5

Shadow Diplomacy

A large wad of web flew across the room and slammed against the kobold's chest, knocking him back against the wall. The other kobolds—tiny, wingless humanoids, distantly related to dragons—scattered as their ally struggled in vain to free himself.

One of the braver, but smaller, kobolds leapt at the forgotten shadow, only to be batted away by the flat side of his khopesh. While it could easily have been a killing blow, at the moment, Cricket preferred using his crystalline wand. He fired a web ball at the squirming kobold, then two more shots at its friends that scrambled around the small chamber, missing a skinny one, and catching a portly kobold directly in the face.

Cricket plastered another to the wall with a blast of web, then fired at the last—the skinny kobold—who dodged again. He fired a third time, and the kobold dodged a third time.

Cricket glowered and stalked down the remaining opponent, deflecting its tiny dagger with his bare hand. He pinned it to the ground and fired a ball of web at point blank range, directly into its eye as it squealed like a pig.

The forgotten shadow stood, wiped the dust from his knees and opened the door to the inner chamber.

Rusalka, the arachane, waited at the far end of the room, perched on a web of her own making next to the throne, rather than sitting upon the obsidian chair itself.

Unlike the wretched Damien, Rusalka actually looked beautiful—her slender black legs spreading along the web, her shell glistening in the violet light. Even her face looked fair, by the insect's reckoning, despite the eight eyes and the venom dripping from her mandibles. Seven shining black eyes, indistinguishable from her shell, and one bright, almost burning violet eye.

Under its mere gaze, the shadow felt some of the power leave his body. His arm began to smolder as if evaporating, and Cricket was forced to concentrate to avoid losing his form.

The arachane smiled weakly.

"I knew it would come to this," she spoke in a voice dripping with honey. "You have been a thorn in my side for too long. It is right that we should resolve this face to face."

Before she even finished speaking, Cricket raised his wand and fired a ball of web. However, it only bridged half the distance before falling to the ground and exploding in an ugly mess of thick strands. The crystalline wand began to smoke, and Cricket brought it up to his antenna, giving it a brisk shake before he tried to fire it again.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment, and the shadow threw the broken wand at Rusalka as he drew his daggers.

*****

"We can't fight, Pip," Patches said sadly. "We're too little."

Pip crawled in a circle on the mouseling's shoulder, agreeing with her assessment.

"I know you're brave," she said as she darted up the stairs, "but we're not running because we're scared. We'll wait until we can do something and then we'll help."

The ladybug's wings twitched in response, and Patches stopped on the next landing. She looked around to make sure she was safe for the moment.

"Are you cold?"

Pip nodded.

The mouseling opened her satchel and pulled out a few strands of bat wool. She twisted them together with her teeth and tied it around the familiar's neck like a scarf, making sure the loop was smaller than the insect's head but not too tight for his neck.

She placed him on the ground and combed the stray strands down his back with her paw.

"There. You look very handsome."

Pip smiled. He walked in a small circle as he spread his wings, then took off with an erratic trajectory, struggling with the added weight. Only seconds later, he plummeted back to the ground with a very, very faint thud.

Patches frowned. "You'll have to get used to it. It's better than catching a cold."

The mouseling looked behind her again, with a sigh, then pulled out her tiny knife and made a slight slit on the stump of her amputated arm.

At the smell of blood, the undead ladybug made another wavering flight and landed near the cut. He crawled the last bit and began to drink.

"That will give you your strength. But don't drink too much. You don't want to pop," she said in a mothering tone.

She waited patiently for nearly a minute. "Okay, that's enough." Patches wiped the blood dry with her forefinger and took off again up the steps. When she reached her burrow, she left the familiar near the entrance and scurried deeper.

Pip started to follow.

"No, Pip. I need you to stay here. You have to protect me while I cast a spell. That's a familiar's job."

Patches peered deep into his sad eyes, almost losing her resolve. "I know you're scared—brave and scared”, she said. “But I can't defend myself when I'm doing magic, so if anything tries to come in, you have to kill it, okay?"

Pip waddled around to face the exit, and the mouseling let out a sigh of relief before disappearing deeper into her hole.

*****

"Because it never goes well," Jeshu argued.

"It doesn't never go well," Cricket replied. "It usually doesn't go well. But that's just because it doesn't like me riding it."

"That is basically my point," Jeshu said as the insect led the bridled axebeak down the hall. The feathered lizard smacked its lips with its tongue as it eyed the passing ratlings.

"So I just need to distract him! He'll be so excited that everyone else is running around that he won't notice. Also, I'm not going to try to put a saddle on him this time, since—"

"I remember," Jeshu said with a shudder.

"But his shoulders are kind of downy, so I'll just need to ride high. Or whoever rides him."

"It might not be you?" the druid asked, startled.

"One of me. We were going to rock, paper, scissors for it."

One of his clones nodded to confirm this information.

"And then the plan is?"

"I told you—kill Indech."

"That's more of an overarching objective," the dryad replied.

"Ride out, kill Indech, ride back—three point plan."

"Still..." Jeshu complained to deaf antennae.

Cricket and his shadows had already begun a round of rock, paper, scissors. Cricket won, then lost to the second clone. Finally, the two clones went head to head, and the one that beat Cricket lost.

Cricket did the math in his head and groaned. "All tied up. Let's go again."

This time, Cricket lost the first round, and the clones tied four times in a row before the one that beat Cricket lost. That meant Cricket got in on a third round, which he won.

Jeshu sighed. "So that ties it up again? Why not just do one round. On a tie, the person sitting out wins. That gives everyone equal chances."

"That wouldn't be much fun for the one sitting out. Besides, a round robin tournament always works, even if I have, like, ten shadows out."

"But you don't," Jeshu reasoned.

"Which is good. Because I want a high chance of winning."

"If you want to ride the axebeak, then just dismiss the clones."

Both clones stopped midgame to glare at the druid with a mixture of shock and outrage.

"Don't worry, guys, I won't do that." Cricket pulled the druid aside while they finished the match. "You can't talk like that in front of the clones. They get real jealous. I have to make sure everything's fair."

"Or you could just dismiss them. It's not like the same ones come back next time. They won't remember."

Cricket looked over his shoulder in alarm to ensure the shadows hadn't heard this suggestion. Each threw down a pair of scissors, then started again.

"Oh, but they do! Because the new ones have my memories. And I would know. If I betrayed them, they would never trust me again, and then it would be too dangerous to make any!" Cricket scratched his head. "It's best if I live in fear of my creations."

When Cricket looked back again, one of the clones was doing a short, vaguely crude victory dance. Cricket sighed, realizing he'd lost the tourney.

Bax returned shortly with an armful of light lances, almost too long for him to bear.

"Are these good?"

"Yeah, perfect," Cricket answered. "They just need to be long enough that the rider can poke things beneath him." The insect passed a lance to the clone who had already mounted the axebeak and then to the shadow on the ground.

"Why are you holding it in your right hand?" Bax asked.

"Why not?" Cricket replied.

"Because you're left-handed."

"I am not. I'm... up-handed. And I have it in one of my uphands."

"Top hands," Jeshu suggested.

"Yes, that sounds better. I am top-handed."

"But you favor the left," Bax persisted.

"I favor the top."

"Which of your top hands do you like more?"

"Well... top left. But then top right, before bottom left. If I were left handed, I would prefer my bottom left before my top right."

"Oh," Bax nodded sensibly.

Jeshu interjected, "But you favor your left over your right, so I think he wants to know why you would hold a lance in your right hand."

"I try to exercise both sides. As a martial artist, I have to be sure to train my weak side. I used a spear in my left last time, and now I'm choosing my right."

"Then why not hold it in your bottom right hand, if that's your worst hand," Bax offered innocently.

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"Because I would die."

The axebeak started to grow anxious under the weight of its rider and Cricket gave it a whack in the rump with his lance, sending it toward the main gate.

The tower rumbled from another massive blow, and a large chunk of rock fell from above, landing only a few yards from the open gate.

The charging shadow yanked on the axebeak's reigns, swerving to miss the boulder, and skewered a zombified goblin as he trampled over another.

Cricket frowned, clearly feeling left out. As he started to leave, the druid grabbed his shoulder.

"I can give you a blessing."

"Ugh," Cricket said, looking down at his charm. "Defense... yay..."

"I can do others, remember. You said you would want additional strength."

"And speed!"

"I only have the energy for one. Is speed what you want?"

"Oh, yes. If he can't hit me, he can't kill me. Don't think hardening my shell would make much difference if he steps on me."

Jeshu nodded sagely. "They say a good offense is the best defense."

"Oydd and I decided four shields would be the best defense. But speed is both, anyway..."

Jeshu reached out and touched the turtle figurine that hung about the insect's neck, and it began to glow a bright yellow.

"And I think the best offense would probably be fire—oo, that's cold!" Cricket shivered, more in surprise than discomfort. He waved a hand before his face as fast as he could.

"I'm not sure if you will be able to—"

"I can tell a difference," Cricket interrupted.

"Good." The druid nodded. "It should affect your reaction speed as well."

"Like my reflexes?"

"Yes."

Cricket smiled, almost devilishly. "Are you coming?"

Jeshu shook his head sadly. "I will stay here and protect the gate. I think that will be of more use."

"Maybe you could grapple Indech while I cut him up."

"Grapple?"

"You know... you'd have to... grow."

"To sixty feet?" The druid laughed. "I couldn't do ten. It takes an incredible amount of... not just energy. I think it has to be sunlight."

Cricket came to a full stop at the druid's doleful tone. "Let's go... up to the surface I mean. Next chance we get, and charge you up," he offered cheerfully.

Jeshu cracked a smile. "It takes me about ten years of storing sunlight to perform that trick."

"For each time?" Cricket stammered.

"For each time," the druid answered soberly.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know."

The sounds of battle neared from outside the gate, and Cricket ran off without finishing the conversation.

He created another clone as he ran and handed it the last lance as he surveyed the battlefield.

The goblins still fought by the dozens, though many littered the ground, and even the larger, more organized bands struggled against the hordes of the lesser dead, let alone the more powerful ghouls.

Small groups of azaeri spearmen worked in formation, suffering far fewer casualties.

Actually, the sheer number of enemies overwhelmed the insect momentarily, and he had to adjust the strategy in his head, deciding he might save more lives with a little organization.

Cricket created six more shadows, feeling only slightly drained, and began to shout orders as the shadows looked over the battlefield.

"Teams of three. Crickets with lances are team captains." The two clones with lances grinned and waved at each other.

A few of the shadows without lances glowered, eyeing the original Cricket most suspiciously, seeing as he had selected himself as a captain. Cricket quickly diffused the situation by calling on the most visibly upset of the shadows to join his team. The honor of being chosen first overshadowed the clone's sense of injustice and he happily ran to Cricket's side.

The second captain, picking up on Cricket's strategy, called on another angry clone, who happily joined him, but the last captain, barely paying attention, simply picked two of his friends at once, and the two remaining clones began to protest with a flurry of arms.

"It's okay," Cricket assured them. "He got to pick last, so we'll go in reverse order for second pick." Cricket breathed out a heavy sigh, realizing this would leave him with the shadow picked last, which would surely come with a good measure of drama.

The other captain called on a second shadow, and the remaining clone—rather than getting angry, as Cricket expected—looked as if he were about to cry. His antennae drooped and he stared down at his feet.

"Cricket, that means you're on my team. Should we take left or right flank?"

The shadow furrowed his brow at this important decision and pointed right.

"Good choice! Cricket," he signaled the oblivious captain, who barely listened as he joked around with his friends, "that means you're left flank. Last group, you're up center."

The last group, having had no say in their assignment, looked hesitant to follow the order, so Cricket added, "Since the center is the most dangerous," and this seemed to satisfy them as a sort of grim determination replaced their annoyance.

Without another word, Cricket led his group of three to the right and began hunting down the more powerful ghouls from among the weaker zombies. He skewered a ghoulish lizardman through the stomach and held it in place as the shadows circled to finish it from behind. The second proved more troublesome. Cricket lanced its throat, but the ghoul pressed toward him, up the shaft, biting and clawing. Thankfully, since the lance grew thicker near the haft, its progress slowed with each inch it impaled itself.

The shadows managed to disarm it, literally, just as its claws neared Cricket's face and he was about to abandon the weapon.

Distracted by the ghoul, a zombified cave lizard of some size tackled one of the shadows from the side, and tore into its throat. The shadow burst into black steam that almost immediately dropped back to the ground, dissolving into the soil.

The cave lizard stood nearly six feet tall at the hackles. The erectile spines that ran from its neck to the tip of its tail glistened from partial decomposition.

Cricket swatted at its head with his lance, but the creature dodged backward, nimbly. He impaled it as it came back in, but the weight of the brute knocked him to the ground instantly, and the insect had to let go of his grip and roll to avoid being crushed beneath it.

The giant lizard whimpered when it hit the ground. It tried to turn, but had to adjust for the awkwardness of the weapon protruding from its neck. The lizard rose onto its hind legs and Cricket rushed back in to grab the lance by the handle, forcing it off balance, while his remaining clone threw shadow daggers.

Ultimately, Cricket was forced to draw a khopesh and gut the writhing creature. Almost instantly, the touch of the jade weapon began to drain the black magic from the zombie, until it no longer had the strength to support its own weight.

Cricket left it squirming on the ground and created another clone with the energy he had drained.

He realized the other groups of three could not do the same, and he risked a look at the left flank. He couldn’t see his shadows anywhere. However, he did see the center group battling a large number of weaker zombies. With no larger targets nearby, their captain had abandoned his short lance for two khopeshes and two daggers.

Cricket spent a few seconds trying to locate the last group, until a thunderous roar from Indech drew his attention, and he turned in time to see the giant hurl a large chunk of rock at the axebeak as it closed in. The giant timed its throw poorly, missing the axebeak, but the rock caught the Cricket rider smack in the chest, dismounting him with enough force to send him flying back several yards with the boulder before he dissolved back into shadow.

Afterward, the axebeak lost its nerve, swerved, and began to circle back toward the tower.

"Cut it off," Cricket shouted to his two clones, darting across the battlefield to intercept the retreating lizard. "I'll ride it in." After only a few steps, Cricket realized the clones were not following. He turned and shouted, "First one to catch it rides it!"

The shadows followed his charge. Despite their haste, the axebeak made no effort to return to the gate. Rather it slowed when it noticed the three insects chasing it, turning in a bit of a panic away from them. Having seemingly forgotten about the giant, the feathered lizard strutted about, pecking at the ground as a warning. Cricket recognized the lizard's body language, and knew the stubborn creature would avoid them at all costs, intent on maintaining its freedom.

One of his shadows circled around the left. The axebeak bocked in annoyance and darted right. The other shadow lifted two fingers to his mouth to whistle, but no sound came out.

Feeling only slightly guilty, Cricket copied the shadow's idea and whistled. The axebeak, assuming it was feeding time, turned to look at him, and the insect held up a closed hand, hoping it might look like he held a strip of meat, or a fistful of grain.

The axebeak trotted toward him, but kept a few feet away, skeptically.

Cricket whistled again, and held out the hand. The axebeak inched closer.

Finally, he opened his hand a crack, and held it to his mouth, pretending to eat the food himself.

The axebeak clucked angrily and charged in, almost knocking him over.

Cricket pretended to toss the non-existent food, and latched onto the reigns, leaping onto its back as it picked around the ground looking for its treat. Eventually the axebeak settled on biting into a fresh goblin corpse. It balked at the first taste, and ruffled its neck, but took to tearing off shreds of the foul-smelling green meat and swallowing the strips whole.

Soon it forgot about its rider, and after a quick meal, began wandering. However, the reigns prevented it from easily going in its preferred direction, and then its second choice. After a few skillful pulls, Cricket managed to convince the dumb animal to head back in the general direction of the giant ghast.

Cricket squeezed his legs against the sides of the lizard, and the axebeak reflexively took to a trot and then a gallop.

As he rode, a giant bolt of silver whirred above his head, crashing into Indech's chest. The giant ghast's hand sizzled as it grabbed the silver, and a stream of melted black tissue dripped from its wrist. The ghast pulled the bolt free, roaring in triumph.

Azaeri archers glided over Cricket's head as he galloped. They flew within crossbow range, fired, then glided back toward the lower levels of the tower.

Now and then, Cricket saw an archer drop inexplicably out of the air, plummeting to its death.

As he rode, Cricket grew tense. He did not realize just how immense the king of the fomorians was at first. But it took so long to get to him! And the giant seemed to grow with each step the axebeak took.

Sixty feet, Cricket thought, if he remembered the rudra's tales correctly. He tried to work out a scale in his head and decided its knee would be more than ten feet up. He considered just attacking the Achilles tendon, but worried it would be too thick. Of course, cutting a hamstring would be no easy feat, since it would entail climbing. Or at least jumping—

A loud crack interrupted the insect's thoughts as the giant tore another stalagmite from the ground.

Cricket tensed, worried he'd get clipped from his mount as he'd seen happen to his shadow, but the giant king's gaze rose to the top of the tower. Indech pulled his elongated arm back impossibly far, launching the stalagmite at an incredible speed.

With, perhaps, a hundred yards still between them, Cricket felt a rush of wind that nearly knocked the axebeak sideways, forcing him to latch on with all four arms.

He did not look to see the devastation caused by the projectile, but thankfully the giant did. It kept its jaw clenched, and its gaze upward until Cricket heard—and even felt—the massive impact.

Before Indech saw him, Cricket plunged his lance, at full speed, between the giant's toes.

The axebeak ran along the side of the giant's foot, and the motion wrested the lance from his hands. At first, the ghast made no reaction, and the insect wondered if the wound were no more than a bee sting to the giant. But slowly the fomorian turned to face the retreating axebeak, forming a gigantic fist.

Cricket drew his khopeshes, and started to grab his daggers, but realized the weapons would be entirely useless against the ghast. Rather he grabbed the khopeshes with two hands each and leapt through the air as his mount slowed to turn, intent on drawing attention away from the axebeak.

He landed on the giant's calf, stabbing both weapons deep into the exposed muscle to prevent himself from falling.

Due to the giant's size, it took some time for it to change plans. It held its fist motionless in the air as it considered the tiny insect climbing its leg, before slamming the ground, trying to squash the axebeak. The blow came so close that it nicked the lizard's feathers, and the axebeak darted off with a squawk of terror.

Cricket dug his toes into the giant's calf, about to scramble up to strike its hamstring, when his shell began to blister and burn. He heard a pop near his knee, and it took him a moment to register the intense heat pouring from the ghoul. In a last ditch effort, he grasped his enchanted weapons and kicked off at a random direction. Even that effort burned his feet.

As he flung himself through the air, Cricket glanced off of the giant's other leg, near the ankle, which sent him spinning. Still, he managed to adjust for the blow and roll as he hit the rocky ground. His head narrowly dodged the jagged remains of a stalagmite.

He came up on his feet while the momentum still carried him skidding away. When he came to a stop, he immediately charged back in, making a single powerful cut in the giant's Achille's tendon, before having to dodge a massive hand, longer than he was tall, with five white-hot boney claws.

The giant moved surprisingly slow, but Cricket’s cut had barely nicked the tendon. When the giant's hand passed, Cricket lunged in again, this time managing six deep strikes on the back of Indech's heel before he was again forced to dodge.

When he came in for a third time, which he thought might finish the job, Indech lifted his foot from the ground, and Cricket's momentum carried him beneath.

He squealed in panic, but the foot came down impossibly slow, and by the time it stomped the ground, Cricket was long gone.

But then the yellow light from his turtle necklace faded. One second it was glowing brightly, and the next it was just gone. Only then did Cricket realize how much Jeshu's blessing had helped him. The giant no longer moved slowly. Now its motions seemed unusually fast—magically enhanced, even.

The insect barely dodged the next punch, and before he could recover, another gargantuan foot came crashing down over his head.

Cricket rolled, but had no time to come to his feet before the next blow caught him, swatting him to the side.

Without the druid's blessing, Cricket could not adjust for the force of the blow before landing. Fortunately, he hit the ground, rather than a wall, since he was uncertain if he could survive an impact at that speed.

As it was, he rolled hard and far, stopping as a twitching lump some distance out of Indech's reach. And the giant no longer concerned himself with the pest, choosing rather, to dislodge another stalagmite.

Cricket nearly blacked out. He felt his consciousness drifting, vaguely aware that something important was going on. When the wave of pain passed, he felt the cold stone of the cavern floor against his cheek.

Indech lifted a gigantic rock above his head and hurled it toward the tower, but with the force of the throw, the weakened tendon on his heel snapped.

Cricket heard a thunderous crack, and saw a tremor ripple up the back of the giant's calf, followed by the sound of releasing air. The giant toppled over.

When he could move his numb arm, Cricket made four more clones. They stretched and yawned and ambled about until one of them noticed Cricket laying banged up on the ground.

"Hey," the insect said, weakly. "Want to kill a giant?"

The clones grinned from antenna to antenna as they readied their weapons.