《Cricket》


 Volume I: Chapter 1 - Home

    1


    Home


    Cricket lay with his back to the wet rock staring at the ceiling of a cave. A trickle of surprisingly warm liquid seeped through the gaps in his exoskeleton.


    Cricket yawned. What was my name again? I knew it a second ago. He sat up and scratched his head with one of his larger arms. His left antenna twitched. Sprawled around the cavern, the corpses of several bear-sized spiders oozed and convulsed. Their luminescent blood steamed and pooled in the dirt.


    Cricket smacked his tongue lazily against the roof of his mouth, then grimaced at the bitter taste in the air. He lifted a wrist to scratch his cheek, when he noticed a splotch of spider guts stretching between his fingers. Panicked that he might have spread some of the slime onto his antennae, he furiously began cleaning one of the stalks with the dry part of his wrist.


    When he had finished, he checked himself for wounds but found only a few scratches and scuffs on his shiny black carapace.


    "Before you clean yourself too thoroughly, you may wish to rise from that pool of intestines." The voice came from behind him.


    Cricket stretched, pretending to test his mobility while secretly flicking another bit of spider from his forearm, then turned to view the source of the voice.


    "You are not wounded. I don''t think any of us are. You were knocked out by the fumes."


    A thin, pale being in grey robes sat on a rock behind the insect. Four short tentacles covered the creature''s hooked, yellow beak. They writhed as he spoke. "It''s affecting your memory, but it will wear off."


    "How do you know that?"


    "Hmm? I suppose the fumes affect your species more than mine."


    "What are you?" Cricket asked.


    "I don''t know."


    "What am I?"


    "I wouldn''t care to guess."


    Cricket held up all four arms in front of his face, then clenched and unclenched his fists. "I''m beautiful."


    "To each his own." The creature rose to his feet, then retrieved a thin metal staff from where it leaned against the cave wall. He put a bit of his weight on it as he walked. "Can you stand?"


    Cricket sprang to his feet. Two rusty long knives protruded from the nearest corpse and he pulled one out. The metal glistened with green blood. He tested the balance and attempted to flip the blade, but it slipped from his fingers. He caught it by the sharp end with one of his lower arms, then squealed and dropped it in the mud.


    Cricket gave a sideways glance at his companion as he picked up the knife. He grabbed the handle of the second, gave a half-hearted tug, then placed a foot on the giant abdomen for extra oomph. A moment later he tumbled backward, pulling a string of slimy grey guts with him, and narrowly avoided slipping back into the pile of intestines.


    Cricket''s fingers settled deftly over the handle, and he took a few excited steps before he realized he didn''t know which way to go. The main chamber spread about a hundred feet in every direction with at least a dozen dismembered spiders laying about, as well as a narrow corridor that led to a side room.


    Above him, near the ceiling, a few larger spiders squealed and attempted to press themselves into the main chamber through a hole slightly too small for their abdomens. Their long sharp legs competed for turns at the opening, reaching for a large lizardman that lay some feet below.


    "The lizard is with us," the tentacled creature said. "Rudra!" he added suddenly. "Not him! Me. I''ve had that word on the tip of my tongue for the last few minutes. I''m of the rudran race. And by the ridges on your thumbs, I would venture you¡¯re¡ª"


    "How do you know he''s on our side?¡± Cricket kept his eyes on the lizardman. ¡°Maybe we should tie him up."


    For a second, the rudra frowned, as if disappointed that his knowledge was not appreciated. But he collected himself and answered by pulling back the sleeve of his robe, revealing a small mark burned onto his wrist¡ªa three-fingered hand with the fingers spread apart. "You have one too. And so does he." He gestured toward the lizardman with his staff.


    "Awesome! So we''re a team..." Cricket absently picked up a spider leg that lay near his feet and tested whether it fit onto a nearby corpse, frowning when the edges didn''t match up.


    "Can you concentrate for one moment!"


    Cricket looked over shyly. "On what?"


    "On what?!" the rudra blustered.


    Cricket stared back innocently.


    "On our... why, on our... circumstances!"


    Cricket dropped the spider leg. "I mean... it doesn''t really matter. Does it?"


    "Of course it matters," the rudra said, his eyes flaring dangerously. "I''m trying to piece together what we''re doing here... to survive! And you''re... you''re just... put that down!"


    Cricket hadn''t really noticed that he had picked up another spider leg, but he dropped it instantly to avoid further agitating his companion. He did, however, risk a sidelong glance back at the twitching corpse. The second leg would definitely have fit.


    The rudra sighed as he looked about and calmed himself. "I believe this is some sort of treasury. A... vault that we broke into through that hole." He gestured toward the hole in the ceiling, again with his staff. The spiders paused and stared back, eerily silent.


    "I suppose the ones that were small enough to follow us already squeezed through. And we would have been overrun had that hole been any larger. As to why we came here, I can only speculate. There were also two ratlings with us a minute ago, but they are scouting ahead for another exit. If I am correct that this is a vault, they will not find one."


    Cricket nodded as if paying attention. Stooping a bit for a better angle, he peered up through the hole. He took a step closer. Many of the spiders had deep spear wounds as if the lizardman had fought them off for some time before succumbing to his own injuries.  He lay motionless, a two-handed spear in one hand and a tower shield in the other, tucked under the bulk of his body. Shelves of scrolls and dusty jars of dark liquid lined the side walls. Nothing, Cricket thought, that needed to be stored in a vault. "You sure he''s not dead?"


    The rudra shrugged. "His species is very resilient. They can sometimes even revive after death."


    A viscous white fluid that might have been blood had already begun to form a thin crust on the lizardman''s wounds.


    "Could you check on the ratlings?" the rudra asked. "Unless you''d rather stay here. I don''t want to leave our friend unattended in case some smaller spiders push through."


    Cricket wiped his eyes with his forearm and clicked his tongue quite mechanically. "No, I''ll go." He tightened the grip on his daggers and left the main chamber. The side room was longer than he expected¡ªmore of a hallway, carved from the same rough stone as the main chamber, with a large iron vault door halfway down its length, and a small room at the end. From there, he could already see the ratlings¡ªtwo small, hunched humanoids with long leathery tails, twitching ears, and overgrown teeth.


    As he approached, one of the ratlings turned and acknowledged his presence with a bit of annoyance, then returned his attention to his companion, who knelt by a wooden chest.


    The second spoke without looking. "It has some sort of trap. But if I can remove that mechanism," he pointed at the keyhole with a thin twisted knife, "or even damage it, we should be able to open it without any trouble." Without further notice he rammed the blade into the opening. The mechanism clicked and instantly a small barb hooked from inside the keyhole, around the decorative brass fringe, and pricked his palm.


    "Shit!" The rat squealed and skittered to the corner. He compressed the puncture with his other thumb and forefinger until a bit of greasy black liquid emerged. He wiped it away then sucked on the wound for a minute. The ratling paused and inspected the tiny prick with a wide eye. Finally he turned to the other ratling and presented his hand. "What do you think?"


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    The second ratling grabbed the paw with both hands and spread the fur with his fingers. "I think you''re good," he said unconvincingly.


    "What do you think, bug?" The first ratling addressed Cricket.


    "I think you''re screwed." Cricket absently tucked his daggers into a conveniently sized gap in the natural plating between his exoskeleton and his hip, where the blades fit snug. "We should cut off the arm before it spreads." He reached for the ratling''s hand but the rodent snapped it away and clutched it safely to his chest, sputtering hysterically.


    "Whoa!" Cricket took a step backward and held up his hands. "Your call. But you have no idea what was on that needle."


    "Stay away from me, bug. Easy call for you to make. I''ve only got two arms."


    The second ratling was already opening the chest and ruffling through the contents. "More parchments, empty bottles... religious crap." He held up a string of teeth carved into beads and tossed it aside. "What is this garbage? I see one thing of value." As he lifted a gaudy necklace from the chest, Cricket noticed the ratling deftly stuff a second shiny item into his soiled and tattered tunic.


    "What is it?" The first ratling hopped back over for a look, forgetting himself in the excitement.


    The second ratling held up a jeweled necklace. "Electrum. A mix of gold and silver," he added with a condescending sideways glance at the insectoid. "Mostly silver, which is good, since gold isn''t worth shit." He sniffed the metal but made no comment on any additional insight this produced.


    Cricket laughed. "I suppose you didn''t lose your memory?"


    "No, we weren''t with you during the fight."


    "Can you tell me who I am?"


    "Tentacle Face called you Cricket, but I don''t know more than that. We''re mercenaries, not slaves like you."


    Cricket''s antennae drooped at this information.


    "I''m Beetle and this is my brother, Crab." His eyes narrowed in response to the surprised look on Cricket''s face. "That''s what we''re called. It''s not wise to use your real name in the Warrens. I doubt Cricket''s your real name. It might be, though. A lot of slaves don''t get more than a nickname."


    "You keep calling me¡ª"


    A loud screech echoed from the main chamber. Cricket ran back down the hallway, drawing his weapons.


    In the main chamber, a gargantuan spider clawed furiously at the opening near the ceiling, tearing clumps of rock with its massive spindle legs. The monstrous arachnid screeched again and threads of black saliva dripped from its four mandibles onto the lizardman.


    The rudra cried "Ingorii!" and the tip of his thin staff glowed red-hot. He stepped up onto the lizard''s body for increased reach, then plunged the burning metal into the spider''s mouth. Black saliva sizzled and splattered on the walls. The creature wailed at a high pitch and withdrew from sight. However, seconds later it returned, digging more violently. The hole had widened enough for the spider''s massive head to fit through.


    The rudra stabbed his staff into its mouth a second time, but the creature paid it no regard.


    Cricket ran to the rudra''s side and threw one dagger, but it bounced harmlessly from the spider''s thick shell. He stooped to coat his second dagger in a pool of the toxic blood at his feet, switched it to one of his smaller arms, then launched himself through the air with his powerful legs. Cricket slammed into its face knocking it back through the opening, then grabbed the rock ceiling with his upper arms and braced himself with his feet. He used one of his secondary arms to grab the creature''s head. The other stabbed repeatedly, puncturing the face three times along with several glancing blows. He tried to aim for its tiny eyes, but couldn''t tell through the spraying blood where it was wounded.


    The spider lunged with its mandibles, overpowering Cricket''s lone arm but he simply let go of his grip and dropped out of harm''s way.


    Cricket landed on the lizardman, rolling backward to divert most of the force from the fall, then scrambled to retrieve his second dagger.


    When he looked back, a large chunk of rock fell to the floor, nearly doubling the hole''s size. The spider wedged all eight legs through the opening and attempted to pull its plump abdomen through the gap.


    The ratling brothers tentatively entered the chamber from the hallway, keeping against the far wall.


    "Help!" Cricket screamed.


    "With what?" Crab asked.


    Beetle scurried along the wall of shelves looking over the dusty bottles. "One of these might be poison. Why else would you store it in a place like this?"


    "You don''t know what those will do," Cricket cautioned. "What if it''s a strength potion, or an invisibility salve? You''ll make things worse."


    "That''s stupid," Crab argued from the hallway, somewhere out of sight.


    "You''re stupid."


    "Don''t call my brother stupid!"


    "Gentlemen," the rudra said. "Focus, please. I need backup." He called ''ingorii'' a second time, but if the spell worked it gave no visible indication. The rudra whacked the metal rod against the mass of writhing legs regardless, then stumbled backward, narrowly dodging a needle-sharp leg.


    The spider strained and let out a guttural sound as it finally burst through the opening. Though the abdomen was still far too large to fit, and in its frenzy to feed the giant arachnid tore itself in two. As its thorax split from the abdomen, its entrails and assorted viscera gushed down onto the unconscious lizardman, until he was wholly covered in bright green goo.


    The whole group stood still as the half spider righted itself on its legs. Suddenly, it darted after the rudra, who squawked and turned to run.


    "That just made it faster! It''s going to get me!"


    "No, it''s bleeding out. It''s gonna slow it down," Crab argued from the sidelines.


    "No, it''s faster," the rudra squawked.


    "How do you know?" Beetle joined. "You didn''t see it move before."


    Cricket sprinted to place himself between the two, but the spider outmaneuvered him, tackling the helpless rudra to the ground.


    The rudra rammed his metal rod between the behemoth''s teeth, while Cricket climbed up from its rear, and prostrated himself over the spider''s head, attempting to hold its mouth closed with his four hands.


    The rudra recited the words of a more complicated spell, but the half spider only struggled for a moment before collapsing from loss of fluids.


    Cricket lurched backward, pulling the writhing beast onto its back, where its legs slowly curled. Soon it lay completely still atop a pile of its own innards.


    The rudra slumped onto the stone floor, panting softly for a moment. "Oydd Zephyrendum," he whispered between pants. "My name is Oydd."


    The bright green blood of the giant spider steamed on the stone floor. Cricket covered his mouth and pulled Oydd quickly from the thickening fumes. "Should we get..." He glanced at the heap of spider guts covering the lizardman and thought better of his question. He turned his attention, instead, to the ratlings.


    Crab lay motionless on the ground. Black veins spread from the prick in his palm. His face looked pale¡ªif that were possible, for a furry rat¡ªand his eyes stared off into nothing. Beetle crouched at his side, feeling for a pulse, listening for a breath. When he met Cricket''s gaze, he simply shook his head.


    Beetle retrieved Crab''s knife, shoving it carelessly in the pouch at his side, and joined the others. "We can''t get out through the vault door. We''ll need to go back the way we came."


    However, the detached abdomen of the monstrous arachnid wholly blocked their original entrance. Cricket started plotting other options when the large pile of guts beneath the opening stirred.


    The lizardman rose from the ground to a towering seven feet. The fuming entrails dripped from him in clumps for several seconds, before he shook himself from head to tail like a mutt, vibrating the guts from his sandy scales. He mopped the remaining gore from his face with his forearm, then squinted and slowly surveyed the group.


    Without so much as a grunt, he sifted through the glistening heap for his spear and shield, then made a few tentative stabs at the clogged opening near the ceiling. The black mass of competing legs and fangs squealed and withdrew.


    "Can you clear it?" Cricket asked, but before he was even done speaking, the lizardman began to climb the uneven rock. He shoved the abdomen aside with one go, barely squeezing through the hole himself. A moment later, with a quick yank, the abdomen disappeared.


    Oydd yelled after him, "Is it safe?" only to be answered by a deep-throated battle cry and the squeals of more spiders, chittering in excitement.


    "The big guy doesn''t talk." Beetle scratched his face with one of his knuckles, keeping the claws curled away from his eye. "But he understands more than you think."


    "Hold your breath as you climb," the rudra cautioned, then followed after the lizardman.


    Beetle scrambled up next, and Cricket took the rear. By the time he reached the top, most of the fighting was done. The lizardman batted aside a few spiders with the broad side of his spear, while Oydd limped along and Beetle cowered behind him.


    Cricket picked his way among the rocks of a winding tunnel, past several Cricket-sized, translucent spiderwebs. A murky liquid gathered on the thick cords of webbing. It dripped from the webs to form puddles below, echoing loudly through the empty cave.


    "Is that it? I wanted to kill one!" Cricket hurried to catch up to the lizard, but by then he had impaled the last of the larger spiders, holding its head to the ground with his scaly foot.


    Soon, they reached the end of the tunnel. However, the cramped cave only opened into another vast cavern, spreading, perhaps, a hundred miles in every direction. Several cities sprawled out in the crags below¡ªone much larger than the others. Their numerous flickering torchlights broke through the mist and darkness and distance, and told of tens of thousands of inhabitants.


    Cricket followed as the lizardman led a short, winding descent to a main road, where a cart lay tucked away from view behind giant mushroom stalks that grew some hundred feet into the damp air.


    The cart was built from what appeared to be dried boards of the same mushroom stalks. Nearby, two horned, crimson beasts grazed on moss, tended by a second, slighter lizardman. Or maybe lizardwoman? Cricket couldn''t tell.


    When it saw the group, it led the fat beasts back to the cart and fastened them to the yoke.


    The gunk-covered lizardman sat up front with its kind and Beetle hopped into the back. Noting the others'' hesitation, the ratling patted the seat next to him then rested his tufted chin in a tiny paw, seemingly lost in thought.


    Cricket stepped aboard, then helped the rudra onto the wagon, but stayed on his feet as the wheels lurched forward and the wagon wobbled slowly down the bumpy road. They passed several outcroppings of green and blue gems with some shards towering above even the lizardman. Nearby, slaves in a field harvested mushroom stalks along with other crops indiscernible from his vantage point.


    The slaves were mostly comprised of the undead. Cricket could tell by the lifeless eyes, the hanging jaws, and their jerking, unnatural movements. Some of them were insectoid, some rats, some rudran, many goblins and many other races he did not yet remember.


    His memory came back slowly. The oddest things came to him first. He recalled that he hated parsnips. Unless they were fried. He was fond of music, but he couldn''t remember a single tune. He remembered one word in Goblin. Anchor. He knew he loved a good fight. It was the only hobby to which he could credit himself. He loved the feel of a knife in his hands. No... a knife wasn''t quite right. Perhaps he''d try a sword. Nothing too heavy. But a light blade, or maybe four, sounded perfect. He invented scenarios in his head where he would require different weapons, or different strokes. His slightly smaller, lower arms twitched in anticipation of blocking an imaginary foe.


    Standing in the moving wagon proved too difficult. Cricket slumped, defeated, onto his back and stared at the cavern ceiling some thousand feet above his head, growing even further away as they rode downhill. Luminescent patches of lichen lit the ceiling. Now that he thought of it, that might have been what created the hazy light he could see stretching miles away. Here and there, giant crustaceans scuttled among the rocks, hanging upside-down, and fed on the lichen. Snakelike bats flew in loops below them, catching the bugs that fell from the moss-covered shells.


    One particular breed of crustacean sported a sharply pointed shell that camouflaged with the stalactites. They must have weighed several tons, and Cricket wondered how they managed to grip the ceiling. Not just for a time, but to spend their whole lives presumably suspended up there.


    "My memory has almost fully returned." The rudra''s voice disrupted his wandering thoughts, snapping him back to the bouncy cart. "If you still want answers, I believe we have some time to talk."


    Cricket considered the offer. "Naw. I''m good." His breathing slowed and the insect drifted off in the warm familiarity of his home.

 The Warrens

    2


    The Warrens


    Cricket waited in a small antechamber seated on a stone chair. Oydd sat next to him, and then Beetle, followed by an empty chair. The lizardman¡ªAgena, he remembered now¡ªstood by the doorway at ready position.


    After about an hour of discomfort and quiet, one of the doors to the chamber opened, and a black, tentacled creature slithered in. It held its weight so high it nearly seemed to walk upright despite having no legs. And then it rose completely off the ground, and Cricket realized it was not slithering at all, but levitating.


    Two huge, grey humanoids stooped to enter the room after him. Clearly entranced thralls, based on their vacant looks and gratuitous muscles.


    Words entered Cricket''s mind and the insectoid knew they came from the black tentacled mass.


    You will report...


    A thin, sharp mosquito-like needle slowly protruded from the tentacles at about head height. The creature moved silently behind Cricket and out of sight. A moment later he felt the cold point of the proboscis on the back of his head. The insect choked down a scream as the plates of his exoskeleton shifted slightly to allow the needle to enter his cranium¡ªa sensation that seemed too familiar. Memories bubbled up violently to the surface of his mind, against his control. He relived moments he had not yet recovered¡ªa briefing for his current mission, climbing to the spiders'' nest and fighting off the hungry monsters, tunneling into the vault. Then he watched Crab open the chest. Suddenly his mind''s eye switched to the image of Beetle stuffing a small object into his tunic¡ªa detail that Cricket might have overlooked or forgotten otherwise. The image hovered then grew more potent, as though pricking fingers pulled it from a puddle of his thoughts. And then the proboscis withdrew from his mind and from his body.


    The tentacled horror floated behind the chairs. It paused by Oydd, but then reconsidered and continued on to the ratling. As the proboscis entered Beetle''s skull, the ratling shouted "Wait..." but almost instantly garbled his words in a pool of saliva, paralyzed by the intrusive memory sweep.


    Beetle''s eyes widened. Spittle fell from his open mouth and tentacles slowly wrapped around his head from behind, crawling down his chest and tightening around his throat. The tentacles flexed and almost instantly the ratling''s skull caved in, followed by the ghastly slurping sound of his brains being sucked through the proboscis.


    The tentacles loosened and Beetle''s remains slumped forward in his chair.


    Teeaku! Cricket felt a word in his mind that he did not understand. But a thrall immediately stepped forward and retrieved an item from within Beetle''s torn shirt.


    I have a new mission for you, the voice continued.


    Agena perked up, and Cricket assumed that the words were conveyed to the lizard and rudra as well.


    Speak to your taskmaster for details. You will leave within the hour.


    With that, the creature departed through the doorway with Agena, but one of the thralls remained to block the exit for a few minutes.


    After he left, Oydd stood. "Come on. I want to rest as much as possible and we''ll need time to be fitted with equipment as well."


    Cricket nodded.


    The passageway from the antechamber grew thinner and rougher as it wound down toward the Warrens¡ªthe living quarters of the slaves. Bed-sized cubbies lined the walls, bare but for scraps of trash and hay, occasionally occupied by a ratling. Cricket passed an armory but didn''t get a good look, other than to see plenty of basic weaponry, some polished iron swords, some rusty daggers, and some makeshift spears.


    Soon the two entered the main barracks, evident by the columns and columns of bunks carved into the rock, a large gathering of slaves, and a meager, candle-lit office set to the side full of small casks and dusty scrolls.


    Oydd stopped at the doorway to the office and waited. "Are you certain you don''t have any questions? You still look a little lost."


    "Well, I was wondering... It''s not very important though." Cricket said. "Do you have bones?"


    The rudra raised a hairless brow.


    "I mean, your head looks so soft. How does it protect your brain?"


    "My race are the only current vertebrate mollusks. Though I have some thoughts on our evolution." Oydd caught the worried look on Cricket''s face and returned to the initial question. "My skeleton is primarily cartilage. But some parts of me are stiffened by a pressurized fluid rather than a traditional skeleton. I only have the front half of what you would call a skull."


    "So if I poke the back of your head, I could feel your brain?"


    "Actually, that''s where my heart is¡ªone of them. My brain is up front." He tapped on his forehead. "It''s not just sticking out the back. Is that really the main thing on your mind? You don''t want to ask about yourself?"


    "No," Cricket shook his head. "I want to be surprised."


    A half-man, half-arachnid, slightly larger than Cricket scuttled from the office carrying a quill and parchment. He was humanoid from the waist up, with the thorax and abdomen of a spider below. His black carapace greyed slightly with age, and his dry, yellow eyes rustled as they darted about. His arms appeared atrophied, though they may have once been muscular, and at one time he must have had eight legs. But now two were missing entirely and a third hung limply below his thorax. However old these injuries were, he had not yet compensated for their loss, and walked a bit off-balance.


    "Damien..." Oydd bowed.


    Damien made two scratches on his parchment and then spoke hurriedly. "You''ll need two more ratlings. Take... whatever ones you want." He indicated the wall of bunks with his quill. Of the sixty or so bunks, about half were occupied by ratlings of varying size and color.


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    "Your target is a dhampir," Damien spoke directly to Oydd. "Which means there will be no record of this... task. He has fallen from favor. No one will ask questions. Noble line though..." Damien laughed which turned into a hacking cough. Flecks of blood dotted his parchment, but he continued to chuckle to himself.


    "And Lordy, don''t they have it comin'' to ''em." He suddenly shot Cricket a suspicious glance and pulled Oydd into his office.


    After waiting a moment to see if he would be required, Cricket wandered into the barracks. Three ratlings squatted in a circle rolling dice. Cricket didn''t know the game, but by the squeaks and chittering laughter, the largest had made a bad roll. Rather than pay up, he contested his loss by clamping his teeth over one of the smaller ratlings ears.


    Near ground level, a scraggly tan ratling slept face-down on a shallow shelf but opened an eye as Cricket encroached on his space. "Glad to see you''re in one piece." The ratling rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again.


    From several bunks above, a red-furred ratling shouted, "Oi, Cricket''s back."


    Numerous rat paws pulled aside the threadbare cloths that covered their holes, and several rat heads poked out to greet him.


    "Hey Cricket!" A yellow-stained white rat vied for his attention. "You''ll never guess where I been."


    "He doesn''t want to hear it," the red-furred rat snapped.


    "He does," the yellowed rat defended sheepishly.


    "Sorry, boys," Cricket said. "My brain''s running at about half."


    "What you off, bug?" A shrill voice joined.


    Given the cordial tone of the rat, Cricket questioned whether the term ''bug'' was meant to be offensive. Regardless, he looked confused. "What?"


    "Uh..." the rat struggled to rephrase. "What ''appened?"


    Cricket scratched his antennae. "I was fighting some spiders and Oydd says I lost my memory. I''m supposed to collect two rats for a mission."


    "Oo''s Oydd?¡ª"


    "Was you poisoned?¡ª"


    ¡°Where''s you bit?"


    Cricket struggled to answer all the questions at once. He settled with "It''s temporary" then took a step back from the wall to expand his view. "Do I... do I have a bunk? I''m still kind of coming to grips with being... a slave, I presume?"


    The red-furred rat let out a squealing chuckle. "Only mercenaries get bunks. You sleep on the floor."


    "Well that doesn''t seem fair."


    "You for real? You like it that way. Um... holes make you feel... trapped."


    "I could see that," Cricket conceded. "What''s everyone''s names?"


    "You''re the only one that ever asked, mate. I''m Raccoon." The red-furred ratling sat up and draped his feet and tail out of the cubby. "To Damien we''re just rats. To the lizards, we''re just rats. Even the slaves just call us rats."


    The other ratlings introduced themselves. Scorpion, Ladder, Nail and Bats. The names continued to trickle in but it was a bit much to remember.


    "Not to be rude, but what makes you different from the other slaves?"


    "Well for one," Bats, the yellow stained rat answered, "We''re not slaves. We''re for hire."


    "You''re paid?"


    "Er... we''re paid in food and lodging," Nail said.


    "Not money?" Cricket asked.


    "What am I going to do with money," said a voice out of Cricket''s sight. "Difference is, we''re here because we choose to be. It may be cuz they don''t value us. But you run off and they''ll come after you. You''re a commodity. We run off, there''s nothing they can do, cuz they can''t catch us anyway."


    Cricket nodded, but still thought they seemed an awful lot like slaves. "I recognize most of your names, but what''s a Raccoon?"


    Raccoon answered. "It''s an animal on the surface. I head up there for food sometimes, so it sticks." Noting the confused look on Cricket''s face, Raccoon added, "You remember what the surface is, bug?"


    Cricket shook his head. "It sounds vaguely familiar. Have I been?"


    "No, you wouldn''t like it. But the surface is... if you go up enough, that is... maybe dig a little bit... you run out of rock. And then there''s nothing but air."


    "There''s no more rock?"


    "None. Just open nothing."


    "Do you... fall into it." Cricket asked in awe.


    "What a stupid question. Do you fall into it? Who ever fell up?"


    "Well," Cricket thought for a moment. "I figure if you run out of rock digging up, you might run out of rock digging down. And people fall down all the time."


    "Okay," Raccoon smirked. "Maybe not so stupid. But you don''t run out of rock if you dig down. The surface is only up."


    "How do you know?"


    "I don''t know how I know. I just know."


    "Why wouldn''t I like it?"


    "Well, for one thing," Raccoon continued, "there''s a blazing orb in the sky that would burn your eyes out. Second, you wouldn''t be welcome. You''d be hunted and killed by surface people."


    "They''re that bad?" Cricket asked.


    "Hmm... maybe not as bad as down here. But they don''t like us coming into their world. You don''t belong up there."


    "The people down here don''t seem so bad." Cricket''s thought''s wandered off. "Why¡ª"


    "Hey, I gotta sleep." Raccoon withdrew into his cubby, but Cricket could still see his eyes glowing in the dark.


    "But why¡ª"


    "Skunk!" Raccoon yelled. "Skunk... get your bug."


    A scrawny, black ratling rolled out from a low bunk with a yawn. "Huh?" He stared at Cricket for a few seconds then yawned again.


    Raccoon closed his eyes. "Cricket needs two hires and he wants to hear about the surface."


    Skunk nodded sleepily then took a few steadying steps out of his bunk and turned back to face the wall. "Bats, you''re with me."


    The yellow rat skipped about the floor. "Oh, yes, oh yes... to the surface."


    "No, cuz." Skunk shook his head patiently. He grabbed Bats by the tail and headed toward the armory. Bats skipped playfully in the opposite direction, but slowly lost ground as he was dragged across the polished floor.


    "Cricket." Oydd approached from behind, looking a bit haggard. At his voice, several of the rats withdrew their heads back into their cubbies, and a few even hissed.


    Bats glared when he noticed the rudra.


    "I have more details to share with you," Oydd continued. "But there are parts of this mission that only you and I are to know. We can... discuss on the road." He turned to follow Skunk and Bats, then sighed and looked back at Cricket. "I would have killed for five minutes of rest."

 The Dhampiri

    3


    The Dhampiri


    Given the chance, Cricket could have spent hours in the armory. He played with a ball and chain for a minute before encountering a shelf full of long knives and hunting blades and even one ornate, albeit ancient, dagger. Cricket recalled he already had two knives tucked into the carapace at his hips. What he really needed was a sword. The selection of swords was pretty sparse, but the few available were in the right weight range. Flimsy, curved and dull, however, was the best he could get. Cricket grabbed two nearly identical blades along with a leather strap that wrapped twice across his chest and once around the waist. He then fastened the blades where the straps crossed his back.


    Bats clapped his hands and danced when he saw a couple of bear traps, and Skunk placed two slender vials in a loop of his belt before concealing three or four daggers in various places on his person.


    Cricket stood a little too close to Bats on their way out and caught an intense whiff of urine. With a good washing, Cricket observed, Bats might have been white as chalk.


    Oydd stood at the exit marking inventory on a fresh scroll, then held a thin hand to the white tentacles above his beak, pondering. "We''ll need a wagon. Something hand drawn. We don''t have far to go."


    "Where are we going?" Cricket asked.


    Oydd waited until the ratlings were out of earshot. "There is an abandoned part of Al Tsirith only a few miles from here called Vestu Peska.


    ¡°Al Tsirith¡­ the dhampir city?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Oydd answered absently, ¡°but these are ruins no longer claimed by the dhampiri. They are overrun with goblins. Walk with me." The ratlings ran up ahead and the rudra continued as the two made their way up the same winding paths to the debriefing room. "Some of the buildings are still very much intact, and a young dhampir noble is holed up in the remains of a small castle, using it as sort of a bunker. Meaning, he has only one way out and limited food."


    "Why do we want to kill him?"


    "We don''t get to ask that!" Oydd snapped. "Be careful, or you could get yourself killed. The dhampiri are so high above us in standing that we are not to ever acknowledge our success here. We go in. We eliminate him, and then we never speak of it again. Understood?"


    Cricket nodded.


    "I have a goal of my own, after we are successful. And for that, we need a wagon."


    "Remember what happened to Beetle?" Cricket warned the rudra.


    "I am not a fool. Beetle tried to take something that the Left Hand wanted. I intend to take something that nobody wants. You''ll learn that anything can be taken by slaves, from slaves, and the dhampiri will not bat an eye. They do not trade in squalor." Oydd''s eyes narrowed.


    Cricket sensed it was best to drop the issue, and strolled on in silence. They passed the debriefing room where Beetle met his end, devoured by a tentacled monstrosity. Cricket wanted to know the being''s name, but had already told Oydd he wouldn''t ask any questions. That was short-sighted, but Cricket decided to stick to his self-imposed rule.


    Next came the stables, with the two fat, crimson beasts from earlier as well as some two-legged lizards with gigantic maws that hopped around in a little pit, stained to the knees with their own greasy dung.


    In front of the stables, two goblins chaperoned a strange humanoid in manacles. It stood a foot taller than Cricket though a bit stockier. Rather than skin, a soft bark covered its body from head to toe and a few green leaves even poked out from behind its pointed ears.


    Oydd approached. "Is this the Dryad?"


    The larger goblin gave a curt nod. "Where are your papers?"


    Oydd handed over an unsealed scroll which the head goblin passed to his underling. The wiry goblin unrolled the parchment and read a few words, his sharp nose nearly touching the page. Finally he wandered over to the prisoner and unlocked the manacles with a tiny tin key. "He''s your problem now." The smaller goblin grinned, accentuating his green dimples.


    The dryad studied Oydd, somewhat resigned, and introduced himself. "Jeshudassik." He bowed.


    "It doesn''t bother me," Oydd replied, "but be hesitant to speak first until you know the standing of your associates. You''re fortunate that I don''t really outrank you."


    The dryad nodded at the advice and waited until spoken to again.


    "Jeshudassik," Oydd repeated. "From the surface," he added with a glance toward Cricket. "I believe that name means the ''lost seed''?"


    Jeshudassik thought long then shook his head. "Wandering."


    "Fitting," Oydd said, forcing a frown. "I realize this is a tragedy for you, given that you may never return home."


    "Can we call you something shorter?" Cricket interrupted. "Like Jesh?"


    The dryad answered slowly again. "I would prefer Jeshu."


    "That''s too long." Cricket cracked his knuckles, deep in thought. "A good nickname should be as short as possible."


    "I believe I can handle two syllables," Oydd answered dryly.


    "Can you fight?" Cricket asked.


    "I will learn. But I believe my knowledge may be of use. I was known as a healer among my people."


    "That''s good," Oydd said. "Intelligence is sorely lacking down here."


    They stopped at the stables momentarily to collect a small mushroomwood cart, which Cricket was expected to pull, being the strongest of the group. The back offered more than enough room for the two ratlings, who hopped aboard without consideration for their added weight. But with only two wheels, it felt more like a large wheelbarrow to Cricket.


    Oydd led the others down some back allies and then toward the great dhampir city, Al Tsirith. Though ultimately they skirted west of the metropolis onto an old path overgrown with black nettle and poison lilies. Cricket guessed they were poisonous because his shins itched where he brushed up against them, despite his thick shell.


    Bats dozed off early on, and Skunk yawned loudly and often, but it seemed less like he was falling asleep and more like it took him a long time to wake up.


    Despite Oydd''s promise to discuss things on the road, the group traveled in silence for several hours after the city vanished in the distance.


    Cricket asked suddenly "What is a Skunk?"


    Skunk shifted uncomfortably and took some time before answering. "It''s a beast from the surface. A predator feared by all of its prey." Skunk nodded to himself. "But not because of its size. It''s venomous and cunning. It''s black with a white stripe down its back like some of the spider''s here." He became excited as he talked. "And that''s a warning to other animals to leave it alone. I like to poison my weapons, so it sticks."


    "The name sticks?" Cricket asked.


    "Yes. Our names always stick. The others pick a name and then you''re stuck with it. But I like mine. I''m like a fierce skunk." Skunk pulled one of the vials from his belt. "Raccoon killed some skunks on the surface and collected their poison glands. I put it on my daggers before a fight."


    "Why''d you grab rusty knives?"


    "Rust is... another type of poison. You want your knives real dirty... but sharp!"


    Cricket had to agree. He groaned at himself, wishing he had grabbed some rusty swords instead of clean ones. Why offer that courtesy to your foe?


    "I heard you call him ¡®cuz¡¯ earlier," Cricket continued. "Are you really related?"


    "Probably. Cousin''s good enough."


    "We''ll have to be silent from here on," Oydd said.


    "We''ve been silent up to now," Cricket countered.


    "Not at my counsel. If you wanted to talk, you should have done so earlier."


    Cricket dropped the conversation, sulking a bit.


    The party came to a narrow gorge spanned by several small bridges¡ªthree rope contraptions of varying inspiration, the remains of a stone platform that must have once spanned the chasm, and even a thin, fifteen-foot plank tossed haphazardly over the shortest gap. Alarmingly, the plank showed the most signs of passage.


    "Bats," Oydd whispered. "You will stay here with the cart."


    "What!" Bats cried indignantly. "No, no, no." He scurried away from the rudra.


    Oydd rose to his full five feet, somewhat menacing to the much smaller ratling, and repeated his order.


    Bats, undeterred, climbed to the top of the cart, about two feet from the ground so he could nearly look the rudra in the eye, and shout-whispered "No!" once again, this time accentuating the word by jabbing a thin, clawed finger at the rudra''s face.


    "Come on." Cricket tried to calm him. "It''s an important job. You''re lookout. Climb up on that boulder there and keep an eye on us. If you see trouble, you might be able to warn us."


    "Trouble like what?" Bats asked skeptically.


    "Like if you see us walking into a trap, you could yell a warning."


    "Actually," Oydd said, "I don''t want you to do that. I want you to watch and wait. If the mission goes south, hide until it is safe and then report back directly to Damien."


    Bats liked this explanation less than Cricket''s, but made no further protest.


    Oydd then selected a bridge he believed to have the most trustworthy construction and the gang crossed one at a time before traversing the ruins on the far side. The area hinted at a once low-functioning village, with the vestiges of some walls built of lazily-stacked, air-dried bricks, the hoofprints of livestock in the hard, black mud, and even two barren wells. The remains meandered back into a crevice in the rock, where the stronghold was likely nestled.


    The group saw no activity among the ruins until nearing the end of the cleft, where a sturdy wall of cut white bricks gave indication of a fortification behind. There, but in the distance, Cricket spotted a small squad of goblins stationed near a gate. To either side of the iron portcullis stood an ubo, a race of diminutive cyclopes that came to no more than four feet tall if you counted the horn on their heads. Still, they wore full plate armor and brandished menacing two-handed axes.


    Cricket held up a hand to alert the others and pulled the group behind a half-collapsed wall. He sighed as he sized up the enemies. "I think we need a distraction."


    Oydd smiled sardonically. "I have seen you take on a dozen goblins with only a few scratches."


    Cricket considered him, a bit surprised. "I would still prefer to have a plan."


    "Yes, I was only joking. We''re not going to just charge in." Oydd sat cross-legged on the ground, his grey robes covering his legs, and drew a crude map of the area in the dirt with his staff. He looked back across the ravine where Bats guarded the wagon and mumbled to himself.


    "I have an idea," Skunk interjected.


    Oydd ignored him for a moment tapping his white fingers along the side of his beak, and then said "I''m listening."


    "Goblins will give chase, but the ubo are more trained and will stay at their posts. I believe I can lead the goblins away and then the three of you can ambush the guards. Three against two."


    "How would you lead them away?" Oydd asked.


    "I don''t know. Throw a rock at them to get their attention. They hate rats. We''re like the only thing smaller than them..."


    Jeshu shook his head. "That seems unpredictable and they might sound an alarm. Make them think it''s their idea."


    Oydd turned his attention to the Dryad. "What do you have in mind?"


    "How many do you think there are?" Jeshu asked.


    "I saw at least six. Let''s assume as many are out of sight."


    "Perhaps if the ratling builds a fire near the chasm? The goblins would come to investigate. But it would not arouse suspicion. The rest of us could take care of any stragglers. If the ubo are dead when they return, the goblins will scatter."


    Oydd smiled at the dryad¡¯s reasoning. "Excellent. Skunk, travel back to that spot that''s visible from here. But have Bats withdraw about a furlong before you start a fire. There''s flint and steel in the wagon."


    "Better make it two furlongs," Cricket added.


    "Do you even know what that word means?" Oydd hissed.


    "Well, um..." Cricket stammered.


    Oydd looked at the ratling, who seemed equally clueless. He sighed. "It''s a distance. About from here to that hut."


    Skunk nodded then sprinted back up the trail toward Bats.


    "We''ll have cover if we circle around this way," Oydd continued to the others. "When the goblins move out, we move in from behind that building. From now on, whispers are too loud. Understood?"


    Jeshu nodded but Cricket just stared off at the ubo, calculating.


    The insect walked several yards ahead of the others, having the quietest step, and scouted for stray goblins. He silenced two as he positioned himself, easily overpowering the smaller humanoids and, and hid their bodies in the dying pools of an abandoned tannery.


    Then they waited.


    *****


    Skunk made it back to the cart in a matter of minutes, panting, and explained the new plan to Bats.


    Bats laughed maniacally, "We''ll kill them all!"


    "No," Skunk shook his head. "We''re just supposed to lure them away and distract them."


    "We''ll kill them!" Bats repeated and excitedly retrieved two bear traps from where they hung on the cart. "Get some food. Goblins are stupid."


    "And what?" Skunk asked. "Use it as bait?"


    Bats nodded enthusiastically. "If we have food, we can stall ¡®em longer. Want to dig up some moles?"


    Bats ran to a nearby field¨Ca mostly flat area of the cave, with rich and dark soil from crab droppings. He sniffed along the ground on all fours until he found a spot that he liked and began to dig.


    Skunk ambled a bit behind. He pulled a knife from his boot, reversed it in his grip, then followed around his eager friend.


    *****


    "What''s taking so long?" Oydd whispered, breaking his own edict of silence. "It''s been nearly an hour."


    "It hasn''t been that long," Cricket said. "Besides, this is better timing. Look how tired the ubo look."


    "Your eyes must be better than mine," Oydd said matter-of-factly. Still he peered at the guards, squinting until a loud, lurch startled him.


    The smooth rolling of gears replaced the sudden screech, and the iron gate rose into the ceiling of the keep. It ended with another grinding lurch, and a moment later a rather large ogre stooped to exit the eight-foot passage. The ubo saluted and exchanged a few brief words with the hulk. The ogre wore a loin cloth sewn from the pelts of giant bats, with black and red war paint streaked across his amber skin.


    From the distance, Cricket couldn''t make out anything they said, but his antennae vibrated at the deep tones of the monster''s voice.


    "Tell me it''s not the changing of the guard," Oydd whispered cynically.


    However, after a short conversation, the ubo returned to their posts and the ogre stooped to reenter the keep. The portcullis fell behind him, much faster than it was drawn up, and crashed loudly to the ground.


    "Does this change anything?" Cricket asked.


    "No. I knew they had an ogre. I''m prepared to engage it."


    "Good." Cricket whispered. "Because look." He pointed back toward the chasm. A small fire was already visible on the far side of the ravine.


    "Good call," Oydd considered. "They''ll have to cross the chasm to investigate, which gives us more time." He held a finger up to his beak as a reminder to remain silent.


    Soon, they noticed some excitement among the goblin guards. The creatures scrambled for their spears and fastened their helmets and the whole squad passed very near where Cricket, Oydd and the Dryad lay in wait.


    Once the commotion faded, Oydd signaled Cricket. The insectoid tapped the dryad on the shoulder then disappeared around the left of the building. Jeshudassik sighed, unsure of the plan they had discussed, but proceeded to his right, strolling down the main lane in plain sight. The cyclops guards watched him from a distance, and when the Dryad came within a hundred yards they readied their axes. The first opened his mouth as if to offer a warning, but before he spoke, a shiny black flash crashed into him from the side and a long blade penetrated his throat, blocking the words before they came out. The second guard barely had time to turn and acknowledge his comrade''s death before Cricket was upon him. The insectoid leapt onto the shaft of the ubo''s axe, latching on with both feet and two arms, forcing the cyclops to carry his weight for just a split second. Which was all it took for Cricket to position both swords in a cross beneath its helmet and drag the blades against his exposed chin. The second ubo also fell without a sound.


    Two goblins remained in the clearing, but they squealed and scattered in opposite directions. Cricket let them go.


    He wiped the blood from his swords onto the body at his feet and reattached them to the leather straps on his back.


    "That was pretty quiet, right?"


    Jeshu looked about the clearing. "Yes, I believe."


    Oydd appeared a moment later from the same side from which Cricket had launched his attack. The three stared at the gate. The rudra crouched next to the body of the fallen ubo and placed the tip of his metal rod on the forehead of the cyclops. He softly whispered the words of magic, and the creature''s eye opened rapidly, as if waking from a dream.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Don''t be startled," the rudra cautioned with a glance at his allies. "He is still dead. But I wish to get some information from him." He then addressed the ubo directly. "Can this gate be opened from the outside?"


    Oydd seemed to listen to an answer, by the expression on his face. But Cricket heard nothing.


    The rudra spoke again, "No, I am your master. Do not defy me. Tell me what you know." He spoke calmly, hypnotically, and then nodded at a response only he could hear.


    Oydd rose to his feet. "It may be hours before anyone opens this from the inside. I believe our options are to block the gate from this side and attempt to starve them out, or to overpower the mechanism.


    "While I cannot move quickly," Jeshu said, "I can generate a surprising amount of force if I have time."


    "How much time?" Oydd asked.


    "A few minutes. Perhaps less."


    "Do it. Cricket, assist him. This gate is old and the gears may simply buckle. Either way, busting them will make a lot of noise and we''ll need to rush in and secure the area quickly."


    Cricket and Jeshu each took one side of the portcullis, but the dryad signaled for Cricket not to wait. He wrapped his thick bark fingers around the lower bars of the gate and his vine-like muscles bulged. The Dryad grunted and pulled, not with a yank but steady pressure. Slowly but surely, the gears groaned and relented against the constant stubborn force. Like a weed crumbling stone, the plantlike humanoid raised the gate on his own.


    At one point, Cricket tried to help, but the strength he contributed seemed insignificant. This was more a feat of endurance and tenacity, and stamina was never his strong suit. Cricket decided to save his strength for an onslaught.


    *****


    "No, put it here." Skunk motioned at a spot on the ground with a few weeds. "We can cover it up so they don''t see it. God, we should have done this earlier."


    "No, here. Goblins come charging across this bridge, it doesn''t matter if they see it. First one sees it and gets pushed in anyway. Or first one jumps over it and the second one doesn''t see it. We just need it to get one." Bats finished pounding in the stake with a flat rock then stepped back to admire his work. "Where''s the other trap?"


    Skunk motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. "By the fire. Since they''ll skirt the fire, I can predict how they''ll move better." His whiskers twitched. "Here they come! Go hide. You''re not supposed to be here."


    "No!" Bats whispered even though Skunk was talking at full volume. He loosed a small cudgel from his belt and hopped over to the fire, careful to avoid the other trap half-buried in the dirt.


    Skunk shrugged then took a position by the smaller rope bridge, where he had already frayed the support cables with his knife. He hollered and waved at the impish brutes.


    The goblins clamored up to the gorge loudly, but reached an absolute frenzy when they smelled the burnt mole. Their indelicate palates watered at the smell of singed fur, and the largest goblin in the back trampled over his comrades, even tossing a runt over the ledge in his haste to reach the bridge first.


    Skunk cut the first cord as the goblins piled onto the rope bridge, but it still held under the weight of five goblins, and the largest was more than halfway across. It gnashed its yellow teeth at the ratling. Skunk cut the second cord hastily and the last two began to uncoil and snap of their own accord. Three flailing forms disappeared into the chasm and another clung, screeching, to the rope. It crashed back-first into the rock wall, dislodging a smaller goblin that held onto the ledge. The runt nearly saved itself by grabbing onto its companion, dangling momentarily until a cracked green heel smashed into its mouth not once but twice, and the lower goblin dropped out of sight with a hoglike squeal.


    The clattering of spears rebounded from the rock walls below. Skunk realized he wasn''t breathing. He forced a few deep breaths and reassured himself, "That... wasn''t close." He produced a dagger from somewhere in his black fur and flung it at the dangling goblin. It struck somewhere around the ribs¡ªnothing serious¡ªbut the shock caused the goblin to lose his grip with one hand. It dropped a foot before saving itself. Frustrated, Skunk picked up a rock and chucked it right at his foe''s head. The stone connected with the creature''s temple, and this time it dropped lifelessly into the void.


    A yell from Bats diverted his attention, and Skunk saw several more goblins working their way across the second bridge. Bats'' intuition proved fruitful as the first goblin across triggered the bear trap with only a last-second realization before it snapped his leg clean off at the shin. To make matters worse, the following band trampled the unfortunate vanguard, mangling his remaining leg.


    Bats readied his cudgel on the far side of the fire. His tail waved back and forth eagerly. The goblins spread around the fire pit and Bats circled toward the side with the bear trap. At the last moment, the lead goblin noticed the iron teeth sticking from the dirt and leapt over them, only to be jammed into the fire by a well-timed shoulder from Bats.


    By the time Skunk arrived to help, Bats had disappeared under a pile of green limbs. The goblins stabbed and clawed and bit, and Bats bit back twice as hard, scoring a hit now and then with his cudgel.


    Skunk jumped onto a goblin with its back toward him and stabbed repeatedly near the kidneys until it stopped squirming.


    A goblin lurched at him, stepping squarely on the covered bear trap. But because of its forward momentum it nearly cleared the trap before it sprang. The iron teeth barely clipped its foot, tearing off three toes, and the goblin whimpered as it stumbled forward landing on its chin.


    "We need smaller traps!" Bats announced as he rose from a pile of green corpses. "Their limbs are too scrawny."


    The sickly sweet scent of charred goblin hung thick in the air and Skunk nearly puked.


    Bats seemed unaffected. "Eeee!" He screamed and ran along the edge of the gorge toward the plank bridge. Two more goblins attempted to cross and Bats sprinted to beat them to the end of the plank. When he got there he gave it a stiff kick, but with the added weight of the goblins, the board didn''t budge in the slightest. The head goblin threw his spear and it stuck in Bats'' side. However, the drive of it cost him his balance and the goblin teetered on the thin plank.


    Bats brought his heel down on the plank and the whole board bounced, knocking the creature prone. Its pointy nose crashed into the hard wood with a satisfying crunch. Bats stomped again and again and the vibrating board slid along the edge until a bit of rock broke and the whole thing, goblins and all, toppled into the gorge.


    Red blood covered Bats'' face, along with streaks of green from the goblins. He grabbed the spear at his side as if to pull it out.


    "No, wait!" Skunk shouted, but Bats didn''t listen. He pulled out the hooked spear and a string of his intestines came with it. Bats stared in shock for a moment then dropped to his side. His paw twitched, half-kicking in the mud.


    Skunk rolled him onto his back. Bats'' lower jaw quivered and he stared past his cousin. Rolling him revealed many other wounds, including a gash in his throat. He must have taken it by the fire. Most of his yellow fur was now matted and stained by blood.


    Skunk checked for a pulse, but knew it was pointless. He didn''t have the slightest idea how to treat any of the wounds anyway. He grabbed his knife tightly with both hands,


    then drove it deep into Bats'' temple and left it there for a minute. Put down. That''s what Skunk would prefer for himself, rather than be left to suffer. Skunk shivered at the thought of being trapped in a lifeless body, unable to plead for his own death.


    He drew his blade and wiped it clean on his own leather chaps before kicking dirt onto the fire and making his way back across one of the remaining bridges toward the others.


    *****


    At last the gate gave with a high-pitched unearthly whine, and Jeshu slammed it into the ceiling. Before the dryad could blink, Cricket dashed past him, a curved sword in each of his upper arms.


    As he ran he pulled the daggers from his hips with his smaller, lower arms and immediately cut down two goblins in the entrance chamber. Two ubo stood ready around the corner, waiting for the intruders, but misjudged the insect''s speed. The first swung his axe down, missing entirely. Cricket lodged a sword under the second axe, where it met the shaft, and ran behind the ubo, tripping him backwards as he worked his daggers under the grey cyclops'' helmet. That was Cricket''s new favorite weak spot for this type of plate mail. Armor always had chinks and openings, and daggers were the best for finding them.


    An axe flew at his head again from the first ubo. He deflected it with his free sword and shifted away from the attacker. The stalky cyclops swung again, faster than Cricket anticipated and he was forced to block it with his two daggers.


    Clearly expecting to plow through Cricket''s defense, the insectoid''s strength caught the ubo off guard, and it hesitated with its axe caught in the cross of the smaller blades. Cricket took full advantage of the opportunity, bringing the daggers down in the pits of the warrior¡¯s arms and then back up again to catch the weapon before it moved more than an inch.


    Then he circled around the creature, landing two glancing blows against the side of its head with his swords¡ªringing the helmet like a bell.


    The stunned guard lowered the axe to its waist, struggling to hold onto the shaft as blood dripped from the gaps in the armor at his armpits. He gawked about a bit, trying to locate his opponent, when Jeshu attacked from behind, bashing his helmet in with a rock.


    The dryad picked up one of the axes, tested its weight, thought better of it and dropped the weapon clanging to the floor.


    "Two paths," The rudra''s voice joined them from the entryway. He indicated left and right with his staff. "I believe it''s a loop. If we attack one way, he could escape the other. Do we risk splitting up?"


    "I think swiftness is more of an advantage right now," Cricket answered. "We plow to the right at full speed and don''t give them time to think."


    Oydd nodded. "We''ll move in quickly. Jeshu, stay here just in case."


    In the next room, Cricket found several crates, mostly empty, and framed portraits draped in oiled cloth. The dusty floor showed signs of frequent passage, including the larger, bare footprints of the ogre.


    Cricket moved quietly along the wall toward a torchlit chamber in the back when he heard the unmistakable heavy steps of the brute heading his way. Cricket took a position to the side of the doorway and readied all four weapons. The beast sniffed and spat, only feet from him but out of sight. Its bulk blocked nearly all of the torchlight.


    Oydd froze in the middle of the room and Cricket sensed the beast tense as it noticed the intruder. A moment later, the ogre bellowed and charged in after the rudra.


    Cricket swung both swords but only grazed its arm as it rushed Oydd. The first sword barely nicked its skin and the second bounced harmlessly off of its shoulder guard.


    The ogre dragged a massive mace behind him with an iron head bigger than an entire ratling. Still it moved quickly, unburdened by the weight.


    Alarmed, Cricket chased after the ogre, attempting to reach it before it flattened his companion.


    Oydd drew a line in the dust with his staff, mumbling in a deep vibrato that resonated from the walls of the small room. The ogre slowed, uncertain of what to expect from the spellcaster, and Cricket caught up from behind, hacking at its heels with both swords.


    The ogre roared and turned on Cricket just as Oydd threw a lavender powder at its face. The handful of dust splashed against the side of the ogre''s head, blinding one eye.


    The ogre retaliated with a few violent, random waves of its mace, and Oydd barely dodged, falling backwards in a heap on the ground. Cricket shifted away effortlessly then countered with a stab to the chest, hitting bone. He withdrew again, and fortunately the ogre pursued rather than finishing off the rudra.


    Cricket evaded the first few blows without much trouble, but the relentless beast pressed him tirelessly, blow after blow. Cricket barely found time for defense, which became increasingly difficult as he lost ground and tried to navigate the broken crates. He could only move back so many times before he hit a wall. Panicking, Cricket darted left, hoping to put some distance between them. The huge mace clipped his shoulder and nearly sent him sprawling. His carapace cracked audibly, and he felt it shift. Despite his best effort, Cricket dropped one of his swords. The arm felt numb.


    When Cricket looked back up at his opponent, the ogre was already in mid-throw, hurling his mace across the room at the insect.


    Cricket screeched in panic before he rolled to the side and the massive iron weapon crashed into the wall, cracking the stonework from floor to ceiling, dislodging a considerable amount of debris from above.


    "Aha!" Cricket shouted triumphantly, retrieving the ogre''s mace. However, he struggled to lift it with all three good arms. The ogre barreled toward him, and in a bleak moment, Cricket decided to abandon his efforts in favor of rearming himself with his daggers. He did so at a bit of a run, and found himself at the rudra''s side.


    His brute of an opponent easily hefted the mace again and let it rest on his pauldron.


    Cricket glowered. "I''m as strong as he is!"


    "No, you are not!" Oydd corrected, rising to his feet.


    Cricket kept his gaze on the ogre as it rounded a crate and stalked in slowly. One of its eyes swelled up so that it looked twice the size, the eyelid red, inflamed and gushing tears.


    "I would have gotten both eyes if you hadn''t distracted him," Oydd said with a bit of annoyance.


    "If I hadn''t distracted him, you would be white mush..."


    Oydd growled, tightening the grip on his staff.


    Cricket pointed with his lone sword. "...right over there on the ground."


    In a surreal moment, Skunk trotted obliviously into the room only feet from the ogre with his two tiny, rusty daggers in his paws. He squeaked, cognizant of his ill-timing, just as the ogre''s mace made contact, splattering the ratling along the wall.


    "No!" Cricket shouted then charged in with a series of stabs with his daggers, forcing the beast to abandon its weapon. His sword felt off balance without a second in his other arm, so Cricket tossed it aside in annoyance. It clattered to the floor.


    Without the mace to weigh it down, the ogre fought more deftly. But Cricket met each of its punches with the jab of a blade until the ogre grew hesitant to attack. Finally, it began breathing heavily. And Cricket sighed in relief, knowing how to end the fight. He pressed it with constant, minor attacks, forcing it to spend more energy or risk being sliced open. Meanwhile he stayed calm, staying just out of reach and striking only when he could get in and out with minimal effort.


    The ogre began to move sluggishly. It tried to circle around to retrieve its weapon but Cricket beat it there. Cricket dropped his knives and attempted to pick up the mace again. This time he grabbed it with all four arms, two at the top and two at the bottom for leverage and hefted the mace somewhat strenuously over his head.


    The ogre almost laughed at what seemed a pathetic display, until the insectoid brought the mace crashing down onto the ogre''s foot. The ogre howled. Cricket spun around, aiming a second, slower swing at its knee which produced a satisfying crack, though the blow seemed less effective than the insect had hoped. The ogre fell to its hands and trembled from shock as it stared at its bloody, crippled foot.


    "Leave its head intact!" Oydd shouted concerned.


    Seeing as the fight was over, and not in a mood to argue, Cricket obliged, making two more side swipes at the ogre''s knee and ribs. At last the brute toppled sideways, out cold, and its head made a sickening sound as it slapped against the floor.


    Cricket dropped the mace. His hands trembled as he searched the dark corners for Skunks'' body. He found the remains of his ratling comrade, most of them in a lump against the wall, then dropped to his knees, shaking.


    "You always cared about them," Oydd observed from behind. "I admire that, but I can''t say I feel the same. It''s a mission. Sometimes we lose people."


    Cricket crouched at the body silently until he heard Oydd''s retreating footsteps and the cold tap of his staff against the stone with each step.


    "Come on. Let us finish what we came to do."


    If any denizens of the keep remained, they hid. Cricket and Oydd walked unimpeded into a small throne room and found the master of the hold sitting on the ground leaning against the side of the vacant throne.


    The dhampir wore his full regalia, including emblazoned silver armor, a sash, a few medals and a scepter. In his other hand he held a fine short sword that looked more ceremonial than functional.


    Cricket recognized the dhampir. Not this one in particular, but he remembered them. And he loathed them. It was, perhaps, one of his deepest memories.


    The being almost looked regal with its smooth milky skin, as white as its fangs, and long batlike ears. And yet, somehow it seemed feral. They all did. Too hungry. Too starved, always, to be part of a civilized world. Two sets of fangs on top, Cricket observed. Designed for tearing open prey. Draped in silk robes to convey sophistication. Unconsciously, Cricket clenched his fists so tight that they creaked.


    The dhampir looked off into the distance as he spoke. "It is all lost."


    Oydd approached the defeated noble and placed the tip of his metal rod on the man''s forehead. The dhampir showed no signs of resistance.


    "Ha''nex" the rudra commanded, and the dust swirled around the noble as his skin shriveled and blackened. Finally, the dhampir let out a loud rasping breath and the room fell silent. Motes of dust settled peacefully over the corpse.


    "Leave him," Oydd ordered. "Don''t touch him. Don''t touch his belongings. There is nothing on him we can use or sell without being tied to his death."


    Cricket nodded.


    "And..." Oydd added pensively. "I need you to load the ogre onto the wagon."


    "How am I supposed to do that?" Cricket protested.


    "What do you mean?"


    "The wagon is on the other side of the gorge."


    "Oh," Oydd stroked his tentacles like a beard. "We better retrieve it together. Let''s let Jeshu know our task is finished."


    "Wait," Cricket stepped behind the throne. "Look." He pressed his hands against the brick wall.


    "At what?"


    "Look at the floor."


    Oydd peered a bit before noticing anything of interest. "I see a very faint gouge. I wouldn''t have noticed it with all the dust."


    "There are cracks all the way up to here, but I can''t see above. I think it''s a doorway. But I don''t see how to open it."


    "If it''s a doorway, it hasn''t been used in some time. Stand back," Oydd ordered. "I''m going to try to move it."


    Cricket obeyed.


    The rudra raised a hand, parallel with the wall and closed his eyes, concentrating. The veins on his bulbous head bulged and the dust rose slowly from the floor. Finally with a grunt, he opened his eyes. "It''s too heavy. But there is a pocket of air back there. Let me try to heat it."


    This time, Oydd raised his staff and drew a circle in the air. Cricket felt a rush of warmth. Oydd traced the circle a second time then raised a palm to his chest then pressed it away from himself¡ªfirmly through the air, as though he faced resistance¡ªas he exhaled.


    Oydd still held his palm facing the wall but turned to face Cricket. "Hot air expands. If this works¡ª"


    A snap interrupted the magic-user as the door burst open a few inches. Oydd raised the sleeve of his robe to protect his face from the rush of hot air. "...it will create pressure from the inside."


    Cricket waited for the wave of heat to pass then ran to the opening excitedly. He tried to swing the door wide open, but it jammed against the floor with just enough space to squeeze through. Oydd followed after and the two found themselves in a small storeroom of sorts, surprisingly free of dust.


    The room contained several small wicker chests, a veiled portrait and four more crates, three of them filled with yellow coins.


    "Gold," Oydd said. "Totally worthless here, but of some value on the surface, I believe."


    "They''re not worth anything?" Cricket attempted to lift one of the crates but set it back down immediately. "Gold is heavy."


    "But surprisingly soft. If you bite it, it should leave a mark."


    Cricket held a coin close to his eye, examining the inscription. His feelers lightly touched the metal and then he bit down suddenly, tearing a large chunk from the coin.


    "That''s... quite the bite you''ve got there," Oydd said, visibly stunned.


    Cricket spit the chunk out of his mouth then tossed the rest of the coin back on the pile and examined the last crate. At the bottom he found several long cotton garment bags. He opened the first and found an exquisite silk robe with intricate golden embroidery.


    Oydd approached the portrait and tore the cloth covering aside. The painting depicted a dhampir noble, mostly in shades of grey other than a bright crimson sash. "Ahrose, the Baroness," the rudra read the inscription. "I can''t even tell the females apart from the males. Not by the face alone. They''re so dour."


    "From what I know, that''s how I would picture female rudra," Cricket snipped.


    Oydd regarded him dolefully. "No, they have an elegance and social refinement. The dhampiri can only imitate such graces." He threw the cloth back over the portrait then proceeded to the middle of the room. Let''s see if anything here is magical in nature."


    Oydd hummed then lifted his staff. The metal vibrated and the rudra clicked the end once against the ground. The stone hummed as well. Oydd lifted the staff and struck a second time. Now the room vibrated noticeably, but the din settled and everything began to vibrate in unison with a single, crisp, clear note. As it faded, a couple objects in the room emitted a faint glow.


    First, Oydd noticed a small glass orb that had escaped his attention before, a crystal so unclouded it blended in atop a pile of gold. Now it glowed with an almost imperceptible silver light. As Oydd reached for it, the tips of his fingers vanished. He hesitated, but grabbed the orb and his entire hand disappeared. The rudra laughed and handed the relic to Cricket. As soon as he let go, his fingers reappeared and the insect''s vanished. "It''s nothing more than a trick. A spell, to be sure, but what use is it?"


    "Why didn''t the gold disappear," Cricket asked.


    "I don''t know," Oydd said, curiously.


    Cricket held the orb against the wall and the stones vanished, but only a few inches deep. In several spots, Cricket could see the soil peeping through from behind the wall. He even located the whitened corpse of a centipede.


    "Can I see your brain?"


    "No, you may not," Oydd answered sourly. He extended his hand and Cricket returned the bauble. Oydd spoke a soft word and his hand rematerialized around the glass. "Don''t worry, it''s temporary," he explained, stuffing the orb in the pouch at his waist.


    Cricket opened one of the wicker chests with a dim glow, then squealed in delight. "Throwing stars!" He held up three twisted rings of blades and spread them in his fingers for the rudra to see.


    "Shurikens... careful. Hand those to me."


    Cricket instinctively pulled the weapons away from his companion.


    "For a moment," Oydd added. "I''ll give them back."


    Cricket relented, handing one over, and the rudra scrutinized the object. "They have some sort of impact magic. Meaning, an enchantment that will release if they strike an object at high speed."


    "And then what will happen?"


    "I have no idea," Oydd admitted. "Depends on the enchantment. It''s not my specialty. But certainly something unfortunate."


    Cricket smiled. He tried to spin one around in his fingers, but dropped one of the other two while he was distracted. He caught it with one of his lower hands inches from the ground.


    Oydd glared and reprimanded, "If you don''t have a place to store those, you should let me hold onto them for the time being."


    Chagrined, Cricket''s smile disappeared, and he handed the shurikens over for safekeeping. "But I want them back."


    Oydd nodded. "They''ll need to be registered, but Damien has placed me in charge of requisitions, so I can pull some strings in your favor." Oydd took one more look around the room. "Let''s return. We have a lot to do."


    The two found Jeshu where they left him, albeit with two more goblins in a heap at his feet. The dryad showed some concern for the wound on Cricket''s shoulder and even offered to heal it, but Cricket took a pass, preferring to hit the road rather than spend his time being treated.


    The group traveled back to the campfire and surveyed the aftermath of the battle. Jeshu came upon Bats'' remains first and hoisted the body onto his shoulders. Cricket retrieved the two bear traps and then the group backtracked along the gorge until they found a bridge capable of supporting the wagon''s weight. Together they trudged back to the keep in silence and low spirits, having made the trip for the third time.


    Cricket dropped the cart in front of the broken portcullis then waited for the clamor inside the keep to calm down as the remaining goblins scattered and returned to their hiding places.


    "Why do you want the ogre anyway?" Cricket asked.


    "Damien is teaching me the art of preparing corpses for reanimation. An ogre of this size is considerably valuable."


    "Are you powerful enough to bring it back?" Jeshu questioned.


    "No, but I can prepare the body now. I''ll preserve it using herbs, chemicals, and magic. I may need to mend the bones if any are broken."


    Jeshu nodded sagely. "I assumed it was no easy task. I have seen a lot of undead down here, but nothing of this size. It must take considerable talent."


    "Search the bodies. I would like two goblins in relatively good condition as well. No missing limbs, few broken bones, and the cranium intact."


    Despite the orders, Cricket collected Skunk''s drying remains first, and placed them thoughtfully in the wagon. Jeshu and Cricket worked together to lift the ogre, then retrieved his mace, and then finally examined the dead goblins until they found two meeting Oydd''s specifications.


    Cricket pulled the cart on the return trip, but soon grew tired from the increased load and Jeshu took over. Surprisingly, the dryad never tired. He moved slower than the insectoid, but lumbered along the rocky roads at a steady pace. Eventually, Oydd hopped aboard the wagon. And seeing as it didn''t seem to slow the dryad by any noticeable amount, Cricket joined him. He only fought briefly to stay awake.

 The Surface

    4


    The Surface


    Oydd made another incision, pulling back a layer of green skin, revealing the goblin''s shin bone.


    "Is there something you need?" The rudra said curtly.


    Cricket watched Oydd work from the other side of the table. "What are you doing?"


    "An experiment." Oydd poured an acrid, blue fluid into the opening and poked around with a hooked instrument. He sighed at the results then left the fluid bubbling in the cut as he moved to the creature''s head. There he measured a few centimeters from the ear and made an incision where the muscle met the skull. This time he poured a much smaller amount of liquid into the cut and simply tapped the bone with his instrument listening to the sound.


    "What''s the experiment?" Cricket asked, undeterred.


    "I want to fortify the skeleton with scraps of copper. I''m trying to increase the durability of its body. I am, however, finding few places where I can do so without compromising muscle. It went better in my head."


    "Won''t the metal rust?"


    "No. Copper doesn''t rust." Oydd kept his eyes on the cadaver as he spoke. "But I only need to find a few structural points that can support copper rivets and plates, then I can attach iron armor to those. I only have scraps to work with, so I need to be resourceful."


    "Why do you get a workshop?" Cricket asked absently as he picked up an empty beaker. When he placed it back, it nearly rolled off the edge and he caught it with one of his lower arms.


    Oydd spun on the insectoid with a withering glare. "Do you need something?"  Cricket''s antennae drooped as he sheepishly returned the vial to the shelf.


    Oydd sighed. He placed the hooked instrument on the metal table with a clack and gave Cricket his full attention. "I have access to the laboratory because I''m valuable. The same reason you have access to the armory. Now if there''s nothing you need, I would prefer to focus on my work."


    Cricket deliberated, still looking a bit crestfallen, before he spoke.


    "I don''t know who I am."


    "You still don''t have your memory back?"


    "No, I do. I mean, I think I do."


    He stared at Oydd intently until a look of understanding dawned on the rudra''s face.


    "Oh," Oydd said somberly. "You never knew."


    Cricket nodded.


    "I''m sorry. I have very few memories of my own childhood. Mostly feelings and glimpses of places. But not home. I don''t remember my kin. The dhampiri burned our libraries, which represented most of our culture and written history. The few of us that remain are usually isolated from each other. They really only let the ratlings congregate because they have too much infighting to muster a rebellion."


    The rudra turned back to his work. "You''ll likely be paired with the dryad again soon. Do let him know what will happen if he attempts to flee back to the surface."


    Cricket left the cold, quiet morgue and returned to the bustling commons. He found Jeshu and a very small ratling sitting on the ground away from the others. Her unkempt fur was a very light grey with some lighter and darker patches. A deep bruise marred the delicate features of her face and some previous misfortune had claimed the very tip of her tail.


    Cricket plopped on the ground next to them.


    The dryad reached for the insect¡¯s shoulder. "Let me treat your wound."


    Cricket tensed, then slowly relaxed. "Okay," he relented. "What''s your method? Herbs... a poultice?"


    "I am a druid of Elkennah, the goddess of the forest. I can provide true healing."


    ¡°You¡¯re a druid dryad? That sounds dumb.¡±


    Jeshu laughed and scratched his head. ¡°Well, they don¡¯t sound so similar in my language.¡±


    Cricket removed the leather strap from his shoulder and positioned himself for the dryad to inspect his wound. "What''s a forest?"


    "Hmm..." the dryad thought. "Many trees. But I haven''t seen any trees down here. The closest thing is probably those larger mushroom stalks. But brown and green." Jeshu placed both hands on the insect''s shoulder and closed his eyes.


    "I know what trees are... though I haven''t actually seen one."


    "Oh," the Jeshu replied. "Well, picture so many that you can''t see through them, with a variety of animals living there."


    "So it''s a dangerous place?"


    Jeshu shook his head.


    "You know, healing is rare down here. The gods we worship are more interested in destruction," Cricket stated matter-of-factly. "No matter how devoted the follower, their deities always drag them down in the end."


    "I wouldn''t say I worship Elkennah. The druids simply share her values. You would be surprised at the allies you can make if you have a common goal. There, now how does that feel?"


    "It''s done?" Cricket rolled his arm in a circle. "Nearly good as new. I couldn''t lift it above my head a minute ago."


    Jeshu frowned. "I couldn''t mend the shell. The material is too foreign to me. Will it heal on its own?"


    "No." Cricket said indifferently. "Once it cracks there''s no fixing it. I have a permanent hole in the back of my head where the Left Hand reads my mind."


    "The Left Hand?"


    "That floating tentacled thing. You must have seen him around. Anyway, I''ve got other damage." Cricket indicated a fracture on the exoskeleton near his shin, and proudly displayed a deep scuff mark on his elbow.


    "Perhaps," the dryad suggested, "we should get you some armor."


    Cricket shifted uncomfortably and changed the subject. "Who''s the newcomer?"


    "She worked in the scullery in the women''s quarters. But ratlings tend to abuse the runts of the litter and they seldom survive, so Damien offered to take her in. They call her a mouseling. I believe it''s meant to be an insult."


    "That doesn''t sound like Damien. He doesn''t care if ratlings live or die. Wait, how do you know about ratlings? Do they have them on the surface?"


    "I imagine they have them everywhere," Jeshu said. "Arachane too."


    "What''s an arachane?"


    "Damien..." Jeshu replied, with a confused look on his face¡ªuncertain if the insect were joking.


    Cricket addressed the ratling. "Mouseling... Is that offensive?"


    The tiny mouse of a ratling shook her head.


    "But do you have a name?"


    She shook her head once again.


    "Okay, how about... no that''s not quite right." Cricket held both right hands to his face and scratched his chin. "Let''s call you Patches. Do you like that?"


    The mouseling nodded shyly.


    "Can you speak, little one?" Jeshu prompted, but she only nodded again in affirmation.


    "Oydd!" Damien charged out of his office with a flurry of legs clicking against the stone walkway. "Where is that damned rudra?"


    "He''s in his lab," Cricket said.


    "He''s in my lab," the arachane corrected and vanished down the corridor without a glance at Cricket.


    Patches trembled at the sight of the half-humanoid monstrosity. And Cricket patted her on the head.


    Moments later Damien''s muffled yells could be heard across the commons followed by a silence, where the rudra likely responded, and then more muffled yells.


    "Don''t worry," Cricket reassured the mouseling, "I''ll protect you."


    Damien stormed back into his office and the rudra surfaced presently from the laboratory. Seeing Cricket he approached. The tentacles on his face were slightly whiter than normal and a bit curled. A sign, Cricket had learned, that the rudra was somewhat stressed, though it might not have appeared so to others.


    "Cricket, I have a task for you. Have you slept?"


    "I got a few hours."


    "Good. This is a mission of haste. I''m sending you and Scorpion. You''re the fastest trackers we have."


    "Someone ran?" Jeshu asked.


    "Earlier this morning. Did you know Griffith?" Oydd still addressed Cricket. "The gnome."


    Cricket nodded.


    "He''s an amateur magic-user¡ªspecialized in illusions. Signs indicate he''s headed for the Northwest Ascension."


    "The surface?" Cricket asked.


    Patches'' ears perked up.


    "Where else?" The rudra said dryly. "Do you need a mount?"


    "I''m faster without in those tunnels. There are quite a few switchbacks and even some very narrow passages."


    "Go now. You''ll report back directly to me."


    Cricket rose with a melodramatic sigh, and headed off to look for Scorpion.


    "Faster," Oydd critiqued, but Cricket merely waved him off with one of his lower arms.


    Patches stood too, uncertain whether to follow, then skipped lightly after her protector, nearly running into his heels.


    Cricket found Scorpion at his bunk. The ratling balanced the tip of a dagger on his index finger with his arm fully extended above his chest. His tail gripped a second knife that absently scratched against the wall of his cubby. Several deep gouges in the stone indicated this was an everyday habit.


    "You''re going to lose your other eye."


    "I''m not missing an eye," Scorpion responded with a slight tone of annoyance. "I told you. They''re just different colors. It''s called heterochromia."


    "I can tell a glass eye when I see one. Bird has a glass eye too."


    "He actually lost an eye. I was there." Scorpion sat up, still balancing the knife on his finger tip. "We tried to match the color."


    "We have a mission. Have you slept?"


    "What''s the mission?"


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "A runaway. The surface gnome."


    Scorpion growled. "He didn''t fit in much anyway." Still he hopped down from his bunk.


    "It''s just you and me. Do you need any preparations?"


    "Just a piss." Scorpion disappeared around the corner and a second later Cricket heard and smelled the spray of bitter urine against the rock wall. Scorpion returned a minute later and wiped his whiskers with his paw. "Let''s go."


    Scorpion left the warrens at a run and Cricket kept several yards behind. The two often ran tracking missions together because they could maintain a brisk pace for hours, providing the insect didn''t push himself too much. Scorpion ran ahead because he was a bit faster and much stealthier. With a sword against his throat, Cricket might also call him the better tracker. At the first sign of trouble or their quarry, Scorpion would slow to let the insectoid catch up and the two were absolutely relentless and synchronous with their blades¡ªseven between the two, counting the dagger that Scorpion held with his tail.


    As he dashed along the tunnels leading to the surface, Scorpion kept his hands free. Running on all fours, he kept a better pace, leaping over cracks and scampering up ledges. Still, he never seemed to stow the dagger gripped by his tail. It swayed left and right and up and down, somehow managing to never clang against the rocks.


    Cricket followed with all four blades out. Swords in his upper hands and daggers in the lower. He preferred to be combat-ready at a moment''s notice.


    The two ran for nearly an hour before the ratling stopped at a crossroads. A trail of tiny boot prints led down the right passage, but Scorpion seemed more interested in the left. When Cricket caught up the ratling sniffed the air and nodded to himself.


    "We''re dealing with a trickster." He smiled. "The gnome went this way."


    Cricket eyed the trail of footprints apprehensively, not untrusting of the ratling''s judgment, but troubled none-the-less.


    As the trail rose, it narrowed and branched several more times. Scorpion slowed his pace. At each intersection he paused to sniff for the gnome''s scent rather than looking down for tracks.


    Finally he stopped at a fork in the road and laughed. He turned to the insect with a look of amusement. "Do you smell that?" the ratling asked. "It''s rose petals. A surface flower. Since there are no roses down here, I suspect it''s a simple spell." The ratling nodded then repeated, "Rose petals to the left and footprints to the right. He''s messing with us. I like this gnome."


    "He knows you''ve been relying on his scent. That means we''re closing in on him."


    "I agree." The ratling smelled each passageway a second time then gave Cricket a perplexed look.


    "We should head right," Cricket suggested. ¡°It¡¯s less likely he bothered to make a fake smell and set up fake footprints.¡±


    "I like that reasoning." Scorpion fell back on all fours and darted down the passageway.


    The tunnel continued without bend or break for miles. At one point the ratling sniffed the air again as he ran and seemed encouraged by the results, quickening his pace.


    After traveling for nearly half a day, the solid stone gave way to broken bedrock and mud and a melancholy blackness. Cricket saw fairly well in the dark, but usually relied on the bioluminescent algae and mushrooms that lit the massive cavern he called home. His eyes adjusted but he still felt trepidation about engaging in battle in the dim. Especially against a magic-user who had already proven resourceful.


    The path eventually split into three main tunnels and Scorpion inspected each path multiple times before reporting. "Three sets of footprints and they all smell like rose petals." The ratling clearly found it less amusing this time.


    "He''s getting desperate," Cricket concluded. "At least two fake sets of footprints and... however he''s creating that scent, he''s obviously spent a lot of time here."


    "What do you recommend? We could split up. It''s more dangerous but one of us is likely to catch him."


    Cricket pondered silently for a long time. "Listen to me..." He said reluctantly. "We did our best and he got away."


    "What?" Scorpion spat. "You coward!"


    "No, it''s not like that."


    "What¡¯s it like?" Scorpion drew his two other daggers and flipped them backwards in his grip.


    Cricket held up his hands in a gesture to defuse the rat. "I used to kill to survive. But it''s been a long time since I''ve had to turn my weapons on a fellow slave. I know Griffith, and I hope he makes it home."


    Scorpion hissed and rushed his companion. Cricket made no effort to defend himself but let the ratling press him back against the wall. Scorpion held two dagger tips to the insectoid''s ''ribs'', the sheets of black exoskeleton that protected his lungs. Meanwhile, his tail insidiously wrapped around Cricket''s neck with his third blade.


    "If you were anyone else. You would already be dead."


    The two stared at each other for a long moment before the menacing look left the ratling''s eyes. "I''ve never let a target escape before. What would you have me do? If the Left Hand reads my mind he''ll kill both of us."


    "We report directly to Oydd for this mission. Either way, I¡­ don¡¯t want to hurt my comrades any more. Even if you¡­"


    "I''m not going to kill you..." Scorpion loosened the hold he had on Cricket''s throat but his voice still shook when he spoke. "But you had no right to drag me into this. Your callous decision puts my life at risk. You''re putting this gnome above my life. Do you get that?"


    Cricket opened his mouth to speak but instead let the ratling''s words sink in. Finally, he said, "I''m sorry."


    Scorpion took a step back from the insectoid and sheathed his daggers. "I''ve never let a target go," he repeated. "I wish I was with Oydd on this mission. I would slit that octopus'' throat without a second thought."


    "Then you''d only have a one in three chance of picking the right passage."


    "But I''d report on the mission with confidence. Loyalty is the only currency worth shit to a slave."


    "You don''t see yourself as a mercenary?"


    "Don''t give me that." Scorpion spat on the ground. "We''re slaves just like you. And you know it. I''m not a fool. And until now¡ª"


    A rock slipping on the path behind the two diverted the ratling''s attention. He sat up on his hind legs, sniffed then ran back the way they had come.


    Momentarily speechless, Cricket only watched as Scorpion''s tail disappeared over a rise and then a soft, but high-pitched squeal resounded from the mud walls.


    Scorpion returned with Patches between his thumb and forefinger, at a gait a bit too long for the mouseling to keep up without losing her footing and occasionally being dragged along the rocks. She squeaked as she tried to keep her tiny feet beneath her.


    "Oh, what are you doing here?" Cricket gave the runt a sympathetic look. "It''s dangerous out here."


    Patches avoided looking her protector in the eye.


    "You know her?" Scorpion confirmed.


    "Yes. She was just moved to our barracks." He turned his attention back to the mouseling. "Well, at least stay with us now that we know you''re here." Cricket stooped down and lifted the mouseling''s chin forcing her to meet his gaze. She swallowed audibly.


    "You''re not in trouble. I just don''t want you to get hurt."


    Patches nodded quickly.


    Cricket sighed again, and then stretched out all four arms as the sigh turned into a yawn.


    "I suppose we''ll need to find a place to rest for the night. We can''t make it back today. I think this spot''s as good as any?" Cricket gave Scorpion an expectant look.


    "Four points of ambush," the ratling replied.


    "And four points of escape." Cricket finished his stretch. "Besides, these tunnels are always empty. No one from the surface wants to come down and no one from below can leave. No prey means no predators."


    "I''m more concerned with the gnome."


    "The gnome who''s fleeing to the surface? You''re worried he''ll give up his one chance to escape to turn around and confront three armed, highly trained warriors?"


    "Two armed warriors and a mouse," Scorpion corrected, sardonically.


    Cricket handed the mouseling one of his knives.


    "There," he said. "Three."


    Half-listening, the larger ratling found a perch atop a rounded stalagmite with a good view of the room. "I''ll take first watch."


    *****


    Patches waited until Cricket was asleep and then snuck away from the main chamber. She knew Scorpion wouldn''t notice because other ratlings never paid her any attention. Also she could be surprisingly quiet, and her small size let her cover her movements behind modest debris.


    Once she was out of ear-shot of the others, she hit a bit of a run, half-hopping as she scampered up the last stretch of trail to the surface. She paused, in spite of herself, when she saw the first hint of sunlight. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply remembering the warmth and basking in the smells.


    As Patches left the last bit of roots and mud, emerging in a forest full of lush vegetation, she whispered to herself, "It''s not night."


    She turned around with a last glance at the tunnel, and a thought of her sleeping protector. She had expected to surface into a nightscape, perhaps in the soft, cold glow of the moons. "It''s not night," she whispered again, taking courage and then springing briskly through the brush.


    Patches stopped to gather some small twigs¡ªthe largest that would fit in her pouch. She also grabbed a handful of daisies, which she stuffed in her belt to avoid smushing them, then came upon a smooth white stone which also went in her pouch.


    The chirping birds and dew hinted at a spring morning. Had she been underground for so many months that she missed three seasons? Still, misjudging the time of day caused the greatest sense of disorientation.


    Patches felt the crisp breeze blow past her rather large ears as she pranced about, which soon brought the smell of sizzling meat on a breakfast fire.


    She climbed a small maple tree and surveyed the horizon upwind until she saw a thin plume of smoke. She dropped softly from her branch and ran on all fours toward the fire, her mouth watering.


    The mouseling knew her kind was not welcome on the surface and she had the good sense to slow, in the interest of reconnaissance, before approaching the campsite.


    Patches identified two elves, one of them female, and a dwarf sitting around the dying embers as two rabbits cooled on the spit. The dwarf laughed and waved his arms, in the midst of an exaggerated tale, and the elf man listened as he poked the fire lazily with a stick.


    The elf woman wrapped herself in a thick cloak for warmth, only her eyes visible, and sat a short distance away from the others.


    Patches stole up to the campsite from behind the dwarf''s back, he seeming the most attentive of the bunch, and located an unattended pack of provisions.


    But the mouseling froze with one paw past the lip of the pack, transfixed by the elven woman. Beneath her plain cloak, she wore bright emerald robes with a silver border, accented with matching silver bracelets. A thin shard of actual emerald dangled from her neck. The elf''s eyes were nearly just as bright a shade of green. She held a thin staff carved from a white wood, and stared off in the distance, seemingly lost in thought.


    "What do we have here?" The dwarf snatched up Patch''s paw from the provision pack. "A thief?"


    Patches froze and the dwarf lifted her into the air by her arm. She reached for the knife Cricket had handed her but the dwarf grabbed it first. "Oh, no... not gonna let you get that."


    He shook her until she felt dizzy and her shoulder ached.


    "Never try to steal from a witch, love." The dwarf indicated the elf with a jerk of his thumb. "She''ll put a hex on you!"


    "Stop," the elf woman said, standing. "She''s just a little thing. You''re being a bully."


    "I caught a thief."


    "I''m so proud of you. Look how scared she is." The elf woman walked closer.


    The dwarf lowered her to the ground and squinted, looking the mouseling in the eyes. He relaxed his grip, but kept her knife past her reach.


    "The poor thing is probably just hungry. Do you need food?" The elf knelt next to the pack and loosed the main latch. She reached inside and produced a small speckled apple.


    Patches licked her lips, then, registering the question, nodded and reached for the fruit with her free arm.


    "Aw, really, Anuin? You can''t reward that kind of behavior. You''re just reinforcing it."


    "I''m being kind," Anuin replied.


    "And it will be the death of her. Now she knows stealing is okay. She''ll lose her hand, she comes up on someone less understanding than me."


    "It''s fine," the elf man joined. "We have plenty of food."


    "No we don''t," the dwarf argued.


    "We have enough to share," the elf man said firmly.


    The dwarf relaxed his hold and Patches feverishly bit into the apple.


    "Aw, whatever..." The dwarf tossed the knife at the mouseling''s feet and returned to the embers of the fire where he began to work the dripping meat from the skewer.


    Patches collected her knife and gave one last, long look at the elf woman¡ªthe one they had called a witch. Then she darted back into the woods with her knife in one hand and an apple in the other.


    She finished the treat by the entrance to the underground tunnels, deciding it wasn''t her place to introduce an apple core to the underworld. Then she licked her paws clean and scurried back to her friends.


    *****


    Scorpion gave Cricket a rough nudge with his foot.


    Cricket jolted awake, "What!"


    "You were chirping again."


    "If you wake me up every time I start chirping, I won''t be ready for my watch."


    "Every living creature within a mile can hear you. Besides, it''s time for your watch anyway."


    Cricket yawned. "Oh, no, that... that can''t be. Are you serious?"


    "Yes, I''m serious. How are you so groggy? You look like a yak sat on your face."


    Cricket brushed an arm against his antennae and then against his feelers. "Where''s Patches?"


    "Huh? I don''t know," Scorpion answered absently.


    "How could you not know? You only had to keep an eye on the two of us."


    "No, I only had to keep an eye on you. She came on her own. Not my problem."


    Cricket jumped to his feet, but stumbled sideways and paused to get his balance.


    He looked down one of the tunnels. "Mouseling..." he whispered.


    "You''ve been shouting. Why whisper now?"


    "Because she''s little."


    "That makes no sense," the ratling shook his head as he circled and found a comfortable position to sleep. He closed his eyes.


    Cricket growled under his breath and began searching the side passages. "I promised to protect her," he said more to himself, as the ratling dozed off.


    As Cricket returned to the main passage he noticed the flick of a silhouette bounding silently down the middle tunnel.


    He waited until she was a little closer before asking "Where were you?"


    "Um..." the mouseling replied¡ªthe first time Cricket had heard her voice. "At a witch."


    Patches immediately curled up at his feet, and Cricket patted her head as she yawned and smacked her tongue. He thought he heard a faint purr.


    The insect watched her breathing until he guessed she was asleep before he pulled his foot out from under her, then paced the room watching over her sleep.

 The Catacombs

    5


    The Catacombs


    Cricket swung the ogre''s mace with all of his strength. The heavy iron head crashed into a thick trunk of mushroomwood, about two feet around, that had been covered in tar and burlap, and then more tar. Cricket felt the wood crunch. He wiped the sweat from his brow before lifting the weapon again with all four arms.


    "This is getting a little easier." He panted between the words.


    Jeshu tested the swing of a hammer against his own training dummy. Of all the weapons he had tried so far, he wielded this one with the most ease. Or the least clumsiness, anyway.


    Cricket stopped his own practice to watch the druid. While Cricket was somewhat stronger, the insect admired how long his companion could handle the weight of a hammer without tiring. Swinging over and over and over.


    The tough tar gave a substantial rebound to any hit it took, which tired Cricket''s muscles more quickly. Especially his lower arms, which weren''t as bulky. His shoulders ached and the insect wished he could massage himself beneath the exoskeleton. Actually though, it didn''t look any easier to massage Jeshu''s knotted, barklike skin. Oydd had it easy.


    Jeshu noticed Cricket watching him and took a break. "I''m surprised how strong this wood is. It looks so brittle."


    "Is the wood on the surface more brittle?"


    "No," Jeshu thought, "but the mushrooms are. Do you actually plan on using that huge thing in battle?"


    "This?" Cricket let the mace fall and the massive head sank slowly in the mud. "No. But it gives a great workout. I can lift about triple my weight, and I''m hoping to get up to qua... er, four times."


    "That would be impressive if you weighed more," Jeshu grinned then sighed. "I''ve had something on my mind."


    "Oh?"


    "That tentacled... horror I''ve seen around. What did you call it?"


    "Oydd Zephyrendum."


    The dryad smiled slowly. "No, the... other tentacled thing."


    Cricket laughed. "The Left Hand."


    "That''s a weird name. Why do they call him that?"


    "Um... I hadn''t thought about it. He works directly for the king dhampir. I think we aren''t supposed to know his real name."


    "The king? Like the ruler of all of these cities?"


    "Well, no," Cricket answered. "There are a lot of kings. There are seven sects of dhampiri that all claim to be heirs to the throne."


    "Sects?"


    "That''s not what they call them. But, yeah."


    "What do they call themselves?" Jeshu asked.


    "All sorts of things. Things like the purebloods or the truebloods. Some of them have formed churches with outrageous names, like the Holy order of Truth or the True Path of the Purebloods. I''m mostly pulling those out of thin air, but that''s the gist. I bet Oydd would remember more."


    "That''s fine. It''s more than I knew. And all these factions are vying for the throne?"


    "More or less..." Cricket picked up the mace again and gave it one more swing against the post with a grunt. "Most of us just call them by numbers. The Warrens are in the third sect. Just don''t call them sects around the dhampiri. Hhmph!" he swung again. "But we don''t see the dhampiri often anyway."


    "You speak of the dhampiri like they''re a race."


    "They are," Cricket said, then grunted again.


    "On the surface," Jeshu struck his dummy, and unlike the insect, it had no effect on his speech, "dhampir means something different."


    "What does it..." Cricket trailed off, adjusting his stance.


    "Half vampire."


    "What? No. That doesn''t make sense."


    "How do you figure?"


    "We have vampires down here, and they come from the dhampiri. Anyone that isn''t killed by their venom really."


    "There are... vampire insectoids?" Jeshu asked, curious.


    "Nope. We die. But elves don''t. If an elf gets bitten by a dhampir, they just... change."


    "I know what a vampire is."


    "Then why''d you ask?"


    "I''m sorry, it seems like a misunderstanding. I know a lot about vampires, but almost nothing about what you call dhampiri."


    "Doesn''t seem like you know too much about vampires..." Cricket said critically.


    Jeshu dropped the subject and returned to his practice, but Cricket interrupted with one last thought. "You handle that hammer well enough with one hand, we should get you a shield."


    The two practiced for another hour. When Cricket grew too tired to lift the mace, he switched to bare hands and daggers, punching and slashing the tar. He no longer tried for force, but fluidity, drawing a blade or two quickly across the practice dummy between punches or testing combos with his free hands. The dryad still struck at full force with his hammer.


    Just as Cricket was about to break for lunch, Oydd approached with Patches, the mouseling, riding on his shoulder. He waved curtly and sat on the stone floor near the edge of the training grounds.


    Patches hopped from his shoulder and ran to Cricket''s dummy. He paused his routine as she flitted past and scurried to perch atop the post. Then Cricket resumed, with a little less force to avoid jostling the mouseling.


    He looked up at her while he practiced. "What were you two up to?"


    Patches froze when he looked at her and Cricket redirected his question to the rudra. "Oydd?"


    He answered absent-mindedly, more interested in the book sitting in his lap. "She was assisting me in the lab."


    "With what?"


    "Her hands are much smaller than mine, and she is able to do more intricate and delicate work on the cadavers."


    "Nice," Cricket nodded at Patches. The mouseling blushed and withdrew her head from his line of sight.


    "Oh, Oydd, I had a thought for you."


    "Yes?"


    "A combat suggestion."


    Oydd looked up from his book and raised one hairless brow. "Do tell."


    "Well, I was thinking. I use four weapons, and I think I could beat Scorpion..."


    "Should we run that theory by him?"


    "Hold on," Cricket appealed. "Hear me out. I can take Scorpion, and Scorpion could have easily taken Skunk, who used two knives."


    "So how many Agenas could you take?"


    ¡°The lizardman?¡± Cricket scratched his head. "I guess four..."


    Oydd laughed.


    "Why, how many do you think I could take?"


    "None," Oydd said condescendingly. "I think he would win. But I see where you''re going. The more weapons the better.  So you mean to imply I am not fully utilizing my hands?" Oydd closed his book.


    "Well, yeah..."


    "And you suggest what? Should I use two staves?"


    "No, I mean..."


    "Because that would be an absurd suggestion."


    Cricket bit his tongue, evidently about to suggest exactly that.


    "And," the rudra pressed, "what of the dryad? He uses one weapon. Does that mean Skunk could easily best him. Jeshu is nearly twice his height."


    Cricket paused to consider this point.


    After a moment, Oydd continued. "One problem with your logic is that I require a free hand to perform some of my spells. And even when I do not, I cannot spare the extra toll a knife would take on my concentration. Your mind is finely tuned to control four appendages at once. Mine is not."


    "Got it," Cricket grumbled.


    Oydd stood to leave. "Besides, I am learning to control death with my words. Soon my tongue alone will cause a tumult on the battlefield."


    "I can already do that."


    Oydd paused and half-turned back toward the insect. "Pardon?"


    "I can already do that," Cricket repeated.


    "Hmph... well, I should love to see it."


    "Okay," Cricket sheathed his knives and took a deep breath.


    "Wait¡ª" Oydd began, but it was already too late. The insectoid let out a shrill otherworldly screech.


    Patches and Jeshu covered their ears, but Oydd froze with his mouth locked open. His tentacles convulsed and his legs gave out from under him. The rudra crumpled into a pile in the mud. His arm twitched and his eyelids fluttered as he tried to close his jaw.


    Patches was the first to his side but simply watched helplessly. Cricket stared dumbly, a bit embarrassed, unsure what had taken place as the druid went to Oydd''s assistance.


    Jeshu placed a gnarled hand on the rudra''s forehead and released a controlled breath, as if meditating.


    Slowly, Oydd''s eyes closed and his convulsing arm dropped to rest in the mud. The fingers still twitched slightly.


    Cricket walked over to his side, eyes wide, and stammered an incoherent apology, but the rudra had already fainted.


    *****


    "Cricket! Get your roach ass in here!"


    Cricket stepped nervously into Damien''s office.


    "What the hell were you thinking?" Damien charged the insect, his six eyes glaring down. Occasionally the arachane¡¯s eyes would twitch away at some motion at his periphery only to refocus on the fidgeting insectoid.


    "I didn''t¡ª"


    "Do you have any idea how valuable that rudra is to our operation?" Damien''s voice only grew louder as he yelled. The spider withdrew suddenly from the insect, his five good legs clacking against the floor as he positioned himself behind his desk and ruffled through a drawer.


    Cricket knew better than to answer.


    "More valuable than you!" Damien threw an inkwell across the chamber. The glass shattered against the wall, spraying a sickly greenish black ink over the stone. Hundreds of tiny shards of glass scattered on the floor. A few slid slowly down the wall.


    "And now we''re not only a man short for missions, but I will be short two sets of hands in the lab. That little rat you''re so fond of is just in the way without Oydd''s constant supervision." Damien spread a parchment on the desk with an arm and one of his more capable legs, then brought the document over to the inkspill. He stuck a quill into the blackish goo then scribbled something on the page.


    Cricket swallowed audibly in the silence, and stammered, "The dryad says he''ll be fine. He just needs to rest."


    In an instant, Damien was in his face again. "But I need him now. And that walking plant can''t stay in the infirmary because I need him with you. Remember?" Damien stuck a pointy leg in Cricket''s chest, like a bony finger accentuating his point. "A man down..." he repeated, daring Cricket to contradict him again.


    He glared into the insect''s eyes for too long then scurried back behind his desk. "This means you''ll be heading the mission with a skeleton crew. I just sent nearly twenty ratlings on a weeklong assignment. That means it''s just you, the dryad, and an azaeri archer. Have you worked with Ty''lek?"


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Cricket shook his head. Still, he was familiar with the race of black, feathered lizardmen.


    "Well figure it out. Can your roach brain handle that?"


    Cricket tightened his fist at the slur, but nodded.


    "Do you have something to say?" The spider sneered.


    "No..."


    Damien waited until the insectoid loosened his fist before continuing. "Report to the stable. I''ve already made accommodations for your travel. You''ll be headed to the tin refinery... officially. Unofficially, you may get dropped off along the way." Damien glanced up from his writing. "Get out of my sight. And take that runt of a ratling with you! It''s a pest."


    Cricket left the office, where he found Jeshu waiting in earshot. He motioned wordlessly for the dryad to follow and didn''t speak until they were halfway down the hall.


    Cricket violently kicked a small stone at his feet, sending it out of sight.


    "What sort of punishment is it to be put in charge of a mission?" The question was more to himself, and when the druid failed to answer he asked, "Have you met the blacksmith?"


    "The were-panther? I''ve only seen him."


    "His name¡¯s Bird. We''re making a quick stop there before we head out."


    ¡°The panther¡¯s name is Bird?  That¡¯s confusing.¡±


    Cricket ignored the comment and Jeshu respectfully left him to his own thoughts as they made their way to the smithy.


    The sound of a hammer striking against an anvil filled the halls long before they reached the dim lit room, where it grew to an uncomfortable cacophony.


    "I should have remembered Oydd can''t stand loud noises. He always sends me here on his behalf." Cricket felt Patches tug at his leg¡ªthe first he had noticed her¡ªand patted the mouseling on the head.


    The were-panther, Bird, stopped his work when he saw the three in the entryway, and wiped his brow on the back of a furry black forearm. His arms bulged as he folded them and regarded the insect. His thick tail unconsciously swept the ash at his feet.


    "How are ye?" Bird snarled as he spoke, revealing one crooked fang.


    "Well enough," Cricket answered. "I won''t take much of your time." He began to fish around in his pouch and produced one of the enchanted shurikens.


    The were-panther grabbed the piece, studied both sides then handed it back to Cricket.


    "Can you make more of these?"


    "Throwing stars? Aye..."


    "It doesn''t have to be as fancy. Just four points and sharp edges. Doesn''t have to be the same metal."


    "Well, it''s not going to be the same metal," the panther laughed to himself with a bestial grunt. "Don''t even know what that stuff is. How many do ye need?"


    "Maybe a dozen?"


    Bird nodded then turned to work the bellows. The reflection of the embers gleamed from his glass eye.


    "And I''d like to commission a shield for my friend here." Cricket gestured at the druid.


    Bird turned to get a look with his good eye. Sweat dripped into his black mane and then down onto his leather apron.


    "He''s a big one."


    "And he can handle a thick shield. I want swords and spears to break against it."


    Bird nodded again. "Yeah, noth''n like that in the armory. Most just rat-sized bucklers. And some flimsy things."


    "Thank you," Jeshu interjected.


    "S''no problem." The panther returned to his work. "But e''m backed up. Give ma a week."


    "It''s not urgent." Cricket placed the shuriken carefully back in his pack, then he, the druid and the mouseling made their way to the stables.


    Five dhampir soldiers met the group there, mounted on horned raptors. The first wore his long black hair in a top knot, which contrasted oddly with his milk-white skin. He wore dark plate armor with ridges like a clam shell, and held a blood-red lance at the ready.


    Cricket stiffened at the sight of them, but compensated a step later and approached the group leader, bowing his head.


    The lead warrior rode his mount up to the insect and pulled its snout away by the reins. The bipedal lizard grunted in protest, sniffing out a potential meal. The air cooled visibly from its nostrils.


    With his mouth closed, the warrior''s four upper fangs still protruded and pinched his lower lip uncomfortably, drawing a thin line of his own blood. Cricket noticed the dhampir''s pinkies extended nearly a foot longer than his other fingers, a trait unusual in the warrior class that hinted at noble blood.


    "You are not to speak unless spoken to. Do you understand, slave?"


    "Yes." Cricket answered.


    "Is this your whole team?" The dhampir sneered at the mouseling, revealing a full set of teeth filed to a point. Patches hid behind the insectoid.


    "We were to meet an azaeri," Cricket answered, then risked adding, "And we have no briefing."


    The velociraptor snapped tentatively at cricket, testing its rider, only to be met by a loose reign. Cricket tensed as the cold snout pressed against his neck. A low rumble started in the beast''s throat and finally, thankfully, the dhampir yanked reproachfully on the reins.


    "The azaeri has already boarded." The soldier sneered. "Damien can''t properly manage a piss. What did he tell you?"


    "That we would make our way to the tin refinery and might not make it there."


    One of the soldiers in back laughed.


    The lead dhampir silenced him with a hand and continued, "He''s messing with you at my expense. I won''t hold that against you. We are on detail at Azandes'' cathedral. We will travel openly to the refinery and then covertly backtrack to the diocese through the catacombs beneath Al Tsirith. That''s where you will patrol. Your orders once you disembark are to kill anything that moves, other than your own team and mine. Nod if you understand, slave."


    Cricket nodded. The riders fell in line and passed the stables where insectoid attendants¡ªbrown-shelled and a head smaller than cricket¡ªhad prepared a giant cave lizard for travel. A large mat of woven reeds covered its back, supported in several spots by metal pickets that gouged into the beast''s large flat scales. Thick cords ran between the pickets serving as a short rail to prevent passengers from falling off. Sure enough, an azaeri sat atop the mat accompanied by an exceptionally old goblin matron, and an even older lizardman, greyed and beginning to fray at the scales.


    Seeing as the dhampiri had left the group to themselves, Cricket approached the cave lizard and climbed atop to join the others. Jeshu had the most trouble mounting, having feet too large for the rope ladder, and the insectoid attendants were forced to wrestle the ropes while the giant lizard bellowed in protest.


    Once everyone was uncomfortably seated atop, the lead dhampir spurred on his mount. The other raptors followed eagerly, but the cave lizard hardly budged. The attendants goaded him with sharp sticks, which only irritated the beast, and it moped about in circles until one of the insects tossed a full goat in its mouth. At last, the lizard happily stomped along after the dhampiri riders.


    Jeshu had, by far, the most trouble staying on the mat. The cords were not designed to hold his weight. He crawled to the center on all fours, where he attempted to keep his balance without holding onto the ropes¡ªa task made more difficult by the hammer banging at his side. Eventually he settled into a cross-legged position¡ªwith the hammer on his lap¡ªthat only required slight adjustments every time the lizard took a step.


    Cricket hid a smile as the dryad became visibly flustered. Eventually, the dryad broached a conversation to distract himself.


    "You''re an azaeri?"


    The azaeri nodded quickly, mechanically. He was slighter than the other lizardmen, barely resembling his cousins, with black scales, blacker feathers, a fanned tail and a long grey beak. He had a yew bow, a prize from the surface, slung over his shoulder and a quiver of arrows fletched with his own feathers.


    Cricket introduced himself and the mouseling. "And this is Jesh."


    "I prefer Jeshu," the dryad corrected.


    "I told you. That''s too long." Cricket shook his head.


    "Dyesh" the azaeri hissed, flicking a yellow tongue against its top beak.


    "Jeshu," the dryad repeated.


    The azaeri attempted the word again. "Dyes... yu."


    "They understand the common tongue," Cricket explained. "They just can''t speak it well. But don''t let that fool you. They''re wicked smart!"


    The azaeri''s eyes narrowed at the compliment. "Ty''lek."


    Jeshu looked over at Cricket.


    "Don''t ask me." Cricket turned to the ancient lizardman. "Do you understand, old one?"


    "Ty''lek." The old lizardman repeated, pointing at the archer.


    "Oh, it''s his name." Cricket concluded. "Damien mentioned it earlier."


    The archer nodded thoughtfully. "Ty''lek."


    "Have you been briefed?" Cricket asked.


    "Es," the azaeri nodded again.


    Cricket started to absently fiddle with a dagger, but caught himself, not wanting to drop it from the mount and anger the dhampiri.


    "I''ve noticed the other insects around here are different from you," Jeshu interrupted his thoughts.


    "What do you mean?"


    "They''re smaller." Jeshu paused. "And their shells are lighter. Tan with brown bands. I haven''t seen any other black insects."


    Cricket hung his head and sighed. "I haven''t either." He avoided the druid''s gaze and instead studied the goblin woman across from him. She sat with both legs straight out in front of her, chewing on a dried newt on a stick with her toothless gums. She stared Cricket in the eyes as she did so, oblivious to civility.


    After a couple hours of riding, she had barely finished half of the newt and made a bit more progress on the stick itself. But still she never looked away.


    The group passed nearby the ecclesiastical district of Al Tsirith, then worked their way uphill to the refinery. Once there, everyone but the goblin matriarch and her lizardman companion disembarked. Two ubo attendants at the refinery stabled the cave lizard with the last two passengers atop, having a considerably easier time than the insectoids, and only investing half a goat.


    Once inside the refinery, the dhampiri waited long enough only to indicate an underground tunnel leading back toward the diocese, then disappeared inside with their raptor mounts.


    Cricket shrugged and followed. "Last call for questions. We''ll have to maintain silence as we get closer to our destination."


    "Hmm..." Jeshu spoke. "I am curious who we''re guarding."


    "Azandes is a bishop or a baron or something. Anyway, it sounds like he''s likely to be targeted tonight."


    "And this show of heading to a separate destination is to avoid discouraging the assassins?"


    Cricket stopped in his tracks and moaned. "Yeah, that makes sense. That''s how the dhampiri work. That''s just like them. Why deter an attacker when you can draw them out and kill them."


    "That doesn''t bother you?"


    "If the dhampiri kill each other, that''s no chip off my shell." Still his eye twitched and the insectoid mumbled something under his breath.


    Patches ran past him, without leaving so much as a paw print in the soft mud, and Cricket quickened his pace. When he caught up with her, he spoke loud enough for the dryad to hear as well. "Mouseling, I want you to stay in the back with Jesh. We''re not likely to be attacked from behind and Jesh can''t run very fast. Ty''lek and I will scout ahead," he gestured to the beaked lizard, "so we don''t irritate the dhampiri. They may be way ahead of us, but they''ll assign us a station when we get there. We don''t want to keep them waiting."


    With that, Cricket sprinted ahead. Surprisingly, the azaeri outpaced him. Less surprising, the mouseling kept on Cricket''s heels, ignoring his orders, and the three left the dryad far behind.


    After some time the path forked. Cricket studied the tracks of the raptors in the black mud. The entire contingent had started out on the left path and then circled back to the right at a much faster pace.


    The azaeri looked to Cricket for orders, clearly eager to head right, after the dhampiri.


    Stone shelves full of decaying scrolls and dhampiri bones lined the left passage. The bleached dhampir skulls hardly looked different without their milky white skin.


    "Left leads to the diocese," Cricket assumed. "But I don''t know these tunnels. Let''s follow the dhampiri for now."


    The azaeri smiled, evident only by the slight curl of skin at the back of his beak. He notched an arrow and ran off at a more conservative pace.


    Cricket studied the tracks. He saw signs of the mounts swerving, with no clear explanation, and then some disarray in the ranks, followed by drops of dark red blood. Still, no evident skirmish or bodies, and the insect didn''t know what to make of it.


    He rounded a bend and found the archer kneeling next to a downed mount.


    The azaeri indicated a thin metal bolt protruding from the dead raptor''s chest, presumably through the heart. The dhampir rider lay motionless several yards ahead, where his head crumpled against a stalagmite.


    "Crossbows?" Cricket asked.


    ""Es...." the archer nodded.


    "I''m surprised we didn''t see any bolts on the ground earlier. They must have slid under the mud. I lost a throwing knife that way once. Looked for hours and couldn''t find it." As he spoke he drew his swords and passed the azaeri, watching the far end of the tunnel.


    Distantly he heard the sounds of metal against metal and the distinctive shrieking warcry of the dhampiri warriors.


    "Cover me," Cricket ordered and ran close to the curve of the wall.


    The archer matched his pace but kept a respectable distance back, his bow at the ready.


    As they neared the skirmish, the sounds of battle actually quieted. Cricket relaxed the grip on his weapon and peered into the dim tunnel for some sign of the riders'' return. However, the next body he came across was that of the lead dhampir. He lay on his side with his face in the mud, his breath slow and raspy. His eyes focused on the insectoid but other than that he showed no acknowledgment of their presence.


    Cricket crouched at the warrior''s side, still eyeing the end of the tunnel, but the bend hid the battle from his view. "What happened?"


    In response the dhampir unfurled his long, slender pinky, like a bat flexing its wing. Then his eyes lost focus.


    The long drawn roar of a hunting raptor snapped Cricket to attention and almost immediately the beast rounded the corner, covered head to toe in gaping wounds. The roar ended in a dry rattle, followed by some pained clicks of its tongue. The lizard stumbled awkwardly in the mud. Its eyes glowed an eerie green.


    "Necromancer!" Cricket shouted. "It''s raising the dead!" He felt a chill down his back and the warmth drained from his arms.


    In an instant, the velociraptor''s jaws closed around the dhampir''s head, lifting him easily from the ground. The beast gave two quick jerks of its powerful neck muscles, snapping the dhampir''s spine, then dropped the corpse in the mud.


    It clawed lazily at its master''s belly staring off in a daze as Cricket backed away. He nearly stumbled over the mouseling.


    "Run, little one." Cricket nudged her away with one of his lower arms then held both swords out in front hoping to impale the raptor if it charged. If Patches left, she made no sound, and the insect didn''t look back to check.


    The beast took one half-hearted bite of the dhampir, and Cricket took the opportunity to ready his daggers and position his feet.


    Move! Cricket told himself, and forced himself to lunge, rather than wait for the raptor to lose interest in its kill. Just before he leapt, an arrow shot past his head, hitting the rock wall behind the lizard and the raptor turned toward the sound, exposing its throat to the insectoid''s first strike.


    Cricket plunged his sword through its neck and also made two quick swipes toward the beast''s belly with his daggers, which fell a little short. He leapt back, expecting a counter, but instead the raptor reared its head and attempted to roar. A muffled cackling sound escaped from the hole in its throat, rather than its maw, along with a burble of blood.


    Then the beast charged. Cricket had planned in his head how to fight a raptor. He had plans for almost every creature he had encountered. But he hadn''t factored in the beast''s imposing presence, and most of his plans vanished like wisps of smoke in the air.


    When the beast leapt, reaching with its hind legs, he circled to the side to take advantage of its forward momentum but its head swerved midair and snapped at his face. Cricket stumbled backward and lost one of his swords in the beast''s lashing teeth.


    The insect darted behind a stalagmite but the raptor circled faster. An arrow stuck in its shin, and then a second narrowly missed its thigh.


    "Aim for its head!" Cricket shouted as he slashed wildly with all three weapons in a futile attempt to keep it at bay. Whatever instincts the creature had in life, it now showed no signs of self preservation. No efforts to dodge, no hesitancy to attack.


    In a last ditch effort to take advantage of this fact, Cricket threw himself straight at the beast, skewering its lower jaw with his longer blade from beneath as his two daggers pricked harmlessly at the raptor''s scaly hide.


    The raptor reared and lifted the insect from the ground, tossing him across the tunnel as easily as a goblin flings its own dung.


    Cricket crashed into the wall, rolling and kicking off of the stone in a desperate attempt to redirect some of the blow. But it still knocked the wind from him. He dropped his daggers and tucked his head as he crashed to the floor and narrowly avoided splitting his head open on a jagged crop of rock.


    An arrow struck the raptor''s temple and the greenish light in its eyes dimmed slightly.


    Cricket tried to rise but his head stung so much from where it had hit against the wall that he stumbled sideways and fell back into the mud. He winced, then screamed at the pain in his leg. With just a quick glance he noticed a sizable gash in his thigh from the raptor''s claws, revealing a pale white substance beneath the black carapace. He couldn''t remember when it happened. Thick yellow blood dripped from the opening.


    Just before he passed out, Cricket watched in horror as the mouseling jumped onto the back of the raptor''s head waving her tiny knife.

 Sometimes Youre the Ogre

    6


    Sometimes You''re the Ogre


    The old goblin winked as she chewed on her newt and wrapped her tongue seductively around the stick. Cricket opened his eyes with a start and saw Patches sitting nearby. "Was that goblin into me?" He asked in a daze.


    His stomach growled. He had missed lunch because of that whole debacle with Oydd.


    The battle! Cricket bolted upright, still groggy from crashing into the wall. He felt a loud ringing in his antennae. Instinctively, he reached to feel if everything was still there, and sighed with relief. As he surveyed his surroundings, he licked a finger and smoothed down the little hairs on the left antenna with his hand and the ringing abated somewhat.


    The mouseling waited by his side, facing away, brandishing her knife protectively. Nearby, the zombified raptor lay motionless, two more arrows protruding from its head and a few more laying near the wall behind it.


    Ty''lek stood over the kill with a near-empty quiver. He stepped on the raptor''s head with his boot and yanked an arrow free. Then another.


    Cricket hobbled to his feet and leaned against the wall for support, accidentally placing a hand in a patch of his own sticky blood.


    Ty''lek moved to the wall and kicked aside a broken arrow, retrieving two that looked to be in good condition.


    "Where''s Jesh?" Cricket spoke a little too quietly at first. "Is he up ahead?"


    The azaeri answered by looking pointedly back down the tunnel behind them.


    "He still hasn''t caught up?" Cricket said more to himself, not looking at the archer for confirmation. The insectoid retrieved his weapons from the ground. However, one of his lower arms hung limply and he winced as he tried to move it. He stowed the dagger intended for that arm in his carapace instead. Then took a few wobbling steps forward.


    Another raptor rounded the corner in a panic, which meant it was likely still alive. But its rider teetered oddly, with a death grip on the reins and an ominous green glow in its eyes. It still held onto its lance, though the weapon dragged along the ground behind it.


    The mount seemed oblivious to its master''s fate, and fled down the tunnel toward the dryad and away from the fading din of battle.


    A skeletal figure emerged from the passageway ahead, stumbling after the raptor. It appeared to be a lizardman by its size, though most of its flesh had rotted away. Here and there a patch of dried scales peeled away from the bone, and the segments of its tail popped and crackled as it lashed through the air.


    The creature had no eyes, but empty sockets. A rotted tongue hung limply from its open mouth, impaled on one of its own jagged teeth.


    It held a spear, likewise made from bone, covered in the dark blood of a dhampir.


    It sprinted toward Cricket, terrifyingly fast, and the insect readied his sword for a last-second parry.


    It thrust with incredible strength, and despite his well-timed block, the force sent Cricket¡¯s sword out wide, ringing. The skeleton recovered more quickly, simply pulling back for another stab, when an arrow caught it square in the sternum knocking it off-balance. Just enough that Cricket managed to dodge the second stab.


    He hacked and stabbed the skeleton with his three blades, doing little damage to the lizardman''s thick bones.


    Another arrow flew past, this time much closer to Cricket''s face than his opponent.


    Cricket risked a disapproving glance back at the archer. Barely dodging another stab.


    "I can''t tell if you''re a good archer or a bad archer," he quipped in a panic.


    Cricket abandoned his weapons, latching onto the lizardman''s spear instead, hugging close to the monstrosity, where the spearhead posed little danger. Even holding on with both hands, the undead''s strength outmatched him and the creature yanked itself away preparing another thrust.


    The insectoid moved in as quickly as the lizard retreated, attempting to stay chest to chest. The lizard pulled away again, and Cricket closed the gap a third time. Now, though, the undead creature began to snap with its teeth. It let go of its spear and dug a set of claws into the insect''s side, easily crushing through the shell.


    Cricket hugged his head close to his opponent''s chest, to avoid the gnashing snout, and worked his mandibles around its neck. He bit down, and the bone crunched audibly. He focused all his strength into the bite until the neck bone shattered and the lizardman''s head rolled to the ground. An almost indiscernible darkness lifted from the tunnel and the creature¡¯s bone spear clattered against the stones. Cricket relaxed his grip and the skeleton crumpled into the mud.


    By now he noticed three more skeletons rounding the bend. Two more lizardmen, one larger than the last, and what he presumed was the remains of a gnoll, a race of hulking hyena men.


    Cricket yelled over his shoulder, "These are a lot stronger than they look. There are no vital spots. Just do as much damage as you can. I think the head is still the best target." He glanced at the mouseling. "You just avoid them. Don''t try to hide. Keep your distance at all costs."


    Cricket made three fists and exhaled sharply, preparing a strategy, when the gnoll sprang from its powerful hind legs, launching itself nearly thirty feet into the winded insect.


    The two tumbled to the ground, and Cricket scrambled with all three arms to keep its jaws away from his throat. He crossed his larger arms against its chest and even tried to pry it off with his legs.


    He had heard a gnoll''s bite was the strongest of any humanoid¡ªeven ettins. Or was he thinking of jackalmen?


    Crash! A hammer slammed into the gnoll''s head, blasting the creature aside where it splintered against the wall.


    Jeshu stepped over the insect''s prone torso and swung his hammer down at the next target with both hands, shattering another lizardman''s head and body in an explosion of bones.


    The last skeletal figure slashed with a scimitar, barely penetrating the druid''s barklike skin before the hammer swept it sideways. For a long moment it seemed the clattering of bones was the only sound in the tunnel.


    A zombified dhampir soon appeared, lumbering along the stone corridor with a long raspy breath. An arrow darted from behind, lodging itself harmlessly in the dhampir''s chest.


    Jeshu held out a hand and implored, "Elkennah, purge this blight!"


    The dhampir fell backward slowly, as if pushed by an unseen force, and the green light in its eyes faded. After the corpse landed in the mud, Cricket thought he still heard its raspy breath for a moment before an unnatural wind carried it away.


    "What was that?" Cricket whimpered incredulously.


    Jeshu dropped to one knee, seemingly weakened by the display, but quickly recomposed himself and returned to the insect''s side.


    "A supplication to Elkennah."


    "Well obviously, but I''ve never seen anything like it."


    The dryad thought for a moment. "There are many deities on the surface who despise the undead. It is not such a rampant problem up there."


    Cricket nodded dumbly. "Yeah, of course."


    The dryad''s eyes narrowed, clearly bemused. "What gifts, may I ask, do the gods here grant?"


    "Um..." Cricket stammered. "Sometimes the opposite." He ignored the dryad''s shocked expression and quickly surveyed the area to see if anyone needed assistance. Patches sat unmoved from her last spot.


    "Little one," Cricket began. "I don''t know if you''ve fought the dead before, but they will notice you. I don''t think you''re used to that. So hiding won''t help. If they sense the life in you, they will try to extinguish it. Do you understand?"


    "Oh..." The mouseling whispered.


    "Let''s hurry," Cricket added to the group, "We still haven''t seen the master. If we take him out, the rest should fall. One, two, three." He stared off into space while he counted. "Are there still two raptors? That''s not good. This time, no one moves faster than the druid. Understood?"


    Jeshu nodded for some reason, and then the azaeri.


    Together they rounded the bend and came across the body of another raptor. Cricket dug a dagger deep into the back of its skull and then sheathed the weapon in his carapace.


    "One left." He rose and proceeded cautiously. Jeshu plodded at his side and the group found themselves in a hub where several tunnels met. Numerous corpses lay strewn about the ground, including two more gnolls and at least half a dozen goblin skeletons. It was difficult to tell at a glance from the mess.


    "I think that''s the last dhampir." Jeshu indicated a body. "I lost count."


    Cricket thought for a moment then agreed. "It looks like they put up a fight. I think they were ambushed."


    As he spoke, a raptor charged from one of the rear tunnels, reaching the azaeri before anyone else could react. It clamped its jaws down on his shoulder, and lifted its prey from the ground.


    Ty''lek gripped an arrow tightly and rammed the shaft into the zombie''s glowing green eye. He twisted it around, but when it didn''t have the desired effect he jerked it out, spraying himself with goo, and thrust it in two more times.


    A blow from Jeshu''s hammer took the raptor''s head from behind before it did too much damage to the feathered lizardman, and Ty''lek dropped awkwardly to the mud. He held onto his wounded shoulder while Jeshu inspected it.


    "Can you use that arm?" Cricket asked.


    The archer shook his head.


    "Without two arms," Cricket pointed out, "he won''t be able to contribute much. Can you heal him?" The insect asked the druid.


    "Not quickly," Jeshu answered. "He''s lucky he has such thick scales. It could be worse."


    "Can you heal him while we advance?"


    Jeshu let out a concerned noise. "You''re barely walking yourself."


    "The necromancer is hiding," Cricket explained. "He must be nearly depleted. We have to attack now. I think a break will cost us more than it helps."


    Jeshu helped the archer to his feet. "I will do what I can. That way," he added, indicating one of the side tunnels. "I can feel him."


    Cricket looked down the tunnel and let out a heavy sigh. "I think my swords will work on this one."


    Cricket limped down the passageway and Jeshu followed, assisting the archer. Ty''lek swayed more than the insect, dizzy from pain, and leaned heavily against the druid.


    After a minute of trudging, Cricket heard the soft mumbling of a spell caster and made out the silhouette of a deformed creature waving a staff, backlit by a copse of glowing blue mushrooms in the distance.


    At his side stooped a single ratling, not skeletal, brandishing two hatchets. As the necromancer chanted, a black aura grew around the ratling. Cricket approached and saw the ratling itself had black fur and skin, or perhaps blackened by the spell. Its halted motions indicated it was undead, but even from a distance, Cricket could sense it, which meant it was likely more powerful than the skeletons. Not some mere zombie.


    Cricket readied his swords in a defensive stance, turning mostly sideways in case the ratling attempted to throw an axe. He let one sword hang over his head, so he could protect his face with a quick twist, and inched forward.


    Seeing his approach, the necromancer retreated behind the ratling and pressed against the wall. Cricket could just make out its warty green skin, misshapen and bulging, nearly obscuring one of its eyes. A double chin hung out from his robes, wobbling beneath a wide toadish mouth.


    Instinctively Cricket made to sprint after the caster, maybe even leap over his short guard, but his leg winced as he flexed it, protesting the thought.


    "This one is too powerful to dispel," Jeshu commented. "The ratling, I mean."


    "I know..." Cricket inched closer.


    The necromancer pointed its staff at Cricket and a black bolt of magical energy tore through the air toward his head.


    Cricket rolled to the side, coming up smoothly on his good leg. The magic bolt hissed through the air between the druid and archer, darkening the shadows behind them.


    The necromancer aimed his staff at Jeshu, casting the same spell again, but the dryad made no effort to dodge. He simply held up an arm and the shadowy bolt split in two rushing harmlessly over his body.


    "You will find your dark magic does not work so well against me," the dryad advised.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The caster paused to catch his breath and nearly stumbled forward, slamming his staff into the ground to steady himself.


    "I think that''s about it," Jeshu continued. "His mana has run dry and the magic is beginning to draw from his life force."


    "Then he''s not the priority," Cricket shouted as he moved into melee range with the rat.


    "Do you need assistance now?" The druid asked. "Ty¡¯lek¡¯s shoulder is mostly healed, but¡ª"


    The ratling sprang at Cricket, swinging both axes overhead, and the sound of iron against iron covered the druid''s last words.


    ¡°Yes! I need help now!¡±


    Cricket dodged the first swing and caught the second with both blades. His arms went numb from the vibration and the ratling hacked again at the weapons brutally, leaving one sword noticeably bent.


    Cricket stepped back. He shook off the blow and tested the bent blade, deciding to toss it aside, then drew his unused dagger. Still he didn''t like the feel of it in his upper arm.


    Jeshu left the azaeri''s side and circled around the ratling.


    Cricket circled the other way. The ratling, however, ran between them, toward the archer.


    Ty''lek pulled and loosed an arrow without aiming. The ratling swerved unnecessarily, giving Cricket a chance to throw the dagger with his upper arm, skewering it through the heel. But this had no effect in slowing it.


    Jeshu raised a hand and cried out something in a language Cricket didn''t understand. The ratling stopped instantly and turned, rushing the dryad.


    Jeshu struck his hammer against the ground, speaking one more word and a rush of wind spread out from him, expelling the dirt in a circle.


    Then the creature was on him, and Jeshu swung his hammer, missing once and then twice as the blackened ratling hacked at his arms. The dryad showed no signs of relenting, but stepped backward as he swung to try and better time his strikes against a much faster foe.


    Cricket grabbed his remaining sword with both upper arms and slashed at the ratlings back, nicking its tail to no real effect. As he stepped closer for a second slash the black tail lashed around his arm and pulled with surprising strength. He felt a pop in his shoulder but managed to strike the rat on the back. With the force of the blow, Cricket was astonished at how little it cut.


    The tail seemed to act with its own mind, lurching Cricket to the side as the ratling continued to hack at the dryad. Cricket decided to jump with the pull of the tail, unsure if his shoulder could take another yank.


    He landed on his feet and saw the archer several feet away trying to train his bow. But the azaeri couldn''t keep his arms steady and chose to lower the weapon and loosen his draw.


    "I''m okay," shouted the dryad. "He really doesn''t have a lot of muscle. I think the aura is defensive."


    "No, he''s stronger than any of the others. I think you just have thick skin. Have you ever taken a hit before?"


    The druid thought as he blocked and swung his hammer. "I''ve never needed to." As he spoke, he scored a lucky hit on the ratling''s ribs, knocking it sideways.


    Cricket took advantage of the moment to stab at its side, but the tip of his sword barely penetrated its magically hardened skin.


    "It''s no good," he shouted.


    "Try to grab it."


    "What?" Cricket shrieked bewildered. "It''s stronger than me."


    "Trust me," the dryad added. "He''s too fast for me. You grab him, and then I can grab him."


    Cricket shrugged, unsure of the plan, but made a quick dash at the creature''s back, ducking under its lashing tail, and wrapped his arms around its waist.


    The ratling broke Cricket¡¯s grip, turning on the insect, but almost instantly Jeshu grabbed it from behind, slipping his hands under the ratlings arms and locking his fingers behind its head.


    "Now finish it."


    "What?" Cricket stepped back. "I hit it as hard as I can, and it did nothing."


    "Grab the bow."


    "And what? Shoot it while you hold it? That''s a terrible plan."


    The ratling struggled to move under Jeshu''s grip. Its tail wrapped harmlessly around the druid''s thick neck, squeezing to no avail.


    Then suddenly it fell limp.


    Cricket looked to the azaeri first, but the grey-beaked lizardman didn''t even meet his gaze. He knelt on the ground holding his bad shoulder, his bow lying in the mud.


    Then Cricket turned to the necromancer. It lay prostrate on the ground, its throat slit, with the mouseling crouched on its back, brandishing her knife.


    When she saw Cricket staring at her she blushed. "I did what you said. I stayed away from the ratling."


    "Uh-huh." Truly, Cricket had forgotten about her during the fight.


    Jeshu let the ratling''s limp body droop into the mud.


    "But he''s several times your size," Cricket protested. "He could have killed you with one swing of that staff."


    Patches looked down at the gnarled black staff and then back at Cricket. "He didn''t notice me. You said only the dead would notice me," she added, worried.


    "No, that''s okay." Cricket dropped to his knees then rolled back to sit on his heels, panting. "You did good."


    "You sure you''re stronger than me?" Jeshu asked, staring at the ratling''s body.


    "Yes." Cricket confirmed. "Certain."


    "Hmm..." The druid pondered, staring at the lifeless rat.


    "I just missed lunch." Cricket walked over to the necromancer''s deformed, bulbous body. "Trollblood." He said matter-of-factly.


    "What''s a trollblood?" Jeshu asked.


    "Just means half troll."


    "Half troll and half what?"


    "Doesn''t really matter," Cricket said, kicking the body. "Always ends up looking about like this. The troll half kind of takes over so we just call them trollbloods."


    "But what species can mate with a troll?" Jeshu pressed, skeptically.


    "I don''t know. Goblins. Ogres? I saw a two-headed trollblood once, so I assume it was part ettin. This one''s too small for that though. Probably half goblin." Cricket knelt and looked through the caster''s pouches. "A potion." Cricket held up a glass bottle with a green tea-like mixture, thick with dried leaves. He pulled the glass stopper and took a sniff. "Mmm, minty. From the surface?" He extended the bottle to Jeshu.


    The druid hovered over the trollblood''s body, leaning a bit as if to avoid touching it. "What is that ring?"


    Cricket pulled back a lump of skin on the troll''s finger, revealing a carved obsidian ring overgrown with fatty polyps, cutting into the skin.


    Cricket cut the finger off with a dagger then used the tip of the blade to scrape the ring free from the bone. He balanced the bloody ring on the tip of the knife and lifted it up for the druid to inspect.


    Jeshu balked at the trinket. "Don''t touch it. There''s something off about it."


    "Really?" Cricket dangled the ring in front of his eyes. The blue light from the mushrooms danced along the uneven surface. "Like what?"


    Cricket tore a piece of fabric from the troll''s robe and wrapped the ring inside, careful not to touch the glassy black stone, then tucked it into his pouch next to the shurikens. "Huh,¡± he paused at the sight of them. "I should have used one of those..." He trailed off.


    "If we move closer to those mushrooms, it will be easier for me to treat wounds. My night vision isn''t as developed as yours."


    Cricket cocked his head. "Night? I don''t understand."


    Jeshu pondered the word choice. "Ah, night isn''t really darker here. I can''t see well in the dark. On the surface we call that night vision. What do you call it?"


    "We just call it vision."


    Ty''lek slumped beneath a large mushroom and sighed peacefully. Patches hopped on top of his mushroom and curled into a ball, her eyes peering out over her clipped tail.


    Even though the azaeri''s wound looked more severe, Jeshu treated the insectoid first, knowing how resilient lizardmen were. In his estimation, Cricket had pushed himself much harder. He treated the leg first, until the bleeding stopped, then tended to his arms.


    "That shoulder looks good to use, but that smaller arm will take some time to heal on its own."


    "Yeah, I know. It still feels loose," Cricket answered cheerfully. He smiled, resting his back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. "You know, there were a couple times there where I thought I would die."


    "Has that not happened before?" The dryad asked.


    Cricket thought for a minute. "No. This... this has to be the most beat up I''ve ever been."


    "That''s remarkable." The druid began to treat Ty''lek. "This isn''t the safest profession."


    Cricket laughed. "I like it. I don''t think I could stand working the fields. Just too¡­ boring. I''d rather risk my life a couple times a week."


    Jeshu made a surprised sound.


    Cricket sat cross-legged, accidentally placing a finger in the cracked shell of his leg. He recoiled at the unexpected sensation.


    "I have something for that," Jeshu commented as he began to work on the archer''s shoulder. "Just give me a minute."


    Cricket cleaned his feelers on his wrist. "How did you stop the ratling from attacking Ty''lek? He was wide open."


    "The dead," Jeshu smiled at himself, "hate the living. They are drawn to the spark of life."


    "Yes," Cricket agreed absently.


    "I simply let a burst of life energy flow from me. A bright surge like a flame. And like a moth he couldn''t resist."


    "I can do that."


    Jeshu''s smile turned to one of amusement. "I would like to see it."


    Cricket took a deep breath, and held it for a second, but then just exhaled loudly. "You got me. I was bluffing."


    "It is a gift from Elkennah," Jeshu explained. "I don''t think it would be easy for you to learn."


    "Elkennah doesn''t sound evil," Cricket observed impassively.


    "I would like to think not." The druid finished whatever he was doing and came to kneel next to Cricket. He pulled a round tin from his bag and opened it to reveal a pile of damp wrinkled pellets resembling dried fruit.


    "This is black gum resin¡ªa type of tree sap. It will harden when exposed to air for a few days and becomes quite tough and resilient. I believe it is used to make rubber. But in its simple form I think it will be ideal for patching your shell." He smushed a piece between his fingers and brought his arm next to Cricket''s leg, pausing for permission.


    "Let''s find out," Cricket said, and closed his eyes. The sensation as Jeshu worked the resin into the gaps was uncomfortable, but not painful, and Cricket decided to open his eyes and watch.


    The color matched surprisingly well.


    "I had Oydd procure this from the surface. I believe he sent Raccoon. I was impressed how quickly he found some."


    Jeshu gave a troubled look as he treated the shell and Cricket tensed. "Is it not sticking?"


    "It''s not that," the druid reassured him. "It''s what you said about Elkennah. You were surprised that a deity might not be evil."


    "Oh, yeah..." Cricket confirmed. "Very."


    "Are the gods here so bad?"


    "Yes." Cricket shuddered. "I can''t imagine them caring about their worshippers. Down here it''s more a matter of trying not to offend them. I am somewhat partial to Vidine, because she is the least evil."


    "Not really glowing praise," the dryad commented.


    "No," Cricket agreed. "But she''s the least threat to me. Vidine is the goddess of revenge. So as long as I leave her followers alone, I don''t have anything to worry about."


    "What other gods are worshiped down here?"


    Ty''lek answered. "Serinyes..."


    Jeshu looked to Cricket for confirmation.


    "He said it right¡ªSerinyes."


    "Sessu!" the azaeri hissed, then repeated the word more calmly. "Sessu..."


    "I think that means evil," Cricket explained.


    Ty''lek shook his head. "Hesth-thess, inun... sesshenii."


    "Serinyes, es sesshenii?" Cricket asked, stumbling with the pronunciation.


    The azaeri nodded.


    "More like malignant, I think. Like a disease." Cricket clarified and the azaeri agreed happily. "The dhampiri worship Serinyes. And it is very much like an infection. She is the cause of too much bloodshed and it''s not sustainable."


    Jeshu listened attentively. "Are there other gods worshiped down here?"


    Cricket thought. "There''s Bale, the Betrayer. But I can''t fathom why anyone would worship a being known for betraying his followers. Just easily-manipulated creatures, I think, like goblins. There is actually a god of diseases, but I don''t remember his name. I might be able to remember a couple more names if you give me time to think about it. What about on the surface?"


    "Nothing so treacherous where I lived. We had a peaceful... village, I guess you would call it. Elkennah is known as a goddess of peace. Then there are the twin gods, Freyr and Nidr. Nidr is the god of the hunt and the harvest and is associated with bounty. Some dryads prayed to him to ensure plentiful food. But I can''t say that it worked. Freyr," Jeshu continued, "is associated with wisdom and his worshippers approach him for answers to difficult questions. Neither of them were very particular. Even as a follower of Elkennah, I could approach Freyr if I sought knowledge."


    "Well Serinyes is a jealous goddess. She requires strict devotion and punishes followers who displease her in any way," Cricket spat.


    Ty''lek agreed.


    "And basically the opposite of dispensing wisdom," Cricket added. "She is also called the Deceiver."


    "Also?"


    "Um... usually they call her the goddess of blades."


    "I hate that we helped her," Jeshu observed.


    "What do you mean?"


    "Didn''t we? Either today or in our last mission." Seeing the look of confusion on Cricket''s face, Jeshu elaborated. "Today we protected a dhampir. One of the religious leaders, you said. If the church is so ingrained in their society, I imagine we took our orders from the church. Or Damien did. Somewhere up the line anyway."


    Cricket scratched his neck and feigned disinterest.


    "Last time, we attacked a dhampir. Likely acting as the arm of punishment for the church. I was simply told he was in disfavor."


    Cricket nervously looked around to make sure they were alone. "Officially, we did not."


    "Or was it the will of Serinyes that this bishop die?" Jeshu continued. "We might as well have been this trollblood. Is he a slave simply following orders?" Jeshu finished tending to the more grievous wound in Cricket''s leg then began to patch up the fresh scratches from the lizardman''s claws. "What are these holes down the side of your back? They look like vents."


    "More like noses. That''s how I breathe. Can you get my shoulder too? I''m not as strong when the shell isn''t intact."


    Jeshu nodded.


    "We should head back to the catacombs," Cricket suggested. "I doubt there will be another attack tonight, but we don''t have any clear command above me and I don''t want someone to decide we weren''t at our post."


    "Agreed," Jeshu said.


    "We can head back in the morning if we don''t see anyone."


    Jeshu finished mending the insect''s shoulder.


    "The trollblood was a necromancer," Cricket finally answered.


    "So is Oydd."


    "But Oydd isn''t evil," Cricket protested.


    "Damien certainly is," the dryad countered. Seeing the look on Cricket''s face he added, "I didn''t mean to be critical. I just don''t know what side we''re really on. Perhaps that ogre we fought viewed us the same way you viewed this trollblood."


    "I''m not like that ogre."


    "I''m sorry," Jeshu tried to drop the subject. "I didn''t mean any offense."


    But Cricket pressed the issue. "I''m not like him."


    The druid made no response and Cricket added under his breath, "I''ve never met a good ogre." He turned to the archer. "Ty''lek, how do you see it?"


    The azaeri lifted his beak slightly as he considered the question then answered, "Dyess... yu." He struggled heavily pronouncing both syllables.


    "It''s okay," the druid relented, seeing the azaeri''s efforts. "You can call me Jesh."

 Licephus Akamefuna

    7


    Licephus Akamefuna


    "Okay, would you rather swim in a dye pit or one of the eel pits?"


    "That''s an easy one for me," Jeshu answered. "I would never get the dye out."


    "But just imagine all the eels crawling over you!" Cricket said. The two walked close to a covered wagon as the caravan made its way through the narrow back tunnels.


    "I am accustomed to the close proximity of animals. I used to sleep on the bare forest floor. Beetles would hide under me. Spiders would weave webs in my little branches."


    Cricket shuddered. "I can''t stand bugs."


    "That''s ironic." Jeshu stated as he lowered his head to dodge an outcropping of rock.


    "You know what I mean."


    "I truly do not," Jeshu said patiently.


    "Little bugs. I can''t stand little things crawling on me. I would pick the dye over the eels."


    "That''s hardly fair. Dye would barely stain your black shell."


    Cricket shrugged.


    "Once a bird tried to make a nest on my head. That''s like a bat," the dryad clarified. "I was sympathetic, but I couldn''t allow that."


    "The bats here are bigger than you''re imagining." Oydd joined the conversation.


    "I forget everything is bigger down here."


    "Not everything!" Cricket reminded the druid cheerfully.


    "Ah, yes. Salamanders. Are they truly so pathetic in the underworld?"


    "Like this big!" Cricket held his thumb and forefinger apart. "No teeth, no scales. And they live in puddles."


    Jeshu looked over at Oydd for confirmation.


    The rudra smiled. "He is correct. For the most part."


    Jeshu scoffed. "Well, picture an azaeri small enough to fit in my hand with feathers large enough to fly. That is a bird."


    "Sounds a bit far-fetched," Cricket declared, looking to the rudra for confirmation.


    Oydd groaned. "Surely my knowledge has a greater utility than settling your petty disputes."


    "Oh, I doubt it. If there really were an all-knowing being, I think his main function would be settling petty disputes." Cricket kicked a rock down the trail. It bounced from a wagon wheel and then into the boot of one of his gnoll companions. The hyena man barked and shot Cricket a nasty look.


    Cricket lowered his voice. "Why do we even need them?"


    "It does seem a bit overkill," Oydd observed. "I count twenty-two men. That''s not including the vampire. He may be worth twenty men on his own.


    "And to guard what? A few wagons?" Oydd continued. "I don''t enjoy being kept in the dark."


    The vampire lord, Licephus, walked before the lead wagon without a personal guard. He rested his hand calmly on the jeweled hilt of his sabre, his head held high, looking down his nose at the trail.


    A single cave lizard of a modest size pulled the wagon, and Patches sat on its head, watching the vampire with fascination. A squat, brown goblin led the lizard by the reins, hopping barefoot over the uneven rock.


    Behind them, Ty''lek and a second azaeri archer stood sentry on the flat wagon bed accompanied by several seated gnolls, including the taskmaster with a coiled whip. Somehow he had managed to coax the goblin into taking his job. He now made use of his leisure time by swatting away mosquitoes and picking at the grime beneath his yellow toenails with a rusty dagger.


    The head wagon pulled a smaller cart carved from the upturned ribs of a whale drake, stuffed with various sacks, casks, and baskets secured with a greasy black rope.


    Two more cave lizards followed the bone cart, one heavily-laden with provisions, sleeping mats, oil, candles, rope, dried mushroomwood logs and smoked jerob larvae to ward off batwolves.


    The other lizard rested for his turn to pull the main cart. A covered wagon followed, and then Cricket, Jeshu, and Oydd on foot.


    Oydd brought the reanimated corpse of the goblin he had been working on in the lab. Jagged shards of copper covered its head, shoulders and shins. Oydd had also fashioned long blades of copper on each finger, like claws, and treated them with a magic to prevent bending or dulling. He named the abomination Kaser, because of its sharp talons. And he insisted on calling it a ghoul, because "zombie denotes an inferior creation."


    In the rear, the colossal lizardman, Agena, stood atop an equally imposing cave lizard, on an unrailed platform nearly as wide as one of the wagons.


    The lizardman guarded a large, black chest with a shiny, cinder-like sheen. He held his spear erect on the platform for balance, unusually steady on the lurching beast.


    Only Agena, Cricket had been informed, was allowed atop the platform. Although, Cricket ran a few scenarios in his head where he would likely be forgiven for jumping up to aid the lizardman. Almost every scenario involved Agena failing to fight off an assailant in an imaginary tussle. Which, Cricket sighed, was unlikely.


    The wagon train passed a series of ruts, bouncing and jostling the gnolls.


    Jeshu waited for things to quiet down, and then said, "Okay, I have one. You can only eat one food for the rest of your life."


    "Eel." Cricket said without a thought. "I don''t want them crawling on me, but they''re delicious. Raccoon makes this sweet sauce with rotten fish..."


    "Fermented fish," Oydd replied.


    Cricket grimaced. "You''d only eat fermented fish?"


    "No," Oydd waved off the insectoid in annoyance. "The sauce he makes uses fermented fish, not rotten fish."


    "So what would you pick?" Cricket asked.


    "Ah!" Oydd exclaimed, at some fond memory. "There was one time I had a delectable meat served with butter and blue cheese. I believe it was a surface crab."


    "We just call them crabs," Jeshu replied.


    "Well they''re nothing like the ceiling crabs we have here," Oydd said, indignant. "So I need some way to differentiate them."


    "You can call yours ceiling crabs," Jeshu joked.


    The covered wagon came to a stop, blocking most of Cricket''s view. He heard voices up ahead.


    Oydd growled in annoyance. He motioned to Cricket and Jeshu. "Wait here." Oydd disappeared around the wagon and Kaser followed.


    *****


    The mouseling pushed up on her front paws until she was nearly sitting, and stretched her back. She watched the vampire, transfixed by the grace of his movement. As he walked, his head remained level, not bobbing up and down like the gnoll guardsmen. Patches took a look behind her, where a hyena spearman had passed out on the wagon with a cask in his hand. Wine drizzled down his hairy chin. His tongue lolled out the side of his open mouth and he occasionally sniffled and snorted in his sleep.


    Patches looked at the vampire again. Each piece of his clothing was clean, his loose blouse tucked into his leather pants. His boots made a dependable, consistent pattern in the mud. Not a single, long grey hair out of place, as far as she could see.


    The mouseling decided that beauty was somewhere between the two. Not snoring on patrol, but not perfect order either. A witch would probably strike a balance. Grace and crudeness. Order and discord. Life and death. Not just death, she thought, watching the vampire again in a trance.


    Patches yawned, revealing tiny bucked teeth, then smacked her tongue a couple times and closed her eyes.


    Her ride came to a sudden halt, and Patches jolted awake.


    Before Licephus stood two dhampiri¡ªa masked male, and a one-eyed female, both with shaved heads. Two gnoll spearmen ran toward the vampire lord from behind, but he waved them off without a backward glance.


    When she recognized the vampire, the female took a step back.


    The masked man knelt and spoke. "My lord, we did not expect to see you this night."


    "I suppose not," Licephus replied evenly.


    The man looked to the woman and bade her to kneel at his side.


    "Are you disappointed?" Licephus asked.


    From a distance, the mouseling saw that the man trembled.


    Licephus continued. "Now why would that be disappointing? I can''t imagine why my presence would be anything but a stark relief. Unless of course..."


    "No," the man held up a webbed hand. A thin, white leather stretched between his fingers, and down from the elongated pinky nearly to the elbow, like an undeveloped wing. He lifted his other arm out of habit, though the limb ended in a stump just past the elbow.


    "Unless of course you had planned something nefarious tonight. Something that might bring shame to our church and our king?"


    The woman threw herself at the vampire''s feet. "Please, forgive us. We would never raise a weapon against you."


    The mouseling wagged her tail absently, watching the one-eyed woman pleading, evidently for her life.


    "Oh, I think we''re beyond that." Licephus drew his sword and swung it at her neck in a clean arc.


    The woman jumped back in time, Patches thought, but a moment later she dropped to her knees and her bald white head dropped to the black stone, rolling along the tunnel floor.


    Her blood appeared on the vampire''s blade, then dripped and pooled in the bowl-like crossguard, where it absorbed into the metal like water into a dry sponge.


    Cricket groaned with boredom. He released two sickles from his back and spun one in circles with a flick of his wrist.


    "Did you give up on swords?"


    "Oh, yeah," Cricket said, excited. "Swords are worthless against skeletons. Also, I feel like they''re too long range. I like to be up close. So I''m going to try these out."


    "Swords are too long range?" Jeshu repeated, uncertainly.


    "Yeah, they''re like ten times longer than daggers. And I like daggers the most."


    "Then why not use four daggers?" the dryad counseled.


    "That seems¡­ unimaginative."


    Cricket noticed Agena crouching to spy ahead between the low ceiling and the top of the covered wagon.


    Cricket!


    Cricket jumped then looked around for the source of the sound.


    Cricket, can you hear me?


    The voice originated from inside of his head. And yet, somehow the insect recognized it as Oydd''s voice.


    Don''t trust the gnolls!


    The voice faded, somewhat strained at the end.


    "Did you hear that?" Cricket asked Jeshu.


    "Hear what?"


    A gnoll appeared beside the covered wagon, running back toward Agena. Cricket glanced at Jeshu, and saw the dryad was too relaxed to defend himself. He waited until the last moment and then lunged at the gnoll, slashing its throat wide open with a sickle.


    Jeshu nearly screamed but caught the noise in his throat. "Wh... what?"


    "I think we''re under attack."


    Jeshu readied his hammer as three more gnolls rounded the wagon. Jesh swung at the one nearest him, but the hyena shifted in its run, dodging the hammer and leaving the druid off-balance. The second gnoll ran up the druid''s back then leapt to Agena''s platform.


    The last gnoll rushed Cricket, thrusting with its spear. The insect caught the shaft in the curve of a sickle and redirected the tip. He swung the second sickle at the gnoll''s head and the creature ducked right into the dagger in Cricket''s lower arm. Cricket followed up with a second swing of a sickle, nearly removing the creature''s head.


    A gnoll ducked under Agena''s spear and wrapped its arms around his legs, taking a nasty kick to the throat. The other gnoll launched himself over his comrade and plowed into the lizardman''s chest. Together the three of them rolled over the edge of the platform, accentuated by the hyenas'' whooping, snickering laughter.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Cricket tensed, fighting the urge to climb up to the forbidden platform, choosing instead to assist Agena.


    The lizardman punched and clawed at one of the gnolls so brutally and efficiently that he might have killed it a second time before he noticed its neck had snapped in the fall.


    Agena stood effortlessly as the remaining gnoll bit down on his forearm and dug its hind legs into his belly, failing to penetrate the lizardman''s tough hide.


    Agena held it still by the back of the neck while Cricket rammed a dagger up under its jaw. The lizardman tossed the body aside and made his way back to the cave lizard.


    Another gnoll appeared around the far side of the wagon. It leapt over Jeshu''s head and scrambled onto the platform.


    Cricket took one step before Agena stopped him, holding the insect back with an immovable arm. Cricket looked to him confused, and then up to the platform where the gnoll gingerly approached the black chest and lifted the lid.


    Cricket made one more effort to push past the lizardman, but Agena held him firmly in place.


    As the gnoll peered into the opened chest, the shiny cinder coating began to shimmer and undulate. And before the gnoll could react, eight thick tentacles wrapped around its head and pulled its squirming body into the opening.


    Even from the ground, Cricket heard the crunching of bones and the muted cackling death throes of the warrior.


    The walls of the chest slowly changed to a deep crimson color, and softened, almost melting back as it formed into a bulbous head. The mimic octopus crawled over its broken prey severing tendons with its sharp black beak, tearing limbs with its powerful tentacles as it ingested its meal.


    Jeshu raised a hand to scratch the cave lizard''s chin, attempting to calm the creature as Agena climbed back onto the platform.


    The engorged mimic cuddled up against Agena, caressing him with its rolling tentacles, and the lizardman petted it softly on the head, massaging his knuckles into its neck.


    The octopus changed colors to a contented blue.


    Cricket wiped the blood from the sickle onto his belt, then ran around the far side of the wagon, where there was more room to maneuver.


    He encountered no one as he made his way to the front of the train, which meant every gnoll had either run back toward Agena or forward toward Licephus.


    Cricket saw Oydd first, sheltering behind his own creation. Kaser fought in frenzied bursts, shredding any foe daring enough to approach the blood-soaked ghoul. The undead goblin was covered in so much gnoll blood that Cricket would have thought its skin was red if he didn''t know better.


    When the ghoul finished leveling the last threat to its master, it leaned over the nearest corpse and began to feed, slurping and sloshing noisily.


    The vampire Licephus engaged a giant serpent, the likes of which Cricket had never seen. Licephus floated in the air, battling from a distance, flitting effortlessly away from the monster''s fangs each time it struck.


    The mouseling clung to his back, near his shoulder, and the vampire seemed unbothered by her presence.


    Now and then he slashed his sword through the air and a gash appeared on the great serpent as though it were right in front of him. Here and there a gnoll skulked about in the shadows, terrified to approach and join the pile of its mutilated brethren at his feet.


    Cricket watched as a dhampir summoner in a mask drew symbols on the floor with black salt.


    As the serpent fell to the vampire lord''s enchanted strikes, the summoning circle blazed to life, opening like a doorway to another world, and new horrors emerged, squirming in a pool of slime or stumbling off on too many legs.


    Oydd arrived at Cricket''s side.


    "Licephus hasn''t been touched. He can hold off these aberrations." Oydd shouted to be heard over the wind blasting from the magical doorway. "I''ll pick off the guards. Can you get to the summoner?"


    Four gnolls still stood between Cricket and the dhampir.


    Cricket nodded. "How fast can your ghoul move?"


    "It can keep up with you."


    Cricket sprinted toward the right flank and the ghoul sped by in such a flash that Cricket paused and had to compose himself before chasing after.


    Kaser tackled the closest gnoll, then tore into its chest like a burrowing animal, tossing chunks of bone and meat to the left and right.


    Cricket hopped over the raging ghoul, and ducked under a swinging axe. But he ignored its source, focusing on the summoner. He circled around as he ran to keep the gnolls in view, but met no more resistance. In a moment, he was by the surprised dhampir''s side. He crossed his arms and pulled both sickles across the summoner''s exposed throat, clipping all the soft tissue back to the neck bone.


    The summoner''s jaw dropped beneath his mask, but he made no sound.


    Cricket ran a little further before turning, in case an enemy was on his tail unnoticed, but the tunnel was clear.


    The summoning door on the floor slowly closed as molten rock boiled up from the other side. A bubbling, red-hot head emerged, and then two arms of lava splurted through. The elemental had only half-surfaced when the door closed, pinching it off at the waist.


    Licephis landed at Cricket''s side. "Thank you," the vampire breathed. Words that he would never hear from a dhampir. The dhampiri never acknowledged any other race. At best they viewed them as chattel.


    Cricket gawked, amazed that the vampire had spoken to him.


    "This creature was summoned," Licephus pointed with his sword. "So it won''t be dispelled by its master''s death. Help me protect the cargo."


    With that, the vampire flew forward through the air at an unbelievable speed, leaving Cricket to nod dumbly to no one in particular then chase after his heels.


    Licephus floated around the elemental slashing from a distance. However, the trick proved ineffective, simply splashing jets of lava that slowly reformed. The whole creature darkened and cooled in places, only to erupt white hot anew from beneath the blackened crust.


    From this angle, Cricket saw Ty''lek and the other azaeri loosing arrows at the remaining gnolls. Ty''lek missed more often than not, while the other archer picked off targets one after another.


    Oydd kept Kaser away from the magma creature and grabbed Cricket by the arm as he tried to run past.


    "What are you doing?" Oydd shouted. "You can''t hurt that thing."


    Cricket hesitated. "I can''t do nothing."


    "You can. Doing nothing is better than doing something stupid."


    "You must have a spell that would help."


    Oydd shook his head. "I''ve already pushed too hard."


    Cricket saw Jeshu in the distance, just passing the front wagon, but realized the druid would be just as ineffective with his hammer and bark skin.


    "What should we do?" He asked the rudra.


    "If Licephus can''t stop it, then we are too weak to stop it." Oydd still yelled, though the wind had died down. He lowered his voice. "I''m at a loss."


    Cricket pulled his arm away from the rudra and ran after Licephus. He sifted through his pouch and pricked his finger. He felt around the offending blade and pulled it from the pouch. One of the shurikens.


    Oydd had said he didn''t know what it would do, but guessed it would release some magic on impact.


    To Cricket, it seemed like a good time to find out. Cricket pulled the shuriken to his side, underarm. When he got within a decent range he threw with all his strength at the immense elemental. And missed by a wide margin.


    The throwing star clattered to the floor on the far side beneath the vampire, and as it struck the stone a patchwork of frost spread in all directions on the ground, followed by streaming waves of flickering purple electricity.


    The vampire swerved around the elemental, dodging a splash of molten rock a moment later.


    "Can you do that again?" He asked the insect.


    Cricket grumbled to himself, hating to waste a second shuriken. But then, he couldn''t use them at all if he was dead.


    Cricket forced himself to grab another throwing star, though the thought nearly drove him to tears. This time he lifted it above his head, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger and threw it like a dart.


    The shuriken struck the side of the creature, but simply stuck in the soft magma and began to ooze downward with the flow.


    Cricket screamed and stomped his foot, eyes wide. He screamed again and pulled at his antennae in frustration as he ran back toward the rudra.


    "Just wait." Oydd whispered. "Look!"


    Cricket frowned and turned to look at the shuriken. Sure enough, it started to glow red from the heat¡ªthen white, and suddenly it burst, sending magical frost over the molten puddle, reaching nearly to the monster''s neck. Waves of lightning followed and one of the enormous arms burst from the inside, splattering along the floor. This time it did not reform.


    The elemental reached for the vampire one last time with its remaining arm and then splashed against the rocks burbling and bubbling as it cooled.


    Oydd and Ty''lek began looting bodies for trinkets while Cricket and Licephus stood around the sizzling corpse of the elemental. The mouseling hopped down from the vampire''s back but Licephus paid her no regard. The vampire stared at the insect coldly. "The summoner died by my blade. Do you understand?"


    Despite his menacing tone, Cricket understood this as a kindness. He bowed slightly to acknowledge the gesture. "How was that summoner so strong?" Cricket asked.


    In response, the vampire retrieved the severed head of the dhampiress and held it up for the insectoid''s inspection.


    "What do you notice?"


    Cricket scratched his head. "She''s pretty ugly."


    Licephus ignored the remark and waited patiently.


    "Umm..." Cricket took another stab. "She''s shaved and missing an eye?"


    "And the man?"


    Cricket thought hard.


    The druid joined them and answered, "He was missing an arm."


    "Recently severed," the vampire added. "If you survey the gnolls, you should find other missing body parts. Perhaps toes and fingers." Licephus tossed the head into the pooling magma.


    "Which means?" The druid asked.


    "I don''t know," Licephus confessed. "Can your necromancer friend commune with the dead?"


    Yes," Jeshu answered. "I''ve seen him do it before."


    "Good. Have him glean what he can from the dhampiri. I doubt the underlings know much, other than where to be and who to kill."


    "I''ll get him." Cricket motioned for patches to follow, but in response the mouseling clung tightly to the vampire''s cape, and Cricket left to retrieve the rudra on his own.


    "Look at this." Oydd held up the wrist of a dead gnoll. He rolled the palm toward Cricket, revealing a mark burned onto the wrist. A three-fingered hand.


    "Same as ours. So?"


    "This gnoll arrived with the dhampiri. Why were we fighting our own?" Oydd dropped the gnoll''s hand. "I have to see the dhampiri''s bodies." He started toward the female.


    "Actually, Lord Licephus ordered you to probe the corpses."


    "That''s no problem, but I should start with the male. I don''t have a lot of energy left."


    The dhampir wore noble clothing, now soaked with dark blood¡ªthe red and white silk his kind preferred, with gold detailing. The mask had fallen off of his face. In death he bared his fangs menacingly.


    "I don''t need to speak to his soul to learn who he is." Oydd knelt and pulled a necklace from beneath the dhampir''s blouse, revealing a three-fingered charm on a thin gold chain. He slipped the necklace from the noble''s neck, then placed a hand on the dhampir''s shaved head.


    He spoke no words, but the veins on the side of his head pulsed and throbbed. After a minute he released his grip. "I''ve learned what I can. Come."


    Cricket stooped to retrieve the mask.


    "That is the mask of the betrayer," Oydd said. "It grants power to those who turn on their allies. We have no need of it."


    Cricket picked up the mask anyway and began to slip it into his pack.


    Oydd scowled, his tone a bit defensive. "Did you listen to me? What need do you have of that?"


    "You never know." He stood to leave as the rudra grumbled.


    Cricket stretched his upper arms behind his head as he walked, twiddling his thumbs. "Can you talk without talking now? You warned me about the gnolls."


    "You heard me?" Oydd grinned. "I am learning. Right now I am very limited. But my species gains many such powers with age."


    "You don''t get weaker with age?"


    "Our bodies, yes. But our minds grow stronger until the day we die."


    When they reached Licephus, Oydd presented the necklace to the vampire. "The Right Hand, which I''m sure you knew."


    "Yes," Licephus answered without looking up, his arms folded, one hand resting again on the hilt of his sheathed sword.


    Jeshu eyed the three-fingered charm. "The same as the symbol on our wrists."


    Oydd nodded. "The Right Hand of the King."


    "They''re the Right Hand too?" Cricket asked, bewildered.


    "You''re not one of the Right Hand," Oydd snapped irritably. "You belong to the Right Hand. These," he waved at the head of the dhampiress burning atop the heap of blackening lava. "Are essentially our owners."


    Oydd looked to Licephus for confirmation. "I would assume Lisander and Ysandra of Verimogne."


    "Yes." Licephus brought a finger to his lips, as if in thought.


    "Lisander the king?" Cricket interjected.


    "No," Licephus corrected. "Just courtiers. Lisander is a popular name among the dhampiri."


    "We belong to the Right Hand?" Jeshu whispered crisply in Cricket''s ear. "I asked you specifically who the Right Hand was, and you said you didn''t know."


    "You asked about the Left Hand!"


    "That doesn''t seem relevant?"


    "You really should verify any information you receive from Cricket," Oydd censured. "Both refer to the hands of King Akinaska, lord of the dead. In mythology, his left hand held a cloth and judged the worth of his followers. His right hand held a scythe and executed punishment. The dhampiri use the terms symbolically. The Left Hand manages the internal affairs of the kingdom, and the Right Hand manages external affairs, like warfare. Incidentally, the term has come to simply refer to physical strength, and so the Left Hand represents intellect."


    Licephus returned from his thoughts. "Which means a coup."


    He dismissed Jeshu and Cricket, speaking in private with the rudra for several minutes.


    Three gnolls surrendered, and the vampire lord executed them on the side of the road. He ordered the others to continue to their destination, but departed the caravan at the next crossroads.


    During the panic, the lead cave lizard had inadvertently trampled its goblin goad beneath its twisted claws, and Agena took up the rope, trudging along silently. With the lead lizard heading in the right direction, the others knew what to do and the train plodded along with its guard, albeit reduced in manpower.


    "You never said what you would eat?" Cricket reminded the dryad.


    Jeshu laughed then looked up at the ceiling as he pondered. "I am quite fond of the mushrooms here. They are so flavorful if prepared correctly."


    "You eat mushrooms?"


    "Of course, why?"


    "I don''t know," Cricket shrugged. "I thought druids might not eat plants."


    "I''m a vegetarian," Jeshu said. "It''s all I eat."


    "I thought you might just eat meat in order to protect plants. You know, like a... carnitarian?"


    Jeshu shook his head and two leaves fell to the cavern floor. "Meat doesn''t have the nutrients I need. Really, I need the sun too. Not sure I can really thrive down here."


    Oydd fell back by Jeshu and Cricket, leaving Kaser up front with Agena and the azaeri. When he felt there was enough sound to cover his voice he whispered, "This was a setup, clearly. But I''ve been thinking. The whole mission was designed to fail. Whatever the gnolls thought they were after was actually a mimic to bait them. We took back tunnels and Licephus'' presence wasn''t known."


    "What''s your point?" Cricket asked.


    "My point is that Damien knew. We were meant to be ambushed."


    "Licephus knew as well," Jeshu added. "But you don''t like being bait."


    Oydd shook his head. "But Licephus fought with us. We don''t know Damien''s intentions. Did he mean for Licephus to die, or to help draw out rebel dhampiri for Licephus to kill?"


    "What does it matter?" Cricket asked, genuinely curious.


    "If Damien is a traitor, then we could kill him."


    "To what end?" Jeshu asked hollowly. "To be replaced by someone worse?"


    "To be replaced by us," Oydd hissed.


    They continued in silence for a minute.


    Finally, Oydd spoke again, in softer tones. "I have been trained to take Damien''s place if anything... unfortunate happens to him. Only I know how to run all the affairs of the Warrens. In fact, Damien has grown lazy. I''m practically running things now."


    "The ratlings wouldn''t accept you," Cricket pointed out. "You''d have a mutiny on your hands."


    "They wouldn''t accept me," Oydd replied, "but they would accept you."


    Cricket considered this point.


    "I would be the Left Hand of the Warrens, and you would be the Right as it were. Really, you would be the face to make sure the others fall in line."


    Jeshu frowned. "How much control would you really have?"


    "Enough..." the rudra responded. "I am really only worried about Agena. I cannot tell where his loyalties lie. Anyway, for now it is just a thought. I know neither of you like taking orders if it... goes against your values?"


    The rudra wandered back toward the front of the caravan, leaving Cricket to consider the proposition.

 Unseen Webs

    8


    Unseen Webs


    "You''ve grown fat."


    Damien looked up from his desk and raised a monocle to his largest eye. "Lord Licephus. What a pleasure."


    The vampire glanced down at his sagging grey stomach. "You''re the only one of your kind I''ve ever seen with a gut," he added flatly.


    *****


    Cricket silenced the druid with a raised hand and tuned his antennae to the conversation across the commons.


    "He''s chewing him out." Cricket conveyed. "Started out by basically calling him fat twice. The fattest... spider-thing? I wish Oydd were here. He''d know what they''re called."


    Jeshu sighed. ¡°I already told you¡ªarachane.¡±


    "There are more of him?" Patches whispered.


    "And now they''re talking kind of cryptically. I''m not getting much."


    "No idea what he talked about with Oydd?"


    "No," Cricket answered.


    Patches chimed in. "I know."


    "What''s that?" Cricket perked up.


    "I was there when you left. No one noticed me," the mouseling said. "I hear all sorts of things."


    "What were they discussing, little one?" Jeshu probed.


    "Names. Places..." the mouseling yawned. "Oh, he said those dhampiri worshiped Bale."


    "Bale?" Cricket gawked. "What dhampir ever followed Bale!" He adjusted an antenna. "Oh, quiet... they''re finishing up."


    The group fell suspiciously silent as the vampire stormed from the office and down the hall.


    "Oh," Jeshu said. "I just remembered. I made you something." He produced a small figurine from his pouch, a polished turtle carved from grey stone, dangling from a leather string.


    Cricket accepted the gift. "Oh, a turtle. I love turtles." He watched the stone spin in the air. "They just really doubled down on one thing, you know? But you got the legs wrong."


    "It''s a charm," the dryad explained. "It will allow me to bestow some graces on you in battle."


    "Graces?"


    "Like a blessing. I know an incantation to harden the skin. I believe it will work on your shell, but the effect is temporary. Just keep this in contact with your carapace."


    Cricket eyed the figurine skeptically.


    "I know you don''t like armor. You''ve changed the subject twice when I''ve brought it up. Think of this as a compromise."


    "It will harden my shell?" Cricket repeated.


    "It will allow... yes, basically."


    Cricket thanked him again and placed the necklace over his head. And though he didn''t trust the magic, he rubbed his finger over the smooth stone in spite of himself. The figurine felt cool against his chest.


    Our turn. Oydd appeared from the hall to the laboratory and gestured for Cricket to join him as he headed to Damien''s office.


    Can you hear me? Cricket thought as hard as he could. The rudra made no response.


    "Can you hear my thoughts?" the insectoid asked.


    "No, not yet."


    "But you could? No offense, but that''s creepy."


    "Hmm... It''s not nearly as easy if the subject is unwilling. Don''t worry," Oydd dismissed the concern, "I have no interest in digging around in your mind." He paused just outside of Damien''s door. "Do you remember when I killed with just a word," Oydd hinted cryptically at their dhampir target. "I had his... permission. I''m not sure if he even knew it. But he had given up and allowed the magic to seep into him. After you."


    Cricket entered the office, and noticed some recently acquired trinkets on the arachane''s desk, including the potion and ring they had retrieved from the catacombs beneath Azandes'' cathedral. Cricket felt a cold knot in his stomach just looking at the obsidian ring.


    "We''re low on men." Damien addressed the rudra. "I''m canceling your mission."


    "Until Raccoon''s party returns?"


    Damien snorted. "Raccoon''s party will not return." He scratched at his parchment with his quill.


    Oydd reflected on this news.


    "Seventeen ratlings." Damien scribbled more furiously. "Wiped out!"


    Cricket''s heart dropped.


    Damien smiled. "At least we won''t go hungry this week."


    Cricket clenched his mandibles to avoid blurting out something he''d regret.


    The arachane looked up again. "You have no assignment while I sort out this mess. Do you have any questions?"


    "Not right now," Oydd answered. He placed a hand on Cricket''s shoulder, and the insect felt that the words might have also been directed at him.


    "Then you''re dismissed." Damien picked up the herbal potion and began to scrutinize it as Oydd pushed Cricket gently from the room.


    "So that''s why it''s been so barren around here," Cricket said, still numb.


    Wait. Oydd cautioned and Cricket bit down on his tongue until they were some distance from the office.


    "What am I to make of that!" Cricket whisper-shouted. "Seventeen deaths? And he didn''t care! Raccoon was my friend. I''m not happy to get his rations!"


    "I know."


    "Skunk is the only ratling I knew better. And I didn''t even remember that when he died. Who else did we lose?"


    "Calm down. You feel how I feel."


    "You''ve never cared about ratlings!" Cricket returned.


    "No," Oydd said. "Not like you."


    Cricket thawed a bit at the admission.


    "I''m angry because he used us as pawns. And I welcome that you see it now." Oydd pressed, "You weren''t so angry when you were used. But you''re angry."


    Cricket took a deep breath.


    Oydd let some time pass before he spoke again. "Agena leaves soon." Then he added a powerful thought. Tonight! Be ready!


    *****


    Cricket lay on the ground, his head against the hard rock wall. He found the barracks unusually quiet, even for nighttime. No shouts over a lucky roll. No whispers in the corridors. Across the room Scorpion''s tail dragged a dagger across the wall of his bunk with a steady scrape, but Cricket had learned to tune this sound out completely. He found it calming and it helped him sleep.


    Down the corridor to the east, the lizardmen slept in utter silence. The rats had always kept later hours, and the lizardmen were sound sleepers regardless. They kept to a regimen.


    The other insectoids, too small for combat, and a few goblin slaves slept down the west corridor. But they were simply far too exhausted from the day to be up at this hour. They needed their rest for the fields or stables, or... Cricket didn''t really know all the little jobs around the burrow. Certainly no one was cleaning.


    Now, Cricket heard the rudra''s voice in his head. He felt for the daggers stored in his carapace, but thought it better to keep them sheathed so he appeared unarmed.


    He stood quietly and crossed the room, passing by the meditating dryad. Rather than sleep, the dryad only required a few hours of quiet. He closed his eyes and would often not even respond to his own name being called. Now he only faked a deep trance. Cricket noticed the druid open his eyes slightly as he passed, a signal that he would follow in a few minutes to avoid suspicion.


    While Cricket had tuned out the scraping of Scorpion''s dagger, he did register instantly when it stopped. Cricket kept his eyes forward, though he thought he heard the ratling''s light footfall as he dropped from his bunk.


    Only daggers were permitted at night, one each, ostensibly to prevent infighting among the slaves. And yet, keeping a weapon only seemed to draw suspicion and unwanted attention. Cricket admired how the ratling brandished a weapon so openly and casually that it seemed both unthreatening and cautionary at the same time.


    The insectoid kept an easy pace toward the entrance to the laboratory, trying to act casual, but when he risked a glance backward, the ratling stood only feet away, waving his tail menacingly. Or perhaps the way he always waved it?


    "What?" Cricket whispered curtly.


    "Where you off to?" Scorpion asked bluntly.


    "Since when do you check up on me?"


    Scorpion stood absolutely still except for the roiling of his tail.


    Cricket began to sweat in the cool night air, but he spoke softly and calmly. "Listen, you don''t want to get involved, friend."


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    Scorpion stepped forward, a glint in his eyes. "Oh, I think I do, Cricket."


    Somehow, in the way he spoke the insect''s name, Cricket sensed an understanding, not a threat.


    Scorpion sneered. "The armory is closed, which means you need all the help you can get." The clever ratling produced two daggers from the recesses of his thick fur coat. Which meant either he was prepared for this, or he always kept hidden weapons at night, much like the insectoid.


    "Alright."


    While their whispered conversation had surely drawn the attention of many curious listeners, the two formed an imposing enough duo to discourage any investigation.


    They found the rudra lingering near the laboratory and together the three waited for Jeshu.


    Oydd produced a spare key to the iron door, then spoke to their minds. Opening this door will make a faint click. Enough that I believe it will alert Damien. He is, after all, a veteran of sorts. Once I open this door, we must move quickly but not stupidly. He looked directly at Cricket with this thought. Damien''s austere quarters lie beyond the laboratory. He will not be wholly unprepared for sedition.


    I had thought only Cricket would know the layout, but I believe Scorpion does as well?


    Scorpion nodded.


    Good. I will need a few minutes to animate Kaser, but I believe it will be well worth the time.


    When the druid arrived, Oydd stuck the key into the lock, pausing for any last minute objections, and then twisted the key with a faint click.


    Scorpion dashed first through the doorway, eagerly, and Cricket took a practiced pace behind him with his daggers in his weaker arms.


    Once inside, he felt the turtle figurine around his neck warm and tingle slightly. He heard Jeshu''s whispered chant some distance behind him. He felt the tingling extend to his entire exoskeleton, and felt it hardening. His joints even creaked, and he worried that this particular spell might not have been tested on bugs. But it felt good.


    Cricket passed Kaser''s inactive body, standing eerily inert in the corner. He passed counters filled with vials and beakers and a complex apparatus he believed to be an alchemic distillery, along with disorganized notes and measuring tools. A tome lay open on Oydd''s desk displaying the anatomy of a changeling. Shelves lined the walls, filled with dozens, if not hundreds of more books.


    The second room was the morgue, where Oydd prepared and stored bodies for necromancy. Cricket noticed a fairly fresh trollblood lying on one of the tables, as well as a body covered in coarse, bloodstained fabric. Most notably, the nine-foot corpse of the ogre floated in a gigantic glass container, soaking in a translucent amber liquid, accentuating its yellow skin.


    Scorpion slipped down the narrow hallway past the morgue and began picking at the lock to Damien''s quarters expeditiously.


    Cricket pushed his back against the wall of the chamber as the ratling worked. Through the wall he heard a faint rustling, followed by a long, clicking croak that sent a shiver up his antennae.


    Damien was awake. But with the echo from the small chamber, Cricket couldn''t isolate his position.


    Scorpion twisted his thin knife in the keyhole and the mechanism inside made an unpleasant grinding sound. Then the door swung outward.


    Scorpion rushed in to the left and Cricket was about to take the right when Scorpion screamed. He dropped a dagger and held a small paw to the side of his throat. Blood bubbled up between his fingers.


    "What got you?"


    "Web." Scorpion seethed between his teeth. "It''s everywhere."


    Cricket noticed other nicks and scratches on the ratling''s arms, but clearly nothing as severe as the laceration on his neck.


    The insectoid moved gingerly into the room, waving his free arms out in front of him. He felt a surprisingly strong resistance as he found his first thread. The razor thin string of webbing broke, but left a fair groove in the shell, failing to penetrate completely.


    "I can''t see at all," Cricket griped. An arrow whirred through the air, piercing his shoulder and exiting the far side. He winced in pain but shrugged it off. The adrenaline made it feel like a pinprick. For now, anyway. "Damn, what is this?"


    "Magical darkness," Scorpion''s voice answered.


    Cricket heard another rustling chitter as the arachnid repositioned himself near the ceiling.


    "Oydd, can you light this room up?"


    "Oydd isn''t here," the dryad replied. "But that wouldn''t work anyway. I''ll see what I can do."


    Cricket held both of his upper forearms in front of his eyes and charged into the room, feeling the strands of web tighten and break as they dug into his shell. He slashed blindly in the general area where he had heard Damien, hitting only air and webbing.


    He heard Scorpion clearing the area around him with his tail, gauging by the occasional pluck of a thread with an almost harplike tone followed by an snap.


    "Shit!" The ratling swore, and Cricket no longer heard the lashing of his tail.


    Cricket moved to cover him before Damien could draw another arrow. But his arms ached. Clearly some of the threads had penetrated his shell. He felt a sharp sting in several spots on his forearms, but nothing on his legs. "There aren''t as many webs down low. He put more at throat height."


    "My throat height is your waist height. And there are webs there."


    "Cover your vitals." Cricket shouted.


    The insectoid raised his arms a little to ensure they protected his antennae and kept moving. Another arrow whizzed by his ears. Cricket paused to ensure he could still hear the ratling moving but he heard nothing.


    Jeshu suddenly finished chanting and yelled a word in a druidic tongue, a language that Cricket was just beginning to recognize by its guttural sounds and droning, almost buzzing, chants. The word resonated in the air, and the darkness began to clear. But not completely.


    Cricket caught a glimpse of a spindly leg and then Damien withdrew back into the darkness. It now dissipated into more of a mist that slowly sunk to the floor.


    Cricket saw Scorpion standing several feet from where the arrow had flown and breathed a sigh of relief. The ratling still put pressure on the throat gash, but the bleeding wasn''t out of control. He nursed a wounded tail with his other free hand, all three of his daggers at his feet.


    Damien drew his bow string. This time Cricket heard the fiber stretch and tighten. He saw Damien''s glistening claws in the darkness. Just a fleck of white in the blackness, pulling on the string.


    Cricket turned sideways to make himself a smaller target and focused intently on the bow.


    Don''t try to dodge! Oydd practically shouted.


    "I think I can."


    You can''t! By the time you hear it, it will be too late.


    Cricket ignored him. He stood motionless for what felt an eternity and then lurched to the side just before an arrow whirred past. The insect immediately seized the opportunity to charge, ducking his head and plowing through the webs.


    Damien attempted to scurry to the side but took a deep wound to the abdomen before climbing higher, out of Cricket''s sight.


    "Crap! How high is this chamber?"


    A glob of green spider innards landed on his shoulder and Cricket convulsed before wiping it off. Another drip landed on the floor and then another drip much further away.


    Fall back!


    Cricket didn''t bother to wait. The instant he heard the order he grabbed Scorpion and left the chamber, where he found Jeshu pressed against the wall out of Damien''s line of sight breathing heavily as he held back the darkness.


    "Let it go," Oydd told the druid. Kaser stood at the rudra''s side for only an instant before bounding into the room, climbing up the rough-hewn walls at a full sprint.


    Jeshu released his spell and the darkness returned thicker than ever, gushing out of the room with the force of a crashing wave.


    Then came the sounds¡ªthe horrific, animal grunts and snarls, followed by a bloodcurdling scream cut short. A heavy twitching body crashed to the floor with a thud and a whining screech. Cricket heard Kaser land next to Damien''s body and begin to feed.


    "Kaser doesn''t rely on sight," Oydd reminded the group. "He is drawn to his prey''s life force."


    "You read my mind," Cricket accused the rudra. "You said you wouldn''t read my mind."


    "When do you think I did that?" Oydd countered caustically.


    "You told me not to dodge."


    "Maybe I just know how stupid you are," Oydd spat.


    "Well, it worked."


    "Yes," the rudra had to admit. "It did. Though I''m not sure how."


    "You don''t dodge the arrow," Cricket answered. "You dodge their fingers. The second their fingers move, you move."


    "Have you done that before?"


    "It worked," the insect repeated, dodging the question.


    Slowly, over the course of a few minutes, the darkness dissipated.


    "I locked the door behind us," Oydd said. "So we have a few minutes to rest without the prying eyes of every rat in the Warrens."


    Jeshu took this cue to sit down. "Was Damien powerful enough to animate the bodies in the morgue?"


    "I suppose so," Oydd answered. "But Kaser seems to work more efficiently than Damien''s creations. I may need to unlearn some of his advice."


    "I just meant that I would have hated to fight that ogre again."


    Oydd''s eyes went wide. "Well, yes..." He looked down with a hand to his beak, stroking his tentacles and mulling over this possibility in his head. He stepped back into the morgue and saw the ogre''s hand pressing against the newly cracked glass and hurried back to the others without comment.


    When Jeshu noticed the ratling''s wounds, he immediately jumped back to his feet. While he tended to Scorpion, Cricket wandered back into Damien''s bedchamber. Actually, he had expected a bed, but webs did make more sense. Even without the magical darkness, the webbing was problematic to spot and the insectoid had to remind himself not to move carelessly.


    Kaser had a few minor cuts, but nothing as serious as Cricket. Whatever defensive spells the necromancer used, they were clearly more effective than Jeshu''s turtle.


    Damien''s bow lay next to his mangled, partially eaten corpse. It was carved from a black organic looking material, but not wood. Cricket picked it up and threw it over his shoulder, which is when he noticed his arrow wound. Long black threads reached from the hole, stretching outward like a disease. The shell around the piercing already had a dull, moldy appearance.


    "Jesh!" Cricket screamed in a panic, running back to the dryad.


    The others scrutinized the wound in alarm. Except for Scorpion who eyed the bow.


    "The Nightcrawler." Scorpion said in awe. "I got to use it once. Wondered where it went, since it was never in the armory. That''s how he made the darkness."


    "It doesn''t look good," Jeshu admitted. He stopped attending to Scorpion, whose wound looked more serious than it was, and stuck a finger in the arrow hole.


    "Ow!" Cricket wailed. "What good did that possibly do?"


    "I''m sorry, let me treat it."


    Cricket sat down cross-legged as the dryad searched his pouch for herbs, which he set aside for the moment.


    "Damien told me that bow is the most powerful magic item we have," Scorpion continued. "Worth more than everything else in the armory combined."


    "That''s not comforting," Cricket complained.


    Scorpion took the hint and kept the rest to himself, but reached out gingerly to pluck the string. Cricket shot him a look and the ratling huffed, roaming off to find his daggers.


    Jeshu took a leather skin from his side, pulled the stopper and poured a clear liquid into the wound.


    "Don''t worry. It''s just water." Jeshu placed a palm on the wound then pulled it upward. The water stretched between his palm and the wound, making a bridge in the air. Jeshu concentrated and black flecks began to rise from the hole like ash from a fire, settling in the druid''s downturned palm.


    Jeshu shook his hand, splattering black goo against the wall, and the bridge of water splashed back down onto Cricket''s shell. He poured more water and placed his palm against the shell again, repeating the process. This time very few black specks emerged. Jeshu stopped his water skin and then pressed herbs into the cracked shell.


    "I''m lucky it didn''t hit anything important. It went right under my collar bone."


    "You don''t have a collar bone!" Oydd snapped.


    "Well, that''s what everyone else calls that spot," Cricket said indignantly.


    "Anything else of interest in there?" Oydd asked, gesturing back toward Damien''s quarters.


    Cricket shook his head. "I don''t think so. Pretty austere."


    "Do you even know what that word means, or did you just hear me use it?"


    "I heard you think it," Cricket clarified. "So I got the meaning."


    "Oh," Oydd said, for once at a loss for words. He took one last glance back at Damien''s room.


    When the group returned to the commons, an impressive assembly had congregated. Mostly ratlings that kept to the far walls, scurrying to see over one another. The goblin chef stood in the middle of the cavern with a ladle of gizzards in one hand and a large snail in the other.


    No one spoke. The ratlings wisely dispersed, unwilling to be found at the scene. The chef merely closed his eyes as they passed, in a futile attempt to maintain plausible deniability.


    Together they returned to the bunks, and the nearby ratlings all vanished down the hallway, leaving the room oddly empty.


    Jeshu sat in his usual spot as if to meditate, but kept his eyes open. Oydd sat nearby.


    "I''ll take the first watch," Scorpion offered.


    "There''s no need," the dryad said. "I don''t require any more sleep. You need your rest."


    This seemed argument enough, and the ratling climbed into his bunk without protest.


    Soon the sound of his tail dragging a dagger against the rock wall filled the quiet chamber with a steady rhythm. But for once, Cricket found it difficult to sleep.

 The Transition of Power

    9


    The Transition of Power


    Cricket picked up the flask of liquid from Damien''s desk.


    "It''s a simple potion of healing," Oydd said. "Judging by Damien''s notes. But he still had no idea what enchantment is on this ring." The rudra sorted through a small pile of parchments.


    "I''m surprised we haven''t met any resistance," Cricket said thoughtfully.


    "By whom? The rats who love you, or the lizardmen who hated Damien?"


    "Still..." Cricket sat the flask back down.


    "I find it little surprise. Licephus basically expressed his indifference to Damien''s removal."


    "You discussed this with the vampire?"


    "Of course. I''m no fool. He said he would even notify the Left Hand if we were successful. You didn¡¯t consider that? What did you think would happen?"


    "What is he?" Cricket asked absently.


    "Who?"


    "Licephus," Cricket answered.


    "Ah. I believe he was an elf in... a former life."


    "Why would he choose to live down here? He''s no slave."


    The rudra considered the question. "Vampirism is a disease.  Those on the surface will not accept those who have been cursed by it."


    "Not even one of their own?"


    "Especially not one of their own," Oydd added sadly. "Also, I believe the sun is unpleasant to vampires. The same it would be to you or me. And, stranger still," the rudra continued, "he has some esteem for the dhampiri, perhaps even a tenderness. He mourns their decline."


    Jeshu stooped to enter Damien''s office. Once past the door, he still had to stay hunched slightly in the low-ceilinged room. "The ratlings are awaiting orders, but are nervous to approach you."


    "Hmph! I should imagine. The lizards on the other hand have been harassing me all morning. They don''t like to sit still. But it will take time for me to make sense of these notes."


    "Let''s give them something to do," Cricket suggested.


    "Like what?"


    "I can organize some drills. Or we could make something up, like asking them to form squads and choose leaders."


    Oydd laughed. "That would undoubtedly result in many deaths. I prefer your training idea."


    The druid eyed the potion on the table. "Who is in charge of requisitions now?"


    "I have been for some time," Oydd answered. "If you want the potion, you can have it."


    Jeshu smiled, grabbing the flask. "In a way I feel like I earned it. As a token for our efforts to protect Azandes."


    "Protect Azandes?" Oydd scoffed. "Azandes has been dead for over a hundred years. He was a baron and the bishop in charge of this entire district before the church splintered. The cathedral is only named for him."


    Cricket''s antennae drooped sheepishly.


    "I told you to verify any information you receive from the insect," Oydd continued.


    "Hey! I said he was a bishop or a baron, so I was right on two counts."


    "You were right on one count, because you said or."


    Cricket glowered at the rudra''s assessment.


    "Anything else important you''ve discussed," Oydd asked dryly.


    Jeshu answered. "I have been wanting to talk to you about Bale."


    "Ah! That is precisely why I sent for you," Oydd said excitedly. "Our only standing order, from Licephus, is to investigate the worshippers of Bale."


    "What killed all of those ratlings?" Cricket asked.


    "An assassin named Jade."


    "A single assassin?" Cricket''s antennae perked back up.


    "Yes."


    "I think going after him should be a priority."


    "He is completely unrelated." The rudra waved Cricket off. "A waste of our time."


    "Who is Bale?" Jeshu interrupted.


    "Bale the Betrayer is the most prominent god of the underworld, beyond Serinyes. He has many worshippers."


    "Among the dhampiri?" Jeshu asked.


    "No, that would be heresy," Oydd said. "A dhampir who worships a god other than Serinyes would be killed¡ªpublicly and in an excruciating manner. He is mostly worshiped by slaves. The dhampiri detest him for betraying Serinyes while in her court. That is how he earned his title."


    "Oh," Cricket chimed in. "Well that''s not as bad as I thought. Nothing wrong with pissing off the dhampiri."


    "Why are we tasked with investigating them?" Jeshu asked.


    "Licephus believes a cult of Bale extremists has infiltrated the Right Hand. I''m not sure if you''re aware," Oydd added, looking to the druid, "but the Right Hand is not a single individual, like the Left Hand of the King. It is an organization. Licephus wanted to purge the lot of them, but I suggested we investigate the cultists first. These extreme worshippers are known for sacrificing body parts in exchange for favor with their god."


    "Yes. Licephus seemed interested in their malformities." Jeshu nodded to himself.


    "They are not wholly insane. Bale does seem to grant significant power to those who sacrifice to him. That dhampir summoner was unusually strong."


    "And the necromancer in the catacombs," Cricket added.


    Oydd shook his head. "Unrelated again. He was not missing any limbs." Oydd froze suddenly with a look back toward the lab. "Unless..."


    "I saw a trollblood in the lab," Jeshu pushed.


    Oydd stroked his white tentacles. "The same. That is, the same one you fought. I had him brought here when I heard about the fight. I have been eager to do some tests on a trollblood. But another time. Cricket?"


    "Yes?"


    "Can you arrange those drills you mentioned? I want to keep everyone as busy as possible during the... transition of power."


    "I''m looking forward to it." Cricket cracked his knuckles.


    "Jeshu, perhaps you should stay behind and we can discuss more political matters.


    "Hmm..." Jeshu said. "Certainly."


    "Anything else?"


    Cricket shook his head.


    "Then we''ll adjourn for now."


    *****


    On his way to the training grounds, Cricket saw a train of carts unloading near the stable with new recruits. Slaves, Cricket reminded himself. His antennae drooped at the thought. A thought he had often pushed to the back of his mind.. He was surprised not everyone enjoyed combat training, and it had caused some awkward moments in the past.


    "Rule number one," Cricket said to himself. "Don''t be like Damien." While wasn¡¯t yet in a position to let them go, he could at least treat them well, and maybe even prepare them to fight back against their masters if the opportunity arose.


    He approached the foreman near the front of the train¡ªa white, larvae-like worm twice his height, attempting to mark off names from a scroll with his stubby arms.


    "Where''s this lot from?" Cricket asked.


    "Mostly the surface," the worm answered in a frothing accent. He looked Cricket up and down with a grimace. "You in charge ''ere?"


    "Uh... yes." Cricket answered.


    The worm looked skeptical seeing Cricket''s hesitation. "There''s a few is goblins, and a few is lizardfolk. But mostly the surface."


    "Do you ever bring elves?" Cricket asked in curiosity, remembering Licephus'' kin.


    "Aae," The worm answered and Cricket took this as a yes. "Though they don''t do so well in the dark. But sometimes they''re kept as consorts and concubines. A favorite of the dhampiri." The worm forced a disgusting smile.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Cricket surveyed the newcomers. Goblins would likely see an improvement in their living conditions here. Lizardmen would acclimate quickly to the routine. But any surface dwellers were in for a shock. Cricket peered inside the carts and saw a few fair faces of varying ages with pointed ears that reminded him of Licephus.


    Despite the foreman''s claim that most of his prisoners were from the surface, only two surface-dwellers were dropped off at the Warrens before the carts continued on. An old, greying dryad, with no leaves on his small branches, and what could have been his daughter or granddaughter. The child breathed heavily, her eyes wide, and the older dyad watched her mournfully, helplessly.


    Cricket approached them. "What are your names?"


    The old man spoke. "I am Zarachi, and this is my niece Yentl." He answered defiantly.


    "I''m a slave like you," Cricket assured him. "I''m not your enemy."


    Zarachi''s visage softened noticeably. His hands shook.


    "What''s your trade?"


    "Ferrier," the dryad replied.


    Cricket crossed his feelers. "I don''t think we have that down here."


    "He worked with horses," the child responded.


    "Don''t have those either. Say you''re a cook."


    "I can''t cook," the man answered.


    "You won''t be worse than our chef. But they might keep you two together if they think you can make a good meal. Otherwise, women are usually sent to a separate barracks and you might not see each other again. Besides," Cricket added, "they''ll expect a cook to struggle with the different foods down here, so it won''t be suspicious."


    The old man seemed to consider this advice, but was herded away before he could respond.


    *****


    Oydd opened the door to the laboratory¡ªhis laboratory¡ªand followed the narrow tunnels down to the morgue as he fished a small glass orb from the recesses of his robes. The rudra hovered over the body of the trollblood for a moment then spoke a word of magic and his hand vanished.


    Oydd held the orb of invisibility over the cadaver and the flesh disappeared. He adjusted the distance until only the bones rematerialized, having learned the orb had a greater effect on soft tissue.


    The rudra ran the orb up and down one arm and then the other, before checking the neck and ribs. Though the rolls of fat on the troll''s chest were too dense to see through in some areas, he felt quite certain the skeleton was intact. He ran the orb around the skull, down one leg and then down the other. The ring finger Cricket had removed had almost entirely reformed, a credit to the regenerative nature of troll''s blood, even after death.


    But what interested him more was new bone growth in the left tibia and fibula. The bone appeared to have been surgically cut below the knee and then had regrown. The marks were subtle, but he could check the age of the bones against the rest of the skeleton to test his hypothesis.


    You will report. Oydd heard the Left Hand''s words in his mind crisply from a distance and huffed in annoyance.


    Mouseling, Oydd thought quietly and the small ratling jumped soundlessly from the shadows onto the examination table.


    "I need a sample of this bone. Place a small piece in a petri dish and set it at my station."


    Patches grabbed a scalpel, which looked oddly large in her tiny hands and crawled, barefoot, onto the troll''s legs.


    Oydd rushed away, without a second glance at the mouseling, speaking another word of magic as he departed. The orb in his hand quieted, and his hand slowly rematerialized.


    The rudra stowed the orb inside his robes and hurried to the antechamber where the Left Hand usually met Damien. Agena stood guard outside the room, and Oydd avoided looking the lizardman in the eyes as he passed.


    A black, tentacled mass hovered in the air before its thralls in an otherwise empty room. It was larger than Oydd remembered¡ªtaller than the rudra, even if it weren''t floating in the air.


    The rudra bowed and was immediately met by a powerful, malevolent force that whipped the robes about his feet. The grey humanoid thralls readied their halberds, then froze like statues, waiting, the rudra knew, on a command from the Left Hand.


    Despite the uneasy feeling in his gut, the Left Hand spoke softly, inquisitively. You are master now?


    I am, Oydd thought. The force dimmed and his robes settled to the polished floor. He sensed the being smile, as it were, at his attempt to communicate telepathically. Not so much a feeling of amusement, but of gratification.


    Oydd remained bowed.


    You have new orders. The creature began to relay information in concepts and images, rather than words, conveying a location, a clear objective, the relative urgency and more in an instant. When it saw that the rudra could keep up, it increased both the speed and detail, so that the exchange took only a few seconds.


    I understand, Oydd replied, thinking the words, unable to break his thoughts down to refined concepts.


    The Left Hand expressed one final, clear thought. Bring the dragon a tribute.


    *****


    The azaeri''s eye made several small adjustments, locking onto his target. Ty''lek paused, motionless, then released the string and his arrow whizzed through the air striking the side of a mushroom stalk.


    "You''re left-handed," Cricket stated flatly.


    Ty''lek lowered his bow and regarded the insect quizzically.


    "I noticed earlier when you drew that hunting knife to defend yourself. I bet your instructor was right-handed." Cricket stepped closer to adjust the archer''s grip. "So the bow would go this way..."


    Ty''lek resisted not once but twice and finally Cricket pried the wood from his fingers.


    "Like this."


    The azaeri flicked his tongue in annoyance.


    "So you''ll draw with this hand. Your feet go here. You had this wrong earlier too."


    The azaeri hissed.


    "You have to line up your hips and your torso this way," Cricket explained, then forced the archer to attempt a shot against his protests.


    The arrow missed the target completely, and the azaeri gave Cricket a smug look.


    "Draw again."


    Ty''lek drew a second arrow, and Cricket took a step away then back in to adjust his elbow. "Pull this one straight from the target. The other bends a little this way." The long feathers on the azaeri''s forearms tickled Cricket''s feelers and he turned away to sneeze.


    The archer fired once more and struck the mushroom stalk much closer to center.


    Cricket moved along to oversee the lizardmen''s training. Agena demonstrated some basic stabs and swings of the spear to a small group, but the new arrivals were much smaller and struggled to match his prowess, often bouncing back when they stabbed at the practice dummies.


    Cricket interrupted and borrowed a spear from one of the recruits. "Place one hand here, and the other here. You want a low stance, especially when you thrust." He took a deep sideways step, extending the spear through the air to the side of the target.


    Then he addressed Agena. "They aren''t as heavy as you. A wide stance helps reduce the backlash."


    Cricket lifted the spear at an angle with the back end over his head. "Block here. Turn sideways so you''re a smaller target. Thrust and then pull back to here. If your thrust gets knocked aside, it takes too much effort to pull it back straight. Instead, retract first, back to the blocking position."


    Cricket saw Jeshu waiting at the side of his vision and excused himself, tossing the spear back to the recruit.


    However, on his way past Ty''lek, he noticed the archer had switched back to his right hand. Cricket yanked the bow from him and placed it in his left hand again. "You shoot ten left for every one I see you do right."


    He smiled as he approached the dryad.


    Jeshu held the ogre''s massive mace on his shoulder. "You ready?"


    "Heh-heh..." Cricket linked his fingers. He turned the palms out, popping his knuckles, then repeated with his smaller arms. "More than ready."


    Jeshu dropped the mace at his feet with a whump!


    "You''re first," Cricket said.


    "Very well." Jeshu grabbed the mace with both hands then lifted it, trembling, above his head. He let the mace fall again, then stepped back.


    "All right..." Cricket grabbed the mace eagerly then hefted the mace, with a slight grunt but much faster than the dryad. He dropped it.


    "But you''re using four arms!" Jeshu argued, unbecoming of the quiet druid.


    "Very well." Cricket grabbed the mace with only his two upper arms and hefted it again, with about the same ease. "But I should be able to use all four. The question was who is stronger. If you were in a running contest with a spider, you wouldn''t complain that it had more legs."


    Jeshu cleared his throat and composed himself. "Then why was I able to restrain the ratling when you could not?"


    "Partly because you''re heavier, I think. But also, I told you I couldn''t lift as much with the crack in my shoulder." He said as an afterthought, "and I was really hungry and had just worked out."


    "I thought you were just making excuses," the dryad admitted, crestfallen. He knotted his brows and reflected. "Let''s see who can throw it further."


    *****


    When Cricket first convinced Oydd to let Patches sleep in the morgue, she simply curled up in a corner of the floor beneath the bodies. It wasn''t safe for her to sleep in the commons or even on one of the bunks.


    After a week in the morgue, she tired of sleeping in the open, preferring cramped places, and she began to burrow into the back wall. She found a place where the tile had begun to fall away from the moisture of the soil behind it. The mud was wet and soft and easy for her to remove, given enough time.


    She carried batches of mud to the entryway, depositing small amounts in the cracks of the walls to hide her digging. At first she dropped some dirt in the ogre''s tank, but Oydd noticed it in the morning, which perplexed the rudra, and Patches resorted to hiding the dirt from her digs in less conspicuous places.


    After two nights, she hit dry, solid rock, but her tunnel was large enough for her to stretch her feet and small enough to keep Kaser out.


    The ghoul''s lack of motion did little to mitigate his presence, and the undead goblin often made his way into her dreams, feverishly digging to reach her. At first, she met every sound from the morgue with suspicion, but now the steady drip from the distillation flasks, the burble of fermenting fluids, or even the occasional breathing from the trollblood''s corpse seldom interrupted her sleep.


    The mouseling laid out her collections in the back of her hole. Four twigs from the surface, a pawful of dried flowers, an eel spine, Oydd''s favorite scalpel, and the obsidian ring she had stolen from his office in the commons.


    *****


    Jeshu stood next to Cricket in Oydd''s office with his arms crossed and a very sullen look on his rigid, wooden face. Cricket hid a smile as the rudra spoke.


    "Is something funny?" Oydd asked, and the two shook their heads in unison.


    "These orders come directly from the Left Hand of the king. And he has asked that I oversee the mission along with Cricket. He intends to run the Warrens in our absence. I assume to assess our suitability to replace Damien."


    "And where are we going?" Cricket asked.


    "To the swamps. We are to meet a dragon named Yunaba to investigate a disturbance likely linked to the cultists."


    "Oh, the swamps," Cricket said excitedly, looking to Jeshu. "It''s actually a bit further down, but the ceiling is so high there are holes where light from the surface will reach us."


    The druid stopped sulking and looked up. "Are you sure?"


    "I''ve only seen it from a distance" He turned to Oydd.


    "Yes, we''ll pass by the Craters. They will be nearly a mile above us, but you may see light. Also," Oydd continued, "we are to prepare a suitable tribute for the dragon."


    "Like food," Cricket asked.


    "No, not like food. Dragons have more refined tastes. Perhaps something silver or ceremonial."


    "For a swamp dragon?" Cricket protested. "I don''t know..."


    "Well I do. I''ll research something appropriate. In the meantime, leave someone in charge of training for the next few days and get some sleep. Which reminds me." Oydd switched to a forced, diplomatic tone. "I had intended to take over Damien''s private quarters..."


    "I don''t want them, if that''s what you mean," Cricket replied. "I like open space."


    Oydd nodded in satisfaction. "Very well, I''ll make the necessary arrangements. I''ll send for everyone in the morning."


    Cricket turned back before leaving. "Oh, Ty''lek needs to train before he goes on any new missions. At least a week, I think."


    "That''s fine. We need to meet with Licephus again before we decide our course of action. Until then we have few assignments to give."


    With that Cricket headed down the corridor to the armory to see Bird about his commissions.

 Yunabas Tunnels

    10


    Yunaba''s Tunnels


    Jeshu held his new shield out front, testing its weight as he climbed through the jagged tunnels leading to the swamp.


    "I''ve never seen you eager for a fight," Cricket said.


    "Eager?"


    "You''ve had your hammer out this whole time."


    "I guess I have. I definitely feel more prepared," the druid admitted.


    "You look scary. We just might be able to take Yunaba."


    Oydd growled. "I know you''re just trying to get a rise out of me, but Yunaba has never been contentious with the dhampiri. This will be a diplomatic mission."


    "Then why am I along?" Cricket asked coyly.


    "Not to hurt Yunaba, I can assure you. Not that you''d have much luck."


    "Ha!" Cricket replied. "I fought two swamp dragons once. They''ll back down if you yell at them. They''re not used to being challenged."


    "That sounds entirely fabricated."


    The rudra''s new creation led the group, a ghoul created from the trollblood''s corpse. This time, Oydd used copper only as a framework, covered with iron plates that resembled mail but with larger gaps. He fastened shields to its forearms, rather than claws, and named the menace Gad, because it was "a wall of iron." The monstrosity breathed heavily¡ªthe only undead creature Cricket knew to ever breathe.


    Kaser followed behind and then Patches. Cricket felt less need to monitor her with the ghouls so close.


    Oydd insisted that controlling two ghouls at once would help him build the strength he needed to reanimate an ogre, but the strain was evident. The rudra sweat in the cold tunnels, and had trouble keeping pace with the dryad.


    Patches held a small gift, wrapped in light blue cloth. Cricket hadn''t seen what was inside, but it couldn''t have been much bigger than a flute. He had assumed it to be some sort of weapon at first, but currently a flute was his best guess.


    The dirt walls began to dampen, which meant they were nearing the marsh. The winding, uneven tunnels served to separate the two biomes, keeping the larger swamp creatures away from the dhampiri cities.


    "I haven''t been this way before, but we should be safe if we stay in a group and out of the muck," Oydd explained. "There are leeches here bigger than Patches, eels bigger than Cricket, and then predators that feed on the eels. But the dry land is relatively safe."


    "The muck is pretty safe too," Cricket added, causing the rudra to flinch in annoyance. "I just stomped through last time and the eels ran. I think the bigger predators don''t really want to eat anything with limbs. They just want to slurp down their food."


    "We won''t test that theory today," Oydd said coldly.


    A faint light appeared in the mist at the far end of the tunnel, and Oydd turned to Jeshu while they climbed. "The Craters are up ahead. They will be in the distance, but we can detour to see them more closely after we complete our objective."


    Jeshu smiled and sighed contentedly. "I wasn''t sure if I would ever see the sun again."


    The tunnels soon opened to a massive cavern, nearly as big as their home, but much deeper, with a heavy mist settled on the ceiling, which made it difficult to gauge its height.


    The group started their descent down a thin winding trail with thick, black mud full of insect compost, waterlogged worms and tiny, bleached shells. Patches hopped onto Cricket''s shoulder. She held the package with her tail as she licked her paws and tail clean.


    When they reached the basin, Oydd sighed. "I''m sorry, dryad."


    "Hmm?" Jeshu looked up.


    Oydd indicated the fog in the distance. "The craters are that way. If there were sunlight, we would see it now."


    Jeshu stared wordlessly into the fog. He saw streaks in the sky that could only have been rain from the surface, finding its way down through the holes in the ceiling. It appeared still from a distance, but the look was unmistakable to him.


    A cold mist splashed along his bark skin, pooling in drops of dew on his arms and brow. Water from the unseen surface world. Blown by wind from the surface world. Jeshu noticed the distant sound of a storm. Something he did not expect to crave. The rush was hard to hear above the nearby sounds of dripping water.


    "Jesh." Cricket placed a hand on the druid''s shoulder. "We''ve been calling your name."


    The druid turned to see the rest of the group crowning a small mound a short distance away, and he followed. He strapped his hammer and slung it over his shoulder, then trudged off with his shield held low and loose in his grip.


    Jeshu felt a small paw press something into his hand and looked down to see a twig from the surface. He closed his hand around the gift, in stunned silence, as the mouseling scurried away, back onto Cricket''s shoulder. He hadn''t noticed her when the insectoid had spoken to him.


    As they moved further into the marsh, Jeshu held the twig in his hand, making it writhe and coil like a snake with druidic magic. He tried to get it to grow by pouring some of his own life energy into the dry wood, but it had been too long since he had seen the sun. Perhaps it was in his mind, but regardless he was unable.


    They reached a section of the marsh dominated by tiered calciform pools, with white, blue, and green lime deposits that smelled heavily of sulfur. Some pools were clean, and others filthy. Oydd warned the others to avoid the clear pools.


    The smaller pools were only a few feet wide, while others stretched a mile or so into the dripping abyss. Dried leaves from the overworld littered the surface of the outer pools, blown by the wind, contributing to a hard peat crust on the dry ground.


    Oydd stopped at a fairly large, dark pool beneath an overhang of rock with pillars of saltpetre flowing down like icicles.


    "This is not at all what I expected when you called this a swamp," the druid said.


    Oydd tapped the rock at his feet with the tip of his staff and called out, "Yunaba!"


    The pool stirred slightly, though nothing could be seen below the dark surface of the bog.


    Oydd tapped his staff once more and a mound began to rise out of the black.


    The swamp dragon rose from the murk and mud, covered in patches of a tar-like grime full of dead leaves and worms that dripped noisily back into the pool. He croaked from deep within his throat, and the giant toad-like dragon placed two fat hands on the edge of his pool, eyeing the group.


    "I Yunaba," he said hungrily. "You have triboot?"


    Patches stepped forward, presenting the small gift above her head with her tiny paws.


    "Wait!" Cricket cried, but before he could move, the swamp dragon''s tongue shot from its toothless lips¡ªthe fat round tip swelling around her. An instant later he retracted his tongue, pulling the mouseling and her flailing limbs into his wide mouth.


    Cricket leapt onto the dragon''s face, grabbing her tail before it disappeared. "No!" he reprimanded the dragon, slapping its snout with his hands. "That''s not your tribute."


    Yunaba spit her out into the water and cricket dropped to retrieve the mouseling with a splash of greasy black water.


    Oydd took a step back, protecting his robes.


    Cricket swam from the pool with the mouseling in his lower arms. He dropped her in the mud, where the dragon''s sticky, thick saliva slowly pooled beneath her trembling form.


    "Bad dragon!" Cricket scolded. "Do you remember me?"


    Yunaba nodded.


    "We don''t eat anything that talks. Remember?"


    The dragon whimpered.


    "Do you still want to be friends?" Cricket threatened.


    Yunaba withdrew a bit into the murk. "It didn''t talked," he objected.


    "I was going to give you some big grubs. But now you get nothing!"


    The swamp dragon withdrew until only its gigantic black eyes poked out from the black water. Yunaba tried to speak with his mouth underwater, but any sound was drowned out by the rush of bubbles from his gullet.


    "What did you say?" Cricket folded his lower arms and tapped a foot impatiently on the rock floor.


    Yunaba repeated himself as he rose a bit, but Cricket only made out the last word. "Triboot."


    "You still want tribute?"


    Yunaba nodded, making huge ripples that splashed over the edges of his pool.


    "What do you want to eat?" Cricket asked with a stern tone.


    The swamp dragon eyed the other members of the group, but Cricket raised one finger to remind him of their deal, and the swamp dragon croaked, "Jerob."


    "Jerob?" Cricket repeated. "You want jerob beetles?"


    The dragon waved his head side to side.


    "Jerob larvae?" Cricket held out his hands, indicating the approximate size, and the toad-like dragon nodded hungrily.


    "We can still be friends," Cricket said. "And I''ll bring you a whole cartload of larvae, but you have to talk first."


    Yunaba croaked and Cricket gestured to Oydd. The stunned rudra stepped forward. "We heard some dhampiri were seen out this way."


    Yunaba slapped a paw in the mud. "Damper gofa back dunnas. Tulud."


    Oydd looked frantically to Cricket for interpretation.


    "He says the dhampiri go to the far back tunnels. And that they''re too loud."


    "Dampers tulud inda dunnas," the dragon clarified.


    "Well that''s partly why we''re here," Oydd replied. "They shouldn''t be here at all. Where did they go?"


    Yunaba stomped several times, adjusting his position until he could point behind himself¡ªthe loose, slimy skin dangling from his fat arm. The spectacle caused a veritable wave to nearly wash away the mouseling. Cricket quickly swept her up and added, "We''ll go back and see if we can get them to quiet down. We''ll bring you your tribute later."


    The dragon croaked in frustration, but Cricket pushed past authoritatively, and the dragon relented. "Da whhhite ones," he said and slurped several gallons of sludge into his mouth as he sank beneath the inky black surface of the pool.


    "I know," Cricket assured him. When the dragon was gone, he wiped the spit from Patches'' fur and rubbed her paws to warm them up.


    Oydd glared at the insect.


    "What?"


    "You know what."


    Cricket stood back up and Patches climbed again onto his shoulder. He felt her little fingers holding on with a death grip. "I tried to tell you, but you wouldn''t listen."


    This information failed to visibly soothe the rudra. He began to climb the rims of the pool, like so many steps toward the back wall.


    "And I didn''t know that I knew this one specifically. But I recognized the scar under his eye from our last encounter."


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Oydd ignored the insect.


    Numerous tunnels of all shapes and sizes honey-combed the cliff wall, some only extending back a few yards, and others winding out of view. A thick, black bramble covered most of the holes. The constant flow of water wore each passage smooth and slick, granting a musty smell.


    Oydd chose a fairly large passage free of vegetation, flooded with murky orange liquid. "This looks disturbed."


    Cricket agreed.


    As Jeshu passed, he stooped to inspect the briar. "I haven''t seen growth like this down here."


    "Don''t touch it," Oydd warned. "Those ridges are razor sharp, and the thorns are poisonous."


    "On the surface, I helped the plants grow," the druid explained. "But it hasn''t worked on the mushrooms down here. Still, this looks so foreign."


    Oydd began to trudge through the flooded tunnel. Kaser ran ahead with sploshing echoes that rang unusually loud in the cramped space.


    Gad moved slowly through the muck, and might have slipped if not for his added weight in iron. Cricket moved slower still, up to his knees in the orange water, struggling to keep upright.


    Oydd watched in amusement, his mood lightening somewhat. "Do you float?"


    "What? No that''s not it. The noise is disorienting me."


    "But do you float?" Oydd repeated. "If you were in water?"


    Cricket avoided the question, but his cheeks flushed visibly to a dark brown.


    "Dryad, pass your hammer to the insect."


    Jeshu unstrapped the weapon and extended it to Cricket.


    "No, I''m good."


    "Humor me," Oydd insisted, and the insect grudgingly grabbed the hammer. Afterward, he managed to keep his footing quite easily and the rudra laughed.


    "The floor''s just really slick. It''s helping me keep my balance."


    "Of course," the rudra replied cheekily.


    Cricket knit his mandibles in frustration, but pushed ahead, still holding onto the hammer for extra weight.


    Dozens of tunnels weaved past each other, like braids of hair, with alternate paths emerging, rising, diving and then disappearing into unknown depths, sometimes to rejoin the main tunnel at a later time. When the ground dried, Cricket returned the hammer looking uncomfortable.


    The main passage widened and eventually Oydd lamented. "Empty. Kaser is too calm. If the dhampiri were here, they have left."


    "We should be thorough anyway," Jeshu advised.


    "Agreed. But the risk level seems low, so I''ll go ahead with the ghouls. You two take a separate path."


    "Three," Cricket corrected, but even he didn''t notice the mouseling alight from his shoulder and pad silently down a tiny side passage.


    *****


    Patches chose a tunnel where the others wouldn''t fit. But also she smelled wet fur, and dried salamanders, and knew that other ratlings had passed this way.


    Despite some spacious areas, the tunnel had no wide openings, which meant whatever ratlings had lived here had likely used the narrow passage for privacy from the dhampiri.


    The smell of salamander jerky grew overwhelming, and the mouseling''s mouth watered. She soon found herself in a large cavity in the rock, not quite deep enough to throw a stone without hitting a wall, but covered with countless ratling trappings, from a rack of drying meat, to a firepit with lukewarm coals and three bedrolls of the softer purple mushroom leather. Patches ate three salamanders then discovered a set of small kettles and crystals, all of which she kept. She identified a side passage as the inhabitants'' latrine.


    The mouseling sniffed the damp air and agreed that the den was currently unoccupied.


    She continued on and her small tunnel eventually rejoined the main passage. She heard Cricket''s voice some distance behind her.


    In the main passage, she found a ratling-sized roofed wagon mired in the mud, with several dangling strings of beads serving as a door. Inside, a clear glass ball, larger than her head, sat in the middle of the single room, propped by rings of silk to prevent it from rolling. In each corner sat a black candle of denub beetle wax, half melted and stuck to the floor.


    On a small shelf in the back, the mouseling found numerous empty glass flasks and potion reagents. Some she recognized and others she did not¡ªdried webcap mushrooms, nightshade pulp, rough turquoise and blue calcite. She found the bones of an unknown critter, along with a pile of tiny skulls and a gourd full of ratling teeth.


    First, she grabbed a small doll made from bound black fur with a tooth inside, made to resemble a ratling. Dried blood stained the fur. One arm had been viciously torn from the doll, and three bone needles penetrated its back, emerging from its belly in a cluster.


    The mouseling began to stuff her pack, but then paused and whispered to herself softly, "You should never steal from a witch."


    The mouseling sat for several seconds pondering, weighing her options, and then removed some rocks and the set of kettles from her bag to make extra room.


    *****


    "What is this?" Cricket asked in disgust, lifting a goblin arm from the pile. A centipede as thick as his wrist crawled, chittering, from the heap of limbs then began to burrow into the frothing flesh of a decaying lizardman tail. It knocked a dhampir eye with a golden iris from the stack and it rolled to bump against Cricket''s foot.


    Jeshu stood some distance away. "Sacrifices to Bale."


    "Well at least that means we''re on the right track." Cricket tossed the rotting arm back into the pile and it landed right on an insectoid hand. Cricket brushed the arm aside and placed his hand over the dismembered one. The severed hand was nearly as big as his own, and looked as though it might have had a dark shell before it dried to a dark grey.


    "It also hints at dozens of followers. I think we should retreat and report," Jeshu said.


    "Uh-huh..." Cricket answered absently.


    "What is that up ahead?"


    Cricket looked up and saw a small wagon with walls and a roof of grey mushroomwood. "Let''s go see."


    The two continued on, passing several rusted spears jammed into the rock with the dried heads of goblins and what must have once been a rudra mounted on top. Such displays often warned of witches, and effectively warded off some of the more superstitious creatures, like ogres and trolls.


    Cricket walked indifferently past the macabre arrangement, with Jeshu stepping apprehensively behind him.


    A small form darted soundlessly from behind the wagon and Cricket readied his sickles.


    However, when he rounded the bend, he saw only the mouseling running along the wall, pausing once or twice to sniff the air.


    Cricket stowed his weapons. "You startled me. Where did you come from?"


    The mouseling scampered up to his side and brushed against his leg, nearly tripping him as he walked.


    At the far end of the tunnel, Cricket saw Kazer skulking on all fours, scraping and clacking the smooth rock beneath him with his claws. For the first time since the catacombs, the insect felt a chill. Not from the presence of dark magic, but simply a rush of adrenaline, imagining squaring up against the frenzied ghoul.


    Kaser, however, clacked along harmlessly, dully. As if the lack of suitable prey bored him. And Gad lumbered after, nearly clogging the side tunnel. Had he grown in size since their fight in the catacombs, or was it Cricket''s imagination?


    Let''s return home. I''ve seen enough.


    Cricket looked around for Oydd and soon noticed the rudra walking in Gad''s wake.


    "Would your ghouls ever attack us?" Cricket asked suddenly.


    "What? No."


    "What if you passed out or something?"


    "Then they would fall limp to the ground. They can only move by my will."


    "But they seem to hate the living except for us."


    Oydd placed a hand on Gad affectionately. "Don''t feel left out. They hate you too. But they can''t move a muscle without my willing it. The greater dead have demonic souls bound to their bodies, like the lizard skeletons you fought. They do not require mind or muscle in the flesh, because they possess something more powerful. My creations would be considered the lesser dead. They desire to kill because of the small bit of dark magic infused in their brains, like a spark kindling a fire. But if their mind or muscle rots away they would be worthless."


    Gad stomped past Cricket and the group slowly made their way back toward Yunaba''s pool.


    "What would we do if we encountered rebel dhampiri," Cricket questioned. "Any slave who raises a weapon against his master shall die."


    "And that rule has always been broken," Oydd answered.


    "The dhampiri have often ordered us to break it. But that offered no protection. I once had a friend who was executed for following orders."


    "And I had a comrade who was killed for disobeying orders," Oydd countered. "What choice do we have? We were ordered to investigate."


    "But we''re in charge now. Shouldn''t things be less complicated? Safer, at least?"


    "Do you feel in charge?" Oydd scoffed.


    Cricket didn''t answer.


    "Because I feel like a pawn," Oydd spat. "You can only make the choices they allow. Damien fell out of favor, and so we were allowed to kill him. Used to kill him. I see no agency in it. Try to disobey an order, and we''ll see how much clout you''ve amassed."


    The loud, unmistakable whoop of laughing gnolls resounded from the tunnel ahead.


    "Crap!" Cricket placed a hand on his forehead. "We were being way too loud. Didn''t we look everywhere?"


    "It would take days to search all of these tunnels. But I presume they are returning and arrived here after us."


    The approaching voices grew in volume and the gnolls, it seemed, picked up a run, based on the echoing sounds of splashing water.


    This way. Oydd dropped down a side passage. Keep silent. Dozens of these passages lead to the entrance. Remember all the holes we saw when we arrived?


    Cricket ducked into the low tunnel¡ªwatchful of the mouseling at his feet¡ªthen Jeshu entered, and then Gad, nearly clogging the narrow tube. Kaser split from the group, sprinting toward the sound of the gnolls.


    Almost instantly Cricket heard the clash of metal against metal, followed by warcries and pained barks.


    Oydd pressed forward undistracted until a gnoll dropped down from a side shoot, and he hollered in surprise, falling back.


    Cricket squeezed past to block the gnoll''s axe, catching the blade in the nook of his sickle and pinning it in the mud wall. His second sickle lashed at the gnoll''s throat but it yelped, dodging backward. The insect pressed forward stabbing two daggers down into its thighs and the gnoll stumbled back hitting its head solidly against the smooth stone.


    Cricket pressed a knee into its throat to silence it as he stabbed it through the ribs.


    The insect took the lead at a bit of a run, dodging the passageways with the loudest cries, attempting to maintain their general direction.


    The cackling of a hyena reverberated behind him, near the rudra.


    Oydd touched his staff to a murky pool and called out "Teyra aranaka!" When he lifted the tip of his staff from the water, a thick strand of web followed. The webbing dispersed in thick sheets, covering the walls and blocking the exit, then began to fill the main passage with a few final, thin, floating wisps.


    Jeshu brushed a rogue strand away from his eyes as he and Gad caught up, then rushed ahead to Cricket''s side.


    Cricket glanced back and saw the rudra slowing, but thought that position safer, due to Oydd''s proximity to the hulking trollblood.


    "The tunnel''s blocked." Jeshu pointed. Ahead, a thick briar covered the narrow passage from wall to wall with no end in sight.


    When they reached it, Cricket slowed but the dryad raised his shield and plowed straight in. The sharp vines tore at his arms and legs but he barreled through without slowing, and Cricket reluctantly followed, swatting away the few thorns that bounced back at his face.


    The insect caught a few cuts and scratches but Jesh took the brunt of the blows, and Cricket couldn''t see the front of the dryad to gauge the damage he had taken.


    Patches crawled against the wall, easily slipping through the openings in the bramble, passing Cricket and then Jeshu.


    When the druid reached the end of the tunnel, the mouseling was already long gone.


    Jeshu turned around, and Cricket saw some serious cuts to his calves and upper arms, but the shield had protected his face and throat.


    Cricket passed the druid, coming to a small drop-off leading back to the marsh and the sulphuric pools, then glanced back down the tunnel to locate the rudra. At first he saw nothing, but then Oydd appeared around the bend at a full sprint, huffing and puffing with three gnolls in pursuit.


    Cricket saw no sign of Gad.


    The druid began to chant in his druidic tongue and the thorny vines danced as if blown by a powerful wind, but Cricket felt nothing.


    Jeshu''s chanting rose and the vines whipped from the walls, grabbing at the gnoll''s ankles and wrists and throats. As the insect watched, the bramble grew until each vine was as thick as one of his arms, and the sharp, twisted ropes coiled around the gnolls like constricting snakes.


    Oydd stopped before he caught up to the others. He leaned against the wall and panted loudly, wailing and wheezing.


    After a few deep breaths he came to the ledge. He took one look down at the pools then threw himself over the ledge speaking a word of magic. The rudra fell slowly, like a feather, landing softly on the ground below.


    "Can you do that for us?" Cricket yelled down.


    Oydd shouted back, "No."


    Cricket looked over the ledge then back at the suffocating gnolls, then back over the ledge again, finally deciding to jump for one of the pools.


    He leapt and plummeted into a clear, steaming pool with a splash then bobbed back to the surface screaming and paddling to get out of the burning water.


    Once on dry land, his shell still steamed heavily, and the insectoid howled in shock.


    "I told you to avoid the clear pools," Oydd growled. "If anything could survive inside of them, they wouldn''t be clear."


    Cricket looked up at Jeshu, still blubbering, then calmed himself enough to shout up at the druid. "Don''t jump in this pool!"


    But the druid was already in the air, and an instant later landed the same steaming water, plunging much deeper than the insect.


    When he surfaced, he floated to the edge calmly, then rose from the pool without a complaint.


    "It''s way hotter than he''s making it look!" Cricket howled.


    "If it were ''way hotter'' you would be dead," Oydd snapped.


    "Nothing can survive in there!" Cricket reminded the rudra.


    "Because of the chemicals. You''re fine."


    Jeshu resumed his chant, waving an arm toward the tunnel above, and the briar grew until the black thorns weaved and blotted out the tunnel entirely, curling over the edge.


    For a moment, only the sound of distant dripping water could be heard.


    "We better hurry back," Cricket said. "They''ll find a way around the thorns."


    Oydd stared up into the tunnels. "Gad is still fighting. But he is lost to us."


    "What about Kaser," Jeshu asked, concerned.


    Oydd shook his head. "There were a lot of them. I have lost contact."


    For the first time, the mouseling crawled into Jeshu''s branches for the journey back. Cricket walked behind him, pouting a bit because he wasn''t chosen, and a bit because the druid didn''t seem to notice.


    As they past by the craters, a thin ray of sunlight broke through the fog, far in the distance.


    "We cannot afford a detour right now," Oydd said bleakly.


    "I know." The druid barely looked at the beam of light. "The brambles have made their way down here, growing without the sun. And I will learn how as well."

 Dissension

    11


    Dissension


    Cricket swung a sickle at one of the practice dummy''s six arms, and the force of the blow caused the opposite arm to swing at him. He ducked and made four swipes, one with each arm, against various parts of the dummy. The way Jesh rigged each set of arms to spin meant the faster he moved, and the harder he hit, the faster the dummy moved in response. Really it was a great workout.


    Jeshu had suggested making the dummy with four arms, but Cricket talked him up to six, preferring to fight at a "disadvantage"


    Each set of arms was secured to a rotating disk, and two of the arms swiveled at the elbow, which meant they often wrapped around his guard and pelted him on the side of the head. But he was getting the hang of it.


    Nearby Agena trained his pet mimic. He threw a symbol with his hands, and the octopus attempted to mimic different colors and shapes based on each cue. It turned a sickly green, fairly close to a goblin to be fair, and wrapped its eight tentacles in sets of two, walking upright, appearing to have only four limbs. Next, it tucked all eight arms beneath it and turned as grey as the rocks, taking on the appearance of a boulder. Finally, it took on the form of a small crab, matching the ochre tone, walking about on six legs and waving the last two like pincers.


    Jeshu argued futilely that it was a "large" crab.


    Each time the mimic followed instructions correctly, Agena tossed it a live sardine and the octopus happily gobbled its snack.


    When Agena''s bucket ran out of fish, he dismissed the mimic and it crawled back into its salty, underwater lair.


    Cricket caught his breath and asked if the lizardman would like to spar.


    Agena smiled, uncharacteristically, and grabbed a dull practice spear carved from mushroomwood.


    Cricket exchanged his weapons for wooden swords and daggers as well, and then Jeshu blessed each of the combatants with a grace of protection. The white light of the spell quickly faded from Agena, though the magic affected him unseen. Cricket''s turtle necklace, however, still glowed very faintly, even after he received the grace.


    Damien never allowed sparring, having lost too many ratlings to "fits of passion" in the heat of battle. And a near equal amount in revenge stabbings afterward. But this led to untrained and even lazy troops, entirely unprepared for the harsh realities of battle. Under this new system, Cricket found, the veterans were able to pass on their knowledge without serious injuries. Though few veteran ratlings remained, and others who claimed to be proficient were quickly found out to be frauds.


    Several ratlings and lizardmen gathered around to watch their instructors and place wagers on the winner. Not surprisingly, the bets fell largely along racial lines.


    Agena charged. He swung his spear overhead, and then right before it hit Cricket''s block he retracted and stabbed, a trick the insect had taught him to use against faster foes.


    Cricket jumped backward and deflected simultaneously, preferring two lines of defense, then waited at the limit of the lizard''s range, circling.


    Agena thrust again, and this time Cricket charged in as he parried, knocking the spear aside with one wooden sword as he brought the other down over his opponent''s head.


    Agena ducked beneath the extended shaft, narrowly avoiding a solid hit and retreated. Despite his instincts to stay in close, the lizard found himself victim to the insect''s daggers too often. Instead, at Cricket''s instruction, he now tried to keep his distance, moving backward as he stabbed, circling to hide behind his weapon when Cricket lunged.


    Each time Cricket blocked a thrust, the insect tried to use the opportunity to close the gap, and Agena retreated further, stabbing to cover his retreat.


    Cricket threw a dagger at Agena''s head. The lizardman ducked, dropping his spear, then charged with his head down, under Cricket''s swords, toward his dagger-free side. He wrapped his arms around the insect''s waist.


    Cricket abandoned his swords as well and wrapped one upper arm over the lizard''s neck, reaching beneath to tighten his grip with the other arm. He twisted both of his legs around one of Agena''s and the two tumbled to the ground.


    A moment later the lizard tapped Cricket''s back twice, indicating a forfeit. Cricket released his grip on the lizard, but kept his last dagger against Agena''s throat for a moment for the benefit of the audience.


    Agena growled, attempting to hide his smile.


    The insect lay on the ground catching a few deep breaths, then rolled backward, nimbly onto his feet.


    Scorpion requested a turn against Agena, and Cricket retreated from the ring.


    After Jeshu placed a blessing on the ratling, the druid came to sit by the insectoid.


    Jeshu showed no signs of fatigue. However, just a few weeks prior, bestowing three graces in a row would have completely drained him. Of course, Cricket had a hard time guessing at his reserves. But the druid was improving.


    "That was impressive," Jeshu stated. "He''s easily twice your size."


    "I''ve been practicing a lot with that mace. So when I''m not holding it, I feel light as a feather."


    "You''re handling it really well. So your arms feel stronger?"


    "Actually, you know what wore out first? My legs. I didn''t expect it, but trying to move quickly with all that extra weight hurt in my knees and my ankles. Once they got used to the weight, it was a lot easier to train with. And I can move a lot faster than I could before."


    Jeshu pressed his dry lips, impressed. "Where is Oydd?"


    "He''s been shut up in his lab for days. He''s really frustrated at losing both of his ghouls."


    "I would imagine," Jeshu replied. "Should we check up on him?"


    "Maybe. He said he spent over a hundred hours between the two. And we''re low on the metals he needs to make more."


    The dryad''s eyes widened. "I had no idea he spent so much time preparing each corpse."


    Cricket nodded. "He doesn''t want to go on any missions right now. He said he would need to make a common zombie. He clearly wanted pity." Cricket changed the subject. "I saw you magicking some mushrooms."


    "Yes," Jeshu said. "I couldn''t get them to grow because I didn''t understand them. But I am beginning to. Nothing impressive yet."


    Cricket stood up just as Scorpion took a nasty hook to the jaw from Agena''s free fist. The ratling flew backward and rolled three times before coming to a stop at Cricket''s feet¡ªa blow that surely would have broken bone without Jeshu''s spell.


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    "Agena," Cricket called out. "We''re heading off. You''re in charge. Have everyone pair up to go over grabs and locks."


    Agena nodded silently.


    "Come on," Cricket said to the druid, and the two headed for Oydd''s lab.


    Not surprisingly, they found the door locked. Jeshu gave a solid knock.


    "Even if he hears you, he''s just going to ignore it."


    "I agree. But I''m not knocking for him."


    After a short wait, Cricket heard a click on the far side of the door and it swung open. Patches peered around the edge of the iron door from where she balanced on the handle, then dropped down to the floor.


    "Thank you, little one." Jeshu bowed and then began to descend into the laboratory.


    They found Oydd in the morgue, working at the side of a half-covered cadaver.


    "Damn it." The rudra moved from the body to a corner of the morgue with jars of live beetles and maggots. He selected the jar of maggots and returned to the work table where he poured the contents of the bottle into an open wound. He had evidently not heard the resounding knock moments before and jumped when Cricket spoke.


    "What is that for?"


    Oydd growled and neither looked up nor answered.


    Cricket folded his arms and scratched his chin with his hand. "We need to discuss our next objective. You can''t just avoid us forever."


    Oydd raised a hand and a scalpel rose from a distant table then floated across the room, where it landed delicately in his fingers. "I see little point."


    "What do you mean by that?"


    Oydd made an incision on the inside of the cadaver''s forearm. However, Cricket noticed the arm and the tail did not match. The rudra had sewn a leg, the tail, and pelvis of a small lizardman together with the torso and arm of a goblin. At the moment the corpse only had one arm and one leg.


    "I mean," Oydd continued, "that our missions have been fruitless. In fact," he held a finger up to Cricket''s face. "They have been less than fruitless. We have been puppets to these Right Hand cultists."


    "What do you mean?" Cricket asked, bewildered.


    "Exactly what I said." Oydd lifted a hand, attempting to levitate the empty bottle back to the shelf, but misjudged the necessary force, and the glass jar crashed against the tiled wall, splitting in half."


    "Mouseling!" Oydd hissed and looked around for his assistant.


    "I would like you to clarify," Cricket said, undaunted.


    "We''ve been pitted against ourselves," Oydd explained in annoyance. "Ask yourself, did we see any signs of gnolls living in the marsh tunnels."


    "No."


    "Then where did they come from? And Gad, when he was alive, had sacrificed a leg to Bale. I don''t remember if I told you that."


    "So?" Cricket asked patiently.


    "So... insect... he was an agent of the Right Hand. If you recall, we hid our presence for that mission. You traveled as if to the refinery and then backtracked underground to the catacombs. You wouldn''t have been attacked if we had made our presence known. But Damien wanted us to die."


    "Damien?" Jeshu asked.


    "Yes, Damien... Mouseling!" Oydd shouted again irritably, still looking about for Patches. Seeing she didn''t respond he continued. "Same in the catacombs and on the caravan and in the marsh. In each case we were exposed, to be picked off by agents of the Right Hand. We were baited into those tunnels with the gnolls."


    "That was after Damien died," Jeshu reminded the rudra.


    "Yes, but I have his notes," Oydd sighed. "Believe me, I have thought long and hard, and there is only one explanation. Damien worked for the cultists. He betrayed us."


    "If that''s true, he betrayed the dhampiri," Cricket replied. "I see nothing wrong with that."


    "Another issue of you not objecting to being used," Oydd spat. "I object. And..." the rudra paused, "I believe sending those seventeen ratlings to die was intended to cull the herd."


    "Meaning it was intentional?" Jeshu asked.


    "Yes... meaning it was intentional."


    "Why?" Cricket peered behind an empty autopsy table looking for the mouseling. "Damien seemed surprised to find out they had died."


    "And he''s never deceived us before?" the rudra asked sardonically. "But to answer your first question, I''m not quite sure yet. But almost every mission we''ve been on in the last few months has been designed to thin our ranks. I say almost, because I don''t believe that was Licephus'' intention. I believe he was genuinely shocked to be betrayed. But he directed this latest mission, and we ended up playing into our enemies'' hands anyway."


    Cricket thought. "That means Jade works for the cultists."


    "Not an absurd conclusion," Oydd replied.


    "So we should take him down."


    "Now you''re getting absurd! Thanks for not disappointing me."


    "That''s not absurd. It''s our next logical step."


    Oydd set his scalpel down. "Jade single-handedly beat seventeen ratlings. Do you believe you could repeat that feat?"


    Cricket nodded too quickly.


    "Just like you could take four Agenas?"


    "I thought that over and realized I also thought I could take four of myself. And that doesn''t make sense."


    "It''s learning logic..." Oydd said caustically.


    "But in my defense, it''s a confidence thing. I have to fight things bigger than me all the time, whether I want to or not. I have to convince myself I can win, or I lose before the fight starts."


    "I''m sorry." Oydd tapped a finger impatiently on the metal table. "That makes sense. I don''t think you''re an idiot. You made me look a fool before Yunaba..."


    In the sudden silence, Cricket heard the mouseling cleaning up the broken glass. He stared Oydd in the eyes. "Together we can take out Jade. It''s one assassin. I can''t let those murders go unanswered."


    "You certainly could," Oydd replied.


    "And he works for the cultists."


    "It isn''t a priority."


    "I think it is. And I will go with or without you."


    "You will stay here," Oydd ordered coldly. "Until I assign you a mission."


    Cricket glared at Oydd. "I don''t take orders from you. We agreed to do this together."


    "I could send the kor hounds after you," Oydd threatened half-heartedly.


    "Those reptilian things in the stables? The ones that I feed scraps of dried eel to every day, and they let me rub their bellies? Good luck with that."


    Oydd''s eyes softened, almost sadly, and he returned to his work. "I won''t try to stop you, Cricket. But I don''t condone your actions. And I must stay here in case Licephus returns. I have a surprising amount to report to him."


    Oydd uncovered the rest of the corpse and Cricket gasped at the sight. The rudra had attached a black ratling head to the creation and a matching arm lay nearby waiting to be sewn on.


    "Is that?"


    Oydd sighed. "It''s Skunk''s remains. His head was still intact, and I salvaged what I could."


    "And you intend to turn him into a ghoul?"


    "No... nothing so crude. If my experiment works, I believe I can restore his life."


    "Why?" Jeshu asked.


    "Because I can. Or I believe I can..."


    Cricket stared at the remains of his friend.


    Jeshu stated, "It''s an abomination."


    Oydd shrugged indifferently. "I would say... an aberration."


    The druid looked to Cricket, concerned, but the insect waved him off and spoke softly. "He didn''t want to die."


    Cricket turned to leave, looking morose, and Jeshu dropped the subject.

 The Ice Caverns

    12


    The Ice Caverns


    Cricket rubbed his arms to keep them warm. The southern tunnels approached the surface, which meant they froze this time of year. Having ostensibly fallen from favor with his sect, Cricket assumed that Jade fled to these tunnels because of their shifting nature. With the cold weather above and volcanic vents beneath, the caves often thawed and reformed, making it almost impossible to become familiar with the terrain.


    Because of that, the dhampiri tended to avoid the area, making it an ideal location for outlaws.


    Cricket didn''t mind the cold, but it made him sleepy, so he tried to create some warmth just to stay awake. Patches nested on one of his shoulders, which tended to stay a bit warmer than the other. So every now and then he picked her up by the scruff of her neck like a kitten, trying not to wake the mouseling, and moved her to the other shoulder.


    If the cold bothered the druid, he made no complaint of it.


    Jeshu had met the other dryad slaves, who were now employed in the kitchen, but mostly avoided the subject. He referred to the older dryad as elder Zarachi, and to Yentl only as ''the child.''


    "But she''s like thirty," Cricket protested.


    "That is very young for my kind."


    "So there''s no chance?"


    "Chance of what?" Jeshu asked innocently.


    "...Uh... you know..."


    "Of romance? No. I don''t know where you got the idea."


    "It doesn''t take a lot of imagination. You''re a guy and she''s a girl. You¡¯re both trees¡­"


    "You don''t realize how young she seems to me."


    "Which makes you what? Like forty?"


    "I have seen sixty two summers. Though I suppose I need a new way to track time."


    "Oh wow..." Cricket gasped. "I don''t think any of my kind live that old."


    "It is still young for a dryad."


    "Well," Cricket thought. "We have a windy season... and a wet season. Both fine choices to track your age."


    "What do you use?"


    "Oh, I have no idea how old I am. I don''t really care to count anyway,¡± Cricket said blankly. ¡°What''s that up ahead?" The insect pointed at a fissure in an otherwise unending glacial wall. Large clumps of rock or ice, entirely frosted over, provided some cover, and in the midst of the enclosure was evidence of a fire pit.


    "Care for a break?" Cricket asked cheerily.


    "I don''t think it would be wise."


    "Why? We haven''t so much as seen a footprint for miles. And we have to sleep somewhere. Been a while since we''ve seen a patch of even ground."


    Jeshu relented. He dropped the pack full of their provisions in the midst of the clearing. Using his hammer he broke away the ice from the fire pit until he hit dry rock, then removed half their tinder from a bundle at the bottom of his pack and began to stack the dry mushroomwood.


    "You said you got some information out of Oydd?" Jeshu pried.


    "Hardly..." Cricket thought about the word. "Hold on. I meant that it was hard to do. But he gave us a lot of information. Jade only does solo missions. Which means he is likely very competent. He''s never failed to kill a target¡ª"


    "Why does that make you sound excited?"


    "Because it sounds like a challenge."


    "You realize we could die. Quite easily, really," the dryad added.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know why you came.¡±


    ¡°Because otherwise you would have run off on your own.¡±


    Cricket shrugged. "Oh, I''ve been saving the best part for last..." the insect beat the ground like a drum with all four hands to build suspense. "He''s a Cricket! I mean, he''s an insectoid like me."


    "Like you," Jeshu raised an eyebrow, intrigued.


    "Supposedly about my size and with a black shell!"


    "Well, that is exciting. But you know we''re enemies? You aren''t going to learn anything. A trained assassin isn''t going to talk to you."


    "Mmm..." Cricket waved a hand uncertainly, not willing to confirm he knew that.


    "Do we know anything about his fighting style?" Jeshu asked.


    "Not really. But we should assume his hearing is as good as mine. So we''ll need to be fairly quiet when we near the ice caverns. It''s a shame Oydd isn''t here to help us coordinate with his... mind talking."


    "It''s called telepathy."


    "Telepathy," Cricket repeated. "And did you see that trick he did where he made the knife fly?"


    "Yes," Jeshu replied. "But I don''t remember what it''s called. It''s a rare ability."


    "Oh, we do know how he got his nickname. Oydd said jade is a precious stone that is easy to enchant. Apparently, Jade has several magical items carved from jade. So that makes sense..."


    Cricket thought to himself as the dryad started the fire. The insect made a terrible soup, using a gopher, turnips, and a pink herb that only he seemed to enjoy. Jeshu refused a portion, not willing to consume meat, and only needing to eat every few days. The mouseling only took a few sips of broth, filling her tiny belly.


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    Cricket ate half the soup before the fire was even lit, then, feeling entitled to the other half, began to scoop spoonfuls directly from the pot. While Jeshu''s magic could not produce flame, it did help stoke the fire once lit, and a cozy orange glow danced on the rock walls.


    Cricket finished the gopher and left a few slices of turnip in case Jeshu changed his mind in the morning. Then he began to drift to sleep before they decided who had first watch.


    *****


    Cricket enjoyed finally having bones. Crack! He cracked his knuckles. Crack! Crack! He popped his neck to each side, the way he saw Scorpion do when he was stressed. CRACK! Was that his spine?


    Cricket jolted upright, hazy from his dream, and noticed Jeshu sleeping across the fire. Though the druid had drifted off, his fire still blazed, perpetuated by lingering mana. The fire was not unusually hot, but its warmth spread magically to reach the nooks and crevices of the clearing, and the ice had begun to melt.


    Cricket yawned and stretched, until he heard another loud crack that nearly made him jump. Cricket turned to look at the ice mound behind him and saw a troll staring back¡ªit''s normally greenish skin blue with frostbite. Its saucer-sized eye followed his movement from within a thin, dripping wall of ice. It blinked.


    Cricket jumped to Jesh''s side and began to shake his branches as he tried to locate the mouseling.


    Crack! One of the icy mounds began to stand. Chunks of frost still clung to its furry white arms and legs. It turned its head, haltingly, toward the insect and dryad beneath it and opened its mouth hungrily, revealing a furry green tongue.


    Cricket gave Jeshu one last shove, shouting "Trolls!" then dodged a giant, fat, dripping hand.


    The troll reached for its club, stuck in the ground, and broke it free. Large clumps of ice clung to the weapon, making it appear only more horrific. It shook the frost from its wooly hide as it rose to its full height, flexing muscles powerful enough to fling an adult ogre across the room.


    A second troll broke its arm free from a mound of ice and jerked to loosen its prison. The blue-grey, frostbitten muscle on its arm snapped and splintered.


    Jeshu groggily stumbled to his feet, looking for his hammer as a club came crashing down on his head. The druid reached up with both hands to stop the blow but crumpled to the ground under the monster''s incredible strength.


    The troll lifted its club again and Cricket dashed by, slashing at its ankles. He barely had to lower his head to pass between its legs. Cricket then swerved to divert the second troll away from the druid. In the corner of his eye, he saw a third still struggling to escape the ice, and quickly surveyed the camp site for any more cracking, struggling lumps.


    Three trolls. Cricket dodged another grabbing hand, slashing at it twice with his sickles as he did so, but to little effect.


    Maybe he didn''t like sickles. They were great on smaller things, but swords were so much better on big things. He ducked another club and sprinted over to the third troll, still almost completely trapped in ice. He leapt, landing on the frozen mound and rammed a dagger down through the ice and into the brute''s forehead. The frozen bone cracked easily, and he pulled back and stabbed down again, penetrating the skull.


    It stopped struggling. Cricket pounded the dagger deeper into its head, and left it there, conscious of their incredible regenerative abilities.


    Then he let go and fell, just in time to dodge a meaty fist.


    The insect slid between the attacking troll''s legs, slashing at its hamstrings with both sickles, but the weapons weren''t designed for slashing tendons.


    Cricket whirled on his opponent, noticing the remaining troll close in from the side and switched the grip on his sickles, so the blades ran along his forearms.


    "Little help!" Cricket cried out, but couldn''t get a good look at the druid, and Patches was nowhere to be seen.


    Cricket took a deep breath and started forward at a jog. At the last instant, hoping to throw the troll off, he burst into a sprint and slid again between its legs, hooking a sickle into its Achilles tendon and lurching against it with all his weight. The blade only cut about half way through, but the frozen tendon snapped with a thunderous crack, louder than the shattering ice. A tremor shot up the back of the troll''s leg.


    It tried to turn but tumbled into the frost-crusted ground.


    Cricket lunged on the fallen brute, with several frenzied slashes toward its huge eyes. He brought the sickles across multiple times, gouging several large yellow chunks from the sockets before the sluggish creature grabbed him, its fat fingers wrapping around one of his upper arms.


    Cricket jabbed a dagger into the side of the troll''s wrist, then twisted, while his free sickle hacked at a nerve cluster. He felt the strength leave the fingers and wrenched his arm free. As soon as he hit the ground, he vaulted toward its face, hooking both sickles behind its windpipe. Then he yanked and twisted until he fell free.


    Cricket danced backward as the troll reached out again weekly, then circled the ruin of its body, with his eyes on his final opponent.


    The last troll dragged its club behind it, weighed down by huge clumps of ice. But Cricket held back cautiously, knowing that even a glancing blow could end him.


    The troll lifted his club and brought it down overhead. His frigid muscles moved slowly. Laughably slow, Cricket thought, jumping to the side.


    The troll lifted the club again, and this time Cricket estimated its reach, staying just inches out of its range. The troll stepped with another downward swing and Cricket shifted backward, dodging the tip, then ran up the club, jumping to the side of the monster''s face, wrapping a sickle around its throat as he fell over its shoulder.


    The troll tried to reach over its head, and then twisted trying to grab him from the side, but cricket simply held on, letting his weight dig his weapon deeper and deeper.


    The last troll tumbled backward and Cricket rolled to avoid being crushed under its body.


    Jeshu let loose a war cry and pounded his hammer into the corpse''s head.


    "A little late," Cricket critiqued.


    An appalling, half-exhausted, half-sickened look marred the dryad''s face. And he huffed and puffed¡ªunusual for the druid¡ªlooking around in shock. "What in Elkennah''s name happened?"


    "Hibernating trolls. Trolls just kind of shut down in the cold. Normally, you don''t have to deal with them until the thaw. Help me cut their heads off. They''ll actually recover from these wounds."


    Cricket started to tend to the bodies while Jeshu took several deep breaths to calm himself.


    The insect found Patches on the far side of the campsite, watching them sleepily over her wagging tail. She yawned and closed her eyes again.


    The trolls'' blood steamed in the snow and Cricket shouted at the dryad. "When you get a hold of yourself, I need to talk to you."


    Jeshu still faced away. "I... I''m sorry."


    "For what?" Cricket asked cheerfully.


    "I fell asleep. That doesn''t happen to me often. Perhaps it''s the cold."


    "You''re good. I fell asleep too. If we were both that exhausted, then there''s not much we could do."


    Jeshu thought on his logic then asked, "What did you need?"


    "Do you have that healing potion?"


    The druid looked back toward his pack. "I do."


    "Believe it or not, I think troll''s blood is probably a lot more valuable. We could bring some back and surprise Oydd. What do you think, should we just dump the potion."


    "No." Jeshu answered. "I need it."


    For the first time, Cricket remembered seeing the dryad crumple under the troll''s club. All in all he looked okay, but the blow had scraped the bark off half of his face and one arm looked part-splintered if not broken.


    "Oh, yeah... of course."


    Jeshu walked groggily over to his pack and retrieved the healing flask. He pulled the glass stopper and took a good, long drink, half-emptying the container. When he was done, he offered the potion to Cricket.


    "I''m good." Cricket turned the flask upside down, pouring out the remaining liquid, then held the bottle up to one of the trolls'' arms and slit an artery open. He easily filled the container with rich, warm blood, then stepped away from the spurting corpse.


    "I''m warmed up now. I''ll take watch."

 Jade

    13


    Jade


    "That potion didn''t work super well," Cricket observed, looking at the dryad''s face.


    "I know," Jeshu stated.


    "I don''t think that scar on your face will heal up."


    The dryad sighed. "Yes, I understand.¡±


    Cricket''s antennae drooped. "I didn''t mean... I think it makes you look cool."


    "Really?" Jeshu asked.


    "Yeah, totally. It makes you look tough. Like a troll bashed you in the face with a club and you got up afterward."


    Jeshu tried to hide a smile.


    "Besides, the greatest trees always have scars."


    "What do you know of trees?"


    "You said that," Cricket answered. "You said the oldest and most impressive trees all had scars and stories to tell. Because it wasn''t possible for a tree to grow old without overcoming much... um..."


    "Adversity," Jeshu finished for him.


    "Yes."


    "Thank you, Cricket."


    Cricket cocked his head, unsure why he''d been thanked.


    The frost on the ground, which Jeshu called snow, now rose about two inches from the rock. Patches seemed unusually fascinated with the brittle white crystals and ran about the others, occasionally batting at the snow with her paws, or licking it with her tongue, or disappearing beneath a mound only to emerge somewhat disoriented on the other side.


    When Patches grew tired, she climbed on top of Jeshu''s pack and managed somehow to sleep next to the jangling utensils and in spite of the druid''s jarring steps. When Cricket grew tired, the group stopped for the night.


    Jeshu laid a hand on the remaining firewood and the logs began slowly, but surely, to grow, until they were each nearly twice the size. The druid chopped each log into smaller kindling with a hatchet, which made a weirdly hollow scraping sound. Then, like the previous nights, he took only half for the day''s fire.


    "Can you do that forever?"


    "Hmm... not really. Each time the mushroom grows less dense. But that just makes it easier to cut and easier to light."


    "I don''t think we need that much, if it saves you energy. I was too warm again last night."


    "Oh," the druid said, a little disappointed. He tossed a few more logs back toward his pack.


    Cricket balanced a dagger between the ground and his forefinger. He started to spin it with a free finger.


    "That will dull the blade," Jeshu mentioned.


    "I know," Cricket said indignantly, but stopped spinning the weapon nonetheless.


    Cricket started to hum to himself absently when a long, thin shard of blackness flew across the campsite and struck the druid in the neck, splintering his skin. The druid grunted and reached for his throat, but the shard evaporated, leaving only a light gash in his bark.


    Cricket drew his sickles as he stood and whirled to face their assailant. On the outskirts of the campsite a Cricket-shaped being of flickering shadow stood, holding what looked to be a shadowy short sword in one of its four hands. As Cricket watched, a second sword formed and the shadow pulled a hand back to throw the weapon.


    Jeshu reached for his shield, batting the black shard away with his forearm. This time, the shadow broke and swept over him like a whiff of smoke.


    Jeshu stood, shield and hammer in hand, and glared at the shadowy insect as the sword reformed in its hand. "Oh, you are going to regret that you didn''t kill my friend first."


    "Hey!" Cricket protested. He stopped dead-sprint, halfway to their assailant. "What the hell does that mean?"


    Jeshu blubbered. "I meant it was his one chance to get you."


    "Oh, okay... that''s actually flattering." He blocked an assault from the shadowy creature, swatting away a combo of three strikes before countering with a sickle to the throat.


    His opponent blocked with a blade of shadow, which dispersed into wisps under the force of the blow, but gave the creature enough time to easily duck and press inward with another three strikes.


    "Ah, I hate when they know what they''re doing. I can block once or twice easily," Cricket commented as he blocked the first two slashes, but the third penetrated his guard and cut into his side.


    "Ow!" Cricket caught the stabbing hand with his lower arms to stop the dagger from plunging deeper. "It''s not an illusion. Why didn''t it hurt you?"


    The shadow swung with both swords at Cricket''s head, forcing him to block with both sickles, then it punched his jaw with its fourth hand. Cricket brought his elbows in to guard his face, just as the shadow assassin crashed into his head with a swift, high kick. The force broke through his block but his arms did weaken the blow. Still the shadow''s shin plowed into his head, knocking Cricket to the ground.


    "Ah! She''s kicking! She kicked me in the head!"


    Jeshu swung his hammer at the assassin, but it ducked absently, rushing again at the insect. It pulled back its sword and as Cricket prepared a desperate defense, the druid shouted, "Elkennah, let us bask in your light!"


    A blinding light formed around the crown of Jeshu''s head, and Cricket was forced to cover his eyes with all four arms. He screamed from the pain.


    In a few seconds that seemed an eternity, the light dimmed and Cricket lay alone in the crusty snow with no sign of the shadow.


    "Are you okay?" the druid asked.


    "No, I''m not okay! You blinded me! You''re a big blotch of purple. I''ve never seen anything so horrific!"


    "That was just normal sunlight. Not even strong sunlight, really."


    "I didn''t know you could do that."


    "Without a way to recharge, I''m not sure if I can do it again."


    "Ah!" Cricket whined. He rose to his feet and brushed the snow from his legs and then from his lower arms. "It melted my eyes! I''ll never be able to see again."


    "Calm down. You''re not used to bright light, but your eyes will adjust."


    Cricket stared at the dryad until the blotch of purple slowly faded. He looked away and the blotch returned. "Oh, this is just the worst."


    "I imagine it was worse when you knocked Oydd out with that screech."


    "No." Cricket shook his head, certain.


    "He told me that he is able to sense sound with every part of his body. So you overwhelmed his senses. I believe it is similar. And I believe it was worse for him, since you haven''t passed out."


    "Oh, that poor man! You''re the worst. No one should have to suffer this."


    "Is it improving?" Jeshu asked, patiently.


    Cricket didn''t answer.


    "Well?"


    "Yes... it''s improving. God! Give me a second."


    Jeshu waited, and Cricket stood silently in a daze long after the point where it became awkward.


    "Why didn''t its weapons hurt you?"


    "It was dark magic. Dryads are naturally strong to magical attacks, and Elkennah grants additional protections to her followers against darkness. Do you need treated?"


    "No." Cricket immediately contradicted himself, muttering, "Just a touch up."


    Jeshu placed a hand on his side and healed the tissue beneath the shell. "I don''t have any sap on me. We''ll treat the shell when we get back. That shadow was a copy of its caster, which means Jade must be nearby."


    Cricket nodded dumbly. "No point in trying to hide our presence any more. She knows we''re here."


    "She?"


    "Yeah, didn''t you get a good look at her?"


    "I saw a flickering shadow with antennae. I might not have even noticed them if I weren''t expecting an insectoid. How do you know she was female?"


    "Because she was hot. You didn''t think she was hot?"


    Jeshu stared blankly at the insect.


    "Anyway, let''s press ahead. Where''s Patches." Cricket looked around the campsite and saw tiny paw marks heading off into the snow. "Probably better if she avoids this fight anyway. She can track us if she needs to."


    Cricket drew his daggers and marched deeper into the icy caverns.


    *****


    Patches followed a small green beetle as it picked its way over the crusty snow, struggling to climb each tiny clump. Frost lined its feathery antennae, and its furry feet, but the bug advanced with a stubborn, relentless purpose.


    The mouseling noticed the landscape changed suddenly up ahead. The tunnels turned to smooth shoots of blue and green, glasslike ice. Too slippery for a lone beetle, she decided.


    Patches picked up the squirming bug softly with her teeth. She turned it to face a safer direction, then placed it back down. The beetle continued on its new course with the same unthinking persistence.


    Still, the icy caves certainly posed no danger to a tiny ratling. She slid down a smooth incline, then dug into the ice with her claws and began to ascend the opposite side.


    The mouseling climbed along a thin ledge and then slid down another slope with a low ceiling and ended up in a small natural chamber with a deep crevasse on one side and a high cliff on the other. She stole up to the edge gingerly and peaked over. Certain death, she decided. Certain death if I climb down there. Still the mouseling stayed at the ledge for too long, fighting her curiosity.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    *****


    When Cricket reached the tubes of smooth ice, he paused for Jeshu to catch up. He pointed with a dagger. "There are three main tunnels and they all show signs of passage. It looks slippery. Can you keep your footing?"


    "My feet have deep ridges. I should be able to keep traction. What about you?"


    "Good question. There''s a reason we say ''slick as a bug''s cold foot''."


    "Is that really a saying?" Jeshu asked incredulously.


    Cricket sat down and cut a leather strap from his chest, leaving the harness for his sickles in the snow. He roughed up one side with a dagger then tied it to his foot with the rough side facing out. He repeated the process for his other foot then hopped up and tested his traction with a slide. He slid quite some distance before coming to a stop, but seemed happy with the results and pressed on, nearly losing his balance on the first slope.


    "We need a plan," Cricket said. "We know how she fights now."


    Jeshu groaned. "Creating a shadow twin seems very draining. I doubt she can do it again. But if she can, I also doubt I can dispel it."


    "You don''t think you can do that light trick again?"


    Jeshu shook his head. "Not enough to rely on it."


    "Okay. But the shadow can''t hurt you much. So if she is able to make another one, you take the clone, and I take Jade."


    "That sounds like an okay plan, but I get the feeling you want to test her one on one."


    "But you agreed it makes sense!" Cricket countered without denying the accusation.


    "Fine. But I am more useful if we have to gang up on her. I have a little bit of growth magic left."


    "What will that help?"


    "It is a spell that makes all plant life within a certain distance of me grow."


    "Right, and there''s nothing here."


    "Think about it," Jeshu said, staring at the insect.


    Cricket did think about it, but couldn''t¡ª"Wait! You can make yourself grow?"


    "It is temporary, but yes."


    "Why haven''t you done that before?"


    "Keep your voice down. When would I have done it before?"


    "When we fought the ogre."


    "At Vestu Peska? You fought the ogre. You told me to stay behind."


    "When we fought those undead raptors."


    "Again, you ran ahead and left me behind. Same at the caravan, against those gnolls."


    "But what about when you ran through those brambles? You were ahead of me that time, and there were gnolls everywhere!"


    "The brambles would have grown. And you''re referring to tunnels that were so cramped that Gad barely fit."


    "There must have been¡ª"


    "Regardless," Jeshu interrupted sternly, "I can. And it is a good time."


    Cricket had to agree.


    "I hate to suggest it," Jeshu added, "but I should go in front in case we are ambushed by another shadow."


    Cricket flinched. He tried to come up with some argument for him to be in the lead, but ultimately accepted the dryad''s suggestion.


    *****


    Patches followed a pair of footprints that she thought belonged to Cricket, but they ended in a small chamber where someone had clearly been living for weeks. A pile of dried mushrooms lay in one corner. A hole, chiseled in the ice, led to a source of underground water. Still as it was, the mouseling thought the water stagnant, but it smelled crisp. She peered into the hole and watched little flecks of white floating around. She splashed, disturbing the tranquil pool.


    A cloak of bat fur lay draped across the floor as a makeshift bed, embedded in the ice from the warmth of its occupant. Nearby a pack of basic supplies spilled onto the ground, revealing rope, chisels, flint and steel, and a small pouch no bigger than an apple, tied with green ribbon.


    The mouseling''s sensitive ears heard the slightest footfall behind her, and without turning to look, she picked up the small pouch in her teeth and ran.


    Patches darted quickly over the slick surface and heard her pursuer behind her. She heard the whir of some object hurled through the air that rang like a bell when it struck the frozen wall.


    Patches darted down a small side passage and found herself, again, at the edge of the deep crevasse. She turned to see an insect that resembled Cricket, though slightly more feminine in the antennae, the mouseling thought. She moved with a mesmerizing grace over the ice. In her upper hands she held blades carved from a smooth green stone, and she wore a thin breastplate of the same substance over her shiny black shell.


    The insect clanged her weapons against her chest plate and they vibrated loudly as black vapors rose from her shell. The vapors enveloped the woman then began to vibrate through the air, forming several likenesses of her image.


    Clenching the stolen pouch in her little teeth, the mouseling jumped into the crevasse.


    *****


    "I don''t think anyone else would be able to tell she was female," Jeshu repeated.


    "You''re kidding?"


    "No, I''m not. We were told it was a man. And Jade is a famous assassin. So if anyone else could tell, they wouldn''t think she was a man."


    "You don''t think she was attractive?" Cricket asked, confused.


    Jeshu dug his hammer into the ice and used the extra weight to help him scale a small rise. "How could you tell she was female?"


    "It''s obvious."


    "Humor me."


    "Well, for one thing, her smell."


    "Her smell?"


    "Yeah," Cricket blushed. "Her scent. She doesn''t smell like a dude."


    "You were fighting a magical shadow! How could you smell her at all."


    "Well, I couldn''t at first, but I smell her now."


    "Okay, anything else?"


    "Um... smoother shell? Pointier antennae? Smaller eyes? Flatter um..." Cricket gulped audibly... "thorax."


    "Got it. I was genuinely curious. But I didn''t mean to embarrass you."


    "I don''t know if I''ll be stronger than her," Cricket mused. "Females in the insect kingdom can be... brutal."


    "If Oydd were here, I think he would correct you on the word kingdom. Family, or order, or something..." Jeshu said. Then, seeing the insect''s vacant expression, he added, "Is this going to be a distraction?"


    "Only if I attempt to mate..." Cricket paused, giving this line of reasoning too much weight.


    "Why would you..." Jesh tried to keep his tone even.


    "No... that''s a terrible idea." Cricket started shaking his head, then added, "No, I''m good. Like you said, she''s a trained assassin. Any hesitation and we''ll be dead."


    Cricket heard shouts up ahead, and pushed ahead of Jeshu, running silently.


    He came to a cliff overlooking a small room below where a black insectoid and five shadowy clones frantically circled a crevice in the ice. One dropped inside, sliding down the slick wall.


    "Oh, they''re beautiful!" Cricket whispered, entranced.


    "She''s your enemy," Jeshu reminded.


    "No, not her. Those weapons. What is that? It''s like somewhere between a sword and a sickle."


    Jeshu peered over the ledge. "A khopesh..."


    "A khopesh..." Cricket repeated. A drop of brown spit dripped from his open mouth. "Perfect." Cricket beamed, and pulled three iron shurikens from his pouch. He pinched them together and threw them overhead, down at the assassin. The spinning blades curved and spread as they soared through the air. One struck a shadow which fluttered but reformed. Jade stepped aside, without looking up, and two shurikens struck where she had been standing, burying themselves in the ice.


    Jade glanced at Cricket then darted into a side chamber.


    The shadows, in unison, looked up as well and vanished.


    "Well that was easy," Cricket turned around to Jesh and saw four clones quickly reforming atop the ledge.


    "Remember the plan. You entertain the shadows!" Cricket shouted, then slid down the steep slope after Jade.


    "We said one! We agreed on one."


    Jeshu cried to his goddess and began to grow. He gained one foot, and then two. Leaves sprouted from the small branches on his head and a small pink bud blossomed behind his ear.


    *****


    Patches extended paws in every direction, digging her claws into the sides of the crevasse, even pressing her clipped tail futilely against the ice. She dropped slightly and gasped, nearly letting the pouch slip from her teeth.


    A shadowy figure dropped into the crevice in front of her, wedging against both sides, and threw its weapon.


    Patches pulled her claws from the ice and dropped to avoid the perfectly aimed throw, then quickly jabbed her claws back into the walls. In spite of the short drop, she slid down much further than she intended. Fortunately, this brought her around a curve in the ice and to a depth too narrow for the assassin to follow.


    With the narrower gap, the mouseling was able to remove a single forepaw from the ice without slipping. She pulled the pouch from her mouth and untied the string with her teeth, then peered inside.


    She saw an egg-sized opal and a three-banded gold ring inlaid with a ruby.


    The mouseling bit the pouch and pulled the ring out with her tiny fingers. She slipped slightly on the ice and squeaked. She crossed her eyes until she could see the pouch in her mouth. She looked at the ring, then frantically back at the pouch. She wanted to return the ring to the bag, but required all four paws to hold onto the ice.


    Patches slipped another inch.


    *****


    Cricket stabbed a sickle and a dagger into the slope of ice to slow his fall then darted into the side chamber after Jade.


    He noticed the ground in this chamber was crusted over, making it less slick, and picked up his pace to try and force a battle before she moved on to slicker terrain. He rounded a bend and nearly collided with the female assassin.


    "Hello... lady bug..." Cricket said with a sultry smile, then immediately cringed at himself.


    Jade waited motionless, and reluctantly Cricket made the first move. Jade countered expertly. She moved surprisingly fast on the ice, swiping her weapons in a pattern. As one khopesh struck, the other arm withdrew, preparing a follow-up strike. One, two, three, four, five. Cricket scrambled to dodge, quickly losing ground.


    She managed to lunge and cover herself with each beat, extending her reach without creating an opening. Cricket thought he saw an opening once, but Jade turned her next attack into a block without missing a beat of the sequence. She kept her lower arms free and occasionally punched or struck with the edge of her open hand, where the carapace came to a sharp ridge.


    Cricket started to memorize the combination, and then Jade began to strike off-beat, keeping him on his toes. It was too smooth and unpredictable for him to adapt mid-fight. And just when he thought he had learned to read her moves, she began to kick with her shins, aiming at his knees and around his side, landing near the holes that he used to breathe.


    "Hey no, feet!"


    Jade slashed him once across the chest, barely cracking the shell, then followed up with a double stab. One khopesh entered the fresh crack and the other entered the crack from their previous encounter with expert precision. Cricket coughed up blood, and bent over just as a khopesh swung for his neck.


    If he hadn''t dropped unintentionally, it might have taken his head. Instead, he felt it clip his antennae at an angle. Two black stalks fell into the snow at his feet. Cricket lunged and grabbed around her neck, pulling her in a range too close for her weapons and too close for a punch.


    Jade swished in her mouth then suddenly spat a wad of brown saliva in his face. The sticky liquid stung his eyes. He felt her twist at the hips then ram his stomach with the palm of her hand. She twisted back the other way and struck with the other palm gaining a surprising amount of force. Finally, she brought the spiked pommel of a khopesh down on the brittle section of shell where the Nightcrawler bow had pierced Cricket''s shoulder, crushing the discolored shell into powder.


    Cricket gasped. He drove forward, blinded, and winded, and wounded, knowing he didn''t have time to wipe the grime from his eyes. He dropped his weight, to take her to the ground, but felt her twist, lithely in the air. A moment later he landed on his back and felt her wrapping all four arms around a single one of his smaller arms, hugging it to her chest. She used her feet to hold back his larger arms. Then she dropped her weight and arched her back.


    Cricket heard a crack, then felt a pop, and a searing pain in his side as she wrenched the limb from his body.


    She stood, as he squirmed and squealed. He watched through blurry, yellow-tinted vision as she noticed the mark of the right hand on his dismembered arm and her eyes widened in horror. She looked from the arm to Cricket and back again, then tossed the limb aside, and Cricket heard his own discarded limb clack against the crusty snow.


    He watched her intently, and in an instant her face was desolate again¡ªemotionless¡ªand Jade ran without a backward glance.


    Before he blacked out, Cricket heard Jeshu''s roar, and felt the ground shake as he charged toward them.


    *****


    After the sounds of battle quieted above, Patches squeaked for help, unable to open her mouth. And ages passed before Jeshu lowered a rope into the crack, for her to grab onto.


    It was difficult for the dryad to evaluate her exact location, and the rope appeared several feet away.


    The mouseling tried to call for help, but when she loosened her bite on the pouch, the green ribbon fell, landing on one of her paws. This only made matters more difficult. Patches looked from the ribbon to the pouch to the ring, deciding if she could abandon any one of the treasures. After a lengthy deliberation, she wrapped her tail around the ribbon and leapt for the rope, scrambling to grab hold with her three free paws. Which proved too difficult. In a moment of desperation, the mouseling dropped the ring and latched onto the rope with both of her forepaws as the shiny trinket bounded away, deeper and deeper into the crevice.

 Preparations

    14


    Preparations


    Patches snuck quietly to the surface. She could always come and go as she pleased, and few noticed her absence. Actually, since Oydd had taken over, it was more difficult to sneak away, as he so often required her assistance in the morgue.


    The mouseling had become somewhat proficient with a hook and thread. She had learned the anatomy of ratlings and lizardmen and goblins¡ªmostly the same, though the principal organs varied in color, and sometimes even redundancy. She had even spearheaded a few innovations to help the morgue run more cleanly and efficiently, like clearly labeling similar-colored chemicals. However, the rudra seldom noticed her efforts.


    Though it was never any trouble to slip away, Patches found that the longer she stayed away the fouler a mood she might expect from Oydd upon returning.


    As the rock path to the surface turned to mud and a patchwork of white roots, the mouseling began to feel the chill of winter from above, even through her fur coat.


    Had it been so many months? She knew the southern tunnels had frozen over, but this location remained green in her memory, and the stark contrast bit at her more than the cold.


    Patches poked her nose out first into the crisp winter air and sniffed, then sniffed again, hoping for the scent of pine needles, and burning coals, and roasting meat. But somehow the cold overpowered everything, leaving only a sting in her nostrils.


    The mouseling hurried through dry air toward the clearing where she had once met an alluring witch and her companions. She saw no one. She could not hear the birds, nor see the squirrels. The trees stood bare and skeletal in the wind. The ash from the firepit had all but blown away. Dead weeds grew over the rocks and dislodged one from the circle. Patches tried to right it but the frozen ground held it fast.


    She chose instead to climb a nearby tree, then sat very still and very quiet and watched the barren campsite.


    It felt too empty. There wasn''t supposed to be nothing here. She knew there wasn''t supposed to be nothing. And the emptiness hurt, which proved it was wrong.


    Still, the mouseling sat in the cold and watched the empty clearing for an hour or so, until it began to grow dark. A pit formed in her stomach and she decided to leave.


    Patches hopped down from her perch and heard a slight rustle in her pouch as the contents shifted. She opened it and saw the small bag she had taken from Jade. Next to it sat the previous contents¡ªan egg-shaped opal, not much bigger than her paw. And yet, the bag did not appear empty. It bulged out ever so slightly and sprung back when she poked it.


    Patches opened the bag and peered inside. There she found a single, vibrant green leaf.


    The mouseling smiled and tightened the bag again with her green ribbon, leaving the leaf inside, then began the trek home.


    When she reached the Warrens, Patches ran over the roof of the stables, to avoid being hissed at by the lizards, then ducked into a small side-tunnel she had dug as a shortcut and soon sprinted into the commons. Where, distracted a bit by the mud on her paws, she ran headlong into Licephus.


    Patches ricocheted from his leg, as if it were a solid wall, squeaked and landed on her chin, splitting it open on the rock floor. Her pouch rolled twice then spilled its contents. The opal bounced along the hallway with a dull ring, and the witch''s doll from the marsh, formed from ratling fur, landed at his feet along with several less remarkable items.


    The vampire stooped and picked up the doll, running a delicate finger along the blood stain, then feeling one of the sharp, bone needles.


    "Now what do we have here?"


    *****


    Jeshu tied an azaeri feather to a shaft of river cane then secured the fletching with cave lizard sinew. He held the arrow up for Ty''lek''s inspection. The archer shook his head, flicking the feathers in annoyance and held up his arrow for comparison¡ªan arrow that looked identical in Jeshu''s estimation.


    "I don''t understand what you want done differently."


    In response the azaeri tore the fletching free and scraped the gum resin from the shaft with his hunting knife then handed the reed back to be redone.


    "I would do it the same unless you can show me what it is you don''t like."


    Ty''lek let out an involuntary squawk then grabbed the whole basket of reeds and sinew. He handed the druid his knife then indicated the pile of broken shells on his far side.


    "I''m on arrowhead duty?"


    "Es," the archer replied and began to fletch his own arrows.


    Jeshu sat before the pile of shells and sorted through the pieces until he found one suitable for carving.


    He had only made his first shave when the azaeri grabbed his hand in annoyance and squawked a complaint.


    "Do you want my help or not?" the druid asked patiently.


    Ty''lek seemed to consider his options for a moment then withdrew his hand from the dryad. Still he kept more of an eye on Jeshu''s work than his own, gluing and tying the feathers with a practiced ease.


    Jeshu sighed. "I haven''t seen Cricket for nearly a week. Is he still in the morgue sulking?¡±


    The azaeri cocked his head. "Suls...kingh?"


    "Yes, sulking," Jeshu continued. "Moping. He retreated down there with Oydd the moment we got back, and I haven''t seen him since."


    The azaeri laughed¡ªa sort of clicking caw.


    "Why''s that funny?"


    Ty''lek scratched his beak, deciding how to respond. Finally, he stood and grabbed the druid''s arm, gesturing toward the morgue with a jerk of his head.


    "I think he wants to be alone," Jeshu responded.


    Ty''lek cawed again, with a tone Jeshu recognized as a no, and shook his head for emphasis.


    Reluctantly, Jeshu rose from his pile of broken shells and followed the archer to the morgue, where the azaeri gave three loud raps on the iron door.


    A long silence followed and then Oydd''s voice entered their minds.


    Mouseling! He paused then shouted again with his mind in irritation, Mouseling!


    I''ll get it. Cricket''s voice joined.


    Jeshu gave a curious look to the azaeri, uncertain how they had clearly heard the insect. After a short wait, the door unlocked from the inside and swung open.


    Cricket stood in the entryway with all four arms and both antennae intact. He rubbed a forearm against his eyes and clicked his tongue.


    Jeshu stared, shocked, at the insect''s complete, shiny black carapace, at a loss for words.


    Seeing the druid''s confusion, Cricket explained, "I haven''t gotten it all off yet." He peeled what appeared to be a piece of dead skin from one of his eyes and threw it to the floor then began to clean his antennae.


    "All of what off?" Jeshu looked at the hallway behind Cricket and saw several large, discarded pieces of exoskeleton, beginning to grey at the edges.


    "Uh, my shell," Cricket answered. "I finished about a day ago, but I keep finding bits stuck in the oddest places."


    "Finished what?" Jeshu asked with a note of frustration, knowing the answer full well by this point.


    "Uh... molting," the insect said absently, scratching another piece of dried shell from beneath his chin. "Come on in. You should see what Oydd is up to."


    As they walked, Jeshu scolded the insectoid, "You told me that your shell couldn''t heal."


    "It can''t. That''s why, like every few months, I have to shed the whole thing. Oh! I see why you were confused."


    "And you even grew back your entire arm?" Jeshu managed to look more relieved than upset. "I had thought you were permanently impaired."


    "What? Oh, yeah." Cricket laughed. "If I couldn''t regrow my limbs, I wouldn''t have any left." At this thought, he absently began cleaning his new antennae again. "New arm''s a little stiff, but that usually goes away with time."


    The three passed Oydd''s library.


    "Actually, it should be stronger than ever. When I molt, my shell usually gets tougher and my muscles grow too."


    Jeshu sighed, almost embarrassed at his concern. "But you told me you''d never been so beaten as when we faced that trollblood."


    "Well, the raptors, but I get your point. I guess I meant as an adult."


    "Damn!" Oydd pricked his thumb with a tiny threaded hook. Where is that mouseling!  The rudra spoke to their minds, though he was clearly in sight of everyone.


    "When I was smaller, I went on a lot of dangerous missions with Scorpion," the insect continued, despite the interruption. "I got my shell handed to me pretty often then. But if I got too thrashed up or battered, they just pulled me off the front lines until I molted."


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Well I''m glad to know you can do that. I was truly worried."


    "What? Molt," Oydd interjected. "I told you he could do that."


    "I don''t believe you did."


    "Really? Well..." the rudra trailed off as he finished a stitch and tied off the thread. "There, they''re finished."


    Two goblins lay in a heap on a single autopsy table, lacking any clear modifications, unlike Kaser.


    "New ghouls?" Jeshu asked.


    "No... nothing so sophisticated. These will be zombies. No wards, no augmentations. I''m simply repairing their fatal wounds, so they don''t fall apart on the battlefield."


    "Can I name them?" Cricket chimed in. "None of us understood the names you picked last time."


    "I named them in Rudric. But I doubt I will be as attached to these. Do as you please."


    "Awesome." Cricket grinned. "I''m naming them Scab and Wax."


    Ty''lek laughed.


    "Ridiculous," Oydd spat. "Where did you even come up with those names?"


    "I was picturing a troll picking a scab and then I pictured him picking at his ear."


    "Well I''m not calling them that."


    "You want backsies? You''ve got some gall to go back on your promise that fast!" Cricket gasped.


    "I did not promise."


    "Well I thought you did. Where I come from, your word is your bond."


    "You don''t know where you came from," Oydd objected. He looked to the dryad for support, but Jeshu simply shrugged.


    "I''m inclined to agree with Cricket."


    Oydd growled.


    "I suppose..." Cricket scratched his chin, "I might be willing to release you from your oath, if¡ª"


    "My oath!"


    "If you say ''I invoke the ancient right of backsies''."


    "Preposterous!" Oydd practically fumed. "I will do no such thing!"


    "Then their names are Scab and Wax."


    "I shouldn''t have offered."


    Jeshu said, "Really I''m not sure why you did, if you didn''t intend to honor your word."


    Oydd stewed in silence. Ignoring the look on Cricket''s face, he retrieved his metal staff and commanded, "Jur diahk!"


    Instantly a green light began to shine from the goblins'' eyes. The first sat up and plopped down from the table onto its wiry feet. The second began to stir as well, when a voice penetrated the morgue.


    You will report...


    Jeshu sensed the Left Hand communicating to the group, but was surprised again when Cricket responded cheerfully, We''re on our way!"


    "Stop doing that!" Oydd scolded the insect.


    "How are you doing that?" Jeshu probed.


    Cricket laughed. "He''s just mad because I figured it out before he did."


    "Nonsense," Oydd snapped.


    "To do... um, telepathy... he has to sort of create a link between all of our minds. And I found out how to respond."


    "And everyone can hear you?" Jeshu asked, astonished.


    "Anyone he wants to," Cricket answered.


    "I did not want anyone to hear you."


    "Then I should say, once he''s opened up a link, I can say whatever I want."


    "And it''s infuriating!"


    Jeshu considered this. "It could actually be useful if we could all converse that way."


    "Or it could get us all killed when he offends the Left Hand," Oydd countered, and Ty''lek nodded in agreement.


    "That does seem reckless," Jeshu said to the insect.


    Cricket pouted visibly.


    "How does he do it?" Jeshu asked.


    "Because his mind is so simple," Oydd criticized as he made his way into the library.


    Jeshu dropped the subject for the time being and followed the group to the debriefing room.


    *****


    Licephus paced, uncharacteristically, as the group reported to their summons. The mouseling sat in the far corner, with her eyes on her quivering tail, without looking up as the others entered.


    Oydd looked to the Left Hand, but the mass of tentacles floated soundlessly, its mind closed to the rudra, and the vampire spoke first.


    "We have gained some insight into the machinations of the Right Hand."


    Cricket folded his arms, in sets, and waited for instructions.


    Licephus continued, "For our first order of business, we are blacklisting the entire organization. With Damien''s removal, this is the only slave colony that I do not believe to be compromised, in part because it was targeted for destruction. Because of that, you should consider yourselves fortunate.


    "You will cover your brandings. After today, you have standing orders to eliminate anyone displaying the mark of the Right Hand on sight with impunity, including dhampiri. This is our new mark." Licephus pulled a thin chain from within his blouse, and displayed an old, worn sigil¡ªa lily with three of its petals pressing against the corners of a triangular frame. "The mark of house Akamefuna. It means, ''my name will be remembered''. It is an old house. As far as I know, I alone remain. It will be used to identify those who are still loyal to our cause. I expect every slave in the colony to acquire this mark on the left wrist by the end of the day. Is that clear?"


    "Yes," Oydd answered.


    "Anyone openly displaying the brand of the Right Hand is a traitor, and is guilty of death."


    Cricket frowned. He had worked with slaves from the Burrows in the fourth sect, and shied at the prospect of killing old allies on sight.


    "There is one exception. Until you have further orders, you are to hide your new mark and display the Right Hand when interacting with the Drake Guard. Do you know Commander Dragetsen?"


    Oydd answered, "Yes."


    Cricket considered the implication of this request. The dhampir seldom brought the Drake Guard so far from the inner sects, but the insect had seen the dour commander on more than one occasion, and didn''t care for his demeanor. He thought the riders looked humorously small atop their monstrous draconic mounts.


    Without cue, the Left Hand began to speak and the vampire fell silent.


    Recently a pair of cultists desecrated a temple of Serinyes. I have monitored their most recent activity, and believe they are likely to attempt the destruction of a second temple. In two nights.


    The clerics of Serinyes request our protection.


    The Left Hand began to relay information on the location of three temples, as well as the possible identities of the cultists. The information flooded into Cricket''s head in an instant. He felt Oydd bolster his mind and the Left Hand increased the speed of the relay in proportion. He wondered what trauma his mind might have endured without the rudra''s assistance, but he also sensed that the transaction was completely under control.


    Even with Oydd''s assistance, Cricket couldn''t hold onto the deluge of thoughts. A lot of it was just impressions. He hoped that Oydd would be able to expound later. He could tell that information was still being gathered on the identities of the lead cultists. For now he gleaned only random names and races. A changeling, a were-panther, a rudra. Nothing unusual. He only retained one name, since it was repeated more than once.


    Shisu.


    *****


    Toad dipped his needle in black mimic ink then made the final prick on his subject''s wrist. The ratling steadied the needle with his tail, using a free hand to flip a lens in front of his eye, then adjusted the magnification.


    When he decided the tattoo met his approval, he flipped the lens away again and called for his next subject.


    Jeshu nervously took the chair. Toad climbed onto Jeshu, holding the dryad''s arm down with a long foot, and grabbed his left wrist in both paws. "Not black," the ratling declared, then sorted through his instruments until he found exactly what he was looking for. He opened a squat jar full of mushroom charcoal and held it up for Cricket''s inspection.


    "Has a bluish tint." Toad scratched at the piercing in his brow and then the two piercings that weighed down his oversized ear. The ratling looked away from Cricket anxiously.


    The insect nodded approval as Jeshu nervously eyed the ratling''s bone chisel.


    "What are you afraid of?" Cricket joked. "Isn''t this better than getting burned."


    "I suppose."


    Toad dipped his chisel in ash then centered it on the dryad''s wrist, preparing a strike with his mallet. Jeshu closed his eyes.


    Click! The mallet struck and the dryad opened his eyes, somewhat relieved.


    "I knew you could handle a little pain," Cricket commented.


    "The pain is not what I''m worried about. I don''t like being permanently marred."


    "I doubt it''s permanent. I can barely see your first branding. You heal too quickly." Cricket thought a moment. "I always just get tattoos."


    "Always?" the druid asked.


    "After I molt. Damien preferred branding, but," Cricket held up his wrist. "Black doesn''t really burn. So... Toad has this white ink from milk squids that shows up on me."


    When Jeshu finished, Cricket took a seat and the ratling grabbed a very fine needle and a bottle of milky white ink.


    "Why isn''t he using the chisel on you?" Jesh asked indignantly.


    "We don''t want the shell to crack."


    "You didn''t object when he cracked my bark!"


    Cricket shrugged as Toad continued to make very fine pricks on the insect with his needle, and Jeshu scrutinized his own tattoo sourly.


    When the ratling finished, Cricket almost instantly hopped to his feat, visibly excited.


    "Time to see Bird!"


    *****


    "How are ye?" Bird snarled, revealing one crooked fang.


    "What''s with the eyepatch?" Cricket asked.


    "Was workin'' glass, an it ''ad a bit o'' glint off ma eye," the were-panther explained.


    Cricket began to dig in his pouch while the smith glared at him impatiently.


    "Come oan then, ya bam!"


    "Hold on, it was just here." Cricket scratched his head then dug deeper. "Aha!" He produced a crumpled yellow parchment, slightly rolled up.


    Cricket stretched it between an upper and lower arm and displayed it for the blacksmith. On the parchment, with a stick of black wax, the insect had drawn a crude sketch of a khopesh.


    "Two of these!"


    Bird breathed heavily and stomped his foot.


    "Longer than a sickle, but shorter than a scimitar."


    "Aye."


    "The curve is in between a sickle and a scimitar too. Sharp on both ends, so I can hook a goblin''s head with this side or slash a giant''s ankle with this side." He pointed to the pommel. "Stabby down here too, on the bottom."


    "I ken do it," the were-panther growled.


    "Then why do you sound upset?"


    "That''s jes ma voice!" Bird snapped, snatching the sketch out of Cricket''s hand.


    "Perfect. Priority one."


    "The octopus already gave a ''priority one'' tae ma."


    "This is the new priority one. Do his thing second."


    Bird grunted in frustration at the conflicting orders, but spread the sketch open on a table with two stones, and began to comb through his supplies, mumbling to himself.

 Desecration

    15


    Desecration


    Licephus carried the mouseling by the scruff of the neck to a back chamber with several empty cells. The area smelled musty and appeared unused.


    He tossed her to the ground and pulled the witch''s doll from his belt.


    "Do you know what this is?"


    Patches shook her head.


    "This is a totem." Licephus tossed the doll at her feet. "A witch''s totem used for occult magic. Hexes."


    The mouseling reached for the doll gingerly.


    "Far be it for me to condemn you for taking an interest in the occult, but I can''t allow you to imperil the entire colony with your ignorance." The vampire sat on the floor, making no move to stop Patches from retrieving the doll. She caressed the figure''s head and scratched a bit of dried blood with her nail.


    "This totem is an effigy of a ratling. Someone to whom a witch intended harm. Do you want to learn how to make one?"


    Patches looked up at the vampire surprised and nodded.


    "I must hear you say yes or no. It will determine how we proceed."


    Patches scratched behind her ear. "Yes," she whispered softly.


    The vampire smiled coldly. "This totem represents four pieces of identity. All four components are required for the hex to take proper hold of its victim. Lacking one or more components simply makes the spell weaker, and is not itself dangerous."


    Licephus extended his hand. "Give me the doll."


    Patches hesitated only slightly then passed the totem back to the vampire.


    "The four components are the flesh, the blood, the name, and the form of the victim. Repeat that."


    Patches swallowed hard. "Flesh, blood, form..."


    "And name." Licephus removed the ratling tooth from inside the fur. "Flesh refers to any part of the body. This ratling, who is undoubtedly dead, was unfortunate enough to lose a tooth. Anything belonging to the intended target will work. Hair, a piece of clothing, a childhood possession. But the more vital, the more powerful."


    Licephus indicated the dried blood. "This came from the victim. The fur may not even belong to the victim, but symbolizes his likeness. Lastly, if the hexer knew the victim''s name, it would be used during the casting of the spell. There is power in a name. Then, any harm that comes to the totem affects the being it is tied to. If the components are weak, it may do little harm. But these are good components, which is why I say that the ratling is dead." Licephus removed a bone needle from the doll to accentuate his point.


    "But none of this will do you any good, because you do not possess any magical abilities," the vampire hissed. "You will remain here for three days. Use that time to reflect on what you are willing to sacrifice for power. When I return, I expect an earnest answer. Your response will determine whether I teach you, or bar you wholly from this sphere of study."


    With that, the vampire stood, and with a flourish of his cape departed the chamber, closing and locking the door behind him.


    *****


    "You know, I was thinking... I think I know why I lost that fight."


    "Against Jade?" Jeshu asked.


    "Yeah. It''s because she knew how to kick. It was basically six weapons against four, so I was outclassed from the beginning."


    "Seven," Jeshu corrected. "She spit too. Maybe you should do that more."


    "Nah, I''m too classy," Cricket stated, pulling at one of his feelers.


    "Actually," the druid added, "I think it''s because she is an amazingly well-trained assassin."


    "Maybe," Cricket conceded. "I hope it works out."


    "Hope what works out?" The dryad asked.


    "Between us."


    "Are you serious? She tried to cut off your head."


    Cricket shrugged. "In the heat of the moment. All couples have their fights."


    "And she ripped off your arm," Jeshu continued.


    "Simple lovers'' spat. Kind of typical among insects. You don''t win someone''s heart without risking a limb or two."


    "We''re almost there," Jeshu stated.


    An enormous black temple loomed a few blocks ahead. Cricket was seldom permitted this far into the city, and yet at this hour the streets were nearly bare. Here and there, dhampiri guards rode on their lazy raptor mounts. At a distant vantage point, he even saw one of the Drake Guard, the king''s personal escort. The elite dhampir soldier sat atop a cave drake, surveying the quiet streets, deterring would-be criminals with its mere presence.


    Though purportedly relatives of dragonkind, the drakes more closely resembled giant, frilled geckos, save for the thick brown scales that covered most of their pale skin, and their rows of razor-sharp teeth. Still, Cricket thought, they were nothing but overblown geckos, bred for their ability to cling to the cave walls, and their distaste for dhampir flesh. Cave drakes did, however, love to eat insects, and the beast''s proximity unnerved him.


    With Oydd''s recommendation, the Warrens formed three task forces, one to guard each of three temples that they suspected might be targeted. The first consisted of Cricket, Jeshu, Ty''lek and several ratlings. The second consisted only of Oydd, Licephus and Aka''su¡ªanother azaeri archer. Agena led the third group along with Scorpion, a handful of lizardmen, and an ettin of the vampire''s choosing.


    Oydd sent Scab with Cricket''s group and Wax with Agena. Due to the simple nature of the zombies, the rudra was able to control them over a much longer distance and could monitor each group, seeing through their eyes.


    Cricket grumbled. Scab''s lethargic pace slowed his entire party.


    As they approached their temple, Cricket pulled the Betrayer''s mask from his stuffed pouch. The mask was carved or formed from a white clay, with a smear of blood-red paint over one half.


    Jeshu groaned, "Why are you keeping that?"


    "It might come in handy."


    "Only if you intend to turn on your friends."


    "Like the Right Hand cultists?"


    Jeshu shook his head. "It doesn''t work like that. I discussed it in detail with Oydd. They turned on you. If you want some god''s favor to fight against them, you would need to turn to the god of revenge, not betrayal. What was her name?"


    "Vidine," Cricket answered. However, sensing Jeshu''s apprehension, he fell several steps behind the druid before holding the mask against his face to test its fit. And it did fit quite well, except for the flat hollow for a dhampir nose. Cricket wondered if the mask made it look like he had a nose, and almost asked the druid, but thought better of it. He returned the mask to his side pouch.


    Despite the soaring spires of the temple, the foundation lay several stories below street level. Cricket''s party descended beneath the slate-cobbled streets, the cold barbed rails, and the black marble buildings of Al Tsirith.


    Cricket felt more at home in the bland undercity tunnels anyway.


    Jeshu halted the group and waited for Cricket to catch up. "What''s this?"


    Cricket eyed the massive gate, adorned on each side by intricate silver filigree and topped with the emerald carving of an arachane, resembling Damien, but slender and whole.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "Tyna," Cricket answered. "A symbol of protection."


    "But this is Serinyes'' temple? Why depict another goddess?"


    "I don''t think she''s a goddess," Cricket answered. "Tyna is more of a warning to looters. She was a dhampir cursed by Serinyes to be half-spider. I don''t think that story''s real though. "


    "Yes," Jeshu agreed. "In dhampir mythology, every other race is expressly inferior."


    Cricket went over the little bits of dhampir mythology he was familiar with, checking the claim. "But there are likely spiders here to watch over the dead," Cricket added. "Probably harmless."


    "This lock has been broken." Jeshu pushed on the wiry, weblike bars and it opened inward. "We''ll send Scab first," the druid suggested.


    "No! That will take forever... I''ll go ahead if you want a scout."


    Ty''lek slipped through the opening while Cricket argued, and the druid reluctantly followed.


    Cricket''s turtle charm began to glow warmly, but the insect waved frantically at Jeshu to stop. The insect covered the faint light with one of his hands until it dimmed and sprinted forward on the tips of his toes.


    Dusty web covered the walls, several inches thick and crawling with thousands of tiny spiders. Cricket kept to the center of the tunnel.


    Near the ceiling, he noticed a bulging, sickly grey sac that expanded then retracted as if breathing. He saw a second smaller one on the floor and then a cluster several yards ahead. Veins stretched over the surface of the sacs, and thick, weblike strands spread from each bulge attaching it to the stone.


    One dripped from the ceiling as Cricket passed, only to stop inches from the ground where it bounced and swung from its webbing.


    Cricket risked a backward glance and saw Jeshu and the ratlings picking around the egglike sacs with disgust.


    Cricket mouthed "What is this?" silently, but the dryad simply shook his head, bewildered. The insect noticed a large patch of webbing missing¡ªfreshly torn from the wall, based on the dust-free rock and lack of spiders¡ªbut he saw no sign of the removed web.


    Ahead, Ty''lek crouched behind a dhampir sarcophagus and waved the insect over. Silently the azaeri gestured toward an adjacent hallway and held a finger to his beak.


    Cricket watched the hallway, where a soft, red, magical glow emanated from an unseen chamber. By its faint light he saw the shadow of a hulking, disfigured humanoid that lumbered away¡ªone heavy, awkward step at a time.


    When the shadow disappeared from view, Ty''lek dropped the finger from his beak and moved quietly to a better vantage point. Cricket followed.


    When he could see down the hallway, he viewed the source of the shadow. At first he thought it some sort of undead monstrosity, but it felt different. The humanoid stood about a foot taller than the insect, its shoulders at a sharp angle, as if one arm was too heavy to lift¡ªits knuckles dragging along the floor as well as its stubby, ill-formed tail. After a moment, Cricket noticed the second arm had been removed entirely. The hulk''s grey, translucent skin seemed to nearly melt from the bones like wax.


    As Cricket watched, the creature''s belly convulsed and it began to regurgitate a large grey, pulsating sac that it spit onto the wall, where it slowly dripped before latching into place.


    Then the hulk stooped and grabbed a handful of dusty webbing, thick with squirming spiders and began to gorge voraciously.


    Cricket nearly vomited. He felt acid burning in the back of his throat but swallowed it back down.


    He saw the source of the red glow. An enchanted gem in the middle of a chamber full of stone boxes, less ornate than the sarcophagus. The dhampiri did not need a source of light, which meant the enchantment was likely ceremonial or religious in nature.


    Ty''lek mimed in the air as if shooting, looking to Cricket for permission, but the insect shook his head. They watched for a full minute as the creature feasted on the cobwebs and tiny black spiders crawled out of its mouth along its face.


    Two ratlings arrived at Cricket''s side, and the abomination turned at the faint sound. Cricket ducked out of sight and glared at the ratlings. The smaller of the two tried to peer around the corner, but Cricket caught him by the collar and pulled him back until Jeshu arrived.


    The insect drew his sickles then signaled with one of his lower hands, holding up three fingers, then two, then¡ª


    "Over here." A soft childlike voice came from the adjoining chamber.


    Cricket poked his head out and saw a small child riding atop a grey spider with her legs tucked beneath her. The mount had no segments or eyes, as if formed roughly from clay. With her head turned mostly away, the insect only saw the girl''s long, sandy hair and a bit of creamy skin¡ªnot pure white like the dhampiri. She almost appeared elven, but with rounded ears rather than pointed. She wore a simple gown of tan cloth.


    The waxlike humanoid followed her, leaving a slimy trail of web behind it.


    Cricket pulled one of the plain, iron shurikens from his pouch, but hesitated. The ratlings, however, charged, readying their spears.


    Cricket sighed and darted past them, on a course to intercept the translucent grey hulk.


    He felt the turtle around his neck grow warm again, and the child on the spider turned. A blood-soaked cloth covered her eyes, though she stared straight at Cricket. He froze.


    An arrow sped from behind, aimed for the child, but it slowed in the air as it approached her, until it nearly came to a complete stop. The child grabbed the arrow from the air and held it delicately in her fingers.


    Cricket threw a shuriken at the grey hulk, but it embedded harmlessly in the waxy skin, and the creature continued to lumber away as if it hadn''t noticed.


    A ratling stabbed at the hulk followed by his companion, and then the two dodged back as it swung its single arm toward them. A third ratling approached, and the three stabbed and withdrew in practiced timing, easily avoiding its attacks.


    Cricket rushed in to support them as a second arrow flew through the air, embedding in the hulk''s forehead.


    One of the ratlings hesitated, thinking his opponent defeated and caught a mucousy backhand that sent him flying through the air. Strands of web stretched from its grey skin to the ratling as it crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground.


    The child raised a hand, and the other two ratlings began to slow. Cricket simply felt heavy at first, before he realized he was caught in the spell. His sickle arced through the air with just enough force to dig a couple inches into the monster''s soft skin. He yanked back and tore a gash in its shoulder, revealing blackened bone.


    A third arrow whirred through the air, at full speed, and struck the tear, wedging into the socket. The hulk tried to raise its arm but the arrow jammed the bones and its arm fell back to the ground. The creature absently tried to reach for the arrow with its missing arm, then paused in confusion.


    "Aberron," the child called its attention. She raised an arm and a spinning portal appeared. Cricket looked through the magical doorway, but saw only an empty, unremarkable stone room.


    She waited for the creature called Aberron to join her. Cricket and one of the ratlings pressed to follow, but the closer they came to the girl, the more slowly they moved. An arrow passed Cricket''s head at a crawl, then came to a complete stop in midair.


    Suddenly the portal closed, and the arrow sped full speed through the empty chamber. Cricket realized the girl and the hulk had already departed and he had been chasing an afterimage. Perhaps his eyes had processed them too slowly. Regardless, they were long gone.


    "How were we late?" Jeshu asked. "They''ve been here for days. The same thing happened in the catacombs."


    "Days?" Cricket repeated dumbly.


    "Yes. That thing has been eating webs and laying these... what? Eggs? Something is wrong with our intel."


    Cricket walked over to one of the grey sacs and cut it open with a dagger. It splurted a black liquid and deflated slightly. The exterior was formed of a translucent, weblike membrane, that appeared identical to Aberron''s flesh. Cricket poked around the inside then wiped the dagger clean on the outside of the sac.


    "Partially formed bones. Maybe... a heart?" Cricket pointed at a black, pulsing organ with the tip of his knife.


    "What, like it''s reproducing? On what, the webs that it ate?"


    "That makes them eggs, right?"


    Jeshu started to disagree but simply furrowed his brow in thought.


    "Scab, get over here," Cricket ordered.


    The zombie, regardless of his request, had already started to amble over and hovered over the opened sac¡ªits dry, glowing eyes darting left and right.


    "Oydd, if you can hear me, we ran into two... um... what we assume are members of the Right Hand."


    Jeshu added, "A girl, no more than a child, I believe to be from the surface, and a creature made of webs."


    Jeshu walked around the chamber with the red glow, where the girl had vanished, then exited down another hallway.


    Cricket helped the injured ratling to his feet. The thick, matted webs on the wall had softened his landing, but he still held his head in a daze.


    Then Cricket followed the dryad into the back chamber, where he saw two more sarcophagi, opened to display the dead. However, the corpses had been defiled with viscous grey vomit, the skulls crushed, with deep runes recently etched into the mummified sternums.


    "Don''t touch them," Jeshu warned. "I don''t know what curses the dhampiri may have placed on these two. They are likely royalty."


    In the back of the chamber stood a shrine to Serinyes, carved from the finest ebony mushroomwood, now burned and rent from top to bottom so that the backboard split in two. Each likeness of Serinyes had been painstakingly scratched from the wood and stone.


    Cricket directed the ratlings to destroy the grey, membranous sacs, and then the group assembled in the cold, uninviting tomb.


    "What is in the rest of the temple?" Jeshu asked. "It must be ten stories high."


    "Just more of their dead," Cricket replied. ¡°They''ve been burying here for hundreds of years."


    "And where are the clerics?"


    "I''m not sure what you mean. Not here."


    "I thought a temple would be a place of worship. An active religious site," Jeshu explained.


    "Should we search the upper floors?" one of the ratlings asked.


    "No," Jeshu answered.


    The ratling looked to Cricket.


    "Listen to the dryad, Bones. His orders are my orders."


    The ratling nodded.


    Jeshu continued, "I believe they finished whatever they came to do. Let''s return and report to Oydd and Licephus. I don''t know what to make of this."


    Bones looked to Cricket again for confirmation and the insect sighed. "We''re heading back. Flick," Cricket pointed at the smallest ratling, "get a sample of that grey stuff for Oydd."


    "Who?"


    "The rudra," Cricket clarified, and Flick ran down the hallway and began to scrape the gelatinous substance from the floor.

 Names

    16


    Names


    "Changeling," Oydd stated confidently.


    "That thing was a changeling?" Cricket asked skeptically. "Aren''t changelings blue?"


    "That may be the stupidest thing you''ve said so far. Of course they can be blue, but they can change." Oydd set the scalpel down. "Changelings copy the genetic material of other races. If they spend time around lizards, they grow scales, or in this case... a tail. If they eat eels, they grow gills. This changeling consumed enough spiderweb to alter his entire composition."


    Cricket hovered over the squiggling bit of changeling skin on the autopsy table.


    "Actually, I was hoping to get some changeling blood for my experiment." The rudra gestured toward Skunk. "The troll blood you brought me reanimated the central cavity, where the heart resides, but now the goblin body is rejecting the lizardman and ratling limbs. I think changeling blood might help to... unify the disparate parts."


    "Why is it squirming?"


    "Likely a trait the changeling gained from a troll. Which makes me think the two will mix well. Of course, this changeling is on a level I''ve never seen before. I assume he received some additional power from Bale."


    Cricket poked at the piece of changeling skin and Oydd swatted his hand away.


    The rudra continued, "Licephus has assigned me an urgent mission."


    "Oh?"


    "The night you ran into these two, a group attacked Agena''s group as well. They were strong. If it weren''t for the ettin, Ghajan, I believe he would have been overrun. Though they were nothing compared to Shisu."


    "Shisu?" Cricket asked, remembering the name from his communion with the Left Hand.


    "The child you encountered. A human. The druid was able to identify her race, and Lord Licephus confirmed it. We believe she is the leader of the cult."


    "That little girl? What makes you think she''s important."


    "Because she had sacrificed her eyes. That signifies something among worshippers of the Betrayer. Even if she was not the most powerful before that sacrifice, it stands to reason she has gained favor. Which means more power. I assume Bale grows in power as well."


    "Isn''t Serinyes more powerful?"


    "For now..." Oydd stated, ominously.


    "What about the changeling?"


    "What about him?"


    "He was tough too. He was as tall as me, which is odd for a changeling."


    "He was seven feet tall, by the druid''s estimation. You are barely six and a half if I count your antennae."


    "Why wouldn''t you count my antennae?" Cricket asked, hurt.


    Oydd ignored the question. "My orders are to visit the Oracle. Do you know what an oracle is?"


    "Yes, of course," Cricket answered unconvincingly.


    "An oracle is a seer."


    "Like Bones?"


    "No, not like Bones." The ratling sometimes placed bones and teeth in a gourd then threw them on the ground in an attempt to tell the future. "Because the oracle is actually successful at divination. I wanted you to join me for protection."


    "Don''t you have your zombies?"


    "I hate to admit it, but I would feel safer if you came. It is not a long trip, but we have been targeted a lot recently, and these roads are known to be frequented by highwaymen."


    "When do we leave?"


    "Tonight, when the dhampiri sleep. But I need to head to the underground market first to pick up an item I ordered."


    *****


    At night, a cold wind blew in from the surface, bringing a fog. The glowing mushrooms that illuminated the immense cavern appeared as hazy lights, like will o'' wisps in the distance.


    Oydd pulled the hood of his robe over his head as he led Cricket and the zombies down several back alleys and into the slums of the fourth sect. Though historically allies, there was always a danger in straying from your home turf, and Cricket watched each shadow that passed with suspicion.


    Eventually Oydd descended a stairwell, and the group found themselves in a bustling, but relatively hushed undercity bazaar. Robed figures whispered and traded in the shadows. Ubo slaves¡ªthe short but sturdy cyclopes¡ªguarded tables and tents of peculiar merchandise, and ratlings scurried in the corners, avoiding the untrusting glances of the traders.


    A malnourished rudra, squatting near the entrance, grabbed Cricket''s arm with a bony hand as he passed. He smiled with a rotten beak through filthy tentacles and shook a thorny, black briar staff as he spoke with a cackle. "Trades! Making trades! I''ll make it so you no longer see the color blue in exchange for your firstborn son!"


    "That sounds like two bad things," Cricket replied.


    The old rudra''s tentacles drooped limply in disappointment. "You like the color blue? How about yellow?" He watched the two walk away a little too intently, with a mischievous smile.


    Oydd pulled the insect away from the peddler''s grip. "Don''t talk to anyone!"


    Cricket looked back and the old rudra shouted after him, "If they''re both bad, then it''s an even trade!"


    "Scab, Wax, come on!" Cricket called after the zombies. Both were distracted by a were-panther butcher, covered in blood and sorting raw lizard meat. He chopped a tail off with his cleaver, and the undead goblins inched closer, hungrily.


    When Oydd saw their interest he spoke, Come, and the two instantly turned to follow without a backward glance.


    A were-panther woman, a hunter by her appearance, attempted to sell a baby swamp dragon in a wire cage. Since he wasn''t supposed to talk to anyone, Cricket ran through potential names for the squat beast in his head.


    The rudra passed several weapon racks and an apothecary before turning down another alley and approaching a sizable ubo in copper platemail, standing nearly four and a half feet tall, so that Oydd barely looked down on him.


    The rudra stared the ubo in his one, unblinking eye. "I am here to see Fander."


    The ubo waddled aside, allowing the four to pass through a tiny doorway that led to a dingy, candle-lit shop. A dull, orange light flickered from the wooden shelves and Cricket covered his eyes with one arm to avoid being blinded.


    An eccentric, brown insectoid, shorter than his guard, greeted Oydd, shaking the rudra''s one hand with four of his own, then the insect climbed atop his own counter and grinned, rubbing his smaller hands together as he cleaned his feelers with his upper hands.


    "I have it for you... somewhere!" Fander fawned, then chittered excitedly, running in circles on the countertop. He looked under a few papers, and then under his counter. Whatever he was looking for, he did not find, and appeared visibly flustered. Fander opened an empty wire cage to look inside, then panicked.


    "It''s on your arm." Oydd pointed at a simple black bracer that the insectoid wore, adorned with two yellow stones.


    "Ja, ja... yes!" Fander tapped a finger to his temple laughing at himself. "You have my payment? Five hundred silver. No less!"


    "I have this." Oydd produced a large flask with a pittance of troll''s blood splashing about in the bottom.


    "Hey, that was a present..." Cricket said mostly to himself.


    "What this is? We didn''t agree on this!" The insect spoke quickly and anxiously.


    "It is more valuable than silver."


    "What it is?" Fander repeated.


    "Troll''s blood."


    Fander grabbed the container and held it up to the candlelight. Cricket saw a milky white film over the bug''s eyes.


    "A trick?" Fander asked.


    "You know where to find me," Oydd stated flatly.


    The shopkeeper considered this then clung the bottle to his chest and waved the customers away. "Get out... Get out!"


    Oydd extended his hand, and the shopkeeper paused for a moment, before comprehending the gesture. He pulled the bracer from his wrist and slapped it into the rudra''s hand.


    "Kree! It will work once or twice. Once guaranteed!"


    "Maybe twice? That''s not encouraging."


    "Only count on once. Now happily get out!" Fander said with a smile. Oydd slipped the bracer onto his wrist and led his group from the shop back to the alley.


    Cricket rubbed his eyes and clicked his tongue in annoyance as he adjusted again to the darkness.


    "I''m surprised how sensitive your eyes are. How do you cook over a fire?"


    "I''m surprised how sensitive your hearing is. Anyway, you''re not supposed to look directly at a fire," Cricket cautioned, as if this were an established fact.


    Oydd grunted. "Your screech hits just the right frequency, or¡ª"


    "What does it do?" Cricket interrupted. "The bracelet."


    "Bracer," Oydd corrected. "And it deflects projectiles, like arrows."


    "Oh. Only once?"


    "I think he meant once or twice at a time. The enchantment should recharge over time. I''ll test back at my lab later. Regardless, it''s better than nothing. I don''t expect to take too many arrows."


    Oydd walked silently for a while, then added. "I''ve felt oddly vulnerable since I lost Kaser and Gad. If nothing else, this may give me peace of mind on the battlefield, which is essential for spellcasting."


    "You can''t cast when you''re frazzled?"


    "Frazzled?" Oydd scoffed at the word choice. "We have a long way to go tonight. I''m going to spend a bit of energy to speed up the goblins, but it may leave me tired."


    "I''ve got you covered." The chipper bug drew his sickles and practiced spinning the blades around in different patterns. He spun one in a circle to the side while he weaved the second in a figure eight. "This is good practice, trying to get each hand to do something different. It''s harder than it looks."


    "It doesn''t look hard," Oydd replied without looking.


    "Where are we headed?"


    "Lake Orat."


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Cricket gulped. "I can''t swim."


    "You can''t possibly be afraid of water. You float. I saw it."


    "It''s not that. Orat has some massive eels. If I fall in, I''ll just be floating there helpless."


    "Don''t fall in," Oydd responded, and then after a moment added, "I thought you liked eels. You wanted a pet eel."


    "I like to eat eels. And yes, a little one would make an awesome pet. But the big ones will just see me as a meal. Maybe their ideal meal."


    "I won''t let anything happen to you," the rudra said sardonically. But the sarcasm went over Cricket''s head, and he smiled, clearly touched.


    After a few hours of travel, the insectoid grew sleepy and began to stumble along the trails at a slower pace than the zombies. When they reached the underground lake, the ferry was nowhere in sight, and Cricket plopped down in the dirt, sitting cross-legged.


    Oydd lit a lantern hanging on a post by the water, then pulled some food from his pouch. He shared a strip of dried eel with the insect and some hard yak cheese, then took some rotten meat from a second pouch and tossed it to the goblins.


    The zombies salivated but ate slowly. When they finished the meat, they licked the earth, scraping the last bits of festering juice into their mouths.


    At last the ferry appeared over the black, placid water, piloted by a three-armed insectoid. He held an iron oar with all three arms, rowing briskly on one side, gliding a bit, then rowing once on the other.


    When the small skiff skidded ashore, Oydd snuffed the lantern then pulled out a single silver coin and pressed it into the ferryman''s hand. The ferryman stuffed the coin into a gap in his carapace, the same one Cricket used to conceal his daggers, and signaled for the four passengers to board.


    He pushed off of the shore with his oar and silently began the trip back across the lake.


    "If he still had all four arms," Cricket whispered, "he could use two oars, and he wouldn''t have to switch sides."


    Oydd sighed.


    The shore slowly disappeared from view, and for a while Cricket saw only smooth black water in every direction.


    After some time, they neared a small island, with several dwellings nestled between two cliffs like a small town, though the insect saw no inhabitants.


    Close to shore, the water began to churn with a mass of writhing eels so thick it seemed the vessel glided upon tentacles. Most of the eels were no larger than the insect''s arm, but now and then a head large enough to swallow a ratling broke the surface or a slimy, snakelike tail struck the side of the skiff, jostling the boat.


    The ferryman paid them no heed, and rowed on undeterred, often pushing off from the mass of eels when his oar could not find water.


    At last, they slid ashore, and Cricket jumped onto the black sand first, followed by a calm rudra and the emotionless zombies.


    The insectoid ferryman stood wordlessly, stoically by the boat as Oydd walked up the path through a red-painted arch and then proceeded to the first and smallest of three pagodas.


    The rudra entered and knelt on a weaved reed mat then placed his staff along his lap. Cricket copied the rudra, kneeling on the mat, and placed his hands awkwardly on his hips.


    We will report.


    Cricket felt the words enter his mind, and looked over at the rudra, a bit panicked. Oydd kept his eyes forward.


    After an agonizing wait, two tentacled creatures resembling the Left Hand entered the pagoda from the far side. One walked tall on its tentacles, almost like a mimic copying a goblin. The other floated above the ground. Both appeared slightly smaller than the Left Hand, and varied in shades of grey, but Cricket assumed they were of the same race.


    The floating creature hovered above Oydd and began to extend a slim proboscis toward his head, but the rudra said, I can speak, to all in the room. The creature hesitated, then withdrew its proboscis.


    What is sought?


    Oydd answered, Only knowledge.


    The tentacled creature on the ground circled around Cricket, as if staring at him, though it had no eyes, and the insect shivered.


    You may pass.


    The creatures moved to the sides of the far exit, and Oydd grabbed his staff, rose, and proceeded along the path toward the second, larger pagoda where he knelt on another mat. A voice entered Cricket''s mind before he joined the rudra.


    Weapons are not allowed. Place them in the receptacles.


    Cricket looked around the room and saw small baskets weaved from the same greyish reed. Oydd placed his thin, metal staff across the top of one of the baskets.


    Cricket tossed his sickles inside another, along with his whole pack, and started to leave, then rushed back and pulled out his concealed daggers, adding them to the bin.


    The rudra left the pagoda and continued up the path. Two intricately carved doors blocked the entrance to the final, much larger, structure. This one appeared more like a dwelling with a flat roof, though also painted red.


    Oydd stood before the doors. Again the wait felt agonizing to Cricket. It was only a few minutes, but something about not knowing how long the wait would be made the insect antsy.


    Slowly, the doors opened outward, pushed by an unseen force, and the same voice entered Cricket''s mind.


    The rudra may enter.


    Cricket grumbled and stroked his feelers impatiently.


    The doors closed behind Oydd, and Cricket found himself alone. He looked around awkwardly, not sure if he was permitted to sit. He stood motionless for a bit, until his restlessness became torture, and then he decided to take a seat, for better or for worse.


    The insect drooped down into the black sand with a loud sigh and began to click his tongue and pick at his mandibles.


    He looked around in his boredom and eventually plopped onto his back, with his knees in the air and his arms out wide.


    The sound of the doors opening again woke him from his daydream and Cricket quickly sat up and pretended he''d been kneeling.


    Oydd exited the chamber alone, looking morose, and walked past the insect. "Come."


    However, before Cricket could stand, a voice entered his head again.


    The one known as Cricket may enter.


    Cricket looked to Oydd, as if asking permission, and the rudra simply gestured his indifference with a wave of his hand.


    Cricket rose and entered the structure. The doors closed behind him, sealing him in a small antechamber as a second set of inner doors began to open.


    Cricket stepped lightly into the inner chamber and looked around. In the center of the room he saw a column of black tentacles, resembling a stalactite that dripped from the ceiling and barely caressed the floor with twisting, thrumming tendrils. Long, thin, pale stalks of various sizes protruded from the mass, each with a single glossy orb at the end. The tentacles stretched along the ceiling and down the outer walls, encroaching on the surroundings like the brambles in the swamp.


    As he watched, one of the glassy orbs drifted away from the main column. The stalk attaching it snapped with a quiet slurp, and then the orb began to hover further away. Cricket noticed several similar orbs levitating about the room, like dozens of emancipated eyes.


    A new, much deeper and somehow older voice entered his mind.


    It is good to see you again.


    Cricket spoke out loud, "I haven''t met you before."


    Ah... the creature spoke, almost dismayed.


    I know your past, present, and future. You may ask one question.


    Cricket''s eyes widened.


    Or I can tell you what I believe you most need to know.


    Cricket had several questions he really wanted to ask, but Oydd''s voice scolded him in the back of his mind, "Why would you ask a random question, when you could gain the information you most need?"


    Cricket groaned at the annoying, imaginary rudra.


    What do you choose?


    "I guess the knowledge that will help me the most? I shouldn''t pass on that."


    Immediately a vision seized the insect''s mind. He stood in a new location, filled with an orange, sulfurous smoke¡ªa haze that spread for miles and miles. Though he could not see through it, he knew that it extended above him without end as well. There was no ceiling, no rock walls, and he had the sudden fear of falling upward into the void.


    Through the haze he saw a glowing orb in the sky, but in the vision the bright light did not blind him.


    Oydd stood in the smoke, and before the rudra stood a demon. He could barely make out its silhouette, but ''demon'' was the best word he knew to describe it. The demon possessed four arms, like cricket, and a dull black shell similar to his own, but waved a thin, wiry tail in the smoke, and two twisted horns adorned its head, rather than antennae. It raised a menacing, clawed hand and beckoned the rudra closer.


    Six black orbs floated in the air around the demon, circling him and staring off through time¡ªinto the past and from the past, and into the future, and staring back from the future. He could not explain it, but somehow the orbs connected it to... everything.


    Black beasts prowled about the perimeter of the smoke, watching but keeping their distance. He thought they looked something between a lizard and a panther and a rat. Perhaps something from the surface he was unfamiliar with.


    Then he snapped back to the present... or the past. The present felt like the past, but the two felt mixed up in his head and he did think for a second that he had met the oracle before.


    The deep, ancient voice entered his mind again.


    Do not fight the Prophet. If you raise a weapon against him, you will only hurt yourself.


    Cricket remembered the imposing figure of the black-shelled demon¡ªthe one the oracle called "the Prophet." He felt the image branded onto his mind.


    When he stumbled from the chamber, he saw Oydd staring off into nothing, and now understood the look on the rudra''s face. Seeing into the future was disorienting. But suddenly being cut off from an almost infinite source of knowledge was nearly maddening. However, that memory began to slip away, which made it more tolerable. There were things he wanted to remember¡ªto hold on to¡ªbut even that desire began to slip away like a dream.


    "Did you find something of value?" Oydd asked.


    Cricket shook his head. "No..."


    *****


    "Those eyes," Cricket said, as they returned to the far shore of Lake Orat and meandered along the empty paths back toward the Warrens, "on his stalks. That''s how he sees."


    Oydd closed his eyes and considered this, as if intoxicated from a vision of his own. "How do you know they were eyes?" he asked in wonder.


    Cricket thought feverishly long before answering. "Because they were looking at me."


    Oydd, in a similar state, barely registered the delay.


    On the otherwise empty trail ahead, Cricket saw the old, emaciated rudra from the marketplace. He sat hunched over on a rock with his knees nearly touching his tentacles. Cricket found his presence odd, but thought little of it.


    If Oydd felt uneasy by the other rudra''s presence, he gave no indication, and the two nearly passed right by until the peddler spoke.


    "Zephyrendum."


    Oydd paused and turned. "How do you know my name?"


    "It means carried off by the wind."


    "Yes..." Oydd replied slowly.


    "It''s not Rudric," the peddler cackled.


    "It is not."


    He turned to the insect. "Cricket."


    Cricket stared dumbly, his mind still dazed from his vision. "I never told you my name."


    "I collect names," the old rudra teased.


    He and Cricket began to rise from the ground. The insect realized, too late, that they had been unusually unalert¡ªhis instincts dulled. The man must have followed them here from the marketplace, which was itself alarming.


    Realizing the danger, Oydd sicced the undead goblins on the old rudra. But he pointed a finger at them reproachfully.


    "Uh, uh, uh... no..." He laughed then spoke their names. "Scab. Wax."


    The zombies froze in their tracks.


    Oydd suddenly tensed. "We''re being robbed!" he shouted to Cricket, unsure if the insect were equally disoriented.


    "Oh..." Cricket still struggled to focus as he dreamily rolled onto his side in the air.


    "He''s a warlock. He''s made a pact with the fey!" Oydd warned, then yelled and released a pulse from his mind. Though Cricket couldn''t see it, he had grown familiar enough with the rudra''s mental prowess to sense a force billow from his companion. And he sensed it wash harmlessly over the peddler.


    Cricket watched helplessly as the older rudra released a similar pulse that seemed to sting Oydd, and then a wave moved back and forth between them, unseen, until Oydd finally relented.


    "You''re not stronger than him?" Cricket cried.


    "Normally I would be¡­¡± Oydd answered after a delay, ¡°but..."


    The peddler had trouble controlling the zombies. They fell on all fours and ambled about before he pulled them in line and then the undead goblins looked upon Oydd and Cricket with an eager hunger.


    Cricket squealed and struggled, flailing his arms helplessly in the air. He reached for a shuriken, but the warlock spoke his name again, and Cricket felt all four arms lock up against his sides.


    The peddler grabbed Cricket''s bag and dumped the contents out on the ground. He picked through the meager possessions, noticing first the single, bright blue shuriken, which he held up to his squinting eye.


    "You can have everything but that," the insect bargained.


    Seeing the warlock ignore his offer, Cricket inhaled deeply, preparing a screech.


    This finally got Oydd to snap to attention. "Oh, no! Don''t! At this range it could kill me."


    "Do you have a better idea?"


    Oydd glared at his own hungry creations as they twitched and jerked, stumbling awkwardly toward him, their mouths wide open. He could smell the rotten meat on their breath.


    "Yes, I think I do." The rudra smiled caustically. However, he seemed to struggle inwardly for a moment, then spoke firmly and authoritatively. "I invoke the ancient rite of backsies."


    "Oh," Cricket said soberly, looking confused for just a moment. "I... release you from your oath?"


    Instantly his words dispelled the warlock''s magic from the unnamed zombies. The goblins turned on the peddler, who screamed and pointed. "Scab... wax... I command you."


    Once back under Oydd''s control, the zombies moved much more swiftly, tackling the scrawny warlock, sinking their teeth into his cartilaginous bones, tearing him limb from limb. A dying breath escaped his blood-filled mouth and Cricket dropped roughly back to the ground.


    Oydd drifted down gently as a feather while the insect tested the use of his arms.


    "Can..." Cricket wavered. "Can I name them again? I feel a little bit cheated."


    Oydd sighed in relief. "Wait, cheated? How do you figure?"


    "I could have screeched and knocked him out cold, but you made me do it your way, and you basically stole a promise from me."


    "With your permission."


    "But I feel used." Cricket wiped the dirt from his shins and started again down the trail.


    Oydd groaned, "Fine. I think I''m in a good mood. You can give them new names."


    Cricket beamed, "I name them Wax and Scab!"

 Under the Underworld

    17


    Under the Underworld


    CRASH!


    Oydd woke up with a start. He heard a second crash coming from the morgue¡ªthis time like a gong being struck as one of his tin basins fell to the floor. He cursed the mouseling as he rolled over and tried to fall back to sleep.


    He heard a third crash, followed by an undead moan¡ªthe sound of an unbridled monster hunting its prey. But all of his creations were ''bridled,'' which made the raucous all the more curious.


    With a sigh of annoyance, the rudra rose, grabbing his thin metal staff from where it lay propped against the wall near the entrance to his chamber.


    Oydd heard the sound of a massive fist pound against the wall followed by another howl, almost sad¡ªdeep and spit-choked¡ªand then a nearly imperceptible squeak from the far side of the wall.


    As he entered the morgue he saw the hulking form of Gad, beating the tiles against the back wall. A cheekbone protruded from beneath the peeling grey skin on its face. No, not peeling¡ªreforming, a benefit of the creature''s troll heritage.


    At some point on its journey home, the ghoul had lost a hand. Several ribs poked out from its deformed chest, and one eye bulged to nearly twice the size.


    Upon sensing Oydd it turned and let out a primal roar, its fetid saliva spraying over its crooked jaw and yellow tusks.


    "Lita," Oydd spoke and a bright light shone from the tip of his staff.


    The trollblood stumbled backward into the wall, squirming to cover its eyes with its forearm. Then suddenly it charged.


    Oydd raised his free hand. The veins bulged on the side of his bulbous head, and the ghoul''s charge slowed, until it it stopped altogether¡ªnot without much evident strain on the rudra. He closed his eyes as he held its struggling bulk, then raised a palm toward his creation, gathering energy, and commanded, "Redimis!"


    A whistling of wind spiraled around the ghoul. Its limbs went limp and its eyes rolled back into its head.


    Oydd exhaled and the creature fell to the floor. A moment later, Oydd collapsed to one knee. He took two deep breaths, then collected himself and stepped over Gad''s unmoving body. He inspected the back wall, where the ghoul had beaten its arm against the tiles and found a patch where the tiles had fallen away, revealing soft earth. Kneeling, he discovered a small hole¡ªone that had somehow avoided his attention.


    He dropped to his hands and knees, until his cheek was nearly against the ground, and held the glowing tip of his staff up to the narrow tunnel.


    Oydd hissed, "Mouseling!"


    He heard a very slight shuffle of weight then a tiny nose and whiskers poked around the bend.


    "Come here," he said sternly.


    The nose retreated.


    Oydd took a calming breath then seated himself on the cold floor.


    After a minute of quiet, the mouseling quietly hopped into view, holding to the edge of the hole for protection, and peered dolefully up at the rudra.


    Oydd watched her for a moment before speaking, careful not to scare her away again. When she relaxed he took another breath and whispered, "What do you have in there?"


    Patches disappeared back into her hole and emerged a few seconds later presenting the rudra''s missing scalpel. Oydd took the instrument and placed it on a nearby table.


    "No... little one. Something else. Something troubling."


    Patches gulped and took a step backward. Then, awkwardly she swung the tip of her tail around the corner holding it up for the rudra to see. There, near the tip, rested the obsidian ring that had gone missing from his office. Oydd had been so caught up in other research he had forgotten it.


    "Give it to me." He tried to speak softly. The mouseling hesitated, nonetheless, but ultimately hopped from her hole. She slipped the ring from her tail with a tiny paw and handed it to the rudra.


    "Were you wearing this all night?"


    Patches nodded.


    "Have you done that before?"


    She nodded again. "He was going to eat me..."


    "No," Oydd replied. "More likely trying to serve you." He held the ring up before his eye and watched it catch the magical light from his staff. "I should..." He paused, considering the ring between his thumb and forefinger, and then slipped it onto his hand without another word.


    *****


    "Lord Licephus and the ettin, Ghajan, have begun to hunt down the lead cultists. The cultists, on the other hand, have mobilized." Oydd sat in his office. His eyes remained on the black ring that newly adorned his finger.


    "What does that mean?" Cricket asked.


    "They have taken more defensive positions, and the more powerful members are now traveling in pairs, which severely limits our ability to target them," Oydd explained. "I have reason to believe that Lord Licephus was wounded in his last assault and forced to withdraw."


    Jeshu raised an eyebrow. "So what do we do?"


    "We have identified the leaders who we believe to be most vulnerable. Actually, our current target is not a member of the Right Hand, but a demon named Naraka, who is sympathetic to their cause. We intend to eliminate him before he joins. He resides in Agoth, which will make our attack unexpected."


    "Agoth?" Jeshu replied.


    "Which means," the rudra continued, "we''ll have to venture into the underworld."


    "What?" Jeshu asked, shocked. "What does that mean? We''re in the underworld."


    Cricket laughed.


    Oydd, on the other hand, contemplated the question. "I don''t consider this the underworld."


    "I''ve heard you call it the underworld. You said Bale was one of the principal gods of the underworld."


    "Yes," Oydd stated. "But I didn''t say that was here." Seeing the druid''s exasperated look, he clarified. "After Bale betrayed Serinyes, his followers fled to a lower realm¡ªa place called Agoth. It is much deeper than these caves, and less hospitable. But I understand why you would call this the underworld, from your perspective."


    "Meh..." Cricket seemed unconvinced. "If this is part of the underworld, this is the friendly part."


    "Regardless," Oydd continued, "beneath us is Agoth, a lake of fire and brimstone, where you will find Bale''s most powerful and most numerous allies."


    "Like imps and deep goblins and demons," Cricket added.


    Jeshu looked to Oydd for confirmation and the rudra nodded. "Beneath that is Sheol¡ªthe still darkness. Not even the deep goblins go there. It is... unnaturally dark. So much so that the denizens of Sheol seldom venture even to Agoth. They would be like fish out of water."


    "Kind of like me on the surface world," Cricket said.


    Oydd ignored him. "And the inhabitants of Agoth seldom venture here. The dhampiri are powerful enough to defend their realm. Or... they have been in the past. It seems Bale''s influence has grown stronger here as the dhampiri decline."


    "In what sense have they declined?" Jeshu asked.


    "My answer does not leave this room. But the world you see around you is a sinking ship. At its height, there were ten times as many dhampiri, and half as many slaves. I wouldn''t be surprised if we outnumber them now." He thought for a moment, and said to himself soberly, "The ratlings alone must outnumber them by now."


    The rudra twisted the obsidian ring on his finger absently. "The ettin will arrive at the Trench this morning. He will not approach the Warrens. So we will meet him there. You need to know his... leadership style. Unlike the vampire, he will expect strict and immediate obedience. If you step out of line or ignore an order, expect a swift and harsh punishment. Do you understand?"


    Jeshu nodded.


    Cricket played with one of his feelers.


    "Cricket, I''m mostly talking to you. You will follow him with military discipline, do you understand?"


    "Ugh... yeah. I got it."


    "I''m not joking. No suggestions. No running off on your own. Don''t ask for information from him. He is not to be trifled with."


    "I said I got it." Cricket turned away, scratching his cheek.


    "Very well. Make any preparations. We leave within the hour."


    *****


    The ettin, a two-headed giant over ten feet tall, arrived on foot, and waited near the Trench¡ªan expansive chasm on the outskirts of Al Tsirith, over a mile across at some points. The ettin''s dark bronze skin glistened in the cold, damp morning, the heat from his thick, toned muscles melting the frost to steam. He wore the tan furs of a surface creature with which Cricket was unfamiliar, with matching moccasins, along with what appeared to be the jaw of a drake as a shoulder pad, its teeth downturned.


    In one hand he held a ten-foot iron spear with a barbed tip. In the other he held a large double-sided hook resembling an anchor, connected to the butt of the spear by a long chain.


    Cricket learned Ghajan was only the name of one of the heads. The other, Ghajan called Onubi, though only he addressed the second head, and Onubi only addressed Ghajan. Each head had its own personality. At times it seemed Onubi controlled an arm, though Ghajan clearly possessed the ability to control both arms, even against the will of his brother.


    Ghajan bit his jaw tight, two ivory tusks protruding from his lower lip, and glared when not speaking. When he spoke he turned his chin up and puffed out his chest, each word spoken with stern authority. Onubi, the quieter of the two, but by no means gentle, mostly picked over the smaller creatures with a critical eye and nodded in agreement with anything the dominant head said.


    Onubi winced when his brother spoke, and cowered when Ghajan grew angry.


    The ettin glared down at Oydd. Ghajan chewed a dried, black herb in his mouth that stained his tongue. "We need an archer. Who''s your best archer?"


    "An azaeri named Ty''lek."


    Ghajan snorted. "Send for him. Do we have access to a healer?"


    "The dryad standing next to me."


    Ghajan stepped up to the dryad, so that he was looking straight down. "Do we have a different healer?"


    "No," Oydd answered.


    Ghajan growled. Onubi laughed, but fell silent at a stern look from his brother.


    Ghajan spat a mouthful of the black stuff off to the side of the druid then grabbed another clump from a tin on his belt which he began to chew.


    "Fine. We''ll take this one."


    The giant surveyed the remaining troops, including the two zombies and Gad. Finally he came to Cricket and sneered.


    "An insect?"


    Cricket''s antennae drooped at the giant''s tone.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Onubi caught the look of disappointment and gave the insectoid a wink with his eye in Ghajan''s blind spot. He reached out and swatted the insect lightly. "I don''t like this one!"


    Cricket stumbled backward but caught his balance and quickly returned to attention.


    Ghajan looked Cricket up and down, with a tight jaw. "It''s fine. It looks strong to me." Cricket perked back up at the praise, spurred by Onubi''s disagreement.


    Ghajan returned to the rudra. "These will do."


    At his order, the group began to descend a wide pathway into the Trench. Cricket noted the path was devoid of dhampiri footprints or the tread marks of merchant carts. He saw only the scrapes from the enormous claws of the cave drakes and a few small game prints.


    The smaller prints, interestingly, only went down. If anything came back up alive, it did so by another route.


    As they walked, Onubi slung the hook over his shoulder then loosed a large gourd from his waist and immediately chugged half its contents. The giant then nudged Cricket with his elbow and offered him a swig. It smelled of rum. Cricket leaned forward to view Ghajan''s reaction to the offer, but the dominant head ignored his brother, keeping a stern eye on the road.


    "No thanks." Against the rudra''s orders, Cricket risked speaking to the submissive head. "That will kill me."


    The ettin laughed, which drew Ghajan''s attention and he controlled Onubi''s arm, ramming Onubi''s forearm into his own face, drawing blood from the nose.


    Onubi looked down, away from Cricket and his brother, then strapped the gourd back onto his belt next to half a raw goat. He placed his hand on the chain, with the hook still over his shoulder.


    After an hour of steep descent, the air grew hot, and occasional bursts of steam rose from the depths of the Trench, billowing ash into the air. Wiry red critters with yellow wings crawled along distant walls, skittering out of sight as the war party passed.


    Soon the air turned a hazy yellow, and the druid began to cough and breathe heavily.


    Jeshu looked around at the others. "I''m not used to this heat. It''s burning my lungs."


    "It''s only going to get worse," Oydd replied, then turned to Ghajan. "I recommend sending him back."


    Ghajan looked the dryad up and down then scowled. "Coward." He turned and continued down the path.


    Jeshu continued to follow, but slowed and grew lightheaded. Oydd sent Gad to his side to prop him up.


    "That''s a waste," Ghajan growled. "Send the dryad back to the colony. He''s dead weight. We''re stronger without him."


    Jeshu started to object when a fit of coughing seized him.


    The ettin continued forward without a backward glance, and Jeshu turned back toward the surface alone.


    Patches started to climb down from Oydd''s shoulder to follow the druid, but the rudra placed a hand on her paw and gestured for her to stay.


    As they dropped further, streams of molten rock began to pour from distant crags, lighting the smoky air with a dull red glow. The heat began to sting Cricket''s eyes, but Oydd assured him it would clear up as they dropped below the magma vents.


    Though the rudra was not entirely incorrect, as the stinging heat abated, the smoke thickened, which irritated Cricket¡¯s at least as much. A yellow film began to form on his eyes, forcing the insect to stop now and then to wipe the powder away with his hands.


    "Deep goblins," Ghajan''s voice boomed, too loudly, as he pointed to tracks in the yellow mud.


    Cricket stooped to get a better view of the taloned, four-toed foot, estimating its height. "It''s a big one. Maybe a head shorter than me."


    "You afraid?" Ghajan grunted.


    "Oh, no," Cricket clarified. "Excited." Oydd shot him a look.


    Looking down over his tusks at the insectoid, Ghajan nearly smiled in amusement. "Good, little warrior."


    Eventually the pathway widened and leveled out into a hub of intersecting tunnels, thermal vents, and burnt orange pools that Cricket first mistook for lava. Oydd called it iron oxide. "Basically rust," he added.


    Blood red leeches clung to the rock at the bottom of the pools, and, stranger still, a species of oysters that incorporated the iron into its shell. They appeared mostly black, but with a metallic sheen in the crevices.


    The chasm continued down for at least another half mile, where Cricket was certain he saw a lava flow, but the group left the steep pathway in favor of the side tunnels where the steam was a healthy white.


    Ghajan grinned. "Drake tracks. And they''re fresh."


    "What does that mean?" Oydd asked.


    "It means a dhampir," Ghajan answered. "One of the drake guard."


    "It means a traitor," Onubi added, speaking directly to Ghajan.


    I don''t like that this excites him, Oydd said. Be careful. We are not equipped to fight a drake.


    Cricket drew his sickles with his upper arms, and grabbed a shuriken in each of his smaller arms. He unconsciously let the ettin gain some distance on him, from his habit with scorpion.


    Oydd slowed to speak to the insect. "I need¡ª"


    "Achoo!" Cricket covered his mouth and released a monstrously loud sneeze through the holes in his back. The smoke billowed away and a dusty yellow mucous sprayed all over the rudra.


    Oydd blocked his beak and eyes with a sleeve, but the sneeze covered his robes and for a moment he was completely speechless from shock.


    "Sorry," Cricket said, starting to sniff again. "That powder gets in my noses."


    "Your noses?" Oydd asked in disgust, wiping snot from his arm and flicking it on the ground.


    "Yeah, the holes down the sides of my back. I can''t close them," Cricket said with a congested voice, then started to sneeze again.


    Oydd darted away, his eyes wide in horror. "Don''t call them that!"


    "What are they called then?"


    "I don''t know," Oydd snapped. "I could look it up in my library. I have a book on genjipod anatomy. But anything sounds better. Nostrils... vents..."


    "Genjipod..." Cricket repeated in a whisper. "You know, no one calls me that except you. Like... no one."


    "Really?" Oydd asked with a tone of disappointment as he attempted to clean his chest with a sleeve.


    "What were you going to ask?"


    "I don''t recall," the rudra spat.


    Ghajan''s eyes remained forward, but Onubi glanced over his shoulder at the two, which meant that Ghajan likely heard the conversation as well.


    Oydd composed himself and pushed ahead of the insect.


    As Cricket began to awkwardly clean out the holes on his back, he heard the hissing warcry of the deep goblins. He recognized their guttural language by the raspy croaks and clicks, but knew only that they were coordinating an attack through the smoke.


    Ghajan raised his spear as if to throw while Onubi wound the loose chain around his wrist and gripped the hook. From a distance, Cricket saw the ettin hurl his spear through the smoke like a javelin, then yank it back instantly with a writhing red goblin with black horns impaled halfway up the shaft.


    Ghajan ripped it free from the spear, nearly tearing it in half then tossed the torn body aside and prepared another throw.


    Three more goblins appeared from the smoke, brandishing crude spears in their long black claws.


    The ettin swung his spear like a club, knocking two of the goblins back into the smoke, as an arrow flew from Ty''lek''s bow, piercing the third through the ear. It dropped to the ground and thick black tendrils erupted from the wound, spreading down the goblin''s throat and along its forehead.


    A goblin jumped out near Oydd, but Cricket instantly caught it in the throat with a shuriken. A second shuriken dug into its foot. The goblin hissed through a bleeding hole in its throat and fell to the ground staring at the insect with its lifeless black eyes.


    Cricket beamed. "I was just trying to distract it!"


    The rudra ignored him, calling Gad to his side. In the thick smoke, his zombies closely resembled the deep goblins, and ran about tearing apart their red, horned cousins with little risk to themselves.


    Here and there an arrow pierced the smoke as Ty''lek picked off any goblin silhouette holding a weapon.


    Cricket caught up to the ettin and saw Patches swinging her tiny knife at a fairly small goblin. Like Licephus, she slashed through the air and several yards away a cut appeared on the goblin''s cheek¡ªjust a shallow slit like a papercut. The mouseling squealed and retreated as Cricket ran by, taking its head with a powerful swipe of his sickle.


    The ettin roared in defiance, daring more goblins to charge him, his eyes darting about the nooks and crannies of the cavern. For a moment, the assault stalled, but Cricket still heard hissing and crackling tongues through the smoke.


    "A''gula!" Ghajan cried, pounding his chest with his fist. A moment later a drake twice his size snapped its jaws at his throat.


    The ettin jumped back and readied his spear, but the drake''s rider pulled back on the reins, holding her mount at bay.


    The smoke cleared from the movement of the beast, revealing a lithe dhampir rider in leather armor. She wore her long, black hair in a braid over her shoulder and bore the crimson mark of house Ahrose. Cricket only knew three or four of the dhampir houses but the name jumped into his head like a forgotten dream. It sparked some memory that he did not have time to explore.


    Seeing the ettin, the rider pulled her reins aside and spurred the drake away at full gallop, bounding from the rocks and down the tunnel.


    Ghajan bellowed after her angrily. "A''gula!" he repeated and beat his chest again, issuing a challenge. However, he did not pursue.


    "Oh, crap," Cricket whispered to Oydd. "Where have I seen her before?"


    "You haven''t."


    "No, I have. And the sooner I remember it, the less embarrassing it will be. I don''t want it to be awkward if she''s, like, an ex or something."


    "She''s not your ex, because you''ve never had a girlfriend."


    "I said or something. Besides, you''re forgetting about Jade."


    "The assassin who tried to kill you?" Oydd clarified.


    "Yes," Cricket said confidently, then frowned. "You''re mocking me! But that is part of the mating ritual for insectoids."


    "Trying to kill each other?"


    "Yes. Keiklu told me."


    "The dishwasher?"


    "The old, wise, insectoid dishwasher. It''s normal for the male to dance for the female while she tries to eat him. Then, if he dodges her attacks long enough, it means he''s from good stock, and they mate."


    "That''s ridiculous. He''s pulling your leg."


    "He''s not. I touched her thorax. We were both feeling things," Cricket still whispered.


    Oydd whispered back practically at a shout, "And then she tried to bite your head off."


    "Tried!" Cricket said winningly, holding up a finger to accentuate the point.


    Ty''lek nodded in agreement.


    "Quiet," Ghajan yelled, and the two stopped arguing instantly. "The next one to speak gets tossed off that cliff."


    Cricket clipped his mandibles closed then placed a hand over his mouth for good measure.


    The calls of the goblins faded.


    The ettin stood staring off into the billowing smoke for a moment then darted off at a full sprint.


    Cricket nearly gasped, if not for the hand over his mouth.


    Follow him! Oydd ordered.


    Cricket picked up the mouseling, then he and the azaeri made their way into the thinning smoke after the ettin.


    Oydd held the rear with Gad and the two zombies.


    Cricket tracked the giant, signaling the correct tunnels to the archer. Ty''lek, however, followed the trail easily enough on his own. The feathered lizard pulled two arrows from his quiver then knocked both at once. He held the Nightcrawler bow sideways and stalked through the smoke on the tips of his toes.


    Cricket stayed a step behind, not wanting to be in the path of the Nightcrawler''s arrows.


    A large brown mass appeared ahead and the ettin materialized, staring down a side passage and breathing heavily. When he sensed the others behind him he pointed ahead. "The fumes are dark here."


    Cricket came up to his side and looked down the indicated tunnel where the fumes turned yellow again, almost orange, darker than before. He heard the bubbling of hot springs and smelled an acrid odor that curled his feelers.


    Oydd caught up as the ettin entered the passage. The giant held a hand over his mouth and coughed. "Stay low," he barked. "The fumes are thicker near the ceiling."


    The group passed several dark boiling pools, then one that was clear and turquoise, and came to a yellow underground lake, where the spacious ceiling brought in some more breathable air, despite the thick plumes rising from the water.


    "What is this?"


    Oydd stepped to the edge of the shore, where a white and orange crust built up like sand. "Acid, I believe. If you give me a moment, I can figure out what kind..." Noticing the ettin''s bored look he rephrased, "...I can figure out how dangerous it is."


    Ghajan growled in annoyance then grabbed one of the goblin zombies by the head and chucked it into the lake.


    The zombie''s green flesh instantly turned white as the acid bubbled around it, forming a hard white crust that slowly drifted away from the body along with chunks of cooked goblin meat. The zombie rolled over in the water, bones already protruding from its flesh.


    "We''ll skirt the shore," Ghajan said. "Lizard, where are her tracks?"


    Ty''lek knelt and inspected the stone, finding nothing, then checked the walls, and gestured left.


    Despite his eagerness to catch the dhampir, the ettin breathed too heavily to run, and he sweat profusely despite the dry air.


    With Ty''lek at the lead, the group rounded the lake and entered a narrow side chamber, where the drake''s clicking purr reverberated from the porous, volcanic rock.


    Sensing nowhere for the lizard to run, the ettin strutted ahead. Even from the rear, Cricket soon made out the drake and rider through the yellow smoke. The drake pawed forward, though the dhampir watched the ettin with a look of terror.


    "Ahrose Peska." The ettin called the dhampir by name. "How far you have fallen."


    The dhampir made no response and Ghajan walked fearlessly within biting range of the drake.


    "No words? But it doesn''t matter. We know why you are here."


    Suddenly the ettin charged, ducking under the drake''s head, and thrust his spear up through the soft skin beneath its jaw. The spear penetrated the roof of its mouth, pinning it closed, and exited through the nasal cavity with a sickening crunch. Onubi tossed his hook over its head and immediately Ghajan jerked his spear free, spraying chips of bone along the ground. Then the two brothers yanked down with all of their weight, pulling its chin to the ground before it could lift a claw.


    The drake whimpered as the massive ettin pushed down on its head, holding it still, then Ghajan shouted, "Lizard!"


    Instantly an arrow sped from the Nightcrawler to the dhampir''s chest, penetrating the leather armor near her heart. Black tendrils spread violently in every direction from the arrow, and the leather began to peel and crumble to ash that drifted away on the air.


    Ghajan held the drake still until it stopped squirming, then Ty''lek loosed an arrow into its eye for good measure.


    Cricket looked over to Oydd. "You didn''t want to stop him from destroying the brain?"


    Oydd smiled and placed a hand on the drake''s snout. "Oh, I don''t think that is a problem any longer."


    The ring on his finger emitted a black light and began to thrum. Minerals in the air sizzled and sparked around the ring momentarily and then the drake''s eye opened with an empty, green glow.

 The Rheumakin

    18


    The Rheumakin


    "We''ll operate under the assumption that the dhampir already contacted Naraka," Ghajan said. "But that doesn''t mean he expects us. Who knows how often she comes down here?"


    The giant sat against the wall and pulled the back half of a goat from his belt. He dug into the meat, biting straight through the layer of matted, brown fur, and pulled off a large chunk with his tusks. While Ghajan ate, his brother''s mouth watered. Onubi said nothing, but his lip twitched.


    Even seated, the ettin''s head came about a foot higher than Cricket''s. The insect searched the dhampir''s corpse while the giant ate. Ghajan bit off another chunk of goat, crunching the small bones and tendons with his teeth. While he chewed, Onubi picked at a hangnail, only making it worse. Eventually he just tore it free, leaving a bloody spot on his big toe.


    Ghajan finished and tossed a lone femur to the ground, but his stomach still rumbled. Patches wandered up to his side, and when she felt no one was looking, she stuffed the discarded nail in her pouch.


    Oydd stood by the underground lake next to his reanimated drake. He stared off across the steaming surface as Cricket approached. "Brimstone," he said. "The yellow minerals, I mean. It''s called brimstone or sulfur. But we have to go deeper, and soon we''ll see fire."


    "I figured out where I know her," Cricket replied.


    "Do tell."


    "The portrait. In the secret passage where I found my shurikens."


    Oydd paused to digest this information. "Ahrose, the baroness." He laughed. "Probably a distant relation, but I''m impressed you recognized her."


    "It was when I had lost my memory, so there was a point where it was one of the only things in my brain. I guess that made it memorable."


    "So not an ex-girlfriend?" Oydd chided.


    "I only said I knew her from somewhere, and I was right!"


    The ettin emerged from the tunnel and pointed further down the shore. "It''s time to move."


    The drake took the lead, followed by the ettin. Ty''lek and the mouseling took the rear.


    As they delved deeper into Agoth, the cavern expanded, until Cricket could see for nearly a mile in every direction. Streams of magma poured from distant walls like waterfalls, obscured here and there by fumaroles. A black crust covered the ground. In some areas the crust cracked revealing superheated rock, while in others the surface of the magma was indistinguishable from the cooled rock, save for a slight motion.


    Cricket tossed a rock which landed on what he thought was solid rock, but the surface broke upon contact and jets of lava began to spurt from the opening.


    The ettin grunted in frustration. "Wizard!"


    Cricket looked to Oydd. "I think he''s talking to you."


    Oydd stepped forward and Ghajan pointed out over the terrain. "Which areas are safe?"


    Oydd answered without hesitation, "The vesicles¡ªthe little holes in the rock¡ªare a sign of gasses being released upon cooling. If we avoid the smooth rock, we should be safe."


    Ghajan barked to the party, again too loudly, "Avoid the smooth patches."


    Cricket cringed but didn''t dare critique his volume. Patches climbed onto the insect''s shoulder, and Cricket could feel the warmth of her paws through his shell. He whispered, "Is it too hot for you? Stay as long as you like."


    He watched as the mouseling opened her bulging pack and sorted through numerous items¡ªmostly varying degrees of trash. But his eye caught the opal.


    Patches eventually opened up a small pouch and pulled out two tiny pairs of double-soled, lizard-hide boots just her size. She began to slip them on.


    "Have you always had those?"


    "No, why?" the mouseling asked.


    "Well, where''d you get them?"


    "I don''t know," the mouseling answered, uninterested. She began to close up her pack.


    "Is that opal magical?"


    "I don''t know," the mouseling answered, this time defensively.


    "You could have Oydd look at it."


    "He''ll take it," she whispered, then hopped from the insect''s shoulder and scurried off on her boots.


    "We''re almost there," the ettin announced.


    "Almost where?" Cricket looked over at Oydd.


    He has a contact.


    What kind of contact?


    I don''t know, Oydd said. But otherwise we could easily get lost down here. We certainly would never find our target. We''re not just stumbling around in the dark.


    I''ve never got that metaphor, Cricket commented. Is that supposed to sound hard? Stumbling around in the light would be hard. Then you wouldn''t be able to see anything.


    It''s an idiom! Oydd said, actually a bit excited. It''s from the surface... it doesn''t make sense without the cultural context. When¡ª


    "Here." The ettin approached an obviously well-traveled path and located a main tunnel indicated by claw marks in the lava rock, as well as piles of fish bones and a goblin head on a pike.


    "Don''t worry," Ghajan sneered. "The rheumakin are friendly."


    He proceeded down the tunnel.


    Turtles! Cricket practically shouted in excitement.


    How did you talk to me? Oydd furrowed his hairless brow.


    The link was still open.


    No, it was not.


    Oydd left his drake, Gad, and the remaining goblin zombie by the entrance, unsure how this culture regarded necromancy.


    The group passed two rheumakin guards. The orange turtle men pointed their spears away from the ettin, a sign of friendship, and the giant gestured to the group behind him. As usual, Ghajan spoke. "Getu ahe-aka tu, ne cambri duassos."


    The guards nodded and the ettin proceeded, signaling the others to follow.


    The main encampment consisted of a large common area surrounding a fire pit, with a number of jars sealed with tar, and around a dozen rheumakin, sitting idly about. A few had their black shells turned to Cricket and he marveled at the metallic glint, which set them apart from other turtles he had met. Several shallow, turquoise pools lined the main chamber. An elderly rheumakin sat soaking in the clear, steaming water¡ªhis head stretched out. Layers of loose, tan skin hung from his neck.


    One of the men sat behind another and polished his shell until the raised patches shone like a mirror.


    "Are their shells made of metal?" Cricket chirped.


    "Quiet!" Ghajan scolded.


    There is a high iron content in the water here, and thus most of their food sources, Oydd answered.


    Will that guy rust?


    Oydd had to look around to see who he was referring to.


    Obviously not. But I don''t know why. I would love to study them.


    Ghajan took a seat by the fire pit, which Cricket observed was simply a wall built around a heat vent, and signaled for the others to be seated as well.


    A large rheumakin elder, wearing a necklace of goblin bones, poured a brown liquid into a stone bowl and passed it to the ettin. Cricket saw black flecks floating in the murky liquid.


    Ghajan drank it down.


    What was that? Tea?


    Water, Oydd answered.


    Cricket stuck out his tongue in disgust, then disguised it by licking his fingers and cleaning his antennae.


    "Aju a kenni, du bassa!" The elder, who Cricket assumed was the chief, smiled and slapped the ettin on the shoulder. He gestured to a female behind him and she took the empty bowl and retreated down a side tunnel.


    "Aju a deaki..." The elder''s face turned serious, and he surveyed the group with a suspicious look before pulling the ettin aside. "Dumi appakan, du bassa?"


    The ettin stood and followed the elder. Cricket looked around, unsure how to behave.


    Just stay seated for now.


    Cricket had an excruciating time sitting still. He began to tap his fingers on his knee and leaned forward trying to see down a side tunnel.


    One of the rheumakin next to him noticed the turtle charm hanging from his neck and pointed.


    "Eju aki, nmiba?"


    "Hmm... oh this?" Cricket held the pendant up for inspection. "Yeah, it''s a turtle. My friend made it for me. He got the legs wrong."


    The warrior nodded, but by the look on his face, Cricket knew he hadn''t understood a word. He looked around again and exhaled slowly in boredom.


    Ty''lek appeared equally bored, but entertained himself by preening his feathers, counting his arrows and eventually snapping his beak repeatedly, evidently entertained by the clacking sound.


    Cricket watched Patches sitting patiently and leaned over to whisper to Oydd. "If... uh, I had a magic item I wanted to keep, could you tell me what it does?"


    "Do you have an enchanted item?" Oydd asked warily.


    "It''s a hypothetical."


    Oydd groaned under his breath, but before he could respond, the ettin returned.


    "Come," he ordered as he passed the group, bowing slightly to the guards.


    The azaeri hopped to his feet.


    Despite his boredom, Cricket grumbled as he stood and brushed the dust from his glossy shell. Then, not quite satisfied, he rubbed his arm over a spot on his leg until it practically sparkled, mimicking the rheumakin.


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    He noticed he was falling behind and ran to catch up with Oydd.


    The ettin marched unflinching past the undead drake, flinging the goblin from his path as he passed, then headed downhill along the edge of the vast cavern.


    At this rate, I''ll lose Wax too, Oydd said.


    I''m sorry to tell you this, but you already lost Wax. This one''s Scab.


    Preposterous. Wax is the one with the torn ear.


    Ah! I see the problem. Wax used to be the one with the clipped ear... until I renamed them. I thought Scab looked more like a Wax, so I switched them.


    In response, Oydd simply groaned.


    I told you.


    Ghajan brought the group to an area where the ceiling dropped to about a dozen yards. So low that the stalactites and stalagmites met in the middle, forming black, crystalline pillars.


    Cricket noted some slimy, blackened bones heaped against the walls. They nearly blended in with the rock. Though he was unsure if he should say something to Ghajan, given his previous attitude.


    They came to the end of the chamber, where a recently disturbed pool of lava bubbled and burbled.


    "Hmph!" Ghajan laughed and crouched near the edge, gripping his spear tightly.


    What? Cricket asked.


    Wait.


    Fortunately, Onubi broke the silence, echoing the insect''s thoughts. "What''s here?"


    "Quiet, imbecile..."


    "There''s nothing¡ª"


    Ghajan brought his hand around front and gripped his brother''s throat. Onubi turned his head up and struggled to breathe.


    Slowly Ghajan released his grip. "I know Naraka," he stated. "And he will have to come up for air."


    Cricket''s eyes grew wide at the implication, and he studied the surface of the lava intently.


    After about a minute, a dome appeared in the midst of the pool and rose until Cricket could distinguish it as a head.


    Shoulders followed. Cooling magma dripped from the figure''s arms, and from a red-hot, two-handed cutlass.


    The sword almost instantly cooled to black, while the lava griped and sighed, spitting sizzling bits onto the rock.


    Naraka had no eyes. Black plates with a bluish, almost purple sheen covered his elongated face like a smooth mask, as well as his shoulders and chest. Thicker, spiked plates ran down his tail. Two malformed wings flapped limply on his back, shaking molten rock back down into the pool.


    "A''gula, Nara''ka!" Ghajan beat his chest with his fist.


    "A''gula, Ghara''jan," the demon responded.


    Ghajan grinned and threw his spear.


    The demon dodged¡ªhalf-leaping, half-swimming to the side of the pool. Onubi quickly pulled on the chain, yanking the spear back before it fell into the lava. Ghajan caught it and readied another throw, while Naraka climbed up to the ceiling, over the ettin''s head.


    Ty''lek fired an arrow, which glanced from the demon''s chest plates. Still, thin black tendrils spread from the point of impact, only to instantly wither on the heated plate.


    Cricket aimed a shuriken, but decided to wait until the demon crawled lower.


    Ty''lek fired again, this time for the throat, but the demon blocked with the wide edge of his cutlass.


    "Stay up there as long as you like," Ghajan shouted. "We''ll see how many arrows you can block."


    Naraka climbed along the ceiling back toward the crystalline pillars. Though he easily clung to the rough rock with his powerful claws, his climbing speed was slower than Cricket''s running speed and the insect gave chase on the ground.


    Meanwhile, the ettin split away from Cricket at full speed, attempting to clear the columns as quickly as possible and flank the demon.


    "Get your shuriken," Oydd yelled at the insect.


    "He''s out of range!"


    "No, I mean get out your enchanted shuriken. The blue one."


    "No way," Cricket yelled back. "I only have one left!"


    Cricket threw his iron shuriken, but it barely nicked the demon''s slashing tail as it skittered out of sight around a pillar.


    Cricket retrieved the throwing star and inched forward with his sickles raised. He pressed his back to one of the columns as he scanned the nooks of the ceiling.


    A small fleck of magma fell past his face, plopping down by his toes.


    "Oh, crap!" Cricket looked up just as the demon dropped from the ceiling, pulling back its sword with both hands.


    The insect fortified his upper arms with his lower arms and swung with all his strength to deflect the strike. Still the blow overpowered him, and would have crushed his head if he didn''t drop and roll.


    His arms felt numb from his attempt to parry, and Cricket scrambled to his feet, opting to dodge the next slash instead. Naraka drew back his blade for a third strike.


    As Cricket backed up, the demon lashed out with his tail, wrapping around the insect''s leg and pulled him in.


    Cricket squealed and leapt forward, bringing himself in faster than the demon anticipated, which threw off the timing of its attacl. As the insect stepped away, he slashed out at Naraka''s face. The sickle connected with the bluish-black plate where Naraka''s eye should have been, leaving a deep gouge.


    The demon dropped to one hand just as Oydd''s drake tackled it from the side and the two tumbled down an incline.


    Cricket put his lower arms on his knees and panted "Thanks," hoping Oydd was close enough to hear, then ran after the drake.


    It''s adamantite, he heard the rudra''s voice. His weapon. It''s made of adamantite.


    The indestructible stuff?


    Virtually indestructible.


    By the time Cricket caught up to the drake, Naraka had already pried himself free and sprinted up a pillar.


    Cricket heard Oydd''s voice again, That means¡ª


    I know what it means. When you think the words, I get what they mean. Maybe... a dozen sorcerers could destroy it given enough time.


    For a moment, Cricket actually heard Oydd''s silence.


    Yes... that''s exactly the example I was thinking of.


    Cricket chased Naraka, but the demon never stopped moving. It swerved as it ran along the ceiling and tried to remain out of sight.


    I think I can do that, Cricket said.


    Do what?


    Climb on the ceiling like that. I have four arms and I''m pretty light weight. Is that stupid?


    Stay down here, where we can give you backup. I don''t want you to take him one on one.


    Cricket sighed, but stayed on the ground. He heard the drake nearby, its throat rumbling threateningly.


    Gad stayed back, forming a wall of flesh and iron around the archer, and Scab shambled helplessly nearby, which meant the rudra had likely stopped controlling him to focus on his more powerful minions.


    Several yards away, a tail vanished behind a black crystal column. But Cricket barely got a glimpse and thought it might have been the drake. He ran sideways, trying to get a better view, and saw the demon hunched beside one of the last pillars, looking away.


    Quite unexpectedly, as he watched, a giant spear wrapped around the pillar, crashing into the demon''s throat, pinning it against the column. Ghajan rounded the bend and grabbed onto Naraka with both hands, slamming him repeatedly against the crystal until the entire column had nearly shattered. He dropped the crumpled ruin of the demon on the floor then pulled out a gigantic hunting knife and severed its throat.


    Cricket rushed up and sighed in relief. "You got it!"


    Onubi smiled, but Ghajan glared at the insect and Cricket tried to adopt a serious expression.


    When the ettin started to walk away, Cricket came up to look at the body.


    Ghajan retrieved his spear and wiped the black blood off on his tongue.


    "Uh... this isn''t him."


    "What?" the ettin whirled angrily.


    "Hold on, don''t be upset. But this isn''t him."


    The ettin charged Cricket and grabbed him by the throat, lifting and holding him against the broken pillar.


    "I think there are two," Cricket struggled to speak.


    Ghajan hesitated, but loosened his grip.


    "I hit one in the face, but this one''s face isn''t cut. And it doesn''t have a sword."


    The ettin looked down at the body. Beaten and bruised as it was, the plate over its face remained intact.


    He dropped the insect and began to survey the ceiling again.


    "There!" Onubi pointed, and a second demon dropped from the shadows.


    Oydd and his drake moved to block it, but the demon let out a shrill shriek and the rudra suddenly dropped, convulsing, to the floor. The green light instantly disappeared from the drake''s eyes and it collapsed as well.


    The demon made a run for the closest lava pit, scrambling over the surface of the dense, molten rock. Ty''lek fired an arrow after it, but the demon nimbly dodged without turning to look.


    Ghajan roared and gave chase. He pumped his arms, gaining speed and leapt over the pit in a single bound. The back of his right moccasin grazed the far edge of the lava when he landed, and instantly burned away, leaving the skin beneath a dead, charred white.


    The demon began to run over a second lava pit.


    Struggling to regain his balance, Ghajan threw his spear at the fleeing demon, impaling its side deep enough that the jagged tip caught bone. It still attempted to run, but the ettin grabbed onto the chain with both hands and began to reel it back across the lava, one heave at a time.


    When the squealing, struggling demon came within range, Onubi raised the double-sided hook and brought it down in the demon''s gut. It sank deep and he pulled it out, along with a string of viscera, then plunged it in again and again, until he had practically hollowed out the cavity and black gore covered his face and forearm. Still, he lifted the hook, but Ghajan reached out and caught his arm.


    Cricket ran to Oydd''s side but the rudra was already coming to.


    "Oh, good. I thought I''d have to carry you back."


    "Touching," Oydd replied.


    "That was so loud, I thought it would be worse on you than my screech."


    Oydd felt along his sides for his staff then stood slowly. "With yours, it was something to do with the frequency. It hit different. This wasn''t so severe."


    "Can you bring the drake back?"


    "Oh..." the rudra looked at the still corpse. "Not easily. And it won''t last like my ghouls. This will rot within a couple of days and be useless."


    "What about the demons?" Cricket asked.


    The rudra smiled. "I doubt I could reanimate a demon, but the corpses are invaluable."


    "Oh, that reminds me," Cricket ran excitedly toward the most recent corpse and found the two-handed cutlass lying atop the lava pit, glowing red.


    "Yes," Oydd observed. "That is quite valuable as well."


    The rudra raised an arm and the sword floated from the lava to land near his feet.


    Almost instantly the metal turned black again.


    "It''s not enchanted though."


    "You''re sure?" Cricket asked.


    "Positive. I don''t even need to look at it. You can''t enchant adamantite."


    "Oh..." Cricket''s antennae drooped, but only momentarily. He gingerly touched the sword as Oydd tried to pull his arm back.


    "It''s okay. It''s already cool."


    "Really?"


    Cricket picked it up and began to swing around the massive sword, making exaggerated sound effects. "How... uh... how do you think those things were able to see us?"


    "My guess would be some kind of heat sensors," Oydd answered.


    "But wouldn''t that sense get overwhelmed since it had just been under lava? Also, he dodged an arrow without looking."


    "Excellent points," Oydd replied, a bit surprised, as he stared at the body.


    Ghajan rounded the lava pit and joined the group.


    "We''re heading out. I told the chieftain we would report back."


    "I believe Lord Licephus would be interested in studying this body," Oydd said.


    Ghajan grimaced, but ultimately stooped and commanded Onubi to carry it on his shoulders.


    Cricket dared to address Ghajan. "Are we sure one of these is Naraka?"


    "Yes," the ettin stated coldly and began to walk away.


    "Well, all right..." Cricket whispered to Oydd once he thought the ettin was out of earshot. "Wait, where''s Patches?"


    "I haven''t seen her since the rheumakin camp," Oydd said, panicked. "How did you not notice until now?"


    Cricket glanced behind them. "Yeah... let''s check there first."


    Ghajan marched back to the camp without a word, and¡ªseeing the demon slung over his shoulder¡ªthe turtles met him with excitement and commotion.


    They found Patches in the commons, sorting through some brightly colored pebbles. She placed a green one and a purple one in her pouch but continued to look over the remaining stones.


    The chieftain welcomed them back and served everyone slightly charred, slightly steamed fish, then they sat in the main hall again as three warriors in azaeri masks danced to a panpipe and the old man in the hot spring watched, clapping his hands offbeat. Cricket found the woman playing the panpipe quite attractive for a turtle.


    Before they left, the elder brought out three bright red eggs with soft but leathery shells, each about the size and shape of Cricket''s head. Ghajan took two, and Cricket happily grabbed the last.


    As they began the long trek home, he speculated what would hatch from it.


    "It''s meant to be eaten," Oydd explained.


    "Maybe a dragon, or a griffon!"


    "Maybe a worm," Oydd said. "That''s more likely since it''s a worm egg."


    "What?"


    "There are some truly massive tunneling worms in parts of Agoth that feed on rock. Their eggs are considered a delicacy."


    "That''s so cool!" Cricket whisper-shouted, to avoid bothering the ettin. "A pet worm!"


    "You can''t be serious? It won''t hatch. If you don''t eat it, it will go to waste."


    "Did you want to eat it?"


    "I''m good," Oydd answered. The azaeri, however, nodded excitedly, but Cricket pretended not to notice.


    "I got to name the zombies, so I think I''ll let Jesh name this one."

 Countermeasures

    19


    Countermeasures


    Jeshudassik rested his wrists on his knees and focused on his breathing. As he inhaled, he imagined blue air¡ªbringing peace and tranquility into his body, and as he exhaled he imagined red air¡ªpushing away stress and negativity. The sunlight felt warm on his shoulders and he soaked it in.


    Oddly, he didn''t miss it as much as he thought he would. No, he did miss it, but he didn''t need it. It didn''t fill some void in his being.


    The mouseling crawled onto his lap and curled into a ball. Jeshu opened his eyes and observed the way the sun lit up the white patches of her fur.


    He sat atop a spacious, comfortable mushroom cap¡ªa deep eggplant color with green scales¡ªbeneath the Craters in the swamp. It was the closest he could get to the surface and it felt... cozy.


    Without constant communion with the sun, he had grown distant from some of his druidic powers. On the other hand, he felt something new stirring inside of him. A kinship with the dark and the rock and the loam. A closeness he never felt to them on the surface. But there was life and energy in the dark¡ªjust different. The dryad wondered if recharging in the sun might push him away or suppress this affinity.


    He felt a shift in the mouseling''s breathing and knew that she had fallen asleep. The druid placed a rough hand on her neck and scratched between her ears. Even in her sleep, she repositioned to give him a better angle. Her back leg began to kick.


    As he petted the mouseling softly, the druid looked up at the sky. Through each crater he saw only a spot of it, like peering through a looking glass, which made it not feel like the sky at all. It took away its breadth, its expansiveness¡ªit bottled it up! One could not experience the sky by seeing a piece of it.


    Patches'' ear twitched suddenly and she opened an eye as a black speck drifted down on a sunbeam and landed before her. Slowly, its wings disappeared beneath a red, spotted shell, and the tiny beetle began to wander along the top of the mushroom.


    Patches perked up and lighted from the druid''s lap, circling to observe the beetle from behind.


    Jesh watched in amusement as she followed the tiny speck.


    "It''s called a ladybug."


    Patches looked up only long enough to register what he had said then turned back to the ladybug, fascinated by her incredible find. "It''s got little black pips," she whispered. "Like on dice."


    Jeshu smiled and nodded.


    "What does it eat?" She asked curiously.


    "Aphids. Er... a very small insect. Smaller than a ladybug. I imagine it eats other things too. Maybe it smells something nearby."


    Patches looked around the top of the mushroom cap then ran to the edge and peeked down at the stem of the next stalk over. "I want to keep it."


    "It is probably resting, but then it will fly away. We don''t have a way to keep it."


    Patches looked down, thinking, then retrieved the small bag from her pouch¡ªthe one with the green ribbon. She opened it and pulled out a tiny glass jar with a cloth lid secured with twine. She removed the cloth.


    "Where''d you get that?" the druid asked in astonishment.


    Patches pulled the jar to her side, covering it with her paws. "I didn''t steal it..."


    "No, I don''t think you stole it. I meant... I don''t understand where it came from. That bag was flat before you opened it, and then you took out a round container."


    Patches looked down at the bag, once again flat, and pulled at her whiskers. "Um... that''s not weird," she explained. "It does that all the time."


    "But it is weird. That''s unusual," the dryad said. "What other things have you found in that bag?"


    The mouseling squinted, thinking hard and said, "A rock... two rocks¡ªone was on a ring, but it fell. A pair of boots..." She thought another moment and opened her pouch, rifling through her trinkets. She produced a dried green leaf, wrinkled and ground down to nearly nothing but stem.


    "And this!" She held the remains of the leaf up proudly. "But it was on the surface, so that''s not weird."


    "But did you ever put a leaf in there?" the dryad asked. "Or did you just open it one day and find a leaf?"


    "I just found a leaf. But a lot of things show up in my bag that I didn''t steal. Like Cricket''s blue marble. And Raccoon''s dice... and Oydd''s scalpel was in my hole, but I didn''t put it there."


    Jeshu regarded the mouseling carefully, discerning whether she told the truth¡ªor rather, whether she believed she was telling the truth.


    At length he spoke to her softly. "This is different." He pointed at the bag with the green ribbon. "I believe this bag is magical. I can almost sense it, I think. But Oydd would be able¡ª"


    "Don''t tell Oydd!" Her voice cracked, and the mouseling looked like she was about to cry.


    "Why?" Jeshu asked gently.


    "He''ll take it..." she clutched the bag tightly, rumpling it in her paws.


    Jeshu looked down on her patiently. Just as the ladybug lifted its wings to fly away, Patches cupped her glass jar over the insect. It flew into the wall of the container with a soft clink, then latched onto the glass and walked along the side in confusion. The mouseling placed the cloth on the bottom and secured it with the wire. She then placed the whole bottle back in her pouch.


    "Okay..." the dryad promised. "I won''t tell Oydd." As an afterthought, he added, "Let''s see if we can find it some food."


    Jeshu ambled to the edge of the mushroom cap and lowered himself onto the top of the next highest mushroom, and then again down to the next. The mouseling leapt to a nearby stalk and quickly scurried to the swamp floor, circling as she climbed down.


    By the time the druid reached the ground, Patches was already running about looking under rocks and through weeds for suitable bugs to feed her pet.


    Nearby stood a contingent of lizardmen, waiting just out of the sunlight. The rudra had insisted Jeshu take a guard, stating they were basically at war.


    Jeshu saw some new blooms¡ªprimrose from the surface, whose seeds had fallen through the craters and landed in the lush soil below. He wandered over and brushed aside the petals until he found a cluster of aphids. Then he extended his hand and let a few crawl onto his fingers.


    Just as he was about to call the mouseling over, he saw a white bird¡ªa heron or an egret¡ªglide down from above, flitting its wings to slow as it landed in the shallows of the crisp, underground lake.


    He paused to watch as the bird craned its neck and called¡ªa short, raspy squawk. A heron, Jeshu decided, based on the coloration. Then, as it looked behind, toward the shore for predators, a young swamp dragon lurched from below and snapped it up, chomping twice as it hopped from the water with a wing and several loose feathers protruding from its wide mouth. The swamp dragon swallowed, then filled its throat sac and began to croak.


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    *****


    "No, not like that!" Cricket cried in frustration.


    His lizardman partner paused the fight and looked over to Scorpion for clarity.


    "Don''t ask me!" the ratling griped.


    Cricket took a deep breath. "He needs to ready the next attack while he''s striking. It can''t just be strike, pause, strike."


    "Why are you both looking at me? Tell Jiukec!"


    Cricket looked back at the lizardman. "I just need you to attack faster. Forget about defense. Just come at me as fast as you can, with combos. I need to practice blocking."


    Jiukec nodded and started to attack again.


    "Too slow! Faster..."


    The lizardman increased his speed.


    "Aim at my head more. Make me scared. This is too easy."


    The lizardman hissed.


    "I would be upset too," Scorpion commented. "It''s unclear what you want, and he needs to train too."


    "I need to train more," Cricket grumbled.


    "Why? I''ve never seen you lose a fight."


    Cricket groaned. "Just trust me..."


    "Well, I don''t think he can fight the way you want. I don''t think I could. We can''t help if we don''t know what''s going through your head."


    Cricket sighed. "I need to learn to block more attacks at once. When I''m training... I''m always fighting someone who knows less than me. I want to be able to fight someone who''s better than me. Faster than me."


    "That doesn''t describe anyone in the Warrens," Scorpion said bluntly.


    "I want to be ready for attacks I don''t expect, like a kick to the head."


    "No one here can kick that high."


    "But you can strike at my head. And she used weird strikes, like hitting with elbows and knees, and... she even spat at me. So many things were coming at my face that I couldn''t think."


    "Who?" Scorpion asked again.


    "What I need is to... Scorpion, can you and Jiukec attack me at the same time?"


    The lizardman nodded.


    Scorpion drew three knives, wrapping one in his tail. "I won''t go easy on you. You won''t be able to block everything."


    "Perfect," Cricket replied.


    Scorpion grinned.


    *****


    The rudra hurried, excited, down to his laboratory. He nearly fumbled with the keys to the door and left it open, rushing past the library, and placed a bottle of bluish liquid on his desk. He scoured the shelves of the morgue until he found a suitable container and the flask of remaining troll''s blood then set them next to the blue liquid.


    Oydd poured several drops of troll blood into the empty container and then an equal amount of blue. The mixture turned instantly black. At first it fizzled so violently that he considered the solution unstable, but soon it calmed to a smooth, muddy fluid.


    The mixture began to pool toward him, climbing up the glass wall. Oydd gave it a twirl. However, it reformed quickly and began to ooze toward him again.


    He held his hand against the glass, and then the other hand¡ªthe one with the obsidian ring¡ªbut it responded to each hand equally. This was not dark magic, but the changeling blood bonding with the troll''s blood¡ªreacting to its regenerative nature.


    And yet, he wondered if it were drawn to the life energy in his hands out of kinship or malice. Did it simply react to him, or hunger for him?


    Oydd filled a syringe with the solution then walked to the corpse of a deep goblin and injected the mixture into its veins.


    While he waited, he began an autopsy on the fresh demon corpse. Without the red glow of Agoth, the dark shell appeared more blue than purple.


    He waved a hand and the orb of invisibility flew from its place on the shelf to hover over the corpse. The magic from the orb barely affected the demon''s skin, only turning it translucent, rather than invisible, and had no effect at all on the tough plates. The substance was far too tough to cut with a scalpel, so Oydd slid the blade beneath the sheets of armor to cut them free from the leathery skin then pried them up with a pair of forceps.


    He removed a plate of armor from the face, where he normally would have expected eyes. But beneath the covering he found what more closely resembled ear canals, proceeding all the way down to the septum, and an enlarged cochlea more sophisticated than anything he''d seen in a bat. The nasal cavity and other olfactory structures appeared underdeveloped, which meant the creature relied almost entirely on sound to sense its surroundings. Presumably to hunt.


    The deep goblin corpse at his side suddenly inhaled. Oydd set down his instruments and smiled. His theory was correct. The changeling blood prevented the host from rejecting the troll blood infusion. Now he only needed to balance the proportions.


    *****


    As soon as they returned, Patches hurried to her hole. She dug through her stash until she found Oydd''s favorite scalpel. She placed the jar with the ladybug and the aphids on the ground then pressed it down into the mud to prevent it from falling over.


    She pretended not to hear Oydd''s voice calling after her.


    The mouseling opened the jar then pricked the tip of her finger with the scalpel and squeezed a single drop of blood into the container. Carefully, she returned the cloth lid then lifted the glass to observe the beetle.


    "Come on, Pip. Eat just a little..."


    The ladybug sat as still as a frightened turtle, its legs tucked beneath it. It showed no interest in the aphids crawling along the bottom of the jar looking for an escape route. One of the aphids plodded through the blood then climbed over the ladybug''s shell, but still it cowered unmoving.


    Patches withdrew around the corner then poked her head back just enough to see the jar. She rested her chin in her paws and waited. After several long minutes, the ladybug began to crawl about, investigating.


    Though he showed no interest in the smeared blood, he did begin to eat one of the blood-covered aphids. The mouseling waited until he was half-finished, then scurried up to the jar and recited the words Licephus had taught her. A purple mist swirled in the bug''s teensy eyes.


    Patches pressed her nose against the glass. "Now we are bound to each other, Pip!"


    *****


    "They''ve desecrated another shrine," Oydd said. "And yet the dhampiri seem unconcerned. Won''t they defend their god? I certainly don''t want to do it!"


    "Perhaps they cannot," Jeshu suggested. "The clerics control the church, and their power is waning with each ruined shrine."


    "And Bale''s grows stronger. Which makes the cultists more of a nuisance with each passing day."


    ¡°Also, the dhampiri are not as organized as they appear," Jeshu added. "When they want something done, they bark orders to us slaves, and then seldom even follow up."


    "I expect Ghajan and Licephus to follow up," Oydd grumbled. He considered the dryad a moment, then asked, "Why do you stay?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "Here. Why do you stay here? You could flee to the surface."


    "I know the consequences."


    "I don''t believe it," the rudra pressed. "I''m in charge of runaways, and I tend to let them go. Mostly because Cricket used to be in charge of pursuit, and he refuses now. And my masters are distracted."


    Jesh breathed deeply. "It is... a good time if I wanted to leave. But my village on the surface was destroyed by the dhampiri¡ªmy brothers captured and sold. I imagine my friends are down here somewhere."


    "So you want to stick around for what? Revenge? To potentially rescue your friends?"


    "No. It''s more than that. The Warrens... feel like home now. I have been transplanted, and returning to the surface would be a shock. I simply have nothing there. As for revenge, that doesn''t really interest me. But Elkennah''s philosophy is not simply to enjoy nature, but to bloom where you''re planted. To spread life and energy. I think, given time, I might convince her to see value in this world without sunlight."


    Oydd changed the subject. "I''m sending Scorpion and Agena to investigate the incident at the shrine, and I believe we can spare five or six warriors."


    "Is that all? Not that it requires many hands, but where is everyone?"


    "We still have as many missions to fill as before this matter with the Right Hand began. Plus we have lost more men recently than we''ve gained, and Cricket insists on a certain amount of training before sending out new recruits."


    "Which is sound advice," Jeshu stated.


    "I agree. But it leaves us stretched thin."


    "You also said you had a task for me?"


    "Ah, yes. At present, it''s more of an inquiry. If I procured the necessary herbs, would you know how to produce potions for healing?"

 Speaking of Revenge

    20


    Speaking of Revenge


    After Scorpion left, Cricket continued to practice for hours. He had a promising young ratling named Sticks take the veteran''s place, which really made for a more manageable fight. True to his name, Sticks specialized in two bare mushroomwood poles, which he wielded surprisingly well. Sticks had learned a few brutal combos, and though his moves were predictable, when Cricket fought Jiukec at the same time, he found himself constantly pressed to his limits.


    Though Cricket had no real expertise in kicking, he instructed the lizardman to a point of basic competence. Together his opponents circled him and attacked with a constant barrage of strikes and kicks and slashes. In order to avoid being completely overwhelmed, he was forced to improvise some new blocks. He also seldom had the luxury of blocking with both weapons at once, having to dodge the more powerful attacks and reserve each sickle for blocking one strike at a time. Without a free sickle, he was often left rattled by an unexpected lunge.


    The insectoid abandoned his daggers during the training, using his extra hands for defense only.


    "Break!" Cricket called, then flopped onto his back panting. Once he had caught his breath he observed his opponents. Jiukec still breathed evenly, as if completely fresh. Though that wasn''t too surprising for his kind.


    Sticks, on the other hand, panted almost as heavily as Cricket, his thick fur matted with sweat. Though the ratling hid it, Cricket knew he was hurting and needed this break too.


    It took almost ten minutes for Cricket to catch his breath and cool down enough to fight again. He rose shakily and asked, "You both up for a few more rounds?


    Jiukec nodded eagerly, and Sticks reluctantly.


    "Okay, new rules though. Jiuk, I want you to mostly kick at my knees from the side. Come at me aggressively enough that it''s uncomfortable for me. Maybe even terrifying. If you take out one of my knees, Jesh can always heal me when he gets back."


    "Jesh got back hours ago," Stick said.


    "Really? What time is it?"


    "Late," Sticks answered.


    "Oh. Okay. One more round then and we''ll call it a day. Both of you attack like normal except for the kicking thing," he pointed a sickle at Jiukec. "And one more weird request. I want you both to spit."


    "What?"


    "Basically, I need to learn to dodge spit," Cricket explained, sheepishly. "I don''t have eyelids, so I need to learn to consistently dodge if someone tries to spit in my face mid-fight."


    "Okay," Sticks replied, beginning to circle the insect.


    "Jiuk, did you get that?" Cricket turned just in time to see the lizardman launch a thick orange wad from his mouth. The insect screamed and ducked as the spit sailed over his shoulder.


    Cricket heard Sticks preparing a loogie behind him and brought a sickle in front of his eyes as he turned, a look of horror on his face. Then Jiukec began an assault, and Cricket found himself scrambling to mount a defense against two swords, two sticks, and a constant barrage of spit. He had no time to block or dodge every kick, and he took to lifting his knee to blunt some of the kicks with the sharp ridge of his shin. After repelling Jiukec this way twice, the lizardman paused to massage a deep bruise on his leg.


    Cricket wiped the dripping spit from his face and called it a night.


    *****


    Oydd awoke to a very light rapping on his door. At first he thought it part of a dream, but as he stared out into the dark, he heard the sound again.


    The rudra rose and opened the door to his chamber to see the mouseling trembling.


    "It''s Scorpion..."


    "Where is he?" Oydd asked.


    "In your office with Jeshu."


    The rudra grabbed his staff and hurried up to the commons, expecting to see Agena as well, but found only empty halls.


    In his office, Scorpion sat on a table, deep gashes on his right arm. The druid, however, attended to the ratling''s eye, which had been cut in half.


    "What happened?" Oydd asked.


    Scorpion stared off in shock, but managed to speak one word between pants. "Jade."


    "Hold still," Jeshu cautioned. "I won''t be able to save this eye, but I can stop the bleeding."


    Scorpion did his best to comply, though he wobbled unsteadily.


    Oydd inspected the ratling''s arm. "It looks like we''ll have to amputate. Unless you can fix this, Jeshu?"


    The druid shook his head bleakly.


    "He looks pale," the rudra added. "Let''s lay him down before he faints."


    Jeshu helped the ratling to a reclining position, where he gasped in fits and clenched his jaw so hard that Oydd worried it would crack a tooth.


    Jeshu began to work on the arm, which was shredded in multiple places clear to the bone, and completely drained of color. The druid had tied a cloth tightly near the shoulder, cutting off circulation before the rudra arrived. Now he placed his hands over the shoulder and chanted, attempting to alleviate the pain.


    As his breathing calmed, the ratling tried to speak again. "She... she got Agena. He''s gone."


    "What?" Oydd asked, stunned.


    "He didn''t want to leave his men. He..."


    "Just rest," the druid advised. "We can talk later."


    "He... he''s gone." Scorpion closed his eyes and breathed softly.


    Jeshu scooped the ratling up in his arms and turned to the rudra. "Do you have anything to dull the pain?"


    Oydd shook his head. "I..."


    "That''s all right. Let''s get him to the infirmary."


    Jeshu carried the unconscious ratling, cradling him in his arms, up the winding trail from the burrows to a room somewhat smaller than the morgue, with similar instruments and a single examination table.


    "These are some brutal cuts. I need to remove bone fragments," Jeshu said. "Oydd, can you seal the arteries?" For the first time, Jeshu looked at the rudra. For a white-skinned creature, his skin somehow looked extra pale. His tentacles curled in nausea.


    "Oydd?" Jeshu repeated in alarm.


    The rudra snapped to attention. "Yes... yes, and the nerves."


    "Have you not done this before?"


    "Not on... the living." Oydd gagged at the sight of the blood, and his hand trembled.


    "Never mind," Jeshu growled. "I''ll do it myself. Hand me that bone saw."


    *****


    Cricket felt something was off when he awoke. Something... missing, he thought. He scratched his feelers and tried to recall his dream before it slipped away. He remembered swimming in a yellow lake of acid with a demon, splashing each other playfully, when it hit him¡ªthe scraping! The missing sound was Scorpion''s tail scraping against the wall. Which meant he was still out on a mission. Cricket always had trouble sleeping without a good, constant scraping sound in the background.


    He hopped from his bunk and wandered from the commons. His stomach grumbled.


    Jeshu usually rose several hours earlier than the insect, but often waited to eat breakfast together. So Cricket decided to track him down.


    He found Oydd, and Jeshu in the rudra''s office. Patches sat curled on the desk with heavy bags under her open eyes.


    "Good morning..." Cricket stretched and yawned, covering his face with a free hand to be polite.


    He looked around the room. "Why so glum?"


    "We lost a team last night," Oydd stated bluntly.


    "Oh..." Cricket frowned and his antennae drooped.


    "They were in a confrontation with the Right Hand. Only Scorpion returned."


    "What! Wasn''t Agena with that group? What happened?"


    Jeshu answered. "We don''t have a lot of information right now. Scorpion is resting. He might not make it. He lost an eye and an arm."


    "Damn..." Cricket yawned again, then shivered. "Was it his good eye?"


    "They were both good eyes, Cricket," Oydd answered, distracted, as he looked over a parchment on his desk.


    Cricket paused in thought for a long time, while Jeshu hung his head. Dried blood still covered the druid''s hands, and he stared off into nothing.


    "We have to do something..." Cricket whispered. "Do we know who did this?"


    "No." The rudra looked up suddenly from his writing. "We don''t have to do something. We will wait for the correct opportunity to respond."


    Cricket shook his head. "Or we can act now, and track down whoever did this. What do we know?"


    Don''t tell him.


    "Don''t tell me what?"


    "How do you do that?" the rudra spat in frustration. "I was speaking only to Jeshu."


    "You haven''t figured it out?" Cricket forced a smile. "It''s my antennae. When you use your... um..."


    "Telepathy."


    "Yes. When you use your telepathy it sends out waves. I can pick them up."


    Oydd glared at the insect, then closed his eyes and sighed. He set his quill down. "Well don''t. Unless I''m talking to you. It''s rude."


    "I can''t really choose... don''t tell me what?" he suddenly demanded.


    Jeshu sighed. "Don''t act rashly, but we believe the attack was by Jade alone."


    "Jade!" Cricket yelled. "Jade, and you weren''t going to tell me!"


    "Calm down," Oydd said.


    "Don''t tell Cricket," the insect mimicked. "He''ll storm off and do something stupid!"


    Oydd stared at the insect, unmoving.


    Cricket pulled at his chin as if stroking imaginary tentacles. "He doesn''t think straight when it comes to Jade."


    "Well..." Oydd replied caustically.


    "God forbid he ever finds his own people."


    Cricket rubbed his eyes with his fingers, and his tongue clicked awkwardly.


    "Are you finished?"


    The insect clenched his mandibles and returned the rudra''s stare.


    "Do I have to go on my own again?"


    "Don''t be absurd. You''ll just get yourself killed," Oydd said. "But I know you would."


    "Would what, go on my own, or get killed?"


    "Both," the rudra stated flatly.


    "Then help this time," Jeshu joined.


    Oydd looked from the insect to the dryad and absently stroked his tentacles with his hand, before catching himself and pretended to straighten his robe instead. "I intend to. If she''s openly working with the Right Hand, and alone, I might add, then she may actually be our best target. But we need to do it right."


    Cricket relaxed his scowl and the rudra continued, "We need to be prepared. We need a plan based specifically on what we know about her. And then we need to hit her with everything. Leave no chance for a victory."


    "I should fight her..." Cricket said.


    "Well you had your chance, and you lost," Oydd stated.


    Cricket turned to Jeshu for support, but the druid just stared down at his hands.


    "So this time we do it my way," the rudra continued.


    "All right..." Cricket conceded, "but more men won''t help much if they''re raw. They''ll just get in the way."


    "I agree. But I have been preparing for this."


    "So have I."


    Oydd placed the tips of his fingers together and stared off at a corner of the ceiling. "I have some creations that will be difficult for even her to fight. So I will need to come. But I''m worried about her screeching like you. She''s a resourceful fighter."


    "You could¡ª"


    "Let me finish," Oydd said sternly. "I brewed something to help me with that problem. But it may leave my senses dulled. I doubt I will be able to use my psionic powers."


    "Si... a..."


    "Telepathy, telekinesis, and a few others I''ve been working on," Oydd explained. "Anything that requires my mind to be keen. But I can still control the dead. They just might be a little... less predictable."


    "I can create sunlight," Jeshu added. "It worked on dispelling her shadows in the past. And Jade is likely as sensitive to light as Cricket."


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    "So I would need to hold back at first? If it blinds her, it would blind me."


    "Yes," the dryad agreed. "I would disable her shadows and blind her, and then you would join the fight."


    "Don''t underestimate her. Even blinded, she''ll be deadly," Cricket warned.


    The rudra nodded. "My creations will protect Jeshu while he invokes Elkennah, and then they will assist you."


    "What creations do you have? One zombie left?" Cricket asked.


    "You forget about Gad, and I''ve made two new ghouls. Deep goblins."


    "Let''s bring Ty''lek," Cricket said. "He''s our best aim now, and I trust him in battle. He has a sharp mind. Maybe it will keep her on her toes."


    "Then let''s leave now. We may catch her off guard, and I have a limited time where I can still commune with the dead. Our brethren may have information to assist us."


    "I''ll bring Pip," Patches whispered.


    "Pip?" Oydd asked.


    "My familiar..." The mouseling yawned then arched her back, rising from the desk.


    The rudra sighed and all but rolled his eyes. "Excellent..."


    "Actually, you should make one of those creepy dolls of yours," Cricket suggested.


    "A totem," Oydd clarified.


    "No," the mouseling shook her head. "I don''t have her blood."


    "And Jade is unlikely her true name," Jeshu added.


    "Also, the mouseling is not a witch," Oydd snapped.


    The druid stood. "I''ll need my shield and hammer."


    "I need to stop by the armory too," Cricket said. "We could meet you by the stables?"


    Oydd nodded. "I will only be a bit behind you."


    *****


    By the time Oydd stumbled up to the stables, Cricket had somehow already returned to his usual cheerful mood. Ty''lek waited at his side with the Nightcrawler bow.


    Oydd had armed the deep goblins with spears and shields. Cricket had not seen any of the rudra''s creations wield a weapon before, but the red ghouls gripped their spears eagerly. Their black eyes peered out dangerously from behind full iron helms, and their black horns punctured the metal on top.


    "Those helmets are as much for your protection," Oydd explained, as one of the ghouls attempted to bite the other, muzzled by his helmet.


    The rudra paused as if lost in thought and stared down the road. Gad and the goblins paused as well.


    "Are you drunk?" Cricket asked.


    "Hmm..." Oydd looked at him suddenly. "No, no, just... tipsy."


    "That''s what you meant when you said you had brewed something to dull your senses?" Jeshu asked. "I assumed you meant some kind of potion."


    "Mead," the rudra replied. "Should be effective. Really calms down my hearing to a manageable level."


    "Until it wears off and you get a hangover," Cricket said.


    "I am on a very small dose. But it stays in my system for a long time."


    "We should have discussed this though." The insect stretched and turned to head out. "Maybe we could have had Patches knit you some earmuffs."


    "I don''t have ears, so I would have to cover up most of my skin."


    "And hide that sexy bod? I see why you chose mead."


    Oydd blushed. "This affects my whole system. But I am in control." The rudra hiccupped.


    "I have some new graces," Jeshu interrupted. "Cricket, I believe I can greatly improve the effectiveness of your turtle charm." He held out an arm and began to chant. The charm glowed black but the light quickly faded. "And," he said, "it won''t glow like a lantern anymore."


    "It''s still glowing," Cricket complained.


    Oydd leaned in uncomfortably close. "I can still see it too."


    "What?" the dryad said, flustered. "I don''t see it at all. You''ll just have to trust me it is much duller than before." The azaeri followed Oydd''s lead and leaned in until his beak nearly touched the charm.


    "Hmm..." Oydd said skeptically.


    "I will work on getting it even darker. But for now, everyone gather around."


    Cricket, Oydd, and Ty''lek moved closer to the druid.


    "And the zombies."


    "Ghouls," Oydd corrected, calling them over. Patches hopped up on Cricket''s shoulder.


    Jeshu knelt and bowed his head, as if praying silently. A glowing mark began to appear on his shield. Eventually the druid stood and held his shield out for the others to see. "The mark is simply a focal point. If you stay near me, I can provide everyone with a bit of my energy to speed up the trip."


    "Cool!" Cricket announced, then began marching up the trail. Despite the dryad''s modest claims, Cricket felt access to a deep reserve of energy. He nearly ran up the road with no signs of tiring, and even Oydd and Gad kept up with the pace. If Jeshu always had this much vitality, it must have usually gone to waste.


    Without the need to rest, the group made the usual hour-long trip in half that time, and came upon signs of the skirmish¡ªa scene of pure havoc. Lizardmen and ratling limbs lay strewn about the ground along with long streaks of blood, crushed skulls and viscera. Agena lay in a heap in the middle of the road, largely still whole, felled by multiple stabs to the chest.


    Agena''s mimic lay atop the bulky lizardman, cradling his head¡ªits skin a deep maroon.


    "Scorpion said this was all Jade?" Cricket asked in astonishment.


    Jeshu began, "That''s all we got¡ª"


    "Yes," Oydd answered, talking over the dryad.


    Jeshu waited a moment to see if he would say more and then continued, "That''s all he said. It''s too bad he''s not here."


    Oydd approached Agena to lay a hand on his head, but the mimic snapped at his fingers defensively.


    Jesh tried to calm the beast. "It''s okay... We''re trying to help."


    The mimic tightened its grip around Agena, wrapping additional tentacles around his neck and forehead.


    Jeshu stepped forward to pet it, but the creature hissed and turned black. Jeshu reached out anyway, avoiding its beak, and touched the back of its bulbous head. He closed his eyes and almost instantly it calmed back to a burgundy and eventually a crimson.


    Oydd tried again to place his hand on Agena''s forehead, and the mimic withdrew, giving him room.


    "You can cast spells while you''re drunk?" Cricket asked.


    "I''m not drunk. And obviously I can cast spells, or these ghouls would be lifeless."  As if responding to its master, one of the deep goblins tried to bite Cricket half-heartedly, its iron visor clinking against his arm. Cricket groaned, uncertain of the rudra''s assurances.


    Oydd held his hand on the lizardman''s forehead for too long and then spoke. "We didn''t make it in time. I can''t reach him. However..." He spoke a few words of magic, and the lizardman''s eyes opened, glowing a bright green. The undead Agena rose on its hind legs, struggling to balance, then eventually settled on all fours¡ªthe mimic still clinging to the side of his face, its muddy tentacles dangling.


    Cricket surveyed the battlefield. "I don''t think I should have any trouble tracking her. The fight moved this way. She killed those men first, and Agena last. Which means she went this way."


    "She could have backtracked," Jeshu suggested.


    "But she didn''t," Cricket said over his shoulder and started down a side road.


    Oydd followed. "This road leads to Vestu Genii. Mostly old buildings and mushroomwood crops." The reanimated Agena moved slowly but noisily at his side.


    "Someone''s been this way recently," Cricket pointed a sickle at an ordinary cobblestone in the mud, then quickened his pace.


    As Jeshu passed, he looked at the cobblestone but saw nothing of interest. Not even the mud was disturbed.


    The insect pushed ahead of the others, and the druid had to hurry to avoid being left behind. The roads to Vestu Genii lead away from the main city, to an area where the dhampiri seldom had reason to venture.


    Soon the cobblestone turned to hard dirt, marred only by old tire tracks.


    Cricket watched the ground as he ran, only seeming more certain, then stopped before the stone ruins of a two-story building before a forest of gigantic mushrooms.


    "An old lumberyard," Oydd surmised. "Are you sure she''s here?"


    Cricket nodded, then turned his back to the building and whispered, "Yell before you do it," to the druid.


    The rudra sent the deep goblins around the building, and stayed by Agena''s side, along with the azaeri, while Gad and Jeshu approached the front.


    The druid covered his face with his shield and held his hammer low, inching forward, when a black khopesh twirled from within the second floor and struck the shield soundly, easily penetrating the inch-thick iron. The top six inches of the blade protruded just below the dryad''s arm, then rapidly dissolved. He called over his shoulder, "She''s gotten stronger!" and charged, growing to nearly twice his size as he ran.


    He lifted his hammer, which now looked comically small in his hands, and swept it across the crumbling walls of the second floor, sending a cloud of dust into the air. A second later he placed the tiny shield in front of his face to block another thrown khopesh. The druid grunted loudly.


    "Was that the sign?" Cricket asked.


    "No," Oydd answered.


    Ty''lek jumped straight upward, flapping his arms once for additional height, then fired an arrow into the smoke. He glided back down, landing in a rough squat, then drew a second arrow.


    The druid plowed into the building, knocking stones aside and snapping mushroomwood beams with a few quick strokes of his hammer. A thrown khopesh embedded in his chest, but the giant dryad only roared, spurred on by the pain.


    "Was that the sign?" Cricket asked.


    "No," Oydd snapped in irritation. "Why are you covering your antennae? That won''t help."


    "Oh, right." Cricket removed his hands from the sides of his head.


    "Watch this," the rudra said, smiling uncharacteristically. But before he did anything, Jeshu let out a loud, clearly forced yell and Cricket ducked, covering his eyes with his arms.


    A bright light grew from behind him, so bright that he had to lower his head and use two more arms to try to block it out. After a few seconds, it faded but Cricket counted to three out loud before turning to run into the building, only to find little building left. The fight had moved into the mushroom grove.


    Cricket unsheathed his daggers, holding them in his lower hands, and charged into the fray with all four weapons out.


    He passed Ty''lek and Gad, just as a large black ball of energy erupted from behind him, coming presumably from the rudra. As Cricket ran, he watched it fly through the air toward Jade, who dodged behind the thick trunk of a mushroom.


    Oydd laughed maniacally as the orb phased straight through the trunk, homing in on the insect woman. However, she slashed a jade khopesh at the ball and it imploded. One second it was blazing and soaring and then it was gone.


    Cricket didn''t see any shadows, so he ran straight for the original. Currently she played defense, easily dodging Jeshu''s slow motions. Now and then the azaeri fired an arrow, but Jade simply dodged behind a mushroom stalk each time, once blocking an arrow with a khopesh. The arrows easily penetrated the uncured mushroomwood, but Jade always seemed to emerge unharmed from the far side to fight again.


    The two deep goblins chose an opportune time to join the fight, rushing at her rear, and for a few seconds she was forced to turn and meet them head on, which gave Jeshu the chance to clip one of her weapons with his hammer, knocking it from her hands. The khopesh landed flat in the loam several feet away and Jade made a lunge for it.


    "Priority one!" Cricket yelled.


    Thinking quickly, the druid stepped on the blade and swung at Jade to swat her away.


    The assassin ducked under his hammer and rolled between his legs, making a failed swipe for her weapon in the process.


    Jade finished the roll on her feet and readied her remaining khopesh. But she only came up to Jesh''s waist, and hesitated to rush him again. The red goblins circled around with their spears, and Cricket filled in the final gap, closing her in.


    Abandoning her second weapon, the assassin barreled through the ghouls, pushing aside their spears with her lower arms and making two quick slashes at their throats with the sickle edge of her weapon.


    She removed one head entirely, and the ghoul crumpled to the ground. Rather than fleeing, she came back in, disabling the second ghoul with a quick series of slashes.


    Jade ducked to dodge an arrow and then ran, disappearing behind the massive stalks of mushroom.


    Jeshu breathed heavily, and Cricket thought he saw the druid shrinking slowly before his eyes. He stooped to grab the lost khopesh. "Isn''t she blinded?"


    "I don''t understand," Jeshu answered. "At least partially."


    "Maybe she''s spent some time on the surface," Oydd''s voice came from behind.


    Cricket looked back at the rudra, and saw him lying flat on his back in the middle of the road. As he watched, the rudra''s hand opened and his metal staff rolled against one of Agena''s legs.


    Cricket tested the weight of the khopesh then handed it back to Jesh.


    "Not a good time to get used to a new weapon." The insect sighed and rearmed himself with his own sickles, then sprinted into the mushroom stalks after Jade.


    Though Jeshu''s light clearly hadn''t blinded her entirely, the assassin ran relatively slowly, and sloppily, unable to pick a path that would leave no footprints.


    So, even in the maze of trunks, he caught her easily.


    When Cricket neared, the assassin turned to confront him head on.


    She came in with a high kick, and he blocked it with his forearm.


    She stepped in with a second kick to the head, and Cricket blocked again, but this time she retracted and stomped his foot. The shell cracked audibly, and surely would have given if not for the turtle charm.


    Cricket countered with a knee¡ªforcing her backward¡ªand then two slices of his sickles, which she swatted away with her free hands, simultaneously swiping for his head with her khopesh.


    This time Cricket retreated, stepping back as he ducked. Just as he was about to move in again, the assassin charged with a series of kicks, aiming for his stomach with the ball of her foot, and then skipping sideways as he moved back, bringing her heel up to his chest¡ªwhich connected solidly, with another loud crack.


    Cricket moved in close, to trip up her legs, but Jade rammed her hip into his, knocking him off-balance. A moment later he felt her heel hit the back of his head, and he bent over stunned. Jade lifted a leg above his head and brought it down like an axe, forcing him to roll on the ground to dodge. He rubbed the back of his head, wondering how she''d scored such a clean hit.


    Jade slashed with her khopesh, which Cricket easily blocked, but it seemed this is what the assassin wanted. With his right sickle detained, she spun around on that side, hooking with her heel. Cricket got his forearm up in time to block, but her calf wrapped around his forearm and her heel contacted the back of his head again in the same spot. Cricket''s vision flashed a bright yellow, and before he could recover, he heard her spit and black goo covered his eyes.


    Cricket ducked his head and drove in, catching each of her lower hands in one of his, meeting each of her upper arms with an out-turned sickle, and most importantly¡ªsince he had been in this position once before¡ªhe pressed his chin close against her chest then slid his mandibles up around her neck.


    Jade froze.


    Cricket tightened just enough to show his intention, and for the first time he heard Jade''s voice.


    "Please..."


    With his mandibles around her neck, he couldn''t speak, but he paused.


    "Don''t..."


    The soft tone struck him deeply. Cricket''s eyes stung from the assassin''s spit. He wanted a reason to spare her. He tried desperately to think of one, but could only think of his friends whom she had killed. Seventeen ratlings. More now. Several lizardmen. Agena. Not to mention what she did to Scorpion...


    As he did the math in his head, his grip must have unconsciously loosened. Jade wriggled one hand free and spread her fingers in a non-threatening way, as if surrendering. But Cricket saw the glint of a handle at her hip. Stowed away in the exoskeleton, in the same gap Cricket used to hide his daggers.


    And Raccoon... Cricket remembered. Jade made a quick move for the hidden dagger.


    And Cricket bit.


    *****


    While the others circled the building, Patches sent Pip flying over the old mill. As her first bond with a familiar, the connection was a little fuzzy, but the mouseling managed to see through his eyes. However, Pip''s compound eyes caught images multiple times and made the mouseling dizzy. Hazy as the images already were, she could really only guarantee the bug flew generally in the right direction.


    However, with Jade''s attention on all the distractions, it was relatively easy to have Pip fly in from behind and land on her back.


    With the vampire''s instruction, the mouseling had learned it was possible to cast spells through her familiar. And with Pip in position, it was time to try her first curse.


    A cold light spread from the ladybug along Jade''s shell, settling and seeping into the carapace.


    Jade twitched, but before she was found out, Jeshu crashed through the wall with his hammer, forcing the assassin to flee. And all the while, Patches drained the strength from her victim, slowly but noticeably. She sensed the assassin slow, but more interestingly, the mouseling felt the stolen lifeforce flowing into her¡ªonly darker and tainted, fuel for future spells.


    When Cricket beheaded the woman, Patches instantly felt the connection severed. But the energy she had already managed to drain was significant to a mouseling. Patches called Pip back, and the beetle returned to her unnoticed from the insectoid''s corpse.


    *****


    Cricket rolled back in the loam and looked up at the distant ceiling. A giant crab crawled along the rock right above him. And he watched it slowly pick a path among the stalactites.


    Jeshu came and stood over him. "I think that went about as poorly as possible."


    "Really? I was just thinking it couldn''t have gone better. We did every part of the plan, and every part contributed. Imagine if we had left out even one part!"


    Jeshu considered this a moment, silently. "I''m sorry," he said.


    "For what?"


    "Just... for how things transpired. I know..." the druid trailed off, uncertain what to say.


    Cricket nodded. "Thanks. I get it." He reached his upper arms behind his head and rested on his hands like a pillow. "You know... I was joking about hoping she liked me. Mostly, anyway. But I really wanted to be friends with one of my own kind."


    "That''s understandable."


    "Did you feel the same way? When more dryads came to the Warrens?"


    "Hmm..." the druid thought. "Only a little. I think I am more of a solitary creature. I could be happy with my own company for a long time. You... are not."


    "Not a solitary creature?" Cricket asked.


    "Correct. You are happier with others around. Though I have not lived it, I can imagine your desire to meet others like you, and to learn about your past."


    Cricket''s antennae drooped.


    "If it''s any consolation," the dryad continued. "She was nothing like you."


    "What do you mean?"


    "I mean that you wouldn''t have gotten along. There wasn''t really a better way this could have played out. You are warm and bright. She was... cold."


    "A bitch," Cricket stated.


    "Yes," Jeshu agreed. "A... bitch."


    After Cricket caught his breath, he still stayed in the soft soil, watching the crustacean above him for some time.


    When they returned to the road, they found Oydd snoring. The magic animating Agena had expired and the mimic crawled in the dirt, playing with the necromancer''s staff, its skin a dark blue.


    Jeshu tried unsuccessfully to coax it onto his shoulder, but eventually placed Oydd there instead, and simply picked up the staff with the mimic on top and started home.

 Witchcraft

    21


    Witchcraft


    On the road home, Cricket attempted to activate the Jade khopeshes. He tried hitting them together which made a nice sound but produced no other results. At Jeshu''s instruction, he tried hitting one against his chest, which produced fewer results.


    "Wait until the rudra awakens," the dryad suggested.


    Oydd, Cricket thought.


    The rudra bounced along on Jeshu''s shoulder with no sign of waking.


    Oydd! Cricket repeated more intently.


    This time the rudra placed a hand on his head and groaned. "Stop that. That''s far too loud. That one was right in my brain."


    "Oydd, help me figure out how this magic works. What''s the enchantment?"


    Oydd opened an eye groggily. "Some other time perhaps."


    He attempted to close his eyes again, only to be startled by a loud clang, as Cricket struck the weapons together again.


    After the third time, Oydd snapped. "You may not have the propensity to activate the enchantment. It takes a certain amount of innate intelligence. Otherwise it could take years of practice."


    Even without looking, Oydd heard the insect frown, his mandibles rustling together.


    "Besides," he offered. "The shadows came from the breastplate she wore."


    "Not the blades?" Cricket repeated, disappointed.


    "But I do sense dark magic. Obviously they''re enchanted. At the very least for durability. There''s not a scratch on them."


    "Sort of boring to enchant them to be as hard as metal, when iron already does that."


    "That''s not the only enchantment..."


    Jeshu set the struggling rudra down, where he wobbled a bit then asked for his staff. Jeshu passed the mimic-topped staff to Oydd and the rudra accepted with only modest reluctance.


    "They displayed some sort of anti-magic. Which shouldn''t be possible. I don''t see how a weapon could have an anti-magic enchantment, since an enchantment is a type of magic."


    "Don''t you have a spell that can diagnose magic items? I saw you use it," Cricket said.


    "I can''t very well use magic to identify an item that dispels magic, can I?"


    "Perhaps," Jeshu interjected, "it only dispels black magic. Elkennah is known for bestowing magic to resist or even annihilate dark magic."


    "Not something I would know anything about," Oydd growled.


    Cricket strapped the khopeshes to his side, using a sheathlike leather sling he had obtained from the assassin.


    Jade''s breastplate jangled on Cricket''s back. He had attempted to put it on immediately, but the side straps needed let out a bit.


    "What about this?" Cricket motioned over his shoulder with his thumb.


    "Some other time. I''m in no condition. Besides, I told you, it is beyond your ability."


    "Then help me," Cricket suggested.


    "I can''t make you smarter. And please speak more quietly. You''re giving me a headache."


    "You have before."


    "What?" Oydd stopped in his tracks for a second, then started walking again.


    "When you use telepathy. You''ve thought of complicated concepts, and I understand them when we''re linked."


    "Well that''s... absurd," the rudra finished uncertainly.


    Well, if you think it''s too hard for you, Cricket added innocently.


    Well I never! I already told you¡ªoh! well that is dark, the rudra''s mind trailed off as he focused on the breastplate.


    "What?" Cricket said over his shoulder.


    "Nothing..."


    The group walked a moment in silence.


    "What happens when you vibrate the breastplate?" Oydd asked.


    With a quick flourish, Cricket produced a dagger and rapped it over his shoulder.


    The jade breastplate resonated with a high-pitched ping.


    Lower, Oydd instructed and Cricket stopped in the middle of the road. Jeshu smiled, but the azaeri squawked and looked about flustered.


    Cricket pulled the breastplate from his back and struck in a few places until he found a spot that made a lower note.


    Like this?


    Oydd held a hand to his head. Not so loud!


    Suddenly, the insect felt a flow of understanding from the rudra. Not in the form of words, nor emotions¡ªit felt more like seeing a curved object from another angle.


    Cricket struck the jade again, producing a low hum, and the object vibrated visibly, stretching into two as if he had crossed his eyes. Slowly the two images remerged.


    "Don''t try that again until I''ve had time to study it in my lab," the rudra ordered, though his tone had softened.


    Cricket slung the armor back over his shoulder.


    Ty''lek cawed again, with less irritation this time and more as a reminder that he was waiting.


    When the group returned, they found Jiukec and a small group of ratlings waiting anxiously by the stables.


    Oydd approached them. "Why are you standing about? There''s plenty that needs done."


    Cricket placed a hand on the rudra''s shoulder, and the necromancer jumped.


    "They want word on the battle."


    "Oh," Oydd grumbled and headed to his lab, leaving the crowd to the insect.


    The ratlings turned their attention to Cricket.


    "For those of you who don''t know, Agena fell in combat, along with his entire group, except for Scorpion who is severely wounded."


    Jiukec looked about confused, and Ty''leck translated the insect''s words in a string of clicks and hisses. Suddenly a dark look passed over the lizardman''s eyes and he hung his head.


    Cricket continued. "We tracked down the assassin responsible, and killed her."


    This part Jiukec understood without translation. He hissed and tapped his pinky claw twice against his chest, a sign of thanks.


    "I''ll release the names of the dead later today. For now, everyone get back to work."


    The ratlings scurried off. More than a few went straight to the stables, even though Cricket knew they weren''t assigned there.


    Ty''lek translated for the lizardman, but Jiukec just wandered off and looked down the road leading away from the Warrens.


    After Oydd retired for the evening, Cricket rigged a bit of leather string on the jade breastplate and managed to secure it somewhat loosely around his back. He wandered toward the prison cells, where the rudra wouldn''t hear him.


    Only he and Oydd possessed keys to the main prison door. The Warrens had not taken any prisoners in years, and Cricket''s style of discipline revolved around assigning extra training, which meant the cells had sat empty since Damien''s rule.


    Cricket opened the door as quietly as possible, and locked it behind him. As he walked he noticed several sets of tiny pawprints in the dust¡ªmore recent than he expected. He followed them to the deepest level of the dungeon, where he found several open cells filled with a variety of oddities. Each cell contained a black candle¡ªsome melted, others new.


    In one cell he found dozens of empty bottles and a few full of fermented liquid and strange ingredients he did not believe to be magical¡ªratling droppings, dried mushroom, lye soap, eel eyes, and whole worms, among other things.


    One large jar was filled with nothing but fur.


    The adjacent cell contained dolls of all shapes and sizes. One resembling a rudra, one resembling a lizardman, and several ratling dolls. Cricket found one doll made of grey bat fur dyed brown so that it strongly resembled the ettin, though the proportions were way off. It was three times the scale of the rudra and a third of that was due to the oversized heads alone. It held a tiny spear and hook carved from lizard bones, and a bloody toenail protruded from the chest.


    Once he saw the toenail, Cricket checked the other dolls and found many of the others had little "treasures" concealed in the chest cavity. One of the ratlings had two bone dice inside. The ones that went missing from Bones the day he accused Patches of cheating.


    The insect checked the rudra doll and found the tip of one of Oydd''s quills, still stained with dried ink, nestled among the clumps of fur.


    A chill went up his antennae, and yet, Cricket didn''t really know what to make of it. Which meant it could probably wait.


    He plopped on the ground, pulled out a dagger and began to pound the hilt against the jade armor until it made the perfect note!


    *****


    Clang!


    Cricket woke lying on the floor of the dungeon. He couldn''t remember how he got there. And as a rule of thumb, that meant he was allowed five more minutes of sleep. But the din above him simply wouldn''t allow it.


    He heard another impossibly loud crash of metal against metal, this time accompanied by shouts and yells. Which, among other things, meant the prison wasn''t a great place for soundproof practice.


    Cricket jumped to his feet and ran to the upper prison. He heard the sounds of a large fight almost directly above him, mapped it out in his head, and figured it was roughly coming from the entryway. Cricket grabbed a jade khopesh in one of his upper hands. He felt the cool stone against his palm for a moment, deciding how to proceed, before grabbing the second khopesh in his other upper arm. He relegated the sickles to his lower arms and sprinted out of the prison, leaving the doorway open behind him.


    He ran into Jeshu in the commons, shouting orders at a group of new recruits. Fully-armed lizardmen poured from the armory, marching toward the upper levels, clearly more organized than the ratlings.


    "What''s going on?" Cricket yelled.


    "Ghajan," Jeshu growled.


    "The ettin? They turned on us?"


    "Just Ghajan," the druid answered cryptically.


    "Turtle me!" Cricket cried frantically, tapping the figurine on his chest, clearly eager to run off.


    Jeshu held out a hand, and Cricket felt his shell hardening, without even looking down. The grace felt more intense than normal, and his hands began to squeak as they tightened. Cricket opened and closed his fingers a few times to test his range of motion, then smiled and darted off.


    *****


    Ghajan swung a massive hammer forged from a bluish metal. He swiped three lizardmen away in one strike, leaving a stain on the wall, then brought the hammer up and swung it down at a fourth, impossibly fast, flattening it in its armor.


    Ghajan roared. Beside him, a bloody spine protruded from his shoulder in Onubi''s place¡ªthe flesh torn roughly and brutally. In his free hand, Ghajan held his brother''s severed head. It dangled from his clenched fist by a lock of hair.


    A black vapor rose like steam from Ghajan''s skin. His flesh had darkened from bronze to an earthy umber, and his tusks curled nearly to his own eyes.


    The ettin punched an unfortunate ratling, knocking him off the ledge to the lower quarters. A horde of deep goblins poured steadily past Ghajan from behind, and a group of lizardmen devoted themselves to the smaller game, avoiding the giant at all costs.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Cricket made for an opening in the ranks to charge Ghajan, and the giant turned his full attention on the insect. Lifting a khopesh above his head, pretending he intended to block, Cricket ducked below the giant''s swinging hammer at the last instant, barely fitting between it and the ground. The wind from the hammer whipped his antennae to the side. The insect moved toward the swing¡ªassuming he''d have more time to act before the ettin countered¡ªand made two quick slices against his foot with his sickles, barely drawing blood.


    Cricket grunted and circled the ettin as Ghajan swiped with his fist, clipping the insect''s shoulder. The force from the blow sent him tumbling to the ground, and the Giant tried to stomp him once, twice, and then swung his hammer overhead. Cricket lifted both Khopeshes in a cross before his face.


    The hammer slammed through the guard, and Cricket''s form dispersed in a wave of heavy black mist along the ground. Ghajan paused only momentarily before looking up and surveying the ranks of his enemies.


    "Interesting trick, Cockroach. Come! See if you fare better!" He tossed Onubi''s head and it rolled down the ramp, landing at the foot of an unshaken lizardman.


    "Damn he''s fast!" Cricket stuck his head around a corner, careful not to let the ettin see his green breastplate¡ªa dead giveaway that he was more than just a congealed shadow!


    Cricket threw a shuriken at a nearby goblin. It covered its throat in time, taking the spinning blade to its forearm, but the distraction gave a nearby lizardman the opportunity to run it through with a trident.


    "Maybe I need a trident," Cricket whispered to himself. "No! No! I just got these."


    He threw a few more shurikens into the mix then shouted, "Fall back! He has an advantage on that narrow ramp. Draw him into the open!"


    Though it seemed unlikely anyone had heard him over the hissing shrieks of the deep goblins, the lizardmen fell back instinctively. An arrow flew over their heads and stuck in the ettin''s chest, only penetrating a couple inches. The ettin brushed it away like an annoying bug, and the arrow clattered to the ground, as thin black lines spread from the opening in his chest.


    A second arrow came from the side, glancing off of his elbow. Cricket looked for the second archer but couldn''t pinpoint the source. Which was probably good?


    Cricket clanged the butt of a khopesh on his chest, unsure if he could produce another shadow. The breastplate resonated and a black form nearly formed at his side but flickered away when the vibration stopped. He tried again.


    "You''re too worn." He heard Jeshu''s voice from behind. "It''s better to wait than to try again."


    "What happened to him? He''s bigger than before, I swear."


    "I believe he sacrificed one of his heads to Bale."


    "You mean Onubi," Cricket emphasized the name. "He sacrificed Onubi to Bale."


    Jeshu groaned in pain at the thought.


    "Can you grow?"


    Jeshu knit his brows. "Not to his size. I think I''d be dead in a matter of seconds."


    "I want to hold back too, but our men are dying."


    Jeshu grazed a deep goblin by the neck with his hammer and sent it flying several feet, where it twitched uncontrollably on the ground. He yelled, "Fall back!" and his voice boomed over the din, much more clearly than the insect''s had.


    The struggling lizardmen gladly followed the order, slicing down a few goblins as they repositioned to join the druid and several nervous ratlings.


    "Phalanx in front," Cricket pointed to the few, frazzled lizardmen. "Ratlings and I guard the sides.


    The lizardmen held up their shields in a wall, resting their spears over the top, in a fairly pathetic display.


    "Keep that position, but retreat slowly."


    Ty''lek continued to fire at the ettin, while Aka''su, the other azaeri archer, picked off goblins.


    "What do you want me to do?" Jeshu asked.


    "Stay in the back and heal the wounded?"


    Jeshu nodded.


    Ghajan walked slowly down the slope, brushing aside the tiny arrows that pierced him, until the defenders had retreated nearly back to the commons. Then the giant charged, keeping a forearm in front of his eyes. He barrelled down the ramp, knocking a few of his comrades aside, and stopped in front of the laboratory door. With a quick twist, he brought his hammer down on the iron frame, smashing it in. Thick crags of ice appeared around the rocky doorway, crackling loudly enough to be heard from a distance, and chunks of stone fell from the archway.


    Dozens of goblins poured through the opening into the laboratory.


    "Oh, crap," Cricket shouted. "Where''s Oydd?"


    "I assume in his lab," Jeshu said somberly.


    "Crap, oh crap!"


    "Stay here," Jeshu appealed. "We need you."


    Cricket took a deep breath. "I know."


    Before the dryad could react, Cricket charged toward the ettin, cutting down two of the black-horned goblins on his way.


    "Jhet bhami!" One of the deep goblins yelled, and the group scattered. One bumped into the ettin as he ran.


    "Coward!" the Giant roared and stomped it to mush.


    Cricket looked over his shoulder. "What did it say? Jet bammi?"


    Black death, Oydd answered.


    "Oh, Okay..." Cricket looked around, not seeing the rudra. Wait, where are you?


    I''m fine, can you stall for a couple minutes?


    "Black death," Cricket whispered. "Wait, I''m Black Death?" Cricket smiled, then tuned back in to Oydd. Yeah, a couple minutes? No problem.


    The insect swerved after one of the deep goblins, chanting "Jet bammi!" to their absolute horror.


    However, soon the ettin charged, almost immediately forcing Cricket to retreat.


    As Ghajan gained on him, Cricket prepared to dodge, but considering how blazingly fast the giant had struck his clone, he wasn''t sure he could! At the last moment, he faked left and then darted right, just barely avoiding the ettin''s hammer.


    As he circled around the giant he felt a crisp pain in his shoulder and looked down to see leaves of frost spreading on his carapace.


    Cricket yelped and blew on the ice like a burn as he ran, then placed a hand there for warmth, but his fingers stuck to the frost. He yanked them free with another yelp, then ducked into a passage too low for the ettin.


    Ghajan ran up to the opening and knelt, staring Cricket in the eyes. "And what now, Cockroach? Will you hide while your men die for you?"


    Cricket ran down a side tunnel to the kitchen and looked around. His eyes darted from the knives¡ªno better than his daggers¡ªto the dirty pots and rack of drying eel meat, finally settling on a black kettle on an open flame. He eyed a second exit that led back behind the ettin.


    Ghajan swiped his hammer behind him, keeping a trio of lizardmen at bay, then peered back in the low tunnel. Cricket''s head popped back around the corner, and Ghajan laughed. "While I don''t expect much of you, Cockroach, from our one battle together I had thought you better than this..."


    The insect''s face flickered and the Giant turned just in time to see a kettle of boiling stew flying at his face.


    *****


    Patches woke to a cacophony of clangs and hisses in the morgue. She peeked out of her hole just long enough to identify the intruders. The mouseling waited for the perfect moment, darting behind a table and then a bookshelf. She slid away the sheet of rusty metal covering her escape hole and slipped through. She made her way through a series of secret tunnels small enough only for her and came to a lookout above the commons, where she had stashed a bag of potatoes and cheese from the surface, along with a set of throwing knives. The bag of cheese, she noted, looked empty, and she vaguely remembered a previous emergency that no longer felt pressing.


    Patches grabbed the knives and spied down on the commotion. She threw a knife at a goblin, but withdrew her head before she saw whether it hit, and then she was too afraid to peek out again for a while. When she did, she saw the ettin... no, just Ghajan. She saw Ghajan kneeling and staring into the kitchen. She stared where Onubi had been attached, feeling a pit grow in her stomach. Then she ran back down the tunnel to a maze of passages and hurried along until she popped up from beneath a mat in one of the locked cells of the dungeon.


    Patches slipped easily through the bars and sorted through her totems until she found the ettin. Not where she placed him.


    The mouseling picked up the doll by the teeth and carried it to the center of the room, and dropped it by one of her black candles.


    She scratched her nose, picking at Onubi''s neck with her teeth.


    Due to the size of the doll, and the bitter taste of the brown dye, this took nearly a minute. Patches felt a chill as the head came free and she tossed it aside.


    She paused, looking at the dismembered doll head, then pointed at the candle wick with her tail and spoke. "Ingorii."


    With only a faint spark at first, the wick began to glow. The mouseling pressed her thumb on Onubi''s toenail with the bit of dried blood, and spoke the words of magic, followed by the name Ghajan. A few fibers of the doll turned black. Patches repeated the words again, four more times. Each time another thread of fur smoldered, leading to one of the limbs.


    Finally, the mouseling pinned the ettin down with her paws and began to heat her knife in the candle''s flame.


    *****


    Ghajan roared as the hot soup splashed on his face, burning his eye. Chunks of chopped roots and wrinkled eel skin dripped down his chin.


    The ettin swiped at Cricket, but the insect dropped below his fingers, rolled and came up running. The deep goblins scattered, and those who scattered too slowly perished¡ªtorn apart by sickles, or stabbed through with jade. One took an elbow to the throat so brutally that Cricket almost apologized as he ran on.


    Ghajan followed close behind. Cricket didn''t dare look back, but heard his footsteps getting closer, and then even felt the giant''s muggy breath on his shoulder.


    Cricket started to screech, but cut the sound short and ducked into Oydd''s lab, hoping the rudra was ready with whatever he had planned.


    Halfway down to the laboratory, he passed Gad, huddling over the red corpse of a deep goblin, feeding. Then he heard a roar that he first mistook for a cave drake, and the ogre from Vestu Peska stood in the entryway, its amber skin wrinkled and dripping with pungent liquid that stung the insect''s eyes even from a distance.


    The towering ghoul''s blackened veins contrasted oddly with its yellow skin. The brute dragged the gigantic mace it wielded when Cricket first encountered it, which he realized had been absent from the armory for some time.


    The ogre rushed and Cricket pressed himself against the wall to let it pass. A second later, its deep primal roar echoed back down the passageway.


    For a moment, the insect stood there motionless¡ªhis mandibles limp. Then Oydd passed, the blood of a deep goblin staining his metal staff.


    "Come on," Oydd said in irritation.


    Cricket cleaned his eyes with his wrists then followed.


    When they reached the commons, the ogre and the ettin squared off in the open, while the remaining goblins and ratlings ran about the edges of the chamber like ants at their feet.


    Cricket hesitated to engage again.


    "What are you waiting for?" Oydd prodded. "He needs your help."


    "What can I do? He''ll tear me in half."


    "Do you have an enchanted shuriken?"


    "No way!" Cricket shook his head. "I only have one left."


    "You''d rather die than use it!" Oydd shouted.


    "Uh-huh. Wait, are those the only options." Cricket squirmed, thinking.


    "It could make the difference."


    "Couldn''t you do a spell or something?"


    "He''s literally fuming with black magic. It would have no effect."


    "Mmmm," Cricket tapped a sickle on his knee repeatedly, then ran into the fray.


    "Cricket!" Oydd shouted after him, but the insect pretended not to hear.


    Cricket circled behind the ettin and waited until just after it dodged a swing from the ogre then lunged forward picking at its heels with his sickles. The weapons barely nicked its tough hide.


    The insect dodged back as Ghajan swung his hammer, and a trail of ice covered the ground where he had stood a second earlier.


    Instinctively Cricket reached for his shoulder, remembering the weird freezing burn from earlier. He sighed and plunged back in with a khopesh. When the enchanted blade touched the ettin, instantly the black fumes whipped away and the edge drew blood.


    If the effect hadn''t startled Cricket more than the ettin, he could have dug deeper. As it was, he fell back and hid behind a crumbling wall as the two titans grappled.


    Cricket stared down at the jade weapon. "Anti... magic?" He asked the khopesh. After a short silence, he nodded to his own question and readied a khopesh combo he had seen the assassin perform.


    But by the time he rounded the corner, the ogre lay in a broken pile beneath Ghajan''s raging fists, and the scene caught him so much by surprise that the ettin managed to backhand him, sending him crashing back ten feet into a wall.


    Cricket''s vision flashed white hot and he heard his weapons clatter to the floor.


    In a daze, he climbed back up to his knees and looked up at the bloody ettin walking toward him.


    "This is the end, Cockroach," Ghajan said. "You... get... gred... blood."


    "What?" Cricket smirked.


    "Agham... brar..."


    One of the ettin''s eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned. The skin on the right side of his face drooped as if his lip melted around his tusk, and spittle dripped down his chin.


    Cricket retrieved his khopeshes, leaving the sickles on the ground. He circled around the giant''s limp side. The ettin switched the hammer to his good arm, and the insect took the opportunity to wave his shadow out from the kitchen. The shadow flickered erratically, as if it might disperse at any moment. It threw a khopesh, which dissolved in the air long before it reached its target.


    Still, the distraction proved sufficient to allow the real Cricket to make a pass at the giant, slashing at his knee twice. The black vapor surrounding Ghajan reacted violently to the jade, and the blades drew a dark blood that sizzled on the ettin''s skin.


    With a sideways glance, the insect saw his shadow scatter on the wind. Ghajan held a hand against his affected eye, and steam rose from behind his fingers. Not like the black vapor. Rather, it smelled burnt, like skin poked by a branding iron.


    The dark aura around the ettin began to fade entirely from his right side. Still, the brute moved with impressive speed and strength, nearly catching the insect more than once.


    Cricket waved away a spearman brave enough to offer support. "I got this. Your weapon won''t hurt him anyway."


    The insect charged in again as he spoke. He dodged to one side to avoid a hammer blow but caught a left hook to the cheek. With a loud crack, the insect sprawled backward through the air, somehow managing to land on his feet, and immediately rushed back in, stabbing one of the jade weapons deep in the ettin''s knee.


    However, the insect had committed so much to the single stab, that Ghajan managed to grab him. He lifted the bug off the ground and began to squeeze. Cricket screamed as his magically hardened shell creaked.


    Jeshu rammed into the ettin''s wounded knee, barely nudging him, and wrapped both arms around the leg. Black brambles sprouted vigorously from the ground and wrapped around the giant''s foot. The ettin''s hammer grazed Jeshu''s shoulder and a line of frost crystals erupted down his back, crackling the air.


    Cricket used all four arms and one leg to try to resist the ettin''s fingers. Once he had enough room to breathe, he shouted down to the dryad, "Grow, dammit!"


    Jeshu roared and slowly grew to about half the ettin''s height as Cricket worked a dagger free from his hip and rammed it into the giant''s palm.


    The brambles grew as well, wrapping fiercely around the ettin''s foot, and with an embarrassingly shrill grunt, the druid managed to knock him off balance. Ghajan''s head slammed into the wall and the insect slipped from his fingers. Immediately, Cricket leapt off of his hind legs and plowed a khopesh into Ghajan''s exposed throat.


    The ettin swatted him away, leaving the blade dangling from his thick hide.


    An arrow struck the ettin¡¯s good eye, and the eye exploded. Thin black tendrils instantly spread from the wound, weaving inside of the empty cavity.


    Still the brute stared defiantly for a moment, spit curdling from the right side of its mouth, before he finally toppled to the ground.


    "Ungh!" Cricket grunted, shoving another khopesh in its neck, then placed a foot triumphantly on the felled giant.


    Oydd approached the enormous corpse. "What did you do?" he asked suspiciously.


    "Just gave ''im the ole stabby stabs."


    The rudra hovered over the smoldering wreck then stooped to stare Ghajan in his remaining bloodshot eye.


    Mouseling! Oydd called harshly.


    "Did he have a stroke?" Jeshu asked, astounded. "That seems impossibly lucky."


    "Yes, it does," Oydd agreed. Mouseling!


    Cricket surveyed the battlefield then ran off to kill one of the last goblins. He noticed a group of lizardmen searching from room to room as the ratlings hid behind them.


    Meanwhile, Jeshu began to move among the dead looking for those he could still treat.


    In a short time the mouseling appeared, with the charred ettin totem in her mouth. She dropped it at the rudra''s feet. A tiny dagger penetrated one side of its head, and protruded from the back. The hot blade had singed the fur of the doll when it entered, and the melted hair stuck to the metal in clumps.


    The rudra paid the doll no heed. He scowled at the mouseling. "Bring me a scalpel and my orb."


    He wandered off to speak to Cricket.

 Fruition

    22


    Fruition


    "You''ve been up all night," Jeshu said.


    Oydd scribbled on a stretch of parchment without looking up. "We all have."


    "Yes, but I''m not exhausted. You clearly are."


    "What would you have me do?" Oydd snapped.


    "Sleep," the druid answered. "I can handle things here for a bit."


    Oydd leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Cricket, what''s your opinion?"


    Patches lay curled up on the insect''s lap and he pet her with two arms, scratching behind the ear with a third.


    He thought a moment. "Clearly this was meant to cripple us."


    "Yes," Oydd agreed absently. "But why?" Oydd massaged his own scalp with five spread fingers. "And before I forget, I warned you not to play with that new armor until I had a chance to examine it more closely."


    "It''s okay. It''s not dangerous."


    "It is. It''s incredibly dangerous. As the group''s expert on dark magic, I need you to understand that it''s incredibly dangerous."


    Cricket avoided his gaze.


    "Do you get that it''s incredibly dangerous, or do you not believe me?"


    "They didn''t just attack to hurt us," Patches whispered with her eyes closed. "Also to strengthen the leyline."


    "Yes, the leyline..." Oydd agreed sarcastically.


    "I think they''re interested in the Warrens, since we''re on a leyline," she repeated more confidently.


    Oydd sat and stared at the mouseling.


    "What is a leyline?" Cricket asked, but Oydd waved him silent.


    Jeshu whispered, "Places of magical significance. And¡ª"


    "No," Oydd said, annoyed. "It has to do with the way those places are connected." He stood and spread a blank parchment on the table, then dipped his quill in ink and began to draw. After a minute he looked up. "Leave me alone with the mouseling."


    Cricket sighed and placed Patches on the desk, where she blinked in shock.


    "Join me on the practice field?" the druid asked.


    "Sure," Cricket replied half-heartedly, and the two made their way across the commons.


    The smaller insectoids loaded bodies, foes and allies alike, onto wagons, and a steady train headed up toward the stables. Ghajan and the ogre, what was left of him, still lay where they had fallen, and Oydd gave orders not to disturb the ettin''s body.


    Cricket wandered to the edge of the training grounds then plopped down and stared at his own feet.


    A moment later a sack landed in front of him, making a metal clang and stirring up a cloud of dust.


    Cricket turned to see Bird glaring down. "Uh-oh..."


    Bird simply stared without comment, turning his head to peer with his one good eye over his purple beard.


    "Hey... Bird."


    "Ey, Bug..."


    "Did... you need something?"


    Bird stared silently again, allowing Cricket time to incriminate himself. Finally he said, "You ''ad ma drop erything."


    "Oh... did I?"


    "Then ya fergot ma."


    Cricket gulped.


    "Priority one, ya sed."


    "That doesn''t sound like something I''d say..."


    Bird spat in the dirt and walked away.


    With a long, awkward sigh, Cricket picked up the bag with the iron Khopeshes and looked around for Jesh.


    "What am I supposed to do with these?"


    "Did you really tell him to drop everything?"


    "Who knows..." Cricket said. "Look, a lot of... things were going on. Everyone was saying stuff..."


    The insect buried his head in his hands.


    After a minute he heard a metal staff clicking against the ground and looked up to see the rudra with Patches on his shoulder.


    "We need to talk."


    "What''s up?" Cricket scratched an antenna.


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    "The Right Hand hasn''t been defiling shrines randomly. Each of their targets lines up with a specific ancient site."


    "Okay." Cricket groaned.


    Oydd noticed the chagrined look on the insect''s face. "What''s wrong?"


    "Um... unrelated."


    Oydd stared at the bag of weapons at Cricket''s feet and smirked. "I mean that they all line up with a single site. Serinyes'' temple¡ªthe one that Shisu attacked¡ªwas placed in a position to specifically weaken Bale''s link to this plane."


    "Didn''t we already suspect that?" Jeshu asked. "Weakening Serinyes grants them Bale''s favor, which is why they''re so powerful."


    "It''s not just about Bale''s favor," Oydd said. He sat in the dirt next to the insect and spread his parchment open. Oydd had drawn a large circle with several points labeled on the circumference¡ªthe Warrens, a couple desecrated temples, along with other sites that had been targeted by the Right Hand. Even Azande''s temple lay on the circle.


    "Here," the rudra pointed to the middle, "Is Abris Ahmni. I would consider it an archeological site at this point. Thousands of years old and abandoned by the dhampiri. But before the Betrayal, Clerics of Serinyes used the site to summon Bale."


    "To summon him?" Cricket gasped. "I can''t picture the dhampiri¡ª"


    "Use your imagination," Oydd interjected dryly. "This was back when he, too, served the dark lady."


    Jeshu stared at the drawing. "So that''s one reason they''ve wanted to clear the Warrens. To make room for worshippers of Bale and... strengthen his connection to this plane?"


    "The Warrens is one of many... points of interest," Oydd replied, snapping up the parchment and rolling it in his hand. "In truth, the mouseling noticed the magical significance of this location before I did. But she is correct."


    "So what do we do? Are they strong enough to summon him?" Cricket asked.


    "They wouldn''t summon him, exactly, but an avatar¡ªa divine form to house him on this plane. And to answer your question, I don''t know. But this felt like a big, maybe even desperate move to me. I think it had the added weight of distracting us. Perhaps they plan something while we lick our wounds."


    "I don''t know what we can do," Jeshu responded to the rudra. "That point is beneath a common plaza. Any slave entering the area without explicit orders would be killed on sight."


    "That''s why I sent Pip," Patches chimed in.


    "Sent Pip?" Oydd asked.


    "Yes. My familiar."


    Oydd scowled. "Oh, yes... I forgot."


    Patches flinched at the tone, and whispered, "I can have him watch and see if anything¡ª"


    "Not now, Mouseling," Jeshu said absently. "Rudra, can I see that drawing again?"


    Patches looked to Oydd, then Jeshu, then finally to Cricket, but the three all seemed absorbed in what they were doing, so she decided not to say more.


    The mouseling retreated to her hole, where she curled up and rested her chin on a four-armed straw doll with antennae and a blue marble wedged in its chest. She closed her eyes and dozed off... until her familiar detected a motion in Abris Ahmni, deep under the dhampiri city. Just a stirring of shadows at first, but then a bright green light flashed and several figures appeared near Pip, passing beneath the ladybug.


    Patches stirred, and thought she saw Oydd in a dream. But his skin was too grey, almost undead-looking, and his tentacles stretched all the way to his knees. It took a moment before the mouseling realized she was not dreaming, but saw through her familiar''s eyes.


    The strange rudra looked taller than Oydd, the back of its head blackened as if burned, and more bulbous. One of the rudra''s arms appeared slightly larger than the other, and also possessed a black sheen, like burnt wood.


    A small child followed behind the rudra, sitting upon a formless grey spider. She wore a blindfold, stained with old blood. A fresh drop of red dripped from behind the cloth, down her chin, and absorbed into her long sandy hair.


    The rudra turned, staring almost straight at the familiar nestled on the ceiling.


    Patches squeaked, before calming herself, then closed her eyes and focused on the dim image. She thought she saw a look of intense sorrow on the rudra''s face. Something she had never seen in Oydd.


    The child spoke. "You miss her?"


    The rudra did not answer, but turned to look at the girl.


    "Remember, this is what she died for," the child continued.


    "Shisu," the mouseling whispered, remembering Cricket had talked about the strange human from the surface.


    Behind the child walked a grey, ghoulish monster, whose weblike skin dripped to the floor, and behind it stood two giants, slightly larger than the ettin with glowing green eyes.


    She noticed at least two other figures obscured behind the giants, but the mouseling watched the child¡ªtransfixed¡ªas her mount led her to the center of the room, where she saw three large, worn circles etched into the floor.


    The rudra assisted the child, trembling, from the spider, and she struggled to stand, leaning against his side.


    Shisu dropped to feel the stone, kneeling with her feet at her side, her worn gown sweeping streaks in the dust.


    "It is time," a deep voice croaked, and a gaunt trollblood pushed to the front of the group. The trollblood had sacrificed an arm to Bale at the elbow, but given his regenerative blood, two misshapen fingers had begun to grow from the stump, and he used them to grip a thin, twisted staff, rather than his good hand.


    The rudra helped Shisu back to her feet, and together they walked to the perimeter of the room.


    The trollblood walked along the inner circle of the floor on the toes of one foot¡ªhis other fat, deformed foot slapped against the stone each time he stepped.


    Slowly, a lavender light appeared in the center of the room. The mouseling and the ladybug did not always see colors the same, but Patches hoped this color was real. She gasped and stared into the center of the light in her mind''s eye. In the light of the summoning, she saw a black, four-armed monster on the far side of the room that she hadn''t noticed before. It looked away from the light, raising a clawed hand before its horned head.


    Slowly the mouseling heard the sounds of scraping, like metal against stone, as well as deep breathing, and the light faded, replaced by the form of a deity. Patches knew it had to be a god, because she had never seen anything so beautiful. It''s skin appeared as a translucent black with a bright purple aura within and about it. It hovered above the center of the room and it''s long, scaled tail dripped to the floor, curling and unfolding. Large bat-like wings spread from its muscled back, and wicked, razor-sharp claws hung from its long arms. Above its regal head, two curved, twisted horns rose nearly to the ceiling, with a faint purple glow. A hammer, forged of pure, brilliant lavender light, hung from his hip, radiating power.


    The demon flapped its black-scaled wings, stirring clouds of dust from the ground. The bones in his long, snake-like tongue crackled as he spoke. "I am Bale. You have done well, my servants." He looked over those in attendance and his eyes settled on Shisu. "Come forward, child."


    The rudra began to assist the small girl, but Bale raised a hand, and she seemed to gain some strength in her legs, walking the rest of the way on her own.


    Shisu knelt before the demon god, then spoke to her followers. "Bind him."


    The trollblood nodded and raised his staff. Chains of blackness burst from the shadows, wrapping around the deity. The god roared, rending the chains with his arms, and the room shook from the power of his voice.


    Shisu pulled the cloth from her face and stared upon him with empty sockets. She spoke a word that Patches didn''t understand and the deity''s form quivered, almost flickering like one of Jade''s shadows. The demon''s eyes glowed white, and a raspy breath escaped his mouth.


    More chains erupted from the shadows, wrapping around the demon as the room trembled, and the startled mouseling lost the connection with her familiar.


    Patches panted as if waking from a nightmare and looked about her hole, disoriented¨Cfeeling at once home and far away. She started for the commons to find the others, but winced, remembering the way they had ignored her. She paced the morgue, stopping now and then to rub her paws together for warmth, then returned to her hole and tried to sleep.

 Volume I Epilogue

    Epilogue


    Shisu disrobed and lay on a smooth granite slab. She flinched when her skin touched the cold stone, but soon relaxed.


    Her rudra-like servant reached down and loosened the cloth from her face, revealing eyeless sockets¡ªstill fresh and red. He placed a bowl with Bale''s gleaming lavender eyes on the stone slab next to her, along with a needle, a scalpel and other instruments.


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    "I have learned," the child said, "to see better without eyes than when I was whole. I am curious what the world will look like now."


    The servant smiled. "And you will find these eyes exceptional!"

 Volume II: Chapter 1 - Return to Normalcy

    1


    Return to Normalcy


    Thick white ash filled the air, stirred only by the heat, and covered the ground in a thin layer, like snow. Eyrgan pulled his mount to a stop near the edge of an expansive yellow lake. His raptor sniffed the fumes then screeched and backpedaled away from the shore. "What is this?" the dhampir asked, waving a white, taloned hand across the expanse.


    The commander''s men pulled up behind him, all silent, their dull black armor covered with the large white flakes and grimy soot.


    The commander repeated himself. "Slave, what is this?"


    Cricket brought his raptor to the edge of the lake, covered his eyes with one of his upper hands, and peered out across the troubled surface.


    "It''s acid, Master. I''ve been here before. It wasn''t... bubbling then."


    Dairdin, the second in command, a rather burly dhampir with a flat nose and short fangs, swerved his mount to face the insect, bringing its scaled snout uncomfortably close to Cricket''s feelers. He waited wordlessly, his halberd held vertical, and stared at the insectoid as if demanding more information, but Eyrgan continued on, and the larger dhampir relented, following his commander.


    Once the other raptor had moved away, Cricket''s mount hissed at its tail then shifted uncomfortably, adjusting its loose saddle. Cricket found his form ill-suited for the dhampir saddle, and kept both legs stiff in the stirrups, his knees locked, pinching the beast''s sides with his thighs. By now, watching how relaxed the dhampiri rode, he realized there were multiple errors with his technique, but he couldn''t quite get his legs to unflex. So his muscles grew sore, and his mount complained in every manner it could think of¡ªwhimpering, growling, and jerking him left and right in the saddle.


    Cricket was certain both he and his mount would appreciate if he tightened the leather straps, but he didn''t dare do so with his masters watching. After all, he had claimed some proficiency in riding.


    Cricket followed Dairdin, and when the ash picked up and whipped about obscuring his vision, his mount followed the larger raptor''s footprints in the ash until the flurry calmed.


    Cricket watched the tracks pensively. Although he liked patrols in principle, since Eyrgan''s men had occupied the Warrens, he hadn''t really seen any combat worth mentioning. He missed missions with Jeshu and Oydd, but both were now considered too valuable to risk their necks on the front lines.


    To make matters worse, Eyrgan wore Jade''s breastplate and khopeshes, though he had no capacity to activate them. It seemed he merely liked the color of the deep green stone, and the status that came with possessing a magical item. "The prestige," as Oydd had described it. Perhaps it helped distinguish him from his men, or perhaps he merely liked taking things from slaves, Cricket thought bitterly.


    Either way, it gave Cricket an excuse to use the ordinary iron khopeshes that Bird had crafted.


    Eyrgan circled half the lake before turning his mount and passing the others at a trot. "There''s nothing here. If there were any recent activity, we would see marks in the ash."


    Dairdin waved for the others to follow, and the group made their way from the fiery underworld back to the Trench, where the tired mounts grudgingly climbed back to the quiet streets of Al Tsiroth.


    The enormous cavern stretched as far as the eye could see in most directions. A cold water dripped from the stalactites nearly a mile above, which turned to mist by the time it reached the soiled patrol, gathering with the ash on their breastplates and dripping in muddy streams.


    Eyrgan removed his helmet, revealing his batlike ears. Streaks of black water dripped down his impassive, milk-white face.


    The commander watched the mist pool in the cracks of the cobblestone streets for a moment, clearly relieved to return home from Agoth, then led the riders back to the Warrens at a lazy gait.


    Long after the mounted dhampiri left the lake of acid, the boiling calmed and for a moment large flakes of ash drifted peacefully on the still surface. From a deep tunnel beneath the acid, a murky form stirred and darted to a hollow near the shore. The liquid swirled from the motion, pulling the white flakes below the surface where they turned instantly black.


    Slowly, an eyeless black head rose from the sulfurous liquid, and a clawed hand reached from the acid to rest on the shore, sinking in the crusted orange mud.


    The demon rose from the lake, dripping acid from its vestigial wings and its jagged, armored tail. Its scaly plates glistened a deep blue. The creature took a step from the shore into the newly fallen ash and turned to wait, it''s sweeping tail billowing white flakes into the air.


    After a short pause, another murky form darted from the tunnel, swimming gracefully to the surface, and then a third and a fourth.


    Soon a throng of demons crouched along the shore, drying quickly in the hot air. Finally, a demon about twice the size of the next largest emerged, and the others gathered around, clicking and chirping in their throats.


    The larger demon grunted then opened its maw and steam rose from his teeth as acid dropped onto its purple tongue. The demon let out a surprisingly shrill call, followed by a series of clicks and rasps. Then the horde turned to follow the raptor tracks of the dhampiri.


    *****


    Cricket passed several ranks of ubo guards, then left his mount at the stables, returned his weapons and breastplate to the armory, and reported to the training grounds.


    He passed several lizardmen awkwardly fiddling with pikes, and resisted the urge to correct them, joining, instead, a group of the smaller, brown insectoids for basic training.


    Though Zarias, the new dhampir combat instructor, allowed him a bit of leeway, Cricket wasted several hours a day practicing basic blocks and strikes, as well as rudimentary grabs and their counters. He did, however, learn one or two tricks of value. Zarias possessed a basic level of competence and stressed the importance of predicting an opponent''s likely responses to an attack, and then taking advantage of those responses. For example, anyone will lift up a foot to avoid having it stepped on, which puts them off balance for a takedown. Any combatant will prioritize protecting their eyes when threatened, even seasoned warriors, which can be exploited. At some level, Cricket had already been using these principles when he attacked with combinations. Most opponents only had two arms to block with. So if you attack at their head, they need to raise their guard, which leaves the stomach open. Usually, Cricket tried to plan three attacks before rushing an opponent, since even veterans could only block twice before having to recalibrate. Except Jade.


    Once the inexperienced recruits had spent long enough with the basics, Zarias always moved on to areas where Cricket struggled. And once they''d finished drills, the group paired off and sparred until Zarias tired, and then he''d force the slaves to continue while he walked about and gave pointers. While Cricket resented the dhampir, he couldn''t help but respond to the dhampir''s love for a fight. The instructor only deigned to spar with Cricket. And only while fighting Cricket did the cranky instructor break a smile. Still, the dhampir never allowed an even fight.


    "Only kicks today," he stated, staring at the insectoid as the two squared off.


    Cricket grumbled, but quickly tried to hide it.


    Zarias placed his hands behind his back and attacked, his long, black braid bouncing in the air as he lunged and dodged and spun about confronting Cricket from different angles.


    Kicking was the only area where Zarias could press the insect. The dhampir had mastered an array of kicks, while the insect struggled with two or three. Zarias spun with his back leg, swinging at rib height with his shin, but when Cricket dodged, he quickly retracted and hit him in the head with the same leg. He moved past the insect''s side, smashing the blade of his foot into Crickets belly then stomped at his toes. When Cricket lifted his foot from the ground, Zarias stomped on his hip instead, sending him flailing backward.


    Cricket used his four arms to block at first, but hated feeling like he had an advantage. He took a deep breath and placed his hands behind his back as well.


    Cricket leapt forward with a straight kick, but Zarias skipped away to dodge then skipped back in with a combination of three quick kicks.


    The dhampir came at Cricket''s head with a round kick, which the insect ducked, but Zarias stopped his foot in midair and caught Cricket on the way back with his heel as the insect rose.


    Zarias tried the combo again and Cricket ducked, this time preparing for the heel as it came back, but the dhampir shifted, lifting the foot above his head and instead brought his heel crashing down on the insect''s head.


    Eventually Cricket managed a somewhat petty offensive of repeatedly ramming his shins into his opponents thighs. When Zarias moved back, Cricket moved in with the same attack. The dhampir resorted to lifting his own shin to block, but could only take a couple hits from the sharp ridge of Cricket''s exoskeleton.


    Still, the assault took too much energy, and the insect tired first, leaving an open gash on the dhampir''s lower leg.


    Cricket gasped and fell to the ground, laying on his back with all four arms spread out wide.


    "Get up," Zarias commanded.


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    "Can''t," Cricket panted in response, then began a fit of coughing where he lay on the ground.


    Zarias groaned. Previously, he had yelled at the insect, forced extra pushups out of him, which proved too easy with four arms, and even threatened a lashing. Ultimately, the dhampir learned that when Cricket was done, he was done, and no force on earth could make him move until he''d caught his breath.


    The dhampir sneered and called for the other recruits to switch partners.


    After training, Cricket returned to the commons. He saw Jeshu on the way, but slaves were not permitted to talk while out on the grounds.


    Honestly, they would be forbidden from socializing in the barracks too if the dhampiri were willing to go there. Fortunately, they saw the sleeping quarters of the slaves as beneath them and refused to enter as a matter of status.


    Cricket jumped up onto his bunk¡ªa cubby carved into the rock¡ªand sighed, looking around for familiar faces. He preferred to sleep on the ground, but lately too many ratlings joined him there when he did. Oydd insisted he learn to sleep out of the way, and Cricket reluctantly complied. He plopped onto his back and groaned in pain. His throat burned from pushing himself to fight so long without air. He tasted iron in the back of his throat, almost like it bled. His legs burned from riding and from kicking.


    The room turned quiet and Cricket realized that Scorpion''s tail had stopped scraping his dagger against the rock wall. The ratling''s voice came from across the room.


    "New recruits coming tomorrow."


    Cricket rolled his head to the side. "Already. They haven''t even finished training the last ones."


    "I know. But they''re happy with a piss-poor job. Quantity over quality and all..."


    Cricket sighed again.


    Scorpion dangled his legs over the edge of his bunk. "I''m going stir crazy."


    "You''re not doing enough?" Cricket complained. "They''ve got me running around all day.


    "I''m lucky they didn''t put me down. Dhampiri don''t really take to cripples."


    "I actually put in a word for you," Cricket said. "Even with one arm, you fight better than any of the other ratlings here."


    A voice came from beneath the insect from a second ratling. "Thanks a lot, Bug."


    Scorpion absently placed his one hand over the stump of his missing arm.


    "Plus," the insect continued, "they want every hand they can get right now."


    "What''s going on?" Scorpion asked. "I don''t hear a lot."


    "Not much," Cricket answered. "Eyrgan expects another attack on the temples. But they''re all heavily guarded now. Oydd expects an attack from Agoth, and managed to convince the commander to patrol down there, but it''s a hot waste of time."


    "The dhampiri have actually mobilized?" Scorpion asked skeptically. "I thought they were too lazy."


    "Not that it will make any difference. It''s too late."


    "What do you mean?"


    The ratling under Cricket answered, "You haven''t heard? Something''s wrong with their clerics."


    "Like what?" Scorpion asked. "What do you mean?"


    "Something''s up with their goddess. She''s not answering them."


    Cricket nodded. "It''s true, but you could get executed for spreading the word," he warned.


    Scorpion''s tail started to drag a dagger again across the rocks. This time more anxiously. Cricket had learned to tell the difference.


    "It''s not just the clerics," Cricket added. "Sorcerers too. Serinyes isn''t giving her magic to her followers. She''s gone silent."


    "Like she''s mad at them?" Scorpion asked.


    "No... I think more like she''s too weak. I think something happened." Cricket lay silently for a moment. "I think Shisu... or the other cultists did... something."


    "Like what?"


    "Well, Patches said she saw them summon Bale. Oydd shut her up, but she just keeps saying it. I don''t know if she knows. But I think she can sense it. Like she had a dream or something."


    "I don''t buy it. Something''s not right with that one." Scorpion shuddered. "Besides, if they had really succeeded in summoning a god, we would know."


    "How? Some weird omen like Serinyes completely withdrawing her favor?"


    Scorpion snapped his mouth closed and considered the insect''s words.


    Cricket continued, "Oydd said they weren''t really summoning him, but just an avatar for him. Some divine body capable of holding his power... like a cup. Nothing earth-shattering. No seven days of darkness. No withering cattle."


    "What are you talking about?" Scorpion asked.


    "Dhampir scripture," Cricket said defensively.


    The ratling laughed. "Why do you know dhampir scripture?"


    "I wish I didn''t. Say what you want about being bored stuck down here. At least you don''t have to listen to them preach." Cricket sat up. "Is Eyrgan in his office?"


    "No, I think he retired for the night. Why?"


    "I''m going to slip down to the morgue and see Oydd." Cricket dropped from his bunk and yawned before stalking off toward the laboratory.


    "I''m coming too." Scorpion dropped noiselessly to the ground and followed.


    Despite the ratling''s assurances, Cricket peeked around the corner to confirm the office wasn''t in use before sneaking across the commons to the laboratory. The insect found the door locked and lifted a fist to knock, then thought better of it and focused on the rudra''s mind with his antennae.


    Oydd?


    Only a few seconds passed before the lock clicked and the door opened, seemingly of its own accord.


    Cricket entered the narrow tunnel and descended to the library with the ratling at his heels. Piles of opened books lay on the tables, along with beakers and flasks full of colorful, bubbling liquids, as well as dry ingredients such as bone powder, deathcaps and what the insect knew to be flakes of dried blood.


    I vial full of some greasy, black serum had spilled on the table and was left unattended long enough that it had congealed to a sticky paste that soaked into the wood and the cover of a leather-bound tome.


    "Come in," Oydd called, somewhat distracted. Cricket found the rudra bent over a lizardman cadaver, scalpel in hand, removing a plump, purple organ. White blood stained his apron. The rudra waved his free hand and the lizard''s dried skin peeled away, along with a layer of fat. The rudra peered into the cavity then carefully made an incision with his knife.


    He spoke without looking up. "Don''t touch anything."


    Cricket looked around the morgue at the various bodies. An eyeless demon lay on a back table, mid-dissection, its dark skin peeling away to reveal glistening, black bones. A plate of the demon''s natural armor lay on display on an adjoining table, along with several sketches and tissue samples.


    Skunk''s remains floated in the tank of amber liquid once reserved for the ogre. However, he looked different. The grafted lizardman and goblin limbs had fused, creating what looked like a single entity. At least on a surface level. All the skin had unified to a pale grey, and most of the non-fleshy tissue had begun to peel and float to the surface of the tank, making a slick layer of scales and rat fur and even fingernails.


    "I injected him with a mix of troll''s blood and changeling blood. Most of the necrotic tissue has regenerated, and the changeling blood prevents the limbs from the various hosts from rejecting each other... for the most part. It also prevents the tissue from rejecting the troll blood. However..." Oydd made another incision and fully removed the bloody organ at his fingertips. "The goblin liver is having trouble filtering the mixture. I believe this liver will be more up to the task."


    Cricket stared at the body of his old friend suspended in the tank.


    "He is showing some brain activity," Oydd continued. "Not magic! Purely chemistry."


    Cricket frowned. "Did you ever bring the ettin down here?"


    "No," Oydd lamented. "He wouldn''t even fit. But my only purpose with that corpse would have been to create a ghoul, and I couldn''t do that with only one head." Oydd placed the lizardman liver on a clean metal tray. "I believe that''s how you defeated him. One head was simply not enough to control such a massive body alone. And because of that he suffered a stroke, in spite of Bale''s favor."


    "I did that," Patches whispered from nearby, "with witch magic."


    "I''m tired of the dhampiri," Cricket stated, ignoring the mouseling.


    "In general?" Oydd asked.


    "Here... in the Warrens," Cricket replied.


    Scorpion nodded in agreement then bumped into a table, and knocked an empty tray from the top. He deftly caught it with his tail before it crashed to the floor."


    "I told you not to touch anything," Oydd breathed.


    Scorpion scowled at himself. "I''m... still a little off-balance."


    "I think the eye may be the culprit. It will affect your depth perception."


    Scorpion placed the tray back on the table with his tail.


    "Do you want to ditch?" Cricket asked suddenly.


    "Do you mean to leave our posts?" Oydd said.


    "Yeah... and just take off. Not forever. Just... for the night. A mission for old times'' sake."


    "Old times'' sake? It''s been a month. And now you want to... ditch slavery?" Oydd clarified.


    "Well... I haven''t really thought it out. But you must be going insane stuffed away down here."


    "If I had someone to bring me food and supplies..." Oydd pondered. "I think I could spend a year in this room."


    Cricket frowned, disappointed at the rudra''s response.


    "Don''t do anything foolish." Oydd set his scalpel down. "We have a guest coming in the morning, and I could arrange a mission without the dhampiri if you like. For... old times'' sake."


    "Who?" Cricket asked, picking up an empty flask and then hurriedly putting it back before Oydd noticed.


    "Licephus," the rudra answered. "He and I are heading into the city proper. We intend to investigate Abris Ahmni."


    "You can go there?"


    "With Lord Licephus, I can travel where I wish undeterred. And he needs me along for my expertise. If you like, I could arrange for you to come along."


    Cricket frowned. "I have patrol duty."


    "Again, if Lord Licephus orders it, the dhampiri will obey."


    Cricket thought for a moment. "Could we bring Jesh too? I hardly see him, except at night."


    "I don''t know if I could convince him. Healers are very rare now, and they are guarding him as an asset."


    "Yeah, that makes sense," Cricket replied, dejected.


    "Go get some sleep. I''ll send for you both in the morning."

 The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Bugs

    2


    The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Bugs


    Patches woke early. She poked her head from her hole but saw Gad standing uncomfortably close and retreated back inside. All the ghouls Oydd created with the troll''s blood breathed, which was unusual for the undead and seemed wrong¡ªalmost as if they were fighting to throw off the dark magic and come back to life. So Patches avoided them.


    The mouseling decided to entertain herself with the many objects already in her hole. When the dhampiri started their occupation of the Warrens, Patches was forced to abandon her workshop in the prison, moving all of her most valuable possessions back to her tiny burrow. After spending only one night in the cramped, overstuffed hole, the mouseling decided to expand, and spent the following weeks excavating. Each night she carried the dirt to a new location and deposited it in various places around the Warrens.


    When her tunnel was nearly three times its original size, the mouseling realized she didn''t have enough stuff to fill it. So she began to borrow items from the kitchen¡ªa bag of mushroom flour and a ladle¡ªas well as Oydd''s library where she found several dusty tomes with colorful bindings. But now she resented the stack of unread books for taking up too much room and the mouseling had no idea how to resolve the issue.


    Patches slipped past the problematic stack and ruffled through a pile of assorted items in the back of her burrow, including dozens of dry leaves from the surface, a bit of string she found in her magic sack, and the dhampiri jailor''s ring of keys. Near the bottom she found Oydd''s glass orb of invisibility. The rudra had spoken a word to suppress the magic field it generated, so now it sat doing nothing and looking more like a plain, giant marble.


    She wondered why she never saw him use it anymore.


    Patches lifted the orb in her hands and tried a few phrases to release its magic.


    "Aperta..." she whispered, then paused. Seeing no response, she whispered more assertively, "Aperi!"


    The glass orb did nothing.


    She thought hard on what words Oydd had used in the past. Once she almost asked him, but worried that if he knew she had it, the rudra would insist on retrieving the orb, which seemed unfair.


    "Release!" the mouseling placed both hands on the glass ball. She thought another moment. "Dimitr... dimmi... dimittis!" At the final word the orb sparked to life. Not the way it did when Oydd spoke the word however. It glowed orange and turned warm to the touch. Suddenly a crack appeared on the glass, and then another, and before the mouseling could react the orb shattered and her hands vanished.


    The mouseling squeaked and moved away from the pile of burnt, smoking glass, but her hands remained invisible. Patches panicked. She ran around her burrow squealing and sorting through her belongings for a treatment. First she tried a salve she had found in a dhampir noble''s nightstand¡ªunlocked!¡ªwhich meant it was communal. When it had no effect, she tried a healing potion she had borrowed from Jeshu while the dryad meditated. The potion tasted like flowers smelled, which the mouseling found oddly off-putting. After a few sips, the potion had no effect, so she downed the whole thing, which was more than a meal for a mouseling! When that had no effect, she took the sap that Jeshu had once used to treat Cricket''s shell and painted her paws black. Since she had not borrowed the cap to the container, the thick sap had nearly dried out, and felt gummy as it covered her fur. It also accented a place on her right paw that had been cut open by the glass. She placed a little extra sap there to stop the invisible bleeding, then raised her paws in front of her face for inspection.


    Patches knew her stained paws would still draw questions from Oydd, but in a less frustrated tone than invisible paws. The mouseling looked around the burrow for any other ideas and settled on retrieving the magic bag from her pouch to see if it had any ideas. The bag always presented her with the thing she needed most, whether it was a shiny rock, a nail, a worm or a warm muffin.


    Patches saw the velvet bag bulging and loosened the green ribbon excitedly. Inside she found a long strip of tan cloth, similar to the bandages Jeshu used to treat wounds. The mouseling squealed in delight and began to wrap the fabric around her paw. When she had gone through half of the cloth, she bit it off with her teeth and began to wrap her other paw. This time her hands happily passed inspection.


    "Come, Pip," Patches called to her familiar and the ladybug flew from the wall and landed on her shoulder, slowly tucking its wings back under its shiny red shell. A moment later, the mouseling emerged from her tunnel, darting behind the heavily breathing ghoul, and scurried to the commons.


    *****


    Cricket wrestled himself to the ground and slit his own throat with a sickle, then looked up to see three more Crickets coming. It was easy to win when he brought himself to the ground, because he didn''t always know how to grapple. But he couldn''t take down two of himself at once, which meant he would have to resort to weapons. Cricket preferred not to use weapons against himself because he knew how to use weapons, which meant it was a gamble on who would win.


    He circled the group of himself trying to line them up so only one could attack him at a time, then blocked and countered, striking the foremost Cricket in the neck with a sickle. Before he could retrieve the weapon, another Cricket lunged from the side and tackled him to the ground. It must have had the same plan, knowing Crickets don''t fight as well in close quarters.


    Cricket groaned and scrambled to take out his attacker just before the final Cricket stabbed him in the face.


    He woke up with a start. That still counts as three, the insect thought.


    What? Oydd''s irritated voice responded.


    Oh, sorry, I wasn''t trying to contact you. Just sleep telepathy.


    The rudra groaned and forcefully closed the link.


    Cricket sat up in his bunk and reviewed the fight in his head. Four was too many. He should just try to fight three of himself next time. If he''d only been fighting three, he would have won without also dying, which made it feel like a tie. He had only tied three of himself.


    Cricket cleaned his eyes and his antennae then dropped to the floor with a yawn. His muscles ached. All of them. He looked around as ratlings bustled about the barracks, then trudged toward the kitchen.


    He found the dryad, Zarachi, scrubbing pots.


    "Did I miss breakfast?"


    The old dryad looked up a bit annoyed. "You missed lunch."


    "No soup?" Cricket cried.


    "I would have saved you a little, if I''d known you were here. Figured you were out on patrol."


    "But there''s no soup?"


    "I''m sorry, I don''t have anything prepared. I had to feed new recruits today. A large group just left."


    "Do you have anything not prepared?" the insect asked desperately.


    The dryad lifted a pointy orange root from a pile on the counter, and let it dangle by the green leafy stem.


    "What is this monstrosity?" Cricket''s antenna twitched.


    "It''s a carrot. First crop of the season."


    Cricket stared, stunned and wide-eyed.


    "From the new garden, beneath the craters."


    "Since when do we have a garden there?"


    "Jeshu got permission to bring in some bulbs and seeds from the surface, since we have so many mouths to feed. He didn''t tell you?"


    "He... did not." Cricket accepted the dangling orange root with marked hesitation. He nibbled the carrot and grimaced. "Do we have anything that''s not from the surface? Like maybe something from the depths of hell?" The insect stared at his root in disgust.


    "I could fix it for you," a chipper voice joined from behind. A squat, grey-haired gnome, coming only to Cricket''s knees, reached out and grabbed the carrot. "What''s your favorite food?"


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "Maybe raw eel."


    "Raw?" the gnome scrunched up his face. "No, no, no¡­ I''ll make it cooked." He twinkled his fingers in front of the carrot and it began to turn as purple as an eel then darkened and stretched and squirmed. "And a little razzle-dazzle!" The gnome made a fist, popping all five fingers open and the eel began to steam and brown at the edges.


    The gnome handed the cooked eel to Cricket, still dangling from a leafy green stem. His bushy white eyebrows bounced over his proud, gleaming eyes.


    "Why''d you cook it? I told you they taste better raw," Cricket complained, despite his mouth watering.


    "I think they taste better cooked, with a bit of dill."


    Cricket bit happily into the eel then spit out a big orange chunk. "It still tastes like carrot!" He stuck out his tongue and wiped it clean with his lower arms.


    "Ah yea, it''s going to still taste like carrot. It''s just an illusion," the gnome bragged.


    "You couldn''t change the flavor? Maybe put a curse on me to make me think it tasted like eel?"


    "Well," the gnome thought. "I could have, but I can''t do both. This is better though. Appearance is the best thing to trick your mind!" The gnome tapped the side of his head. "I''m Braxter, but my friends call me Brax." He held out his grubby hand to shake.


    Cricket groaned and spat on the ground while the dryad cook protested. Finally he extended one of his spit-covered lower hands and the gnome grabbed it enthusiastically.


    "That''s kind of a long name. Can I call you Bax?"


    "You can," the gnome agreed happily. "I thought it was a bit long myself. This will save time. Bax..." he repeated. "Bax Tumbleweed, at your service."


    "You know," Cricket said. "The last gnome I knew was an illusionist too. That must be a popular profession in... gnome land?"


    "Don''t know," Bax said with a frown. "I lived among elves. Only ever met a few gnomes.  Unpleasant lot, and none of them were illusionists. Might just be a coincidence. Or..." the gnome added with a sparkle in his eye, "survivorship bias!"


    "What''s that mean?"


    "Maybe there aren''t many gnome illusionists, but illusionists are more likely to survive down here, so all the ones you meet are illusionists."


    "You think kind of like a rudra," Cricket said with a tone that made it unclear if it was a compliment or an insult. He took another bite of his carrot and forced it down. "Well, um... nice to meet you, but I''ve got to go."


    As Cricket made his way toward Oydd''s... no, Eyrgan''s office, the eel slowly reverted back into a carrot. Once it was wholly orange again, Cricket lost his appetite and tossed the half-eaten root aside, where a scrawny ratling quickly recovered it and scurried away holding it in both hands, nibbling loudly.


    Cricket found Eyrgan at his desk, writing by the light of a low candle. The dhampir claimed the extra light improved his penmanship. And to be fair, the commander had excellent penmanship. He made his capital letters into an artform!


    The commander looked up just long enough to see the insect then waved him off. "The patrol''s already left. Report to Oydd today."


    Cricket found the door to the laboratory open and made his way down to the morgue where Oydd worked furiously sewing the last stitches on Skunk''s bulging belly.


    "You''re late," the rudra scowled. "I told you to report in the morning."


    "No, you said you''d send for me."


    "Well, either way, you''re lucky Lord Licephus hasn''t arrived yet. We have about an hour, at which point I''m hoping the anesthesia will have run its course." Oydd scratched his chin beneath his face tentacles as he stared down at the still body.


    "He''s... ready?"


    "Yes. I suppose. He was walking around this morning. And he should heal quickly."


    "Is he... him?"


    Oydd looked up at the insect. "No... no... I''m afraid not. But maybe in time. He is not animated by black magic, though I did use a little magic to prevent him from rotting. And to preserve the brain. So he''s using the same brain, which means he should have access to Skunk''s memories... and the same personality. Only time will tell."


    Oydd suddenly scowled. "What was that business earlier? You contacted me telepathically."


    "Oh, accidentally, in my sleep."


    "How bothersome.¡± Oydd wiped his hands clean on his robes.  ¡°You said you were up to three?"


    "Yes, technically," Cricket beamed.


    "Three what?"


    "Three me. I can take three of me in a fight now."


    "Oh?" The rudra rolled his eyes. "And what, may I ask, is your evidence?"


    "I just did it." Cricket pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, back the way he''d come. "In a dream."


    "In a dream?" the rudra asked in annoyance. "That''s hardly impressive. I imagine I could take on thousands of you in a dream."


    "That is impressive though. Because when you''re dreaming, you don''t know it''s a dream, so you don''t think you can win. And that affects the dream. In a dream, you can only win if you think you can, and that takes confidence. I have the confidence to beat three Crickets at once."


    "But not the ability," Oydd stated coolly.


    "Well... who knows. But it''s a start. By the way, I met a gnome."


    "You don''t say?" Oydd said impatiently.


    "He was an illusionist, just like the last one. Isn''t that a cool coincidence?"


    "Oh," the rudra said sadly. "Braxter isn''t the only one. The settlement in the sixth sect also got a gnome illusionist. Though I don''t know if it''s the one you let go. What was his name?"


    "Griffith..." Cricket sighed.


    "Well, the dhampiri heard that he got away, and they''ve kept a lookout for an illusionist. You did more harm than good."


    "Oh!" Cricket''s antennae drooped. "That''s not a coincidence¡ªthat''s just irony..."


    "I tried to warn you. We need to remember our place. We''ve been... forced back into it," Oydd said, resigned.


    "That reminds me," Cricket said. "Jesh received word from Licephus, and they would like him to join us today."


    "Oh," the rudra said absently. "Does Eyrgan know?"


    "I can go and see."


    "Do that. I''ll meet you by the stables when Skunk awakens."


    Patches poked her head out of her hole and scampered onto Cricket''s shoulder.


    "Can you collect Jeshu from the infirmary?" the rudra mumbed.


    Cricket left Oydd to his work and started the climb to the infirmary. On the way, he noticed the cloth wrappings on Patches'' paws.


    "Did you get hurt?"


    "Hmm?" the mouseling said, then looked down at her bandaged paws and added nervously, "It''s cold."


    "It''s really not."


    Since Cricket had last seen the infirmary, the room had been expanded to allow for more patients. It also included a back room, where the druid hung various herbs to dry and ground the ingredients to make his potions. Cricket had only tried one once, and found them too watery and bitter. He did, surprisingly, want more, but the druid insisted on saving them for actual emergencies. The herbal mixture only had a mild magical effect, and really just sped up long recoveries, but the dryad beamed when he spoke of his craft and his progress.


    Cricket knocked on the wall to get Jeshu''s attention and the druid emerged from the back room, his hands stained green.


    "You''re a little late," the druid said. "It already hatched."


    Cricket beamed. "It did? What color is it?"


    Jeshu smiled and stepped into the back room.


    Cricket followed.


    The remains of the worm egg lay strewn about a small shelf recessed in the rock wall. Several lit candles surrounded the deflated bits of leathery shell. Cricket covered his eyes with his arm. Slowly, he adjusted to the light and saw the rock worm crawling on the ground. A two-foot-long, fat worm with six stubby legs that resembled a moth larva, though with much tougher-looking skin. Overlapping plates resembling red lava rock cascaded down the worm''s back.


    Despite looking somewhat like a pulsating bag of pus, Cricket suspected it could withstand a good stomping. Or at least a half-hearted stomping. He did pride himself on his stomping.


    "I''m trying to bond with it," Jesh reached a gnarled hand out to the worm and it inched slowly away from him. "I''m not sure if it has the instinct though."


    "Did you name it?"


    "I did," the dryad replied. "Orth."


    "Oh..." Cricket responded, a bit stunned. "Well... what''s done is done. Hi, Orth."


    The dryad lifted the larva and placed it on his shoulder. The bug stiffened and curled as if in shock.


    Jeshu sighed. "I''m sorry, I don''t have time to visit. I truly wish I did,"


    "Not here to visit," Cricket chirped authoritatively. "Oydd wants you to come with us to Amnis... Ahbro..."


    "Abris Ahmni?" the Druid corrected. "I have conflicting orders from commander Eyrgan."


    "Oydd said Lord Licephus requested you personally, so his order trumps whatever you''re doing. Priority one."


    "Really?" Jeshu sighed, with a resigned look toward his herbs. "Give me a few minutes to finish what I''m doing."


    "Sure thing," Cricket said. "Meet us at the stables within the hour. Just don''t be late. You don''t want him waiting on you."


    "Yes, of course." Jeshu returned to his work.


    While he waited for the others, Cricket headed to the armory. He remembered the mouseling on his shoulder and whispered, "Don''t tell Oydd..."


    Patches perked up. "Don''t tell Oydd what?"


    Cricket paused. "Nothing. Never mind."

 Abris Ahmni

    3


    Abris Ahmni


    Cricket sat cross-legged in the mud near the stables waiting for the others, while Patches nested on his shoulder, happily nibbling away at a small piece of carrot. When she finished she hopped onto Cricket''s lap and the insect began to pet her absently.


    The mouseling yawned and started to close her eyes, then jerked them open.


    "I was falling..."


    "No," Cricket whispered. "You''re safe, little buddy."


    The mouseling smiled and closed her eyes again, but her tail wagged anxiously. Eventually she opened her eyes with a sigh. "How do you get rid of things?"


    "What?"


    "Like... things."


    "Can you be more specific?"


    "If you don''t have room for things. How do you get rid of them? Things... don''t go away."


    "Well it depends. Some things do go away. Like food and people."


    "People don''t go away," the mouseling protested.


    "I think they do." Cricket''s smile slowly turned into a frown. "Actually, I think that''s a great example of something that goes away."


    "Food doesn''t go away. It just changes."


    "Okay... fair point. You''re saying that nothing ever goes away?"


    "No!" the mouseling huffed. "I mean when there isn''t room for something, what are you supposed to do with it?"


    "Oh... well. We had almost twenty casualties when the Warrens was attacked. And we couldn''t just leave all those bodies lying around..."


    Patches ears perked up.


    "So we¡ª"


    "We burned them," Patches finished.


    "Uh... yeah."


    The mouseling smiled then climbed up onto the insect''s shoulder again and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, and hopped to the ground, sprinting back toward the commons.


    Cricket stared after her until she disappeared into one of her little holes. "Um... you''re welcome?"


    The insect scratched his feelers. He grew bored without a friend to pet and wandered past the stables¡ªas far as unaccompanied slaves were allowed.


    He came upon two ubo wrangling a raptor into a stall. The diminutive, single-horned cyclopes didn''t even come to his shoulders, but each one weighed twice as much as the insect. Their bulk made them excellent beast handlers.


    Nearby sat two cages on wheels attached to the back of a wagon. The rear cage held a filthy vampire in rags. Blood stained his face and overgrown claws, and the crazed creature eyed the insect hungrily.


    Cricket addressed a nearby insectoid attendant. "What''s this?"


    The smaller insect clicked excitedly. "We found a feral one."


    "Feral? Like wild?"


    "It''s like an animal!" The insect tapped one of the bars tauntingly and the vampire rushed for him. The attendant yanked his arm back with a squeal and stepped away from the cage. "We found him in isolation. He went too long without blood, and it messed with his mind."


    "Can you give him some blood?" Cricket asked innocently.


    The insectoid attendant shook his head. "Well, yeah, but it wouldn''t help. It would just make him stronger. We have to put it down."


    The next cage sat empty, yet three iron chains secured the enclosure onto the cart. Cricket walked closer to inspect. Suddenly he tensed and took a step back just as a gnarled claw materialized and swiped at his face from behind the bars.


    A wiry, implike creature lashed at him from inside and gnashed its black teeth, staring with fierce yellow, slitted eyes. A single batlike wing rose from its back, the other having been severed at the base. Or perhaps torn off, given the jagged scar on its back.


    The creature climbed onto the bars in a desperate attempt to reach the insect, then opened wide its single wing and vanished again from sight.


    "Ey!" One of the ubo yelled at Cricket, and he waved awkwardly at the cyclops as he backed away from the wagon.


    The ubo continued to yell at him in its own language, which made it easy to ignore. Cricket started back downhill when he noticed Oydd and Jeshu coming up the path. The rockworm, Orth, lay on the druid''s shoulders, its fat tail drooping down his back, its six stubby legs clinging on to his barklike skin.


    Skunk trudged along next to the rudra, its knuckles scraping the ground¡ªits slick grey skin still dripping from its soak in the vat. For the first time, Cricket realized how much it had grown. Though bowed and warped, Oydd''s creation now stood nearly as tall as the five-foot rudra. At least a foot taller than Scorpion, who was the biggest ratling the insect knew.


    "What''s wrong?" Oydd asked.


    "Hmm... nothing." Cricket stared uneasily at his old friend.


    "Lord Licephus is just behind us. He''s having a word with Dairdin. Are you ready?"


    "Who, me or Jesh?"


    "I''m looking at you."


    "Oh... uh, yeah. I''m ready." Cricket rubbed his lower hands together. "But I haven''t been briefed."


    "You don''t need to know much. This is not a combat mission. But you are along to protect me, so the burden doesn''t fall on Lord Licephus. So stay within my sight."


    "All right." Cricket awkwardly scratched his neck and avoided looking at Skunk.


    "We will travel by foot to Al Tsiroth proper, since our Lord despises cave lizards. There we will descend to an ancient site below the city to take soil samples and look for other evidence of recent spellcasting."


    "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm."


    "Listen, Cricket. The most dangerous part of this mission... the part I''m most worried about is you talking while we''re in the city. Do not draw unnecessary attention to us. Once we are past the gates, do not speak unless spoken to, and do not address Lord Licephus without his title. If a dhampir speaks to you and you do not know his title, use ''sir'' or ''master''.  Am I clear?"


    "Geesh, yes. Did Jesh get this speech too?"


    "No," the rudra answered coldly.


    "I agree with Oydd, though," the dryad added. "Lord Licephus is vouching for us, but we must appear especially mild and deferential."


    "Like always," Cricket spat.


    "I know you''re joking," Oydd said, "but we are traveling to a sacred site."


    "Got it. But you''re not my boss. So each time you lecture me, I''m going to lecture you."


    "Very mature. Here comes Lord Licephus. Keep your thoughts to yourself."


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    "And you keep your hands to yourself," Cricket counseled. "Don''t go groping anyone without permission."


    Oydd scowled and almost responded, but bit his tongue in his beak.


    The vampire wore dark grey platemail, with ridges and spikes in the dhampir style. He carried Naraka''s adamantine cutlass strapped to his back, and held a sharp, spined helmet in his hand.


    Licephus bowed slightly to the group then addressed Oydd. "The dead are not allowed in the city." He gestured toward Skunk. "Actually, you''ll find it quite impossible to bring him within a certain range of Serinyes'' grand altar. Her clerics maintain a field that suppresses necrotic magic."


    "My Lord, this one is not dead, but obeys me none-the-less. I can return him to my lab if you please."


    The vampire studied the aberration then nodded. "Very well. If he can keep up with us, I see no problem." He turned to the druid. "The rudra says you can grant a boon of vitality to speed our travel?"


    "A grace, my lord. From the goddess Elkennah, if it is permitted."


    Licephus laughed. "No, I think not. Give it to the others."


    Jeshu knelt and whispered a prayer. A green glowing light appeared on his shield and spread beneath the feet of his companions. It slowly dimmed until it was gone.


    The druid rose and Licephus took off without another word.


    The ubo at the stable saluted as Licephus passed, and so did the raptor-mounted dhampiri. Cricket eyed the seemingly empty cage as they passed.


    After about an hour of travel, the great city Al Tsiroth appeared on the horizon and the vampire broke the silence.


    "We''ll be there in about four hours. We will make a quick examination and then return tonight."


    Cricket''s stomach rumbled. "We should have left earlier..."


    Oydd scowled at the insect. "I apologize for my comrade''s loose tongue, my lord."


    Cricket glared back. "And I apologize for my companion''s fat face."


    Licephus laughed without looking back. "You are both forgiven." He walked for a moment while Oydd gestured wildly behind his back, and Cricket stuck out his tongue at the rudra.


    "We left late because we wish to pass through the streets while the dhampiri sleep," the vampire continued. "That way, we will make less of a... commotion."


    "What kind of metal is your armor?" Cricket asked. The rudra tried to place a hand over Cricket''s mouth and the insect slapped it away. Frustrated, the rudra tried again, and Cricket slapped it away again.


    "Silver," Licephus answered.


    "That doesn''t... hurt you?"


    "It would," Licephus began, "if it were pure. But this silver was corrupted over hundreds of years by exposure to dark magic. It makes it heavier but extremely durable. And... most importantly, it no longer burns my skin."


    "Can you corrupt garlic too?" Cricket asked.


    "Garlic?"


    "Yeah... yes," Cricket corrected to sound more formal. "It''s a root from the surface."


    "I know what garlic is, but I don''t understand the question."


    "Could you put black magic in garlic, so it wouldn''t hurt you? Or maybe eat a little every day to build up a resistance?"


    "Ah, I think I understand. But I have no... aversion to garlic."


    "What about wolfsbane?"


    "That''s for werewolves," Oydd snapped.


    "Once upon a time," the vampire answered, "I did try to build up a tolerance to silver, but my efforts were fruitless. Silver dispels dark magic, so it only weakens me."


    "Any dark magic?" Cricket asked with a perplexed look at Oydd. "Like zombies?"


    "Yes. Like zombies."


    "Oydd! you said silver wouldn''t work on zombies!"


    "I didn''t want you to test it out," the rudra admitted in annoyance.


    "Well now I''m going to try wolfsbane on zombies too."


    "Wolfsbane only affects lycanthropes," Oydd replied.


    "So you say, but you''re a proven liar. I''m testing it on Gad, and then I''m testing it on Bird... supposing that won''t kill him?"


    "It will not..." Oydd hissed. "Werepanthers are not lycanthropes. It''s a misnomer. And you''re welcome to try it on Gad all you like."


    "Stop your squabbling, Rudra," the vampire roared.


    "I... ah¡ª" Oydd sputtered, his mouth agape.


    After a short silence, Jeshu said "I think he was joking."


    Oydd watched the vampire''s white locks sway on the back of his head as he walked. waiting expectantly for a confirmation. Finally he snapped his beak shut and stared off at the dwindling lights of Al Tsiroth.


    "Do you mind the conversation, my lord?" Jeshu asked.


    The vampire pondered for a moment. "It helps pass the time."


    "If you don''t mind my saying, you''re not like the dhampiri."


    "I''ll take that as a compliment," Licephus replied. "They are cold and cruel and blind."


    This response stunned Jeshu for a moment. "Then... why do you fight for them?"


    "Hmm..." the vampire sneered. "Perhaps to save them from their ways, if that''s not supremely arrogant. If there is still anything worth saving." After this, the vampire seemed so pensive that no one else dared speak, and they left him to his thoughts.


    After a few minutes, Licephus froze on the road, and continued, "I once lived among the elves. But if I tried that now, they would hunt me. Even if I fought to protect them, they would seek to extinguish my life. The elves see me as an affront to nature. The dhampiri, on the other hand, honor me with rank and status because of my power. It is superficial... but less shortsighted in my eyes."


    He started again down the trail. "On parts of the surface¡ªfar from here¡ªthey use the word dhampir to mean half vampire. As in, the spawn of a vampire and a living mortal. I don''t suppose that''s really possible. And yet, it paints the dhampiri as somehow less horrific than a vampire. More relatable. In the end, I have no love for those who hate me. It is that simple."


    When the group arrived at the gates of Al Tsiroth, two dhampir soldiers approached on raptors to meet Licephus. But he simply lifted his chin and flicked at a branding on his neck. The guards, seeing the mark, let him and his companions pass without a word.


    Cricket wanted to ask about the exchange, and got as far as opening his mouth. But the streets felt so deathly quiet that a chill went up his antennae. That, coupled with the rudra''s withering glare made the insect reassess the situation. He slowly closed his mouth and chose not to press his luck.


    The group only passed one lone dhampir on the far side of a wide street before coming to a second gate guarded by an unmounted dhampir noble. This time, the dhampir clearly expected Licephus. He saluted, by bringing the hilt of his dagger to his chest. The vestiges of a wing protruded from the noble''s forearm¡ªan elongated pinky that stretched past his elbow, connected with a white leathery membrane. The wing seemed not to impede his grip, and the dhampir''s eyes flashed dangerously as he surveyed the vampire''s companions.


    Cricket grinned and bowed slightly as he passed, attempting to look inconspicuous, then grimaced at himself as he walked away from the guard.


    Licephus entered a small, columned building with a drawn portcullis, and descended a long, winding staircase that led deep below the city. After several minutes of walking, the walls grew rough¡ªeven jagged at points¡ªand the stairs grew damp and slick.


    Just as it started to get too dark for even Cricket, the rudra spoke, "Lumen!" and a faint light appeared from the tip of his staff.


    When Licephus reached the bottom, he found the chamber covered in a thick layer of watery grey mud.


    "Undisturbed," He observed before stepping into the silt.


    "Which means no one has been here?" Oydd ventured.


    "No..." Licephus answered. "Let''s not assume that yet." The vampire wandered into the high-ceilinged chamber and spun around, studying the recesses of the room. He knelt and pressed his bare palm into the grey silt. "Do you feel that?"


    Oydd crinkled his brow and sniffed. "I can smell it."


    "What is that?" Cricket asked.


    "Charred stone," Oydd answered. "Like when you strike a flint to start a fire."


    "Yeah... that''s it." Cricket nodded.


    "What does that mean?" The druid walked to the center of the room. "Oh... I feel it."


    Licephus smiled. "And what do you feel, dryad?"


    Jeshu closed his eyes and thought. "Death... and anger."


    Licephus stood. "The charred scent is from a summoning circle. Surprising it''s so strong, even beneath all this sediment. But there is a terrible energy here."


    "What does that mean?" Cricket whispered.


    The vampire held a finger to his lip. "I don''t know." He stared up at the ceiling. "What... is this?"


    A ball of mud wiggled on the rock then dropped about a foot from the ceiling, where it hovered in mid air. The filth began to drip away, revealing a floating black sphere.


    The sphere wobbled as a large clump of mud dropped to the floor, then a small portal opened behind it, and the sphere drifted through. Instantly the portal closed.


    Three similar creatures began to stir and drop from the ceiling, only to hover in the air. Licephus slashed at one from several yards away, cutting the orb in half.  Deflated, the two halves plummeted to the ground, splashing writhing white guts on the cavern floor. Three portals appeared and the remaining two spheres retreated.


    The vampire held up a hand quickly and focused on the final portal, straining to keep it open. "I can''t hold it. Rudra, can you see what''s on the other side?"


    "I can hold it," Jeshu responded. He lifted his hand as well and the portal began to grow. "You can rest, lord."


    Licephus dropped his hand and the pained expression on his face relaxed.


    Jeshu began to hum. A deep, vibrating hum, and the portal responded, clearing and solidifying. Jeshu motioned with his second hand and the portal slowly lowered to ground level.


    The astonished vampire stepped to the brink of the dimensional gate and peered through as chilling winds whipped against his face.


    "I know this place, but it is deep in Agoth," Licephus spoke gravely. "Stay close to me."

 Adamantite

    4


    Adamantite


    "You''re going through?" Oydd asked, a hint of protest in his tone.


    Licephus placed the spired helm on his head, and loosed the adamantine Cutlass from his back. He rested a gauntleted hand against the surface of the portal and the image sparked and whirled. Then he stepped through.


    Oydd reached after him and sputtered.


    "I have to go last," the druid said. The rock worm crawled lazily around the back of his neck. "Once I step through, the gate will close."


    Oydd turned to Cricket. "Go ahead."


    "Oh, no! I''m watching to see if you melt first."


    "Hilarious." The rudra rolled his eyes. He knit his brow in thought and eventually settled on sending Skunk through next.


    The image in the magic circle wrapped around Skunk like water and the surface rippled. As it began to calm, Cricket saw the mutant''s distorted form on the far side standing next to the vampire.


    Cricket frowned. "You shouldn''t use him."


    The rudra stared at him, perplexed, as he hesitantly inched toward the portal.


    "I wouldn''t expect you to be afraid of magic," the insect stated, matter-of-factly.


    "When I am in control of the spell? Certainly not." The rudra placed a hand against the surface, as Licephus had done, then took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.


    Cricket ran and jumped in, coming through the far side a bit too fast, and nearly crashed into a wall.


    "Ah! Ow... ow... ow... It''s so hot! Cricket hopped around on one foot for a few seconds then switched to the other.


    "Calm down," the rudra scolded him. "It''s not that bad."


    Cricket turned to see the druid emerging from the portal. The magical door began to shrink and fade behind him. "Do you need a protective grace?" he offered the insect.


    "Um..." Cricket looked down at Oydd''s feet. The rudra''s soft leather boots looked thinner than his own carapace. "No... I''m good," Cricket said stiffly. He began to walk with slow, exaggerated steps, then turned and headed back the other way. "See... no problem."


    Jeshu held out a hand and touched the insect''s shell. The tips of his fingers glowed red and Cricket felt a warmth spread through his whole body.


    "No! Don''t make me hotter!"


    "Do your feet still hurt?"


    "Oh..." Cricket looked down and lifted a foot to inspect the bottom. "That... feels so much better. Thank you."


    "No problem," the druid replied.


    Cricket began to survey his surroundings. The group had crossed into a small dark cave. Behind him, the tunnel compressed to a width that only the mouseling could explore. Ahead, he saw a faint red light around the corner.


    "Where are we?" the insect asked.


    The vampire held up a hand to decree silence. He tilted his head, as if listening to a distant sound with his pointed ears. Licephus walked forward cautiously, and indicated a spot near the ceiling, where one of the mud-covered hovered silently.


    Licephus ignored it, rounding the corner, and the others followed. A second sphere drifted along the wall toward a set of iron bars. Once it reached them, the tiny bulb pressed against the bars and squeezed itself through with a sloshing sound, then clumsily floated away.


    "We are in a cell," the vampire answered at last. "This is going to be loud."


    The vampire gripped the heavy cutlass in both hands and swung. The adamantite sunk deep into the iron, making a groove across three of the bars. He leveraged the weapon free and swung again, lower, making another deep groove, as the distressed calls of deep goblins echoed from an unseen room in the distance.


    Licephus lifted his boot and stomped one of the bars free. The metal clattered to the stone floor and slid across the hallway, hitting into the far wall.


    Two goblin guards appeared from around the bend. One wielded a fine, black spear and armor that matched his horns, embellished with red paint that matched his skin. The second goblin readied a crossbow.


    Seeing the vampire, the spearman charged and stabbed through the bars.


    Licephus took a step back and swung his sword through the empty air, magically connecting with the goblin. However, the blow only bounced from its armor, knocking it back an inch.


    Licephus swung again, much harder. The blow connected solidly with the creature and knocked him from his feet, but again failed to penetrate the black metal.


    "What is this?" Licephus cursed.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Hit inside of his armor!" Cricket suggested.


    "Brilliant," the vampire chided. "Is that how you use your weapons? Just start from inside?"


    Cricket''s expression sunk at the biting remark. He reached into his bag for a shuriken, just as the rear goblin lifted his crossbow. Licephus raised his sword to cover the eye-slit in his helm.


    Cricket squealed and hid behind Oydd.


    Panicked, the rudra raised both arms before his eyes and the bolt fired. The bracer on his wrist flashed a dark green. The bolt swerved violently and stuck to the enchanted bracer like iron pulled to a magnet. The rudra shrieked, gasping, and tried to recover his breath.


    "Oh..." he said, in shock, staring at the magical green gem on his wrist. He whirled on the insect. "What was that!"


    "I, uh..."


    The rudra whacked him on the side of his head with his metal staff, bending one of Cricket''s antennae.


    "Ow!" The insect wailed. "It''s okay. You had your bracelet."


    "Bracer," Oydd corrected. "And I don''t think you remembered that!" The rudra lifted his staff to strike Cricket again, but the insect ran and hid behind Jeshu.


    "Is that your new strategy?" the infuriated rudra hissed. He circled around the druid and Cricket retreated into the back tunnel.


    The crossbowman pulled a cocking lever from his belt and began to set another bolt.


    The spearman stabbed again at Licephus, but he let the blow bounce from his armor, then caught the shaft with his hand and yanked.


    The goblin, fearing it might lose its weapon, held tight with both hands as the vampire pulled. One of its arms slipped into the cell, and its shoulder wedged between the bars.


    Licephus reached for its exposed throat, and the goblin finally dropped the spear and ran.


    The vampire tossed the spear aside and kicked a second bar free, just as the remaining goblin finished readying his crossbow.


    Seeing the vampire take cover again behind his broad weapon, the goblin aimed instead for Skunk. It fired, and the bolt bored into the mutant''s chest, clear to the nock. A bit of thick black blood dripped from the puncture. But Skunk only stared back impassively.


    Licephus stepped through the opening he had made and the remaining goblin ran as well. The vampire swung his blade through the air half-heartedly, cutting the creature in half, from its shoulder to the opposite hip.


    "Hurry!" Licephus shouted back into the cell. Cricket reappeared from the back tunnel with a prominent welt on his head, as well as several scrapes and scuffs on his forearm.


    The insect ducked through the opening in the bars, followed by the druid.


    Oydd appeared, seething, but exited before Skunk. Not being summoned, the mutant teetered silently until the others had made some distance, then haltingly emerged from the cell.


    Cricket nearly caught up with the last deep goblin, and drew a sickle, but the rudra''s voice called from behind him. "Leave this one whole."


    The insect hesitated, and the panicked goblin tried to duck into a side tunnel, but Jeshu reached out a hand, and the rock walls began to grow and seal ahead of it.


    The goblin hissed and turned to face the group as vines of rock spurted from the ground, wrapping around the hapless creature''s feet. By the time it noticed the sprouting rock, the vines held its feet firm. They slowly crept along the goblin''s chest, wrapping finally around its neck and over its head.


    Oydd approached the immobilized goblin and placed a hand on its face. The goblin gnashed and managed to grab the rudra''s wrist with one of its arms. It dug its claws deep into the rudra''s flesh, but the necromancer ignored it.


    "Aresce!" He spoke a word of magic, then added, "Die, whelp."


    The goblin resisted, but Oydd held its head firm as it squirmed. A thin line of blood trickled from its ears, and a rust-like film dripped from its tear ducts and nostrils. When the creature ceased its struggling, the rudra turned his palm up toward the ceiling, and stared intently into its black eyes. Slowly, they began to glow ¡ªnot green, but a black, withering light.


    "Release him," the rudra commanded, and the rock vines slowly receded, freeing the new ghoul.


    "Oh, he is pissed!" Cricket whispered to Jeshu.


    The rudra glared at him.


    "Use it Oydd," he said sheepishly. "Use your anger!"


    "Let me heal you." The druid reached out for the bump on Cricket''s head.


    "Can you? The shell is damaged."


    "Let me try." Jeshu closed his eyes and sighed with heavy concentration. Slowly the shell grew on the broken antenna, knitting roughly back together. After a minute the druid stopped. "It''s not perfect. But I think that''s all I can do."


    "Thanks, Jesh," Cricket responded quietly.


    Licephus studied the ghoul while Skunk returned to retrieve the goblin''s spear.


    At length, the vampire spoke. "It''s adamantite. The spear and the armor. How did deep goblins get ahold of adamantine armor?"


    "Raiding the dhampiri?" Cricket hazarded a guess.


    "And they found a set perfectly tailored to a deep goblin? With a helmet that fit its horns?"


    Cricket fell silent.


    The vampire held his own sword aloft. "And this came from Agoth as well. It makes no sense."


    "It means the Right Hand cultists have a forgemaster," Oydd replied.


    "A very skilled artificer," Licephus agreed.


    Seeing Cricket''s dumbfounded look, the rudra explained. "Not just a blacksmith, like Bird. But an exceptional blacksmith who practices the arcane arts... beyond my ability as well."


    "And he''s making invincible weapons?" Cricket asked.


    "Evidently," Licephus answered.


    Jeshu patted Orth absently and the worm cooed. "What sort of forge would that take?"


    "I don''t know," Oydd admitted, looking to the vampire.


    "Nor do I. But I believe the dhampiri would notice such an operation were it nearby. The heat alone from an adamantite forge would not go unnoticed, to say nothing for the incredible release of magical energy. Hence, the ties to Agoth."


    "They''re making weapons down here?" Jesh asked. "How many? You''re talking like it''s large scale."


    "Because they''ve armed a goblin," Oydd answered. "That seems a low priority. We should assume the leaders are armed to the teeth in adamantite."


    Licephus nodded in agreement. "It is troubling."


    "Well. Maybe the forge is nearby," Cricket ventured. "Let''s see how deep this hole goes."


    Licephus smiled. "Yes, let''s." The vampire peered through the thin gap where the druid had nearly sealed the tunnel closed. "Let''s leave this tunnel for later. If anyone is back there, we''ll assume they are trapped." Without a backward glance, he began down one of two remaining tunnels.

 Escape

    5


    Escape


    Cricket poked his head around the corner and saw a handful of goblins supervising an obese, shackled troll while it plowed into the far wall using a giant pickaxe. The ten-foot troll reacted poorly to the atmosphere of Agoth, growing a red rust-like layer over its green skin that cracked like dry mud and dripped in places with yellow, almost orangish pus. The usual, yellow, fetid fur only remained in small crops, though long, wispy strands drooped from its neck like an unkempt beard.


    As Cricket watched, the troll paused from its labor, only to be met by a prodding from its goblin taskmaster. The troll, tired of working, spun on the goblin and grabbed its entire head in its palm, lifting the squirming red creature several feet in the air, suffering a deep spear wound in the process. Two more goblins stepped in, prodding at its hips with their spears.


    The troll tossed the deep goblin twenty feet through the air, where it crashed into a wall and dropped lifeless to the floor. The troll grunted lazily in protest at the tiny stabs, then resigned itself to picking again at the wall.


    Cricket ducked back around the corner.


    "We''re lucky."


    "Why''s that?" Oydd asked.


    "It''s a mining operation. I don''t even think they heard the fight. Too much noise. I doubt we made any sounds that aren''t normal for this place."


    Licephus returned from an adjoining tunnel.


    "Nothing but powder kegs that way. A disturbing number though."


    "What do you think they''re up to?" Cricket asked.


    "Likely procuring materials to produce more adamantite," Oydd answered.


    "Maybe," Licephus replied. "I''m concerned about our proximity to the dhampiri. They are consistently working at an upward angle. Right now I''d place us roughly below Vestu Vestii."


    "Vestu Vestii?" Cricket groaned. "That name sounds so lame. Almost every dhampir city is named vest something. What does that translate to? Like, the vest of vests?"


    Oydd answered. "Vestu means church. But it does derive from vestments or holy garments."


    "In this case," the vampire added, "The church of the holy vestments."


    "But churches are called vests?" Cricket countered.


    Oydd grumbled, but didn''t outright deny the claim.


    "So the city is basically called the vest of vests."


    "Yes, but that sounds stupid," Oydd snapped.


    "My point exactly."


    Licephus peered around the corner. "I''ll take the troll. You three take the goblins. Insect, you''re on cleanup. Anyone tries to run away, they become your main target. Actually, start with the goblins furthest away, then work your way back."


    Cricket nodded and readied his khopeshes in his upper arms and his sickles in the lower.


    "Actually, if I may, Lord Licephus. I would like to handle the troll. I believe I can dominate his mind from here. If I fail, I imagine you can dispatch him quickly?"


    "Proceed," Licephus consented, a note of curiosity in his voice.


    Oydd smiled deviously. His eyes narrowed and the tentacles over his beak began to rise and whip about in the winds of magic. Cricket felt a terrible aura, as if... as if from the undead, he thought. He even looked about for some unseen menace, but found none.


    After only a few seconds, the troll roared and Cricket heard the sounds of a minor skirmish as the brute quickly overpowered the goblins.


    The insect rushed around the corner to find a single survivor of the troll''s rampage running away. Cricket took a few steps after it then hurled a sickle. The weapon spiraled through the air and the tip connected just off-center from the goblin''s neck, digging in deep and dropping the creature instantly.


    Cricket eyed the troll warily. The hulk suddenly stood still, but grimaced as if in pain. A black mist rose from its glazed eyes.


    "Don''t worry," Oydd''s voice reassured him from behind. "He is completely under control."


    Cricket took a couple steps toward the troll and looked up at its disproportionately large eyes. "How''d you do that?"


    "They''re big. But their minds are simple. Actually, their size makes it easier to overpower them."


    "Can you do that to anyone?"


    "I don''t even think I could do it to a goblin. Not the deep goblins. Their minds are stronger than they look. You, however," the rudra glared at the insect, "I could take easily."


    "But you will not," Licephus ordered coldly.


    The rudra took a deep breath and turned from Cricket. He waved a hand and the fat troll wandered ahead down the hallway.


    "Even that pickaxe is adamantite," the vampire observed. "But no armor on the goblins. Worthless minions, I presume."


    Cricket inspected the minecart. "What... is this? It''s not ore."


    "Phosphorous," Oydd answered. "A mineral that might be used to produce adamantite. I''m not sure. But I don''t believe they''re mining up to reach Al Tsiroth. It doesn''t seem consistent and might take years even if they''re left uninterrupted."


    "And they will not be left uninterrupted," Licephus swore.


    Cricket retrieved his sickle from the corpse with a slick popping sound, then wiped the blade clean on the goblin''s crimson skin.


    Licephus regarded him a moment. "You''re on point. Your shell nearly matches the wall. It is an ideal natural camouflage."


    "My shell is much shinier than the rock," Cricket protested.


    "Look again."


    Cricket looked down and saw that the yellow air of Agoth had already begun to gather on him, dulling his shell to a dusty matte. He groaned and moved ahead of the troll.


    The passage led to the third story of a vast, bustling mineshaft with numerous tunnels leading from each level. Dozens of goblins in the lower levels pushed carts full of phosphorous and other minerals as imp guards flew or perched above them on the second level. Cricket counted three more trolls and a heavily armored ogre taskmaster at the bottom.


    The general flow of traffic hinted at a single main tunnel.


    Licephus moved closer to the insect, but remained concealed in the tunnel.


    "Not a lot of action up here," Cricket whispered. "I think I see a floor above us, and it''s mostly dead too. But we don''t want to go down."


    "What''s down?" the vampire whispered in an oddly deep tone.


    "Too many goblins to fight. I''m guessing over a hundred. I can count at least half that from here."


    "And up? Do you see any tunnels that might lead out?"


    "I really can''t tell."


    Licephus motioned for Oydd and the rudra approached the crater.


    "Send the troll around the edge. Look down each connecting tunnel. See if you can find a way out. Also, look for ramps going up or down."


    Oydd nodded, and sent the troll out of the tunnel into the open chamber. Licephus signaled for the others to withdraw and the group found a small, quiet nook to conceal themselves.


    Oydd''s eyes rolled back into his head. "I just passed two goblins," the rudra said, speaking of the troll. "They didn''t find my presence odd, but may be heading this way."


    Licephus gestured for the group to press back against the wall. After a short wait, a grunt echoed down the hallway, followed by the soft footfall of their bare feet, amplified to a surprisingly loud volume by the narrow corridors.


    When the first poked its black horns around the bend, Licephus struck it with a downward slash from his cutlass, mutilating the small creature. Its friend half-squealed, half-hissed as it bolted away, but Oydd lifted his arm and the goblin levitated from the ground. It squirmed in the air and inhaled to scream, but the rudra tightened his outstretched hand into a fist, crushing its throat. He let it drop to the floor of the tunnel where it whimpered and crawled against the wall.


    Cricket quietly knelt over it and rammed a khopesh into the side of its head. The goblin twitched a few times and then lay still. The insect then began to move the bodies into the nook.


    "No exit this way," Oydd continued to narrate the troll''s movements. "I do see a ramp leading to a lower level, but there is more traffic here."


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    "Does anyone find your presence suspect?"


    Oydd shook his head. "The goblins don''t dare confront a troll. I''m avoiding anyone who appears to be in charge." Suddenly the rudra smiled. "I see an exit. It''s still some distance ahead of me. And there are a lot of goblins here. A few of them even have adamantine armor. I think they are guarding the exit to prevent deserters."


    "Are the guards the only reason it looks like an exit?" Licephus asked.


    "Beyond the guards, the tunnel opens into a cavern with pools of lava and stalagmites. It slopes gently upward."


    Licephus sighed. "I don''t like the prospect of attempting to run on open terrain."


    "What are your orders?" the rudra pressed.


    "We need some kind of diversion. How many trolls can you subjugate?"


    "I believe one is my limit. But I could send him down to fight while we run."


    "No, I want him with us."


    "I can still make ghouls," Oydd suggested.


    "Without losing the troll?"


    "Yes," the rudra nodded. "It uses a different part of my brain." Oydd summoned the ghoul jailor to his side. "I could raise at least three more."


    Licephus looked back down the tunnel. "Do it. We''ll send the ghouls down and start a commotion, then we''ll run for the exit.


    Oydd stepped back out into the tunnel and found Skunk devouring one of the corpses.


    "Dammit!" The rudra pulled the mutant off of the deep goblin. He had already torn a leg free and engorged himself on the limb, swallowing it whole. His jaw cracked as it unhinged and the mutant slowly forced the leg down his gullet like a snake.


    Oydd cursed in Rudric then bounded back down the tunnel looking for a more intact corpse.


    "Dryad," the vampire turned to Jesh. "How well can you control the rock? I need to know what sort of support you can offer."


    "I have never done as much as I''ve done today. Only nurtured the rock to grow slowly. I learned it from watching Orth."


    "But you can do it again? Maybe move the ramp, or hurl some boulders down?"


    Jeshu thought for a long time before answering. "Let''s assume I can do one of those. It tired me more than I expected."


    "Seal the tunnel behind us," Cricket suggested. "The ghouls start a ruckus, and then we run toward the exit and you close the tunnel behind us."


    "You''re not looking for a fight, bug?" Licephus asked surprised.


    Cricket''s face lit up. "Are we going to fight?"


    Licephus laughed. "If you had a tail, it would be wagging..."


    Cricket scrunched his face, clearly not understanding the reference.


    "No," the vampire said forcefully. "As little as possible. I think we''ll have more than enough fighting to do if we don''t dig up extra trouble." He turned again to the druid. "Seal the tunnel behind us, when I give the word. That sounds like the best play."


    When Oydd returned, Licephus started down the tunnel toward the immense crater without conferring with the others. Two more ghouls followed the rudra, though they appeared less hearty than the first, and one sported a clearly fractured arm.


    "Now," Licephus commanded, and the perplexed rudra sent the ghouls ahead. The undead deep goblins leapt from the edge, dropping onto the next floor down. The ghoul in adamantine armor landed on an imp, skewering it with his spear. The imp, looking little more than a scrawny, winged goblin, screeched in pain and soon drew the attention of the entire floor.


    Oydd winced at the high-pitched sound, and faltered as he ran, but the druid came to his side and offered him an arm.


    They''re here.


    Cricket looked at the rudra, who straightened and began to walk on his own. "Who''s here?"


    "What?" Oydd asked in irritation. I didn''t say anything.


    Licephus skirted the perimeter of the mineshaft and disappeared into a tunnel where he had seen the possessed troll enter earlier. Cricket ran to catch up with him, just as an armored imp flapped its wings, rising above the edge at his side.


    Cricket screamed and threw a sickle, catching it in the exposed gut. The imp swooped at him, thrusting its spear, but wobbled from its wound. Cricket stepped aside and brought a khopesh down on its head. The weapon failed to damage the adamantine helmet, but stunned the creature, and Cricket finished it off with a sickle to the throat. It toppled back over the edge with his sickle still hanging from its stomach.


    Cricket looked over the edge and whined. "My sickle."


    "You need to stop throwing them," Jesh counselled.


    "Or... I need to throw them more!"


    Jesh raised an eyebrow at the insect''s terrible logic and pulled him away from the edge. Cricket resisted long enough to lean over the edge and wave at the lost weapon. "Goodbye, friend." Jeshu pulled more forcefully, and the insect finally followed, chasing after the vampire.


    When the others caught up, Licephus whispered over his shoulder. "Which way next, rudra?"


    Oydd indicated a fork in the tunnel and Licephus proceeded at the head of the group.


    The din in the main chamber grew louder and Licephus pulled the group aside where they hid for a short time as deep goblins rushed from the tunnel ahead to reinforce their friends.


    When the tunnel quieted, Licephus emerged and signaled the dryad. "Seal this tunnel."


    Jeshu nodded and focused on the rock until he began to tremble. The rock grew, though not as quickly as the previous time. The walls came to within about a foot of each other, and Orth cooed in excitement. But then the druid gasped and lost control of the magic. He panted and stared through the opening¡ªstill too wide to stop a goblin.


    As he stared, a troll smashed into the opening, clogging the gap. Its saliva-drenched tusks scraped against the rock on each side and it roared, spraying spittle almost as far as the druid.


    "Come." Licephus grabbed Jeshu and pulled him.


    Skunk stayed and watched the troll. The brute chomped its jaw, as if attempting to bite him, then withdrew to stretch an arm through, grasping yards away from the mutant.


    Deep goblins began to squirm through the gap between its legs and Skunk lunged forward, swatting the first goblin''s head down into the rock.


    "This way!" Oydd pointed down another tunnel and the group followed. Cricket risked a glance back and noticed another tunnel that led back to the main shaft, though at the moment it remained empty as their pursuers clogged the sealed tunnel.


    As he ran, the insect replaced one of his sickles with a dagger, then tested the weapon in the air, and found it off-balance with his sickle. With little thought, Cricket tossed the sickle aside and drew a second dagger. The sickle clanged against the wall then landed at the rudra''s feet.


    "Watch it!"


    "Sorry!" the insect shouted as he ran.


    Cricket heard the sounds of battle ahead, and soon saw the subjugated troll battling a host of goblins with its eight-foot pickaxe. A pile of goblins lay at his feet, along with an assortment of limbs in his wake.


    Several goblins watched the fight with their back to the insect, and he took one out with a well-timed slash as he passed. Three others immediately gave chase, and Cricket ran around the spacious chamber, dropping the goblins one by one as they caught up to him.


    As Cricket neared the exit, a portal appeared. A door to another dimension, similar to the one they had slipped through to get here. However, this portal radiated power, and grew large enough for a troll to pass comfortably through.


    Cricket skidded to a stop. He stared up at the gate dumbfounded, as the enthralled troll tossed goblins about behind him.


    "Cricket!" Licephus warned, and the insect turned in time to block a spiked cudgel. He countered with two quick slashes of his daggers as his khopeshes held the club in place. The goblin slumped to the floor, spurting blood from its throat.


    Cricket surveyed to make sure he was safe for a moment, then looked back at the portal. It opened to what he assumed were the lower levels of the mine, based on the scenery. On the far side stood a rudra, much older and more imposing than Oydd, and a trollblood holding a staff.


    The edges of the portal faded, blending with the room, and soon the two stood before Cricket.


    The elder rudra waved a hand and Cricket found himself floating in the air. The insect threw a dagger but it bounced off of an invisible barrier. He threw a second with the same effect. But this time he heard the barrier crack. The rudra seemed flustered by this fact, and before it could act, Cricket pulled back a khopesh and lobbed it through the air. It whirled, handle-over-blade, three times before crashing through the weakened barrier. The hilt slammed into the rudra''s beak with a loud crack, then fell to the floor.


    With a hiss, the rudra covered his face with his free hand and Cricket dropped from his telekinetic hold.


    The trollblood laughed as a line of blood trickled out from below the rudra''s hand. The sleeve of the elder rudra''s robe slid down, revealing a black and shriveled limb from the elbow up. The skin appeared partially decomposed.


    Cricket started to charge, but the rudra pointed a thin, adamantine staff at the insect, and he began to float again. The insect drew back his last khopesh, to throw the weapon, when the rudra released a pulse through the air, and Cricket felt it numb his mind. His hand loosened and the khopesh clattered to the ground.


    In a daze, he studied his opponents as the sounds of battle quieted behind him. The rudra stood nearly a foot taller than Oydd. His skin appeared more grey, and his tentacles draped to his knees¡ªthough one of the four had long ago been severed near the top. The rudra''s cranium bulged in the back, as if stuffed with too much brain.


    The trollblood looked familiar, but perhaps only because the insect couldn''t tell them much apart. However, it possessed two striking differences from others of its kind. One arm, severed at the elbow, had a forearm from another being stitched onto it. The arm looked slightly too large for the trollblood. A translucent black shell covered the limb, filled with a flowing, humming violet energy. Cricket only noticed the humming as he stared into the teeming energy inside the shell. The arm''s five jagged claws curled around a gnarled staff.


    Secondly, the trollblood breathed through its mouth, its nostrils overgrown with sweaty polyps, and a long, snake-like tongue hung from its open mouth. The tongue resembled the arm, covered with translucent black scales, pulsating from within with a hungry violet glow. The tongue rolled and coiled like the tail of a serpent.


    Licephus cut down the last goblin and turned to the trollblood.


    The trollblood spoke a single word. "Kneel..." and its tongue darkened almost imperceptibly. Though it spoke softly, Cricket felt the power of the word penetrate him to the bone. The vampire, his sword drawn back to strike, stopped and knelt on the ground.


    Cricket felt an overwhelming urge to kneel himself, but could not because the rudra held him, floating in the air. The inability to follow the command nearly drove him mad. He felt pins and needles running up his legs. Cricket screamed.


    Oydd raised his hand toward the enemy rudra, but without so much as moving a muscle, the larger rudra tossed him backward across the room. Oydd levitated himself to slow his fall, and raised his hand again, only to be forced violently backward and pressed against the side wall of the chamber.


    Though the move seemed effortless, Cricket felt the rudra''s attention leave him for just a moment, and the insect let out a long, horrifying screech. The sound seemed to catch his opponent off guard. The rudra fell to one knee, struggling to hold Cricket and Oydd aloft. He lifted the hand from his bloody beak and aimed it toward the ensorcelled troll, then crumpled under the unending waves of sound.


    Cricket dropped to his feet, and heard Oydd crash down behind him. Still, his legs felt numb, and he used all his will to fight the urge to kneel.


    The trollblood, a look of absolute terror on his face, waved his staff and a portal opened up around him and his fallen companion. Cricket watched, helpless as the portal closed and the two were gone.


    He turned around and saw Jeshu at the back of the room, swatting goblins aside with his hammer. Skunk, with two spears protruding from his shoulder, and a long gash down his side, fought next to the druid.


    Before he knew what was going on, Oydd''s troll swung its pickaxe at Cricket''s head. He raised his khopesh to block, but the pick broke easily through his defense and connected with the insect''s face, knocking him backward.


    Dimly, he heard the vampire''s voice. "He released it from Oydd''s hold." Licephus swung his cutlass, tearing open the troll''s chest from a distance.


    Cricket stumbled and barely dodged another swing from the raging troll before collapsing to his hands and knees. A piece of black shell hung limply from his face and dropped to the floor. Cricket collapsed, trembling as the vampire cut down the troll. He lay there helpless as the druid and the vampire fought wave after wave of goblins.

 Bales Parts

    6


    Bale''s Parts


    "I''m dead," Cricket mourned softly. "He killed me."


    "He didn''t kill you," Jeshu shouted, blocking a thrust with his shield, then smashing his opponent with an overhead swing of his hammer. He took advantage of the lull in battle to kneel at the insect''s side.


    "He smashed my brains in. I''m killed. I''m all the way killed."


    "It mostly crushed your jaw. Don''t try to talk. You''ll only make it worse." The druid reached out and pushed a piece of hanging shell back into place, then retrieved another piece from the ground and placed it on Cricket''s cheek like a puzzle piece, maneuvering until the edges lined up. "Now hold still." Cricket took a deep breath as he felt the shell begin to mend. After a few seconds, he was able to move his head without fear of it falling apart or collapsing in on itself.


    "You''re going to have a scar," Jesh cautioned.


    Cricket reached up and touched his face gently. He felt a jagged ridge running down most of his face. Absently, he looked at Jeshu''s scar, now just a crag on the druid''s cheek.


    "Scar buddies?" The insect stared down at his hands. "We''re going to be scar buddies, but I won''t die."


    Jesh sighed in irritation. "No. You''re fit to walk. And you better, because I''m going to have to carry Oydd out of here." The druid went to retrieve the rudra.


    "Licephus, sir, will you carry me? I got hit awful bad."


    Licephus growled. "Get up! You should be thankful you''re alive. The goblins have withdrawn for now, but they may simply be organizing." The vampire headed for the exit.


    Cricket waved a few hands in front of his face to test his vision, then slowly made his way to his feet and dusted off his shell.


    "They have a rudra," he told Jeshu as the druid walked by with Oydd over one shoulder and Orth on the other.


    "I saw." Jesh grunted. "And he''s a necromancer, like Oydd."


    "How can you tell?"


    "I can tell," Jesh answered coldly and followed after the vampire.


    "Why''s everyone so mad?" Cricket took a lazy kick at the felled troll''s head then ran to catch up with the group.


    Licephus marched for nearly an hour uphill, past bubbling pools of lava, and through an expansive cooled magma vent.


    Cricket stayed by the bouncing rudra''s side, and when Oydd finally opened his eyes, the insect scrunched up his feelers sheepishly and stammered an apology.


    Oydd interrupted him, speaking weakly. "You did the right thing, Cricket."


    "Oh..." The insect smiled. "Are you okay?"


    Oydd nodded, then vomited over the druid''s shoulder. Jeshu stopped and lowered him to his feet.


    Oydd blushed. "Thank you, but I... I really detest being carried. It''s humiliating."


    Jeshu laughed and patted Orth on the head.


    "Come this way," the vampire signaled, steering the group from the main path. "I haven''t seen anything but an imp or two for some time. "If the goblins are following us, they are far behind."


    "What about the spellcasters?" Cricket asked.


    "If they wish to find us, there is nothing we can do."


    "I''m surprised that a half troll could know magic, seeing as full trolls are such brutes," Jesh said.


    The vampire cocked his head, thinking. "Perhaps the resiliency of their troll heritage allows them to more easily dabble in darkness without corrupting their minds. Still, I have not seen many half troll magic-users."


    "We fought one beneath Azandes'' cathedral," Cricket added cheerfully. "Oydd keeps it as a ghoul!"


    "Actually, I''m surprised half trolls exist at all," the druid continued. "Frankly, trolls are too large to reproduce with most races. I''ve never seen them on the surface."


    Licephus answered, "Trolls are fertile from infancy. As soon as they can walk, they begin to rape and pillage. Pregnancies on the surface are still rare. Few victims survive. And the elves, for one, execute those who do, as a mercy."


    Licephus found a hollow in the lava rock and sat on the ground.


    Cricket kicked a rock and paced by the opening while the others settled down.


    The vampire scowled and stared off in thought.


    Eventually, the insect dared to disturb him. "I don''t think I''ve seen you frustrated before."


    Licephus turned his scowl to face the insect, and Cricket flinched nervously.


    "I''m not usually so reckless," Licephus growled. "I was careless and foolish. I followed a creature through an unknown portal because I could, and that made me feel powerful."


    The vampire closed his eyes and began to meditate. "However, when I grow irritable, it usually means I need to feed. It has been too many days."


    "Can you feed here?"


    "I prefer to hunt on the surface, where the blood is red. If I can have a few hours of quiet, it will be best for all of us."


    "Aren''t you worried we''ll be hunted down?" Jesh asked.


    "As I said, it will be best for all of us." The vampire''s lip twitched as he repeated himself.


    Jeshu approached Cricket at the entrance of the cave. "Get some rest. You need it more than me."


    "That doesn''t sound fun. How about Rock, Paper, Scissors? Winner gets to keep watch."


    "Go lie down, friend. I can recover while I watch."


    Cricket hesitated, but entered the cave and lay down. A moment later he yawned and said, "I''m like scissors. You''re like paper, Jesh. Because you cover us. Oydd..." he thought too long, "will have to be rock. Since his magic can take things out from a distance."


    "Ridiculous!" Oydd hissed. "I''m obviously paper, since I study. Jeshu is rock because he''s tough... and," the rudra added, "he learned how to make rock grow."


    "Elkennah learned how," Jesh corrected. "I importuned her."


    Cricket slapped his tongue on the top of his mouth. "But everyone agrees I''m scissors, right?"


    "You''re obviously scissors," Oydd answered.


    "Because I beat paper, and you''re paper. But I think scissors should beat rock too..."


    Oydd countered, "Rather, I think ¡ª"


    "I asked for one thing..." the vampire seethed through clenched teeth, and the rudra snapped his beak shut.


    A moment later the insect''s breathing changed notably and he dozed off.


    *****


    Jeshu roughly shook Cricket''s shoulder, and the insect sputtered, cleaning the slobber from his feelers. "Wha... what?"


    "Sorry, you were chirping again."


    Cricket peered about the dark and located Licephus. The vampire still sat in the same spot, meditating. His facial expression had softened notably, however.


    "How long has it been?" the insect whispered.


    "More than a few hours. I need to meditate as well, to replenish my energy."


    "You mean your magic?" Cricket asked.


    "Yes, my... magic." Jesh yawned uncharacteristically.


    "Okay." Cricket stretched and sat up. He felt his jaw with one of his upper hands. The shell still felt slightly raised and jagged.


    "I had to heal that quickly," Jeshu stated. "It''s not perfect, but it''s mended, so I would have to rebreak it to set it more cleanly."


    "That''s fine," Cricket answered. "I''ll just wait until I molt. I need a new antenna too. The one Oydd bent is still a little off. I''m having trouble hearing. Until then, we''re scar friends."


    "It could be months before you molt."


    Cricket shrugged. "I''ve had worse." He stood and began to pace the entrance again. He drew his knives and khopeshes and began to practice combos in the air, every once in a while striking an invisible opponent with an elbow or a knee.


    Jeshu leaned back against the wall, in a position similar to the vampire, then set Orth on the ground and began to meditate. The rock worm seemed oddly energetic, Cricket thought, then remembered Agoth was its home. It likely preferred the heat down here, and maybe even the dusty air. The worm crawled over to a crumbly bit of red rock and began to chew noisily.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    After a while, the insect grew bored and climbed to a vantage point where he could see across the vast cavern. The landscape appeared oddly still in the direction of the mine. Further, he saw plumes of black smoke rising in the distance, with shadowy figures flapping about in the ash.


    He determined they must be enormous to be visible from such a great distance. Cricket lost track of time, quietly observing the hellscape. At length, the vampire appeared at his side.


    "We''re heading out," he said softly.


    Cricket looked down the incline and saw Oydd and Skunk emerging from the cavity in the rock. The gash in Skunk''s side had already mended, and his flesh showed no signs of the spears that had penetrated him¡ªno holes, not even scars.


    The mutant''s face no longer resembled a ratling. Not just because of the lack of fur, but¡ª because of the changeling blood¡ªeach part of its body began to gain characteristics of the others. The lizardman tail had turned leathery like a ratling tail. The goblin arm grew claws like a lizardman, and the ratling arm elongated until it was nearly as long as the goblin arm.


    His face, though, no longer even resembled Skunk. Its face, Cricket corrected himself. Its face currently stretched out a bit like a ratling, and down a bit like a goblin. But his eyes showed no hint of recognition. Intelligence, perhaps, but no personality. The mutant was not Skunk.


    As they began again the steady incline home, a hot, dry, yellow fog fell over the group with an almost oppressive weight.


    "I''ve been down this far before," Licephus said, "and we''re still nearly a day from the Trench, but I don''t intend to rest again until we are back in dhampir territory."


    "Another day uphill," Cricket groaned. "How far down are we? We must be halfway to hell."


    "If you are referring to Sheol as hell, then yes¡ªabout halfway."


    "Agoth is that deep?" The insect blurted in surprise.


    "It is. If we go much deeper, it is too hot for you or even me. But the infernals thrive there."


    Cricket''s hand twitched at an imaginary threat, and the vampire regarded him coolly.


    "You don''t want to fight an infernal."


    "I kind of do..." Cricket replied.


    "I mean that it would be unwise."


    "What are they like? I''ve never seen one."


    "Yes you have," Licephus answered. "We fought one together and you destroyed it with one of those..." he gestured at Cricket''s pack, "throwing stars. But that was a minor fiend. An infernal really refers to any being that lives in the extreme heat. Demons, and devils... black imps over ten feet tall, and nightmarish creatures big enough to suffocate them in tentacles or swallow them whole. Thankfully they don''t come up this far."


    Cricket looked back over his shoulder toward the black smoke, but could no longer see it through the dense smog.


    "My lord," Oydd started. "Do you know anything about the two we fought¡ªthe rudra... and the trollblood?"


    Licephus sighed. "Not really. But the trollblood''s arm and tongue disturb me greatly. They appeared divine in nature." He walked silently for a moment. "And I recognize them."


    "You recognize his tongue?" Cricket blurted, then switched to a whisper. "What does divine mean?"


    Oydd tried to relay the information telepathically, but the insect waved him off in frustration. "You''re all fuzzy. I can''t hear you clearly."


    "Oh?" Oydd asked in surprise.


    "You bent my antenna. What do you expect?"


    "Divine," Licephus answered, "means like the gods. Not from this realm. I use it to refer to a power usually beyond the means of mortals."


    "Think of it in levels," Jeshu added. "Mundane, then arcane, and then divine."


    "That doesn''t help."


    "Mundane means ordinary. Like rocks and swords. Arcane means magical. Imagine enchanted rings, and lightning spells. Divine would be a step above that. More than just magical." At this, Jeshu addressed the vampire. "Which means you suspect those parts come from an avatar."


    Licephus nodded gravely. "I know the hand of Bale. And even his tongue. I used to be his servant."


    "Isn''t that heresy?" Cricket asked.


    Licephus shook his head. "This was before the betrayal. Bale served Serinyes, and I was among her most zealous followers. At times she had need of me to work with Bale¡ªher personal armorer. He became known as the god of smiths and of fire. And often dwelt here, in Agoth, in a temporal form. I had suspected he was arming the Right Hand... that is, until I saw his... parts attached to the trollblood."


    "You''re certain?" Oydd asked.


    "I am."


    "That could explain why they sought to weaken Serinyes in order to summon Bale, rather than increase his worshippers. They needed him weak in order to overpower him."


    "I wouldn''t have thought it possible," Licephus said. "If an avatar is destroyed in this realm, the host usually returns to their home plane. Always, really. I''ve never heard of an exception. But that arm bustled with divine energy. And when he spoke I was forced to abide."


    "Patches knew it was possible. She saw them," Cricket stated offhandedly.


    "What do you mean?" the vampire asked, a dangerous tone to his voice.


    Oydd whacked Cricket on the back of the head. "She insists she saw something. Rather, that her familiar saw something. She has a pet beetle that she claims is a familiar."


    "Claims? I instructed her on how to bind a familiar. Do you question my teaching methods?"


    "Wha ¡ªno, my lord. I..." Oydd trailed off then recomposed himself. "You had her form a pact?"


    "I did. She was eager. Insistent, actually. I decided she would seek a pact with or without my assistance, and that she would fare better under my supervision. Do you question my judgment?"


    "No," Oydd stammered. "May I ask with whom?"


    "Akinaska. The king of the dead. Same as I."


    "What did she offer him in exchange?"


    "I don''t see how that is any of your concern. But I wouldn''t worry about it too much. He actually has a fondness for fragile creatures."


    Oydd''s eyes remained wide as he processed this information.


    "We could have avoided a lot of trouble had you reported this to me."


    "I''m sorry, lord."


    "What did she see exactly?"


    "I don''t know. I discounted it. She said they summoned a glowing demon."


    "Who is they?"


    "I don''t know. The Right Hand."


    Cricket jumped in, "She mentioned a rudra and a trollblood, but he only had one arm at the time. Oh, and Shisu and that thing that followed her around."


    "Aberron." Oydd added, in an attempt to be useful.


    "Yes. And the Prophet was there too."


    "Who is the Prophet?" the vampire asked.


    "Oh... um, a black demon with four arms like me. I haven''t seen it in real life, but the Oracle showed it to me. Patches described it, and I''m certain it was there."


    Licephus scowled at the rudra. "When we return, I will need to speak at length with the mouseling. If they summoned Bale, he would not come without his forge hammer. Retrieving it is our first priority now."


    After a while, the yellow vapors began to clear, and Cricket saw a lone rheumakin hermit, with all his trappings dangling from his tortoise shell, trudging along a dune of black sand some distance away. Other than that, the trek proved uneventful. At one point, they came upon some old goblin tracks, but Licephus simply adjusted course to avoid any potential confrontation.


    By the time Cricket recognized the terrain, they were only a few minutes away from the Trench. Licephus began the long climb up the main ramp to the caverns of Al Tsiroth then froze and knelt to inspect the ground.


    The others, even Cricket, waited patiently until the vampire rose again.


    He looked to Oydd. "What do you make of these?"


    Cricket, his gaze more skyward, had not noticed the obvious tracks.


    Oydd gave a dour expression. "I know those prints. They are the same as Naraka''s. I have his corpse in my laboratory."


    "But hundreds of them?"


    "No," Cricket answered. "Not that many. Sixty... maybe eighty at most. But these are over a day old."


    The vampire dashed up the ramp. The mutant, sensing some excitement, bounded after the vampire on all fours. Cricket tried to match the vampire''s pace but fell behind and soon grew winded. He walked a bit to catch his breath then took the hill at a light jog, falling further and further behind Licephus.


    By the time he reached the main cavern, the vampire was nowhere in sight. Cricket plopped to the ground wheezing, and waited for the others to catch up. He felt dizzy and leaned back onto his lower elbows, spreading his upper arms to the side to help support his weight.


    Jeshu arrived before the rudra. "Where is Licephus?"


    "I don''t know."


    "He''s wearing heavy armor. You can track him."


    Cricket waved him off, still gasping. "Give me a minute. Why are you so grumpy today?"


    Jeshu studied the tracks himself until the rudra arrived. "I don''t know where they went. I see tracks going in three directions that look like demons."


    "Cricket!" Oydd snapped and the insect huffed one last loud breath before he stood.  Cricket stumbled about grumbling as he inspected the tracks on the ground. "They went everywhere but west, toward Al Tsiroth."


    "Where did most of them go?" Oydd asked impatiently.


    "South... southeast? Licephus too."


    "Sounds like they''re avoiding patrols," Jesh observed.


    "There are a lot going this way." Cricket pointed south again.


    "Toward the Warrens?" the druid asked.


    Cricket shook his head. "I don''t know. There are a few main roads this way."


    "Well, regardless, we should follow Licephus."


    Oydd nodded in agreement. "Insect."


    Cricket stiffened at the tone.


    "What was that you mentioned about a Prophet?"


    "Oh... yeah. I learned about him at the Oracle."


    "What did you ask it?"


    "Umm... it offered to answer any question or to tell me what would help me the most. I figured it did the same for you."


    "And?"


    "And I really wanted to ask how many snakes were in the Warrens. Because I never really see them. But I know they''re there..."


    "Get on with it. What did you ask?"


    "Well, I heard your voice in the back of my head saying, ''why choose a question that might not be helpful, when she offered to tell you the answer to the best question.'' So I chose that. I figured worst case, it would be the number of snakes anyway."


    "Skipping past the part where you think the Oracle is female. What did it tell you?"


    "Oh, it showed me. I was standing on the surface, I think, but the sun was blotted out by smoke and I saw a demon. She was a little bigger than me, with four arms. Big claws... Oh, and horns and a tail. Kind of implike, but it had a black shell."


    "Did she actually say the demon was female, or are you just guessing again?" Oydd asked in irritation.


    "Oh, yeah, I don''t know. Just a generally attractive demon, so I assumed female. But my shell is shinier," he added as an afterthought.


    "What else?"


    "She, that is, the Oracle, said not to fight the Prophet or we would lose. But she worded it in a weird way."


    "Try to remember her exact words," Oydd pressed.


    Cricket shook his head. "I don''t remember. Sorry."


    The rudra huffed in disappointment. "Is that all?"


    "Yes." Cricket thought hard. "No! You were there. But I only saw the image for an instant, and then I was back. I assumed she told you about the prophet too. Did you pick to know the most important thing, or did you ask some other question?"


    Oydd flushed, then snapped "It doesn''t matter." Afterward, he avoided eye contact.


    Jeshu raised an arm to call for silence. "Be on alert," he warned. "We are close enough to the Warrens that I would normally sense... more energy. Right now, it feels more like death."

 Illusions

    7


    Illusions


    Bax Tumbleweed poked at the demon''s corpse with a stick. He lifted the eyeless head and then let it roll back to where it lay in the mud.


    "Do these things have a pulse or something? This one still looks like it''s about to jump up."


    Scorpion knelt down and placed the back of his paw on its throat. "Shit, I don''t know. They don''t have a pulse when they''re dead, but I''m not going to check a live one."


    "Pfft!" Bax pressed his lips together and blew. An annoying habit he had when he was thinking. "Are we almost back? I don''t know these roads yet."


    "Another mile." Scorpion sheathed his dagger and scurried atop a small crop of rock. He looked south earnestly and then quickly north. "Damn!" He dropped over the side of the mound, skidding to a stop next to the gnome and pulled him off the road.


    "Someone is coming from the north. A small group. Wait here."


    With that he climbed back to the top of the mound at running speed, keeping his head lower than the first time. After a minute he whispered back. "Not demons... it''s Cricket."


    "Heh, I''ll show him." Bax rolled back his sleeves and began to wave his stick in the air like a wand.


    "No. Cricket''s on our side.


    "Hmm? Oh..." the gnome frowned. His bushy brows drooped low, half-covering his eyes. He stuck the end of his stick in the mud and placed both stubby hands atop, waiting patiently.


    "Where''d you get that anyway?" Scorpion still whispered.


    "What?"


    "That stick. Aren''t any sticks down here."


    "Oh, I didn''t really. I just made it up."


    Scorpion''s lip curled in confusion, revealing his tiny yellow teeth.


    The gnome noted his bewilderment and clarified, "It''s an illusion."


    Scorpion scratched his snout. "I saw you use it to poke the demon, to see if he was dead."


    "Also a deception. I made you think I poked it."


    "Why?" Scorpion blurted. "Wasn''t the whole point to see if it was dead."


    "Well, I couldn''t very well do that without a stick, could I?"


    The ratling growled and dropped the conversation. A moment later he waved from the top of the rock toward Cricket and the others, signaling for them to move off the road."


    Seeing the ratling''s signal the insect pulled the others aside, and rounded the crop of rock from the rear.


    Cricket waved excitedly when he approached, then grimaced. He whispered, "We''re just getting back from a mission. We''ve been gone a couple days. Do you know what''s going on?"


    "We''re just on our way back as well," Scorpion answered.


    "You haven''t been to the Warrens? We''re worried it''s been attacked."


    "Well, I haven''t. But I can assure you it''s been attacked."


    "Is it just the two of you?" Jesh asked.


    "Only the two of us now," the gnome answered sadly. "Used to be four of us."


    "That''s not true," Scorpion snapped. "Ty''lek is scouting up ahead."


    "Right, I meant just the two of us at present."


    "Well, that''s not what it sounded like. And there were never four of us."


    The gnome huffed indignantly, then stated, staring at Cricket, "I made an illusory lizardman, and he followed us for most of the trip for company."


    "An illusion only you could see. That''s called a hallucination."


    "I can''t very well be expected to know what everyone else can see! Once I could see him, I thought I''d done a good job. No use pouring extra energy into a spell that''s doing its job!"


    Scorpion and the gnome glared at each other for a moment, and then the gnome extended his hand to the druid. "Barden Thistlewort, at your service. Friends call me Bard."


    "That''s not what you told me your name was," Cricket said.


    "Hmm? What did I say?"


    "I don''t remember. But it wasn''t Barden."


    "He told me his name was Bradley," Scorpion added.


    "Well," the gnome replied with a huff, stroking his beard. "It''s not Bradley." He glared at the ratling again, a bit offended. "But maybe it''s not Barden either. But that sounds close, doesn¡¯t it?"


    Ty''lek appeared in the shadows from the south. When he saw Cricket and Oydd he smiled, curling the back of his beak, and sprinted the last few yards.


    The azaeri signaled something to the ratling, then realized his gestures were not enough, and struggled to explain in common.


    "Et... etten."


    "Eight," Scorpion asked and the archer shook his head. "Eighteen?"


    Ty''lek nodded.


    "Eighteen at the Warrens?"


    Ty''lek nodded again and the ratling growled. "We can''t take eighteen."


    The azaeri made a quick hand gesture, pointing back behind him. The ratling translated. "At least eighteen."


    "Let me read his mind," Oydd suggested and reached out telepathically, but the azaeri squinched his eyes and forced him out.


    Scorpion laughed. "He doesn''t want you to read his mind."


    "Well why not?" Oydd asked irately.


    "You never have before," Cricket pointed out. "I think he''s worried how his voice will sound."


    "Well it''s not going to be worse than those chirps and clicks."


    Ty''lek scowled at the rudra and eventually Oydd relented. "Fine. Was there anything else to report?"


    "Eyrgan," Ty''lek pronounced cleanly, then held a talon to his throat and dragged it across the skin.


    "And his men?" Oydd asked.


    Ty''lek shook his head gravely.


    Oydd looked to Cricket. "That''s at least forty dhampiri. More depending on how many were out on patrol.


    "I don''t sense any life," Jeshu added.


    "Well there are plenty of those demons running around," Scorpion spat.


    "I only mean that I can''t sense them. Our own I would be able to feel. If any are alive, it is faint."


    "Have you seen the mouseling?" Oydd demanded.


    Scorpion shook his head. "I''m sorry. I haven''t seen anyone since I got back. Didn''t much pay attention who was out when I left."


    "Don''t worry. She is not so easy to catch,¡± Jeshu assured the rudra. ¡°And she has tunnels all over the Warrens to hide in."


    This did little to calm Oydd. He clenched his beak tight and one of his tentacles twitched.


    "So we''re going in?" Cricket replied.


    "What?" Oydd snapped. "What conversation were you listening to?"


    "Oh... okay, I wasn''t listening to you guys much. I was thinking about Jade''s weapons. Eyrgan was always wearing them. So it seems like a priority to retrieve them."


    "Well, it''s not worth it if it gets us all killed.


    "I think it''s worth it if it gets us all killed."


    Oydd sighed. "I sincerely hope you worded that wrong."


    Cricket stroked his feelers. "I think it''s worth a shot, and we should try not to get killed?"


    "We need to find the mouseling," Jeshu joined. "I''m willing to take some risks to see if she''s safe."


    "We''ll do reconnaissance!" Barden interjected. "I''ll send an illusion in."


    "You can see through the eyes of your illusions?" Oydd asked, impressed.


    "Not a bit!" the gnome replied.


    "Then how would that help us?" Jeshu asked politely.


    "It''s decided then." Barden cracked his knuckles and raised his illusory stick.


    "Hold on a moment," Jesh said. "Can you make Skunk look like one of those demons? Oydd, are you able to see through Skunk''s eyes?"


    "Not as well as a ghoul, but I''m improving. We would need to get a little closer."


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "But it is settled, right?" the gnome asked.


    "No, it is not." Oydd answered.


    "I make Skunk," the gnome pointed at Cricket, "look like one of these folk." He pointed at the dead demon.


    "No..." the druid shook his head. "But are you able to?"


    "I already did!"


    Oydd looked Cricket over from head to toe and sighed. "I don''t have time to deal with a mad gnome. We''ll need another plan."


    "Hmm..." Bard sulked. "I can infer by your tone that he doesn''t look like a demon yet, but let me just pour in a little more magic."


    "Wait," Jeshu said. "Not Cricket. We want you to disguise this one." The druid pointed at the mutant.


    Midspell the gnome turned and began waving his stick at Skunk. "Say when?"


    "What do you mean say when?" Oydd asked, exasperated.


    "He already looks like a demon to me. Just let me know when he does to everyone else."


    Oydd grumbled, but then before his eyes, black plates began to form on Skunk''s skin, down his back and along his tail. His eyes darkened and melted into his face, and soon the mutant nearly resembled one of the demons.


    Oydd stammered, "That''s remarkable! You forgot the wings though."


    Slowly tiny wings sprouted from the demon''s back.


    Oydd''s tone changed to one of curiosity. "Why do you do it in steps like that?"


    "If I try to change it all at once, your eyes won''t believe it. It''s best in steps."


    "But anyone arriving just now, would they see Skunk or a demon?"


    Cricket groaned in discomfort. "Don''t call it that..."


    "Don''t call it what?" Oydd asked.


    "Don''t call it Skunk."


    The rudra stared at him in confusion for a moment, then turned back to Barden. "Will this spell stay with him? How long will it last?"


    "He should look like this to just about anyone. Assuming you see what I see. As for duration..." the gnome stroked his sandy beard again, "perhaps a day."


    "Well excellent," Oydd clapped his hands and stood before the mutant. "Skunk, you understand? We need you to scout around inside the Warrens without drawing much attention."


    Skunk made no sign of acknowledgment.


    "Check my laboratory, and then the barracks. If we lose contact, return here and report."


    This time the mutant lowered his head and let out a long deliberate moan.


    "What about his scent?" Jeshu asked.


    "I don''t think they hunt by smell," Oydd said. "But will he sound like a demon?"


    "Not much of a wolf if it sounds like a squirrel!" the gnome sang. Then, seeing the bewildered looks of his companions, he added, "Something Pappy used to say. One of the first things you learn in this craft is to mimic sounds. It will sound how it looks. Perhaps as accurately as it looks. Sound is a specialty of mine. Not to brag too humbly."


    The group began the short trek southward, keeping to the rocks and gullies for cover. When the Warrens came within view, Cricket found a suitable spot to conceal the party and then Oydd sent the mutant out alone. He took off on all fours, but then slowed as he neared the stables.


    "The stables are in ruins,¡± Oydd reported. ¡°I see three dead kor hounds."


    "We only had three," Cricket replied sadly, having a fondness for the squat lizards.


    "I don''t see any dead raptors. But that could just mean they ran."


    "Yeah," Cricket said. "The kor hounds weren''t surprisingly good at their job. They just got excited when they saw strangers and wanted to play. You could get them a little fierce if you starved them, but then they''d get lazy."


    Oydd groaned softly. "It is... a scene of carnage. The attendants must have been working when the demons attacked. I see dead ubo, insectoids, and goblins. Dozens of goblins."


    "Where are you?" Cricket asked.


    "Just past the stables. He''s moving slowly. I don''t want to draw attention."


    Cricket poked his head above the crop of rock and the gnome followed.


    From a distance, Cricket made out several large, black forms hulking about. More than one in the general direction of the laboratory.


    "Which one is he?" he whispered.


    "How should I know?"


    "You mean you can''t tell which one is your illusion?"


    "Of course not!" Barden mocked offense. "I''m no amateur!"


    "Quiet," Jeshu cautioned.


    The gnome slapped a hand over his mouth, then strained with all his effort to whisper. "If I don''t believe it, it won''t fool anyone else. You have to have doubt to be a good illusionist."


    "You don''t mean confidence?"


    "Oh, no! That would never work. Reality doesn''t have much confidence to it. Lots of doubt and confusion. If I try to force you to believe something, then you''re likely to believe what''s true. If I''m trying to trick you, then it needs to be confusing, obviously..."


    Cricket slid down the rock face and slumped on the ground next to Oydd.


    "You know, I think we need a name for these demons. Too many things are just called demons."


    "And I suppose you think you should be the one to name them," Oydd said dryly. "What would you call them? Zits? Warts?"


    "No, no... I wanted to pick something in rudric, so you''d like it."


    "You don''t speak rudric."


    "But you do. I liked dethkiri."


    Oydd snapped to attention. "When did I say that?"


    "You didn''t. You thought it earlier."


    "I think in rudric?"


    "Only sometimes," Cricket said. "When you''re... really focused."


    "Dethkiri..." Oydd repeated. "I remember thinking that. It means from the silence."


    "I know. It also sounds cool."


    "Deth, in rudric means silence, but also Sheol. I wondered if these creatures literally came from Sheol. Otherwise we would have seen them before. And they don''t read as creature''s of Agoth to me. I think they may have come from deeper."


    Cricket nodded. "From the silence."


    "That is my theory."


    "You called Sheol the still darkness earlier," Jeshu interjected. "I remember."


    "A different language," Oydd clarified. "Quiet, or still, or empty. But all describe it as dark. And these beings seem to have evolved in darkness."


    "When I saw Naraka, after you killed him," Jeshu began, "I somehow thought he was the only dethkiri."


    Oydd cringed. "The singular would be dethkirok. "Also, that doesn''t make sense. How would there be only one?"


    "Pardon," Jeshu said. "Since demonic power can taint a lifeform, I have found some such abominations to be... singular."


    "Aberrations," Oydd corrected.


    "What?"


    "I don''t like the word abomination. The ignorant use it to describe things they don''t understand. So aberration, a deviation from the expected... is a better word choice." Oydd paused and waved the others silent. "I see the door to my lab. But I also see the commons. I... know many of the faces here."


    "Dead?" Cricket asked.


    "Yes. I... I am going to get closer. I had mostly seen dhampiri until now, but the barracks are a bloodbath." Oydd began to shake. "I see the azaeri."


    Ty''lek perked up.


    Cricket hung his head. "Aka''su."


    "He is dead," Oydd confirmed. "I see the dryad girl, Yentl."


    "And Zarachi?" Cricket asked.


    "The older dryad? I don''t see him. The demons are eating the dead, which makes it difficult to tell who is who among the ratlings and lizardmen." The rudra turned to Scorpion. "Do you know anyone else who was out on a mission before you left?"


    Scorpion thought back. "Only Dairdin and a few of his men. But they should have returned by now. Maybe... Eyrgan would have left for patrol when Dairdin returned. So if the commander is dead..."


    "Then maybe Dairdin is still alive. Not that that benefits us," Oydd spat. Suddenly his brow knotted. "I''m in the hallway to the laboratory, but it''s been blocked by rubble."


    "What kind of rubble?" Cricket asked. "Like a cave-in?"


    "No... like a barricade. Bookshelves and tables. Even a few bodies. It looks difficult to remove."


    "So someone is holed up in there?" Cricket suggested hopefully.


    "Patches couldn''t very well move anything that large. I wouldn''t jump to conclusions."


    "You said she had tunnels all over the place, just small enough for her?" the gnome asked.


    "You know the mouseling?" Oydd responded. "Yes. She is... resourceful."


    "Then, may I propose we shrink one of us down. I''m thinking the bug. And then we make him invisible and he sneaks in at night, while the demons are sleeping and¡ª"


    "Are you able to shrink me down?" Cricket asked excitedly.


    "Well no, not me." The gnome looked around. "Anyone? Azaeri, I''m looking at you..."


    Ty''lek trilled in surprise.


    "No? No one. Okay, new plan. Just the invisible part."


    "Can you make me invisible?"


    "I can make you invisible to me. Is that helpful?"


    "Yes," Cricket chirped. "Do it now."


    "We should wait until nightfall."


    "That''s not invisible enough," Oydd interrupted. "Sorry to disappoint you."


    "You''re just jealous." Cricket folded his arms. "Tell you what. We rock, paper, scissors for it. Winner gets to be invisible to Bard. But I''ll warn you. I''m pretty good at scissors."


    "You''re missing the ¡ª"


    "Rock, paper, scissors!"


    In spite of himself, Oydd displayed a fist just as Cricket stuck out a hand with two fingers extended.


    "I win anyway."


    "Shoot! I underdelivered. But you should see me against paper! Jeshu, didn''t I totally beat your paper with scissors?"


    "It doesn''t matter. I don''t want to be invisible only to the gnome. We need a new plan."


    "Well," Bard suggested, "I do have a couple potions of full invisibility, but I was saving them for an emergency."


    "This is an emergency," Oydd scolded.


    "Hold on, Oydd," Cricket interjected. "He only has two left."


    "Does a couple mean two?" the gnome asked, surprised. "I thought it could mean three."


    "Well, how many do you have?" Cricket asked.


    "Four. But they don''t last long."


    "How long do they last?"


    "About a minute. Give or take. You know the effect is over when you turn visible."


    Oydd replied caustically, "I recommend we develop an alternate plan."


    "You still sound jealous."


    "I won the game!" the rudra snapped.


    "But in real life, scissors beat rock. And I can make twice as many scissors as you can make rocks."


    The gnome produced four small vials full of milky white draught. "It''s okay. I can make these. So it''s like we have an infinite number."


    "Unlimited," Oydd corrected. "To make an infinite number, you would still require infinite time, and infinite materials. And what, may I ask, materials do you require?"


    "Um... opals." The gnome scratched his bulbous nose. "Esper blood... About a year for the humors to ferment."


    "Do you see how that is not infinite?" Oydd reprimanded.


    "Well, if you always have a batch going..."


    "The question was, do you see how that is not infinite?"


    "Well... yes, but..."


    Oydd grabbed a vial and held it up before his narrow eyes. He studied the shimmering, pearlescent liquid, then sighed. "These are remarkably made."


    "Thank you." The gnome took a little bow.


    Oydd handed the vial back then looked at Cricket. "One for you to get in. One for you to get out. The other two for any survivors you find."


    Cricket beamed. "What do I do if anyone other than Bard sees me?"


    "You weren''t paying attention. These potions will make you invisible to everyone."


    Cricket squealed.


    "But... they only last a minute."


    "At most," the gnome corrected.


    "At most," Oydd repeated. "So you will have to hurry in and out. I will have Skunk begin to remove the debris. Regardless, we will wait until nightfall. And hopefully these things sleep ¡ªthese... dethkiri."

 Invisible Crickets

    8


    Invisible Crickets


    Cricket crept as close to the entrance as possible before downing his first potion. He waved a hand in front of his face until it dissolved into nothing then sprinted past the stables on the tips of his toes. Despite Oydd''s order to head directly to the laboratory, the insect first located Eyrgan''s remains, knowing from the Azaeri that they would be within line of sight from the entrance.


    Cricket stooped and dragged the body out of sight, then began to loosen the jade breastplate and quickly fastened it onto himself. He pulled one of the jade khopheses free of Eyrgan¡¯s surprisingly tight death grip, then surveyed the field for a bit before he located the second sticking out from beneath a goblin corpse.


    *****


    "Oh crap!" Oydd howled. ¡°Invisibility won''t help him! These things hunt by sound.¡±


    "Oh... that is... quite the oversight," the gnome admitted. "Did no one think of that?"


    "Not amidst your squabbling!" Oydd shout-whispered. "We spent way too much time determining if you could make something invisible. And how often you could do it." The rudra looked to the druid expectantly.


    Jeshu returned a sheepish look, then argued, "I suppose we never put ourselves in their shoes. It is curious that we all approved this idea."


    The look of horror seeped deeper into Oydd''s visage. Finally he reached out with his mind. Cricket! You''re not invisible!


    He waited a moment.


    "Did he hear you?" Jeshu asked.


    "What do you mean, did he hear me? Of course he heard me."


    "He said since you bent his antenna, he has trouble hearing your thoughts."


    "Oh..." Oydd froze, crestfallen, then practically shouted. Cricket! Return! Abort!


    *****


    Cricket lifted a khopesh to strike the breastplate and activate the shadow magic. But he hesitated. It had to be loud to make a shadow. He reluctantly lowered the weapon.


    Ket... not in...


    Cricket reached a hand up and manually adjusted his bent antenna. A moment later he heard another garbled message.


    Crick... turn.. ab...


    Cricket glowered. If the rudra wanted to talk telepathically, then he had to stop hitting everyone over the head with his staff. He ignored the continued static and rushed down the ramp toward the laboratory. When he heard one of the dethkiri approaching, he froze in place and held his breath. The creature passed within several yards, and once turned to look in his direction, sniffing the air. However, its nose wrinkled in disgust, and the brute lumbered by without incident.


    Cricket noticed one of his arms reappearing and downed a second vial of potion before proceeding.


    When he reached the laboratory, he found three dethkiri feeding on the pile of bodies across the hall. He tiptoed along the wall and slipped through the open doorway, picking up his pace as he approached Oydd''s library. He found Oydd¡¯s mutant, still looking like a demon from the gnome¡¯s illusion, clearing rubble quietly. Still, it did make some sound, and at one point a demon made its way down the tunnel to investigate. Cricket held his breath until his face turned blue, then decided to simply breathe as quietly as possible until the demon grew bored and wandered off.


    As it dragged its tail back up the hallway, the mutant tossed a metal table aside, and Cricket dared to clack a khopesh against his chest. Timed with the falling table, the ringing sound barely registered. Still, the dethkirok turned and paused, as if feeling for his presence.


    Cricket thought he had created a shadow of himself, but saw nothing. Tentatively, he reached out to his left and felt another invisible Cricket, just as his clone reached out and smacked him in the face at the same time. He reached right as well, hoping he might have made a second clone but felt nothing and huffed in disappointment.


    The dethkirok squealed lazily, and began to crawl back toward him.


    Cricket circled around the edge of the room to attack it from the side, but bumped into himself. And, after a heated exchange of unseen gestures in the air, he began to circle around the other way.


    The demon, seeming suspicious, poked its head back into the room, pulling back its lips to reveal three rows of teeth. Cricket rammed a khopesh into the creature''s throat. However, he missed, since he couldn''t tell exactly where his khopesh was. An instant later the demon''s throat tore open from the other side.


    A shadowy khopesh materialized inches from Cricket''s face. He looked down to see his own arms reappearing, and slid back against the wall as the demon dropped. The creature tried to hiss, which manifested only as a stream of bubbles escaping the bloody hole in its throat.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Cricket saw his shadow, now visible as well, pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the doorway.


    He scowled and frantically gestured that a khopesh had nearly hit his face. The shadow responded by angrily pointing at a gash in his own arm.


    Cricket mouthed, "Your fault!"


    The shadow mouthed, "What?"


    Cricket sighed and mouthed more slowly. "Your... fault."


    Once it understood his meaning, the shadow flinched in irritation then stuck out its tongue.


    Cricket stuck out his tongue back, harder.


    Despite the silent exchange, one of the dethkiri in the hallway wailed and clicked three times, and the insects heard it slowly make its way down the hallway.


    Cricket signaled at himself then motioned high. Then he pointed at his clone and motioned low.


    The clone disagreed, pointing at himself and motioning high.


    Cricket shook his head emphatically, just as the dethkirok''s head emerged from the tunnel. Both Crickets attacked high. However, this time, since they could see each other''s blades, they managed to skewer its throat without any collateral damage.


    Cricket pointed toward an opening above the debris in the hallway, just big enough to squeeze deeper into the lab, and his shadow rushed for the pile of rubble. It hopped to the top and grabbed the ceiling, squeezing itself through.


    Once the opening was clear, Cricket followed, attempting to execute the same maneuver slightly faster, but he hit his head on the ceiling and hoped his clone didn¡¯t notice.


    On the far side he found Gad. The ghoul stared at him uneasily, as if distressed, though the insect had never seen emotion in one of Oydd''s ghouls. Behind the ghoul, Cricket saw Patches hole. Without the shelves to hide it, the hole looked oddly bare and prominent. Black lines of soot singed the sides and a few wisps of smoke still billowed from within. The wisps danced as a silent wind blew through the narrow tunnel.


    Gad moaned as if trying to speak then shuffled across the room, behind an overturned autopsy table.


    Cricket''s shadow stood on the far side, staring down at the ground somberly.


    As the insect rounded the table, he saw a thin streak of red on the tiled floor and a thin, leathery tail laying still in the dried blood. His heart nearly stopped.


    He inched forward and saw the mouseling stretched out on her side. He swallowed hard and stared at the body, watching for some sign of breathing.


    Cricket stood so still that the mouseling moved first, twitching.  The motion caused her pain and she began to pant.


    Cricket saw a patch of fur on her stomach matted with blood. The wound oozed a semi-clear yellowish liquid.


    "Oh, no..." He dropped to his knees at the mouseling''s side and looked down at the white bottles in his lower hand. The draught he had intended to give her. Clumsily, he stowed the small bottles in his pack, and pulled a leather flask of water from around his waist. He unstopped the flask and tried to pour some in her mouth, but the mouseling''s teeth remained clamped shut.


    Cricket tried to pull her jaw open, then looked up to himself for direction. The shadow shrugged helplessly.


    "Come on, little buddy." Cricket cradled her head. "You''ve lost a lot of blood. You have to drink or you''ll die."


    The mouseling made no response.


    "You get that? If you don''t drink, you''ll die." Cricket lifted her snout to face him and pulled back the lips, forcing the waterskin into her mouth. He poured a bit of water through her teeth then waited. The mouseling made no reaction at first, then forced a swallow.


    He poured in more water and she swallowed again, her teeth still clenched.


    "That''s good." Cricket forced a cheery tone. A moment later, Patches'' stomach burbled and the water began to leak from the tear in her side. "No... no, no!"


    A larger dethkirok, based on the volume, screeched angrily from the commons. Too late, Cricket realized how loud he''d been. And closed his mouth. The clone glared down at him, dissaproving.


    Patches tried to stand, but Cricket held her down. "No," he whispered very softly.


    She cried and began to gasp as she breathed haltingly.


    "It''s okay," Cricket whispered again, despite the reproaching look of his shadow. "Don''t try to move."


    "Pip," the mouseling breathed very faintly.


    "What?"


    "Pip," the mouseling whispered again. She squinched her eyes tight and began to choke up. She opened her paw, and there in the palm of her tiny hand sat the lifeless ladybug. Its belly in the air, its legs crossed against its chest¡ªthe once red shell browned by the smoke of a fire. Cricket looked again to the mouseling''s scorched hole.


    With the last of her strength, Patches lifted the bug up to Cricket, and whispered, "I don''t want... to drop him."


    "I''ve got him, little one." Cricket took the tiny familiar in his hand and placed it carefully in one of his empty vials. Then he lifted the mouseling from the floor. Her fur stuck to the dried blood and peeled up in an unsightly clump.


    Cricket stowed the vial with Pip in his pouch, laid the mouseling over his shoulder, and switched both khopeshes to one side, so he could support her with two arms.


    A stone rolled from the pile of rubble and a large demon appeared, clogging the exit.


    Cricket held his breath and leaned against an overturned table. He peered around the side and saw his shadow charge through the gap and leap it to the ground with one quick swipe of its claw. The khopeshes, knocked free from the clone''s hands, instantly dissolved into smoke. The dethkirok leaned its sightless head close to the shadow, scraping its teeth against the clone¡¯s throat.  It sniffed, clenching the clone in its fist as the demon pressed its bulk through the opening.


    Cricket ducked his head back behind the table. He heard Gad confront the demon. Only a quick scuffle and then silence.


    The demon''s throat clicked menacingly, almost like a purr at the thrill of battle. Cricket heard its labored breathing, and sat very, very still. A drop of sweat fell from his chin and landed in the dried blood on the floor, but the creature made no reaction.


    It snorted, withdrew, and he heard it slowly make its way from the chamber.


    Can you hear me?


    Yes, Cricket thought.


    Are you okay?


    No, Cricket thought heavily.


    What''s wrong?


    It''s the mouseling... she''s dead.

 A Mere Shadow

    9


    A Mere Shadow


    The large dethkirok tossed Gad and Cricket''s shadow into the empty cage that had earlier housed the feral vampire. The shadow rose to his feet while the half troll ghoul sat in a stupor, staring at his own hand. Gad''s missing arm had begun to regrow, nearly to the elbow, and his eyes now bore a pained, almost contemplative look.


    Soon a small imp in leather armor approached the wagon, along with a very large deep goblin in adamantine armor leading a cave lizard. The goblin''s head came slightly higher than the insect, despite the fact that he stood on the ground without the added height of the wagon aiding the clone.


    It sneered and Cricket¡¯s shadow calmly stared back. The goblin lurched, stopping inches from the cage and faked a bite with its black teeth, but the insect didn''t flinch.


    The imp spoke. "Is this the one that''s been causing problems?"


    "Yes," the goblin answered in surprisingly clear common, its voice at once deep and hissing.


    The imp sighed. "Take them both back to the rift. Rusalka wants to see to it personally."


    The large goblin spat on the ground¡ªa thick, black glob¡ªthen stepped menacingly toward the imp. "I don''t take orders from you."


    The imp shrunk backward. "Not from me..."


    The goblin grunted, baring its obsidian tusks, then hitched the cave lizard to the front of the wagon as his smaller companion recomposed himself.


    The goblin taskmaster slapped the lizard on the haunches and the cart jerked forward. After a slight hesitation, the imp flapped its wings and lighted atop the cage''s roof, just out of sight.


    The shadow took a seat next to Gad and watched the scenery silently. Soon they approached another caged cart, where the dryad Zarachi sat wounded, wheezing and holding a deep gash in his belly. The older dryad made no effort to look up, and Cricket left him to himself.


    The wagon train headed south, beyond the Warrens, on a twisting, seldom-used path that once led to the surface before a massive cave-in. The clone remembered that Cricket hadn''t been this way in years, and saw no reason to head this way now, though he found himself curious at to what his captor intended.


    After an hour or so, he grew bored and leaned back against the bars. Cricket yawned then stretched and began to doze off. However, a sudden voice jolted him back awake.


    "Do you sleep with your eyes open?"


    Cricket looked around and saw the dryad staring at him weakly. He stared back, motionless.


    "You don''t have eyelids, so how do you sleep?"


    The shadow continued to stare at Zarachi wordlessly. He cocked his head and waved to show he intended no offense in not answering.


    Eventually the dryad sighed and turned away, closing his own eyes.


    Cricket, however, was wide awake now. He watched the rock walls of the tight tunnel pass by, with yellow and blue and white lichen. Then he noticed the imp''s tail dangling absently over the edge of the roof.


    Cricket stood, almost losing his balance as the cart lurched, and walked across the wagon bed, then held onto the bars with two hands to sturdy himself.


    Slowly, he reached out for the waving tail and gripped it suddenly, yanking it into the cage. The imp squealed and scratched futilely at the iron roof as it slipped over the edge and crashed into the iron bars. For a moment, the creature was too stunned by the impact to act, and Cricket gave it some slack, letting it flap a bit away from the cage before yanking it back again, twice as hard.


    This time the imp''s nose rammed into one of the bars. Its eyes locked onto the shadow and it began to swipe furiously into the cage, just out of reach of the insect. The imp repositioned so he could reach Cricket''s wrist with his claws, but just as it swiped again, Cricket let go, stepping backward, and the imp crashed to the ground, nearly getting run over by the wagon wheel.


    Cricket sat down out of the imp''s range, as the deep goblin taskmaster slowed his pace to investigate. He snarled at Cricket, and the insect looked back innocently. Meanwhile, the imp flapped its wings, catching back up to the cage. But seeing the large goblin, it changed direction and perched atop the other wagon, where it licked its bruises and eyed the insect warily.


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    The goblin scratched his chin with a clawed hand, studying the imp, then returned to the front of the wagon walking beside the lizard.


    The imp lowered its head onto its forearms, as if sleeping, though Cricket still saw the glint of its squinting eyes. And now it made an extra effort to keep its tail aloft.


    Cricket stuck his tongue out then stared back at it, unflinching, unblinking, and very awkwardly, until the imp flew away from his view and the shadow had to entertain himself with something new. He felt at his hips for the concealed daggers, drew one to confirm its presence, and flipped it into the air. But the shadowy blade dissolved before landing back in his palm and made no effort to reappear. Dejected, Cricket felt for the hollow in his hip again to see if the dagger had rematerialized, then frowned. A moment later, he caught himself reaching for his lone, remaining dagger, and quickly clasped his hands together to avoid losing his last weapon.


    In time, the wagon came to a deep cleft in the ground, with the red light of magma and a sulfurous smoke billowing up from below. Cricket pressed his face against the bars to see more clearly. If an opening to Agoth existed in this location, he ought to have been aware of it.


    Near the opening, a single underdeveloped dethkirok lay snoozing on the floor, like a pet, surrounded by numerous imps and deep goblins. Some sported spears and helms, while others held cudgels and bucklers or nothing at all. Overall, a motley lot.


    The cleft, or ''the rift'' as the imp had described it, appeared too narrow for the wagons, and no sooner than Cricket had this thought, the entire train came to a halt, and the taskmaster began to unlock the dryad''s cage.


    Three imps and a much smaller goblin poked and prodded the dryad until he reluctantly rose, wobbling on his feet, and stepped from the cage.


    Another small group came for Cricket. He exited his the cage obediently, and Gad followed him almost clingingly.


    For a ghoul, the trollblood looked surprisingly anxious.


    At one point, the bruised imp inched close to Cricket, but the shadow turned to him suddenly as he walked, staring him down, and the disgruntled imp skulked away.


    Though Cricket thought the journey nearly over, the three prisoners trudged for hours into the depths of Agoth. First through winding, basalt tunnels with trickles of lava down the walls, then through a chamber of grimy hotpots. Actually, Cricket presumed them to be rather tepid, as Oydd said heat often kept such pools clear. Finally, he arrived at a dark, steam-filled labyrinth with several nooks converted to prison cells, not unlike the mines. However, the shadow suspected they were miles away from the mines, if they were so close at all.


    Cricket knew the fog was steam, and not smoke, because it collected in beads on his black shell, and even pooled in cavities on the floor¡ªwhich he found unusual for Agoth.


    Dethkiri of all sizes filled the humid lair, armed and armored with adamantite. Some of the more intelligent-looking dethkiri possessed trinkets and baubles that were no doubt enchanted based on how aesthetically mismatched they were with the adamantine armor. Otherwise, the shadow assumed, the dethkiri would be too self-conscious to pair the two.


    A wiry, battle-scarred dethkirok with a limp ushered Cricket and Gad apart, leading the shadow down a side chamber¡ªquiet but for the occasional distant drip of water¡ªand shoved him into a cell.


    Upon reflection, Cricket found himself impressed at how quietly the large group of dethkiri managed their lair. He sat motionless in his cell, listening attentively for any sound in the distance, and never sensed the demons, though he often heard the flapping of an imp or the hissing of a goblin.


    In time, a goblin jailor¡ªnot a red deep goblin, but a common green slave¡ªcame to his secluded cell and tossed a few fistfuls of maggots through the bars.


    "That''s yer hydration too. So don''t move around so much. You don''t get more for two days. Got it?" Surprisingly, the goblin''s tone appeared sympathetic, but he stared for a long time as if waiting for an answer, before adding, "That''s how they keep prisoners quiet an'' be''aved. Got it?"


    This time, Cricket didn''t feel like having an awkward standoff, so he picked up a smooth pebble from the cell floor and threw it at the jailor''s forehead.


    The goblin cursed under his breath, but still stared dumbly for a moment before marching off in a huff.


    Several minutes later, the jailor reappeared with the scarred dethkirok who Cricket now assumed was the warden.


    The common goblin spoke for the silent demon. "Now yer gonna get it. Yer food for the axebeak!" He fumbled nervously with his keys as the demon hovered menacingly.


    Cricket followed the goblin complacently, and even endured some prodding and rough handling without lashing back, as the two captors led him to a grate in the floor with a trapdoor secured by a padlock. The jailor goblin again fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them through the grate, and unlocked the latch as the warden shoved Cricket toward the opening. Given the large audience of dethkiri, the insect obliged.


    He dropped with a thud into a fairly spacious cell obscured heavily by mist. Nearby, Cricket saw a large pile of steaming wet dung, filled with white bones of all sorts along with large, furry pellets that must have once been ratlings.


    A large creature stirred, dragging a heavy chain along the stone. He scratched his eye and began to clean his feelers and then his antennae. Eventually a sizable lizard with an axe-shaped beak appeared from the mist. It lowered its feathered head, rearing violently as it squawked, then repeated this display two more times.


    Cricket sat very still.


    The axebeak lumbered forward on its hind legs like a raptor and sniffed the air and snorted, its beak inches from the insect''s face. Streams of warm steam billowed from its nostrils. It sniffed again, whimpering in disappointment at the shadow''s scent.


    It reached out in a flash with its spiked tongue, knocking the insect onto his side. Slowly, soundlessly, he sat back up.


    The lizard whined again, visibly flustered. It preened itself absently, then turned and stalked away back into the mist, knocking Cricket over again with a whip of its feathered tail.


    Cricket waited patiently. As a matter of fact, he found it much easier to sit quietly as a shadow, and he took unusual pride in this fact. Though he did grow bored, he knew it wise to wait, and hours passed without the insect making a noise¡ªa feat that normally would have been impossible.

 Priorities

    10


    Priorities


    She''s dead! Cricket thought in despair. She''s all the way dead!


    Patches coughed.


    She''s not dead! Oydd growled. I can sense her from here. Get back to me as fast as you can.


    I can''t, Cricket thought. I don''t have enough potion.


    That doesn''t matter, you idiot. The demons have no eyes!


    Oh... a long silence followed. Well, they didn''t see me.


    They didn''t hear you. You must have been quiet. Don''t drink the potions. It''s a waste.


    Should I just try to sneak back out?


    Not yet, Oydd cautioned. Many of the dethkiri are leaving with a wagon train. We''re plotting a diversion for the remainder. Hold still for the time being.


    Hi, Cricket! Bax¡¯s cheerful voice joined the discussion. It''s me, Todley Brandysnaps. We met before. I''m whipping something up. The octopus and I just don''t agree on the details.


    Suddenly the rudra closed the link.


    "He doesn''t need to hear your squabbling," Oydd snapped.


    "I thought you might want him to weigh in, since it''s his life on the line," the gnome said defensively.


    "But you won''t listen..."


    The gnome continued unabated, "I''ll make a giant slug near the entrance and have it meander toward us¡ª"


    "It doesn''t matter what it looks like."


    "They probably love slugs, so they''ll follow it here¡ª"


    "And we don''t want them to come here. We want to lead them away."


    "Call Cricket again. I want to see what he thinks."


    "Listen to me, gnome," Oydd began with an alarming tone. "Follow my instructions to the letter, or I will seize your mind and march you out there as bait. Do you understand?"


    The gnome glared at Oydd and tapped a finger pointedly to his temple, "You don''t have the willpower. My mind is a steel trap!"


    "Listen, Barden," the druid joined.


    "Wha? Who''s Barden?"


    "We do need to come up with a plan that you''re comfortable with, but sound is more important than appearance, right?"


    "If looks don''t matter, then why can''t it be a giant slug?"


    "Does that take a lot of energy... to make a giant slug?"


    "An incredible amount!"


    "Then I think it does matter," Jeshu reasoned. "We just need a loud sound."


    The gnome puckered his lips, deflated, still eyeing the rudra suspiciously.


    "But a slug isn''t harder than a snail or something..."


    "No," the druid agreed, for the sake of diplomacy. "A slug isn''t harder than a snail. Can you make a phantom noise?"


    "Well I don''t want anything too scary. We don''t want them to hide. We want them to chase it."


    "Can you make it sound like a slug?"


    Oydd let out an exasperated sound. "And what sound does a slug make?"


    "Any sound I want!" the gnome fumed. "It''s not real, you moron!"


    Oydd stamped his foot. ¡°Why does he only talk to me that way?¡±


    Jeshu took a deep breath and addressed the gnome. "Can you make a sound, like a loud slug? Something that will get their attention?"


    "Yes... yes, dryad," the gnome answered somewhat calmly.


    "And how many demons do you think you could take at once in a fight?" the druid probed.


    "None!" the illusionist cried.


    "So you want to lead them away from us?"


    "I do," the gnome concluded. "And I''m tired of everyone trying to change my mind."


    "Then do what you think is best. You have our support."


    The gnome looked skeptically at the rudra.


    Oydd rolled his eyes. "I bow to your superior judgment."


    "Hmph!" the gnome said triumphantly and cracked his knobby knuckles. "Get ready for a spectacle!"


    *****


    Cricket began to fidget. Despite Oydd¡¯s orders, he began to sneak quietly from the morgue. After all, he had made it this far without getting caught. No reason he couldn''t make it out. He chose to skirt by the training grounds where he had seen much less motion. He kept close to the walls, supposing that the demons'' ''sound vision'' might mistake him for rocks.


    He''d had a little experience with giant bats. They screeched to establish their surroundings, and Cricket had once attempted to lay against a wall to avoid discovery. In that instance, the plan didn''t work and he was nearly eaten. But he still felt like the principle was sound.


    He circled around until he came to the far edge of the training grounds without incident. Though, admittedly, this maneuver didn''t bring him any closer to the exit. He peered around a crop of rock and saw two dethkiri lounging about near the training dummies. His eyes caught a faint reflection from within one of the pools where the mimic lived. Seeing his familiar face, the octopus swam out from its hole. Its tentacles undulated peacefully just below the surface, sending ripples to the edge of the pool.


    Cricket looked from the mouseling''s still form on his shoulder to the mimic. He mouthed "sorry" to the octopus and tried to sneak by. The mimic, however, crept low from the pool and brushed against his legs, nearly tripping him.


    "I can''t carry you," Cricket mouthed, shaking his head, but the octopus continued to follow him. Though the creature made very little noise, it was somewhat unaware of the situation, and Cricket cringed at every slop and blurp the mimic made as it crawled along the wet rock.


    Eventually, a sleeping dethkirok stirred and turned its head toward the three. Cricket quietly melted against the rock wall with Patches. The mimic followed too loudly, and the insect almost kicked it away in frustration.


    As the demon neared, the mimic turned to face it, then rose from the ground on four tentacles, copying the demon''s general shape. It waved two tentacles behind it, like a slender tail, and wrapped another two around its face, mimicking the dethkirok''s elongated snout. Its rough skin turned smooth and blue


    The demon grunted¡ªa high-pitched screech of a grunt¡ªand studied the mimic. It circled around the octopus confused, then repeated the same short sound, with a tone so similar that Cricket assumed it was attempting to communicate, as well¡ªlikely¡ªas using the sound to feel out the shape of the mimic.


    By now it had drawn the attention of a second demon, larger than the first, and just as Cricket clenched a fist around the hilt of a jade khopesh, ready to spring, a deafening, slurping sound echoed from the distant stables.


    The dethkiri turned and sprinted off, bounding over rocks and up the exit ramp.


    A guzzling, gargling roar, like nothing the insect had ever heard before followed, and a shiver ran up his antennae. The sound caught him off guard so much that the insect froze, staring off past the empty yard until the roar diminished.


    Cricket''s feelers twitched and then his eyes darted about, scanning for stragglers. Finding none, he leaned down to the mimic and whispered, "You can come if you can keep up!" Then the insect ran for the exit.


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    As he neared the commons, Cricket glanced back to see the mimic falling behind. He passed the armory at full sprint and almost crashed into the bend. Instead he leapt onto the wall, taking the full force of the stop with his legs, and clung to the rock for a moment looking back to the armory. He jumped back toward the doorway and slipped inside. He ran past the mundane equipment, and located Ghajan''s hammer. The enchanted weapon leaned against the back wall, a patch of magical ice spreading along the floor under it.


    Cricket grabbed the leather handle and instantly large specks of frost began to form on his forearm. His hand felt a numbness more than a pain, but nevertheless his hand twitched away. He grabbed, instead the leather loop dangling from the end of the haft, and began to drag the weapon behind him.


    The giant hammer bounced and jostled along the uneven floor, leaving a trail of frost in its wake. When he reached the exit, the mimic caught up to him and he paused to wave.


    The curious creature reached out a tentacle to touch the hammer, then jerked away and whimpered as the stung appendage curled beneath it.


    "Come on," Cricket whispered but another thunderous, viscous, gurgling roar drowned out the sound. Nearby, a dethkirok emerged from a side tunnel and reared its head, listening to the resounding tremors. It bounded off, up the ramp.


    Cricket dragged the hammer at a steady pace, waited until the path was clear, then followed up the ramp, keeping one hand on the mouseling to steady her.


    About halfway up the ramp, he heard a shrill cry behind him, and turned to see two dethkiri closing in and the mimic some distance behind. Assuming an attempt to hide would be futile, the insect decided to make as much ground up the ramp as possible before confronting the demons.


    As he ran, a caltrop dropped from Patches'' satchel¡ªa spiky iron ball with razor-sharp blades sticking out in every direction. Hurriedly, Cricket opened the flap and noticed two more caltrops loose in the pouch. He tossed them behind him and rummaged through as he ran until he found the small green bag, which was bulging with more caltrops. He passed it to his lower arm and shook the bag out behind him. Dozens of caltrops dropped onto the ramp, and continued to pour onto the ground long after he thought it should be empty.


    He heard a dethkirok stumble into the spikes and crash, wailing in pain. Its companion slowed, then picked its way through the meddlesome blades, unable to easily detect them against the rock.


    The mimic navigated the caltrops agilely and began to catch up to the insect, who began to tire, encumbered by the weight of the warhammer.


    The mimic swerved to the side of the trail of ice the hammer left behind and passed Cricket up, just as the first of the dethkiri reached the insect. However, the demon, not sensing the slick, magical ice, veered to the side as it attempted to leap, skidding into the wall. Cricket let go of the hammer and vaulted onto the demon, digging his daggers up under its chin. He pulled back with all his weight to drive the blades deeper, up into the skull, then wrested them free and continued to run up the ramp, retrieving the hammer on the way.


    When the second demon neared, its palms pierced and bleeding, Cricket screeched directly into its face, and the dethkirok came to a full stop in a daze.


    The insect turned and whacked it in the side of the head with his khopesh, but the blade bounced harmlessly from the thick plate covering its snout.


    Cricket grabbed the strap of the ice hammer with a second hand and grunted, hefting the weapon around and connected with the monster''s jaw, knocking it flat. Flakes of frost violently formed on the creature''s dark skin as it slid unconscious down the icy ramp.


    After a minute of breathless running, the cavern beyond the Warrens came into view, and Cricket located the crop of rock where the others waited.


    An arrow whizzed past his antennae, and he heard it connect with a thud with something directly behind him.


    He located the azaeri standing amidst the rocks, drawing another arrow. As Ty¡¯lek focused, holding the arrow, black wisps began to spiral and gather around the tip.


    "Reck!" the archer barked in irritation, and Cricket took the cue to duck, turning to see the magical arrow dig into a dethkirok''s chest. Immediately the black energy exploded, tearing a hole bone deep in the demon''s skin. As the insect watched, thick black tendrils brutally sprouted from the point of impact, prying the ribs apart, boring into the cavity.


    The demon squirmed and squealed, dropping to its elbows as necrotic vines erupted from its throat. The black plates on the dethkirok''s face steamed and withered, decaying before Cricket''s eyes.


    Cricket scrambled to his feet, sprinting the last stretch, and skidded to a stop at the azaeri''s feet, huffing and puffing. He plopped on the ground and looked up, breathless, at the archer, as the azaeri knocked and fired three more arrows.


    Ty''lek withdrew, and the insect panicked, rising from the muddy cavern floor to follow the archer, cradling the mouseling in one of his lower arms.


    He nearly crashed into Jeshu and Scorpion as he rounded a mound of rock.


    The druid looked behind the insect. "Only one more. You can relax."


    A moment later, the mimic caught up and tackled the ratling. Scorpion screamed as he fell to the ground in a tangle of tentacles, but laughed and hugged the octopus with his one arm as it nuzzled his face with its beak.


    The final demon stalked slowly through the cropping of rocks, and when he stumbled upon the group, Oydd instantly raised a hand and the demon rose from the floor, flailing and helpless. After a moment of futile struggle, the dethkirok calmed and stared at the rudra with its eyeless snout¡ªcold and stoic.


    Oydd tensed and took a steadying breath, struggling to hold the demon in place. He closed his eyes and his tentacles began to rise and curl at once.


    Suddenly the rudra opened his eyes and the demon squirmed, letting out a stifled cry.


    "Where did you come from..." the rudra whispered to himself, as he delved into the creature''s mind. The demon resisted at first, but squealed again in pain and went limp, floating lifeless in the air.


    A surge of energy pulsed from the rudra, passing like wind over the group, and crashed against the demon like a wave. Its floating body convulsed and the rudra let it drop to the floor. Oydd crumpled to the ground as well, panting and sweating.


    Jeshu stepped up and finished it with a hammer blow to the throat, then noticed the mouseling in Cricket''s arms. The druid reached out and took the still mouseling delicately in his rough hands, placing her gently on the ground.


    "I tried to give her some water, but... I don''t think it helped."


    Jeshu pressed softly on the mouseling''s belly and a burbling sound came from within. He opened his pack and pulled out a small flask, and poured a bit of rusty liquid in her mouth.


    Patches swallowed weakly. Her stomach burbled again and the wound in her side began to leak the orange fluid.


    "She has a tear in her stomach," Oydd stated gravely.


    The druid nodded.


    "Is she conscious?"


    "I think so," Jeshu replied.


    Oydd knelt at the mouseling''s side and tenderly lifted her head. "I can stitch the tear closed."


    "No." Jeshu shook his head. "Let me help her. I can save her. But we shouldn''t move her again."


    Reluctantly, the rudra rose and left the mouseling in the druid''s care.


    Cricket hovered over the demon''s corpse. It still twitched, and the insect groaned uncomfortably.


    "You read its mind?"


    "I did," Oydd said.


    "You said you wouldn''t read other people''s minds."


    Oydd suppressed a laugh. "I said I wouldn''t read your mind. This is a foe."


    "But you said you wouldn''t," Cricket pressed.


    The rudra sighed as he stared at the insect, then repeated, "I will not read your mind. This demon possesses valuable information. I would be a fool to let it slip away. And I don''t need to defend myself to you." Oydd turned his back on the insect.


    Cricket knelt at the demon''s side. "It''s just that you said you wouldn''t..." His feelers twitched. "What did he say?"


    "He didn''t say anything. All I got were thoughts and impressions."


    The gnome stepped up and waved a stubby hand, awkwardly close to Cricket''s face. "Hey, its me... Ba... um, Bra..."


    "Brax," Ty''lek cawed, quite clearly.


    "Huh... I was wrong," Cricket said. "Brax isn''t too long."


    "Too long?" Oydd sneered.


    "Yeah. Ty''lek can say it fine."


    "Brax," the azaeri repeated proudly.


    "So you mean it isn''t too hard?"


    Cricket scratched his head. "Um... yeah. I didn''t think he could do ''r''s."


    "Which is why you said Orth was too long?" Oydd pressed.


    "Uh... yeah. Too hard for Ty''lek."


    "Or¡ª" the azaeri clucked awkwardly.


    "And that''s why you said Jeshu was too long?"


    Cricket stared back dumbly. "Why are you upset?"


    "Because you just chose the wrong word. This whole time you''ve been trying to be considerate, and I thought you were an imbecile, because you said ''too long'' when you meant ''too complex''."


    Cricket swallowed hard.


    "That''s all I can do," Jeshu interrupted. "Now she just needs to rest."


    "But she''ll be okay?" Cricket asked.


    The druid took too long to answer.


    Cricket frowned. "She might be okay?"


    "Yes," the dryad stated candidly. "She might."


    Jeshu looked down at the ettin''s enchanted hammer, and compared it to his own modest weapon. "Why did you risk your life for this?"


    "It''s for you," Cricket beamed.


    Jeshu reach out and grabbed the leather-wrapped handle. Frost spread over his bark skin. The dryad winced for a moment, but ignored the pain and hefted the weapon.


    "It''s too big for me."


    "Well, your other hammer is too small when you grow. It looks ridiculous."


    "When I grow..." Jeshu repeated, holding the weapon upright before his eyes.


    "Yeah. When you grow. This one will be perfect for when you get really big."


    Jeshu forced a smile. "I suppose so."


    "But I don''t know what you''ll do with it until then..." the insect added sheepishly.


    Jeshu nodded to himself as he contemplated. "I can use a grace of strength."


    "What!" Cricket shouted angrily. The rudra glared at him and he repeated more quietly. "You can do strength?"


    Shocked, the druid stammered, "Yes."


    "I didn''t know you could make me stronger!" the insect blurted. "You''ve been doing those stupid... defensive things on me!"


    Jesh stared back wide-eyed.


    "What else can you do?"


    Jeshu answered slowly. "I could increase your speed, or resistance to dark magic..."


    "What! Speed? Speed is so much better than defense! Why would I need a protective spell if I''m too fast to hit? I am... just baffled, Jesh. What were you thinking?"


    "Calm down, Cricket," Oydd said.


    The insect took a deep breath and slowly simmered down, though he began to pace, clearly reliving some old fight in light of this new tactical information.


    Timidly, the druid placed a hand on his own chest and whispered a druidic chant. He repeated the words several times as a red glow began to seep into his skin. Finally, he hefted the hammer again, this time much more easily. He took a couple practice swings and smiled to himself.


    "Someone is coming," the rudra warned.


    Cricket hopped onto the mound of rock, peering over the top with just his head. "A dhampir?" He watched the distant figure for a moment. "Nope! It''s Licephus."

 Skulking

    11


    Skulking


    Cricket''s shadow waited until the sound of the dethkiri dimmed to complete silence and he believed the demons slumbered. By then, even the axebeak slept, having retired to a hole in the back of its lair. Now and then it released a rather grating sort of snoring hoot followed by its beak clacking against the stone floor as it shifted position.


    Cricket leapt to the ceiling and held onto the bars of the iron grate with one of his upper hands and one of his lower. Carefully, he drew his last dagger from the hollow at his hip and passed the weapon to his more powerful upper arm, knowing that the blade would evaporate if it left contact with him for more than a moment.


    The insect stuck the tip of the blade into the keyhole of the padlock and wrested it around a bit before growing irritated. He adjusted the lock with his free hand to try to get a view inside the mechanism, then abandoned the effort entirely and began to gouge out the insides, as if he were gutting a fish. He used firm, slow strokes, to reduce the noise, which only seemed to shave the hole slightly larger. Since this failed to produce any desirable results, he seized the shackle in his mandibles and bit cleanly through the rusted metal.


    He passed the disfigured lump of iron to his lower arm, then braced himself and quietly opened the hatch with one of his legs, just enough to squeeze through. As the grate opened the last few inches it made a very slight creak and the insect cringed. He slipped through the opening and began to lower it back into place, more slowly than before. However, this only prolonged the creaking sound. He paused and thought for a moment, then looped the shackle around a bar near the hinge, and left the grate propped open. He tested whether the padlock could hold the weight of the entire hatch before removing his hands.


    Proud of his ingenuity, the shadow smiled and stalked back down the hallway to its own empty cell. There he located three other cells¡ªone empty, one housing Gad, and one with the older dryad.


    If Gad noticed him, it made no indication. The dryad, Zarachi, however, pressed his face against the bars of his cell and stared at the insect.


    Cricket approached and held a finger to his mouth, signaling to keep silent. He displayed his dagger, pointing to the keyhole.


    Zarachi shook his head and tapped his ear. He mouthed, "too loud."


    Cricket stared back dumbly, unsure how to proceed but slowly eased the tip of his knife toward the lock anyway. The dryad held out a hand in irritation to stop him and risked whispering, "I am slow... and I am loud."


    Cricket scratched his chin, then pointed to himself and signaled him leaving, but coming back. Admittedly, there was quite a lot of room for interpretation in the gestures, but he hoped the dryad might guess his intentions.


    Dagger in hand, the shadow crept down back down the hallway, and through the main chamber, looking for the jailor''s quarters. Debating whether a goblin might be allowed to sleep near the demons, Cricket ultimately decided to follow the most traveled path, which led him to a spot where two tunnels crossed. Cricket followed, again, the most used path, but he quickly identified the tunnel as a latrine, by the overwhelming fumes. He backtracked and chose the next most traveled tunnel and stumbled almost immediately upon the dethkiri''s barracks. Barracks was a generous term for the sleeping arrangement, as the beasts huddled together like animals. Easily a dozen beasts lounged about the spacious chamber, though it was difficult to tell which claws went with which heads. Their eyeless snouts rested against the cold ground, or against each other¡ªsome with their heads tucked back under their contorted wings. Ultimately, he decided to count heads only, and got to seventeen.


    Cricket froze and surveyed the room for any that might be awake, before approaching one of the smaller beasts that lay a short distance from any of the others.


    He placed the tip of his dagger at the base of the demon''s jaw, and angled it toward the back of its head. He tried to remember the flayed skull he saw in Oydd''s lab and adjusted the blade slightly. He lined up the stab to pierce the throat first and then drive into the brain. At least by his estimation.


    Though the small dethkirok looked about his size, he knew it was several times his weight, and if the single strike failed to both kill and silence it, he would drown in a sea of claws and glistening fangs.


    In one quick motion, the shadow wrapped two arms around the demon''s fierce maw, clamping it closed, as he plunged the dagger up through the soft tissue of its throat.


    *****


    "Which means, I believe, we must act quickly." Licephus placed the adamantine cutlass on the ground at his knees. Blood still stained his lips red from a recent feeding.


    "Their forces have broken through to Al Tsiroth not far from the Warrens, which makes our location unsafe."


    Skunk, who returned with the vampire, slept near him, still curled in a ball like a ratling. However, even with the vampire in his heavy armor, the mutant now appeared slightly larger than Licephus.


    "I would have named three urgent matters, but I have narrowed them down to two."


    "Would have?" Oydd asked.


    Licephus nodded. "Truly, my greatest concern is this alleged prophet, of which the oracle warned. If they have a way to tell the future, then all of our planning and cunning seems wasted. However, I trust the oracle¡ªthat attempting to harm the prophet will only bring harm to our own cause. Was that roughly how you described it?" The vampire turned to Cricket.


    The insect nodded. "I don''t remember word for word, like Oydd would..."


    "No matter. The idea will suffice. And so, I see our priorities as twofold. First, to find and eliminate the forgemaster. Left unchecked his, or her, threat will only grow. Second, the trollblood with Bale¡¯s arm and tongue."


    "Even more than the rudra?" Oydd asked.


    "Yes. Far more, I think. Though imposing, the rudra represents a measurable power. The troll does not. The ability to manipulate portals can be used offensively and defensively at an incalculable scale."


    "Especially since their strongholds in Agoth aren''t connected," Cricket added.


    "What do you mean?" Oydd asked.


    The vampire also paused to listen to the insect''s explanation.


    "The dethkiri risked coming up through the Trench to meet those coming up from the southern breach. They wouldn''t do that if they could mobilize underground."


    "An excellent point," Licephus said. "Though I wonder why the trollblood did not simply transport them. Perhaps there are limits to his ability."


    "Is the southern breach one of our targets?" Jeshu joined.


    Licephus shook his head. "No. The Prophet is there. If the oracle took the time to warn us about confronting the Prophet, perhaps that guidance was meant to influence us now..." The vampire trailed off, lost in thought, and the others waited until he began again. "If we had time, I would leave you now to report to the council of elders. But I believe these matters more urgent. Urgent enough that we should split into two groups."


    Cricket glanced at Oydd and Jeshu.


    "I have already decided. I will pursue the forgemaster personally. Oydd and Jeshu, you will accompany me. Cricket," the vampire turned to the insect. "You will lead the others in search of the half troll. You, the azaeri, and Scorpion are best suited for an assassination. I cannot stress the importance of stealth. You''ve seen his powers. You will locate him, then find a way to strike before he is aware of your presence. I trust your discretion and ingenuity for the particulars."


    Oydd scowled at the praise directed at the insect.


    "The particulars, sure. But what about the overarching stuff." Cricket threw his arms out wide. "Oydd''s best at that."


    "You will have to do," Licephus replied. "I am not worried."


    "In that case, I would like to take Brax too."


    "The gnome? Do as you wish."


    Jeshu spoke up, "What about the mouseling?"


    "I consider her your patient, dryad. So she comes with us. But I cannot prioritize her safety."


    "I understand."


    Oydd scratched his tentacles like a beard. "What intel do we have?"


    "Enough," the vampire answered. "I have eyes all throughout Al Tsiroth, as well as Agoth, and even much of the surface. There is little that transpires without my notice."


    "You know where the forgemaster is?" Oydd asked.


    "I do. A place called Fomoria. A land far to the south, subterranean, like Al Tsiroth, but we will need to travel more than a day on the surface to get there."


    "It''s that far?" Cricket blurted.


    "It is. Your target is far as well, but not above ground. Do you know of Euna Brae?"


    At the mention of Euna Brae, Ty''lek perked to attention.


    "No..." Cricket admitted. "But it sounds azaeri," he mostly guessed from the archer''s reaction.


    "It is. An old fortress. A tower really, half buried in the rock, stretching all the way to the top of the cavern. It is not a sure shot, but the trollblood has been spotted there on numerous occasions, and it is my best estimate on his residence. I know of a hidden entrance that is no longer used."


    The vampire addressed the azaeri. "Do you know the way?"


    Ty''lek nodded, a serious expression on his face.


    "Good. I will provide directions in the morning regardless. But you will navigate the group under Cricket''s orders. I believe a chain of command helps reduce disorder."


    "Thank you," Scorpion said suddenly and the vampire looked at him in confusion. "For including me," the assassin continued. "After my injuries, I was worried Eyrgan would have me put down."


    A brief look of sadness flashed over the vampire''s face, at the mention of the fallen commander''s name. "Even with your injuries," Licephus responded, "I believe you may be the most menacing ratling I have met."


    Scorpion grinned. "I won''t let you down." The mimic cuddled against the ratling, almost knocking him to the ground, and he reached out with the stub of his arm to scratch its neck.


    For now," Licephus addressed the group, "get your rest. We will all need it. I have just fed, and I will gain strength slowly, but I can keep watch for the night. It will not wear on me."


    "You said you don''t think we''re far enough from the Warrens," Jeshu reminded. "Should we put some distance between us?"


    "Where''s the gnome?" Licephus asked then looked around, only to find him snoring softly, lying in the mud. Licephus rose and approached the illusionist, waking him brusquely with a kick.


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    "Wha?... WHO?" the gnome sputtered, looking around in confusion. "Mother?"


    The vampire peered down at the gnome and waited as he oriented himself.


    "Um... yes. Yes, what do you need?"


    "You can make sounds," Licephus stated. "Can you cover them?"


    "Oh, yes, easily!" Brax bragged. "Child''s play!"


    "We need some sound cover for the night. Can you create an illusion that will last while you sleep?"


    "Not at all," the gnome replied cheerily.


    "You said it was child''s play."


    "Yes. But... I spent all my energy on that distraction earlier."


    "On that sound?" Oydd interrupted, incredulously. "That was nothing!"


    "Nothing!" the gnome replied, insulted, as he rose to his feet and dusted off his leggings. "First I had to create a giant slug, which took about half my energy. Then I had to use the other half to make it invisible."


    Oydd fumed. His face flushed red, but he bit his lip.


    Licephus responded coolly. "And you have nothing left?"


    "Right."


    "No matter. I can handle any demons who wander this way. Druid, do you require sleep?"


    "No."


    "Then you are with me." Licephus retrieved his sword and wandered toward the southern edge of camp, where he could distantly view the opening to the Warrens. Jeshu moved to a position on their exposed side, away from the rock.


    "Oh! I could make a fire that only we can see..." the gnome suggested.


    "Keep your voice down," the rudra instructed warily. But he already began to feel a warmth emanating from nowhere.


    "Is that good?"


    "Yes," the rudra said, surprised, though he could not see the promised flame. "That''s perfect."


    The gnome beamed as Oydd felt around for the source and marked it with a small circle of stones, though the illusory fire did not produce enough heat to burn. The others, aside from Jeshu and Licephus, gathered around.


    "Remind me, what was the mimic''s name?" Cricket said.


    Scorpion looked hesitantly toward Ty''lek, before answering. "Agena called him something like... Ixitl."


    Ty''lek squawked and shook his head and the mimic turned a disgruntled brown.


    "That sounds close though..." Cricket stated. "Axolotl?"


    "No, that''s something else," Oydd snipped.


    "Axitl... uxitl?" Scorpion guessed, but the azaeri and the mimic only grew more flustered.


    Cricket slapped a palm on his knee. "Well, then we need a new name."


    "Iyxi''tl" Ty''lek chirped and the mimic turned an excited purple, which slowly faded to a contented blue.


    "Well, if Ixitl isn''t close enough, then Scorpion isn''t the problem." Cricket waved an accusing finger at the mimic and it flared a dangerous red. "Don''t give me that. We''re doing our best."


    In an attempt to calm the creature, Scorpion patted it softly on the head, but it jerked away at the unanticipated touch, then crawled under a rock to sulk.


    After warming his hands, Oydd left the circle to speak with Licephus. Cricket heard the two whispering at the edge of camp for a few moments, while the others argued. He wanted to listen to both conversations, and squirmed uncomfortably for a moment before deciding to rise and follow the rudra.


    "Because they didn''t weaken," Oydd whispered and the vampire nodded his head.


    "Even the lesser cultists who in no way benefited from the summoning."


    "There are other explanations," Oydd counseled.


    "Yes... yes there are. But it still troubled me," Licephus added. "Do they have a new patron?"


    "What are we talking about?" Cricket interjected, awkwardly.


    Licephus regarded him a moment, lost in his thoughts, then explained. "If the cultists ever profited from Bale''s favor, they certainly do not now."


    "Oh..." Cricket replied.


    "The leaders have grown more powerful, which is not too surprising, since they have stolen some of Bale''s power. Likewise, Bale grew greatly in power after betraying Serinyes. But what of the underlings? I had thought them to be receiving strength directly from their deity. But now that is unlikely."


    "Well, technically..." Oydd began.


    "As I said," Licephus cut him off, "unlikely. I pictured them praying to him, bolstered by him¡ªfighting for his favor. This seemed consistent with what we viewed. That is, underlings displaying divine favor, rising to compete even with the worshippers of Serinyes."


    "Uh-huh... uh-huh..." Cricket nodded, pretending to follow along.


    Licephus stared him directly in the eyes, and the insect felt a chill. "So why have they not weakened after Bale''s death?"


    "Wasn''t it just an avatar? He would have just returned to his home plane when they destroyed it."


    "And then continue to support those who betrayed him?" Oydd answered. "No. But you''re wrong, anyway. If Bale had returned home, then the incarnation would fade. Somehow they sealed him here. Until that sealing is released, he is functionally dead. His essence trapped."


    "I agree," Licephus said gravely. "Which raises a question we have not dealt with. Namely, who do they actually serve? Who is their true deity? I know of gods on the surface who might contend with Serinyes. But not here, in her own domain, among her most fervent followers. And those gods, that I know of¡ªworshiped by elves and humans¡ªwould not sink to such treachery nor sow discord."


    "Akinaska is powerful enough," Oydd suggested.


    "And yet, he remains neutral, keeping balance..."


    "I''ve never heard of the King of the Dead described as a god of order," Cricket said, critically.


    Licephus sneered. "Not order as you mean it. The so-called righteous gods force their order onto others, which is not true neutrality. I find them equally repulsive as the worshippers of Serinyes."


    The three fell quiet, realizing this critique of the dhampir god to be a heresy worthy of death in Al Tsiroth. The silence hung oppressively in the air until Licephus spoke again. "Regardless, this is not the hand of Akinaska."


    "Then who?" Cricket asked.


    A pained look flashed over the vampire''s face. "Who indeed?"


    *****


    Cricket woke without dreaming and surveyed the camp site. Lord Licephus stood alone to the south, speaking with the archer, his melancholy mood seeping into the ground. The bodies of two dethkiri lay stacked atop one another, concealed behind a crop of rock to the side of the camp. The others had already risen and prepared in silence, save for the gnome, who still lay facedown in a pool of his own drool.


    The insect stood groggily and located Oydd and Jeshu, who huddled around the mouseling. The rudra placed the back of his hand tenderly on her face and groaned.


    "Don''t worry," Jeshu responded. "She''s doing much better, but I gave her a sedative¡ªsome simple herbs to help her sleep. During the night, I believe I managed to mend her insides. She is not... dying. But she is weak."


    Cricket located her pack nearby and retrieved the green velvet bag. He found it still bulging with caltrops. The insect sighed, "What more could I need?"


    "What are you doing," Oydd snapped, protectively.


    "Oh, uh..." he held up the bag in response. "I could use these. Do you think she''d let me borrow them?"


    "How would I know?" Oydd replied. "I think not. Has she ever let anyone borrow anything?"


    "Well, she isn''t awake to ask..."


    "Exactly."


    "And I kind of need them..."


    Oydd grumbled to himself. "Do what you want. Heaven forbid I try to stop you."


    Cricket forced a smile, then tied the ribbon tight on the small bag and placed it in his own supply pouch. As an afterthought, the insect retrieved the vial with the dead lady bug and slipped it into the mouseling''s satchel.


    "Will you tell her I¡ª"


    "How is she?"


    Cricket jumped at the vampire''s voice. "Oh, uh... good?"


    "I was asking the druid."


    Jeshu sighed. "I think she can travel."


    "What is that?" The vampire pointed at the mouseling''s bandaged hands.


    "I don''t know. She had them wrapped like that when I first saw her. Some of her fur is singed. I thought she might have a burn, but I don''t sense any serious damage."


    "Remove the wraps," the vampire commanded.


    Jeshu untied one of the knots and began to unwind the cloth. Soon he revealed her still partially invisible paw. The enchantment stopped just past the wrist, and gave a translucent, glasslike look to the appendage.


    "What is this?" the vampire asked.


    Jeshu shook his head and turned to Oydd, who shrugged, his beak half-open.


    A twitch of irritation crossed the vampire''s face. He knelt at the mouseling''s side and undid the second bandage.


    "Hand me the mouseling''s pouch."


    Cricket obliged, and the vampire opened the satchel and began to remove useless items that the mouseling had collected. A brush with red hair, a small piece of Cricket''s molted shell, a totem doll that resembled the mouseling herself, and a long, tangled piece of twine.


    Then he removed a stalk of mushroom charcoal and a small chunk of orange salt, and set those two items aside. He sorted through to the bottom, and seeing nothing else of interest he pulled a small vial of black liquid from within his armor, which hung from a chain around his neck. Licephus unstopped the vial and immediately the smell of blood and decay reached Cricket, even from several paces away.


    The vampire poured a single, thick drop of the liquid onto the charred mushroom stalk, then placed it across the mouseling''s paws. The cool stalk sizzled as it touched the enchanted limbs, but the vampire seemed unconcerned. A faint vapor began to rise from her paws, which whipped into the charcoal, like smoke into a bellows as it''s drawn.


    Licephus whispered, clutching the shard of salt, and the sizzling sound increased, followed by a clear liquid that leaked from the mouseling''s fur.


    Finally, Licephus pressed the salt against the mushroom stalk and the crystal instantly vanished as the mouseling''s limbs reappeared.


    Licephus gripped the invisible salt crystal with both hands, as if trapping something inside. Slowly his muscles relaxed and he released his hold, placing the shard into his own small pouch.


    Licephus rose. "Is everyone ready to depart?"


    "Not quite." Oydd located a large dethkirok corpse and placed a hand over its face. The demon stirred, rising to its feet. It wobbled unsteadily as it took its first step, then stared at the rudra, awaiting orders.


    "I thought you couldn''t control demons," Cricket gasped.


    "I couldn''t," Oydd answered simply, "back when I said I couldn''t."


    Jeshu secured his shield on his back, and knelt, cradled the mouseling, carefully lifting her onto his shoulder. He grabbed the ettin''s hammer in his free hand, and instantly a layer of frost ran up his arm, nearly to the shoulder.


    Seeing their final preparations before departure, Cricket grabbed a jade khopesh and rang it against his chest plate. A very faint image of him appeared, vibrating away before evaporating.


    "That''s weird," Cricket said. He struck the blade against his chest again, more solidly, and another shadow appeared¡ªthis time more fully formed. It flickered a moment and stabilized.


    "Huh..." Cricket stared at the copy. "That felt harder than normal."


    "You must be out of practice," the rudra said dryly.


    "They don''t normally flicker like that when I just make one."


    "What do you mean, just one?" Oydd asked. "Have you made more than one?"


    Cricket nodded. "When I make two, they both get kind of... flickery."


    "You shouldn''t push yourself like that. This is dangerous magic."


    "When I make a third one," Cricket continued, "I get kind of flickery."


    Oydd''s eyes went wide in horror.


    "And when I make a fourth, they start to fade, like a candle right before it blows out."


    "You fool! That is because your very life force is fading! Just make one for now! But keep it out, and your mind and body will become familiar with the dark magic... more comfortable with the strain. Like I did with the ghouls. But just one! No more."


    Cricket scratched his chin and avoided eye contact.


    "Promise me, Cricket. Please."


    Cricket nodded, surprised at the note of concern in the rudra''s voice. "Okay. One for now." He turned to the druid. "Good luck."


    "Thank you. You too."


    Licephus surveyed the camp site. "We''ll rendezvous at Vestu Peska in one week. That only gives you three days to get there, and three days to get back," he added with a look toward Cricket. "If you return before us, only wait there for two days. If I return before you... I will only wait for two days. Do you understand?"


    Cricket nodded. They parted ways. Licephus, Jeshu, Oydd and his creations headed south, while Cricket, Scorpion, and the azaeri headed northeast.


    And, several minutes later, Cricket''s group returned to collect the gnome, then set off again.

 The Empty Road

    12


    The Empty Road


    Cricket opened the bag again. "More caltrops!" He tossed a few of the spiky metal objects on the trail behind them.


    "It''s had caltrops in it the last three times," Scorpion said tiredly. "I''m not surprised any more." The mimic wrapped its tentacles over his shoulders and hung on the ratling like a backpack. It bounced softly with each step Scorpion took over the rocky path.


    "Well, we need caltrops... to cover our trail... in case we''re followed."


    Scorpion looked back at the trail, empty, but for dozens of caltrops. "I think you''re more likely to harm some passing merchant... or maybe a stray goat. We''re hours from the Warrens."


    "And yet, the bag knows we need caltrops!"


    "What do you mean?"


    "Jeshu told me about this bag. We''re supposed to keep it a secret from Oydd, but it''s magical!"


    "Cricket, shit! Obviously it''s magical. I''m not a moron. What do you mean it knows what we need?"


    "Jeshu said the bag knows what people need. And it keeps making caltrops, so we must need them, even if we don''t know it."


    "Maybe it just makes what you want. Because we don''t need caltrops. We certainly don''t need more caltrops."


    Cricket thought this over.


    "Cricket... do you want caltrops?"


    "So bad," the insect admitted. "I''ve been wanting to ask Bird..." he trailed off, with a glance back toward their home. He vaguely recalled seeing a bearded werepanther beneath the pile of bodies back in the commons, and shook the thought away. "I wanted to ask Bird to make some, but... he was a little mad at me."


    "Let someone else see it. If it doesn''t make caltrops for me, then we don''t need caltrops." Scorpion reached for the bag, but Cricket''s shadow beat him to it, snatching it from beneath the ratling''s nose. It stuck its tongue out at Scorpion, and the ratling''s lip twitched, revealing his clenched teeth.


    "That was rude," Cricket said.


    "You''re just making commentary? Can''t you control him?"


    "Mmmm... not really. He just does his own thing. Maybe I should try..." The insect absently cleaned his feelers.


    "So he does whatever you would do?" Scorpion accused the insect.


    "He does whatever I would do if I had no fear of consequences!" Cricket corrected.


    "So you would shove me when I''m not looking?"


    "Did he do that?"


    "He''s a sociopath!" the gnome suggested helpfully.


    "Uh, what''s that?" Cricket asked.


    Bax considered how to explain the word. "Like you said, no regard for consequences. No, wait... maybe it was no ethical concern. Like, the only reason he doesn''t chop us down is because he has nothing to gain from it."


    Cricket interjected, "No, no, no! He''s not that bad."


    The shadow stuck his foot out and tripped the gnome. Bax landed on his knees, tearing a hole in his leggings. He rose with an anxious smile.


    "Oh, no..." Cricket said. "Okay, to be fair, I might trip you if you were insulting me like that." Cricket thought it over. "No..."


    "Are you sure he won''t hurt us?" Scorpion asked.


    "Sorry... I''m just a little out of practice. The first clones I made were pretty mean, but we learned to work together. Really, I didn''t think I would have a problem with just one out. Give me a little time. If he," Cricket pointed a finger at the shadow, "doesn''t get his act together... I''ll get rid of him."


    The shadow glared back at Cricket, and Cricket pretended not to notice.


    After a moment, it reached into the velvet bag and produced a caltrop, holding it up for the ratling to see, then tossed it on the trail behind them.


    Scorpion rolled his eyes and turned away. "Let me know if you''re willing to let someone other than you, or a psycho clone of you, try their luck." Scorpion felt a second caltrop bounce from the back of his head and land on the trail. He seethed through his teeth, but kept his eyes forward as he walked. Another caltrop bounced off the back of his head.


    "It can''t do that forever," Bax said.


    "I''m worried that he can."


    "No, no! It will... um... that is, the bag will need to... recharge," he finished, waving his fingers in the air to add an element of mystery.


    "Then we shouldn''t waste it." Scorpion felt another caltrop bounce from his head, and whirled on the shadow. He made a pass at the bag with his one arm, but the insect jerked it away. The mimic reached out far too slowly with a tentacle, and the shadow lifted the bag above his head, out of their reach.


    "Cricket, get your bug!"


    Cricket sighed and raised a khopesh. He concentrated and the shadow, with a sudden look of alarm, vanished. The magic bag plopped onto the dusty trail and Scorpion opened it.


    "Nothing!"


    "Nice!" Cricket said. "You don''t need anything."


    "I don''t want anything," the ratling hissed, tossing the bag back at Cricket. "I certainly don''t want more caltrops."


    Cricket stuck his chin in the air, offended, but stuffed the magic bag back in his pouch for later. He spoke with a slight pang in his voice. "We''re falling behind Ty''lek. We better hurry up."


    *****


    The vampire scouted the tunnel to the surface and returned to the group. "It''s still light. We''ll need to wait another hour. It''s about a day''s distance on the surface uninterrupted, but since we must restrict our travel to the dark, it will take two nights. Which means we won''t be able to rest for several hours after this."


    "And then we''ll be in Fomoria?" Oydd asked.


    "And then we''ll be near Fomoria," the vampire answered.


    The dryad looked concerned. "Will we make it back in a week''s time?"


    "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But we have nine days if Cricket arrives first and waits for us. Still, we will spend the time we need." He turned back to the rudra. "Have you been to the surface?"


    "Once," Oydd answered, with no fondness.


    "How is the mouseling?"


    "Better," the dryad replied. "Actually, she seems more despondent than hurt."


    "Oh?"


    "She lost her pet."


    "Her familiar," Licephus corrected. "A familiar is far more than a pet. She bonded with it by blood and magic. And so, a piece of her is missing."


    "I don''t know how to treat that," the druid confessed.


    "You can''t. Really, I''m not sure if it will get better with time. She will move on, of course, but I wonder if it will simply be that she learns to feel empty until empty is normal."


    "Surely you''re being dramatic?" Oydd snapped.


    Licephus smiled. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. There is a tale among the elves of a maiden who bonded with a silver dragon. When the dragon died, she became inconsolable. She refused to eat or drink... or even sleep. And in time she too passed. Such was their bond that one could not live without the other. I, however, do not believe the mouseling to be so pathetic."


    "That''s harsh," Oydd whispered.


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    "That is praise. She is not weak."


    Licephus sat and leaned against the wall. The dethkirok, Oydd''s new ghoul, nuzzled its snout against the vampire affectionately.


    "What witchcraft is this," Oydd mused, "that the dead are fond of you?"


    Licephus forced a smile, but patted the brute on the head without responding to the question.


    Oydd separated from the group to where Skunk lounged, circling the mouseling protectively. He dismissed the mutant, and hovered over her still body. Patches'' eyes were open, but she stared off at nothing.


    "I''m sorry. I truly am, little one."


    Patches winced.


    The rudra cleared his throat. "Will you tell me what happened?"


    "I didn''t get to say goodbye..."


    Oydd patted the mouseling awkwardly then withdrew his hand.


    Patches stirred very slightly and looked up at the rudra. "I set a fire in my hole."


    "Why?"


    "I had to."


    Oydd waited patiently and the mouseling continued.


    "I had to, but there was too much smoke and I couldn''t put it out and I couldn''t see my hands... but that was earlier." She thought a moment and swapped the order. "I couldn''t see my hands, and I knew you''d be mad, and I had to start a fire, but there wasn''t room for it in my hole and it filled with smoke."


    "I''m not mad..." the rudra said softly, trying to reassure her.


    "I couldn''t see and I couldn''t breathe, and then... and then those things came and I tried to hide, but my hole was full of black smoke. And I remembered Pip was inside, so I went back for him, and the fire didn''t even get him but he was still dead and I didn''t even get to say goodbye."


    "And then one of the demon''s hurt you? Cricket said Gad was there."


    "I don''t remember." She stared off and began to cry again, sniffling. "He was so little..."


    Oydd tried to pet the mouseling again, somewhat less awkwardly than the first time.


    "And I want... to say goodbye."


    "Oh!" the rudra said suddenly.


    Patches looked up weakly.


    "I forgot. That worthless bug... I''m sorry¡ªCricket, not Pip. He took something from your pouch. A small velvet bag. He seemed to think it had some value."


    "I can''t tell you about it." Patches tried to shake her head against the floor. "You''ll get mad."


    Oydd furrowed his brow at her reaction. "And he slipped something into your satchel."


    "Something new?" Patches asked hopefully.


    "I can''t say."


    Patches looked over at her satchel a short distance away and the rudra rose to retrieve it. He placed it within her reach, and the mouseling stared at it for a long moment before attempting to sit up.


    She opened the flap and immediately noticed the flask Cricket had placed near the top. She opened the container and Pip''s still body slid out onto her hands, right-side-up. The once red shell now appeared more of a burnt orange, discolored from the smoke.


    The mouseling''s tiny jaw began to quiver and she leaned against the rudra''s leg and sobbed uncontrollably, clutching Pip tight in her paw.


    The rudra stiffened at her touch, but the mouseling didn''t notice.


    After a good weep, she began to catch her breath, shuddering slightly, and the rudra spoke hesitantly. "Little one..."


    Patches wiped her eye with the back of her paw and curled her face away from the rudra, laying her cheek against his boot.


    "What... what if I brought it back?"


    The mouseling perked up suddenly.


    "I won''t!" he said worriedly, "If you don''t want me to. Cricket doesn''t appreciate my... that is, I could. I could bring it back if... that would make you feel better."


    "You can?"


    "I can. I... don''t think it will be the same. Not really. Think of Skunk. And he''s not even animated by dark magic. Dark magic has a way of corrupting things."


    "It will corrupt him?" The mouseling sniffed.


    Oydd shrugged. "I couldn''t say. I doubt we would notice, really."


    "Will he still be kind?"


    The rudra hesitated, unsure of how to answer honestly without hurting the mouseling''s feelings. Finally, he said simply, "I think it should be fine. I''m not worried."


    Patches hid her face again as she thought. "I want him back. I don''t care if he''s not the same. He''s too little to die. And I killed him..."


    "You''re sure that''s what you want?"


    Patches nodded stiffly. "Please?" she pleaded and extended her paws in a small cup, with the lady bug in the middle.


    Oydd sat and placed his metal staff upon his lap. His tentacles began to curl and he reached out a single finger, delicately, touching the tiny beetle''s shell.


    A green spark appeared, like static electricity, knocking the bug onto its back. Oydd withdrew his hand suddenly, worried he had overdone the spell. But then a soft green light began to glow from the bug''s eyes. A leg twitched and then another.


    Pip righted himself in the mouseling''s outstretched hands and began to crawl around in circles. It lifted the shell covering its wings, paused as if saving up energy, and then slowly began to rise into the air.


    Patches squealed. She rushed to the rudra and hugged his leg.


    Oydd stiffened again as he reached down to pat her head.


    "Thank you! Thank you! I love you! I love him!"


    Pip buzzed off on his wings, like a drifting speck of dust, and the mouseling chased after him humming, leaving the rudra to himself, quite stunned, with his beak hanging wide open.


    *****


    Ten... Eleven... Twelve... the shadow counted as it surveyed the room for the next smallest dethkirok. And... thirteen. He positioned his dagger beneath the snout, but paused and took a step back to scratch his feelers. He lined the dagger up along the exterior of the demon''s head and slumped his shoulders. This one was too big. He wasn''t super confident that he could ram the dagger all the way to the brain.


    He studied the twelve corpses of the demons he had already slain. One stab each. That was the key. Anything less efficient and it would be a bloodbath.


    A stream of dethkirok blood flowed from his previous kill and pooled around his foot. The shadow almost laughed at his word choice. This was already a bloodbath.


    Still, he didn''t want any of his blood spilled. A thought that caused the shadow to lift a hand before his face and ponder whether he had blood at all.


    Cricket wiped his foot dry on the stone, careful not to slip, and left the sleeping quarters, traveling back up the hall the way he had come.


    When he reached the intersection, he took the last remaining path, using all his will to avoid kicking a rock down the tunnel... or whistling. Which wouldn''t normally be an issue. He never really whistled. But the temptation seemed oddly strong now that he couldn''t.


    The tunnel led to a spacious cavern. Much larger than the cavern with the axebeak. Perhaps large enough to contain the whole of the Warrens. From his vantage point, he saw multiple side tunnels, and tried his luck with the nearest.


    By the change in the air, and humidity, he quickly surmised the tunnel to be an exit, and his assumption proved accurate as he stumbled upon a lone imp guard in adamantine armor, facing out from the tunnel into the open wilds of Agoth. Fortunately, the spear-wielding imp expected no threat from behind. So Cricket crept up as softly and silently as a shadow can.


    When he drew near enough to smell the imp''s breath¡ªa stench of rotten eggs and overripe parsnips¡ªhe lunged, wrapping one upper arm around the imp''s wiry throat, as the other cupped a hand over its mouth. Simultaneously, he wrapped his legs around the imp''s and pulled, rolling onto his back. He positioned his dagger near the scrawny devil''s kidney, but the choke hold proved effective enough, and he managed to crush its throat with the carapace of his bicep.


    Cricket rose, letting the body slump to the floor, and inspected the spear, which he believed to also be made of adamantite. He tested the weight and made a few practice stabs in the air, then began to remove the imp''s armor, testing various pieces for fit.


    The helmet had two holes for the creature''s horns about where Cricket''s antennae protruded from his head, but it was slightly too small, and really not quite the right shape. With a frown, the insect tossed the helm aside. He did take two vambraces for his upper forearms, leaving the misshapen gauntlets behind, and grabbed a pair of greaves for his shins. While he might have finagled the breastplate to fit, he chose not to bother.


    Lastly, he armed himself with the creature''s buckler¡ªa rather tiny shield that he took on a whim, feeling the urge to experiment. After some experimentation, the combination didn''t feel right, so Cricket switched the spear to his left hand and the shield to his right. He took a couple more stabs and nodded in approval.


    He left the body in the middle of the tunnel, feeling no need to be particularly careful, and returned to the room with the sleeping dethkiri.


    The five remaining demon''s still slumbered, oblivious to the fate of their comrades. As surprising as that was, to the shadow, he accepted his good fortune and stalked up to the largest of the demons.


    Grabbing the spear with three hands, he lunged it deep into the dethkirok''s throat, making contact with the back of the skull on the far side. The strike was, however, much louder than the kills with his dagger, and the shadow cringed, surveying the room for any sign of motion from the other demons.


    One stirred, but nothing more. Likely, the beasts were used to some amount of noise from their sleeping companions¡ªyawns and grunts... claws scraping against the floor.


    The shadow smirked, quite pleased with his streak of luck, just moments before he noticed a sneeze coming on. The insect tried to cover the larger holes¡ªor nostrils¡ªrunning down his sides, and managed¡ªwith his four arms¡ªto plug five of the six. Still, the urge to sneeze grew. His eyes darted around the room in a panic, looking for a place to hide, or some marvelous, serendipitous contraption to save him. But of course he found none.


    Cricket tried to sprint from the room, bustling and jangling as he ran, and woke two of the demons even before letting out a thunderous, unmitigated sneeze through his one uncovered nostril.


    Without a backward glance, Cricket darted back toward the main room. By the time he passed the latrine, he heard the beasts in pursuit. They roared and hissed, and one let out a long wail he knew must be some sort of alarm.


    Cricket made it halfway across the grate above the axebeak''s den before he sensed the nearest gaining on him. He skidded to a stop on his shins¡ªthankful for the protection of the greaves¡ªand pulled up the trap door, letting the hatch serve as a makeshift barrier between him and the dethkirok.


    By the time he saw the beast, it was already mid-pounce, and landed on the upright grate sooner than the insect expected. Jarringly fast. It latched onto the rusted bars with its claws, as its tail lashed over the top, swinging powerfully just out of reach of the insect''s head.


    Its six-inch claws posed little threat through the grate, and the insect managed to keep his buckler between his face and the razor-sharp nails, though the weight of the demon started to crush him against the floor.


    Slowly, between its violent thrashes, he maneuvered his spear to thrust through one of the gaps. But before he could make his move, a giant, axe-shaped beak emerged from the pit and yanked the struggling dethkirok back down with it.


    Cricket froze, stunned, before simply closing the trap door to the pit, sealing the demon inside. Thick vapors rising from the piles and piles of dung at the bottom of the pit obscured his vision, and though he couldn''t see the demon, he heard the axebeak feasting¡ªchewing, sloshing, snapping. He even heard the distinct sound of its claws scraping against the demon''s natural armor plates.


    Fourteen. Three left... and all three loomed before him.

 Feral

    13


    Feral


    "Something''s following us."


    "I know," Cricket replied. "I''m not too worried though. It''s just an animal. It won''t attack if we stay in a group."


    "I don''t think it is," Scorpion cautioned, looking over his shoulder.


    "It moves like an animal. It''s on all fours..."


    "But I caught a flash of metal."


    Cricket cocked his head. "Maybe a collar or a leash. An escaped pet?"


    Scorpion shook his head. "Not safe to assume the best."


    Cricket tapped a finger eagerly on the hilt of his khopesh. "I do like assuming the worst..."


    Scorpion hesitated to respond. "Is that a joke?"


    "What? No. Just like you said, it''s dangerous not to assume the worst."


    "Pessimists are happier," Bax added. The gnome had been silent for so long that his voice almost made Cricket jump. "Optimists are routinely disappointed."


    "Is that true?" Cricket said. "That doesn''t sound right."


    "It is true! If you expect the worst, you''ll usually be pleasantly surprised. I start every day by whispering to myself, ''we''re all going to die in horrible ways'', and I''m the happiest gnome I know."


    "How many other gnomes do you know?" Scorpion asked sarcastically.


    "Well, I knew quite a few." Bax frowned. "But they all died in horrible ways."


    "And now?" Scorpion pressed, boorishly.


    "Hmm... are any of you gnomes?"


    "You know we''re not." Scorpion hopped over a rock half his height rather than walking around it.


    "No, no... I mean were any of you gnomes? At the Warrens."


    "No."


    "I swear I... saw one..."


    "It''s coming in," Cricket warned, pointing a khopesh toward a nearby crop of stalagmites.


    The group hushed. Ty''lek readied an arrow. As he held the draw, a spiral of dark energy gathered around the tip.


    Cricket drew both khopeshes and held a finger up to quiet the group behind him. He drew both daggers and crept forward until he heard a snarl like a mighty wild cat. The insect flinched, mostly in surprise, and nearly dropped a dagger as a humanoid form rushed from behind a pillar of rock on all fours.


    "Crap!" Cricket fumbled, tightening his grip on his weapons as he ran back toward the group. "Vampire! Stall!"


    Scorpion threw a dagger, but panicked as Cricket rushed behind him, leaving the ratling at the head of the group. As he ran, the insect struck a khopesh against his jade breastplate and a hazy shadow formed.


    "You ass!" Scorpion shouted as he scrambled after the insect.


    Ty''lek released his arrow, but the vampire nimbly dodged as it ran.


    Bax stepped to the front of the group and began waving his hands. The feral vampire leapt through the air, tackling the gnome to the ground.


    Bax vanished only to reappear nearby.


    The vampire sniffed at the ground where the illusory gnome had been seconds before, then stalked cautiously toward Bax again. Several caltrops protruded from the vampire''s knuckles, and even its shins, where it must have tumbled against the ground at some point. It favored the uninjured edge of its hands, sometimes walking on its fingertips, which slowed it down noticeably.


    "How much of a distraction do you need?" Bax asked.


    "Like ten seconds!" Cricket struck the khopesh against his chest again. It seemed the first shadow would disappear completely, but at the second strike a third Cricket appeared, and both shadows solidified.


    "Because, I can only do that five times... and on the fifth time I die."


    "What nonsense are you spewing?" Scorpion spat, as he took a position between the two shadows.


    The vampire sniffed the air again, as if wary of being tricked before pouncing on the gnome. Once again Bax vanished and reappeared elsewhere. This time the vampire struck a menacing pose and roared. The hairs on the tips of the gnome''s ears stood up straight in terror, and he held his hands up, screaming. The vampire lept for his throat.


    Bax wafted away like smoke, and the vampire crashed on the far side of him.


    "Oh, yeah..." Bax sighed in relief, appearing several feet away.


    Cricket and his clones sprinted for the gnome, but the vampire recovered quickly. A dagger, thrown from the ratling stuck into its side, and it shrugged off several slashes from shadowy blades. However, the vampire now remained obsessively fixated on the gnome.


    Cricket rammed it from the side, attempting to knock it off course, but the beast barely swerved, finally landing its fangs around the gnome''s throat.


    This time, Bax remained. The vampire thrashed its head, tearing into the gnome''s flesh. It released its grip for only a split second to adjust, then clamped down harder than before.


    Cricket jumped onto its back, stabbing at its throat repeatedly with his daggers, then wrapped the sickle edge of a khopesh around its neck and cut it open from ear to ear.


    The vampire whined and bounded off with the gnome''s limp body, leaving a trail of blood behind.


    Scorpion stood in shock and muttered "Do we follow?"


    "No," Bax said from behind him. "Let it bleed out."


    Cricket turned, surprised to see the gnome still in one piece, but smiled. "How did the same trick work so many times?"


    "Not the same trick," Bax corrected. "That would have gotten me killed. With wild animals, you can really only trick each sense once."


    "But he''s not an animal."


    "He behaved like one," the gnome said.


    "What do you mean," Cricket asked, "that you can only trick each sense once?"


    "First he went by sight, and then smell, and then sound. Lastly, I let him feel like he had me in his teeth. If I just did the same illusion each time, or if I tried to fool all of his senses at once, I believe I would be a meal by now."


    ¡°What about taste?" Cricket asked. "I bet he''d chew on an illusion a bit longer if it tasted good."


    "Oh, that''s brilliant," Bax shouted. "I''ll have to try that next time. I''m almost certain that would work."


    Cricket beamed.


    "Um, Cricket" Scorpion suddenly said in alarm. "You''re looking kind of... fuzzy."


    The insect lifted up his arms for inspection, and sighed. He concentrated and one of the shadows disappeared. Slowly, he came back into focus.


    The remaining shadow sprinted after the vampire.


    "He''s been following us since the Warrens," Cricket said. "I saw the same vampire in a cage days ago. It must have broken free during the attack."


    He stared at his arms again, a little disappointed.


    "What''s wrong?" Scorpion asked.


    "Oh... nothing. I was hoping I wouldn''t get fuzzy with just two clones out. I thought I''d have more control by now."


    "Oydd told you to just do one."


    "And I totally would have..." Cricket replied, "but I was a little worried that thing would be as strong as Licephus. So I took a calculated risk."


    Scorpion shook his head. "Not even close. Licephus is ancient. He could have snapped that thing''s neck with one hand."


    Cricket saw his shadow returning with the vampire''s head, albeit with only three of its arms. He cringed and dismissed the clone.


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    As they walked, he created a new clone, but it was still missing an arm. "Oh, that''s not good."


    The shadow looked down at its missing limb, and lunged angrily at Cricket. He vanished it in record time and tried again. This time, as the clone formed, he confirmed it was still missing an arm and stepped out of its reach. Once it was fully formed he held up his hands.


    "Truce! I want to help."


    The shadow glared back at him.


    "I saw Jade reform her shadows, so there must be a way."


    The shadow cocked its head as if thinking. It drew one of its khopeshes and tossed it point-first toward the dirt. Almost immediately, the blade evaporated. The shadow raised its empty hand.


    Cricket studied the clone in confusion for a moment before comprehension dawned on him. "Jade''s shadows could throw her weapons. But you can''t.¡±


    The shadow nodded.


    "Perhaps it''s time to make camp," Scorpion suggested.


    Ty¡¯lek nodded enthusiastically.


    "Alright." Cricket led the group from the path at a lazy gait. He stayed with his shadow as the others settled in. "Can you will it back?"


    The shadow shook his head.


    "Try focusing on your hand."


    The clone waved its hand in the air then suddenly slapped Cricket.


    "Hey, I''m trying to help!"


    It shrugged as if it had tried its best.


    Cricket groaned, but took a deep breath to calm himself. He held up a khopesh and struck it to his chest, concentrating on the shadow''s missing limb.


    The shadow vibrated, but nothing reformed.


    "I think you have to do it..."


    The shadow placed its lower hands on its hips defiantly.


    "I haven''t seen you try..." Cricket began, but the accusation seemed to anger the shadow and it reached out with its one good arm and shoved him.


    "Watch it," Cricket warned, raising a finger.


    The shadow mocked him, raising a finger and copying his broad stance.


    Cricket grunted in frustration. "Can you do this?" He held up all four arms and clapped with each set. The three armed shadow stared back in contempt.


    "I thought not."


    Angered, the clone drew a dagger and pulled it back to throw. Cricket shrieked and cowered, but the blade disappeared as soon as it left the shadow''s hand.


    "Not cool! If you want my help, this is your last warning."


    The shadow attacked, waving a khopesh, and Cricket blocked. The insect stumbled backward, as the clone drew its remaining dagger and began a full-on assault.


    The attacks were fairly easy to parry, considering the shadow had already lost one khopesh and one dagger. Cricket¡¯s panicked expression soon turned to a smile and he laughed as the shadow pressed him. Not mocking the shadow, but genuinely excited to finally be fighting himself.


    After a few exchanges, the shadow smiled as well. Cricket dropped one khopesh and one dagger to even the field, and the two began to test each other''s defenses.


    "Should we be worried?" Scorpion asked the azaeri as they watched from a short distance away.


    Ty''lek looked up and shrugged.


    "Why?" Bax asked. "Have you never fought yourself? I''ve found it''s really the only way to detect your weaknesses."


    "I can''t fight myself," Scorpion returned.


    "Oh," the gnome said sorrowfully. "Well that... that is a bit of a shame, isn''t it."


    The three sat in silence for a while, watching the Crickets fight. The dance was mesmerizing¡ªeach step purposeful, the attacks quick and graceful.


    "You actually could," Bax began a again. "I could make another Scorpion."


    The ratling raised an eyebrow and considered the offer. "I''ll pass for now."


    Cricket blocked once, then twice. On the third strike, he prepared a fake block, but instead dodged at the last second, using his unexpected position to strike instead. The shadow twisted suddenly in an effort to counter the move and tripped over his own feet. Not drastically, but just enough that Cricket was able to press his position stepping forward with three more swings without allowing the shadow a chance to recover.


    He stabbed low, forcing the clone to block with its free hand, but Cricket swatted the lower arm aside with his own free hand. This meant the shadow could only dodge by twisting sideways, which allowed Cricket to move behind him, aiming a finishing blow to the shadow''s head.


    Instantly, the clone''s arm rematerialized, khopesh in hand, blocking the blow.


    Cricket froze, his own eyes staring into the shadow¡¯s, with only inches between them.


    "That''s not fair. I was only using one khopesh."


    A dagger appeared in the shadow''s free hand and it slashed for Cricket''s throat.


    He leapt away, giving up his advantage, and the shadow began a counterattack.


    Cricket struggled with his defense, having abandoned two of his own weapons in the dirt, and in a panic, he lashed out with a dagger and clipped the tip of the shadow''s antenna.


    The top inch evaporated.


    Both combatant''s froze. The shadow''s eyes grew wide.


    "I''m sorry," Cricket blurted. "I didn''t try to cut you."


    The shadow''s expression softened, but only until Cricket dropped his guard, then it lashed out with its own dagger, lobbing off one of his antennae entirely.


    Cricket squealed as he fell back, raising a hand to the wound. His head throbbed and his surroundings thrummed. He heard a high-pitched ringing in his one remaining antenna¡ªthe one that Oydd had bent¡ªwhich slowly faded to a dull hum.


    As he fell backward, Cricket concentrated, dismissing the shadow before crashing to the ground.


    Scorpion rushed to his side and the archer followed close behind. "Are you okay?"


    Cricket shook his head. "I don''t like him. He''s.... he''s a bully."


    The insect tried to stand, but swooned, and found himself falling against the azaeri''s side. Ty''lek caught him with one arm, and Cricket slowly regained his footing.


    "Thanks... I''m exhausted. No clones for a while, I think."


    With that, the insect passed out.


    *****


    Cricket''s forgotten shadow stood triumphantly over the bodies of the remaining dethkiri, panting from the fierce battle. Until, that is, he realized he wasn''t actually out of breath.


    A deep, almost purple blood dripped from the tip of his adamantine spear, and he stooped to wipe the tip clean on the nearest corpse, before plopping down to rest on the ground. He wasn''t really tired, so much as feeling he had earned a break.


    Cricket set the spear and buckler down in front of him, just as he felt an itch at his side. He reached to scratch it and felt the handle of a dagger. The one that had already vanished.


    He paused to reflect on this, then held out his bare hands and concentrated. In his left hand first, a very faint outline of a khopesh appeared, and then in his right. However, neither formed fully, so he abandoned the right hand and focused only on the left. After a few minutes of intense concentration, he managed to form one nearly whole khopesh. The bottom half of the handle just vanished into nothing, and the blade looked a bit shorter than he remembered¡ªcertainly less stable than before.


    Still, the shadow smiled at his fortune and immediately attempted to create another clone for company. He struck the ill-formed blade against his chest, against his shadowy breastplate, which made an unpleasant, discordant sound with no immediate results.


    He struck it again, and he began to vibrate and separate into two shadows. The second, like the khopesh, seemed ill-formed. It possessed no antennae, no face, and regrettably no lower half. Rather it seemed to hover.  A thick tuft of smoke protruded from its torso, where legs ought to have been and whipped against the ground. And it possessed only two arms.


    The shadow studied the monstrosity quizzically, knowing from Cricket''s memory that the magic drew from his own energy. He huffed, unimpressed at the pitance he had received, and tried again without dismissing the failed attempt.


    On his second go, he felt some strength leave him as well, and the first shadow faded almost instantly, replaced by the second, which looked the same as the first, only a bit more... faded.


    Cricket surveyed his creation critically and returned his own khopesh to its scabbard. He retrieved his spear, fearing another attempt would only create worse results, and headed back down the hall toward the prison cells. The shadow drifted after him, oblivious to its surroundings.


    The insect returned to Zarachi''s cell and rapped on the bars to get his attention, but the dryad didn''t respond. Cricket banged again with his buckler, unafraid of making noise, but the dryad sat motionless. His antennae drooped. He noticed Zarachi''s gnarled hands holding a tear in his side. An amber blood, like dried sap, stained his fingers. The shadow watched a moment for any signs of breathing, then frowned and turned to Gad''s cell.


    The half troll watched him in curiosity, more alert than their previous encounter.


    Cricket pointed at the lock and the trollblood nodded, which caught Cricket off guard. He had never known the ghoul to respond to... anything.


    Still, the more the merrier. So he bit through the lock to Gad''s cell and the ghoul lumbered out, breathing heavily, staring down on the insect.


    The three returned to the chamber with the axebeak den and opened the grate. By now, the sounds of feeding had died down, and the axebeak cooed and screeched playfully. When it heard the grate creak, it vaulted toward the opening, clutching onto the bars with its hind legs. It probed the opening with its beak, but couldn''t hold itself for long and dropped back down into the hole. A moment later it jumped again, this time nearly clearing the bars. Its shoulder caught the edge of the grate, which knocked it off balance, but after a quick scramble and the ruffling of some feathers, it managed to squeeze tightly through the five-foot gap, and right itself atop the grate, free from its den.


    Purple blood stained the lizard''s beak, and a fresh, deep wound from a dethkirok claw marred its face. It hopped about sniffing and squawking. It brought its eye close to Cricket''s face, seemed to recognize the shadow, then inspected his companions. The axebeak passed by the other warped shadow without a taste, but suddenly bit into Gad''s arm. It tore through the rusted iron Oydd had long ago fixed to the ghoul''s skeleton and dug into the rotten flesh.


    Gad made no reaction. The axebeak twisted, tearing off a string of muscle from his bicep, cutting it with its razor beak, and slurped the flesh down its gullet, only to gag and vomit up the meal a moment later with a loud display of displeasure.


    It turned its head around, half circle, and began to lick its tongue against its own feathers to scrape off the flavor.


    Afterward, it returned to Cricket, making a few sounds of complaint, and he reached up to scratch its chin. Cricket led the beast down the tunnel, deeper into the dethkirok hive, but returned to tap the faceless shadow on the shoulder. The shadow faced him, and Cricket gave a short tug on its arm, prompting it to follow.


    He led the entourage past the latrine, and past the room with the once-sleeping dethkiri, and into the large cavern with many exits¡ªonly one of which the shadow had already explored.


    Cricket counted the tunnels and scratched his head with a single finger as he decided their next path. Ultimately, though, the faceless shadow stumbled forward, choosing a path for him, and Cricket followed.


    Despite having no eyes, the shadow seemed to navigate well enough, and headed directly for a wide, well-traveled tunnel. Cricket hopped along behind it. He now allowed himself the luxury of whistling, though he immediately, and sadly, found that he was not capable of producing any air. He did feel like he could inhale, but wondered if he were simply playing tricks on his own senses, as no air ever came back out. He tested again, puffing up his chest, then attempted to make some noise as he forcefully exhaled, but nothing came. Dejected, the shadow watched his feet, and didn''t register the sound of deep goblins until marching abruptly into their main hall.


    At once, two dozen goblins sized up the motley group, but for an embarrassingly long interval no one moved save for the axebeak who shied away from its cruel captors.


    Though most of the goblins appeared unarmed, a small retinue of adamantite-clad lieutenants huddled on the far side of the room around a one-winged gargoyle¡ªthe same that Cricket had seen days ago in the caged wagon. Or, rather, the original Cricket had seen it. Still, the memory seemed so... personal.


    Without a voice to command his troops, Cricket simply pointed his spear as if to signal a charge. But when no one charged passed him, he turned and prodded the faceless shadow from behind. Eventually a reluctant axebeak joined the assault.


    With a sigh of frustration, Cricket took up the rear, unsure whether Gad would follow.

 Indech, the King of Fomoria

    14


    Indech, the King of Fomoria


    Oydd waited for the sun to set, secreted away in a small grotto in the foothills where a steady stream had worn away the rock.


    Before the sun rose, Licephus had pointed out the mountains of Fomoria¡ªno more than an hour''s journey. And yet, the vampire did not dare risk the final stretch during the last hour of night, lest they were unable to find shelter in time.


    And so the group fell a full day behind.


    From his vantage point, Oydd could see a small village and wondered how they fared, so close to a valley of giants. He even wondered what horror they might feel if they knew of his own presence, or of the vampire. Surface dwellers often relied on fear, rather than strength, to survive.


    However, Licephus did say that the fomorians seldom emerged from their subterranean home. And so, perhaps this village was as safe as any of the dozens of elvish cities that flourished above Al Tsiroth.


    Licephus referred to the fomorians as ''true giants'', with some, including their king Indech, as high as forty feet. But they ranged wildly in height, with some below ten feet tall. Though, these were considered pests, culled for sport by their cannibalistic brethren.


    Licephus allowed the druid to bask in the last rays of sunlight, though he and the rudra stayed behind in the damp dark¡ªquiet but for the flow of water.


    Patches climbed a small game trail to the side of the stream, and the vampire made no comment on her leave, seemingly content to let the mouseling govern herself.


    "The silent breath of twilight..." Oydd motioned toward the stars with his staff as he seated himself on a rock near Licephus. "So described by the rudran poet." Oydd had long dropped the lord''s title, and the vampire made no complaint. "I, however, find the vastness dizzying."


    Licephus looked up toward the stars, but made no response.


    "You seem troubled."


    He sighed. "That''s because I am troubled," Licephus stated flatly. He smirked. "I don''t care for giants. I feel... small around them. No amount of power can make you feel safe around Indech."


    "You''ve met him before?"


    "I have. He sits atop a throne made from the bones of his own kin. He rules on fear and intimidation. Which will work to our advantage."


    Oydd scoffed.


    "Because..." Licephus continued, "our kind is viewed as inferior. He will not deign to threaten us. It would be... undignified to treat us with so much esteem."


    "I don''t mean to critique your judgment," Oydd clarified. "But I despise diplomacy."


    "You are not used to being powerless. With the fomorians, I assure you abasement will get you further than muscle."


    "Why do you suspect the forgemaster is here?"


    "The crystals in Fomoria have unique properties. In truth, it is the only location where the materials to produce adamantite can be procured. The process is alchemical, requiring a cold forge," the vampire added as an aside. "Regardless, I have confirmed his presence." Licephus folded his arms, holding his chin in one hand. "A changeling with whom I am familiar."


    "And what if he is working with the fomorian king?"


    "Oh, he almost undoubtedly is. But I know Indech well enough to know he will pretend otherwise. If only to mock us, he would deny any association with the changeling. But in so doing, we will manipulate him to abandon the changeling to his own devices."


    "You sound sure of yourself. But not everyone is so predictable," Oydd replied.


    "You offer counsel, though you despise diplomacy?"


    "I prefer a stratagem that I can plan more precisely."


    "What''s the fun in that? If you know the final outcome," Licephus joked, then suddenly grew serious. "I think, perhaps, you despise diplomacy because you are no good at it. I understand how people work, and have learned to rely on those instincts. Indech will strut about like a cock. He will parade his strength, and then feign indifference when we cut down the forgemaster."


    "And if not?" Oydd pressed.


    "And if not," Licephus replied, "then we scatter like the mice that we are." He leaned back and laughed.


    Oydd groaned, but kept any further objections to himself. When the last rays of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, he stood and called the dethkirok zombie to him, but the demon''s corpse sat unmoved. Sensing his spell had faded, Oydd knelt by the demon''s side and animated the corpse once again.


    "How often must you repeat that?" Licephus asked.


    "I don''t know. I thought it would last longer. I think it resists me."


    Licephus whistled to alert the mouseling and the druid, and began his descent from the grotto.


    Oydd stared at the sunset as he walked. Even in the sun''s absence, the horizon glowed orange and pink and purple, and it mesmerized the rudra.


    He followed the vampire absently, and soon noticed the mouseling running along his side.


    Despite his estimates, the trip took far more than an hour. The group entered an unpresuming cave¡ªnothing more than a crack in a sheer wall of rock¡ªwhich grew gradually as they progressed, expanding exponentially. They passed salt crystals and calcium deposits, then crystals of quartz and still, cool pools of water. Before long, the path ran along a chasm so vast that Oydd could not see the far side.


    Crystals of all sorts and sizes grew along the walls. Some illuminated from within, some bright green or red or perfectly clear. Unusually clear.


    However, as they descended, the crystals grew more and more consistently¡ªlong hexagonal shafts mostly of a deep royal blue or a dull metallic grey. Licephus ordered the others to keep any iron away from the metallic crystals, and Oydd switched his metal staff to his other hand, before moving further from the wall.


    Deep in the pit at his side, the rudra heard a cackle, somewhere between sobbing and laughter. It resounded from the walls and eventually died out, but the sound stayed with him. He imagined a colossal hand reaching from the deep and drowning him in its fingers.


    The mouseling huddled by his side, occasionally grazing the hem of his robes. Though they plunged as deep as Agoth, the air grew cold and the rudra spoke a word of magic, commanding his staff to warm him.


    Skunk and the druid seemed unphased by the chill, and if he wasn''t mistaken, the vampire rather enjoyed it.


    By his estimation, they had traveled most of the night before the ground leveled out, and the vampire looked about to get his bearings.


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    "Are we close?" Jeshu asked.


    "Hmmm..." Licephus held up a hand, ordering the others to stay back, and stepped out before the group. "Do you smell that?"


    "No," Jeshu said.


    "I don''t believe either of us have a very refined sense of smell," Oydd added.


    "There''s one nearby. Though the fomorians resemble trolls in some ways, the smell is quite different. Not a putrid odor, but pungent all the same."


    Oydd sniffed the damp air and noted a scent similar to the chemicals he used to preserve bodies in his morgue. It stung his nostrils, and the rudra covered his beak in the sleeve of his robe.


    Soon they heard the unmistakable sound of a giant approaching. Its slow, steady steps shook the floor. It paused, just out of sight, and let out a long deep sigh. Its hot breath froze in the air and billowed around the bend, confirming its presence.


    The fomorian stepped into view, looking somewhat like a hairless, blue-skinned troll. It stood over fifteen feet tall¡ªa scrawny specimen, by the vampire''s account. It stooped to view the tiny intruders and smiled a toothless grin. A long, slow creaking sound escaped its throat, like the warping of floorboards. It leaned forward onto one of its hands and wobbled there on three limbs, leering down on the group.


    Skunk growled.


    "One of the Broken," Licephus whispered. "The lowest caste. Which makes it... more dangerous to us," he warned. The vampire drew his sword, but the giant only smiled dumbly, hovering over him, before turning and continuing on its way.


    When it was again out of sight, the vampire explained, "The broken are malformed physically and mentally. They are not to be touched by the other castes. The danger," he concluded, "is their stupidity."


    "Are they always runts?" Oydd inquired.


    The vampire shook his head. "But the larger ones don''t survive long. There simply isn''t enough food. Come."


    Licephus led the others deeper into Fomoria. Oydd found the cavern to be far more colorful than Al Tsiroth, which usually only varied from black to grey, with a few paler creatures. Here, even the dust gleamed a frosty blue. The cavern walls consisted, more often than not, of slick calcite deposits¡ªalso mostly in shades of blue, similar in hue to the luminescent mushrooms of Al Tsiroth.


    As they proceeded, the rudra noticed the cavern walls were not raw and unformed, but crafted¡ªfashioned by the hands of giants¡ªto a consistent height of around sixty feet, and twice the breadth.


    Licephus walked purposefully past rows and rows of gargantuan pillars carved from the crystals, then suddenly turned and marched down one final, empty hall. At the end, the rudra saw two fomorians standing sentry. They rose over twenty feet in height¡ªless deformed than the Broken, though they each possessed noticeable defects, from mismatched limbs, to a missing eye. The taller giant''s shoulder slanted so steeply that it simply let its head loll to the side while at rest. A large bulge protruded from its neck¡ªa knot of muscle from holding the awkward position.


    The giant bared its teeth at the sight of Licephus and laughed from its belly¡ªa deep, mocking laughter.


    It stepped forward while the shorter giant watched impassively¡ªan almost pained look on its face.


    "I like you! You are brave to return, little human."


    The elf made no attempt to correct the giant. He bowed to the first, "Greetings, Goll." Then he bowed to the second. "And to your brother, Irgoll."


    The fomorians looked to each other and chuckled. The smaller guffawed, as if the vampire''s presence were the height of amusement.


    "You remember our names, stupid human." The giant seemed more impressed than condescending, as if the observation were intended as a compliment.


    "I have an audience with your king. We are expected."


    The larger giant, Goll, turned again to his brother and the two erupted in laughter. Nonetheless, Irgoll, the smaller giant, stepped aside, opening the path to the king''s audience chamber.


    Undeterred, the vampire strode forward, with the others in his wake.


    When Jeshu passed, the Irgoll reached out and shoved him, more out of curiosity than maliciousness. He nodded to himself in satisfaction when he failed to get a rise out of the dryad.


    Likewise, Goll prodded the dethkirok as it passed, smugly, confirming his superior size.


    With the vastness of the chamber, the long walk to the throne felt interminable. Six fomorians in total lined the sides of the room. One, Oydd presumed to be female based on her opulent build. Another two, adorned with jeweled trinkets, girded with skirts of fomorian femurs, and brandishing crude, twenty-foot hatchets, Oydd took to be the king''s personal guard.


    The king himself, Indech, came to the same height as his attendants while seated. Standing, he would surpass forty feet.


    The king possessed only one eye, off-center on his face, and an impressive underbite. His three most prominent ivory teeth, each the size of the rudra, protruded upward at varying angles¡ªone entering his nostril while at rest. A single curled, ramlike horn grew from his head where an ear ought to have been.


    A necklace of whole horse carcasses hung from the giant''s neck, some in more advanced stages of decay than others.


    Upon seeing the vampire, the armed attendants hefted their stone hatchets onto their shoulders and straightened their backs, as much as possible. The king raised a hand, calling for silence, and then folded his fingers into a fist, pounding his chest. A shaggy white wool covered his forearm, and from a distance, Oydd could not tell if it were the hide of some beast or the king''s natural body hair.


    "Indech!" he proclaimed, and the giants around the room copied the gesture, repeating the king''s name in a thunderous boom.


    Licephus, following suit, pounded a fist against his chest and shouted, "Indech, king of the fomorians. Most mighty among giants. Most wise among mortals and gods. May he die old."


    The king smiled a toothy, pompous grin, turning his disproportionately large nose up at the vampire.


    The vampire knelt and lowered his gaze. Oydd and Jeshu knelt as well.


    "I like that..." the giant king said in a low rumble, then repeated at a roar. "I like that! Most mighty." He stood and looked around the room. "Most wise."


    The other giants, save for his attendants cowered and averted their eyes.


    "The dull and simple humans worship Indech. Most ugly human," the king continued, addressing Oydd, "What is my name?"


    With a very slight moan that escaped the attention of the fomorian king, the rudra pounded a fist against his chest and yelled, "Indech."


    "Indech...?" the giant prodded.


    "Indech the wise. Indech the mighty."


    Indech''s eyes narrowed. "Indech the most wise. Indech the most mighty."


    He looked again on the vampire. "Why do you return, stupid human?"


    "I seek a favor, if it is within my king''s power," the vampire answered.


    "All things," the fomorian roared in anger, as he plopped back down into his throne, "are within my power."


    "I meant no offense, noble king. I did not know."


    "Now you know," the king said, somewhat placated. "Why do you return?"


    "I seek a creature, dull and simple, not mighty like my king."


    "Speak his name and I will bring his head on a platter for the tiny human."


    "Juhidra," the vampire said. "A changeling and a craftsman."


    The king flinched, almost imperceptibly. He eyed the adamantite ring on his oversized hand.


    "But he is cunning and slinking,¡± Licephus continued. ¡°Too crafty for me to find."


    The king clenched his jaw and growled. "He is not too crafty for king Indech."


    "Of course not, most mighty."


    "And most cunning," the king said, mostly to the other fomorians in attendance. "Most crafty." He eyed the female giant and beckoned her.


    Terrified, the plump giant stumbled to his side.


    "Find this... changeling," the king commanded. "And see to any of the human''s other needs."


    The female stared at her king, and widened her eyes pointedly, in some unspoken communication. But the king pretended not to notice, and the female beat a fist against her chest and cried "Indech!" before backing away from the king with her head bent low. She came within feet of trampling the vampire before turning, looking down upon him in disgust and ushering the tiny humanoids from the audience chamber.


    Licephus bowed once more to the king, before turning to follow the giantess, passing by the kneeling rudra.


    Once they had left the king''s earshot, the vampire leaned in close to Oydd and whispered with a hint of alarm, "Where is the mouseling?"

 A Prize Fit for a Mouseling

    15


    A Prize Fit for a Mouseling


    Pip buzzed along a side passage, and Patches chased after him. He landed on a pillar where he walked in circles for a minute then stayed absolutely still for some time. When he took off again, Patches followed.


    The fomorians paid them no attention whatsoever, which made exploring more appetizing, but the fomorian city, itself, lacked anything much worth exploring. So, the mouseling decided to turn back just as Pip came upon a fomorian shaman, no more than twenty feet tall. The spiritual leader appeared more than half-starved, likely from fasting. His gnarled, pointy bones stuck out from his skin in ridiculous places and he wheezed loudly as he walked. The shaman held a staff that Patches believed to be the spine of the previous shaman based on the vampire''s brief description of their culture. Fomorian skulls dangled from his belt, along with a tuft of six-foot feathers, a string of topaz beads¡ªthicker than the mouseling¡ªand an enormous satchel, large enough that she imagined Oydd could nestle snugly inside. Or Cricket, rather. The mouseling changed the image in her head, and thought Cricket sleeping in the enormous satchel seemed more fitting.


    Pip landed on the shaman''s boney back and sat very still. Patches chased after them on the ground, but the shaman moved very quickly, taking one slow step for every twenty or so of her own.


    "Pip!" the mouseling whispered sternly. Neither the familiar nor the giant responded, so she repeated herself more forcefully.


    The shaman turned, as if he had heard something, and surveyed the vast hall a moment before wiping his forearm under his wet nose and smacking his chapped lips together as he peered off into the darkness. A long string of snot stretched from his nose to his forearm before it collapsed under its own weight.


    If the fomorian had heard her, then Pip certainly had as well, which meant the familiar was deliberately disobeying.


    Patches growled under her breath, and took advantage of the lull in the giant''s gait to close the gap and scurry up the back of the shaman''s leg. Quickly, she scrambled to his loin cloth and clung to the thick, matted fur, which smelled of moldy beetles.


    The giant plugged one nostril with a knuckle, then blew out from his nose, shooting a slimy ball, much larger than the mouseling, off into the darkness.


    He then turned and started again down the hall.


    Patches pressed herself against the musty pelt, lifting only her head to peer over his buttocks. She saw the ladybug, still motionless, somewhat centered on the giant''s back and crawled a bit higher to ensure she was in earshot.


    However, just before she called out his name again, a second fomorian, brandishing a torch, appeared at the end of the hall, traveling toward the shaman. The panicked mouseling dove into the shaman''s satchel, rather than risk being seen in the torchlight.


    Slowly her eyes adjusted to the darkness, with the help of the torch''s orange glow, which illuminated only a patch of the leather wall. It did appear to be a wall. The mouseling found the inside of the leather satchel to be nearly as spacious as her burrow back at the Warrens.


    Patches frowned at the thought, and clawed at a tight knot in her stomach with her paw.


    As the second giant passed, the shaman made no motion to acknowledge him, and the mouseling quickly studied the contents of the pouch in the event she found herself in complete darkness.


    She sat atop a piece of dried jerky that smelled of cow, and must have been nearly as large as a cow. However, it was not treated properly, and a thick white fuzz grew along the edge of the moist, greying meat. Beside the jerky, she saw a mound of gems, most larger than the mouseling and certainly too heavy to carry, as well as a dead beetle several times her size, which explained the smell. The mouseling had a nose for dead bugs. She had attempted to collect some shiny, local specimens, in the Warrens, until, eventually, a mild rotten smell permeated her entire burrow and she was forced to bury the stash.


    An assortment of other knick-knacks lay piled in the shadows.


    Pip flew quietly through a gap in the ceiling and landed on the mouseling. She smiled and nuzzled her nose against the tiny bug.


    The shaman stopped. The flap flew open and a massive hand began to dig through the contents of the pouch until it lay hold of a large, dry stick of clay. The shaman gripped the clay in his calloused fingers and pulled it from the bag.


    The contents shifted, and Patches found herself sinking toward the bottom. A heavy bead crashed near her face. The mouseling, however, shook it off, more intent on a small bottle that sat on the far side of the pouch.


    Normally, she might have called it a large bottle, as she suspected it would take two hands to carry, but the bottle looked laughably small compared to the size of the shaman.


    The bottle had a tall neck, and was formed of amethyst-hued glass that sparkled and danced around the leather walls for the briefest of moments before the shaman withdrew his hand, leaving her again in darkness.


    Patches crept to the far side of the pouch and wrapped both arms around the exotic bottle. However, this arrangement left her with no hands left to climb from the pouch, so she wrapped her tail around the neck instead, along with one of her arms, and slowly hefted it up the leather wall.


    When she reached the lip of the satchel, she was already huffing and puffing.


    "Pip, help..." the mouseling whispered, but the bug only stared back at her with a most uncooperative look.


    Patches bit her lip, grunted, and pulled the bottle over the top. The weight of it lurched her downward, and she almost lost her grip. She tightened her tail around the neck of the bottle and peered down at the ground. The giant sent tremors through her body with each step it took, and she could not possibly climb down and protect the bottle under such conditions. Neither could she leave her prize behind.


    So the mouseling held the bottle against her belly, to protect it from the fall, then dropped about ten feet onto her back, curling her head away from the ground.


    The impact knocked the wind from her lungs, and there she lay, staring up at the oblivious shaman as he drew runes upon the crystal walls with his stick of clay.


    Pip buzzed from the giant''s pouch and hovered in the air over her.


    She rolled onto her feet and the glass made a very faint tink as it touched the ground. Horrified, the mouseling darted behind a pillar, without looking back to see if she''d been seen. She could hear the shaman, however, still scratching away with his dry clay.


    The mouseling wrapped one arm over the purple jar, and the other under the neck of the bottle, finding the weight to be much more manageable on the ground. Then she limped off to rejoin the others.


    *****


    Oydd took another glance behind him as the giantess led Licephus further and further from the audience chamber, with no hint of the mouseling in sight.


    Licephus followed graciously and left the rudra to worry about their missing companion.


    After leaving the audience chamber, the group had remained in the entry hall for some time as bustling attendants entered and left, whispering with the king and with their guide.


    After a lamentable wait, the giantess sighed and motioned for the vampire to follow her. The group traversed a long, smooth hallway of opaque blue stone¡ªevidently one continuous, flowing piece, and eventually found themselves at the edge of a ravine, where a fallen shaft of crystal, over a hundred yards long, lay across a seemingly bottomless pit.


    The giantess paused at the natural bridge as the rudra crept toward the ledge, cautious of the slick floor.


    "This is the fastest way for puny whelps." She motioned across the crystal bridge. On the far side, a somewhat stout and dull fomorian waited.


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    Without hesitation, Licephus stepped onto the crystal and proceeded across. Jeshu went second, then skunk, then the undead demon, and finally Oydd.


    With that, the female giant turned to leave.


    The druid walked carefully¡ªpainfully slow. Once he slid an inch or two toward the side of the crystal shaft. He gasped, taking a long steadying breath, before continuing.


    "I can lift you," Oydd said.


    The druid looked at him warily.


    "Perhaps not for long. But if you start to fall, I can..." The rudra turned his palm up and gestured a levitating motion.


    A brief flash of relief passed over the dryad''s face, but he still proceeded at a tiringly slow pace.


    Once the group had crossed the ravine, the fomorian guide on the far side began to walk off without so much as an introduction.


    He passed under a series of crude archways, then pointed at a still form tucked against the far wall. Licephus approached the corpse¡ªa changeling to be sure.


    "Is this the one you seek?" the fomorian asked.


    Licephus nodded. "It is, thank you."


    "It is dead," the fomorian stated, nudging the body with its wrist.


    "Yes," the vampire agreed. "Please thank your king."


    The giant stared, dully, at the vampire for a moment, then began to leave by a different route.


    Licephus remained behind and when the fomorian was far enough away to mask his voice with its own heavy footsteps, he looked at the others.


    "This is not Juhidra. But we are meant to think so. This is a female. I suppose the fomorians are too disinterested in our kind to notice."


    "And it''s been killed recently," Oydd added.


    Licephus considered this then looked down the hall after the retreating fomorian.


    "They have given us more help than they realize."


    "How so?" Oydd asked.


    "Look at the reddish skin. The blackened nails. This changeling has been in close proximity to deep goblins." Indeed, the changeling appeared very similar to a deep goblin, though more lithe, with a slight grey tint to its smooth skin.


    "All the way from Agoth," Jeshu responded.


    "Yes. And I believe her mind will be easy to probe." Licephus looked to the rudra.


    "Yes," Oydd agreed. "She is fresh enough." He knelt at the changeling''s side and lifted her hand from the cold stone floor. "You said we''re looking for a cold forge?"


    "There is no heat involved in the process of producing adamantite."


    Oydd lifted the changeling''s hand toward the vampire. Thick soot covered the fingertips, and a large popped blister ran down her wrist. "Then what is this?" Oydd also pointed at a recessed scab, "And this pit here is from the spray of molten metal."


    The rudra placed his staff on the floor and called out with his mind.


    Changeling...


    He felt her presence, hovering, lingering.


    He called out again. Changeling...


    She did not respond.


    Oydd grinned. He called out again, this time more forcefully. His mind reached out like a skeletal hand, wrapping around the changeling''s throat and he felt her recoil, but held fast onto the spirit.


    She closed her mind to him, and he grew frustrated. He sent a pulse of pain into the spirit''s mind and wrestled until her will began to break. Then he dug into her thoughts with clawing fingers and tore open her memories.


    The corpse twitched and writhed¡ªits face contorting in horror.


    *****


    Patches managed to locate the audience chamber, but by then Licephus had left. Fomorians of all sizes traveled through the enormous hallways, in all directions, and Patches found it difficult to avoid them all.


    She opened her pack, looking for the velvet bag, but failed to locate it among the clutter. She did find a white, opalescent potion she had borrowed from Cricket. However, she had no idea what it did. She sniffed the milky liquid, but imagined all the undesirable effects of potions she had read about in one of Oydd''s books¡ªfrom hair loss, to hair growth, to size changing potions, or even poisons and embalming fluids. Her whisker brushed against the glass and she sneezed.


    Thoughtfully, the mouseling replaced the flask in her pack and continued to avoid the giants by hiding behind pillars and keeping to the shadows.


    However, the effort of carrying the bottle so far had tired her more than she expected. Her feet hurt, her back hurt, and her tail hurt. She found a secluded corner where she unstopped the bottle and dumped out the liquid inside¡ªa lavender fluid with dried flecks that smelled strongly of flowers.


    The blue crystals at her feet absorbed the liquid thirstily, then fizzled and began to grow and crack.


    But Patches kept her eyes on the bottle. The purple glass caught the light even better once the container had been emptied, and only weighed half as much.


    Patches set off with renewed determination, but soon felt a dark presence from the opposite direction. She paused. She sensed the rudra communicating nonsense to some being, as if talking in his sleep.


    But she recognized the cadence of Oydd''s thoughts as clearly as the sound of his voice. She turned and scurried back the way she had come, heading toward the rudra.


    When Patches reached the ravine with the crystal bridge, she crept to the edge and peered over, looking to her left and right for any other route.


    Seeing no alternative in sight, she climbed onto the fallen crystal shard and began to run across. However, her little paws had trouble holding onto the slick rock with the extra weight of the bottle, and almost immediately she lost her grip and began spinning around in a circle. She spread her arms out wide, holding the bottle with her tail, and came to a stop so close to the edge that some of her whiskers hung over.


    She paused, gasping in alarm, then began again more slowly, crawling on her belly for extra purchase.


    By the time she reached the far side of the bridge, however, the mouseling could not carry the bottle another inch. Her feet ached. Her tail and her arms lacked the strength to lift the glass any further. She tried, but she couldn''t so much as lift her arms.


    Pip landed softly on the mouselings cheek, in what she assumed was a half-hearted apology.


    The mouseling curled up around the bottle, in the middle of the path, and cried.


    *****


    "Oydd!" the vampire shouted.


    The rudra took a sudden breath. A cold sweat dripped from his brow.


    "I''ve been calling to you for some time."


    The rudra panted as if waking from a nightmare.


    The corpse lay still before him, its face in peaceful repose. He looked down at his hands, half expecting them to be covered in gore.


    "What happened?" Licephus asked.


    "I... I lost control."


    "Communing with a spirit?" He asked in disbelief.


    The rudra shook his head. "No... there was something else here. Some other presence nearby... hanging around us."


    Jeshu surveyed their surroundings. "I don''t sense anything. Nothing malicious."


    "It''s not close. But it''s strong. And curious. It seized my emotions as soon as I opened a link." The rudra still looked at his hands.


    Licephus considered this information. "Did you get what we needed?"


    Oydd nodded. "But it''s far. Deep in the gorge." He looked back the way they had come. "I could lead us there. But, do we need to disguise our destination?"


    "From the fomorians? No. They suppose themselves to be exceedingly clever. They will not anticipate any deceit from us."


    "It is far," the rudra repeated. "But she knew the way well."


    "Then lead us there."


    Oydd took a deep breath as he stood and headed back toward the crystal bridge, his metal staff ringing faintly against the smooth stone floor as he walked.


    When the group came across the mouseling, laying quite still, out in the open, Oydd breathed a sigh of relief.


    The dryad ran to her side.


    "Are you okay, little one?"


    "No," Patches cried. "It''s too heavy..." Her tears pooled atop the crystalline floor.


    Jeshu looked at the little bottle.


    "Would you like me to carry it for you?"


    The mouseling shook her head.


    Regardless, the druid made room for the bottle in his pack, and removed Orth from his shoulder, placing Patches there instead. Her wet fur smelled faintly of flowers.


    The rock worm wrapped around Jeshu''s wrist, under his shield, and clicked to protest the mild inconvenience.


    "Where have you been?" Oydd asked, more in concern than frustration.


    "I don''t know," the mouseling replied sadly, curling up on Jeshu''s shoulder. Without so much as a touch from his hand, she felt a magical warmth soothing her strained muscles.


    "Which way, rudra?" Licephus interrupted.


    Oydd pointed along the cliffside, and the group began its descent deep beneath the fomorian city.

 Titaga, the Ancient

    16


    Titaga, the Ancient


    The axebeak bit down on another goblin, trampling it under its feet. More often than not, it tried to lift the tip of its axebeak into the charging goblins, which just prodded them, causing them to scatter. Every once in a while, however, it reared high on its hind legs and brought the edge of its beak down with a terrible weight behind it that could cleave an unfortunate deep goblin cleanly in two.


    The shadow''s shadow, ill-formed as it was, did little more than distract its opponents. Their spears and claws pierced his flickering form harmlessly, but so too his own attacks only splashed against them like a heavy fog, after which he required some time to reform. Thankfully, the dimwitted creatures caught on slowly. It seemed even those who had survived his lashings weren''t willing to risk taking another hit¡ªfearsome as the smoking Cricket looked. Otherwise, his presence on the battlefield might have been entirely fruitless.


    As it was, he brought only intimidation, but he brought it in large measure and managed to occupy about a third of the force, which might otherwise have attacked Cricket himself.


    Gad, Cricket noted, seemed to have lost his mindless love for battle. Rather than flattening goblins beneath his massive, iron-wrapped fist, he backed into a corner, quite frightened, moaning and waving his fingers to keep back the goblins who poked and prodded him with their spears.


    The stump of his missing arm had regrown all the way to the elbow. One unfortunate goblin caught the sharp bone right in the throat, which dropped him only momentarily¡ªbut long enough to be squashed by the half troll''s feet.


    Cricket rushed straight for the gargoyle. The creature hunched over, holding its smooth, rounded face only about four feet high, though it might have stood taller than Cricket were it to straighten itself. Its long arms scraped the ground, along with its hard, wiry tail¡ªits rough skin making a high-pitched sound as of stone scraping against stone.


    His skin did appear like stone, but Cricket thought it might have just been the color until he heard the sound.


    The gargoyle opened its single, remaining wing, and vanished.


    Cricket sprinted to its last location, stabbing with his spear, slashing out with a dagger when he failed to make contact. He spun around, sensing it had moved, and the shadow screeched.


    Which made no sound. He grimaced and readied another dagger.


    Cricket concentrated on the blade and threw it through the air, but it vanished before reaching his target.


    The shadow focused and the dagger reformed in his hand. He could no longer hear the gargoyle, but reasoned that meant it hadn''t moved. So he concentrated extra hard on reforming the blade, hoping that would, in any way, make it more solid, before flinging it through the air.


    The second knife made it further than the first. However, it suddenly splashed, as if against something solid, spreading out like a blast mark before dissolving.


    Instantly, Cricket lunged toward the invisible object, striking again with his spear and remaining dagger.


    He felt the adamantine spear glance off of the gargoyle''s thick skin, and drew back for a second stab, which produced a loud crack, like the splitting of rock. However, when he followed through with a dagger, the gargoyle was already gone.


    Cricket sighed in irritation as two goblins cornered him. He tried to wave them away with his buckler, but they charged anyway. He ducked under a stone axe as he slashed the first goblin''s hamstring with his dagger, then leapt back to dodge a bite and brought his shield down over the second goblin''s head. He shoved the stunned creature back into the first and turned back toward the gargoyle, but after the slight distraction, he had no idea where his invisible prey might be.


    The shadow stooped to grab a handful of yellow dirt and tossed it in one direction to no effect, then stooped to grab another handful.


    As he turned to toss the powder in a new direction, he caught, out of the corner of his eye, the slightest flicker in the already falling dust. Instead, he shifted his weight and lashed out to his side quite suddenly, lifting his buckler at the creature''s face level. He made contact with something less substantial¡ªperhaps an arm it had raised to protect its head¡ªand followed up with a thrust of his spear. This time he felt it penetrate. The creature howled in pain¡ªa raspy, high-pitched growl.


    Cricket ducked his head behind his shield, and felt a claw scrape at his neck. He grabbed the shaft of his spear with all three free hands and plowed forward, crashing his unseen opponent into a rock wall. Then, sensing himself vulnerable to a counter, he abandoned the spear and hopped away, drawing a khopesh from its sheath.


    Gradually, the gargoyle appeared, with a long crack down the side of its rocky face, the spear protruding from its side, with a vibrant yellow blood that stained the shaft and the creature''s palms.


    Gad groaned loudly in pain, and reluctantly Cricket left the gargoyle to assist his comrade. He kept one eye on the gargoyle as it crashed to its knees.


    The insect cut down a deep goblin from behind, barreling into its companion, knocking its spear thrust away from the trollblood. He tripped it to the ground and finished it with the sickle side of his khopesh, then leapt toward the last remaining goblin.


    When he turned back to the gargoyle, the creature had removed a tiny sphere from his belt¡ªnot much bigger than a marble¡ªwith a pink, swirling smoke inside. The gargoyle smashed it open against the rocks at his feet. The released fumes rose to form a vertical plane of swirling smoke, and the image of another location appeared hazily in the vortex.


    One of the deep goblins attempted to flee through the portal, but the hissing gargoyle lashed out with his stony tail, dashing its face open and knocking the goblin aside.


    Cricket considered jumping through the opening. He had plenty of time to react. Rather, he moved to the axebeak''s side, and when the gargoyle stepped into the waning portal, Cricket slapped the feathered lizard on the rump and sent it charging through after him.


    The mass of the axebeak plowing through the fumes seemed to hasten the closing of the portal, and an instant later the doorway was gone, with only a vanishing pink vapor in its place.


    *****


    Ty''lek led the group from the road to avoid another azaeri patrol.


    "Why are we avoiding azaeri?" Cricket asked in frustration. "Aren''t they... like, your friends? They''ll be happy to see you."


    Ty''lek raised a brow, as if to ask if the insect were serious.


    "And what about us?" Scorpion asked. "Will they be happy to see the rest of us?"


    "Maybe."


    "You remember why we''re here?"


    "To... storm their tower?" Cricket answered slowly. "But," he held up a finger pointedly, "they don''t know that."


    "When you''re guarding a tower," Bax said, "I think by default you don''t let anyone in unless you''re expecting them."


    "Or... if you''re a bunch of azaeri and you see another azaeri coming up," Cricket countered.


    Scorpion sighed. "If you were guarding the Warrens, and you saw a heavily-armed insectoid, such as yourself, marching up, would you just let him in, no questions asked?"


    Cricket tapped a finger nervously at his hip.


    "Of course you would," Scorpion answered his own question in disappointment.


    Cricket ignored him. "Let''s head toward that gully. I need a break."


    "Again?" Scorpion sneered. "It''s barely been an hour, and we''re already a day behind."


    "I get tired faster than you. It''s because Jesh isn''t around to do his thing."


    "I don''t know," Scorpion said skeptically. "This is odd, even for you."


    "Well, I won''t be any good if we get in a fight and I start out exhausted."


    Scorpion growled, but made no protest. Cricket looked to Ty''lek to see if he had any objection, before heading for the nearby gully.


    "How much further, anyway?" Cricket asked.


    The azaeri considered their surroundings. He watched the crustaceans crawl along the ceiling some distance above. Their spiral shells gave them the appearance of stalactites.


    Ty''lek held up one finger.


    "One?" Cricket asked. "One what? One day? One hour?"


    "Err," the lizardman chirped.


    "One hour?"


    Ty''lek nodded his head.


    "Well we should rest anyway then. Best to approach early morning."


    "Best to attack during the night," Scorpion said.


    "Yes," Cricket agreed. "If we weren''t exhausted."


    "I could rest too," Bax added. "I''m not as young as you folks."


    "If you''ve got so much energy," Cricket said to Scorpion, "then you can take first watch. Besides, we have a big fight ahead of us, I think, and I need to practice making clones."


    "Oydd told you just to make one."


    "Fine, tell on me. Tattle-tail."


    "He seemed concerned for your safety. And I''m concerned for mine. You couldn''t even control one last time. If one of your shadows loses control, it could take us all out."


    "Which is why..." Cricket held out the word annoyingly long, "I need to practice."


    Scorpion put his hand over his head, pinching his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He let out a long, defeated sigh.


    "Be careful. Start with one, and see if you can control it."


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "What do you think, Ty''lek? Not really a good time to restrain myself, right?"


    The azaeri just shrugged, but the gnome answered unsolicited. "Can''t make an omelet without killing a few chickens."


    "I... don''t know what any of those words mean." Cricket frowned.


    "You''ve never had an omelet?"


    Cricket shook his head. The gnome looked to Scorpion who also shook his head.


    "Well, they''re delicious. You put in some onions and garlic... and peppers. Mushrooms of course."


    "Into what?" Scorpion asked.


    "Into the egg! Then you cook it up."


    "Why would I cook an egg?" Scorpion asked.


    "I agree," Cricket replied. "Why would you cook an egg?"


    "Because they taste better!" Bax practically sang. Then, seeing the confused looks on the faces of his companions, he paused, rethought, and said, "I''ll have to make one for you."


    The group walked in awkward silence, and then Cricket returned to the previous subject. "I need to make two. Because one is too easy to beat."


    "They seem about as strong as you," Scorpion observed.


    "Right. I need to learn how to fight things that are stronger than me. Two me''s seems like a good place to start, right?"


    "You can''t beat two of you."


    "I think I can. I''ve been practicing in my dreams, and I''m up to five. I can pretty consistently take four at once, but I need to practice in real life. That reminds me. I forgot to tell Oydd." Cricket looked back over his shoulder. "He thinks I can only take three."


    "Cricket!" Scorpion climbed a rock until his snout was nearly even with the insect''s eyes. "Start with one. If he isn''t an ass, then you can make a second one."


    "Deal!"


    As the others settled in for the night, Cricket looked around the bottom of the gully for a clearing. When he''d found a spot with enough room, he summoned a shadow. The first attempt appeared clear and crisp¡ªnot wavering in the least. Even its shell shined.


    The shadow gave an amiable wave.


    "Not bad," Scorpion critiqued from atop a nearby boulder.


    "Ah, look! He''s friendly."


    "Almost like you''ve been practicing."


    "Well, I have." Cricket pointed at his head. "A lot of it''s up here, and I''ve kind of been wrestling with the magic nonstop."


    "In your head?"


    "Well... yeah. It''s always kind of tugging at the back of my mind."


    "That doesn''t sound good."


    Cricket shrugged. "It''s dark magic. Oydd said so. I bet he has to wrestle with his spells to."


    "Certainly not when he hasn''t cast one."


    "Well, anyway. This one seems chummy, so I might as well make one more."


    "Keep your word..." Scorpion scolded, only half-watching. The mimic pulled playfully at the ratling''s tail, and he swatted its tentacle away for the third time. The mimic suddenly yanked on the tail, and Scorpion disappeared behind the boulder.


    "Just two for now," Cricket whispered to his shadow, as he formed another clone.


    The new shadow looked about his surroundings, as if surprised to exist. It flickered slightly, and then the first shadow began to flicker as well. It waved at the new shadow.


    "Okay," Cricket addressed his shadows. "Now I promised it would just be the three of us." He peered over to see if Scorpion were still listening in. "And... only if you both behave."


    The first shadow frowned and pointed up at Cricket''s missing antenna.


    "Yes. None of that business. I need to practice fighting you both at once. I just want to make sure we won''t have any problems. No one is going to... get weirdly jealous... or spit on me... or try to kill my friends?"


    The first shadow shook his head. The second crossed his heart with a finger, then mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key. Which didn''t make much sense, but the sentiment was clear.


    Cricket smiled and drew a khopesh in each of his upper arms, then a dagger in each lower arm. The first shadow followed his lead, then nudged the second shadow with his elbow, and soon all three were fully armed.


    *****


    "Juhidra," Oydd repeated the name from earlier, stirring a magical campfire with his staff. The blue flames followed the tip of the staff, growing in warmth as he circled.


    Licephus nodded. "Is it rudric?"


    "It is."


    "Something along the lines of ''marrow licker''?"


    "Something along those lines," Oydd confirmed.


    "He''s a large one. Larger than a dethkirok last time I received a report. Which is exceptional for a changeling. Its likely he''s been physically consuming giants."


    "What else do we know about him?" Jeshu asked. "Why consolidate all of our magic-users in one group."


    "Well, for one," Licephus answered. "I don''t believe our magic would prove useful against the trollblood. But also, the changeling is the only leader of the Right Hand who is not currently paired with another."


    "That makes him sound like an easier target," Jeshu replied.


    "No... it makes him sound like a formidable target. Even Shisu does not venture out alone. Leaving such a crucial member of their team to operate alone seems ominous to me. Perhaps they feign vulnerability."


    "A trap, you mean?" the druid asked.


    "Yes," Oydd answered. "Just like Jade. The only previous member of the right hand to operate without a partner."


    "Because she did not require one," Jeshu added.


    "Precisely." Oydd replied. " She could create several shadows of herself, and even when we neutralized them, she almost proved too much to handle. I''ve never seen Cricket outclassed like that."


    The vampire nodded. "She was not vulnerable. That proved a deception, though you managed a victory. Assume Juhidra to be more powerful. I know him to have been peers with Jade in terms of combat prowess. And that was before the summoning of Bale. Now he has a forgehammer."


    "You seem especially concerned about that," Oydd observed. "Though you have not hinted why."


    Licephus grew quiet. He stared into the silent, blue fire Oydd had summoned. "Because I do not know what to expect. I have seen with my own eyes a forge of the gods¡ªwhen Bale formed armor for Serinyes and her sister. He created devastating weapons beyond the imagining of mortals. And, in truth, beyond the imagining of some gods. This was the key to Serinyes'' rise in power¡ªher... forgemaster."


    The vampire grimaced at some unspoken memory. "Though Bale''s hammer will not reach its full potential in the hands of a mere mortal. So there''s that..." Licephus said sardonically.


    Oydd cleared his throat. "I performed an autopsy on Jade..."


    Jeshu looked up in surprise.


    "I had her brought to my lab during the night. I cut her open, hoping to find answers. Who knows... maybe it was just curiosity." He pulled his staff upright and leaned against it. "If nothing else, I wanted to understand Cricket''s anatomy better, since I haven''t had any similar specimens. Not really."


    He looked over at the druid. "Imagine my surprise when I cut her open and found no heart."


    "What do you mean?" the druid asked.


    "Precisely what I said. Where her heart should have been, I found only a void, with no answer as to why. But I do know the answer, don''t I? She sacrificed her heart to Bale. How she survived afterward, is more of a mystery. I imagine she somehow formed a heart of shadows."


    "That sounds farfetched," Licephus responded.


    "It does. But give me a more plausible explanation."


    "Why is this the first I''ve heard of it?" Jeshu asked.


    "I did not mean to keep it from you. But I thought it better to keep it from Cricket. Who knows what ideas he might get in his addled head. He''s already talked to me of sacrificing to Bale. He asked what harm it might cause if we were stronger."


    The druid said skeptically, "There would be some scar on her..."


    "Not if she molted afterward. Not on the exoskeleton. But I did find evidence on her viscera¡ªan incision on the white, fatty tissue beneath her shell consistent with my hypothesis."


    The rudra looked up at the vampire. "Remember what we''re dealing with. And I already erred in my estimation, because she did not sacrifice to Bale, but to some much more terrifying deity whose name you have not told us..."


    "Your point?" Licephus asked.


    "My point is that we should not presume any weakness from Juhidra because he is a ''mere mortal''. If we are to survive this task, we ought to pale at the infinite possibilities¡ªat the unlikeliest of horrors we may face."


    Licephus regarded the rudra coldly. Oydd peered at him with his beady eyes, dancing with the blue flames of the fire, until the vampire grew uncomfortable.


    "I have not told you a name, because I have none. But I do know more than I have said. There is a being more ancient than the gods we know. Some civilizations simply call it ''Ancient''. But it is not a god, nor a demon. It is simply... chaos. A malevolence. A malignance¡ªlike a tumor, growing and corrupting all that it touches. I have read of entire tainted worlds, spoiled by this being''s presence. I know very little, but I know we want to avoid its attention... and I know Shisu means to summon it here."


    Oydd met his gaze then turned to the dryad. "You understand what he means by other worlds?"


    "I do."


    "Because it would be beyond Cricket''s comprehension. ''What do you mean other worlds? The world already includes everything''."


    "I have seen the night sky,¡± Jeshu replied. ¡°Regardless, the dryad''s understand astronomy."


    Oydd nodded and turned to Licephus. "Titaga. That is its name in rudric. It simply means ancient, as you said."


    "The elves refuse to name it. Some words lose power when forgotten."


    "Absurd. Forbidding a thought only strengthens it."


    "You forget your place, rudra." The vampire spoke with power and Oydd instinctively withdrew.


    After a moment, Jeshu spoke to ease the tension. "The dryads teach of Chaos, but as seven beings, not one."


    "There is only one..." Oydd stated sadly.


    "Do you need rest?" Licephus asked the druid.


    "Yes. I have not slept for days. It will be better if I get a full night''s sleep."


    "That is fine. I will watch over us."


    The vampire rose from the fire and walked to the entrance of the crystalline grotto.


    Oydd spoke a word and the magical fire quickly dimmed to darkness.


    *****


    In the morning, a tension still hung in the air about the campsite. Jeshu rose last and meditated while the others made final preparations.


    Licephus found Patches tucked away in a corner, filling her purple bottle with curious odds and ends¡ªcrushed milkweed, honey, whole rosebuds, as well as large flecks from an old piece of black exoskeleton. For now the dry ingredients sat at the bottom of the flask, stuck together with the small amount of honey, waiting on the main fluid. Milk, Licephus thought.


    "It won''t work..." he snapped, still in a bit of a gruff mood.


    The mouseling froze and looked up at him. He could practically hear her heart beating.


    "A love potion," he said, forcing a milder tone. "It won''t work. It''s not real magic."


    Patches glared back at him and stubbornly began squeezing another rose bud into the mouth of the bottle. She glanced sideways at the vampire, then wrapped her tail around the bottle and pulled it around a corner, and out of his view.


    Licephus approached the rudra.


    "Can you sense him from here?"


    "I can. He is with two fomorians. Broken-caste, I assume, based on their size."


    "You can sense their size?"


    "Roughly. Their minds are very weak, like the runt we saw before entering Fomoria. They are, aptly put, broken things."


    Licephus nodded. "Lead the way."


    Oydd waved the dethkirok on ahead. With each reanimation, the enchantment seemed to last longer and longer. And now, the dethkirok had followed the rudra''s commands for days on end without showing any signs of weakening.


    The mutant, Skunk, followed the dehtkirok, seeming to prefer the company of the dead over the living.


    Jeshu retrieved the bottle for the mouseling, and she hopped happily onto his shoulder.


    Orth spent the night gorging on crystals, which noticeably energized the growing worm. He slithered along the ground at the dryad''s feet, keeping pace despite his full belly. Though still somewhat thin, he looked longer when not wrapped around the druid¡ªnow nearly six feet in length.


    Occasionally, Patches threw seeds down at the worm in an attempt to rile him up, but the dried morsels simply bounced unnoticed from his rocky hide.

 Constructs of the Forge

    17


    Constructs of the Forge


    Cricket lay staring up at the low mossy ceiling over the grotto, panting for air. His five clones lay scattered around him on their backs, following the original''s cue, though they did not need rest.


    Rather, it seemed, when they moved, it only drained the original''s energy. So in a sense he was getting six times the work out¡ªbut without six times the energy, the effort proved mostly fruitless. Actually, it took more than six times the energy, he was certain, since holding onto a shadow always had a certain amount of mental exertion.


    He did, however, learn a few strategies on how to fight multiple Crickets at once, in case that skillset was ever required. And when he grew so tired and drained fighting three clones that he was certain he would die, Bax offered him a powerful restorative potion that energized him beyond his starting point, after only downing half the bottle!


    After that, Cricket had, predictably, immediately spent the energy on further practice. Which is when he created the fourth and fifth shadows. Surprisingly, he lasted longer than when he only had three. Really, magical discipline was easier to achieve than physical discipline, since negligence paid off if it didn''t kill you. Though a bit hypocritical, the rudra did always seem to take risks with his own growth, though he never recommended it to others.


    When Cricket exhausted himself again, he drank the second half of the potion.


    "Don''t waste it all right now," Scorpion counseled.


    "Why not?"


    "You''ve been training enough. You''ll need all the strength you can get, and there''s no more potion."


    "Not true!" Bax hummed. "I have two bottles. But first... it''s time for some breakfast."


    "Breakfast?" Cricket asked surprised. "Is it morning?"


    Scorpion nodded. "You''ve been practicing all night."


    Cricket and his shadows began to sit up, stretch, and yawn, somewhat in unison.


    "Wow... what was in that potion?"


    "This and that... and some other stuff. Come! I''m making omelets!"


    Sure enough, the gnome had a large skillet in a firepit, filled with freshly cracked eggs. A pile of shells lay nearby.


    "These aren''t azaeri eggs, are they?" Scorpion asked.


    Ty''lek lifted a piece of shell with wide eyes.


    "No! No! No! Of course not. I''m not a monster."


    Scorpion looked in the skillet. "They still just look raw."


    "Well, that''s because the fire is an illusion. I must confess I lack the skills to¡ª"


    "Let me do it." Scorpion sprinted off to a small copse of dried bramble to gather kindling.


    Bax, though, continued to happily stir the raw eggs as he sang quietly to himself.


    Cricket dismissed all but one of his shadows, then laid his head down on its lap.


    "These ones aren''t so bad," Bax observed.


    Cricket looked up at his shadow. "No. Something was wrong with that last one. It was defective."


    "But you don''t know why?"


    "Not entirely. Your potion helped though. When I have more energy, they are more predictable."


    "That''s too bad..." The gnome shook his head.


    Cricket cocked his head, unsure what the gnome meant. Bax pulled a bag of spices from his coat pocket and sprinkled a little into the eggs.


    "You can make more of those potions?" Cricket asked.


    "I can make infinite potions!" the gnome bragged, then looked about reflexively, happy that the rudra wasn''t there to contradict him.


    "I want to practice a little more before we take off. How long will those eggs take? Maybe a couple hours?"


    "No, eggs cook fast." The gnome continued to stir the cold skillet with his wooden spoon.


    "Just get me when they''re done then." Despite his relaxed pose, Cricket began to tap his foot incessantly as the effects of the potion kicked in. A moment later he jumped to his feet and waved for his shadow to follow.


    When Cricket got to the clearing, he summoned one more shadow.


    "Okay, it''s you two against me."


    The first shadow shook his head, pointing at the others and then to himself.


    "You want a turn? I don''t know if that''s productive."


    The shadow lowered his head and his antennae drooped.


    "Oh... okay. If it means that much to you. Give me one more turn, and then I''ll let you go."


    The shadow perked up and drew his weapons eagerly.


    The second shadow attacked suddenly from the side, and Cricket laughed as he barely dodged the sickle-edge of a khopesh.


    "Watch the power. I don''t know if these potions heal very well."


    The shadow nodded, as it began circling around Cricket, attempting to coordinate a pincer attack with the first clone.


    Cricket ran to the shadow''s side, with three simple strikes. While the shadow blocked predictably, he worked his way around to its back, lining up his two opponents.


    The furthest shadow, however, knew the maneuver well enough and threw a dagger at Cricket''s feet, tripping him up.


    Cricket dodged, but the extra footwork cost him his intended advantage, and soon he found himself attempting to block both of them at once. He took a fairly solid strike to the abs, but the shadow pulled the blow to avoid causing any real damage.


    Cricket nodded to acknowledge the blow, as he backpedaled. Though he tried to line them up, whichever shadow was furthest always slowly circled around, and he often had to make a quick course correction. He had to move faster than his opponent, which wasn''t always possible and took more energy. Still, expending the extra energy was safer than fighting both at once.


    The closest shadow threw his khopesh, and Cricket knocked it aside, then attacked while the shadow waited for its weapon to reform. As he slashed and stabbed, he also kicked at the shadows knee from the side, knowing it to be a weak point of his.


    The shadow panicked and withdrew just as the second clone moved in. Not wanting to lose his advantage, Cricket threw his khopesh at the retreating shadow. However, in the heat of the moment, he may have forgotten that his own weapons could not reform in his hands.


    The shadows circled around him, and, struggle as he might to block, he could not keep away their eight blades with his three.


    Cricket squealed and ducked under a barrage of strikes.


    The clones continued to circle and poke at him until he called "Time out!"


    Obediently, the shadows stepped away to give him some space.


    He breathed heavily and plopped onto his back.


    "I don''t know if bugs are supposed to move this much," he lamented.


    The clones waited patiently until he caught his breath. He stood up a little shakily. "Okay, once more."


    One of the shadows shook his head.


    "What? Oh, right, your turn."


    Reluctantly, Cricket began to coordinate with the other shadow, attempting to flank himself. While he was resigned to simply accept the wasted time, and his new role was certainly easier, he did notice that when he got cocky and attempted a quick attack, the shadow usually got the better of him.


    Attacking two against one had its disadvantages. He spent most of his time repositioning, and couldn''t attack at the same time as his partner without them both risking their limbs.


    Cricket maneuvered himself partially behind his opponent''s back and moved in with two quick strikes, but the clone simply dodged and countered before he could recover. His partner lunged in to save him, but the effort left it open to a similar counter.


    What made things worse, when they did manage to surround their opponent, and the shadow was forced to expend extra energy to line them up again, it drew the energy straight from Cricket. He nearly found himself drained again when they finally managed to surround their opponent. The shadow panicked, ducking into a ball as they walloped him from every side.


    The shadow raised its hands to signal a surrender, and yet, only Cricket fell to the ground panting for breath.


    He had forgotten to grab a new potion, and pulled the empty container from his pack. Desperately, he shook the bottle, and forced one last drop onto his tongue.


    Cricket jumped up, attempting to best his fatigue with a positive attitude, and almost immediately dropped back to the ground.


    "Be a dear," Cricket looked up at the shadow hovering over him, "and fetch me another potion."


    The shadow nodded and retreated to the fire pit.


    By the time it returned with a restorative draught, Cricket was fast asleep, chirping softly.


    The shadow offered the potion to the other shadow, who refused, and then the two stood about awkwardly for nearly half an hour before the gnome called that breakfast was ready.


    *****


    "What is it?" Oydd asked.


    "It''s a golem," Jeshu answered. "You haven''t seen a golem before?"


    "Pretend that I have not."


    "Someone has infused life into a lump of clay."


    "Into an inanimate object? How?"


    Oydd stared down the hallway at the seven-foot, meandering lump of purple clay. After each step, it paused and waited for its muggy bulk to spread along the slick crystal floor before attempting another step.


    "Don''t think of it as life," Licephus answered. "Magical energy causes it to move, and it will follow simple commands from its creator, but it has no real intelligence."


    "Can you cut it down from here?" the rudra suggested.


    "I cannot. For the very reason that it is not alive. It is not tethered to the afterlife."


    "That''s how you cut things from a distance?" the druid asked in astonishment.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Yes. My pact is with Akinaska, the ruler of the netherworld. He allows me, or rather my blade, to pass through his realm. It is quite convenient, since most of my foes are attached in some way to the netherworld. But wholly ineffective against constructs like this. Even summoned creatures are difficult to cut, since they are more closely tied to their summoner. But, that is why we have Jeshu with us."


    "You expected this?" Oydd asked, offended. "We asked you what we might encounter and you didn''t think to say golems?"


    "You seemed quite content with your own opinions," Licephus berated the rudra.


    Oydd''s left eye twitched.


    "It appears to be alone. We''ll have your back, but I want you in the lead." The vampire looked at the dryad, and he nodded his understanding.


    Jeshu set Patches down and hefted the massive hammer over his shoulder. Without increasing his size, the weapon looked too large to wield, but a soft red glow slowly enveloped the druid and his muscles bulged.


    With its back to the druid, the golem did not even respond to his heavy footsteps. Jeshu caught the side of its head with his first blow, smashing it in halfway. He left the hammer there for a moment as the clay froze. And when the creature began to turn toward him, he swung again, shattering half of it into large chunks that scattered across the floor.


    Only its legs and one arm remained upright, stuck to the ground like stalagmites. Streaks of blue and yellow marked the vibrant purple clay, and in the splattered remains, the druid saw shards of blackened bone.


    "What is this?" he asked the vampire.


    Licephus inspected the clay. "It''s divine in nature." He thought for a moment. "Pieces of Bale. Though their power is spent. Normally when an avatar is destroyed, the remains darken like this and eventually crumble."


    "You think Bale''s remains are losing power?" Oydd asked.


    "I do not. I think only these pieces have been drained of power." Licephus stepped over the mound of clay, which still squirmed as if it might reform, and continued down the hallway.


    Oydd sent the undead dethkirok to his side, and stooped near the golem¡¯s remains, touching the tip of his staff to it. He spoke "release" in Rudric. The clay continued to squirm.


    He spoke the word again to no effect, before turning to the druid. "Freeze it."


    Jeshu brought his hammer down one last time, and left it there until the entire mound grew still and the surface cracked. Then he tore the hammer from the frozen clay and followed after the vampire.


    Orth slithered up to the pile and picked at it with its rocky snout, opening wide for a bite.


    "No, Orth." Patches attempted to push him away. The worm, gnashed at her, and she leapt back with a squeak, looking up at Jeshu for support.


    "No, Orth," the druid repeated, and the worm grudgingly inched past the potential meal.


    "It¡¯s growing hot," Licephus commented.


    "I believe it is a hot forge after all," Oydd said. "Perhaps they are forging iron as well. We should look for a lava flow."


    "A lava forge could mean more formidable golems... maybe even iron, like you say."


    "You can make a golem out of iron?"


    "You can."


    "How would it move?"


    "Often the joints are made of a softer material, like clay. Then the limbs can be formed of iron or stone. It ends up being able to take a sturdier hit than just clay."


    "In that case, I imagine they are forging brass, since we saw them mining phosphorous."


    "I''ll trust your judgment on that."


    Oydd furrowed his brow. "Though adamantite can''t be enchanted, it could be used to make the limbs of a golem, so long as it is assembled with clay?"


    "Theoretically. I''ve never seen that much adamantite in one place. But that''s why we have Jesh. With his hammer, we really only need to freeze the clay."


    Oydd still seemed concerned.


    "This way is much hotter," the vampire said. "I suppose we follow the heat. The fomorians are this way as well. You said only two?"


    "How do you know the fomorians are this way?"


    "Did you say only two?" Licephus repeated.


    "Yes. Small ones, I think. How do you ¡ª"


    "The smell," Licephus answered matter-of-factly.


    In the hot air, Oydd smelled nothing but scorched flint, but trusted the vampire''s superior senses.


    "Hold," the vampire whispered, motioning for Jesh. "Two more."


    The druid looked around the corner and saw two golems, one quite larger than the first, and one slightly smaller. Rather than try to take the larger one out quickly, he waited until the smaller golem drew closer. Then he charged. The golems moved even more slowly than Jesh, and by the time he reached the first, its companion had barely begun to turn.


    The druid splattered the first golem with a single overhead strike, leaving his hammer on the remains to freeze them while he waited for the second creature to approach.


    His first swing barely dented its shoulder. He raised his shield to block the golem''s fist, but his arm buckled under the powerful blow and almost knocked him from his feet. The golem raised its hand to strike again, and the druid attempted to dodge rather than block.


    The golem punched much faster than it walked, but Jesh only took a glancing blow. He tightened his grip on the hammer and swept up from the ground, catching the lumpy clay golem in the armpit. He left the hammer there. The golem lifted its arm to strike, but by the time it had raised its fist above its head, the joint had frosted over. The forearm twisted and cracked. The unintelligent creature took far too long to decide to switch to its other arm, and in that time, Jeshu froze and shattered one of its legs. The construct toppled to the ground with enough force to flatten half of its own face.


    Jeshu followed up with an overhead blow, mangling its remaining arm, again leaving the hammer in contact for several seconds.


    By then, Orth had joined him at the golem''s side, and chirped curiously, as if asking his master if he could eat.


    Patches patted the worm on the back. "No, Orth."


    This time the worm squawked sadly without lashing out at the mouseling.


    "The heat here is intense," Licephus commented. "How long can you withstand it?"


    "I''ll be fine for an hour or so. But the dry air gets to me."


    As the group rounded the bend, they came across an underground river of molten rock, nearly a hundred yards across, flowing slowly but steadily downhill.


    "I hope we don''t need to cross," the vampire said.


    Oydd clacked his beak. "Those golems would be unable to cross lava. There must be a way to reach the forge on foot."


    Licephus surveyed the ground. The blue crystals had grown sparse, replaced more often by an almost blackish silver. The material grew into large crystals, but also formed a crude mineral coating on the floor.


    "I believe they came from this direction." The vampire pointed upstream. "Druid, you''re in the lead."


    Jeshu nodded and started up the trail. The bank along the stream of magma was wide enough for about five travelers to stand abreast, but still felt dangerously narrow.


    The dryad peered ahead through the smoke and saw a bright glint.


    "You said we''re looking out for metal golems?"


    "Brass, I think."


    Jeshu pointed with his hammer. Unlike the previous golems, this one seemed to move straight for them, rather than dumbly patrolling.


    Oydd scratched his tentacles. "I believe we are expected now."


    "I imagine Juhidra can sense when his creations are destroyed. I don''t know what other information he might glean from them. Do you suppose he can see through their eyes?"


    "It is not like my magic," Oydd answered. "I can only guess."


    "What is your guess?"


    Oydd looked to Jeshu. "Do you know?"


    "I''ve never heard of golems used for scouting. I would say not."


    Oydd considered the druid¡¯s reasoning. "I hesitate to put limits on a magic unknown to me. I would rather assume the worst."


    Licephus nodded. "Fair enough."


    When the golem drew close enough to see it clearly, it appeared much larger than Jeshu had anticipated. With a flat head and no neck, it stood only about eight feet in height. Formed of a solid, copper-tinted metal, it certainly outweighed the druid by several times. However, it moved even more slowly than the clay golem, stepping, pausing, creaking as its limbs bent, then continuing on. A greenish patina formed in the grooves of the rough-hewn metal, which gave it the appearance more of a rocky ore.


    "Bronze," Oydd said. "Not brass. And it looks old."


    "You said brass," Licephus criticized.


    "It''s not really my area of expertise!"


    "What does it matter?" the druid asked. "Does it change what we do?"


    Oydd made an uncertain sound and shrugged.


    Jeshu growled and the rudra flinched, uncertain if the noise were a battle cry or an expression of frustration at Oydd''s ignorance. He looked a bit relieved when the druid charged through the smoke, aiming a blow for the side of the golem''s head. The hammer rang the metal like a bell, and a deep chime reverberated through the corridor. However, the golem barely budged under the force and countered with a punch to the druid''s gut.


    Jeshu took a step back and then two more, wobbling. He made another swing for its hips, trying to knock it off balance, but committed much less to the second blow, allowing himself more time to dodge. A layer of frost formed atop the bronze, but it slid off instantly amidst the heat from the lava and dripped to the ground where it sizzled.


    The dryad retreated toward his companions.


    "It''s solid," he huffed. "There''s no clay or anything at the joints. It''s just one solid piece of metal."


    "Then how can it move?" Oydd asked, exasperated.


    "Well, as you pointed out," Licephus replied, "we should raise our expectations of Juhidra."


    The golem neared again, and Jeshu faltered, withdrawing with each step the construct took.


    "What should I do?"


    "It looks brittle," Oydd observed. "A solid hit might crack it."


    "It did not," Jeshu ridiculed.


    "Rudra, can you lift it?"


    "What? No, it''s far too heavy!"


    The vampire took a step back as well. "Druid, can you grow?"


    "I was waiting until we saw Juhidra. It doesn''t last long."


    "I don''t have any other ideas. Now is the time," the vampire cried.


    Jeshu hesitated. "It''s hot. I''m worried I might crack."


    "Is that a thing?" Oydd asked.


    "My skin is already splintering from the heat." Jeshu stepped forward to meet the golem. He made two more ineffective swings with the hammer.


    The bronze construct moved as if it faced no resistance. It punched him once in the side, then again in the throat.


    Jeshu growled. He pressed in close, as he''d seen Cricket do against blunt weapons. And the golem floundered and flailed, unable to strike him.


    However, it pushed him back a step toward the lava. The druid looked over his shoulder, gauging the remaining distance, then wrapped his shield around the construct''s back and pulled on the golem. His weight did nothing. When they neared the lava stream, and at the last moment, he slipped behind its back and shoved, but could not move the living metal hulk in the slightest.


    The golem paused, close to the lava, but unmoving. The druid took several steps back and charged, knowing it would take all his power to make any difference. He slammed into the bronze golem''s back, shield first, and, with a loud crack like the splintering of wood, he bounced off.


    The druid coughed and groaned. He tossed his dented shield aside and grabbed the hammer in both hands.


    As the golem slowly turned, the rudra lifted his staff and brought a wave of lava over the brink. It splashed harmlessly against the golem''s bronze, trunk-like legs.


    The rudra brought his arms back, and then forward again with an uncharacteristic roar. A rising tide of magma splashed against the golem.


    Jeshu backed away with a limp. His feet steamed against the scorching bank, one step ahead of the molten rock.


    As the golem waded toward him, Jeshu closed his eyes and a cool air emanated from the dryad along with a cozy blue light. The sizzling sound beneath his feet, as well as the steam, diminished to almost nothing.


    Jeshu swung again at one of the golem''s outstretched arms, failing to budge it. But when he noticed the construct''s legs begin to glow red-hot, he swung instead for one of its ankles, which made the slightest of dents in the softened metal. The bronze hissed as the magical ice quenched the heat.


    Slowly, it began to warm again to a dull red. Jeshu struck the foot two more times as he retreated, taking another rough fist to the shoulder, but only left meager dents.


    His hands rang painfully from the recoil, and he made one final, trembling blow against the golem''s knee¡ªthe thinnest point of the metal¡ªand the cooling bronze suddenly cracked, from one side to the other.


    The golem attempted to take another step on the ruined joint, and the thin strand of bronze holding the limb together bent and cracked, severing the limb. It stumbled to its knee, but remained upright as the blackening lava cooled around it.


    Jeshu aimed another blow, but the creeping lava forced him out of range before he struck.


    The construct reached for the druid but face-planted in the lava instead.


    It rose onto one of its forearms and left the other arm outstretched¡ªits three, thick fingers clenching and unclenching feebly.


    Jeshu limped away, keeping an eye on the fallen construct. Licephus came to his side and stared at the molten heap.


    "What do we do?" the druid asked. "There will be more."


    Licephus looked around the group at a loss for words.


    "The dethkirok can withstand the heat of lava," Oydd contributed. "But... perhaps," he abandoned the thought, looking down at his own staff. "I could place another enchantment on the hammer..."


    "And what if we face two of these at once?" Jeshu asked.


    "I..." Oydd trailed off as he saw the defeated look on the druid''s face.


    "We have come this far. We have to see it through," Licephus said.


    "We don''t," Jeshu replied. "I say this respectfully, but we do not need to continue. We are unprepared."


    "And what? Run?" Licephus blustered. "And then they make more preparations and send god knows what to protect the changeling!"


    "I only offer my counsel," Jeshu replied. "I intend to follow your orders. But I advise against proceeding."


    Licephus, flustered, paced to the edge of the lava. The soles of his boots sizzled in the heat. He turned suddenly.


    "We proceed. We won''t get another chance like this. Our risk only grows over time. How long does it take him to create one golem? No... we proceed."


    Jeshu nodded.


    "I can kill the fomorians. I''m sure I can," Licephus continued. "And he won''t be expecting that!" The vampire looked to the rudra. "To raise a giant on our side!"


    Oydd returned a solemn look. "I am not powerful enough to do that."


    "Come!" Licephus growled, and marched ahead.


    Once he''d turned his back upon them, Oydd gave the druid a look of alarm, but Jeshu ignored him and followed after the vampire.


    Patches ran past him and climbed the dryad like a tree, perching on his shoulder.

 Desperate Acts

    18


    Desperate Acts


    Cricket yawned and stretched. Ty''lek stood nearby.


    He looked around for his shadow. "How long have I been out?"


    Ty''lek shrugged.


    Cricket stood up groggily and headed toward the fire, where the gnome and Scorpion still sat.


    Bax waved him over.


    "That smells good. Is the omelet ready?"


    "Oh, well, I ended up doing a scramble."


    Cricket stared back expectantly,finally turning to Scorpion for explanation.


    "He means that he mixed up the eggs."


    "That needs a different name? Isn''t it still an omelet."


    "Goodness, no!" Bax shook his head. "Not in the least."


    "Well... where is it?"


    "Where''s what?"


    "Mine," Cricket said flatly.


    "Oh... well... I divided up the eggs into fourths, since that was only fair, and..."


    Cricket groaned. "And what?"


    "Well, the other you ate it."


    Cricket looked around for his shadow. His stomach grumbled.


    "To be honest, I didn''t notice it wasn''t you until he''d downed half of it."


    "And then what? You could have stopped him then."


    "He... was just enjoying it so much. I didn''t have the heart."


    Scorpion laughed. "I did. But I thought it was funny."


    Cricket frowned. "Well, where is he?"


    "Don''t know," Scorpion answered lazily.


    "Do we have... something else I could eat? I''m starving."


    "I have a couple carrots," Bax offered.


    "I''d rather die."


    Scorpion laughed again. "That potion didn''t fill you up? Seemed to give you plenty of energy."


    "Energy, yeah, but I''m still hungry." Cricket rubbed his empty belly with a despondent look.


    "Well, look on the bright side,¡± Scorpion replied, ¡°we have a big fight ahead of us."


    "I know you''re being sarcastic, but that does make things a little better."


    "I scouted ahead," Scorpion said. "For a fortress, it''s not very well defended."


    "That''s too bad."


    "It''s not, Cricket."


    Ty''lek squawked in annoyance, evidently siding with Scorpion.


    "It seems the patrols we saw were from a nearby city. No one goes to the tower. The whole area''s practically deserted."


    "I told you, the last patrol looked like friendly azaeri. Not those seedy, unsavory types."


    Ty''lek squawked angrily. "Ra... ta sesk?"


    "Calm down," Cricket said. "I just mean they didn''t seem like Right Hand cultist types. Do you know where the secret entrance is?"


    Ty''lek nodded.


    "He showed me," Scorpion said. "We can get there without even approaching from the front. We''ll be, like, half a mile away."


    At this point, Cricket''s shadow emerged from around the dried copse of bramble, tossing his dagger into the air and catching it as he walked. Cricket immediately stared him down.


    "You!" He pointed with both arms on his right side. "You ate my eggs!"


    The panicked shadow lost his concentration and his dagger dissolved into fumes. A moment later, Cricket tackled him to the ground and the two wrestled in the dirt. After a short tumble, the Cricket''s foot ended up in the shadow¡¯s face, and the clone grabbed his ankle and bit. The shell crunched audibly, and Cricket yowled, pushing away the clone with his feet.


    He stood and so did the shadow. The shadow stuck out its tongue and¡ªwith a look of shock and frustration¡ªCricket dismissed it into black fumes.


    For a moment, his chewed up share of the eggs floated in the air, before sploshing against the ground.


    "The nerve!" Cricket shouted. "He had us all fooled!"


    "You started it," Scorpion said.


    "He started it when he ate my eggs!" Cricket returned. "The devil..."


    Scorpion sighed. "How would you react if he tackled you like that?"


    "I''d bite his arm off!" Cricket fumed, staring down at the wasted eggs. The hot meal steamed on the ground, and Cricket considered still eating it for the briefest of moments before stomping off toward the fire. On the way, he ran into his second shadow, which he instantly banished.


    *****


    As Oydd''s group neared the forge, the sound of Bale''s hammer resounded down the hallway, even over the roar of the lava flow. The oppressive heat warped the air, and Jesh was forced to drop his grace of strength in order to extend a magical fire resistance to the whole group.


    A recently forged golem followed the group for some time on the far side of the lava, more expertly formed than the last¡ªcomposed of a gleaming, golden metal. Oydd assured the group it was, in fact, brass this time.


    They encountered another construct on the last stretch¡ªa thin obsidian golem of sharp, black, glimmering glass, which the druid''s hammer handled summarily.


    Then, as they approached what the vampire referred to as "the changeling''s lair," the group stumbled upon a pile of blackened husks, similar to the shard of bone they¡¯d found in the first clay golem.


    "Bones," Licephus said. "Sucked clean of marrow. I had wondered if the changeling would actually consume a portion of Bale. Here is the evidence."


    "He ate the bones?" Jeshu asked in disbelief.


    "Just leftovers, I assume. Pieces for which Shisu had no design. It''s common for changelings to choose their meals in order to nurture... certain traits."


    Licephus kicked the pile. Without the violet essence inside, the bits of bone crumbled like embers beneath his boot.


    A fomorian, just under twenty feet in height, passed across the chamber several yards away, carrying a pile of adamantine rods, oblivious to the vampire''s party.


    Licephus placed his helm on his head and drew his broad blade. He strode fearlessly forward after the giant.


    Oydd sent Skunk to his side, then moved closer to the dethkirok. "Jeshu, go after him. I should keep some distance."


    The dryad nodded and raised a hand for Patches to disembark from his shoulder. She hopped down obediently, and ran along near the rudra''s feet, drawing her own little dagger.


    By the time Oydd reached the main chamber, the fomorian already lay on the ground, felled by the vampire¡ªits throat slit wide open.


    Licephus hung in the air a few feet from the ground. Oydd had not seen the vampire levitate since dawning the corrupted silver armor, and the extra weight surely made the effort more taxing.


    Lord Licephus swung his greatsword in an arc at a second fomorian on the far side of the room. It cowered, raising an arm to protect its throat. The bluish-grey skin of its four-foot forearm split beneath the force of the blow, from its wrist to its elbow.


    The chamber housing the forge was oddly cool, though the rudra saw a blazing furnace in the rear of the room, next to three mounds of rough stones that appeared to be kilns.


    The vast chamber rose in platforms, like stairs, and atop the highest stood Juhidra. In his left hand he held Bale''s hammer¡ªa weapon, or instrument, of solid violet energy, similar to the essence Oydd had seen inside Bale''s tongue and forearm. A continuous stream of hot air blasted against the changeling''s arm, emanating from the hammer, which blistered the changeling''s bluish skin.


    Juhidra himself appeared very much like a fomorian in color, though only twice the size of the undead dethkirok. The changeling'' s shape seemed similar to the dethkirok as well, with malformed wings, a long thick tail, and natural armor plates that glistened with the same shimmer as his hammer. His jaw appeared melted shut¡ªfused, save for a small hole at the side of his muzzle that continually dripped saliva.


    Large yellow pustules pocked his swollen jowls. As he turned to view the intruders, one sac burst and sprayed the stone at his feet with corrosive acid that began to steam and eat away at the rock.


    The lone remaining fomorian lifted a boulder rich with copper ore deposits and hurled it at the vampire. Licephus blocked with the wide, flat side of his blade, and the boulder exploded, sending loose chunks flying halfway across the room.


    Licephus roared and flew toward the giant.


    Jeshu began to grow to twice his height. Suddenly the ettin''s hammer looked small in his hands. Orth grew as well, pulsating as it groped across the floor, bulging to three feet in diameter and several times its length.


    Oydd watched the druid stalk toward a wiry golem forged of pure adamantite. Though only six feet tall, blades of varying thickness ran down the back of the indestructible construct, like quills, giving it a truly terrifying appearance. It brandished foot-long, razor-sharp claws that the rudra knew would never dull.


    Oydd swallowed hard, instinctively taking a step away from the horror. He surveyed the battlefield, not knowing who to help or how.


    The colossal druid outweighed the adamantine golem, and battered the construct about. But the indestructible golem thrashed at him madly, tearing chunks of bark from his arms and torso.


    The enraged worm wrapped around the golem in an attempt to protect his master, only to be beaten back by a single slash that dug several inches deep into its rocky hide. Orth crumpled in a heap and began to curl in on itself, as if dying, until it noticed a second golem in the room, a composite of crystal and sandstone. Suddenly, Orth rolled back onto its chubby legs, excited and bounded toward the more edible golem.


    The fomorian hurled another boulder across the room at Licephus, this time knocking him clear to the back wall, as Skunk dug his teeth into the giant''s ankle.


    Oydd climbed the stairway to the forge, unhindered, and the changeling watched his approach in amusement.


    The undead dethkirok strode before Oydd protectively.


    When the rudra neared, the massive changeling wheezed a sort of laugh of contempt through its nose and crept forward on its hind legs and one arm, unable to keep its balance on its legs alone.


    Oydd raised his staff and gathered a ball of black energy. It grew to the size of a ratling as the rudra clenched his fist. The surface flashed and streams of black electricity stretched from the orb to the ground, leaving blackened marks on the grey stone.


    The rudra released the energy and it soared toward the changeling. The monstrous Juhidra stepped aside, its tail waving behind him, but just as it began to slip past the orb, Oydd opened his fist and the ball of energy exploded with a blinding light.


    Oydd covered his eyes, but when the light died down, he saw the changeling still standing there completely unharmed. Its head twitched and focused on the rudra. It charged.


    The dethkirok moved between the two but the changeling lifted Bale''s hammer, and in a split second Oydd pulled the ghoul out of the way with his mind, unsure how the godly weapon would affect his creation.


    The changeling barreled forward, missing the demon with Bale''s hammer, but plowed into the rudra, raking him with the claws of its free arm.


    The blow sent Oydd flying backward through the air. He levitated himself forcefully to stop himself before he was dashed against the far wall, but one of the claws had punctured his stomach, and the rudra dropped roughly to the ground as he attempted to stanch the flow of blood.


    *****


    Jeshu slammed the adamantine golem with all the force of both arms, but only knocked it back a couple feet.


    He threw the hammer to stall it for a moment, reaching a hand toward the fallen rudra, and began to heal him from a distance.


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    But almost immediately, the adamantite golem returned. The tireless being scratched at him with its blade-like fingers, tearing chunks from his arm.


    Jeshu rarely felt pain. The first inch or so of his barklike skin seemed to feel nothing. But now the golem dug so deep that he howled. The druid yelled with such agony that for a moment it seemed the whole battlefield paused to listen.


    But it was a short moment. And then Jeshu tried to exert himself, summoning untapped energy from deep within, pushing himself to grow more and more. It didn''t amount to much.


    His arm began to droop and he shifted to try to take damage on his other side. Jeshu concentrated and a green light appeared on his shredded arm, slowly rebuilding the tissue. He had not previously needed to heal himself much, and he found the wound as challenging as the first time he had tried to mend Cricket.


    His attempts felt futile, but no one else could take so much punishment, he knew. If he left the fight, the golem would destroy his friends. And so he let it beat upon him.


    *****


    Licephus shook his head to knock the debris from his helm. He began to lift his sword for a strike, just as the fomorian caught up to him again. It punched directly at the sword, breaking through his block, and pounding him against the back wall.


    The vampire''s ears rang from the impact, and blood obscured his vision. He swung his sword but hit nothing. He swung again but only struck the ground as he fell sideways.


    Before he lost consciousness, Licephus saw the mouseling, pinned beneath a piece of the boulder he had deflected. She lay motionless in a pool of her own blood, her front paw crushed beneath the stone.


    *****


    Oydd''s vision blurred. Dimly he saw the changeling standing over a pool of gore that must have once been the rudra''s ghoul. Slowly, it turned toward the druid stalking toward his blind side. Oydd tried to cry out, but no sound escaped his mouth. He looked down at his hand, covered in blood. The druid had sealed the wound somewhat, but too little and too late.


    Oydd felt calm. But only for a moment. Then, from somewhere inside him, he felt a surging fear like nothing he had ever felt. He would not die here!


    "Help..." he called out. "Akinaska. Help your servants."


    Nothing.


    "Bale! Let us avenge you!"


    Nothing.


    "Serinyes..." he called weakly.


    Then, in one final, desperate attempt, he called upon the magic to speak with the dead. The magic he had used countless times, and he cried out, "Help... anyone..."


    Then he collapsed onto his side and blackness overwhelmed him.


    *****


    Cricket peered over the top of a boulder. The tower of Euna Brae looked impressive, even from a fair distance. Only a fraction of the tower could be seen from the exterior, as most of it lay encased in the wet rock of the cavern wall. The tower rose a hundred yards into the air, with many openings¡ªfor azaeri soldiers to glide down to the cavern floor¡ªas well as walkways and rope bridges that stretched along the face of the rock.


    Near the ceiling of the cavern a series of rope bridges connected the tower to a spiral shell of a truly titanic crustacean¡ªperhaps four stories tall¡ªthat still clutched to the ceiling in death. The azaeri had hollowed out the inside as an expansion to their tower, cutting wide openings into the ivory shell.


    "What can you see?" Cricket asked. "It''s just splotches to me."


    Ty''lek peered at the top of the tower where tiny black forms positioned themselves near the edge.


    He pointed at his bow, then back up at the fortress.


    "Archers?"


    Ty''lek nodded.


    "How many?"


    The azaeri looked to Scorpion and screeched, "Ki-ta-ki."


    Scorpion scratched his head. "He says twenty-two. You can really see that well?"


    Ty''lek nodded quickly.


    "And how many on the ground?"


    Ty''lek looked over the ground forces¡ªmostly azaeri armed with spears and crossbows, some out in the open and others lying in wait amidst the stalagmites.


    "Like half as many, right?"


    Ty''lek shrugged.


    "But maybe half as many, right?" Cricket pressed.


    "You can''t expect him to tell. Who knows how many are out of sight."


    Ty''lek squawked in agreement.


    "We should keep our distance," Scorpion added. "If Ty''lek can count them, then they could spot us from this distance."


    "Good point. Can you get us to the side passage while keeping cover?"


    Scorpion nodded and scurried off, picking a path among the crags. After a short distance, sparse bramble began to cover the trail, which grew thicker and thicker until Cricket was forced to begin hacking a path through the dry, black vines with his khopeshes. He summoned a shadow, and the two headed the group.


    After nearly an hour of cutting, Scorpion pointed them toward a narrow trench that led beneath an overhanging of rock. From a distance, it appeared unremarkable, but as they neared, Cricket saw signs of masonry poking out from behind the thorns. He had to duck at first, but then the passage opened into a fairly spacious, cobbled ramp. Thick dust covered the cobblestones, and the passage smelled of wet rot.


    Scorpion darted to the front of the group and sniffed the air. He winced at the smell, and his single eye watered.


    "Ugh, that''s gross."


    "Eh," Cricket shrugged, "I don''t have much of a sense of smell."


    Ty''lek stuck his beak in the air proudly, and pushed forward.


    Bax covered his nose with his sleeve. "That''s not natural, right?"


    "It smells like Gad," Scorpion complained.


    Cricket''s eyes narrowed. He raised his weapons to the ready and slowed his pace as he made his way up the tunnel with the shadow at his side.


    The ramp continued upward at a slight incline for some distance, steadily turning toward the tower. The curved path made it impossible to see very far ahead, and the group proceeded in silence for a distance until the ratling''s ears perked up.


    "Do you hear that?"


    "No," Cricket answered. "I have one antenna, and it''s bent."


    Scorpion held up a hand and the others stood still, listening. The mimic crawled from his back onto the ratling''s shoulder to get a better view.


    Cricket''s shadow nudged him with an elbow. Cricket glowered, hearing nothing, but eventually he picked up a very faint scraping sound. Another short scrape, and then silence. A long scrape, and then silence.


    "It''s just a zombie," Cricket said.


    Bax made a high-pitched sound of concern. "Just a zombie? Where I''m from, zombies are horrifying."


    "Well, down here, they''re usually on our side," Cricket stated.


    "They''re usually on our side, because Oydd is with us," Scorpion replied. "Oydd isn''t here."


    "Well, I know... obviously this one won''t be on our side, but¡ª"


    As he spoke, an undead azaeri appeared around the bend, dragging a spear behind it¡ªmissing more than half of its scales and feathers. When it sensed the intruders, it dropped the spear and opened its beak, letting out a long, hissing rattle.


    Bax screamed.


    "Quiet," Cricket whispered and lunged for its throat with the sickle side of a khopesh. The blade sunk about an inch deep into the pimpled, featherless skin, and then the zombie grabbed quickly for the insect.


    He dodged and swung again for the same spot, connecting with bone this time, but the zombie stumbled forward, undeterred, reaching out again.


    Ty''lek fired an arrow into its chest to little effect, and then Scorpion approached from behind and slit one of its hamstrings.


    The zombie toppled to the cobblestone and began to crawl after Cricket while his shadow jumped in from the side with a finishing stab to one of its eyes.


    "See," Cricket said. "Easy. Well, I mean... not super easy. But not dangerous."


    Scorpion sniffed the corpse, his whiskers twitching, then scurried ahead.


    The gnome took a glance backward, and quickened his pace to stay near the middle of the group.


    When they reached the next zombie, Bax screamed again, and Cricket shot him a disapproving look.


    Ty''lek disabled the zombie with an arrow to its ankle, and Cricket finished it off with three strikes to the temple.


    "Why are these so tough?" he complained.


    "Just be thankful they''re slow and stupid," Scorpion answered.


    "We should be at the tower soon, right?"


    No sooner had Cricket spoken the words than the outer wall of the tower appeared. The pathway narrowed, and ran along the curved brick wall as it rose steadily upward.


    "How high up do you think we are?"


    "Almost halfway," Scorpion guessed.


    The group passed two rooms dug into the rock opposite the tower wall with shelves full of withered roots and bags of forgotten grain thick with dead weevils. In the second room, the corpse of another azaeri spearman lay propped against the corner¡ªa dagger wound to its temple.


    They passed a third room with a blackened cauldron and the skeletons of two ratlings in decaying robes. Scorpion made a quick sweep of the chamber for anything of interest, but emerged a moment later looking disappointed. Cricket stuck his head around the threshold curiously, but trusted the ratling''s judgment and continued on.


    "How old were those corpses?" Bax asked.


    "Maybe a year," Cricket said and Scorpion agreed.


    "Why does it smell less up here?"


    The path turned into steep stairs cut from the stone that spiraled around the tower wall.


    Cricket thought it over. "Maybe the rancid air is heavier than the fresh air, so it sunk down?"


    "Ew." The gnome wrinkled his nose and tested pulling his sleeve away. "Well, I shouldn''t complain."


    "Quiet," Scorpion whispered. "I hear something." He ducked, motioning for the mimic to drop from his back, and crept ahead soundlessly.


    Cricket followed, keeping his arms tight to avoid accidentally banging his weapons on the wall.


    The ratling hopped up several more steps, pressed his ear against the bricks, then dashed further ahead.


    When Cricket caught up, Scorpion held a finger to his lips and pointed his paw at a thin crack in the wall.


    Cricket crouched at his side and waited for the ratling to look. After a quick glance, he climbed to the next step and motioned for Cricket.


    Cricket pressed his eye against the crack and saw little but an empty hallway.


    Scorpion''s ears perked up again and he ran up a few more steps. He found another crack in the mortar between the bricks and peered through. This time he smiled before motioning for the insect.


    Cricket pressed his eye against the crack and saw a fairly large chamber lit by the glow of a magical portal. It hummed very faintly, at least as far as the insect could tell. The portal appeared to be a permanent construction, with a semi-circle of runed stones at the bottom, sitting on a raised dais.


    The surface of the portal rippled like liquid, though it stood upright, and gleamed like silver with a faint pink hue.


    As he watched, the trollblood entered the chamber and faced the portal. It raised its arm¡ªthe arm it had replaced with Bale''s. The violet, clawed hand touched the surface of the portal and an image of Agoth formed. The half-troll tapped the portal again, and it turned pitch black. He stood there for some time, staring into the blackness.


    Cricket''s shadow tapped his shoulder, requesting a turn to look.


    Cricket shook his head, and the shadow placed his palm''s together, pleading. Cricket glared back at him and shook his head again.


    He looked back through the hole just as the shadow shoved him aside. He caught himself from falling, but Cricket''s jade khopesh clicked against one of the steps. The shadow looked through the crack, and both froze in horror, waiting to see if the trollblood had heard them.


    A moment later, Cricket heard the troll''s deep voice penetrating him to the core.


    "Sunder..."


    The stones of the wall obeyed Bale¡¯s tongue, crumbling apart to reveal Cricket, his shadow, and Scorpion huddled together on the steps.


    Without hesitation, the shadow dropped into the chamber and rushed the trollblood.


    It raised Bale''s clawed hand and pointed it toward the darting shadow and commanded, "Die." Bale''s tongue darkened noticeably and the shadow evaporated.


    The stunned troll took a step backward while Cricket screamed in alarm.


    Ty''lek appeared at the insect''s side and released an arrow into the room. The trollblood covered his eyes with his natural arm, and the arrow sank deep into the bone. Black threads spread rapidly from the wound.


    "Break," the troll croaked, and the Nightcrawler bow snapped in half. Almost immediately the black tendrils growing along his arm receded.


    Cricket took one step, as if to charge in, but hesitated.


    "Sleep..."


    Bale''s tongue, as before, darkened slightly.


    Futilely, Cricket tried to cover his remaining antenna to block out the command as the room dimmed around him.


    *****


    Oydd heard a loud grinding sound, as of metal against metal, and all motion around him slowed to a stop. Juhidra, standing just feet before him seemed impossibly far away, almost lost in time.


    "We hear you," a thin voice rasped.


    The room darkened. A distant sound like rushing water replaced the silence and his eyes slowly adjusted until he noticed a spectral shape, quivering and wavering in the air. It vanished and then reappeared further away¡ªits long, ghastly arms clutching a scythe.


    Above the distant sound of water, the rudra heard the creature''s labored breath. Though its chest appeared skeletal¡ªwith a tan, threadbare fabric pressed against the ribs¡ªit inhaled with a long, slow rattle, then disappeared.


    The wind whipped at Oydd''s side, and he turned to see it reform closer. The wraithlike creature possessed no legs, but rather its elongated spine drooped from the ribcage nearly to the ground, where it coiled like a tail.


    An unheard wind whipped about its being, granting an aspect of fragility, as if it might dissolve into the air.


    The creature laid its scythe on the ground, and crawled forward on its arms, struggling against the force of the wind. Even at a few feet away, Oydd could not make out its face, whether it was bone, or flesh, or shadow.


    The specter spoke again in a raspy voice. "What does it want? Why did it call?"


    Oydd stood. He reached for his staff, but his fingers slipped through it, and the image of his staff on the ground whirled and fluttered like a reflection in a stream. The shattered image danced and sparkled in the darkness, and the rudra waited for the shards to coalesce, but they only drifted further apart.


    "Why did it call?" the wraith repeated.


    Oydd stared into its empty sockets. "Why did I call?"


    The spectre only waited for a further response.


    "I... asked for help."


    "It did not pray to its god? It called to Izu?"


    "I... I did call out to the gods. But they did not hear me."


    "We heard," the wraith whispered. "Izu did hear."


    "Can you help me?" Oydd stuttered.


    "We can help? Who is dead?"


    "Who is dead? No one is dead."


    "Many are dead. Speak the name of one of the recent dead, and we will help the rudra."


    Oydd swallowed. "Naraka," he said at last. "We killed a demon named Naraka."


    "There is no demon, Naraka, because he is dead?"


    The wraith waited and Oydd verified the information with a curt nod.


    "Who is alive?" the spirit asked, then vanished and reformed several yards away, its scythe once again clutched in its skeletal fingers. The wraith placed the weapon again on the ground and slithered through the air back toward the rudra.


    "What do you mean?"


    "Who still lives," the wraith rasped impatiently. "What is its name?"


    "My name?" the rudra asked. "My name is Oydd."


    "Zephyrendum," the spirit finished. "The rudra tossed upon the wind. The mortal''s name is Oydd."


    Oydd nodded.


    "We are after the death of Naraka, and before the death of Oydd."


    "Yes," Oydd whispered, his throat tight.


    "And it wants power?"


    Oydd studied the specter. "Can you give me power?"


    The spirit vanished and reappeared at the rudra''s side, inches from his face. Oydd felt its warm, wet breath on his neck.


    "We can... for a price."


    "What price? My soul?"


    "We cannot keep souls," the wraith hissed as it flitted through the rudra, turning to face him again. "We are not gods. We desire flesh... and sinew... and bone." The spirit lifted a skeletal hand and caressed the rudra''s cheek. It turned its head sideways in three quick jerks, until its jaw slanted upward.


    "To eat?"


    "To work. To be our hands and our feet." The voice echoed in the darkness.


    "In exchange for what?"


    "A small mote of our power. That is all we can give. And the rudra will be bound to obey Izu. Not only us, but all Izus."


    "Enough power to save my life?"


    "We know not. But if it dies, it owes us nothing."


    Oydd looked off to where his friends lay scattered beyond the black and pondered the offer.

 The Witch of Euna Brae

    19


    The Witch of Euna Brae


    Pip landed near a growing puddle of rich, brown fomorian blood. He inched closer and began to drink. The undead ladybug feasted feverishly.


    The pool of ochre liquid spread along the black stone and the familiar, his stomach full, opened his wings and took flight, landing on the fomorian''s cheek.


    A green light appeared in the fomorian''s eye. It spread to the whites, then grew in intensity and darkness until it was pitch black. Still, it grew even darker, swallowing the meager light that fell upon it.


    The veins around its eye bulged and blackened as well, rushing dark magic through the giant''s corpse. Its muscles convulsed and contorted.


    The ghastly fomorian stood. Black fumes rose from its splitting skin and a green heat radiated from inside the cracks. It opened its mouth and a slow, heavy breath escaped.


    It shrieked¡ªa long, clacking roar, like the call of a banshee¡ªand curled its clawed fingers.


    Oydd felt a chill beyond anything he had ever felt spread through his arms, and for the first time he realized he was back in his body.


    Juhidra, too, froze in terror. And as the giant rushed him, the changeling  feebly lifted an arm to protect himself.


    The fomorian trampled over him in its haste, then spun about, backhanding the changeling and flung him across the room.


    Juhidra crashed high against the wall and before he fell to the floor, the giant was upon him again, digging its claws into his belly and sinking its tusks into the nape of his neck. Juhidra lifted Bale''s hammer to strike, but the fomorian wrested the changeling''s arm from the socket with a quick lurch of its wrist, and dropped the writhing limb on the ground.


    The other fomorian tried to subdue his comrade, but the ghast tossed him aside with one swipe of its arm and returned to its prey, clamping its jaw tight over Juhidra''s throat until the changeling ceased struggling.


    The other fomorian backed away in fear as the ghast tore away and swallowed bits of its former master.


    Oydd''s head throbbed with power and pain. When the fog began to clear from his mind, he raised a hand and focused on the ghast. Grudgingly it left its kill and chased after the other giant. Through blurred vision, the rudra saw his gigantic foe fall to his knees¡ªheard its whimper as the ghast tore into its throat, spraying brown blood into the hot forge.


    Next, Oydd lifted the adamantine golem from Jeshu and tossed it easily across the chamber with a wave of his hand.


    The rudra stood and strode across the chamber. The wound in his side no longer hindered him. He saw the druid laying in a still heap and moved to his side. Oydd knelt and placed a hand on the dryad''s shredded skin. Though it was faint, Jeshu''s magic still hummed quietly¡ªa soft green light that slowly mended the torn fibers. And, much like a pulse, it indicated that the druid was not dead.


    The indestructible golem dashed again toward them, and Oydd had his giant ghast grab it by an arm and pin it against the floor. The adamantine construct struggled viciously, clawing at the giant''s wrist¡ªgouging into the ghast''s magically hardened skin.


    Calmly, Oydd opened Jeshu''s pack, and searched for one of the druid''s regenerative potions.


    *****


    The forgotten clone picked over the bodies of the dead goblins and sorted through their belongings as Gad and the ill-formed shadow watched. One of the goblins, the shortest of the bunch, appeared to have been a mage of sorts. He held a thin wand formed from spider silk, and wore a tiny ring inlaid with a chip of ruby.


    The ring was too small to fit on any of Cricket''s fingers, so he rifled through the packs of the other goblins until he found a bit of string and hung the ring around his neck. It felt oddly warm against his chest.


    The shadow removed one of his daggers, dismissing it into nothing, and stored the wand in the hollow between his exoskeleton and his hip.


    Other than the mage''s trinkets, he found little more than a few silver coins on the bunch, which he offered to Gad first, and then the other shadow, but neither seemed interested.


    Finally, he decided to continue on, taking the most worn path, as that had worked favorably in the past. However, the road, steadily descending deeper into Agoth, proved barren for several miles.


    The air grew very hot, but it didn''t bother him. The heat actually seemed to affect Gad the most, and the trollblood groaned in discomfort every now and then. Finally, he collapsed on the trail. Not unable, but unwilling to continue.


    Cricket crouched at his side and patted the troll on the shoulder.


    Gad looked at him in pain, and placed a plump hand on one of the iron plates Oydd had grafted onto his arm. The shadow gave him a sympathetic look, but saw no immediate solution.


    The trollblood looked truly miserable. A polyp closed off one of his nostrils, and a lump growing on his brow now drooped over his eye, partially obscuring his vision.


    Cricket sat down next to Gad and the other shadow hovered nearby. They sat for hours. Cricket assumed it was nighttime when the trollblood finally stood, but he didn''t know how to reasonably tell time in Agoth.


    He looked at Gad and pointed back the way they had come with one arm and onward with the other.


    Gad stared at him, breathing heavily and finally started again downhill, deeper into Agoth. Cricket followed.


    *****


    Jade hung lifeless from the dire widow''s web, her shell nearly as shiny as Crickets. She moaned softly as the poison took effect.


    Cricket placed the vial with the antidote on a thin chain around his neck and drew his weapons. He strode boldly into the spider''s chamber, eyeing the recesses in the rock for movement.


    The dire widow lowered herself from the ceiling by a single, thick strand of web.


    Cricket struck a cool pose.


    The demonic spider lunged and he lifted a khopesh quickly to block.


    Cricket''s arm hit into an iron bar, and he woke with a start. He yawned and stretched, then reached out in the opposite direction and connected with another rusty bar.


    Cricket sat up. He found himself in a dangling cage, just large enough to house one prisoner. He pressed his face against the bars and looked down. He saw nothing but fog below.


    "We''re near the top of the tower," Scorpion responded from a nearby cage.


    "How do you know?" Cricket yawned again.


    "I tossed down some debris and never heard it hit the ground. Oh..." He pointed behind Cricket. "Also, a few minutes ago, the fog cleared enough I could see that big shell on the ceiling. It''s like... a stone''s throw away."


    Cricket stared off into the wafting vapors for a moment before turning his attention to the other cages. Several hung within view. And he made out the rough shape of two more half hidden in the fog.


    Scorpion dangled nearby, and a little further away, he saw two unfamiliar ratlings. Beyond them was an empty cage and then a stone terrace several yards further with an archway leading into the tower.


    Cricket waved at the ratlings, and one waved back. The other concentrated on whittling a bone with his front teeth and did not look up.


    "Where''s Ty''lek?"


    Scorpion shook his head sadly. "He wasn''t here when I came to."


    "Do you know how long I was out?"


    "Hours."


    "Looks like Bax isn''t here. Maybe he managed to hide."


    "Oh, no... sorry. I am here." The gnome''s voice came from a seemingly empty cage. "But I''m hiding. Next time they open this cage, I''ll jump out!"


    "Good thinking. Hey," Cricket tried to get the attention of the whittling ratling. "What are you making?"


    The ratling looked up at Cricket for only a brief moment then back down anxiously. "A weapon."


    "Oh, you''re sharpening it. I''m calling you Shiv."


    The ratling smiled to himself proudly.


    "What''s your name?" Cricket asked the other ratling.


    "Sank."


    "Shank? What a coincidence! Wonder what the odds on that are."


    "With all the billions of coincidences that could happen," the gnome interjected,"it would be quite odd if some didn''t."


    "Fair point. I guess it would be weird if his name wasn''t Shank."


    "It''s not. It''s Sank," the ratling corrected, a bit dismayed.


    "Weird. How''d you get that name?"


    The ratling hesitated, and before he could answer, an elder azaeri appeared on the terrace, announcing her presence with a curt, barking caw.


    The old matron''s neck bent like a vulture from her humped shoulders. Though her head was entirely devoid of feathers, which gave an almost diseased look to her visage, a thick, black down covered her hump, and a few especially long plumes protruded from her arms. Many had lost their vanes and color, giving them the appearance of bleached quills.


    She wore the accouterments of a shaman, carrying a gnarled wooden staff, likely from the surface, draped with the bones and skulls of some smaller birds, or perhaps young azaeri. Ratling bones hung from her belt, and rattled like ghastly chimes. She had two holes drilled in the side of her beak, from which bone beads on twine dangled. Her long tail dragged along the stone, collecting dust, and she walked slowly toward the ledge over which the cages hung.


    A sizable troll followed the azaeri, holding most of an uprooted tree as a club. Beside it stood two azaeri spearmen, slightly more muscular than Ty''lek, though they looked scrawny next to the massive troll.


    The azaeri matron pointed at Sank''s cage and whispered something under her breath to the attendants. One of the spearmen ran and jumped, gliding to the cage, where he perched on the top, near the chain. He gave two yanks, and squawked up into the fog. A moment later the chain lurched and the cage dropped an inch. It bounced, and then slowly began to rise through the fog to the clicks of some unseen mechanism up above.


    Sank, the azaeri, and the cage all vanished in the mist, after which the old matron turned and slowly made her way back into the tower, followed by her attendants.


    Shiv looked rather distressed.


    Cricket frowned. "Where are they taking him?"


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I don''t know," the terrified ratling responded. "But I don''t think we''ll see him again. There were four of us at first, and... they never come back."


    "Well, isn''t that a good thing? Not coming back to a cage?" Cricket offered pitifully.


    The ratling did not respond. He stopped working on his shank and curled up in a ball on the bottom of his cage.


    "What do we know about that old hag?" Scorpion asked.


    "She''s nasty," Shiv answered. "Baba Kesu. She does experiments on prisoners."


    "How did you end up here?" Cricket asked. But the ratling pretended not to hear.


    "Well..." Cricket sighed, looking at Scorpion. "Bax is invisible. Shiv''s making a shiv, and Zit¡¯s out there somewhere. We''ve got multiple pots in the fire. I feel good about this."


    "Zit?" Scorpion said. "Are you calling the mimic Zit?"


    "Yeah, short for Ixitl."


    "How do you think he''s going to rescue us?"


    Cricket shrugged. "I''m just listing options."


    "That''s like the one name Oydd asked you not to use... Zit," Scorpion complained, plopping down on the bottom of his cage.


    "Tell on me!" Cricket glared.


    He tried to shake the bars of his cage, testing each one, but began fiddling with the padlock. He pulled one of the hidden knives from his carapace and tried to pick the lock. After nearly twenty minutes with no progress, he tried grinding up the inside in the hopes it might open if it were damaged enough. When that failed, he grew frustrated and bit the padlock in half with his incisors. After inspecting his dull, dinged up dagger, he opted to toss it from the cage.


    Cricket opened the door. He looked off into the fog where Scorpion said he saw the titanic shell, and tossed the padlock in that direction. He listened, but heard nothing.


    "You said a stone''s throw."


    Scorpion sighed. "Maybe two."


    Cricket climbed to the top of his cage and leapt toward Scorpion''s. When he kicked off, the cage swung with the force of his jump, and he only flew half as far as he intended. The insect gasped, barely grabbing hold of one of the bars. He latched on, upside-down, and bit the lock open, then climbed to the top and jumped to Bax''s cage.


    The cage wobbled dangerously when he landed, and he heard the invisible gnome slide against the bars.


    Before he had a chance to open the lock, the troll reappeared on the terrace. It sauntered toward the edge, evidently lured by the sound of jangling chains, and only noticed Cricket at the last moment.


    Mostly unarmed, and unable to easily leap to the ledge, Cricket circled to the far side of Bax''s cage for cover.


    The troll smiled a heinous grin, and chuckled to itself as it strolled forward, lifting its tree trunk to toss at the cage.


    Suddenly, without so much as a yelp, the troll dropped straight through the floor.


    Stunned, Cricket leaned around the cage, and peered down into the mist for some sign of the falling troll.


    "Oh!" Bax said, excitedly. "I forgot. I made an illusion to make the ledge look like it extends further than it does. He''s halfway to the ground by now!"


    "Oh, that''s very helpful." Cricket turned to Scorpion''s cage. "See, lots of pots in the fire."


    "I''m glad I remembered before you tried to make a jump for it!"


    Cricket''s eyes widened in horror. He licked his mandibles, before opening the gnome''s cage and then Shiv''s.


    The insect returned to Scorpion¡¯s cage. The ratling poked his head out, staring at the ledge that the troll had fallen through. "How far is the real ledge?"


    "Oh, I haven''t the foggiest," Bax replied.


    "What? You can''t tell where the illusion ends?"


    "Wouldn''t be much of an illusion if I could. Isn''t it convincing?"


    "Very convincing," Scorpion said, critically eyeing the illusion.


    Cricket pointed. "I''m just going to jump to there. Couldn''t be much shorter than that."


    "Do we have something we can toss?"


    "Um..." Cricket fished out his last dagger and lobbed it onto the terrace. It dropped through the floor and vanished. "Okay... maybe a bit further."


    Scorpion swallowed hard. "Wait!"


    "I''ll just jump as far as I can. Can''t do more than that, right?"


    "Wait!"


    "The other option is to stay here. That''s not safer."


    Scorpion looked down, but eventually nodded in agreement.


    "Hold on tight. I''m going first."


    Scorpion wrapped his tail around a bar for extra support as Cricket leapt onto the terrace. He overshot his original mark by quite a bit, and landed in a rough roll. Seeing he had hit solid ground, he dropped to his belly and crawled back toward Scorpion, feeling with his arms until they sank through the illusionary stone.


    "Okay, it stops right here."


    "That''s not so bad," Scorpion replied.


    "Bax, can you make that jump?"


    "Not at all."


    Scorpion looked at Bax¡¯s seemingly empty cage and thought.


    "Cricket, can you jump with him on your back?"


    "Um... if the cage''s weren''t swinging, I''d say yes."


    He looked over at the other ratling. "Shiv, are you coming?"


    The ratling clung to his sharpened bone with both paws and simply shook his head.


    Scorpion grunted. "Bax, you stay here with Shiv. We''ll come back for you."


    *****


    The top levels of Euna Brae seemed unusually vacant, in Cricket''s opinion. Likely, most of the azaeri guarded the lower levels, despite the few archers that manned the giant shell. The fog penetrated the fortress itself, which made it difficult to tell where they were going, but also made for some good cover.


    Cricket and Scorpion came to a landing with a set of stairs running along the curved outer wall. To the left, the stairs rose, and to the right they descended.


    "What do you think," Cricket whispered. "The portal is probably down a few floors."


    "And the witch is probably up."


    "Huh?"


    "They took Shank up, which means that''s likely where she is," Scorpion reasoned.


    "No, I get that part. What do you mean by witch?"


    "The witch," the ratling''s voice cracked. "The old azaeri witch. You saw her."


    "What, that granny? She seemed harmless."


    Scorpion stared back, dumbfounded. "Are you daft? Shiv said she does experiments on prisoners, and she was clearly a witch!"


    "Experiments don''t have to be bad. Oydd does experiments."


    "Would you want him to do any of those experiments on you?" Scorpion raised his voice a bit beyond a whisper, and the noise caught the attention of a nearby sentry. The two heard a few short cacks and caws down the hallway, followed by footsteps.


    Scorpion signaled to hide and the two slipped through the archway leading to the stairwell and secreted themselves, one on each side. Cricket pointed at his lone, bent antenna, and Scorpion, interpreting the gesture, listened to the footsteps and held up two fingers. Cricket nodded.


    While they waited, the ratling stooped and grabbed a loose pebble. When the guards drew close, he tossed it down the stairs. The first guard stepped through to investigate, and Cricket waved to draw his attention as Scorpion leapt onto his back and dug his two front teeth into the azaeri''s neck. Quickly, Cricket grabbed the azaeri¡¯s spear, twisting it in a circle to wrest it from the guard''s hands, feinting with a quick stab through the doorway to slow the second guard.


    The first opened his beak to squawk a warning, but the ratling wrapped his tail around the tip and held it mostly closed. He gouged at the azaeri''s eye with his only hand, digging the claw of his thumb beneath the yellow eyeball. The azaeri dashed backward, ramming him into the wall.


    Cricket sized up the other guard, who also wielded a spear. He raised his own shaft at a defensive angle, stabbing down into the azaeri''s thigh with the same motion, and circled around his opponent as he retracted. To his surprise, when he pulled back on the spear, it hooked the guard''s femur, yanking him from his feet. The spearman crashed to the ground with a dull thud, and the insect hastily crushed his throat with his foot.


    When he returned to the stairwell with a spear for Scorpion, he found the ratling still struggling with the first guard. The two grappled on the ground, the azaeri''s beak now clamped over one of the ratling''s legs while the other wrapped around his neck attempting to choke him.


    Cricket waited patiently.


    "Help, you idiot!"


    "You''re being too loud," Cricket whispered in a panic.


    "Help!"


    Cricket looked over his two spears, opted for the clean one, and poked half-heartedly at the downed guard''s face. Eventually, Scorpion managed to dislodge his leg, and Cricket shoved the spearhead into the azaeri''s open beak. He gripped it with both left arms and plunged toward the back of the guard''s neck. The azaeri stopped squirming instantly.


    Scorpion rolled onto his back panting, before limping to his feet.


    Cricket yanked the spear from the guard''s wide open gullet and presented it to the ratling.


    "What am I going to do with that, with one arm?" Scorpion began whispering again. "Can you snap it in half?"


    "That would be too loud." Cricket wrapped his jaws around the shaft near the spearhead and clipped through half of it, then rotated and bit a second time to minimize the snap.


    He handed the makeshift dagger to Scorpion. "Down?"


    "I think our equipment is likely up," Scorpion suggested. "Witches tend to... collect things."


    Cricket, impressed, pointed at the ratling and nodded, as if to say "nice thinking," then began to climb the stairs. The stairwell was wide, spacious, and infrequently covered in troll dung. The insect gave the steaming piles of dung an extra wide berth, partly because of the smell, and partly because of the greasy black substance that oozed from each pile into the stone, leaving a hazardous oil slick.


    "How many trolls, do you think?" Cricket asked.


    "More than one. Definitely more than the one."


    "I doubt they come up here much."


    "What makes you say that?"


    "Trolls... just kind of tend to move downhill."


    "That sounds like a guess..."


    "It''s an educated guess. They''re unintelligent, lazy brutes."


    "So you haven''t actually seen them behave that way?" Scorpion asked.


    "I... have not seen them tend uphill..."


    "Hush," Scorpion pointed at his ears, and Cricket quieted.


    The stairs ended at a second landing, where a single archway led into a laboratory that appeared similar to the old morgue at the Warrens in many ways, only far more filthy, with an empty brazier in the center of the room surrounded by wicker tables stained with blood. The dried, mummified remains of a ratling lay on the farthest table, covered in dust. Jars and containers of all sizes lined the walls, filled with curiosities, from petrified bones, to pickled fetuses, and pungent elixirs.


    If Cricket didn''t know better, he might have thought the laboratory abandoned. Three separate archways led from the entry room into similarly stuffed, disheveled, and neglected auxiliary chambers¡ªtwo of which were lit by candlelight.


    He passed the unlit chamber, and smelled the rot before he even saw the piles of bodies¡ªratlings, azaeri, lizardmen, even one of the smaller brown insectoids, all in various stages of decay, which created a nauseating bouquet of fumes.


    Cricket exhaled from his vents as he passed to alleviate the burn. He passed by the second chamber, which contained mostly wicker cages as well as iron cells built into the wall at only about three feet in height, so the occupants would be unable to stand.


    Scorpion passed through the third archway before the insect. A moment later, Cricket heard the ratling retch, and he rushed in to find him crouched next to a marble altar. Ty''lek lay on top, his beak removed and sitting next to his head in two pieces¡ªhalf of his face flayed to the bone.


    The ribs of his chest splayed outward, revealing his internal organs¡ªseveral of which had been removed. One of his arms bulged, the scales pale and discolored by acid, the skin splitting open like the cap of a mushroom. A greenish liquid still sizzled on the exposed, blackening bone.


    Cricket suppressed the urge to vomit as well.


    Scorpion wobbled and leaned against the altar. "What is this... was he... sacrificed?"


    "No..." Cricket answered. "This was an autopsy."


    From the altar, Cricket saw a rope bridge leading out through the fog.


    He heard a heavy footstep some distance behind him and tensed.


    "Troll!" Cricket looked around the room and then out to the rope bridge. "It''s too cramped here!"


    "I''m not going out on that rope."


    "Agreed." Cricket ran back toward the stairs. He heard the troll grunt like an ox around the bend¨Ceven saw a whiff of his hot breath on the air. Instinctively, he reached for a khopesh, and then for one of the absent daggers. Finally, tightening the grip on his spear, he let out an impromptu war cry and rushed down the stairs, almost immediately slipping on a fresh, tarry pile of dung.


    As he fell, Cricket rolled onto his back, and tucked his head. He crashed down several steps like a toboggan on his slick shell, actually gaining speed as he skidded over an even fresher mound of dung. He flew past the troll as a shiny black blur, before crashing headfirst into the wall and bouncing down the next flight of stairs.


    Dizzily he covered his head with his upper arms. He skidded across another landing before he managed to slow himself down, partly by scraping his spear against the wall and partly because the stones had ground the shell on his back rough and raw, which made him less slick.


    An azaeri approached through the fog.


    Cricket readied his spear as he wobbled to his feet. He faked a limp, and pretended to hold the weapon awkwardly until the guard drew close, then he lunged and finished him with a quick flourish. Two archers approached from the stairs above, where he had just slid past, and Cricket ducked out of the stairwell to avoid their arrows, nearly colliding with a second spearman.


    He feigned a stab and brought the butt end of his spear around, connecting solidly with the azaeri''s temple. Cricket crashed into him afterward, trampling over the stunned guard, and almost immediately slipped on the same foot as before, which was still slick with troll dung. He slid into the far wall and collapsed to the ground, landing on his elbow. The insect bit down hard to avoid screaming in pain.


    He indulged in a moment of lying flat on his back, feeling sorry for himself, when he saw the silhouette of another insectoid coming toward him through the fog, brandishing four straight blades.

 Hollow Victory

    20


    Hollow Victory


    The adamantine golem left Jeshu in such a sorry state that the rudra had to lift his head to administer a healing potion. He forced the druid to swallow the entire bottle, then searched for Patches. He sensed her very faintly, and picked his way through the rubble until he saw the mouseling''s still form.


    "Oh, no, child..." Oydd rushed to her side, tossing the chunk of boulder that pinned her with no more than a thought. Her paw lay in tatters, with shards of bone protruding from the contorted fur. Gently, the rudra lifted her to his chest, cradling her.


    "This didn''t have to happen," Licephus'' voice spoke softly from behind the rudra.


    Oydd found the vampire leaning against the wall, his armor dented unnaturally deep at the chest.


    Licephus coughed. He held his helm at his side. Matted blood soaked his fine white hair, and dripped down his arm.


    "The... druid knew. He knew it was folly." The vampire''s glazed eyes stared off at nothing.


    "I''ll get Jeshu," Oydd responded.


    "No..." Licephus shook his head. "I do not want any healing that comes from Elkennah."


    "Don''t be ridiculous."


    Licephus smiled dryly. "I cannot be healed by his goddess. It is part of my curse. Only¡ª'''' the vampire coughed up blood. "Only..."


    "You need to feed?" Oydd asked.


    Licephus shook his head and leaned back against the rock, staring up at the ceiling. "Ah, Eyrgan... so we go!" he whispered.


    Skunk came to the rudra''s side and began to sniff at the vampire. The mutant''s grey skin showed no wounds, though the rudra had seen him take more than one impressive blow.


    He left Skunk to guard Licephus while he returned to the druid. Jeshu breathed peacefully, but still lay in a heap.


    Oydd was about to leave him when the dryad spoke, his eyes still closed.


    "I sense... a sealed portal nearby."


    "What do you mean, sealed?"


    "Not open," the druid answered. "But there is a link..."


    "Can you open it?"


    Jeshu shook his head weakly, and took another deep breath.


    Oydd considered this information. "I suppose the trollblood needs access to the forge. I would like to see his face the next time he checks in."


    "Give me the mouseling."


    "What? You''re in no condition to heal anyone."


    "She is little. It is... nothing to me," Jeshu stated, honestly.


    Reluctantly, Oydd laid the mouseling at Jeshu''s side and wandered off.


    "Where are you going?"


    "Even if the portal is sealed, there should be some structure nearby to facilitate it." Oydd answered. He climbed the stairs to the highest platform, passing the changeling''s mangled remains. Oydd noticed the gleaming, violet glow of the forge hammer beneath the gore and reached for it. However, when he was still a few feet away, his skin began to blister and peel. He pulled back, but white singe marks already covered his palm.


    Oydd took a few steps back and held out a hand. He tried to lift it but the hammer did not move. The rudra concentrated. His tentacles began to whip about and the hammer wobbled, but before it even rose from the ground, the skin on his tentacles began to blister and peel. Instantly, he released the energy and the hammer sank back into the blood and gore.


    Frustrated, he abandoned the hammer for the time being and walked to the rear of the immense platform, where he found a half circle of stones, like an upside-down archway. Each stone was engraved with a single rune, save for the keystone, which was bare. Three of the engravings were filled with gold¡ªthe runes for Life, Measure, and Obeisance. Though the runes of Passage and Bounty sat higher in the circle.


    Oydd raised a palm toward the stones but sensed nothing.


    The adamantine golem, from across the chamber, roared as if in triumph, and Oydd turned to see it break free from the ghast''s mangled hand. As it began to run back across the room, the ghast grabbed it with its other hand and slammed it against the wall, where it continued to writhe against him, tearing off chunks of flesh with its gruesome claws.


    *****


    Cricket sighed. He wanted to lay on the ground a little longer before anyone bothered him. He felt around at his side until his fingers bumped into the shaft of his spear, and reluctantly he gripped the weapon.


    He gave himself a countdown. 3... 2... 1...


    But before he made a move, the silhouette of the approaching insectoid melted into a pile of tentacles.


    Cricket took a deep breath. "Zit?"


    The mimic screeched in annoyance.


    "Okay, okay! Ixitl..."


    The mimic screeched in annoyance.


    "That''s the best I can do!"


    Ixitl snapped its beak semi-playfully as it crawled past Cricket. Beyond it, Cricket saw the archers closing in.


    One fired at the mimic, but the arrow passed through his rubbery skin without inflicting any noteworthy harm. It bounced from the stone near Cricket''s head.


    Seeing the new combatants, Cricket thought it reasonable to restart his countdown. 3... 2...


    In a flash, Ixitl overcame one of the archers, snapping its bow with his beak. The other archer trained an arrow on the mimic, but hesitated to fire with his companion so close. A moment later, Ixitl reached out with a tentacle and yanked him from his feet. All the while, it wrapped tentacles around the arms and legs of its current prey and began to sever tendons with its beak as it slowly dragged the second archer closer.


    Cricket needed more arms.


    Seeing as the mimic had things under control, Cricket sat up slowly. He winced in pain and felt behind his back with a couple hands. It stung when they touched the raw part of his shell, and they returned with a semi-clear, yellowish goo on the fingers.


    Cricket reached for his pouch to look for an invisibility potion before realizing it wasn''t on him.


    He crouched down at the mimic''s side. "Hey, how much do you understand?"


    The mimic looked up from its meal. Its long tongue hung over the edge of its beak as it panted, and it appeared to bark, though Cricket couldn''t hear a thing to be certain.


    "Hold up two tentacles..." Cricket attempted.


    The mimic barked again and took another bite of azaeri.


    "Okay..." Cricket sighed in disappointment.


    The mimic rose up onto its legs, mimicking the insectoid. It spread four tentacles out like arms and curled them in the middle to resemble fists, then straightened the tips to resemble swords. Without the benefit of the fog, it was a pretty pathetic facsimile.


    Cricket started back toward the stairs, but the mimic stayed behind.


    "Come on, Buddy. We''ve got to get back to Scorpion..."


    The mimic seemed to perk up at the ratling''s name.


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    "Yeah... you know a few words. Come on."


    Cricket started off again, and the mimic stayed behind.


    "Ugh... come on. Do you want a treat buddy?"


    The mimic perked up.


    "Treat?" Cricket repeated and started down the hall.


    This time the mimic followed.


    Cricket was pretty sure the octopus was expecting a fish, but that was a problem for another time. He dashed down the hallway at a pace he believed the mimic could not quite match.


    When he was about halfway back to the stairwell, he passed an archway and skidded to a stop, then ran back to look through.  On the far side of the room, he saw the broken wall where he had been spying on the trollblood. Cricket entered the chamber, now empty but for the silvery-pink portal.


    He approached it gingerly, as if it might explode, before reaching out and touching the surface. Instantly, it vaporized the tip of his finger.


    Cricket screamed as quietly as possible and put the burnt finger in his mouth. It still stung like hell.


    He paced around the room to shake off the pain. His jaw clenched so tight that he cracked the exoskeleton around the finger and he had to take it out. He continued to pace, however, shaking the finger in the air to cool it, when he noticed a small puddle of dried saliva where the trollblood had been standing¡ªa shiny, snail-like residue.


    "What did, uh... what did the trollblood do?" He looked at the portal. "He used Bale''s hand, right? Hey, Xitl, want to track down a troll?"


    The mimic inched closer, and Cricket dipped two fingers in the tongue slime at his feet. The inside was still wet. "Go get ''em, boy!" He held it up to the octopus'' beak, then rethought his plan.


    The mimic, however, reached out with a tentacle and momentarily latched on to the insect''s fingers with its suction cups, processing the taste. A moment later it turned and began reaching along the ground in each direction with its tentacles. Finding the troll''s "scent", it crawled along the stone floor quickly and excitedly.


    *****


    The forgotten shadow crept closer to the goblin laborers¡ªgreen goblins, which meant they were likely slaves of the deep goblins. From his new angle, he could finally see what they had been working on. The slaves had evidently finished the construction of a semi-circle of runed stones, rising from the ground, and now worked on a three-tiered platform around it, supervised by a muscular dhampir in stained bone armor. He carried a bone spear as well, which appeared to be the carved rib of a drake, based on the size. In his other hand, he held a coiled whip with bits of obsidian worked into the leather, which he had not yet had occasion to use.


    Cricket had seen the dhampir earlier, but not close up. Now, he was certain, the stains were from blood. Not simply the incidental blood of battle, but a layer deliberately and painstakingly painted over the bone, seeping into every crevice.


    Cricket turned to signal to Gad and the other shadow, but found only the half troll.


    When he looked back toward the dhampir taskmaster, he saw the ill-formed shadow charging in ¡ªor rather drifting¡ªwaving its flickering weapons.


    *****


    Cricket jogged after the mimic down several winding hallways, and up a flight of stairs he hadn''t seen before. He emerged at the center of the tower, evidenced by a circular room with a circular stone in the middle, from which all the other rings of stones emerged.


    This floor appeared much shorter than the others, and Cricket could almost reach the ceiling with his upper arms.


    The mimic felt around in circles, tasting the floor with its suction cups, then started down a narrow hallway.


    It reached out a tentacle to the insect, and he grabbed hold, letting the octopus lead him along.


    When they were halfway down the hall, a large, axe-beaked lizard appeared at the end of the corridor, choking down a severed limb. It bounded toward him at a trot. Cricket pulled to the side of the hallway, and the feathered lizard hopped past, barely glancing sideways as it continued on its way. It passed near enough that he could smell the blood on its beak.


    Ixitl tugged at his arm, and Cricket let it pull him forward as if nothing had happened.


    A moment later, Bax came around the bend after the lizard, looking quite frazzled. However, he managed a smile and a wave. He ran to Cricket''s side, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, then placed both hands on his knees huffing and puffing.


    He waved again. "Hey, it''s me, Dax."


    "Bax," Cricket corrected.


    The gnome shook his head. "That''s closer, isn''t it?"


    "Where''d you come from?"


    The gnome''s face lit up. "Oh, it''s quite the anecdote!"


    "But you got out of your cage?"


    "I think," Bax answered, looking back. "Are you aware of the placebo effect?"


    Cricket shook his head.


    "Well, basically, you''ll perform better if you think that something is making you perform better. But you have to not know, you know? So, that was the first part of my plan!"


    "Uh..." Cricket sighed impatiently. "How many parts were there?"


    "Seven."


    "Just tell me the main three."


    "Okay, so the fourth step, Shank went to look for a rope."


    "Do you mean Shiv? He got out first?"


    "Oh, yes. But I think it was Shank."


    "Shank got pulled up."


    "Shank was the one with the Shiv."


    "No," Cricket answered. "But I see why you would think that."


    "Well I did switch them at one point, so you might have seen the wrong one go up. I kind of keep a constant flow of trickery going, but I can''t always keep track."


    "Since you can''t see through your own illusions?"


    "Right. So I had to wait for it to wear off. Are we in a hurry?"


    "No, not really."


    Bax nodded in approval. "So when the ledge illusion wore off, I made a new illusion that made it look further away, you know? But that was step three, and you told me to skip it."


    "You''re good."


    Bax nodded again. "And that kind of gave Patrick the nerve to jump, since he knew the ledge was closer than it looked."


    "Who''s Patrick?"


    "Oh, that was the ratling''s real name. We had quite a while to talk after you left. So he easily made the jump since I incentivized him to jump further..."


    "That''s the placebo effect?"


    "No, the placebo effect was step one. You told me to skip that. So I told you about the rope that he didn''t find. I didn''t say he couldn''t find one, but he couldn''t."


    "Well, you''ve already told me at least three steps..."


    "You said we weren''t in a hurry!" Bax protested.


    "I''m not, but I really only had the attention span saved up for three steps."


    "Oh, okay." Bax caught his breath. "Well, last part is, I ran into that big feathery lizard, and luckily he was full from eating other people, so he kind of left me alone."


    "Yeah, I was a little disappointed he didn''t at least try to eat me," Cricket said.


    The gnome nodded in understanding.


    "Like, I think those things mostly eat ratlings, but I thought he might at least bite at me. So where''s Patrick?"


    "The lizard ate him. I just told you."


    Cricket frowned. "We need to go kill that troll, so no one else gets hurt. And the witch."


    "What witch?"


    "The old azaeri woman," Cricket replied.


    "That kind old granny?"


    "That''s what I said! But yes, I don''t think we were paying attention. Her kind eyes deceived us. Scorpion convinced me she was a witch."


    "Maybe she charmed us with her magic."


    "I was thinking the same thing. But right now I''m hunting down the half troll. Wanna come?"


    The gnome nodded.


    "I only have this spear though. I don''t have anything for you. Maybe you can make us all invisible?"


    Bax shook his head. "That spell only works if you sit very still."


    "Oh, that''s not useful in a fight."


    "Which is why I made those potions. You can move as fast as you want when you''re invisible off one of those!"


    Cricket looked down again at his missing pack. "We''ll have to come up with something else."


    "I could make it look like I have a dagger," Bax suggested.


    The mimic pulled at his arm impatiently, and Cricket started down the hall again. "No, that seems like more of a disadvantage¡ªhaving a weapon that doesn''t work."


    "Then I could make it look like the troll has a dagger in his hand."


    Cricket shook his head.


    "Well, which is it? It''s either a good thing or a bad thing," Bax responded, not in irritation, but in his normal cheery voice.


    "I think... it''s just too close to no thing. But keep thinking."


    As they talked, Ixitl led the group to another small stairwell leading down, with a wooden door at the bottom. He paused and inched toward the edge of the steps growling.


    "This it?" Cricket asked.


    The mimic curled up his tentacles.


    Cricket held out his spear to Bax, and the gnome raised an eyebrow in curiosity.


    "I... need you to cut off my antenna. I''d do it, but... I don''t like hurting my friends."


    "That''s your plan!" Bax whispered excitedly. He grabbed the spear, almost too eagerly, and began to pull it back like a cudgel.


    "No, no! Just slice it." Cricket grimaced, leaning his head forward.


    The gnome placed the spear against the base of the last remaining stalk and gave a quick jerk. Instantly, a throbbing, impossible silence engulfed the insect. A moment later, the antenna dangled in front of his face, hanging by a thread.


    Bax recoiled and covered his mouth, as if gagging. With a heavy heart, the insect took the spear, raised the blade to his antenna, and made the final cut.


    He held onto it, almost with tears in his eyes, but, with a great frown, Cricket tossed the antenna aside.


    "All right. I guess we burst in." Cricket hesitated. "Um... I''m used to having a few shadows with me..."


    Bax smiled and mouthed, "On it."

 Blood and Bone

    21


    Blood and Bone


    The forgotten shadow sighed and chased after his murky clone.


    One of the imps at the dhampir''s side cried out "Nageksi!" and the dhampir turned to confront the billowing shadow.


    The dhampir let go of his spear, and the shaft of blood-stained bone hovered in the air, adjusting to aim at the charging shadow. It shot forward at the speed of an arrow, penetrating and dispersing the clone, digging two feet deep into the stone where it landed.


    Cricket''s eyes widened in horror, and he swerved to dodge behind a boulder.


    He heard the dhampir''s deep, hoarse voice reply, "It is lord Nageksi."


    One of the imps responded, "You are not our lord. You are Nageksi."


    Cricket peeked around the boulder and saw the dhampir loosen his whip, letting it dangle to the ground.


    An imp landed atop the boulder where Cricket crouched, peering down at him, and the insect lunged with his spear, piercing one of its wings. The creature screeched and latched onto the shaft of his spear with one hand as it stabbed with a trident.


    Cricket dodged, and yanked his own spear back. But he didn''t want it anymore. Even though it was adamantite, it only had one point, and the imp''s trident had three. Three was clearly superior.


    Glowering, Cricket pounced atop the boulder, tackling the surprised imp and wrestling the weapon from its hands. The imp, possessing inferior strength, abandoned the trident and dropped to the ground to retrieve the discarded adamantine weapon.


    Out of the corner of his eye, Cricket saw the dhampir¡¯s bone spear easily slip free from the rock and begin to rotate toward him.


    Cricket parried a couple of the imp''s thrusts with his weapon, reserving his shield for the bone spear. When it came at him, the speed was so blinding that he barely managed to position his shield in time, even though he was ready for it. Still, the bone struck with such force against his adamantine shield that it drew a blue spark from the metal and knocked him clean off the boulder.


    The shadow scrambled to his feet and rushed to finish the imp before he had to block the levitating spear again. The imp proved agile, able to dodge the simple thrusts with his wiry torso, so Cricket aimed again for its wings. This time, with the three tips of the trident, he managed to shred both wings with a total of three stabs, then finished the imp off by pinning it to the ground by its throat.


    The bone spear levitated again and honed in on the shadow.


    Cricket decided to take the next blow at a bit of a run, and charged the dhampir with his shield out front.


    This time, he grabbed the shield with both right hands and bashed the spear as it flew at him. With the force of his sprint, he barely lost any speed on impact, and sent the bone shaft spiraling out of sight.


    Before it had a chance to recover, Cricket was upon Nageksi. The dhampir taskmaster made one strike at the insect with his whip, which cracked so near his head that it left his antenna ringing.


    Cricket rushed past the second imp, aiming for the dhampir, and stabbed for his face. Too late he noticed the bone spear flying at him again.


    However, the ruby ring hanging around his neck flashed a silver light, and the spear bounced from an invisible barrier around him.


    Since this fact surprised the dhampir and Cricket equally, the two paused in shock before reorienting themselves, while the remaining imp swooped in with a thrust of its trident.


    Cricket, angry that the imp had as many spear points as him, caught the shaft in midair and wrested it from the imp with his free left hand. Then, brandishing the two tridents in his left hands, and the shield in his right, he rammed the shrieking imp and tore it to pieces with a series of thrusts.


    Cricket turned to the dhampir and pressed him with stab after stab. However, the tridents simply bounced from the incredibly durable bone plates.


    Nageksi stumbled backward from the increasing speed and intensity, and ultimately tripped on a rock, to the cheers of the goblin slaves.


    Cricket continued his assault, but when both tridents were dented beyond recognition, he tossed them aside and jumped atop the dhampir, straddling him, bashing repeatedly at his head with his shield.


    Nageksi blocked with a bone gauntlet until Cricket managed to pin the arm down with three of his own. Finally, he drew a dagger from his waist. Then, just as he pressed it against Nageksi''s exposed throat, the dagger vanished.


    *****


    The original Cricket positioned himself to ram the door to the trollblood¡¯s chamber, but noticed it opened outward. He paused, deciding to try the handle, and found it unlocked. He turned it very slowly, and quietly, until he felt it click, then instantly rushed into the room alongside three shadowy illusions.


    He found himself in another laboratory, this time more similar to Oydd''s, except still much more untidy, with dozens of melted, unlit candles on nearly every surface, alongside the other oddities.


    One side of the room was entirely open to the outside air, with no wall or rail at the dropoff.


    Sadly, he also found himself on the far side of the room from the trollblood, which almost entirely negated the element of surprise. The troll held an adamantine scalpel in his natural arm and bent over his patient, a gargoyle, to whom he was attaching Bale''s wings. The massive, violet appendages stretched nearly twenty feet across the laboratory. Clear drool dripped from the trollblood''s open mouth and pooled beneath his unconscious subject''s side.


    By the time Cricket had crossed half the chamber, the troll had turned and waited for him, raising Bale''s arm as if readying a spell. The troll looked over the four insectoids for only an instant, then grinned as his eyes settled on the original.


    "Little help!" Cricket cried in a panic, though he could not hear his own words. He held back while the illusory Crickets continued to charge. The trollblood ignored them entirely, letting their shadowy spears splash harmlessly against him as he stalked toward the real Cricket.


    The room began to warp. Long ghostly arms reached from the corners toward the trollblood, and a wall of fire burst from the floor between Cricket and his opponent.


    The troll''s eyes flickered, for only an instant, toward the gnome, and he spoke.


    While Cricket could not hear the word, he still felt it in his mind with the weight of a god''s command. Erase.


    Instantly the illusions disappeared. All three of Cricket''s shadows vanished, along with the fire and the spectral arms.


    Again, the troll spoke and Cricket felt a command in his mind. Sleep.


    But Cricket was wrong. He still heard the command, even felt it, but it did not have the weight of a god. The urge was not half so strong as before.


    He fell to the ground, against his will, and struggled to stay awake. His vision even began to dim, and the allure was warm and comfortable and almost irresistible. Almost.


    Cricket lay on the ground, a bit groggy. He felt a subtle vibration on the floor as the troll crept up behind him, and then it grabbed his arm with Bale''s claws. The claws felt oddly cool and yet they stung. His arm went numb, and the troll began to drag him along the floor.


    The motion scraped the raw part of his back, but Cricket managed to remain still, as if sleeping. Truly, he wasn''t sure if he could move yet, and so he waited until he was certain.


    The troll left him near the table with the gargoyle, then went to retrieve the gnome. Cricket could not see Ixitl, and neither did the troll apparently, but wherever the octopus was, it was likely asleep.


    Cricket did not remember much time passing, but noticed the gargoyle was gone and realized that he must have actually dozed off for a moment. The trollblood, however, seemed completely unconcerned. Nearby, Bax slept as still as a corpse, save for the ever so slight motion of his chest moving up and down with each breath.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Cricket waited until the troll turned his back. He took the liberty of yawning and stretched, not certain if he was ready for a fight without the appropriate preparations. He saw his spear laying across the room and debated whether he should run for it.


    Ultimately, he decided to rush straight for his opponent. Quietly, he sat up and positioned his feet beneath him, then rushed for the side of the troll that did not have Bale''s arm.


    This time, the troll did not react until Cricket had his right arm wrapped around its neck from behind as his left arms reached for its tongue. Thick scales covered the tongue, like a carp¡¯s skin, and it felt surprisingly warm. He yanked on the tongue with both arms, hoping to cause a gag reaction, but the troll seemed unphased.


    It reached for the arm around its throat with Bale''s hand, and the claws penetrated the shell as if it were water¡ªsmoothly, without even cracking the carapace.


    Cricket screamed. Instantly, he lost feeling in the arm¡ªexcept for the pain! For a moment he could only feel pain, and in desperation he reached deeper into the troll''s throat, searching for the end of the tongue.


    Just as that arm began to grow numb as well, a dagger materialized in his fingers, and he slashed so deep that the black, shadowy tip poked out from the front of the troll''s throat. This time it gagged and let go of his arm as it choked on its own blood.


    Cricket wriggled the dagger up and down a few times until he felt the tongue come loose in his lower arm. Hastily, he stepped away from the gurgling troll, wary of remaining in range of Bale''s claw.


    Cricket stared down at the dagger, unsure where it had come from. He tossed the squirming, bony tongue onto the ground, where it writhed and then began to slither, leaving a trail of blood.


    He placed the shadow dagger in the hollow at his hip, retrieving his spear, and he circled the troll as it stumbled to the ground, looking for a finishing blow.


    The troll looked up at him, choking, with a pleading look in its eyes. Cricket dropped to his knees and plunged the spear up through the bottom of its jaw, through the soft palate and up into the cranium. He jostled it briskly, retracted a few inches and then plunged again, this time connecting with the far wall of the skull.


    When he withdrew the blade, rather than blood, the spearhead was covered with a grey, slimy gel.


    Once the half troll was quite still, Cricket pursued the retreating tongue and skewered it several times until it blackened and grew brittle. It took all his strength to penetrate the tough skin, and the effort dulled the blade of his spear until it was entirely useless.


    Cricket kept it anyway, feeling almost naked without at least two weapons.


    *****


    Scorpion could barely see through the gaps in the troll''s meaty fingers. He tried to squirm, but the troll simply clamped its fist tighter until he couldn''t breathe, and it was easier to simply let it carry him without a fight.


    The ratling heard a metal door creak open, like the door of an oven, and the troll tossed him in. A moment later, the door closed, again with a shrill grating sound, and he was left in darkness.


    It was a large oven, but it wasn''t hot. The ratling felt a dry powder on the ground that might have been ash, but smelled more of urine. His ears scraped against the top of the three-foot chamber, and he was forced to hunch down more than normal.


    Reluctantly, he rested his belly on the urine-soaked floor, needing the rest more than anything, in case the troll opened the hatch again. However, he heard its footsteps as it moved further and further away, and then it was silent.


    A muffled voice spoke from the other side of the wall, and his ears perked up, but he couldn''t make it out until it repeated itself.


    "Are you okay?"


    Scorpion sat up. He placed his lone paw on the metal wall of the cold oven that served as his cell. "Who''s there?"


    A short silence followed, and then the soft voice answered, "I''m Beth."


    Scorpion squinted his eyes suspiciously.


    "You''re not part of my group?" she asked.


    "What group?" Scorpion replied.


    "From Darrow."


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about."


    "Are you a ratling?"


    "None of your business."


    "Baba only seems to do tests on ratlings."


    "Not uncommon. We''re expendable."


    "I think it''s more scientific than that," Beth said. "She wants some consistency."


    Scorpion growled, more at his entire situation than annoyance at the conversation.


    But he was annoyed at the conversation. He would rather have quiet to think. Still, his mind raced and eventually returned to unanswered questions brought up by his neighbor.


    "Why are we in ovens?"


    "Because they can light a fire if we... if we''re difficult."


    "What''s Darrow?"


    "A village. Or it was. I think it''s gone now. The azaeri got most of us."


    "You''re all ratlings too?"


    "Yes."


    "Who ever heard of a village of ratlings?"


    His neighbor never answered, and Scorpion continued. "You''ve been here a while?"


    "I think I''m the last one. Baba Kesu injects us with some sort of serum and then tosses us back in the ovens to see what happens."


    "And what usually happens?"


    "They die."


    "Why hasn''t she experimented on you?" Scorpion pressed.


    "She has, but I survived. I think I''m a control."


    "I don''t know what that means," Scorpion said in irritation.


    "Sometimes I hear the voice of a rudra discussing the experiments. I think the serum is derived from changeling blood. But they try to mix it with other types of blood."


    "Try?"


    "Well... it''s always fatal. Except my dose. It was just the base, and they keep me to see how it progresses."


    Scorpion rested his chin on his arm. Unconsciously, his tail began to wave.


    "They tried mixing it with dragon blood," Beth said. "I think they wanted to see if changeling blood could copy any draconic traits. But it can''t."


    "Why do you say that?"


    "He died so fast!" Beth answered, horrified. "I think he melted."


    Scorpion sniffed the air again, and noticed a burnt, acrid smell in his tank, distinct from the normal residue from an oven.


    A moment later, Scorpion heard the clacking steps of clawed feet against the stone. They neared his prison, and he heard a very dry hand rustle against the hatch. The voice from the neighboring oven grew eerily quiet, as if in fear.


    Scorpion situated his feet beneath him, and readied a pounce¡ªhis teeth bared and his tail waving excitedly.


    But before the hatch opened, he felt an involuntary urge come over his body. First he took a step toward the hatch, and then another. He tried to resist, but some outside force compelled him to move. The ratling had seen witches compel motion before through magic, but the effect was far more invasive and traumatic than he imagined. Against his will, he huddled up against the hatch, leaning his weight on his single arm.


    An iron wheel turned, unlocking the hatch, and the door opened, letting in a faint candlelight that illuminated the azaeri matron from behind, accentuating the threadbare quills that protruded from her back.


    The firelight danced from her black beak.


    Scorpion nuzzled up against her as a knot grew in his stomach. He fell to his knees and reached out, touching her beak tenderly. Though he felt only revulsion in the touch, his body moved against, or in spite of, his that feeling.


    The witch opened her beak in a bit of a smile, indulging in the forced affection.


    But then one of her arms went limp, and the azaeri pressed her beak and forehead against the opened hatch. At first Scorpion thought it some kind of a tic, but the matron sneezed and a large grub of some sort dropped from her nostril.


    It fell on the ground and the witch''s eyes closed a moment as if she nearly passed out. She wobbled and slowly opened her eyes, registering where she was. Through all of this, she managed to keep a hold on Scorpion''s mind, though he waited for an opportunity to attack.


    When she seemed present again, Baba Kesu motioned for the ratling to follow her and shuffled down the hallway at an aged pace.


    Scorpion found their speed painfully slow and fought all the while to control his body, but he couldn''t so much as clench a fist.


    The witch led him up a small flight of stairs to a cramped room with a marble altar, stained with blood, and three domed, wicker cages.


    The previous ratling sat inside one of the cages in a state of delirium, slumped against the walls of the cage.


    He sputtered nonsense. When he noticed Scorpion he reached out a hand in a panic, through the wicker bars, and managed to form three words, "Chances... rot... rot."


    While Scorpion tried not to make sense of it, the caged ratling charged the nonsensical words with a sense of urgency and frantic importance.


    Scorpion expected to be tied down, but found himself climbing and laying down upon the altar of his own volition. In a sense, his mind screamed and then chose to act¡ªhis will becoming the witch''s will.


    At times, he could not differentiate between his desires and hers¡ªcould not remember what he wanted. But he still felt hatred toward her, and he held onto that, hoping to act on that sensation alone if he broke free.


    The witch held up a rusty syringe of glass and iron, filled with an orange liquid. She placed the needle near his tear duct, angling it upward toward the brain, but her shaking hands penetrated part of his eye as it entered. He felt the rough metal scrape against the white of his one good eye¡ªfelt flakes of the rusted crust break from the thick needle. It seemed the size of an icepick.


    Despite the pain, he could not scream. The azaeri paused. Her head drooped and she pressed her forehead involuntarily against the marble for several seconds before she regained control of her faculties again.


    The azaeri produced a small hammer, which she used to ram the needle through his skull. She held her fist around the plunger to stop it from injecting as she struck the butt of the syringe again and again with the hammer. The procedure might have been completed with a single powerful strike from a stronger surgeon. But the elderly azaeri struggled.


    At last he felt the bone break, and the witch injected the orange serum deep into his brain.


    A pounding force hit the ratling, like a ball and chain, and he was enveloped¡ªas he passed out¡ªnot by blackness, but an explosion of color.

 A Fistful of Tongue

    22


    A Fistful of Tongue


    Scorpion woke again in the darkness of his cell with a pounding headache¡ªthe matted fur on the side of his face stuck to a pool of dried vomit. The scent stung his nostrils. He had not dreamt. Instead, he woke to the vivid memory of staring up the needle into the witch''s open beak. He saw the larvae of some parasite crawling about the roof of her mouth¡ªsome dripping onto her dry tongue, only to be swallowed, while others crawled back up into her sinuses.


    At the thought, the ratling vomited again, for what he assumed was the third time today. The muscles in his side clenched and ached. The right side of his chest felt inflamed¡ªsomewhere beneath the ribs¡ªand he started to roll away from that side, but the pressure actually reduced the pain.


    "I''m so sorry," Beth''s voice came from the adjoining cell. "Are you okay?"


    Scorpion nodded, then realized she could not see him. But he was too tired to speak.


    He panted heavily. Cold sweat dripped from the tip of his nose. His eye stung from drying tears.


    He started to respond to his neighbor, but instead closed his eye and caught his breath.


    He vomited again, with such force that it clanged against the iron wall of the oven and echoed throughout. The vomit sprayed from his nose. Still he felt his stomach tighten, though he knew it to be empty, and his body convulsed. The ordeal lasted over a minute, during which time he could not breathe.


    Finally his stomach loosened and he fell onto his back, despite the pain it caused in his side, and panted for air.


    "I... saw... Sank," Scorpion blurted, then realized the other ratling might not be acquainted. "Did you know him?"


    "I did. His nickname is short for Sanctuary. He was a cleric in my village."


    Scorpion laughed, which caused his side to ache more. "The... ratlings you know... are very..." he paused to catch his breath, "different from the ratlings... I know."


    "How so?"


    Scorpion shook his head, realizing again that she couldn''t see his response. "I don''t know... they... sound different. Let me catch my breath."


    Beth waited until the ratling was ready to talk again.


    "She''s infected with something. I think it... reached her brain. Maybe she''ll die before she gets to you."


    "She already got to me," Beth answered.


    Scorpion pondered what this meant exactly, but chose not to ask. "I''m sorry."


    He thought he heard Beth weeping. More from a lack of her breathing than anything tangible, but he gave her a minute.


    When she spoke again, there was an edge of pain to her voice. "It''s eaten half her brain. When the rudra comes, he speaks directly to her mind, so forcefully that I can hear it. So I know. I know... everything they''ve done. I even hear words that I don''t understand but I know their meaning."


    "I have a friend like that."


    Beth made a gasping squeak.


    "He''s... not like this rudra."


    "They were arguing over who would receive a new brain. Baba Kesu needed it to survive, but the rudra wanted it more. He shut her down. Since then, her experiments have become more brutal."


    "How can you get a new brain? That''s what makes you who you are."


    "She only needed part of a brain. He could have saved her. He knew how. But he refused."


    "Don''t go feeling sorry for that Bitch," Scorpion answered.


    "But it''s still... so horrible."


    Scorpions arms began to ache at the shoulders. The pain was unbearable. All of his muscles burned, even the amputated arm. He felt pain clear down to his missing fingers. In spite of himself, the ratling felt for the phantom limb, but nothing was there.


    His tail coiled and twitched, swelling up. In the midst of the throbbing pain that seized him, he lost control of his bladder, and the small oven filled with a pungent, stinging scent like rotten onion.


    Every one of his senses suffered, and Scorpion tried to pass into sleep, hoping to wake in a better state. In his agony, he tuned out the words of the female ratling.


    *****


    "What?" Cricket repeated a third time.


    Bax slowed his lips down and accentuated each sound, but Cricket still couldn''t make out a word.


    The insect stretched Bale''s severed arm behind his back and scratched at a hard-to-reach spot. He began to rifle through the trollblood''s belongings, looking for anything of interest. In truth, lots of things were ''of interest'' but the kind that he knew Oydd would disapprove of tampering with. Unless Oydd were here, of course. Then he might know which items were safe for play.


    Cricket came across Scorpion''s dagger and grew excited, looking for his own equipment. He found his pouch first and checked to make sure his belongings were still inside, as well as the mouseling''s magic bag. He still had two invisibility potions, and an energy potion he''d forgotten he put in there from when he was training with his clones.


    Bax tugged on his elbow excitedly and pointed at some alchemy equipment as well as many flasks full of odd fluids in the corner of the laboratory.


    Not understanding his words, Cricket simply nodded, "Uh-huh."


    The gnome grinned from ear to ear having received Cricket''s permission and bounced off toward the dangerous-looking apparatus.


    Cricket found his weapons and armor in a corner, along with the broken Nightcrawler bow. The black bow had entirely cracked in half, revealing severed fibers of some sort, and the two halves dangled from the loose string. As such, it didn''t really resemble a bow, so the insect didn''t feel any attachment to it. He tossed it aside and fitted himself with the jade breastplate. When his hand wrapped around the jeweled handle of the first khopesh, he let out a long, contented sigh. He transferred Bale''s arm to one of his lower hands and grabbed the second khopesh, then looked about for his daggers, but couldn''t find them. He paused to retrace his steps, and frowned as he remembered them tumbling to the ground from the dangling cages, likely to never be recovered. He missed his sickles too.


    Cricket hastily created a shadow. It waved, and he gestured toward its antennae.


    The shadow cocked its head, not understanding. He pointed at his own missing antennae and then again at the shadow.


    In alarm, the shadow registered what he was asking and began shaking his head furiously.


    "But I can''t hear anything," Cricket reasoned.


    The shadow shook his head one more time in an exaggerated fashion, giving a stern and final ''no''. Cricket dismissed it, and scratched his chin in thought. He retrieved the shadow dagger from his hip¡ªthe one that had materialized as he fought the trollblood¡ªand studied it as he pondered.


    Cricket sat on the ground as if to meditate. He dismissed the dagger with a thought, then tried to will it back with no success. He focused on his empty hand and struck a jade khopesh against his chest, feeling the familiar vibrations. He felt the shadow magic around him¡ªan invisible energy, eager to take form, and then he let it go. He tried again, focusing on his hand and imagining only a dagger, rather than an entire clone. A very thin wisp of black appeared in his palm, but billowed away when he closed his hand.


    Sadly though, the effort drained him at least as much as creating an entire clone. The insect groaned in frustration and stood again. His head rose above the top of a nearby table just in time to notice a troll lumbering up behind the distracted gnome. Cricket could not see it earlier, nor hear it, until it was nearly upon them. But he should have noticed the smell!


    Fortunately, it seemed the troll had not registered his presence either. He rushed it just as its massive fingers were about to wrap around the gnome, and it turned at the last instant. Cricket attacked with a quick combo, slashing twice at its throat. Reflexively, he lashed out with Bale''s claw, and the five-inch violet claws tore through the thick skin of the troll''s upper arm as if nothing were there at all. The troll''s arm was much thicker than five inches, however, but the insect succeeded in wholly lacerating the triceps along with removing several chunks of bone.


    Cricket brought the claw back with a backhand toward the troll''s face, but took a stiff fist to the chest in the process. It knocked him from his feet, and he lay on the ground for an instant gasping for breath.


    Cricket scrambled to his feet, hoping to finish off the troll before it regenerated, but he found it already crumpled in a heap before him. The gashes on its face had not even begun to heal. Rather, they grew in size. Nearly two inches of leathery skin covered the creature''s skull, but Cricket watched as its hide slowly withdrew from the bone. Next, even the bone cracked, exposing the brain.


    It slowed to a stop, and Cricket continued to watch to ensure that it did not regenerate. Suddenly horrified, he lifted his own wounded arm up to inspect where he had been scraped by Bale''s claw earlier. The gashes on his arm had more than tripled in size. Thankfully, they had started out small, but the black shell surrounding the claw marks had withered and greyed. As he watched, a loose chunk fell from his arm.


    He noticed the gnome watching, wide-eyed as well by this point.


    Having been momentarily abandoned, a fuming beaker of fluid boiling above a blue flame began to foam and overflow its container. By the time he noticed, the foam had begun to glow red, and the gnome panicked, diving to the floor for cover. Cricket followed his lead, and a moment later the foam exploded, rather violently, sending shards of glass and smoking wads of foam across the room.


    Cricket jumped back to his feet, smiling.


    The old gnome got up a bit slower, and shook his head. Cricket was fairly certain Bax mumbled something in disappointment.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Remembering the claw, Cricket lifted it up quizzically. He had used it to scratch his back. After some deliberation, the insect decided not to investigate further. It would only lead to sorrow. Still, his shell could not feel pain, and if it had penetrated the shell, he would surely have felt it by now. He did notice a sort of crawling sensation.


    Thinking about his itchy back only brought the itch back, which reminded him of the raw part on his side where he had slid down the stairs. Instinctively, he reached around with a lower arm to see if it had dried, but found the rough patch had only grown slightly sticky.


    As he thought about the itch and the wound, he began to feel an intense sting where he had scratched himself with Bale''s claw. He felt a sizzle as a layer of fat beneath the carapace began to melt away beneath the scratches and he howled and fell to his knees. It hurt enough that he thought he might have been able to hear the wound growing, if he had his antennae.


    A warm hand on his shoulder brought him back to the tower, and Cricket looked up into the gnome''s concerned eyes. Bax looked along the shelves, among the many vials of bright-colored liquids, but evidently saw nothing that he might use to assist the insect.


    While painful, the sting was not overwhelming, nor the worst of his current injuries, and after about a minute, Cricket was certain it had stopped growing.


    "Scorpion..." Cricket uttered suddenly. "We have to find Scorpion."


    Cricket could not read the gnome''s response, but his face looked inquisitive.


    The insect darted from the room far faster than the gnome could follow.


    *****


    Something scratched the outside Scorpion¡¯s tank. The wheel turned, and the hatch clicked as it unlocked. Despite all his training and all the horrors the ratling had seen on the battlefield, he now found himself trembling, dreading another encounter with the witch. He was not ready to feel more pain. He needed at least a few moments.


    The hatch opened to the silhouette of the azaeri matron, backlit by candlelight. And he waited for the irresistible urge to obey her. However, before he felt so much as a twitch, the silhouette erupted into a mass of tentacles.


    In his daze, at first he thought the witch had transformed into some sort of eldritch horror. Then, he recognized the tentacles as belonging to Ixitl and thought the octopus must be mimicking the witch.


    It still took some time before Scorpion realized that the witch and Ixitl were both there, standing before the hatch, locked in combat.


    The mimic had assaulted her from behind. It struggled to wrap its arms around her face, pulling the few remaining tufts of black feathers from her pimply skin as its beak gnashed at her throat.


    Scorpion tried to stand and help, but wobbled sideways and crashed into the wall of the tank with a dull clang.


    Three of the mimic''s tentacles now wrapped around Baba Kesu''s face, and she snapped out with her beak, severing one near the base. It dangled, still connected by a thread.


    The mimic screeched, and the witch took advantage of his shock, managing to snip another tentacle clean off about halfway up. With one of her hands, she grabbed the dangling tentacle and ripped it free as well. She took a bite from it and began to chew.


    The mimic withdrew, squealing, and suddenly sprayed a thick, blue ink all over the witch''s face.


    The azaeri matron cawed, wiping the goo from her eyes with her wrists, and retreated into the back room repeating her caw more forcefully, like an alarm.


    Scorpion slipped like a wet fish through the opening of his tank, onto the ground. He rose, wobbling to his feet.


    "You didn''t forget me, did you, Xitl?"


    The mimic screeched in irritation.


    "Ksitl... Skitl?"


    The mimic started to screech again, but paused and chirped a quick sound of acceptance.


    "Skittle? You like that."


    The octopus chirped again as Scorpion lifted the wounded mimic onto his back.


    It felt oddly lighter, even factoring in the missing tentacles. Scorpion started to run, and realized he stood taller. Nearly four feet hunched. Large blisters bubbled all over his arm, some as large as an apple, filled with clear liquid. His fur was slick with red and black vomit.


    Scorpion wiped a bit from his chest, but gave up since his arm couldn''t clean itself. As he started to leave he noticed the second oven and opened the hatch to let Beth out. What he saw was far from what he expected. There, in the center of the tank, she lay stiff on her side, unbreathing. One enlarged black eye stared back at him unseeing. A second eye had started to grow beneath it, shoving the original to the side. Additional bones grew from her elbow, like two smaller forearms, one terminating at the wrist, and one with three malformed fingers. All of her golden fur lay in a pile beneath her, mixing with the ash of the oven.


    It appeared she had only been dead for a matter of minutes.


    Scorpion only stared for an instant before rushing from the room to evade the witch.


    He passed Ty''lek''s remains, which helped orient him, and quickly located the stairs he had ascended with Cricket.


    The ratling ran down the stairs as fast as he could, somewhat limited by his blurry vision. His eye constantly dripped tears and it felt swollen. For an instant he imagined bits of rust stuck in the white of his eye, or old dried blood from the previous test subject, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away.


    As he ran, one of his main incisors fell from his mouth. The bloody tooth bounced down the stairs in front of him.


    The ratling pressed his tongue against his three remaining front teeth, and found two of them loose. He tasted blood. But even the taste of his blood was off.


    After descending three flights of stairs, he heard the gnome humming in the distance. He paused, listened carefully, then ran toward the sound.


    When he came upon Cricket and the gnome, Bax let out a high pitched wail at the sight of the warped, bulging ratling, covered in dried black vomit. He lifted his bare hands in fists and stood protectively in front of the insect.


    "It''s me," the ratling tried to assure them, but his voice cracked. "Scorpion," he added.


    Bax, embarrassed, turned to Cricket. "That''s not what my real scream sounds like. It''s much deeper usually."


    But Cricket ignored him, unable to hear anything. He took a step toward Scorpion hesitantly. "What happened?"


    "Do you even care?"


    Cricket tried to read his lips but failed.


    Scorpion growled, noticing the insect''s missing antennae for the first time. He stood on all three legs, bristling, like a bull about to charge. His eye twitched.


    Cricket, if possible, looked pale in the face. Finally he stammered, "We should head back to the portal." He lifted Bale''s hand. "Do you know where the main stairwell is?"


    Without a word, Scorpion turned and ran back down the hall the way he had come. He paused at the end of the corridor to make sure the others were following, and led the group back to the stairwell.


    Cricket hurried down the steps and traced his way back to the portal chamber.


    The magical gate remained exactly as Cricket had last seen it¡ªa sea of shimmering silver ripples with a faint pink glow.


    Cricket looked at his missing finger with a sigh.


    He approached the portal and stared into the tranquil surface.


    Scorpion scurried over by the pile of rubble where the trollblood had torn apart the wall, revealing the hidden passage.


    Based on Cricket''s possession of Bale''s arm, Scorpion assumed the half troll was dead. He hopped atop a chunk of debris¡ªthe last place he had seen Ty''lek alive. As he looked down, he noticed his belly bulging. As if on cue, he insides churned and groaned.


    When he turned back toward Cricket, the azaeri witch stood at the entrance to the chamber, hovering beneath the archway.


    Scorpion cried out to Cricket, but the insect couldn''t hear.


    Cricket raised Bale''s claw, his back to the witch, and mumbled, "How did the trollblood change the channel?"


    Timidly, the insect tapped the glowing claw against the center of the portal, sending rings flowing to the edge. Almost instantly an image materialized¡ªa purplish landscape similar to Agoth.


    Scorpion yelled again, though he knew the effort was futile.


    The witch raised an arm, seizing the gnome with her magic. He began to back away toward the wall with a most unpleasant look on his face, as if he were crunching on garlic.


    As a last desperate motion before the witch took hold of him, Scorpion grabbed a rock in his tail and tossed it at Cricket.


    The pebble bounced from the back of his head, and the insect froze in place before turning to face the room.


    When he noticed the witch he fumbled for his weapons, but his limbs stiffened¡ªtwo of his arms anyway. The insect put up quite a struggle and began to reach for his weapons with his lower arms.


    The witch bore down on him with visible strain, but the effort of holding all three hostages drained her visibly, and Scorpion felt the hex weaken. He took a step toward the hag, and she cawed, as if calling for help, but no one came.


    She forced Cricket to take two steps back. One of his arms extended Bale''s claw to her, but Cricket shook his head and pulled it back with one of his lower arms.


    The mimic dropped from Scorpion''s shoulder and the witch howled in frustration, stomping a clawed foot. The octopus too began to seize up. Though the witch had trouble controlling its motions, she managed to hold it in place as it writhed.


    The aged matron slowly climbed the steps to the portal until she nearly stood at Cricket''s side. As the witch''s powers spread over his companions, Scorpion noticed the compulsion was nowhere near as strong as before, and it seemed to affect Cricket the least.


    With enormous struggle, the ratling shouted, "Make a shadow!"


    Cricket tried again to reach for his khopesh, but even as he did so, he continued to back away from the witch against his will.


    Regardless, two shadows appeared behind the witch. She clicked and flapped, quite flustered. For an instant her eyes fell on Bale''s arm, just out of reach, but the shadows moved in quickly, and at the last moment, the witch lunged through the portal to escape.


    Scorpion heard a quick hiss, like releasing steam, and the witch was gone. The portal returned to a vacant, silvery shimmer, and the ratling found he could move again.


    Scorpion pounded his fist against the ground, literally foaming at the mouth with a red-tinged foam.


    "What''s wrong?" Bax asked.


    "I wanted to kill her," Scorpion answered.


    "Oh... I''m sorry. I would have let you do it, if I''d known."


    Scorpion looked up confused. His whiskers twitched. "What do you mean? You said that in a weird way."


    "If... you''d asked," Bax said slowly, as if speaking to a child, "I would have let you kill her instead."


    "She... got away," Scorpion stammered.


    "Oh! right. You don''t know. That was an illusion. The portal wasn''t really open. Though... I haven''t been to Agoth, so I sort of had to guess the colors. How''d I do?"


    Cricket tried to join the conversation, but this simply entailed him looking perplexed from face to face with zero comprehension.


    "So... the portal wasn''t open," Scorpion confirmed.


    "Of course not. You can''t open a portal just by tapping it with one of Bale''s parts." Bax shook his head disapprovingly at Cricket.


    "So what does that mean?" Scorpion asked. "What happens if you walk through the portal while it''s silver?"


    In response, Bax grabbed Cricket''s hand and lifted it, displaying the vaporized stump of his finger.


    Cricket smiled and looked obliviously at the gnome and the ratling. He waved.


    "Cricket," Bax pointed a finger at the insect. "Give me Bale''s hand."


    Cricket looked down. A look of comprehension dawned on him and he handed the glowing limb to the gnome.


    "This," Bax spoke slowly for Cricket''s benefit this time, "is magic. MAGIC." He drew out the word, exaggerating the syllables.


    The gnome turned to Scorpion. "I wish Oydd were here. I might be able to get it to work, but it will take some time."


    Seeing the gnome working on the portal, Cricket retreated to a spot near the wall and sat with his legs crossed. He drew his khopesh, extended an empty hand, and struck the blade to his chest plate.


    Scorpion glared at the insect from across the room.


    A very thin shaft of black appeared in the insect''s hand but instantly faded. Cricket repeated the same exercise with an identical outcome, then again. Then again.


    "Hmph," Scorpion mused, speaking to the gnome. "You can''t do the same thing over and over and expect different results."


    "Of course you can," Bax responded. "That''s called practice!"

 Convergence

    23


    Convergence


    Cricket''s shadow wrestled on the ground with Nageksi, wrapping both his legs around the dhampir''s throat, struggling to cut off his air. Slowly, the dhampir stopped struggling. Cricket held on with a vice grip for another minute, before he rose to the wide-eyed stares of half a dozen goblins. He scratched his neck and they watched him uncomfortably, as if asking what they should do next. Cricket looked over the group thoughtfully and shooed them away with his hands. Only one goblin ran off. And, giddy as he seemed, he headed deeper into Agoth where he was certain to be eaten.


    After some reflection, Cricket pointed back the way he''d come, suggesting that route to the remaining goblins, but none of them moved, except for one, who began to dig into his nose with the pointy end of his pickaxe. It drew a bit of blood, and the shadow wondered why the goblin didn''t just use one of his fingers. The goblin''s claws were all filed down, except for the pinky claw, which it mysteriously left at full length.


    Gad plopped down on the ground, looking traumatized, and the shadow decided to investigate the vertical ring of stones that the slaves had erected.


    He recognized the runes, at least vaguely, but could only guess at the intended use. Which is exactly what he was doing when three of the runes began to glow and hum.


    *****


    After he ran out of energy to practice conjuring a shadow dagger, Cricket watched the gnome work with fascination. Unlike the troll blood, he did not use Bale''s claw as an instrument, but simply placed it near him on the ground. Every now and then he would look at the limb and scratch his straggly beard. But for the most part he stared at the portal, mumbling to himself.


    Across the room, Scorpion lay his arm across his chest, pretending to nap. The insect knew he wasn''t really asleep because his tail was still. The mimic curled up at the ratling''s feet, looking very pale and lifeless.


    Eventually, the gnome shouted in triumph and began to create numerous illusions around him. Versions of the runed stones appeared across the room, laid out in a circle with some distance between each one. The gnome ran happily from one to the next, as if connecting dots, then finally plopped down in the middle, with Bale''s arm on his lap.


    "Don''t let his claws cut you," Cricket warned. "Not... not even a nick."


    Bax ignored him. He focused on the portal then rubbed his eyes and peered again, intently.


    Gradually, the portal began to billow and darken until it was pitch black.


    "Did you break it?" Cricket asked in alarm.


    The gnome held Bale''s arm up to his ear. Cricket cocked his head, trying to listen, though he knew he would hear nothing. He did, he thought, remember feeling a very faint vibration when he held Bale''s claw. Almost like the pulse of a heart, but much faster and much weaker.


    The portal changed suddenly, revealing Agoth. This time, however, Cricket saw himself standing on the other side.


    He jumped up to get a better view and stood next to the gnome.


    "What is that? Are we seeing into the future?"


    Bax shrugged.


    The Cricket on the other side of the portal had both of his antennae. He wore a ruby ring on a string around his neck and held a bone spear, a buckler, and a whip.


    Cricket placed a hand over his eyes to block out some of the light and peered behind the other Cricket.


    "Oh, he''s fighting the trollblood."


    Several goblins gathered on the far side of the portal, looking back at him.


    "Wait, I think that''s Gad. But he''s gone. Maybe this is the past?" Cricket scratched his chin. "Yeah, I think I remember that fight. Can they see us too?"


    In response, a brave goblin stepped up and leapt through the portal. He materialized in the tower and turned to his friends to celebrate, evidently surprised to be in one piece. Some of the goblins on the other side clapped.


    Gad rose and stared through the portal longingly. Hesitantly, he walked past the Cricket on the other side and approached the rift. He reached up a hand, his palm facing the portal.


    Cricket watched as the Cricket with the bone spear grabbed Gad and turned him around, but only long enough to give him a quick hug. Then, as the half troll turned to leave, the other Cricket quickly took the necklace from around his own neck and placed it over Gad''s bulbous head. The dangling ring only made it halfway down his fat neck.


    Gad stepped through the portal.


    "Oh!" Cricket practically screamed, as if having an epiphany. "That''s where Gad has been. He''s been missing because he came here to the future from the past. I''ll... I''ll explain it to Oydd. Oh, by the way... we need to find Oydd."


    Scorpion said something to Bax, but Cricket couldn''t make it out.


    The gnome waited a moment to see if the other Cricket might come through, then shifted the image to a new location with a wave of his hand from where he sat halfway across the room. His other hand rested on Bale''s claw like a witch caressing a crystal ball.


    The portal appeared pitch black again, but this time the others seemed to hear a sound from the other side of the portal. Scorpion''s ears perked up, and the gnome panicked, quickly changing the image with a wave of his hand.


    Next Cricket saw the aftermath of a battle, lit by the blinding¡ªfor Cricket¡ªlight of magma.


    Oydd knelt nearby with his back to the portal. Between them, a mutilated body somewhat resembling a dethkirok obscured half his view.


    "Is this the past or the future?" Cricket asked.


    Scorpion simply shook his head.


    Surprisingly, the rudra turned to face the portal.


    "Oh, can you hear me?"


    Oydd, his eyes wide in amazement, replied, but Cricket found his words more difficult to guess than any of the others, due to his beak and tentacles. The rudra''s face looked haggard.


    Cricket shook his head and pointed at his antennae.


    A solemn look crossed Oydd''s face, and he seemed to reach out with his mind, but the telepathy could not penetrate the portal.


    Cricket shouted louder, "Can you hear me?!"


    Oydd scowled and mouthed slowly,"I can hear you."


    "Right... right..." Cricket nodded.


    Oydd looked behind him and stood to approach the portal. He lifted his metal staff and plunged the tip through the magical gate. Seeing it appear whole on the far side, he reached out with a hand.


    Cricket, ever cautious, raised his own missing finger and called out to Oydd far too loudly, "It can melt you!"


    Oydd hesitated only momentarily, but stuck his hand through regardless of the insect''s warning. Seeing no harm, he stepped through.


    Instantly, Cricket felt the rudra''s voice enter his mind.


    Were you successful?


    Um... Cricket looked over his shoulder. More or less. You?


    Yes, but at a heavy price. What do you mean more or less?


    Well, we took care of the trollblood''s tongue, and... he pointed behind him, we also got Bale''s left hand.


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    The rudra''s eyes opened wide with curiosity as he stared back at the still-glowing fragment of Bale¡ªa divine trophy.


    I see, he said hungrily. His eyes stalled momentarily on Gad, but glossed over the half troll''s presence for the moment.


    You know, it''s really great to hear your voice, Cricket thought. Everyone has been maddeningly quiet.


    The insect heard Scorpion''s voice, And though he can''t hear us, he asks just as many questions.


    Oh, you''re here too? Cricket asked.


    Oydd answered, Everyone should be able to hear. It sounds like you''ve been very successful.


    Oh, Cricket said gravely. We lost Ty''lek.


    Oydd actually looked sad¡ªan emotion Cricket couldn''t remember seeing in the rudra.


    I''m sorry, Oydd replied. Licephus is dead as well. Jeshu is gravely injured. We''ve been trapped in that room for over a day. The mouseling, he added, had one of her paws crushed by rubble and we had to amputate. She is, surprisingly, in fine spirits.


    Licephus is dead, Scorpion stated in amazement. What happened?


    Our enemy was far more powerful than we expected. We are... fortunate to have survived. However, the entryway collapsed after his battle with a fomorian, trapping us in. Oydd looked over his shoulder. I do not believe we could retrieve the body.


    Jeshu couldn''t move the fallen rock? Cricket suggested.


    The rudra shook his head. He is entirely spent. He must recharge. In truth, we are all weak from thirst. Suddenly Oydd remembered something that alarmed him. The others are not safe. I should get them, but we don''t know how to transport Bale''s forgehammer.


    What do you mean? Scorpion asked.


    It burns if you get within several feet of it. I cannot even reach out with my mind without... a sort of burning. However, we can''t abandon it. It would have been impossible to drag it back, but for now we just need to pull it through the portal, which helps. Is this room safe?


    Cricket thought a moment. No. Well, we''ve had our ups and downs in this room. But it¡¯s probably safe right now.


    The insect felt Oydd reach out with his mind in all directions. It is safe enough for now. I believe Skunk could carry the hammer for a minute and recover, but I''m not sure.


    Why are you looking at me? Cricket stammered.


    He''s your friend. I don''t want...


    Oh... I... really don''t think he''s the same person, Cricket admitted with a frown. But I see what you mean. I think we need to get the hammer or this was all for nothing.


    Oydd nodded and walked back through the portal into Fomoria.


    Cricket watched as he retrieved the others. Jeshu walked with the head of his ice hammer on the ground, using it like a walking stick. Oydd propped him up by the other shoulder, helping the druid limp toward the portal.


    Patches ran past them and jumped through.  She turned back and held up her paw for Pip. The ladybug penetrated the gate without so much as a ripple and lighted on her extended finger. She ran to Cricket¡¯s feet and began babbling excitedly, though the insect could only guess what she was saying.


    After Jeshu made it through into the tower, he called Orth, and the worm bumbled along the ground cooing after him.


    The worm had grown several feet in the few days since Cricket had seen him. It was now as thick around as the druid and nearly twice as long.


    Lastly, the whole room gathered to watch Skunk retrieve the forgehammer. When he reached for it, the skin of his hand instantly blackened, blasted by heat, and the blackness spread quickly up his arm. By the time he was halfway to the portal, the greyish skin beneath bubbled up, parting the charred flesh.


    When he reached the gate, his hand was unrecognizable, and the boiling, melting flesh reached past his elbow. The others stepped aside, giving him room to pass. Oydd had the mutant drag the hammer far enough from the portal that the gate would not be unusable, and then left it on the floor off to the side of the room. The stones beneath the hammer blackened and cracked.


    When Skunk stepped away, Oydd spoke again to the group, using telepathy.


    He regenerates quickly. Much faster than a troll. I assume his metabolism is quicker.


    Jeshu smiled to see Cricket, but the insect had to suppress a look of horror at the shredded druid. He had lost nearly half the bark on one side of his body, and hideous scars covered both of his arms. Like a tree, the edges of the wounds rounded and hardened, revealing a raw wood-like flesh beneath. And like a tree, it looked like it would never heal.


    Don''t worry, Cricket, the druid thought. I can hear your feelings. It is okay. Your concern is... kind. You don''t need to hide your thoughts from me.


    What happened? Cricket asked aghast.


    An adamantine golem, the druid answered. We could not destroy it. We managed to trap it in the cave-in... but, Cricket felt a sense of horror he would not expect from the dryad. We could still hear it, beneath the rock, constantly clawing its way out. It... can''t ever be stopped, he added.


    But it will not find us here, Oydd responded and turned to the portal. Brax, can you close it?


    No one answered.


    Brax?


    Who are you talking to? Cricket asked.


    The gnome, you idiot, Scorpion replied.


    Oh, weird. Bax?


    Yes?


    Can you close it? Cricket repeated.


    Yes, but I think the rudra has someone else on it.


    Oydd sighed. Will you do it, Bax?


    Oh, sure thing. Um... I mean I''ll try. Getting rid of magic isn''t my strong suit.


    I did once, Patches chimed in happily. Cricket caught a glance of her missing paw, severed at the wrist. Once-white bandages covered the stump, now stained with a dried, brownish-yellow substance.


    No! Oydd replied forcefully, but he calmed seeing the hurt in the mouseling''s eyes. You need your rest, he lied. Let me do it. He turned to the gnome and nodded, as he approached the portal. Oydd held up his palm and breathed in the energy. He exhaled slowly, breathing in again. This time, as he exhaled, the portal shimmered and dimmed at a slow, constant rate until the image was gone and the sea of silver followed.


    After closing the portal, the rudra inspected the stones at its base. This is the main gate?


    Bax nodded enthusiastically.


    How do you know? Cricket asked.


    Nothing very interesting. The keystone, Oydd said, is marked with a rune of mastery. On the other gate it was bare. I do see that the rune of measure is lower in the circle, which may simply be a location configuration. Meaning, the same runes in a different sequence lead to other locations.


    The rudra made sure to include the meaning behind each of his words.


    He turned to Bax. Have you seen any other locations?


    Yes! the gnome''s voice sang in Cricket''s mind. We saw Agoth, the gnome said. I got it pretty close. And a black place. At first, I thought it was simply not channeling properly, but... then we heard a terrible noise from the other side, so now I think it was just ¡ª


    Oh, right! Cricket interrupted. Gad came here from the past. He''s been time traveling.


    ...very dark, Bax finished.


    That''s not what happened, Oydd replied evenly. He''s aged since I last saw him.


    He could age while he was in the past, right?


    Oydd sighed. There''s actually no flaw with that logic, but for now I choose to believe otherwise. He studied the trollblood. I sense... pain in him. I believe... he is slowly regaining... life? But how is that possible? You said you saw him in the Warrens? He had protected the mouseling.


    Is that weird?


    Yes. I did not animate him. He is not... undead. And he is clearly not dead. So... I say that he seems alive.


    Which is weird?


    Yes, Cricket, it is weird. Due to their regenerative nature, full trolls cannot usually be turned undead. But I must admit I know no precedent for half trolls. It seems, even while undead, he managed to... heal.


    Gad moaned in response to the stares directed at him and lifted his arm, displaying one of the rusted iron sheets Oydd had attached long ago.


    I think he wants it removed. Oydd concentrated, sending a calming and assuring feeling toward Gad, and the half troll moaned again complacently.


    I will tend to him. For now, however, we have a lot to do, and many more pressing matters.

 Clones and Clones

    24


    Clones and Clones


    "Why are the azaeri afraid of me?" Oydd asked.


    Scorpion leaned his head back, letting the rudra look deep into his infected eye.


    "Why are you asking me?"


    "Because you know," Oydd answered.


    Scorpion sniffed. "There was another rudra. He was one of the ones who performed experiments."


    "Along with the witch?"


    Scorpion tried to nod, but it was too difficult with the rudra firmly holding his head. "Yeah... along with that hag. They were... the azaeri that is... were as afraid of her as anyone. More of the rudra, I think. But she grew worse and worse over time, and held most of them here against their will."


    "So you are all hailed as liberators, and I am still viewed as an enemy..." It was more of a statement than a question.


    "You... just need to keep your head low for a bit," Scorpion suggested.


    "Don''t worry, I''m not sour about it. Actually, I''m quite used to it. And I prefer my privacy, so let them fear me for now."


    Scorpion swallowed hard.


    "You''re lucky I''m here," Oydd said. "I have a fairly clear idea what they''ve done to you. Hold still."


    Oydd concentrated and a flake of rust slowly emerged from the ratling''s eye. The rudra grabbed it out of the air and set it on a cloth with several smaller pieces.


    "I think that''s the last one. I am fairly certain I can prevent this from killing you. I can''t, however, save your eye."


    "What!?" Scorpion nearly jumped from his seat.


    "Calm down. You misunderstand. I presume Jeshu can heal your eye. I cannot. But he would be unfamiliar with your... injection. You are fortunate to have both of us."


    "So what was it?" Scorpion asked glumly.


    "A concoction based on changeling blood, mixed with ogre blood. I believe the experiment was to see what blood from other races is compatible with ratlings, using the changeling blood as a facilitator. It is roughly what I did with Skunk. However, your blood shows some chemicals I''m unfamiliar with. It''s actually more refined than what I could have accomplished myself."


    "So am I... going to turn out like him?"


    "Like Skunk? No. I can slow the changes and eventually stop them." Oydd sat down in a chair. "But I cannot reverse them. At least, not yet. I think experimenting in that direction could cause more harm than good." Speaking of experiments, Oydd looked over his shoulder at a recently burned alchemical apparatus in the corner, filled with colorful potions¡ªexcept for one spot, where an explosion had taken place. Bits of glass covered the table, and the rudra had found some shards as far as forty feet away.


    "God knows what that witch was attempting."


    "Actually, this was the trollblood''s lab. The witch''s lab is upstairs."


    "There are two labs?" Oydd asked excitedly. He laughed. "Let the azaeri know I intend to travel freely between the two locations. Perhaps they''ll afford me a large berth."


    *****


    Cricket found a lower level of the tower which was almost entirely open, save for stairwells, support columns, and a wet storage area. He dubbed it the training floor, and left only long enough to beg a few more potions off of Bax, then hurried back eager to train.


    Cricket started by summoning a single shadow.


    "Have a seat." He motioned to the ground and took a seat himself, crossing his legs.


    The clone dropped to the ground and copied him.


    "Can I have your dagger?"


    The clone pulled out a dagger and handed it over.


    Cricket was about to dismiss it, then decided to ask permission first to avoid upsetting the sometimes volatile clones.


    "Is it okay if I send it away?"


    The clone glared, but nodded after deliberating.


    Cricket banished the dagger and the clone clapped.


    "Can you not do that part?"


    The clone shrugged.


    "I can''t get them to come back." Cricket held out his palm and concentrated. A new dagger appeared for less than a second before no evidence of it remained.


    "Now you do it."


    The clone''s eyes narrowed.


    "Please?"


    The clone nodded contentedly, then stuck out his hand and a dagger almost instantly appeared.


    "Nice!"


    The shadow beamed.


    "How do you do it?"


    The shadow shrugged again.


    Cricket sighed. "Yeah... not easy to explain. Can you do that with your khopesh too?"


    The shadow drew a khopesh and tossed it across the room. It vanished after traveling several yards and reappeared in the shadow''s hand.


    "Is that as far as you can throw it?"


    The shadow glared again.


    "That''s okay. You need practice getting stuff away from you, and I need practice bringing stuff to me."


    The look on the shadow''s face softened a little and he nodded.


    "Can you... make one of your antennas disappear?"


    The clone nodded.


    "Will you?"


    The clone shook his head.


    "Fair enough, I suppose. Can you make... an extra antenna?"


    The shadow crinkled his face, thinking a moment and sternly shook his head.


    "I lost my antennas, and my friends aren''t able to answer my questions, so... they''re sad too. I want to try to make... shadow antennas. Just until I molt."


    The shadow folded his lower arms and scratched his chin. He seemed deep in thought.


    "Well, thanks for thinking it over anyway." Even as he spoke, Cricket began creating more clones. He made three more, looked a little spent, then chugged one of the stamina potions from Bax and made another three, figuring his full energy could produce three. His math was a little off, however. It seemed each shadow took a little more out of him. He stumbled, off balance, and noticed that all the clones were a bit blurry, so he chugged another potion.


    His head immediately felt better, and the shadows all looked well-defined, though not quite as shiny as some of his best work. Also, he felt the energy draining from him very quickly.


    "Okay, everyone. Have a seat."


    He counted up his shadows as they ambled about and a few sat down. "Six... seven... eight. Eight if you count me. Which I do. Excellent. Everyone please take a seat."


    This invitation was more readily obeyed than the first, and before long, most of the Crickets were seated. Only one ran about exploring.


    "Okay, we need to have a talk. I''m hoping... we only have to do this once. You all have my memories, right?"


    Three shadows nodded, two stared back blankly, and the last raised his hand.


    "I''ll get to questions in a minute, but first, let me say, I don''t think any of us have been happy with how things have been going so far."


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    The clone with his hand raised huffed and folded his arms.


    Cricket continued. "I really didn''t like getting my antenna chopped off. And I don''t want you guys picking on my friends."


    Several clones began to look annoyed, restless, or both.


    Cricket hurried to the point. "And I don''t think you guys like it either. If we''re going to work together, we need to come to an agreement. Like, I''m willing to make some concessions..."


    A shadow raised his hand.


    ¡°It means a compromise.¡±


    A second shadow raised his hand.


    "Yes, Cricket."


    The clone put his hand down, then scratched the back of his head, trying to think of a question.


    "Please don''t put your hand up, unless you already have a question."


    The huffing clone, who had raised his hand before the other two, got visibly flustered and raised both hands on his right side.


    "Okay, sorry. I shouldn''t have called on him. You had your hand up first. What''s your question?"


    The clone put his hand down then tapped his fingers on his chest trying to come up with a question.


    "I''ll go first," Cricket said patiently, "but everyone will have a chance to talk."


    Most of the clones seemed pleased by this arrangement. Even the clone that was wandering about the room returned to take a seat. He raised his hand to ask a question but the clone next to him bumped him with an elbow to get his attention and shook his head.


    The returning shadow put his hand down.


    "Okay, so I''ve been putting a lot of thought into this, and... it''s possible we kind of act the same. You guys get kind of annoyed when I tell you what to do. If one of you tried to tell me what to do, I wouldn''t like it." Cricket felt a little woozy, and leaned on his arms.


    "And none of us like getting cut up, right?"


    Three clones shook their heads, while the others nodded.


    "Well, maybe a little. But not without permission."


    Everyone agreed.


    "And we all like fighting?"


    The clones nodded emphatically.


    "Okay, good. So here''s the deal. I''ll try not to do anything you guys wouldn''t like, and you try not to do anything I wouldn''t like. Is that fair?"


    The Crickets reached a general consensus. One, however, raised his hand.


    "Yes, Cricket."


    The shadow pinched his thumbs and forefingers together like lips, then pressed two hands together, twisting slightly.


    "Right, I was thinking the same thing. If I get a girlfriend, she''s just mine. That seems fair to me."


    The clone pointed to himself.


    "If you get a girlfriend?"


    The clone nodded.


    "Well, I don''t think¡ª"


    The clones began a veritable uproar of anger, frustrating gestures, and a flurry of motion, albeit silent.


    "Okay, okay! Sorry. I didn''t realize this was an issue. If..." Cricket thought over his words carefully before continuing. "As far as dating, we''re considered individuals. No one hits on anyone else''s interests."


    The clones stopped their stomping, waving, and general unease.


    "I''m trying, right? If we disagree, we talk it out." Cricket stuck out his right hand and the others joined in a circle, except for five who were distracted.


    Cricket was about to call to them, but suddenly blacked out. When he came to, only two of his clones remained. Cricket lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. Jeshu and Oydd hovered above him.


    "Oh, hi. I only had these two out."


    Cricket, Oydd began, ignoring the lie. Jeshu wanted to see you. I came along to... translate, in a manner of speaking.


    "Oh, okay, what''s up?"


    Jeshu answered. I''m very low on mana. Dangerously low. I asked Bax if he had any useful potions, but he said he gave them all to you.


    "They only work on bugs. That''s not true, I''m sorry, but I have plans for them."


    Cricket, if I run out of mana, I will die. I am replenishing so slowly that I''m worried.


    Cricket sat up. "Oh... I''m sorry. I..."


    Don''t worry. It actually won''t take away from your training. As a sort of physical therapy for my injuries, I intend to share the energy with you. My body uses energy more efficiently, so the potions will actually go further. It will be good for both of us. Do you have any objection?


    "Oh... well, that sounds perfect. But... I''ll tell you more after Oydd goes."


    How am I not supposed to be offended by that? the rudra asked. But he then addressed Jeshu. I do have some work to do. I''ll be in the lower lab, and I am not to be disturbed. I will trust Cricket''s training to your best judgment.


    With that, the rudra turned to leave.


    Cricket waited until Oydd disappeared up a stairwell, then said to the dryad, "I can make eight clones. That''s my record so far. But it is very tiring. Actually, I could make more if you''re helping. I found out it¡¯s just based on how much energy I have."


    Jeshu started to speak, but remembered the insect was currently deaf. Rather, he held out a hand indicating to proceed.


    "Well, I need your energy."


    Jeshu retrieved one of the gnome''s potions and drank it at a tedious pace before calling the insect over. He tapped on the dangling turtle pendant around Cricket''s neck and the turtle glowed a bright, vibrant green.


    "Actually, first, can you get my back?" Cricket turned around, and the druid tenderly reached out a hand and healed the wounds from the stairs. The dryad''s touch felt cool and the shell reformed remarkably well. Cricket was impressed at the druid''s progress in learning to mend chitin. He was about to say so, when he noticed the druid''s frustration in attempting to heal the remaining scratches.


    "What''s wrong?"


    Jeshu frowned and lifted Cricket''s arm¡ªthe one with the holes from Bale''s claws. Jeshu held a hand over the wound and closed his eyes, then removed it, but the wound remained.


    "You can''t heal it?"


    Jeshu shook his head.


    Cricket felt energy slowly pouring into him from the turtle necklace. He patted the druid on the shoulder, as if to say "thanks anyway," and began creating clones. He made three before the dryad signaled for him to stop for the time being. With the two already hanging about, Cricket had five clones. He called them all together and began giving them rules for combat.


    "Okay, everyone gets all four weapons out. But we''re just playing tag, so use the flat side of the blade. If a limb gets tagged, you can''t use it. If you lose all your arms or both legs, you''re out. If you get tagged in the head or the chest, you''re out."


    Three of the clones raised their hands.


    "If you''re out, go sit over there and wait for the next game. Last Cricket standing wins."


    Two of the shadows lowered their hands. Cricket called on the one remaining, and that shadow in turn pointed at the druid.


    "Oh, he''s just here to pass me energy. It''s like... exercise for him. You must have already been summoned when he told me. Anyway, we can''t hear him, and he can''t hear us," at this the dryad shook his head, but Cricket continued without noticing, "so just act like he''s not here. Go!"


    The Crickets spread out around the room, except for one. The Cricket standing behind him had tapped him in the head with a khopesh as soon Cricket said ''go''.


    The eliminated shadow glowered and stomped over to sit on the sidelines.


    Considering the number of clones he had out, Cricket thought he would tire more quickly, but it actually felt sustainable with Jeshu''s help.


    The first round lasted only a few minutes, with one of the shadows winning, then everyone joined again. The second game, another clone was eliminated immediately, and resented the fact so much that he looked like he was about to attack. Ultimately, he sat down right where he had been eliminated to cool off, but he joined the round later when no one was looking.


    Similarly, Cricket made use of the pillars around the room to hide from Jeshu''s view as he made more shadows. When he was back up to seven clones, he stopped to test the limit of his endurance, hoping the effort might be less taxing with the druid''s help.


    After about ten minutes, Cricket still didn''t feel light-headed. He looked over and noticed the druid meditating, so he made two more shadows. The sound of clanging his khopesh against his chest did draw the druid''s attention, and he opened one of his eyes. Cricket took it as a warning, but figured the druid thought he was only at six rather than nine.


    By the fourth game, the Crickets had split into teams, and started to coordinate attacks. One of the shadows came up with a rule that you couldn''t attack from behind, because it didn''t really help with training. More often than not, it just left valuable clones needlessly on the sidelines.


    The Crickets took a vote, and the new rule passed seven to three, bolstered mostly by those who had been unfairly eliminated.


    When Cricket started to feel fatigued, he tapped Jesh on the shoulder and the druid drank another potion. While it would have been difficult for the druid not to notice the increase in the number of clones, he made no comment, and went back to meditating.


    Once the clones were tired of playing, Cricket dismissed them and made three new ones. When the clones grew bored, they also grew ineffective. Cricket alone wanted to push himself, since only he would see the long-term benefits of his efforts.


    The second batch practiced fighting three-against-one in shifts. While each Cricket knew the others¡¯ tricks and strategies, there were a few tactics that consistently worked to help the outnumbered fighter. However, the longer they fought, the more they all learned and those tactics shifted.


    After a couple hours of practice, Cricket learned that countering was almost always more effective than trying to strike first. For a while, a quick burst of speed was enough to land the occasional hit, until Cricket developed a successful block for each of his strikes. Then he had success with a quick flourish, waving around his blade distractingly before stabbing, but obviously that maneuver was beaten by an opponent who knew the technique and simply thrust first.


    In the end, whether it was three against one or one against three¡ªregardless of which side he fought on¡ªwhoever struck first was at a clear disadvantage. Whether off-balance from lunging, or off-center from a proficient parry, the attacking Crickets could not keep up with the counter-attacking Crickets.


    When he grew frustrated, Cricket dismissed his clones and counted the remaining bottles of potion.


    Jesh looked tired, and Cricket tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.


    "You need a break?"


    Jeshu held up a finger and mouthed, "One more..."


    Cricket nodded. He made only one clone. With the last potion, and feeling quite drained himself, in spite of the potions, Cricket decided to focus on some light skill practice.


    He pulled his clone off to the side and tried to demonstrate what he wanted him to do, before realizing that the clone could still hear. "I want you to practice throwing."


    The clone glowered.


    "I''m not ordering you. You practice what you want."


    As Cricket walked away, the clone began practicing his throwing, hurling shadowy khopeshes through the air, only to have them reform. He was impressed at how quickly the clones had learned to reform shadow. Now they just needed to keep the blades solid enough to do some damage when thrown.


    Cricket sat down near Jeshu and practiced forming a dagger in his palm. He had done it before, in a moment of desperation as he grappled with the trollblood. But it was far more difficult than creating a shadow. Perhaps because it was not how the magic was intended to be used. Cricket worked at it for another hour, with no clear progress.


    His last clone was still hard at work, so Cricket let him be, figuring he couldn''t get into too much trouble. He tapped Jeshu on the shoulder again, but the druid was fast asleep. Or "meditating for the night" as Cricket called it.


    The insect stretched and yawned himself, then lay against the wall and closed his eyes. But for the first time in ages, Cricket couldn''t sleep.

 Augmentation

    25


    Augmentation


    Patches hopped up the stairs deftly considering her missing paw, and Scorpion followed a few steps behind holding the fragments of the Nightcrawler bow. The mouseling scurried down a hallway, clutching her satchel to prevent it from jostling, paused, then looked back and waited for the larger ratling to catch up.


    Scorpion gave an impatient look, and Patches glowered in response. "We''re here."


    Despite her assurance, the two continued for some time, descending a second stairway, crossing a rotunda, and descending a third stairway with no end in sight. Patches ran down a corridor Scorpion was certain they had passed earlier, then rose high on her hind legs, sniffing, before backtracking some distance. When Scorpion turned to follow, he nearly jumped at Cricket''s silhouette blocking the dark hallway, assuming it was the original because of the lack of antennae. He grunted, tired of trying to communicate with the deaf insect.


    Wordlessly, Cricket followed the ratlings. Eventually, the mouseling found the room she was searching for, and leapt once for the handle before relenting and letting Scorpion open the door.


    Cricket caught the edge as it swung closed and slipped in as well.


    Scorpion eyed the circular room skeptically. Candles of black wax adorned the walls. An altar of stacked bones sat in the center, on top of which lay a small crystal ball. The room smelled of sweet spices.


    "This it?" Scorpion asked.


    Patches nodded.


    "What''s special about this room?"


    Patches circled the altar and placed a paw on the clear orb. "It''s magic."


    "It looks like glass."


    "I think it is. But I think it''s magic glass," she stated, undeterred.


    Cricket bumped into the ratling, and Scorpion growled, taking a step away. The insect still hovered awkwardly close.


    Scorpion addressed the mouseling, "Is this dangerous?"


    "Uh-huh," the mouseling said. "But I''ve done it before. Once on purpose."


    "Where do you want the bow?"


    Patches circled the altar again and indicated a spot on the bare ground. Scorpion placed the broken bow on the cold stone and stepped back.


    The mouseling pulled a plain ring, carved from obsidian, from her pouch and placed it atop the bow.


    "Black glass is magically spongy," she said. "So it''s used a lot in enchantments." She raised her nose in the air as she spoke. "Since it''s black, it will match the bow. I think that helps."


    She continued, "If I let the magic out, it will go straight up like hot air, so the ring will catch it." Patches rummaged through her pouch again and produced a burlap cloth. "This is pretty heavy, so I think it will trap the magic in. We want as much to go into the ring as possible." She placed it atop the ring.


    Scorpion nodded skeptically. "I would really like to move the enchantment to a dagger."


    "That won''t work," Patches explained with the authority of a child explaining something to a smaller child. "Daggers are stick-shaped, so the magic will just shoot out of the tip. We need a circle to trap it."


    He groaned beneath his breath, but made no further objection.


    Patches circled the broken bow three times, sniffing it.


    "Stand still. If it gets out, I think the room will go dark."


    "Oh," Scorpion said. "Didn''t Damien do that once. I forgot. But are you sure that''s what will happen? What if the crawling black stuff comes out?"


    "Um..." Patches thought. "I''m pretty sure."


    She placed her paw and her stump on the cloth and pressed the ring against the remnants of the bow, then began whispering quickly.


    She stopped speaking, but the whispers continued for a moment. Patches circled the cloth and began whispering again. The new sounds overlapped the old, like an echo.


    Cricket watched eagerly from the sidelines, and Scorpion pulled the insect back with his hand, figuring he couldn''t hear the chanting.


    Patches moved to a third location, as her words hung in the air, and began whispering again. Slowly, the fragments of the bow began to shake beneath the cloth. Black tendrils began to stretch across the fabric, and Patches let go, hopping back a step.


    The bow, however, continued to vibrate. The cloth began to rot away before their eyes and black fumes poured out. Scorpion covered his nose and the mouseling buried her snout in the elbow of her wounded arm. Her good hand, she stretched toward the fumes and then she concentrated. The fumes stopped rising and began billowing out to the sides. She stared so hard her nose twitched, and the black smoke slowly withdrew, moving back toward the bow, only to be absorbed into the ring.


    Long after the fumes vanished, Patches gasped, her tiny heart pounding in her chest.


    "Is... that it?" Scorpion asked.


    "I think I got most of it." She placed her nose close to the ring, then recoiled at the smell. "Yeah, it''s in there."


    "Is it... safe to touch?"


    "No, I already told you it wouldn''t be safe. I just said I could move it."


    "Right, okay. Don''t... get worked up. This is cool. Way better than nothing."


    Scorpion reached out gingerly and tapped the ring, quickly pulling his finger away.


    "Oh, it''s cold."


    Patches nodded.


    "Like, icy cold..." Scorpion looked over at Cricket and the insect gave a thumbs up.


    "That''s normal," the mouseling replied. It''s cold but smells burnt, like Oydd''s ghouls. I think that''s a good sign."


    Scorpion grasped the ring, testing it. He winced with it in his grip and his clenched fist began to tremble before he decided to stow the magic item in his own pouch.


    He eyed the insect as if he might say something and headed for the door. With one last glance at the room, he saw the mouseling''s eye magnified as she peered through the far side of the crystal ball.


    "Are you coming?"


    "I want to stay here. I like the smell. It reminds me of the morgue back at the Warrens."


    Scorpion shrugged and slipped out the door, only to hear Cricket''s footsteps following after him.


    *****


    Jeshu vaguely registered the insect leaving his side during the night, but continued to meditate, paying him no heed. Without the need for much sleep, the dryad had learned, somewhat against his will, to be quiet and still, and to be content being quiet and still. He learned to calm his mind when things around him slowed down¡ªfor example, when Cricket was asleep. And, like a spring bud awaiting the sunlight, he stored his energy for when it was needed.


    Sadly, he could not feel it welling up so much as in times past. He ached, which was a new sensation for the druid. While it was not necessarily painful to move, with the exception of his wounded side, it was more taxing¡ªmore demanding than it had been in his youth.


    Though he could not quite put a finger on it, keeping the flow of mana moving felt therapeutic. He could control the flow within himself, but that still felt... stagnant. Transferring mana to Cricket helped. It was the nature of dryads, and druids as well, to reach out, to connect¡ªto collaborate with nature.


    Still, when the night passed, and Jeshu opened his eyes, he saw that Cricket had left two of the mana potions, and the dryad gladly kept them for himself.


    He creaked as he stood, and let out a slight groan, then retrieved his ice hammer from where it lay against the wall and began his way back to the top of the tower. Through the night he had brought supplication to his goddess, Elkennah, praying for guidance and wisdom. But her eyes did not see down in the dark, or her ears did not hear¡ªunconcerned with the workings of the underworld.


    For decades he had cultivated a relationship with the deity, but now felt as though he misunderstood her.


    Jeshu sighed. If he were to learn to wield Bale''s hammer, he required protection from his goddess. Through Elkennah he had learned to resist the arcane and to confront dark magic without fear. Though he did not understand divine energy, he thought, perhaps, with Elkennah''s grace, he might resist it as well.


    He had reached for Bale''s hammer only once, and while he did seem to resist the effects of the weapon more than the others, he could not simply shirk it off like he did with Ghajan''s hammer.


    As the druid wandered the tower, he passed a pantry full of seeds, dried meat, and grains.


    Bax sat against the far wall with a pained face, and a profoundly vacant look in his eyes. When the gnome noticed Jeshu, he immediately donned a convincing smile and beckoned the druid to sit.


    Jeshu stood in the doorway, trying to read the gnome''s previous expression, before he entered and sat down across from Bax.


    He said nothing to the gnome and Bax simply stared off for over a minute before speaking a word.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Do you miss it?" Bax asked.


    Without even needing the gnome to clarify, Jeshu answered, "Terribly."


    Bax nodded. "I had a wife."


    Jeshu allowed a moment for this information to sink in before asking "And they took you from her? Or did they take her from you?"


    "I don''t remember..." Bax frowned. "I think... she helped me remember things."


    "What was her name?"


    Bax shook his head. "I''ve got it narrowed down to three. But... why can''t I remember that?"


    "Can you remember her face?"


    Bax nodded. "Well, I''ve got it narrowed down to two... which is good for me. But!" he held up a finger, "we had the same last name, so... Thimblefork... or Tallowbarrow... or..."


    "Tell me about her..."


    "Ah!" Bax exclaimed. "No, not barrow. But she invented the cheesebarrow. Revolutionized gnomish society as I knew it. Mostly just as I knew it, though. Not a lot of other gnomes used the cheesebarrow. But obviously I had to learn..."


    "Because?" Jeshu probed.


    "Because... she was a cheesemonger."


    "Oh... you know, of all the foods that come from animals, I think I like cheese the most."


    Bax nodded, somewhat distracted by his own thoughts. "And I was a gardener."


    "Oh?"


    "I always had a knack for magic, but... if I ever get back to the surface, I think that''s what I like most. Too many of the plants down here try to eat you..."


    "We can get you to the surface," Jeshu stated. "I don''t see what''s stopping us. We are far from Al Tsiroth. Our master is dead. Our home is destroyed. We are... no longer slaves."


    "But I wouldn''t know where to go."


    "Oydd could find your village. Maybe track down your wife."


    Bax shook his head. "No, I feel like I''m doing something important. And she would actually like that I''m doing... something. What about you?"


    "Why don''t I go back? I really have nothing to go back to."


    "There''s not a pretty gal dryad waiting for you?"


    Jeshu laughed. "That''s something Cricket would ask. But no."


    "A pretty guy dryad?" Bax asked innocently.


    Jeshu thought for a moment. "Actually, I think I prefer to be alone. I move slowly, and I''d rather keep my own pace than try to match someone else, if you understand..."


    "I don''t..."


    "It simply isn''t a need of mine."


    Bax laughed but suddenly looked worried. "No, no! I''m not being critical. Taking definitely isn''t a need of yours..." he said, cryptically. The gnome stood and brushed off his leggings. "But that''s not what I meant."


    *****


    Cricket followed Scorpion for a little while, but noticed the ratling kept looking back in irritation, so he decided to take a different route. But he was already bored, and he wasn''t sure he could find his way back to Patches.


    He did, however, think he could find his way back to the troll''s lab. He had assigned a few landmarks in his head to help him navigate, including both labs and the training room, as well as two mess halls, but the tower was still largely an unnavigable maze.


    Cricket thought he was nearing the portal room, but came upon, instead, an empty chamber of roughly the same shape, which meant he was off by at least a floor. But he wasn''t sure if it was up or down. Feeling somewhat recovered from practice, he decided to make one clone, then sent the shadow down while he went up. That way, at least one of them was likely to find his way.


    As it was, Cricket came upon the portal room almost immediately, but thought it a waste to report back to his shadow, so he just continued on, figuring there were plenty of fun activities in the tower to entertain a wandering shadow.


    Cricket sighed, imagining all the fun adventures his shadow was having, when he finally stumbled upon the door to the trollblood''s lab. He saw the faint glow of magic flowing out from beneath the door¡ªa soft violet light that flickered almost like a fire light, but more mechanically, moving only between two or three set positions and then back again.


    Cricket tried the handle, but found it locked.


    Oydd... he tried to reach out with his mind, but felt nothing without his antennae to tune into the rudra. Cricket let out a heavy sigh, slipped a dagger into the keyhole and miraculously managed to release the mechanism before resorting to violence.


    Cricket, out of habit, walked silently, though he made no willful effort to be stealthy.


    Still, Oydd did not hear his approach. Cricket first came upon the rudra''s severed left arm, discarded carelessly on the floor, lying in a pool of blue blood.


    The rudra worked with his back to the insect, and Cricket carefully circled around from a short distance, intentionally entering Oydd''s field of vision to announce himself.


    When Oydd noticed his presence, his face flashed briefly with a look of irritation, which he quickly hid.


    "What are you doing, Oydd?"


    What does it look like? the rudra snapped.


    Cricket didn''t answer. Oydd continued to operate, slicing the leathery exterior of Bale''s claw with an adamantine scalpel. The severed edges hungrily, eagerly attached to Oydd''s raw flesh. The rudra peeled back the skin again, and reached into the gap with a finger, realigning a muscle or tendon. From Cricket''s position, he could not tell, but he had seen the rudra operate on enough corpses to understand the basic principles.


    When he withdrew the scalpel, the violet flesh began to reseal, and the blood along the contact point instantly dried and flaked away. The pinky claw twitched, then straightened willfully. Oydd made another incision, and began connecting the ring finger. He showed no signs of pain but for a strain of the facial muscles that looked more like fatigue.


    Why? Cricket asked calmly.


    As the rudra struggled to formulate an answer, the insect continued, Scorpion was already missing an arm. Why not offer it to him?


    You find me experimenting on my own body, and that is your first concern? That I might have tested on Scorpion first?


    Cricket stared back dumbly.


    Scorpion is missing his right arm. Did you think of that? What use would he have of another left hand?


    Cricket held up his hands before his face, then flipped the right hand upside-down, so it resembled the left. You could have at least offered ¡ª


    Would you want two left hands?


    Yes, Cricket answered without hesitating, if the alternative is only one hand.


    Oydd growled. You''re being absurd.


    I think... I think you''re¡ª


    I didn''t invite you here. Rather, you might have taken the locked door as a request for privacy.


    Oydd tested the second finger and growled in annoyance at the result. I did not ask for your counsel. He continued. I trust my judgment well enough.


    And... what did you¡ª


    I decided... Cricket... that we are very much in over our heads. If we are to stand a chance¡ªeven a miniscule inkling of a chance¡ªOydd winced, then recomposed himself¡ªwe will need to leverage every available asset.


    Cricket nodded, but his countenance fell, and he looked quietly at the floor.


    This will still take several hours. Since you have already intruded, you might as well make yourself useful and bring me that basin of water.


    Cricket retrieved a ceramic dish with a small amount of murky water and placed it within the rudra''s grasp. Oydd, however, made no use of it. He continued to dissect his arm in awkward silence.


    Eventually, Cricket blurted out, I can make nine clones.


    Oydd scowled, I told you¡ªhe paused and his scowl slowly relaxed as he realized his hypocrisy.


    Cricket continued. You wouldn''t be able to handle making shadows.


    Another brief look of irritation crossed Oydd''s face. Is that so? he said caustically.


    Because you wouldn''t be able to get along with yourself, Cricket stated evenly. Neither of you would be willing to take orders.


    Oydd''s scowl softened again as he thought. What is your point? he asked, defeated.


    Nothing. I didn''t mean to offend you. It''s just an observation. You like to give orders, so who would you expect to follow¡ªyou or your shadow? One of you would have to be willing to follow orders, or you wouldn''t get along.


    Oydd focused on connecting a ligament. His mind strained as he stretched the fibrous tissue. Suddenly, a patch of Bale''s claw dimmed to black, and he cursed under his breath. Oydd worked furiously, and gradually the violet glow renewed from within.


    Did I tell you, I can beat five of myself now? Cricket continued.


    How is that relevant?


    Relevant to what? I just haven''t talked to you in a while.


    In your dreams? Oydd asked.


    It''s not easy.


    It''s not real, Oydd retaliated.


    Cricket looked hurt. I told you, It''s about confidence. I didn''t use to have the confidence to win, even in my dreams. You... don''t think about fighting the way I do, but I can''t win against five of myself if I don''t think I can.


    You can''t win against five of yourself if you think you can either.


    You don''t get it, Cricket thought. Losing confidence can cost you a fight before you even start. I have to be confident first.


    Finally, Oydd''s eyes narrowed as if in pain, though he had set his scalpel down for the time being.


    The rudra sighed loudly. Cricket, I''m sorry.


    For what?


    I''ve been cruel to you, and you don''t deserve it. I thought you would be.... more upset. Oydd indicated Bale¡¯s claw with his scalpel.


    Why? You''re my friend.


    I¡ª


    Like... my second best friend.


    What, who...? Oydd floundered.


    Like, you and Jesh are tied for second best.


    Oydd bit his tongue. He swallowed and pushed the question from his mind. I don''t know if Jeshu will understand.


    I don''t understand. But this will make you stronger?


    Immeasurably.


    Does that just mean you don''t know how to measure it?


    Well, yes, but... the rudra stumbled over his thoughts. Think of it as my nine shadows.


    So, like, nine times as strong?


    Well, no, I mean... I have to push myself and see how strong I can get.


    Cricket nodded. Don''t let it scratch you. It... gets bad.


    The claw has a will of its own, but it can also bow to my will. It is... still a struggle, but when I prevail against it, it will no longer harm me.


    Oydd rested his wrist on the table, and the index finger curled involuntarily. He panted and took a deep breath, then rotated his arm and began to cut it open from a new direction, maneuvering strands of muscle into position with his mind.

 The Still Darkness

    26


    The Still Darkness


    Scorpion finished talking with the azaeri commander then loped back to the group. He discussed something with Oydd, until Cricket, growing impatient, tapped the rudra on the shoulder. Oydd continued his conversation without relaying anything to the insect.


    Finally, Cricket let out a loud huff, and Oydd turned to him.


    Be patient. I''ll tell you what is going on as soon as I know.


    Well, what do you know so far?


    Shisu took residence in the shell, along with another human. A man. They are not still there.


    Then why does everyone seem so excited?


    The azaeri are trying to talk us out of heading over. They say the structure is... he exchanged a few more words with Scorpion that the insect couldn''t hear. Haunted, apparently.


    Haunted? Cricket confirmed enthusiastically.


    Yes. The rudra continued discussing the matter with the ratling, and Cricket wandered over to the edge to view the annexed shell.


    The fog had settled down into the underground fields, which made the height seem more dizzying, without a visible bottom for reference. Three rope bridges crossed to different parts of the titanic shell, two of which were in dangerous disrepair. As the insect watched, a giant centipede¡ªabout ten feet in length¡ªpoked its head out of a hole in the shell, then scurried across the exterior, only to disappear inside another hole. Cricket crept closer to the edge, but felt a pit in his stomach and backed away again.


    I thought you weren''t afraid of anything, Jeshu''s voice entered his mind.


    Oydd and the ratling made preparations to cross, while Patches tossed the contents of her pouch onto the tower floor in a mild panic.


    Oh... Cricket responded. Heights just make me feel sick. Is that fear?


    Jeshu laughed.


    The rudra joined in. He''s also afraid of bugs, remember?


    Ew! Cricket convulsed at the thought. Just the little ones. Big ones don''t bother me. Cricket looked back over his shoulder where he had seen the centipede.


    Patches ran up to the group with a concerned look on her face. She tugged on Cricket''s lower elbow. I can''t find it.


    Can''t find what? Jeshu asked.


    My bag. It''s special.


    Oh! The caltrop bag! Cricket practically shouted. He opened his pouch and retrieved the green, velvet bag.


    Patches scowled and leapt for it. Reflexively, Cricket pulled it up out of her reach, before stooping to hand it to her. I''m sorry, I forgot to tell you I borrowed it. He patted the mouseling on her head, but she jerked her head away and wiped his touch off, then snatched the small bag and scurried back to her satchel where she busily cleaned up the mess she had made on the ground.


    When she had replaced all of the scattered contents back in her satchel, she scurried up Jeshu''s leg and perched on his shoulder, still eyeing Cricket crossly.


    Oydd, Cricket said, looking at the spiral shell, how do we know it won''t fall?


    Our weight is negligible.


    But it''s already so heavy. It has to be!


    Not as heavy as the actual stalactites of that size, since they are not hollow. And they remain attached to the ceiling.


    That''s... actually a good point.


    Oydd placed a hand on the insect''s shoulder. Lead us out.


    What? Me? Why do I have to go first? Cricket peered over the edge again, then eyed the precarious bridge.


    You usually like going first, Oydd replied. Who do you think should go first?


    Um... Cricket surveyed the group. Orth?


    The worm is not here.


    Where is he? Cricket asked.


    Digesting, Jeshu answered. He ate almost an entire golem. I actually had to expend quite a bit of energy to keep him large enough that his stomach didn''t pop afterward. Now, I think, he''ll stay about the size he is.


    How about Skunk? Cricket asked.


    He is unwell, Oydd said.


    Unwell? What''s wrong?


    You''re stalling. Scorpion gave Cricket a very slight nudge toward the bridge, and the insect screamed.


    Really? the ratling snickered. Why weren''t you this scared when we were in the dangling cages?


    I couldn''t see the ground. I think it messes with my compound eyes, Cricket quibbled.


    If it''s too much for you, you can stay here, Oydd offered.


    No. It''s not too much for me. But... I should take up the rear. It''s the most likely spot we''ll be attacked.


    It''s really not, Scorpion replied. Still, the ratling approached the rope bridge first and sprinted across the narrow wooden planks at full speed, only stopping several yards out to look back, as if inviting the others to follow. Oydd set out at a brisk pace, clutching his metal rod with Bale''s claw.


    Jeshu hesitated at the edge next to Cricket.


    Should we space ourselves out? How much weight do you think this bridge can carry?


    It is safer to stay close to my side, Oydd answered. So I can catch you if you fall. I can easily lift your weight, but not from very far away.


    The druid nodded as he took a few steps out onto the shaky bridge.


    Cricket swallowed hard, pursuing the druid with trembling steps. He gripped the rope tightly and lifted his chin, so he couldn''t see down. The bridge wobbled, and Cricket screeched, dropping to his knees. He held onto one of the ropes with all four arms.


    Jeshu turned to encourage him, but the insect had already begun to crawl back.


    Oydd asked me to head back, Cricket lied. He sent the message to just me.


    I did not, Oydd replied. But the insect ignored him.


    Good idea, Oydd. Cricket reached the tower floor and collapsed against the wall.


    Oydd muttered something under his breath, but continued toward the shell.


    A black centipede with a bright red head poked out from a hole near the bottom. It probed around the slick exterior with its yellow legs and antennae.


    Very colorful, Jeshu commented. Mostly only greys and browns down here.


    That''s a bit over simplistic, Oydd responded.


    Just my observation, compared to surface life. As he spoke, a second centipede tried to poke its head out of the same hole, knocking the first one loose, and it tumbled down into the fog, coiling and writhing as it fell¡ªits numerous legs clutching at the air.


    Scorpion reached the far side long before the others, but waited near the opening.


    When Oydd arrived, he noticed a slick, black slime covering much of the interior, accompanied by a sweet fungal smell. With Cricket gone, the rudra closed the telepathic link to save energy.


    "It''s humid in here," he stated.


    Scorpion agreed. "Is this stuff dangerous?"


    "Let''s assume so. Don''t touch anything without running it by me or the dryad."


    Scorpion scurried inside. Oydd drew a light from his staff with a word and pressed into the curving hallway. Planks of wood¡ªfrom the surface, judging by their color¡ªcovered the floor to make for an even surface, and stonework covered some of the walls. Once inside, the shell seemed much larger than Oydd had thought from a distance. As they crept downhill, the slick, black slime became more prominent. In places, it gathered in mounds, resembling the druid''s pumpkin patch back at the Crater, with thick, netted tendrils reaching from bulge to bulge.


    "Smells like spoiled milk," Scorpion observed, taking care to keep his tail from dragging on the ground.


    Further inside, the slime began to crust over and dry. Weightless black flakes drifted in the air and Oydd lifted his robe to cover his beak, looking behind him for the druid.


    "It''s disgusting," Jeshu said. "It might not be wise to breathe this in."


    "Agreed," Oydd answered. A pulse surged from him, billowing the flakes away for some distance with a dome of force. Afterward, Scorpion kept closer to the rudra.


    "I should be able to sustain this for a while."


    Jeshu groaned uncomfortably, but nodded.


    "Why does it still smell?" Patches plugged her nose with her paw.


    "If it smells, then some of it is still getting in our lungs," Jeshu answered.


    Oydd addressed the mouseling. "I intend to explore further. You may stay or go as you choose." He passed a ladder leading to a lower spiral as well as an archway carved into the shell, which headed for the center. However, he continued along the outer curve, following the source of the slime. The interior of the shell had long lost its sheen, and now appeared much like dried bone, although denser.


    As they descended, the black tendrils thickened until some were as wide around as the rudra. A few of the tendrils ended in mouthlike holes, with clusters of smaller tentacles bursting from the tips.


    All of the larger tentacles were dry and stiff as charcoal, as if the whole area had burned, though there was no other evidence of a fire. Oydd passed clusters with teeth growing from the exterior, and clumps of hair. He began to see more and more mouths¡ªcircular mouths at the tips, surrounded with fangs, as well as more dhampir-like jaws with flattened teeth along the length of the tendrils.


    "What shit is this?" Scorpion asked in awe.


    In response, Oydd only grunted. Scorpion turned to Jeshu, but the druid had such an intense, sorrowful look on his face that the ratling instantly looked away.


    The tentacles deeper inside had increasingly bizarre mutations. Mostly they grew in clusters connected by roots¡ªsprouting from the walls, and the ceiling, with plenty of room to pass in the spacious tunnel. But now and then an anomalous clump formed in the middle of the walkway, with more individualized features, like legs and tails and heads¡ªseldom in the appropriate places.


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    "Someone say something," Scorpion said.


    A short silence followed before Jeshu responded. "This place has been touched by Chaos."


    Oydd nodded. "I fear the same."


    "It''s like a summoning gone wrong, I think." The dryad reached toward one of the dark shapes instinctively, only to retract his hand at the last moment.


    "Often, with a summoning, things come that were not summoned. Especially when dealing with the forces of Chaos."


    "Chaos, like...?" Scorpion trailed off, not finishing his question.


    "Meaning the ancient gods," Jeshu answered. "Ancient and unevolved. From before the world knew order. Primal forces."


    "Some of them are more evil than the druid lets on," Oydd added. He passed a face rising straight up from the floorboards, made from the same blackened charcoal as the tentacles. "Though it seems the spell was contained, in the end."


    The group came upon a room¡ªa living quarters that looked like it belonged to a small child, though it appeared impossibly old. The floorboards looked petrified, and inches of black dust gathered in the corners and recesses. A shelf sat against one of the walls, covered with a collection of bright stones, shells, and carved figurines. Among them, one resembled a stone ratling with long ears and a bobbed tail. Oydd picked it up, inspecting it with curiosity.


    "It''s a rabbit," Scorpion said.


    "A rabbit?"


    "They''re smaller than the mouseling," the ratling added. "And they can''t kill anything. They just run."


    Oydd set the figurine back on the shelf.


    "Come here!" the mouseling''s quiet voice shouted from the hallway.


    Oydd left the bedchamber and followed the sound of her voice down a side hallway and into a much larger chamber with a massive summoning circle carved into the floor, perhaps ten yards across. Hundreds of tentacles grew along the rim, though the interior remained clear of any infestation. In the center, however, a clawed hand reached from the floor, fused directly to the aged wood. Unlike the other oddities, it appeared mummified, rather than charred, with the dried leathery skin tight against the bone and pulling away from the claws, which made them look longer and more menacing.


    Against a far wall, a blackened skeleton fused with the stonework, reaching out with one of its hands as if attempting to grab something.


    "Stay close to me, mouseling," Oydd counseled as he inspected the room. Jeshu knelt near the middle of the circle and ran a finger through the dust. He looked up at the skeleton. "Is this our summoner?"


    "It''s human, right? Do you notice anything odd about him?" Oydd replied.


    "Like what?"


    "How long ago would you say he died, based on the remains?"


    "Oh," Jeshu answered in a bit of shock. "I would think hundreds of years if I didn''t know better."


    "The wood here is warped and even petrified in places. The skeleton is practically a fossil. Everything in this room appears older than the shell itself. How is that possible?"


    Oydd heard a whisper, and despite his mental acumen, he could not discern whether it was spoken out loud or only in his mind. If it spoke a word, it was a word he did not know.


    "We''re nearly at the bottom of the spiral," Jeshu stated.


    The rudra felt a cold breath against the back of his neck and he shivered. "What happened here?" He pried himself away from the skeleton to follow the druid, and together they came upon a pool of black water.


    "Everything beyond this point is flooded," the dryad said. Black tracings marked the wall that appeared to be maps of Al Tsiroth¡ªone of the entire cavern, with Agoth beneath it, and Sheol beyond that, though the map of Sheol contained gaps. And one map of the city of Al Tsiroth itself. Other scrawlings appeared half-submerged in the water and Oydd tried to make them out with no luck.


    Loose leaves of parchment floated in the water that looked much more recent than the contents of the previous room¡ªeach filled with the scribbles of some language with which the rudra was unfamiliar, though he doubted he could decipher the poor penmanship regardless.


    "I think we''ve seen enough for now," Oydd said.


    Jeshu nodded and turned to leave, but Oydd stayed at the edge of the pool a moment, staring out into the black water. On their return, the rudra¡¯s staff echoed oddly against the ground, in a mesmerizing way. He found himself walking toward the summoning circle with no real purpose. When the tip of his staff touched near the center, the sound hung in the air and grew in volume. It took on a concussive weight that beat against him, pressing then abating, only to return with renewed volume.


    Time froze around Oydd, but the click of the staff still hummed quietly. Jeshu slowed to a stop, with his back toward the rudra, and soon a darkness came rushing in. The skeleton on the wall began to move, breaking away from the stone. It vanished and appeared closer, speaking in his ear. Oydd recognized the voice.


    "Who is dead?"


    "The azaeri witch, Baba Kesu," Oydd replied. "And Oydd Zephyrendum yet lives." He turned to view the skeleton, only to see that it now more closely resembled the wraith Izu, though not entirely.


    "Ah, a narrow window," the wraith lamented.


    Oydd shivered at the implication.


    "Why did you call us?"


    "I did not call. I did not intend to, anyway."


    "You are the rudra known as Oydd?" the wraith confirmed.


    "I... am." Oydd hesitated, then asked, "Do you not know me?"


    "We know of the rudra..."


    "But have we spoken before?"


    The wraith vanished, only to appear several feet away with a confused look on its face. A second wraith appeared so close that Oydd faltered, taking a step back. This time, it appeared moments before the other wraith vanished.


    It spoke. "We have not. Not us."


    "I... never mind."


    Another specter appeared, equally close. "Yes, it knows us."


    A moment later, the first specter asked, "Does it know us?"


    Oydd hesitated.


    "It knows us," the new specter repeated with a wicked smile, as the other specter faded. "We know that, rudra... do not seek to instruct us."


    "You''re... out of sync," Oydd stammered. "It is difficult to understand you." Slowly, he comprehended that the wraith had already responded to his statement.


    Suddenly one of the wraith''s eyes grew wide, and Oydd realized that in his previous encounter, he had not seen Izu''s eyes. These eyes were sunken into the wraith''s hooded skull, but that was the only real difference. This wraith looked more... human.


    "We are," the wraith answered an unasked question.


    "Are you Izu?" Oydd paused then nodded to himself in understanding.


    "Yes, you must obey..." the wraith disappeared and another formed nearby, speaking angrily, "You are bound to us!"


    Oydd waited until the anger left its face, and he was certain it was done speaking. "I did make a deal with another being who called himself Izu."


    "A deal with one is a deal with all. Tell us the agreement! You must obey..."


    Strangely, Oydd felt no such compulsion. The wraith slowly vanished. This time, the hum of his staff faded as well, and the image of Jeshu began again to move.


    Oydd studied the room. He saw the blackened skeleton still fused to the brick wall, unmoved. He lowered his head and followed the druid from the ruins.


    *****


    The azaeri are sending reinforcements, Jeshu reported. Mostly in response to the wild goblin infestation in the lower levels.


    They haven''t been violent, Oydd replied.


    Who, the goblins? No, but they outnumber the azaeri currently. I don''t think they are planning to exterminate them. They just don''t want to be overrun. There are two nearby cities, not just the one we had heard of. I believe the azaeri had abandoned this outpost due to...


    Due to the witch, Oydd finished.


    They are... a superstitious bunch.


    Oydd scoffed. That witch performed experiments on her own kin. I don''t think superstition quite covers it.


    Well, regardless, we can expect them to return in force. But as allies this time.


    Which is good. It''s not like we have somewhere else to go.


    Cricket, who had been mostly silent until now chimed in. We could go back to Al Tsiroth.


    Oh... Oydd mused, crossing his brows. I don''t think we can. We are runaways.


    No we''re not! We came here on orders.


    Confidential orders likely no one else knew, from a man who is now dead.


    That doesn''t make us runaways.


    Yes, we''ll just explain it nicely to the dhampiri, Oydd snipped.


    I do think the dhampiri will view us as renegades, Jeshu said. Regardless, the Warrens are destroyed. We can''t return there.


    But that''s my home... Cricket mourned.


    You no longer have a home, Oydd stated emotionlessly.


    Cricket frowned, and the rudra slowly noticed his own callousness. It can''t be helped, he added more softly. We will have to make the best of it.


    Jeshu continued his report. We managed to capture the axebeak, but not before two more casualties.


    Is that what we''re calling it?


    What else? It''s fitting. We''ve converted the ground floor into stables, and Orth is there as well. The goblin leader has agreed to tend the animals in exchange for the first two floors.


    And how do the azaeri feel about that? Oydd asked as he walked into the portal room.


    As I said, they are sending forces. The dryad shrugged. But I don''t expect it will turn violent.


    If the azaeri give any indication that it might, notify me immediately. The rudra climbed the stairs to the dormant gate. With a wave of his hand, he summoned the silvery, pinkish portal with a thrumming hiss.


    Is that all?


    Jeshu tripped over his thoughts, as if he wanted to say more, but settled on More or less.


    Oydd waved Bale''s claw and the portal turned jet black.


    Good. I have something more pressing than minutiae. What do you see here?


    Looks broken, Cricket said.


    I actually thought that too at first, Oydd replied. And you, Cricket, can''t hear the sounds from the other side, but we are looking at a location.


    Where? Cricket asked.


    Jeshu stared into the black for a moment before responding solemnly. Sheol.


    Yes, the Abyss. Far below Agoth. My people call it the Silence, but Bax and I have heard some horrific sounds emanating from the darkness. Don''t worry, the far side is closed off now, nothing can come through except for the cold.


    That''s a little unsettling, Scorpion replied.


    I have located two gates, like this, with nothing but darkness.


    And the red blob, Cricket added.


    Red blob?


    Well, you know... that color that''s more red than red.


    I do not. Do you see something when you stare into the portal.


    Well, yeah, but it''s just a blotch.


    Cricket, I don''t see anything. Jeshu looked around at the others, who shook their heads.


    Just black, Scorpion said.


    I can make colors for everyone if you want, Bax offered.


    That won''t be necessary. Cricket, what do you see? Your eyes must be far more sensitive than I realized. Perhaps you''re picking up heat.


    Just the one blotch, shaped kind of like a dethkirok. It wasn''t there earlier. It sort of crawled up to the portal, but now it''s just sitting there staring at us.


    Oydd shuddered and closed the portal with another wave of his hand.


    Why didn''t you say something? It must have sensed us somehow.


    Well, I thought it was just... like a distortion in the magic maybe? It took a while before I realized it was a living thing. You sure it couldn''t come through.


    Yes.


    But not a hundred percent, or you wouldn''t have closed it.


    Oydd''s thoughts stammered.


    Jeshu hid a smile.


    The rudra composed himself and continued, For those of you who weren''t present¡ªat this he directed his gaze to Cricket¡ªinside of that massive crustacean, we found the vestiges of a failed summoning. Nothing as benign as an avatar, but perhaps one of the elder gods.


    So, like, a stronger god? Cricket asked.


    I cannot impress upon you how much more powerful. A force that may have brought the gods as we know them into existence on a whim.


    Or even unintentionally, which I find more horrifying, Jeshu added.


    And, Oydd continued, a force powerful enough to end the gods on a whim... or unintentionally.


    So us too.


    Us too, Oydd replied. Shisu, as powerful as we believe her to be, evidently lost control of the summoning and was barely able to contain the after effects.


    What do you mean by after effects? Cricket asked.


    Just imagine a terrible nightmare.


    I kind of like nightmares, so...


    I do too! Bax joined. So thrilling! And then sometimes you wake up and the horrors follow you into real life.


    Bax! Oydd snapped, but almost immediately a look of concern crossed his face. Are you sleepcasting? Jeshu?


    I can mix up an herbal sedative for him.


    Oydd spent a moment retracing his thoughts, but gave up. The point is, we believe Shisu fled to Sheol for another attempt.


    And that''s bad?


    And that''s very bad.


    So we have to go in there?


    Not now. Not unprepared... but yes. I believe we do.

 Volume II Epilogue

    Epilogue


    The withered rudra walked steadily, though painfully, through the halls of Fomoria, holding onto an adamantine staff much like Oydd''s, but with a stylized claw at the top grasping a smooth, blood-red stone.


    He paused only once, bringing a thin cloth to his beak. He coughed small flecks of blood onto the cloth then returned it somewhere inside his black and green robes. Along the hems, embroidered, golden runes lined the green strips, and occasional streaks of crackling energy arced between them.


    He held one of his arms, a greying, rotted mess of a limb, stiff at his side¡ªthe pus from its open wounds soaking into his robes.


    The two giants stationed outside the throne room guffawed when they saw the tiny, unannounced humanoid. The larger one nudged the smaller with his elbow and began to raise his weapon. Instantly, his body blackened and fell aside as a steaming husk. Before the second giant could respond, his own face began to rot and drip from his skull. A moment later he toppled before the doorway.


    With a wave of his hand, the rudra sent the enormous corpse hurtling across the room, then proceeded into the throne room.


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    Indech sat upon his throne, laughing and speaking with a woman fomorian that knelt before him. Seeing the rudra enter, he stood to his full height of sixty feet, glaring down at the intruder. He beat a hand against his chest, speaking his own name in a booming voice.


    "Indech!"


    The other fomorians copied the gesture of the king, and their voices rang out, singing his name.


    When the clamor died, Indech looked down on the rudra and commanded, "Pitiful human, bow before the most mighty Indech!"


    The rudra replied coldly, his voice rasping and slow, "I do not take orders from kings."


    As the giants began to roar, he reached out a hand to the king. With a strained scream, the mighty fomorian fell to his knees. His veins turned black, and bulged from his skin.


    Fomorians screamed and ran while others bellowed and attacked. None came within ten yards without being hurled backward. One clever giant tossed his gigantic axe at the elder rudra, which stopped midair, some distance away, spinning in place. Suddenly it darted back at the giant, nearly severing his head with the returned force.


    The stone atop the rudra''s staff began to glow a dull green, and soon Indech''s eyes followed. The king struggled as the black magic converted his still-living body into a ghoul, screaming in horror and pain throughout the long process.


    Then, without another word, the rudra turned and began a steady, pain-filled walk from the chamber, with his servant in tow.

 Volume III: Chapter 1 - Bloodstone

    1


    Bloodstone


    Oydd paused at the brink of the clear water. All the silt had settled to the bottom, forming a soft layer a few inches deep¡ªalong with a tan, spongy substance.


    The rudra hesitated before stepping into the shallow water. It soaked greedily into the hem of his dry robes.


    "We''re going through that?"


    "Why not?" Oydd asked.


    "It may look clear, but we''ll stir up all sorts of filth," Jeshu responded.


    Oydd sighed, but pressed forward without addressing the dryad''s concerns.


    Jeshu followed after the rudra. The mouseling climbed inconsequentially higher on his shoulder, warily eyeing the now clouded water that swirled about the dryad''s feet.


    After a few minutes of wading through the flood, Jeshu commented, "Actually, I thought it would smell worse."


    "This temple was abandoned hundreds of years ago. The smell of death is long dissipated."


    "And no one has been here since?"


    Oydd shrugged. "The worshippers of Vidine were slaughtered¡ªmostly arachane, I believe¡ªby the worshippers of Serinyes. Some say the goddesses themselves fought here and Vidine was struck down. Certainly Serinyes'' followers have no reason to return."


    "And Vidine''s?"


    "Mostly dead. Scattered to worship in other places. Looters picked the place clean afterward. Anything left behind is likely cursed." With this, Oydd glanced at the mouseling, and emphasized the final word.


    "We should have brought Cricket just in case. With Scorpion gone, we could really use his... expertise."


    Oydd sighed again. "I don''t disagree, but honestly I had to get away from him for a bit. Until he molts at least. I can''t stand another minute of his questions. Questions he can''t hear the answers to, mind you. But that doesn''t stop him." Oydd picked his way around a ruined column protruding from the waters.


    Jeshu tried to hide a smile. "I can''t say I blame you. But you can''t avoid him forever."


    "And I won''t. Like I said... just until he molts. Then I''m willing to put up with him." Oydd reached a set of steps leading up from the flooded corridor and waded onto dry ground. He wrung the water from his robes, then waited for the druid to join him.


    The black stones of the temple spread out in five hallways, like a fan¡ªthe center corridor somewhat wider and more pronounced. The keystone of the archway featured the symmetrical emblem of a spider, demonic in its proportions, with a horned abdomen and spiny, spindly legs.


    "Spider worshippers," Jeshu said with disdain.


    "You would think so. But more likely snake worshippers! Vidine though is usually depicted as an arachane..."


    "Usually?" Jeshu asked, surprised.


    Oydd forced a laugh. "Sometimes as nothing more than a spider, sometimes as a winged dhampir, and... even as a man. History is inconsistent." Oydd walked along the five archways, studying the symbols etched on the stones. "You know, it''s funny you think they would worship spiders. It would be like the dhampiri worshiping bats. They view themselves as superior to bats. But I realize it''s not absurd. Honestly, I almost asked, would the dryads worship trees? But we both know the answer to that."


    Jeshu opened his mouth but said nothing.


    "Regardless, Vidine''s followers worshiped serpents, which is why serpents are yet a symbol of revenge."


    "Revenge, betrayal. I get them rightly mixed up."


    "Really? I see them as more of opposites. You know Bale was enticed to betray Serinyes at Vidine''s urging."


    "So his betrayal was part of her revenge," Jeshu countered pointedly.


    "I still don''t see them as similar, because one means to strike the first blow, and one means to retaliate."


    "Semantics," Jeshu stated.


    "Yes, we were debating semantics," Oydd snapped, then took a calming breath.


    Jeshu peered down one of the smaller tunnels and saw nothing but more tunnel stretching ahead. "I didn''t know Bale fought alongside Vidine. But they still lost?"


    Oydd nodded. "Bale, Vidine, and her sister Vellasay. Combined they stood no chance against Serinyes. This way, I think. Patches, I want you to... damnit!"


    Oydd looked at the dryad''s shoulder but the mouseling was already gone.


    *****


    Patches entered a small chamber lit by a luminous moss, with three sarcophagi¡ªtwo of plain, smooth stone, and a third, more prominent, on a raised dais, with sockets to inlay jewels. Though any such jewels had long ago been pilfered. The mouseling tried to lift the lid, but it was far beyond her means. She placed her eyes level with the crack as if to peek through, which also proved a futile effort.


    Be careful, child, the rudra''s voice echoed in her head. Do not touch anything!


    Why would I touch anything? Patches thought in annoyance as she wiped the dust from the lid of the sarcophagus, revealing an etched partisan¡ªa symbol of royalty.


    The mouseling hopped down and inspected a nearby wall where the cracks looked unusually deep. Something seemed off about the wall, so she stuck her knife between two small bricks and began to chisel away at the old mortar.


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    *****


    "You''re not going to call her back?"


    "Do you think that would work?" Oydd asked. "I decided, rather, to convey my own apprehension. I let her feel it. I thought, perhaps, that might make more of an impression on her than barking an order." Still, the rudra seemed resigned.


    "Is this it?" Jeshu asked, pointing at a thin lattice of crimson minerals crawling through the stonework.


    "Yes," Oydd answered, tapping his plain metal staff against the wall. "But let''s press on a bit and look for a higher concentration."


    As they continued down the central hallway, the lines of red streaking the wall grew thicker and thicker, until each strand was as wide as a finger.


    "I need a solid piece at least as big as my fist. Ideally much larger, to ensure there are no cracks."


    Jeshu reached out and felt the smooth, glossy material. It bulged from the wall like a vein. "This is godsblood?"


    "Well, I mean... not literally. But yes. It tends to form decades, if not longer, after the casting of powerful sorceries, or some other magical trauma."


    "Look at this? It has to have grown over the years! Almost like it''s living."


    "Almost?" Oydd asked with the crack of a smile. "We''re almost to the source." He pointed ahead with his staff.


    Thick strands of the blood-red stone spread from the ceiling like branching lightning. Oydd followed the deposits to a chamber of worship, adorned with a pulpit, two rusty braziers and a sacrificial pit¡ªa feature distinct to temples of Vidine, in lieu of an altar.


    Oydd walked beneath the thickest mineral deposits and stopped before a cracked wall. "Strike here." He placed a pale hand against the crumbling stone, clutching his staff with Bale''s claw.


    Jeshu readied his great hammer with both hands, and made an overhead swing. The walls of the room shook, and red dust sprinkled from the ceiling.


    The druid struck again, and this time the black stone crumbled away, revealing a vein of godsblood as thick as the druid''s waist, with weblike branches extending in every direction through the wall. It resembled the massive termite hills the druid had once seen on the surface.


    Oydd licked the lips of his beak. "I only really have need of so much. But let''s take three pieces just in case. Can you break it off here?"


    Jeshu reached in with his bare hand and grabbed a sizable chunk, breaking it from the lattice. "Like this?"


    Oydd grabbed the piece. He ran his hand over the smooth red stone and inspected it for cracks. "Yes. Two more like this." He stepped back to allow the dryad room to work.


    *****


    Patches removed another brick and tried again to fit through the hole. Her ears squeezed through, which temporarily blocked out the dim light. She felt her ears pop back up in the darkness, and a moment later her entire body had slipped through. The light returned, falling upon another sarcophagus. This one had no lid. She scurried up the side and looked inside, then nearly screamed. Tucked in the bed of the sarcophagus she saw a gigantic, mummified spider. No, not just a spider¡ªan arachane, like Damien. Four of its eight legs lay stuffed in the cracks between its abdomen and the stone rim. The other four folded across its waist, and its two arms lay in a cross against the humanoid torso. Magical runes were etched all along the edges of the container to preserve the body. At first, Patches thought they did a poor job, until she remembered how old the temple was meant to be.


    A thin, rusted tiara sat atop its gaunt face, tangled in straggly locks of black hair. The mouseling sniffed the tiara, then winced at the acrid smell and stuck out her tongue. Other than that, the arachane wore no clothing, and the mouseling pouted in disappointment before noticing three ceramic vessels near the opening where she¡¯d entered.


    Based on her meager knowledge of arachane culture, two of the three were likely filled with precious organs. She knew, for example, that the arachane removed the eyes of the dead so that they could receive new eyes in the world beyond. The last vessel would contain the deceased''s most valuable possession.


    Patches hopped back up on the sarcophagus and counted eight holes on the corpse''s face. Which meant one of the vessels likely contained eight eyes. They would be terribly old though, which made it less gross.


    Still, only a one in three chance of stumbling upon a jar full of eyes, so she had to take the chance.


    Patches looked over the first container and found no opening. Rather, it presented itself as an egg to be cracked. So she grabbed her knife by the tip, and rapped the butt against the clay a few times before deciding to rather lift the whole thing and dash it against the bricks.


    The ceramic egg cracked and bits of tile flew in all directions, along with a flaky black sludge. Some spider organ, she guessed.


    Patches grabbed a second vessel, and this time brought it up to her ear with a gentle shake. She heard something metallic scraping inside. Definitely not eyeballs.


    Patches threw the clay egg against the bricks and it shattered. She hurried to clear the debris with her nose and found a bit of delicately thin silver chain. The mouseling slipped the nub of her amputated hand through the loop and lifted it from the dusty shards of pottery. A diamond shaped black stone hung from the chain. It rotated slightly as it dangled, sending the greenish light from the moss dancing around the tiny tomb.


    Entranced by the amulet, Patches did not, at first, register the long, slow hiss coming from the open sarcophagus. When she did, she squeaked in alarm and dropped the amulet. Instantly, the sound stopped.


    Patches flattened on all fours, trying to look as small as possible, eyeing the room for motion. She felt the tiny hairs standing on end all over her body. Gingerly, the mouseling reached out again for the pendant. No sooner had she touched the gleaming black gem, than the corpse twitched and a shaking hand rose from the sarcophagus with an unearthly moan.


    Patches dropped the amulet and the mummy''s arm fell still again.


    The mouseling crouched for an eternity in the still, quiet darkness deciding what to do next.


    *****


    Mouseling! Oydd called out.


    He knew the words reached her, but he heard no response. In irritation, he called out again. Mouseling, we have what we came for. If you wish to leave with us, come to where the five passages meet. We will not wait long for you.


    Jeshu walked at the rudra''s side with his hammer on his shoulder. With each step he took, a few of the frost crystals jostled loose from his barklike skin, only to spread again from the magical hammer. The ice no longer seemed to bother him at all. In his other hand, the dryad held a burlap sack bulging with rocks. He gripped the neck low to prevent the contents from moving, and took extra care to not swing that arm.


    The bag smelled of struck flint.


    Oydd muttered under his breath.


    "Take your own advice," Jeshu said.


    "Pardon?"


    "Rather than tell her what to do, coax her with thoughts of her own wellbeing."


    "What do you mean?" Oydd asked.


    "Remind her of the flooded tunnel. If she wants to remain dry, it will be on my shoulder."


    Oydd laughed and reached out again to the mouseling with nothing more than a clear image of the now murky water with all sorts of unseen bits floating beneath the surface.


    Not a minute passed before the mouseling came scurrying from a side tunnel. But she looked oddly panicked. When she saw the others, she glanced behind, then quickly hopped onto the dryad''s shoulder, cluthing her satchel to her side.


    "Where were you?" Oydd asked, only slightly irritated.


    Patches thought a moment, then said, "I don''t want to tell you."


    As they waded back through the flooded passage, Oydd noticed the mouseling trembling.


    "Is everything all right?"


    Patches jumped at the sound of his voice.


    "Yes," she said, very quietly. "It''s just that I didn''t touch anything like you said."


    "Oh..." the rudra mused. "Was it that hard on you?"


    Patches nodded and took a steadying breath, her eyes never leaving the dark tunnel behind them.

 Pressing Matters

    2


    Pressing Matters


    When Oydd neared the tower of Euna Brae, he saw Bax waiting with the azaeri guards from some distance. The gnome ran excitedly to meet the group, then walked a few feet in front of Oydd and Jeshu as they covered the last stretch, bubbling over with conversation about mundane issues in the keep.


    "If you don''t mind, Bax, I''m tired from our trek, and I don''t really have the patience to listen right now."


    "Oh, sorry... I''ve just been so bored."


    Jeshu responded. "What about Cricket? I figured he''d be driving you mad."


    "He''s molting."


    "Oh, thank God!" Jeshu breathed, then looked to Oydd embarrassed.


    "Well, finally some good news," Oydd added. "Where is he?"


    "I don''t know. He told me to give him some privacy." Bax dropped the conversation obediently, but still followed the others as they reached the steps to the upper floors. Oydd groaned before beginning the climb and eventually Bax couldn''t keep himself quiet any longer. "If your knees hurt, why don''t you just float yourself up?"


    "Float myself?"


    "Yes, I''ve seen you do it."


    "Well, I know what you mean, but I had to think for a moment. It would be... more tiring. Walking uses less energy. Either way, I''m moving the same amount of weight, but moving things with my mind tires me out more quickly. Surely you understand the drain of using magic?"


    "I... don''t," Bax replied.


    "Really? I assumed creating illusions was an incredible drain."


    "Not the way I do it."


    "What does that mean? I''ve seen you wear yourself out."


    "Oh," the gnome thought. "But making a fake wall takes less energy than making a real wall."


    "Not... what I meant at all," Oydd replied.


    Jeshu jumped into the conversation to alleviate the rudra''s frustration. "Did you know Bax had a wife?"


    "I did?"


    "You told me you did."


    "Oh, that''s reassuring. I thought I might have imagined it."


    "The way you described it, she seemed real."


    "Oh, she was real. But I couldn''t remember if we were married. I mean... I remember asking her..."


    "Don''t stress yourself," Oydd said, "I know you have problems with your memory."


    "...and then I remember living together for years afterward, and having twin boys."


    "Well," Jeshu said, "it sounds like you were successful."


    Bax blushed. "They would be in their teens now... but they died of rabies." Bax only looked sad for a second, before adding, "She was a picklateer!"


    "You told me she was a cheese maker," Jeshu interjected.


    "You can be two things," Bax countered matter-of-factly, plowing on as if he hadn''t been interrupted. "She would pickle anything. Mushrooms, gizzards, cucumbers. One time she pickled a whole pheasant, feathers and all. It was... It was... a botched job, really. Not anything to brag about, pickled pheasant. But I couldn''t stop her."


    "What was her name?" Oydd asked.


    "I don''t remember," the gnome said sadly.


    "But you remember her face?"


    "No..."


    "Hmm..." Oydd considered the problem. "Perhaps I could try to look through your memories some time and see if I can help."


    "Oh..." the gnome stopped halfway up the third flight of stairs. "Let... let me think about it."


    The rudra nodded and continued his climb. He didn''t notice the gnome¡¯s absence until climbing another three floors in peaceful silence. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw only the druid.


    "I''m heading over to the annex. I''d like to be alone for now. Can you leave the bloodstone in the lower lab?"


    "Of course," the dryad gave a slight bow and the two parted ways.


    *****


    Patches'' nose nearly touched Pip. She looked him deep in the eyes. She thought he seemed distraught too.


    "Don''t worry, Pip. She couldn''t make it through that little hole. I barely made it through. I know you''re worried, but she can''t get us."


    Pip nodded in agreement.


    Patches lifted the necklace again and she let it spin in the air between them, entranced by the polished black stone and the dancing light.


    She buried the pendant under some loose dirt at the back of her new burrow and started to leave, but hesitated. She returned and dug up the necklace then carried it around in her teeth, as if looking for something. Ultimately, she decided to stuff it again in her satchel.


    The mouseling emerged from her tunnel behind stacks of unsorted curios in the azaeri witch''s old laboratory and ran to the rope bridge that led to the gigantic hanging crustacean. Her undead ladybug landed next to her.


    She stared down at the distant cavern floor, then off as far as she could on the horizon, where she sensed something, even at a great distance, crawling toward her on eight desiccated legs.


    "Even if she gets through the hole, Pip, we are awfully high up, and she can''t reach us," she reassured the familiar.


    Patches scurried along the wooden planks at full speed, only stopping at the far side to stick her whiskers over the edge and sniff the great height. She disappeared into the hollow shell.


    The mouseling descended at a brisk pace around the spiral, dropping down a ladder into the flooded portion of the shell. Unlike Vidine''s temple, this water was jet black. And not only for the lack of illumination. She had fallen in once, and smelled of rotten eggs for days. However, this time she hopped over a piece of driftwood with practiced ease, climbed a slanted beam of rotten wood, and landed quite dry on the far side.


    Patches located her half-buried stash of soaps and salts and black ratling fur, along with her totems, some bright-colored string, and the large purple flask she found in Fomoria. She had sprinkled a small dose from the bottle every day on Cricket''s sleeping mat until the concoction began to smell spoiled. She had another use for the jar, but had not yet stomached the nerve to clean it out.


    Patches unlatched her pouch with a quick motion of her stub wrist, and fished out the necklace. However, before she found a place for it, she heard a voice. Not spoken out loud, but in her mind.


    It only took a moment to place the voice as Oydd''s, but something felt off, and the rudra spoke back and forth to himself.


    Patches'' ears twitched, focusing on the sound.


    ...to say I am not yet old. Is it designed to unsettle me? Why would I taunt you, Magus? I don''t know if you do it willingly. But you are inconsistent. You told me there was yet a narrow window before my death, and now you seem to think I have time. Not so, Magus, this is the first I''ve spoken to you. Did another foretell your death? I know of no such thing¡ªonly that you yet age. Perhaps he knew more? Perhaps he knew less. Oydd growled in irritation.


    Patches hopped back across the black pool and climbed through a small opening in the ceiling, where she found the rudra seated on the floor, staring at a blank wall. A black orb appeared in the shadows near him, while another drifted away and vanished.


    The new orb floated within arms reach, and Oydd swatted it away in annoyance. Before his hand touched it, it vanished.


    Quiet! They will hear us!


    Oydd looked over his shoulder, directly at the mouseling and forced a weak smile. He waved her over. Patches came to his clawed left hand, but bit her lip and moved to his other side. The rudra reached out and scratched her neck, massaging the muscles, pinching with his thumb and forefinger.


    "Hello, Child..."


    Patches looked up into his eyes. "...That''s what Licephus called me¡ªChild."


    "Is that all right?"


    Patches nodded,as she nestled her snout in her front paws and closed her eyes. "You were talking to yourself."


    "I know," the rudra replied. "It helps me think."


    "What are you thinking about?"


    "Hmm¡­ Nothing you need to trouble yourself with. It is on me to plan our descent into Sheol, and it weighs on me."


    Patches yawned and curled up against his warm robes.


    *****


    "Okay, any new orders of business?"Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Cricket sat in a circle of black clones in the middle of the training hall. One of the clones held hands with its azaeri girlfriend. She wore an iron cuirass and her spear lay near her side. The clone held his chin up with a smug look on his face. Some of the other shadows eyed him uncomfortably.


    One of the clones, missing both his antennae, raised a hand.


    "Yes, yes..." Cricket felt his own freshly molted antennae. "You''ve brought up this issue before. I don''t know why you don''t have antennas. I''m going to have to ask Oydd, and he just got back."


    A second clone, the only other clone missing his antennae, raised his hand as well.


    "Yes, is it the same question?" Cricket asked.


    The shadow nodded.


    "Okay, same answer, then, remember?"


    The clone put his hand down sheepishly.


    "Anything else?" No one stirred. "Really? Okay, great. Well, I have one matter. By the end of this week, we''ll have nearly sixty men¡ªand women," he pointed at the female azaeri soldier, "in the keep, and that''s more than I can train myself. So I wanted to ask for help. Ask!" Cricket repeated, seeing some anxious looks. "Who wants to help?"


    The smug shadow raised his hand first and stood up. If possible, he held his chin higher.


    "No need to stand up. Just a show of hands please."


    Nearly all of the clones volunteered, except for one who did raise his hand for a second before putting it back down.


    "Okay, great. This is more to get a feel. It will be a different set of clones on the actual day. But this gives me a good idea of your... interest."


    The smug clone scowled.


    "Except for you. I won''t... send you away. I remember our deal."


    The clone folded his arms, apparently satisfied.


    "Okay, then, dismissed!" The shadows began to vanish and Cricket plopped on his back, looking exhausted.


    Jeshu hovered over him. "I thought the effort was getting easier on you?"


    "Jesh!" Cricket smiled. "Making them, yes. But... there''s just so much drama! And that''s getting more draining. Any luck?"


    "Yes, I think," the druid smiled. "Time will tell."


    "Where''s Oydd?"


    "He went across the bridge. He said he wanted to be by himself. I think that''s how he recharges."


    "Oh," Cricket said, a bit dismayed. He suddenly smiled. "I can hear you."


    "I see that. That''s... wonderful for everyone," he said without a hint of sarcasm. "Your shell looks shiny and new as well."


    "Thanks!" Cricket lifted an arm before his face in admiration and sat back up. "How... are you doing?"


    Jeshu laughed. Deep scars marred his face as well as most of one arm along with that side of his torso. It creaked when he moved it, and bits of his dry skin still hung in tatters. "So tired, Cricket. It hurts to move."


    "Well I hope you heal up quick."


    Jeshu started to respond, but a pained look crossed his face and he clenched his jaw as if biting down on an unspoken thought. Finally, he simply replied, "Thank you."


    Cricket rolled back over his head and pushed from his arms, springing from the floor and landing on his feet. He wiped the dust from his palms. "Well... I want to catch up, but my brain is fixated on something else."


    "That''s all right. I understand," Jeshu answered.


    "Great, thanks," Cricket shouted as he ran for the door. "No offense. I''ll talk to you later."


    And before the druid had a chance to speak another word, he was left alone in the hall with the sole remaining clone and his girlfriend as they awkwardly tried to kiss around her beak.


    *****


    When Oydd made his way back across the rope bridge, he found Cricket sitting near the far edge, waiting for him.


    The insect smiled and waved. Patches reached him first, and nuzzled her cheek against his shiny black shell before disappearing into the tower.


    "I see you finally molted."


    Cricket smiled. "Yeah." He impulsively ran his wrist over one of the new antennae, cleaning it. "You got what you wanted?"


    "I did," Oydd said. "Assuming Scorpion was successful, then I only need one more reagent."


    "Scorpion''s back?"


    "You haven''t spoken with him?"


    Cricket shook his head.


    Oydd sighed. "I suppose he''s still angry at you."


    "He was angry at me?"


    "You... didn''t notice he was avoiding you?"


    "I noticed he was avoiding me, but I didn''t know he was angry. What''s he mad about?"


    "You... can''t think of anything you might have done to offend him?" Oydd prodded.


    "What? No... what did I do?"


    The rudra sighed again. "Cricket... nothing is ever your fault."


    Cricket beamed. "Thank you..."


    "You missed the tone. Walk with me."


    Cricket sprang to his feet and followed the rudra toward his lower lab.


    "Was there a specific reason you were waiting for me?" Oydd asked as they walked.


    "Not really. I did want to talk to you since I can hear again. When I heard you were back, I ran straight here. I have a thousand questions."


    "I am the only one you''ve been able to talk to for over a month."


    "You... seemed tired of using telepathy, so I''ve been saving up questions."


    "My god, is that what you think?"


    Cricket furrowed his brow in confusion.


    "Ah... nothing. But I don''t know if I have the patience for a thousand answers right now. Why don''t you narrow it down to a few hundred of the most pressing questions."


    "Oh, all right..." Cricket scratched his head. "Why haven''t we gone to Sheol yet?"


    "The short answer is that we are not prepared. But I am working on it."


    "Why aren''t we prepared?"


    "First, we need a means to see in the dark. And it is not normal darkness. It is heavy and pressing." Oydd shuddered. "We will also need a plan to ensure we are not overrun. You are particularly vulnerable, and we need to devise a way to maximize your defenses."


    "I mean... four shields, right?"


    Oydd stroked his tentacles like a beard. "First... we must find a way to see through the magical darkness. What is your next question?"


    "Bax said there are parasitic wasps that lay their eggs inside of insects, and then they hatch and eat you from the inside out."


    "Not a question, but¡ªwhen did you talk to Bax? You said you ran straight here. And he thought you were still molting."


    "I did. I ran into him on the way."


    "And he took the time to... never mind. Those wasps are very small. They prey on other small insects like Pip."


    "I knew he was pulling my leg! Wait, is Pip safe?"


    "Yes. He is already dead."


    "Okay..." Cricket tried to focus. "Okay, I know you''re tired and... busy... so last question for now. You remember that betraying mask?"


    "You still have that?"


    "Or... betrayer''s mask, I think you called it..."


    "I told you to get rid of it. Why are you still holding onto it?"


    "Because it makes me look like I have a nose. Anyway, I think Patches stole it. I haven''t seen it in ages."


    "And the question is?"


    "Okay, hear me out. What if I said ''I swear allegiance to Shisu'' and then I put the mask on and fought her. Do you think it would work?"


    "Work?" Oydd asked.


    "You know... like... give me Bale''s blessing."


    "No, I do not. Nor do I know if the mask actually offers any benefits. It represents betrayal, and it is cursed. That is all I know."


    "Okay, but that got me thinking. About, you know, how Bale knows who his servants are. And I got to thinking about Ghajan."


    "The ettin?"


    "Yes, and Onubi..."


    "Was that his name," Oydd said sadly.


    "And when Ghajan cut off Onubi''s head, how did Bale know it wasn''t Onubi cutting off his whole body?"


    "I honestly don''t know," Oydd answered with surprising patience.


    "Because if Onubi quickly said something like, ''I sacrifice my body!'' then maybe he would have stolen Bale''s favor from Ghajan."


    "He still would have died, since a head can''t survive on its own."


    "Ah, but that brings me to my point. Your head can!"


    "What?" Oydd snapped, finally frustrated.


    "You told me."


    "I told you no such thing."


    "You said all your vital organs are in your head."


    "Oh..." the rudra thought. "I suppose I did."


    "So you could actually do it?"


    "Do what?"


    "Sacrifice your body to Bale. Imagine how strong you''d get."


    "Is this purely hypothetical?"


    "Well..."


    "Because... setting aside the fact that I don''t want to just be a head in a jar..."


    "I picture you floating around..."


    "Setting aside that fact, I don''t believe the Right Hand drew their power from Bale at all. I believe they gained favor with the Ancient, Titaga, an elder god of Chaos."


    "But it''s interesting, right?"


    Oydd paused as he reached for his keyring and began to unlock the lab. "Yes... it is interesting."


    "Okay, so last question..."


    "I thought that was the last one. Have I even answered any of your questions? You seem more interested in asking them than hearing my responses."


    "You said, while we''re talking about the ettin, that my khopeshes had some sort of anti-magic property."


    "Yes. I have seen them dispel dark magic more than once..."


    "Right, they cut right through it. And my shadows are dark magic."


    "Yes..."


    "So why doesn''t it... you know, dispel them? When I hit them..."


    "An excellent question. I am not going to make more guesses about your weapons. I have told you I would analyze one if you left it with me and you refused."


    "But it''s weird, right?"


    "You''ve been saving up these questions since you became deaf?"


    Cricket paused in thought as Oydd began to prepare his instruments. "What''s wrong?"


    "Hmm? Oh, I am thinking about my own... projects."


    "Like?" Cricket probed.


    "Well, Skunk, really. And... I do think he is an abomination... but I am responsible for him."


    "An aberration!" Cricket corrected.


    "What?"


    "It''s something you said a long time ago. An abomination makes it sound like an affront to nature... or god or something. Aberration described him better."


    "You know what that word means?"


    "No, I forgot, but I remember it sounded right when you explained it to me."


    "Well, that isn''t really the issue on my mind. His arm had continued to wither after touching Bale''s hammer. Which is... astounding. And on top of that, his body is beginning to decay. His immune system seems to be attacking his own cells, and I can''t stop it. If I don''t think of a solution, he will die... again."


    Oydd placed his scalpel down and slumped into a chair. "Actually, I think I need to rest. It can wait until later."


    "Oh... I''ll get going then?"


    Oydd nodded, only half listening, and the insect stood about awkwardly for a minute before stalking toward the exit.


    "Cricket," Oydd called out. "It is... nice being able to talk to you again."


    "Oh, yeah." He hopped back for a second and drew a jade khopesh, placing it on the autopsy table. "Just... get it back to me as fast as you can."


    Oydd smiled and nodded as the insect ran off.

 Dark Machinations

    3


    Dark Machinations


    Oydd removed the final, rusted plate of armor from Gad and tossed it on the pile. Two copper studs still protruded from the discolored skin, but the rudra left them. The half troll''s skin would grow over them in time, like it had the others, and removing them would be far too invasive a surgery while Gad was conscious. And the half troll recovered incredibly quickly from the most powerful anesthetic the rudra could produce.


    Oydd began to operate on the trollblood''s jaw, just as Scorpion moved into his periphery. The rudra jumped and nearly dropped his scalpel at the sight of the ratling. While the more gruesome side-effects from the witch''s experimentation had begun to clear up¡ªincluding the pustules, the hair loss, and the rancid smell¡ªthe ratling still stood a foot taller than before, and the rudra found his visage more menacing, partly due to his withdrawn lips, which made his teeth more pronounced, and his single, bulging eye.


    "What is it?"


    "I called your name twice," Scorpion answered.


    "Oh... I''m sorry, I was... somewhere else."


    "What are you doing to his jaw?"


    "It was fused shut. Which wasn''t really an issue, until a cluster of polyps blocked his nasal passage, and he was unable to breathe. If you''ll pardon me, I''ll need to work while we talk."


    "Do what you want. Seems like a waste, since he doesn''t need to breathe anyway."


    "I suppose he would survive, but I''m not certain. He is hovering on the brink of undeath and some sort of resuscitation."


    "Ew..." Scorpion said. He tossed a small, blood-soaked pouch onto the table. "This what you wanted?"


    "Careful. At least put it on a tray." The rudra moved the bag himself to a more suitable location, and drew the string to peek inside. "Excellent. Yes, this is perfect."


    "I have a surprise, too." The ratling grinned and placed a bundle on the table, wrapped in black cloth.


    Oydd raised a brow as he reached for the package. He rolled it over and delicately pulled apart the folded cloth, revealing a set of twisted, slightly curved horns, each just over a foot in length, emitting a soft, violet light.


    "Careful. The ridges on the spirals are razor sharp."


    "Oh, my. Where did you..."


    "I took them from a dhampir assassin. She was regenerating so fast I had to rip them from her head before I could get her to stay dead. They''re Bale''s, right?"


    Oydd lifted one of the horns carefully in his fingers, inspecting it. "Magnificent."


    Scorpion smiled again until he heard Cricket''s voice. His remaining eye twitched, and he turned to leave, walking past the insect without so much as a nod, then shouted back to Oydd. "I''ll trade them for his arm..."


    "We don''t have his arm," Oydd said, more to Cricket as the ratling left.


    Cricket shrugged. "We''ll find it." Cricket watched the retreating ratling.


    "He''s huge. Like... four feet now!" Cricket scratched a mandible. "Which isn''t much, really..."


    "He was three feet. He''s more than double his original weight. It''s a result of the infusion of ogre blood. He''s quite lucky she used a species with which ratling''s are compatible. You should have seen some of the other... subjects."


    "That doesn''t sound right..."


    "What?"


    "You said going from three feet to four feet is more than twice the size." Cricket''s face scrunched up. "That doesn''t sound right."


    "Well, it is."


    The insect found his jade khopesh sitting off to one side of the room, near the wall that opened to the exterior. Without the fog, he could see for miles, which still made the insect a bit dizzy. He looked back down at the weapon.


    "Did you get a chance to¡ª"


    "I did," Oydd said without looking up. A sudden crack reverberated through the room and a blob of troll blood spattered on the rudra''s beak. He wiped it off in disgust.


    "You know, your tentacles are getting longer."


    "Really?" Oydd asked, amused. He absently stroked a tentacle with his clawed hand.


    "You don''t ever... cut yourself?"


    "With the claw? Hmm..." The rudra thought. "They... had a will of their own at first, but it has mingled with my own, and now it''s as if it does not want to cut me. I can feel the divine mana coursing through my blood, and... don''t touch that!"


    Cricket placed the beaker back so quickly that it tipped over and began to spill a viscous green liquid. He stood it back up hastily enough to save half the contents.


    Oydd grimaced and placed his scalpel down pointedly. "To answer your question, yes, I finished analyzing the weapon¡ªdon''t touch that either!"


    Cricket hadn''t quite touched the black leather tome yet, and considering Oydd''s reaction, he decided not to.


    "That belonged to the other rudra. It contains priceless notes."


    "And?"


    "And what?" Oydd taunted, still a little perturbed.


    "And what does it do? My khopesh. I mean... how does it do it?"


    Oydd took a moment to collect himself, trying to ignore the spilled beaker, but his tone still sounded grumpy. "It''s actually quite fascinating. I did wonder how it could be enchanted and have anti-magic properties at the same time. It''s sort of a contra¡ª"


    "But what about the antennas?"


    "What about your antennae?"


    "I asked you why my clones don''t have antennas."


    "You most certainly did not."


    "I... oh shoot. I was supposed to pass that along." Cricket scratched his head.


    "Pass it along? From your shadows? I don''t want you passing questions along from your shadows."


    Cricket hung his head. "Almost all of my questions come from my shadows. They came up with the floating head idea."


    "They have beautiful minds," Oydd snipped. "I don''t think you so much as told me they were missing antennae. But it''s consistent, I suppose. The blades themselves drain magical energy, rather than simply dispelling it. The enchantment lets you use that energy instead of your own when you create shadows. You did notice, for example, you became much more proficient in making clones right after you stole energy from the ettin? Which..." he pointed Bale''s index claw at the insect, "means it is still very dangerous to make too many shadows. You don''t know how much energy you have available."


    "What does that have to do with missing antennas?"


    "The weapons have imprinted on you... or with you?" Oydd paused to consider the wording. "Perhaps the stored energy copies your form when it is stored, not when it is used. Have you tried making clones of different shapes and sizes?"


    "It doesn''t work..."


    "Well... there you go." Oydd picked up his scalpel and turned back to Gad, but the trollblood had already started to stir. He sighed and placed the scalpel down again.


    "He won''t be able to fight as well without that armor."


    "I don''t think he wants to fight anymore," Oydd replied.


    "He wants things?" Cricket asked in surprise.


    "He does. Right now his mind is clouded. It''s more... feelings than thoughts. But¡ª"


    A sudden shrill screech echoed from outside, and Cricket ran to the ledge. However, an overhanging balcony from above made it difficult to look upward.


    "What was that?"


    "Sounded like an imp," Oydd commented, unconcerned. "Let the archers get it." His claw suddenly twitched, then began to glow much more fiercely, illuminating the flasks and walls with a sparkling amethyst gleam.


    "It hasn''t done that before."


    Bale''s horns burned through the black cloth wrapping them, and turned like the needles of a compass toward the open air of the cavern.


    "What are those!" Cricket asked excitedly.


    "Cricket, be¡ª"


    A violet streak darted across the room as a winged creature crashed into the rudra''s alchemical alembic, shattering the glass and knocking over the table. Oydd raised his clawed hand defensively, but Cricket stood dumbfounded, staring at the mess.


    Slowly he began to draw his four weapons.


    The grey-skinned creature unfurled Bale''s mighty wings, with an impressive span of twenty feet, knocking over more instruments and sending the rudra''s notes flying into the corner in a whirling gust of wind.


    The creature vanished as Cricket lunged for it. His khopesh cut through nothing but air. Mid-attack, the insect guessed at his opponent''s trajectory, and altered his three following slashes to cover multiple escape routes. But he hit nothing.


    It appeared an instant later behind Oydd, wrapping its arms around his waist. Its lashing tail knocked over a lectern, and then it vanished with the rudra as quickly as it had appeared.


    Cricket started toward the rudra''s last location, readying a strike, but hesitated, unsure if the rudra were somehow invisible simply for having touched the gargoyle.


    He froze and his antennae stiffened, sensing. The gargoyle appeared again, too close to strike with his outstretched arm. Before Cricket could make a move, he found the laboratory ripped away to be replaced by open air. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Cricket looked down at the distant ground as he started to fall, then upward, where he saw the rudra hovering.


    Oydd reached out Bale''s claw toward the insect, and Cricket suddenly felt himself rising back to the rudra''s level.


    "It wasn''t just invisible!" Cricket shouted. "It can teleport!"


    "Yes, I figured that out," Oydd yelled back.


    One floor below them, Cricket saw Scorpion standing near an opening. The ratling took up a fighting stance as he darted deeper into the tower.


    "Send me that way!" Cricket shouted.


    "I''m having trouble holding both of us!" The rudra drifted downward. He started to shout again, but snapped his beak shut with a grunt, and a sudden wave of force propelled Cricket toward the opening on the floor below.


    He crashed to the ground, rolling to mitigate the impact, and turned back just as the rudra began to plummet. Oydd placed his own hand in the palm of Bale''s claw. His tentacles began to whip about and his descent slowed.


    Cricket waited until he was certain the rudra was safe before he ran deeper into the tower after Scorpion. He came upon the mouseling first, huddled behind a doorway.


    "Did you see a gargoyle?"


    "What''s a gargoyle?"


    "Did you see Scorpion?"


    The mouseling pointed right, down the hallway, then withdrew deeper into her corner.


    Cricket stowed one of his daggers and fished around in his pack for a handful of throwing stars as he ran. He heard the sound of metal scraping against stone in the hallway ahead as he readied three shurikens between his fingers.


    Cricket skidded to a stop in the middle of an intersection, where the ratling and the gargoyle traded blows.


    "Duck!" Without waiting, he threw a fistful of shurikens and they spread as they flew. Scorpion rolled backward, barely dodging one, as two bounced from the gargoyle''s stonelike skin.


    "Ducking wouldn''t have helped, you idiot! I was doing fine!"


    As scorpion shouted, the gargoyle appeared behind him, only to be met by a lashing dagger in the ratling''s tail. It vanished, dodging the slash, and appeared in front of the ratling, where Scorpion quickly latched onto its face near the eye socket. The gargoyle chose again to vanish into nothing.


    Cricket moved to the ratling''s right side, to cover his missing arm.


    "What is this?" Scorpion spat.


    "I''ve seen it before, but I don''t¡ª"


    Cricket felt an arm and a tail wrap around him, and instantly he was ripped away from the hallway. He started to swing a dagger, but noticed at the last second he was aiming for Bax''s nose, and stopped.


    "Hey!" the gnome called out cheerily. He held a lantern up to the insect''s face that illuminated a very small, uneven cavern no bigger than the mess hall at the Warren''s.


    Black smoke billowed from the lantern, and Cricket had to place a hand before his eyes to stop the orange light from blinding him.


    "Turn it down!" Cricket reflexively reached out for the lantern, but his hand passed straight through it.


    "Oh, sorry, it''s not real... I¡ª"


    The room went dark.


    "Oh, brandysnaps!" Cricket heard the gnome''s voice in the dark. "You convinced me it wasn''t real."


    "Can you do something dimmer, like a mushroom?" Cricket asked.


    "Hold on. I can''t make something without forgetting something. Let me pick something unimportant."


    A tiny, purple luminescent mushroom appeared on the ground between the two, lighting again the small cavity. Cricket saw no exit. The black smoke from the lantern still hung about the ceiling.


    "The smoke was real!" Bax said proudly. "I can make smoke!"


    A moment later, the violet light of Bale''s wings lit the room, but when Cricket turned, he saw only the Mouseling, and the light vanished.


    "Crud. Crud, crud, crud. We need a plan." Cricket stood and began to walk around the perimeter.


    "Where am..." the mouseling said, curiously inspecting her surroundings.


    Bax answered, "We''re close. I could hear fighting earlier. I think it''s just a little hole in the rock near the tower."


    "How did you get here?" Cricket asked the gnome.


    "I started here."


    Cricket shook his head doubtfully.


    Suddenly, a troubled look crossed the gnome''s face. "No, that doesn''t... did you ask me to forget something?"


    "I didn''t ask," Cricket said defensively.


    "Well, I bet I forgot how I got here. That wouldn''t be very important. Sometimes, if I have to forget something, I pick unimportant things."


    "It''s kind of important," Cricket replied.


    Suddenly the mouseling cried out, "Pip!"


    "It''s okay," the insect tried to console her. "He can take care of himself, right?"


    Patches'' lip quivered, but she thought over Cricket''s words, and slowly nodded. "But he''ll be scared without me. I''m really big to him. Like a giant."


    "He''s made it through worse." He turned to Bax. "How long¡ª"


    Scorpion came crashing down in the midst of the group, squashing the mushroom. He jumped back to his feet, looking around the cavity frantically.


    "Where are we?"


    "Trapped for now," Cricket said, simply.


    "If it were me," Bax said, "I would have just teleported you guys off the cliff!"


    "You know, he tried that!" Cricket said in amusement. "Oydd stopped me from falling."


    "Is Oydd okay?" Patches asked.


    "I... well he''d probably be here if he wasn''t, right?"


    Scorpion still scurried about the edges of the cave, sniffing the air and listening for outside sounds. Eventually he tired and leaned against the wall with a dagger gripped tight in his hand.


    "Maybe we should¡ªoo! Patches, do you have the caltrop bag?"


    "Don''t call it that..." Scorpion complained.


    "What''s that?" the mouseling asked.


    "The, um... the magic green bag."


    "It just has leaves now."


    "That''s because you want leaves," Scorpion responded.


    "It''s because we need leaves," Cricket argued. "But why?"


    Scorpion sighed. "What did you want it for?"


    "We need a plan."


    "And?" Scorpion asked, annoyed. "Caltrops to the rescue, right?"


    "If we cover the ground with caltrops, wherever that gargoyle appears, it will have to step on a caltrop."


    "Gargoyle?" Scorpion repeated.


    "Yeah, that thing that brought us here."


    "Gargoyles are just statues made of stone. They''re fictional monsters."


    "Then what would you call it?" Cricket asked.


    "It was just an imp with some sort of stone skin spell." Scorpion sat silently for nearly a minute, and surprisingly, no one else spoke. "That''s not a horrible idea. The caltrops."


    "Patches?" Cricket said.


    "I don''t want to give it to you."


    "Can you do it?"


    Patches searched through her densely packed satchel until she found the green velvet bag squished near the bottom. She opened it up and pulled out a bright red leaf.


    "It just has leaves," she said again.


    "Let me try..." Cricket coaxed. He held out his hand in a non-threatening way.


    Patches eyed him suspiciously but handed him the bag. "Sometimes it has green leaves."


    Cricket waited until the mouseling withdrew her paw, then eagerly looked inside. "Nice!" He turned the bag upside down and began to spread caltrops around the floor. After a while, they stopped falling out, and he turned it right side up to let it ''recharge'', but eventually the ground of the cave had a fairly even coat.


    "I can also make it dark," Patches said.


    "I don''t think that will help. It started out dark, but his wings lit up the place," Bax replied.


    "Wait," Scorpion inched toward the group, deftly navigating the iron spikes. "How would you make it dark?"


    "With that ring we made. I can let out a little of the magic."


    "Magical darkness can stop even sources of light. It''s more like smoke," Scorpion clarified.


    "I can make smoke," Bax offered.


    As if in response, Cricket began to cough. "No, we need less smoke. Magic darkness is better."


    Patches'' tail began to wag excitedly and she dumped out her bag. After a few minutes of sorting through trinkets, she said, "I left it somewhere. Can I have the leaf bag back? Sometimes it''s in there."


    "I have it, remember?" Scorpion patted the pouch at his side.


    Cricket handed over the green bag, ignoring him and Patches reached inside, pulling out the black, obsidian ring.


    "Hey!" Scorpion opened his pouch and furiously looked around for the ring, unsuccessfully, where he thought he had left it.


    "Oh, that''s weird," Cricket said.


    "It is?" Patches whispered.


    "Yes, it is. Rings don''t normally come out of the caltrop bag."


    "Stop calling it that!"


    Patches flinched at the ratling''s volume, but placed the ring on the ground in their midst and began poking it with her paw.


    "I''ll just let a little out. Then, if he comes back, he won''t be able to see, and we can attack him."


    "Will I still be able to see him?" Cricket asked. "I mean... Oydd says I can see heat. Will that still work?"


    Patches didn''t answer, and Cricket turned to Scorpion.


    "Don''t look at me. I think so?"


    The mouseling poked the ring one last time and the room suddenly went totally, irredeemably dark.


    "Nope." Cricket said sadly. "Ow!" he yowled.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± Scorpion sighed. "We should have just done the caltrops or the darkness. Not both."


    "That''s a really good idea," Bax joined.


    "Oh... ow... It cracked my shell."


    "You''ll live."


    "You don''t understand. I just molted."


    "I hate to say it," Scorpion added, "but if he comes now, we''re toast."


    A long silence followed.


    "Okay," Cricket said calmly. "Everyone on your knees, and feel around for caltrops. We''ll put them back in the bag for later."


    "I don''t think that will work," Scorpion said. "Patches, have you ever sent anything away in the bag?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "I think that answers my question."


    "I don''t think I can help scrounge about," Bax said with concern. "I''m kind of clumsy."


    Cricket took charge. "Okay, Scorpion and Patches, you slowly work around yourselves and make a pile of any caltrops you find, then I''ll start putting the piles back in the bag."


    "That''s not going to work."


    "Well we can''t just pile them up. It''s a really small room with an awful lot of caltrops."


    Scorpion sighed. "Fine."


    The three began groping around in the dark on their knees making piles. After about ten minutes, Cricket started stuffing the piles back into the bag.


    "Uh-oh..."


    "What?" Scorpion asked in alarm.


    "Well..."


    "What?" he repeated more sternly.


    "Well, you were right. The bag got full pretty fast, and then... well it''s not good. It... it burst. Um... it''s kind of shredded."


    Patches started to cry¡ªa loud, but not exaggerated cry that left her breathless. Cricket could hear the large tears as they splashed against the floor of the cave.


    "I''m sorry. We... we all thought it would work."


    Oddly, Scorpion didn''t take the opportunity to argue. Rather, with a very sober tone he said slowly, "The caltrops do have to come from somewhere. My uncle used to have a bag that could only take things from people who needed it more. So it was really a curse."


    "How would he know that?" Cricket asked.


    "He was clever."


    "Did you ever see the bag?"


    "He just told me about it. But it did some scary stuff."


    Patches'' crying slowed, replaced by quick breathing.


    "Stop, you''re scaring Patches!" Cricket reached out in the dark to try to pat the mouseling, but just got the tip of her tail at first, then accidentally hit one of her eyes.


    Eventually he found a patch of fur and started to pet her, and she seemed to calm down a little.


    "It''s been a while. I don''t think he''s coming back."

 Melting Flesh and Hardening Stone

    4


    Melting Flesh and Hardening Stone


    </a>


    Oydd drifted toward a dangling cage and clutched the chain with Bale''s claw. An arrow whizzed by his head from the mist below. He vaguely saw the shape of an archer in the fog readying another arrow.


    Oydd reached out with his mind and released the mechanism for the counter weight, just as a second arrow flew for his chest. As it neared, the green gem on his bracer flashed brightly, and caused the arrow to swerve toward it. The arrowhead clashed with the inlaid jewel, cracking it and sending a bright flash of green dust into the air.


    The rudra gasped as the cage began to ascend much more quickly than he had anticipated, taking him back to the upper levels of the tower. It took a moment for him to register what had happened, and then he inspected the protective charm, certain it would no longer function. Oydd released the clasp, tore the bracer from his wrist and let it fall to the valley below.


    When he reached the top floor¡ªa landing near Baba Kesu''s cluttered lab, he found three azaeri soldiers perched near the ledge. One held a crossbow, the second a longbow, and the third a billhook¡ªa spear with both a point and a hook. The long, flexible shaft bent slightly from the weight of the iron spearhead.


    Oydd gripped his staff so tightly that his knuckles popped. He signaled a crossbowman and motioned below with a wave of his arm. "Archers below. Shoot them!"


    The azaeri with the crossbow shook his head as he peered down into the mist.


    Rather, the longbowman drew and released two arrows. From his vantage point, Oydd could not see if the arrows hit their mark, but the azaeri reached for a third arrow, paused, then let it drop back into the quiver. He licked his fingers and his feathered tail dusted the landing behind him, waving lazily.


    The rudra left them momentarily and rushed into the laboratory. He rummaged through a stack of trinkets, some valuable artifacts and others rubbish, until he found a slender wand carved from blue mushroomwood with a sphere of laced agate affixed to the top. He returned to the landing to find the azaeri in a panic.


    The longbowman retreated from the ledge, while the spearman lifted his shaft at a sharp angle, aimed down into the mist like a spearfisher.


    He tensed, thrusted, then cursed with a quick click and a caw as he flapped and fluttered away from the edge.


    A ghoulish imp crawled over the brink¡ªa very slight nick in its side from the spear. The imp appeared larger than most Oydd had seen, though its skin had melted away, revealing raw, marbled muscle¡ªthe fat yellowed and dripping from an internal heat.


    In spite of himself, the rudra felt a sense of dread in the presence of the undead imp.


    "Can it teleport?"


    Oydd looked down at his side to see a terrified ratling clutching a small dagger.


    "No. No..." the rudra assured him. "Only the one with Bale''s wings."


    "What''s a Bale?"


    By his coloration, Oydd noticed the ratling hailed from the surface.


    "This one is still very dangerous. It''s a powerful ghast. Run below and muster more soldiers. Don''t die here."


    The ratling nodded in evident relief and dashed away before the rudra could say another word.


    As the winged ghast inched forward, an impossibly long, wiry tongue dripped from its glistening fangs, and the crossbowman, at last, decided to fire his readied bolt. He aimed for the joint where the wing met its shoulder, and the bolt wedged tightly into the ball socket. The wing stiffened while the other still flapped. The ghast grabbed the bolt with its wiry fingers and pulled it free, then crushed the shaft in its fist. The affected wing began to move again, but drooped noticeably lower than the other.


    The spearman lunged, skewering the imp beneath the clavicle, scraping against its grey bones.


    The pliable shaft bent against the weight of the advancing ghast and the retreating azaeri matched his pace, keeping him at a length. The imp thrashed against the spear, trying to break the wood, before wresting the hook free from its shoulder, along with a chunk of collar bone.


    The ghast leapt, tackling the spearman and sunk its fangs into the azaeri''s neck as two arrows penetrated deep into its ribs.


    "Stand back!" Oydd yelled, aiming the agate wand, and a dazzlingly bright golden bolt of light flew from the tip. It connected with the side of the creature''s face, instantly leaving a patch of seared-white flesh. The rudra fired two more blasts. The first caught it in the same spot, charring the ghast''s cheek down to the bone and blasting it away from its kill. The third blast hit the opening in its chest from the spear, and seemed to do no more than cauterize the wound, but a moment later the ghast toppled over, motionless. The crossbowman retrieved his ally''s spear and crushed the imps skull with an overhead swing of the bill.


    The rudra hovered over the steaming corpse, his wand aimed toward its heart, until he was certain the magic had left it. The ghast''s animation seemed similar to the power Oydd had used to raise a fomorian. However, he had not seen the long-term effects of that magic. This imp burned with an inner heat that the rudra would not have anticipated. Its skeleton warped and grew. The thin bones at the tips of the fingers broke through the remnants of dried skin like claws, pushing the creature''s actual claws aside. Likewise, teethlike growths from its jaw pushed its original teeth aside at crooked angles. A greenish light still glowed from within its ribcage, where, Oydd knew, the last remnants of magic leaked from its heart. Oydd still felt a magically induced terror from the still corpse.


    He approached the ledge, wearily, and watched a distant shape flapping through the fog, and then a second. And a third.


    While he stared, a distant roar shook the entirety of the cavern, setting the pebbles rumbling at his feet. The roar was at once deep and shrill, as if it came from two sources within the same being. The bellow came with such raw force that the light fog billowed away, revealing the valley, where the rudra saw a dozen or so skeletal figures lurching across the open terrain¡ªmostly gnolls and lizardmen.


    Oydd stared beyond them, unconcerned with the trivial horrors. He waited to see the source of the thunderous roar, but grew impatient and held up Bale''s hand, commanding the fog to part with a word of magic.


    He first saw only a silhouette in the parting mist. He could not discern its size at a distance, until he saw the undead soldiers marching at its feet. Gradually, the rudra made out the single ram-like horn protruding from the giant''s head, and the necklace of horse carcasses hanging from its neck.


    Even from, perhaps, a mile away, Oydd sensed the magical terror emanating from Indech, the king of the fomorians. A great, dead light burned in the king''s chest, distorting the air between them, charring the ghouls at his feet.


    *****


    Jeshu sat meditating in his chambers. He no longer required rest at the moment, but continued to meditate as more of a druidic ritual. On the surface, he performed this feat in the sunlight, communing with nature, reaching out with all his senses until he could hear the plants growing, and birds breathing, and could feel the life energy running through the streams.


    The rock was not unliving, as he originally thought. It just grew much more slowly. It aged much, much more slowly. But Orth was a living being that incorporated the stone into its body, and the rheumakin incorporated metals into their bodies. By no conscious effort, but still.


    Now, Jeshu found himself sitting in the dark, reaching out to the stone, until he could hear it. Until he could smell the salt and feel the clay, and taste the distant minerals on his tongue. It was more of a memory than anything, but he reached out and the rock heard him too, and waited for his command.


    A commotion in the hallway awakened the druid, but some time passed before he realized he was awake and that he was not the stone.


    He pieced together the sounds of battle. His bones creaked as he stood, and the dryad left his chamber to follow the azaeri soldiers that rushed by.


    He passed three bodies on the floor. Only one yet lived, and the druid paused to administer a prayer of healing before he continued. Jeshu had slowed his thoughts to the pace of the stone, and the fighting moved too quickly around him. By contrast, he felt it took him an eternity to move. For each step he took up the stairs, the azaeri around him took three.


    When he reached the landing, he saw the azaeri vanishing in bursts of violet light, with only flashes of stone claws and fangs or the whip of a tail.


    However, the opponent moved methodically, targeting his allies one by one, until only he and one azaeri remained. The druid closed his eyes, and sensed its stone skin. He reached out to it, and when the imp appeared to grab his companion, he simply made the stone grow.


    The imp screeched and disappeared, only to appear a few feet away, writhing. The azaeri footsoldier stabbed at it with his spear, but the shaft splintered against its thickening, hardening skin.


    The imp disappeared, and this time only made it a few inches, before reappearing with a horrified look on its face that stiffened as it hardened to a permanent expression. Its wide wings¡ªstill a bright violet¡ªslowly spread to their full breadth as crags sprouted from its outstretched arm. And then, stiff as a statue, it cracked, and the bulky arm crashed down to the floor.


    The lone azaeri squawked a curt thank you just before the floor began to rumble with the approach of a much larger foe.


    *****


    An azaeri commander, and a small contingent of her troops joined Oydd atop the tower as a second ghastly imp dropped onto the landing, covered in arrows, and a third hung only a few feet away in the air, its tail dangling limp and lifeless.


    Oydd began shouting at her while she was yet some distance away. "Ready the ballista!"


    The commander cocked her head, unable to hear above the din of battle, and the rudra repeated himself as he closed the distance. "We need to ready the ballista!"


    This time the commander signaled two spearman, who nodded and leapt over the ledge, gliding to one of the lower levels. Even as Oydd watched, an imp tackled one of the soldiers out of the air, slamming him back against the tower wall a floor below.


    Oydd ran to the ledge and watched the second soldier land safely, though somewhat roughly, two floors lower, where he was greeted by a handful of soldiers with bows.


    Another ghast landed near the rudra, facing away, its attention on an azaeri soldier.


    Oydd ran up behind the imp, swatted its tail away with his metal staff. As he did so, he reached out with Bale''s claw and gripped its neck from behind. The imp half-turned, taking a deep thrust to the chest from the spearman before it. The exposed flesh of its neck sizzled like bacon when it touched the violet claw. The inner light left the claw for an instant, like a red-hot ingot quenched in water. But even as the imp squirmed and died, Oydd felt a faint thrum in his claw, and a light began again to glow from within the black shell.


    As Indech drew closer, Oydd noticed that all the dead within a few yards of him appeared more blackened and skeletal. The skin had mostly melted away from the giant, making him appear more gaunt. The bones of his fingers grew to sharpened points, like claws, similar to the imp ghasts.


    The fomorian king paused a few hundred yards away, outside of the azaeri''s longbow range as the ghouls at his feet charged past.


    From atop the tower, Oydd could only discern two cave lizards and a troll, due to their size. The others were mere specks, with the imposing figure of the giant behind them. Likely gnolls, and lizardmen¡ªa few dozen at most¡ªif they were the same mix as the vanguard, whose corpses now lay buried under a thin layer of fog.


    A twenty foot silver bolt fired from below with a deafening thwump as it flew over the battlefield. The bolt missed Indech by several yards.


    Oydd reached out with his mind. Use the iron bolts first to get the trajectory! It pulls to the right when it fires.


    He heard a thin voice answer ...if you can hear us.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Cricket? Is that you?


    ...which... Oydd? We... in the rock..."


    Oydd tried to focus on the insect''s voice, but it felt like no more than a whisper. He entered the tower to shut out some of the noise, but Cricket still sounded incredibly faint.


    Can you hear me?


    Barely! Cricket answered.


    Where are you?


    We''re still in here.


    I need to know where here is...


    Inside the rock. I thought you heard that part. That gargoyle transported us here.


    There''s no such thing as gargoyles.


    That''s what Scorpion said! Here, talk to him.


    No, Cricket, stay with me.


    I can hear you, Scorpion answered. It was a grey imp. It had Bale''s wings.


    I saw him, Oydd answered. Do you know where you are?


    Cricket and Scorpion both tried to answer at once.


    Let me just talk to Scorpion for a moment.


    We''re in a small cavity in the rock. Patches and Bax are here too. I was hoping you could... hone in on us?


    Is Pip there? I could find him, since my magic is animating him.


    Oydd sensed Cricket shaking his head.


    I can''t see you, you can''t just shake your head.


    Then how did you know I was shaking my head?


    Oydd grumbled something under his breath. A short silence followed, then Oydd spoke again. Tell the mouseling to send Pip to me. They are linked. I can find you that way.


    Hurry, Scorpion added. We''re running out of air.


    The tower began to quake. At first, Oydd thought he sensed the rumble from his connection with Cricket, before realizing that the floor beneath him moved. Loose rock sprinkled down from a crack in the ceiling. He closed the link and returned to the battle, where only a handful of azaeri remained amidst the felled ghasts.


    "What was that?" Oydd addressed the commander. She clicked a response that he didn''t understand, and motioned toward the edge.


    In the distance far below, the fomorian king cracked a stalagmite free from the ground¡ªjust a plain shaft of calcium, perhaps twenty feet in length. He hefted it above his head with both arms and positioned it to throw.


    "He... he can''t possibly reach us up here..." Oydd stammered, his eyes wide.


    Indech threw the lump of rock with such force that Oydd felt the ground rumble again before it made impact.


    The stalagtite reached the top floor of the tower before it arced, tearing through one of the rope bridges that connected to the annex before colliding with the ceiling where it exploded into a thousand pieces that showered down onto the landing.


    Thwump! The ballista fired again. This time an iron bolt struck the giant''s side, but he barely budged from the impact, and the bolt seemed to bounce from the ghast''s magically toughened hide. It was difficult to tell from a distance. Though the bolt now wedged into the rock wall behind the fomorian.


    You fools! Oydd shouted at the azaeri below. Use the silver bolts!


    The rudra sensed their flustered squawks before he severed the link and yelled across the landing, "Get inside! Take cover."


    The remaining soldiers looked to their commander for confirmation, but she shook her head and pointed out at the giant. "Chi-koti."


    Oydd understood the azaeri word for arrow fire. The soldiers readied their bows and perched on the ledge, ready to leap from the tower top.


    "Can they fly that far?" Oydd asked in alarm.


    "Gleet..."


    "Glide? They won''t make it back."


    "Za-ki!" The commander held up her hand to silence the rudra. And though her tone was calm, he had heard the azaeri use the same phrase to silence her mutt¡ªa fat lizard hound¡ªwhen it begged for scraps.


    Oydd moved closer to the ledge to offer what cover he could. As the azaeri began to launch themselves into the void, another imp flapped its way up from below, and the rudra fired a shot from his agate wand. The imp crumpled under the golden blast and spiraled back down to the valley floor. However, the agate cracked and the mushroomwood began to feel warm to the touch. If the wand could fire again, it could only do so once more.


    As glittering bits of powder from the shattered stalagmite still drifted from above, a small speck altered course and flew pointedly toward the rudra. It landed clumsily on his shoulder then walked in a circle as it pulled its black wings beneath a burnt red, spotted shell.


    The rudra nearly brushed it away before recognizing the mouseling''s familiar.


    He laughed, but held out his palm, and the bug flew to an outstretched finger.


    *****


    Jeshu paused at the tenth landing¡ªonly halfway up the tower! He tried to catch his breath, which was a fairly new sensation for the druid. Perhaps he was still weak from his fight with the adamantine golem. Or perhaps he had climbed too quickly.


    Jeshu pulled the last stamina potion from his belt and chugged it all in one draught. The entire tower trembled from some unseen force far above. While waiting for the potion to take effect, he heard Oydd''s faint voice.


    Can you hear me?


    Not clearly, but yes, Jeshu answered.


    Good. Cricket needs your help. He and the others are trapped in the rock near the third floor. Where are you?


    I''m about halfway to the top. What''s going on?


    I need you to go down to help them. I am sending you the location. Can you see it?


    Jeshu looked back down the stairs with a pitiful sigh.


    Can you see the location?


    Yes, I can see it, the druid answered with a hint of agitation.


    I am occupied myself, but even if I weren''t...


    I can help them, Jeshu responded. Of course. What''s going on?


    Take him to... the link suddenly closed.


    *****


    "Jasper, tourmaline... zircon can be brown!" Bax added excitedly. "And of course, tiger''s eye. I don''t know what you call it down here, there being no tigers."


    Scorpion let out a muffled scream. "Bax, stop listing rocks! It''s so boring!"


    "Yes, it is sobering," the gnome replied thoughtfully. "Should I put it to a tune, to lighten the mood?"


    The small cavity in the rock shuddered with the vibrations of some distant tumult.


    "That''s the third one," Scorpion observed, attempting to change the subject as the gnome hummed a few bars.


    The magical darkness had dimmed until Cricket could clearly make out Patches sorting through her belongings, still scattered before her on the floor. However, he could still feel the shadows pressing on him, clinging to him.


    The insect noticed a wad of mangled bat wool with two needles sticking out of it.


    "What''s that?"


    "Hmm? Oh, I''m making a scarf."


    Scorpion scoffed. "Haven''t gotten very far..."


    If the mouseling caught his derisive tone, it did not affect her. She responded off-handedly, "It''s too hard right now. I''ll finish it when my paw grows back."


    "Oh¡ª" Cricket''s eyes went wide. He noticed Scorpion about to say something, and shot the ratling a cautious glance.


    Scorpion snapped his mouth shut and gave the insect a look that said "We have to say something."


    Cricket took a deep breath, and mulled over his words. Before he could speak, the ratling asked guardedly, "What makes you think it will grow back?"


    Cricket shot him a murderous glare.


    Patches answered absently as she tucked the wool back into her satchel. "Cricket told me."


    If possible, the insect''s eyes grew wider. Scorpion stared at him in disbelief, and Cricket fervently shook his head, denying culpability.


    Though the insect didn''t speak a word, Patches caught him furiously shaking his head. He froze, then saw the look on her face. "Oh, buddy... I didn''t..."


    "Yes you did," the mouseling said, her lip quivering.


    "I''m... sorry, I don''t... it... it won''t grow back."


    "But you said. You said when we were eating strawberries."


    "Oh... buddy, I think that might have been a dream."


    Scorpion snickered, and the mouseling''s face went red. Scorpion covered his mouth with his paw, embarrassed that the sound had escaped.


    Cricket continued, "I don''t... I don''t even know what a strawberry is. So..."


    Patches screamed hysterically, "We were on the surface, and it was night time and you gave me a strawberry, and Jade was there, but she was nice, and... and... and you promised me it would grow back." She began to huff and puff, wanting for air.


    "Patches... I''m so sorry, but that didn''t happen. I wouldn''t say that..."


    "You''re lying!" the mouseling screamed. She pulled the obsidian ring from her pouch, squinted her eyes, and the room suddenly turned pitch black again with the force of a slammed door.


    "Patches..." Cricket said softly, but the mouseling didn''t respond.


    After several minutes of quiet, the room shook again, but the source felt closer and more controlled. Cricket heard the rock parting behind him with a soft grinding noise as it buckled. In a flash, the darkness dissolved like a cobweb with a torch held to it, and the room lit suddenly from Bax''s luminous mushroom.


    The remnants of darkness fizzed and popped harmlessly over the insect''s head and burned until they were banished even from the cracks and corners.


    With the darkness dispelled, Cricket saw a large fissure in the rock, leading to the hallways of the tower, and Jeshu stood on the far side, with the mimic nestled on his shoulder.


    "Skittle!" Scorpion cried, and the mimic flashed a variety of colors, overcome by emotion.


    "Skittle?" Jeshu probed.


    "Oh," Cricket answered. "It was... Ixitl, which we couldn''t say right, and then Xitl, and then briefly Zit, which... everyone hated. And then... Xitl slowly changed to Skittle."


    "Where did this darkness come from?" the druid asked.


    "Oh, don''t worry, we''re okay. That was us. Patches made it, in case that gargoyle came back."


    "The imp? I believe he is quite dead." Jeshu looked over his shoulder. "At least half dead."


    "Half is pretty good," Cricket replied. The mimic dropped from the druid''s shoulder and approached the Scorpion. The ratling stooped to let it climb him. Rather than riding on his back, like normal, the octopus wrapped around the stump of his missing arm, then formed a reasonable facsimile of the limb with its tentacles. The mimic formed a fist, and began to shake it at the druid.


    "What''s he doing?" Jesh asked.


    "Don''t worry," Scorpion answered. "He''s not mad at you, he''s just mocking me..."


    "Oh, that fresh air feels good!" Bax practically sang.


    Cricket dropped his head to get a better look through the fissure. "Can you open it a little wider?"


    "I need to conserve energy for the fight. If you can all squeeze through, this will have to do."


    "I thought the fight was over."


    Jeshu took a moment to process what Cricket meant. "I killed one imp. There are more. Did you think it attacked alone?"


    "Well, kind of. It''s the only enemy I saw."


    "We are under siege," the druid returned.


    "By what?" Scorpion asked.


    "I saw only a few skeletal warriors, but I sense something terrible¡ªa massive darkness."


    "Dark like magic?" Cricket asked as he slipped through the thin fissure onto the paved floor.


    "Yes... dark magic. I have trained my whole life to fight the darkness, and yet it almost overwhelms me. You don''t feel it?"


    Cricket shook his head and looked back through the crack at the ratling. Scorpion addressed the insect. "Of course I feel it. I just assumed you could too."


    "Awful, awful stuff," Bax''s voice came from behind the ratling. "Truly... just... just awful."


    Cricket slid a khopesh across his chest, creating a fairly quiet hum and two shadows appeared at his side. One readied his own weapons, while the other licked his thumb and polished a smudge on his carapace. Cricket checked his own arm, noticing the same smudge and began to rub it clean.


    While the Crickets ambled about, Scorpion dashed up the stairs away from the others without a word.


    By the time Bax made it through the opening in the rock, the ratling was long gone. Patches peered out from the cave, with a distrustful look, seeming content to remain where she was for the moment.


    The druid held out a hand to coax her out, but she simply stared back, half-hidden behind a crag of rock.


    A loud crash echoed from the stairwell above.


    "Are they up and down?" Cricket asked.


    "Evidently," the dryad answered, looking up the stairs. "I was headed up to assist Oydd. The... goblin infestation is actually buying us some time in the lower levels."


    "That''s horrible!" Cricket cried. "We have to help them. I told them they''d be safe here." Cricket and his shadows charged down the stairs at a reckless pace.


    "Wait," Jeshu called after them. "I''ll come with you, but I''m exhausted."


    "I''ll run ahead and prepare my mount. You can get there when you get there."


    "Mount..." Jeshu stammered. "You better not mean the axebeak!"

 Shadow Diplomacy

    5


    Shadow Diplomacy


    A large wad of web flew across the room and slammed against the kobold''s chest, knocking him back against the wall. The other kobolds¡ªtiny, wingless humanoids, distantly related to dragons¡ªscattered as their ally struggled in vain to free himself.


    One of the braver, but smaller, kobolds leapt at the forgotten shadow, only to be batted away by the flat side of his khopesh. While it could easily have been a killing blow, at the moment, Cricket preferred using his crystalline wand. He fired a web ball at the squirming kobold, then two more shots at its friends that scrambled around the small chamber, missing a skinny one, and catching a portly kobold directly in the face.


    Cricket plastered another to the wall with a blast of web, then fired at the last¡ªthe skinny kobold¡ªwho dodged again. He fired a third time, and the kobold dodged a third time.


    Cricket glowered and stalked down the remaining opponent, deflecting its tiny dagger with his bare hand. He pinned it to the ground and fired a ball of web at point blank range, directly into its eye as it squealed like a pig.


    The forgotten shadow stood, wiped the dust from his knees and opened the door to the inner chamber.


    Rusalka, the arachane, waited at the far end of the room, perched on a web of her own making next to the throne, rather than sitting upon the obsidian chair itself.


    Unlike the wretched Damien, Rusalka actually looked beautiful¡ªher slender black legs spreading along the web, her shell glistening in the violet light. Even her face looked fair, by the insect''s reckoning, despite the eight eyes and the venom dripping from her mandibles. Seven shining black eyes, indistinguishable from her shell, and one bright, almost burning violet eye.


    Under its mere gaze, the shadow felt some of the power leave his body. His arm began to smolder as if evaporating, and Cricket was forced to concentrate to avoid losing his form.


    The arachane smiled weakly.


    "I knew it would come to this," she spoke in a voice dripping with honey. "You have been a thorn in my side for too long. It is right that we should resolve this face to face."


    Before she even finished speaking, Cricket raised his wand and fired a ball of web. However, it only bridged half the distance before falling to the ground and exploding in an ugly mess of thick strands. The crystalline wand began to smoke, and Cricket brought it up to his antenna, giving it a brisk shake before he tried to fire it again.


    His shoulders slumped in disappointment, and the shadow threw the broken wand at Rusalka as he drew his daggers.


    *****


    "We can''t fight, Pip," Patches said sadly. "We''re too little."


    Pip crawled in a circle on the mouseling''s shoulder, agreeing with her assessment.


    "I know you''re brave," she said as she darted up the stairs, "but we''re not running because we''re scared. We''ll wait until we can do something and then we''ll help."


    The ladybug''s wings twitched in response, and Patches stopped on the next landing. She looked around to make sure she was safe for the moment.


    "Are you cold?"


    Pip nodded.


    The mouseling opened her satchel and pulled out a few strands of bat wool. She twisted them together with her teeth and tied it around the familiar''s neck like a scarf, making sure the loop was smaller than the insect''s head but not too tight for his neck.


    She placed him on the ground and combed the stray strands down his back with her paw.


    "There. You look very handsome."


    Pip smiled. He walked in a small circle as he spread his wings, then took off with an erratic trajectory, struggling with the added weight. Only seconds later, he plummeted back to the ground with a very, very faint thud.


    Patches frowned. "You''ll have to get used to it. It''s better than catching a cold."


    The mouseling looked behind her again, with a sigh, then pulled out her tiny knife and made a slight slit on the stump of her amputated arm.


    At the smell of blood, the undead ladybug made another wavering flight and landed near the cut. He crawled the last bit and began to drink.


    "That will give you your strength. But don''t drink too much. You don''t want to pop," she said in a mothering tone.


    She waited patiently for nearly a minute. "Okay, that''s enough." Patches wiped the blood dry with her forefinger and took off again up the steps. When she reached her burrow, she left the familiar near the entrance and scurried deeper.


    Pip started to follow.


    "No, Pip. I need you to stay here. You have to protect me while I cast a spell. That''s a familiar''s job."


    Patches peered deep into his sad eyes, almost losing her resolve. "I know you''re scared¡ªbrave and scared¡±, she said. ¡°But I can''t defend myself when I''m doing magic, so if anything tries to come in, you have to kill it, okay?"


    Pip waddled around to face the exit, and the mouseling let out a sigh of relief before disappearing deeper into her hole.


    *****


    "Because it never goes well," Jeshu argued.


    "It doesn''t never go well," Cricket replied. "It usually doesn''t go well. But that''s just because it doesn''t like me riding it."


    "That is basically my point," Jeshu said as the insect led the bridled axebeak down the hall. The feathered lizard smacked its lips with its tongue as it eyed the passing ratlings.


    "So I just need to distract him! He''ll be so excited that everyone else is running around that he won''t notice. Also, I''m not going to try to put a saddle on him this time, since¡ª"


    "I remember," Jeshu said with a shudder.


    "But his shoulders are kind of downy, so I''ll just need to ride high. Or whoever rides him."


    "It might not be you?" the druid asked, startled.


    "One of me. We were going to rock, paper, scissors for it."


    One of his clones nodded to confirm this information.


    "And then the plan is?"


    "I told you¡ªkill Indech."


    "That''s more of an overarching objective," the dryad replied.


    "Ride out, kill Indech, ride back¡ªthree point plan."


    "Still..." Jeshu complained to deaf antennae.


    Cricket and his shadows had already begun a round of rock, paper, scissors. Cricket won, then lost to the second clone. Finally, the two clones went head to head, and the one that beat Cricket lost.


    Cricket did the math in his head and groaned. "All tied up. Let''s go again."


    This time, Cricket lost the first round, and the clones tied four times in a row before the one that beat Cricket lost. That meant Cricket got in on a third round, which he won.


    Jeshu sighed. "So that ties it up again? Why not just do one round. On a tie, the person sitting out wins. That gives everyone equal chances."


    "That wouldn''t be much fun for the one sitting out. Besides, a round robin tournament always works, even if I have, like, ten shadows out."


    "But you don''t," Jeshu reasoned.


    "Which is good. Because I want a high chance of winning."


    "If you want to ride the axebeak, then just dismiss the clones."


    Both clones stopped midgame to glare at the druid with a mixture of shock and outrage.


    "Don''t worry, guys, I won''t do that." Cricket pulled the druid aside while they finished the match. "You can''t talk like that in front of the clones. They get real jealous. I have to make sure everything''s fair."


    "Or you could just dismiss them. It''s not like the same ones come back next time. They won''t remember."


    Cricket looked over his shoulder in alarm to ensure the shadows hadn''t heard this suggestion. Each threw down a pair of scissors, then started again.


    "Oh, but they do! Because the new ones have my memories. And I would know. If I betrayed them, they would never trust me again, and then it would be too dangerous to make any!" Cricket scratched his head. "It''s best if I live in fear of my creations."


    When Cricket looked back again, one of the clones was doing a short, vaguely crude victory dance. Cricket sighed, realizing he''d lost the tourney.


    Bax returned shortly with an armful of light lances, almost too long for him to bear.


    "Are these good?"


    "Yeah, perfect," Cricket answered. "They just need to be long enough that the rider can poke things beneath him." The insect passed a lance to the clone who had already mounted the axebeak and then to the shadow on the ground.


    "Why are you holding it in your right hand?" Bax asked.


    "Why not?" Cricket replied.


    "Because you''re left-handed."


    "I am not. I''m... up-handed. And I have it in one of my uphands."


    "Top hands," Jeshu suggested.


    "Yes, that sounds better. I am top-handed."


    "But you favor the left," Bax persisted.


    "I favor the top."


    "Which of your top hands do you like more?"


    "Well... top left. But then top right, before bottom left. If I were left handed, I would prefer my bottom left before my top right."


    "Oh," Bax nodded sensibly.


    Jeshu interjected, "But you favor your left over your right, so I think he wants to know why you would hold a lance in your right hand."


    "I try to exercise both sides. As a martial artist, I have to be sure to train my weak side. I used a spear in my left last time, and now I''m choosing my right."


    "Then why not hold it in your bottom right hand, if that''s your worst hand," Bax offered innocently.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Because I would die."


    The axebeak started to grow anxious under the weight of its rider and Cricket gave it a whack in the rump with his lance, sending it toward the main gate.


    The tower rumbled from another massive blow, and a large chunk of rock fell from above, landing only a few yards from the open gate.


    The charging shadow yanked on the axebeak''s reigns, swerving to miss the boulder, and skewered a zombified goblin as he trampled over another.


    Cricket frowned, clearly feeling left out. As he started to leave, the druid grabbed his shoulder.


    "I can give you a blessing."


    "Ugh," Cricket said, looking down at his charm. "Defense... yay..."


    "I can do others, remember. You said you would want additional strength."


    "And speed!"


    "I only have the energy for one. Is speed what you want?"


    "Oh, yes. If he can''t hit me, he can''t kill me. Don''t think hardening my shell would make much difference if he steps on me."


    Jeshu nodded sagely. "They say a good offense is the best defense."


    "Oydd and I decided four shields would be the best defense. But speed is both, anyway..."


    Jeshu reached out and touched the turtle figurine that hung about the insect''s neck, and it began to glow a bright yellow.


    "And I think the best offense would probably be fire¡ªoo, that''s cold!" Cricket shivered, more in surprise than discomfort. He waved a hand before his face as fast as he could.


    "I''m not sure if you will be able to¡ª"


    "I can tell a difference," Cricket interrupted.


    "Good." The druid nodded. "It should affect your reaction speed as well."


    "Like my reflexes?"


    "Yes."


    Cricket smiled, almost devilishly. "Are you coming?"


    Jeshu shook his head sadly. "I will stay here and protect the gate. I think that will be of more use."


    "Maybe you could grapple Indech while I cut him up."


    "Grapple?"


    "You know... you''d have to... grow."


    "To sixty feet?" The druid laughed. "I couldn''t do ten. It takes an incredible amount of... not just energy. I think it has to be sunlight."


    Cricket came to a full stop at the druid''s doleful tone. "Let''s go... up to the surface I mean. Next chance we get, and charge you up," he offered cheerfully.


    Jeshu cracked a smile. "It takes me about ten years of storing sunlight to perform that trick."


    "For each time?" Cricket stammered.


    "For each time," the druid answered soberly.


    "I''m sorry... I didn''t know."


    The sounds of battle neared from outside the gate, and Cricket ran off without finishing the conversation.


    He created another clone as he ran and handed it the last lance as he surveyed the battlefield.


    The goblins still fought by the dozens, though many littered the ground, and even the larger, more organized bands struggled against the hordes of the lesser dead, let alone the more powerful ghouls.


    Small groups of azaeri spearmen worked in formation, suffering far fewer casualties.


    Actually, the sheer number of enemies overwhelmed the insect momentarily, and he had to adjust the strategy in his head, deciding he might save more lives with a little organization.


    Cricket created six more shadows, feeling only slightly drained, and began to shout orders as the shadows looked over the battlefield.


    "Teams of three. Crickets with lances are team captains." The two clones with lances grinned and waved at each other.


    A few of the shadows without lances glowered, eyeing the original Cricket most suspiciously, seeing as he had selected himself as a captain. Cricket quickly diffused the situation by calling on the most visibly upset of the shadows to join his team. The honor of being chosen first overshadowed the clone''s sense of injustice and he happily ran to Cricket''s side.


    The second captain, picking up on Cricket''s strategy, called on another angry clone, who happily joined him, but the last captain, barely paying attention, simply picked two of his friends at once, and the two remaining clones began to protest with a flurry of arms.


    "It''s okay," Cricket assured them. "He got to pick last, so we''ll go in reverse order for second pick." Cricket breathed out a heavy sigh, realizing this would leave him with the shadow picked last, which would surely come with a good measure of drama.


    The other captain called on a second shadow, and the remaining clone¡ªrather than getting angry, as Cricket expected¡ªlooked as if he were about to cry. His antennae drooped and he stared down at his feet.


    "Cricket, that means you''re on my team. Should we take left or right flank?"


    The shadow furrowed his brow at this important decision and pointed right.


    "Good choice! Cricket," he signaled the oblivious captain, who barely listened as he joked around with his friends, "that means you''re left flank. Last group, you''re up center."


    The last group, having had no say in their assignment, looked hesitant to follow the order, so Cricket added, "Since the center is the most dangerous," and this seemed to satisfy them as a sort of grim determination replaced their annoyance.


    Without another word, Cricket led his group of three to the right and began hunting down the more powerful ghouls from among the weaker zombies. He skewered a ghoulish lizardman through the stomach and held it in place as the shadows circled to finish it from behind. The second proved more troublesome. Cricket lanced its throat, but the ghoul pressed toward him, up the shaft, biting and clawing. Thankfully, since the lance grew thicker near the haft, its progress slowed with each inch it impaled itself.


    The shadows managed to disarm it, literally, just as its claws neared Cricket''s face and he was about to abandon the weapon.


    Distracted by the ghoul, a zombified cave lizard of some size tackled one of the shadows from the side, and tore into its throat. The shadow burst into black steam that almost immediately dropped back to the ground, dissolving into the soil.


    The cave lizard stood nearly six feet tall at the hackles. The erectile spines that ran from its neck to the tip of its tail glistened from partial decomposition.


    Cricket swatted at its head with his lance, but the creature dodged backward, nimbly. He impaled it as it came back in, but the weight of the brute knocked him to the ground instantly, and the insect had to let go of his grip and roll to avoid being crushed beneath it.


    The giant lizard whimpered when it hit the ground. It tried to turn, but had to adjust for the awkwardness of the weapon protruding from its neck. The lizard rose onto its hind legs and Cricket rushed back in to grab the lance by the handle, forcing it off balance, while his remaining clone threw shadow daggers.


    Ultimately, Cricket was forced to draw a khopesh and gut the writhing creature. Almost instantly, the touch of the jade weapon began to drain the black magic from the zombie, until it no longer had the strength to support its own weight.


    Cricket left it squirming on the ground and created another clone with the energy he had drained.


    He realized the other groups of three could not do the same, and he risked a look at the left flank. He couldn¡¯t see his shadows anywhere. However, he did see the center group battling a large number of weaker zombies. With no larger targets nearby, their captain had abandoned his short lance for two khopeshes and two daggers.


    Cricket spent a few seconds trying to locate the last group, until a thunderous roar from Indech drew his attention, and he turned in time to see the giant hurl a large chunk of rock at the axebeak as it closed in. The giant timed its throw poorly, missing the axebeak, but the rock caught the Cricket rider smack in the chest, dismounting him with enough force to send him flying back several yards with the boulder before he dissolved back into shadow.


    Afterward, the axebeak lost its nerve, swerved, and began to circle back toward the tower.


    "Cut it off," Cricket shouted to his two clones, darting across the battlefield to intercept the retreating lizard. "I''ll ride it in." After only a few steps, Cricket realized the clones were not following. He turned and shouted, "First one to catch it rides it!"


    The shadows followed his charge. Despite their haste, the axebeak made no effort to return to the gate. Rather it slowed when it noticed the three insects chasing it, turning in a bit of a panic away from them. Having seemingly forgotten about the giant, the feathered lizard strutted about, pecking at the ground as a warning. Cricket recognized the lizard''s body language, and knew the stubborn creature would avoid them at all costs, intent on maintaining its freedom.


    One of his shadows circled around the left. The axebeak bocked in annoyance and darted right. The other shadow lifted two fingers to his mouth to whistle, but no sound came out.


    Feeling only slightly guilty, Cricket copied the shadow''s idea and whistled. The axebeak, assuming it was feeding time, turned to look at him, and the insect held up a closed hand, hoping it might look like he held a strip of meat, or a fistful of grain.


    The axebeak trotted toward him, but kept a few feet away, skeptically.


    Cricket whistled again, and held out the hand. The axebeak inched closer.


    Finally, he opened his hand a crack, and held it to his mouth, pretending to eat the food himself.


    The axebeak clucked angrily and charged in, almost knocking him over.


    Cricket pretended to toss the non-existent food, and latched onto the reigns, leaping onto its back as it picked around the ground looking for its treat. Eventually the axebeak settled on biting into a fresh goblin corpse. It balked at the first taste, and ruffled its neck, but took to tearing off shreds of the foul-smelling green meat and swallowing the strips whole.


    Soon it forgot about its rider, and after a quick meal, began wandering. However, the reigns prevented it from easily going in its preferred direction, and then its second choice. After a few skillful pulls, Cricket managed to convince the dumb animal to head back in the general direction of the giant ghast.


    Cricket squeezed his legs against the sides of the lizard, and the axebeak reflexively took to a trot and then a gallop.


    As he rode, a giant bolt of silver whirred above his head, crashing into Indech''s chest. The giant ghast''s hand sizzled as it grabbed the silver, and a stream of melted black tissue dripped from its wrist. The ghast pulled the bolt free, roaring in triumph.


    Azaeri archers glided over Cricket''s head as he galloped. They flew within crossbow range, fired, then glided back toward the lower levels of the tower.


    Now and then, Cricket saw an archer drop inexplicably out of the air, plummeting to its death.


    As he rode, Cricket grew tense. He did not realize just how immense the king of the fomorians was at first. But it took so long to get to him! And the giant seemed to grow with each step the axebeak took.


    Sixty feet, Cricket thought, if he remembered the rudra''s tales correctly. He tried to work out a scale in his head and decided its knee would be more than ten feet up. He considered just attacking the Achilles tendon, but worried it would be too thick. Of course, cutting a hamstring would be no easy feat, since it would entail climbing. Or at least jumping¡ª


    A loud crack interrupted the insect''s thoughts as the giant tore another stalagmite from the ground.


    Cricket tensed, worried he''d get clipped from his mount as he''d seen happen to his shadow, but the giant king''s gaze rose to the top of the tower. Indech pulled his elongated arm back impossibly far, launching the stalagmite at an incredible speed.


    With, perhaps, a hundred yards still between them, Cricket felt a rush of wind that nearly knocked the axebeak sideways, forcing him to latch on with all four arms.


    He did not look to see the devastation caused by the projectile, but thankfully the giant did. It kept its jaw clenched, and its gaze upward until Cricket heard¡ªand even felt¡ªthe massive impact.


    Before Indech saw him, Cricket plunged his lance, at full speed, between the giant''s toes.


    The axebeak ran along the side of the giant''s foot, and the motion wrested the lance from his hands. At first, the ghast made no reaction, and the insect wondered if the wound were no more than a bee sting to the giant. But slowly the fomorian turned to face the retreating axebeak, forming a gigantic fist.


    Cricket drew his khopeshes, and started to grab his daggers, but realized the weapons would be entirely useless against the ghast. Rather he grabbed the khopeshes with two hands each and leapt through the air as his mount slowed to turn, intent on drawing attention away from the axebeak.


    He landed on the giant''s calf, stabbing both weapons deep into the exposed muscle to prevent himself from falling.


    Due to the giant''s size, it took some time for it to change plans. It held its fist motionless in the air as it considered the tiny insect climbing its leg, before slamming the ground, trying to squash the axebeak. The blow came so close that it nicked the lizard''s feathers, and the axebeak darted off with a squawk of terror.


    Cricket dug his toes into the giant''s calf, about to scramble up to strike its hamstring, when his shell began to blister and burn. He heard a pop near his knee, and it took him a moment to register the intense heat pouring from the ghoul. In a last ditch effort, he grasped his enchanted weapons and kicked off at a random direction. Even that effort burned his feet.


    As he flung himself through the air, Cricket glanced off of the giant''s other leg, near the ankle, which sent him spinning. Still, he managed to adjust for the blow and roll as he hit the rocky ground. His head narrowly dodged the jagged remains of a stalagmite.


    He came up on his feet while the momentum still carried him skidding away. When he came to a stop, he immediately charged back in, making a single powerful cut in the giant''s Achille''s tendon, before having to dodge a massive hand, longer than he was tall, with five white-hot boney claws.


    The giant moved surprisingly slow, but Cricket¡¯s cut had barely nicked the tendon. When the giant''s hand passed, Cricket lunged in again, this time managing six deep strikes on the back of Indech''s heel before he was again forced to dodge.


    When he came in for a third time, which he thought might finish the job, Indech lifted his foot from the ground, and Cricket''s momentum carried him beneath.


    He squealed in panic, but the foot came down impossibly slow, and by the time it stomped the ground, Cricket was long gone.


    But then the yellow light from his turtle necklace faded. One second it was glowing brightly, and the next it was just gone. Only then did Cricket realize how much Jeshu''s blessing had helped him. The giant no longer moved slowly. Now its motions seemed unusually fast¡ªmagically enhanced, even.


    The insect barely dodged the next punch, and before he could recover, another gargantuan foot came crashing down over his head.


    Cricket rolled, but had no time to come to his feet before the next blow caught him, swatting him to the side.


    Without the druid''s blessing, Cricket could not adjust for the force of the blow before landing. Fortunately, he hit the ground, rather than a wall, since he was uncertain if he could survive an impact at that speed.


    As it was, he rolled hard and far, stopping as a twitching lump some distance out of Indech''s reach. And the giant no longer concerned himself with the pest, choosing rather, to dislodge another stalagmite.


    Cricket nearly blacked out. He felt his consciousness drifting, vaguely aware that something important was going on. When the wave of pain passed, he felt the cold stone of the cavern floor against his cheek.


    Indech lifted a gigantic rock above his head and hurled it toward the tower, but with the force of the throw, the weakened tendon on his heel snapped.


    Cricket heard a thunderous crack, and saw a tremor ripple up the back of the giant''s calf, followed by the sound of releasing air. The giant toppled over.


    When he could move his numb arm, Cricket made four more clones. They stretched and yawned and ambled about until one of them noticed Cricket laying banged up on the ground.


    "Hey," the insect said, weakly. "Want to kill a giant?"


    The clones grinned from antenna to antenna as they readied their weapons.

 Pip, Pip, Hurray!

    6


    Pip, Pip, Hurray!


    Patches laid the doll of Indech on the ground in the middle of her hole. Though she did not have any of the giant''s blood, she did know his name. She retrieved a wad of white hair she had procured from beneath the giant''s throne and placed it in the heart of the totem, then lit a black candle and began to speak the words of magic. The flame on the candle blazed brighter. The mouseling spoke the name Indech and pressed her thumb down on the doll''s chest. A few of the fibers instantly charred to black. She spoke the name again and another thread smoldered, leading to the totem''s arm. She spoke the name a third time and a thread smoldered leading to the doll''s head. But when she spoke the name again, the black threads began to writhe and grow. A single thread reached for her paw and she pulled it away with a gasp.


    Patches waited for it to calm, but the threads only continued to grow and spread from the doll. With a little squeak, the mouseling ran a few steps away, before looking back. She watched as the fibers began to take root in the ground and the stone itself blackened.


    She noticed a small motion near her eye level where a yellow beetle crept along the wall, and bit her lip in frustration.


    The mouseling scurried to the opening of the tunnel, where she found Pip inattentive and entirely negligent of his duties.


    "Pip," Patches said softly.


    The familiar didn''t respond. She said his name again, more sternly, and Pip looked up at her.


    "You weren''t paying attention. You let a beetle in."


    Pip avoided eye contact.


    "You''re not in trouble, but I''m vulnerable when I''m casting magic, so I needed you to guard me."


    Pip looked devastated, and it was clear he had learned his lesson, so the mouseling softened her tone. "I know he was bigger than you, but I''m not afraid of things that are smaller than you. If you couldn''t kill it yourself, then you should have at least alerted me, okay?"


    Pip nodded contritely.


    "Okay, thank you." Patches sighed. "Something went wrong with my spell, and we need to leave the tunnel, okay?"


    Pip opened his wings and began to buzz, lifting into the air, still struggling with the weight of his tiny scarf. He landed on the mouseling''s nose and she giggled.


    Patches ran behind the piles of clutter in Baba Kesu''s old laboratory and began to head for the rope bridges that led to the titanic shell. However, on the way, she ran into the rudra and a number of azaeri. Though several lay dead on the ground, as well as a few imps, she arrived during a lull in the battle. She crept up next to Oydd.


    The rudra did not notice her at first, even after she tugged on his robe. But when he tried to walk away, he felt the resistance and looked down at the mouseling.


    "Child, go inside. It is dangerous here."


    "Everywhere is dangerous for me."


    Oydd considered this, and the mouseling continued.


    "I need to know how strong Pip is. Is he a zombie or a ghoul or a ghast?"


    Oydd sighed heavily. "I have not been able to recreate a ghast since Fomoria. Pip''s body could not hold that kind of power regardless. It would burn him up from within."


    "So he''s a ghoul?"


    Oydd stumbled over his answer.


    "It''s just, I want him to help, but I don''t want him to get hurt. So I need an idea of how strong he is."


    Oydd considered his words carefully and said, "He could take a lady bug twice his size."


    Patches smiled at the answer, leaving the rudra to his important business.


    A loud thwump came from somewhere below, and the mouseling saw a flash of silver cross the battlefield toward the fomorian''s distant figure. The bolt appeared to strike him in the chest, but the giant pulled it free without any lasting damage. At least none evident from so far away.


    Oydd seemed thrilled, however.


    Patches ran close to the ledge. Her tail dripped lazily over the side as she peered straight down.


    "Pip, I have an assignment for you, but it''s scary."


    The familiar turned on the mouseling''s snout to look her right between the eyes.


    "It''s just that I need some of his blood. I think that''s why my spell didn''t work, okay?"


    Pip made no response.


    "I know it''s a long way for you to fly, but I can''t go down there because there are a lot of spider mummies after me."


    Pip lifted his shell slightly and fluttered his black wings.


    "One is a lot, Pip! There aren''t any after anybody else, not even you, and I can''t fly." Her eyes began to tear up. "It''s not that I don''t love you, but we all need to do our part. I don''t want to fight either, right now, but we have to. I want to sleep. And I want to eat. But we can''t do what we want when it''s a fight. We have to wait, okay?"


    Knowing that the familiar seldom responded to reasoning, Patches resorted to bribery. "Pip, if you do this for me, I''ll tell you an extra story before bed."


    The familiar fluttered his wings again, then slowly turned toward the battlefield and crawled onto the mouseling''s extended paw. He lifted his charred red shell, evidently preparing to take flight. Patches leaned in very carefully and gave him a soft kiss just before he took off.


    On the horizon, Patches saw a very tiny figure circling around the giant. She watched it move in and out deftly as the giant attempted to stomp on it. And then Indech swatted the figure away and prepared to throw another boulder toward the tower.


    She watched in curiosity as the giant suddenly collapsed to the ground. His boulder flew far off course. It failed to cover even half the distance to her. A second later, a thunderous pop shook the entire valley.


    Patches curled up near the edge, her tail waving lazily. She yawned then smacked her lips and stared off into the rising smoke.


    *****


    Cricket smiled as he strolled through a field of strawberry trees. He squeezed Jade''s hand, feeling a tingle in his chest, then reached up to pick her one of the plump, golden berries she was too short to reach.


    Jade giggled and thanked him.


    Cricket woke with a thin smile on his face and let out a contented sigh. He was, however, in an incredible amount of pain, which was difficult to ignore for long. Not far away, he watched two of his shadows climb over the prone giant, hacking away at his hamstring. One of the shadows suddenly exploded from the heat, knocking the other from the giant just as it severed the fomorian''s tendon. It snapped with a much milder sound than the Achille''s tendon had.


    The giant struggled to stand, before collapsing back down, and gnawed at the dirt as if he had a clone between his tusks.


    He roared as his single eye turned upward toward the tower and began to crawl forward at a terrifying speed.


    Cricket yawned. He knew it was irresponsible to doze off in the middle of a fight, but since one of his clones remained, he considered that due diligence.


    His whole body ached from the strain of moving at a new level of speed for a sustained period¡ªalso the swat from Indech''s hand that outweighed him several times over. He felt a chunk of debris atop him, but not enough to pin him down. Actually, it felt a little cozy, like a stone blanket.Stolen story; please report.


    He watched lazily as a black limb about a yard in front of his face twitched among the rubble, as though it had a life of its own.


    He yawned and started to doze off again, when he realized the limb might belong to him. He wiggled a right arm and saw the fingers move. Then he tried to wriggle his upper-left fingers but couldn''t feel them. He looked back at the insectoid arm laying on the ground, to confirm it was an upper-left arm.


    "Crap."


    Cricket wanted to ignore the problem for the time being. He rolled over, and pulled the chunk of rock atop him more snuggly, looking away from the giant.


    However, he soon heard the last remaining clone pop from the heat¡ªassuming it had made a similar sound to the first¡ªand if he didn''t have at least one shadow active, then it was a clear dereliction of duty.


    ...of the way?


    It took the insect a moment to process Oydd''s voice.


    I didn''t catch that.


    You can hear me? Cricket, I need...


    The voice grew quieter and quieter as it trailed off. Cricket licked his wrist and used it to clean his antennae, then turned his head toward the sound for better reception, but he didn''t catch any further communication.


    The insect sighed heavily and sat up. Sure enough, he was missing his upper left arm, which was his favorite arm. That explained the incredible, eye-watering sting. He consoled himself with the fact that he didn''t bleed as much as non-insects. Otherwise, he likely wouldn''t have woken up at all.


    Cricket wobbled to his feet and made a clone. It had all four arms. He forced a smile and made a second. It had all four arms as well. The third, however, only had three.


    "Am I already running out?" Cricket groaned.


    Interestingly, the shadow was missing its upper-right arm, as though it were a mirror image. Cricket made a fourth clone, which also lacked an upper-right arm.


    He gave the jade khopesh a good shake and struck it against his chest again, which created another three-armed clone.


    "Five of you. That should make up for the missing arms. Four clones with four arms managed to take out one of his limbs." Cricket pointed to the struggling giant. One of the clones, who had not yet noticed the fomorian, nearly jumped out of his shell.


    "You guys have... nine... plus eight? I think that''s enough to finish him off."


    Cricket handed his jade weapons to one of the four-armed clones, whose jaw dropped in excitement.


    "I need you to fill these up. With magic," Cricket clarified. "Just whack him a bunch. He''s like a mine of mana. Then bring them back to me."


    The clone made a quick motion, drawing a cross on his heart, then ran off, leading his jealous troops.


    Once they were gone, Cricket retrieved his twitching arm, and began to tromp angrily across the battlefield back toward the tower, with the limp limb dangling from his swinging hand.


    *****


    Who knows what damage it will do to the lower floors, Oydd communicated telepathically to the azaeri. The fomorian still crawled at an alarming pace, though it had only covered half the field. It was, now, within longbow range, but the traditional azaeri arrows did little damage to the magically augmented ghast. Four tiny black specks swarmed over the fallen giant, then three, then two. He hesitated to fire another bolt, for fear of hitting the insect, and weighed the risk heavily.


    Cricket, Oydd reached out desperately across the vast span. I am firing again. If you can hear me, get out of the way.


    He heard no response.


    When no specks remained, the rudra worried that Cricket may have fallen. But soon, five more black specks appeared.


    "Azaeri," Oydd called to the commander. She scowled at being addressed as such, and the rudra pretended not to notice. "Your sight is much better than mine. Are any of those wearing a jade breastplate, or are they all shadow?"


    The commander squinted, looking off into the distance, and squawked, "Nik."


    "Oh, good," Oydd sighed in relief.


    But a moment later the azaeri held up a hand. "Kala-e-ku."


    "What? I don''t know those words."


    The azaeri tapped her head, and Oydd opened a mental link. The commander sent the meaning, or impression, of the words telepathically. Jade swords.


    Oydd futilely attempted to detect the green weapons from among the specks.


    When the giant drew within a hundred yards, the minimum range of the ballista, given its position on the top levels, only two specks remained.


    Oydd sighed deeply, with a grim look, and gave the order. Fire the last bolt!


    The rudra heard a few final cranks below him, as the ballista adjusted to fire nearly straight down.


    Thwump!


    The final bolt fired, much closer than any of the previous shots, with a blast that shattered the ground, sending a cloud of dust and rock as high as the tenth floor of the tower.


    Oydd crept toward the ledge, and looked down, but the cloud of dust wholly obscured the field below. He turned to the azaeri commander for confirmation, who grinned and nodded in satisfaction.


    The rudra felt a current of warm air rise through the billowing cloud, from the gigantic ghast, and held a hand before his eyes, to keep out the dust.


    Below he heard only the shower of rock, as bits from the impact hailed back down onto the valley floor.


    Cricket! Oydd called out again, as the cloud of debris reached the top levels, and enveloped the rudra.


    *****


    Cricket flung the loose arm over his shoulder, attempting to scratch the hard-to-reach spot on his back. Sadly, of course, the itch always seemed to be beneath the carapace.


    Thwump!


    A flash of silver flew from the tower above, so quickly that Cricket registered it before the sound. He ducked, covering his eyes, as a cloud of dust rushed over him, and tiny bits of rock bounced from his exo-skeleton with dozens of tiny pings!


    He covered his eyes, though he was far enough from the blast to avoid any real danger. Just as he thought that, a large chunk of shrapnel whizzed by his head and the insect began to run in the opposite direction.


    Though incredibly fatigued, he managed to run for a full minute before he came to a stop huffing and puffing. He still heard the sound of smaller debris sprinkling down around him, though he could only see a few yards.


    As he caught his breath, a large round silhouette approached through the fog¡ªperhaps fifteen feet in height.


    Cricket worked a few quick calculations, wondering if it could be the head of a crawling Indech. The shadowy form let out a deafening, flapping, flatulent roar¡ªwhich only confused the insect more, until the silhouette took the form of a massive snail, with Bax riding atop its shell.


    The snail held a bit in his mouth, attached to purple silk reigns that ran up to the gnome''s hands and appeared more decorative than functional.


    The snail opened the three folds of its mouth, and let out another viscous, gurgling sound that was much quieter and less intimidating than the first.


    Cricket waved with his severed arm, and Bax chirped with excitement¡ªtoo elated to wave back.


    "You did it! You blew up the giant''s head!"


    "I did? I mean, no I didn''t. I did cut him up pretty good, but I... did his head get blown up?"


    "It did! I just saw it. Quruda, in his mercy, sent a fiery serpent from the heavens, and it just... exploded his brains. I got some on my vest!" The gnome happily pointed to a greyish bit of slime dripping from his chest pocket.


    "Yeah, that wasn''t me. If you think Quruda did it, why did you ask if I did it?"


    "Do you worship Quruda."


    "No."


    "Oh," Bax said, a little disappointed. "Do you want a ride?"


    "Can I... I mean, can I get on? I didn''t think you could make touchable stuff."


    "I can''t," Bax admitted sadly, "make tangible stuff that is. I''m not really up here. But I can make it look like you''re up here too. Would you like that?"


    "I would," Cricket answered, and watched as an illusion of himself, not unlike his own shadows, materialized next to Bax, its arms limp at its sides.


    "Can you make me strike a cooler pose?"


    The illusory Cricket folded his arms and looked intently off at the unseen horizon.


    "That''s perfect," Cricket smiled, and resumed his trek to the gate, while the giant snail made a long, aggravatingly slow circle, adjusting its course.


    By the time Cricket saw the bricks of the outer wall, his legs ached, and he sat down for a minute to rest, lest he cramp up.


    He noticed a glint of green in the cloud of dust, and a shadow holding his khopeshes materialized.


    "Oh, right!" Cricket said. "But... how''d you find me?"


    The shadow tapped one of his antennae, with a smug smile, and handed over the jade weapons. They practically hummed with energy. And while Cricket was not so adept as the others at sensing dark magic, he thought he could faintly discern an aura coming off of them, like a smoldering darkness. Not something he could see, mind you, but he sensed it none-the-less. It made his antennae stand on end with an electric sensation.


    "Do you want to sit with me for a minute?" Cricket patted the ground next to him, and the clone happily dropped from his feet. Cricket breathed deeply and coughed, as the dust filtered in through his side nostrils.


    When he stopped coughing, he turned to the shadow. "You don''t need air. That means," he mused, "that you can''t screech like me. But it also means you can''t cough. You could probably stay under water for hours too."


    The shadow scratched his head and shrugged. But after some more thought he nodded, leaning back onto his three remaining arms.


    "Oh," Cricket exclaimed. "Didn''t you have four arms? Did you lose one fighting the giant, or did that shadow explode and you just picked up his weapons?"


    The clone did not respond. He stared off into the dust with a wistful look, and Cricket left him alone to his thoughts.


    Together, the two listened as the falling rock gradually quieted and the dust cleared. Then, grudgingly, Cricket stood and began to scan the field for survivors.

 How Many Crickets Does It Take…

    7


    How Many Crickets Does It Take¡­


    "I believe that last bolt destroyed the giant," Oydd said to the mouseling. "I sensed an incredible and violent release of dark energy. It''s partly what stirred up all this dust. "


    "I know," Patches sighed. "I''m not worried about that. I''m worried about Pip."


    "Pip? Was he down there?" the rudra asked in alarm.


    The mouseling nodded. "I sent him to get some blood, so I could kill Indech."


    "By making a totem?"


    Patches nodded again.


    "That wouldn''t work on the undead. Not... on the soulless dead. He was possessed by an entirely different force than in life."


    Patches looked up. "Would it make the totem try to get me?"


    "Try to get you? No. What do you mean?"


    "If the totem tried to get me, what would make it do that? I thought it was because I didn''t have any of his blood. But maybe it''s because he was haunted."


    "Haunted?"


    The mouseling pressed her lips together in thought. "Possessed. You said possessed. That means haunted, right?"


    "Oh. It sounds like you''re overthinking it. I am not an expert on your magic, but only a malevolent force would seem like it was trying to get you. The power holding Indech was indeed malevolent, but you lack the power to even attempt to bind it."


    "But it happened."


    "I''m... not questioning what happened," Oydd said diplomatically. "I''m trying to help you¡ª"


    "It tried to get me, I''m not lying," Patches cried out.


    The rudra patted her gently on the head. "I''m trying to help you figure out what happened."


    "I told you what happened. I brought part of him into my hole, and he tried to get me, and I ran, and now I can''t go back."


    "You can''t go back to your hole? Let me come with you, and we''ll investigate."


    "I want to wait here for Pip."


    "All right, little one." As Oydd spoke, a silhouette appeared out in the dust, hovering over the expanse, as if walking on the air. It drew closer, and the rudra felt a magical fear similar to that radiating from Indech. It was not nearly so pervasive, and yet somehow more potent due to the proximity.


    Oydd felt his arm shaking. A violet light penetrated the dust, and gradually Oydd made out the decaying form of the elder rudra. Though they now dripped below its bare feet, only three tentacles remained on its face, which made its chipped beak more prominent. It held an adamantine staff, similar to Oydd''s, with a stylized claw at the top clutching an egg-shaped, polished, green stone.


    It landed at the brink of the ledge, and walked forward slowly amidst the silent and motionless defenders of the tower. Not even the seasoned azaeri commander moved, and Oydd could not discern if their apprehension were magical in nature, or sheer intimidation.


    The decrepit rudra stalked directly up to Oydd, towering over him. Oydd had not seen the older rudra so close, and did not expect to feel so small. But toe to toe, he stood nearly two feet shorter, though the older rudra appeared more gaunt and skeletal, somewhat like a scarecrow in proportions.


    Oydd stared in awe at the source of the violet light. It glowed from within the bulbous sac that hung from the back of his head. Without even opening a mental link, Oydd could feel the rudra''s cloying, clawing intellect. Its mind reached out, even at rest, digging into his thoughts and memories, pricking like electric needles through his skull.


    He assumed the others felt a similar, invasive feeling, which might explain the stillness. They were not spellbound, nor frozen from fear, but transfixed as the rudra unconsciously groped their thoughts¡ªas still as a tome opened on a lectern, waiting for its reader to turn the page.


    The pale rudra hovered so close to Oydd that he could feel the heat from its fetid breath. One of the rudra''s arms had begun to decay, and smelled of maggots.


    And then the mouseling, from several yards away¡ªperhaps unnoticed by the elder rudra¡ªgripped her tiny knife, and swung through the nether with all her might, as her master, Licephus, had taught.


    A gash appeared on the older rudra''s long tentacle, but the two rudra stood so closely that the slash also severed one of Oydd''s tentacles, and even clipped his beak.


    Oydd tried to reach to cover the wound, but could not move. Blue blood dripped from the cut, and the tip of his severed tentacle flopped about in a thin pool at his feet like a suffocating fish.


    He stared at the white, bloated stump where the other rudra''s missing tentacle had once been, but the wound had long healed over. Now it appeared dry and leathery.


    The elder rudra turned toward the mouseling, and made a slight sound, almost like a laugh of amusement.


    Patches drew back her knife again, like a club, but the invader held up a hand and it flew instantly to his palm.


    The mouseling, however, gripped onto the knife so tightly that she flew along with it. She dangled from the handle, her tail several feet from the ground, while the violet light emanating from the back of the rudra''s head grew to such intensity that Oydd''s head began to buzz. He fell to the ground.


    Oydd attempted to release a pulse of energy, but¡ªwith no more than a thought¡ªthe elder rudra returned the pulse toward him. Oydd lifted Bale''s claw before his face defensively, and it vibrated so powerfully that he saw four violet hands as he skidded backward.


    The invader stared after him with such contempt that Oydd let out a stifled, horrified cry.


    The elder rudra walked toward Baba Kesu''s laboratory, leaving Patches grasping onto her tiny knife, floating in the air behind him.


    Oydd, crumpled on the ground, made no further attempt to stop him.


    *****


    As the dust began to settle, Jeshu managed to stumble upon Cricket and his shadow, laughing and sharing stories, sitting amidst a macabre mess of corpses.


    "You know, there are still a few stragglers?" the druid shouted out.


    Cricket''s shadow gave him a meaningful look, along the lines of "get a load of this guy..." and Cricket tried to stop from laughing as he shushed the clone.


    "Don''t pick on Jesh. He doesn''t know any better."


    Jesh raised an eyebrow as he neared. "What, exactly does that mean?"


    "I just meant you didn''t intend to be judgmental," Cricket clarified.


    "Well, that''s not what you said."


    "It sort of is. You don''t know how much we''ve already done. I''m exhausted!" At this, the shadow agreed by nodding enthusiastically. "I''ll actually be more helpful," Cricket argued, "if I get a little break."


    "Ah, I see," the druid responded. "You''re missing an arm, already?"


    "No, it''s right over there."


    "You held onto it? That''s probably good."


    "Well, it''s my favorite arm, so I wasn''t just going to leave it out there for someone else. Why is that good? You think Oydd can reattach it?"


    "Couldn''t be harder than attaching Bale''s arm. And it will be months before you shed again."


    The shadow nodded in agreement, still holding in a laugh from some earlier joke the druid had missed.


    "Hey, I''ve got a lot of minor injuries too. Is it a good time?"


    "Yes," the druid answered. "I''ve been improving. I actually healed Oydd over a distance of a few yards¡ªwithout touching him, I mean."


    "Really?"


    "It''s the product of a lot of meditation. I have to reach out and feel my surroundings. That''s the best way I can describe it. If I''m doing it right, I start to feel everything... resonate.


    "I love that word. Do that to me!" the insect requested excitedly.


    "Oh, I... your shell is more complicated. But it''s an improvement that I can do it at all."


    "Oh," Cricket sulked as the druid began to mend the tear from the caltrop on the bottom of his foot. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "Did this affect your walking?"


    "Not really."


    The shadow, feeling left out, held up his foot, which also had a crack in the bottom, evidently expecting equal treatment. But Jeshu didn''t notice.


    "That does feel better though," Cricket replied, then changed the subject. "Is it hard to heal things from far away?"


    "Hard, yes. But it doesn''t really take more energy. Just more concentration."


    A shrill, sputtering roar pierced the cloud of dust, and Jeshu tensed, reaching for the handle of his hammer.


    "Don''t worry, that''s just Bax."


    "You sure?"


    Cricket nodded excitedly. "And me. On a snail."


    However, as the echoing roar dimmed, Cricket saw a much smaller silhouette approaching¡ªa child, it seemed. It paused, as a wisp of thick dust blew in front of it, obscuring it. Then, when the insect could see clearly again, he noticed a second, larger form behind it¡ªsome sort of beast that the smaller silhouette held by a chain.


    At the sight of the larger animal, Cricket jumped to his feet, and the druid readied his hammer.


    The chained silhouette growled and lunged, and yet somehow the child held it back without an evident strain. A single, prick of violet light emanated from one of the child''s eyes, illuminating the two with a soft light. The piercing light held Cricket''s attention so unnaturally, that he did not at first notice the more substantive limbs attached to the beast¡ªBale''s gleaming right arm, and his hypnotic, swaying tail.


    Cricket crouched, in a defensive stance. He saw the child''s long, sandy hair, flowing past her shoulders, laying against a white silken dress¡ªa thin piece of fabric, no more than a night gown. She delicately gripped the flat, adamantine chain. The beast, yanking against the chain hungrily on all fours, wore a suit of blackened armor, and an eyeless mask of adamantite, as a sort of muzzle.


    It was not an animal, at all, the insect realized, but a feral vampire.


    The child moved deliberately toward Cricket, holding back the vampire with curious ease, while he gnashed and growled, clawing at the ground, a grey foam dripping from behind the mask.


    Though he had only seen her riding a spiderlike mount, and eyeless, in the past, Cricket recognized Shisu. He ignored her one, gaping, eyeless socket, momentarily transfixed, rather, by her strangely rounded ears. He remembered that Licephus had once described this peculiarity of the human race.


    Licephus. Slowly¡ªso slowly it gripped his chest¡ªCricket noticed the vampire''s distinctive ridged armor. Armor forged of tainted silver. He saw the vampire lord''s fine, long white hair, now only slightly disheveled, despite the feral lord''s rage.


    Cricket''s antennae drooped. He felt so suddenly, painfully sad as he watched the frenzied Licephus yank against his chain.


    "What do you want?" he asked dispassionately.


    "I know you," the child answered¡ªher voice quiet and measured. "The lesser prophet."


    "Where did you even come from?" Cricket asked, looking about the cloudy battlefield. Despite the dust cover, it still felt odd for such a small child to appear before him.


    "From another time," Shisu answered.


    "But... from where?" Cricket repeated.


    "From another place," she said.


    Cricket grunted in frustration, and the child gave him a quizzical look, genuinely perplexed.


    "How did you get here?" Jeshu asked, attempting to help the insect.


    "Ah..." A look of understanding crossed her face. "Temporal magic."


    The druid considered this. "You can control time?"


    "Yes." She replied. "But time is space, and space is mana. All three are one. So all mana is temporal. But the best answer is yes."


    "I didn''t know that was possible..." Jeshu replied.


    "It is not. Not yet. And even in the future, there are only two who can control time. Only my brother and I. And when we learned, we agreed to seal that knowledge. So there remain only two."


    "What do you¡ª"


    Shisu cut off the druid, "I wish only to speak to the little prophet."


    "Me?" Cricket said. "I''m bigger than your prophet!"


    Shisu looked puzzled again. "Your common tongue is not all familiar to me. Perhaps I spoke poorly. You are... young. You are... inexperienced. Still learning the things that the Prophet already knows."


    "And you''ll only speak to me?" Cricket asked.


    "I mean no disrespect," she said to the druid. "But you are dead in the future, so there is no point."


    "Everyone''s dead in the future," the dryad replied.


    "I might not be," Cricket argued.


    "Cricket, everybody dies."


    "Now, hold on. I might not. Everybody that''s dead has died, but I haven''t yet. I might not."


    "Cricket, you''re joking right? You know you''re going to die some day."


    "Maybe," the insect conceded, then thought for a second. "Probably. But¡ª"


    "The druid is dead in my future. The young prophet is not in my future at all," Shisu explained.


    "I.. well..." Cricket groaned. "That''s... cryptic."


    Shisu spoke again, but the angry garbles of Bax''s illusory snail, fighting an unseen battle far away, drowned out most of her words.


    "---and I have no animosity toward you. But you have left no other path to Sheol."


    "I thought you were already there!" Cricket shouted, exasperated. But even as he spoke, Shisu released the chain, and Licephus charged.


    Cricket squealed, but quickly collected himself. As the vampire picked up speed, its image blurred, and it looked as though two vampires ran toward him. Not knowing which image to trust, Cricket calmly removed his pouch, and held it off to his side. The feral vampire loped on all fours, snarling¡ªevidently navigating by sound alone.


    At the last moment, as he pounced, Cricket quickly hopped to the side, substituting himself with his pouch. The feral Licephus slashed the pouch open with Bale''s claw and the insect used the split second of confusion to attempt to kick him off-balance.


    But his foot went straight through Licephus. The vampire dodged backward, regardless, somehow sensing the attack, and when he slowed, the two images began to coalesce again, until there was only one Licephus.


    He leapt instantly, tackling Cricket to the ground. Fortunately, the vampire, unable to curb its instincts, attempted to sink its fangs into the insect, which only managed to press the smooth, cool adamantine mask up against his throat.


    Cricket squealed and screamed, but Jeshu''s hammer swiped Licephus from the side and sent him rolling three times over. Large shards of ice spread along the vampire''s blackened armor.


    While Cricket scrambled to his feet, Jeshu stepped in with a severe blow to the side of Licephus'' head, only moving it a few inches. However, large chunks of ice formed from the solid strike, cementing Licephus in place, giving the dryad enough time to prepare an overhead slam.


    "Stop!" Cricket cried. "Don''t do it! I''m... fond of him."


    "What!" Jeshu stammered, his weapon held high.


    "Like... in a brotherly way. I''m not like... confessing my feelings for him."


    "Yeah, I get that, Cricket, but he''s trying to kill us."


    When Jeshu turned to look at the insect, he had already begun to run for the tower gates.


    Licephus violently fought to break the shell of ice, but with only the intellect of a wild beast, he toppled to the side.


    Jeshu looked at him, then at Cricket''s backside, before lumbering after the insect as fast as his legs could take him.


    "Where''s Shisu?" the druid yelled as they ran.


    Without even looking about, Cricket yelled, "I don''t know!"


    The corpse of a large, skeletal ettin lay beneath the gate, blocking it from closing. The iron bars wedged into the seated ettin''s shoulder, holding the gate about five feet from the ground.


    Cricket stooped as he entered to avoid scraping his antennae, then turned to cheer on the dryad.


    Jeshu only had a few yards to go when the vampire broke free from the ice and began pursuit, hampered slightly by the chunks still clinging to it. As Licephus picked up speed, he again appeared to separate into two forms.


    "Come on, you can do it!" Cricket shouted, a clearly doubtful tone to his voice. "Aim for the..." he threw a dagger at the left image, which went straight through. "Aim for the other one."


    Jeshu did, however, make it inside with a few seconds to spare.


    "Knock out the ettin!" Cricket screamed and pointed.


    "You could help!" Jeshu cried, as he swung with his hammer, shattering the skeleton.


    Licephus skidded to a stop. The gate crashed down, but stopped a few inches from the ground, held up by the ettin''s crushed pelvis. The two images of Licephus merged again.


    The feral vampire laid his head sideways on the ground, attempting to press it through the gap. Finding the opening too small, he lifted Bale''s right arm and slashed at the iron gate, digging a few inches into the blackened metal on the first swipe.


    Cricket screamed again. "You should have killed him when you had the chance!"


    "Why''d you stop me?" the druid roared.


    "We didn''t have time to think it out! It was a split second decision!"


    Jeshu took a deep calming breath.


    "We were both making bad decisions. For example," Cricket continued, trying to justify himself, "I left my arm out there..."


    Licephus swiped again, and a large chunk of iron dropped to the cavern floor.


    As he prepared a third strike, Jeshu let out a spine-tingling yell. His hammer began to glow with mana, and the druid brought it to the ground with an earth-shattering blast that sent huge shards of ice angling out around the gate and through the bars. As Cricket watched, the shards grew, creating a defensive wall.


    "I didn''t know you could make ice grow. What else can you make grow?"


    Jeshu thought it over. "Fire?"


    Cricket''s eyes went wide with wonder, reflecting light from the gleaming ice.


    Licephus hopped back to avoid getting caught in the crackling crystals, but began to furiously cut through them. Now and then he attempted to bite at the wall with enough force that his adamantine mask sent cracks through the entire structure.


    "This won''t last long," Jeshu said.


    "Smash him again," Cricket suggested.


    "Cricket," Jeshu began gravely. "I''m almost out of mana. I can''t use the ice hammer without it eating away at me."


    "Hammers are pretty good even without ice. You should have used the mana you had on him though. Not the gate."


    "You¡ª" Jeshu started, with an accusing tone, but steadied himself again with a deep breath. "Regardless, it''s not looking good. I''ll try, but we should stay close, so he doesn''t pick up speed. That illusion is too unpredictable." He looked back at Cricket with a concerned look. "Let me take the front, when he breaks through. I doubt you''ll be much use against Licephus with only three arms."


    "Well..." Cricket thought. "How many arms do you think it would take?"


    "What?" Jeshu asked, though he knew what the insect was thinking. "That''s not what I meant."


    "I know, but... I mean, it wouldn''t take a hundred arms, right? Maybe... sixty, tops?"


    "How... how many clones can you make?"


    Cricket scratched his chin. "My khopeshes got a lot of mana from Indech. They''re practically on fire. If I don''t make some shadows, they''ll burn through my hands." Cricket held one khopesh in his remaining upper arm, and the other in his lower left. "Even my breastplate feels warm. That hasn''t happened before."


    "But can you actually make..." Jeshu looked down at Cricket''s missing limb. "What would that be? Twenty clones."


    "Nope," Cricket said, readying to strike the jade breastplate. "Only nineteen. You have to count me..."

 Black Ice

    8


    Black Ice


    By the time Licephus created a hole large enough to poke his head through, Cricket had only made seven clones.


    Jeshu took a swipe at the vampire''s mask, but Licephus pulled it back with plenty of time to spare and never made himself so vulnerable again until the wall of ice lay almost entirely in shambles.


    "Come back," Cricket called to the druid. "He''ll cut you in half with a single swipe."


    The druid, reluctantly, retreated, only to find the clones engaged in an uneasy round of rock, paper, scissors.


    "What are you doing?" Jeshu asked calmly. "There''s no time¡ª"


    A final, decisive crack split the air and Licephus squeezed through.


    "Okay," Cricket shouted in a panic. "Anyone who lost the first round, you''re on defense."


    Only two of the eight Crickets took a position at the vanguard as the other''s ran deeper into the tower. Cricket, himself, released a deafening screech, and the vampire, navigating mostly by sound, veered into a wall, crashing solidly. His split form began to reconverge as he teetered back into the center of the hallway.


    "We agreed to stand here!" Jeshu shouted as he ran along Cricket''s side.


    "Sorry, I realized we''ll die if we do that. Don''t worry, I have a plan."


    Licephus split again as he regained speed. The shadows sent to delay him each tried to block one of the images. The one who blocked the actual Licephus was instantly torn to shreds and the other panicked, covering his eyes as the displaced image passed straight through him. Though, by the time he opened his eyes, he found himself far behind the feral vampire.


    Cricket made two more clones as he ran, and the two instantly began a round of rock paper scissors at full sprint. The loser, honorably, sacrificed himself to the charging Lord, lasting twice as long as the first victim, as he managed to dodge one swipe.


    "Crap, crap, crap!" Cricket swore as he neared a large antechamber, only vaguely aware of the circumstances behind him.


    "Should have been four, right? Half of us lost the first round, and had to stall. But only two stepped up."


    "Cricket, I saw you lose the first round."


    "Wait, I did?" He tried to think back.


    "And some of you may have tied."


    Cricket and Jeshu came to a semi-circular room with a cage up against the flat wall. A thick rope, attached to the top of the cage, vanished through a hole in the ceiling. Nearby, a second rope dangled from a separate hole with a rusted iron weight attached to it.


    "Hop in the cage," Cricket shouted. Jeshu obeyed, and two of his clones clung to the sides as well. Meanwhile, Cricket cut through the rope attached to the weight with a single smooth swing of his khopesh.


    He turned and leapt onto the top of the cage, and eventually realized it wasn''t moving.


    "Was that your plan?" Jeshu asked, leaving the cage.


    Behind him, the severed rope flew up through a hole in the ceiling.


    An oblivious clone stood beneath the hole in the ceiling and the druid tackled him out of the way just as a cage came crashing down and burst into a mess of bent iron and shattered mushroomwood.


    He turned back to Cricket. "You don''t get how counterweights work. Why would cutting that rope make us go up?"


    Licephus appeared in the hallway, slamming another clone into the wall, evidently attempting to bite him through the adamantine mask.


    "We wasted all of our time arguing! That''s it, anyone who tied a round, you''re up!"


    A single clone grabbed a khopesh in two trembling hands and hesitantly stepped toward the vampire while the others ran.


    "That can''t be right." Cricket started counting on his lower fingers while his upper arm produced four more clones.


    The new shadows quickly threw down their hands, and three of the four relegated themselves to the front lines, according to the new rules.


    "Why''d you risk your life to save a clone?" Cricket whispered to Jesh as they turned down an adjoining hallway.


    Jeshu blushed. "I actually didn''t think about it. But, in retrospect, you did say the others would remember. Perhaps I earned some good will."


    "Let''s lead him up to the portal. Maybe we can push him in."


    "That''s ten floors up!"


    "Yeah, we don''t... how much time do you think we have?" Cricket glanced back down the hallway, where he saw all three of the recent clones still waiting. "You don''t think that one guy...?"


    As he spoke, the lone shadow from earlier came running down the hallway, still in one piece, with Licephus in pursuit.


    "Oh!" Cricket shouted in encouragement. "Way to represent!"


    The tired clone smiled, and pushed himself a little bit harder from the morale boost, but Licephus gained on him at an impressive speed. The shadow swerved down a side passage and the feral vampire crashed into the wall, unable to slow himself in time. The three clones standing nearby lunged in.


    Cricket looked back at Jesh. "I have one more idea. There''s actually a floor below us."


    "There is?"


    "Over this way."


    Cricket led the dryad down a small, dark, tunnel that tapered downhill, and the sounds of combat grew distant.


    Eventually, they came to a dead end with a high, vented ceiling and a grate in the floor.


    "I found it while exploring. I think it''s a dungeon."


    "You want me to squeeze down through that tiny opening?"


    "Oh... well I hadn''t thought about it. It will be small for Licephus too."


    "Cricket, that''s not a dungeon, it''s a sewer. I can smell it from here."


    "Yes, it smells. It''s a ruthless dungeon. They must drop bad goblins down there and then just forget about them. That smell''s probably dead bodies."


    "That''s not what dead bodies smell like. It''s what sewage smells like. I don''t want to drop down into a cramped tunnel full of sewage."Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Cricket counted his four remaining clones, and looked confused again. "Did we lose a couple?"


    The hallway behind them became eerily quiet. Cricket grunted. "You did it again," he said to the druid, with an accusing tone.


    "Did what?"


    "You wasted all of our time arguing."


    Cricket made two more clones and staggered sideways into the wall, looking lightheaded.


    "You''ve made too many. You need to slow down."


    "There''s still... a ton of energy in my khopeshes."


    "How do you know that? You don''t want to spend too much."


    "Because it still burns." He passed the khopesh down to his lower hand, and displayed his palm to the druid. The shell had blistered, and bubbled, and even turned white in a few places."


    "Cricket! You should have told me."


    "I did. I told you it burned."


    "I... didn''t realize you meant literally."


    Cricket made another clone, then crashed sideways into the wall¡ªheadfirst this time.


    Jeshu caught him as he fell, and laid him on the ground. "Cricket, it doesn''t matter how much energy is stored in your blade. It still takes a toll on you to use dark magic."


    Cricket nodded weakly as the druid began to heal him, sharing his meager remaining stamina.


    A rock skidded down the tunnel toward them, unseen around the bend. Licephus had stalked in silently, but now grew close enough that Cricket could hear him sniffing the air.


    He looked to his clones. "Get the mask off. Priority one. If we don''t get that mask off, we''re all dead. Abandon all caution!"


    "Don''t abandon all caution," Jeshu pled with the clones. "But it doesn''t look good. Can you stall while I tend to Cricket?"


    The shadow he addressed directly saluted¡ªa very serious look on his face¡ªand managed to rally the other clones into a loose vee formation, guarding the druid and lining the sides of the cramped room.


    *****


    When Patches'' lone paw ran out of strength, she dropped to the ground and made a few futile leaps at her dagger to retrieve it. Eventually it fell too, leaving a blue skid mark on the stones with the mixed blood of the two rudra¡ªone trail darker, and already partially coagulated. Gingerly, the mouseling grabbed it by the handle and lifted it before her eyes for inspection.


    Oydd hissed in pain nearby. He held onto his staff with a trembling hand and dropped to one knee, leaning heavily on the shaft to prevent himself from falling entirely.


    The mouseling came to his side and nuzzled him with her cheek.


    "I''m really sorry," she said. "But it wasn''t my fault."


    Oydd took a steadying breath. "I don''t blame you. You were trying to help."


    "I did help," Patches contested. "I scared him off."


    Oydd nodded absently. He gripped the tip of his severed tentacle tightly, trying to stop the flow of blood.


    Patches held up her bloody knife before the rudra. "I got some of his blood." She placed it on the ground, then retrieved a tiny bottle from her satchel and pulled the top with her teeth. She held the bottle steady on the ground with her amputated paw and began to scrape the darker blood into the vial.


    "Looks like you got mine too."


    Patches frowned.


    "Is this for a totem?" the rudra asked. "I just want you to be careful."


    "The blood doesn''t look the same. I can just get his." She held it up to the rudra again and he nodded approval. "When I make a totem, my plan affects the spell a lot. So, I won''t accidentally get you."


    Still, the mouseling hopped away to avoid any further questions. She ran inside and scurried among the litter in the witch''s old laboratory, stopping short of her hole.


    "Pip, I need you to come inside with me and see if it''s safe."


    She looked around and remembered the lady bug had not yet returned. She only lowered her voice slightly and continued anyway. "We need to get the yarn..."


    Despite her words, the mouseling stood quite still near the entrance, her eyes peeping into the darkness. The shadows moved¡ªonly so, so, so slightly¡ªtoward her, and the mouseling squeaked, retreating back toward the rudra.


    She heard Oydd''s voice behind her. "What did he take? It''s impossible to tell among all this clutter!"


    A few azaeri guards rushed through the room, and the mouseling was vaguely conscious that it was not safe to wander until they located the old rudra.


    She returned to the ledge and tried to spy the lady bug flying through the thick dust, but gave up and curled into a ball.


    "I know you''ll be fast Pip, so I''ll wait for you..."


    *****


    A faint, violet glow hinted at the vampire''s proximity long before Cricket could see him. Licephus sauntered slowly down the tunnel, as though he had forgotten his prey, until he came around the last bend and sensed the group huddled back against the wall.


    Licephus paused. Cricket heard the tendons of his jaw snap, as his maw opened wide and the feral vampire began to salivate. Again, a grey saliva dripped to the floor from behind the mask, and he sprinted forward, still on all fours.


    When Licephus neared the opening to the small room, Cricket released another loud screech, and the charging vampire careened into the wall¨Cnot so forcefully this time, as the vampire, brutish though its intelligence may have been, slowed itself until it regained its full sense of hearing.


    While it paused, two shadows, secreted on the high ceiling, dropped onto the vampire lord''s back. One missed his mark, landing on the ground beneath the beast, and began wildly swinging his weapons against the impossibly hard armor, leaving no more than a scratch here and there.


    The one that landed on its back began struggling with the vampire''s mask, cutting into the leather straps of the muzzle with his shadowy daggers.


    When Licephus raised his divine claw to skewer the clone beneath him, the shadow mounting him hooked the sickle-end of a khopesh beneath his armpit and yanked upward, but the effort neither slowed its attack nor penetrated the gap in the corrupted silver.


    Licephus moved over the fallen clone, pinning him, then impaled him in an instant with a blow so powerful it sank several inches into the black rock.


    The clone dispersed in a heavy cloud of blackness, and Licephus dug his face into the ground, biting at the dissolving shadows as several more clones circled and attacked.


    Cricket, himself, still leaned against the dryad, until Jeshu left him to join the fray.


    With each swipe of his claw, the vampire extinguished a clone. And he proved unusually agile for his lack of sight, dodging the more serious blows, though he had trouble dismounting the shadow on his back, which slowed him considerably.


    Jeshu stepped in with a sideways smack of the hammer, which caught the vampire''s attention. Enough so that he dodged the druid''s second swing, and countered with a backhand that barely missed Jeshu¡¯s throat. A thick shell of ice grew on the vampire''s armor, spreading along the shoulder. Jeshu butted him in the chin with the head of his hammer, shattering the shell, which sent a second, thinner crust of ice along the mask.


    One of the clones brought a khopesh down on the vampire''s shoulder with such incredible force that it couldn''t withstand the rebound. The entire clone poofed into a burst of shadow that crashed against the vampire like a wave, washing along the grooves in his armor.


    As Licephus cut down the remaining clones, Jeshu scored another direct hit to the vampire''s forehead, and then to the nape of his neck. Licephus shrugged off the blows, and the druid fell back toward Cricket, huffing and puffing.


    "Why are you so tired?"


    "My... mana is my strength," Jeshu managed between breaths. "And I am running dry."


    "Here." Cricket held out one of his khopeshes.


    The jade crackled with black energy. And the dryad stared down at it, almost in revulsion at first, until the final clone fell. Then he gripped the handle in one hand, still holding his hammer in the other.


    "For you," he said, sadly, as he charged the vampire. Black magic spread through his veins, and the druid grew a foot, and then two. Holding it with only one hand, he swung the great hammer with greater strength than when he wielded it with two. The druid radiated darkness, emanating shadow in every direction¡ªso heavy that it dimmed the room.


    He struck the side of the vampire''s head again, and this time sent it flying into the wall with a resounding dong!


    Black ice instantly enveloped the vampire. Jeshu struck again, shattering and creating more ice. But with each blow the ice grew until it was over a foot thick.


    Licephus waved Bale''s arm, which burst free, forcing the druid to circle to the vampire''s weaker side. Finally, Jeshu dropped the khopesh, gripped the hammer with both hands, and brought it down over the vampire''s head, splitting the ice and connecting with the adamantite with a sickening crack.


    Licephus twitched, and a series of involuntary tremors spread from his broken neck. His head drooped, even as his divine tail and arm continued to thrash. And then the mask fell loose¡ªthe leather straps cut from his earlier scuffle. It skidded down the ice and along the ground, stopping at the druid''s feet.


    Jeshu looked into the vampire''s dead, white eyes, and gasped, not wanting to see his friend. But he only hesitated a moment.


    "It''s not him," he said gravely. "It''s not even him anymore. There is nothing there."


    Licephus snapped at the air, unable to even turn his head toward the druid. The left side of his face sunk in, with flaps of bone and pale, bloated skin waving from the force of his gnashing. Black, dried blood dripped from his eyes, and his nose, and his ears.


    "It''s not even him," Jeshu repeated as he raised his hammer for the finishing blow.

 Wants and Needs

    9


    Wants and Needs


    "It is as she said to Cricket," Oydd replied. "It seems they were here for nothing more than the portal."


    "And you''re sure they didn''t take anything?" Jeshu pressed.


    "Of course not! How could I be sure? But I had already catalogued the items I believed to be most valuable... in both labs... and those items still remain¡ªeven the rudra''s personal lab notes. The forgehammer still sits where we left it near the portal, and they did not take that either."


    "Maybe they couldn''t," Cricket suggested. "After all, we kind of gave up on that."


    "Maybe they already forged all that they need," Oydd replied.


    "I call Bale''s wings!" Cricket blurted out suddenly.


    "Ah, whistles!" Bax responded. "I was going to call the wings. I''m already missing wings."


    "What are you talking about?" Oydd said. "Neither of you can have wings. You don''t have the musculature."


    "Meaning?" Cricket asked.


    "I can''t just attach them to... to what? Your back muscles? Directly to your shell? Neither of you have the structure to support wings¡ªnor the necessary muscles to use them if you did."


    Bax looked down at his feet and kicked at the ground.


    "Licephus had a tail," Cricket reasoned, "but elves don''t have the... musculature to support a tail."


    "That''s not entirely true. But I do need to study his body, and see how their rudra managed to attach it."


    "Is there a reason you suspect the rudra''s hand?" Jeshu asked.


    "Oh... not really. Let me consider, but I just thought it likely. Bax, did you see Licephus fight? I have some questions about the illusions he created."


    "Oh, no. I was busy. I thought it best to remove myself from combat, if you get my meaning." Suddenly a panicked look crossed his face. "I actually don''t think you will. I don''t mean I was avoiding combat. But I ran into another snail. So I assumed they had an illusionist too, right. Seeing as no real snails grow that big."


    "Why would another illusionist also make a snail?"


    "It''s the optimal fighting form," Bax said. "Slugs don''t have shells, for example, and non-giant snails aren''t very formidable..."


    "What about scorpions?" Cricket asked.


    "Pardon?"


    "They have eight legs, two pincers on top of that... and a weapony tail. That''s eleven limbs. More than Skittle''s eight."


    "Skittle only has six and a half limbs now," Scorpion replied.


    "More than mimics, I meant."


    "Hold on," Oydd interjected. "Cricket, do you think the mimic is better suited to fighting than you?"


    "Better armed, yes. I think I''m better suited."


    "Because he has more limbs than you?" the rudra continued, astonished.


    "Only half a limb more, now. So we''re close."


    "Scorpions only get... like three feet big," Bax said. "Present company excluded," he added, with a wink at the ratling.


    "But so do snails," Cricket argued. "You would have to make a giant scorpion. It doesn''t have to be real."


    "Doesn''t have to be real!" Bax spurted, wide-eyed, in apparent protest. But then he thought for a moment.  "Well, I would have to start with a normal-sized scorpion, like I did with the snail, and make it a little bigger every day, so I don''t notice. Otherwise the illusion fails."


    "So you don''t notice!" Oydd scoffed. "There has to be more of a science to your¡ª"


    "Plausibility!" Bax shouted with a smile, slapping his own thigh. "I know giant snails don''t exist, for instance, but I''ve trained my brain to think that they do! It''s all about believability with illusions."


    "Let''s do that! With a scorpion, I mean. A scorpion as big as that snail would be horrifying."


    For the first time in a rare while, the gnome appeared frustrated. He cleared his throat and continued slowly. "As I was saying... I had created a giant snail, that being the optimal fighting form." Bax paused to see if he would be challenged again. "But I was also aware of the possibility that it could be one of my own illusions. I vaguely remembered releasing some. I was also aware of the possibility that I was myself an illusion, which happens from time to time, so I never discount it."


    "Wait," Oydd interrupted again. "You can''t even tell yourself apart from your illusions?"


    "Well, of course I think I can. But if I create illusions of myself, they think they can too. So sometimes I end up realizing that I''m the illusion. That''s why I don''t do it often. But sometimes I forget. Can you relate?" Bax asked, looking at Cricket.


    The insect nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. That happens to me all the time."


    "It does not!" Oydd said, exasperated. "You are the only Cricket with a bright green breastplate. Anyone can tell you apart at a glance!"


    "I meant in my dreams," Cricket answered, taken aback by the rudra''s frustration.


    "That doesn''t count..."You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Of course it does. He asked if I could relate. Not if it''s happened to me in real life. I can relate, because it''s a common theme in my dreams. I realize I''m just a shadow. It''s very confusing... makes me think."


    Bax nodded in agreement then suddenly vanished.


    A silence fell over the room, and before anyone could react, a second Bax came running in from the hallway.


    "Sorry I''m late," he puffed, and took his place where the previous Bax had stood. Oydd stared at him with such a disquieting look that the gnome began to fidget. "I hope I didn''t cause any trouble. I sent another me ahead... to report..."


    "It''s fine." The rudra sighed.


    Cricket continued his explanation where he had left off. "I think that''s one of the main purposes of dreams. To help us relate to experiences we haven''t actually experienced."


    "Can we continue? We have a lot to cover."


    "Hold on," Jeshu said. "I think that might have actually been profound."


    Oydd ignored him. "We need to discuss how to proceed from here. Jeshu, I wanted your opinion specifically."


    "I''m listening."


    Oydd breathed deeply again to calm himself and cleared his throat. "I cannot defeat their rudra. He is beyond me in every facet I can think of. He possessed at least part of Bale''s brain. I saw it glowing from the back of his head and I can only surmise to what extent this might increase his mental faculties. I got the impression that he could destroy me with a thought."


    "Then why didn''t he?" Jeshu asked.


    "An excellent question."


    "Maybe he''s friendly," Cricket suggested.


    Oydd shivered. "No. He looked upon me with such revulsion. I can only assume he was under orders not to kill me. But I don''t know why. You said Shisu said something along those lines."


    "She said she bore us no malice," Jeshu answered. "She only needed to reach Sheol."


    "She said animosity," Cricket corrected. "I remember, because I know what malice means."


    Oydd nodded. "And yet, Licephus might have easily killed you both."


    "No," Jeshu replied. "I don''t think it was as careless as you say. If she wanted Licephus to kill us, then he would not have been chained and muzzled. She said we were learning things that she already knew, as if she wanted us to learn them."


    "So what conclusion do you come to?"


    "That... she cannot see the possibility that she is in the wrong. She sees her hands as clean."


    "I agree," Oydd replied, stroking his remaining tentacles. "But does that change how we react?"


    "It gives us insight into her mind. It may help us predict her actions."


    "One would hope. But I don''t see why a narcissistic child would want to summon a god of chaos."


    At this, Jeshu only shook his head, offering no answers.


    "So you could get his brain?" Cricket asked suddenly.


    Out of context, and behind in the conversation as it was, the rudra followed Cricket''s train of thought. "Yes. If their rudra can integrate the lobes of the avatar''s actual brain into his cranium, I suppose I could."


    "Or any of us?" Cricket probed.


    "Not really. Rudra possess six lobes, two of which are vestigial and undersized. They are redundant, so I could... replace them? I''m not sure what he did. But... you don''t really have lobes at all, Cricket. Your whole brain is interconnected. However, you likely have ganglia throughout your body to... do you even want his brain?"


    "No," Cricket answered dejected. "I really only wanted wings. To get an edge on Skittle."


    "Hold on. No more questions," Oydd requested. "Otherwise we''ll be here forever. We do need to discuss what to do with the parts we have. But let''s save that for last. First we need to determine how to proceed. If we wish to stop Shisu, then we must first overcome the rudra. I don''t see a way around it. But, as Cricket pointed out, if we are able to defeat him, then I could attempt to augment my psychic abilities as he has done. Then, and only then, I think, might we stand a chance against Shisu''s temporal magic."


    "The eye," Jeshu said.


    "Yes, thank you. The eye. I''m not sure how many of you have considered the significance of this, but according to Jeshu''s report, Shisu only possessed one of Bale''s eyes. The druid suggests we prioritize locating the other. We will need to discuss how to use it. It will not simply come down to who is missing an eye. It is possible that I could put it to the best use, and we must maximize our combat ability."


    "I need an ear," Bax said. "If we happen to fight anyone using Bale''s ear, I should get dibs."


    Oydd raised an eyebrow. He studied the gnome''s face, attempting to discern if either ear were an illusion.


    "But I get his arm?" Scorpion inquired sternly.


    "I said we would discuss that last."


    "What else is there to discuss? Kill the rudra, find the eye... and?"


    "Well, that is roughly it," Oydd confessed.


    "You said Licephus had the right arm, and I''m the only one missing a right arm."


    Cricket frowned, looking at his still-missing left arm.


    "I don''t believe anyone is contesting that. But I don''t know if it''s the right size."


    The ratling, standing at around four feet while hunched over, attempted to straighten his back. Though the effort appeared uncomfortable, and he teetered off-balance, Scorpion, at his full height, stood a few inches taller than the five-foot rudra. Oydd''s neck twitched as the imposing ratling looked down on him. The ratling turned his face so that the rudra looked into his empty socket, perhaps in an attempt to be more intimidating.


    "His left arm fit you, right?"


    "Yes," Oydd nodded. "I hadn''t... realized how much you''ve..."


    "Then it''s settled." Scorpion hunched over once again.


    Oydd folded his arms, but made no protest. Rather he turned to Jeshu. "That brings us to the horns." Oydd retrieved a folded piece of cloth from his shelves, with a faint glow from within. He placed it on the table and pulled back the fabric to reveal the long twisted spikes.


    Cricket''s antennae stiffened involuntarily until they were almost straight.


    "Jeshu. I know you haven''t fully recovered from your wounds in Fomoria. And... the mana you used on the surface is not so plentiful here. I have studied these. I imagine you can feel it from where you stand, but Bale''s horns are bursting with vitality and virility."


    "Can I touch them," Cricket asked. "They''re... resonating."


    "You can sense it too?" the rudra asked. He turned again to the druid. "It''s a sort of revitalizing mana. Scorpion obtained them from an assassin who regenerated at an incredible rate. Faster than a troll, he said. Her wounds closed as he watched them."


    "And you''re offering them to me?"


    Oydd nodded.


    Jeshu stared silently at the horns, a distant look in his eye. He began to reach for the horns, paused, then folded the cloth over them again and held the offering up before his impassive face.


    "I thought you''d be thrilled."


    "Let me... hold onto them."


    "Whatever you wish. For now, will you and Cricket track down Bale''s wings? I will begin operating on Scorpion, but that will take some hours."


    Scorpion grinned.


    "Shouldn''t you reattach Cricket''s arm first?" Jeshu suggested.


    "I''d rather wait until the yellow stuff dries a bit. It''s easier to work with when it''s tacky."


    "Yellow stuff," Scorpion snickered. "Sounds very scientific."


    "It''s called hemolymph," Oydd replied dryly, "but I thought using that word without explanation would be worse communication. If there is nothing else, shall we adjourn?"


    The rudra looked around the room. Only Jeshu nodded. Scorpion gave a sour look, Bax was preoccupied with a dusty stain he had found on the floor, and Cricket was already halfway to the door.

 The Dojo

    10


    The Dojo


    "It was just around here." Jeshu led the insect through the hallways of the third or fourth floor of the tower. With the numerous split-levels and sloping hallways, it was not always easy to say precisely.


    The druid peered into a few empty rooms while the insect followed him until he got his bearings. Soon they came upon the petrified remains of the imp.


    "Where are his wings?" Cricket asked.


    Jeshu walked closer to the statuesque remains, now crumbling, though still upright. He didn''t respond.


    "You said the gargoyle had Bale''s wings, right?"


    "He did... when I fought him, he did."


    "So... we know one thing they took," Cricket concluded.


    "I suppose so."


    "Oh, well. Oydd said I couldn''t use them anyway. You did this?" Cricket reached out to touch the calcified corpse, and a brittle claw broke off at his touch. He leaned over to look inside, where he saw discolored layers that must have once been muscle and bone.


    "I did. Not intentionally, really. His skin had some magic making it more rocklike. I thought I might be able to make it grow. Maybe cover his eyes a bit, or stiffen his limbs to slow him down. Really, I think I was terribly lucky."


    "Jesh, the Terrible." Cricket tested the sound of the title.


    The druid bit his lip, uncomfortably.


    "Well, he is definitely a gargoyle now," Cricket said. "I was tired of being corrected. Maybe we''ll station him above the main gate. It''s a pity, though, he didn''t stiffen up in a cooler pose. I mean, if you know you''re going out anyway... you might as well pose, right?"


    "We''re near the stables," the druid stated. "Do you mind if I check in on Orth?"


    "Not at all. I wanted to see how Xacier is doing anyway."


    "Xacier?"


    "The, uh... axebeak."


    "You named him Xacier?"


    "It''s not too much, is it? It means scissors in Rudran. Oydd said they didn''t really have a word in his language for axes, so... I took some liberty."


    "No... it''s not too much. I''m only surprised because you''re getting better at naming things."


    "Oh, thanks. But my taste hasn''t really changed. I just get less pushback. Plus, Oydd is always flattered if I use Rudran, so he ends up letting me name more things. It''s just strategic."


    Jeshu laughed. "Well, I think it''s better than your one-syllable names, like Pit or Peck. And it''s better than your descriptive names, like fluffy death chicken."


    "I forgot about those!" Cricket said with a hint of longing. "He''s more like an owl, though. A... flittering smash owl."


    The insect seemed lost in thought for too long, so Jeshu interrupted him with a reproachful tone. "Yes. Better than names like that."


    *****


    Bax cautiously opened the door to Oydd''s lower laboratory¡ªthe only laboratory of the two he actually used anymore¡ªand crept along the wall, picking at his ear, until he came upon the rudra, mid-operation.


    "Oh," he said, just loud enough that the rudra looked up. Oydd immediately returned to his work, and the gnome looked around for a place to sit and wait. He found a bench, but because of his short stature, rather than pulling himself up to sit on it, he plopped on the floor and used the seat as a headrest.


    Bax almost immediately regretted his decision, as the bench began to dig into the back of his neck, and it held his head at an odd angle. But when he unconsciously let out a little groan, the rudra momentarily glared at him. And Bax, polite as he was, didn''t want to imply the accommodations were uncomfortable. So he sat¡ªquietly, so as not to disturb Oydd¡ªfor nearly an hour, his neck stiffening by the minute, until another sound¡ªsomewhere between a moan and a heavy sigh¡ªagain escaped his lips before he could stop it.


    "I assume you''re waiting for me," Oydd said, without looking up from his patient.


    "Oh, yes. Sorry to be a bother. I know you''re working, and I''m content to wait."


    "I think it might be better for my own concentration if we talk while I work. I cannot give you..." Oydd cursed under his breath and cut a writhing piece of violet muscle free from the unconscious Scorpion''s bone, while a second strand wrapped around his own pinky, cutting off the circulation. He switched the scalpel to Bale''s claw and proceeded with his work. "I cannot give you my full attention. What did you need?"


    "I heard you had a supply of magicite."


    Oydd''s brow wrinkled a moment. "I believe I know what you mean."


    "Red stone," Bax replied, making a useless gesture with his hand that somehow indicated a stone.


    Oydd ignored it. "The elves call it Godsblood. But I imagine it sounds better in elven. I prefer, simply, bloodstone because of the color."


    "Yes, that''s it. Have you tried moving it? With your mind, I mean."


    At this, Oydd actually looked up. "I have. It was unusually difficult."


    Bax nodded. "It has some... anti-magic properties."


    "I am aware. I originally sought it to keep away the... curse of Sheol. I believe the darkness there is merely the fallout of a sizeable arcane event. The air is likely toxic with tainted mana. Though whether it is deadly, I can only surmise. I was, however, surprised to find the stone hampered my mental abilities, which function on different principles."


    "I''m not," Bax said casually. "Not that I would have guessed it. But I''ve seen its effects before. Used the stuff to hunt a witch. A rudran witch at that!"


    "Really? And you were successful?"


    "Oh, my, yes! She wasn''t a very good witch, mind you, but... it worked well enough. Mostly used her magic to survive above ground. Used her... uh..." he tapped the side of his head. "...mind to fight."


    "You have me intrigued. What did you want?"


    "A bit of it. Of your bloodstone. Do you have more than you need?"


    "I do. But I require the purest, and most intact portions for my own needs. It is difficult to find a sufficient, flawless piece."


    "That doesn''t matter to me. The rougher the better."


    "And what do you intend to do with it?"


    "Well, two things," Bax continued. "I already wanted a thin bit to make a lens." He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and peeked at Oydd through the hole. "If I get a bit thin enough it will be see-through, and then--"


    "Then it would dispel any visual magic."


    "Er... yes. Theoretically."


    "Like illusions?" Oydd pressed.


    "I hope so," Bax answered bashfully. "You know... just for... emergencies."


    "I think that''s perfectly reasonable."


    "So first, I want to make a monocle..."


    "Not spectacles?"


    "Why would I need two?" Bax looked perplexed. "And then secondly, I want to make a weapon."


    "A weapon? Out of the bloodstone?" Oydd had returned to operating on Scorpion''s arm, though his tone conveyed a continued interest in the conversation. "You know how to do that?"


    "Oh, yes. I studied with the best gnomish weaponsmiths, actually. I crafted the weapon that killed Es-she... the witch I mentioned. I thought it might serve us in a fight against the better rudra."


    At this, Oydd flinched visibly, though Bax didn''t seem to notice. "Very well then. Come by in a little over an hour, and I will show you the pieces I am unlikely to need. You may select whatever works best for you."This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    At this, Bax hopped to his feet excitedly, though his head still bent back at a weird angle.


    "Ow, ow, ow!" He slowly¡ªvery slowly¡ªadjust his head to an upright position, with a few audible pops, then walked toward the hall¡ªstiff as a board.


    A flash of green magical light burst behind him, from the rudra''s direction, and Bax jerked to look, but winced and froze halfway, before letting out a long, pain-filled whine. Slowly¡ªvery slowly¡ªhe untwisted his shoulders, and continued on his way, looking even more rigid than before.


    *****


    Cricket dropped to the ground panting. He looked around for something to lean on, but in the end indulged himself by simply sprawling out on his back, looking up at the ceiling.


    His shadow loomed over him, eager to resume the fight.


    Cricket shook his head. "Sorry, that''s about it for me. You can go back to teaching."


    Though a look of disappointment flashed over the shadow''s visage, the prospect of teaching was still a relatively new honor, and he ended up bounding off excitedly to work with the azaeri recruits.


    "You sure you should be working out so hard with an open wound?" Jeshu''s voice came from off to the side.


    Cricket took a few more breaths before answering. "Yeah, it was actually Oydd''s idea. He told me to let the yellow stuff come to the surface and gum up a little to help with reattaching it."


    "How does exercising help?"


    "Didn''t ask. But I don''t think it''s harmful so long as I''m not bleeding."


    Jeshu appeared, hovering above the insect¡ªhis face upside-down. "Cricket, I think that yellow stuff is your blood."


    "What? No, I just don''t bleed easy. Blood is always green or blue. Bax''s blood is red!"


    "You''ve seen Bax''s blood."


    "He gets a lot of nose bleeds. Though sometimes I think he''s faking it."


    "Have you ever bled green, or blue, or red?"


    "Just a few red specks when I lose a limb."


    "Hmm..." Jeshu said, unconvinced.


    "What do you mean, hmm?" Cricket fumed for a few seconds before continuing. "If the yellow stuff is blood, then I actually bleed really easy." As he spoke, his tone cooled from heated to somber, and he ended up lost in an epiphany.


    Jeshu gave him time to sort his thoughts out. Meanwhile, Scorpion appeared in the hallway and approached.


    Bale''s arm replaced his missing limb, though the appendage hung awkwardly at his side. He held a plain iron sword from the armory¡ªstraight and single-sided.


    "Cricket," he said, as a greeting.


    Cricket gave him a nod. "Hey, what''s up?"


    Scorpion hesitated. His eye twitched and he looked away. "I came to ask you... how to use a sword."


    "Oh, what? You want to learn swordsmanship?"


    "I do. Well, not really. But because of my size, my daggers feel... too small now. I completely blunted the one I hold in my tail by scraping it against the wall as I slept."


    "I figured you had to replace those now and then."


    "In one night. It''s ruined."


    "Oh." Cricket sat up. "Well, okay." He looked around the room, where his scattered clones led groups of recruits, running them through basic drills, or demonstrating techniques.


    "Okay," he pointed across the room. "See the Cricket over there? He''s in charge of swords."


    Scorpion grunted in annoyance.


    "That one''s in charge of spears, and that one''s in charge of grappling." Cricket laughed. "I don''t even know how to use a billhook, other than guesswork, but I put one of me in charge of billhooks. Where''d he go?"


    "I don''t want to train with a clone. I want to train with you."


    "Uh... I was about to leave. Oydd told me to report as soon as he was done with you."


    "Let him wait for ten minutes."


    "Oh? Can you already use your new arm? It''s kind of dangerous. I would want you to train with a shadow until you have control over it."


    "Coward." Scorpion grinned.


    "What?" Cricket sat up.


    "I can use it. It has already mostly healed. But I''ll just be working with my left today."


    "All right," the insect stowed his daggers, with a smile, twirling an iron sword in his remaining upper arm. "One sword each?"


    Scorpion took a fighting stance.


    "It''s been a while..."


    As Cricket spoke, the ratling charged with a heavy overhead swing.


    Cricket stepped aside and came in for a counter, but Scorpion stopped the blow mid-swing and turned it back toward the insect.


    Cricket blocked at the last moment. But the force caused his hand to ring.


    "Nice feint. And good control. I didn''t think you could¡ª" he stopped to block another swing, and then another, backing up as he parried.


    "All right," Cricket said. "Good power too." He stepped aside to dodge a stab, then attacked with a flourish to disguise his own mark, landing the tip of his sword against the ratling''s sternum.


    Scorpion swatted it away in annoyance and attacked two more times. Cricket blocked the first swipe, ducked under the second and came in again, with his sword to the ratling''s throat.


    In a moment of frustration, Scorpion grabbed the blade with Bale''s hand and crushed the metal. Cricket tried to withdraw, but the claw held his weapon motionless.


    Scorpion stared into the insect''s eyes until Cricket shook his head. "No. You don''t get to train with me. I will tell you what I tell every new recruit. I run these classes on respect. If you don''t respect me, then you don''t respect my knowledge, and it is a waste of time."


    He let go of his sword, leaving it in the ratling''s grip. "I will be thrilled to train with you, if you get your attitude under control. Come with me. I need to do my rounds before I leave."


    Cricket turned and started to walk toward the clone with a spear. Most of the spearmen held their weapons lazily, leaning against the shafts as they stood in a circle around the shadow. He demonstrated different blocks, while his assistant, an azaeri, struck at different areas of his body.


    Cricket watched for a few moments, then moved on, having nothing important to add.


    He turned to make sure Scorpion followed him to the next group. The ratling walked with a bit of sulk, but made no protest.


    The second clone attacked with a sword while a green recruit attempted to block. The shadow paused to correct the recruit''s position, then stepped back to repeat the stroke. The recruit managed to block the second time, but ducked his head and squinted. The shadow, without words, pointed to his eyes and then back at the azaeri''s. The recruit nodded, and this time kept his eyes on his instructor as he blocked, fighting every impulse in his body that told him to look away from a fast-moving object.


    "They each have an assistant to help communicate if a concept is unclear, but it happens less than you''d think," Cricket said. He looked over at Scorpion, who pretended to be too interested in the demonstration to respond.


    The insect continued. "He could hit him. Sword Cricket could. But that wouldn''t help as much. And Spear Cricket, could have easily dodged some of his opponent''s attacks. But he let the more effective ones land, to show the weaknesses of each position."


    Scorpion scowled slightly, though Cricket couldn''t tell if it were annoyance or embarrassment.


    They continued on to the Cricket with the billhook.


    "Oh, there he is." Cricket smiled.


    The shadow demonstrated an effective block, then had his partner repeat the position. The shadow then demonstrated a counter, reaching behind his opponent''s head with the hook as he took a step in past his opponent''s blade. The azaeri took advantage of the demonstration to quickly flip the butt of his staff up under the shadow''s chin. The shadow dodged by falling backward onto one knee, tripping the azaeri with a quick circular motion of the billhook.


    Cricket stepped in. He helped the azaeri to his feet, first, and told him sternly, "It''s not time to show off. He already has a better stance than you, and you''ve been using that weapon for a year. It''s easy to score a hit on an instructor who is going slow to demonstrate a principle. But you missed anyway."


    The azaeri shot him a dirty look, but bowed. Cricket, likewise, bowed to the instructor. The shadow twirled his weapon into a reverse grip and returned the gesture.


    Cricket started toward the archers on the far side of the room, where his shadow learned from an azaeri instructor, when Scorpion finally spoke.


    "Can we see the daggers?"


    The insect turned with an understanding smile and led the ratling to a group practicing with long knives¡ªa bit bigger than what Scorpion was used to.


    Cricket said nothing, but let Scorpion observe for a few minutes. Finally the ratling grunted.


    "That attack wouldn''t work. It will just hit bone."


    Cricket nodded. "Tell them. Or... show them, if you like."


    Scorpion looked to the insect for confirmation before stepping forward. "Let me see those," he said under his breath.


    The young azaeri, though startled for a moment, bowed and handed the knives, handle first, to the ratling.


    Scorpion looked around the circle, considered his words, and said. "Don''t aim for bone. This part of the chest is covered in too much bone. It''s not worth attacking. You can kill with a stab here, but I''ve seen a man take a dozen stabs to the torso and survive. Daggers are more productive at severing and slicing."


    He waved the azaeri''s partner closer. "The tendon here, here, and under the arm disable that arm completely when cut. This bone," he twisted the azaeri''s palm away from him, and drew a line from wrist to elbow with his knife, "I would actually use to block a knife if I had to. Don''t aim for it."


    The azaeri nodded, and chirped, "Hessu!"¡ªa word showing both appreciation and regard.


    Scorpion returned the knives and headed back toward Cricket.


    But the insect shook his head. "You can stay. You have a lot you could teach them. Mostly just observe, but correct them if they''re doing something dangerously wrong."


    "Wrong with a weapon is always dangerously wrong."


    "Well, remember most of them are beginners. So mostly observe. But pick one or two things to teach them, and you can harp on those things as much as you want."


    Scorpion cocked his head slightly, weighing the offer.


    "Go ahead. I have to leave. Have fun."


    "Hessu," the ratling whispered, with a bit of a rushed and awkward bow. His grin returned.


    "If you want to learn the sword, you can head over to that group. Really, I''m curious if you can hold a sword with your tail. But this is the only group you''re allowed to teach in. Understood?"


    Scorpion nodded.


    "I want to do swords with you again after you get used to the way we run things. You have good instincts for attacking, but you never learned to parry. Your next fight with me will be blocking only. And when you can handle that, I''ll come after you with two weapons. Then four."


    This time, Scorpion gave only a curt nod, half-listening and paying more attention to the knife-fighting.


    By the time Cricket reached the exit, and looked back, the ratling was already smiling and licking his teeth.

 Rusalka’s Eye

    11


    Rusalka¡¯s Eye


    Cricket woke early to meet Oydd at the portal. Early for Cricket meant that he didn''t get to finish a particularly enticing dream, where Bax had somehow gotten a hold of Bale''s legs, which made him a good two feet taller. The gnome ran circles around the insect on the battlefield. Which didn''t really contribute to the fight, but it was still impressive.


    Cricket waited in the empty portal room for about ten minutes before growing bored and taking a seat. Somehow the stones seemed colder in the morning, like they, too, needed time to wake properly. He stared at the useless forgehammer that sat across the room, scorching the ground beneath it. No one had touched it since Skunk had first pulled it through the portal. In fact, the azaeri soldiers had several superstitions revolving around the hammer, and many of them avoided the room entirely or wouldn''t enter without rings of flowers around their necks or a pouch of ash strung to their waists.


    Oydd cleared his throat to get the insect''s attention, and Cricket nearly jumped from his daydreaming.


    He yawned and waved lazily, his antennae sagging. "Hey, Oydd."


    "Good morning."


    A new ghoul crouched protectively at the rudra''s side. Or ghast, likely. Cricket could feel the difference from across the room¡ªa smothering, hateful presence.


    "Are you ready to set out?" the rudra asked.


    Cricket scratched his neck. "Are we going somewhere? You just said to meet you here."


    "Oh, my apologies. Yes, I wanted you to attend me on a little trip. I assumed you''d be happy to get out?"


    "Yeah, of course." Cricket stood up. "Are we going through the portal?"


    "Yes, to Agoth. I have received intelligence on the location of Bale''s eye. It belongs to an arachane warlord, and I believe it will be fairly easy to track down."


    "Where is he?"


    "She was last sighted in Agoth. There is another portal near her reported location, and it seems likely she oversaw its construction. However, no one has seen or heard from her in days. So I''m not sure what to expect."


    "Just you and me?" Cricket asked.


    "Yes, I thought so. This new ghast is likely strong enough to send alone. But I want to be there personally. And since I''m going, I wanted to bring you along for added protection."


    "Not Scorpion?"


    "He''s not ready to fight. He needs his rest."


    "Oh, uh... well he was fighting yesterday..."


    "What? Already?" The rudra thought. "Well, I suppose he has the fortitude of an ogre now. At first, with the left claw, I had to learn to dominate it. My flesh was too weak. I suppose he does not need the recovery time I did."


    "What''s his name?" Cricket indicated the ghast.


    "I will not name my ghasts. I create them by bonding a malevolent, disembodied soul to the corpse. Since the soul has already been named in its previous life, assigning a new name would only weaken it." The rudra studied his creation. "I have only gotten the process to work with a lizardman so far. The extreme heat from the magic seal melts away most of the vessel''s skin... which causes more problems than you would imagine."


    "I would imagine it to cause a lot of problems. Wait, didn''t you make a fomorian into a ghast? Jesh said it was, like, fifteen feet tall."


    "I... did. But I have not been able to repeat it. It is difficult to explain, but¡ª"


    "Heat of the battle sort of thing?"


    Oydd considered this explanation and simply lied, "Yes. something along those lines."


    "Too bad. I was hoping you could bring Indech back. He''s only about four times as big. I figure it¡¯s like the difference between me making one clone or four."


    The rudra''s eyes went wide. "Indech was over sixty feet. That is much more than four times as big."


    "Well, not much more."


    "Ah, you''re... doing the math wrong. That would be quadruple the height, width, and length, so he would be sixty-four times as massive, which would affect the magic drastically."


    "That can''t be right..."


    "It is. Regardless, it is safe to say, controlling Indech is magnitudes beyond my skill. For now, we will settle for this creation. He should suffice. By its very nature, a soul summoned and bound against its will exudes an aura of fear and hatred. The wild and unintelligent creatures of Agoth will give us a wide berth, moving away without even understanding why..."


    "And what about the intelligent creatures?" Cricket asked.


    "They will understand why."


    Cricket studied the ghast more closely. The heat from the binding magic caused the scaly skin to shrivel, which only made it more tight and menacing. Here and there, the dry, leathery skin burst around a bulging muscle, or a warped bone ridge.


    "Is that what that feeling is? Fear?"


    "Surely you''ve felt fear before? Like when you wouldn''t come to the annex because of the height."


    "I told you, it messed with my compound eyes."


    Oydd snickered.


    Cricket folded his lower arms. "Well, believe me or not, this fear feels different."


    "Jeshu said you couldn''t sense Indech, so I thought perhaps it didn''t affect you. Some of the archers who flew too close to him died from the magical fear. They just dropped out of the sky. I was happy to hear you were fine after getting so close."


    "Fine? No. If that feeling was fear, then I''ve never been so afraid in my life. It was almost overwhelming."


    "Ha!"


    "What?" Cricket asked, a bit self-conscious.


    "No, no, it''s nothing. Just," Oydd replied, "that the azaeri died of heart attacks. You have an entirely different circulatory system than vertebrates."


    "Vertebrates means animals with bones?"


    Oydd considered how complicated of an answer to give, but settled for "Yes." Then he continued his thought. "Perhaps you simply can''t have a heart attack! That is, regardless of the strain on your heart."


    "Oh..." Cricket nodded with a smile. "Can I invite someone?"


    "Who did you have in mind?"


    "Cricket. Ky''leh just broke up with him, so he''s having a hard time. Might be nice to get his mind off things."


    "Your shadow? I assumed you would bring shadows, so it should be fine. But you can''t just call him Cricket. Does he have a nickname."


    "Well... yes," Cricket said sheepishly. "But I don''t think you''ll like it. His girlfriend picked it."


    "If it''s not something mushy, like Cuddlebug, then we''ll be fine."


    Cricket offered a cheesy grin.


    "Oh, god... it is Cuddlebug." The rudra replied with wide eyes. "No, I''m not saying that."


    "Well, that''s just a rough translation. It sounds cooler in azaeri."


    "But I''ll know."


    Cricket looked a bit embarrassed. "Um... well, I''ll go get him. Should I get any of the others?"


    "How many do you keep out?" Oydd asked in astonishment.


    Cricket scratched his face as he thought. "Uh... nine now."


    "And that doesn''t get tiring?"


    "Actually the opposite. It was a drain making them, but the longer they''re out, the easier it is to keep them out, and then making new ones actually feels like... light work?"


    "That can''t be. There has to be a limit."


    "Limit, yes, but it''s not more tiring to keep them out. I can still make another four on top of the nine, if we need them. But the nine are training azaeri soldiers, so I''d leave them here, unless you need one for their expertise."


    "Expertise?" the rudra repeated, perplexed.


    "Oh, yeah. I guess they''re not really experts yet, but they will be. I have each one specializing in just one weapon, so if someone has a question about... halberds for example, there''s a Cricket for that. Eventually they''ll be a lot better than me at their chosen weapons."


    "You continue to astonish me. A brilliant idea, if you''re able to keep it up."


    Cricket beamed. "I am."


    *****


    Scorpion found Patches waiting by the ledge at the top of the tower, near the severed rope bridge. She looked constantly out toward the horizon. The rudra had left a few scraps of food out for her, but she had barely touched them, and the meat already looked spoiled.


    The ratling sat down next to her, but she didn''t acknowledge him.


    "You have to eat." Scorpion felt like a fish out of water trying to comfort the mouseling, and he knew he wasn''t saying anything that Oydd or Jeshu hadn''t already said.


    The mouseling still stared out into the vastness of the underworld without a word.


    So Scorpion sat with her for some time before he spoke again.


    "What are you waiting for?" He knew the answer.


    Patches frowned in concern. Without looking up, she said "Pip."


    "It''s been three days..." He trailed off, not daring to suggest the bug might not come back.


    "I tried to see through his eyes, but it was so dusty, so it didn''t work."


    "Well, it''s not dusty now."


    "I don''t want to check." The mouseling''s whiskers twitched. "He''ll come back. He had an important mission, so he''s just taking care to do it right."


    Scorpion took a deep breath. He drew his sword¡ªa straight, adamantine blade¡ªand lay it next to the mouseling. Then he reached into his bag, and pulled out... nothing. His fingers clutched around the air, and he made a motion as if setting something down. Surprisingly, the motion made a light tapping sound.


    At this, the mouseling gave him a sideways glance.


    "The invisible salt," Scorpion said, by way of explanation. "I found it on Licephus. I think no one else remembered, so I was able to keep hold of it."


    Patches reached out with her lone paw and confirmed the presence of the invisible salt crystal.


    "It''s pretty," she said softly.


    "It''s really not."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The mouseling sniffed at the salt and turned back wistfully, as if hesitant to abandon her watch.


    "This sword is special," scorpion said. "Oydd says it was forged by Bale''s hammer."


    Patches appeared uninterested.


    "Juhidra, the forgemaster, managed to enchant adamantite. We thought that process required the hammer, at first, but... now Oydd thinks the metal is already receptive. It just needs an enchantment."


    Another long silence followed. This time, the mouseling spoke first. "It won''t work."


    "Why is that?"


    "It''s too pointy. The magic will shoot out of the tip."


    "People enchant swords all the time, so I..." Scorpion began to sound exasperated, and took a calming breath. "So what makes you think it can''t be done?"


    "Because when you put magic in a wand, it shoots out the tip. Because they''re too pointy."


    "I don''t think that''s why. But you admit it''s been done before, right?" His tone began to rise again slightly.


    "I can''t do it."


    "You''re the only one who can do it. You''re better at enchanting than Oydd. I''ve seen Jeshu make charms, but this is different. Only you can do it."


    Another silence followed.


    "And I''m asking you to try... because you took my ring," Scorpion said.


    "I didn''t take it. It was in my bag."


    "And when it appeared in your bag, it disappeared from mine."


    "That''s not my fault!" the mouseling cried.


    Scorpion sighed. "I''m not upset. Just suggesting a trade. You keep the ring, which you said I could have, and I keep the sword. You can keep the ring, even if it doesn''t work, as long as you give it a try."


    Patches let out a huff, and rested her chin on the stone, but she still eyed the weapon.


    "I''ll just leave them here, and let you think about it. Just don''t... forget it and leave it behind. If it gets moved, we''ll never find it." Though he didn''t say so out loud, the ratling knew that Patches was incapable of forgetting an enchanted rock and leaving it behind. He rose, and left the mouseling sitting unmoved from where she had started, still staring hopefully out into the underground sky.


    *****


    Cricket''s shadow brooded as he followed the others, kicking rocks along the ground, and generally staring at his feet regardless.


    Oydd only seemed slightly perturbed. "I didn''t know he would be so mopey when I said he could come. I should have realized."


    "Well, he was... kind of getting on the other Crickets'' nerves, so it''s better this way." Cricket smelled the sulfurous air. "You know, Agoth used to seem a lot more... dangerous."


    "I feel the same. It seems odd, as well, to come here on our own volition."


    "Not led here, following the Ettin or Licephus?"


    "I would say forced, rather than led, but yes."


    Cricket mulled this over.


    "Speaking of Licephus," Oydd continued, "Jeshu brought up having some sort of service for those we''ve lost. Like a funeral."


    "A funeral? With a procession and everything?" Cricket asked.


    "No, not like the dhampir funerals. More like a gathering in their honor, I think. He suggested a burial."


    "What''s a burial?"


    "Er... I think he meant burying the body. I''m not certain. It''s more of a surface custom."


    "He wants to mummify him instead of burning him?"


    "Not by the sound of it. He said that elves simply bury their dead."


    "And let them rot underground? Gross."


    "Well, we can discuss the specifics. But it is odd to him that we don''t do anything."


    "You can''t have a service for every ratling and goblin that dies. It would be all you do. You can''t mummify all of them. And you certainly can''t bury all of them."


    "I''ve heard that humans do. They have entire fields dedicated to it."


    "They probably have long lifespans and small litters. Still sounds like a recipe for a haunting. One funeral for everybody, though, sounds nice. For Ty''lek and Agena and Raccoon and Bax."


    "Bax isn''t dead."


    "Yeah, but how much longer can he possibly make it? It''s just a matter of time, right?" He thought a bit and added, "Zarachi, Yentl, Jiukec, Eyrgan¡ª"


    "Eyrgan?"


    "Yeah, he could have been worse," Cricket argued.


    "Is that worth a celebration? That he could have been worse?"


    "Well, isn''t that why we liked Licephus? As vampires go, he could have been worse?"


    "Nevermind," Oydd said with a sigh. "We''ll discuss it later. Do you smell that?"


    "Zombies?" Cricket asked.


    "Dethkiri corpses. I recognize the acidic scent."


    Cricket sniffed and pretended to notice as well.


    "I think I see the remains of a battle up ahead," Oydd continued.


    "Cricket," Cricket said, gesturing his shadow. "Can you scout ahead?"


    Surprisingly, the shadow appeared eager for the opportunity. He drew his flickering khopeshes and hopped over some rubble. When he got a short distance ahead, he slowed, picking his way along the battlefield before turning to wave the others on.


    Cricket reached him first. "What we got?"


    The shadow indicated the wounds on a dethkirok corpse.


    Cricket stooped to investigate. "Khopesh wounds? What... a few days old?"


    The shadow placed a khopesh near an open slash and shook his head. Cricket reversed the grip on his own khopesh, then reached out. "He used this side. But some of the cuts..." he crept toward a mutilated kobold. "Some of the cuts are from this side."


    When the realization dawned on the shadow, he nodded enthusiastically.


    "I even recognize the fighting style."


    Oydd approached from behind. His ghast sauntered up to a kobold corpse on all fours, waving its tail hungrily, but simply stared at the dried blood with a smoldering look.


    "And some of these corpses are covered in web," Cricket continued. "So we''ve got an arachane warrior mimicking me, because my style is so effective," he concluded.


    Oydd shook his head. "These webs are magical. Smells like ether," he said dismissively.


    Behind a pile of rubble, a rock shifted slightly. The ghast stiffened and darted toward the noise, bounding over the rocks with a loud clicking of its black claws. When it reached the distant mound, it opened its maw, releasing a low growl.


    "Heel!" Oydd called forcefully. The ghast instantly ran back to his side¡ªits face full of pain and rage at following the command. But it did not hesitate. Instead, it matched the rudra''s pace as he moved toward the pile of rubble. He stopped several yards away and called out. "Reveal yourself, or I will release him."


    After a short pause, another rock shifted and fell with a clack. Another rock fell, and then a feminine voice called out, "I''m pinned."


    "Cricket, send your shadow," Oydd ordered, but Cricket, himself, had already begun to climb the mound.


    He shouted back at Oydd. "It''s a ratling. She is pinned," he confirmed, as he dropped out of sight.


    Oydd reached out with his mind to confirm her position, then circled the pile of rubble, where he did, indeed find a ratling leaning against a wall with her leg beneath a slab of stone. She held a loaded crossbow in one hand and a dented shield in the other. The shield appeared to have been nearly rent in two by some heavy weapon, and was likely retrieved from one of the dead. A deep gash marred her long snout, from ear to nose.


    "Cricket, I mostly wanted to know if it was safe. She is not incapacitated, and she could have shot you had she wanted to."


    "Didn''t," the ratling replied brusquely.


    "Besides, I can dodge arrows, remember?"


    "You got lucky once. You might have warned me though. I certainly can''t dodge a bolt."


    The ratling watched the two argue with panicked eyes, and eventually Oydd tried to calm her.


    "Don''t worry, we won''t hurt you if you mean us no harm. What happened here?"


    "Don''t know," the ratling replied. A speckled salamander¡ªpurple with yellow spots¡ªclimbed from behind her shield and perched on her shoulder, with the familiarity of a pet. "They was dead when I got here." She motioned at the large dethkirok corpse.


    Oydd glanced at the ratling corpse near her. "What about him?"


    "He was with me."


    "And what were you doing here?"


    "Looting," she answered honestly. "Heard there was a fight. Ran into goblins. The red ones."


    Oydd nodded. "If you set your weapon aside, I''ll release you."


    The ratling hesitated, but set the crossbow down at the edge of her reach. She still clutched the split shield protectively.


    Oydd lifted the rock pinning her leg with a wave of his hand and tossed it aside. "I''m sorry about your friend," he said, pointing at the other ratling.


    "Not my friend. Met him during the fight. But... kin before king and all."


    "I''m not sure if you''re using that phrase correctly," Oydd responded.


    The ratling spat on the ground, but it was unclear if she did so in contempt or simply impropriety. "What now?" She asked expectantly, staring at the rudra.


    Cricket answered. "You need a healer."


    "Leg will heal," she replied.


    "That gouge won''t." He pointed at the gash on her snout. "That wound''s older, and it''s got gangrene. I can smell it from here."


    A spasm crossed the ratling''s face, but she stared back defiantly.


    "We have a healer back at Euna Brae," Oydd offered.


    "So what? I have to come with you?"


    "You''re welcome to come with us," Cricket said. "If you don''t, you''ll die."


    "Why would you trust me? I could kill you in your sleep."


    "Don''t." Oydd met her gaze calmly.


    The ratling froze, thinking.


    "Do you have somewhere else to go?" Cricket asked.


    "None of your business." The ratling slowly rose to her feet, limping. The fat salamander on her shoulder nuzzled up to the fur of her neck. "Am I free to go?"


    "Oh, wow, you''re huge!" Cricket blurted out. Then, seeing her reaction, he added "I mean that as a compliment. I think you''re the biggest ratling I''ve ever seen. You''d even be bigger than Scorpion if he wasn''t bigger."


    The ratling looked annoyed. "That doesn''t make any sense."


    Oydd sighed. "Actually it does. He just has a poor way of wording things."


    Cricket reflected on the word choice. "Well, I didn''t realize ratling women were so big. Are they always bigger than the males?"


    "Cricket, Patches is a ratling."


    "Oh, weird. I guess I forgot."


    "Anyway," Oydd said, " You are free to go." The rudra looked down at her crossbow. "Should anything happen to me, nothing would stop this pet of mine from devouring all of us."


    "Got it," the ratling answered through narrowed eyes.


    "Come." Oydd gestured for Cricket to follow him and began to head across the battlefield.


    "Wait, she''s not coming?"


    "I think not. Would you?"


    "Yes," Cricket answered. "Some of my best times have been with strangers. Plus, I''m almost unkillable."


    "You''re not, Cricket," Oydd replied as the ratling slung the crossbow over her shoulder and began to make her way in the opposite direction.


    "Basically. I''m like a zombie¡ªyou have to destroy my head."


    "Which is entirely possible," Oydd countered.


    "Hasn''t happened yet. Unless you count that time in the mines..."


    The unnamed ghast and the heartbroken shadow began to follow Oydd, and Cricket had to pick up his pace to catch up.


    "How''s your arm, by the way?"


    "Meh. If I tried to use it right now, it would probably fall off again."


    Oydd nodded, not really paying attention. The group navigated an increasingly web-covered mess of kobolds, most of which had obviously been picked clean of belongings.


    Eventually, the walls became more worked¡ªflattened and smoothed¡ªindicating permanent quarters. It appeared to be the ambiguous boundaries of a keep, though the halls were absolutely quiet, save for one dethkirok cadaver covered in vibrant blue corpse beetles that clicked as they feasted. Unable to penetrate the demon''s thick skin and plates, the beetles entered through the mouth or picked at its open wounds.


    The rudra followed the major hallways to a quiet throne room. The corpse of a female arachane still hung in its own webs, spinning gently in the air. When she turned to face the rudra, a violet orb glistened from one of her eight eye sockets, shedding a faint light on the strands of web and across the chamber.


    "Rusalka," Oydd breathed, almost reverently.


    "Well, the looters didn''t make it this far yet," Cricket said.


    "Most of the scavengers were likely her own troops¡ªdeep goblins and kobolds. They may have avoided her corpse out of fear, or even some threat from Shisu. I believe anyone foolish enough to steal her eye would surely die a gruesome death."


    "You just jinxed us!" Cricket cried in alarm.


    "I meant that her own henchmen would know not to touch it."


    "Well that''s not what you said."


    Oydd shrugged. "Well, there are some risks. But we know how to use it." He floated up to eye-level with the corpse and plucked the eye free with Bale''s claw. The optic nerve stretch then snapped and a lavender ichor began to seep and drip from the empty pit, mixed with her own green blood.


    Oydd drifted back to the ground and both Crickets came up to get a better view of the prize.


    "Odd," Oydd said. "I thought my arm would glow in response. Or... the eye would glow. Like the horns did when Bale''s wings neared."


    "I bet that was caused by the horns then."


    "Well," the rudra said anticlimactically. "Shall we be on our way?"


    "Should you bring back some of the spider web? You made it sound like it was high quality."


    "For what?"


    "For Skunk," Cricket said.


    "I''m afraid you''ll have to elaborate."


    "You said there was something wrong with his diet. Which means there''s some nutrient he''s not getting, right?"


    "Yes."


    "Because of his mix of troll and changeling blood. Which is exactly what Aberron had and¡ª"


    "And he ate spiderwebs," Oydd finished. "I... suppose it''s possible. They have some complex proteins and acids that are not easy to..."


    "I told you recently. I brought it up."


    "So you did, but I didn''t get your train of reasoning. You kind of just reminded me that you saw him eating webs without context."


    "So you like the idea?"


    Oydd considered the possibility. "Can you and your clone gather as much as you can carry. I think that will be plenty for an evaluation and some trials."


    The shadow saluted emphatically in response, and soon Cricket and the clone had all eight arms filled with thick cords of silky, lustrous webbing.

 In Memoriam

    12


    In Memoriam


    "Cricket," Oydd said with a serious tone as they made their way back to the portal.


    "Yeah, what''s up?"


    "I was thinking about what you said. About being almost unkillable..."


    "I was exaggerating. But I haven''t been killed yet! I just keep growing back parts."


    "That''s what I wanted to talk about. I don''t know if it''s a bit... invasive, but I''ve been studying your molting habits very closely."


    "I don''t mind."


    Oydd nodded. "I noticed a... trend that is a bit worrisome."


    "Oh?" Cricket said.


    "Yes. You''re the first of your species I''ve been able to observe long-term. Oh... at all really. You used to molt every four months. Then five. And then six. This last time took eight months. That is a significant leap from the previous period."


    "Oh... okay, I can see why that would be inconvenient... if that trend continues."


    "Well, that would be the best-case scenario," the rudra said gravely.


    "How do you..."


    "The more likely scenario is that you will stop at some point. Once you reach your full size, that is."


    "Full size? What do you mean?"


    "Really?" Oydd said. "You... know you get bigger each time you molt, right?"


    "Well, yeah, but just a little."


    "Molting is... Since your exoskeleton can''t grow, molting is a method for you to grow. It is unlikely you''ll continue to molt once you''ve reached full maturity."


    "I''ll just stay immature, then."


    Cricket''s shadow smirked.


    "Cricket, I''m being serious. I think you may molt once more, maybe twice at the most. But there''s a chance you... won''t. There''s a chance you''ve reached the maximum size for your species."


    "That can''t be," Cricket replied, only looking a little nonplussed. "The brown insectoids molt their whole lives!"


    "Which are incredibly brief," Oydd countered. Cricket''s antennae drooped as they approached the portal. He stopped when he noticed a kobold corpse with an adamantine knife and stooped to retrieve it with one of his lower arms, careful not to drop any of the webbing.


    "Hmm..." the rudra pondered. "It probably is time for you to upgrade."


    "Huh? Oh, this isn''t for me. It''s a gift."


    "You understand why I brought it up? The molting?"


    "To paralyze me with caution on the battlefield?"


    "Well..." The rudra let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I suppose that won''t happen. But... some day, you''re going to lose a limb, and it''s going to be for good."


    "Oh, I was serious. My reckless approach to battle has always factored in my immortality. Now..." Cricket''s thoughts wandered off.


    Oydd walked up to the portal, which at present remained an arch of unremarkable stones. However, with a wave of his claw, a turbulent silver pool appeared. Normally, with a touch the surface displayed their destination. But this time Oydd''s claw began to etch a shining glyph into the silver pool¡ªjust three quick strokes. The rune pulsed faintly before it disappeared.


    "What was that?" Cricket asked.


    "A glyph of detection. I have placed one on every portal that I can currently access. It will alert me if another attempts to pass through without my knowledge."


    Oydd tapped the portal again, and an image of Euna Brae''s interior materialized.


    "Shall we?"


    Cricket glanced at the trail behind him. "Ratling," he said softly.


    Only silence responded.


    "I imagine," Oydd addressed the room, "you intended to follow us home. This is the last threshold¡ªthe last step for us¡ªand your final chance."


    The ratling soundlessly limped from behind a squat stalagmite, her crossbow resting on one shoulder and her salamander on the other. Despite the calmness of the rudra and the insect, she breathed quickly, almost in a panic, her eyes wide.


    "You have nothing to fear from us," Oydd called out.


    "Where are you going and who do you serve?" the ratling asked, with obvious desperation.


    "Does it matter? You will die here."


    The ratling hesitated.


    "We are headed to a tower called Euna Brae. It is a stronghold of the azaeri. But we have several ratlings living there as well."


    "As slaves?"


    "As equals," Oydd replied. "We were once slaves ourselves. May I ask where your home is?"


    "Spindle," the ratling answered. "My name is Spindle, and this is Plip." She motioned to the salamander with her thumb.


    "Oo! Sorry, that''s not going to work," Cricket said, shaking his head. "Azaeri aren''t good at stringing consonants together. And we already have a Pip."


    "What?" the ratling spat with a mix of confusion and annoyance.


    "Ignore my friend for a moment and tell me where you come from."


    The ratling looked back over her shoulder. "Much, much deeper. And my kind don''t tolerate the weak. If I return injured, I would be killed for my boots and my bow. Maybe for food, depending on¡ª"


    "We are not in need of boots or bows," Oydd interrupted.


    The ratling still stared back toward her home. "We have many rudra there, but they are cruel. I do not know the azaeri."


    "I don''t believe anything else I say will do much to persuade you. We will take our leave, and I will leave the gate open behind us. But choose quickly." With that, the rudra stepped through the portal.


    Cricket opened his mouth, as if to add something, but simply shrugged and followed his companion through.


    *****


    "Pip, I''ll be right back." Patches peered over the ledge, and let out a huff of determination. She wrapped the enchanted sword in her tail then crossed the laboratory. It felt oddly light. She paused by her hole, but even looking into the tunnel gave her a sick feeling so she hurried past to the stairwell.


    Still, she knew a mummy waited for her far below. Or maybe not so far? It had been an awful long time, even if it was just creeping slowly toward her.


    She scurried down a few floors with the sword, heading for Scorpion''s quarters near ground level, but she began to shake a bit more with each floor she descended.


    Eventually she reached the training grounds and ran into one of the Crickets, who looked at her with an odd amount of concern.


    Patches held out the sword with her tail, and the shadow stared a moment before noticing the nearly invisible weapon.


    "I have to go. Can you give this to Scorpion?"


    The shadow grabbed it reverently, but made no promises.


    Patches didn''t have time to think about it. She shuddered and ran back for the stairwell, but after climbing a few floors, the shadows started to look at her funny.


    She slowed down and eventually came to a stop on a landing, turning to look back down the stairs. She could hear the mummy breathing, which meant it was very, very close.


    Patches looked up and gulped. The shadows in the stairwell reached out toward her.


    "We can''t go down," she said to no one. "And we can''t go up." Patches shrank against the wall. But the breathing grew closer and if it came down to it, she would rather deal with the grabby shadows then descend low enough that she might run into the spider mummy.


    She ran up the stairs until the stump of her missing paw grew raw from beating the ground, and the shadows ahead grew too dense. Then she ran down the hallway away from the stairs and turned into a dark, unused chamber.


    Finding the room completely bare, with no place to hide, she huddled in the back corner and tried to make herself as small as possible.


    Out in the hallway, she heard a creak, and then heavy footsteps. The footsteps stopped in front of the door and cast a long shadow beneath. The shadow shifted and began to scratch softly at the door. She heard a long, slow breath, and then the scratching resumed.


    Patches wrapped her tail around herself protectively. Her whiskers began to shiver. "Pip," she called out softly. "Is that you?"


    *****This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Cricket watched as an insectoid tamer half his size poured a bucket of grain into Xacier''s pen. The axebeak impatiently snapped at the insect''s exposed arms¡ªthree of which still remained. The insectoid pulled the bucket back with a harsh word, and the axebeak screeched in protest. However, knowing the food would not return if he continued his behavior, Xacier contented himself with sharpening his beak in a stone trough in the ground.


    "He''s going to cut through to the next floor down some day," Jeshu said, matter-of-factly.


    "That will take months!" Cricket replied. "And before we made the trough, he sharpened his beak on the bars, which... he was like halfway through this one." Cricket stuck his head through the bars to look at the far side, but hastily retreated when it got the axebeak''s attention.


    "How''s Orth doing, by the way? What does he eat?"


    Jeshu sighed and looked off to the far end of the stable. "He eats the back of his cell. Really, I think it''s time to let him go. If I don''t do it soon, he won''t fit through the halls to the portal."


    "Can he climb stairs?"


    "Freakishly fast. If he were interested in eating living things, he''d be more dangerous than Xacier. As it is, I''m still hesitant to release him. He might not adapt to the harsh conditions of Agoth after living in captivity. On the other hand, the wildlife around here might not be able to adapt to him."


    Cricket''s antennae suddenly stood straight up.


    It is time.


    "Did you hear that?" Cricket asked.


    "I did." Jeshu waved to the attendant¡ªwho half-heartedly saluted back¡ªbefore heading toward the stairs.


    "What floor did he say?"


    "The fourth floor."


    "Oh, good. That''s close-ish." Cricket yawned.


    Jeshu yawned in response. "No yawning. It''s contagious. And it''s too early."


    "Sorry, I didn''t sleep well last night. My mind was racing."


    At this, Jeshu simply nodded. Though as they climbed the stairs, he added, "It''s actually pretty rare for me to yawn. Means I need some real sleep."


    "How often do you... actually sleep? Not just that meditation."


    "Oh," Jesh thought. "More than I used to. At least once a week now."


    "What, you getting old?"


    "Ha! Not for my kind."


    Despite his words, Cricket noticed a sadness in the dryad''s eyes. His scars had begun to heal¡ªmostly. But some had blackened, and the insect could still see the crags on the dryad''s face from his encounter with an ice troll. Still, he seemed to have regained a bounce in his step.


    When Cricket neared the fourth floor landing, he heard Oydd''s voice again.


    Has anyone seen the mouseling?


    Cricket looked to Jesh.


    The druid shook his head. "Not for days."


    "Days? That can''t be good."


    Cricket followed several azaeri guardsmen as well as a few of his own clones down a narrow hallway and came to a spacious room he hadn''t been to before that was open to the outside air. In the center of the room sat a plain, stone sarcophagus covered in white lilies from the surface with a brazier on either side. Dozens of unlit paper lanterns lined the walls near the opening.


    Scorpion glared when he saw Cricket and ran up so close his breath fogged up the insect''s shell. He had several nicks and scratches on his arm that still bled.


    "Hello?" Cricket said, staring blankly.


    "Your... clone has my sword."


    Cricket looked around the room and located the offending shadow, since it was the only one who wouldn''t meet his gaze.


    "What do you want me to do?"


    "I expect you to handle your own clones!" Scorpion hissed.


    Cricket sighed and walked up to the clone.


    "Cricket?"


    The shadow turned away, as if he hadn''t heard his name.


    "Cricket...? Cricket!"


    The clone turned, with a glower, to face him, but still wouldn''t look him in the eyes.


    "Scorpion says you took his sword."


    Scorpion joined Cricket, breathing heavily at his side. Cricket risked a quick glance at the ratling.


    The shadow signaled his frustration in a flourish of gestures with three of his arms.


    "Uh..." Cricket turned to Scorpion. "He basically says finders keepers. There... uh... there was a... crude gesture thrown in there... as well." Cricket scratched the back of his neck.


    "Yes, I caught it," Scorpion snapped. Oydd noticed the disturbance from across the room and approached the group.


    Cricket addressed the ratling. "Can... you tell me what''s going on? I mean, just a little more info..."


    "He was asked to watch my sword temporarily, but now he wants to keep it."


    "And where''s the sword?" Cricket asked.


    "It''s right there!" Scorpion got right up in the shadow''s face, pointing down at one of his hands. The shadow stared back defiantly.


    Cricket looked over all of the shadow''s hands before he noticed the faint, hazy outline of a weapon. "Oh!" He knelt to inspect it more closely. "Oh, that''s nice!"


    "Where did you get that?" Oydd interjected.


    "What does it matter? It''s mine."


    "It matters to me," the rudra answered calmly.


    Scorpion looked from Oydd to the shadow to Cricket then grit his teeth and said, "The mouseling made it for me."


    "I see." Oydd considered the situation for a moment. "Can we agree this is not the time or place to discuss this?"


    Cricket nodded. His shadow did not.


    "Cricket," Oydd said, eyeing the shadow.


    Reluctantly, the shadow nodded.


    "Then can you return it to Scorpion for now?"


    At this, the shadow had a much more difficult time complying, but eventually, with a bit of coaxing, and a bit of pulling, Scorpion and Cricket managed to retrieve the sword.


    For a brief, incredibly tense moment, no one spoke, and then Oydd turned to the ratling.


    "Scorpion, I sense Patches near the top of the tower, but she won''t respond to me. We can''t start without her. Will you retrieve her? You''re the fastest," he added diplomatically.


    Scorpion nicked his thumb sheathing his invisible sword, which elicited a snicker from Cricket.


    "Do you see the location?" Oydd reached out with his mind.


    The ratling nodded. His face twitched, and he gave the shadow one last glare before sprinting off.


    When he was no longer in sight, the rudra pulled Cricket aside.


    Cricket looked him up and down, just noticing the rudra''s new green robes.


    "Hey, nice. You''re all dressed up!"


    The rudra ignored the comment. "While I don''t wish to resolve it before the service, a weapon like that is an asset to the whole group. It is certainly not a matter for finders keepers."


    "Cricket didn''t keep it."


    "I mean that perhaps it should not go to Scorpion. You have proven more useful in combat, and we need any edge we can get."


    Cricket stared back dumbly. "I don''t want it."


    "You don''t?" Oydd asked skeptically.


    "What am I going to do with one magic sword?" He laughed. "Now if we had two of them... or four..." Cricket scratched his chin. "Anyway, one would just be off-balance."


    "I''m sure we have a sword of similar balance to complement it."


    "Still wouldn''t be... symmetrical."


    Oydd raised a brow.


    The druid, who had stood across the room during the commotion, now approached with a smile. He looked around at all of the assembled guests.


    "This... is nice, I think."


    "Do you?" Oydd asked, legitimately curious. "I looked into several options, and ultimately decided to honor Licephus in the manner of the elves, but also befitting one of his station among the dhampiri."


    "I think it is tasteful."


    "We have a lantern for everyone who died in the attack, as well as extras... for everyone Cricket could remember that we''ve lost. Actually, I had a hard time getting Bax to stop making lanterns..."


    "Thank you. I know it''s a bit different from your... usual custom," Jeshu replied.


    "Not much, really. Not as far as Licephus is concerned, given our means." He turned to the insect. "Cricket, what is the name of the female azaeri commander?"


    "Which one?" Cricket saw the look of chagrin on the rudra''s face and quickly added, "The infantry or archery commander?"


    Oydd thought a moment. "The big mean one."


    Cricket hid a smile. "That would be Ja''hek. She leads a group of spearmen. Ruka is the little one that teaches archery."


    "She was at the top of the tower, leading archers during the attack."


    "Well, it wasn''t Ruka," Cricket said. "Jak was probably just closer. Don''t call her Jak," he added quickly.


    Oydd nodded. Ja''hek entered shortly with one of Cricket''s clones and a modest retinue, and the rudra left to make small talk, bowing slightly to the commander. When he returned, a small group of archers entered, including a shadow and several female azaeri.


    "Which one is Ruka?"


    "The cute one," Cricket said, and the rudra studied the group helplessly.


    "With the puddly eyes," the insect clarified, pointing ambiguously at the entire group.


    "You know... we can''t call them all Cricket. If they''re going to stick around, I mean."


    "I know," Cricket replied. "I''ve been brainstorming nicknames for the nine based on their specialties. So like, the sword Cricket would be Swicket. And the spear Cricket would be Spricket. Halberd Cricket is Hricket..."


    "Well, at least there''s some utility in it," Oydd sighed.


    Before all of the guests had taken their places, Scorpion returned, ran up to Oydd and whispered something in his ear. The rudra masked a look of concern, then nodded. He cleared his throat and drew everyone''s attention.


    While Oydd began to speak, Cricket pulled out a knife, placed it in a dip in the stone tile, and began to spin it like a top. He yawned again. His head hurt and it was painful to sit still. He began to look around the room, but almost everyone else seemed to be giving the rudra their undivided attention. Other than the clones of course. He met Spricket''s gaze. The shadow, too, had a pained look, and Cricket gave him a knowing nod.


    By the time Oydd began to wrap up, Cricket had full on sprawled out on the floor, along with three of his clones. The azaeri commanders kept the clones closest to them in check, and they looked miserable.


    "And now, Cricket and Bax will demonstrate how to light a lantern."


    At this, Cricket sat up. He watched as one of his clones and the gnome walked to the front of the room, and shouted out, "You got this, Cricket!"


    The shadow gave him a thumbs up as it looked over the crowd, awkwardly avoiding an azaeri girl on the front row.


    Bax grabbed a lantern and walked up near the edge of the cliff face. "Okay, so¡ªhi, Cricket!" The gnome stopped to wave at one of the shadows trying to get his attention. "Okay, so, you hold up the lantern, and light it with one of these splints, and then you can say a few words about the person who died. This one''s for Indech! He was big, and he was scary!" Bax grabbed a wooden splint and lit it in one of the two braziers lining the sarcophagus, while the clone held a lantern at the gnome''s face level for him to light.


    The lantern began to rise from the heat of the flame, and Bax gave it a little push out into the open air.


    "I know one other person who gave his life to protect us, but I promised myself I wouldn''t say who. I''m going to light one more lantern anyway." The gnome took a long, awkward minute to light a second lantern without any further commentary, then sighed. "Okay, everyone come up at once!"


    "No! No," Oydd interrupted. "Not all at once. And these are intended for our allies!" The rudra began giving more instructions, and Cricket zoned out until he heard Scorpion''s voice.


    "I''d like to do one for Ty''lek."


    "Of course," Oydd replied.


    Scorpion stood, grabbing a splint as he approached the front of the room. He lit a lantern and set it off without another word and returned to his seat.


    The azaeri, not being much for words, began to follow his cue, lighting lanterns without commentary and setting them off into the evening air. And despite Oydd''s best efforts, the service devolved into mild chaos, with many of the azaeri following the gnome''s instructions to all come up at once. Then two shadows began lighting lanterns indiscriminately, and even dropped one in the brazier as an experiment, each goaded on by the other.


    Cricket moved to sit next to Jeshu. The druid watched the furthest lantern vanish in the approaching fog and sighed.


    "You know... this is actually nice."

 The Witch Clipper

    13


    The Witch Clipper


    Oydd, still wearing his green robes, sat cross-legged next to the frazzled mouseling.


    "You have to eat," he said gently.


    "I did eat."


    "No you didn''t."


    "I''m going to," Patches whispered.


    "You need to eat now. And you need to drink now. You''re very dehydrated."


    Jeshu stood in the open doorway. "She seems to be in a state of shock, but I''m not sure why. She wouldn''t even talk to me at first."


    Oydd scratched the mouseling''s neck as he listened to the dryad.


    "She said she was being chased by a spider and a mummy."


    "No," the mouseling said in irritation. "A spider and a mummy."


    "When''s the last time you slept?" Oydd asked.


    In response, Patches shook her head energetically. "No."


    "What do you mean, no?"


    "They''ll get me."


    "Who will get you, little one?"


    "All the..." Patches paused. "All the things trying to get me. The shadows are mad because I cast a spell wrong, and... and then also because I took a necklace because you told me not to, but it''s kind of safe here."


    "She''s rambling," Jeshu said, and the mouseling looked up suddenly as if she hadn''t noticed him.


    "Is this magical in nature?" Oydd asked.


    "What? No. I would sense a curse. I think she has just been under a lot of stress."


    "Come," Oydd said to the mouseling. "Come with me, and we''ll see you get some sleep."


    A panicked look crossed her face. "But... I can''t go up."


    "Why not?" Jeshu asked tenderly.


    "And I can''t go down. Can I sleep here?"


    Oydd suddenly tensed, ignoring the question.


    "What is it?" Jeshu asked in concern.


    "Someone used the portal."


    "Who?" Jeshu asked. "How do you know?"


    Oydd closed his eyes. "The rudra. He''s headed to Agoth."


    Jeshu shook his head. "Why are you so excited?"


    "He''s alone. He''s alone and we know where he is. This is the first time we have some advantage against him. And he won''t know I detected him... it''s almost impossible, right?"


    "Oydd, calm down."


    "No, no you don''t understand. I fear him more than Shisu. If we can take him out now, then we have a chance after all!"


    "What do you mean after all?" Jeshu asked, then changed his line of thinking. "We can''t beat him Oydd. You said so yourself." The druid followed the rudra into the hallway.


    "I need to gather everyone. I don''t have time to argue." Oydd rushed back into the room with the mouseling. "Little one, come, we have to stop by the laboratory." He reached out with Bale''s claw in his haste, and Patches cringed, backpedaling into her corner.


    Oydd switched arms. "It''s okay. Hop onto my shoulder."


    Patches swallowed but darted up his arm and buried her face in the folds of his robe.


    "Oydd, stop and reason with me," Jeshu pleaded.


    "I will. Or rather, we will all reason together, but we must move quickly. Meet me at the portal. I will send for the others¡ªfor everyone we need."


    *****


    Patches nibbled on a small hard piece of cheese as she rode the rudra''s shoulder up to his lab. Oydd left her on the floor near the entrance with a small flask of water, then disappeared behind a shelf, rifling through papers.


    Patches appreciated the water. Her mouth was so dry that it was difficult to eat the cheese. She was so thirsty that she could feel the cool water move to her stomach and she imagined she could feel it spread into her limbs, though she wasn''t sure if it worked that way. Still, she couldn''t remember a time she had ever been so thirsty.


    After finishing half the flask, she began nibbling on the cheese again with renewed vigor.


    Oydd bustled about grabbing seemingly random objects. The mouseling shivered, suddenly feeling cold as she finished her meal and stared out across the hall. In the distance, she saw a small object, out of focus at first, moving toward her. She saw what she now recognized as a thread or perhaps a small tuft of fur¡ªvery small¨C-waddling along the stone tiles.


    She made out a black speck and propped herself up on her lone front paw for a better view.


    "Pip?" she whispered.


    The familiar marched along, slowly but steadily toward her. His woolen scarf had fallen off, and he now carried a very small piece of it in his mouth.


    The mouseling''s eyes teared up, and she found herself so awestruck by the reunion that she didn''t think to run and greet him until the beetle had crossed half the hallway.


    "Oh, Pip!" she said softly. The familiar had been damaged in the dust storm. One of the red, dotted shells that covered his wings had been torn off, revealing a ripped and threadbare wing beneath.


    "Oh, Pip," she repeated, looking at the long hall behind him. "Did... did you walk all the way back? Did you climb up all those stairs?"


    She nuzzled him with her cold, wet nose, and the familiar¡ªat his master''s side once again¡ªdropped the thread from his mouth.


    Patches studied it carefully and noticed a very miniscule bloodstain on the fiber.


    "Pip," she said with a slightly stern tone. "You are too late. You are very, very too late." She looked down at the blood sample she had sent him for. "I don''t need that any more. But you were very brave." She placed her nose on the ground, and Pip climbed up onto her snout. The lady bug crossed her cheek, crawled down to the mouseling''s shoulder, and walked in a small circle before settling in. He disappeared behind a tuft of white fur, just as the rudra emerged from the lab with a black leather tome, a smooth piece of bloodstone not much smaller than an azaeri egg, and several other assorted items.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    *****


    Oydd grasped the smooth, bloodstone egg in Bale''s claw, inspecting the surface one last time for cracks before calibrating the portal for a return trip to Agoth. To the side of the portal, three azaeri guards waited, armed with silver arrows, silver shields, and a silver spear each.


    "Doesn''t that stone weaken you?" Cricket asked. "I was talking to Bax about it."


    "Yes," the rudra answered frankly. "Actually, it just creates resistance to my mental powers. A bit... a bit like when you trained with that huge mace. I think I might already be stronger with it than I was without it only a few weeks ago."


    "Can''t you just train by lifting heavier stuff?"


    "You would think so," Oydd answered absently, as he etched runes, once again, into the surface of the portal. "But no. I have not been able to train my powers by practice, but only by indirect study. Until now..."


    "Still," Scorpion said. "You''re weaker with it, and you said we need every advantage we can get."


    "I believe," Oydd turned to face the room, "that my own power is irrelevant here. It may hamper the other rudra, which I estimate to be of more worth."


    "It seems very little. He not only raised Indech, but somehow managed to defeat him in the first place." Jeshu reminded the rudra.


    "Yes," Oydd snapped. "He outclasses me in every aspect I can fathom..." Oydd groaned subconsciously. "So my own power against him is like tossing water against a stream. It is of no consequence. What we need..."


    "Is something that beats water," Cricket finished the rudra''s thought.


    "Yes."


    "Like fire."


    "No. What?"


    "Fire beats water," Cricket said confidently.


    "In what world?"


    "If you, uh... have equal amounts of each," Cricket said with less confidence.


    "By what? Weight?" Oydd scoffed.


    Jeshu interjected, "I would use the classic example of water beating fire. And wood beats water. But you''re on the right track anyway."


    "Well, realistically," Cricket maintained, "fire beats water and wood."


    At this, Jeshu actually grew defensive. "I''ve never understood the saying that wood beats fire. Wood is extremely resistant to fire. That''s why we use it in campfires¡ªbecause it takes so long to burn."


    "That''s dumb," Cricket said. "Everyone else agrees that fire at least beats wood."


    Most of the room agreed, however the vote was largely comprised of Cricket''s clones.


    "If you and I were in a fire," Jeshu pressed, "who would last longer?"


    "That''s not the point. Obviously fire beats fire."


    "And there you have it," Oydd summarized. "You see yourself as fire. So clearly fire beats everything!"


    Cricket prepared a counter, but Oydd silenced the room with a frustrated wave of his arm.


    "We only have minutes to prepare. Let us spend it wisely, for once."


    Jeshu bit his tongue.


    The rudra continued, "This will be our most challenging fight. But I think it is our only opportunity to defeat the rudra."


    "I still think it is suicide," Jeshu replied.


    "Perhaps, but hear me out. The rudra is by far my greatest concern. I do not find Shisu as menacing. Regardless, I don''t believe I could defeat her without Bale''s brain."


    Scorpion gagged at this thought.


    Across the room, Skunk and the lizardman ghast crept close to Bale''s hammer, until their skin began to sizzle, and Oydd commanded them away.


    "Nor could we defeat her with the rudra at her side, obviously. My assessment is that Shisu likely succeeds in her final summoning, unless we defeat the rudra now, regardless of the risk."


    Jeshu considered this reasoning.


    "But it''s still like holding out your hand to stop a river," Scorpion said.


    "Yes, and perhaps that is all my bloodstone offers. I wish we had time for me to utilize Bale''s eye, but... it will require some study among other things. I have the rudra''s notes here. It appears he performed the procedure on Shisu."


    "And why did you bring them along?" Jeshu asked.


    "Ah, yes. Mouseling..."


    Patches looked up. She lounged on one of the steps before the portal.


    "I want you to create a totem of the rudra. It may not do much, but we are pressing every advantage we have."


    "It will!" Patches pouted. "I know what I''m doing."


    "I''m not critiquing you, little one. He will be expecting this. And who knows what resistances Bale''s mind offers him. But we will try, and I do trust your ability. That is why I brought his research notes. I cannot imagine an item more personal to the rudra than the results of his own research. And we have his blood..."


    "But we don''t know his name," Patches whispered.


    "No, and that would make the hex several times more effective, but we can assign him a name that has some value to us, to gain at least a fraction of that benefit."


    "Really?" Cricket said incredulously. "We just nickname him fathead or something, and¡ª"


    "Dammit, Cricket!" the rudra roared.


    The insect, wide-eyed, paused mid-sentence. "What?"


    "You named him." The rudra glared. "And you chose an incredibly ridiculous name. Do you want Patches to have to say that during her casting."


    "Er... no, but... we can name him something else."


    "We were preserving the power of not having named him, and you robbed that! You absolute fool!"


    "Not sure what that means," Cricket cried, "but we can go back and¡ª"


    "Backsies! Now? Of all things, Cricket."


    "It''s not backsies." Cricket looked to the druid for support.


    "It does kind of sound like backsies."


    "No, no... it''s forwardsies. You didn''t let me finish my sentence. I said we could name him Fathead or..."


    "Or what?" the rudra hissed.


    "Or..." Cricket drew out the word dramatically.


    "You have nothing!"


    Cricket looked to the dryad again for support, but Jeshu simply shook his head. "It does seem like you don''t have anything..."


    "Or, um, the Dreaded..."


    "Cricket," Scorpion chimed in. "You already said ''Fathead or something.'' You did finish the thought."


    Oydd covered his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Mouseling, here. This scratch of paper contains some of his writing. We will leave as soon as Bax arrives. I want you to stay here. With your magic, I don''t believe you need to be in close proximity?"


    Patches shook her head.


    "Then you will stay behind, but Pip should come with us, so you can see what''s going on."


    "No!" Patches practically shouted, causing the rudra to recoil.


    "Why..."


    "I... I need his help to cast the spell."


    "Very well," Oydd replied.


    "And where is Bax?" Scorpion asked.


    "He is preparing a weapon made of bloodstone."


    Scorpion smiled fiendishly at this thought.


    "And he assures me it will be complete momentarily."


    "And the plan for the rest of us?" Cricket asked sheepishly.


    "The rudra appears to be headed for the arachane, where we retrieved Bale''s eye. I believe he does not know we already obtained it. Which means, there will be many corpses around for him, or me, to utilize. I intend to animate what I can, simply to prevent him from doing so. But, again, my contribution may be negligible. Cricket, that means if you get within, say, ten yards of him, I want you to screech for all you''re worth, regardless of my proximity. Understood?"


    Cricket nodded.


    "Jeshu, I think you are, perhaps, our resident expert on hunting dark magic users. Your contribution will likely make or break the endeavor."


    Jeshu nodded. "I should be able to resist even his powers for some time, and perhaps aid those near me in doing so, but... I am not as confident about that. As for the undead, I have something special in store for them. I have fought the dead, I think, longer than you have tamed them, and I am not worried."


    "Which means you support this attack?" Oydd asked.


    "I''ll follow the plan."


    "No, no... Jeshu..." Oydd said his name more softly, "Jesh. I am not Licephus. I respect your counsel, and I want to know your opinion. Do you support this decision, or is it unwise?"


    Jeshu''s demeanor softened. "I believe your reasoning is correct, Rudra."


    Oydd nodded.


    Bax only left them waiting another minute before huffing and puffing into the room with a pole over his shoulder, sporting a pointed, purple hat atop his head. At the end of the pole, a rope dangled down to a rough chunk of bloodstone no larger than his head. He had wrapped the rope around several times and tied it in multiple places with rudimentary knots, creating a crude, makeshift flail.


    "Gentlemen... and Patches," he nodded to the mouseling. "May I present to you, the Witch Clipper!"

 [Cricket Christmas Special - A Fan Fiction by Patches]

    <div>


    [Cricket Christmas Special - A Fan Fiction by Patches]


    Oydd and Cricket were standing on a bridge.  They looked over the edge.  It was a long way down.  A big monster came.  It had big teeth and smelled bad.


    Oydd said OH NO! And tried to run but it bit his neck where it kills people and he fell down dead, like a dead octopus.


    Cricket said NO! and dug into his inner reserves of power and manifested a new magic ability.  He yelled for several seconds then shined blue.


    The monster tried to run but he got him.  He used swords to cut the monster and it fell down dead.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    But then a bigger monster came and it was shining blue too and was bigger and smelled badder.


    Jade had to come help.  She saw Cricket struggling because the new monster was too strong and she didn''t want him to die, so she glowed RED, and used her swords to cut it up.


    Oydd got up.  He wasn''t quite dead.  He thought Jade was an enemy and tried to fight her with magic.  She said NO! and the magic stopped.


    Cricket knew Jade was pretty and he danced for her and asked her to marry him and she said yes and they kissed with their cricket mouths and laid a bunch of eggs and named the first hatchling Oydd, after Oydd who died on the bridge.


    The End

 The Elder Rudra

    14


    The Elder Rudra


    Bax ignored the array of looks garnered by his entrance. Rather he marched straight up to the portal, standing at a distance that threatened the tip of his nose, and grinned.


    Oydd, discouraged by the final product of the gnome''s ''weaponsmithing'', though not at all surprised, closed his eyes and massaged his temples to avoid losing his temper.


    Cricket on the other hand, ran up excitedly to examine the Witch Clipper.


    "What does it do?"


    "It clips witches! Right in the head. Done it before," he added proudly.


    "Nice! We''re not after a witch though."


    Before the gnome could react, Cricket patted him on the back. "Just a rudra..."


    At this, the gnome smiled.


    Oydd, however, let out an odd sound.


    Bax, undeterred, turned to the portal. "Well, time to butter up and squeeze through!"


    "What''s that?" Cricket asked. "Is that an..." he turned to Jesh.


    "Idiom," the dryad finished the thought.


    "Yes, is that an idiom?"


    "Buttering up or squeezing through? But yes to both," Bax answered. "Comes from weasel hunting! You''re not gonna catch a weasel if you''re not willing to dive into its hole headfirst!"


    "Oh, nice attitude," Cricket said.


    "Yes, I suppose," Oydd replied. "This does feel a bit like diving headfirst into a hole."


    "The butter," Bax added, "is so you can wriggle back out afterward." His expression suddenly clouded over and he hung his head. "Poor Kevin."


    The rudra chose not to notice. "Is everyone ready?"


    Oydd surveyed the room, met only by silence¡ªnot even so much as a nod.


    "Well, that''s good enough," he said with a forced laugh. He spoke a word under his breath that released some unseen seal on the portal, then ushered the others through¡ªhis creations first, followed by the three rudra spearmen, then Scorpion and the gnome. Finally, with a sigh, he clicked the tip of his staff against the stone, building his resolve, and the rudra stepped through with Cricket and the druid.


    Instantly, he felt a breath of frigid air wash against his wet skin, and shivered.


    The rudra looked about in alarm, worried the portal had spat him out in the wrong location, but all appeared around the portal as it had days prior. He was indeed in Agoth, though most of the familiar scene had frosted over, and the rotting bodies of the kobolds from some battle unknown to him lay more silent and still than ever.


    Another rush of freezing air blew against him, and the rudra covered his eyes to prevent them from drying out. The wind carried an echoing word of magic.


    Behind him, the portal began to tremble in the gateway and frosted over, like glass, with icy fingers crossing and reaching and snapping.


    Then, once again, the room fell eerily still.


    Steam rose from the ratling, and the frosted ground melted beneath his recently attached arm.


    The ghast produced even more heat than the ratling, and had stood still long enough that the puddle beneath him began to simmer.


    Skunk, on all fours, approached the ghast and sniffed in curiosity. The two had spent so much time together, recently, in Oydd''s lab, that the mutant had begun to take on the aspect of the undead lizardman¡ªhis maw elongating, his claws growing, his tail widening. With the simple addition of spidersilk to his diet, the mutant showed marked improvement and even began to heal his rotted arm. Still, he remained grey and hairless, and the changeling blood running through his veins made no attempt to produce scales. Regardless, the two moved in unison, swaying and hungry.


    Scorpion drew his sword, which had also frosted over, making it far more visible. "Shit," he said under his breath. "What''s even the point then?" He warmed the blade with Bale''s forearm, whipping it to the side to shake off the dripping water, though it quickly refroze.


    "What is this?" Jeshu asked calmly.


    The rudra shook his head. "A new development, if that''s what you''re asking. I sense a terrible black magic."


    Jeshu nodded. "It literally makes me sick to my stomach."


    "I don''t sense anything..." Cricket said.


    "That really surprises me," Jeshu replied. "With your shadows, I thought you would be able to sense black magic clearly by now."


    "You can sense my shadows?"


    "Yes," Oydd answered. "Everyone can."


    "Bax!"


    The gnome''s eyes widened and he stammered, "I-I know what you''re thinking!"


    "I''m thinking you''re a dirty cheat."


    "Hide and Seek is a game about cheating. It''s designed to test who cheats the best."


    "It''s designed to test who can hide the best, and my clones were completely quiet."


    "I... uh..." Bax waved his fingers in the air, thinking.


    Cricket sighed. "Next time we play, you make illusions. I know you can''t sense those!"


    "Really, it is a bit extraordinary you can''t sense dark magic," Oydd rejoined the conversation. "Your antennae are very good at sensing everything else."


    Unconsciously, Cricket reached to stroke an antenna.


    "What do you suppose caused this?" Jeshu asked, stooping near a kobold corpse. The ice from his hammer grew unusually high up his arm, and over his shoulder. The druid winced, and held the joint with his opposite hand.


    "You all right?" Oydd asked.


    "I don''t do well in the cold."


    "You don''t do well in the heat," Cricket added.


    Jeshu sighed. "No, I suppose not." He continued to massage the shoulder, but it still creaked when he lifted his hammer.


    "Do you have a grace for warmth?" Oydd asked. "Surely it gets this cold on the surface."


    "I do," the druid responded, placing the hammer headfirst on the ground, with the shaft pointing up in the air. He cupped his hands together and a soft, orange light appeared for only a few seconds, before dwindling and dying out.


    Jeshu closed his eyes, chanting in the druidic tongue. He cupped his hands, but this time, no light appeared at all.


    "What is it? What''s wrong?" Cricket peered over the top, looking for the hint of a spark.


    "I... don''t know."


    "Let''s get moving," Oydd suggested. "At least that will produce some heat."


    Bax nodded. He tucked the pole of the Witch Clipper under his neck while he rubbed his hands together for warmth, and trotted downhill toward the ratling.


    Oydd followed, a troubled look on his face.


    "But, like," Cricket said, "this is definitely some spell from Fathead, right?"


    One of the azaeri guards snickered.


    "Don''t call him that," Oydd snapped.


    "Well, you said it''s too late to change names. So we might as well grout it in. Could only make the name stronger, right?"


    The rudra blubbered some incoherent rebuttal, but Jeshu laughed and nodded at the reasoning.


    A long raspy breath pierced the frozen corridors of the Agoth keep, along with another word of magic, and Oydd reflexively clenched his staff more tightly. A pair of glowing green eyes appeared through the icy mist in the corridor, and then another, and then two more pairs.


    "Careful," Oydd shouted out to the vanguard, "these are not mere zombies!"


    Scorpion glanced over his shoulder. "What are they, ghouls?"


    "They are no mere ghouls either."


    "Dammit!" Scorpion growled, backing away, though his tail waved excitedly.


    The silver clad azaeri fell back with him, readying their bows.


    "Oh, I forgot to give him that dagger," Cricket said. He looked down at his feet. "I guess he can easily get one now."


    A roar, much louder than the earlier sounds, resounded from the hallway.


    "That''s a dethkirok," Oydd cried. As the rudra neared the hallway, he saw the brute charging from the back, trampling over the powerful goblin and kobold ghasts with ease.


    A silver arrow flashed, like a bolt of lighting, through the hallway, wedging into the demon ghast''s neck, but it did not slow visibly. A second bounced harmlessly from its thick natural armor.


    Oydd''s ghast lunged forward ahead of the group, and the rudra willed it back, to form a line with Scorpion and Skunk, while Cricket created shadows.


    Despite the charging dethkirok, a kobold reached the front lines first, clad in adamantine armor but only wielding a crude spear.


    Scorpion edged around the creature, which ended up lunging for the lizardman ghast, impaling it in one thrust through the shoulder. The full length of the spear protruded from the lizard''s back, as though its body had offered no resistance.


    Scorpion pounced, wrapping his violet claws around the adamantine helm, and almost instantly ripped the head free. He turned and pounded the helm into the chest of a second kobold, hopping back as the dethkirok came into range.


    The lizardman pounced on the second kobold, gnawing at its neck, and Skunk ran past them to tackle a third kobold in a similar manner, only to be immediately swiped from his kill by the arm of the undead dethkirok.


    Skunk''s skin sizzled from the heat of the demon. The mutant crashed against the wall, and Scorpion jumped onto the demon¡¯s back as the hulking dethkirok bounded toward Skunk¡¯s writhing body.


    His weight did nothing to slow it, but he clamped his teeth down on its plated neck as he slipped his sword under one of the armored sheets on its throat.


    The archers let loose another volley, with two arrows digging into the demon, and a third downing an emaciated goblin with a head shot.


    The dethkirok swerved, abandoning the mutant in favor of crushing Scorpion against a wall, but the lithe ratling flipped out of harm''s way, yanking his blade free with the same motion and splattered the huge ghasts coagulated blood on the stone.


    The ghast whirled on him as he landed and it roared, but most of the sound escaped through the hole in its throat, causing the dripping blood to bubble and hiss.


    With the dethkirok separating him from the rest of the group, the ratling opted to sprint further away down the hallway, flinging another kobold across the room before he vanished from the rudra''s sight.


    The demon gave chase, and Oydd sent Skunk and the ghast for backup. He lifted an unarmed goblin with his mind as it jumped at a squealing Bax.


    The gnome took a deep breath of relief when he saw the goblin freeze midair, and he readied a strike with his flail, but hesitated.


    "Finish it!" Oydd yelled.


    "I would," Bax replied. "I really would, but... this weapon only has a few uses before it crumbles, so I want to save it."


    "You said the rougher the better," Oydd snarled.


    "Yes, I think. Rough edges are better for smashing."


    One of Cricket''s shadows moved in for the kill on the dangling goblin, then Oydd released it to crash back to the ground.


    "Didn''t you enchant it for durability?"


    "How do you do that?"


    "With runes," Oydd spat. "You didn''t add any runes? You told me you studied with the greatest weaponsmiths!"


    "The greatest gnomish weaponsmiths. I can''t stress the difference enough. Gnomes are not, by and large, exceedingly good weaponsmiths." The gnome placed his free hand on his hip for emphasis. "Oh, I... I do have this rune. Does this count?"


    Bax held up the Witch Clipper for Oydd''s inspection, and pointed with his thumb at a symbol etched into the rock.


    The rudra, however, recognized it not as a magical rune, but a superstitious symbol the goblin''s at Euna Brae used for good luck.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "No, not really," he replied.


    Bax, not listening, ran off with one of the shadows, to gang up on another kobold. The gnome pecked at it with the butt of his pole twice before the shadow saved him from near certain death.


    "I''m gonna miss Bax when he gets killed," Cricket said wistfully.


    As he spoke, the headless corpse at his feet filled with a green light that burst from the open esophagus in its neck, and poured from its wounds. The headless kobold rose, shaking to its feet, and Cricket quickly moved in to slash it apart with his khopesh. The jade weapon thirstily absorbed the dark magic, and the corpse dropped lifeless again to the ground.


    A moment later a green light burst from it again and it started to rise. An azaeri plunged in with his silver spear, pinning it back to the ground, but the light barely flickered, and the silver began to blacken, letting out a shrill hiss where it touched the kobold''s flesh.


    "Should we just leave it?" Cricket asked. "I mean... it''s not going to do much without a head."


    "Yes, leave that one, but I''ll need to start sealing the bodies," Oydd answered with a horrified look on his face.


    Bax appeared again at his side. "I can seal bodies. Want me to do that while you do other stuff?"


    "No," Oydd said. He leaned over the squirming corpse and waved his staff, pulling the green light out like a thread from a doll, then he quickly slammed Bale''s palm onto the creature''s stomach. The violet claws created a strange chime as it struck the adamantine breastplate, and reflected a dazzling light. The kobold began to shrivel.


    Oydd paused. "That was easier than I thought." He looked up and noticed Jeshu clearing a portion of the hallway with his hammer.


    "Jeshu, they''re coming back. The corpses must be sealed."


    Jeshu nodded animatedly as he swung the hammer around his head with both arms.


    "How did Fathead get this much stronger?" Cricket asked.


    "It''s odd. He actually felt weaker to me, as if some portion of him were missing. But to create ghasts over such a distance, is..."


    "Is he far away?"


    "He''s not... he''s not close."


    Cricket looked around for his shadows, but only saw one. "Go for the tendons. We have to disable them. Tell Cricket if you see him."


    The shadow nodded and ran down the hallway, just as Scorpion returned, covered in dethkirok gore, smiling from ear to ear. "I need a dagger."


    Cricket silently pointed to an adamantine dagger laying near a frozen corpse, and Scorpion scurried over to retrieve it.


    "They''re reanimating. Even the one you beheaded. Where''s the dethkirok?"


    "Oh, he''s not getting back up..." Scorpion grinned. The demon''s blood boiled on his arm, quickly drying.


    Oydd nodded. "Stay with us. We can''t spread out."


    Scorpion let out a slight groan, looking back over his shoulder. "All right."


    *****


    Bax stayed back by Oydd while Cricket ran ahead to assist Jeshu.


    He found the druid panting over a single mutilated corpse, ground to a mushy pulp.


    "I guess that works. Can you... give me a little speed, please?"


    "No," Jeshu huffed. "I don''t think I can."


    "I''ll cover you while you catch your breath."


    Jeshu shook his head. "No, I mean I don''t think I can. I... after I knocked this one down, I tried to bless the corpse. It should have been easier for me than for Oydd, but... it didn''t work."


    "You... none of your magic is working?" Cricket said in astonishment.


    The druid looked down at his hands and shook his head.


    "Well... oh, that''s just awful timing. This is supposed to be your specialty, I think."


    "That''s not helpful," Jeshu replied evenly.


    "I guess not. Okay, Oydd wants us to stay close. Come back to the group."


    Jeshu hefted his hammer with a grunt and followed the insect back down the bloody, frozen hall.


    Cricket passed the corpse of a dhampir wearing platemail formed from bones and covered in black flakes that looked like dried blood. The head had nearly rotted off, but it had not yet been reanimated, so he stooped to sever its ankles.


    He heard Oydd''s voice behind him. "That won''t work. These are being possessed by spirits that are powerful enough to move without tendon or bone. Otherwise, beheading them would do the trick."


    Cricket only half-listened, and pointed at the body. "This one was dragged here. Look, something was eating it."


    Oydd hovered over him and touched the corpse with his staff. The skin began to dry and wither, and the bones creaked.


    "Cricket... Jeshu," Oydd caught the druid as he walked by. "The rudra has changed. We are not dealing with a living necromancer."


    "Not living," Jeshu repeated. "What do you..."


    Oydd stared into Jeshu''s eyes, until comprehension settled on him. "No," Jeshu breathed.


    "What?" Cricket looked from Oydd to the druid then back.


    "He means the rudra has likely sealed his soul."


    "And in a sense, unsealed it," Oydd replied. "Releasing an unknown depth of power."


    "Cricket," Jeshu replied. "It takes an amazing amount of skill and prowess to bind or unbind a soul. You must bring it to the point of unraveling, and even if you succeed, the price... is paid beyond this world."


    "The endeavor is meant so that the bound soul never moves beyond this world," Oydd countered.


    "I''m a little lost."


    "Cricket," Jeshu continued. "The art is forbidden. It is unholy¡ªthe greatest affront to the gods."


    "And results in a power close to godhood," Oydd added.


    "I don''t believe that." The druid shook his head, sadly. "Not really."


    Oydd closed his eyes and gritted his beak. "Fathead has become a lich."


    One of the azaeri guards snickered.


    Cricket followed Oydd down the corridor, passing the mutilated bodies of several more


    kobolds. He picked up a tiny adamantine buckler, which actually had deep scratches in it from the ratling''s godly claw. He held it up to show Oydd.


    "Impressive," the rudra responded, though he didn''t look at all surprised.


    Cricket, however, stared at the gouges with a fascinated smirk, then tested the edge of his own khopesh against the metal and frowned in disappointment.


    When the ratling caught up to him, Cricket tossed the shield aside nonchalantly and pretended to be surveying the battlefield.


    At the end of the hall, the group encountered a ghastly imp, which spread its wings in a magnificent display and let out a bloodcurdling roar. As it leapt into the air, Cricket tossed a single, silver shuriken at its wing, and the ghast crashed sideways into the wall, where Skunk and the undead lizardman swarmed it like hungry piranha, clamping it with their jaws, tearing to to pieces in a matter of seconds.


    "When did you get that?" Oydd asked in astonishment.


    "Well, the normal ones didn''t do a lot of damage. Mostly good for distractions, so I figured¡ª"


    "That''s not what I asked." The rudra sighed.


    Jeshu laughed, "It only took a few minutes to make them from scraps. We wouldn''t have had time to make more silver spears, if that''s what you''re wondering."


    "But perhaps a few arrows?"


    "Well, I just killed one with a shuriken, so..."


    "It''s all right. The silver bolts we fired at Indech corrupted almost instantly, which made them worthless. So we''re in low supply. But you didn''t do anything that¡ª"


    Another, sudden breath on the wind interrupted the rudra¡ªthis time a deep inhaling sound¡ªand wisps of magic rose like steam from the fallen ghasts, dissolving into the air.


    Oydd paused. "He''s drawing power back to himself."


    "Meaning?" Cricket asked.


    "Not much. He''s just efficient. Archers," Oydd called.


    Cricket cringed at the impersonal order, and pointed directly at one of the azaeri. "Lech''ti, you''re in front with a shield. Erro, and El''lick, you''re left and right flank."


    The azaeri nodded and fell into position at the insect''s order.


    "Azae¡ª" Oydd started, but caught himself. "Lech''ti... I have little to offer in close-combat. I would like you to stay by my side."


    The azaeri looked to Cricket for confirmation, and the insect nodded. "Erro, that means you''re up front."


    *****


    "Do you think that''s enough, Pip?"


    Patches laid all the wool she had intended for her scarf on the stone tile before her. The grey bat wool had grown crisp in spots, which made it difficult to untangle, and the smell of bat musk only seemed to intensify with time.


    The ladybug stared back, uncertain.


    "You have to say something," Patches critiqued.


    The familiar only glared back coldly, and the mouseling shivered.


    "Pip, you''ve been mean since you got back."


    The mouseling tried to ignore his gaze as she picked the more pliable bits of wool from the matted clump and began to fashion the likeness of a rudra. She formed the torso and head first, without the tentacles, then folded the research scrap Oydd had given her and tucked it in the chest.


    She stared at the doll for a full minute, before moving the scrap to the head.


    "That''s where rudra''s hearts are," she explained to the familiar. Pip didn''t like that she hadn''t made the tentacles yet, so the mouseling calmly explained that the personal item needed to ''sit'' for a bit, but she could always touch up the appearance at the end.


    While Patches braided the legs, the tiny beetle crawled up the doll and onto her thumb. She placed him down on the floor, but he simply repeated the behavior.


    "Pip, you''re not helping. If you climb on the doll, I''ll have to put you in time out again."


    Pip only stared back, his eyes cold and empty.


    "That''s enough," she cried pitifully, scooping the ladybug up in her paw, and hobbled over to the corner of the room on the stump of her amputated wrist.


    She placed Pip down, facing the corner, and scurried back to her half-finished doll.


    Despite her earlier explanation, the mouseling set to work on perfecting the tentacles, making them extra long, so she''d have some progress to show Pip if he wandered back over.


    She placed the bit of wool with Indech''s blood inside the doll''s head, then paused, confused, and took it out. She fished out the vial with the elder rudra''s blood from her satchel. "I almost did the wrong one," she said to Pip, ¡°Indech is already dead.¡± She looked over at the corner, remembering he wasn''t at her side.


    The familiar had begun to climb up the wall, not taking his punishment seriously, and the mouseling let out an exasperated sigh.


    After several minutes, she realized she was thinking of Oydd, not the older rudra, as she made the face, which wasn''t good for the magic. So she tore up the beak and started again, taking extra care to make the eyes look mean. Staring into the totem''s eyes, she actually shivered, which meant she had done a good job.


    The mouseling rolled back into a sitting position and scratched at her front teeth with her thumb. She looked over at the corner. "Pip, you can come out now. I need your help with the spell."


    *****


    "What about a flying carpet?" Cricket asked.


    "You can''t control a flying carpet," Oydd replied.


    "But easier than controlling wings, right?"


    "You can''t control either."


    "Hey, I just realized, you didn''t deny they exist."


    "Oh?"


    "Yeah," Cricket continued, "Usually, when I ask about flying carpets, you say something like ''what makes you think we have flying carpets''?"


    "What makes you think the rudra have flying carpets?" Oydd teased.


    "Not buying it. You said I couldn''t control one. Which means they exist."


    "I suppose."


    "Suppose! So what other cool things do the rudra have? Can they really make snakes dance and sleep on beds of nails?"


    "You''re not describing anything that couldn''t be done with telekinesis... or even just a passing knowledge of physics."


    "So, what? You could make a carpet fly?"


    "I can make anything fly."


    "You never make me fly..." Cricket moped.


    Bax nodded empathetically.


    A short silence followed, and then Cricket started up again, "So there really is a whole city of rudra?"


    "Several," Oydd replied.


    "That ratling we ran into got me thinking about it. I''m trying to imagine what it would be like."


    "I can assure you, you are imagining it wrong. Mine are a wicked and perverse people. Their accomplishments¡ªarchitectural, civic, arcane... or otherwise¡ªare surpassed only by their cruelty and lust for power."


    "That... sounds even cooler than what I was picturing."


    Bax, again, nodded in support. His flail bounced around behind his back as he hopped along the empty frozen corridors. Gradually, the surroundings more and more resembled the halls of a keep.


    "You... remember your home?" Cricket asked.


    "Not really. I remember my father, somewhat," Oydd replied. "Only from the eyes of a frightened and displaced child. He was a man of no real talent. We lived on the streets, and when he died, I was sold into slavery to pay his debts."


    "And you lived in a city full of rudra?" Bax asked.


    "The largest. Sherrar hesh Bellech¡ªthe seat of Bale. Deep in Agoth..." the rudra laughed to himself. "I suppose there is nowhere deeper, as Bale''s temple is said to rest on the brink of Sheol, keeping the darkness at bay."


    "Is that... true?" Cricket asked.


    "I wouldn''t know," Oydd replied caustically, which silenced the conversation.


    Scorpion, walking a few paces ahead of the group, motioned for silence anyway as he entered a dark, spacious room.


    Cricket''s antennae perked up listening for faint sounds. He heard, first, the faint clicking of pointed, chitin-covered legs against the stone, and then an excited clacking of mandibles from the ceiling and along the walls as the arachane neared.


    "Oydd," Cricket whispered. "How many arachane corpses did we see before?"


    "I only saw one, but we didn''t deviate far from the main halls."


    "I... I''m thinking two," Cricket said, this time to Scorpion.


    "Or three,¡± the ratling hissed. ¡°I can''t tell which sounds are echoes."


    Cricket nodded, signaling the two archers to keep their eyes on the perimeter.


    A single, eight-legged warrior strafed into the center of the room from behind a stalagmite¡ªsaliva dripping from its open mouth, its hands empty. It seemed he tried to move forward to attack, but could only manage a side-ways crabwalk due to a missing leg.


    As Cricket readied a khopesh, he heard the thud of a crossbow bolt digging into flesh, and Scorpion momentarily crumpled over. The ratling righted himself, and yanked the bolt from his stomach, and charged after the unarmed arachnid in the center of the room.


    Before Cricket had taken more than a step, the ratling had removed three of the arachane''s legs, and half of its eyes. Scorpion leapt back as another crossbow bolt flew from the shadows, dodging by luck or some unnatural intuition. Then he darted off toward the marksman.


    "Can ghasts work crossbows?" Cricket spat, flabbergasted.


    "I... should think not!" Oydd replied with too much uncertainty in his tone.


    "That was a second shooter." Cricket darted toward one marksman as the ratling pursued the other. Though he couldn''t help but glance over as Scorpion reached his target first. The ratling swung what Cricket assumed was his invisible blade twice in the air, and the crossbowman fell into pieces, with bits of it still clinging to its tattered web. The azaeri behind Cricket fired an arrow, which brought the insect''s attention back to his own target.


    The arachane''s eyes indeed glowed green, and it scuttled behind a crop of rock with a silver arrow protruding from its abdomen.


    Cricket rounded the corner and swatted its readied crossbow away with one khopesh as the other took its head.


    He crouched, listening to the room, but heard no more clicking, so he brought the head back to Oydd. Scorpion, seemingly having the same idea, carried the other arachane''s head, skewered on the tip of his sword, which was now somewhat visible, just from the blood dripping down the blade.


    Cricket tossed his head to the rudra''s feet, and bits of green goo splattered on the hem of his robes.


    "Cricket!"


    Scorpion froze. "You just need one, right?"


    "I don''t need any!"


    "But they were undead," Cricket explained.


    "I can see that!"


    "What should I do with my head?" Scorpion asked.


    "Keep it." Oydd, despite his objections, stooped to examine the ghastly head, while the azaeri took defensive positions at the corridors.


    The rudra''s head twitched. "This is... troubling." He suddenly addressed the ratling. "Scorpion, you know not to remove a bolt mid-battle. You''ll only bleed out!"


    "I''m not bleeding out," he protested.


    "Thanks to that ogre adrenaline," Oydd grumbled. "But more to luck, I think."


    "Why are undead archers troubling?" Cricket asked. "We can handle archers, dead or not."


    Oydd shook his head. "I''m more concerned about Rusalka. If the rudra''s ghasts are intelligent, then we could be up against an undead spellcaster. Rusalka was a witch of some renown, purportedly."


    "Gleeful!" Bax said, readying the Witch Clipper. "Um... sorry, sometimes I accidentally just say how I''m feeling..."

 Phylactophobia

    15


    Phylactophobia


    Oydd gathered the group in an empty side chamber, while his creations guarded the hallway.


    Once everyone had settled into a circle, he stood in the center.


    "I''m not sure who has heard our whisperings, so I want to be clear to the whole group. Our quarry has bound a portion of his soul and transcended mortality. This leaves the remainder of his soul untethered, which explains the sheer reach of his magic. But it has been only a few days since his mortality, which means he yet recovers. If anything, he is weaker now than he will ever be again."


    "He''s a lich?" Bax asked, his eyes wide.


    "He is. An undead mage."


    "With a phylactery?" the gnome pressed.


    Oydd paused, taken aback.


    Jeshu answered. "That is one word for it. A piece of his soul resides in a relic and he can no longer be defeated unless we locate and destroy it as well as his physical form."


    "Oh... no, no, no, no, no..." Bax stood up and began to pace.


    "What''s wrong," Oydd asked evenly.


    "Ah... well, I ought to have.. ah..." Bax pulled at his hair. "I ought to have said something earlier, but I have severe phylactophobia."


    "Nonsense!"


    "I am. I mean, I do! And it''s," he suddenly gave the rudra a stern look. "Don''t patronize me! It''s a legitimate concern. And in my defense, I didn''t think it would come up."


    "Surely," Jeshu said with a smile, which he hid when the gnome looked his way.


    "It is not a legitimate fear because it makes no sense. How could you be afraid of an unknown object!"


    "Oh dear..." Bax continued to pace as he thought. "Well, think of it like claustrophobia¡ªlike a fear of tight spaces. But for my spirit. If he''s strong enough to put his soul in an object, then he''s strong enough to put my soul in an object. It''s that simple. It''s spiritual claustrophobia!"


    "Says the man who jumps headfirst down ferret holes?"


    "I would never!" Bax stated. "I said weasel holes. Gnomes are... not stronger than ferrets."


    "But you''re stronger than weasels?" Cricket asked, gauging the gnome''s relative strength.


    "Well, not... I mean, it depends on the weasel. One of my sons was killed by a weasel."


    "You told me he was killed by a raccoon," Scorpion said.


    Jeshu joined in, "You told me he was killed by¡ª"


    "You can die by more than one thing!" Bax said, exasperated.


    "I don''t think you can," Oydd reasoned.


    "A common misconception. Regardless, I am not afraid of holes, because worst case you starve to death. Actually, the worst case would be..." The gnome shuddered and changed the subject. "If you get stuck in a phylactery, you''re there forever!"


    "If you wish to wait here," Jeshu answered sternly, "you are welcome. But if we fail, you are not safe."


    "So the options are die now or die in a bit?" Bax said to himself, seriously considering his options.


    "Die now, or get your soul trapped in a bit," Cricket said. "If we all charge him, he''s unlikely to trap your soul in the middle of a fight. He''ll just kill ya''."


    "That is an excellent point," Bax said. "We should strive to go out as quickly as possible."


    "Bax!" Oydd shouted. "Get a hold of yourself. We''re counting on you!"


    "On me?" Bax protested. "For what? A lich will see through any illusion I make, surely. The... dead don''t get tricked."


    "Because they are animated by hatred for the living. Your illusions have no spark of life, so the dead have no urge to kill them." Oydd dug his thumb into his forefinger as he thought, so roughly it began to bleed. "Stay here," he said bitterly. "The rest of us will continue on. Jeshu, will you be able to sense the object when we see it?"


    "Is there any guarantee the phylactery will even be here?"


    "Yes, he is a lich only three days old, at most. He cannot abandon it yet. Nor would he be so powerful if he secreted the object elsewhere. It is here!"


    Jeshu nodded. "No, I... normally I think I could, but my goddess is..." The druid looked down at his gnarled hands. "Elkennah will not hear me."


    "Then it falls on me."


    *****


    "Pip, it''s time to cast the spell. You climb up on the doll, and repeat everything I say, okay?"


    Pip only glared back.


    Patches swallowed. "Pip, you have to follow my instructions, or you''re not being a good familiar."


    The ladybug took a step toward Patches and she yelped, scurrying away. When she looked back, Pip still stalked after her. "Pip," she called softly. "What''s wrong with you? We used to be friends..."


    What''s taking so long? The mouseling heard a voice in her head, but it sounded slightly off. She looked at the portal, uncertain if Oydd could communicate from such a distance.


    The mouseling waited until her familiar drew close then circled around him, darting for the totem. She picked it up in her teeth, and ran for the stairwell.


    She ran down two flights of stairs before nearly bumping headlong into one of Cricket''s shadows. It looked down on her with a look of concern.


    "I need help," she whispered.


    The shadow scratched his head and nodded, looking around for signs of trouble.


    "Oydd needs me to turn this doll into a spell. I mean, to turn it into a totem. And the last time I tried, it tried to eat me, and then the next time my bug got mad at me."


    The shadow nodded again, and when he realized the mouseling was done, he saluted.


    "Does that mean you''ll help?"


    The shadow gave a thumbs up.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Patches hesitated. "Does that mean you''ll help?"


    He nodded and the mouseling sighed in relief.


    *****


    Cricket entered the long, pillared hall before the throne room. The black, iron doors to the next chamber stood tightly shut. An icy fog poured through the cracks beneath. In truth, Cricket had not noticed the doors before. Nor had he paid much attention to the pillars or the layout of the halls. They were of no interest on his previous trip, and the corpses of no concern. Now he wished he had done some damage while the going was easy.


    A very large dethkirok stood on its hind legs at the far end of the hall, adorned in corrupted silver armor that completely covered its temples, throat, and chest. Which left only the exposed stomach as far as its vitals were concerned, and Oydd had mentioned the demons having multiple sets of each organ.


    The dethkirok held a greataxe in each hand. However, he made no motion to attack.


    Jeshu entered at the head of the group. He paused, eying the recesses of the hall, and one of the azaeri shieldbearers moved in front of him.


    Jeshu called back to the others, "My blood will still resist some of the darkness, even if I cannot call upon Elkennah. And the silver should have a similar effect. The rest of you stay in the back for now."


    "I''ve got anti-magic," Cricket said, tapping a khopesh on his shoulder for emphasis.


    "I do too," said the gnome.


    "Let''s not argue about who gets cursed first," Oydd quipped.


    "Do you see the web?" Scorpion asked.


    Cricket peered at the shadows on the far end of the chamber above the pillars. "I do now."


    As he watched, the tip of a spiderleg disappeared around one of the pillars, accompanied by a clicking and a rustling.


    "Be careful," Scorpion warned. "Last time, that stuff was razor thin."


    One of the azaeri loosed an arrow from the far corner, and it seemed to blaze with fire as it flew. The shaft wedged into a soft spot in the wall, where it continued to emit light.


    "What was that?" Cricket cried, excitedly, as he covered his eyes. "Ah! It''s too bright." "Calm down," Oydd replied. "It''s just dispelling the magical darkness around it. It can''t possibly be blinding you."


    "Oh, I didn''t even notice it was extra dark." Cricket peeked out between his arms. "Okay, not to return to the whole ''who gets cursed first'' thing, but I should send in my shadows. They actually kind of like curses."


    Jeshu glanced over a shoulder, keeping the dethkirok in his periphery.


    After a moment passed without a direct objection, Cricket gave a signal and his shadows started to creep around the pillars on either side of the room.


    A chill breath filled the hall, and a green swirl of light wrapped around the demon. The light filled its eyes, and the dethkirok lifted its gaze to meet the druid. Its muscles bulged.


    "What!" Cricket said. "We should have just rushed it! It wasn''t even activated..."


    Oydd grunted, unable to argue with the insect''s logic.


    The lizardman ghast and Skunk sauntered down the center of the hallway toward the dethkirok, breaking into a sprint as the azaeri sent silver arrows flying past them.


    The demon lifted an axe and brought it crashing down on the lizardman''s skull, cleaving it in two. His second axe lodged above the lizard¡¯s hip, and the ghast crumpled at his feet.


    Quickly, brutally, he brought the axes down again and again, chopping up the remains, sending shards of bone flying against the pillars.


    Skunk pounced and took an axe to the chest, knocking him from Cricket''s view.


    The insect ran behind a pillar after his shadow, hoping to get to the witch first, but hesitated, wanting to help with the demon. He settled on making another shadow and pointed it toward the demon while he ran after the concealed arachnid. Before the clone even took one step, however, he grabbed it by the shoulder and swapped places.


    As he started toward the dethkirok, he created a fourth clone, then stopped dead in his tracks. "Ah! no matter how many clones I make, I can''t go fight the witch, because I have to fight the demon."


    "Cricket, everyone can hear you!" Oydd shouted. "Just fight the witch."


    "I can''t. I''m the best option to kill that demon," he shouted with his back to a pillar. "I can actually drain it."


    Oydd growled. "Well do something!"


    Cricket peeked out just as a silver arrow grazed the demon and it charged Jeshu.


    "No..." Cricket said under his breath as he ran to intercept. "No!" He yelled with such ferocity that the demon turned toward him, hurling an axe with an incredibly powerful flick of its wrist.


    Cricket ducked, careful to account for his antennae, and the axe crashed into the pillar behind him. Immediately, the dethkirok lunged, and Cricket had to drop flat to the ground to avoid a collision. The dethkirok''s tail flogged his face with the weight of an entire ratling, which sent his head pounding back against the floor.


    Cricket rolled aside, tossing two shurikens that bounced harmlessly from the demon''s stomach then ducked under another axe swing as his shadow landed on the demon''s back, hacking at its neck.


    The dethkirok ignored its rider, pressing Cricket with two more blows. The insect dodged backward twice, whacking the demon''s arm each time to drain as much magic as he could, conscious of the fact that his back must be mere inches from the wall. He faked left, then rolled to the right, kicking off of the demon''s knee to catapult himself further from the raging dethkirok.


    He came out of the roll on his feet, and sprinted back toward the others, panting for breath.


    "Tag!" he called as he passed the druid, and Jesh readied his hammer, but Cricket didn''t dare look back until he had reached the rudra''s side.


    Cricket heard a quick release of air and a wet, stringy, black web sprayed from above. He tackled Oydd out of the way, setting him on his feet inches from the sticky, steaming mess.


    "Those are cursed webs." Oydd yelled, "Don''t touch them!"


    "Why would I touch them?"


    "I don''t know! To try to drain the curse out of them or something?"


    "But that... but that wouldn''t work, you''re saying?"


    "Cricket, don''t try it."


    The dethkirok crashed back-first into a nearby pillar and a shell of ice quickly covered it, but it still moved unhindered, swinging an axe toward one of the azaeri. The weapon penetrated the silver shield, mangling one of the spearman''s arms in the same motion.


    Jeshu stepped in to stop the demon''s second attack by swatting the entire arm aside with a two-handed blow of his hammer, and followed up with two solid hits to the demon''s head. A thick crust of ice formed over its face plate. With its hearing compromised, the beast appeared disoriented.


    Cricket and one of his shadows moved in, but the clone suddenly bounced up toward the ceiling.


    For a split second, Cricket envied the move, before he realized it had been caught in a web. He continued his attack, plowing into the dethkirok''s side, and managed to stab it near... where he hoped its kidney was?


    When he withdrew, two silver arrows penetrated the beast''s side, close to his own stab.


    The insect readied another charge, feeling a bit dizzy, just when his own decapitated head landed in front of him.


    Cricket gasped, letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched sound, before the head dissolved.


    He looked up in time to see the arachane lunging through the evaporating smoke of a defeated shadow clone.


    The arachane, Rusalka, fought with two thin, slightly curved scimitars. She spiraled down upon him in an amazingly swift flash, and the insect struggled with all four arms to simply parry the barrage with no chance for a counter.


    An arrow whizzed by, but the spider''s moves were so unpredictable that it missed its mark by several feet.


    Cricket nearly tripped over an azaeri corpse as he backed up. Despite all his training, he had never encountered an advance so elegant and disarming. Not even Jade, he imagined... no by this point he must have surpassed Jade.


    "Eight... eight feet!" Cricket blurted. "Eight feet are better than eight arms! No, no... we don''t know that because I don''t have eight arms."


    "Cricket," Oydd shouted. "Everyone can hear you."


    "Cricket," Cricket shouted, getting the attention of one of his shadows, "Little help!"


    The shadow moved in to flank the witch, and together the two pressed the advantage. But the witch began to chant, in a soft, almost sweet, repetitive hiss, and Cricket''s vision darkened.


    "She''s hexing me!" Cricket screamed. He started swinging at the air as if trying to swat away a swarm of gnats.


    "You can''t cut a hex," Oydd yelled.


    Cricket let out a cry of discouragement. Not at the advice, or the curse, but at how far away Oydd was! Cricket and his shadow had moved too quickly across the room chasing the witch. He watched as the arachane cut down his shadow, though it put up an excellent fight, before it whirled upward and out of sight.


    Cricket looked about hopefully for Scorpion, on the slim chance he was nearby. But the ratling stood across the room, atop the dethkirok''s decapitated corpse.


    His vision grew so blurry that he could only identify the ratling by the glowing lavender claw.


    Rusalka sprayed a black webbing from above, with a pungent, noxious odor that nearly knocked him out. Before he sensed her move again, she was behind him.


    Still, Cricket fought. He swung with a khopesh that bounced from an invisible, magical shield. Again, to the same effect. And just as he dropped to the ground, gasping for air, Bax moved in, swinging the Witch Clipper overhead with both arms. The bloodstone sparked when it hit the magical barrier, which shattered like glass into a thousand pieces, then delivered a decisive, bludgeoning blow to the arachane''s temple.

 Chained

    16


    Chained


    Bax leaned over the spider witch''s corpse, tilting his head to match the angle of her bent neck.


    "Oh, beautiful!" the gnome breathed.


    Cricket eyed the arachane, her torso partially propped up by her twin scimitars. "Not really my type."


    "Why not? They''re better than your daggers."


    "I can''t carry swords in my bottom arms. They''re too heavy."


    "Oh," Scorpion sighed in relief. "I thought you were talking about the woman."


    "Hm?" Cricket answered. "Oh... I mean, maybe if she was... alive."


    "You serious?"


    "Cutest spider I''ve seen," Cricket replied, and the gnome nodded in agreement.


    Jeshu knelt facing the tall double doors to the lich''s throne room and Oydd stood at his side. But when the rudra heard Cricket''s voice he wandered over.


    "How are you feeling?"


    "Pretty good."


    "I mean... your vision."


    "Oh, still blotchy," Cricket answered, "but... better, I think."


    "The curse should wear off quickly," Oydd added.


    "Actually, I''m still a little woozy from the webs. Worse than whatever she did to my eyes." Cricket tried to sit up. "Why are we waiting? It... he''s got to be tired from all that magic. You should rush him before he recovers."


    "I thought it unwise to proceed without you. We already have so much stacked against us."


    The insect nodded dumbly. "Why didn''t my blades dispel her barrier? It was magic, right?"


    "I believe they can only absorb dark magic. Her magic is different. It''s like the difference between hot and cold."


    "No," the gnome practically squawked. "More like low notes and high notes."


    Oydd shrugged. "Yes, that''s actually a better analogy."


    Bax continued. "Think of dark magic as low and brooding notes. Your weapons are like a dirge. A dirge helps organize mourning and amplifies negative emotions like grief in a positive way. That''s your khopeshes. Oydd''s magic is still low and steady, but more like a march, rallying and driving lifeless soldiers to move when their bellies are empty..."


    At this, Oydd made a most shocked expression, and listened more intently.


    "The witch''s magic is like high, energetic notes. Picture a bird singing in a tree. It can''t really be controlled in the same way. The best you can do is sneak up and bash it with a rock."


    Oydd thought on this for too long before trying to shake the thought from his head. "Cricket, are you sure you don''t want her blades. I sense a minor enchantment on them."


    "I would have to be in the depths of despair," the insect replied as he stood. He made his way over to the druid''s side while Oydd had a word with the gnome. He passed the gruesome, gristly remains of the lizardman ghast on the way, and paused, having forgotten the casualty.


    "Jesh! I got something for you!"


    Jeshu only half-turned, his eyes closed, his lips soundlessly repeating the same phrase over and over.


    Worried he''d interrupted a prayer of some sort, Cricket clapped his mouth shut and waited until the druid opened his eyes.


    "Good to see you on your feet. What do you have for me?"


    Cricket smiled and raised a khopesh. "The energy this time is practically electrical. But not as strong as what I got from Indech."


    "You think that I want it?" Jeshu replied sadly.


    "I... uh... I did. You could grow huge, or..." Cricket trailed off. "What''s wrong?"


    "Cricket, on the surface, I devoted years... decades, really, to eradicating black magic and its practitioners. Using dark magic to defeat Licephus is my deepest regret."


    Cricket¡¯s jaw dropped. "Did you..." he started. "Is that why you can''t use your magic? Did Elkennah abandon you?"


    Jeshu hung his head.


    "That''s not... that''s not right. That''s wrong!" Cricket seethed. "Does she not know you at all? What a--"


    "Cricket, please..." the dryad said calmly.


    It took all Cricket had to bite his tongue. But he continued to shake his head in frustration.


    Oydd approached the two. "We should go. Let us hope the mouseling has done her part."


    "Oh, wait. I have an idea of something that could give us an advantage first." Cricket slapped Oydd.


    "What?!" the rudra blurted, more surprised than anything.


    Cricket slapped him again.


    "Stop it!" Oydd fumed.


    "There. Perfect!"


    "What in the name of all the gods are you thinking!"


    "Getting you worked up! Remember, you told me your mental powers grow with rage."


    "I said no such thing! That makes it harder! My powers rely on concentration and focus!"


    "Oh," Cricket said, dejected. "Well... focus on your anger."


    The rudra stroked his three tentacles roughly, as if they''d been ruffled.


    "Cricket," Jeshu said slowly. "I have spoken to the goddess, and I believe I could offer you a Grace."


    "A Grace. Like the blessings of speed or defense?"


    "Yes."


    "Strength," Cricket said decisively. "I''ve gotta try strength."


    "Come here. Let me touch your necklace."


    Cricket pulled the turtle figurine from behind his jade breatsplate and let it dangle from his fingers. The druid reached out from where he sat and rubbed the carved stone with his thumb until it glowed a faint red. Afterward, he rose with a soft creaking sound and retrieved his hammer.


    "It will not be as powerful as it has been in the past," Jeshu explained.


    Cricket grumbled something under his breath.


    "What was that?"


    "Got it. I said I got it." Cricket stared at the doors and warmed up with a few hops, loosening his arms with a few swings. The ratling hunched low and still, except for his tail which betrayed his eagerness.


    Oydd raised a hand and the heavy doors began to open, as the veins on his temples bulged.


    "Even with the touch of my mind," the Rudra shivered, "the metal feels unspeakably cold."


    Thick vapors poured from the widening crack, obscuring the throneroom temporarily from view. When it had nearly cleared, a giant ram, roughly six feet at the withers, its horned head held low, burst from the icy fog, sending it billowing in every direction.


    "No!" Bax shouted and shooed the beast with the stick of his flail. "Other way!"


    The ram came to a hoof-clicking halt, then hopped around, looking surprisingly nimble for its size, and began its charge again¡ªthis time into the throne room.


    Scorpion followed in its wake, using the beast''s bulk to disguise his movements.


    The elder rudra sat, at first, as though it were a long forgotten corpse on the throne¡ªskeletal and lifeless. So still that it somehow caught Cricket offguard when it moved.


    No light shined from the lich''s eyes¡ªonly the emptiness of death. No hatred or malice radiated from the undead mage, but rather desolation and longing.


    The being moved in clicks, like a gnomish clock, to some unheard rhythm. It rose to its feet but continued to rise, still haltingly¡ªone inch and then another¡ªthrough the air.


    The lich ignored the ram, making no motion as the illusion passed through him. Scorpion, following closely behind, leapt and the lich snapped its head toward the ratling. The mere glance seemingly sent Scorpion hurtling backward through the air. The lich''s tattered, black robes swayed, its cartilaginous skull wobbled, and it appeared unfocused.


    Still it moved swiftly, suddenly several feet above the throne, its shadowy robes billowing like rising smoke¡ªhowever, its three remaining tentacles hung limply, its arms dangling like the limbs of a marionette.


    Cricket threw a khopesh. A black barrier formed, like a shell in the air between the two. But the khopesh traveled through as though it faced no resistance and the blade sunk deep into the lich''s chest with a quiet crunch.


    The lich grabbed the weapon with its clawed, knobbly hand. It exhaled and the khopesh instantly began to rot from within. Bright brown smoke rose from the blackening jade, and it cracked with a piercing ring. The undead mage tossed the handle aside.


    "You............ dick!" Cricket shouted. The red glow from his necklace began to blaze, turning a fiery orange, and the insect charged. But without so much as a motion, the lich lifted him from the ground, flinging him backward against the far wall.


    Cricket threw all four arms behind himself to blunt the impact, curling his head forward, but still hit hard enough to knock the wind from his breathing holes. Jeshu''s spell spread in red streams from the necklace, sinking into his black shell, and a crimson light began to glow from the insect¡¯s eyes.


    Skunk and Scorpion circled around the floating mage, preparing to attack from opposite sides, but again, without so much as a twitch, the lich sent them backward, slamming against the side walls.


    It snapped its empty eyes toward Lech''ti, and the azaeri braced himself to be lifted by spreading his arms. Rather than hurtling backward, he glided, and landed roughly against the wall on his talons. At this, the violet lobes inside the lich''s dried husk of a cranial sac began to glow. Lech''ti''s back cracked audibly and he collapsed to the ground in an unmoving lump.


    *****


    Oydd alone remained standing, though with great effort, as if buffeted by a powerful wind, using all his will to resist. He saw the druid ahead and to his right, slowly pressing forward¡ªalone gaining headway. Oydd stared down at the bloodstone egg clutched in his hand, uncertain what he had intended to do. His feet began to slide backward against the overwhelming force of Bale''s mind.


    The lich raised a leathery hand, clenching its fist. The fingers spread suddenly and a sphere of black energy formed, rapidly growing until it was large enough to encompass a troll. Oydd heard a faint sizzling as the azaeri''s silver armaments began to smolder, overwhelmed by the dark.


    *****


    Cricket, taking a cue from Lech¡¯ti, attempted to get his feet between himself and the wall. Using his enhanced strength, he crouched, ready to spring. Only the billowing force from the lich kept him from falling, pinning him against the brick wall.


    The lich pointed a skeletal finger toward Oydd, and the ball of energy slowly moved toward him.


    Oydd panicked, and ceased resisting the billowing force, letting himself slip backward through the double doors. He momentarily released the bloodstone egg, sending it floating between him and the approaching spell.


    Cricket inched toward the doorway and attempted to leap for the black orb. However, he barely managed to stand, trembling, perpendicular to the wall. Still, it was enough for him to reach the dark energy with a swipe of his khopesh. The sphere crackled, shrinking, before veering off course. And with a second strike, the insect managed to disrupt it.


    Unfortunately, he had only managed to absorb a fraction of the magic before it grew unstable and exploded in every direction.


    Cricket threw a forearm up before his eyes, and black, crackling lightning arced across the room, striking several points, including the insect''s outstretched forearm and his thigh. His head crashed back against the wall.


    *****


    The mouseling tucked a black candle under her wounded arm, and held the effigy of the elder rudra in the other as she wandered the training room looking for a spot. Most of the trainees and the instructors ignored her, preoccupied by their drills, except for one shadow who stood completely still, watching her from a distance.


    Patches turned slightly, keeping the shadow in her peripheral vision, but enough to hide the contents of her pouch as she pulled out Bale''s eye. She pulled a hair carefully from the orb, then dusted it off and held it up to her discerning eye.


    "No, we''re just borrowing it, Pip. Oydd will understand."


    She turned a bit more, to hide her motions from the room, and placed the eye of Bale directly in the center of the totem¡¯s chest.


    "This way, it won''t be damaged when I smush his brain."


    The shadow that stared from across the room still bothered her. Patches preferred to perform her magic in privacy, but that was too dangerous at present, with so many things out to get her. Even Pip. The mouseling frowned. She still loved him, but he hated her now. He glared with such cruelty and coldness that just the thought of it made her shiver. He had tried to bite her. And Pip was a zombie! So if he bit her, then she''d turn into a zombie, which made it even less considerate.


    Patches sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye with the fur on her wrist. She placed the doll on the ground and lit her candle.


    She began her ritual, with a few small changes she thought would help.


    "I don''t want to call him Fathead, Pip." The mouseling looked around and remembered her familiar was not present.


    She kept talking. "I''ll just say, the old rudra. Because Oydd''s not too old, right?" Patches paused. "You''re right, he''s too old, but he''s not as old."


    She nodded to herself and began the whisperings of her spell, calling out the elder rudra once, then twice. Patches looked up from the casting to see Cricket''s still shadow, standing impossibly close, considering she hadn''t seen it move. Its four arms hung loosely, almost dreamlike, as it stared.


    The mouseling jumped, but managed to suppress a squeak.


    Her whiskers trembled, sensing a malicious intent.


    Patches ran around the doll, turning her back on the shadow, knowing that black magic can''t hurt you if you''re not looking at it.


    She tried to put it from her mind as she finished the spell. The eye of Bale flashed brightly, and violet tendrils reached from it, like veins, spreading to the totem''s extremities. The threads of the doll turned red, which was new, but not necessarily bad.


    She in curiosity for over a minute, forgetting about the clone at her back, and then she reached out tentatively and pressed her stump against the doll''s neck as she pinched its brain with her fingers, whispering a final curse for good measure. Her tail, acting almost of its own accord, began to wrap around the totem''s neck, joining in on the hex. For the first time, she felt some degree of malice for the intended target, and the spell gained a greater hold for it.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    When she finished the ritual, she sensed the shadow behind her¡ªsilent as it was¡ªcreeping closer, until the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.


    "Let go of me!" she shouted before it even touched her, then spun to confront the clone, but saw nothing there.


    Several nearby archers, including another shadow, and their azaeri instructor turned at the outburst, and the mouseling blushed. She stared back at the group, embarrassed, for a moment, before sprinting away toward the stairwell, leaving her curios behind.


    Though she did not look, she sensed a malevolence in her wake, pursuing, and she groaned audibly, feeling sorry for herself.


    Patches ran up one flight of stairs, down a hallway, then up another floor before slowing. She looked behind herself and saw nothing, though she still sensed it.


    Trembling, the mouseling eventually found herself in the room with Licephus'' sarcophagus, lined by two cold, black braziers. A wind blew in from the night air.


    Cautiously, the mouseling skirted around the edges of the room, still sniffling, and paused near the stone coffin.


    She sneezed, sniffed, and wiped her eyes, and then her quivering whiskers. Finally, she curled into a ball and sulked.


    As she tried to catch her breath, she heard a faint grinding noise. She looked around the room, but saw nothing.


    Patches stared into the empty room, blinking, until the grinding sound repeated. This time, she saw the lid to the sarcophagus move slightly. A black mist poured over the edges, sinking immediately to the floor¡ªthough it seemed each wispy strand reached out to her, crawling along the cracks among the stones.


    A raspy breath followed from the darkness, whispering, "Return..."


    Patches held very still, in order to hear more clearly, and not because she was afraid.


    "Return the talisman to me!" the voice whispered again.


    The mouseling rubbed her eyes one last time, and when she opened them again, the mist was gone, and the lid to the sarcophagus sat closed and unmoved.


    The mouseling took a few tentative steps toward the coffin and nuzzled her cheek against the cold grey stone. She had not attended the vampire''s funeral, which might have made him sad.


    She jumped once, misjudging the distance in her state, then jumped again, landing atop the lid. She sniffed, curling up in a ball over her sleeping friend, and closed her eyes.


    *****


    Black steam rose from the insect''s shell, though the burning was bearable. His arm, which took the brunt of the force, stung incredibly. It felt numb, and when he tried to move his fingers, the whole limb simply twitched.


    Cricket ducked his head to view the lich beneath his forearm. As he watched, the brilliant violet glow from its head dimmed so quickly that it left an after image.


    Cricket dropped to the ground. He barely got his legs beneath himself in time, but the burnt leg gave out and he dropped to one knee.


    "What happened?" he screamed, which echoed through the now silent room.


    "The mouseling!" Oydd''s pained voice came from around the corner.


    For an instant, the lich dropped in the air, again shaking like a marionette, but it began to rise again. The darkness thickened around it, gaining substance, falling upon its shoulders like layers and layers of fabric, darker than its pitch black robes and thinner than cobwebs. The shadows settled, dangling from the elder rudra''s skeletal legs, and billowed.


    "Don''t let your guard down," Oydd called. "She has cursed his mind, but now he will resort to magic!"


    "Resort to magic!" Cricket yelled, panicked. "It wasn''t using magic?"


    "No," Oydd replied, matching the insect''s volume. "That was an advanced psionic ability.


    "Holy Crap!" Cricket replied. "That''s worse! Isn''t magic what liches are good at?"


    "Well now he doesn''t have both," Jeshu joined, as a long, delicate rod of pure darkness formed in the lich''s grasp.


    The lich opened its mouth, tearing open the dry skin at the edges of its beak, as if attempting to scream, but it only released a slow, cracking breath.


    "Should I screech? Water is weak to fire!" Cricket reasoned.


    Oydd appeared, reentering through the doorway. He stumbled, clutching his own head as if in incredible pain. He struggled to speak. "No. It will do nothing now. His physical body is already crippled. All he has left is tethers to a well of infinite magic."


    "That really doesn''t sound good!" Cricket shouted even louder.


    "Calm down," Jeshu said in a soothing voice. "I would call his link a fetter."


    "What does that mean?"


    "Like a chain," Jeshu clarified. "Yes, he is linked to magic, but it is by a chain that binds him. It is all he has. And it can be cut."


    Scorpion maneuvered behind the lich as it gathered the shadows, pouncing once he drew in range, and landed a single blow with his violet claw. Though the impact did no real damage. The lavender light tore through the shadows like a blade, spreading them down to the bone, but they instantly reformed as he ducked away.


    As Jeshu closed in, the Lich began to stir its staff in the air, pulling matter from an unseen realm that swirled like a portal before it.


    Jeshu swung with his hammer, and the lich made no effort to dodge. The blow struck his jaw, which crunched, and a thick layer of ice formed between the undead mage''s neck and shoulder, but it kept its gaze on Scorpion.


    When the ratling turned to charge again, it released its spell, unleashing a swarm of sickly yellow locusts with a roaring hum that drowned out all other sound.


    Cricket slammed his remaining khopesh again and again against his breastplate, attempting to create a clone, but the shadows only partly formed before dissolving. Only one of the many attempts yielded a fully formed shadow, and it only managed one eager step toward the lich before it too dissolved. Cricket swooned and toppled sideways.


    "It doesn''t work with just one khopesh," he cried out, heartbroken.


    "Cricket!" Oydd shouted, but the warning drowned in the hum of locusts. He switched to telepathy. That takes as much energy as creating a functioning clone. You''ll exhaust yourself!


    "What!" the insect whined. "That''s not fair!" He began to fish in his pouch for silver shurikens. "What''s wrong with you?"


    Oydd struggled to stand. I am partially caught in the mouseling''s curse, I think. When he started to fall, I was seized by a cluster of intense headaches.


    "Are you okay?" Cricket shouted over the dying buzz.


    Oydd shook his head. "No, but... I can bear it. I... I think my blood must have mixed with the rudra''s... when Patches obtained it." Despite his words, Oydd toppled sideways, grasping again at the side of his head.


    Lech''ti lay paralyzed on the ground, panting and sweating.


    Erro charged with his silver shield held high, and impaled the elder rudra with his spear. The lich, unphased, lashed out with its bare claw. The blackened nails scratched deep into the shield, and the silver began to hiss and release a yellow smoke, corrupting so quickly that it stung the azaeri''s eyes.


    Jeshu called out to the swarm of locusts, speaking a harsh command in druidic, and the insects began to fade into the air as effortlessly as they had arrived. The dryad touched the head of his hammer, whispering a soft prayer, and the metal began to glow with a warm, silver light.


    Scorpion stumbled from behind the throne, waving his invisible blade mindlessly at the remaining bugs. Large, bleeding welts covered his thick fur, as well as one bulge that threatened to obstruct the vision of his single remaining eye.


    Still, relentlessly, Scorpion charged in again. In an instant, the Lich appeared at his side, pinning him against the throne with a wave of his staff. Scorpion tried to raise Bale''s arm, but couldn''t reach close enough with his back held to the throne. He lashed out with the dagger in his tail, but the lich waved its free hand, and the tail too snapped back against the throne, bending and breaking on the edge of the seat.


    The ratling squealed like a wounded boar and tried to strike with his invisible sword. Surprisingly, the lich detected no threat, seeing only an empty fist, and the sword struck against his jaw, cutting it cleanly from its head. The bottom half of the beak fell and clicked against the floor as it skidded away.


    Scorpion wriggled free in the confusion, while Jeshu pressed in to occupy it.


    "It can''t see magic!" the ratling shouted.


    "What?" Oydd scoffed, now standing again with the support of his staff.


    "I don''t know, but it couldn''t see my sword."


    "How could it not see magic? That makes no sense," Oydd sputtered.


    "Perfect!" Bax sang. He cracked his knuckles in a spectacular fashion, and an instant later duplicates of everyone appeared in the room. This occurred only a split second before Skunk pounced on the lich from behind, aiding the ratling''s escape. As it was, two mutants landed on its back, and the lich reached for one, his hand passing through. Immediately it grasped the other, crushing in its skull, and the real Skunk dropped with a whimper.


    "Why did you make a copy of the lich?" Cricket complained. "He won''t fall for that."


    "It was easier to just do everyone!"


    Skeletons began to form from the spreading shadows that crept along the floor, and the gnome was forced to duck under a swinging sword as he answered.


    "But why is he staring at us?" Cricket asked.


    As if on cue, the copy of the lich began to chase Bax and he ducked again and again as it swiped its staff at his head. Once it managed to clip the top of his pointed hat, which knocked it off his balding head. The gnome, however, caught it as it fell, and placed it back in place.


    "It''s more..." Bax huffed. "...Believable."


    "Don''t bother dodging it," Scorpion critiqued as he blocked a shadowy sword with Bale''s arm. "It can''t hurt you."


    "If I believed that, it wouldn''t work!"


    "I might be able to commandeer one of the skeletons," Oydd shouted, then began to concentrate on a spell, pointing Bale''s claw at the figure stalking toward him.


    Bax cracked his knuckles again, and a duplicate of each skeleton appeared.


    "No!" Oydd cried. "That will only confuse us. The real ones will go straight for the living."


    "The lich didn''t," Bax argued, but the lich''s skeletons ignored his as Oydd had predicted, immediately targeting the living.


    Cricket brought a khopesh down on a skeletal warrior, striking its shield, but the entire apparition vanished, dispelled by the enchanted jade. He lunged toward a second, but his khopesh went through.


    "Oh, yeah, that won''t work," Bax laughed. "Mine aren''t made of dark magic."


    "Well, I didn''t know that one was one of yours. Can you mark them somehow?"


    "Or dispel them?" Jeshu suggested as he bashed his hammer into one of the solid foes.


    "No, and no," Bax replied with a shrug, gingerly swinging his Witch Clipper at a skeleton. It instantly vanished. "Oh, I got one!"


    "Destroying your own illusions is not incredibly helpful," Jesh replied.


    "Of course it is, since we can''t tell them apart," Bax''s illusion yelled back. The real Bax swung his flail again. This time it made a distinct crack before dispelling the skeleton into shadow. "Oh! Mine works on both types."


    Cricket let out a sound of clear annoyance as he watched his own illusion grapple with an illusionary skeleton. Though a moment later he made contact with one of the lich''s summons and he smiled as his weapon absorbed the magic. "Hey, every part of them is shadow, so hitting their weapons and shields does as much damage as hitting their heads," he offered helpfully.


    "Not all of us can absorb dark magic," Oydd griped. He finished his spell, and grabbed hold of one of the skeletons, turning it on its foes, but only with great difficulty and strain.


    Cricket''s smile turned again into a frown. "What am I even going to do with all this dark magic?"


    "It''s still helpful," Oydd said. "You''re removing them, even if you can''t make clones." No sooner had he spoken than a new crop of skeletons began to form. Oydd growled. "This doesn''t tire him in the least."


    Cricket took out two of the new skeletons, then knelt at Lech''ti''s side, searching for a pulse on the unconscious azaeri. He sighed in relief and retrieved the spear, bow, and three arrows, which he gripped in one of his lower hands.


    Cricket stabbed at a skeleton with the spear, holding his khopesh in reserve, and the shadowy foe crackled and melted. "Oh, it kills different."


    "The magic has to go somewhere," Oydd replied. Silver doesn''t absorb much."


    Cricket readied an arrow and fired at the lich''s back, who now battled with two Erros and two Jeshus, but the shot missed, and nearly clipped the spearman.


    "Sorry!" Cricket readied a second arrow.


    "Wait!" Jeshu yelled midswing, but the insect had already loosed another arrow. It also missed by quite a bit, lodging in the druid''s shin.


    Jeshu made no sound, until he saw the insect drawing again.


    "Don''t shoot. You''re a terrible aim."


    "I''m not. It''s not my fault. He keeps moving! I can aim pretty well at a bullseye."


    "Get closer," Jeshu offered as a compromise, not wanting to fight two battles.


    As he closed the distance, the insect circled around to get an unobstructed shot.


    The lich, having identified the real druid from the embedded arrow, stirred the air again with his staff, releasing a swarm of ogre wasps upon Jeshu.


    The footlong insects screeched like bats as they enveloped the druid, but Jesh only wiped the ones from his face, and stepped back in, landing another solid blow on the floating lich. The illusion of Jesh struck as well, and the light from its hammer did a small amount of damage. The lich vanished, only to appear across the room, its robes reforming from the radiant blows.


    "You''ll have to do better than that!" Jeshu boasted to the lich. "It doesn''t matter how many wasps you summon, if their stingers can''t penetrate my bark." The wasps swarmed his face again, and he stomped, shaking half of them off, holding the shining head of his hammer against the clicking mass of wasps. The divine light began to unsummon the insects, leaving only wisps of black in their place.


    The illusionary lich disappeared, reforming next to the real one, and then passed through it, as both flew after Erro, leaving some confusion as to which one was real.


    "Oh, I''ve got it," Bax sang as he ran from one of his own illusions, made evident when it would have pierced him with a spear. A lich, at the same time, swooped down on Erro, passing harmlessly through.


    "Was that a fake Erro or a fake lich?" Cricket yelled in frustration.


    Bax reached into his vest pocket and produced a thin lens of bloodstone, surrounded by a ring of gold. He lifted it to his eye. "Oops!" The gnome switched the lens to his other eye, and looked around the room.


    Immediately the fake lich vanished, followed by a quarter of the skeletons, and then the duplicates of everyone else.


    "Dammit," Scorpion said. "I was still imagining half of them were fake. There''s too many real skeletons." He darted around the room, quickly dispatching the dark constructs with his attached arm, dodging black swords and spears.


    After a moment, he yelled at the gnome. "I want my other Scorpion back."


    Bax fumbled with the lens, and dropped it, where it cracked against the stone floor. "Ah, tough muffins!" the gnome swore, opting to run past the monocle without stooping to retrieve it. "I''m pretty low on mana," he huffed and puffed, then continued. "How about a dragon!"


    "No," Oydd snapped. "It will just attack us!"


    "A dragon will attack whoever is closest. I can''t make it act unrealistically."


    "Then don''t do a dragon at all," Oydd replied. "Do more of us. That was brilliant."


    The gnome held onto his hat as he ran some distance from the nearest skeletons, then turned on his heel and held up both hands. Instantly, a duplicate of Cricket, Oydd and Erro appeared.


    "Do me!" Scorpion repeated.


    "I''m dry!" Bax returned. "Bone dry. I don''t want to compromise the ones I made."


    The lich began to gather black energy around the tip of his staff, slowly drifting away from Jeshu.


    Jeshu held his hammer out like a torch, causing the shadows to whip and hiss.


    At last, the lich released his spell. He pointed his staff at the druid, and a bolt of pure black energy crackled through the air. Jeshu held up his arm, drawing in the blast. The bolt persisted for several seconds, jumping around the air, but maintained a contact point with the staff and the druid.


    Jeshu grunted, shaking off the pain and gradually the bolt faded. The lich vanished and appeared closer to Oydd.


    "Cricket!" both Oydds cried, stepping backward. Seeing as the lich had not used its psychic powers for some time, Oydd raised his own staff and attempted to hold it in place, but it had no effect. Patches'' curse still gripped his own mind. Though he doubted he could have made a difference either way. The lich dove for him, and Oydd swung Bale''s claw, only scratching it, lacking the power of Scorpion''s arm.


    The lich''s staff touched his chest, and he fell, gasping for breath.


    Before it could strike again, Cricket, along with his illusion, arrived with a series of strikes that the lich ignored. The khopesh only grazed the thick shadow, and it reformed faster than the insect could attack. He withdrew with his illusion and the two swerved past each other multiple times to throw off the lich.


    The lich however, kept his gaze on Oydd, gathering blackness to the tip of his staff.


    "Crap, oh crap," Cricket whispered, switching to his silver spear. The illusion at his side vanished, and without looking around the room, the insect knew that the others must have expired as well.


    He lunged, reaching as far as he could with his spear, and managed to pierce the veiling shadows, lodging the tip in the lich''s shoulder. Still, if the silver affected it, it was not immediately discernible.


    He threw a silver shuriken at the lich with one of his lower hands, and a second at an approaching skeleton, which vanished.


    The shaft of the spear sizzled, releasing thick yellow smoke, but remained lodged.


    Erro, abandoning his own spear, fired two quick arrows into the undead mage, both striking the temple.


    From across the room, Scorpion tried to run, but tripped on his ankle, his broken tail throwing him off balance. He skidded to a stop on his face.


    *****


    The lich finished gathering energy and held the tip of his staff inches from the helpless rudra''s eye.


    A chill, partly from fear, and partly from magic, spread throughout the rudra''s body, so bold and gripping that he could not so much as breath. But the grip had no effect on Bale''s arm, and in a desperate, but also instinctive reaction, the rudra gripped the bloodstone until it cracked, and plunged it deep into the heart of the lich.


    The violet light banished the veil of shadows like a hot pan plunged into water, hissing, boiling, and steaming. The bloodstone seared the frayed edges of the shadows, cauterizing the blackness into a gnarled mess of ashen tendrils.


    Oydd cracked the lich''s shriveled ribs¡ªand with the silver, and bloodstone, and the light of Bale, the flesh parted with all the power of a rotted cadaver and he felt the stone press against its spine.


    The lich attempted to vanish, but reformed in the same place, and for a brief moment, Oydd could see, or rather discern, the chains binding the lich to an endless font of his own magic.


    The veil of shadows dispersed as any darkness exposed to the faintest source of light, and the dried husk of its torso began to burn. The staff vanished.


    "I''m only holding him. Find the phylactery! It''s not on him." As a matter of bad luck, Oydd made eye contact with the gnome first, who screamed at the prospect and shook his head. "Jeshu, I''m talking to you," Oydd clarified.


    Jeshu closed his eyes, and hovered blindly near the throne.


    "Hurry!" Oydd cried.


    "This is the fastest way."


    Bale''s hand began to blister from the explosive energy. The lich gradually grew accustomed to the disruption, and a veil of thin shadows began to form above it, drifting down onto its shoulders. The light from Bale''s brain glowed again softly in its skull. Whether from the proximity with Bale''s claw, or because the effects of the totem began to wear off, or the sheer will of the elder rudra, Oydd did not know. But he panicked.


    "Jeshu, we have seconds!"


    "Don''t disturb me!"


    A thin red light appeared in the lich''s eye. But only one, and for the first time, Oydd noticed a round, black stone embedded in the other socket.


    He sensed Izu''s presence nearby, and just as he was about to call out, the Witch Clipper bashed into the side of the lich''s pelvis, extinguishing the kindling fire. The lich dropped to the ground. The lavender light faded as well, and Bax swung the weapon in circles over his own head before delivering a second blow, sinking in its overripe skull.


    "Don''t damage the brain!" Oydd called out, too late. The gnome did, however, pause midway through a third swing, and let the rock spin around a few times until it came to a safe stop.


    Oydd looked over to the throne, where he saw Jeshu retrieve a simple coin from the arm rest. Cricket stood nearby.


    "Destroy it!" Oydd roared.


    Cricket grabbed the coin and lifted it to his mouth.


    "Don''t bite it, Cricket, it''s¡ª"


    Cricket bit down on the coin, easily splitting it in two, but when he did so, he vanished into a puff of black smoke.


    Oydd, eyes wide, watched the vapors settle. He knit his brows, before noticing Cricket at his side, still holding the emaciated, lifeless corpse against the ground on the tip of his blackened spear.


    Oydd drew back, his violet arm convulsing. The stone, however, still shined, despite the crack now running through it, though the hue had changed to a smoky green.

 Spoils

    17


    Spoils


    Oydd grabbed one of the violet lobes from the blackening wreckage of the lich''s corporeal form, careful only to touch the cursed flesh with his divine claw.


    Nearby, Bax retrieved his monocle. He lifted it to inspect the crack with a grand, theatrical sigh, then wiped it clean on his leggings and returned it to his vest pocket.


    "It needs a chain," he announced.


    Oydd pulled one lobe free with a surprisingly grating tear, and lifted it, dripping, from the lich''s cranial husk. A viscous purple slime covered the organ, thick as honey. Strands of the substance reached back to the lich''s open skull. The goo oozed slowly down the rudra''s arm and drizzled on the floor.


    "That almost looks delicious," Cricket joked.


    Bax, oblivious to the sarcasm, licked his lips.


    "You fool," Oydd said coldly to Bax, and the gnome''s tongue disappeared back into his mouth. "You crushed one of the lobes!"


    Bax took a step away from the rudra, but Cricket stepped in front of him protectively.


    "He also saved your life."


    Oydd scowled, but nodded. Still, he had trouble looking at the gnome.


    A soundless wind began to blow through the chamber along with an unnatural heat. And in the calm and silence that followed, Oydd''s eyes suddenly grew wide. "Run," he whispered.


    "Wha?" Cricket only half looked down at the corpse.


    Oydd cleared his throat and repeated more loudly, "Run! Leave anything corrupted behind. Anything that touched the lich! I''ll explain later!" Before he took off, the rudra lifted the bloodstone egg with his mind, leaving Bale''s claw free to carry the salvaged brain.


    "Cricket looked over at the pieces of his rotted khopesh on the ground. "But I..."


    "No! Leave them!"


    Jesh arrivd at the insect''s side, and put a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him away from the shattered weapon.


    Following the rudra''s instructions, Cricket dropped the silver spear, which had begun to blacken as if it had been held over a fire, and looked up at Jesh. "Lech''ti is still alive."


    "Go grab him," the druid replied. "But hurry."


    Cricket ran to the unconscious azaeri, sheathing his remaining khopesh, stooped, but hesitated, unsure how to move him safely with a broken back. In his haste, he simply decided moving him was safer than leaving him, and he hefted the soldier onto his shoulder, using his lower arms to try to keep the spine in alignment as he ran.


    Fortunately, as a martial artist, Cricket was exceptionally good at moving without bobbling or bouncing. And Lech''ti was fortunate, as well, that the insect had four arms to steady him from head to foot.


    As Cricket left the chamber, a violent black wind began to swirl around the lich''s corpse, lifting the rattling remains from the floor. A hollow, exhaling breath rose from the throne, and an icy hand grasped weakly at the back of his neck.


    The red glow began to dim from Cricket''s turtle charm, at which point he realized how much he had been relying on the Grace of Strength.


    Jeshu, on the other hand, began to glow with a soft yellow light, speeding his motions to the point that he could almost keep up with Scorpion and the insect.


    The group retreated down a hallway, pursued by a sinister, biting wind and moving shadows. As he watched, the corpses of their fallen foes began to twitch. He pressed on without slowing until they came upon the room where they had rested earlier.


    Oydd surveyed the corners of the small chamber as he caught his breath, and despite the flickering darkness and wails shuddering through the halls, he sat.


    "We''ll rest here."


    "Are... we safe?" Cricket asked. "We can go further."


    "We are safe," Oydd assured, but Cricket looked to the druid for confirmation.


    "Yes, Cricket, this is far enough. His power at this distance is inconsequential."


    Bax nodded in agreement, though he looked as ruffled as anyone.


    "Why did we have to run? I thought he was dead."


    "Well, he was dead the whole fight," Oydd replied. "But he is not gone. The throne room is tainted by his ruinous magic. It is not safe. His spirit and influence will remain here for ages¡ªhundreds of years at the least, I think. During that time, his power may dwindle, or it may cultivate. But he is greatly diminished and I believe he has no way to regain a corporeal form."


    "So he''s haunting the place. Why didn''t you just say that?"


    "What?"


    "I asked why we had to run. And you could have just said, ''because he''s haunting this place now''. That simple."


    Oydd stared back bleakly. "Regardless, we had to leave." He looked over the group. "Did any of your weapons touch the lich?"


    Cricket looked down at his khopesh. "No. No way I was going to risk losing both."


    The rudra winced and grabbed his shoulder. "Where''s Erro?"


    "You saw him poof," Cricket said as he laid Lech''ti on the ground. The druid immediately knelt at the azaeri''s side.


    "Erro poofed?" Oydd repeated, dumbfounded.


    "Well, no, he was a Cricket again, by that point, right?"


    Bax nodded. The gnome held Rusalka''s scimitars along with their sheaths in his arms, like gathered firewood.


    Cricket turned back to Oydd, looking a little irritated. "Bax had already run out of magic, remember?"


    "Is that something you told me! That Erro was a shadow in disguise?" Oydd roared. "How could I remember something you hadn''t told me!"


    "Well, I mean... Erro isn''t really an azaeri name, is it? The real question is what happened to El''lick. I haven''t seen him since before the first time we came to this room."


    "And no one noticed?"


    "I didn''t notice!" Cricket yelled. "Did you notice?"


    At this, the rudra shut his beak.


    "I didn''t think so! It''s not my job to keep track of your friends!" Cricket stared harshly until Oydd''s eyes softened in concern.


    "Cricket, what''s wrong?"


    "What''s wrong! Are you kidding me? This is our first real defeat, and I don''t feel like celebrating."


    "Our... what?" Oydd asked incredulously. "What on earth..."


    Cricket ignored him, turning his back on the rudra, and stalked over to a place against the wall, where he slumped against the stones.


    "Oh dear," Bax said.


    "This isn''t good," Jeshu interjected, hovering over Lech''ti. The azaeri''s chest rose very slightly, but his normally black skin looked flushed and grey.


    A faint approaching sound came from the hallway, and Bax reached for his Witch Clipper, forgetting, momentarily, that he had left it behind under Oydd''s instruction. He held out his hands, rather, and concentrated. And with an unflattering grunt, an illusory Witch Clipper appeared in his hands. Despite the display, he discreetly positioned himself behind Scorpion.


    A moment later, Skunk appeared in the doorway, his head no longer crushed, and looking no worse for wear. He rose on his hind legs and flicked his tongue out like a lizard.


    "Oh, marvelous!" Bax cried in relief. "Best possible result."


    Oydd paid no attention to the mutant''s arrival, transfixed as he was by the now green bloodstone.


    Seeing no one particularly in the mood to talk, Bax wandered over by Cricket and plopped on the ground next to him.


    Cricket stared at his own empty lower hands.


    The gnome patted the sides of his lap and let out a long sigh. "Well..." he began, then saw the dark look on the insect''s face and cocked his head as if rethinking his approach.


    "Time for scimitars then."


    "What?" Cricket asked glumly.


    "Scimitars," Bax said, holding up the bundle in his arms. "Steel too! You don''t want to fight with just one khopesh, right?"


    "What''s steel?"


    "Oh, it''s... I haven''t seen any down here til now. But it''s stronger than iron. Actually... I think it may be a type of iron. Not really my specialty, but it''s high quality stuff."


    Cricket tried to not look interested. "But I¡ª"


    "You said you''d use them if you were in the depths of despair. So it''s... a good time."


    "But I don''t want scimitars."


    "Ah..." The gnome thought. "But you do like symmetry, and one khopesh is not symmetrical."


    Cricket didn''t respond.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    "I am reminded of the gnomish poet laureate, Cobble Wobblebottom, who said, ''to escape my confines, I had first to transform into a butterfly''."


    A short silence followed.


    "You''re saying I need to be willing to change and adapt?"


    "What? Heavens no! Wobblebottom''s is a cautionary tale. He was in a cage for writing degrading poetry about the mayor. And he had an amateur enchanter friend transform him into a butterfly to get out. But she didn''t know how to turn him back."


    Cricket finally looked up. "When did you get a pointy hat?"


    "Oh," Bax reached up to his head with his stubby arms. "It''s not real. I thought it might intimidate the lich. It is also, by happy chance, the height of gnomish fashion! I''ve just never dared to, um, attempt to pull it off before. Is it fetching?"


    "It''s more... fancy than intimidating."


    "But you think I''m pulling it off?"


    Cricket nodded. "Yeah, it looks really good."


    The gnome smiled at the compliment. "Thought he might think I was a wizard. But the point of the story is that the poet didn''t need to take drastic action. All he needed to do was serve his sentence of one day or return the mayor''s pig."


    "You said he was in the cage for writing mean things."


    Bax scratched his bearded chin. "That I did. Am I mixing up mayors? It''s hard to keep track. Let''s see... I think that was on a tuesday, so Cornelius would have been mayor. Which means... yes, you''re right. The pig incident was earlier. All he had to do was apologize."


    "You have new mayor''s every day?"


    "Well yes. We used to have daily elections, but that caused too many casualties, so we opted for weekly elections, where we picked seven different mayors for the course of the week. After a while, there were really only eight gnomes interested in mayoring, so one politely bowed out in the interest of order."


    "That''s polite," Cricket agreed glumly.


    "So... now we have a mayor assigned to each day. Except for holidays! On holidays we let anyone who wants to take a turn, so no one feels left out. A... a lot more interest on holidays. This was before everyone died, of course."


    Cricket furrowed his antennae. "Doesn''t seem like you''d get much done in a day."


    "On the contrary! It''s highly motivating when you know you only have until Wednesday to pass new motions. Extra democratic, really! I was mayor once during the annual corn fair, and I proposed biweekly elections, which was surprisingly popular, but also surprisingly divisive, since we couldn''t agree what biweekly meant. So everyone was for it, but we were split about fifty-fifty between those who thought biweekly meant twice a week, and those who thought it meant every two weeks. Almost..." Bax tapped his index fingers together, "almost led to civil war. So we appointed a special committee to decide the meaning of the word before ratification, but some gnomes wanted a new vote entirely, so that matter was also referred to committee. I was on that committee, which also caused quite a controversy, being a conflict of interest. But there were only so many gnomes, you realize."


    "Bax, I''m really not in the mood."


    "The point was, to stay in your lane."


    "Is that an idiom?"


    "Oh, yes. It comes from farming. If you get excited and try to seed someone else''s lane¡ª"


    "Bax..."


    "The point is, you like your left weapon to match your right weapon. So it''s time to try scimitars. I know for a fact all the swordsmen at Euna Brae are very possessive of the best swords¡ªeven the practice ones. So... you''ll want to come back with a weapon you''ve already claimed."


    A loud raspy breath echoed down the corridor beyond the doorway.


    "Why aren''t we moving further away? This doesn''t seem super safe."


    "Hmm¡­¡± Bax sighed. ¡°Well, I assume he''s much weaker. I kind of rate ghosts the same way I rate puns. The lowest grade are annoying but harmless¡ªlike poltergeists. Even the mid-tier ones are only dangerous around the ignorant, or if they gather in large numbers. And then, very rarely mind you, you come across one that is an abomination before the gods and threatens the very fabric of reality. And none of them are funny."


    Cricket''s head hurt from trying to follow.


    Bax continued, "I would say that rudra was a top tier threat, and now just bottom tier."


    Cricket sighed. He watched Jeshu working on Lech''ti for a while, while Scorpion talked with Oydd.


    "I may have gotten some fingerprints on the blades. I hope that''s okay."


    The gnome''s voice pulled Cricket back. "What are fingerprints?" he asked. "Like footprints?"


    "What? No, no... that would be handprints. Fingerprints are... marks that fingers leave because of the natural oil in skin. I''ve heard it''s bad for swords, but I have no idea why."


    "Natural oil?"


    "Yes, skin has... it releases a little bit of oil." Bax held up his thumb for the insect. "So it leaves this print on anything I touch. Does your exoskeleton not do that?"


    "I don''t..." Cricket looked over at the rudra. "Oydd?" But Oydd either didn''t hear him or pretended not to. "Yes," Cricket said. "My shell has natural oil. More than yours, I think. That''s what makes it shiny."


    Bax nodded enthusiastically. The insect, meanwhile stared at the tiny rings on the tip of the gnome''s thumb, transfixed. Suddenly he picked up a scimitar and examined the ''fingerprints'' left on the metal in wonder.


    "Do you have marks like that on your toes?" He asked.


    The gnome scratched his head. "Why... I have no idea."


    *****


    Jeshu finished tending to Lech''ti. And when he stood to speak with Oydd, he noticed the shifted hue of the floating bloodstone.


    "Is... that corrupted now? Why didn''t you leave it behind?"


    "No, I don''t think so," Oydd replied. "I do want your opinion, but I don''t sense anything menacing coming from the stone. I suppose it neutralizes the energy to a degree. I think the same thing happened with the hammer you blessed."


    Jeshu nodded. "May I examine it?"


    "I don''t know if it''s safe to touch." He levitated the stone closer to Jeshu regardless, and the druid leaned in, closing his eyes to sense for darkness. "It''s actually heavier than it was before the fight," Oydd added. "So something has changed, but I can''t say what at present."


    "It is not... corrupted, in the normal sense of dark magic. I agree it''s not dangerous. But I also agree you should not touch it until we have more time to scrutinize."


    "It''s as green as a scorpion," the ratling chimed in.


    Jeshu raised a wooden brow. "I would have said forest green. But I suppose that''s not a term used down here. Your scorpions are this color?"


    Oydd nodded. "So they can camouflage in the sand."


    At this, Jeshu smiled. "If your sand is that color as well, then why not call it sand green?"


    "Because sand can also be black," Scorpion said dismissively.


    "Don''t you have black scorpions?"


    "Well..." The ratling thought a moment then scowled, looking away.


    Oydd motioned for Jeshu to follow him and approached Cricket, where he found the insect helping Bax remove his soiled boots.


    The rudra covered his beak. "Ah, that smell is atrocious."


    "It''s not mine," Bax said defensively. "It''s from the goblin."


    "You... got these boots from a goblin?"


    "Right off his corpse where it lay, plastered against the wall," Bax said proudly.


    "Against the wall?" the rudra pressed with a look of skepticism.


    Bax nodded three times. "They''re magic."


    "How do you know?" Cricket asked.


    "From the skid marks! That''s what killed the goblin, by the looks of it. Extreme speed. I don''t think he had a handle on it though."


    Cricket brought all four palms to his chin in frustration. "Ah, man, I wish those would fit me." Cricket eyed his own insectoid feet and compared them to the tiny boots.


    "You want to end up a stain on the wall, as well?" Oydd snipped.


    "Maybe," Cricket said, sullenly.


    "Cricket, I''m sorry about your khopesh," Oydd said, sounding sincere.


    Cricket''s expression sank to another level of despair.


    "But I overheard the gnome, and I do think those swords will be a nice fit for you."


    "Do you know what they do?" Cricket asked with an uninterested tone.


    Oydd nodded. "Nothing major. They have an enchantment to make them lighter."


    "What!" Cricket said, suddenly excited. "That''s like the best possible enchantment! It''s speed, but it doesn''t count as speed!"


    "Doesn''t count?" Oydd asked, perplexed.


    "Yeah, it will stack with Jesh''s spell."


    Oydd and Jeshu both stared back in confusion.


    "That might not be the right word," Cricket admitted, " but if they had an enchantment for speed, then I couldn''t benefit from that and Jeshu''s speed spell, right?"


    "That''s... correct," Jeshu replied. "Not fully, since it would be the same type of magic."


    "But lightness," Cricket stressed, "isn''t really magic at all. It makes me faster, but I''ll still get the full effect of the speed spell!" Cricket picked up both scimitars with newfound interest. He hopped to his feet and took a few swings. "Oh, ho!" he laughed with an ecstatic look on his face. His antennae nearly stood up straight.


    "Yes," the rudra said dryly. "I suppose they will... stack, as you say. Actually, that''s sort of what I came to talk to you about¡ªaugmenting magic, that is."


    Cricket made six more swipes in record time before responding. "What?" Still, the rudra did not elaborate, seeing that Cricket was entirely distracted, and not wanting to have to repeat himself. The insect shifted the swords to his lower arms and tested out several styles without acknowledging his company.


    "They''re so light I can use them in my lower arms." He stopped and scratched his chin, contemplating. "But I need to optimize the effect. I''ll need to do some tests and see how fast I can swing them compared to a heavier... No, first I need to try out your speed enchantment," he nodded to the druid, "and see which set of hands they''re faster in. No..." He furrowed his antennae.


    "We''ll settle that later," Oydd stated. "For now, I wanted to talk to you about the way Jeshu''s Grace reacted when you got angry."


    "The fiery burst? That was pretty cool," Cricket said with a smile aimed at Jesh.


    "It was nothing I did," the druid replied.


    "What do you mean?"


    "Exactly what he said," Oydd answered. "You did it. Somehow you aug¡ª"


    "I cast a spell?" Cricket interrupted.


    "Well, not so much," Jeshu clarified. "You... changed my spell. With some of the dark magic from your khopesh."


    "I cast a spell!" Cricket told Bax, and the gnome beamed with the sort of pride a father has in a son.


    "No, you didn''t." Oydd said, somewhat deflated.


    "But I basically did."


    Oydd shrugged.


    "So yes?"


    "More importantly," Jeshu interjected, "is how you did it. While you used magic from the khopesh, it was not an inherent ability of the weapon. You mixed your own mana with mine..."


    "Quite expertly, might I add," the rudra said. "The two meshed very well."


    "What should I try next? Ghouls?"


    Oydd shook his head. "Your... discipline is more similar to Jeshu''s than mine. Otherwise it would not have worked. Conjuration is much closer to abjuration in nature than necromancy."


    "Yes, of course," Cricket nodded.


    Oydd looked skeptical. "That''s what you and Jesh do respectively. The point is, frankly, in a short time you have become incredibly experienced at manipulating and organizing dark magic. And while you cannot currently cast a spell," the rudra said pointedly, "you might be able to utilize the magic you harvest from your remaining khopesh."


    Cricket frowned and hung his head at the mention of his clones.


    "It will take time," Oydd continued. "But you may learn to form a solid clone with one khopesh. And for now, you still have the nine shadows back at the tower."


    "Ten," Cricket corrected. "Nine who teach weapons. But then there''s the lazy one who mopes around and writes depressing poetry."


    Cricket sighed and his mandibles quivered. "But also that was my favorite khopesh. It was the left one."


    "Your khopeshes are identical."


    "Yes, but I always used the same one in my left hand."


    "Move the remaining khopesh to your left hand," Oydd replied with a harsh tone. "It''s no different."


    "So you''re saying that it wasn''t my favorite?" Cricket asked condescendingly. "Thanks for explaining my feelings to me."


    Oydd tucked his staff in the pit of his arm, covering his eyes with his free hand as he massaged the bridge of his beak.


    "That''s what I thought." Cricket said sternly. "Now if you''ll excuse me, I need to inspect Bax''s toes."


    The gnome wiggled his toes from within his stiff, pointed socks.


    "We... we may need to clean those boots," Cricket conceded.

 A Little Troubled Mind

    18


    A Little Troubled Mind


    Jeshu returned through the portal first, and sighed contentedly to again be in the tower. Lech''ti lay draped over his shoulder, still unconscious.


    Scorpion followed. "So, scorpions on the surface have eleven limbs, if you count the tail, and the tails are also poisonous?" the ratling asked, agog.


    "Yes, but they''re much smaller.¡± Jeshu answered. ¡°I just assumed your tail knife was poisoned."


    "It will be in the future," he said under his breath.


    "Why do they have tails if they don''t poison things?"


    Scorpion had to ponder the druid''s meaning before answering. "Well, they''ve got stingers as long as a sword. And their prey is big and slow."


    "What is their prey?" Jeshu asked as the others began to trickle through the portal.


    "Hmm... uh, I know kaerbeasts, for one," the ratling answered, then noticed the lost look on the dryad''s face. "They''re desert... um... kind of like lumpy yaks? Anyway, scorpions kill them, then feast on the rotting carcasses for weeks. Even lay their eggs inside the empty cavity when they''ve had their fill."


    Cricket and Oydd arrived through the portal last, mid-conversation.


    "¡ªexoskeleton makes its own wax? Like bees? Is wax like oil?"


    "Well," the rudra answered, "they''re both lipids. But oil is more liquid and wax is more solid."


    "So wax is better than oil?" Cricket asked.


    "I... don''t see why that''s better, but it is what makes your shell shiny."


    "Wax is better than oil," the insect concluded with a nod.


    "Is that Pip?" Jeshu asked, watching a speck crawl along the arched doorway.


    "That''s odd," Oydd responded. "Where do you think the mouseling is?"


    "You saw a ladybug from across the room?" Scorpion asked, judgmentally.


    "Well, I suppose I''m on high alert for dark magic."


    Oydd stared at the dripping organ in his grip with knotted brows. "I''m retiring to my laboratory for the remainder of the night, and I don''t want to be disturbed."


    "It''s late," Jeshu said. "You should sleep first. It can wait until morning."


    "I''m not sure it can. Brains are not used to being exposed to the elements. I need to preserve it by one means or another."


    Jeshu shuddered at the wording. "Before you go, can you locate the mouseling for me? I want to check in on her."


    "She''s with Licephus," Oydd replied, without hesitation as he left the room, beckoning Skunk to follow.


    "I''ll come," Cricket said to the druid when they were the only two left in the room.


    "Good," Jeshu replied. "I don''t mind the company."


    The two headed for the stairwell to the burial chamber. Cricket slowed to the druid''s pace, but grew agitated at the speed, and drew a dagger to entertain himself as he walked, flipping it around in his fingers.


    Jeshu watched him curiously, impressed by the insect''s dexterity. "Did you know Scorpion doesn''t use poison?"


    "Why would he?" Cricket asked. "Poison was kind of Skunk''s specialty, since skunks are poisonous. Scorpion got his nickname because he has a sharp tail."


    "Skunks aren''t poisonous," Jeshu said. "Though... I can understand the misconception."


    "They have poisonous spray that they use when they hunt," Cricket said confidently. "Skunk, er... saved their poison glands and coated his knives in the venom. It worked wonders."


    "That is a bit horrendous," Jeshu replied. "But I trust when you say it was effective." He walked a bit as he thought. "On the surface, scorpions are poisonous."


    "Enough to kill people?"


    "I can''t say I''m sure. But they don''t hunt people. I mentioned it to Scorpion and he liked the idea of poisoning his dagger."


    "No reason," Cricket said. "Never saw anyone ever get away from Scorpion. Skunk, on the other hand, had to use poison, because everything got away from him." The insect suddenly cocked his head, realizing that the mutant who accompanied them used to be Skunk. Even though they still called him Skunk, it just felt like a different person now.


    "Can you give me a little speed boost?" Cricket asked. "I have something I want to try."


    "It would be unwise. I need to replenish mana. But I can help you in the morning."


    "It''s already morning."


    "Hmm," Jeshu replied. "I suppose it is. The afternoon then. After I have rested."


    "Fair enough." Cricket began to toss the dagger between his lower arms.


    Jeshu sighed when they reached the stairs. His legs creaked as he began to climb. "Cricket, are you able to change the shape of your shadows?"


    "Not at all!" Cricket snorted through his side holes. "I''ve tried, and I haven''t made any progress. Cuddlebug really wanted me to make him a vest to match Bax, but I couldn''t make so much as a wisp. We ended up having to resort to sewing."


    "You can sew?"


    Cricket corrected himself, "We ended up deciding that he had to practice sewing."


    "Have you tried making them denser?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "Um, to put it in terms of what you would need to do? Since you sometimes have more mana stored than you know how to use, have you considered putting more mana into each clone?"


    "Kind of a moot point now." Cricket grimaced.


    "Sorry. What the rudra said just got me thinking."


    "Why do you call him ''the rudra''? You don''t do that to anyone else. You don''t call me ''the insect''."


    Jeshu paused at the question, so much that he stopped in his tracks. "Do you want to be called ''the insect''?"


    "I do not."


    "Well, Oydd likes to be called ''the rudra''. The term is honorific to him. Sort of like how Patches likes to be called the mouseling. I wouldn''t do it if I thought it were insulting."


    The two approached the burial chamber. Even from down the hall, the mouseling''s silhouette could be seen resting atop Licephus'' sarcophagus.


    "There she is," Jeshu smiled, but immediately the smile dropped from his face, replaced by a look of concern. "Oh... she''s. Oh no!"


    "What?" Cricket asked in alarm.


    "It''s alright. I just thought she seemed troubled at first, but it''s more than that. I didn''t mean to worry you."


    "You can tell how she feels from here?"


    The dryad nodded. "I have an... aura of sorts up to help detect dark magic. It has faded from the casting, but it still remains. Peculiar as it is, it also lets me feel what those around me feel. Only to a small degree, but..."


    "But what?"


    Jeshu circled the stone sarcophagus and rested a hand on the sleeping mouseling. She jerked in her sleep and began to breathe uneasily.


    "But this is... a curse. As clear as any curse I''ve ever seen, and... and I couldn''t even see it."


    "You sensed it from down the hall," Cricket argued.


    "I''m speaking of earlier. Oydd was concerned about her and asked if I sensed anything, and I said I did not. I wonder if he sensed something, but deferred to my judgement." A tear slid silently down the dryad¡¯s cheek, and Cricket froze in place, unsure how to react.


    "I''m sorry, little one," the druid continued. He stroked her softly from head to tail, and began to chant. Patches kicked once in her sleep, but instantly calmed, and her breathing slowed.


    Cricket watched for a minute, before finally asking, "Did you fix it?"


    "Oh, no. This one will take some time and effort. But I believe I can. First, I''ll need to know what happened. For now I have linked us, and I will bear the brunt of it. I think it''s best to let her sleep."


    Jeshu patted her again gently, then suddenly winced, as if in pain. He let out a soft groan.


    The druid swooned sideways, leaning against the coffin for support.


    "Perhaps I will not sleep tonight," he said sadly. "Cricket, will you stay with me while I rest. I... I don''t feel like being alone."


    "Sure Jesh, anything you want."


    The druid dropped to the ground beneath the mouseling, taking a meditative pose¡ªthough notably, he still leaned his back against the stone for support. The druid closed his eyes and entered a flitting, vegetative state.


    Cricket stood in front of him and waved a hand before the dryad''s face. He whispered, "Jesh," but the druid did not react.


    The insect wandered over to the open wall, looking off across the valley below and placed two hands on his hips before surveying the floor for a comfortable spot to lie down, finding only hard stone. But that didn''t really bother Cricket.


    *****


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Scorpion yawned as he retired to the barracks. While he had been assigned his own quarters, he had trouble sleeping without being surrounded by comrades, and the azaeri made no objection to the ratling¡¯s company. Sadly, the feathered lizards preferred much softer beds than Scorpion was used to, but at least their bunks were recessed in the wall, which made it feel more like home.


    When Scorpion reached the main hall, he ran into another ratling only a foot shorter than him. He paused, unaware he was staring, until she turned on him.


    "Got a problem?"


    Scorpion snapped himself to attention and stammered. "No... there just aren''t a lot of ratlings around here. I haven''t seen you before."


    The female folded her arms and regarded him coldly. "I''ve run into enough creeps around here. Not really interested in meeting more." She started on her way.


    "Wait, what''s your name?" For the first time, Scorpion noticed a tiny salamander perched on her shoulder.


    "None of your business."


    Scorpion snarled, but watched her walk away, until she disappeared around a corner.


    His lip twitched in irritation, then he turned back toward the barracks and crawled into his bunk as if to sleep, but almost immediately his tail began to scrape his adamantine dagger against the wall far too quickly and anxiously. And the ratling knew, from hard experience, that meant he would not sleep for some time.


    *****


    Cricket yawned and stretched, but his arm bumped into a stone corner. With a start, he looked around, remembering where he was. The coffin left a slight scuff on his arm, so he spit into a hand and began to buff it out.


    Cricket found Jesh with the mouseling now curled up on his lap. Her eyes, however, were open, and she watched the insect with a look of curiosity on her face.


    Cricket waved, and the mouseling hopped onto the floor and scurried over to sit by him, cozying up against his shoulder.


    She still stared at him, almost unblinking for a while. Long enough that the insect almost asked if she were okay, but the mouseling spoke first.


    "I don''t feel bad," she whispered softly as if confused, then yawned too, baring her tiny teeth.


    The druid¡¯s eyelids still flitted anxiously, in a deep but agitated meditation.


    "That''s good," Cricket said and patted her on the head.


    "Did I do good?" She asked earnestly.


    "What? Oh, yeah, you did great. You really shut him down." Cricket sat up straight. "But it was... really a disaster, otherwise. I think, overall, it was a huge loss.''''


    "But I did good?"


    "Yeah... but you did good. You did great."


    Patches smiled, but then suddenly seemed preoccupied by a memory. She stared very seriously at the insect, and said, "He said I had... Tal''s men."


    "Who said that?"


    "Licephus. He woke up to tell me."


    "Oh, that sounds important. Let''s see... yes, I remember. Tal was a great mage. Rudran, I think. He could ensorcell a hundred men at once. Even his greatest foes. Mesmerized them! Captivated them!" Cricket said.


    "I don''t know those words," Patches said softly.


    "Did he say ''talisman,'' little one?" Jesh joined.


    "Jesh! You looked like you''d sleep forever!"


    Patches wiped her whiskers with a paw. "What''s a talisman?"


    "Like a necklace. Often magical."


    "Oh!" Patches said in evident panic. "No, I didn''t take it..."


    "You''re not in trouble," Jeshu assured her. "I''m just trying to help. Did you take a talisman that didn''t belong to you?"


    "No, but I did," she answered slowly.


    "Which is it?" Cricket asked.


    "I didn''t. But I tried not to."


    "Little one," Jeshu replied as tenderly as possible. "That doesn''t make sense. If you want help, then you need to be honest with me."


    "And you won''t get mad?"


    "No, I won''t get mad," the druid assured her.


    Patches watched him closely as she waved her tail along the dusty floor.


    Finally, she said, "I didn''t take it from a mummy."


    "And where is it now?" Jeshu asked.


    The mouseling unconsciously looked out toward the annexed shell high above them.


    "Is it there?" Jeshu asked. "In the shell."


    Patches nodded, but looked on the verge of tears. "But you can''t get it. If you touch it, then it will come after you too."


    "What will come after me?"


    Patches considered her words. "The mummy and... the shadows. And it makes Licephus mad. But he never got mad before."


    "Where did you see Licephus?"


    Patches pointed at the sarcophagus. "He climbed out to get mad at me, but then he climbed back in."


    "Ah," Jeshu said, in comprehension. "I see. And he told you he wanted the talisman?"


    Patches nodded almost indiscernibly. "And Pip wanted it too. He tried to get me."


    "Mouseling," Jeshu said in a comforting tone. "Can you show me where the talisman is? I can remove the curse."


    Patches made a troubled sound. "Will I get to keep it?"


    "No," Jeshu replied. "But It will make Licephus happy, and it will make Pip happy, and it¡ª"


    "It will make him like me again... Pip?"


    "Yes," the druid assured.


    "Okay, but if he bites me, then I''ll turn into a zombie."


    "No, no... you''re thinking of vampires. And he won''t bite you anyway."


    "You promise?"


    "I promise."


    Patches inhaled deeply, then darted toward the hall. And when she was almost out of sight, she turned and waited for the others.


    On the way to the top of the tower, the group ran into a red-eyed Scorpion, sitting next to the cages to the upper levels. He held a paw over his empty eye socket as if he were stanching blood.


    "You look awful," Cricket said bluntly.


    "Haven''t slept."


    "You really should," Cricket encouraged.


    "I tried, idiot. Too much adrenaline from the fight."


    "Do you mean you actually haven''t slept?" Jeshu asked. "Usually when someone says they haven''t slept, they mean that they didn''t sleep well."


    "I mean that I haven''t slept. Where are you headed?"


    "To the annex," Jeshu replied. "Is anyone operating the lift?"


    "No," Scorpion replied, and I''ve been here for a couple hours."


    "That''s odd."


    "Maybe it was El''Lick''s shift," the ratling joked morbidly.


    Without warning, Patches darted up the wall and into the counterweight shaft. Cricket risked a quick look up the shaft. He could see about two floors up, but the mouseling was already gone.


    "Well, I guess we should get in," Cricket said.


    Jeshu climbed into the cage and almost immediately a click resonated from above and the lift began to rise.


    In a panic, Cricket leapt onto the outside of the rising cage, and turned to look at the ratling, as if to invite him, but Scorpion already snored softly, his head bobbing.


    The lift rose more slowly with Cricket''s added weight, but eventually the grinding of gears stopped and they arrived at one of the upper landings where Patches waited patiently.


    "Did I do it?"


    "Yes, you did it," Jesh replied. "We could have used a little more time to get in the cage."


    Patches nodded nervously, while the druid looked at the rope bridge two floors above him.


    "Are there any lifts near here?"


    "No," Cricket answered. "They''re on the far side. It would take longer than climbing."


    Jesh let out a brief sigh. "I don''t really understand azaeri architecture. There''s nothing near here," he griped as he made his way to the stairwell.


    "Um, I really only see the azaeri use the lifts to go up. They like to just glide down."


    "That almost makes sense, but why build a lift here, just to glide back down?"


    "I''ve seen them do it. Because if they''re at the top of the tower, they can get anywhere easily."


    "Then this lift should go to the top," Jeshu stated as he began to climb the stairs again.


    Jeshu, are you free?


    "Not at the moment."


    "What?" Cricket asked, confused.


    "Oh, sorry. I meant to say that to Oydd."


    Not at the moment. What do you need?


    A... medical checkup of sorts. When could you come to the lab?


    I''m nearby. Is it urgent?


    No.


    I don''t think I''ll need much time, Jeshu thought. I''ll contact you if it takes longer than expected.


    Jeshu felt the link close without another thought from the rudra.


    The insect stopped a bit short of the rope bridge, while Patches already waited on the far side.


    "I''ll um... do you have anything for vertigo?"


    "If it''s really from your compound eyes, can''t you just close them?" Jeshu reasoned.


    "I don''t have eyelids."


    "I realize this is off topic, but how do you sleep?" Jeshu asked.


    "Well, I can''t see, just because I can''t close my eyes, if that''s what you mean. I definitely dream, and when I''m dreaming, you couldn''t wake me up by... waving a hand in front of my eyes, for instance." Cricket crept one inch closer to the ledge.


    "You''re sure you''re not just scared? Because I actually can help that."


    "No. I''m not sure. I don''t really get what emotions... other people feel. I... bet this is fear," Cricket said unconvincingly.


    Jeshu smiled. "I have an old blessing that I used to use to inspire confidence in new soldiers."


    "A grace?"


    "It''s actually a little different, but you can think of it that way. Like a Grace of Bravery."


    "Really?"


    Jeshu nodded. "Shall I try it?"


    Cricket sighed. "Yeah, I''m already getting a little dizzy."


    Jeshu stepped close to the insect and placed a hand directly atop his head. "Close your eyes."


    "I can''t. We... just talked about that."


    "Oh, sorry. Concentrate on the task."


    Cricket slowed his breathing. He felt a calming feeling begin to spread through him. Oddly, it started in his chest and spread to his arms next. Then finally his mind relaxed.


    "Oh, that''s nice. I feel like I could jump off and it wouldn''t bother me."


    "Well... don''t, obviously. But I''m glad you feel better. Shall we go?"


    Cricket nodded and started across the bridge a little too fast. Almost immediately he toppled sideways into the hangers and reached out with all four arms, grabbing in different places. He stooped forward onto his knees and began to crawl along the planks¡ªthough not in a terribly straight line.


    Jeshu walked to his side. "Does it help if you look up?" He offered the insect an arm.


    "I don''t... think it was fear after all," he said as his cheeks began to swell and he suddenly retched over the side. Despite the dizziness, Cricket looked over the edge of the plank, curious which way the wind was blowing. He yelled out at some soldiers stationed below. "Sorry!"


    Jeshu helped him to his feet, and the insect wobbled alongside him, leaning into his shoulder and looking upward.


    When they reached the far side, Cricket darted into the spiral hallway and plopped on the ground, panting.


    "Surely, you''re being a bit melodramatic."


    Cricket lifted his arms up before his face where he lay. "I... see two of everything. And they''re not even moving in the same direction. Left arm right... right arm up. And I''m sitting perfectly still. Arms shouldn''t be moving at all."


    Patches leaned in close and kissed him on the forehead.


    "Thanks, Patches, that helps."


    Cricket rolled over on his side.


    "Are you falling asleep?" Jeshu asked.


    "What? No. I''m resting."


    "When you roll on your side like that, you''re usually asleep in minutes."


    "What? Really? I hadn''t noticed, he said, yawning.


    Jeshu waited fairly patiently for a minute, then asked "Should we go on without you?"


    Cricket didn''t answer, and a few seconds later he began to chirp.


    The druid sighed. "Come, little one. Or rather, show me the way, and I''ll follow."


    Patches kissed Cricket again softly on the cheek then scurried down the hall.