by Demi Harper
‘You’re right, Corey,’ said Ket. ‘Now!’
I wasted no more time.
‘Go!’ I told my avatar.
She didn’t need to be told twice. She barely needed to be told once. Ris’kin leapt away from my shrine and bounded across the cavern. She was forced to stop when she reached the bridge in order to take care of the kobolds that were attacking the defenses there.
When I saw this, I mentally kicked myself. How had I managed to forget about them? Of the dozen militia I’d stationed there, only two were still alive, while five of the original ten attacking kobolds were on the verge of pushing through. Even as Ris’kin took down the first of them, another of the militia fighters fell, leaving only one gnome still fighting. He lasted but a few seconds longer, a kobold driving its blade through his chest just seconds before Ris’kin slashed its throat open. His sacrifice, and distraction, had allowed her to finish all of them.
This was bad. I only had six militia remaining at my shrine. Nearly half my melee warriors had also been lost, leaving me with a little over a dozen, and my slingers had been all but wiped out. Meanwhile, there were at least fifty or so kobolds still fighting.
Yes, this was very, very bad.
‘Go. Go!’ I cried at Ris’kin, also summoning Binky over to help. The spider reluctantly abandoned the Refuge, and Flea the badger followed him in the direction of the besieged forces at the palisade.
Meanwhile, my avatar crossed the bridge and darted into the main fray, slashing left and right at kobolds. She stooped to grasp a pair of spears, one in each black-furred hand, then smashed through the kobold ranks to get to the nearest shaman, whose glowing hands were raised. As she charged into its side, the shaman’s throw went wide, and the fireball that should have landed in the center of Graywall’s small shield formation exploded beside it instead. An instant later the shaman went down beneath my avatar’s snarling jaws and stabbing spears.
However, the spell’s fiery power had already been released, erupting along the edge of the brawling combatants, setting flame to gnome and kobold alike.
This time, there hadn’t been enough gnomes in the shield formation to completely block the magical flames, and my warriors began to scream as they burned. Around them, a full dozen kobolds who’d had no protection at all writhed on the ground before falling still.
Graywall’s gnomes were still in trouble. Hair and armor afire, a couple of the warriors dropped their weapons and ran for the stream, only to fall to their knees within seconds, succumbing to the flames.
No!
I refused to let them die. I braced myself, and used Possession to flit from burning gnome to burning gnome, flinging each body to the ground and rolling in the dirt until the flames were extinguished. The pain was indescribable. I almost lost myself in the agony of it, caught in the gnomes’ shrieking madness and adding my own internal screams to the cacophony.
Finally, I pulled myself back, weakened by trauma and mana loss. I was down to just half a globe, but it had been worth it: I’d managed to save all but one of Graywall’s remaining half-dozen warriors. I briefly took possession of their officer and commanded these burned survivors to run for the stream and smear wet clay on themselves to help soothe their burns before returning immediately to battle. I planned to—
‘Corey!’ screamed Ket. ‘The stream!’
At first I thought she was referring to the burned gnomes being in danger. But a glance at the warriors told me otherwise, and the sheer note of terror in Ket’s voice made me certain something terrible had arrived. I followed her to the western-most end of the Grotto, where the armory sat at the side of the stream. There, a shape was rising from the water. A scaly, slimy, tentacled shape.
Snagga.
Sixty-Four
Snagga
Grimrock’s insidious avatar had finally taken the field. Worse, it seemed it had been here the whole time, just waiting for the right moment to strike.
‘It must have come in through the main entrance while we were distracted by the shamans, then slipped into the stream and crawled underwater,’ moaned Ket. ‘But why?’
That question was answered when the creature slithered toward the hillock that housed my gem. The only things standing between it and my gem was a motley rabble; one made up of a half-dozen militia led by Granny, Swift and Cheer, three badgers, my acolytes, and Gneil. I’d seen Snagga in action; they would not be enough.
We needed Ris’kin back. Now.
I summoned my avatar with all the urgency I could muster.
Damn it, why did I send her away?
I sensed her detach from her current engagement, but my gaze remained fixed on Snagga. The enemy avatar paused, then tilted its tentacled head toward the wall.
No, not the wall. The entrance to the Refuge.
It was protected only by Binky’s web. Binky, whom I’d also removed from his post, against my earlier judgment. I hadn’t set any further guard, judging my warriors to be better used elsewhere. I cursed myself for my decision as Snagga changed course, heading straight for the Refuge and the unarmed gnomes within.
Ket gasped. ‘How does it know where they are?’
It didn’t matter, and I didn’t care. All I knew was that Tiri had been right: this creature needed to die.
Today.
The enemy avatar continued to creep toward the unguarded refuge. Ris’kin was sprinting across the cavern; it would take her less than a minute to get here, but I could already tell that was too long.
I frantically scanned the Grotto for options, but when I returned to the Refuge, I found that the decision had been made for me. I’d been so fixated on Snagga, I hadn’t even noticed Granny had left her post atop the hillock and made her way down to the armory, where she’d collected an oversized redcap shield from a discarded pile beside the workshop. She hefted it determinedly with two wizened hands; one of the armorer’s first experiments, the red-and-white shield was quite a bit larger than those currently in use by our melee warriors.
Granny gave a hoarse shout. Snagga slowly turned its head.
‘What is she doing? Corey, what is she doing?’ Ket sounded on the verge of tears.
Granny’s eyes were narrowed and her jaw was set, but I could see that her hands and knees were trembling violently. As Snagga began to slither toward her, tentacles writhing, I could see that she wasn’t going to hold. Not that I could blame her.
‘She’s buying us time,’ I said to Ket. ‘And I’m going to help her.’
As Grimrock’s monstrous avatar advanced on the elderly gnome, I focused on Granny and activated Possession.
I’d known the old woman was afraid. But the sheer level of terror that enveloped me when I entered her mind shook me to my very core.
It wasn’t just fear. In that moment – perhaps because she’d been with me since the beginning, or perhaps because it was the last moment before her death – I knew what it was to be Granny. Time seemed to stop; Snagga’s advance slowed to a crawl as Granny’s memories and feelings – her life – flashed through me.
In that instant, I knew how it felt to have survived the kobold raids for this long when so many others had been taken. Guilt consumed her – Granny had always hidden when she’d seen the raiders coming. Had let others be taken in her place. The tribe looked up to her because of her age and resourcefulness, but Granny knew herself for the coward she really was.
In the same instant, I learned that my arrival had changed something in her. She recalled attacking the kobold that had kidnapped Gneil that day in the mushroom patch; it was her proudest moment. And she’d taken on the responsibility of Swift and Cheer because she saw herself in them; she was hard on them because she didn’t want them to become her.
The arrival of the baby gnomes had given Granny hope for the future of the tribe. She accepted the fact that she would die here and now, and was content in the knowledge that she would have protected the babies with every fiber of her being, to make up for all the times she didn’t move to
help others in the past.
All of this knowledge flashed through me in the few seconds it took for Snagga to reach Granny. I stared up at it through her eyes; an expressionless mass of tentacles and black orbs stared back at us. It lifted one of its tentacles to strike. I felt the shaking in Granny’s ancient arms as together, we raised the shield. Without my strength, I doubt she could have done so alone.
This isn’t fair.
Granny had been my second worshiper. She was responsible for a lot of the innovations in the tribe, and had kept the others in order since the day I’d assigned her the overseer vocation. I couldn’t let her die.
With Possession, I was in full control of Granny’s faculties. I could move her wizened legs as if they were my own and force her to hobble away from this fight. Maybe Ris’kin would arrive in time to save the helpless gnomes in the Refuge. Or I could keep Granny here in harm’s way and make sure of it.
I didn’t want her to die. Of course I didn’t. But who was I to put my own selfishness above the wellbeing of my defenseless denizens?
The tentacle lashed down on the shield, driving Granny and I to our knees. Still alive, I knew she was thinking.
Two tentacles wrapped around the edges of the round shield and yanked. Our grip on the shield failed, and it was wrenched away from us. The shield spun away, rolling along to ground to eventually fall flat at the edge of the stream. Snagga loomed over us.
Granny thought herself a coward. I knew I had been a coward, at least in my former life. But as I stared through Granny’s milky old eyes at Snagga – the writhing tentacles, the dead gaze, the nightmarish visage – and stood unmoving in the face of terror, we both knew what it was to be brave.
‘Corey, your mana…’ warned Ket’s tearful voice.
And that was it. It was over.
Snagga’s tentacles loomed closer. With a surge of pain and sadness, I wrenched myself from Granny’s mind, then stared down in anguish as Grimrock’s avatar snaked a thick tentacle around her neck and lifted her from the ground. Ket cried out softly as Snagga’s tentacle constricted. The old gnome managed to give the monster a single kick before there was a dull crack, and Granny went limp.
I fought back my sadness and attempted to focus.
Grief is a luxury. We have to ensure there will be time for it later.
I was suddenly hit with another wave of pain – physical pain this time. Ris’kin’s distress, as clear in my mind as if it were my own, forced me to look away from Granny’s pitifully dangling form and frantically seek out my avatar instead.
Ris’kin had reached the gnomehomes at the base of my hillock. There, she was writhing on the ground in agony, huge chunks of her red fur aflame. A kobold shaman stepped between two gnomehomes toward her; the buildings set on fire as I had possessed granny. It pained me to see the lovingly crafted buildings destroyed, but not nearly as much as it did to see my avatar suffer.
‘Where did this one come from?’ I gasped, overriding my avatar’s primal panic and commanding her to roll to put out the flames.
‘There were three shamans, remember?’ Ket cried. ‘This one must have managed to slip across the bridge in the chaos.’
She paused.
’Kobolds incoming!’
Ket was right; a quick glance showed me Graywall and his remaining handful of warriors struggling to get back in formation, unaware of the score of kobolds who’d run past them and were heading straight for the village. No doubt the shaman’s fireball had been a beacon, calling them right to us. I trusted that Graywall’s warriors would go after them.
The kobolds that remained on the other side of the stream – less than twenty at this point – were still locked in combat with Hammer, who still had nine warriors remaining under her command.
I had to hope they would hold, because we had other problems to deal with.
Sixty-Five
Survival of the Fittest
Ris’kin rolled and rolled, biting down on her agony and gradually putting out the fires clinging to her flesh. Meanwhile, I watched Grimrock’s vile avatar drop Granny’s lifeless body to the floor, where it lay crumpled, looking very small. But I knew better.
Granny’s last stand had bought us more precious seconds, but now Snagga was turning its attention to the Refuge once more. It slithered closer—
—just as Swift and Cheer came charging down the hill, screaming. They each clutched sharp stone daggers in both hands – clearly improvised from discarded spearheads – and were descending toward Snagga with weapons bared.
My brief Possession of Granny had shown me her last orders had been for Swift and Cheer to hold their position at the shrine with the militia. As with everything else, the pair had ignored her instructions. I’d never been so grateful for their disobedience.
Swift jumped, slashed at Snagga’s shoulder and then rolled as she landed, turning back immediately to face the enemy avatar. Cheer actually managed to leap up and plant both her daggers in Snagga’s slimy, formless chest; she now hung from them, attempting to wrench them downward and cause further damage.
But Snagga had other ideas, shrugging off the attacks as if they were no more than the stings of an insect.
The avatar lashed out with a single tentacle, and just like that, Cheer was frozen in place. Snagga reached out with one of the thick slimy tendrils that passed for arms, ready to finish the job.
With a scream, Swift leapt forward and slashed at the tendril with both daggers, but it only served to delay the inevitable. Snagga turned its malevolent gaze on her.
Back among the gnomehomes, Ris’kin had finally put out the fires in her fur; the skin beneath was already healing, and she’d managed to raise herself into a crouch. But I could only watch helplessly as the shaman stood over her, my mana – and my emotions – still drained from possessing Granny.
The kobold shaman leered as it watched Ris’kin struggle to her feet. The kobold’s hands began to light up again and I waited for the worst to happen. I’m sorry, Ris’kin.
A large, dark shape loomed from between the burning buildings behind the shaman. As the smoke swirled and the figure shambled closer, Ris’kin grinned up at the shaman. Then she turned and bolted away in Snagga’s direction.
The shaman barked at the sight of its prey fleeing, and raised its glowing hands to send a fireball after her. A scuff in the dirt behind it gave it pause. The kobold turned slowly.
The fire in its hands dimmed as it caught sight of the new figure. The advancing silhouette loomed closer, distorted by smoke and heat haze. Cockiness turned to uncertainty, and the shaman stumbled back. Then the silhouette resolved itself into the form of Flea. Despite the harrowing sights we’d just witnessed, Ket and I both managed a weak cheer.
The badger bared his teeth, and the shaman turned to run, all signs of magical fire gone from its hands.
But eight-legged Binky now descended on the kobold’s other side. As Flea and Binky both lunged toward the stumbling shaman, I left them to it. The kobold’s squeals followed me for only a moment before they were cut off for good.
Over near the Refuge, Swift stood over Cheer’s paralyzed form, blades raised to defend her friend. But as Snagga’s tentacles reached for her, two more gnomes came diving from the hole above: Jack and Elwood. Unnoticed by all, the two lumberjacks had abandoned the safety of the refuge, hacking through Binky’s protective web in their determination to aid their sisters and leaping through.
They raised their woodcutting axes two-handed and hacked at the enemy avatar as if it were nothing more than an overgrown, tentacled shroomtree. Unlike a shroomtree, however, their axes did little more than distract the beast. It turned its many eyes toward them.
It hissed again, and this time Snagga whipped out several tentacles at the same time, catching Jack, Elwood and Swift with its paralyzing venom. Thick tendrils wrapped around their hands and squeezed; a moment later, there was a sickening crunch. Snagga released its grip, and both axes fell from crushed fingers.
‘
What’s it doing, Corey?’ Ket whimpered. Two of Snagga’s tendrils were snaking toward the lumberjacks’ dropped axes. They wrapped around the hafts and raised them slowly. Jack and Elwood’s eyes widened helplessly as they recognized what was about to happen next.
A dual slash; two sprays of arterial blood. In the space of an eyeblink, Jack and Elwood collapsed to the ground, both their throats a matching red ruin.
‘No,’ I whispered. Bullet. Granny. Now Elwood and Jack. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Snagga dropped the blood-stained axes. The enemy avatar’s dead eyes turned away from my former woodcutters and focused instead on the two remaining frozen gnomes. It slithered closer, raising an arm tentacle to wrap around Swift’s neck—
—until a flash of russet fox-fur dived in from the side and slashed at the arm with a spear.
Snagga recoiled, hissing. Ris’kin slashed again, but the enemy avatar’s half-severed arm slithered out of the way, withdrawing into the mass of slime and scales that was its body. Instead, five long, slender tentacles whipped out toward her.
Ris’kin ducked and dodged, a blur of red, white and black, but there were too many tentacles. One caught her along the ribs, while the other lashed her shoulder, both wounds inflicting the same paralyzing venom that had defeated her last time she’d faced down this monstrosity. She fell to her knees.
Snagga stretched out another tentacle-arm, lazily this time, confident in the knowledge that its opponent was no longer capable of fighting back.
Ris’kin slashed with her spear and severed the appendage.
Snagga lurched away, like a slug contracting. My avatar rose smoothly, unaffected by its venom.
An expression I could only assume was surprise rippled across the creature’s slimy face before the spear in Ris’kin’s other hand plunged between its eyes, the point crunching out the back of its skull a moment later.
My avatar turned her head to look up at me, letting Snagga’s lifeless body fall. The black-and-white streaks down the sides of her muzzle were the only outward sign of the badger blueprint – more specifically, the badger’s toxin resistance – I’d used to evolve her before the battle began.
