Stinkbitch, no… Troy… was amazed by what she saw. When she had first walked inside the mountain, the paths had just been cut straight into the rock with little effort made to adorn them. But the higher she got, the more elaborate things became. Columns, pillars, decorative molding and other adornments had been cut into the upper paths. And then there were the kobolds – they were adorned in rich feathered gowns, like the one who had inseminated her months ago, while a select few wore fancy leather or metal armor.
These were the elite kobolds: the administrators, the priests, the warriors. These kobolds, the ones in the upper caverns, these were the kobolds whose lives had some sliver of value to the master. And they reacted to her much the same way as the townspeople outside: by covering their noses, gagging, and muttering insults under their breath.
The kobold led her through the halls, always going higher, until they came to a grand doorway cut into the stone of the mountain. Turning into the door, Troy was faced with a vast, cavernous room, its walls finely carved marble, all of which was illuminated by a waterfall of lava that flowed down a channel in the back of the room.
It was what was in front of that waterfall that filled Troy’s body with fear. Sitting atop a large, gold pedestal was a massive red dragon. It towered above the room, towered above Troy. Its eyes burned like embers. Its claws, each larger than a man, rasped along the edge of its seat. Finally, Troy saw its tail, as thick as a school but but much longer, whipping back and forth through the lava, completely immune to the heat of the molten rock.
Seeing Troy enter, the dragon pressed itself up on its front legs and spread its wings, adopting a fearsome, magnificent pose. It was like looking at a god, like being an ant sitting at the feet of a being that was so far beyond your comprehension that you could scarcely fathom that what you were seeing was actually real.
Stinkbitch was terrified. It had never seen anything like this before. Its stomach twisted into a million knots. Its body froze up. It stopped breathing. Its heart stopped beating. It hoped that if it just stayed perfectly still, stayed perfectly inconsequential, maybe it would be beneath the notice of the terror that stood before it.
The dragon looked down, its eyes fixed on Stinkbitch. The dragon made a great showing of flaring its nostrils as it inhaled the air, as it inhaled Stinkbitch’s…
“Shit!” Troy thought. She knew how badly she smelled and now the dragon was taking in every bit of her stench. If she displeased this thing… if it was offended in any way by her smell. Troy knew that was it, the dragon would let out a torrent of fire, it would burn her body, her smell, her existence from its presence. But there was nothing Troy could do. That smell was a part of her, she couldn’t stop it from coming out, all she could do was hope that the dragon was merciful, that it wasn’t too offended by her presence, that it would permit her to leave and live out the remainder of her days in the muck below.
The dragon’s nostrils relaxed as it exhaled the breath that it took. It looked down at Troy and said, “Magnificent! Tell me creature, can you smell yourself? It your presence as unpleasant for you as it is for me?”
Troy’s mind was racing. The dragon had talked to her? It had talked to her! It hadn’t smashed her or roasted her. It had asked her a question. A question she needed to answer. But how should she do it, how could she best respond to avoid upsetting it? How could she escape from here?
While Troy’s mind raced, her body reacted, “Yesshhh massaaw, I cwaan smwelll mwasewf. I nwow how bwad I smwell…”
Troy didn’t want to say the words, they just came out.
“What is your name?”
“Sweenk bwich”
The dragon looked incredulously at the kobold that had brought her here, as though it expected him to fill in the gaps.
“Smelly beast’s name Stinkbitch master!” The kobold shouted.
The dragon looked back at Troy, “No. What is YOUR name, the name of the person inside of that creature?”
The dragon knew! It knew that Troy had been someone else before she had been turned into… this. That meant the dragon was the person who did this to her, that meant it was a book owner. And based on her surroundings, it was likely the owner of the Book of Myth.
“Woy,” came the words from Troy’s mouth.
“Roy?”
Fear once again flooded Troy’s veins. Her body knew that she was facing her Master. The owner of her owners. This creature expected quick, truthful responses. To delay. To lie. To mislead or give an incomplete answer meant death. And now, due to the new anatomy of her mouth, the best answer she could give to its all important question was Roy, not Troy.
She had to correct her response. Had to give her correct name. The only thing that mattered right now, that mattered in her entire life, was moving her mouth and her tongue in such a way that she could make a “T” sound, that she should could say the name Troy.
“Sworry masser,” she said the words as slowly and deliberately as she could, all while she gathered the mental energy for what was to come next. She focused on her tongue, on the flesh ridges that took the place of her teeth. She swallowed as deeply as she could, cleared her mouth of saliva so that she could speak clearly. Then, with every fiber in her being she continued, “mwah nwame is Twoy.”
“Troy?”
“Yes masser.”
“And you remember your life as Troy, every bit of it?”
“Yes masser.”
“Do you remember your life as that thing, as… what was its name again?” the dragon looked back to the kobold.
“Stinkbitch,” it replied.
“Yes, do you remember your life as Stinkbitch?”
“Yes masser, I weemembwa bwowf wof mah liwes.”
“How delightful!” the dragon exclaimed as it did a small dance, its face filled with utter glee.