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—this 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—skeletal and lifeless. So still that it somehow caught Cricket offguard when it moved.

No light shined from the lich's eyes—only 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—one inch and then another—through 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—however, 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—alone 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.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

When she finished the ritual, she sensed the shadow behind her—silent as it was—creeping 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—though 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—and 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—"

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.