12

The Ice Caverns

Cricket rubbed his arms to keep them warm. The southern tunnels approached the surface, which meant they froze this time of year. Having ostensibly fallen from favor with his sect, Cricket assumed that Jade fled to these tunnels because of their shifting nature. With the cold weather above and volcanic vents beneath, the caves often thawed and reformed, making it almost impossible to become familiar with the terrain.

Because of that, the dhampiri tended to avoid the area, making it an ideal location for outlaws.

Cricket didn't mind the cold, but it made him sleepy, so he tried to create some warmth just to stay awake. Patches nested on one of his shoulders, which tended to stay a bit warmer than the other. So every now and then he picked her up by the scruff of her neck like a kitten, trying not to wake the mouseling, and moved her to the other shoulder.

If the cold bothered the druid, he made no complaint of it.

Jeshu had met the other dryad slaves, who were now employed in the kitchen, but mostly avoided the subject. He referred to the older dryad as elder Zarachi, and to Yentl only as 'the child.'

"But she's like thirty," Cricket protested.

"That is very young for my kind."

"So there's no chance?"

"Chance of what?" Jeshu asked innocently.

"...Uh... you know..."

"Of romance? No. I don't know where you got the idea."

"It doesn't take a lot of imagination. You're a guy and she's a girl. You’re both trees…"

"You don't realize how young she seems to me."

"Which makes you what? Like forty?"

"I have seen sixty two summers. Though I suppose I need a new way to track time."

"Oh wow..." Cricket gasped. "I don't think any of my kind live that old."

"It is still young for a dryad."

"Well," Cricket thought. "We have a windy season... and a wet season. Both fine choices to track your age."

"What do you use?"

"Oh, I have no idea how old I am. I don't really care to count anyway,” Cricket said blankly. “What's that up ahead?" The insect pointed at a fissure in an otherwise unending glacial wall. Large clumps of rock or ice, entirely frosted over, provided some cover, and in the midst of the enclosure was evidence of a fire pit.

"Care for a break?" Cricket asked cheerily.

"I don't think it would be wise."

"Why? We haven't so much as seen a footprint for miles. And we have to sleep somewhere. Been a while since we've seen a patch of even ground."

Jeshu relented. He dropped the pack full of their provisions in the midst of the clearing. Using his hammer he broke away the ice from the fire pit until he hit dry rock, then removed half their tinder from a bundle at the bottom of his pack and began to stack the dry mushroomwood.

"You said you got some information out of Oydd?" Jeshu pried.

"Hardly..." Cricket thought about the word. "Hold on. I meant that it was hard to do. But he gave us a lot of information. Jade only does solo missions. Which means he is likely very competent. He's never failed to kill a target—"

"Why does that make you sound excited?"

"Because it sounds like a challenge."

"You realize we could die. Quite easily, really," the dryad added.

“Yeah, I don’t know why you came.”

“Because otherwise you would have run off on your own.”

Cricket shrugged. "Oh, I've been saving the best part for last..." the insect beat the ground like a drum with all four hands to build suspense. "He's a Cricket! I mean, he's an insectoid like me."

"Like you," Jeshu raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Supposedly about my size and with a black shell!"

"Well, that is exciting. But you know we're enemies? You aren't going to learn anything. A trained assassin isn't going to talk to you."

"Mmm..." Cricket waved a hand uncertainly, not willing to confirm he knew that.

"Do we know anything about his fighting style?" Jeshu asked.

"Not really. But we should assume his hearing is as good as mine. So we'll need to be fairly quiet when we near the ice caverns. It's a shame Oydd isn't here to help us coordinate with his... mind talking."

"It's called telepathy."

"Telepathy," Cricket repeated. "And did you see that trick he did where he made the knife fly?"

"Yes," Jeshu replied. "But I don't remember what it's called. It's a rare ability."

"Oh, we do know how he got his nickname. Oydd said jade is a precious stone that is easy to enchant. Apparently, Jade has several magical items carved from jade. So that makes sense..."

Cricket thought to himself as the dryad started the fire. The insect made a terrible soup, using a gopher, turnips, and a pink herb that only he seemed to enjoy. Jeshu refused a portion, not willing to consume meat, and only needing to eat every few days. The mouseling only took a few sips of broth, filling her tiny belly.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Cricket ate half the soup before the fire was even lit, then, feeling entitled to the other half, began to scoop spoonfuls directly from the pot. While Jeshu's magic could not produce flame, it did help stoke the fire once lit, and a cozy orange glow danced on the rock walls.

Cricket finished the gopher and left a few slices of turnip in case Jeshu changed his mind in the morning. Then he began to drift to sleep before they decided who had first watch.

*****

Cricket enjoyed finally having bones. Crack! He cracked his knuckles. Crack! Crack! He popped his neck to each side, the way he saw Scorpion do when he was stressed. CRACK! Was that his spine?

Cricket jolted upright, hazy from his dream, and noticed Jeshu sleeping across the fire. Though the druid had drifted off, his fire still blazed, perpetuated by lingering mana. The fire was not unusually hot, but its warmth spread magically to reach the nooks and crevices of the clearing, and the ice had begun to melt.

Cricket yawned and stretched, until he heard another loud crack that nearly made him jump. Cricket turned to look at the ice mound behind him and saw a troll staring back—it's normally greenish skin blue with frostbite. Its saucer-sized eye followed his movement from within a thin, dripping wall of ice. It blinked.

Cricket jumped to Jesh's side and began to shake his branches as he tried to locate the mouseling.

Crack! One of the icy mounds began to stand. Chunks of frost still clung to its furry white arms and legs. It turned its head, haltingly, toward the insect and dryad beneath it and opened its mouth hungrily, revealing a furry green tongue.

Cricket gave Jeshu one last shove, shouting "Trolls!" then dodged a giant, fat, dripping hand.

The troll reached for its club, stuck in the ground, and broke it free. Large clumps of ice clung to the weapon, making it appear only more horrific. It shook the frost from its wooly hide as it rose to its full height, flexing muscles powerful enough to fling an adult ogre across the room.

A second troll broke its arm free from a mound of ice and jerked to loosen its prison. The blue-grey, frostbitten muscle on its arm snapped and splintered.

Jeshu groggily stumbled to his feet, looking for his hammer as a club came crashing down on his head. The druid reached up with both hands to stop the blow but crumpled to the ground under the monster's incredible strength.

The troll lifted its club again and Cricket dashed by, slashing at its ankles. He barely had to lower his head to pass between its legs. Cricket then swerved to divert the second troll away from the druid. In the corner of his eye, he saw a third still struggling to escape the ice, and quickly surveyed the camp site for any more cracking, struggling lumps.

Three trolls. Cricket dodged another grabbing hand, slashing at it twice with his sickles as he did so, but to little effect.

Maybe he didn't like sickles. They were great on smaller things, but swords were so much better on big things. He ducked another club and sprinted over to the third troll, still almost completely trapped in ice. He leapt, landing on the frozen mound and rammed a dagger down through the ice and into the brute's forehead. The frozen bone cracked easily, and he pulled back and stabbed down again, penetrating the skull.

It stopped struggling. Cricket pounded the dagger deeper into its head, and left it there, conscious of their incredible regenerative abilities.

Then he let go and fell, just in time to dodge a meaty fist.

The insect slid between the attacking troll's legs, slashing at its hamstrings with both sickles, but the weapons weren't designed for slashing tendons.

Cricket whirled on his opponent, noticing the remaining troll close in from the side and switched the grip on his sickles, so the blades ran along his forearms.

"Little help!" Cricket cried out, but couldn't get a good look at the druid, and Patches was nowhere to be seen.

Cricket took a deep breath and started forward at a jog. At the last instant, hoping to throw the troll off, he burst into a sprint and slid again between its legs, hooking a sickle into its Achilles tendon and lurching against it with all his weight. The blade only cut about half way through, but the frozen tendon snapped with a thunderous crack, louder than the shattering ice. A tremor shot up the back of the troll's leg.

It tried to turn but tumbled into the frost-crusted ground.

Cricket lunged on the fallen brute, with several frenzied slashes toward its huge eyes. He brought the sickles across multiple times, gouging several large yellow chunks from the sockets before the sluggish creature grabbed him, its fat fingers wrapping around one of his upper arms.

Cricket jabbed a dagger into the side of the troll's wrist, then twisted, while his free sickle hacked at a nerve cluster. He felt the strength leave the fingers and wrenched his arm free. As soon as he hit the ground, he vaulted toward its face, hooking both sickles behind its windpipe. Then he yanked and twisted until he fell free.

Cricket danced backward as the troll reached out again weekly, then circled the ruin of its body, with his eyes on his final opponent.

The last troll dragged its club behind it, weighed down by huge clumps of ice. But Cricket held back cautiously, knowing that even a glancing blow could end him.

The troll lifted his club and brought it down overhead. His frigid muscles moved slowly. Laughably slow, Cricket thought, jumping to the side.

The troll lifted the club again, and this time Cricket estimated its reach, staying just inches out of its range. The troll stepped with another downward swing and Cricket shifted backward, dodging the tip, then ran up the club, jumping to the side of the monster's face, wrapping a sickle around its throat as he fell over its shoulder.

The troll tried to reach over its head, and then twisted trying to grab him from the side, but cricket simply held on, letting his weight dig his weapon deeper and deeper.

The last troll tumbled backward and Cricket rolled to avoid being crushed under its body.

Jeshu let loose a war cry and pounded his hammer into the corpse's head.

"A little late," Cricket critiqued.

An appalling, half-exhausted, half-sickened look marred the dryad's face. And he huffed and puffed—unusual for the druid—looking around in shock. "What in Elkennah's name happened?"

"Hibernating trolls. Trolls just kind of shut down in the cold. Normally, you don't have to deal with them until the thaw. Help me cut their heads off. They'll actually recover from these wounds."

Cricket started to tend to the bodies while Jeshu took several deep breaths to calm himself.

The insect found Patches on the far side of the campsite, watching them sleepily over her wagging tail. She yawned and closed her eyes again.

The trolls' blood steamed in the snow and Cricket shouted at the dryad. "When you get a hold of yourself, I need to talk to you."

Jeshu still faced away. "I... I'm sorry."

"For what?" Cricket asked cheerfully.

"I fell asleep. That doesn't happen to me often. Perhaps it's the cold."

"You're good. I fell asleep too. If we were both that exhausted, then there's not much we could do."

Jeshu thought on his logic then asked, "What did you need?"

"Do you have that healing potion?"

The druid looked back toward his pack. "I do."

"Believe it or not, I think troll's blood is probably a lot more valuable. We could bring some back and surprise Oydd. What do you think, should we just dump the potion."

"No." Jeshu answered. "I need it."

For the first time, Cricket remembered seeing the dryad crumple under the troll's club. All in all he looked okay, but the blow had scraped the bark off half of his face and one arm looked part-splintered if not broken.

"Oh, yeah... of course."

Jeshu walked groggily over to his pack and retrieved the healing flask. He pulled the glass stopper and took a good, long drink, half-emptying the container. When he was done, he offered the potion to Cricket.

"I'm good." Cricket turned the flask upside down, pouring out the remaining liquid, then held the bottle up to one of the trolls' arms and slit an artery open. He easily filled the container with rich, warm blood, then stepped away from the spurting corpse.

"I'm warmed up now. I'll take watch."