Two days had passed since the bracelet came off. They were busy and productive days. The kind where every hour was accounted for and every minute had a purpose. Grub spent his time split between training with Morrigan, reading through his enchanted notebook, and sitting in on the strategy meetings that consumed most of the village leadership's attention.
Luthiel trained alongside him when she could. The Guardians worked on fortifications, patrol routes, and contingency plans. Even Orobas contributed, providing intel on local wildlife and terrain that might be useful for defensive positioning. The village was preparing with the understanding that what was coming could not be avoided.
On the evening of the second day, Grub sat on the porch of the inn eating a sand-wich. It was a peculiar food that had quickly become one of his favorites in Anwansi. The base was made by grinding meat and breadcrumbs into a grainy mixture, then pressing it flat and layering ingredients of your choice on top before folding it over. The result was dense, savory, and surprisingly satisfying.
He licked his fingers clean and glanced down at his wrist.
A Mgbaaka Maara sat there. Obsidian in color with faint rune lines running through it, and the same dull sheen he had grown accustomed to over weeks of wearing the real one.
Except this one was fake.
Grub, El, and The Guardians had crafted it over the past two days using salvaged materials and a careful study of the broken original. It looked convincing enough to pass a visual inspection. Up close, anyone with real knowledge of the device would notice the runes didn't pulse and the obsidian lacked the faint warmth of active Anima circuitry. But from a distance, in dim light, to someone who expected to see it there, the replica would serve its purpose.
Grub finished his sand-wich and tossed the wrapper into a nearby bin. Then he stood, brushed off his coat, and looked toward the horizon. The sun was sinking. Orange bled into purple as the day surrendered to evening. Shadows stretched across the village streets like reaching fingers.
It was about time. The first stage of the plan.
Grub made his way through the village toward the meeting spot at a casual pace. He had hhis hands in his pockets and his face arranged into the same blank expression he wore like armor. As he walked, his mind replayed every detail of the plan they had constructed over the past forty-eight hours.
Every lie had been rehearsed, contingency mapped and response prepared.
When he reached the clearing at the edge of the village where the Lacert messengers always appeared, a figure was already waiting.
It had aquamarine scales, a lean figure and narrow yellow eyes that caught the fading light like chips of amber. Clearly a different messenger than the ones before. They had been rotating personnel each time, which made sense given the week-long journey between the camp and the village. Fresh faces meant fresh legs.
The blue Lacert's talon rested on a small device clipped to his belt. The control button for the kill switch. One press and the Mgbaaka Maara would fire. Or so he believed.
The reptile spoke in low, cold words without any greeting or preamble.
"So, wretched creature. What do you have for us?"
Grub shrugged with studied disinterest. "Plenty. I've got the location of the Dundun Ile, and I also managed to determine the village's military strength."
The blue Lacert's yellow eyes brightened. His posture shifted from guarded to eager in a single breath.
"Then speak, filthy creature. Where is the Dundun Ile? What are their numbers?"
Grub examined his fingernails. "Well, the Dundun Ile isn't where it used to be. I managed to steal it from them."
The Lacert's jaw slackened slightly. "You stole it?"
"Hid it somewhere secret. Somewhere the villagers can't find and somewhere your people won't stumble onto by accident." He met the Lacert's gaze without blinking. "As for their army? I poisoned them. Most of their fighting force should be weakened within a day or two."
"You poisoned the village?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you not sick?"
Grub paused. "Because I didn't drink it."
Greed flickered across the blue Lacert's face. His tongue darted across his scaled lips. Then the eagerness cooled into suspicion.
"Confirm this. Show me the Dundun Ile. Prove this poison you speak of."
Grub clicked his tongue and sighed. "Why would I do something so reckless? The moment I show you everything, you'll have no reason to keep me breathing."
The Lacert's talon twitched toward the button. "You'd better cooperate, or I'll kill you with a single click."
"You sure you want to do that?" Grub tilted his head, his voice carrying a boat load of bored confidence. "I hid the weapon so thoroughly that the villagers themselves couldn't recover it. I seriously doubt your people will fare any better if I'm dead." He paused. "But go ahead if you'd like. Just make sure you're comfortable explaining to the Colonel how you killed his only chance at acquiring the weapon."
The blue Lacert's talon hovered over the button. His yellow eyes narrowed, calculating the risk. Several seconds of tense silence passed before his hand slowly lowered back to his side.
"Fine. Continue."
Grub reached into his coat and produced a small glass vial filled with a murky liquid. He tossed it to the Lacert, who fumbled it briefly before catching it in both claws.
"That's the compound I used. See for yourself."
The Lacert uncorked the vial and sniffed it cautiously. Then he glanced around, spotted a shallow puddle of rainwater collected near a rock, and poured a few drops into it. Within moments, a small creature that had been drinking from the puddle stiffened, convulsed, and collapsed.
The Lacert nodded slowly, examining the dead animal with clinical approval.
"The poison is real."
"Of course it's real."
The Lacert frowned. "One dead creature proves the poison kills. It does not prove you poisoned the village."
Grub snorted. "And how exactly am I supposed to prove that?"
The Lacert remained silent.
"You want me to bring the villagers here? I hope you hear how absurd that sounds. Unless you want to enter the village right now so I can show you their water supply, though I don't recommend that. They are at high alert right now and they are keen at looking for Lacert's. But if you are so excited to get turned into a headless lizard, be my guest, I will take you there right now."
The Lacert reluctantly nodded. It seemed he had given the idea a second thought.
Grub's expression darkened. "Believe me now?"
"I suppose." The yellow eyes returned to Grub, still sharp with distrust. "But understand this, creature. If you refuse to give us the Dundun Ile's location, you'll become useless regardless. An all-out assault on this village is already being planned. Whether or not you cooperate, this place burns. The only variable is whether you burn with it."
Grub raised his hand with a measured look of concern. "That's actually what I need to warn you about."
The Lacert frowned.
"Anwansi is planning a counterattack. On your camp."
There was a few seconds of silence. The blue Lacert's frown deepened into alarm.
"You lie."
"I wish."
Grub continued, letting urgency bleed into his voice just enough to sell it. "Morrigan herself left the village two days ago with a majority of her soldiers. I managed to poison the ones who stayed behind, but the force she's leading is untouched." He leaned forward. "I estimate they're less than a week from reaching the settlement."
The Lacert's scales rippled with tension. "The Great Sage herself approaches the camp?"
"Yes." Grub widened his eyes as if the gravity of the situation had only just hit him. "You said an all-out assault on the village is being prepared, right? Then you absolutely must warn Colonel Gavial. Even with the remaining defenders weakened by the poison, the Guardians are still formidable fighters. If you commit your entire force to attacking the village, you will be too busy fighting them while Morrigan's group circle around and crush you from behind, or worse, destroy your supply lines entirely."
He grabbed the Lacert's shoulder with feigned desperation.
"You have to tell the Colonel to split his forces! Keep a portion at the camp to defend against Morrigan's strike!"
The blue Lacert studied him through narrowed eyes. "Do you speak the truth? Truly?"
"My life depends on it," Grub said firmly. "Would I risk lying to you with this thing on my wrist?"
The Lacert studied him. "You would, if you have betrayed us."
His claw drifted toward the switch. Grub laughed.
"Betrayed you?"
The Lacert remained silent.
"They execute every spy they discover."
Grub pointed toward the village.
"If they knew I was helping you, I'd already be dead. So don't you think I would chose to follow the people who promised to free me if I gave them the right information?" He raised his arm and let the fake Mgbaaka Maara catch the moonlight.
The Lacert stared at the bracelet and considered the logic. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I suppose not."
He brought two taloned fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle. From the branches above, a brightly colored bird descended and landed on his outstretched arm. Its plumage was vibrant, almost impossibly so, with long tail feathers that shimmered in iridescent greens and golds. Grub recognized the creature from his lessons and his enchanted book. These were one of the primary ways of communicating, Simurgh messengers.
The Lacert leaned close and whispered to the creature. As he spoke, the bird's feathers glowed faintly, absorbing the words like ink into parchment. Then he handed the remaining vial of poison to the bird, which gripped it in one talon. The glass seemed to shimmer and vanish as the bird tucked it against its body. Grub noted their ability to store small things in their own spacial realm hidden in their feathers.
The bird launched itself into the night sky and disappeared within seconds.
Grub smirked to himself, perfect.
The blue Lacert turned back to Grub. "I've sent word to the Colonel with your intelligence and my recommendation to divide the approaching force. Your information had better be accurate."
Grub pretended to wrestle with himself for a moment, rubbing his chin and looking at the ground. Then he sighed heavily.
"You know what, I trust you guys. You've held up your end so far." He looked up. "The Dundun Ile is hidden in the western brush. Past the red-fruit trees."
The Lacert's yellow eyes lit up with naked greed. "Truly? You're giving me the location willingly?"
"Consider it a gesture of good faith."
The Lacert grinned, revealing rows of sharp teeth. "Well then. If you've given us everything, we no longer have need of your services."
His talon moved to the button and pressed it.
Click.
Grub stood there. Very much alive.
The Lacert frowned and pressed again. And again.
Click. Click. Click.
Nothing happened. The boy didn't seize or scream. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching the Lacert jab at the button with increasing confusion.
"Really?" Grub said flatly. "You believed my sudden change of heart after I spent five minutes explaining why I wouldn't give you the location until I was safe?"
The Lacert's yellow eyes went wide.
"What the hell? Why isn't this working?"
Click. Click. Click click click.
Grub sighed and shook his head. "I figured you would try to kill me regardless of what I gave you. How pathetically predictable."
The Lacert kept pressing, his talon hammering the button with increasing panic.
Grub raised his wrist. In the dim moonlight, the fake Mgbaaka Maara looked identical to the original. But the runes weren't glowing and the obsidian wasn't warm. And the boy wearing it was smiling so cruelly that the blue Lacert's blood ran cold.
"Surprise, you scaly bastard."