11

Skulking

Cricket's shadow waited until the sound of the dethkiri dimmed to complete silence and he believed the demons slumbered. By then, even the axebeak slept, having retired to a hole in the back of its lair. Now and then it released a rather grating sort of snoring hoot followed by its beak clacking against the stone floor as it shifted position.

Cricket leapt to the ceiling and held onto the bars of the iron grate with one of his upper hands and one of his lower. Carefully, he drew his last dagger from the hollow at his hip and passed the weapon to his more powerful upper arm, knowing that the blade would evaporate if it left contact with him for more than a moment.

The insect stuck the tip of the blade into the keyhole of the padlock and wrested it around a bit before growing irritated. He adjusted the lock with his free hand to try to get a view inside the mechanism, then abandoned the effort entirely and began to gouge out the insides, as if he were gutting a fish. He used firm, slow strokes, to reduce the noise, which only seemed to shave the hole slightly larger. Since this failed to produce any desirable results, he seized the shackle in his mandibles and bit cleanly through the rusted metal.

He passed the disfigured lump of iron to his lower arm, then braced himself and quietly opened the hatch with one of his legs, just enough to squeeze through. As the grate opened the last few inches it made a very slight creak and the insect cringed. He slipped through the opening and began to lower it back into place, more slowly than before. However, this only prolonged the creaking sound. He paused and thought for a moment, then looped the shackle around a bar near the hinge, and left the grate propped open. He tested whether the padlock could hold the weight of the entire hatch before removing his hands.

Proud of his ingenuity, the shadow smiled and stalked back down the hallway to its own empty cell. There he located three other cells—one empty, one housing Gad, and one with the older dryad.

If Gad noticed him, it made no indication. The dryad, Zarachi, however, pressed his face against the bars of his cell and stared at the insect.

Cricket approached and held a finger to his mouth, signaling to keep silent. He displayed his dagger, pointing to the keyhole.

Zarachi shook his head and tapped his ear. He mouthed, "too loud."

Cricket stared back dumbly, unsure how to proceed but slowly eased the tip of his knife toward the lock anyway. The dryad held out a hand in irritation to stop him and risked whispering, "I am slow... and I am loud."

Cricket scratched his chin, then pointed to himself and signaled him leaving, but coming back. Admittedly, there was quite a lot of room for interpretation in the gestures, but he hoped the dryad might guess his intentions.

Dagger in hand, the shadow crept down back down the hallway, and through the main chamber, looking for the jailor's quarters. Debating whether a goblin might be allowed to sleep near the demons, Cricket ultimately decided to follow the most traveled path, which led him to a spot where two tunnels crossed. Cricket followed, again, the most used path, but he quickly identified the tunnel as a latrine, by the overwhelming fumes. He backtracked and chose the next most traveled tunnel and stumbled almost immediately upon the dethkiri's barracks. Barracks was a generous term for the sleeping arrangement, as the beasts huddled together like animals. Easily a dozen beasts lounged about the spacious chamber, though it was difficult to tell which claws went with which heads. Their eyeless snouts rested against the cold ground, or against each other—some with their heads tucked back under their contorted wings. Ultimately, he decided to count heads only, and got to seventeen.

Cricket froze and surveyed the room for any that might be awake, before approaching one of the smaller beasts that lay a short distance from any of the others.

He placed the tip of his dagger at the base of the demon's jaw, and angled it toward the back of its head. He tried to remember the flayed skull he saw in Oydd's lab and adjusted the blade slightly. He lined up the stab to pierce the throat first and then drive into the brain. At least by his estimation.

Though the small dethkirok looked about his size, he knew it was several times his weight, and if the single strike failed to both kill and silence it, he would drown in a sea of claws and glistening fangs.

In one quick motion, the shadow wrapped two arms around the demon's fierce maw, clamping it closed, as he plunged the dagger up through the soft tissue of its throat.

*****

"Which means, I believe, we must act quickly." Licephus placed the adamantine cutlass on the ground at his knees. Blood still stained his lips red from a recent feeding.

"Their forces have broken through to Al Tsiroth not far from the Warrens, which makes our location unsafe."

Skunk, who returned with the vampire, slept near him, still curled in a ball like a ratling. However, even with the vampire in his heavy armor, the mutant now appeared slightly larger than Licephus.

"I would have named three urgent matters, but I have narrowed them down to two."

"Would have?" Oydd asked.

Licephus nodded. "Truly, my greatest concern is this alleged prophet, of which the oracle warned. If they have a way to tell the future, then all of our planning and cunning seems wasted. However, I trust the oracle—that attempting to harm the prophet will only bring harm to our own cause. Was that roughly how you described it?" The vampire turned to Cricket.

The insect nodded. "I don't remember word for word, like Oydd would..."

"No matter. The idea will suffice. And so, I see our priorities as twofold. First, to find and eliminate the forgemaster. Left unchecked his, or her, threat will only grow. Second, the trollblood with Bale’s arm and tongue."

"Even more than the rudra?" Oydd asked.

"Yes. Far more, I think. Though imposing, the rudra represents a measurable power. The troll does not. The ability to manipulate portals can be used offensively and defensively at an incalculable scale."

"Especially since their strongholds in Agoth aren't connected," Cricket added.

"What do you mean?" Oydd asked.

The vampire also paused to listen to the insect's explanation.

"The dethkiri risked coming up through the Trench to meet those coming up from the southern breach. They wouldn't do that if they could mobilize underground."

"An excellent point," Licephus said. "Though I wonder why the trollblood did not simply transport them. Perhaps there are limits to his ability."

"Is the southern breach one of our targets?" Jeshu joined.

Licephus shook his head. "No. The Prophet is there. If the oracle took the time to warn us about confronting the Prophet, perhaps that guidance was meant to influence us now..." The vampire trailed off, lost in thought, and the others waited until he began again. "If we had time, I would leave you now to report to the council of elders. But I believe these matters more urgent. Urgent enough that we should split into two groups."

Cricket glanced at Oydd and Jeshu.

"I have already decided. I will pursue the forgemaster personally. Oydd and Jeshu, you will accompany me. Cricket," the vampire turned to the insect. "You will lead the others in search of the half troll. You, the azaeri, and Scorpion are best suited for an assassination. I cannot stress the importance of stealth. You've seen his powers. You will locate him, then find a way to strike before he is aware of your presence. I trust your discretion and ingenuity for the particulars."

Oydd scowled at the praise directed at the insect.

"The particulars, sure. But what about the overarching stuff." Cricket threw his arms out wide. "Oydd's best at that."

"You will have to do," Licephus replied. "I am not worried."

"In that case, I would like to take Brax too."

"The gnome? Do as you wish."

Jeshu spoke up, "What about the mouseling?"

"I consider her your patient, dryad. So she comes with us. But I cannot prioritize her safety."

"I understand."

Oydd scratched his tentacles like a beard. "What intel do we have?"

"Enough," the vampire answered. "I have eyes all throughout Al Tsiroth, as well as Agoth, and even much of the surface. There is little that transpires without my notice."

"You know where the forgemaster is?" Oydd asked.

"I do. A place called Fomoria. A land far to the south, subterranean, like Al Tsiroth, but we will need to travel more than a day on the surface to get there."

"It's that far?" Cricket blurted.

"It is. Your target is far as well, but not above ground. Do you know of Euna Brae?"

At the mention of Euna Brae, Ty'lek perked to attention.

"No..." Cricket admitted. "But it sounds azaeri," he mostly guessed from the archer's reaction.

"It is. An old fortress. A tower really, half buried in the rock, stretching all the way to the top of the cavern. It is not a sure shot, but the trollblood has been spotted there on numerous occasions, and it is my best estimate on his residence. I know of a hidden entrance that is no longer used."

The vampire addressed the azaeri. "Do you know the way?"

Ty'lek nodded, a serious expression on his face.

"Good. I will provide directions in the morning regardless. But you will navigate the group under Cricket's orders. I believe a chain of command helps reduce disorder."

"Thank you," Scorpion said suddenly and the vampire looked at him in confusion. "For including me," the assassin continued. "After my injuries, I was worried Eyrgan would have me put down."

A brief look of sadness flashed over the vampire's face, at the mention of the fallen commander's name. "Even with your injuries," Licephus responded, "I believe you may be the most menacing ratling I have met."

Scorpion grinned. "I won't let you down." The mimic cuddled against the ratling, almost knocking him to the ground, and he reached out with the stub of his arm to scratch its neck.

For now," Licephus addressed the group, "get your rest. We will all need it. I have just fed, and I will gain strength slowly, but I can keep watch for the night. It will not wear on me."

"You said you don't think we're far enough from the Warrens," Jeshu reminded. "Should we put some distance between us?"

"Where's the gnome?" Licephus asked then looked around, only to find him snoring softly, lying in the mud. Licephus rose and approached the illusionist, waking him brusquely with a kick.

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"Wha?... WHO?" the gnome sputtered, looking around in confusion. "Mother?"

The vampire peered down at the gnome and waited as he oriented himself.

"Um... yes. Yes, what do you need?"

"You can make sounds," Licephus stated. "Can you cover them?"

"Oh, yes, easily!" Brax bragged. "Child's play!"

"We need some sound cover for the night. Can you create an illusion that will last while you sleep?"

"Not at all," the gnome replied cheerily.

"You said it was child's play."

"Yes. But... I spent all my energy on that distraction earlier."

"On that sound?" Oydd interrupted, incredulously. "That was nothing!"

"Nothing!" the gnome replied, insulted, as he rose to his feet and dusted off his leggings. "First I had to create a giant slug, which took about half my energy. Then I had to use the other half to make it invisible."

Oydd fumed. His face flushed red, but he bit his lip.

Licephus responded coolly. "And you have nothing left?"

"Right."

"No matter. I can handle any demons who wander this way. Druid, do you require sleep?"

"No."

"Then you are with me." Licephus retrieved his sword and wandered toward the southern edge of camp, where he could distantly view the opening to the Warrens. Jeshu moved to a position on their exposed side, away from the rock.

"Oh! I could make a fire that only we can see..." the gnome suggested.

"Keep your voice down," the rudra instructed warily. But he already began to feel a warmth emanating from nowhere.

"Is that good?"

"Yes," the rudra said, surprised, though he could not see the promised flame. "That's perfect."

The gnome beamed as Oydd felt around for the source and marked it with a small circle of stones, though the illusory fire did not produce enough heat to burn. The others, aside from Jeshu and Licephus, gathered around.

"Remind me, what was the mimic's name?" Cricket said.

Scorpion looked hesitantly toward Ty'lek, before answering. "Agena called him something like... Ixitl."

Ty'lek squawked and shook his head and the mimic turned a disgruntled brown.

"That sounds close though..." Cricket stated. "Axolotl?"

"No, that's something else," Oydd snipped.

"Axitl... uxitl?" Scorpion guessed, but the azaeri and the mimic only grew more flustered.

Cricket slapped a palm on his knee. "Well, then we need a new name."

"Iyxi'tl" Ty'lek chirped and the mimic turned an excited purple, which slowly faded to a contented blue.

"Well, if Ixitl isn't close enough, then Scorpion isn't the problem." Cricket waved an accusing finger at the mimic and it flared a dangerous red. "Don't give me that. We're doing our best."

In an attempt to calm the creature, Scorpion patted it softly on the head, but it jerked away at the unanticipated touch, then crawled under a rock to sulk.

After warming his hands, Oydd left the circle to speak with Licephus. Cricket heard the two whispering at the edge of camp for a few moments, while the others argued. He wanted to listen to both conversations, and squirmed uncomfortably for a moment before deciding to rise and follow the rudra.

"Because they didn't weaken," Oydd whispered and the vampire nodded his head.

"Even the lesser cultists who in no way benefited from the summoning."

"There are other explanations," Oydd counseled.

"Yes... yes there are. But it still troubled me," Licephus added. "Do they have a new patron?"

"What are we talking about?" Cricket interjected, awkwardly.

Licephus regarded him a moment, lost in his thoughts, then explained. "If the cultists ever profited from Bale's favor, they certainly do not now."

"Oh..." Cricket replied.

"The leaders have grown more powerful, which is not too surprising, since they have stolen some of Bale's power. Likewise, Bale grew greatly in power after betraying Serinyes. But what of the underlings? I had thought them to be receiving strength directly from their deity. But now that is unlikely."

"Well, technically..." Oydd began.

"As I said," Licephus cut him off, "unlikely. I pictured them praying to him, bolstered by him—fighting for his favor. This seemed consistent with what we viewed. That is, underlings displaying divine favor, rising to compete even with the worshippers of Serinyes."

"Uh-huh... uh-huh..." Cricket nodded, pretending to follow along.

Licephus stared him directly in the eyes, and the insect felt a chill. "So why have they not weakened after Bale's death?"

"Wasn't it just an avatar? He would have just returned to his home plane when they destroyed it."

"And then continue to support those who betrayed him?" Oydd answered. "No. But you're wrong, anyway. If Bale had returned home, then the incarnation would fade. Somehow they sealed him here. Until that sealing is released, he is functionally dead. His essence trapped."

"I agree," Licephus said gravely. "Which raises a question we have not dealt with. Namely, who do they actually serve? Who is their true deity? I know of gods on the surface who might contend with Serinyes. But not here, in her own domain, among her most fervent followers. And those gods, that I know of—worshiped by elves and humans—would not sink to such treachery nor sow discord."

"Akinaska is powerful enough," Oydd suggested.

"And yet, he remains neutral, keeping balance..."

"I've never heard of the King of the Dead described as a god of order," Cricket said, critically.

Licephus sneered. "Not order as you mean it. The so-called righteous gods force their order onto others, which is not true neutrality. I find them equally repulsive as the worshippers of Serinyes."

The three fell quiet, realizing this critique of the dhampir god to be a heresy worthy of death in Al Tsiroth. The silence hung oppressively in the air until Licephus spoke again. "Regardless, this is not the hand of Akinaska."

"Then who?" Cricket asked.

A pained look flashed over the vampire's face. "Who indeed?"

*****

Cricket woke without dreaming and surveyed the camp site. Lord Licephus stood alone to the south, speaking with the archer, his melancholy mood seeping into the ground. The bodies of two dethkiri lay stacked atop one another, concealed behind a crop of rock to the side of the camp. The others had already risen and prepared in silence, save for the gnome, who still lay facedown in a pool of his own drool.

The insect stood groggily and located Oydd and Jeshu, who huddled around the mouseling. The rudra placed the back of his hand tenderly on her face and groaned.

"Don't worry," Jeshu responded. "She's doing much better, but I gave her a sedative—some simple herbs to help her sleep. During the night, I believe I managed to mend her insides. She is not... dying. But she is weak."

Cricket located her pack nearby and retrieved the green velvet bag. He found it still bulging with caltrops. The insect sighed, "What more could I need?"

"What are you doing," Oydd snapped, protectively.

"Oh, uh..." he held up the bag in response. "I could use these. Do you think she'd let me borrow them?"

"How would I know?" Oydd replied. "I think not. Has she ever let anyone borrow anything?"

"Well, she isn't awake to ask..."

"Exactly."

"And I kind of need them..."

Oydd grumbled to himself. "Do what you want. Heaven forbid I try to stop you."

Cricket forced a smile, then tied the ribbon tight on the small bag and placed it in his own supply pouch. As an afterthought, the insect retrieved the vial with the dead lady bug and slipped it into the mouseling's satchel.

"Will you tell her I—"

"How is she?"

Cricket jumped at the vampire's voice. "Oh, uh... good?"

"I was asking the druid."

Jeshu sighed. "I think she can travel."

"What is that?" The vampire pointed at the mouseling's bandaged hands.

"I don't know. She had them wrapped like that when I first saw her. Some of her fur is singed. I thought she might have a burn, but I don't sense any serious damage."

"Remove the wraps," the vampire commanded.

Jeshu untied one of the knots and began to unwind the cloth. Soon he revealed her still partially invisible paw. The enchantment stopped just past the wrist, and gave a translucent, glasslike look to the appendage.

"What is this?" the vampire asked.

Jeshu shook his head and turned to Oydd, who shrugged, his beak half-open.

A twitch of irritation crossed the vampire's face. He knelt at the mouseling's side and undid the second bandage.

"Hand me the mouseling's pouch."

Cricket obliged, and the vampire opened the satchel and began to remove useless items that the mouseling had collected. A brush with red hair, a small piece of Cricket's molted shell, a totem doll that resembled the mouseling herself, and a long, tangled piece of twine.

Then he removed a stalk of mushroom charcoal and a small chunk of orange salt, and set those two items aside. He sorted through to the bottom, and seeing nothing else of interest he pulled a small vial of black liquid from within his armor, which hung from a chain around his neck. Licephus unstopped the vial and immediately the smell of blood and decay reached Cricket, even from several paces away.

The vampire poured a single, thick drop of the liquid onto the charred mushroom stalk, then placed it across the mouseling's paws. The cool stalk sizzled as it touched the enchanted limbs, but the vampire seemed unconcerned. A faint vapor began to rise from her paws, which whipped into the charcoal, like smoke into a bellows as it's drawn.

Licephus whispered, clutching the shard of salt, and the sizzling sound increased, followed by a clear liquid that leaked from the mouseling's fur.

Finally, Licephus pressed the salt against the mushroom stalk and the crystal instantly vanished as the mouseling's limbs reappeared.

Licephus gripped the invisible salt crystal with both hands, as if trapping something inside. Slowly his muscles relaxed and he released his hold, placing the shard into his own small pouch.

Licephus rose. "Is everyone ready to depart?"

"Not quite." Oydd located a large dethkirok corpse and placed a hand over its face. The demon stirred, rising to its feet. It wobbled unsteadily as it took its first step, then stared at the rudra, awaiting orders.

"I thought you couldn't control demons," Cricket gasped.

"I couldn't," Oydd answered simply, "back when I said I couldn't."

Jeshu secured his shield on his back, and knelt, cradled the mouseling, carefully lifting her onto his shoulder. He grabbed the ettin's hammer in his free hand, and instantly a layer of frost ran up his arm, nearly to the shoulder.

Seeing their final preparations before departure, Cricket grabbed a jade khopesh and rang it against his chest plate. A very faint image of him appeared, vibrating away before evaporating.

"That's weird," Cricket said. He struck the blade against his chest again, more solidly, and another shadow appeared—this time more fully formed. It flickered a moment and stabilized.

"Huh..." Cricket stared at the copy. "That felt harder than normal."

"You must be out of practice," the rudra said dryly.

"They don't normally flicker like that when I just make one."

"What do you mean, just one?" Oydd asked. "Have you made more than one?"

Cricket nodded. "When I make two, they both get kind of... flickery."

"You shouldn't push yourself like that. This is dangerous magic."

"When I make a third one," Cricket continued, "I get kind of flickery."

Oydd's eyes went wide in horror.

"And when I make a fourth, they start to fade, like a candle right before it blows out."

"You fool! That is because your very life force is fading! Just make one for now! But keep it out, and your mind and body will become familiar with the dark magic... more comfortable with the strain. Like I did with the ghouls. But just one! No more."

Cricket scratched his chin and avoided eye contact.

"Promise me, Cricket. Please."

Cricket nodded, surprised at the note of concern in the rudra's voice. "Okay. One for now." He turned to the druid. "Good luck."

"Thank you. You too."

Licephus surveyed the camp site. "We'll rendezvous at Vestu Peska in one week. That only gives you three days to get there, and three days to get back," he added with a look toward Cricket. "If you return before us, only wait there for two days. If I return before you... I will only wait for two days. Do you understand?"

Cricket nodded. They parted ways. Licephus, Jeshu, Oydd and his creations headed south, while Cricket, Scorpion, and the azaeri headed northeast.

And, several minutes later, Cricket's group returned to collect the gnome, then set off again.