Chapter 11: Mimic

As I look up I realize it's not just the boots, but my pants, my sword at my side, everything about me mimicked in the newly shaped statue that used to bear nothing but vague human form. And, as I stare in utter shock at the transformed stone, it shifts from what must be my normal, level expression, longish hair hanging over my forehead, to another more familiar face. Within moments it's Damaris looking out over the room, carved in stone, and then, as I begin to grasp what I'm seeing, the tall form of the paladin turns to the slim and delicate Fleur.

Faster and faster the stone statue shifts from one to another, would be hilarious to me if it weren't so creepy, when Blossom's small form lurches upward into the hulking body of Vosh. Weariness washes over me in a fresh wave of dizzying assault while my visage appears yet again on the rock before it turns once more to Damaris and onward through our party.

I step up onto the edge of the fountain, feel myself sway with the need to lie down and realize this thing, this stone creation, has to be tied to what's happening to me, if not completely to blame. But when I press both hands to its morphing rock, oddly warm and pliable and making my skin creep from the contact, and try to push it off its base, my arm tingles. I look down at my embed to see the PH vibrating, glowing red.

And it strikes me. I'm not strong enough to tip it over, to do what I need to do to shake myself loose-all of us, I now suspect as Damaris's grim face looks back at me in stone. But I know someone who is.

My only worry is he's too far gone into this weariness dragging at my limbs and my mind I won't be able to stir him into action before we're all lost to what will likely be an endless sleep.

Still fighting the lethargy with a focus that gives me the power I need to move, I return to the buffet room. To find Graldor, to ask him first before recruiting my troll friend, if the magic I'm now sure influences me can be countered. Only to spot him in his

chair, head back, snoring with tremendous volume, his beard heavy in his lap. The others seem about as weary as I feared would be the case, heads drooping and I have to fight my own need to sit, to join them and rest my head if only for a moment. Instead, I pinch myself hard on the inside of my elbow and, the jolt of pain momentarily perking my energy, I stride to the wizard and grasp his shoulder, shaking him hard enough to wake him under normal circumstances.

But it's apparent as Blossom's head thuds to the polished wood, a tiny smile on her little lips, this is no ordinary sleep. They are firmly in the grasp of whatever crushes my own will to remain awake. Graldor manages a grumbling mumble under his breath before turning sideways in his chair, tilting himself away from me, and snuggling down with his hands folded under is cheek, resting on the arm of the large seat.

"You have to wake up," I say, "all of you." My words sound slurred, my energy flagging again. I purposely ram my fisted knuckles into the side of Graldor's chair, the pain sending shooting sparks up my forearm and making me yip but shaking off the call of sleep threatening me.

"In a bit," Vosh says, big head dipping while he waves me off like lifting his arm is far too much effort to expend. But he is awake, thankfully, not lost like the wizard. And that means my vague and fading plan my sleepy brain is losing to weariness still has a chance. If I can get him moving before it's too late.

"No, now." I inhale and exhale heavily, forcing more breath into my lungs, trying to spike my adrenaline. Wait, what's adrenaline? I don't have time to ask that question of myself, or why I understand more oxygen to my bloodstream will help keep me awake.

Fleur is the only one who seems at my level of awareness, her thin face pinched when she blinks rapidly and shakes her head as if to stave off sleep. "Something's wrong," she says.

I refrain from a sarcastic comment only because speaking has become wearisome and I need to guard my strength. "The statue," I gasp, barely able to get those two words out.

"What about it?" Damaris's face wavers between interest and giant yawns that she covers with a fist. "We can deal with it when we get some rest."

"Since when," I force out, "is a paladin of the Cavelorn willing to let every single person in her party sleep and not one of us assigned watch? In an enemy fortress in unknown circumstances?"

That challenge seems to reach her. Damaris repeats my own effort, pinching herself sharply and sitting up. Blossom snores in soft counterpoint to Graldor, one on either side of the table while the paladin nods to me. "What about the statue?"

I'm losing my train of thought. "Magic," I say. "Sleep magic. Need to stop it somehow." I can't put together much more, instead turn to find Vosh slowly toppling to one side. And, as he does, my plan returns to me in a rush. I have a renewed thought, knowing I should have gone to him in the first place, struggling with the exhaustion and my mental control. I hurry to him this time before I can stumble and fall or forget again what I had in mind. "Get up," I say.

"Leave me be, Webb," he mumbles, blue eyes closing.

"Vosh, I need you to get up." I prod him with one foot, heart palpitating against my continuing upright position. We're almost out of time.

"Sleepy," he whispers. "Later."

Instinct strikes, though my heart aches for what I'm about to do. "Lazy, dirty, filthy creature. You're not one of us. Get up and get out!" I finish that statement with a firm kick to his shoulder. Painful enough for my poor, abused toes, though I doubt it harms him physically. It's not meant to. I don't want to hurt him. I just want him angry enough to get up.

Damaris stares at me, Fleur too, like I've lost my mind and I likely have. But I need to trust my gut and it's telling me what to do as clearly as I can interpret it. That a furious troll on the edge of sleep might lose the refinement he's gained. Could, perhaps, fight off a spell like this one if his baser instincts are woken. Maybe. If we're lucky and he doesn't snap and kill me before I can lure him to the statue.

Vosh's big eyes open and he fixes me with a glassy stare. "What? What did you say?" My effort fell well short of what I'd hoped. I need to up my game.

"You heard me, you disgusting filth bag of rotting uselessness," I snap, the challenge giving me the bit of a boost I've been needing. My blood zings a moment as I draw my sword and poke him with it. Not that the blade will do much more than my booted toes.

His skin is tougher than it looks, not stone but close enough. "I've had enough of your stench following us around. Pathetic monster, you revolt me." I wince at my words. I sound like a bad sonnet some bard with terrible talent has penned. Still, it's all I have in me at the moment so it'll have to do.

Vosh's blue eyes blink, faint red glowing in their depths. Apparently my best is good enough. "I don't understand, Webb," he says, but there's anger there. Good. I need to stoke that fire. "This isn't you talking."

"It's me more than it's ever been," I say. "Now get out before the sight of you makes me puke."

It's working, it's actually working. The troll begins to rise, though the red in his gaze increases faster than I expected. The ancient rage of his people wakes within him as reason goes to sleep, and I've set off a chain reaction I hope I can direct and forgive myself for later. For now, I step away while he rises to his full height-an unseen effort until now and impressive, mightily so-before he staggers as if even his ancient warrior blood fails under the pressure of the spell controlling us.

I have no doubt now it's a spell, though I'm at a loss to figure out its powers right now beyond its drive to put us to sleep. And I have zero interest in finding out-or not finding out-what it will mean if we fall to its call to slumber. Instead, I back away from Vosh who takes a step toward me, one giant hand fisted at his side.

"How dare you talk to me like that, puny human." His voice takes on a guttural echo most people would associate with trolls, something absent until now from his smoothly cultured tone. The stone tint of his skin darkens toward brown, all refinement vanishing while his base instincts rise to the surface. I know he'll despise himself when this is done, if we survive it. But I have no choice.

I didn't notice Damaris's approach and actually start in fright as she speaks beside me, thankful for the new shot of fear that wakes me further. "You're still here?" She throws a small piece of fruit at him, splattering against his knee and dripping red juice to the floor. She turns her head and meets my eyes, her own full of worry but trusting I know what I'm doing though maybe she shouldn't. "Kill the troll!"

I didn't expect things to go that far or to escalate to death threats so quickly, but it has the desired effect my own insults failed to create. Vosh transforms from grumpy troll to

bellowing monster in about a heartbeat and any weariness still holding me is shattered as I turn, Damaris beside me, and run for the exit and the main room.

My goal is the statue, the fountain, of course. The paladin at my side skirts the table, the thundering footfalls of the troll pursuing us. She skids and slides on a bit of discarded food and I almost stop to help her when she waves me off.

"Keep going!" She rolls under the table, out of harm's way-at least, I hope so-and with the BL tattoo itching and burning I dive out the door and into the other room.

The door behind me groans, the sound of wood splintering while I leap three steps faster than I've ever moved in my life, my feet slipping a moment on the edge of the fountain, enough it sends me sprawling into the water with a mighty splash. The cold helps wake me, though as my mouth fills with the clear fluid I feel lethargy take me and smother me.

I blink underwater, the towering troll appearing over my head through the crystal liquid, red eyes blazing when he lifts both arms and brings them down in a mighty blow on either side of me, the water surging and spitting me out. I feel myself flung much like a child's doll up and over his shoulder from the force of the ejection, twisting in midair and falling on my hip and arm while I watch him spin, hands held upward in a smashing stance, his fist errantly catching the torso of the statue in the middle of the fountain.

Something booms beneath me, like the impact is a blow struck to the heart of the world. And then the statue topples in slow motion, water pouring out of the gaping hole near Vosh's knee where his first blow took out a giant chunk of rock. The statue's face morphs to blank once again just as it tumbles sideways out of the edge of the fountain and crashes to the floor.

For the briefest of moments, my head aching with the intense need to sleep, my heart slowing despite my fear and the impending looming of the troll's approach, I'm sure I see the statue's now detached head morph into a screaming woman's before it's blank again and everything shifts-

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