16

Titaga, the Ancient

The axebeak bit down on another goblin, trampling it under its feet. More often than not, it tried to lift the tip of its axebeak into the charging goblins, which just prodded them, causing them to scatter. Every once in a while, however, it reared high on its hind legs and brought the edge of its beak down with a terrible weight behind it that could cleave an unfortunate deep goblin cleanly in two.

The shadow's shadow, ill-formed as it was, did little more than distract its opponents. Their spears and claws pierced his flickering form harmlessly, but so too his own attacks only splashed against them like a heavy fog, after which he required some time to reform. Thankfully, the dimwitted creatures caught on slowly. It seemed even those who had survived his lashings weren't willing to risk taking another hit—fearsome as the smoking Cricket looked. Otherwise, his presence on the battlefield might have been entirely fruitless.

As it was, he brought only intimidation, but he brought it in large measure and managed to occupy about a third of the force, which might otherwise have attacked Cricket himself.

Gad, Cricket noted, seemed to have lost his mindless love for battle. Rather than flattening goblins beneath his massive, iron-wrapped fist, he backed into a corner, quite frightened, moaning and waving his fingers to keep back the goblins who poked and prodded him with their spears.

The stump of his missing arm had regrown all the way to the elbow. One unfortunate goblin caught the sharp bone right in the throat, which dropped him only momentarily—but long enough to be squashed by the half troll's feet.

Cricket rushed straight for the gargoyle. The creature hunched over, holding its smooth, rounded face only about four feet high, though it might have stood taller than Cricket were it to straighten itself. Its long arms scraped the ground, along with its hard, wiry tail—its rough skin making a high-pitched sound as of stone scraping against stone.

His skin did appear like stone, but Cricket thought it might have just been the color until he heard the sound.

The gargoyle opened its single, remaining wing, and vanished.

Cricket sprinted to its last location, stabbing with his spear, slashing out with a dagger when he failed to make contact. He spun around, sensing it had moved, and the shadow screeched.

Which made no sound. He grimaced and readied another dagger.

Cricket concentrated on the blade and threw it through the air, but it vanished before reaching his target.

The shadow focused and the dagger reformed in his hand. He could no longer hear the gargoyle, but reasoned that meant it hadn't moved. So he concentrated extra hard on reforming the blade, hoping that would, in any way, make it more solid, before flinging it through the air.

The second knife made it further than the first. However, it suddenly splashed, as if against something solid, spreading out like a blast mark before dissolving.

Instantly, Cricket lunged toward the invisible object, striking again with his spear and remaining dagger.

He felt the adamantine spear glance off of the gargoyle's thick skin, and drew back for a second stab, which produced a loud crack, like the splitting of rock. However, when he followed through with a dagger, the gargoyle was already gone.

Cricket sighed in irritation as two goblins cornered him. He tried to wave them away with his buckler, but they charged anyway. He ducked under a stone axe as he slashed the first goblin's hamstring with his dagger, then leapt back to dodge a bite and brought his shield down over the second goblin's head. He shoved the stunned creature back into the first and turned back toward the gargoyle, but after the slight distraction, he had no idea where his invisible prey might be.

The shadow stooped to grab a handful of yellow dirt and tossed it in one direction to no effect, then stooped to grab another handful.

As he turned to toss the powder in a new direction, he caught, out of the corner of his eye, the slightest flicker in the already falling dust. Instead, he shifted his weight and lashed out to his side quite suddenly, lifting his buckler at the creature's face level. He made contact with something less substantial—perhaps an arm it had raised to protect its head—and followed up with a thrust of his spear. This time he felt it penetrate. The creature howled in pain—a raspy, high-pitched growl.

Cricket ducked his head behind his shield, and felt a claw scrape at his neck. He grabbed the shaft of his spear with all three free hands and plowed forward, crashing his unseen opponent into a rock wall. Then, sensing himself vulnerable to a counter, he abandoned the spear and hopped away, drawing a khopesh from its sheath.

Gradually, the gargoyle appeared, with a long crack down the side of its rocky face, the spear protruding from its side, with a vibrant yellow blood that stained the shaft and the creature's palms.

Gad groaned loudly in pain, and reluctantly Cricket left the gargoyle to assist his comrade. He kept one eye on the gargoyle as it crashed to its knees.

The insect cut down a deep goblin from behind, barreling into its companion, knocking its spear thrust away from the trollblood. He tripped it to the ground and finished it with the sickle side of his khopesh, then leapt toward the last remaining goblin.

When he turned back to the gargoyle, the creature had removed a tiny sphere from his belt—not much bigger than a marble—with a pink, swirling smoke inside. The gargoyle smashed it open against the rocks at his feet. The released fumes rose to form a vertical plane of swirling smoke, and the image of another location appeared hazily in the vortex.

One of the deep goblins attempted to flee through the portal, but the hissing gargoyle lashed out with his stony tail, dashing its face open and knocking the goblin aside.

Cricket considered jumping through the opening. He had plenty of time to react. Rather, he moved to the axebeak's side, and when the gargoyle stepped into the waning portal, Cricket slapped the feathered lizard on the rump and sent it charging through after him.

The mass of the axebeak plowing through the fumes seemed to hasten the closing of the portal, and an instant later the doorway was gone, with only a vanishing pink vapor in its place.

*****

Ty'lek led the group from the road to avoid another azaeri patrol.

"Why are we avoiding azaeri?" Cricket asked in frustration. "Aren't they... like, your friends? They'll be happy to see you."

Ty'lek raised a brow, as if to ask if the insect were serious.

"And what about us?" Scorpion asked. "Will they be happy to see the rest of us?"

"Maybe."

"You remember why we're here?"

"To... storm their tower?" Cricket answered slowly. "But," he held up a finger pointedly, "they don't know that."

"When you're guarding a tower," Bax said, "I think by default you don't let anyone in unless you're expecting them."

"Or... if you're a bunch of azaeri and you see another azaeri coming up," Cricket countered.

Scorpion sighed. "If you were guarding the Warrens, and you saw a heavily-armed insectoid, such as yourself, marching up, would you just let him in, no questions asked?"

Cricket tapped a finger nervously at his hip.

"Of course you would," Scorpion answered his own question in disappointment.

Cricket ignored him. "Let's head toward that gully. I need a break."

"Again?" Scorpion sneered. "It's barely been an hour, and we're already a day behind."

"I get tired faster than you. It's because Jesh isn't around to do his thing."

"I don't know," Scorpion said skeptically. "This is odd, even for you."

"Well, I won't be any good if we get in a fight and I start out exhausted."

Scorpion growled, but made no protest. Cricket looked to Ty'lek to see if he had any objection, before heading for the nearby gully.

"How much further, anyway?" Cricket asked.

The azaeri considered their surroundings. He watched the crustaceans crawl along the ceiling some distance above. Their spiral shells gave them the appearance of stalactites.

Ty'lek held up one finger.

"One?" Cricket asked. "One what? One day? One hour?"

"Err," the lizardman chirped.

"One hour?"

Ty'lek nodded his head.

"Well we should rest anyway then. Best to approach early morning."

"Best to attack during the night," Scorpion said.

"Yes," Cricket agreed. "If we weren't exhausted."

"I could rest too," Bax added. "I'm not as young as you folks."

"If you've got so much energy," Cricket said to Scorpion, "then you can take first watch. Besides, we have a big fight ahead of us, I think, and I need to practice making clones."

"Oydd told you just to make one."

"Fine, tell on me. Tattle-tail."

"He seemed concerned for your safety. And I'm concerned for mine. You couldn't even control one last time. If one of your shadows loses control, it could take us all out."

"Which is why..." Cricket held out the word annoyingly long, "I need to practice."

Scorpion put his hand over his head, pinching his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He let out a long, defeated sigh.

"Be careful. Start with one, and see if you can control it."

Stolen novel; please report.

"What do you think, Ty'lek? Not really a good time to restrain myself, right?"

The azaeri just shrugged, but the gnome answered unsolicited. "Can't make an omelet without killing a few chickens."

"I... don't know what any of those words mean." Cricket frowned.

"You've never had an omelet?"

Cricket shook his head. The gnome looked to Scorpion who also shook his head.

"Well, they're delicious. You put in some onions and garlic... and peppers. Mushrooms of course."

"Into what?" Scorpion asked.

"Into the egg! Then you cook it up."

"Why would I cook an egg?" Scorpion asked.

"I agree," Cricket replied. "Why would you cook an egg?"

"Because they taste better!" Bax practically sang. Then, seeing the confused looks on the faces of his companions, he paused, rethought, and said, "I'll have to make one for you."

The group walked in awkward silence, and then Cricket returned to the previous subject. "I need to make two. Because one is too easy to beat."

"They seem about as strong as you," Scorpion observed.

"Right. I need to learn how to fight things that are stronger than me. Two me's seems like a good place to start, right?"

"You can't beat two of you."

"I think I can. I've been practicing in my dreams, and I'm up to five. I can pretty consistently take four at once, but I need to practice in real life. That reminds me. I forgot to tell Oydd." Cricket looked back over his shoulder. "He thinks I can only take three."

"Cricket!" Scorpion climbed a rock until his snout was nearly even with the insect's eyes. "Start with one. If he isn't an ass, then you can make a second one."

"Deal!"

As the others settled in for the night, Cricket looked around the bottom of the gully for a clearing. When he'd found a spot with enough room, he summoned a shadow. The first attempt appeared clear and crisp—not wavering in the least. Even its shell shined.

The shadow gave an amiable wave.

"Not bad," Scorpion critiqued from atop a nearby boulder.

"Ah, look! He's friendly."

"Almost like you've been practicing."

"Well, I have." Cricket pointed at his head. "A lot of it's up here, and I've kind of been wrestling with the magic nonstop."

"In your head?"

"Well... yeah. It's always kind of tugging at the back of my mind."

"That doesn't sound good."

Cricket shrugged. "It's dark magic. Oydd said so. I bet he has to wrestle with his spells to."

"Certainly not when he hasn't cast one."

"Well, anyway. This one seems chummy, so I might as well make one more."

"Keep your word..." Scorpion scolded, only half-watching. The mimic pulled playfully at the ratling's tail, and he swatted its tentacle away for the third time. The mimic suddenly yanked on the tail, and Scorpion disappeared behind the boulder.

"Just two for now," Cricket whispered to his shadow, as he formed another clone.

The new shadow looked about his surroundings, as if surprised to exist. It flickered slightly, and then the first shadow began to flicker as well. It waved at the new shadow.

"Okay," Cricket addressed his shadows. "Now I promised it would just be the three of us." He peered over to see if Scorpion were still listening in. "And... only if you both behave."

The first shadow frowned and pointed up at Cricket's missing antenna.

"Yes. None of that business. I need to practice fighting you both at once. I just want to make sure we won't have any problems. No one is going to... get weirdly jealous... or spit on me... or try to kill my friends?"

The first shadow shook his head. The second crossed his heart with a finger, then mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key. Which didn't make much sense, but the sentiment was clear.

Cricket smiled and drew a khopesh in each of his upper arms, then a dagger in each lower arm. The first shadow followed his lead, then nudged the second shadow with his elbow, and soon all three were fully armed.

*****

"Juhidra," Oydd repeated the name from earlier, stirring a magical campfire with his staff. The blue flames followed the tip of the staff, growing in warmth as he circled.

Licephus nodded. "Is it rudric?"

"It is."

"Something along the lines of 'marrow licker'?"

"Something along those lines," Oydd confirmed.

"He's a large one. Larger than a dethkirok last time I received a report. Which is exceptional for a changeling. Its likely he's been physically consuming giants."

"What else do we know about him?" Jeshu asked. "Why consolidate all of our magic-users in one group."

"Well, for one," Licephus answered. "I don't believe our magic would prove useful against the trollblood. But also, the changeling is the only leader of the Right Hand who is not currently paired with another."

"That makes him sound like an easier target," Jeshu replied.

"No... it makes him sound like a formidable target. Even Shisu does not venture out alone. Leaving such a crucial member of their team to operate alone seems ominous to me. Perhaps they feign vulnerability."

"A trap, you mean?" the druid asked.

"Yes," Oydd answered. "Just like Jade. The only previous member of the right hand to operate without a partner."

"Because she did not require one," Jeshu added.

"Precisely." Oydd replied. " She could create several shadows of herself, and even when we neutralized them, she almost proved too much to handle. I've never seen Cricket outclassed like that."

The vampire nodded. "She was not vulnerable. That proved a deception, though you managed a victory. Assume Juhidra to be more powerful. I know him to have been peers with Jade in terms of combat prowess. And that was before the summoning of Bale. Now he has a forgehammer."

"You seem especially concerned about that," Oydd observed. "Though you have not hinted why."

Licephus grew quiet. He stared into the silent, blue fire Oydd had summoned. "Because I do not know what to expect. I have seen with my own eyes a forge of the gods—when Bale formed armor for Serinyes and her sister. He created devastating weapons beyond the imagining of mortals. And, in truth, beyond the imagining of some gods. This was the key to Serinyes' rise in power—her... forgemaster."

The vampire grimaced at some unspoken memory. "Though Bale's hammer will not reach its full potential in the hands of a mere mortal. So there's that..." Licephus said sardonically.

Oydd cleared his throat. "I performed an autopsy on Jade..."

Jeshu looked up in surprise.

"I had her brought to my lab during the night. I cut her open, hoping to find answers. Who knows... maybe it was just curiosity." He pulled his staff upright and leaned against it. "If nothing else, I wanted to understand Cricket's anatomy better, since I haven't had any similar specimens. Not really."

He looked over at the druid. "Imagine my surprise when I cut her open and found no heart."

"What do you mean?" the druid asked.

"Precisely what I said. Where her heart should have been, I found only a void, with no answer as to why. But I do know the answer, don't I? She sacrificed her heart to Bale. How she survived afterward, is more of a mystery. I imagine she somehow formed a heart of shadows."

"That sounds farfetched," Licephus responded.

"It does. But give me a more plausible explanation."

"Why is this the first I've heard of it?" Jeshu asked.

"I did not mean to keep it from you. But I thought it better to keep it from Cricket. Who knows what ideas he might get in his addled head. He's already talked to me of sacrificing to Bale. He asked what harm it might cause if we were stronger."

The druid said skeptically, "There would be some scar on her..."

"Not if she molted afterward. Not on the exoskeleton. But I did find evidence on her viscera—an incision on the white, fatty tissue beneath her shell consistent with my hypothesis."

The rudra looked up at the vampire. "Remember what we're dealing with. And I already erred in my estimation, because she did not sacrifice to Bale, but to some much more terrifying deity whose name you have not told us..."

"Your point?" Licephus asked.

"My point is that we should not presume any weakness from Juhidra because he is a 'mere mortal'. If we are to survive this task, we ought to pale at the infinite possibilities—at the unlikeliest of horrors we may face."

Licephus regarded the rudra coldly. Oydd peered at him with his beady eyes, dancing with the blue flames of the fire, until the vampire grew uncomfortable.

"I have not told you a name, because I have none. But I do know more than I have said. There is a being more ancient than the gods we know. Some civilizations simply call it 'Ancient'. But it is not a god, nor a demon. It is simply... chaos. A malevolence. A malignance—like a tumor, growing and corrupting all that it touches. I have read of entire tainted worlds, spoiled by this being's presence. I know very little, but I know we want to avoid its attention... and I know Shisu means to summon it here."

Oydd met his gaze then turned to the dryad. "You understand what he means by other worlds?"

"I do."

"Because it would be beyond Cricket's comprehension. 'What do you mean other worlds? The world already includes everything'."

"I have seen the night sky,” Jeshu replied. “Regardless, the dryad's understand astronomy."

Oydd nodded and turned to Licephus. "Titaga. That is its name in rudric. It simply means ancient, as you said."

"The elves refuse to name it. Some words lose power when forgotten."

"Absurd. Forbidding a thought only strengthens it."

"You forget your place, rudra." The vampire spoke with power and Oydd instinctively withdrew.

After a moment, Jeshu spoke to ease the tension. "The dryads teach of Chaos, but as seven beings, not one."

"There is only one..." Oydd stated sadly.

"Do you need rest?" Licephus asked the druid.

"Yes. I have not slept for days. It will be better if I get a full night's sleep."

"That is fine. I will watch over us."

The vampire rose from the fire and walked to the entrance of the crystalline grotto.

Oydd spoke a word and the magical fire quickly dimmed to darkness.

*****

In the morning, a tension still hung in the air about the campsite. Jeshu rose last and meditated while the others made final preparations.

Licephus found Patches tucked away in a corner, filling her purple bottle with curious odds and ends—crushed milkweed, honey, whole rosebuds, as well as large flecks from an old piece of black exoskeleton. For now the dry ingredients sat at the bottom of the flask, stuck together with the small amount of honey, waiting on the main fluid. Milk, Licephus thought.

"It won't work..." he snapped, still in a bit of a gruff mood.

The mouseling froze and looked up at him. He could practically hear her heart beating.

"A love potion," he said, forcing a milder tone. "It won't work. It's not real magic."

Patches glared back at him and stubbornly began squeezing another rose bud into the mouth of the bottle. She glanced sideways at the vampire, then wrapped her tail around the bottle and pulled it around a corner, and out of his view.

Licephus approached the rudra.

"Can you sense him from here?"

"I can. He is with two fomorians. Broken-caste, I assume, based on their size."

"You can sense their size?"

"Roughly. Their minds are very weak, like the runt we saw before entering Fomoria. They are, aptly put, broken things."

Licephus nodded. "Lead the way."

Oydd waved the dethkirok on ahead. With each reanimation, the enchantment seemed to last longer and longer. And now, the dethkirok had followed the rudra's commands for days on end without showing any signs of weakening.

The mutant, Skunk, followed the dehtkirok, seeming to prefer the company of the dead over the living.

Jeshu retrieved the bottle for the mouseling, and she hopped happily onto his shoulder.

Orth spent the night gorging on crystals, which noticeably energized the growing worm. He slithered along the ground at the dryad's feet, keeping pace despite his full belly. Though still somewhat thin, he looked longer when not wrapped around the druid—now nearly six feet in length.

Occasionally, Patches threw seeds down at the worm in an attempt to rile him up, but the dried morsels simply bounced unnoticed from his rocky hide.