The hive

The hive. Spending time there saved his life because, without it, he would’ve died from starvation by now. The hive, though, was the root of all the problems. The mines, the war, and the extinction of the harpies. It all traced back to this one place. The hive, it turned out, was a place of birth for some… but the cause of death for so many others.

Runt didn’t know that, though, the first time he and Brain worked there. They had just finished carrying another bucketload of nuggets to the gathering place when several gorgons marched past with a fey-tree log balanced on their shoulders.

“You look exhausted, Runt,” Brain said, “let’s change jobs for a while. Follow me.”

Runt followed Brain, who followed the gorgons, who followed a track leading down and around the cavern. The track continued sloping down until it brought them uncomfortably close to the lake of lava. They arrived at a platform with a tunnel to one side. Runt saw how the edge of this platform literally hung out over the lake itself. Up close, the lava became a living thing. It seethed, it grumbled, it spat. The sulfurous fog here was hot and stung the skin. His eyes watered constantly and, if he breathed too deep, he coughed uncontrollably.

Despite all this discomfort, Runt was eternally grateful for the moment Brain suggested they change jobs and head to the hive. Not only did it mean he finally got something decent to eat, it also set in motion a chain of events that led to his escape from the mines, and the first steps towards making everything right again. There and then, however, Runt was just glad to be following the gorgons into the tunnel and away from that malevolent lake of fire.

Once, back when Runt lived as a slave in the kennels, bees swarmed in one corner of an old shed by the muck yards. Whenever Runt found a spare moment, he would sneak down to visit the bees. The hive grew in size over the following days and weeks. He watched up close, in fascination, as the bees built the honeycomb structure one tiny blob of wax at a time. He watched as bees filled the hexagon-shaped cells with honey and then capped them off with even more wax. He watched as the queen bee laid eggs in the cells at the centre of the honeycomb, and cheered as the baby bees began to grow and mature.

He watched as Tyron found the hive, set a fire smoking in the shed, stole the honey like the giant bear that he was, and squashed the bees one by one.

Before that, though, as Runt watched the hive in motion, he sat and wondered. How would it look from the perspective of a single bee? From a bee’s point of view, the hive was enormous, a vast castle they called home. The hive bustled with activity. For a single bee to crawl from one side to the other it could take several minutes with all the jostling between the other inhabitants. From a bee’s point of view, the honeycomb must have stretched away in all directions like a large field, filled with holes, with tiny babies growing beneath the surface.

A beehive, Runt decided, would be a very crowded and hectic place to live.

The first thing Runt noticed when he stepped into the gorgon hive was the steamy warmth that literally pushed against him. Within minutes of working in the hive he was dripping with sweat. The second thing he noticed, once his eyes adjusted to the gloom, was the size of the room. The hive was enormous. It was a cavern hiding beneath a cavern.

The hive was completely gorgon made. There were no stalactites hanging from the ceiling, no stalagmites growing from the floor. The ceiling was low. An adult gorgon’s head nearly brushed the rock above in places. The walls and ceiling were clearly carved by gorgon hands. Here and there, a column of rock supported the roof. Here and there, a pile of coal burned to throw some small amount of light into the gloom. Runt could barely see the other side of the chamber in the dull, flickering light, but a series of burning coal piles were evidence enough that the chamber extended for more than a hundred yards in every direction.

“Welcome to the hive, Runt!” Brain said, proudly.

The entire floor of the chamber was covered in row after row of neatly carved holes. Runt knew, then and there, how a beehive must look from the perspective of a bee. The holes, uniform in size, depth, and spacing, continued across the floor of the entire chamber. Holes just big enough for a young joey to crawl out of.

Gorgons entering the tunnel from behind grunted at the pair of them and they moved aside. More fey-tree wood was brought in, dropped, and left there. Other gorgons from within the chamber then began pulling the timber apart. Branches and bark were stripped off and put to one side. Runt watched in fascination as the gorgons then proceeded to devour the wood completely. Much like the miners eating rock, the sound of gorgons chewing wood was an experience in itself. A group of gorgons crowded around the log, eating every last scrap of timber, and then scattered to every corner of the chamber.

Then, the real work began. After spreading out, each gorgon crouched down by a series of holes and vomited the wood down into the cells. They then moved to the next hole and repeated the process. Another gorgon followed along behind and scraped a layer of rock and dirt over the holes that had been filled with chewed up wood. This occurred over and over, in long lines, across the chamber. Vomit, scrape, move, repeat.

Runt then realised he was missing one step in the process. Another gorgon moved in front of those two. Carefully, and slowly, this gorgon walked along the row of cells in front of the wood spitter, and in front of the dirt scraper. This gorgon carried something in its pouch. Something that glowed with a sickly yellow gleam. One hole at a time, this gorgon delicately reached into its pouch, pulled out something small and yellow, and gently placed it at the bottom of the hole.

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Later, when Runt was lucky enough to get closer to one of these gorgons, he saw his suspicion was correct. The small glowing object was, indeed, a tiny, hairless, baby gorgon.

The joeys’ job in the hive was simple. The bark and leafy branches were not useful. They needed to be dragged away and tossed into the lake. Runt, Brain, and several other joeys got to work.

As he dragged his first branch out of the hive Runt realised there were still fey-tree fruit attached to the branches. He stopped and quickly picked every fruit off the branch and stuffed them into his pouch.

“What are you doing?” Brain asked.

“I’m starving,” Runt said, “and these things are delicious.”

“You mean you eat those?” Brain said, screwing up its nose in disbelief.

“What? Yeah, of course! Don’t you eat them?”

Brain slowly shook its head.

“Who told you they were safe to eat, Runt?”

Runt paused before speaking.

“Ah, I guess I just figured it out for myself?”

Brain’s eyes narrowed and squinted at Runt suspiciously.

“I think you’d better hide those for now, Runt. And don’t tell anyone else that you eat them. Even for a weird born that’s an odd thing to do.”

Later on, though, once they were in the dark tunnel getting ready for a nap, Runt convinced Brain to try one. The young gorgon agreed. They really were delicious. After that, Brain always helped Runt collect them. They filled their pouches together and emptied them again after the work was done. But they never told anyone. Like Brain said, it was an odd thing to do, even for a weird born.

It was during another trip to the hive that Runt saw the last puzzle pieces fall into place. Brain kept his promise and, upon entering the hive, the joey led Runt around the side of the chamber. By sticking to the wall, they managed to avoid most of the gorgons working busily on their various jobs. The heat, noise, and bustle of the hive was nearly overpowering. The heat, Runt learned, was mostly due to the depth. The rocks here themselves were warm, with the lava so close below. The holes dug into the floor radiated warmth. The chewed-up wood, once warmed by the rocks, began making steam. The noise in the hive was a chaotic combination of gorgons digging rock, chewing wood, and vomiting it back up again.

Runt spotted the nursery long before they got there. A side tunnel up ahead glowed with the familiar sickly yellow colour. He hesitated when they reached the tunnel entrance, but Brain wandered in without pause, and Runt scurried after. The tunnel was short and opened into another, smaller chamber, that glowed and pulsed yellow. Entering the chamber, the first thing Runt noticed was the noise. This room was almost entirely silent. The few gorgons that worked here talked in whispers.

The chamber was round, and only about twenty yards across. The room was dominated by a large cauldron sitting in the middle. Runt was shocked by the similarity to the hollow in the great fey-tree. Like at the fey-tree, this cauldron was shallow, wide, and glowing. Here, though, the cauldron was filled with water and… other things.

Surrounding the glowing cauldron were piles of dirt ringed with stone. These piles were evenly spaced in a circle around the cauldron. Each pile of dirt had at least one gorgon tending to it. They sat or stood by the pile, gently sifting through the dirt. Several more gorgons stood around the cauldron including, Runt noticed, the Collector, still wearing the crystal necklace.

It was an utterly intimidating room to stand within. Runt began to sweat nervously. The gorgons, though, paid them no attention whatsoever, for they were thoroughly engaged in their work. Brain made the shushing motion and then beckoned Runt to follow. They quietly walked towards the centre, to the cauldron, and looked inside. The yellow glow came from down below. Resting on the bottom of the container was a layer of small round blobs. There must have been a hundred or more sitting beneath the water.

“Eggs,” Brain whispered excitedly, “that will one day be tiny gorgon grubs. Oh, watch!”

The Collector reached down and stood up with a handful of the glittering yellowcake. The gorgon began to sing in that peculiar rock-on-metal voice as it walked around the cauldron gently sprinkling the yellow powder into the water. The eggs burst into a bright glow as the flecks of yellow reached them and, before his eyes, Runt saw them divide. Where there had been a hundred, now there were two hundred. The eggs pulsed now, from bright yellow to dull orange, back to bright yellow. Runt couldn’t be sure how long he stood, watching the glow, because it was mesmerising.

Gorgons from the dirt piles advanced and began gently scooping up handfuls of these eggs. Then, they slowly walked back to the mounds and buried them. Runt felt a tug at his arm and Brain began leading him out of the nursery. Before they left, though, there was one more surprise. They paused by one of the dirt piles where a gorgon sat, softly singing. The dirt began to stir and, one by one, tiny hairless grubs emerged. These freshly hatched gorgon joeys still faintly glowed yellow as they were plucked, one at a time, from the soil and tenderly placed into the gorgon’s pouch. When no more joeys emerged from the soil the gorgon stood and left the nursery.

Brain and Runt followed the gorgon out. It walked to a row of holes and was joined by other gorgons. Runt watched as the process continued. The first gorgon gently placed a tiny joey at the base of a cell. The second gorgon filled the hole with chewed up wood. The third covered the hole with dirt and stone. This process was repeated over and over within the vast chamber.

Runt looked across the chamber in equal parts wonder, and horror. The gorgons were, one cell at a time, growing themselves an army.