Cricket

Scattered

Cricket held up a wilting leek. "Is anything here edible… by gnome standards?"

"I have the highest standards," Bax replied indignantly, as he stuffed the leek into a satchel. "I taught you the word gourmet."

Cricket wrinkled his feelers. "Still not sure I understand the concept. Just eat what tastes good."

"Some things you have to train your taste buds to like. It's sophisticated to like rare foods."

"If training makes foods taste better, then you should practice on foods that you can get a ton of." Cricket stooped to peek in a deep cubby lined with crumbs.

"But it's not sophisticated." The gnome adjusted the contents of his satchel to keep the slimy leek away from his dry ingredients.

"Maybe I don't understand that word either. Not a lot here. What sounds better, soft moldy bread or half-eaten stale bread?"

"Sixes in my book. Better take both." Bax scrunched his face in thought. "Actually, I think I'd prefer moldy. It reminds me of cheese."

Bax sniffed the moldy bread and returned it to the shelf without feeling a need to explain himself.

Lyra watched with interest. She licked one of her mandibles in spite of the bleak options.

Cricket eyed her sidelong. Unconsciously Lyra reached for one of the scraps, and Cricket slapped her hand away.

She pursed her mandibles in a barely discernable pout. "Are you that low on food?"

"No," Cricket grumbled. "We have enough carrots to feed an army. But we'd rather die."

Bax nodded in agreement. "I used to love carrots, but Cricket convinced me they're atrocious."

"You'd probably like them," Cricket added with a tone of revulsion.

Lyra glared. "What does that mean?"

"Hmm? You just seem like someone who would like horrible things."

Lyra stepped away from the shelves. When Cricket went about his scrounging without another thought, she quietly left the pantry.

Bax let out a long theatrical sigh and whispered, "I think we should befriend them."

The insect looked up, confused. "I agree."

Failing to get his point across, the gnome pressed, "I think we should be nice to them."

"I don't have to be nice." Cricket tossed the last bits of scraps into a burlap sack on the floor, then made a motion to heave it over his shoulder, despite it being nearly empty.

Back in the hallway, Lyra leaned against the wall, her antennae drooping—looking more pensive than upset.

Arcada hovered over the crushed remains of a ratling with a cutlass.

"Oh, nice." Cricket patted the warrior on the shoulder. He pulled back, suddenly worried the gesture might come off as condescending, but Arcada spread his mandibles in a wide smile. The huge insect stooped to try out the weapon, but even in his lower arms it looked comically small.

Cricket stuck out his tongue in disapproval, and Arcada left the sword behind.

As they walked, Arcada noticed the nearly empty sack swinging over Cricket's shoulder. "Were you not…" Arcada clicked his mandibles together as he searched for the word, "Successful?"

"No, not really." Cricket shrugged. "The dhampiri are only a day's march from here. We think there are at least a couple thousand of them. The pickings are slim with all the ratlings going crazy scavenging. And I guess… taking hostages?" He glanced back at Lyra.

Bax stumbled over some loose rubble and wiped his leggings clean, even though he didn't fall. "How did you get here?"

Arcada knit his antennae in confusion. "I can't read…" he pointed at the gnome's mouth, "skin."

"Oh, lips. You can't read lips? But you can tell what I'm saying?"

Arcada nodded. "It helps. I get enough words."

"Yeah, his mouth is just skin and bones. His whole head, really, is just skin stretched over a skeleton."

"My whole body!" Bax added excitedly, wriggling his fingers.

"Yeah, It's weird but you get used to it." Cricket looked up at Arcada's vacant look, unsure how much he actually understood.

Sensing the scrutiny, Arcada replied, "Yes, skin is weird."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed how thick your accent was earlier." Cricket came to a fork in the hallway and hesitated before taking the path that sloped upward. "Common isn't your first language?"

Arcada shook his head.

"That'll make it harder. I thought you were just hard of hearing."

Bax tugged on one of Cricket's lower elbows. "Ask him how they got here."

Lyra answered. "We were part of a larger group headed to join the azaeri army. But we got separated. Arcada chased down a dhampir scout. When he didn't return, I went looking for him, and found him wounded. The rats found us while I was trying to patch him up."

Arcada seemed to follow the conversation well enough. He added, "They ate the dhampir first, since he was dead."

"First!" Bax exclaimed. "They were going to eat you!"

Lyra nodded. "We think. They had captured a handful of dhampiri. They ate the dead first, so the meat wouldn't spoil. And then they started to eat the others alive, starting with the weakest."

Bax shook his head in disgust. "I don't think you're supposed to eat dhampiri."

Runt licked his lips.

"We must not taste good." Cricket pondered.

Lyra took a calming breath. "Or they figured we would survive the longest without food. Dhampiri need to feed often."

Arcada nodded. "We taste delicious. Like bat." He nudged Lyra with his elbow, though she didn't find it as humorous.

The group came to the scene of a small skirmish, with at least seven goblins scattered about a clearing. It was difficult to get an exact number, the way their limbs were strewn about.

Scorpion waited atop a boulder, crouched on his toes. However, the position no longer looked effortless, or even comfortable, considering his increased weight. The ratling leaned forward, steadying himself with Bale's arm. His tail, now fitted with a heavy spiked bracelet, undulated impatiently. His eyes narrowed when he saw the newcomers.

"Calm down," Cricket said offhandedly as he passed.

Scorpion watched Lyra closely. His lip curled at the sight of the goblin slave, but he made no sound.

Other than Cricket, only Arcada acknowledged the assassin. The huge insectoid kept his distance, but gave a slight nod. He stared a bit too long, as if sizing up the ratling, before motioning toward his enchanted blade. "It's so clear."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Ah!" Bax clapped his hands. "Your antennae aren't so bad after all. Most people don't even notice it!"

Scorpion pulled the prized blade away from the insectoid protectively. "I'm taking the rear." The ratling's beady eyes bored into the newcomer until he took the meaning and turned his back on the assassin without any evident unease.

Cricket led a silent procession through a series of damp tunnels, navigating, seemingly, on the sound of dripping water.

Eventually, Fat Deet's den connected to a much wider set of tunnels, at which point Cricket motioned for the others to keep silent and ushered them off the beaten path.

They hugged the wall and climbed a natural ramp that brought them to a small alcove surrounded by stalagmites stained with white dung. Cricket disappeared around a bend and returned with two other packs of food, more stuffed than the burlap sack.

"We're safe here," he whispered. "I think. The patrols don't come this way often and they really just stick to the main roads. We can spend the night here and head for Euna Brae in the morning."

Lyra clenched her jaw and looked to Arcada.

Cricket followed her lead, then looked back at the woman, and then Arcada again, feeling like he had missed something.

Lyra took a deep breath. "We can't go to Euna Brae."

"What do you mean? You said that's where you were headed." He tossed a bag of food to Arcada. The warrior's severed limb twitched to catch the provisions, but he compensated in time and caught the sack with his other lower arm. Still, he immediately held the offering back out to Cricket, shaking his head.

Lyra answered. "We were. But we have to go back."

"Back to what?" Scorpion hissed.

"To our people," Lyra answered with a forced calm. "I told you, we were with a larger group."

Bax plopped on the ground. "Other insects?" He asked as he yanked at one of his boots.

Lyra nodded.

Cricket swallowed audibly. "How many?" He accepted the pack back from Arcada and tossed it down in the mud at the base of a stalagmite.

"Twenty-four, including us. But…"

Arcada hung his head.

Lyra took another deep breath. "We had a temporary settlement just a few miles from here, but something happened to them."

"A settlement? Of us?"

A look of confusion crossed the woman's face before she registered what he meant, and she nodded dumbly.

"Like, a whole city?" Cricket's voice broke. "A whole city of Crickets? That sounds like trouble. Who sweeps? And who does the cooking?" He threw his arms wide as if making a point. "A whole family of Crickets." His voice suddenly grew almost too quiet to hear. He slumped to the ground and leaned back against a stalagmite with his chin tucked to his chest so tight that it scraped.

"Yes…" Lyra added hesitantly. "Like a family, but not really. We were the remnants of three clans."

"Now one clan," Arcada added. "One clan." He placed a hand on Lyra's shoulder.

Lyra looked at the tiny knife in her hand. "I'm going back."

Scorpion growled. "What happened to them?"

"I don't know. Only that the ratlings spoke of a battle. Really, I picked up more from the dhampir prisoners, speaking in their own tongue. And then I saw the corpses." She shivered.

"Insect corpses?" Bax asked in a somber tone.

"No, the dhampiri. The rats brought in headless corpses. That's our… method. We know there are many necromancers among the dhampiri, so they don't really feel dead—"

"Until you separate the head." Cricket finished for her. "Well we can't go with you. We have our own problems."

"Cricket!" Bax folded his arms. "Shame on you!"

Scorpion smirked. "Cricket's right, for once. Let him keep his head straight."

"I'll do nothing of the sort!" Bax retrieved the smallest bag of rations and moved to stand behind Arcada.

"Bax," Cricket said gloomily.

"And you're coming one way or another."

Cricket scowled. "What does that mean?"

"If you don't come, I'll make it look like you did!"

At this affront, Cricket sat bolt upright. He glared at the gnome. "Consent, Bax! Jeshu said he talked to you about this!"

"He did." Bax stated defiantly. He snapped his fingers and his removed boot vanished only to reappear on his foot.

Cricket hopped to his feet, furious. "And! And, Bax, you need to wear real boots! You track an unbelievable amount of mud through the tower."

"I like the feel of the guano between my toes!" Bax stuck his nose in the air and twirled on his feet, stomping off. He returned, blushing, to grab Lyra's hand and guided her away.

Cricket growled. He looked to Scorpion for support.

"What?"

Cricket's hand twitched on the pommel of his sword as he watched the gnome tromp off toward adventure. He looked back to Scorpion, and then Runt, and then back at Bax. "Can you… take Runt with you?"

Scorpion sneered. "I'm not your sitter."

Cricket stared wistfully at the soft mud he had intended to make his bed and weighed his options.

* * *

With the introduction of an additional lobe in his mantle, or cranial sac, Oydd experienced dramatic growth in his extremities. Notably, his fingers elongated more than his forearms, and his forearms more than his upper arms. He even measured individual finger bones with his most precise calipers and found his phalanges growing at a faster rate than his metacarpals. His three remaining tentacles reached a length comparable to rudran elders twice his age. At this smug thought, Oydd reflexively stroked one of his tentacles to find it stiff and curled.

Due to the nature of his physiology, Oydd displayed pronounced physical signs when dehydrated—dark bags under his eyes, protruding cheek bones and knuckles. His skin paled and stretched and stiffened. How all these signs had eluded him until now remained a matter for another time.

He lowered himself shakily to the ground near the portal. His legs barely supported his weight, and the rudra summoned his staff from across the room with no more than a thought. He leaned against it heavily and limped to a tin vessel filled with fresh water.

The rudra pushed the wooden ladle aside and cupped his hand, lifting handful after handful to his beak until color began to return to his flesh, pale as it was.

A single wraith watched from atop the stone archway, seemingly intrigued. It turned to its side as if speaking to another wraith, though nothing was there. "It is not perceptive. Not so much as it thinks."

Oydd ignored the remark, until the wraith began to cackle. At this he tensed and finished scratching a note in his tome before slamming the book closed. He smoothed his tentacles with a trembling hand as he considered his words.

"Likewise, you seem unimpressive to me."

The wraith cackled more loudly, clutching the stone archway with its claws. "Izu is wise. Izu sees beyond the present."

"You do not." Oydd rebuked. "I have seen you. Repeating the same lines over and over until now, when they will finally make sense, because you will respond to me."

The wraith stopped laughing and seethed through its teeth. "Izu is wise."

"But you are not really Izu, I think. You seem more like a fraction of a being."

"Izu is many."

"In aggregate, perhaps, but you are stuck." Oydd countered. "A pathetic little worm trapped and isolated from the collective. The same as if I claimed the knowledge of all rudra, because rudra are many."

Wounded, the wraith coiled—its shadowy bones clacking—before it replied. "It is not the same."

"Then tell, me, Izu, when we first met."

The calm wraith suddenly, violently surged, spreading its shadows to the floor and ceiling in what might have been a horrific display, but Oydd ignored it. The wraith wailed and swooped down upon him, only to dissolve into shadow before it reached him.

"You, however…" Oydd looked atop the stone portal where a new, larger wraith sat, then turned his attention again to his writing. "You may have something to offer me."

"Izu listens." The wraith inched forward.

"Is space the same substance as time? Is it one entity?"

Izu's voice rattled. "It cannot control time."

"But time can be controlled?"

The wraith added emphasis. "It cannot control time. Only two."

"Only two beings?" Oydd asked with a laugh. "That's interesting, since I have already seen two beings control time. A trollblood and Shisu."

The wraith wailed in pain at the mention of Shisu.

Oydd strained to keep his expression impassive. "You do not count yourself?"

"Once." The wraith whimpered. "Now Izu is broken—shattered."

"But you did, once? And you have the knowledge?"

"It may not control time. We forbid it."

Oydd's beak clacked in frustration. "Offer me a fraction of knowledge then. A piece only."

"Trickster!" The wraith growled. "And it will seek a piece from each Izu to form a whole. We censure the servant!"

"You censure me?" Oydd roared. He spun from his desk to face the portal, his robes rising from the ground in a burst of psychic energy.

There, in the doorway to the portal room stood Jeshu. His eyes glistened and his troubled brow cracked with deep creases. When he spoke, it came as a whisper, full of apprehension. "Friend, what have you done?"