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Melting Flesh and Hardening Stone

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Oydd drifted toward a dangling cage and clutched the chain with Bale's claw. An arrow whizzed by his head from the mist below. He vaguely saw the shape of an archer in the fog readying another arrow.

Oydd reached out with his mind and released the mechanism for the counter weight, just as a second arrow flew for his chest. As it neared, the green gem on his bracer flashed brightly, and caused the arrow to swerve toward it. The arrowhead clashed with the inlaid jewel, cracking it and sending a bright flash of green dust into the air.

The rudra gasped as the cage began to ascend much more quickly than he had anticipated, taking him back to the upper levels of the tower. It took a moment for him to register what had happened, and then he inspected the protective charm, certain it would no longer function. Oydd released the clasp, tore the bracer from his wrist and let it fall to the valley below.

When he reached the top floor—a landing near Baba Kesu's cluttered lab, he found three azaeri soldiers perched near the ledge. One held a crossbow, the second a longbow, and the third a billhook—a spear with both a point and a hook. The long, flexible shaft bent slightly from the weight of the iron spearhead.

Oydd gripped his staff so tightly that his knuckles popped. He signaled a crossbowman and motioned below with a wave of his arm. "Archers below. Shoot them!"

The azaeri with the crossbow shook his head as he peered down into the mist.

Rather, the longbowman drew and released two arrows. From his vantage point, Oydd could not see if the arrows hit their mark, but the azaeri reached for a third arrow, paused, then let it drop back into the quiver. He licked his fingers and his feathered tail dusted the landing behind him, waving lazily.

The rudra left them momentarily and rushed into the laboratory. He rummaged through a stack of trinkets, some valuable artifacts and others rubbish, until he found a slender wand carved from blue mushroomwood with a sphere of laced agate affixed to the top. He returned to the landing to find the azaeri in a panic.

The longbowman retreated from the ledge, while the spearman lifted his shaft at a sharp angle, aimed down into the mist like a spearfisher.

He tensed, thrusted, then cursed with a quick click and a caw as he flapped and fluttered away from the edge.

A ghoulish imp crawled over the brink—a very slight nick in its side from the spear. The imp appeared larger than most Oydd had seen, though its skin had melted away, revealing raw, marbled muscle—the fat yellowed and dripping from an internal heat.

In spite of himself, the rudra felt a sense of dread in the presence of the undead imp.

"Can it teleport?"

Oydd looked down at his side to see a terrified ratling clutching a small dagger.

"No. No..." the rudra assured him. "Only the one with Bale's wings."

"What's a Bale?"

By his coloration, Oydd noticed the ratling hailed from the surface.

"This one is still very dangerous. It's a powerful ghast. Run below and muster more soldiers. Don't die here."

The ratling nodded in evident relief and dashed away before the rudra could say another word.

As the winged ghast inched forward, an impossibly long, wiry tongue dripped from its glistening fangs, and the crossbowman, at last, decided to fire his readied bolt. He aimed for the joint where the wing met its shoulder, and the bolt wedged tightly into the ball socket. The wing stiffened while the other still flapped. The ghast grabbed the bolt with its wiry fingers and pulled it free, then crushed the shaft in its fist. The affected wing began to move again, but drooped noticeably lower than the other.

The spearman lunged, skewering the imp beneath the clavicle, scraping against its grey bones.

The pliable shaft bent against the weight of the advancing ghast and the retreating azaeri matched his pace, keeping him at a length. The imp thrashed against the spear, trying to break the wood, before wresting the hook free from its shoulder, along with a chunk of collar bone.

The ghast leapt, tackling the spearman and sunk its fangs into the azaeri's neck as two arrows penetrated deep into its ribs.

"Stand back!" Oydd yelled, aiming the agate wand, and a dazzlingly bright golden bolt of light flew from the tip. It connected with the side of the creature's face, instantly leaving a patch of seared-white flesh. The rudra fired two more blasts. The first caught it in the same spot, charring the ghast's cheek down to the bone and blasting it away from its kill. The third blast hit the opening in its chest from the spear, and seemed to do no more than cauterize the wound, but a moment later the ghast toppled over, motionless. The crossbowman retrieved his ally's spear and crushed the imps skull with an overhead swing of the bill.

The rudra hovered over the steaming corpse, his wand aimed toward its heart, until he was certain the magic had left it. The ghast's animation seemed similar to the power Oydd had used to raise a fomorian. However, he had not seen the long-term effects of that magic. This imp burned with an inner heat that the rudra would not have anticipated. Its skeleton warped and grew. The thin bones at the tips of the fingers broke through the remnants of dried skin like claws, pushing the creature's actual claws aside. Likewise, teethlike growths from its jaw pushed its original teeth aside at crooked angles. A greenish light still glowed from within its ribcage, where, Oydd knew, the last remnants of magic leaked from its heart. Oydd still felt a magically induced terror from the still corpse.

He approached the ledge, wearily, and watched a distant shape flapping through the fog, and then a second. And a third.

While he stared, a distant roar shook the entirety of the cavern, setting the pebbles rumbling at his feet. The roar was at once deep and shrill, as if it came from two sources within the same being. The bellow came with such raw force that the light fog billowed away, revealing the valley, where the rudra saw a dozen or so skeletal figures lurching across the open terrain—mostly gnolls and lizardmen.

Oydd stared beyond them, unconcerned with the trivial horrors. He waited to see the source of the thunderous roar, but grew impatient and held up Bale's hand, commanding the fog to part with a word of magic.

He first saw only a silhouette in the parting mist. He could not discern its size at a distance, until he saw the undead soldiers marching at its feet. Gradually, the rudra made out the single ram-like horn protruding from the giant's head, and the necklace of horse carcasses hanging from its neck.

Even from, perhaps, a mile away, Oydd sensed the magical terror emanating from Indech, the king of the fomorians. A great, dead light burned in the king's chest, distorting the air between them, charring the ghouls at his feet.

*****

Jeshu sat meditating in his chambers. He no longer required rest at the moment, but continued to meditate as more of a druidic ritual. On the surface, he performed this feat in the sunlight, communing with nature, reaching out with all his senses until he could hear the plants growing, and birds breathing, and could feel the life energy running through the streams.

The rock was not unliving, as he originally thought. It just grew much more slowly. It aged much, much more slowly. But Orth was a living being that incorporated the stone into its body, and the rheumakin incorporated metals into their bodies. By no conscious effort, but still.

Now, Jeshu found himself sitting in the dark, reaching out to the stone, until he could hear it. Until he could smell the salt and feel the clay, and taste the distant minerals on his tongue. It was more of a memory than anything, but he reached out and the rock heard him too, and waited for his command.

A commotion in the hallway awakened the druid, but some time passed before he realized he was awake and that he was not the stone.

He pieced together the sounds of battle. His bones creaked as he stood, and the dryad left his chamber to follow the azaeri soldiers that rushed by.

He passed three bodies on the floor. Only one yet lived, and the druid paused to administer a prayer of healing before he continued. Jeshu had slowed his thoughts to the pace of the stone, and the fighting moved too quickly around him. By contrast, he felt it took him an eternity to move. For each step he took up the stairs, the azaeri around him took three.

When he reached the landing, he saw the azaeri vanishing in bursts of violet light, with only flashes of stone claws and fangs or the whip of a tail.

However, the opponent moved methodically, targeting his allies one by one, until only he and one azaeri remained. The druid closed his eyes, and sensed its stone skin. He reached out to it, and when the imp appeared to grab his companion, he simply made the stone grow.

The imp screeched and disappeared, only to appear a few feet away, writhing. The azaeri footsoldier stabbed at it with his spear, but the shaft splintered against its thickening, hardening skin.

The imp disappeared, and this time only made it a few inches, before reappearing with a horrified look on its face that stiffened as it hardened to a permanent expression. Its wide wings—still a bright violet—slowly spread to their full breadth as crags sprouted from its outstretched arm. And then, stiff as a statue, it cracked, and the bulky arm crashed down to the floor.

The lone azaeri squawked a curt thank you just before the floor began to rumble with the approach of a much larger foe.

*****

An azaeri commander, and a small contingent of her troops joined Oydd atop the tower as a second ghastly imp dropped onto the landing, covered in arrows, and a third hung only a few feet away in the air, its tail dangling limp and lifeless.

Oydd began shouting at her while she was yet some distance away. "Ready the ballista!"

The commander cocked her head, unable to hear above the din of battle, and the rudra repeated himself as he closed the distance. "We need to ready the ballista!"

This time the commander signaled two spearman, who nodded and leapt over the ledge, gliding to one of the lower levels. Even as Oydd watched, an imp tackled one of the soldiers out of the air, slamming him back against the tower wall a floor below.

Oydd ran to the ledge and watched the second soldier land safely, though somewhat roughly, two floors lower, where he was greeted by a handful of soldiers with bows.

Another ghast landed near the rudra, facing away, its attention on an azaeri soldier.

Oydd ran up behind the imp, swatted its tail away with his metal staff. As he did so, he reached out with Bale's claw and gripped its neck from behind. The imp half-turned, taking a deep thrust to the chest from the spearman before it. The exposed flesh of its neck sizzled like bacon when it touched the violet claw. The inner light left the claw for an instant, like a red-hot ingot quenched in water. But even as the imp squirmed and died, Oydd felt a faint thrum in his claw, and a light began again to glow from within the black shell.

As Indech drew closer, Oydd noticed that all the dead within a few yards of him appeared more blackened and skeletal. The skin had mostly melted away from the giant, making him appear more gaunt. The bones of his fingers grew to sharpened points, like claws, similar to the imp ghasts.

The fomorian king paused a few hundred yards away, outside of the azaeri's longbow range as the ghouls at his feet charged past.

From atop the tower, Oydd could only discern two cave lizards and a troll, due to their size. The others were mere specks, with the imposing figure of the giant behind them. Likely gnolls, and lizardmen—a few dozen at most—if they were the same mix as the vanguard, whose corpses now lay buried under a thin layer of fog.

A twenty foot silver bolt fired from below with a deafening thwump as it flew over the battlefield. The bolt missed Indech by several yards.

Oydd reached out with his mind. Use the iron bolts first to get the trajectory! It pulls to the right when it fires.

He heard a thin voice answer ...if you can hear us.

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Cricket? Is that you?

...which... Oydd? We... in the rock..."

Oydd tried to focus on the insect's voice, but it felt like no more than a whisper. He entered the tower to shut out some of the noise, but Cricket still sounded incredibly faint.

Can you hear me?

Barely! Cricket answered.

Where are you?

We're still in here.

I need to know where here is...

Inside the rock. I thought you heard that part. That gargoyle transported us here.

There's no such thing as gargoyles.

That's what Scorpion said! Here, talk to him.

No, Cricket, stay with me.

I can hear you, Scorpion answered. It was a grey imp. It had Bale's wings.

I saw him, Oydd answered. Do you know where you are?

Cricket and Scorpion both tried to answer at once.

Let me just talk to Scorpion for a moment.

We're in a small cavity in the rock. Patches and Bax are here too. I was hoping you could... hone in on us?

Is Pip there? I could find him, since my magic is animating him.

Oydd sensed Cricket shaking his head.

I can't see you, you can't just shake your head.

Then how did you know I was shaking my head?

Oydd grumbled something under his breath. A short silence followed, then Oydd spoke again. Tell the mouseling to send Pip to me. They are linked. I can find you that way.

Hurry, Scorpion added. We're running out of air.

The tower began to quake. At first, Oydd thought he sensed the rumble from his connection with Cricket, before realizing that the floor beneath him moved. Loose rock sprinkled down from a crack in the ceiling. He closed the link and returned to the battle, where only a handful of azaeri remained amidst the felled ghasts.

"What was that?" Oydd addressed the commander. She clicked a response that he didn't understand, and motioned toward the edge.

In the distance far below, the fomorian king cracked a stalagmite free from the ground—just a plain shaft of calcium, perhaps twenty feet in length. He hefted it above his head with both arms and positioned it to throw.

"He... he can't possibly reach us up here..." Oydd stammered, his eyes wide.

Indech threw the lump of rock with such force that Oydd felt the ground rumble again before it made impact.

The stalagtite reached the top floor of the tower before it arced, tearing through one of the rope bridges that connected to the annex before colliding with the ceiling where it exploded into a thousand pieces that showered down onto the landing.

Thwump! The ballista fired again. This time an iron bolt struck the giant's side, but he barely budged from the impact, and the bolt seemed to bounce from the ghast's magically toughened hide. It was difficult to tell from a distance. Though the bolt now wedged into the rock wall behind the fomorian.

You fools! Oydd shouted at the azaeri below. Use the silver bolts!

The rudra sensed their flustered squawks before he severed the link and yelled across the landing, "Get inside! Take cover."

The remaining soldiers looked to their commander for confirmation, but she shook her head and pointed out at the giant. "Chi-koti."

Oydd understood the azaeri word for arrow fire. The soldiers readied their bows and perched on the ledge, ready to leap from the tower top.

"Can they fly that far?" Oydd asked in alarm.

"Gleet..."

"Glide? They won't make it back."

"Za-ki!" The commander held up her hand to silence the rudra. And though her tone was calm, he had heard the azaeri use the same phrase to silence her mutt—a fat lizard hound—when it begged for scraps.

Oydd moved closer to the ledge to offer what cover he could. As the azaeri began to launch themselves into the void, another imp flapped its way up from below, and the rudra fired a shot from his agate wand. The imp crumpled under the golden blast and spiraled back down to the valley floor. However, the agate cracked and the mushroomwood began to feel warm to the touch. If the wand could fire again, it could only do so once more.

As glittering bits of powder from the shattered stalagmite still drifted from above, a small speck altered course and flew pointedly toward the rudra. It landed clumsily on his shoulder then walked in a circle as it pulled its black wings beneath a burnt red, spotted shell.

The rudra nearly brushed it away before recognizing the mouseling's familiar.

He laughed, but held out his palm, and the bug flew to an outstretched finger.

*****

Jeshu paused at the tenth landing—only halfway up the tower! He tried to catch his breath, which was a fairly new sensation for the druid. Perhaps he was still weak from his fight with the adamantine golem. Or perhaps he had climbed too quickly.

Jeshu pulled the last stamina potion from his belt and chugged it all in one draught. The entire tower trembled from some unseen force far above. While waiting for the potion to take effect, he heard Oydd's faint voice.

Can you hear me?

Not clearly, but yes, Jeshu answered.

Good. Cricket needs your help. He and the others are trapped in the rock near the third floor. Where are you?

I'm about halfway to the top. What's going on?

I need you to go down to help them. I am sending you the location. Can you see it?

Jeshu looked back down the stairs with a pitiful sigh.

Can you see the location?

Yes, I can see it, the druid answered with a hint of agitation.

I am occupied myself, but even if I weren't...

I can help them, Jeshu responded. Of course. What's going on?

Take him to... the link suddenly closed.

*****

"Jasper, tourmaline... zircon can be brown!" Bax added excitedly. "And of course, tiger's eye. I don't know what you call it down here, there being no tigers."

Scorpion let out a muffled scream. "Bax, stop listing rocks! It's so boring!"

"Yes, it is sobering," the gnome replied thoughtfully. "Should I put it to a tune, to lighten the mood?"

The small cavity in the rock shuddered with the vibrations of some distant tumult.

"That's the third one," Scorpion observed, attempting to change the subject as the gnome hummed a few bars.

The magical darkness had dimmed until Cricket could clearly make out Patches sorting through her belongings, still scattered before her on the floor. However, he could still feel the shadows pressing on him, clinging to him.

The insect noticed a wad of mangled bat wool with two needles sticking out of it.

"What's that?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm making a scarf."

Scorpion scoffed. "Haven't gotten very far..."

If the mouseling caught his derisive tone, it did not affect her. She responded off-handedly, "It's too hard right now. I'll finish it when my paw grows back."

"Oh—" Cricket's eyes went wide. He noticed Scorpion about to say something, and shot the ratling a cautious glance.

Scorpion snapped his mouth shut and gave the insect a look that said "We have to say something."

Cricket took a deep breath, and mulled over his words. Before he could speak, the ratling asked guardedly, "What makes you think it will grow back?"

Cricket shot him a murderous glare.

Patches answered absently as she tucked the wool back into her satchel. "Cricket told me."

If possible, the insect's eyes grew wider. Scorpion stared at him in disbelief, and Cricket fervently shook his head, denying culpability.

Though the insect didn't speak a word, Patches caught him furiously shaking his head. He froze, then saw the look on her face. "Oh, buddy... I didn't..."

"Yes you did," the mouseling said, her lip quivering.

"I'm... sorry, I don't... it... it won't grow back."

"But you said. You said when we were eating strawberries."

"Oh... buddy, I think that might have been a dream."

Scorpion snickered, and the mouseling's face went red. Scorpion covered his mouth with his paw, embarrassed that the sound had escaped.

Cricket continued, "I don't... I don't even know what a strawberry is. So..."

Patches screamed hysterically, "We were on the surface, and it was night time and you gave me a strawberry, and Jade was there, but she was nice, and... and... and you promised me it would grow back." She began to huff and puff, wanting for air.

"Patches... I'm so sorry, but that didn't happen. I wouldn't say that..."

"You're lying!" the mouseling screamed. She pulled the obsidian ring from her pouch, squinted her eyes, and the room suddenly turned pitch black again with the force of a slammed door.

"Patches..." Cricket said softly, but the mouseling didn't respond.

After several minutes of quiet, the room shook again, but the source felt closer and more controlled. Cricket heard the rock parting behind him with a soft grinding noise as it buckled. In a flash, the darkness dissolved like a cobweb with a torch held to it, and the room lit suddenly from Bax's luminous mushroom.

The remnants of darkness fizzed and popped harmlessly over the insect's head and burned until they were banished even from the cracks and corners.

With the darkness dispelled, Cricket saw a large fissure in the rock, leading to the hallways of the tower, and Jeshu stood on the far side, with the mimic nestled on his shoulder.

"Skittle!" Scorpion cried, and the mimic flashed a variety of colors, overcome by emotion.

"Skittle?" Jeshu probed.

"Oh," Cricket answered. "It was... Ixitl, which we couldn't say right, and then Xitl, and then briefly Zit, which... everyone hated. And then... Xitl slowly changed to Skittle."

"Where did this darkness come from?" the druid asked.

"Oh, don't worry, we're okay. That was us. Patches made it, in case that gargoyle came back."

"The imp? I believe he is quite dead." Jeshu looked over his shoulder. "At least half dead."

"Half is pretty good," Cricket replied. The mimic dropped from the druid's shoulder and approached the Scorpion. The ratling stooped to let it climb him. Rather than riding on his back, like normal, the octopus wrapped around the stump of his missing arm, then formed a reasonable facsimile of the limb with its tentacles. The mimic formed a fist, and began to shake it at the druid.

"What's he doing?" Jesh asked.

"Don't worry," Scorpion answered. "He's not mad at you, he's just mocking me..."

"Oh, that fresh air feels good!" Bax practically sang.

Cricket dropped his head to get a better look through the fissure. "Can you open it a little wider?"

"I need to conserve energy for the fight. If you can all squeeze through, this will have to do."

"I thought the fight was over."

Jeshu took a moment to process what Cricket meant. "I killed one imp. There are more. Did you think it attacked alone?"

"Well, kind of. It's the only enemy I saw."

"We are under siege," the druid returned.

"By what?" Scorpion asked.

"I saw only a few skeletal warriors, but I sense something terrible—a massive darkness."

"Dark like magic?" Cricket asked as he slipped through the thin fissure onto the paved floor.

"Yes... dark magic. I have trained my whole life to fight the darkness, and yet it almost overwhelms me. You don't feel it?"

Cricket shook his head and looked back through the crack at the ratling. Scorpion addressed the insect. "Of course I feel it. I just assumed you could too."

"Awful, awful stuff," Bax's voice came from behind the ratling. "Truly... just... just awful."

Cricket slid a khopesh across his chest, creating a fairly quiet hum and two shadows appeared at his side. One readied his own weapons, while the other licked his thumb and polished a smudge on his carapace. Cricket checked his own arm, noticing the same smudge and began to rub it clean.

While the Crickets ambled about, Scorpion dashed up the stairs away from the others without a word.

By the time Bax made it through the opening in the rock, the ratling was long gone. Patches peered out from the cave, with a distrustful look, seeming content to remain where she was for the moment.

The druid held out a hand to coax her out, but she simply stared back, half-hidden behind a crag of rock.

A loud crash echoed from the stairwell above.

"Are they up and down?" Cricket asked.

"Evidently," the dryad answered, looking up the stairs. "I was headed up to assist Oydd. The... goblin infestation is actually buying us some time in the lower levels."

"That's horrible!" Cricket cried. "We have to help them. I told them they'd be safe here." Cricket and his shadows charged down the stairs at a reckless pace.

"Wait," Jeshu called after them. "I'll come with you, but I'm exhausted."

"I'll run ahead and prepare my mount. You can get there when you get there."

"Mount..." Jeshu stammered. "You better not mean the axebeak!"