This time, the Zolom could not miss. Its teeth sank into Coll’s arm with a crunch. Though I didn’t think they’d pierced the chainmail, the force was clearly enough to bruise, and Coll yelled when it refused to let go. As its teeth squeezed tighter, threatening to break the man’s arm in its attempt to force its way through his mail, Coll panicked, hitting the snake over and over again. Everywhere his hammer struck, the snake’s rippling scales seemed to go oddly rigid; just for a few seconds, but it apparently caused the creature enough discomfort to slacken its grip. Coll yanked his arm free, then spun and smashed his hammer into the serpent’s nose.
Clearly not expecting any level of resistance, the Zolom hissed and withdrew, slipping beneath the water and out of sight. A glance at the Augmentary’s map assured me it was still there, waiting.
“It’s all right!” I called to Coll, who was shaking his arm furiously as though trying to shake off a spider. “Its bite isn’t venomous. You’re fine.”
The warrior swore and muttered something about that being easy for me to say, but my reassurance seemed to calm him somewhat.
The rest of the convoy were making steady progress, led by Longshank and Steelpaw, but the latter had faltered at the sight of more shriekers lining the path ahead.
I eyed them thoughtfully. I wonder…
I focused on my map and selected the nearest shrieker. Just like I had with the frogs, I chose a random color and assigned it to the shrieker shroom species.
An array of amber dots appeared on the map. They were arranged in a rough circle, spaced around five or six meters apart. We’d had the misfortune of triggering the ones at the circle’s very eastern edge. Had the scouts found us a path just a little further east, we might never have known the shriekers—or the Marsh Zolom—even existed.
My denizens could not avoid the shriekers now; if they strayed from the path even a little, the wagons would become mired, and more casualties would no doubt follow. I had to help them get past and out of the Zolom’s territory. Luckily I had just the thing.
I eyed the amber dots on my map, rising to the upper limits of my Sphere to better pinpoint the shriekers’ locations. Below me, Ris’kin sensed my intent, reluctantly lowering herself down from the lead wagon and wading through the shallow water back down the length of the convoy. Binky attempted to follow her, but I ordered him to remain with my denizens. For the first time, I felt resistance, but in the end he succumbed to my instructions.
“Ket, Bekkit—stay with the ark,” I instructed. “Benin, Coll—protect their rear.”
“W-what are you doing?” asked Ket.
I grinned. “Buying you some time.”
An instant later I was looking at the world through my avatar’s lone eye. The usual disorientation that came with activating Double Sight—the suddenly localized sounds, the shift in perspective—was exacerbated by the newly unbalanced vision, as well as by the addition of extra senses. Namely smell; the marsh reeked, of fetid standing water and rotten wood and venomous plants. Shallow murky water clung to our leg fur, cold mud squelched between our toes, and I was overcome with the uncomfortable realization that anything could be down there, waiting to bite our feet…
Sir Fura tugged on Ris’kin’s ear, pulling us both back to the urgency of the situation. The convoy was approaching the next shrieker on the path. Ris’kin’s sharp vision—though only in one eye—let me easily pinpoint the shriekers along the opposite side of the Zolom’s lair, and we raced over, arriving at the first shrieker just as Longshank’s wagon was about to trigger the next one on the opposite path.
I waited, tense. The moment the other shrieker started to scream its outrage at Steelpaw’s presence, Ris’kin and I leapt in front of our own shrieker.
Nothing happened.
The Zolom was weaving its way over to the first wagon. Its route within the mist was marked only by rasping scales that seemed to come from everywhere at once; the Augmentary map showed me exactly where it was, but its targets were glancing around nervously, blind to the approaching danger.
My avatar waved her arms frantically, but the shrieker remained silent, refusing to trigger. Panic surged through us both.
Why isn’t it working?
The scouts hadn’t set off the shriekers during their reconnaissance. We’d only discovered their existence when the badgers and wagons had gone near them.
Ris’kin isn’t that much bigger or heavier than a gnome, I realized. She isn’t large enough to trigger them!
But Binky is.
I scanned the area for the sulky spider, regretting my orders for him to stay with the convoy. Where did he g—
The shrieker behind Ris’kin started to wail. The volume and proximity made my avatar’s ears throb, and the squirrel beside her head jumped so violently all four of its paws momentarily left her shoulder.
We whirled around to see eight black eyes glinting mischievously at us from beside the shrieker he’d just triggered. The spider waved his palps, as if to say, “You’re welcome.”
“You disobeyed my orders!” I exclaimed, weak with relief.
He clicked his chelicerae as though laughing.
Oh, you. Though I chided him silently, I couldn’t stay mad at the adorable arachnid. The shrieker had distracted the Zolom away from my gnomes, and it was heading this way—just as I’d planned.
“All right, then. Let’s work together.”
Binky agreed. The spider lowered his body until he was half-submerged in the water; with his greenish-brown coloring, he didn’t look out of place in the marsh himself. But he wasn’t hiding. This was an invitation.
The Zolom was almost upon us. With a thrill of excitement, Ris’kin leapt onto Binky’s back and the three of us took off toward the next shrieker.
Each time the convoy triggered one of the shroomy sentinels, we’d set off a different one on the far side, keeping the Zolom distracted long enough for my
