[Shrubley, the Monster Adventurer] Chapter 45 – The Milk Assassin

Despite Shrubley’s dramatic change, his familiar still recognized him and didn’t appear to mind at all. The glowbug landed atop one of his many new leaves, providing an additional soft illumination that felt soothing. It would seem, now that the glowbug was evolved into a familiar, it no longer needed Shrubley’s mana to stay alight.

“We need to come up with a good name for you,” Shrubley said, gathering up his things and looking for the way out of the massive tomb.

It buzzed in agreement. Though, the glowbug did not offer any suggestions.

Shrubley spied something that he had not seen before. A faint crack of light behind one of the statues carved into the wall. He was certain it hadn’t been there even a few moments ago.

Are my eyes better as well?

Shrugging his new shoulders, Shrubley headed toward the statue, pried it open, and stared at the strange sight of Taamra’s woods reflected in this pale mirror world.

Somewhere out there, he dearly hoped, were his friends. Did they make it out? His memory after the fall into the gorge was hazy, but he did remember the hissing sounds a long way off.

From his inventory, he pulled free the [Morph Shield] and [Death’s Razor]. He was ready for them if he ran into more serpentii. They would be in for the surprise of their lives.

***

Cal clutched his staff with both bony hands and huddled up deeper into the hollow of the burned-out tree. It had once been hit by lightning and made an ideal hiding spot as the serpentii slithered or stomped past, depending on which type they were.

There was no end to those terrible things. Cal resisted another downward spiral of despair, though just barely.

Even if Shrubley survived that fall, how could he have stood up to that army of serpentii? Once again, Cal questioned his foolishness of trying to become an adventurer.

How could monsters ever become heroes?

He missed his first friend so dearly, his bones threatened to rattle and spoil his hiding spot.

They had come out high up in the hills to the north of Taamra, and that was perhaps the only reason they were still alive. By the time the serpentii found another way through the tunnels within the hills, the group was within the shrouded forests.

The serpentii had lost their trail, but that didn’t stop them from coming out in droves to search for them. It hardly mattered that they weren’t very good at it when there were so many.

When the Countess finally succumbed to the poison in her system, they had to rig up a litter with some sticks and canvas from Slyrox’s backpack. The small koblin dragged the much larger Countess behind her with apparent ease, but it slowed them down and made an obvious trail that Cal had to use Elemental essence to sweep away.

It was slow going, and with the lack of any sort of safe place to rest, the group was running on fumes. Cal wasn’t sure how many days it had been since they lost Shrubley. It felt like years, and still hurt just as much as the moment he realized that little optimistic shrub wasn’t going to popping up from the gorge with a jaunty wave of his twiggy arm.

He was gone. Well and truly gone. And if they didn’t want his death to be in vain, they needed to get to the Haalften manor.

That was easier said than done. They were not only going in the wrong direction for that, but it took almost a full day to walk there when there wasn’t anything more dangerous on the road than stubbing your toe. And that was using the road as well. Something they didn’t dare use now.

In the end, Cal’s greatest source of strength was the koblin’s unyielding courage and stubbornness. She looked after the Countess and her oppa just as much as anybody else. She didn’t complain, and she didn’t give up.

Even Smudge became a steady rock—metaphorically speaking—that Cal began to rely on.

Smudge bounced along, but even his bounces seemed heavier, weighted with grief for his idol, Shrubley. Not that you could tell outwardly, but the slime had hidden depths to him.

Cal was sure of it.

Still, when it came to fighting, Cal was always there to devastate their enemies. There may be countless snakes around, but he was more determined than ever to thin their numbers before he returned home.

His Elemental essence was far stronger than the unevolved form of his Red essence had ever been. He could call upon fire, wind, and many other elements. Even lightning at times, though lightning was the trickier one of the lot.

Even weighed down by that burden of sorrow, Cal suspected that his Elemental essence would expand in repertoire over time, making him into an even more potent spellcaster.

Still, he wouldn’t have minded having another essence, maybe one of a different color. Who would, after all? Maybe then he could enhance his allies’ fighting capabilities.

It was a good thing that Slyrox kept the amulet, Cal thought sourly as the hissing and slithering faded deeper into the forest. If Shrubley had it instead of Slyrox….

Well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

They had taken to moving during the day since the snakes seemed to have an easier time finding them moving about if they did so at night. They seemed most active during the hours just before and just after dark as well.

Cal looked at his shoulder stained black with soot and got an idea.

As far as he’d been able to tell so far, the snakes figured they would be fleeing from Taamra instead of going toward the Haalften manor. Whoever was in charge of them figured they were running scared instead of trying to get back home.

The Countess had assured them that with the amulet they recovered, they could get back to the real Haalften manor and out of this horrible place.

Not that doing so would make matters much better. They were likely going straight to the serpentii’s stronghold on this side of the mirror world and even if they managed to slip past, they would be dead center in another stronghold of the enemy.

With no way of communicating with outside allies, Cal’s little group was all there was to stop the destruction of Taamra. If the false Count had been right, his plan might already be in effect.

From what they learned, the serpentii could take the form and mannerisms of a nearby subject, even a glimmer of their powers, but they could not take their actual strength.

The false Count wasn’t a vampyr, for example. He could walk out into the bright sunlight if he wanted to, but it also meant he lacked the hypnotic powers, racial abilities, and essences that the real Count Haalften had.

That meant that while they might look like an Iron or Bronze Ranker, they lacked their power.

Cal had kept his mouth shut about the potential for the inverse to be true, too. A Copper or Bronze serpentii could also take the form of a Mundane child, for example, and be way stronger than they looked.

All of which meant that they had to stay on their toes and be wary of everything and everyone they met when they got through to Almora.

Even the Countess didn’t know how deep their magicks could mimic another person and their memories. There were some things she insisted were impossible to copy or fake, but Cal thought it sounded quite a lot like she was trying to convince herself.

Thankfully for them, nobody really liked the monster adventurers very much. Most of the town of Taamra had been rather unkind, so a keen way to tell somebody was acting out of the ordinary was anybody who was nice to them.

With the exception of that one Guild attendant.

The elf with the auburn hair was very kind to Cal and Shrubley. He hoped she was okay.

He wondered if she was already taken, imprisoned somewhere with a snake running around in her skin. The thought made Cal furious.

The last of the serpentii faded into the distance as Cal finished the first stage of his plan. Now that it was dark, he slipped out of the hollowed tree and stepped into the small clearing where Slyrox and Smudge were hiding with the Countess in a little dip in the ground they had covered with leaves and things.

In the dark moonless night, coated in soot from skull to toes, Cal was almost impossible to see. Even the necromantic fires in his eyes were tamped down and a very dark green that blended well with the night.

He thought about telling Slyrox and Smudge where he was going and what he was doing, but the plan was to stay hidden under cover until daybreak. They wouldn’t like him breaking from the plan, but Cal couldn’t help but think, what would Shrubley do?

And Shrubley would bring the fight to their enemies. He wouldn’t run and hide over and over again. He would stand and fight.

Cal wasn’t as strong as Shrubley, but what he lacked in strength and courage, he made up for with cunning.

As he tiptoed out of the clearing, he paused and listened every few steps, then continued on. He could hardly see, but that didn’t matter much because he was practically invisible.

If he used his cloak, he would be truly invisible, though he would prefer to keep the mana in reserve for killing more snakes. Any numbers he could thin out would be one less serpentii chasing them.

And the farther away from their present location that he could kill them, the more likely they would be to assume Cal and his group were heading deeper into the foothills and forests instead of toward the manor.

For once, Cal would be able to make some progress, do some good and sow some satisfying destruction, rather than slowly perish to a never-ending battle of attrition.

Storing his staff by wedging it between his ribs, he pulled off his left hand at the wrist, made it grip his ribs higher up, and then let it hang. He took one of the forearm bones from his left arm and held it in his right.

He crept around a pile of rocks with faint firelight reflecting off them. Cal was disturbed by what he saw.

The serpentii were talking in that hissing language of theirs, which was the ordinary level of creepy for these skin walkers, except their bodies were twisted together into a giant undulating ball.

Somehow, that was worse than what he expected to find. If Cal had a stomach, and all the associated parts, he might have thrown up.

Tangled like a ball of yarn, the serpentii talked to each other in that obscene hissing language. This was likely the only chance he’d get. They must take a nap before going out to hunt.

He settled in to wait until they were asleep. If there was one thing an undead learned, it was patience.