by Demi Harper
That was, until my second forrel pack burst from the passage in front of them. I cheered as the frontmost kobold went down beneath a whirl of red fur and snapping teeth. While the first forrel finished off the fallen kobold, I sent the second forrel leaping over her and into the midst of the enemies behind, while commanding the third forrel to race around the other side of the pit to help Septimus.
But the narrow ledge meant the nimble creatures couldn’t effectively use pack tactics, nor stealth, and the physically stronger kobolds quickly gained the upper hand.
The first forrel was cut down by a brutal slash to the face from an enemy blade, while an unlucky shove sent the second forrel tumbling down into the pit itself, the impact with the bottom instantly killing her.
The third forrel had fared a little better; a snapped-off spearhead impaled her leg and she bore numerous cuts from kobold swords, but I pushed her to keep fighting. However, the half-dozen surviving raiders from the other side of the pit – those who’d just killed the other two forrels – now made their way around to flank her, and she was cut down within moments.
These kobolds then turned their weapons upon Septimus, who was still distracted by their brethren further along the ledge.
The first spear crunched into the back of his abdomen and stuck there, quickly followed by two more. As soon as the enraged cave spider turned on his new attackers, those he’d been harassing on the ledge immediately began to jab at him with their own weapons, edging forward to hack at his legs and head with swords and spears.
A glance at my mana confirmed that I was almost at three globes, so without hesitation, I pushed most of it into Evolution.
The spider grew in size; he was now truly monstrous, larger even than Binky. His exoskeleton had thickened, and the kobolds’ blades were now skittering off the tough surface as often as they managed to penetrate it. With a surge of renewed strength, Septimus lunged upward at my command, knocking one kobold off the edge and into the pit and unbalancing another.
But this brought him into range of even more blades, and a well-aimed kobold dagger pierced one of the spider’s eyes. A blow from a sword hilt crumpled another eye and he flinched back with a squeal.
Septimus was in trouble, and I had no more mana left with which to help him. Nor could I summon anyone else to do so: Ris’kin and her forrel pack were occupied with Barka and his reinforcements back at the lake, and the trio of forrels in the Passage had to remain there as a last-ditch defense of the Grotto.
But if Septimus falls now, those forrels will end up having to fight anyway.
An instant later, the forrel pack from the Passage were bounding away from the Grotto and toward the Heart. Ket was yelling at me, objecting to my decision to pull our last line of defense into the main combat, but I barely heard her. I was too busy willing the forrels to reach the Heart in time.
But they hadn’t even made it half the distance before my brave guardian began to falter. I watched helplessly as the next spear passed through Septimus’s leg with a crunch. The spider shrieked and scuttled backward down the wall of the pit, the damaged limb barely still attached, dangling by a thread of chitin.
The kobolds yipped excitedly to one another, and more spears chased Septimus down into the pit. This salvo cut another of his legs off at the knee; the cave spider now had only four working limbs. The next spear finally managed to pierce his exoskeleton, and the same bluish substance the injured whipfish had secreted began to ooze out of the wound.
‘No!’ I cried.
Thirty-Six
Extreme Elemental Resistance
Ket tried to mentally console me, but there was nothing I could do, and we both knew it.
Septimus waved his palps in distress, backing further and further down until he was concealed from the kobolds’ sight by the shadows at the base of the pit. I could sense him there, shivering, his remaining limbs curling involuntarily around wounds I knew for a fact would eventually be fatal.
Seeing him retreat, the remaining kobolds – half the original force of twenty – turned their attention to the various tunnel entrances that riddled the Heart like holes in a sponge. Two of the passages on that particular side would lead them eventually to the Grotto. The kobolds split into two groups of five and headed down both of them.
‘This is bad, Ket,’ I moaned, barely even able to put my fears into words. Knowing Ris’kin was fighting against a powerful enemy back at the Lake, and now Septimus falling, was almost too much for my mind to deal with.
‘It’s not the end, Corey,’ said Ket in a voice of forced calm. ‘We still have the three forrels from the Passage. Ten against three, though...’
I winced at the note of accusation in her voice, and heard clearly what she wasn’t saying. If I hadn’t ignored her advice and pulled our reserve forces away, there would be nine forrels between these kobolds and the Grotto – more than enough to take them down. Now, though…
I watched my mana levels anxiously; they were replenishing far too slowly, and had still barely reached one globe’s worth. All I could do was hope my forrels were up to the task. I’d commanded the three of them to wait around the bend in the Passage; although that would mean the coming fight would take place closer to the Grotto than I’d like, hopefully the element of surprise would be enough to give my forces the edge they needed to succeed.
One of the kobold groups was already trotting carelessly down the Passage, not bothering to wait for the other group. Their recent victory against my poor cave wanderer had made them bold. The forrels waiting around the corner would see them pay for their overconfidence with their lives.
As soon as the kobolds turned the corner, the three forrels launched themselves into the enemy. The kobolds had clearly not been expecting this at all, and the first one fell without even raising its weapon. The forrels were a blur of red and white fur in the midst of a fumbling chaos of kobolds, another of which fell as I watched.
Everything seemed to be going well.
Then the other group arrived.
Eight kobolds versus three forrels were not the kind of odds I liked, but I did my best. I had my forrels switch tactics, ordering them to dodge and evade rather than attack. As I’d suspected, they were positively made for this, running rings around their enemies, inviting attack but never actually remaining within range of the melee fighters. Lucky they ran out of spears, I thought. Now, if the forrels can just keep these kobolds busy until my mana replenishes a bit more…
‘Corey!’ gasped Ket.
The tone of her voice sent panic thudding through me as though I were actually a flesh-and-blood being with a heartbeat and not just a disembodied floating spirit of my former self.
‘What? What is it?’ I asked urgently.
‘There’s a shaman, Corey,’ moaned Ket, flitting around agitatedly. ‘Look!’
Sure enough, one of the eight kobolds was wearing the tasseled, skull-adorned kilt I’d seen the other shamans wearing. I hadn’t noticed it before because the armor covering the kobold’s torso was long enough to obscure most of this tell-tale sign.
Now, though, the shaman’s glowing fist made it easy to identify.
Oh, crap.
‘It must have been holding off on using its magic until it could reach your gem,’ said Ket, breathless with anxiety. ‘Now it’s going to blast its way through to the Grotto!’
Crap, crap, crap!
I flung a mental command at my three forrels to converge upon the shaman before it could—
A whumph and a flash of orange flame engulfed the tunnel. There was an earth-shaking concussion.
The fire died as quickly as it had appeared. Blinking in the sudden darkness, I saw the gently smoking remains of my three forrels being absorbed into the stone. Seven patches of charred weapons and bones was all that was left of the kobolds.
Wait. Only seven?
Cold horror suffused me as I saw the kobold shaman charging down the Passage. It let out a triumphant series of yips and barks. Its baying
echoed down the Passage, and from the Grotto I sensed the gnomes nearest the tunnel entrance – the woodcutters and the mushroom farmers – take heed and freeze in their daily activities.
It suddenly hit me just how close the enemy were to reaching my denizens and getting exactly what they’d come for. This shaman would not bother to capture the gnomes this time; it would simply put them to the sword. Or flame, I amended, as the shaman’s fist began to glow again.
The kobold slowed its charge, dodging falling rocks from the now-crumbling ceiling. The susurrations of the compromised stone, weakened from the explosion, were distractingly ominous, and I struggled to focus on protecting my denizens.
I now had nearly two globes of mana – still not enough to create a new god-born. I needed just over two to be able to make a basic forrel. As I agonized over how slowly my mana was replenishing, a large portion of the rumbling cave ceiling – weakened by the shaman’s explosive magic – collapsed in a crumbling shower of rocks. Chunks of stone descended upon the shaman, throwing up choking dust that obscured the passage and obliterated all signs of the enemy.
‘Yes!’
The universe was still on my side, and my own environment favored me once more. That would teach Grimrock to send his minions into my domain! The hubris of him! I’d show him—
‘Corey!’
I looked around wildly, trying to see what had Ket in such a panic. Then I saw it.
The shaman had somehow survived the collapse and was staggering toward the Grotto’s greenish light at the end of the tunnel.
‘No!’ I cried, racing after it.
In the distance I saw gnomes gathered around the tunnel entrance, peering fearfully inside. The two mushroom farmers were there, as were the eight sawyers and the six brickmakers, who must have heard the commotion from their respective workyards and come over to investigate. At the front of the group were Jack and Elwood and the other two woodcutters, clutching their buckle-axes before them. Their eyes were wide with trepidation, but they stood fast.
The sight of them filled me with some strange, sad, soaring emotion I could not identify, and did not care to, and in that instant I knew I could not let them die.
But I’ve nothing left to defend them with! All my god-born are either dead or fighting elsewhere!
Then it hit me.
Not all of them.
The kobold shaman was almost at the entrance, just seconds away from the hapless gnomes. I screamed a mental signal at the only creature in the vicinity that could help, and it immediately began to scuttle toward us.
Hurry!
The kobold shaman lurched into the warm green light of the Grotto, its fist curled into a growing ball of orange flame. My workers cowered fearfully before it.
Aiming at the gathered gnomes, the kobold drew back its arm—
—just as Binky dropped down from the ceiling.
The spider landed directly atop the shaman, crushing it to the ground. The watching gnomes cheered—
—and the fallen kobold’s flaming magic detonated.
The force of the impact threw Binky into the air, flinging him across the cavern to crash against one of the nearby shroomtrees in a crunching tangle of hairy limbs.
‘No!’ I rushed over to the loyal arachnid. Binky was special; I couldn’t bear to lose him.
The gnomes’ cheers instantly fell silent. They stared in horror, some with hands clutched to their faces. Elwood actually dropped his axe and went running over to the fallen spider, as did the two mushroom farmers. Their concern surprised me. Then I realized all three of them were inspecting the shroomtree for impact damage, ignoring the fallen spider completely.
‘Gnomes,’ I muttered.
To my amazement, Binky had rolled back onto his feet and was standing there, looking dazed, a little wobbly but only slightly singed. I’d expected to see him burnt beyond recognition, perhaps even still on fire, but there was barely a mark on him.
‘Evolution, Corey,’ said Ket softly.
It took my overwrought mind a moment to realize what she was referring to.
Of course! Extreme elemental resistance!
I thought about how reluctant I’d been to apply that upgrade to Binky, and shivered at what would almost certainly have happened had I not.
‘Always listen to your sprite,’ Ket sang. I said nothing, watching the other gnomes gather round Binky and tentatively reach out to stroke his legs. Their green Faith auras were stronger than before. Some of the gnomes even began to worship then and there. I comfortably watched my mana globes refill, enjoying the moment of respite.
Then Ket’s urgent voice sounded in my mind. ‘Corey – the Lake. Barka is escaping!’
‘What? How?’
I left Binky in the capable hands of the gnomes – along with a strict reminder of his instructions to not eat any of them – and raced to join Ket at the Lake.
Thirty-Seven
Dead
The kobold commander had successfully detached himself from the fight with my avatar, and was now limping toward the tunnel through which his forces – the last of which were lying dead and dying around the cavern – had entered.
‘Not so brave without your shamans, are you?’ I taunted, though there was obviously no way Barka could hear me. No doubt the loss of ninety or so kobold fighters also influenced his decision to retreat.
‘It’s likely that Ris’kin also went some way toward puncturing his self-confidence,’ offered Ket. ‘I imagine it’s much harder to strut with a spear in your leg.’
The sprite was right, as always. Barka looked much less fearsome than before as he hobbled for the exit, turning his back on Ris’kin. I belatedly realized that my avatar was the only one of my forces to have survived this particular fight; the three forrels I’d left her with were gone, and a glance at my Creation slots – I had twenty-four available – confirmed they were dead. I felt another surge of fury toward the enemy.
Normally, I’d have happily let Barka simply limp back to where he came from, except that I didn’t want him – or any of the enemy – to leave. They would all pay with their lives for invading my domain and assaulting my creations, and Grimrock would know it.
I spoke a single word in Ris’kin’s mind.
‘Go.’
My avatar crouched on her haunches, bracing herself, then leapt forward. She bounded across the cavern, entering the tunnel in pursuit of Barka.
Fox-like Ris’kin dropped to all fours as she ran, the better to speed herself along and use her evolved hands to control her flight. I caught up with her as she flashed around the corner, catching sight of her quarry just a few yards ahead.
Barka was favoring his injured leg, bent almost double and using one hand to pull himself along using the wall while the other hand gripped the embedded spear that was obviously causing him agony with every step.
Ris’kin let out a triumphant bark when she saw her prey. She bared her teeth and bounded forward, leaping the final few feet toward Barka—
—just as the kobold commander spun to face her, wrenching the spear from his own leg and bringing out round to face Ris’kin, point first. I watched in horror as my avatar twisted in mid-air, but the inertia of her leap could not be stopped, and it brought her full weight down onto the weapon.
The crafty bastard had been faking! It had all been an act, a feigning of weakness to draw my unsuspecting avatar in. But why wait until they’re all the way out here?
Luckily – in the loosest possible definition of the term – the black spearhead only pierced Ris’kin’s shoulder.
She let out a shriek as Barka shoved the weapon deeper, using the full force of her own momentum against her, but the avatar’s last-second twist had altered her trajectory just enough that the spear pushed through and impaled her arm, rather than breaching her ribs as Barka had clearly intended it to.
Ris’kin rolled awkwardly away, blood trickling steadily from both sides of the impaling spear. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side. Thoug
h I’d evolved her to regenerate, that ability couldn’t take effect while the weapon was still embedded in the wound. The fur around her neck looked even thicker than usual, puffed up with pain and aggression. This was one pissed-off forrel.
I expected her to wait for Barka to make the next move, but I’d underestimated just how much the pain of her wounds would drive her to rash action. She launched herself at her enemy, knife-sharp canines bared, going straight for the kobold’s throat.
Barka dodged her attack easily, though he stumbled a little on his injured leg as he stepped to one side. My avatar skidded past him – just as another trio of kobolds appeared from around the next corner.
How many of these creatures does Grimrock have? I thought in despair.
The kobolds quickly grouped in front of Ris’kin. She now faced a small but bristling wall of weapons, with the injured Barka at her back. Without hesitation, she turned to confront Barka again.
The kobolds began launching spears at my avatar. Some at the back of the group, however, kept glancing over their shoulders, as though waiting for something.
Yet more reinforcements, probably.
My avatar was so focused on Barka she didn’t see the spears coming until the first one caught her in the leg, slicing the side of her thigh and continuing on to clatter against the stone floor.
She snarled at the blow and turned just in time to dodge the next spear, which narrowly missed hitting Barka in the neck. The kobold commander threw himself to the side just in time, and snarled at the spear-throwing kobold, who cowered back behind its fellows.
Baring her teeth at Barka, clearly eager to finish him off, Ris’kin turned instead to deal with the spear throwers. The instant she turned her back, Barka took a swipe at her with a serrated dagger – one he’d picked up from the corpse of one of his dead shamans, by the looks of it.
