13

The Witch Clipper

Oydd, still wearing his green robes, sat cross-legged next to the frazzled mouseling.

"You have to eat," he said gently.

"I did eat."

"No you didn't."

"I'm going to," Patches whispered.

"You need to eat now. And you need to drink now. You're very dehydrated."

Jeshu stood in the open doorway. "She seems to be in a state of shock, but I'm not sure why. She wouldn't even talk to me at first."

Oydd scratched the mouseling's neck as he listened to the dryad.

"She said she was being chased by a spider and a mummy."

"No," the mouseling said in irritation. "A spider and a mummy."

"When's the last time you slept?" Oydd asked.

In response, Patches shook her head energetically. "No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"They'll get me."

"Who will get you, little one?"

"All the..." Patches paused. "All the things trying to get me. The shadows are mad because I cast a spell wrong, and... and then also because I took a necklace because you told me not to, but it's kind of safe here."

"She's rambling," Jeshu said, and the mouseling looked up suddenly as if she hadn't noticed him.

"Is this magical in nature?" Oydd asked.

"What? No. I would sense a curse. I think she has just been under a lot of stress."

"Come," Oydd said to the mouseling. "Come with me, and we'll see you get some sleep."

A panicked look crossed her face. "But... I can't go up."

"Why not?" Jeshu asked tenderly.

"And I can't go down. Can I sleep here?"

Oydd suddenly tensed, ignoring the question.

"What is it?" Jeshu asked in concern.

"Someone used the portal."

"Who?" Jeshu asked. "How do you know?"

Oydd closed his eyes. "The rudra. He's headed to Agoth."

Jeshu shook his head. "Why are you so excited?"

"He's alone. He's alone and we know where he is. This is the first time we have some advantage against him. And he won't know I detected him... it's almost impossible, right?"

"Oydd, calm down."

"No, no you don't understand. I fear him more than Shisu. If we can take him out now, then we have a chance after all!"

"What do you mean after all?" Jeshu asked, then changed his line of thinking. "We can't beat him Oydd. You said so yourself." The druid followed the rudra into the hallway.

"I need to gather everyone. I don't have time to argue." Oydd rushed back into the room with the mouseling. "Little one, come, we have to stop by the laboratory." He reached out with Bale's claw in his haste, and Patches cringed, backpedaling into her corner.

Oydd switched arms. "It's okay. Hop onto my shoulder."

Patches swallowed but darted up his arm and buried her face in the folds of his robe.

"Oydd, stop and reason with me," Jeshu pleaded.

"I will. Or rather, we will all reason together, but we must move quickly. Meet me at the portal. I will send for the others—for everyone we need."

*****

Patches nibbled on a small hard piece of cheese as she rode the rudra's shoulder up to his lab. Oydd left her on the floor near the entrance with a small flask of water, then disappeared behind a shelf, rifling through papers.

Patches appreciated the water. Her mouth was so dry that it was difficult to eat the cheese. She was so thirsty that she could feel the cool water move to her stomach and she imagined she could feel it spread into her limbs, though she wasn't sure if it worked that way. Still, she couldn't remember a time she had ever been so thirsty.

After finishing half the flask, she began nibbling on the cheese again with renewed vigor.

Oydd bustled about grabbing seemingly random objects. The mouseling shivered, suddenly feeling cold as she finished her meal and stared out across the hall. In the distance, she saw a small object, out of focus at first, moving toward her. She saw what she now recognized as a thread or perhaps a small tuft of fur—very small–-waddling along the stone tiles.

She made out a black speck and propped herself up on her lone front paw for a better view.

"Pip?" she whispered.

The familiar marched along, slowly but steadily toward her. His woolen scarf had fallen off, and he now carried a very small piece of it in his mouth.

The mouseling's eyes teared up, and she found herself so awestruck by the reunion that she didn't think to run and greet him until the beetle had crossed half the hallway.

"Oh, Pip!" she said softly. The familiar had been damaged in the dust storm. One of the red, dotted shells that covered his wings had been torn off, revealing a ripped and threadbare wing beneath.

"Oh, Pip," she repeated, looking at the long hall behind him. "Did... did you walk all the way back? Did you climb up all those stairs?"

She nuzzled him with her cold, wet nose, and the familiar—at his master's side once again—dropped the thread from his mouth.

Patches studied it carefully and noticed a very miniscule bloodstain on the fiber.

"Pip," she said with a slightly stern tone. "You are too late. You are very, very too late." She looked down at the blood sample she had sent him for. "I don't need that any more. But you were very brave." She placed her nose on the ground, and Pip climbed up onto her snout. The lady bug crossed her cheek, crawled down to the mouseling's shoulder, and walked in a small circle before settling in. He disappeared behind a tuft of white fur, just as the rudra emerged from the lab with a black leather tome, a smooth piece of bloodstone not much smaller than an azaeri egg, and several other assorted items.

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*****

Oydd grasped the smooth, bloodstone egg in Bale's claw, inspecting the surface one last time for cracks before calibrating the portal for a return trip to Agoth. To the side of the portal, three azaeri guards waited, armed with silver arrows, silver shields, and a silver spear each.

"Doesn't that stone weaken you?" Cricket asked. "I was talking to Bax about it."

"Yes," the rudra answered frankly. "Actually, it just creates resistance to my mental powers. A bit... a bit like when you trained with that huge mace. I think I might already be stronger with it than I was without it only a few weeks ago."

"Can't you just train by lifting heavier stuff?"

"You would think so," Oydd answered absently, as he etched runes, once again, into the surface of the portal. "But no. I have not been able to train my powers by practice, but only by indirect study. Until now..."

"Still," Scorpion said. "You're weaker with it, and you said we need every advantage we can get."

"I believe," Oydd turned to face the room, "that my own power is irrelevant here. It may hamper the other rudra, which I estimate to be of more worth."

"It seems very little. He not only raised Indech, but somehow managed to defeat him in the first place." Jeshu reminded the rudra.

"Yes," Oydd snapped. "He outclasses me in every aspect I can fathom..." Oydd groaned subconsciously. "So my own power against him is like tossing water against a stream. It is of no consequence. What we need..."

"Is something that beats water," Cricket finished the rudra's thought.

"Yes."

"Like fire."

"No. What?"

"Fire beats water," Cricket said confidently.

"In what world?"

"If you, uh... have equal amounts of each," Cricket said with less confidence.

"By what? Weight?" Oydd scoffed.

Jeshu interjected, "I would use the classic example of water beating fire. And wood beats water. But you're on the right track anyway."

"Well, realistically," Cricket maintained, "fire beats water and wood."

At this, Jeshu actually grew defensive. "I've never understood the saying that wood beats fire. Wood is extremely resistant to fire. That's why we use it in campfires—because it takes so long to burn."

"That's dumb," Cricket said. "Everyone else agrees that fire at least beats wood."

Most of the room agreed, however the vote was largely comprised of Cricket's clones.

"If you and I were in a fire," Jeshu pressed, "who would last longer?"

"That's not the point. Obviously fire beats fire."

"And there you have it," Oydd summarized. "You see yourself as fire. So clearly fire beats everything!"

Cricket prepared a counter, but Oydd silenced the room with a frustrated wave of his arm.

"We only have minutes to prepare. Let us spend it wisely, for once."

Jeshu bit his tongue.

The rudra continued, "This will be our most challenging fight. But I think it is our only opportunity to defeat the rudra."

"I still think it is suicide," Jeshu replied.

"Perhaps, but hear me out. The rudra is by far my greatest concern. I do not find Shisu as menacing. Regardless, I don't believe I could defeat her without Bale's brain."

Scorpion gagged at this thought.

Across the room, Skunk and the lizardman ghast crept close to Bale's hammer, until their skin began to sizzle, and Oydd commanded them away.

"Nor could we defeat her with the rudra at her side, obviously. My assessment is that Shisu likely succeeds in her final summoning, unless we defeat the rudra now, regardless of the risk."

Jeshu considered this reasoning.

"But it's still like holding out your hand to stop a river," Scorpion said.

"Yes, and perhaps that is all my bloodstone offers. I wish we had time for me to utilize Bale's eye, but... it will require some study among other things. I have the rudra's notes here. It appears he performed the procedure on Shisu."

"And why did you bring them along?" Jeshu asked.

"Ah, yes. Mouseling..."

Patches looked up. She lounged on one of the steps before the portal.

"I want you to create a totem of the rudra. It may not do much, but we are pressing every advantage we have."

"It will!" Patches pouted. "I know what I'm doing."

"I'm not critiquing you, little one. He will be expecting this. And who knows what resistances Bale's mind offers him. But we will try, and I do trust your ability. That is why I brought his research notes. I cannot imagine an item more personal to the rudra than the results of his own research. And we have his blood..."

"But we don't know his name," Patches whispered.

"No, and that would make the hex several times more effective, but we can assign him a name that has some value to us, to gain at least a fraction of that benefit."

"Really?" Cricket said incredulously. "We just nickname him fathead or something, and—"

"Dammit, Cricket!" the rudra roared.

The insect, wide-eyed, paused mid-sentence. "What?"

"You named him." The rudra glared. "And you chose an incredibly ridiculous name. Do you want Patches to have to say that during her casting."

"Er... no, but... we can name him something else."

"We were preserving the power of not having named him, and you robbed that! You absolute fool!"

"Not sure what that means," Cricket cried, "but we can go back and—"

"Backsies! Now? Of all things, Cricket."

"It's not backsies." Cricket looked to the druid for support.

"It does kind of sound like backsies."

"No, no... it's forwardsies. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said we could name him Fathead or..."

"Or what?" the rudra hissed.

"Or..." Cricket drew out the word dramatically.

"You have nothing!"

Cricket looked to the dryad again for support, but Jeshu simply shook his head. "It does seem like you don't have anything..."

"Or, um, the Dreaded..."

"Cricket," Scorpion chimed in. "You already said 'Fathead or something.' You did finish the thought."

Oydd covered his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Mouseling, here. This scratch of paper contains some of his writing. We will leave as soon as Bax arrives. I want you to stay here. With your magic, I don't believe you need to be in close proximity?"

Patches shook her head.

"Then you will stay behind, but Pip should come with us, so you can see what's going on."

"No!" Patches practically shouted, causing the rudra to recoil.

"Why..."

"I... I need his help to cast the spell."

"Very well," Oydd replied.

"And where is Bax?" Scorpion asked.

"He is preparing a weapon made of bloodstone."

Scorpion smiled fiendishly at this thought.

"And he assures me it will be complete momentarily."

"And the plan for the rest of us?" Cricket asked sheepishly.

"The rudra appears to be headed for the arachane, where we retrieved Bale's eye. I believe he does not know we already obtained it. Which means, there will be many corpses around for him, or me, to utilize. I intend to animate what I can, simply to prevent him from doing so. But, again, my contribution may be negligible. Cricket, that means if you get within, say, ten yards of him, I want you to screech for all you're worth, regardless of my proximity. Understood?"

Cricket nodded.

"Jeshu, I think you are, perhaps, our resident expert on hunting dark magic users. Your contribution will likely make or break the endeavor."

Jeshu nodded. "I should be able to resist even his powers for some time, and perhaps aid those near me in doing so, but... I am not as confident about that. As for the undead, I have something special in store for them. I have fought the dead, I think, longer than you have tamed them, and I am not worried."

"Which means you support this attack?" Oydd asked.

"I'll follow the plan."

"No, no... Jeshu..." Oydd said his name more softly, "Jesh. I am not Licephus. I respect your counsel, and I want to know your opinion. Do you support this decision, or is it unwise?"

Jeshu's demeanor softened. "I believe your reasoning is correct, Rudra."

Oydd nodded.

Bax only left them waiting another minute before huffing and puffing into the room with a pole over his shoulder, sporting a pointed, purple hat atop his head. At the end of the pole, a rope dangled down to a rough chunk of bloodstone no larger than his head. He had wrapped the rope around several times and tied it in multiple places with rudimentary knots, creating a crude, makeshift flail.

"Gentlemen... and Patches," he nodded to the mouseling. "May I present to you, the Witch Clipper!"