6

Sometimes You're the Ogre

The old goblin winked as she chewed on her newt and wrapped her tongue seductively around the stick. Cricket opened his eyes with a start and saw Patches sitting nearby. "Was that goblin into me?" He asked in a daze.

His stomach growled. He had missed lunch because of that whole debacle with Oydd.

The battle! Cricket bolted upright, still groggy from crashing into the wall. He felt a loud ringing in his antennae. Instinctively, he reached to feel if everything was still there, and sighed with relief. As he surveyed his surroundings, he licked a finger and smoothed down the little hairs on the left antenna with his hand and the ringing abated somewhat.

The mouseling waited by his side, facing away, brandishing her knife protectively. Nearby, the zombified raptor lay motionless, two more arrows protruding from its head and a few more laying near the wall behind it.

Ty'lek stood over the kill with a near-empty quiver. He stepped on the raptor's head with his boot and yanked an arrow free. Then another.

Cricket hobbled to his feet and leaned against the wall for support, accidentally placing a hand in a patch of his own sticky blood.

Ty'lek moved to the wall and kicked aside a broken arrow, retrieving two that looked to be in good condition.

"Where's Jesh?" Cricket spoke a little too quietly at first. "Is he up ahead?"

The azaeri answered by looking pointedly back down the tunnel behind them.

"He still hasn't caught up?" Cricket said more to himself, not looking at the archer for confirmation. The insectoid retrieved his weapons from the ground. However, one of his lower arms hung limply and he winced as he tried to move it. He stowed the dagger intended for that arm in his carapace instead. Then took a few wobbling steps forward.

Another raptor rounded the corner in a panic, which meant it was likely still alive. But its rider teetered oddly, with a death grip on the reins and an ominous green glow in its eyes. It still held onto its lance, though the weapon dragged along the ground behind it.

The mount seemed oblivious to its master's fate, and fled down the tunnel toward the dryad and away from the fading din of battle.

A skeletal figure emerged from the passageway ahead, stumbling after the raptor. It appeared to be a lizardman by its size, though most of its flesh had rotted away. Here and there a patch of dried scales peeled away from the bone, and the segments of its tail popped and crackled as it lashed through the air.

The creature had no eyes, but empty sockets. A rotted tongue hung limply from its open mouth, impaled on one of its own jagged teeth.

It held a spear, likewise made from bone, covered in the dark blood of a dhampir.

It sprinted toward Cricket, terrifyingly fast, and the insect readied his sword for a last-second parry.

It thrust with incredible strength, and despite his well-timed block, the force sent Cricket’s sword out wide, ringing. The skeleton recovered more quickly, simply pulling back for another stab, when an arrow caught it square in the sternum knocking it off-balance. Just enough that Cricket managed to dodge the second stab.

He hacked and stabbed the skeleton with his three blades, doing little damage to the lizardman's thick bones.

Another arrow flew past, this time much closer to Cricket's face than his opponent.

Cricket risked a disapproving glance back at the archer. Barely dodging another stab.

"I can't tell if you're a good archer or a bad archer," he quipped in a panic.

Cricket abandoned his weapons, latching onto the lizardman's spear instead, hugging close to the monstrosity, where the spearhead posed little danger. Even holding on with both hands, the undead's strength outmatched him and the creature yanked itself away preparing another thrust.

The insectoid moved in as quickly as the lizard retreated, attempting to stay chest to chest. The lizard pulled away again, and Cricket closed the gap a third time. Now, though, the undead creature began to snap with its teeth. It let go of its spear and dug a set of claws into the insect's side, easily crushing through the shell.

Cricket hugged his head close to his opponent's chest, to avoid the gnashing snout, and worked his mandibles around its neck. He bit down, and the bone crunched audibly. He focused all his strength into the bite until the neck bone shattered and the lizardman's head rolled to the ground. An almost indiscernible darkness lifted from the tunnel and the creature’s bone spear clattered against the stones. Cricket relaxed his grip and the skeleton crumpled into the mud.

By now he noticed three more skeletons rounding the bend. Two more lizardmen, one larger than the last, and what he presumed was the remains of a gnoll, a race of hulking hyena men.

Cricket yelled over his shoulder, "These are a lot stronger than they look. There are no vital spots. Just do as much damage as you can. I think the head is still the best target." He glanced at the mouseling. "You just avoid them. Don't try to hide. Keep your distance at all costs."

Cricket made three fists and exhaled sharply, preparing a strategy, when the gnoll sprang from its powerful hind legs, launching itself nearly thirty feet into the winded insect.

The two tumbled to the ground, and Cricket scrambled with all three arms to keep its jaws away from his throat. He crossed his larger arms against its chest and even tried to pry it off with his legs.

He had heard a gnoll's bite was the strongest of any humanoid—even ettins. Or was he thinking of jackalmen?

Crash! A hammer slammed into the gnoll's head, blasting the creature aside where it splintered against the wall.

Jeshu stepped over the insect's prone torso and swung his hammer down at the next target with both hands, shattering another lizardman's head and body in an explosion of bones.

The last skeletal figure slashed with a scimitar, barely penetrating the druid's barklike skin before the hammer swept it sideways. For a long moment it seemed the clattering of bones was the only sound in the tunnel.

A zombified dhampir soon appeared, lumbering along the stone corridor with a long raspy breath. An arrow darted from behind, lodging itself harmlessly in the dhampir's chest.

Jeshu held out a hand and implored, "Elkennah, purge this blight!"

The dhampir fell backward slowly, as if pushed by an unseen force, and the green light in its eyes faded. After the corpse landed in the mud, Cricket thought he still heard its raspy breath for a moment before an unnatural wind carried it away.

"What was that?" Cricket whimpered incredulously.

Jeshu dropped to one knee, seemingly weakened by the display, but quickly recomposed himself and returned to the insect's side.

"A supplication to Elkennah."

"Well obviously, but I've never seen anything like it."

The dryad thought for a moment. "There are many deities on the surface who despise the undead. It is not such a rampant problem up there."

Cricket nodded dumbly. "Yeah, of course."

The dryad's eyes narrowed, clearly bemused. "What gifts, may I ask, do the gods here grant?"

"Um..." Cricket stammered. "Sometimes the opposite." He ignored the dryad's shocked expression and quickly surveyed the area to see if anyone needed assistance. Patches sat unmoved from her last spot.

"Little one," Cricket began. "I don't know if you've fought the dead before, but they will notice you. I don't think you're used to that. So hiding won't help. If they sense the life in you, they will try to extinguish it. Do you understand?"

"Oh..." The mouseling whispered.

"Let's hurry," Cricket added to the group, "We still haven't seen the master. If we take him out, the rest should fall. One, two, three." He stared off into space while he counted. "Are there still two raptors? That's not good. This time, no one moves faster than the druid. Understood?"

Jeshu nodded for some reason, and then the azaeri.

Together they rounded the bend and came across the body of another raptor. Cricket dug a dagger deep into the back of its skull and then sheathed the weapon in his carapace.

"One left." He rose and proceeded cautiously. Jeshu plodded at his side and the group found themselves in a hub where several tunnels met. Numerous corpses lay strewn about the ground, including two more gnolls and at least half a dozen goblin skeletons. It was difficult to tell at a glance from the mess.

"I think that's the last dhampir." Jeshu indicated a body. "I lost count."

Cricket thought for a moment then agreed. "It looks like they put up a fight. I think they were ambushed."

As he spoke, a raptor charged from one of the rear tunnels, reaching the azaeri before anyone else could react. It clamped its jaws down on his shoulder, and lifted its prey from the ground.

Ty'lek gripped an arrow tightly and rammed the shaft into the zombie's glowing green eye. He twisted it around, but when it didn't have the desired effect he jerked it out, spraying himself with goo, and thrust it in two more times.

A blow from Jeshu's hammer took the raptor's head from behind before it did too much damage to the feathered lizardman, and Ty'lek dropped awkwardly to the mud. He held onto his wounded shoulder while Jeshu inspected it.

"Can you use that arm?" Cricket asked.

The archer shook his head.

"Without two arms," Cricket pointed out, "he won't be able to contribute much. Can you heal him?" The insect asked the druid.

"Not quickly," Jeshu answered. "He's lucky he has such thick scales. It could be worse."

"Can you heal him while we advance?"

Jeshu let out a concerned noise. "You're barely walking yourself."

"The necromancer is hiding," Cricket explained. "He must be nearly depleted. We have to attack now. I think a break will cost us more than it helps."

Jeshu helped the archer to his feet. "I will do what I can. That way," he added, indicating one of the side tunnels. "I can feel him."

Cricket looked down the tunnel and let out a heavy sigh. "I think my swords will work on this one."

Cricket limped down the passageway and Jeshu followed, assisting the archer. Ty'lek swayed more than the insect, dizzy from pain, and leaned heavily against the druid.

After a minute of trudging, Cricket heard the soft mumbling of a spell caster and made out the silhouette of a deformed creature waving a staff, backlit by a copse of glowing blue mushrooms in the distance.

At his side stooped a single ratling, not skeletal, brandishing two hatchets. As the necromancer chanted, a black aura grew around the ratling. Cricket approached and saw the ratling itself had black fur and skin, or perhaps blackened by the spell. Its halted motions indicated it was undead, but even from a distance, Cricket could sense it, which meant it was likely more powerful than the skeletons. Not some mere zombie.

Cricket readied his swords in a defensive stance, turning mostly sideways in case the ratling attempted to throw an axe. He let one sword hang over his head, so he could protect his face with a quick twist, and inched forward.

Seeing his approach, the necromancer retreated behind the ratling and pressed against the wall. Cricket could just make out its warty green skin, misshapen and bulging, nearly obscuring one of its eyes. A double chin hung out from his robes, wobbling beneath a wide toadish mouth.

Instinctively Cricket made to sprint after the caster, maybe even leap over his short guard, but his leg winced as he flexed it, protesting the thought.

"This one is too powerful to dispel," Jeshu commented. "The ratling, I mean."

"I know..." Cricket inched closer.

The necromancer pointed its staff at Cricket and a black bolt of magical energy tore through the air toward his head.

Cricket rolled to the side, coming up smoothly on his good leg. The magic bolt hissed through the air between the druid and archer, darkening the shadows behind them.

The necromancer aimed his staff at Jeshu, casting the same spell again, but the dryad made no effort to dodge. He simply held up an arm and the shadowy bolt split in two rushing harmlessly over his body.

"You will find your dark magic does not work so well against me," the dryad advised.

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The caster paused to catch his breath and nearly stumbled forward, slamming his staff into the ground to steady himself.

"I think that's about it," Jeshu continued. "His mana has run dry and the magic is beginning to draw from his life force."

"Then he's not the priority," Cricket shouted as he moved into melee range with the rat.

"Do you need assistance now?" The druid asked. "Ty’lek’s shoulder is mostly healed, but—"

The ratling sprang at Cricket, swinging both axes overhead, and the sound of iron against iron covered the druid's last words.

“Yes! I need help now!”

Cricket dodged the first swing and caught the second with both blades. His arms went numb from the vibration and the ratling hacked again at the weapons brutally, leaving one sword noticeably bent.

Cricket stepped back. He shook off the blow and tested the bent blade, deciding to toss it aside, then drew his unused dagger. Still he didn't like the feel of it in his upper arm.

Jeshu left the azaeri's side and circled around the ratling.

Cricket circled the other way. The ratling, however, ran between them, toward the archer.

Ty'lek pulled and loosed an arrow without aiming. The ratling swerved unnecessarily, giving Cricket a chance to throw the dagger with his upper arm, skewering it through the heel. But this had no effect in slowing it.

Jeshu raised a hand and cried out something in a language Cricket didn't understand. The ratling stopped instantly and turned, rushing the dryad.

Jeshu struck his hammer against the ground, speaking one more word and a rush of wind spread out from him, expelling the dirt in a circle.

Then the creature was on him, and Jeshu swung his hammer, missing once and then twice as the blackened ratling hacked at his arms. The dryad showed no signs of relenting, but stepped backward as he swung to try and better time his strikes against a much faster foe.

Cricket grabbed his remaining sword with both upper arms and slashed at the ratlings back, nicking its tail to no real effect. As he stepped closer for a second slash the black tail lashed around his arm and pulled with surprising strength. He felt a pop in his shoulder but managed to strike the rat on the back. With the force of the blow, Cricket was astonished at how little it cut.

The tail seemed to act with its own mind, lurching Cricket to the side as the ratling continued to hack at the dryad. Cricket decided to jump with the pull of the tail, unsure if his shoulder could take another yank.

He landed on his feet and saw the archer several feet away trying to train his bow. But the azaeri couldn't keep his arms steady and chose to lower the weapon and loosen his draw.

"I'm okay," shouted the dryad. "He really doesn't have a lot of muscle. I think the aura is defensive."

"No, he's stronger than any of the others. I think you just have thick skin. Have you ever taken a hit before?"

The druid thought as he blocked and swung his hammer. "I've never needed to." As he spoke, he scored a lucky hit on the ratling's ribs, knocking it sideways.

Cricket took advantage of the moment to stab at its side, but the tip of his sword barely penetrated its magically hardened skin.

"It's no good," he shouted.

"Try to grab it."

"What?" Cricket shrieked bewildered. "It's stronger than me."

"Trust me," the dryad added. "He's too fast for me. You grab him, and then I can grab him."

Cricket shrugged, unsure of the plan, but made a quick dash at the creature's back, ducking under its lashing tail, and wrapped his arms around its waist.

The ratling broke Cricket’s grip, turning on the insect, but almost instantly Jeshu grabbed it from behind, slipping his hands under the ratlings arms and locking his fingers behind its head.

"Now finish it."

"What?" Cricket stepped back. "I hit it as hard as I can, and it did nothing."

"Grab the bow."

"And what? Shoot it while you hold it? That's a terrible plan."

The ratling struggled to move under Jeshu's grip. Its tail wrapped harmlessly around the druid's thick neck, squeezing to no avail.

Then suddenly it fell limp.

Cricket looked to the azaeri first, but the grey-beaked lizardman didn't even meet his gaze. He knelt on the ground holding his bad shoulder, his bow lying in the mud.

Then Cricket turned to the necromancer. It lay prostrate on the ground, its throat slit, with the mouseling crouched on its back, brandishing her knife.

When she saw Cricket staring at her she blushed. "I did what you said. I stayed away from the ratling."

"Uh-huh." Truly, Cricket had forgotten about her during the fight.

Jeshu let the ratling's limp body droop into the mud.

"But he's several times your size," Cricket protested. "He could have killed you with one swing of that staff."

Patches looked down at the gnarled black staff and then back at Cricket. "He didn't notice me. You said only the dead would notice me," she added, worried.

"No, that's okay." Cricket dropped to his knees then rolled back to sit on his heels, panting. "You did good."

"You sure you're stronger than me?" Jeshu asked, staring at the ratling's body.

"Yes." Cricket confirmed. "Certain."

"Hmm..." The druid pondered, staring at the lifeless rat.

"I just missed lunch." Cricket walked over to the necromancer's deformed, bulbous body. "Trollblood." He said matter-of-factly.

"What's a trollblood?" Jeshu asked.

"Just means half troll."

"Half troll and half what?"

"Doesn't really matter," Cricket said, kicking the body. "Always ends up looking about like this. The troll half kind of takes over so we just call them trollbloods."

"But what species can mate with a troll?" Jeshu pressed, skeptically.

"I don't know. Goblins. Ogres? I saw a two-headed trollblood once, so I assume it was part ettin. This one's too small for that though. Probably half goblin." Cricket knelt and looked through the caster's pouches. "A potion." Cricket held up a glass bottle with a green tea-like mixture, thick with dried leaves. He pulled the glass stopper and took a sniff. "Mmm, minty. From the surface?" He extended the bottle to Jeshu.

The druid hovered over the trollblood's body, leaning a bit as if to avoid touching it. "What is that ring?"

Cricket pulled back a lump of skin on the troll's finger, revealing a carved obsidian ring overgrown with fatty polyps, cutting into the skin.

Cricket cut the finger off with a dagger then used the tip of the blade to scrape the ring free from the bone. He balanced the bloody ring on the tip of the knife and lifted it up for the druid to inspect.

Jeshu balked at the trinket. "Don't touch it. There's something off about it."

"Really?" Cricket dangled the ring in front of his eyes. The blue light from the mushrooms danced along the uneven surface. "Like what?"

Cricket tore a piece of fabric from the troll's robe and wrapped the ring inside, careful not to touch the glassy black stone, then tucked it into his pouch next to the shurikens. "Huh,” he paused at the sight of them. "I should have used one of those..." He trailed off.

"If we move closer to those mushrooms, it will be easier for me to treat wounds. My night vision isn't as developed as yours."

Cricket cocked his head. "Night? I don't understand."

Jeshu pondered the word choice. "Ah, night isn't really darker here. I can't see well in the dark. On the surface we call that night vision. What do you call it?"

"We just call it vision."

Ty'lek slumped beneath a large mushroom and sighed peacefully. Patches hopped on top of his mushroom and curled into a ball, her eyes peering out over her clipped tail.

Even though the azaeri's wound looked more severe, Jeshu treated the insectoid first, knowing how resilient lizardmen were. In his estimation, Cricket had pushed himself much harder. He treated the leg first, until the bleeding stopped, then tended to his arms.

"That shoulder looks good to use, but that smaller arm will take some time to heal on its own."

"Yeah, I know. It still feels loose," Cricket answered cheerfully. He smiled, resting his back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. "You know, there were a couple times there where I thought I would die."

"Has that not happened before?" The dryad asked.

Cricket thought for a minute. "No. This... this has to be the most beat up I've ever been."

"That's remarkable." The druid began to treat Ty'lek. "This isn't the safest profession."

Cricket laughed. "I like it. I don't think I could stand working the fields. Just too… boring. I'd rather risk my life a couple times a week."

Jeshu made a surprised sound.

Cricket sat cross-legged, accidentally placing a finger in the cracked shell of his leg. He recoiled at the unexpected sensation.

"I have something for that," Jeshu commented as he began to work on the archer's shoulder. "Just give me a minute."

Cricket cleaned his feelers on his wrist. "How did you stop the ratling from attacking Ty'lek? He was wide open."

"The dead," Jeshu smiled at himself, "hate the living. They are drawn to the spark of life."

"Yes," Cricket agreed absently.

"I simply let a burst of life energy flow from me. A bright surge like a flame. And like a moth he couldn't resist."

"I can do that."

Jeshu's smile turned to one of amusement. "I would like to see it."

Cricket took a deep breath, and held it for a second, but then just exhaled loudly. "You got me. I was bluffing."

"It is a gift from Elkennah," Jeshu explained. "I don't think it would be easy for you to learn."

"Elkennah doesn't sound evil," Cricket observed impassively.

"I would like to think not." The druid finished whatever he was doing and came to kneel next to Cricket. He pulled a round tin from his bag and opened it to reveal a pile of damp wrinkled pellets resembling dried fruit.

"This is black gum resin—a type of tree sap. It will harden when exposed to air for a few days and becomes quite tough and resilient. I believe it is used to make rubber. But in its simple form I think it will be ideal for patching your shell." He smushed a piece between his fingers and brought his arm next to Cricket's leg, pausing for permission.

"Let's find out," Cricket said, and closed his eyes. The sensation as Jeshu worked the resin into the gaps was uncomfortable, but not painful, and Cricket decided to open his eyes and watch.

The color matched surprisingly well.

"I had Oydd procure this from the surface. I believe he sent Raccoon. I was impressed how quickly he found some."

Jeshu gave a troubled look as he treated the shell and Cricket tensed. "Is it not sticking?"

"It's not that," the druid reassured him. "It's what you said about Elkennah. You were surprised that a deity might not be evil."

"Oh, yeah..." Cricket confirmed. "Very."

"Are the gods here so bad?"

"Yes." Cricket shuddered. "I can't imagine them caring about their worshippers. Down here it's more a matter of trying not to offend them. I am somewhat partial to Vidine, because she is the least evil."

"Not really glowing praise," the dryad commented.

"No," Cricket agreed. "But she's the least threat to me. Vidine is the goddess of revenge. So as long as I leave her followers alone, I don't have anything to worry about."

"What other gods are worshiped down here?"

Ty'lek answered. "Serinyes..."

Jeshu looked to Cricket for confirmation.

"He said it right—Serinyes."

"Sessu!" the azaeri hissed, then repeated the word more calmly. "Sessu..."

"I think that means evil," Cricket explained.

Ty'lek shook his head. "Hesth-thess, inun... sesshenii."

"Serinyes, es sesshenii?" Cricket asked, stumbling with the pronunciation.

The azaeri nodded.

"More like malignant, I think. Like a disease." Cricket clarified and the azaeri agreed happily. "The dhampiri worship Serinyes. And it is very much like an infection. She is the cause of too much bloodshed and it's not sustainable."

Jeshu listened attentively. "Are there other gods worshiped down here?"

Cricket thought. "There's Bale, the Betrayer. But I can't fathom why anyone would worship a being known for betraying his followers. Just easily-manipulated creatures, I think, like goblins. There is actually a god of diseases, but I don't remember his name. I might be able to remember a couple more names if you give me time to think about it. What about on the surface?"

"Nothing so treacherous where I lived. We had a peaceful... village, I guess you would call it. Elkennah is known as a goddess of peace. Then there are the twin gods, Freyr and Nidr. Nidr is the god of the hunt and the harvest and is associated with bounty. Some dryads prayed to him to ensure plentiful food. But I can't say that it worked. Freyr," Jeshu continued, "is associated with wisdom and his worshippers approach him for answers to difficult questions. Neither of them were very particular. Even as a follower of Elkennah, I could approach Freyr if I sought knowledge."

"Well Serinyes is a jealous goddess. She requires strict devotion and punishes followers who displease her in any way," Cricket spat.

Ty'lek agreed.

"And basically the opposite of dispensing wisdom," Cricket added. "She is also called the Deceiver."

"Also?"

"Um... usually they call her the goddess of blades."

"I hate that we helped her," Jeshu observed.

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't we? Either today or in our last mission." Seeing the look of confusion on Cricket's face, Jeshu elaborated. "Today we protected a dhampir. One of the religious leaders, you said. If the church is so ingrained in their society, I imagine we took our orders from the church. Or Damien did. Somewhere up the line anyway."

Cricket scratched his neck and feigned disinterest.

"Last time, we attacked a dhampir. Likely acting as the arm of punishment for the church. I was simply told he was in disfavor."

Cricket nervously looked around to make sure they were alone. "Officially, we did not."

"Or was it the will of Serinyes that this bishop die?" Jeshu continued. "We might as well have been this trollblood. Is he a slave simply following orders?" Jeshu finished tending to the more grievous wound in Cricket's leg then began to patch up the fresh scratches from the lizardman's claws. "What are these holes down the side of your back? They look like vents."

"More like noses. That's how I breathe. Can you get my shoulder too? I'm not as strong when the shell isn't intact."

Jeshu nodded.

"We should head back to the catacombs," Cricket suggested. "I doubt there will be another attack tonight, but we don't have any clear command above me and I don't want someone to decide we weren't at our post."

"Agreed," Jeshu said.

"We can head back in the morning if we don't see anyone."

Jeshu finished mending the insect's shoulder.

"The trollblood was a necromancer," Cricket finally answered.

"So is Oydd."

"But Oydd isn't evil," Cricket protested.

"Damien certainly is," the dryad countered. Seeing the look on Cricket's face he added, "I didn't mean to be critical. I just don't know what side we're really on. Perhaps that ogre we fought viewed us the same way you viewed this trollblood."

"I'm not like that ogre."

"I'm sorry," Jeshu tried to drop the subject. "I didn't mean any offense."

But Cricket pressed the issue. "I'm not like him."

The druid made no response and Cricket added under his breath, "I've never met a good ogre." He turned to the archer. "Ty'lek, how do you see it?"

The azaeri lifted his beak slightly as he considered the question then answered, "Dyess... yu." He struggled heavily pronouncing both syllables.

"It's okay," the druid relented, seeing the azaeri's efforts. "You can call me Jesh."