Jay Eight-Legs: Leg the Fifth

A thousand colours flashed on Jay’s skin as a thousand thoughts went through his minds. How many are chasing me? How are they armed? Could Gib take them on? Will Gib be fit enough to fight? Can I help? Is this right?

No clear conclusion came to him except to keep pulling himself forward with rocks and trees, keeping as low to the ground as possible. There was shouting behind him, gratifyingly far away, but as soon as they spotted him he would be captured.

Wait!

There was a giant old tree. A tree with holes in it. They don’t know how small I can squish myself. He flew to it with all speed.

No hole was quite large enough for comfort but Jay was desperate. This way I can save myself and Gib! He tucked in his tentacles and bonelessly oozed into the gap. Urk. His eyes were deep in the crevice, surrounded by his own matter, so he couldn’t see a thing. Jay wriggled to change position. That’s when they saw him.

“Get that octopus!”

He wriggled harder, but barely was a tentacle out when a horrid human hand grabbed it. It felt so sticky and warm. Almost without thinking, he squirted ink everywhere.

“Shyish!”

The grip loosened and Jay flew upwards. Humans virtually surrounded him. One slashed at his with a cutlass, he brought down the knife to meet it, and it went flying off into the bushes. He launched himself at the human, who snatched at him. His liquid form passed through their fingers again and again, yet more and more nasty hands descended. He struggled with all his fluidity.

CRACK. A shot.

Something thudded into the undergrowth.

“Get yer hands off me octopus!”

In surprise, some of the hands fell away. Jay easily slipped the rest and joyfully darted to the sound of Gib’s voice. It was also toward the sound of blades clashing.

One was already dead at his feet, perhaps felled by the gun. Three more were advancing on Gib. He was just about keeping them at bay with wide swings of his sword. Jay landed on one’s back and crushed tentacles into its neck as hard as he could manage. Something snapped, but there was no time to check. He corkscrewed forward and slipped down behind Gib’s back like he was always meant to be there.

Rising joy was quickly deflated. Not only were there still six living pirates in front of them, but the crunching undergrowth told of more on their way. The ones in front paused for a moment.

None of them want to be the one we kill before they mob us.

“What d’ye think, Eight-Legs? Run for it or cut ’em to pieces afore they can do the same ta us?”

Jay flashed red, as much out of instinct as consideration.

“Red for blood, eh? Ye’ve a savvy head on yer tentacles, lad.”

Gib barely finished the sentence before barrelling forward. It was remarkably agile for such a large body, so the three directly in front scattered. One behind had the good sense to shoot before diving. The Ogor gave it a crushing backhand on the way past, then span back on the foes, plunging the sword downwards. He skewered a human on the ground.

But the others were standing. Reinforcements were coming, crashing through the trees to the spot where they’d been a moment ago. And Gib was bleeding.

“Go on,” he said, propping himself up against a tree, “I’ve ‘ad a good spin, Eight-Legs. Go ‘an do whatever it is ye need, an’ don’t ye worry about me. All I wanted was to die in the free air, away from those curséd slave pits, an’ here I am!”

He laughed, not at all weakly, and levelled his pistol at the oncoming pirates. Jay flashed red.

I won’t leave you again. We’ve come this far together and I have no chance on my own, anyway.

Gib fired. The pirates charged. Jay threw himself at one’s face, spurting ink. Gib hacked this way and that with the cutlass. Those filthy fingers snatched at Jay’s body, so he writhed like never before.

Then something, somewhere, screamed.

Too entangled to stop or look, the fighters struggled on, but soon the head onto which Jay had latched suddenly jerked backwards with a horrifying crunch. He saw a deathly pale, claw-fingered hand, then the body collapsed into the foliage, taking Jay with it.

He looked up to see a crouch-backed creature bury its face into a human’s neck, having literally leapt onto its back. It ripped off a chunk of flesh like a four-limbed shark. That pirate went down. Another slashed at the degenerate, but it brought up an old, chewed bone to parry just in time, and with surprising flourish for such a bestial brute. It wasted no time in launching itself, teeth gnashing, into the human’s abdomen.

By the time Jay had rescued all of his tentacles, the pirates had been replaced by streaks of gore, lashed onto the trunks and leaves all around. The only creature remaining before them was the deformed… thing. It was wrapped in nothing more than a filthy cloak that had certainly once been colourful and a rusted breast-plate. With loathsomely large yellow eyes it glared at them. Jay flew back to Gib, terrified. But it did not attack. It simply grinned, a ferocious, fanged, red-and-off-white grin.