12

In Memoriam

"Cricket," Oydd said with a serious tone as they made their way back to the portal.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I was thinking about what you said. About being almost unkillable..."

"I was exaggerating. But I haven't been killed yet! I just keep growing back parts."

"That's what I wanted to talk about. I don't know if it's a bit... invasive, but I've been studying your molting habits very closely."

"I don't mind."

Oydd nodded. "I noticed a... trend that is a bit worrisome."

"Oh?" Cricket said.

"Yes. You're the first of your species I've been able to observe long-term. Oh... at all really. You used to molt every four months. Then five. And then six. This last time took eight months. That is a significant leap from the previous period."

"Oh... okay, I can see why that would be inconvenient... if that trend continues."

"Well, that would be the best-case scenario," the rudra said gravely.

"How do you..."

"The more likely scenario is that you will stop at some point. Once you reach your full size, that is."

"Full size? What do you mean?"

"Really?" Oydd said. "You... know you get bigger each time you molt, right?"

"Well, yeah, but just a little."

"Molting is... Since your exoskeleton can't grow, molting is a method for you to grow. It is unlikely you'll continue to molt once you've reached full maturity."

"I'll just stay immature, then."

Cricket's shadow smirked.

"Cricket, I'm being serious. I think you may molt once more, maybe twice at the most. But there's a chance you... won't. There's a chance you've reached the maximum size for your species."

"That can't be," Cricket replied, only looking a little nonplussed. "The brown insectoids molt their whole lives!"

"Which are incredibly brief," Oydd countered. Cricket's antennae drooped as they approached the portal. He stopped when he noticed a kobold corpse with an adamantine knife and stooped to retrieve it with one of his lower arms, careful not to drop any of the webbing.

"Hmm..." the rudra pondered. "It probably is time for you to upgrade."

"Huh? Oh, this isn't for me. It's a gift."

"You understand why I brought it up? The molting?"

"To paralyze me with caution on the battlefield?"

"Well..." The rudra let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I suppose that won't happen. But... some day, you're going to lose a limb, and it's going to be for good."

"Oh, I was serious. My reckless approach to battle has always factored in my immortality. Now..." Cricket's thoughts wandered off.

Oydd walked up to the portal, which at present remained an arch of unremarkable stones. However, with a wave of his claw, a turbulent silver pool appeared. Normally, with a touch the surface displayed their destination. But this time Oydd's claw began to etch a shining glyph into the silver pool—just three quick strokes. The rune pulsed faintly before it disappeared.

"What was that?" Cricket asked.

"A glyph of detection. I have placed one on every portal that I can currently access. It will alert me if another attempts to pass through without my knowledge."

Oydd tapped the portal again, and an image of Euna Brae's interior materialized.

"Shall we?"

Cricket glanced at the trail behind him. "Ratling," he said softly.

Only silence responded.

"I imagine," Oydd addressed the room, "you intended to follow us home. This is the last threshold—the last step for us—and your final chance."

The ratling soundlessly limped from behind a squat stalagmite, her crossbow resting on one shoulder and her salamander on the other. Despite the calmness of the rudra and the insect, she breathed quickly, almost in a panic, her eyes wide.

"You have nothing to fear from us," Oydd called out.

"Where are you going and who do you serve?" the ratling asked, with obvious desperation.

"Does it matter? You will die here."

The ratling hesitated.

"We are headed to a tower called Euna Brae. It is a stronghold of the azaeri. But we have several ratlings living there as well."

"As slaves?"

"As equals," Oydd replied. "We were once slaves ourselves. May I ask where your home is?"

"Spindle," the ratling answered. "My name is Spindle, and this is Plip." She motioned to the salamander with her thumb.

"Oo! Sorry, that's not going to work," Cricket said, shaking his head. "Azaeri aren't good at stringing consonants together. And we already have a Pip."

"What?" the ratling spat with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Ignore my friend for a moment and tell me where you come from."

The ratling looked back over her shoulder. "Much, much deeper. And my kind don't tolerate the weak. If I return injured, I would be killed for my boots and my bow. Maybe for food, depending on—"

"We are not in need of boots or bows," Oydd interrupted.

The ratling still stared back toward her home. "We have many rudra there, but they are cruel. I do not know the azaeri."

"I don't believe anything else I say will do much to persuade you. We will take our leave, and I will leave the gate open behind us. But choose quickly." With that, the rudra stepped through the portal.

Cricket opened his mouth, as if to add something, but simply shrugged and followed his companion through.

*****

"Pip, I'll be right back." Patches peered over the ledge, and let out a huff of determination. She wrapped the enchanted sword in her tail then crossed the laboratory. It felt oddly light. She paused by her hole, but even looking into the tunnel gave her a sick feeling so she hurried past to the stairwell.

Still, she knew a mummy waited for her far below. Or maybe not so far? It had been an awful long time, even if it was just creeping slowly toward her.

She scurried down a few floors with the sword, heading for Scorpion's quarters near ground level, but she began to shake a bit more with each floor she descended.

Eventually she reached the training grounds and ran into one of the Crickets, who looked at her with an odd amount of concern.

Patches held out the sword with her tail, and the shadow stared a moment before noticing the nearly invisible weapon.

"I have to go. Can you give this to Scorpion?"

The shadow grabbed it reverently, but made no promises.

Patches didn't have time to think about it. She shuddered and ran back for the stairwell, but after climbing a few floors, the shadows started to look at her funny.

She slowed down and eventually came to a stop on a landing, turning to look back down the stairs. She could hear the mummy breathing, which meant it was very, very close.

Patches looked up and gulped. The shadows in the stairwell reached out toward her.

"We can't go down," she said to no one. "And we can't go up." Patches shrank against the wall. But the breathing grew closer and if it came down to it, she would rather deal with the grabby shadows then descend low enough that she might run into the spider mummy.

She ran up the stairs until the stump of her missing paw grew raw from beating the ground, and the shadows ahead grew too dense. Then she ran down the hallway away from the stairs and turned into a dark, unused chamber.

Finding the room completely bare, with no place to hide, she huddled in the back corner and tried to make herself as small as possible.

Out in the hallway, she heard a creak, and then heavy footsteps. The footsteps stopped in front of the door and cast a long shadow beneath. The shadow shifted and began to scratch softly at the door. She heard a long, slow breath, and then the scratching resumed.

Patches wrapped her tail around herself protectively. Her whiskers began to shiver. "Pip," she called out softly. "Is that you?"

*****

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Cricket watched as an insectoid tamer half his size poured a bucket of grain into Xacier's pen. The axebeak impatiently snapped at the insect's exposed arms—three of which still remained. The insectoid pulled the bucket back with a harsh word, and the axebeak screeched in protest. However, knowing the food would not return if he continued his behavior, Xacier contented himself with sharpening his beak in a stone trough in the ground.

"He's going to cut through to the next floor down some day," Jeshu said, matter-of-factly.

"That will take months!" Cricket replied. "And before we made the trough, he sharpened his beak on the bars, which... he was like halfway through this one." Cricket stuck his head through the bars to look at the far side, but hastily retreated when it got the axebeak's attention.

"How's Orth doing, by the way? What does he eat?"

Jeshu sighed and looked off to the far end of the stable. "He eats the back of his cell. Really, I think it's time to let him go. If I don't do it soon, he won't fit through the halls to the portal."

"Can he climb stairs?"

"Freakishly fast. If he were interested in eating living things, he'd be more dangerous than Xacier. As it is, I'm still hesitant to release him. He might not adapt to the harsh conditions of Agoth after living in captivity. On the other hand, the wildlife around here might not be able to adapt to him."

Cricket's antennae suddenly stood straight up.

It is time.

"Did you hear that?" Cricket asked.

"I did." Jeshu waved to the attendant—who half-heartedly saluted back—before heading toward the stairs.

"What floor did he say?"

"The fourth floor."

"Oh, good. That's close-ish." Cricket yawned.

Jeshu yawned in response. "No yawning. It's contagious. And it's too early."

"Sorry, I didn't sleep well last night. My mind was racing."

At this, Jeshu simply nodded. Though as they climbed the stairs, he added, "It's actually pretty rare for me to yawn. Means I need some real sleep."

"How often do you... actually sleep? Not just that meditation."

"Oh," Jesh thought. "More than I used to. At least once a week now."

"What, you getting old?"

"Ha! Not for my kind."

Despite his words, Cricket noticed a sadness in the dryad's eyes. His scars had begun to heal—mostly. But some had blackened, and the insect could still see the crags on the dryad's face from his encounter with an ice troll. Still, he seemed to have regained a bounce in his step.

When Cricket neared the fourth floor landing, he heard Oydd's voice again.

Has anyone seen the mouseling?

Cricket looked to Jesh.

The druid shook his head. "Not for days."

"Days? That can't be good."

Cricket followed several azaeri guardsmen as well as a few of his own clones down a narrow hallway and came to a spacious room he hadn't been to before that was open to the outside air. In the center of the room sat a plain, stone sarcophagus covered in white lilies from the surface with a brazier on either side. Dozens of unlit paper lanterns lined the walls near the opening.

Scorpion glared when he saw Cricket and ran up so close his breath fogged up the insect's shell. He had several nicks and scratches on his arm that still bled.

"Hello?" Cricket said, staring blankly.

"Your... clone has my sword."

Cricket looked around the room and located the offending shadow, since it was the only one who wouldn't meet his gaze.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I expect you to handle your own clones!" Scorpion hissed.

Cricket sighed and walked up to the clone.

"Cricket?"

The shadow turned away, as if he hadn't heard his name.

"Cricket...? Cricket!"

The clone turned, with a glower, to face him, but still wouldn't look him in the eyes.

"Scorpion says you took his sword."

Scorpion joined Cricket, breathing heavily at his side. Cricket risked a quick glance at the ratling.

The shadow signaled his frustration in a flourish of gestures with three of his arms.

"Uh..." Cricket turned to Scorpion. "He basically says finders keepers. There... uh... there was a... crude gesture thrown in there... as well." Cricket scratched the back of his neck.

"Yes, I caught it," Scorpion snapped. Oydd noticed the disturbance from across the room and approached the group.

Cricket addressed the ratling. "Can... you tell me what's going on? I mean, just a little more info..."

"He was asked to watch my sword temporarily, but now he wants to keep it."

"And where's the sword?" Cricket asked.

"It's right there!" Scorpion got right up in the shadow's face, pointing down at one of his hands. The shadow stared back defiantly.

Cricket looked over all of the shadow's hands before he noticed the faint, hazy outline of a weapon. "Oh!" He knelt to inspect it more closely. "Oh, that's nice!"

"Where did you get that?" Oydd interjected.

"What does it matter? It's mine."

"It matters to me," the rudra answered calmly.

Scorpion looked from Oydd to the shadow to Cricket then grit his teeth and said, "The mouseling made it for me."

"I see." Oydd considered the situation for a moment. "Can we agree this is not the time or place to discuss this?"

Cricket nodded. His shadow did not.

"Cricket," Oydd said, eyeing the shadow.

Reluctantly, the shadow nodded.

"Then can you return it to Scorpion for now?"

At this, the shadow had a much more difficult time complying, but eventually, with a bit of coaxing, and a bit of pulling, Scorpion and Cricket managed to retrieve the sword.

For a brief, incredibly tense moment, no one spoke, and then Oydd turned to the ratling.

"Scorpion, I sense Patches near the top of the tower, but she won't respond to me. We can't start without her. Will you retrieve her? You're the fastest," he added diplomatically.

Scorpion nicked his thumb sheathing his invisible sword, which elicited a snicker from Cricket.

"Do you see the location?" Oydd reached out with his mind.

The ratling nodded. His face twitched, and he gave the shadow one last glare before sprinting off.

When he was no longer in sight, the rudra pulled Cricket aside.

Cricket looked him up and down, just noticing the rudra's new green robes.

"Hey, nice. You're all dressed up!"

The rudra ignored the comment. "While I don't wish to resolve it before the service, a weapon like that is an asset to the whole group. It is certainly not a matter for finders keepers."

"Cricket didn't keep it."

"I mean that perhaps it should not go to Scorpion. You have proven more useful in combat, and we need any edge we can get."

Cricket stared back dumbly. "I don't want it."

"You don't?" Oydd asked skeptically.

"What am I going to do with one magic sword?" He laughed. "Now if we had two of them... or four..." Cricket scratched his chin. "Anyway, one would just be off-balance."

"I'm sure we have a sword of similar balance to complement it."

"Still wouldn't be... symmetrical."

Oydd raised a brow.

The druid, who had stood across the room during the commotion, now approached with a smile. He looked around at all of the assembled guests.

"This... is nice, I think."

"Do you?" Oydd asked, legitimately curious. "I looked into several options, and ultimately decided to honor Licephus in the manner of the elves, but also befitting one of his station among the dhampiri."

"I think it is tasteful."

"We have a lantern for everyone who died in the attack, as well as extras... for everyone Cricket could remember that we've lost. Actually, I had a hard time getting Bax to stop making lanterns..."

"Thank you. I know it's a bit different from your... usual custom," Jeshu replied.

"Not much, really. Not as far as Licephus is concerned, given our means." He turned to the insect. "Cricket, what is the name of the female azaeri commander?"

"Which one?" Cricket saw the look of chagrin on the rudra's face and quickly added, "The infantry or archery commander?"

Oydd thought a moment. "The big mean one."

Cricket hid a smile. "That would be Ja'hek. She's leads a group of spearmen. Ruka is the little one that teaches archery."

"She was at the top of the tower, leading archers during the attack."

"Well, it wasn't Ruka," Cricket said. "Jak was probably just closer. Don't call her Jak," he added quickly.

Oydd nodded. Ja'hek entered shortly with one of Cricket's clones and a modest retinue, and the rudra left to make small talk, bowing slightly to the commander. When he returned, a small group of archers entered, including a shadow and several female azaeri.

"Which one is Ruka?"

"The cute one," Cricket said, and the rudra studied the group helplessly.

"With the puddly eyes," the insect clarified, pointing ambiguously at the entire group.

"You know... we can't call them all Cricket. If they're going to stick around, I mean."

"I know," Cricket replied. "I've been brainstorming nicknames for the nine based on their specialties. So like, the sword Cricket would be Swicket. And the spear Cricket would be Spricket. Halberd Cricket is Hricket..."

"Well, at least there's some utility in it," Oydd sighed.

Before all of the guests had taken their places, Scorpion returned, ran up to Oydd and whispered something in his ear. The rudra masked a look of concern, then nodded. He cleared his throat and drew everyone's attention.

While Oydd began to speak, Cricket pulled out a knife, placed it in a dip in the stone tile, and began to spin it like a top. He yawned again. His head hurt and it was painful to sit still. He began to look around the room, but almost everyone else seemed to be giving the rudra their undivided attention. Other than the clones of course. He met Spricket's gaze. The shadow, too, had a pained look, and Cricket gave him a knowing nod.

By the time Oydd began to wrap up, Cricket had full on sprawled out on the floor, along with three of his clones. The azaeri commanders kept the clones closest to them in check, and they looked miserable.

"And now, Cricket and Bax will demonstrate how to light a lantern."

At this, Cricket sat up. He watched as one of his clones and the gnome walked to the front of the room, and shouted out, "You got this, Cricket!"

The shadow gave him a thumbs up as it looked over the crowd, awkwardly avoiding an azaeri girl on the front row.

Bax grabbed a lantern and walked up near the edge of the cliff face. "Okay, so—hi, Cricket!" The gnome stopped to wave at one of the shadows trying to get his attention. "Okay, so, you hold up the lantern, and light it with one of these splints, and then you can say a few words about the person who died. This one's for Indech! He was big, and he was scary!" Bax grabbed a wooden splint and lit it in one of the two braziers lining the sarcophagus, while the clone held a lantern at the gnome's face level for him to light.

The lantern began to rise from the heat of the flame, and Bax gave it a little push out into the open air.

"I know one other person who gave his life to protect us, but I promised myself I wouldn't say who. I'm going to light one more lantern anyway." The gnome took a long, awkward minute to light a second lantern without any further commentary, then sighed. "Okay, everyone come up at once!"

"No! No," Oydd interrupted. "Not all at once. And these are intended for our allies!" The rudra began giving more instructions, and Cricket zoned out until he heard Scorpion's voice.

"I'd like to do one for Ty'lek."

"Of course," Oydd replied.

Scorpion stood, grabbing a splint as he approached the front of the room. He lit a lantern and set it off without another word and returned to his seat.

The azaeri, not being much for words, began to follow his cue, lighting lanterns without commentary and setting them off into the evening air. And despite Oydd's best efforts, the service devolved into mild chaos, with many of the azaeri following the gnome's instructions to all come up at once. Then two shadows began lighting lanterns indiscriminately, and even dropped one in the brazier as an experiment, each goaded on by the other.

Cricket moved to sit next to Jeshu. The druid watched the furthest lantern vanish in the approaching fog and sighed.

"You know... this is actually nice."