The Sceptre of Samnos

Dermakarak Part 4

     They jumped in alarm as a faint sound came from somewhere further down the corridor, the distant yapping sound of a small dog made lost and lonely by the total, echoing silence that surrounded it. A moment later it was answered by another, and it was accompanied by a faint chittering, turned into a soft susurration by echoes and the distorting effect of the damp stone walls. It sounded as though a vast swarm of cockroaches was massing somewhere in the darkness and swarming across the walls and floor. It was a sound that made the humans break out into a cold sweat. "What's that?" asked Matthew, his hand going instinctively to the hilt of his sword.

     "Buglins," said Rogil. "We've been standing here chattering too loudly for too long. They've heard us, and are probably preparing to attack."

     "Nonsense," said Shale. "buglins are cowards. They may be a threat to farmers and solitary travelers, but they won't dare attack a large force of veteran fighters. They're probably terrified of us, and are getting ready to run for it. We've got to cut them off before they get away with the Proof of Mantellor. Rogil, take seven men back to the intersection and guard it. Take Mikos and the three mercenaries with you."

     "I stay with the lady," said Connery, going to stand next to Lirenna and putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

     "All right," sighed Shale. "We'll press on in this direction and crush them between us." As the expedition divided into two equal sized groups, the chattering of buglins got louder and they heard the occasional bark of a larger creature as well. Soon, they could see dozens of pairs of eyes floating in the darkness, looking at them from about twenty yards away. Lirenna, Jerry and the trogs could see the creatures clearly, showing up as blobs of red warmth in their heat vision, but to the humans they were still invisible and not being able to see their enemy was scaring them. They drew their weapons and the wizards brought the words of their spells to the forefront of their minds. As Rogil took his group back the way they'd come, the buglin's chittering got more excited and they came creeping slowly forward. "Here they come," said Shale. "There's only thirty of them. As soon as we kill a few, the rest will run away."

     The buglins hesitated, as if gathering their courage, and Thomas found himself hoping that Shale was right, that they might quail at the sight of the force that had come against them and quietly creep away. The trogs moved to the front and crouched down behind their shields, making them a wall to shelter behind, just in time as a shower of darts came flying from out of the darkness. Thomas gave a yelp of alarm as he and the others threw themselves to the ground, but then the volley ceased and Connery hurled himself forward, past the trogs, to attack the buglins before they could put more arrows to their tiny bows.

     He swung his huge sword with a casual indifference that betrayed his utter contempt for what he considered mere vermin, cutting two of them down with one swipe. The trogs ran forward to join the attack and several more fell, but more buglins climbed over the bodies of their former comrades to take their place, their eyes wide with an utter terror that came close to madness. A moment later they saw why. Behind the buglins were three large shologs, threatening the buglins with death and mutilation if they dared to retreat.

     Some of the buglins hung back, climbed up on something to give them extra height, and shot more arrows over the heads of their friends at the invaders, using bows only a foot or so across. The darts were only four inches long, but when one of them hit a trog in the arm, he screamed and fell writhing to the ground.

     "Poisoned darts!" shouted Shale. "Get those archers!" Two trogs unslung their bows, and Connery fell back to do the same, reaching across his back for an arrow. The buglins saw them and began shooting their arrows in their direction. A couple of them caught in Connery's clothing and one bounced off a trog's helm, but none of them found their way to unguarded flesh. Connery's first arrow got a buglin archer right in the chest, throwing him backwards out of sight, and one of the trogs got another. The third trog, however, was hit by a lucky dart that found the eyeslit of his helmet. He screamed, flailing about in his agony, and his arrow went wild to clatter from the stone wall.