6
Pip, Pip, Hurray!
Patches laid the doll of Indech on the ground in the middle of her hole. Though she did not have any of the giant's blood, she did know his name. She retrieved a wad of white hair she had procured from beneath the giant's throne and placed it in the heart of the totem, then lit a black candle and began to speak the words of magic. The flame on the candle blazed brighter. The mouseling spoke the name Indech and pressed her thumb down on the doll's chest. A few of the fibers instantly charred to black. She spoke the name again and another thread smoldered, leading to the totem's arm. She spoke the name a third time and a thread smoldered leading to the doll's head. But when she spoke the name again, the black threads began to writhe and grow. A single thread reached for her paw and she pulled it away with a gasp.
Patches waited for it to calm, but the threads only continued to grow and spread from the doll. With a little squeak, the mouseling ran a few steps away, before looking back. She watched as the fibers began to take root in the ground and the stone itself blackened.
She noticed a small motion near her eye level where a yellow beetle crept along the wall, and bit her lip in frustration.
The mouseling scurried to the opening of the tunnel, where she found Pip inattentive and entirely negligent of his duties.
"Pip," Patches said softly.
The familiar didn't respond. She said his name again, more sternly, and Pip looked up at her.
"You weren't paying attention. You let a beetle in."
Pip avoided eye contact.
"You're not in trouble, but I'm vulnerable when I'm casting magic, so I needed you to guard me."
Pip looked devastated, and it was clear he had learned his lesson, so the mouseling softened her tone. "I know he was bigger than you, but I'm not afraid of things that are smaller than you. If you couldn't kill it yourself, then you should have at least alerted me, okay?"
Pip nodded contritely.
"Okay, thank you." Patches sighed. "Something went wrong with my spell, and we need to leave the tunnel, okay?"
Pip opened his wings and began to buzz, lifting into the air, still struggling with the weight of his tiny scarf. He landed on the mouseling's nose and she giggled.
Patches ran behind the piles of clutter in Baba Kesu's old laboratory and began to head for the rope bridges that led to the titanic shell. However, on the way, she ran into the rudra and a number of azaeri. Though several lay dead on the ground, as well as a few imps, she arrived during a lull in the battle. She crept up next to Oydd.
The rudra did not notice her at first, even after she tugged on his robe. But when he tried to walk away, he felt the resistance and looked down at the mouseling.
"Child, go inside. It is dangerous here."
"Everywhere is dangerous for me."
Oydd considered this, and the mouseling continued.
"I need to know how strong Pip is. Is he a zombie or a ghoul or a ghast?"
Oydd sighed heavily. "I have not been able to recreate a ghast since Fomoria. Pip's body could not hold that kind of power regardless. It would burn him up from within."
"So he's a ghoul?"
Oydd stumbled over his answer.
"It's just, I want him to help, but I don't want him to get hurt. So I need an idea of how strong he is."
Oydd considered his words carefully and said, "He could take a lady bug twice his size."
Patches smiled at the answer, leaving the rudra to his important business.
A loud thwump came from somewhere below, and the mouseling saw a flash of silver cross the battlefield toward the fomorian's distant figure. The bolt appeared to strike him in the chest, but the giant pulled it free without any lasting damage. At least none evident from so far away.
Oydd seemed thrilled, however.
Patches ran close to the ledge. Her tail dripped lazily over the side as she peered straight down.
"Pip, I have an assignment for you, but it's scary."
The familiar turned on the mouseling's snout to look her right between the eyes.
"It's just that I need some of his blood. I think that's why my spell didn't work, okay?"
Pip made no response.
"I know it's a long way for you to fly, but I can't go down there because there are a lot of spider mummies after me."
Pip lifted his shell slightly and fluttered his black wings.
"One is a lot, Pip! There aren't any after anybody else, not even you, and I can't fly." Her eyes began to tear up. "It's not that I don't love you, but we all need to do our part. I don't want to fight either, right now, but we have to. I want to sleep. And I want to eat. But we can't do what we want when it's a fight. We have to wait, okay?"
Knowing that the familiar seldom responded to reasoning, Patches resorted to bribery. "Pip, if you do this for me, I'll tell you an extra story before bed."
The familiar fluttered his wings again, then slowly turned toward the battlefield and crawled onto the mouseling's extended paw. He lifted his charred red shell, evidently preparing to take flight. Patches leaned in very carefully and gave him a soft kiss just before he took off.
On the horizon, Patches saw a very tiny figure circling around the giant. She watched it move in and out deftly as the giant attempted to stomp on it. And then Indech swatted the figure away and prepared to throw another boulder toward the tower.
She watched in curiosity as the giant suddenly collapsed to the ground. His boulder flew far off course. It failed to cover even half the distance to her. A second later, a thunderous pop shook the entire valley.
Patches curled up near the edge, her tail waving lazily. She yawned then smacked her lips and stared off into the rising smoke.
*****
Cricket smiled as he strolled through a field of strawberry trees. He squeezed Jade's hand, feeling a tingle in his chest, then reached up to pick her one of the plump, golden berries she was too short to reach.
Jade giggled and thanked him.
Cricket woke with a thin smile on his face and let out a contented sigh. He was, however, in an incredible amount of pain, which was difficult to ignore for long. Not far away, he watched two of his shadows climb over the prone giant, hacking away at his hamstring. One of the shadows suddenly exploded from the heat, knocking the other from the giant just as it severed the fomorian's tendon. It snapped with a much milder sound than the Achille's tendon had.
The giant struggled to stand, before collapsing back down, and gnawed at the dirt as if he had a clone between his tusks.
He roared as his single eye turned upward toward the tower and began to crawl forward at a terrifying speed.
Cricket yawned. He knew it was irresponsible to doze off in the middle of a fight, but since one of his clones remained, he considered that due diligence.
His whole body ached from the strain of moving at a new level of speed for a sustained period—also the swat from Indech's hand that outweighed him several times over. He felt a chunk of debris atop him, but not enough to pin him down. Actually, it felt a little cozy, like a stone blanket.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
He watched lazily as a black limb about a yard in front of his face twitched among the rubble, as though it had a life of its own.
He yawned and started to doze off again, when he realized the limb might belong to him. He wiggled a right arm and saw the fingers move. Then he tried to wriggle his upper-left fingers but couldn't feel them. He looked back at the insectoid arm laying on the ground, to confirm it was an upper-left arm.
"Crap."
Cricket wanted to ignore the problem for the time being. He rolled over, and pulled the chunk of rock atop him more snuggly, looking away from the giant.
However, he soon heard the last remaining clone pop from the heat—assuming it had made a similar sound to the first—and if he didn't have at least one shadow active, then it was a clear dereliction of duty.
...of the way?
It took the insect a moment to process Oydd's voice.
I didn't catch that.
You can hear me? Cricket, I need...
The voice grew quieter and quieter as it trailed off. Cricket licked his wrist and used it to clean his antennae, then turned his head toward the sound for better reception, but he didn't catch any further communication.
The insect sighed heavily and sat up. Sure enough, he was missing his upper left arm, which was his favorite arm. That explained the incredible, eye-watering sting. He consoled himself with the fact that he didn't bleed as much as non-insects. Otherwise, he likely wouldn't have woken up at all.
Cricket wobbled to his feet and made a clone. It had all four arms. He forced a smile and made a second. It had all four arms as well. The third, however, only had three.
"Am I already running out?" Cricket groaned.
Interestingly, the shadow was missing its upper-right arm, as though it were a mirror image. Cricket made a fourth clone, which also lacked an upper-right arm.
He gave the jade khopesh a good shake and struck it against his chest again, which created another three-armed clone.
"Five of you. That should make up for the missing arms. Four clones with four arms managed to take out one of his limbs." Cricket pointed to the struggling giant. One of the clones, who had not yet noticed the fomorian, nearly jumped out of his shell.
"You guys have... nine... plus eight? I think that's enough to finish him off."
Cricket handed his jade weapons to one of the four-armed clones, whose jaw dropped in excitement.
"I need you to fill these up. With magic," Cricket clarified. "Just whack him a bunch. He's like a mine of mana. Then bring them back to me."
The clone made a quick motion, drawing a cross on his heart, then ran off, leading his jealous troops.
Once they were gone, Cricket retrieved his twitching arm, and began to tromp angrily across the battlefield back toward the tower, with the limp limb dangling from his swinging hand.
*****
Who knows what damage it will do to the lower floors, Oydd communicated telepathically to the azaeri. The fomorian still crawled at an alarming pace, though it had only covered half the field. It was, now, within longbow range, but the traditional azaeri arrows did little damage to the magically augmented ghast. Four tiny black specks swarmed over the fallen giant, then three, then two. He hesitated to fire another bolt, for fear of hitting the insect, and weighed the risk heavily.
Cricket, Oydd reached out desperately across the vast span. I am firing again. If you can hear me, get out of the way.
He heard no response.
When no specks remained, the rudra worried that Cricket may have fallen. But soon, five more black specks appeared.
"Azaeri," Oydd called to the commander. She scowled at being addressed as such, and the rudra pretended not to notice. "Your sight is much better than mine. Are any of those wearing a jade breastplate, or are they all shadow?"
The commander squinted, looking off into the distance, and squawked, "Nik."
"Oh, good," Oydd sighed in relief.
But a moment later the azaeri held up a hand. "Kala-e-ku."
"What? I don't know those words."
The azaeri tapped her head, and Oydd opened a mental link. The commander sent the meaning, or impression, of the words telepathically. Jade swords.
Oydd futilely attempted to detect the green weapons from among the specks.
When the giant drew within a hundred yards, the minimum range of the ballista, given its position on the top levels, only two specks remained.
Oydd sighed deeply, with a grim look, and gave the order. Fire the last bolt!
The rudra heard a few final cranks below him, as the ballista adjusted to fire nearly straight down.
Thwump!
The final bolt fired, much closer than any of the previous shots, with a blast that shattered the ground, sending a cloud of dust and rock as high as the tenth floor of the tower.
Oydd crept toward the ledge, and looked down, but the cloud of dust wholly obscured the field below. He turned to the azaeri commander for confirmation, who grinned and nodded in satisfaction.
The rudra felt a current of warm air rise through the billowing cloud, from the gigantic ghast, and held a hand before his eyes, to keep out the dust.
Below he heard only the shower of rock, as bits from the impact hailed back down onto the valley floor.
Cricket! Oydd called out again, as the cloud of debris reached the top levels, and enveloped the rudra.
*****
Cricket flung the loose arm over his shoulder, attempting to scratch the hard-to-reach spot on his back. Sadly, of course, the itch always seemed to be beneath the carapace.
Thwump!
A flash of silver flew from the tower above, so quickly that Cricket registered it before the sound. He ducked, covering his eyes, as a cloud of dust rushed over him, and tiny bits of rock bounced from his exo-skeleton with dozens of tiny pings!
He covered his eyes, though he was far enough from the blast to avoid any real danger. Just as he thought that, a large chunk of shrapnel whizzed by his head and the insect began to run in the opposite direction.
Though incredibly fatigued, he managed to run for a full minute before he came to a stop huffing and puffing. He still heard the sound of smaller debris sprinkling down around him, though he could only see a few yards.
As he caught his breath, a large round silhouette approached through the fog—perhaps fifteen feet in height.
Cricket worked a few quick calculations, wondering if it could be the head of a crawling Indech. The shadowy form let out a deafening, flapping, flatulent roar—which only confused the insect more, until the silhouette took the form of a massive snail, with Bax riding atop its shell.
The snail held a bit in his mouth, attached to purple silk reigns that ran up to the gnome's hands and appeared more decorative than functional.
The snail opened the three folds of its mouth, and let out another viscous, gurgling sound that was much quieter and less intimidating than the first.
Cricket waved with his severed arm, and Bax chirped with excitement—too elated to wave back.
"You did it! You blew up the giant's head!"
"I did? I mean, no I didn't. I did cut him up pretty good, but I... did his head get blown up?"
"It did! I just saw it. Quruda, in his mercy, sent a fiery serpent from the heavens, and it just... exploded his brains. I got some on my vest!" The gnome happily pointed to a greyish bit of slime dripping from his chest pocket.
"Yeah, that wasn't me. If you think Quruda did it, why did you ask if I did it?"
"Do you worship Quruda."
"No."
"Oh," Bax said, a little disappointed. "Do you want a ride?"
"Can I... I mean, can I get on? I didn't think you could make touchable stuff."
"I can't," Bax admitted sadly, "make tangible stuff that is. I'm not really up here. But I can make it look like you're up here too. Would you like that?"
"I would," Cricket answered, and watched as an illusion of himself, not unlike his own shadows, materialized next to Bax, its arms limp at its sides.
"Can you make me strike a cooler pose?"
The illusory Cricket folded his arms and looked intently off at the unseen horizon.
"That's perfect," Cricket smiled, and resumed his trek to the gate, while the giant snail made a long, aggravatingly slow circle, adjusting its course.
By the time Cricket saw the bricks of the outer wall, his legs ached, and he sat down for a minute to rest, lest he cramp up.
He noticed a glint of green in the cloud of dust, and a shadow holding his khopeshes materialized.
"Oh, right!" Cricket said. "But... how'd you find me?"
The shadow tapped one of his antennae, with a smug smile, and handed over the jade weapons. They practically hummed with energy. And while Cricket was not so adept as the others at sensing dark magic, he thought he could faintly discern an aura coming off of them, like a smoldering darkness. Not something he could see, mind you, but he sensed it none-the-less. It made his antennae stand on end with an electric sensation.
"Do you want to sit with me for a minute?" Cricket patted the ground next to him, and the clone happily dropped from his feet. Cricket breathed deeply and coughed, as the dust filtered in through his side nostrils.
When he stopped coughing, he turned to the shadow. "You don't need air. That means," he mused, "that you can't screech like me. But it also means you can't cough. You could probably stay under water for hours too."
The shadow scratched his head and shrugged. But after some more thought he nodded, leaning back onto his three remaining arms.
"Oh," Cricket exclaimed. "Didn't you have four arms? Did you lose one fighting the giant, or did that shadow explode and you just picked up his weapons?"
The clone did not respond. He stared off into the dust with a wistful look, and Cricket left him alone to his thoughts.
Together, the two listened as the falling rock gradually quieted and the dust cleared. Then, grudgingly, Cricket stood and began to scan the field for survivors.