2

Pressing Matters

When Oydd neared the tower of Euna Brae, he saw Bax waiting with the azaeri guards from some distance. The gnome ran excitedly to meet the group, then walked a few feet in front of Oydd and Jeshu as they covered the last stretch, bubbling over with conversation about mundane issues in the keep.

"If you don't mind, Bax, I'm tired from our trek, and I don't really have the patience to listen right now."

"Oh, sorry... I've just been so bored."

Jeshu responded. "What about Cricket? I figured he'd be driving you mad."

"He's molting."

"Oh, thank God!" Jeshu breathed, then looked to Oydd embarrassed.

"Well, finally some good news," Oydd added. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. He told me to give him some privacy." Bax dropped the conversation obediently, but still followed the others as they reached the steps to the upper floors. Oydd groaned before beginning the climb and eventually Bax couldn't keep himself quiet any longer. "If your knees hurt, why don't you just float yourself up?"

"Float myself?"

"Yes, I've seen you do it."

"Well, I know what you mean, but I had to think for a moment. It would be... more tiring. Walking uses less energy. Either way, I'm moving the same amount of weight, but moving things with my mind tires me out more quickly. Surely you understand the drain of using magic?"

"I... don't," Bax replied.

"Really? I assumed creating illusions was an incredible drain."

"Not the way I do it."

"What does that mean? I've seen you wear yourself out."

"Oh," the gnome thought. "But making a fake wall takes less energy than making a real wall."

"Not... what I meant at all," Oydd replied.

Jeshu jumped into the conversation to alleviate the rudra's frustration. "Did you know Bax had a wife?"

"I did?"

"You told me you did."

"Oh, that's reassuring. I thought I might have imagined it."

"The way you described it, she seemed real."

"Oh, she was real. But I couldn't remember if we were married. I mean... I remember asking her..."

"Don't stress yourself," Oydd said, "I know you have problems with your memory."

"...and then I remember living together for years afterward, and having twin boys."

"Well," Jeshu said, "it sounds like you were successful."

Bax blushed. "They would be in their teens now... but they died of rabies." Bax only looked sad for a second, before adding, "She was a picklateer!"

"You told me she was a cheese maker," Jeshu interjected.

"You can be two things," Bax countered matter-of-factly, plowing on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "She would pickle anything. Mushrooms, gizzards, cucumbers. One time she pickled a whole pheasant, feathers and all. It was... It was... a botched job, really. Not anything to brag about, pickled pheasant. But I couldn't stop her."

"What was her name?" Oydd asked.

"I don't remember," the gnome said sadly.

"But you remember her face?"

"No..."

"Hmm..." Oydd considered the problem. "Perhaps I could try to look through your memories some time and see if I can help."

"Oh..." the gnome stopped halfway up the third flight of stairs. "Let... let me think about it."

The rudra nodded and continued his climb. He didn't notice the gnome’s absence until climbing another three floors in peaceful silence. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw only the druid.

"I'm heading over to the annex. I'd like to be alone for now. Can you leave the bloodstone in the lower lab?"

"Of course," the dryad gave a slight bow and the two parted ways.

*****

Patches' nose nearly touched Pip. She looked him deep in the eyes. She thought he seemed distraught too.

"Don't worry, Pip. She couldn't make it through that little hole. I barely made it through. I know you're worried, but she can't get us."

Pip nodded in agreement.

Patches lifted the necklace again and she let it spin in the air between them, entranced by the polished black stone and the dancing light.

She buried the pendant under some loose dirt at the back of her new burrow and started to leave, but hesitated. She returned and dug up the necklace then carried it around in her teeth, as if looking for something. Ultimately, she decided to stuff it again in her satchel.

The mouseling emerged from her tunnel behind stacks of unsorted curios in the azaeri witch's old laboratory and ran to the rope bridge that led to the gigantic hanging crustacean. Her undead ladybug landed next to her.

She stared down at the distant cavern floor, then off as far as she could on the horizon, where she sensed something, even at a great distance, crawling toward her on eight desiccated legs.

"Even if she gets through the hole, Pip, we are awfully high up, and she can't reach us," she reassured the familiar.

Patches scurried along the wooden planks at full speed, only stopping at the far side to stick her whiskers over the edge and sniff the great height. She disappeared into the hollow shell.

The mouseling descended at a brisk pace around the spiral, dropping down a ladder into the flooded portion of the shell. Unlike Vidine's temple, this water was jet black. And not only for the lack of illumination. She had fallen in once, and smelled of rotten eggs for days. However, this time she hopped over a piece of driftwood with practiced ease, climbed a slanted beam of rotten wood, and landed quite dry on the far side.

Patches located her half-buried stash of soaps and salts and black ratling fur, along with her totems, some bright-colored string, and the large purple flask she found in Fomoria. She had sprinkled a small dose from the bottle every day on Cricket's sleeping mat until the concoction began to smell spoiled. She had another use for the jar, but had not yet stomached the nerve to clean it out.

Patches unlatched her pouch with a quick motion of her stub wrist, and fished out the necklace. However, before she found a place for it, she heard a voice. Not spoken out loud, but in her mind.

It only took a moment to place the voice as Oydd's, but something felt off, and the rudra spoke back and forth to himself.

Patches' ears twitched, focusing on the sound.

...to say I am not yet old. Is it designed to unsettle me? Why would I taunt you, Magus? I don't know if you do it willingly. But you are inconsistent. You told me there was yet a narrow window before my death, and now you seem to think I have time. Not so, Magus, this is the first I've spoken to you. Did another foretell your death? I know of no such thing—only that you yet age. Perhaps he knew more? Perhaps he knew less. Oydd growled in irritation.

Patches hopped back across the black pool and climbed through a small opening in the ceiling, where she found the rudra seated on the floor, staring at a blank wall. A black orb appeared in the shadows near him, while another drifted away and vanished.

The new orb floated within arms reach, and Oydd swatted it away in annoyance. Before his hand touched it, it vanished.

Quiet! They will hear us!

Oydd looked over his shoulder, directly at the mouseling and forced a weak smile. He waved her over. Patches came to his clawed left hand, but bit her lip and moved to his other side. The rudra reached out and scratched her neck, massaging the muscles, pinching with his thumb and forefinger.

"Hello, Child..."

Patches looked up into his eyes. "...That's what Licephus called me—Child."

"Is that all right?"

Patches nodded,as she nestled her snout in her front paws and closed her eyes. "You were talking to yourself."

"I know," the rudra replied. "It helps me think."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Hmm… Nothing you need to trouble yourself with. It is on me to plan our descent into Sheol, and it weighs on me."

Patches yawned and curled up against his warm robes.

*****

"Okay, any new orders of business?"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Cricket sat in a circle of black clones in the middle of the training hall. One of the clones held hands with its azaeri girlfriend. She wore an iron cuirass and her spear lay near her side. The clone held his chin up with a smug look on his face. Some of the other shadows eyed him uncomfortably.

One of the clones, missing both his antennae, raised a hand.

"Yes, yes..." Cricket felt his own freshly molted antennae. "You've brought up this issue before. I don't know why you don't have antennas. I'm going to have to ask Oydd, and he just got back."

A second clone, the only other clone missing his antennae, raised his hand as well.

"Yes, is it the same question?" Cricket asked.

The shadow nodded.

"Okay, same answer, then, remember?"

The clone put his hand down sheepishly.

"Anything else?" No one stirred. "Really? Okay, great. Well, I have one matter. By the end of this week, we'll have nearly sixty men—and women," he pointed at the female azaeri soldier, "in the keep, and that's more than I can train myself. So I wanted to ask for help. Ask!" Cricket repeated, seeing some anxious looks. "Who wants to help?"

The smug shadow raised his hand first and stood up. If possible, he held his chin higher.

"No need to stand up. Just a show of hands please."

Nearly all of the clones volunteered, except for one who did raise his hand for a second before putting it back down.

"Okay, great. This is more to get a feel. It will be a different set of clones on the actual day. But this gives me a good idea of your... interest."

The smug clone scowled.

"Except for you. I won't... send you away. I remember our deal."

The clone folded his arms, apparently satisfied.

"Okay, then, dismissed!" The shadows began to vanish and Cricket plopped on his back, looking exhausted.

Jeshu hovered over him. "I thought the effort was getting easier on you?"

"Jesh!" Cricket smiled. "Making them, yes. But... there's just so much drama! And that's getting more draining. Any luck?"

"Yes, I think," the druid smiled. "Time will tell."

"Where's Oydd?"

"He went across the bridge. He said he wanted to be by himself. I think that's how he recharges."

"Oh," Cricket said, a bit dismayed. He suddenly smiled. "I can hear you."

"I see that. That's... wonderful for everyone," he said without a hint of sarcasm. "Your shell looks shiny and new as well."

"Thanks!" Cricket lifted an arm before his face in admiration and sat back up. "How... are you doing?"

Jeshu laughed. Deep scars marred his face as well as most of one arm along with that side of his torso. It creaked when he moved it, and bits of his dry skin still hung in tatters. "So tired, Cricket. It hurts to move."

"Well I hope you heal up quick."

Jeshu started to respond, but a pained look crossed his face and he clenched his jaw as if biting down on an unspoken thought. Finally, he simply replied, "Thank you."

Cricket rolled back over his head and pushed from his arms, springing from the floor and landing on his feet. He wiped the dust from his palms. "Well... I want to catch up, but my brain is fixated on something else."

"That's all right. I understand," Jeshu answered.

"Great, thanks," Cricket shouted as he ran for the door. "No offense. I'll talk to you later."

And before the druid had a chance to speak another word, he was left alone in the hall with the sole remaining clone and his girlfriend as they awkwardly tried to kiss around her beak.

*****

When Oydd made his way back across the rope bridge, he found Cricket sitting near the far edge, waiting for him.

The insect smiled and waved. Patches reached him first, and nuzzled her cheek against his shiny black shell before disappearing into the tower.

"I see you finally molted."

Cricket smiled. "Yeah." He impulsively ran his wrist over one of the new antennae, cleaning it. "You got what you wanted?"

"I did," Oydd said. "Assuming Scorpion was successful, then I only need one more reagent."

"Scorpion's back?"

"You haven't spoken with him?"

Cricket shook his head.

Oydd sighed. "I suppose he's still angry at you."

"He was angry at me?"

"You... didn't notice he was avoiding you?"

"I noticed he was avoiding me, but I didn't know he was angry. What's he mad about?"

"You... can't think of anything you might have done to offend him?" Oydd prodded.

"What? No... what did I do?"

The rudra sighed again. "Cricket... nothing is ever your fault."

Cricket beamed. "Thank you..."

"You missed the tone. Walk with me."

Cricket sprang to his feet and followed the rudra toward his lower lab.

"Was there a specific reason you were waiting for me?" Oydd asked as they walked.

"Not really. I did want to talk to you since I can hear again. When I heard you were back, I ran straight here. I have a thousand questions."

"I am the only one you've been able to talk to for over a month."

"You... seemed tired of using telepathy, so I've been saving up questions."

"My god, is that what you think?"

Cricket furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Ah... nothing. But I don't know if I have the patience for a thousand answers right now. Why don't you narrow it down to a few hundred of the most pressing questions."

"Oh, all right..." Cricket scratched his head. "Why haven't we gone to Sheol yet?"

"The short answer is that we are not prepared. But I am working on it."

"Why aren't we prepared?"

"First, we need a means to see in the dark. And it is not normal darkness. It is heavy and pressing." Oydd shuddered. "We will also need a plan to ensure we are not overrun. You are particularly vulnerable, and we need to devise a way to maximize your defenses."

"I mean... four shields, right?"

Oydd stroked his tentacles like a beard. "First... we must find a way to see through the magical darkness. What is your next question?"

"Bax said there are parasitic wasps that lay their eggs inside of insects, and then they hatch and eat you from the inside out."

"Not a question, but—when did you talk to Bax? You said you ran straight here. And he thought you were still molting."

"I did. I ran into him on the way."

"And he took the time to... never mind. Those wasps are very small. They prey on other small insects like Pip."

"I knew he was pulling my leg! Wait, is Pip safe?"

"Yes. He is already dead."

"Okay..." Cricket tried to focus. "Okay, I know you're tired and... busy... so last question for now. You remember that betraying mask?"

"You still have that?"

"Or... betrayer's mask, I think you called it..."

"I told you to get rid of it. Why are you still holding onto it?"

"Because it makes me look like I have a nose. Anyway, I think Patches stole it. I haven't seen it in ages."

"And the question is?"

"Okay, hear me out. What if I said 'I swear allegiance to Shisu' and then I put the mask on and fought her. Do you think it would work?"

"Work?" Oydd asked.

"You know... like... give me Bale's blessing."

"No, I do not. Nor do I know if the mask actually offers any benefits. It represents betrayal, and it is cursed. That is all I know."

"Okay, but that got me thinking. About, you know, how Bale knows who his servants are. And I got to thinking about Ghajan."

"The ettin?"

"Yes, and Onubi..."

"Was that his name," Oydd said sadly.

"And when Ghajan cut off Onubi's head, how did Bale know it wasn't Onubi cutting off his whole body?"

"I honestly don't know," Oydd answered with surprising patience.

"Because if Onubi quickly said something like, 'I sacrifice my body!' then maybe he would have stolen Bale's favor from Ghajan."

"He still would have died, since a head can't survive on its own."

"Ah, but that brings me to my point. Your head can!"

"What?" Oydd snapped, finally frustrated.

"You told me."

"I told you no such thing."

"You said all your vital organs are in your head."

"Oh..." the rudra thought. "I suppose I did."

"So you could actually do it?"

"Do what?"

"Sacrifice your body to Bale. Imagine how strong you'd get."

"Is this purely hypothetical?"

"Well..."

"Because... setting aside the fact that I don't want to just be a head in a jar..."

"I picture you floating around..."

"Setting aside that fact, I don't believe the Right Hand drew their power from Bale at all. I believe they gained favor with the Ancient, Titaga, an elder god of Chaos."

"But it's interesting, right?"

Oydd paused as he reached for his keyring and began to unlock the lab. "Yes... it is interesting."

"Okay, so last question..."

"I thought that was the last one. Have I even answered any of your questions? You seem more interested in asking them than hearing my responses."

"You said, while we're talking about the ettin, that my khopeshes had some sort of anti-magic property."

"Yes. I have seen them dispel dark magic more than once..."

"Right, they cut right through it. And my shadows are dark magic."

"Yes..."

"So why doesn't it... you know, dispel them? When I hit them..."

"An excellent question. I am not going to make more guesses about your weapons. I have told you I would analyze one if you left it with me and you refused."

"But it's weird, right?"

"You've been saving up these questions since you became deaf?"

Cricket paused in thought as Oydd began to prepare his instruments. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh, I am thinking about my own... projects."

"Like?" Cricket probed.

"Well, Skunk, really. And... I do think he is an abomination... but I am responsible for him."

"An aberration!" Cricket corrected.

"What?"

"It's something you said a long time ago. An abomination makes it sound like an affront to nature... or god or something. Aberration described him better."

"You know what that word means?"

"No, I forgot, but I remember it sounded right when you explained it to me."

"Well, that isn't really the issue on my mind. His arm had continued to wither after touching Bale's hammer. Which is... astounding. And on top of that, his body is beginning to decay. His immune system seems to be attacking his own cells, and I can't stop it. If I don't think of a solution, he will die... again."

Oydd placed his scalpel down and slumped into a chair. "Actually, I think I need to rest. It can wait until later."

"Oh... I'll get going then?"

Oydd nodded, only half listening, and the insect stood about awkwardly for a minute before stalking toward the exit.

"Cricket," Oydd called out. "It is... nice being able to talk to you again."

"Oh, yeah." He hopped back for a second and drew a jade khopesh, placing it on the autopsy table. "Just... get it back to me as fast as you can."

Oydd smiled and nodded as the insect ran off.