that strange tint was swimming within his aura, but even still, she looked upon him as her own son. The young dwarf was not without friends, either.
There was his best friend Sean, a fellow dwarf whose parents owned Deli of the Stars, a rundown joint with the best Limburger sandwiches; Freddy, an old fellow with crabby hair and smiling wit; Bob Rentall, his brother Frank and their sister Charlotte – all three loved to party and insult one another; and then there was Cindy.
Lovely, lovely Cindy: a young, short woman with curly blonde hair, shy to strangers and talkative to friends. Despite her height over Kirk, she loved him dearly, and they both whispered of a future together, for all eternity.
Such was the life that Kirk had.
But the young dwarf was foolish and trusting, forgetting the lessons he’d learned as a squatter child.
A man called upon him one day, a stranger with dark skin and swarthy eyes, wrapped in a primitive cut of silks and sandals. He called himself Iztlac (“His Venom”, in Nahuatl, the Mayan tongue, a language unknown to Kirk), and told the young dwarf he’d been looking for him, and was happy to finally find him.
“You are awakened,” the man softly commented in a strange accent. “Look at me with your other eyes.”
Understanding, Kirk did as the stranger bade; gasping, he beheld an aura unlike any he’d ever seen. Such power! And yet, most amazing of all, within the man’s aura swam a small dragon, a feathered serpent, blending the distinction between man and dragon.
“You have a dragon within you!” the young dwarf breathed, full of awe and excitement.
“As do you,” the man smiled knowingly. “Yes, you know this to be true. You feel it within you. But until your true soul awakens, you with be a sad shadow of what you really are. For you see, short one, you have a family unknown to you. We are Izti (His Claw)… as are you.”
Iztlac won Kirk over that very day, filling his young, prideful head full of dreams: to be a god among men, mightier than everyone else, living a life of royalty and power! So foolish the young dwarf was that he told the man everything, answered all his questions, told him of his childhood, his friends, Mama Vette, everyone he knew and loved.
“Return with me to our home,” the man urged, “and I will reunite you with your father.”
Kirk wanted desperately for his fantasies to come true, yet he worried of missing his friends, Mama Vette, and most of all, Cindy. But, the man assured him they would all be reunited soon. So Kirk left with the man, traveling thousands of miles, over Amerindian lands and into Atzlan itself, deep in the jungles, where he met his ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ of the Izti: Izticoltic (“hook-clawed”), a broad man who was arrogant and certain; Cocos (“affliction”), an ebony-skinned woman both beautiful and cold; Cocolii (“pain”), a thin elf man with a disturbing grin; Lizcui (“Changer”), a muscular woman with a dire gaze; Cocoltic (“curved, wavy”), a friendly fellow with a lisp. Many more were there, each with a feathered serpent swimming in their auras, all welcoming Kirk in as a long, lost brother.
Cocoltic and Kirk quickly became friends. As Kirk was often found near him, the name they gave him befitted how he followed the “wavy” one around. Thus Coltic became Kirk’s name (meaning “slight curve”, after how he lagged on the tail of the wavy one).
The following weeks were a wonder to the impressionable young dwarf. They lived in an opulent palace served by people who looked upon them as gods. No request could be denied the young dwarf, and soon his head swelled with his own self-worth.
Thousands and thousands, he was told, lived in the surrounding lands, their only purpose to serve Zahuatl, a great dragon, feathered serpent, whose very home Kirk lived in. This great dragon, he was told, was his true father. To him, all must serve, but Kirk was second to no others.
How could a great dragon father a dwarf? Not his flesh, the others laughed, but his soul was born of Zahuatl. When they had won him over completely, when the young fool was ready to commit to such an opulent life, only then did Iztlac and the others approach Kirk.
“Coltic, are you ready to see your father and awaken the dragon within you?” Iztlac asked.
Eagerly Kirk agreed, yet Iztlac raised a hand in warning.
“This is not a choice you can undo,” he cautioned. “You must learn our ways, our secrets, and give yourself entirely over to Zahuatl. Only your father can awaken your soul. Choose now: surrender all to Zahuatl, or leave his lands forever.”
Kirk glance at the beautiful serving girl who’d just bathed him. No choice at all!
“I surrender all to Zahuatl!” he proclaimed, and his brothers and sisters cheered.
They took him upon their shoulders, singing in Nahuatl as they carried him deep into the palace, much further than he’d ever ventured before. So eager was the young, foolish dwarf, imagining a life of decadence and privilege, of power and dreams.
Into a vast chamber they bore him, up to a pedestal studded with a large, thick chain ending at a broad collar. A shallow depression ringed the pit, rising back up to form an outer ring of stone tables stained black. Past these tables, down into the depression, then up onto the pedestal they brought him. As they fashioned the collar upon his thick neck, the dwarf began to doubt. All seventeen of his brothers and sisters were there, singing in Nahuatl as they fashioned him securely then fell out of sight beyond the ring of tables encircling him, their singing marking their spots as they were hidden from his sight.
Child the voice stabbed into his mind, a mighty presence that made him tremble at its power, Coltic…do you surrender all to me? Shall I awaken my child within you?
Fear melted before the thought of such power within him, and the dwarf boldly shouted “YES!”
And the chanting of his brothers and sisters blended into a new disharmony, screams of fear and confusion.
Kirk looked about in surprise, and then panic as his brothers and sisters climbed the steps to stand before the tables that ringed him. They held between them his friends and family.
Mama Vette was begging and blubbering as two sisters lowered her prostrate upon a table, terrified in a way he had never before witnessed. Sean was demanding to know what they were doing to him, Freddy was speechless in confusion and fear, Charlotte screamed incoherently as Bob and Frank shouted threats. One by one, they each were laid prostrate upon a table, all whom he loved encircling Kirk as his panic maddened his struggles, fighting to be free of the collar around his neck.
“Kirk?” an angel’s voice called out from behind.
The young dwarf spun to watch his beloved Cindy laid prone on a table.
“What’s happening?” she pleaded to him, fear threatening to reduce her humanity into a quivering, pitiful animal.
Let my child be borne the great dragon commanded in a booming voice that echoed in every mind.
Seven brothers and sisters, one before each of his loved ones, brandished a chaotic tangle of obsidian blades high, then down into the bellies of their victims.
Kirk began to scream, his howls of horror a sick symphony to the gurgling cries of his loved ones.
Brutally, efficiently, the brothers and sisters gutted his family, and the young dwarf spun round and round as he watched each of them shiver before stiffening in death. Like a leashed dog, Kirk ran to the edge of his chain, around the lip of the pedestal, howling pathetically. He watched as their blood ran like a river to pool in the ring surrounding the pedestal, watched as their stilled hearts were ripped from their chest cavities and waved overhead like trophies.
Deep did Kirk drink of the horror he’d asked for.
The desolate wasteland of Kirk’s shattered mind moaned at the unbearable loss. His skin began to stretch and bulge, then tear apart. His fiery red hair and beard sizzled away as crimson feathers burst forth. The dragon serpent within him exploded free, a terrible creature of orange and red feathers.
Long and mournful was the roar of the dragon, straining against the chain, before finally collapsing into a heap of feathers and despair.
When he awoke upon his bed of silk and supple serving girls, Kirk had returned to his dwarven form. Weeping with loss, the dwarf fled his room. Up to a tower he ran, soon looking upon a mighty fall to a courtyard far below, certain death should he take that final step.
“Seeking to end your life, Coltic?” A female voice purred. The source stepped forth from behind: Cocos, cold and beautiful as she smiled grimly.
It was the very same smile she’d worn when she opened the belly of his beloved Cindy.
“Then jump, husband” she purred, “die now so your soul will be consumed by Zahuatl. Better I be wed to one I can look in the eye without having to squat.”
The crippling pain within Kirk fled before a new emotion: rage.
“Fucking bitch!” the young dwarf screamed, his anger blending the last word into a roar as his skin split and dissolved amidst the explosion of fiery feathers, his new form now towering over the vile woman.
Caught off guard, Cocos fell back as the maddened serpent struck her chest with its envenomed tail.
Kirk would stay and finish her, but the cries of alarm echoing below chilled his anger with fear. Hesitating but for an instant, the feathered serpent rose into the sky, its wings pounding furiously in its flight.
So did Kirk seek to flee the fate he’d begged for.
“You said he would kill himself,” chuckled Iztlac as he crouched down to gloat over the prone but fuming woman.
“And you said Coltic would… (gasp)… accept his fate,” Cocos spat back as she struggled with the burning in her veins.
“He was so eager to be one of us,” the man replied as he searched the horizon with his gaze. The man sighed. “Well, we’ll chain him in the courtyard, let him ponder his fate. You’ll see, in a few weeks he’ll come around. Or Zahuatl will consume him.” The man shrugged, accepting both fates.
With heavy disgust, Cocos hissed, “that I have to mate with such a pathetic, stunted…”
Iztlac cut her off with a snarl, “do NOT question the will of Zahuatl!”
“Never,” she quickly conceded, her pride wilting with fear, but then the anger re-took her. “But I will repay him for this.” She gingerly touched the wound on her left breast.
“Ah,” Iztlac grunted smugly as his gaze returned to the horizon, “they are returning.”
But satisfaction edged into confusion, then consternation as he watched three of his brothers approach.
The feathered serpents roosted and quickly took their mortal forms.
“Where’s Kiplatl?” Iztlac demanded. “I told him to deliver the news once our wayward brother fell to the nets.”
“Dead!” blurted one of the brothers.
A dire expression flashed bleakly upon Iztlac’s face. “Zahuatl will likely punish our new brother for that. I shudder to think…”
Then the fear in his brother’s eyes spread to his own stomach.
“And our new brother?” Iztlac choked, almost afraid to ask.
“He slipped the nets,” another brother replied, trembling. “We lost him in the jungle.”
All were motionless.
“Zahuatl have mercy on us,” Cocos breathed.
They had never failed the great dragon. What horrors would he unleash upon them for letting one of his children get away? Every brother and sister would rather die than find the answer to that question.