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—each 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—the one that Oydd had bent—which 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—certainly 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—only 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—the 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.