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—except 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—"

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—the 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—regardless of which side he fought on—whoever 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.