Cricket

Wisps and Whispers

Oydd hovered in the portal room of Euna Brae, near the cold and quiet arch of stones. He ran multiple calculations in his head at once, developing and resolving equations both scientific and arcane. Simultaneously he monitored a contingent of lizardmen as they scavenged the swamp for small game while Jeshu harvested squash from the sunlight that trickled down from the surface. He did so as he conversed with Cricket and Bax, following their mission with interest until he felt the insect forcibly close the link.

Oydd groaned, unable to reestablish communication at such a distance. Especially when the insect was unwilling.

His fingers twitched and the rudra realized his mind grew restless with the small number of tasks he currently performed. Though rare, Bale's mind sometimes rebelled against him when left idle, and it took a considerable amount of planning to keep it occupied. He used Bale's mind to organize mindless tasks while his consciousness dwelt on matters that required a more personal touch. But the effort reminded him of forcing slaves to build their own prisons—a method the dhampiri had used to keep them governable. And when outnumbered by slaves, the dhampiri promoted a select few to draw the ire of the others.

So too he regulated the divine mind, pitting Bale's internal schisms against himself while the rudra's mind watched safely from the recesses, growing plump and indolent.

He studied the runes along the edges of the portal and tapped his quill mindlessly on the ink-stained tip of his beak.

A skeletal wraith, the size of a cat, crawled its way through the ethers of time and perched next to the others atop the inactive portal. Strands of temporal magic reached from its skull and off into the darkness, floating and drifting like flocks of hair. Its claws clacked impatiently against the stone archway.

Oydd felt it eyeing him with empty sockets in his periphery.

When the newcomer failed to elicit a reaction from the rudra, it turned to a slightly larger wraith that flickered in and out of existence.

"Does it learn?"

The larger wraith scowled in annoyance and vanished.

"It does not." A third wraith answered, drooping its skeletal neck over the portal to peer down upon the rudra, like a vulture. "It learns nothing."

Oydd shook his head in dissent as he studied the engraven runes. His right hand scribbled notes into an opened tome that hovered near his side.

The wraiths clicked and hissed, each taking personal affront at the contradiction. A voice from the shadows behind the rudra replied, "It learns nothing new."

"Nothing new to you." Oydd clarified. This comment elicited another round of hissing, with several wraiths so flustered they vanished from existence.

A new wraith appeared—more transparent than the others, but with a layer of mummified skin and temporal threads like dried cobweb, many of which had snapped and lay draped on the being's shoulders. The cracked skin around its mouth held a perpetual frown.

In evident boredom, the catlike wraith vanished, only to be replaced by a similar-looking wraith with an elongated skull. The new wraith watched the rudra patiently for only a moment before a pained look crossed its face and it whispered, "Does it learn?"

The wraith with the stooped neck answered again. "It does not."

At this, Oydd growled and waved Bale's claw at the nearest apparition. Its eyes widened in panic before it vanished, only to reappear looking calm across the room.

However, Oydd recalled that this particular wraith always appeared in the same place, looking calm, then progressed across the room over several minutes only to panic and disperse regardless of the rudra's actions.

The rudra collected himself, then scratched another note in his tome, drawing a line to connect two previously unrelated runes.

The mummified wraith observed carefully before speaking. Its black tongue scraped audibly against its dry lips, which added a grating lisp to the words.

"It learns nothing new for Izu."

"Yes, yes," Oydd replied dismissively. "But it learns new things for Oydd."

The wraith's brow wrinkled in confusion. "But it is bound to Izu." It spoke like a parent instructing a child. "It must learn for its master and not for itself."

"And yet, you will not instruct me, so I do not know the limit of your knowledge."

The mummified wraith leaned forward until it fell from its perch atop the portal. It accelerated toward the ground, as if falling, rather than floating, but before it struck the ground it vanished without a sound only to appear in a hunched ball of tattered brown robes near the rudra's feet.

A second, pitiful wraith appeared beside it, squirming on the ground in a pool of shadows. It opened its mouth to speak, but quickly dried like a worm in the sun, shriveling before a word escaped its blackened lips.

The wraiths all nodded, as if in agreement, and the mummified wraith added to the unspoken thought, "but that is known to us as well. Though not all. For we are many."

Oydd's remaining tentacles curled in disgust, betraying his calm demeanor. "And yet somehow one being?"

The mummified wraith vanished, leaving behind a residue of dried skin and black flecks.

An answer came from behind the rudra, and he chose not to look.

"All beings through time are one."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Oydd stooped to examine the portal's primary rune. The pages of his book flipped backward of their own accord, and he reached out with his quill to adjust some previous note.

"Is that so?" He answered a bit delayed and uninterested.

A silence followed, so heavy that Oydd heard himself swallow. He then looked about the room at the stern, somehow patient faces of the wraiths.

Only one replied. "It asked to be taught."

Sensing some significance in the silence, Oydd released his quill, leaving it to float in the air at his side. He closed his book and stood to attention, facing the bulk of the wraiths.

Three spoke in near unison, so that it echoed. "Izu is one as Oydd is one." The others nodded.

Oydd searched their faces. "One through time?" He repeated Izu's words.

The wraiths nodded and stared, their gaze probing.

"You are saying that the Oydd of yesterday and the Oydd of tomorrow are the same being. Likewise, the Izu of yesterday and the Izu of tomorrow are the same being?" He asked, unimpressed.

However, the Izus screeched and clattered excitedly at his words.

As the uproar calmed, the blackest wraith, taking a central position atop the portal smiled. "Until they meet."

In the following silence, the catlike wraith returned atop the portal. Its claws clacked impatiently against the stone archway with a familiar tone.

It turned to face an empty spot on the archway where another wraith had recently perched, and asked in genuine curiosity, "Does it learn?"

* * *

The large insectoid raised an antenna in confusion at Cricket's reaction. But he quickly lowered both antennae to cover for himself, in a motion that felt like a bow. The woman placed her palms together and repeated the gesture, lowering her own antennae.

"Um, thanks?" Cricket replied. "Or… you're welcome? I'm not really sure what you're trying to convey."

Bax pressed his own palms together and wiggled his ears trying to copy the motion of their antennae when Cricket grabbed him by the wrist and gave a solid yank, starting back toward the stairs.

"Wait!" The woman tried to call after him, but the word barely escaped her dry throat. She stumbled and tripped into her cellmate, who offered a lower arm for support.

"Hmm? What? Do you need water?" He loosened a bat-leather flask from his hip with an impatient look over his shoulder. "We were kind of in the middle of something." The sound of a sword crashing against a shield reverberated from the tunnels above.

Cricket tossed the waterskin toward the woman, and she fumbled with all four arms to catch it, but failed. The stopper popped and water began to pool in the soil.

If anything, Cricket looked annoyed, until Bax tapped at his elbow.

"Um. I'm not sure if they're… warriors like us."

Cricket scratched at the base of an antenna. "Oh, do they need help? We're headed back to Euna Brae. Have you heard of the place?"

The woman pinched the waterskin between her mandibles but only took two gulps before passing the flask to her cellmate. She nodded as she wiped her mouth dry. "That's where we were headed."

Looking baffled, the man made two quick signs with his fingers.

She responded with a drinking motion then clacked her two index fingers together.

Cricket struggled for words. "Does…"

The woman placed a hand gently on the man's shoulder. "Arcada is nearly deaf now."

Arcada laughed as he drained the leather flask, saving a drop to rub out a smudge on his shell. He shook his head and spoke with a deep voice. "It's not that bad." He spoke clearly, save for an occasional clicking stutter that seemed unrelated to his hearing.

The woman ignored him. "My name is Lyra. We heard Euna Brae is offering refuge."

"Can you fight?" Cricket asked.

The man turned again to the woman who translated with hand signs. He grinned deviously and nodded.

"He can't," Lyra disputed, as Arcada continued to nod, oblivious. "He can barely walk."
Cricket sighed and pulled a knife from beneath the shell at his hips. He pressed it into Lyra's hands and she gripped it with both upper arms.

Cricket pinched his mandibles together to avoid critiquing her. He retrieved a knife for Arcada, but the huge insectoid shook his head. The warrior made a fist and pounded it into his palm with a satisfying thump.

Cricket had to concede that the sharp ridges of the warrior's knuckles looked far more devastating than a small knife.

"You didn't say if we were welcome." Lyra's voice cracked when she spoke.

Cricket sighed. "You're allowed. No offense. We just have a lot of mouths to feed right now, and an army at the door."

"Not literally," Bax clarified. "About the door, I mean. There's an army headed to our door. But it's also not literally a door." After a moment's thought, the gnome added. "Pulling your weight might be literal." He looked to Cricket for confirmation.

"Dhampiri," Cricket rested a palm on the hilt of his sheathed sword and his thumb twitched.

The larger insect watched Cricket's mandibles intently, and seemed to get the meaning. His face grew serious and he clicked his tongue. "We kill vampires."

Cricket cocked his head, detecting an accent he hadn't noticed yet. "Not vampires. Vampires can be good." His gaze happened to stray to the tiny goblin. Runt saluted and displayed his own sharpened stick proudly.

Cricket smiled. "Good job, Buddy. You'll want to come with us if you don't want to get eaten. The scent of blood will attract a lot of bats."

Cricket suddenly glanced at the gnome. "Was it goblins that like to be eaten? What was the thing that likes to be eaten?"

"Oh, no, no, no no, no!" Bax blustered. "Sawfly larvae! I don't want to eat them, mind you, but they wouldn't leave my chickens alone—just squirming about, trying to look scrumptious."

Cricket looked back down at Runt who simply grinned back.

"Well.. all right, then." The insect took a deep breath before trudging off toward the exit.

"I—" Lyra sputtered, grabbing the gnome's attention. "Are we not in a hurry?"

"Oh?" Bax mused as the insect kicked a rock into an empty cell. "Yes, well, it's too late now. The fight's over, so he's going to mope a bit."

"He likes fighting?"

Bax nodded. "Oh, my, yes. Something very sensuous about combat, you know, and wayfaring. Sleeping beneath the stars, not knowing where you'll get your next meal, running from king's guards with a scone in your teeth." He sighed and nodded to himself at some memory, then added, "Something profoundly romantic about wayfaring, Cricket would say."

Lyra knit her feelers, unsure if she had understood the words correctly. She glanced down at her knife, her fingers trembling on the hilt. "But you think the fight is over?"

In response, the gnome's nodding simply grew more emphatic. "Scorpion is very fast. Very efficient assassin, you know! Doesn't get sidetracked. That's why I like to follow Cricket. Also, he appreciates the value of aesthetics. You know, like color and… presentation…" Bax saw that he was losing the insectoid's attention and quickly added, "And I'm Bax, we're pretty sure at this point." He extended his grubby hand.

Lyra raised an antenna, studying the gnome, then extended her own arm in the air, in an attempt to mimic the foreign gesture.

Bax laughed and grabbed her delicate hand with all ten of his plump fingers. Then he rubbed his nose against the shell until it shined, seeing no reason to adhere to established customs, before trotting off to join Cricket at the front of the group.