There was a blur of movement off to the side. A bullet shot between the badger’s gaping jaws and smacked into the roof of its mouth. It squealed and twisted off in a different direction, colliding with the one still hampered by Binky’s Spit. The two of them went down in a pile of thrashing limbs and snapping teeth.
Gneil turned, his mouth agape, eyes as wide as the baby owl’s. Hoppit grinned at him, then sprinted off in pursuit of another target.
My high cleric climbed back up onto the ark, gently depositing the troublesome hoot-hoot back among its brothers and sisters. He took in the four badgers harassing the wall of shield-gnomes, still resolutely protecting the civilians pressed against the barricade. I frowned. Is it me, or is that group getting smaller?
For some reason, the chaos seemed to please Gneil. He nodded, then brought his fingers to his mouth.
His whistle pierced the air. Almost immediately three more badgers came running out of trees. My dismay quickly turned to relief when I recognized them as Helga, Clyde and Flea.
The trio of allied badgers made straight for the breach in the barricade. They drew to a halt and stood, shoulder to shoulder, teeth bared at the enemy badgers. Bruce remained in the center, defending the chariot and its contingent of armed acolytes, who refused to leave my gem. I considered using Divine Inspiration to persuade Gneil to lead them over to the civilian area, but decided against it. The chariot was as safe a place as anywhere else, for the moment at least.
The four dire badgers didn’t seem to notice the new arrivals; they were too focused on alternately attacking the shield wall and pacing in crazed circles, as if fighting against whatever was compelling them to attack. Like the dire badger queen, their pupils were strangely clouded. I wondered what they were seeing, if anything.
Whatever the reason, their increasing lack of coordination meant the melee gnomes were able to withstand their sporadic attacks, allowing the civilians to safely make their escape.
I hadn’t been imagining it; the group of non-combatants had been growing smaller. As I watched, another handful ducked beneath the back-wall flap, emerging on the other side of the portahut. Thankfully the dire badgers had so far avoided both huts. Though they were obvious weak points in the barricade, the creatures seemed suspicious of the octagonal structures, perhaps deterred by the scent of its animal-hide walls.
Now that the majority of enemies were trapped inside the barricade, my denizens risked crossing the open space away from the conflict, moving in the color groups they’d been assigned at the start of the exodus. They were guarded by an unarmored but spear-wielding militia—workers who had previously held the warrior vocation, I realized.
As soon as the last of the non-combatants left the circle, the warriors altered their formation, assembling into a protective tortoise and heading toward the chariot. The dire badger with a face full of shrapnel was harrying it fiercely; it had already managed to pull the spear away from one of the acolytes and was now snapping at the platform on which they stood.
I sought out Binky, thinking to use Spit again to help them out. Then I saw something that, if I’d had blood, would have made it run cold.
A gnome girl—the same blond child who’d been dancing obliviously before being kidnapped by the owl—was standing in front of the hut on the opposite side.
How the hells did she get out of the circle?!
Her small, slender form was dwarfed by the structure; her eyes were closed, and she was singing, swaying from side to side with every word. Once again she seemed completely unaware of the danger she was in.
The lone dire badger still on the outside of the barricade had up until now been throwing itself futilely against the still-standing wagons. Perhaps it was on a different frequency to the others, or maybe it just wanted to do its own thing, but thus far it had been causing minimal damage.
When it caught sight of the girl, though, it snorted excitedly and made a beeline straight toward her.
A large shape on the portahut’s roof moved. Binky was pressed flat against the thatch so he couldn’t be seen by the enemies below, but at my urgent signal, he leapt down to grab the girl, dangling in the air and then reeling them both back up to the roof.
Just in time. The charging badger passed barely an inch beneath her dangling feet. She squealed in triumph and punched the air, apparently exhilarated to have escaped harm yet again and uncaring that she was now suspended in the furry ‘arms’ of a giant venomous spider.
Unable to stop itself, the dire badger skidded through the portahut’s entrance and crashed straight into the supports. The entire structure wobbled.
Move! I commanded.
Binky immediately leaped down onto the nearest wagon, prompting another squeal of delight from his fair-haired gnomish burden. The hut collapsed behind them, trapping the badger beneath a pile of thatch, hides and sticks. Flea, who’d apparently gotten bored of his own guard duties, came snuffling around the edge of the barricade just in time to see the structure fall. He dived on top of it, snarling and squealing, using his own weight to stop the dire badger from bursting free.
My gaze lingered on the collapsed hut, an idea forming in the back of my mind.
I know what we have to do.
The melee warriors all encircled the chariot now. It was an island of safety among a sea of badgers, and Gneil was stuck right in the middle of it. For this task, though, I needed neither my warriors nor my high cleric. There were just two gnomes who could do what was needed. And I
