EóGAN VII

  The spider stepped forward to claim its kill, towering over the pseudoscorpion. Skellum bristled, aggressively posturing to claim every slain harvestman as his own. Eógan could not help but admire his brazen companion’s sense of entitlement. The pale spider poised a leg to sweep aside the snipping pest. Before it struck, Skellum relinquished the harvestman’s corpse. He scuttled over to establish dominance over the rest of the remains, far more than he would be able to consume on his own.

  Eógan was torn between his annoyance and admiration towards Skellum. Being manipulated into a fight that could have led to their death, or Liadan’s, was unacceptable. However, the battle was glorious and the pseudoscorpion’s deviousness was the stuff of legends.

  Ronan’s spear was nearly as satiated as Skellum was engorged on harvestman meat. The spear had sang in Eógan’s hands, moving of its own accord and striking with furious power. It was as if the weapon yearned for bloodshed. As Eógan cleaned the spear in the flowing waters of the lifestream, he heard not a single taunt. Ronan’s voice hummed in his head, contented. Perhaps there was a way to coexist that struck a balance between their needs.

  Camping along the lifestream proved to be a welcome respite. As Liadan regained her strength, she drew upon her healing ability to accelerate both her and Eógan’s recovery. His wounds were more superficial than hers; nonetheless it was pleasant to fully recover. Liadan’s return to mobility was miraculous; the damage to her leg would have hobbled anyone else for weeks, or potentially the rest of their life.

  Rhyolite managed to commandeer one of the harvestmen from a territorial Skellum. Thankfully, he decided to cook the arachnid. He shaped a large bowl out of stone, set it atop three smaller stones that glowed orange with heat, and boiled water within it. The smell was pleasantly appetizing, like that of crab.

  “Food,” the Tengu priest announced. He separated portions and brought a serving over to Liadan.

  Eógan helped himself, juggling the piping hot section of leg between his hands. Butter would have been the perfect accompaniment to this meal, yet he was not sure that he wanted to meet an underground creature capable of producing milk. “Time to eat,” he said graciously as he pressed his hands together.

  Rhyolite grunted in acknowledgement of his manners. He used a long finger to push steaming white flesh from a section of the harvestman’s limb. Relishing the meat, he burped with satisfaction.

  Eógan echoed his enthusiasm; Liadan wrinkled her nose at both of them. “Must you be so crass?” she chided.

  “When deep underground, act as Tengus do,” Eógan replied sagely.

  “You belched freely before you ever met Esker!” she accused.

  “Aye, but here you are the rude one.” He shrugged a shoulder towards Rhyolite, who was watching Liadan with an injured look upon his craggy face.

  “Delicious,” Liadan said in Tengu, after taking a bite.

  Rhyolite furrowed his brows.

  Liadan sighed and took a deep breath. Her ensuing burp was most ladylike. Eógan roared with laughter.

  A cooked meal was a luxury that Eógan did not overlook. Rhyolite instructed for them to break camp shortly after and they continued on their journey. It was fortunate that they did not need longer to recover from the battle with the harvestmen, for they were being tracked.

  ———

  The trio continued traveling through the labyrinth of caves, accompanied by Skellum and the albino cave-spider. Without Rhyolite or the spider as guides, Eógan would have been hopelessly lost. Tunnels branched out in every conceivable direction, some reconnecting later, others winnowing into dead-ends.

  Eógan was the first to notice that they were being shadowed. He never caught sight of their pursuers, yet he could sense them on the edge of his perception, moving parallel to the path his group took.

  “Sensei,” he whispered, taking a few quick steps to catch up to the priest. Eógan exaggerated a look to his left, followed by a look to his right. “Kumo?” he asked as he formed his hands into a scurrying arachnid.

  Rhyolite looked at him like he was stupid, which was not unusual. Before Eógan tried to rephrase his question, the Tengu priest seemed to understand what he was trying to communicate. He placed a large red hand on the rocky wall and closed his eyes meditatively.

  Liadan had been walking with Skellum as an escort, she drew close to Eógan and mouthed, “What is it?”

  He shrugged in response.

  The priest scowled, opening his eyes slowly. “Kumo ja nai,” he muttered.

  “Not a spider…” Liadan translated. “Wait, something is out there?!” Liadan hissed, taking furtive glances into the deep shadows.

  Rhyolite shaped stones into the peculiar pattern he used to communicate with the spider. After a series of chirps and clicks, the spider answered in kind. It leapt up to the ceiling and disappeared through a tunnel on the roof of the cave.

  “Daijoubu,” the priest reassured. He hefted Guillaume’s sarcophagus and strolled onward, in a conspicuously casual manner.

  Eógan chuckled. “I think he wants us to pretend that nothing is wrong.”

  “I do not even know what could be wrong!” There was an edge of panic to Liadan’s voice.

  “Something, or someone, is following us,” Eógan replied. “We should let them think that they maintain the element of surprise.”

  Liadan was not comforted by this plan. She quickened her pace to stay closer to Rhyolite. Eógan took up the rear of the formation, whistling a jaunty tune as he surreptitiously scanned for ambushes.

  ———

  It was a long day of traveling before they stopped to make camp. The spider had not reappeared since Rhyolite had set it off on its task. Eógan approved of the chokepoint that the priest had chosen to rest in: it had limited approaches and would be easy to defend.

  “How is your leg?” Eógan asked Liadan.

  “The wound has healed, yet walking is not comfortable.”

  “Would you like to transfer some of your supplies into my pack?”

  She smiled at his offer. “Thank you, but I can manage.” She looked over at the pseudoscorpion hunkered down by Eógan’s side. “Skellum seems to be nearly as spry.”

  His companion was missing three of his eight limbs. Fortunately, they were not clustered in one area, so his balance was not compromised. However, Eógan noticed how moving over rough terrain was now more challenging for Skellum. He held sympathy in his heart for the rascal, but hoped that this might discourage the little villain from picking fights larger than his claws could pinch.

  Rhyolite kept his back to a wall and a palm flat against the stone. His vacant stare indicated that his attentions were focused on the surrounding area, not on the activities of their simple camp.

  Eógan chewed on some dry rations from his pack. The flavors in Tengu cuisine were unusual. It surprised him how accustomed he had gotten to this bizarre underground world.

  Abruptly, Rhyolite stood. Eógan joined him, brandishing Ronan’s spear.

  The pale cave spider emerged from around a bend in the tunnel, tucking its legs to fit through the smaller space. It held something in its pedipalps. A body wrapped tightly in webbing.

  The priest started chuckling and made chirping sounds with two stones. He caressed the spider affectionally as he murmured sweet nothings.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Eógan’s eyes caught Liadan’s, her face wrinkled in disgust. They both laughed.

  Rhyolite lay the mummified body across the floor in the center of the camp. It was long, likely that of a Tengu. “Eógan, come,” he commanded. He then said a phrase that Eógan could not understand.

  “What does he want?” Eógan asked Liadan.

  “I am not sure… he wants you to, to cut!” she exclaimed. “He must want you to use your knife.

  Eógan obliged, drawing the knife from his waist and cutting through the thick webbing. It was difficult work, despite the keenness of the blade. He had to saw through portions and was careful to avoid cutting too deeply.

  Skellum crept over to investigate, his sensory hairs twitched with curiosity.

  Eógan peeled back layer after layer, revealing a figure clad in black. The garb covered most of its face, but he could make out a small section of red skin around the corpse’s large eyes. What was peculiar was how much slimmer the profile of the face was as compared to other Tengu, the shape of its nose was far closer to Eógan’s own.

  Rhyolite grunted and spat on the floor. “Ninja,” he said. He began to gather up belongings to break camp.

  Neither Eógan or Liadan were familiar with the word. “They must be some kind of warrior,” Liadan guessed. “Sensei seems concerned.” She, more reluctantly, began to load up her oversized pack.

  Eógan peered closer at the tightly bound corpse. He pulled the mask wrapped across its face down, revealing the stump of its nose. It had been cut directly above the nostrils and the wound had been cauterized. He raised his hand to his face, running it across the bridge of his nose. “Why?” he asked in Tengu.

  Rhyolite answered at length.

  “Did you understand a bloody bit of that?” Eógan asked Liadan.

  “Only a handful of words…”

  The priest huffed with annoyance. He continued to speak in rapid Tengu, now accompanying his words with gestures. He raised his hands over his eyes, pantomiming peekaboo, as one would with a babe.

  Eógan laughed at the absurdity.

  Rhyolite was not amused. He grumbled several words that Eógan suspected were derogatory. Again in an exaggerated fashion, the priest replicated the peekaboo motion, ceasing in the hidden position. He then crept forth, his stealth movements were exaggerated to an extreme. He disappeared behind a rocky outcrop.

  Eógan looked at Liadan, she shrugged, equally perplexed.

  The tip of Rhyolite’s long nose slowly emerged, followed by his shifting eyes and the tips of his fingers as he peered around the corner. He gestured his hand at his nose and said, “Bad.” He then pointed at the stub of the nose on the Tengu ninja. “Good.”

  “Ah, they lop their noses off for skullduggery,” Eógan realized. “It would be bloody hard to sneak with a beak like a bird upon your face.” He leaned closer and poked the stump of the ninja’s nose. The Tengu’s eyes fluttered open weakly. Eógan tumbled backwards in shock.

  “Baka,” Rhyolite shook his head with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Move,” the priest commanded as he slung his pack and raised Guillaume’s sarcophagus onto his left shoulder.

  The cave spider straddled the immobilized Tengu and sank its fangs into it. The gentle thrashing of the body stilled. Skellum gave the spider a few halfhearted snips, but did not contest the far larger arachnid’s right to her kill.

  Eógan pulled the straps tight on his pack. “I feel like a tortoise…”

  “Do not be as slow as one,” Liadan teased. She was already following after Rhyolite.

  Eógan loosed Ronan’s spear, ready to test it against any ninja. The mayhem started soon after.

  ———

  Figures clad in black, burgundy, and brown, ran silently with their long arms held behind their bodies. They kept their distance from their prey, clinging to the shadows.

  Eógan and the others kept a brutal pace, failing to create any distance from the Tengu ninjas. There were too many to count. Some used metallic claws to race along the rocky walls of the twisting cave tunnels.

  “Let me drink their blood,” Ronan demanded. His impatience was palpable.

  You will have plenty of our blood to drink if we fight now, Eógan thought.

  He received a growl in response.

  Skellum labored at his side, not moving nearly as efficiently due to his missing limbs. Liadan looked as if she was starting to flag as well.

  Multi-pronged projectiles flashed towards Eógan, he twisted and leapt to the side. The metal weapons showered sparks as they ground against the walls and floor of the tunnel. Several lodged harmlessly into Liadan’s pack.

  A ninja in brown garb rushed forward, Eógan moved to intercept.

  Ahead, Rhyolite reformed and reshaped the rock of the cave with his free hand. Pillars and spikes of stone shot out of the walls and floor, disrupting several ninjas who approached from different angles.

  The obstacles proved to have little impact on the Tengu assassins, only one was sent sprawling; the others nimbly evaded them.

  Rhyolite grumbled a string of curses. There are times when you need a chisel and times when you need a hammer. As two ninjas drew their swords, poised to attack, the priest grunted with effort. Large cylinders of rock slammed down on either side of the corridor on top of his opponents. Gouts of purplish blood were the only signs of their remains.

  The third ninja, who had been toppled by the smaller geomantic projections, rose to their feet and darted into the shadows.

  Before the ninja in brown could reach Liadan, Eógan engaged it with his spear. He could sense the weapon’s bloodlust.

  The assassin fought well with his single edged sword, yet he was no match for Ronan’s fury. For every dexterous parry, the spear point gouged leaking wounds into the ninja’s arms, thighs, and torso.

  The Tengu tried to disengage, but was hampered by its injuries and unaccustomed to Eógan’s speed. The spear laughed as it slit the Achilles tendon of the ninja. Eógan ended it quickly with a piercing blow to the neck.

  “I was not done yet!” Ronan protested.

  No playing with your food, Eógan answered. He would not be part of such cruelty. If you do not behave, Liadan will bless you out of that spear.

  “Then neither of us would have any fun,” Ronan whined.

  Eógan returned his focus to his surroundings. One ninja proved to be manageable; unfortunately, they were unlikely to attack one at a time. Their stealth, even at a full sprint made it difficult to count how many were in pursuit from the rear. Eógan guessed at least eight. More stalked through the parallel side tunnels. Rhyolite’s complaints made it clear that there were plenty ahead of the party as well.

  The ninjas had fully surrounded them. It reminded Eógan of a pack of wolves carefully harrying their prey, waiting for the ideal opportunity to lunge for the kill. Liadan could handle herself, he worried most about Skellum. The pseudoscorpion was not equipped to deal with these assassins in his current state.

  “Eógan, watch out!” Liadan cried, pointing upward.

  A ninja in burgundy rappelled from a large opening in the ceiling. Its blade poised to strike. Abruptly, the Tengu was yanked upwards. Long bone white legs emerged, followed by the body of the cave spider. Her pedipalps gripped the screaming ninja as fangs sunk into its flesh. She clung to the ceiling, straddling the opening above.

  With a hissing cry, the spider released the limp body. She writhed in pain as another ninja sank its sword deep into the spider’s underbelly. The assassin held fast, gripping tightly with spikes embedded on its split toe boots.

  The spider twisted in vain, unable to shake off her assailant and fell to the floor. Another ninja dropped from above, on top of its abdomen, stabbing repeatedly.

  Liadan raced to the spider’s aid, raising her palm and flashing brilliant light.

  The ninjas were staggered by the blinding glare, which gave Eógan an opportunity. He launched Ronan’s spear like a javelin. Despite its heft, it flew true. The ninja clinging to the bottom of the spider was impaled through the gut. It released the blade and hung limply, its feet were still attached to the belly of the spider.

  Eógan took powerful strides with the aid of the deer spirits. He braced his foot and drew the spear out from the dying Tengu, splattering ropey entrails.

  Skellum bristled at his side, posturing defensively. Eógan knocked a star-shaped projectile out of the air with the staff of his weapon, relying purely on his instincts.

  “You are welcome,” Ronan said. In his mind, Eógan could sense the spear’s smirk. Managing the personality of a sentient weapon was not a responsibility that he had expected.

  Liadan stepped forward and summoned a glowing barrier. Several more thrown weapons hissed as they ricocheted off of it. “We need to keep moving,” she insisted and Eógan obliged.

  Rivulets of blue blood seeped from the cave spider’s many wounds. As she tried to smash the ninja clinging to the top of her abdomen into the roof of the cave, the assassin swung onto its side, plunging its blade into the spider’s flank.

  The spider let out an ear shattering hiss, twisting in agony, unable to dislodge the assailant. Rhyolite bellowed in anger, unable to disengage from the many ninjas who threatened the way forward. Even from a distance, it was clear the emotional weight he bore from being unable to help his arachnid companion.

  Eógan took matters into his own hands and was upon the ninja in a blur. He locked the shaft of the spear under the Tengu’s left arm and braced it on the back on its neck. When he yanked the spear upward with his outside hand, he dislocated the assassin’s shoulder.

  The ninja gasped in pain, yet managed to maintain holding onto its sword with its right hand. Eógan kicked off of the body of the spider, drawing the point of his weapon along the Tengu’s neck. It opened in a burst of purplish blood. The ninja clutched at its fatal wound and fell to the floor.

  The spider, with two swords still embedded in its body, barreled her way up into the opening on the roof of the cave. Two ninjas fell in its wake, managing to right their chaotic descent midair, and land lightly on their feet.

  Liadan assaulted the first, before it could draw its blade. In a sequence of barrier augmented punches, she battered the assassin and sent it staggering into the rocky wall.

  Before the other ninja could attack her flank, Skellum caught its sword arm by the elbow with his larger pincer and began to snip at the Tengu’s leg with his other claw. The ninja released the blade as it whirled to face the pseudoscorpion, catching it by the grip with its other hand. The sword flashed down, cutting deep into the carapace below Skellum’s head. Yellowish fluid sprayed out of the gash as the ninja drew its weapon back for another strike.

  Eógan saw red.

  He met the ninja’s downward cut with center of the spear’s haft. The keen edge of the sword bounced off of the wood of the spear without leaving a mark. Eógan roared, drawing upon the fury of his ancestors. Ronan’s spear sang with each thrust as he propelled himself into the assassin again and again. The force of each lunge was augmented by his deer spirits.

  Skellum never let go of the ninja’s elbow, the force of his pincer closed tighter and tighter, splintering the bone.

  The black clad assassin put up a valiant effort, but was no match for the combined assault of Eógan and Skellum. After he disarmed the Tengu, he pinned it to the floor. The pseudoscorpion opened up its belly and made a dreadful mess.

  Eógan panted from the exertion of his berserk rage. He looked for Liadan, but only saw more ninjas. More foes to break. He smiled, barring his canines.