3

The Dhampiri

Given the chance, Cricket could have spent hours in the armory. He played with a ball and chain for a minute before encountering a shelf full of long knives and hunting blades and even one ornate, albeit ancient, dagger. Cricket recalled he already had two knives tucked into the carapace at his hips. What he really needed was a sword. The selection of swords was pretty sparse, but the few available were in the right weight range. Flimsy, curved and dull, however, was the best he could get. Cricket grabbed two nearly identical blades along with a leather strap that wrapped twice across his chest and once around the waist. He then fastened the blades where the straps crossed his back.

Bats clapped his hands and danced when he saw a couple of bear traps, and Skunk placed two slender vials in a loop of his belt before concealing three or four daggers in various places on his person.

Cricket stood a little too close to Bats on their way out and caught an intense whiff of urine. With a good washing, Cricket observed, Bats might have been white as chalk.

Oydd stood at the exit marking inventory on a fresh scroll, then held a thin hand to the white tentacles above his beak, pondering. "We'll need a wagon. Something hand drawn. We don't have far to go."

"Where are we going?" Cricket asked.

Oydd waited until the ratlings were out of earshot. "There is an abandoned part of Al Tsirith only a few miles from here called Vestu Peska.

“Al Tsirith… the dhampir city?”

“Yes,” Oydd answered absently, “but these are ruins no longer claimed by the dhampiri. They are overrun with goblins. Walk with me." The ratlings ran up ahead and the rudra continued as the two made their way up the same winding paths to the debriefing room. "Some of the buildings are still very much intact, and a young dhampir noble is holed up in the remains of a small castle, using it as sort of a bunker. Meaning, he has only one way out and limited food."

"Why do we want to kill him?"

"We don't get to ask that!" Oydd snapped. "Be careful, or you could get yourself killed. The dhampiri are so high above us in standing that we are not to ever acknowledge our success here. We go in. We eliminate him, and then we never speak of it again. Understood?"

Cricket nodded.

"I have a goal of my own, after we are successful. And for that, we need a wagon."

"Remember what happened to Beetle?" Cricket warned the rudra.

"I am not a fool. Beetle tried to take something that the Left Hand wanted. I intend to take something that nobody wants. You'll learn that anything can be taken by slaves, from slaves, and the dhampiri will not bat an eye. They do not trade in squalor." Oydd's eyes narrowed.

Cricket sensed it was best to drop the issue, and strolled on in silence. They passed the debriefing room where Beetle met his end, devoured by a tentacled monstrosity. Cricket wanted to know the being's name, but had already told Oydd he wouldn't ask any questions. That was short-sighted, but Cricket decided to stick to his self-imposed rule.

Next came the stables, with the two fat, crimson beasts from earlier as well as some two-legged lizards with gigantic maws that hopped around in a little pit, stained to the knees with their own greasy dung.

In front of the stables, two goblins chaperoned a strange humanoid in manacles. It stood a foot taller than Cricket though a bit stockier. Rather than skin, a soft bark covered its body from head to toe and a few green leaves even poked out from behind its pointed ears.

Oydd approached. "Is this the Dryad?"

The larger goblin gave a curt nod. "Where are your papers?"

Oydd handed over an unsealed scroll which the head goblin passed to his underling. The wiry goblin unrolled the parchment and read a few words, his sharp nose nearly touching the page. Finally he wandered over to the prisoner and unlocked the manacles with a tiny tin key. "He's your problem now." The smaller goblin grinned, accentuating his green dimples.

The dryad studied Oydd, somewhat resigned, and introduced himself. "Jeshudassik." He bowed.

"It doesn't bother me," Oydd replied, "but be hesitant to speak first until you know the standing of your associates. You're fortunate that I don't really outrank you."

The dryad nodded at the advice and waited until spoken to again.

"Jeshudassik," Oydd repeated. "From the surface," he added with a glance toward Cricket. "I believe that name means the 'lost seed'?"

Jeshudassik thought long then shook his head. "Wandering."

"Fitting," Oydd said, forcing a frown. "I realize this is a tragedy for you, given that you may never return home."

"Can we call you something shorter?" Cricket interrupted. "Like Jesh?"

The dryad answered slowly again. "I would prefer Jeshu."

"That's too long." Cricket cracked his knuckles, deep in thought. "A good nickname should be as short as possible."

"I believe I can handle two syllables," Oydd answered dryly.

"Can you fight?" Cricket asked.

"I will learn. But I believe my knowledge may be of use. I was known as a healer among my people."

"That's good," Oydd said. "Intelligence is sorely lacking down here."

They stopped at the stables momentarily to collect a small mushroomwood cart, which Cricket was expected to pull, being the strongest of the group. The back offered more than enough room for the two ratlings, who hopped aboard without consideration for their added weight. But with only two wheels, it felt more like a large wheelbarrow to Cricket.

Oydd led the others down some back allies and then toward the great dhampir city, Al Tsirith. Though ultimately they skirted west of the metropolis onto an old path overgrown with black nettle and poison lilies. Cricket guessed they were poisonous because his shins itched where he brushed up against them, despite his thick shell.

Bats dozed off early on, and Skunk yawned loudly and often, but it seemed less like he was falling asleep and more like it took him a long time to wake up.

Despite Oydd's promise to discuss things on the road, the group traveled in silence for several hours after the city vanished in the distance.

Cricket asked suddenly "What is a Skunk?"

Skunk shifted uncomfortably and took some time before answering. "It's a beast from the surface. A predator feared by all of its prey." Skunk nodded to himself. "But not because of its size. It's venomous and cunning. It's black with a white stripe down its back like some of the spider's here." He became excited as he talked. "And that's a warning to other animals to leave it alone. I like to poison my weapons, so it sticks."

"The name sticks?" Cricket asked.

"Yes. Our names always stick. The others pick a name and then you're stuck with it. But I like mine. I'm like a fierce skunk." Skunk pulled one of the vials from his belt. "Raccoon killed some skunks on the surface and collected their poison glands. I put it on my daggers before a fight."

"Why'd you grab rusty knives?"

"Rust is... another type of poison. You want your knives real dirty... but sharp!"

Cricket had to agree. He groaned at himself, wishing he had grabbed some rusty swords instead of clean ones. Why offer that courtesy to your foe?

"I heard you call him ‘cuz’ earlier," Cricket continued. "Are you really related?"

"Probably. Cousin's good enough."

"We'll have to be silent from here on," Oydd said.

"We've been silent up to now," Cricket countered.

"Not at my counsel. If you wanted to talk, you should have done so earlier."

Cricket dropped the conversation, sulking a bit.

The party came to a narrow gorge spanned by several small bridges—three rope contraptions of varying inspiration, the remains of a stone platform that must have once spanned the chasm, and even a thin, fifteen-foot plank tossed haphazardly over the shortest gap. Alarmingly, the plank showed the most signs of passage.

"Bats," Oydd whispered. "You will stay here with the cart."

"What!" Bats cried indignantly. "No, no, no." He scurried away from the rudra.

Oydd rose to his full five feet, somewhat menacing to the much smaller ratling, and repeated his order.

Bats, undeterred, climbed to the top of the cart, about two feet from the ground so he could nearly look the rudra in the eye, and shout-whispered "No!" once again, this time accentuating the word by jabbing a thin, clawed finger at the rudra's face.

"Come on." Cricket tried to calm him. "It's an important job. You're lookout. Climb up on that boulder there and keep an eye on us. If you see trouble, you might be able to warn us."

"Trouble like what?" Bats asked skeptically.

"Like if you see us walking into a trap, you could yell a warning."

"Actually," Oydd said, "I don't want you to do that. I want you to watch and wait. If the mission goes south, hide until it is safe and then report back directly to Damien."

Bats liked this explanation less than Cricket's, but made no further protest.

Oydd then selected a bridge he believed to have the most trustworthy construction and the gang crossed one at a time before traversing the ruins on the far side. The area hinted at a once low-functioning village, with the vestiges of some walls built of lazily-stacked, air-dried bricks, the hoofprints of livestock in the hard, black mud, and even two barren wells. The remains meandered back into a crevice in the rock, where the stronghold was likely nestled.

The group saw no activity among the ruins until nearing the end of the cleft, where a sturdy wall of cut white bricks gave indication of a fortification behind. There, but in the distance, Cricket spotted a small squad of goblins stationed near a gate. To either side of the iron portcullis stood an ubo, a race of diminutive cyclopes that came to no more than four feet tall if you counted the horn on their heads. Still, they wore full plate armor and brandished menacing two-handed axes.

Cricket held up a hand to alert the others and pulled the group behind a half-collapsed wall. He sighed as he sized up the enemies. "I think we need a distraction."

Oydd smiled sardonically. "I have seen you take on a dozen goblins with only a few scratches."

Cricket considered him, a bit surprised. "I would still prefer to have a plan."

"Yes, I was only joking. We're not going to just charge in." Oydd sat cross-legged on the ground, his grey robes covering his legs, and drew a crude map of the area in the dirt with his staff. He looked back across the ravine where Bats guarded the wagon and mumbled to himself.

"I have an idea," Skunk interjected.

Oydd ignored him for a moment tapping his white fingers along the side of his beak, and then said "I'm listening."

"Goblins will give chase, but the ubo are more trained and will stay at their posts. I believe I can lead the goblins away and then the three of you can ambush the guards. Three against two."

"How would you lead them away?" Oydd asked.

"I don't know. Throw a rock at them to get their attention. They hate rats. We're like the only thing smaller than them..."

Jeshu shook his head. "That seems unpredictable and they might sound an alarm. Make them think it's their idea."

Oydd turned his attention to the Dryad. "What do you have in mind?"

"How many do you think there are?" Jeshu asked.

"I saw at least six. Let's assume as many are out of sight."

"Perhaps if the ratling builds a fire near the chasm? The goblins would come to investigate. But it would not arouse suspicion. The rest of us could take care of any stragglers. If the ubo are dead when they return, the goblins will scatter."

Oydd smiled at the dryad’s reasoning. "Excellent. Skunk, travel back to that spot that's visible from here. But have Bats withdraw about a furlong before you start a fire. There's flint and steel in the wagon."

"Better make it two furlongs," Cricket added.

"Do you even know what that word means?" Oydd hissed.

"Well, um..." Cricket stammered.

Oydd looked at the ratling, who seemed equally clueless. He sighed. "It's a distance. About from here to that hut."

Skunk nodded then sprinted back up the trail toward Bats.

"We'll have cover if we circle around this way," Oydd continued to the others. "When the goblins move out, we move in from behind that building. From now on, whispers are too loud. Understood?"

Jeshu nodded but Cricket just stared off at the ubo, calculating.

The insect walked several yards ahead of the others, having the quietest step, and scouted for stray goblins. He silenced two as he positioned himself, easily overpowering the smaller humanoids and, and hid their bodies in the dying pools of an abandoned tannery.

Then they waited.

*****

Skunk made it back to the cart in a matter of minutes, panting, and explained the new plan to Bats.

Bats laughed maniacally, "We'll kill them all!"

"No," Skunk shook his head. "We're just supposed to lure them away and distract them."

"We'll kill them!" Bats repeated and excitedly retrieved two bear traps from where they hung on the cart. "Get some food. Goblins are stupid."

"And what?" Skunk asked. "Use it as bait?"

Bats nodded enthusiastically. "If we have food, we can stall ‘em longer. Want to dig up some moles?"

Bats ran to a nearby field–a mostly flat area of the cave, with rich and dark soil from crab droppings. He sniffed along the ground on all fours until he found a spot that he liked and began to dig.

Skunk ambled a bit behind. He pulled a knife from his boot, reversed it in his grip, then followed around his eager friend.

*****

"What's taking so long?" Oydd whispered, breaking his own edict of silence. "It's been nearly an hour."

"It hasn't been that long," Cricket said. "Besides, this is better timing. Look how tired the ubo look."

"Your eyes must be better than mine," Oydd said matter-of-factly. Still he peered at the guards, squinting until a loud, lurch startled him.

The smooth rolling of gears replaced the sudden screech, and the iron gate rose into the ceiling of the keep. It ended with another grinding lurch, and a moment later a rather large ogre stooped to exit the eight-foot passage. The ubo saluted and exchanged a few brief words with the hulk. The ogre wore a loin cloth sewn from the pelts of giant bats, with black and red war paint streaked across his amber skin.

From the distance, Cricket couldn't make out anything they said, but his antennae vibrated at the deep tones of the monster's voice.

"Tell me it's not the changing of the guard," Oydd whispered cynically.

However, after a short conversation, the ubo returned to their posts and the ogre stooped to reenter the keep. The portcullis fell behind him, much faster than it was drawn up, and crashed loudly to the ground.

"Does this change anything?" Cricket asked.

"No. I knew they had an ogre. I'm prepared to engage it."

"Good." Cricket whispered. "Because look." He pointed back toward the chasm. A small fire was already visible on the far side of the ravine.

"Good call," Oydd considered. "They'll have to cross the chasm to investigate, which gives us more time." He held a finger up to his beak as a reminder to remain silent.

Soon, they noticed some excitement among the goblin guards. The creatures scrambled for their spears and fastened their helmets and the whole squad passed very near where Cricket, Oydd and the Dryad lay in wait.

Once the commotion faded, Oydd signaled Cricket. The insectoid tapped the dryad on the shoulder then disappeared around the left of the building. Jeshudassik sighed, unsure of the plan they had discussed, but proceeded to his right, strolling down the main lane in plain sight. The cyclops guards watched him from a distance, and when the Dryad came within a hundred yards they readied their axes. The first opened his mouth as if to offer a warning, but before he spoke, a shiny black flash crashed into him from the side and a long blade penetrated his throat, blocking the words before they came out. The second guard barely had time to turn and acknowledge his comrade's death before Cricket was upon him. The insectoid leapt onto the shaft of the ubo's axe, latching on with both feet and two arms, forcing the cyclops to carry his weight for just a split second. Which was all it took for Cricket to position both swords in a cross beneath its helmet and drag the blades against his exposed chin. The second ubo also fell without a sound.

Two goblins remained in the clearing, but they squealed and scattered in opposite directions. Cricket let them go.

He wiped the blood from his swords onto the body at his feet and reattached them to the leather straps on his back.

"That was pretty quiet, right?"

Jeshu looked about the clearing. "Yes, I believe."

Oydd appeared a moment later from the same side from which Cricket had launched his attack. The three stared at the gate. The rudra crouched next to the body of the fallen ubo and placed the tip of his metal rod on the forehead of the cyclops. He softly whispered the words of magic, and the creature's eye opened rapidly, as if waking from a dream.

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"Don't be startled," the rudra cautioned with a glance at his allies. "He is still dead. But I wish to get some information from him." He then addressed the ubo directly. "Can this gate be opened from the outside?"

Oydd seemed to listen to an answer, by the expression on his face. But Cricket heard nothing.

The rudra spoke again, "No, I am your master. Do not defy me. Tell me what you know." He spoke calmly, hypnotically, and then nodded at a response only he could hear.

Oydd rose to his feet. "It may be hours before anyone opens this from the inside. I believe our options are to block the gate from this side and attempt to starve them out, or to overpower the mechanism.

"While I cannot move quickly," Jeshu said, "I can generate a surprising amount of force if I have time."

"How much time?" Oydd asked.

"A few minutes. Perhaps less."

"Do it. Cricket, assist him. This gate is old and the gears may simply buckle. Either way, busting them will make a lot of noise and we'll need to rush in and secure the area quickly."

Cricket and Jeshu each took one side of the portcullis, but the dryad signaled for Cricket not to wait. He wrapped his thick bark fingers around the lower bars of the gate and his vine-like muscles bulged. The Dryad grunted and pulled, not with a yank but steady pressure. Slowly but surely, the gears groaned and relented against the constant stubborn force. Like a weed crumbling stone, the plantlike humanoid raised the gate on his own.

At one point, Cricket tried to help, but the strength he contributed seemed insignificant. This was more a feat of endurance and tenacity, and stamina was never his strong suit. Cricket decided to save his strength for an onslaught.

*****

"No, put it here." Skunk motioned at a spot on the ground with a few weeds. "We can cover it up so they don't see it. God, we should have done this earlier."

"No, here. Goblins come charging across this bridge, it doesn't matter if they see it. First one sees it and gets pushed in anyway. Or first one jumps over it and the second one doesn't see it. We just need it to get one." Bats finished pounding in the stake with a flat rock then stepped back to admire his work. "Where's the other trap?"

Skunk motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. "By the fire. Since they'll skirt the fire, I can predict how they'll move better." His whiskers twitched. "Here they come! Go hide. You're not supposed to be here."

"No!" Bats whispered even though Skunk was talking at full volume. He loosed a small cudgel from his belt and hopped over to the fire, careful to avoid the other trap half-buried in the dirt.

Skunk shrugged then took a position by the smaller rope bridge, where he had already frayed the support cables with his knife. He hollered and waved at the impish brutes.

The goblins clamored up to the gorge loudly, but reached an absolute frenzy when they smelled the burnt mole. Their indelicate palates watered at the smell of singed fur, and the largest goblin in the back trampled over his comrades, even tossing a runt over the ledge in his haste to reach the bridge first.

Skunk cut the first cord as the goblins piled onto the rope bridge, but it still held under the weight of five goblins, and the largest was more than halfway across. It gnashed its yellow teeth at the ratling. Skunk cut the second cord hastily and the last two began to uncoil and snap of their own accord. Three flailing forms disappeared into the chasm and another clung, screeching, to the rope. It crashed back-first into the rock wall, dislodging a smaller goblin that held onto the ledge. The runt nearly saved itself by grabbing onto its companion, dangling momentarily until a cracked green heel smashed into its mouth not once but twice, and the lower goblin dropped out of sight with a hoglike squeal.

The clattering of spears rebounded from the rock walls below. Skunk realized he wasn't breathing. He forced a few deep breaths and reassured himself, "That... wasn't close." He produced a dagger from somewhere in his black fur and flung it at the dangling goblin. It struck somewhere around the ribs—nothing serious—but the shock caused the goblin to lose his grip with one hand. It dropped a foot before saving itself. Frustrated, Skunk picked up a rock and chucked it right at his foe's head. The stone connected with the creature's temple, and this time it dropped lifelessly into the void.

A yell from Bats diverted his attention, and Skunk saw several more goblins working their way across the second bridge. Bats' intuition proved fruitful as the first goblin across triggered the bear trap with only a last-second realization before it snapped his leg clean off at the shin. To make matters worse, the following band trampled the unfortunate vanguard, mangling his remaining leg.

Bats readied his cudgel on the far side of the fire. His tail waved back and forth eagerly. The goblins spread around the fire pit and Bats circled toward the side with the bear trap. At the last moment, the lead goblin noticed the iron teeth sticking from the dirt and leapt over them, only to be jammed into the fire by a well-timed shoulder from Bats.

By the time Skunk arrived to help, Bats had disappeared under a pile of green limbs. The goblins stabbed and clawed and bit, and Bats bit back twice as hard, scoring a hit now and then with his cudgel.

Skunk jumped onto a goblin with its back toward him and stabbed repeatedly near the kidneys until it stopped squirming.

A goblin lurched at him, stepping squarely on the covered bear trap. But because of its forward momentum it nearly cleared the trap before it sprang. The iron teeth barely clipped its foot, tearing off three toes, and the goblin whimpered as it stumbled forward landing on its chin.

"We need smaller traps!" Bats announced as he rose from a pile of green corpses. "Their limbs are too scrawny."

The sickly sweet scent of charred goblin hung thick in the air and Skunk nearly puked.

Bats seemed unaffected. "Eeee!" He screamed and ran along the edge of the gorge toward the plank bridge. Two more goblins attempted to cross and Bats sprinted to beat them to the end of the plank. When he got there he gave it a stiff kick, but with the added weight of the goblins, the board didn't budge in the slightest. The head goblin threw his spear and it stuck in Bats' side. However, the drive of it cost him his balance and the goblin teetered on the thin plank.

Bats brought his heel down on the plank and the whole board bounced, knocking the creature prone. Its pointy nose crashed into the hard wood with a satisfying crunch. Bats stomped again and again and the vibrating board slid along the edge until a bit of rock broke and the whole thing, goblins and all, toppled into the gorge.

Red blood covered Bats' face, along with streaks of green from the goblins. He grabbed the spear at his side as if to pull it out.

"No, wait!" Skunk shouted, but Bats didn't listen. He pulled out the hooked spear and a string of his intestines came with it. Bats stared in shock for a moment then dropped to his side. His paw twitched, half-kicking in the mud.

Skunk rolled him onto his back. Bats' lower jaw quivered and he stared past his cousin. Rolling him revealed many other wounds, including a gash in his throat. He must have taken it by the fire. Most of his yellow fur was now matted and stained by blood.

Skunk checked for a pulse, but knew it was pointless. He didn't have the slightest idea how to treat any of the wounds anyway. He grabbed his knife tightly with both hands,

then drove it deep into Bats' temple and left it there for a minute. Put down. That's what Skunk would prefer for himself, rather than be left to suffer. Skunk shivered at the thought of being trapped in a lifeless body, unable to plead for his own death.

He drew his blade and wiped it clean on his own leather chaps before kicking dirt onto the fire and making his way back across one of the remaining bridges toward the others.

*****

At last the gate gave with a high-pitched unearthly whine, and Jeshu slammed it into the ceiling. Before the dryad could blink, Cricket dashed past him, a curved sword in each of his upper arms.

As he ran he pulled the daggers from his hips with his smaller, lower arms and immediately cut down two goblins in the entrance chamber. Two ubo stood ready around the corner, waiting for the intruders, but misjudged the insect's speed. The first swung his axe down, missing entirely. Cricket lodged a sword under the second axe, where it met the shaft, and ran behind the ubo, tripping him backwards as he worked his daggers under the grey cyclops' helmet. That was Cricket's new favorite weak spot for this type of plate mail. Armor always had chinks and openings, and daggers were the best for finding them.

An axe flew at his head again from the first ubo. He deflected it with his free sword and shifted away from the attacker. The stalky cyclops swung again, faster than Cricket anticipated and he was forced to block it with his two daggers.

Clearly expecting to plow through Cricket's defense, the insectoid's strength caught the ubo off guard, and it hesitated with its axe caught in the cross of the smaller blades. Cricket took full advantage of the opportunity, bringing the daggers down in the pits of the warrior’s arms and then back up again to catch the weapon before it moved more than an inch.

Then he circled around the creature, landing two glancing blows against the side of its head with his swords—ringing the helmet like a bell.

The stunned guard lowered the axe to its waist, struggling to hold onto the shaft as blood dripped from the gaps in the armor at his armpits. He gawked about a bit, trying to locate his opponent, when Jeshu attacked from behind, bashing his helmet in with a rock.

The dryad picked up one of the axes, tested its weight, thought better of it and dropped the weapon clanging to the floor.

"Two paths," The rudra's voice joined them from the entryway. He indicated left and right with his staff. "I believe it's a loop. If we attack one way, he could escape the other. Do we risk splitting up?"

"I think swiftness is more of an advantage right now," Cricket answered. "We plow to the right at full speed and don't give them time to think."

Oydd nodded. "We'll move in quickly. Jeshu, stay here just in case."

In the next room, Cricket found several crates, mostly empty, and framed portraits draped in oiled cloth. The dusty floor showed signs of frequent passage, including the larger, bare footprints of the ogre.

Cricket moved quietly along the wall toward a torchlit chamber in the back when he heard the unmistakable heavy steps of the brute heading his way. Cricket took a position to the side of the doorway and readied all four weapons. The beast sniffed and spat, only feet from him but out of sight. Its bulk blocked nearly all of the torchlight.

Oydd froze in the middle of the room and Cricket sensed the beast tense as it noticed the intruder. A moment later, the ogre bellowed and charged in after the rudra.

Cricket swung both swords but only grazed its arm as it rushed Oydd. The first sword barely nicked its skin and the second bounced harmlessly off of its shoulder guard.

The ogre dragged a massive mace behind him with an iron head bigger than an entire ratling. Still it moved quickly, unburdened by the weight.

Alarmed, Cricket chased after the ogre, attempting to reach it before it flattened his companion.

Oydd drew a line in the dust with his staff, mumbling in a deep vibrato that resonated from the walls of the small room. The ogre slowed, uncertain of what to expect from the spellcaster, and Cricket caught up from behind, hacking at its heels with both swords.

The ogre roared and turned on Cricket just as Oydd threw a lavender powder at its face. The handful of dust splashed against the side of the ogre's head, blinding one eye.

The ogre retaliated with a few violent, random waves of its mace, and Oydd barely dodged, falling backwards in a heap on the ground. Cricket shifted away effortlessly then countered with a stab to the chest, hitting bone. He withdrew again, and fortunately the ogre pursued rather than finishing off the rudra.

Cricket evaded the first few blows without much trouble, but the relentless beast pressed him tirelessly, blow after blow. Cricket barely found time for defense, which became increasingly difficult as he lost ground and tried to navigate the broken crates. He could only move back so many times before he hit a wall. Panicking, Cricket darted left, hoping to put some distance between them. The huge mace clipped his shoulder and nearly sent him sprawling. His carapace cracked audibly, and he felt it shift. Despite his best effort, Cricket dropped one of his swords. The arm felt numb.

When Cricket looked back up at his opponent, the ogre was already in mid-throw, hurling his mace across the room at the insect.

Cricket screeched in panic before he rolled to the side and the massive iron weapon crashed into the wall, cracking the stonework from floor to ceiling, dislodging a considerable amount of debris from above.

"Aha!" Cricket shouted triumphantly, retrieving the ogre's mace. However, he struggled to lift it with all three good arms. The ogre barreled toward him, and in a bleak moment, Cricket decided to abandon his efforts in favor of rearming himself with his daggers. He did so at a bit of a run, and found himself at the rudra's side.

His brute of an opponent easily hefted the mace again and let it rest on his pauldron.

Cricket glowered. "I'm as strong as he is!"

"No, you are not!" Oydd corrected, rising to his feet.

Cricket kept his gaze on the ogre as it rounded a crate and stalked in slowly. One of its eyes swelled up so that it looked twice the size, the eyelid red, inflamed and gushing tears.

"I would have gotten both eyes if you hadn't distracted him," Oydd said with a bit of annoyance.

"If I hadn't distracted him, you would be white mush..."

Oydd growled, tightening the grip on his staff.

Cricket pointed with his lone sword. "...right over there on the ground."

In a surreal moment, Skunk trotted obliviously into the room only feet from the ogre with his two tiny, rusty daggers in his paws. He squeaked, cognizant of his ill-timing, just as the ogre's mace made contact, splattering the ratling along the wall.

"No!" Cricket shouted then charged in with a series of stabs with his daggers, forcing the beast to abandon its weapon. His sword felt off balance without a second in his other arm, so Cricket tossed it aside in annoyance. It clattered to the floor.

Without the mace to weigh it down, the ogre fought more deftly. But Cricket met each of its punches with the jab of a blade until the ogre grew hesitant to attack. Finally, it began breathing heavily. And Cricket sighed in relief, knowing how to end the fight. He pressed it with constant, minor attacks, forcing it to spend more energy or risk being sliced open. Meanwhile he stayed calm, staying just out of reach and striking only when he could get in and out with minimal effort.

The ogre began to move sluggishly. It tried to circle around to retrieve its weapon but Cricket beat it there. Cricket dropped his knives and attempted to pick up the mace again. This time he grabbed it with all four arms, two at the top and two at the bottom for leverage and hefted the mace somewhat strenuously over his head.

The ogre almost laughed at what seemed a pathetic display, until the insectoid brought the mace crashing down onto the ogre's foot. The ogre howled. Cricket spun around, aiming a second, slower swing at its knee which produced a satisfying crack, though the blow seemed less effective than the insect had hoped. The ogre fell to its hands and trembled from shock as it stared at its bloody, crippled foot.

"Leave its head intact!" Oydd shouted concerned.

Seeing as the fight was over, and not in a mood to argue, Cricket obliged, making two more side swipes at the ogre's knee and ribs. At last the brute toppled sideways, out cold, and its head made a sickening sound as it slapped against the floor.

Cricket dropped the mace. His hands trembled as he searched the dark corners for Skunks' body. He found the remains of his ratling comrade, most of them in a lump against the wall, then dropped to his knees, shaking.

"You always cared about them," Oydd observed from behind. "I admire that, but I can't say I feel the same. It's a mission. Sometimes we lose people."

Cricket crouched at the body silently until he heard Oydd's retreating footsteps and the cold tap of his staff against the stone with each step.

"Come on. Let us finish what we came to do."

If any denizens of the keep remained, they hid. Cricket and Oydd walked unimpeded into a small throne room and found the master of the hold sitting on the ground leaning against the side of the vacant throne.

The dhampir wore his full regalia, including emblazoned silver armor, a sash, a few medals and a scepter. In his other hand he held a fine short sword that looked more ceremonial than functional.

Cricket recognized the dhampir. Not this one in particular, but he remembered them. And he loathed them. It was, perhaps, one of his deepest memories.

The being almost looked regal with its smooth milky skin, as white as its fangs, and long batlike ears. And yet, somehow it seemed feral. They all did. Too hungry. Too starved, always, to be part of a civilized world. Two sets of fangs on top, Cricket observed. Designed for tearing open prey. Draped in silk robes to convey sophistication. Unconsciously, Cricket clenched his fists so tight that they creaked.

The dhampir looked off into the distance as he spoke. "It is all lost."

Oydd approached the defeated noble and placed the tip of his metal rod on the man's forehead. The dhampir showed no signs of resistance.

"Ha'nex" the rudra commanded, and the dust swirled around the noble as his skin shriveled and blackened. Finally, the dhampir let out a loud rasping breath and the room fell silent. Motes of dust settled peacefully over the corpse.

"Leave him," Oydd ordered. "Don't touch him. Don't touch his belongings. There is nothing on him we can use or sell without being tied to his death."

Cricket nodded.

"And..." Oydd added pensively. "I need you to load the ogre onto the wagon."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Cricket protested.

"What do you mean?"

"The wagon is on the other side of the gorge."

"Oh," Oydd stroked his tentacles like a beard. "We better retrieve it together. Let's let Jeshu know our task is finished."

"Wait," Cricket stepped behind the throne. "Look." He pressed his hands against the brick wall.

"At what?"

"Look at the floor."

Oydd peered a bit before noticing anything of interest. "I see a very faint gouge. I wouldn't have noticed it with all the dust."

"There are cracks all the way up to here, but I can't see above. I think it's a doorway. But I don't see how to open it."

"If it's a doorway, it hasn't been used in some time. Stand back," Oydd ordered. "I'm going to try to move it."

Cricket obeyed.

The rudra raised a hand, parallel with the wall and closed his eyes, concentrating. The veins on his bulbous head bulged and the dust rose slowly from the floor. Finally with a grunt, he opened his eyes. "It's too heavy. But there is a pocket of air back there. Let me try to heat it."

This time, Oydd raised his staff and drew a circle in the air. Cricket felt a rush of warmth. Oydd traced the circle a second time then raised a palm to his chest then pressed it away from himself—firmly through the air, as though he faced resistance—as he exhaled.

Oydd still held his palm facing the wall but turned to face Cricket. "Hot air expands. If this works—"

A snap interrupted the magic-user as the door burst open a few inches. Oydd raised the sleeve of his robe to protect his face from the rush of hot air. "...it will create pressure from the inside."

Cricket waited for the wave of heat to pass then ran to the opening excitedly. He tried to swing the door wide open, but it jammed against the floor with just enough space to squeeze through. Oydd followed after and the two found themselves in a small storeroom of sorts, surprisingly free of dust.

The room contained several small wicker chests, a veiled portrait and four more crates, three of them filled with yellow coins.

"Gold," Oydd said. "Totally worthless here, but of some value on the surface, I believe."

"They're not worth anything?" Cricket attempted to lift one of the crates but set it back down immediately. "Gold is heavy."

"But surprisingly soft. If you bite it, it should leave a mark."

Cricket held a coin close to his eye, examining the inscription. His feelers lightly touched the metal and then he bit down suddenly, tearing a large chunk from the coin.

"That's... quite the bite you've got there," Oydd said, visibly stunned.

Cricket spit the chunk out of his mouth then tossed the rest of the coin back on the pile and examined the last crate. At the bottom he found several long cotton garment bags. He opened the first and found an exquisite silk robe with intricate golden embroidery.

Oydd approached the portrait and tore the cloth covering aside. The painting depicted a dhampir noble, mostly in shades of grey other than a bright crimson sash. "Ahrose, the Baroness," the rudra read the inscription. "I can't even tell the females apart from the males. Not by the face alone. They're so dour."

"From what I know, that's how I would picture female rudra," Cricket snipped.

Oydd regarded him dolefully. "No, they have an elegance and social refinement. The dhampiri can only imitate such graces." He threw the cloth back over the portrait then proceeded to the middle of the room. Let's see if anything here is magical in nature."

Oydd hummed then lifted his staff. The metal vibrated and the rudra clicked the end once against the ground. The stone hummed as well. Oydd lifted the staff and struck a second time. Now the room vibrated noticeably, but the din settled and everything began to vibrate in unison with a single, crisp, clear note. As it faded, a couple objects in the room emitted a faint glow.

First, Oydd noticed a small glass orb that had escaped his attention before, a crystal so unclouded it blended in atop a pile of gold. Now it glowed with an almost imperceptible silver light. As Oydd reached for it, the tips of his fingers vanished. He hesitated, but grabbed the orb and his entire hand disappeared. The rudra laughed and handed the relic to Cricket. As soon as he let go, his fingers reappeared and the insect's vanished. "It's nothing more than a trick. A spell, to be sure, but what use is it?"

"Why didn't the gold disappear," Cricket asked.

"I don't know," Oydd said, curiously.

Cricket held the orb against the wall and the stones vanished, but only a few inches deep. In several spots, Cricket could see the soil peeping through from behind the wall. He even located the whitened corpse of a centipede.

"Can I see your brain?"

"No, you may not," Oydd answered sourly. He extended his hand and Cricket returned the bauble. Oydd spoke a soft word and his hand rematerialized around the glass. "Don't worry, it's temporary," he explained, stuffing the orb in the pouch at his waist.

Cricket opened one of the wicker chests with a dim glow, then squealed in delight. "Throwing stars!" He held up three twisted rings of blades and spread them in his fingers for the rudra to see.

"Shurikens... careful. Hand those to me."

Cricket instinctively pulled the weapons away from his companion.

"For a moment," Oydd added. "I'll give them back."

Cricket relented, handing one over, and the rudra scrutinized the object. "They have some sort of impact magic. Meaning, an enchantment that will release if they strike an object at high speed."

"And then what will happen?"

"I have no idea," Oydd admitted. "Depends on the enchantment. It's not my specialty. But certainly something unfortunate."

Cricket smiled. He tried to spin one around in his fingers, but dropped one of the other two while he was distracted. He caught it with one of his lower hands inches from the ground.

Oydd glared and reprimanded, "If you don't have a place to store those, you should let me hold onto them for the time being."

Chagrined, Cricket's smile disappeared, and he handed the shurikens over for safekeeping. "But I want them back."

Oydd nodded. "They'll need to be registered, but Damien has placed me in charge of requisitions, so I can pull some strings in your favor." Oydd took one more look around the room. "Let's return. We have a lot to do."

The two found Jeshu where they left him, albeit with two more goblins in a heap at his feet. The dryad showed some concern for the wound on Cricket's shoulder and even offered to heal it, but Cricket took a pass, preferring to hit the road rather than spend his time being treated.

The group traveled back to the campfire and surveyed the aftermath of the battle. Jeshu came upon Bats' remains first and hoisted the body onto his shoulders. Cricket retrieved the two bear traps and then the group backtracked along the gorge until they found a bridge capable of supporting the wagon's weight. Together they trudged back to the keep in silence and low spirits, having made the trip for the third time.

Cricket dropped the cart in front of the broken portcullis then waited for the clamor inside the keep to calm down as the remaining goblins scattered and returned to their hiding places.

"Why do you want the ogre anyway?" Cricket asked.

"Damien is teaching me the art of preparing corpses for reanimation. An ogre of this size is considerably valuable."

"Are you powerful enough to bring it back?" Jeshu questioned.

"No, but I can prepare the body now. I'll preserve it using herbs, chemicals, and magic. I may need to mend the bones if any are broken."

Jeshu nodded sagely. "I assumed it was no easy task. I have seen a lot of undead down here, but nothing of this size. It must take considerable talent."

"Search the bodies. I would like two goblins in relatively good condition as well. No missing limbs, few broken bones, and the cranium intact."

Despite the orders, Cricket collected Skunk's drying remains first, and placed them thoughtfully in the wagon. Jeshu and Cricket worked together to lift the ogre, then retrieved his mace, and then finally examined the dead goblins until they found two meeting Oydd's specifications.

Cricket pulled the cart on the return trip, but soon grew tired from the increased load and Jeshu took over. Surprisingly, the dryad never tired. He moved slower than the insectoid, but lumbered along the rocky roads at a steady pace. Eventually, Oydd hopped aboard the wagon. And seeing as it didn't seem to slow the dryad by any noticeable amount, Cricket joined him. He only fought briefly to stay awake.