NOVEL SIMPLE Book Four: Expansion - Chapter Ten: Give That Lizog An Oscar
I’m wedged in the crook of a large branch, my feet tucked around the trunk, my stomach flat on the branch itself. I’ve chosen it carefully: it’s overlooking the clearing but is high enough above it that I shouldn’t be immediately noticeable. The lizard-folk have ranged weapons, after all.
My ears are pricked, both physical and mental ones. All around me, the Bound I have brought with me are waiting silently. I decided to leave the most vulnerable of my Bound at the cave today, so we have slightly reduced numbers, but hopefully that will also reduce the number of possible casualties.
We wait. All hinges on the lizard-folk party not knowing what they’re getting into.
I’m coming, I hear faintly through one of the Bonds. I send a signal to the rest of my Bound to be ready and sense them shifting slightly, moving from waiting to full readiness. I mentally run through the plan once more, as well as the contingencies based on how the lizard-folk react. I think I’ve planned for everything, but I’m aware that reality has a way of kicking plans in the teeth.
As I’m about to start running through the plan again, I see a shape moving through the trees. My grip tightening on the branch I’m lying on, I don’t relax even when I identify it as River.
He’s running full-tilt and barely slows as he gets into the clearing. Running around the edge, he stops when he is on the far side of where he entered. Pulling his spear from his back, he prepares.
Behind him, I see a whole load more of silhouettes that rapidly become full-colour as they get closer. One, two, three….sixteen. Yes. Good, they’re all here.
Two of the Warriors are at the front, the slimmer and more lithe ones apparently faster than the hulking examples of their species. At the back, accompanied by one of the biggest lizard-kin, is the slim figure of the Pathwalker.
They enter the clearing warily, their eyes mostly focussed on River’s halted form, but also looking around at the trees and bushes. As I know from River, the lizard-folk have learned to be highly observant – they would have died young if they hadn’t. I hope that none of my Bound are visible, but moving at this point would be the worst possible reaction.
To that end, I also stay absolutely still, my position fortunately already lending me an excellent view on the situation – intentionally so, of course.
I can imagine what the lizard-folk are thinking. They’ve been chasing a member of their village, who disappeared under suspicious circumstances with two escapees. Suddenly, he’s stopped running. Rather suspect, right? Leaning into River’s understanding of his own language, I’m able to catch hints of the uncertain murmurs between the members of the hunting party.
They don’t know whether to wait or to attack, and if to attack, whether to run forwards and grab the estranged member of their village or to use weapons from a distance – use the advantage of his turned back to bring him down. They look towards the Pathwalker and the Warrior at her side for guidance. These two seem hesitant to commit. Perhaps they fear a trap – rightly so. But that’s not what we want them to be thinking about right now.
Well, that’s what the next bit of drama is for. And who better to play the part than someone who’s already proven himself quite capable of acting?
A blood-thirsty growl ripples through the air, grabbing the attention of all the lizard-folk. Levelling his spear at the bush in front of him, River starts backing away – towards the group of lizard-kin. He’s pretending that he’s not even aware of their presence, he’s so focussed on the ‘threat’ in front of him. But I can see how he deliberately stops before he reaches the line he’s fully aware he mustn’t cross.
Emerging from the bushes is Fenrir, his teeth bared, his body hunched. He’s got bigger, I realise. I hadn’t noticed before, but now seeing them from above, I can tell that he’s grown both in height and breadth. Well, I’d always thought his mental presence felt young; maybe instead of being a bit of a runt, he’s actually just not fully-grown?
Either way, he’s a threatening sight. Well worthy of the ‘fearfully’ shaking spear of River. The other lizard-folk curse when they see him; eavesdropping on the utterances they make explains why: they’re fully aware that lizogs run as a pack. They think that Fenrir is just the single one visible.
Darting looks at the forest around, they seem to be searching for the rest of the group. Holding their weapons more firmly, they pull together. To their credit, they don’t look fearful, simply wary. As if it’s a previously established strategy – which it might easily be – they arrange themselves with the Pathwalker in the middle of the group, the Warriors protecting her, the Unevolved adults surrounding them.
They’re clearly ready for anything, but they’re not quite where I want them to be yet. Still, at least the first step has succeeded: they’re bunched up together rather than spread apart. But I need to get them to move a bit further into the clearing. Fortunately, I have a plan for that.
After all, this lizog does run as a pack, but not with other lizogs.
Sending a message to certain of my Bound, a sudden ripple of growls and snarls fills the air around the lizard-folk. They startle, their heads turning this way and that, trying to pinpoint the sounds probably.
This isn’t right, I see one of them saying, his spikes an urgent orange. There are too many different beasts.
Well, I suppose I should have expected that: beings who have lived in the forest for all their lives should know the difference between different sounds. That’s not as relevant as the fact that even the sounds of aggressive animals haven't made them shift at all. Instead, they’ve just pulled their circle in tighter.
I send a message to one Bound in particular. The next moment, a loud bellow makes the Unevolved adults around the edge of the circle flinch.
A cyran? I interpret one of them saying. A lizog, and now a cyran? What’s going on?
A moment later, the thunder of thudding feet fills the air and the hulking shape of my cyran Bound – newly named Trinity for her three horns – comes into view, stampeding towards the group.
They shift like water, changing shape to form more of a line, the six Unevolved with spears presenting them like pikes, their bases against the earth below, the Warriors with clubs clearly ready to clobber my Bound when she comes near.
At the last moment, she slides to a halt, the spears coming within a hand’s width of her skin, but not actually managing to pierce it. The lizard-folk stand firm. Pity.
Move away quickly, I tell Trinity and she snorts but follows my instruction. The lizard-folk by this point seem very confused. I don’t blame them. But I still need them to move. Perhaps another threat would work better.
Lathani, Bastet, Artemis, you’re up. From the trees jump three figures. Artemis is the deri I Tamed, the one who requires me to find others of her pack to join us if I wish to keep her Bond past a few months. She’s also clearly an ambush predator along the lines of Bastet, though looks more wolfish than Bastet’s panther-like appearance. Apparently she’s a particular effective hunter, hence why I settled on the goddess of the hunt for her name.
These new threats cause the lizard-folk to shift once more, pulling their formation tighter, their weapons bristling from the group like a hedgehog. Or porcupig. The three predators prowl around, testing their defences. They don’t commit to any attack, but feint a few times, jumping towards the lizard-folk and then pulling away before they can be hit.
But they’re still not moving.
River, try to get their attention, then look like you’re getting away, I tell him. He quickly obeys, stabbing at Fenrir.
Take that! he yells loudly, then sends a private message to Fenrir – a message which as the master of the communication network, I can still hear. Play dead, he tells the lizog. Fenrir, bless him, immediately understands and gives a mournful yelp, keeling over to one side with a thud.
Give that lizog an Oscar, I can’t help but chuckle to myself despite the tenseness of the situation. Ten out of ten for drama, but it’s done what River intended it to do. The lizard-folk now have their attention split: between the predators still prowling in front of them, and their estranged member who, having ‘killed’ Fenrir, has now run out of the clearing.
He doesn’t run far before he hides behind a tree and then starts making his way back to the clearing, but the lizard-folk still bunched together seem completely fooled.
He’s getting away! shouts one.
Do we go after him? demands another. He must have answers.
The Pathwalker speaks for the first time since she entered my view.
Quiet all of you! That yellow and black prey looks like the creature he was accused of stealing, she says suspiciously. We can track Runs-with-the-river’s path later. Now, we should kill the black and grey prey, and catch the black and yellow one. I will trap it if you direct it to the edge of the clearing.
An opportunity, even if the Pathwalker’s dismissive approach to Lathani makes my blood boil a bit.
Lathani, run around the group and then let them ‘chase’ you over the centre of the clearing. When they’re all there, quickly leap clear.
Yes, pack-leader, she quickly assents, clearly pleased with her pivotal role in this little drama of ours.
Just try to make it look natural, OK? I emphasise. After all, Fenrir is clearly a born actor, but I’ve never seen Lathani in action.
Fortunately, it seems like Lathani is treating it a little like a game, like something she might do with the raptorcat cubs if she wants something that they’re playing with – drawing them away from it with little feints and then running around to get it when they’re distracted.
The lizard-folk follow perfectly in her lead, the only moves they make which are not so desirable being spreading out a bit. Artemis and Bastet work to stop that without me even needing to ask them. By threatening any member they see who is at all outside the group, they reduce the amount the lizard-folk spread out.
Then, finally, they’re in position.
Lathani, get clear! I tell her urgently. As she follows my order immediately, I send my mind down the mana-saturated string connecting me with the large web beneath their feet. The whole web isn’t itself saturated with mana, not anymore – I did need to conserve some mana for simply growing it to the size it is now. But the threads connecting it to the pegs buried in the ground are.
With a flex of will, I sever them all. I can’t manage them all in one go, but I’m fast enough that the difference is limited. The ground disappears beneath the lizard-kin’s feet, and they tumble into a deep hole. The two which were on the edge of the hole and manage to remain on the surface teeter off-balance for one crucial moment. With a ‘helping’ hand – or head-butt, rather – from Artemis and Bastet, however, they tumble into the pit to join the rest of the group.
From above, I grab the pile of material sitting in front of me. Letting it unfold with gravity, I focus carefully and then drop it on their heads. The sleeping poison-laced web fulfils two roles – subduing, and preventing them from throwing their weapons. At least, that’s what I hope it will do.
Swinging one leg over the branch, I let myself slide down the tree, dropping the last metre or so to the ground. Approaching the hole, I sigh in relief and relax a little. The first major step is done.