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—but 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—"

"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.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

"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 —"

"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—the thinnest point of the metal—and 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—its 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.