8

Invisible Crickets

Cricket crept as close to the entrance as possible before downing his first potion. He waved a hand in front of his face until it dissolved into nothing then sprinted past the stables on the tips of his toes. Despite Oydd's order to head directly to the laboratory, the insect first located Eyrgan's remains, knowing from the Azaeri that they would be within line of sight from the entrance.

Cricket stooped and dragged the body out of sight, then began to loosen the jade breastplate and quickly fastened it onto himself. He pulled one of the jade khopheses free of Eyrgan’s surprisingly tight death grip, then surveyed the field for a bit before he located the second sticking out from beneath a goblin corpse.

*****

"Oh crap!" Oydd howled. “Invisibility won't help him! These things hunt by sound.”

"Oh... that is... quite the oversight," the gnome admitted. "Did no one think of that?"

"Not amidst your squabbling!" Oydd shout-whispered. "We spent way too much time determining if you could make something invisible. And how often you could do it." The rudra looked to the druid expectantly.

Jeshu returned a sheepish look, then argued, "I suppose we never put ourselves in their shoes. It is curious that we all approved this idea."

The look of horror seeped deeper into Oydd's visage. Finally he reached out with his mind. Cricket! You're not invisible!

He waited a moment.

"Did he hear you?" Jeshu asked.

"What do you mean, did he hear me? Of course he heard me."

"He said since you bent his antenna, he has trouble hearing your thoughts."

"Oh..." Oydd froze, crestfallen, then practically shouted. Cricket! Return! Abort!

*****

Cricket lifted a khopesh to strike the breastplate and activate the shadow magic. But he hesitated. It had to be loud to make a shadow. He reluctantly lowered the weapon.

Ket... not in...

Cricket reached a hand up and manually adjusted his bent antenna. A moment later he heard another garbled message.

Crick... turn.. ab...

Cricket glowered. If the rudra wanted to talk telepathically, then he had to stop hitting everyone over the head with his staff. He ignored the continued static and rushed down the ramp toward the laboratory. When he heard one of the dethkiri approaching, he froze in place and held his breath. The creature passed within several yards, and once turned to look in his direction, sniffing the air. However, its nose wrinkled in disgust, and the brute lumbered by without incident.

Cricket noticed one of his arms reappearing and downed a second vial of potion before proceeding.

When he reached the laboratory, he found three dethkiri feeding on the pile of bodies across the hall. He tiptoed along the wall and slipped through the open doorway, picking up his pace as he approached Oydd's library. He found Oydd’s mutant, still looking like a demon from the gnome’s illusion, clearing rubble quietly. Still, it did make some sound, and at one point a demon made its way down the tunnel to investigate. Cricket held his breath until his face turned blue, then decided to simply breathe as quietly as possible until the demon grew bored and wandered off.

As it dragged its tail back up the hallway, the mutant tossed a metal table aside, and Cricket dared to clack a khopesh against his chest. Timed with the falling table, the ringing sound barely registered. Still, the dethkirok turned and paused, as if feeling for his presence.

Cricket thought he had created a shadow of himself, but saw nothing. Tentatively, he reached out to his left and felt another invisible Cricket, just as his clone reached out and smacked him in the face at the same time. He reached right as well, hoping he might have made a second clone but felt nothing and huffed in disappointment.

The dethkirok squealed lazily, and began to crawl back toward him.

Cricket circled around the edge of the room to attack it from the side, but bumped into himself. And, after a heated exchange of unseen gestures in the air, he began to circle around the other way.

The demon, seeming suspicious, poked its head back into the room, pulling back its lips to reveal three rows of teeth. Cricket rammed a khopesh into the creature's throat. However, he missed, since he couldn't tell exactly where his khopesh was. An instant later the demon's throat tore open from the other side.

A shadowy khopesh materialized inches from Cricket's face. He looked down to see his own arms reappearing, and slid back against the wall as the demon dropped. The creature tried to hiss, which manifested only as a stream of bubbles escaping the bloody hole in its throat.

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Cricket saw his shadow, now visible as well, pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the doorway.

He scowled and frantically gestured that a khopesh had nearly hit his face. The shadow responded by angrily pointing at a gash in his own arm.

Cricket mouthed, "Your fault!"

The shadow mouthed, "What?"

Cricket sighed and mouthed more slowly. "Your... fault."

Once it understood his meaning, the shadow flinched in irritation then stuck out its tongue.

Cricket stuck out his tongue back, harder.

Despite the silent exchange, one of the dethkiri in the hallway wailed and clicked three times, and the insects heard it slowly make its way down the hallway.

Cricket signaled at himself then motioned high. Then he pointed at his clone and motioned low.

The clone disagreed, pointing at himself and motioning high.

Cricket shook his head emphatically, just as the dethkirok's head emerged from the tunnel. Both Crickets attacked high. However, this time, since they could see each other's blades, they managed to skewer its throat without any collateral damage.

Cricket pointed toward an opening above the debris in the hallway, just big enough to squeeze deeper into the lab, and his shadow rushed for the pile of rubble. It hopped to the top and grabbed the ceiling, squeezing itself through.

Once the opening was clear, Cricket followed, attempting to execute the same maneuver slightly faster, but he hit his head on the ceiling and hoped his clone didn’t notice.

On the far side he found Gad. The ghoul stared at him uneasily, as if distressed, though the insect had never seen emotion in one of Oydd's ghouls. Behind the ghoul, Cricket saw Patches hole. Without the shelves to hide it, the hole looked oddly bare and prominent. Black lines of soot singed the sides and a few wisps of smoke still billowed from within. The wisps danced as a silent wind blew through the narrow tunnel.

Gad moaned as if trying to speak then shuffled across the room, behind an overturned autopsy table.

Cricket's shadow stood on the far side, staring down at the ground somberly.

As the insect rounded the table, he saw a thin streak of red on the tiled floor and a thin, leathery tail laying still in the dried blood. His heart nearly stopped.

He inched forward and saw the mouseling stretched out on her side. He swallowed hard and stared at the body, watching for some sign of breathing.

Cricket stood so still that the mouseling moved first, twitching. The motion caused her pain and she began to pant.

Cricket saw a patch of fur on her stomach matted with blood. The wound oozed a semi-clear yellowish liquid.

"Oh, no..." He dropped to his knees at the mouseling's side and looked down at the white bottles in his lower hand. The draught he had intended to give her. Clumsily, he stowed the small bottles in his pack, and pulled a leather flask of water from around his waist. He unstopped the flask and tried to pour some in her mouth, but the mouseling's teeth remained clamped shut.

Cricket tried to pull her jaw open, then looked up to himself for direction. The shadow shrugged helplessly.

"Come on, little buddy." Cricket cradled her head. "You've lost a lot of blood. You have to drink or you'll die."

The mouseling made no response.

"You get that? If you don't drink, you'll die." Cricket lifted her snout to face him and pulled back the lips, forcing the waterskin into her mouth. He poured a bit of water through her teeth then waited. The mouseling made no reaction at first, then forced a swallow.

He poured in more water and she swallowed again, her teeth still clenched.

"That's good." Cricket forced a cheery tone. A moment later, Patches' stomach burbled and the water began to leak from the tear in her side. "No... no, no!"

A larger dethkirok, based on the volume, screeched angrily from the commons. Too late, Cricket realized how loud he'd been. And closed his mouth. The clone glared down at him, dissaproving.

Patches tried to stand, but Cricket held her down. "No," he whispered very softly.

She cried and began to gasp as she breathed haltingly.

"It's okay," Cricket whispered again, despite the reproaching look of his shadow. "Don't try to move."

"Pip," the mouseling breathed very faintly.

"What?"

"Pip," the mouseling whispered again. She squinched her eyes tight and began to choke up. She opened her paw, and there in the palm of her tiny hand sat the lifeless ladybug. Its belly in the air, its legs crossed against its chest—the once red shell browned by the smoke of a fire. Cricket looked again to the mouseling's scorched hole.

With the last of her strength, Patches lifted the bug up to Cricket, and whispered, "I don't want... to drop him."

"I've got him, little one." Cricket took the tiny familiar in his hand and placed it carefully in one of his empty vials. Then he lifted the mouseling from the floor. Her fur stuck to the dried blood and peeled up in an unsightly clump.

Cricket stowed the vial with Pip in his pouch, laid the mouseling over his shoulder, and switched both khopeshes to one side, so he could support her with two arms.

A stone rolled from the pile of rubble and a large demon appeared, clogging the exit.

Cricket held his breath and leaned against an overturned table. He peered around the side and saw his shadow charge through the gap and leap it to the ground with one quick swipe of its claw. The khopeshes, knocked free from the clone's hands, instantly dissolved into smoke. The dethkirok leaned its sightless head close to the shadow, scraping its teeth against the clone’s throat. It sniffed, clenching the clone in its fist as the demon pressed its bulk through the opening.

Cricket ducked his head back behind the table. He heard Gad confront the demon. Only a quick scuffle and then silence.

The demon's throat clicked menacingly, almost like a purr at the thrill of battle. Cricket heard its labored breathing, and sat very, very still. A drop of sweat fell from his chin and landed in the dried blood on the floor, but the creature made no reaction.

It snorted, withdrew, and he heard it slowly make its way from the chamber.

Can you hear me?

Yes, Cricket thought.

Are you okay?

No, Cricket thought heavily.

What's wrong?

It's the mouseling... she's dead.