Cricket

22

Engulfing Shadows

A haunting cry echoed through the darkness, and Cricket shivered. A soft wail followed, so painful and shuddering it sounded more like weeping.

"What, exactly is out there?"

Oydd shook his head in response to the question. "I can barely penetrate the mists with my mind, surprisingly. I sense only those beings closest, and a few of the more malevolent ones."

"There's a large group of dethkiri moving away from us, and a smaller group following a long distance behind," Scorpion replied.

"What? You can see?" Oydd asked.

"I can. I didn't realize you..."

"Will you show me?"

Scorpion twitched, but nodded grudgingly, and the rudra reached out with his mind. Cricket felt the powerful pull of the psychic link, like electricity in his antennae, though he saw nothing. A moment later, the rudra willingly connected to Cricket's mind, sensing his eagerness to be included. He felt the druid's mind as well, calm and vast and patient.

Cricket discerned flicks of shadow that only distracted him from his own vision. He waited a few seconds before complaining. "I don't see anything."

"Neither do I," Jeshu responded.

"Ah..." Oydd held up a hand for silence as he concentrated. "I see. But I cannot share it. Jeshu, I can't show you more than you already perceive."

"Why not?" Cricket asked.

"It is a sensation that is difficult to describe. The ratling sees more clearly than me. I believe I can only glean a fraction of it. But... you are not physiologically equipped to see what he sees. It would be like trying to communicate with a stone."

The rudra paused, realizing the indelicacy of his words, but Cricket only nodded.

"That makes perfect sense."

"Really?" Oydd asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I can see it the way Jesh sees it. You didn't mean any offence. It was a good analogy. It's like trying to explain color to a blind person."

"Oh, that is what I thought," Jeshu replied. "I assume Bale's eye sees in a manner beyond normal sight."

Scorpion nodded. "As a matter of fact, I can see colors that I can't explain, and..." he held up his hand before his piercing eye. "It's not quite like seeing through things. Because I can see my hand and what's beyond it. I can sense both sides."

"I have compound eyes," Cricket said smugly. "I can see every side of my hand if I hold it like this."

"Not quite the same, Cricket," the druid replied.

As if to compete, Bax pulled out the bloodstone lens, and held it to his eye, peering off into the darkness. "Hmph!" he said in a defeated tone, placing the lens back in his chest pocket.

"I do see... what must be the dethkiri you mentioned," Cricket said. "Just a very faint heat in the distance, but I didn't know what it was."

Oydd took a deep breath and surveyed the magical light bathing the other squads. "Do you see the group pursuing us?"

Cricket shook his head. "I don't think I can see heat unless it's really close."

"So the ones behind are farther away?" Oydd turned to Scorpion for confirmation, and the ratling squinted.

"I don't see them anymore either. Even Bale's eye can only see so far through this muck."

"Muck?" Cricket repeated, scratching his chin.

"Yeah." Scorpion hopped atop a long, flat boulder. "That's what it feels like."

"I can see the bridge up ahead." Oydd pointed with his metal rod.

A relatively thin arch of naturally polished stone reached out across the endless expanse, barely wide enough for the brigade to safely cross double-file.

"This is where we cross?" Scorpion asked critically.

In response, Oydd growled at something out in the darkness. He lifted Bale's claw, and after a protracted wait, a glimmering adamantine sword flew from the darkness into his grip.

A moment later, a dethkirok cried, and the claws of eager predators began to clack against the stone bridge.

Oydd waved his left hand, still clutching the sword, and sent psionic ripples through the black, causing unseen havoc to the approaching demons.

"I thought you couldn't see further than me?" Scorpion hissed between his teeth.

"I can't. Jeshu sensed some malice where the demons lay in wait." He waved again with the rod in his right hand, and a dethkirok squealed in panic as it dropped into the chasm.

"They're coming from all around," the druid cautioned.

Hold here! Oydd shouted with his mind, reaching out to the azaeri soldiers.

The foremost squad began firing arrows over the arch, guessing at the enemy's position, while Ja'hek's squad put some distance between themselves and the ledge, preparing to defend the brigade's flank.

The dethkiri, armed with adamantite, made a terrible ruckus as they approached. A few of the circling wraiths, overeager and spurred on by the excitement, began to swoop down through the light, only to be seared and banished by the radiant magic.

One wraith, striking near the edge of a squad, managed to clutch a startled soldier and ripped him from the ground before vanishing, smoldering, back into the darkness with its prey.

Horrified, the remaining soldiers tightened their formation around the squad's cleric, who cupped her hands and formed an orb of intense light in their midst.

When the dethkiri arrived—like phantoms coalescing from the gloom, shrouded in Sheol's darkness—three of Cricket's shadows met them first, standing stoically before the wall of azaeri shields. Spricket, the shadow trained in spears, launched himself immediately from the lit field, covering a dozen yards with a single lea. He landed on one of the larger demon's faces, tackling him back into the black with a flurry of stabs and flailing dethkirok arms.

The Cricket with the billhook charged next, ripping the legs out from beneath a much smaller demon even as he plunged past their front ranks, hooking throats, and stomachs and at once swatting aside swords and sickles.

"Oh, no!" Cricket cried to Oydd, as he watched the clones plunge into the void. "They're not afraid of the dark." He paused with a confused look on his face. "That's bad, right?"

Oydd sputtered, then shrugged, distracted as he was by the events in another direction.

A third shadow, clinging to a large, spiked mace with all four arms, waited patiently for the tide of demons to crash into the azaeri line before knocking one prone with an overhead swing. However, due to the thick natural plating, and the adamantine helm covering its cranium, it only slowed it down momentarily.

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Cricket rushed to his clone's side and stabbed about where he thought its eye ought to be with one of Rusalka's blades. The creature squealed—a sound that was cut short by a well-timed swing of the mace to its exposed throat.

When Cricket glanced back at Oydd, the rudra had stepped out onto the narrow bridge, deflecting crossbow bolts with his mind. Though the effect appeared somewhat chaotic—with shafts bending and swerving in random directions—the end result seemed mostly favorable. Here and there, a bolt struck its target, or penetrated a silver shield. But for the most part, they scattered harmlessly into the abyss.

Cricket watched as a trio of azaeri soldiers broke from the group, splintered away by a single dethkirok with a pair of axes. One stepped too far into the gloom, and let out a short, blood-curdled caw, as the waiting wraiths tore him to shreds.

His companions opted for a desperate assault in lieu of a similar demise, only to be hacked down in seconds by the dethkirok.

Cricket groaned in frustration, and left the front lines to chase down the offending demon. By the time he caught up to it, it had nearly overcome the group's cleric, who backed away from the brute, attacking with a very small mace of her own.

Just before it finished her, Cricket jumped onto its back and looped one of his blades around its throat, holding onto the back of the single-edged weapon with his opposite arm. He arched his back and pulled with all the strength in his legs. Though his weight really made no impact on the massive demon, the blade digging into its throat had the right effect, and the dethkirok toppled backward.

Cricket ducked under its reaching claw and pulled the sword clear with a brutal twist, before hopping back out of the dying creature's range.

The cleric began to hyperventilate, and Cricket patted her on the back awkwardly. "It's okay. Slow your breaths. Take it easy. You're safe."

No sooner had he spoken the words than a bolt struck the cleric's cheek bone from the front and penetrated clear to her spine. The azaeri dropped like a rag doll.

"Crap!" Cricket stooped to help, futilely, then noticed the orb of light in her hand fading. "Get—" He had no time to finish the thought before the blackness engulfed him. Cricket swung his silver swords preemptively before his face as he leapt toward Ja'hek, who stood a good forty feet away. He felt, rather than saw, his silver swords scrape against the swooping wraiths, and swung them both again before landing roughly on his shoulder, tumbling sideways into the protective zone of the commander's bloodstone.

In horror, Cricket turned to see the remainder of the squad swallowed in shadow, save for a handful of lucky soldiers. The commander ordered her archers to fire a volley of silver arrows over the heads of her screaming soldiers, but by the time the silver dissolved the darkness, there was no sign of the nearly two dozen troops.

The darkness filled in again like two waves crashing against each other, and then the dethkiri warriors poured through.

We need to do something about these wraiths! Oydd screamed.

Bax answered. Statues?

What in the name of all that is holy...

Oh, that's right! Cricket replied. Ghosts are attracted to statues! Meaning, they can't tell them apart from the living! Not, like... romantically, he clarified.

Yes, I understood that.

Because they just attack things with a humanoid shape, Bax added.

Did you not know that? Cricket asked amused.

I still don't, Oydd muttered.

Bax laughed. Well, they like gnomes, and gnomes are basically just moving statues.

Maybe what we need is some kind of scarecrow? Cricket suggested.

A bunch of little scarecrows, or one big one?

One big one, Cricket replied confidently, and the gnome cracked his knuckles.

Suddenly, a wailing howl resounded from high above their heads, followed by a few rustling steps.

A massive, burlap head emerged from the blackness, and hung above the battlefield with a wide, terrifying grin filled with thousands of needle-sharp teeth. Its twisted, straw limbs waded through the black mist.

The dethkiri, sensing primarily by sound, faltered momentarily—some even retreated back into the gloom. The azaeri erupted in a chorus of caws—ruffled and flustered—some in amazement and others in evident fear.

Uh, oh, did I make it too scary?

No, no, Cricket reassured him, that's perfect!

It's not, Oydd interjected, because it has no effect on the wraiths.

Oh, it will, Cricket promised, overconfidently.

It doesn't matter. Jeshu rushed to the front lines to shed his light among the troops. We just couldn't fight two battles. Let us focus on the wraiths as we cross.

Cross! Cricket shrieked. Are you crazy? Right now?

No, he's right, Oydd said. Any dethkiri foolish enough to block our way or follow will be tossed into the depths. I can hold them all back alone.

Cricket glanced behind at the towering scarecrow chasing dethkiri.

Focus on the ones blocking the bridge for now, Cricket suggested. Bax, can you make a fake bridge to draw their attention away?

I can! And I'll make the real one invisible too!

That won't help, Jeshu counselled. Remember, they don't have eyes.

I'll make it sound like there's another bridge, the gnome amended. And I'll make the real one sound invisible. Sounds are actually easier, anyway.

Oydd relayed the orders mentally, and the remaining squads formed into a column and slowly pressed along the narrow bridge. Ruka's soldiers, in the lead, fired precise shots ahead, over the shoulders of the shield-bearers. Swicket, armed with four shields, stood before the bunch, forming an impenetrable wall. Or semi-penetrable, anyway, as several arrows protruded from his shields.

Only one dethkirok made the mistake venturing from the blackness on the far side of the bridge. But without so much as a wave of his hand, the rudra wrenched him from the platform and sent him hurtling to his death. Afterward, a brief lull followed before the dethkiri began again to fire arrows from behind. Though, from the volume, it was evident the ranks had thinned.

Cricket, running behind Ruka, watched as she somehow managed to dodge a hurled javelin, only to slip from the edge of the bridge. She began to glide slowly away and down, with only the briefest look of panic and then a resigned look.

Oydd! Cricket screamed, but the rudra fought his own battle, and when the insect turned back, he saw no sign of the azaeri captain. Vulnerable himself, and helpless to assist, Cricket only had time to frown before running to catch up with the others.

The wraiths, hungry and teeming, clenched their teeth and hissed from the shadows, but kept their distance. The low cries from some larger predator, deep below, rose from the pit, and sent shudders through the writhing wall of hungry spirits. The wraiths scattered, and it was silent for a time, save for the occasional twang of a bow.

After an eternity, the column reached the far side of the gorge. Oydd sent the green bloodstone egg levitating over the battlefield, and Scorpion, along with a few spearmen rushed into the cracks and crevices after the remaining dethkiri archers and crossbowmen.

Cricket ran to join them, though a little late. He passed a mob of six azaeri finishing a rather large dethkirok with their spears, then hopped over a boulder after a faint sound, only to find Ja'hek slicing open one of the smaller demon's throats, the corpse of a second at her feet.

Dismayed as he was, Cricket pressed too far into the dark fog, holding a silver sword before his face like a lantern. One of the wraiths, seeing him stray from the light, squealed like a wild boar, diving and reaching with its long claws. Cricket prepared a strike as he ran backwards, hoping he didn't stumble on the rocks, but before the wraith even reached him, an unarmed dethkirok tackled it from the side and pinned it to the ground.

Cricket froze, one silver sword still held out before him—the other drawn back to his ear. He breathed a sigh of relief that the wraith had been slightly louder, and watched as the demon ripped it to shreds. The spectre flickered in pain, its translucent black flesh flashing transparent and then opaque again. The demon, one of the less-intelligent brutes, feasted, unaware of the insect's presence, perhaps forgetting the entire battle in its frenzy for blood. Though, if the wraith possessed blood, it was not visible, but thin as the ether. Its translucent muscles were, however, tangible enough to be torn and consumed. After only a few seconds had passed, and the dethkirok wrapped its tongue around a strip of pulsating meat, Cricket ducked low and charged with a flash of silver and steel so quick he had sheathed his scimitars before the demon slumped to the ground.

Cricket did, in fact, nearly trip over a stone as he turned around hastily to run back into the light. He found the azaeri had pulled back, forming a perimeter of shields and archers. A few eyed the bridge behind them warily.

It is alright, Oydd spoke to the entire brigade. They are, wisely, I think, not following. But we cannot rest yet. It is safer to move.

This was met by another series of squawks from the remaining captains that might have been gripes or words of encouragement, and the brigade wandered deeper into the void.