I need to see.
Quickly, I urged Ris’kin to withdraw the speartip from the blesmol’s bald foot. The small spray of crimson as she yanked it out reassured me these creatures did bleed, so that was something positive. We dodged another lunge, then scrambled up the craggy tunnel wall, the slender spear haft held tightly between Ris’kin’s thumb and palm as she worked every muscle in her fingers and toes to ascend out of melee reach.
We reached a rough ledge – just a few inches wide, but it was enough to take some of the strain off my avatar’s arms and legs. Forcing down a pang of guilt for not doing so sooner, I took stock of how the gnomes below were faring.
My denizens were under assault by multiple mole-rat ambushers. The creatures kept launching quick, aggravated attacks in rapid succession before scurrying away into the crevices they’d come from. They would then lunge out of a different hole a few moments later, which made it hard to tell how many there were. Perhaps only a handful, but their strikes were fierce and bold, unsurprising given that they were on home ground and clearly loving the advantage it gave them.
My gnomes had apparently learned from past experience not to even attempt to block the brawny creatures’ attacks. Instead, those with shields angled them expertly, deflecting incoming blows without having to withstand the full force of them, while those with spears did their best to parry and dodge, taking advantage of their weapons’ reach and keeping out of range of slashing claws and gnashing teeth.
The spear-gnomes soon maneuvered themselves behind the shield-wielders, who had formed a constantly-shifting half-circle, and at coordinated intervals – heralded by Longshanks’ shout – the shields would drop momentarily, allowing the spears to shoot out, the gnomish warriors’ reach fully extended as they directed their strength into mighty thrusts aimed at the blesmols’ (presumably) more vulnerable faces.
In short, they were giving it the best they’d got without risking getting caught up in close-quarters engagement, though it was proving impossible in such, well, close quarters. They were demonstrating surprising competence. I couldn’t help but be impressed.
However, their foes were even more impressive. And by impressive, I mean appalling. True, the ugly creatures flinched back from each spear-jab to the face, unlike when Ris’kin had impaled one in the foot, and one of them even let out a yelp when Longshanks managed to score a deep gash right underneath its eye. A scar near its other eye, along with the fury with which it had been focusing on the elusive spear-wielding warrior this whole time, suggested this wasn’t the first time the two had met in battle.
But in spite of this, the creatures kept coming. They appeared as monstrous silhouettes in the wavering light from the dropped torches, as though the tunnel were the scene of some grotesque shadow-puppet show. No, forget shadow-puppets; they looked like hand puppets, but only if the puppeteers were wearing the skins of much older hands as costumes. I shuddered at the image.
Having seen the gnomes’ smart tactics in the face of adversity, Ris’kin was raring to get back down there and help them out. They were now also being harried by the biggest of the bunch, the one that had first attacked Ris’kin and me. Its size and aggression were beginning to turn things in the blesmols’ favor.
Unacceptable.
I sensed Ris’kin’s agreement, and together we decided on our next move: to stay out of reach, out of sight and (hopefully) out of mind, and maneuver our way along the tunnel wall until we could drop down behind the big mole-rat alpha, stabbing it hard enough to get its attention. Then we’d draw it away from the gnomes, leaving them to deal with the weaker enemies. Ris’kin might be small, but she was the nimblest creature I knew; she’d outrun the mole-rat and lead it on a merry chase until the others had fled or the enemy keeled over from exhaustion.
I’d grown so used to using Double Sight by now that I’d learned to trust her instincts and go along with them, though this was the first time we’d been tested together in combat. If Ket were here she’d have been yelling at me to get out of there and let my avatar do things without my interference, or better yet, for both of us to flee, leading the gnomes away from danger and back to the safety of the Grotto.
Speak of the devil-sprite…
“What is it? Corey, what’s happening?” came Ket’s voice, sounding much less sleepy than before. She’d obviously sensed my distress, just as I could now sense her worry and frustration at being unable to leave my Sphere of Influence to come and investigate.
“Nothing!” I reassured her, cursing my inner voice for somehow sounding out of breath. Ris’kin and I scaled the wall sideways in a series of awkward shuffle-hops, fingertips stinging, arms beginning to tremble with the strain, until we’d maneuvered ourselves directly above the gnomes’ defensive formation.
“Are you sure?”
Unlike the one time I’d used the Observe ability – draining almost all my mana and nearly shattering myself in the process – Ket could not see what I saw through Double Sight. Thank goodness, I thought, wincing as the scarred mole-rat Longshanks was fighting lunged inside the reach of his spear, closing its jaws around one of the gnome’s long legs.
Okay, change of plan. Help Longshanks first, then go after the alpha. Hurry, I urged Ris’kin, who’d already begun to speed up, putting hand over hand and seeking toeholds in the rough rock as quickly as she could. But as we were above the gnomes’ defensive half-circle, the hand holding her weapon lost its grip on the stone, and our precarious balance was shattered.
Time seemed to slow as we fell, and despite the danger I couldn’t help
