by Demi Harper
Then it stopped. The arachnid seemed to shudder, as though ridding itself of whatever outside influence was directing its actions. The reddish film cleared from its eyes, and it seemed for the first time to actually notice its surroundings. The hairs on its back rose in agitation.
Uh-oh.
Gneil ducked the palps that attempted to grab him. He shouted a warning to the acolytes, presumably telling them to back off and give the creature space, but it was too late. It charged toward my gathered denizens, bowling over acolytes as it barreled down the steps of the temple.
My first instinct was to rally our warriors. I was sure that with enough time and strategy we’d be able to bring it down. But time was something we really, really didn’t have. We didn’t need to kill it; we only needed to get rid of it.
My second instinct was to have Gneil and the acolytes gather the non-combatants into a safe area.
Where exactly is “safe,” though?
Being stuck here on the ground was limiting, but even in god’s-eye, I doubted I’d have found an appropriate refuge in the moment. The leggy arachnid would be able to simply step over any barricade we made, and there was no way in all the hells any gnome could outrun it.
Furthermore, the Augmentary had said trogloraptors were sensitive to light, but it looked like our little illumishrooms caused it about as much discomfort as a candle might bother a hill giant. It rampaged through the plaza, one of its massive legs piercing the thatched roof of one of the pop-up shelters and crushing the supports inside it. Part of the shelter remained attached to its leg; the hide coverings of the walls caught on the trogloraptor’s spine-like hairs, and the ruined tent flapped along behind it like toilet roll stuck to a shoe.
Chaos had come to the camp. Again. But this time, it might be chaos that saved us.
Ris’kin and I signaled to Hoppit. To her credit, the general barely hesitated before relaying the order to her sergeants, who spread it to the rest of the tribe.
An instant later, gnomes and badgers were running about in all directions. I’d essentially conveyed instructions for them to retreat at will, including the soldiers. Whereas in past engagements I’d usually order them to fight in formation and defend the con-combatants, now I was basically giving them permission to flee in whatever direction took their fancy.
More than a few of my loyal warriors struggled with this concept. Most of them had already been gathering into schiltrons—small shield formations—and now they stopped, looking around in confusion, while others ran off in pursuit of children and other vulnerable denizens.
Thankfully, the non-warriors were causing enough chaos for their brethren’s habitual organization not to matter too much. I’d been correct in assuming that despite its fearsome appearance, the trogloraptor appeared more confused than aggressive. Like most predators, it hunted for food, not fun, and right now it was like a puppy in a chicken coop, turning in circles as though it didn’t know which of the tiny heat signatures to pursue first.
Heat…
Locating each of my cooks was much more difficult without being able to enter god’s-eye, I still had access to my map, and Ris’kin and I wove around the retreating gnomes until we found them one by one. Their instincts to flee were overcome by the strength of Adjure as I instructed them to follow my orders.
If we can’t drive it off, we’ll lure it away instead.
I was pretty certain my theory about these so-called ‘dire’ creatures receiving their own instructions from elsewhere was correct. That meant we needed to take advantage of its master’s current distraction and keep the confused creature busy long enough to buy the carpenters and cooks enough time to complete their tasks.
A mighty crash had me whirling around, dreading what had happened in the chaos. The battered tent the trogloraptor had been dragging behind it had caught on one of the wagons, upending it and making the arachnid stumble. To my horror I saw that a group of children had been hiding on the wagon; they tumbled to the ground as it tipped over, and the trogloraptor’s chelicerae clicked at the sight of so many heat signatures packed together in front of it. Ris’kin was already sprinting in their direction, though I feared we wouldn’t get there in time.
A flurry of feathers whirled in the space between the spider and the gnome children as a tiny storm of hoot-hoots flung themselves at the creature’s eyes. It waved its palps irritably to fend them off, then rose again to its full height beyond the reach of the as-yet flightless birds. The children, back on their feet, scooped up the fluffy owlets and retreated, some of the older children nearby bravely covering their retreat by throwing rocks and bits of rubble at the bewildered trogloraptor until Ris’kin and I planted ourselves between them, urging the kids to flee.
Spears at the ready, we faced down the colossal arachnid. Or rather, faced up; now it was at its full height once more, Ris’kin had to crane her neck to meet its eyes. I almost felt bad for instigating so much havoc; though fear and confusion had made it behave with panicked aggression, I still sensed curiosity above all else from it.
My avatar’s fingers tightened on her weapons, reminding me that this was no friend of ours.
I don’t want to hurt you, I told it silently. But if you don’t leave, I’ll have no choice.
Thankfully the cooks chose that moment to come through. Though my avatar’s darkvision detected nothing, the trogloraptor suddenly lurched to the side, scuttling away from us toward the chefs’ first offering.
As I’d hoped, the flares of the broilcups were irresistible to the trogloraptor, just like the sound of the shrieker shrooms had been to the Zolom. The sudden boiling heat was like a beacon to the creature’s infrared senses—as was the next one they filled, and the next. Each time the creature lunged for each one, it recoiled from the burning shroom with a brittle shriek, but its instincts still sent it moving toward the next the instant it lit up.
The tribe was in possession of eight broilcups in total. With the way the cooks had spaced them out, they’d lead the trogloraptor all the way to the lake at the edge of the caldera. Hopefully that would be far enough away for us to be able to complete the exodus. Once we’d done that and the countdown was no longer hanging over us, we’d have all the time we needed to either bring it down or chase it away for good.
Time remaining for Exodus: 12 minutes, 5 seconds
Plenty of time, I told myself, though the thought was tinged with hysteria. We turned back to the plaza and headed for the temple.
“Corey, something’s changed. It’s coming back!”
“Ket?” The sprite had been quiet up till now, lost in that weird dream-like state she’d been drifting in and out of since we arrived at the mountain. Now, though, she sounded worried.
I glanced over my shoulder, then cursed and started to run faster. The trogloraptor was barreling back in our direction and was almost upon us, its straight path toward the temple a clear sign that whoever was commanding it was now back in control.
Ris’kin was easily my fleetest creation, but the trogloraptor’s stilt-like legs and jerking gait easily took it past us. It knocked over an illumishroom cluster as it bowled across the plaza, hooked toes skittering on the flagstones and crystal shards of the temple steps.
We weren’t going to get there in time.
When it reached the altar, its legs bent, folding almost in half as it lowered its rounded body almost to the ground, like a wasp contorting to sting its prey. Underneath it, Gneil, who’d been knocked down yet again by its single-minded charge, rolled onto his back, his spear braced against the flagstones. The arachnid would impale itself on the weapon’s point before it crushed my high cleric. Pride rushed through me at his quick thinking.
But then I realized. The trogloraptor wasn’t interested in Gneil. It never had been.
I cursed myself for being so stupid.
It’s after my gem! We have to stop it!
The trogloraptor continued to lower itself until it was eye-level with the altar. Ris’kin and I skidded acro
ss the plaza in a final burst of speed, but it wasn’t enough. With a quick striking movement, it snatched my gem in its palps and sprang away into the darkness.
Sixty-Three
Control
Benin
Coll’s teeth were grinding again, his body shaking. He seemed to once more be fighting for control of his own mind, and wasn’t responding to Benin’s questions. Neither was Lila.
“What are you doing?” he asked again, shouting this time.
She didn’t answer, but he could guess. Her attention was fixed in the direction of the gnomish city, and her eyelids were flickering erratically. Benin recognized scrying when he saw it. Something was up there causing trouble, and she was directing it like a conductor at an orchestra.
More like a puppet master, he thought bitterly. That’s not direction. That’s control.
Corey had once told him he had an ability called Possession, but had confessed that he didn’t feel comfortable using it except in the direst of circumstances. It seemed Lila had no such qualms. Benin didn’t know what kind of dire creature she’d had lying in wait up there, but she seemed confident it would be enough. And once again the gnomes were facing it alone.
He’d let Corey down again, despite promising to protect his denizens. A sense of failure tried to consume him. Past-Benin would have let it. Now, though, he forced it away. If Lila were controlling the creature, he needed to distract her. Perhaps that would give them a chance.
He began to wriggle his fingers. He could barely move them—the vines held so tightly they were almost cutting off the blood flow—but if he wasn’t imagining things, they were beginning to loosen the more he worked at them.
It wasn’t enough. It was taking too long!
Lila suddenly cried out. Her eyes flew open and she dropped to one knee, reaching behind her with a grimace. His heart leapt as the vines loosened a little.
She plucked something from the back of her leg and examined it.
A gnomish spear? But how—
She shouted again, lashing out at something behind her, but even her ranger’s reflexes weren’t quick enough. A small figure dodged her fist, emerging fully into Pyra’s glowing aura as it jabbed at Lila with a second spear.
Ajax?!
The warrior he’d rescued from the monstrous marsh snake planted his legs wide, standing firmly between Benin and Lila.
“Stay out of this!” she told the gnome, sounding genuinely distressed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
That made no sense. She’d been trying to hurt them all the way through their journey. When Benin pointed this out, her face twisted in confusion.
“No! I wasn’t trying to hurt them. I was trying to…” Her expression changed, growing hard. Her eyes darkened, and black veins seemed to push at the skin of her face and neck. “Yes,” she said in a voice that was now cold. “Exterminate the runts. Retrieve the Core. Kill the betrayers.”
The sudden shift was more than a little unnerving. Even Ajax backed slowly away, edging nearer to Benin, and he did not move to attack when she closed her eyes and resumed communing with whatever was wreaking havoc at the summit.
The gnomish warrior instead turned and began using his spear to clumsily saw at the vines twisting around Benin’s legs. He’d have preferred the gnome to begin by freeing his hands, but they were currently beyond his reach.
The wait was agonizing. Ajax’s spear made little headway against the magic-reinforced vines, and Benin was frozen in a torture of imagining what carnage was happening above.
His nose twitched.
What’s that smell?
For a bizarre moment he thought he’d caught a whiff of the fetid marshes. But that was impossible. No way was the breeze strong enough to have carried it so far, no matter how pungently the place stank.
There was a different smell, though, much closer.
Burning.
From the corner of his eye he saw smoke curling up from the vines enwrapping Pyra. The little emberfox was focusing her essence, concentrating the heat of her body up to its surface in an attempt to counter the magical vines. And it was working. The fox was glowing almost white, hotter than he’d ever seen her, and the vines were starting to blacken and crisp. Flames licked along the surface of the thickest ones, and they seemed to flinch, finally retracting enough for Pyra to wriggle herself free.
The emberfox wasted no time. As soon as she was out, she leapt toward Lila, jaws opening wide as a torrent of flame spewed forth to engulf the ranger.
A wall of vines sprang up between them. The flames splashed against it, blackening and igniting the greenery but leaving Lila unharmed. She stepped out from behind the shield, glaring, clearly furious at having been pulled away from her task yet again.
More vines sprouted, this time forming a cage around the emberfox. Pyra howled her outrage, though Benin knew her Flamethrower ability could not be used again for another two minutes.
“Interfere again and you die,” Lila growled. Pyra growled right back at her. The emberfox’s frustration seared across their bond, but Benin’s gaze was fixed on the darkness behind Lila. I swear I just saw something move. Something big…
The ranger saw him staring. “What, damn it?”
Her ranger reflexes saved her life. Lila threw herself to the side of the trail, and the Marsh Zolom’s jaws snapped shut on empty air. Hissing in annoyance, it drew its head back, close enough now to be illuminated in Pyra’s glow. Its tongue flicked in and out; for a moment, it faced Benin and Coll. Ajax froze in the act of cutting him free, and all three of them waited helplessly for the fanged blow to fall.
The Zolom hissed again. Its black eye sockets seemed to promise that they’d be next. Then it lunged for Lila again.
The ranger threw up another wall of vines to shield herself. The snake smashed blindly into them, and Lila took the opportunity to scramble off the trail and up the rocks of the mountainside. The vine shield kept the Zolom busy for a few more moments as it bashed its head stupidly against the barrier.
A grunt from nearby drew Benin’s attention back to Coll. The warrior strained against his own vines. He caught Benin’s eye, looking a little bewildered, but there was no longer any sign of the berserk rage that had driven him minutes earlier. The greater threat of the Zolom seemed to have snapped him out of his strange state, for now at least.
“Call yourself a guardbreaker, Rutherford?” he grunted in an uncanny impression of Shieldmaster Severs. His muscles strained, tendons pushing against the skin of his neck.
The vines snapped. Coll shrugged them off, gasping from the effort of having broken free, then he hurried over to Benin. Though his stamina was obviously running low, he was able to tug the slimmer vines away from Benin’s hands, allowing the mage to cast something to free himself from the rest.
The old Benin would have set them on fire, not caring about the damage to his robes so long as he could be free. Now though, he’d been considering how best to escape, and began casting Sheathe. Usually employed by warrior-mages as invisible armor, it followed similar principles to Levitate in that it involved forming air into a sort of “cushion”, except this time it was spread across the entire surface of his body.
His mana drained alarmingly as Sheathe spread along his limbs. When he was down to his last globe, he reached for Pyra; she willingly gave over her essence to him, and he seamlessly transitioned to drawing from her pool instead.
Once the Sheathe was in place, he fed more mana into it. The hard air shell expanded bit by bit, forcing the vines further and further away from him, until eventually he had enough room to wriggle free. Despite the circumstances, he allowed himself a moment to congratulate himself on such an elegant solution.
While Benin was occupied, Coll brought his hammer down on Pyra’s vine cage. The tendrils had already started to burn and blacken from the emberfox’s aura, and the first smash of the hammer made them crackle. The second hit made them crack, and finally the third broke through. Despite Coll’s somewhat barb
aric technique, Benin knew by now that he had full control of his weapon, and that Pyra herself was never in danger of being crushed by the hammer.
“We should get back to the gnomes,” he said once they were all free. “They might need our help.”
“Shouldn’t we take care of snakey-boy first?” Coll looked worried. “We don’t want to end up leading it right to them.”
“There might not be any gnomes left to lead it to if we don’t help them now! If we run while it’s distracted—”
The Zolom finally smashed through the wall of vines, hissing when it found its prey gone. There was a new hollow tone to its hiss, perhaps a result of the gaping hole in its neck. How it had managed to un-impale itself from the tree was anyone’s guess. Here and there on its body still clung strands of spiderweb, and the serpent’s brown-and-black scales bore the marks of Benin’s fire, though they’d healed plenty since they’d been inflicted, with no signs of infection from the fetid marshwater.
It hadn’t pursued Lila up the slope. Instead, it was watching her, its sinuous neck swaying from side to side.
Odd. What’s it doing?
He heard the rasping slide of scales on rough stone, though the Zolom’s swaying head remained in the same place.
Up the slope in the darkness, Lila cried out again. A moment later Benin saw why. The Zolom had used its colossal length to spread itself around the area, and it lowered the struggling ranger back to the ground, its tail wrapped around her waist.
When her feet touched the floor, the snake didn’t let go. Instead, the tail’s tip curled tighter, forcing her to turn as more and more scaly coils encircled her, just like the vines she’d conjured.
But the Zolom was far more deadly than mere vines. Once it had Lila in a good grip, it began to squeeze. Muscles rippled along its coils as they constricted, and Lila began to choke. She soon ran out of breath, and Benin watched, frozen, as her face turned purple, her mouth wide in a silent scream.
