Fillas sat straight in the saddle, his back and buttocks aching from the journey. He had never enjoyed travelling this way, and the trip so far only reinforced that notion. He had been making his way northward for days now, after leaving the warmth of their coastal tower. His destination was the cold, imposing mountains whose towering peaks split the land.
Lush green pastures gave way to rock as he approached the sloping foothills. Somewhere in the great stone barrier he was to find a mining town. His presence was requested by the Amnans that called the region home. The nation of Amna, if they could call it that, lay entwined within the mountains. Their industry and lifeblood centred on mining the deep places.
Even days from the base of the mountains, the range loomed huge before him. The ancient stone of the earth created an impregnable barrier, except for the hidden paths known only to a few. It wasn’t just the Amna that lived there, but the others mostly kept to themselves. His destination was the mining town of Breakfall in the foothills. Being the only town on this side of the barrier for many days' travel, the locals often referred to it as simply The Town. Fillas had read the archives before departing. The specifics of the Amnan people were unknown. Most of their society was hidden underground in a similar fashion to the dwarves.
But the Amnans were not dwarves. Rather, they were humans who spent too much time underground. Whole generations were so content in the dark of the earth that they seldom knew the warm caress of the sun’s rays. These Amnans had grown sensitive to sunlight, their skin bleached of colour. Still, a minority of their kind walked the surface.
Breakfall was populated by those unwilling to abandon the life of the surface world. They filled a vital role, a link between their nation and others. Many came to barter for treasures from the earth, and the Amnans traded precious ores to many tyrants and kings.
The constant wars were good for business.
Fillas yawned at the boredom of travel. The lands around the tower were tame, the fever of war kept at bay. But that was a rare quality for a people to claim these days. The latest news showed a resurgence of the Hungry, a parasitic collection of pirates plaguing the seas and coastal settlements.
Soul magic. The thought disgusted him. While they learnt about all magic, certain practices were shunned. Necromancy was forbidden, and blood magic and soul siphoning were but one sinister aspect of that line of magic. The world thrummed with natural energy, more than any one caster could ever use. The Elemental Order had no need of perverse forms of magic.
This was Fillas's first solo mission. After five years of being by each other's side, he felt lost without his two usual companions. He even missed Tomean’s growing madness. But his status was not high to refuse an order from the ranks above. His lot was to obey, for now.
Still, he was optimistic about concluding his affairs with the Amnans quickly; he would soon be on his way again. From what he had been told, they had formally requested aid from the Elemental Order. Seldom were such requests refused. They weren’t the only group that the Amnans could have asked to help them, but the list dwindled each year as they were dragged into wars of their own.
In times of chaos, the predatory orders always looked to take advantage. The Infernals were such a group, growing strong as they glutted themselves on the lesser orders. Fillas, Cortain, and Tomean had long agreed that eventually they would turn their eyes on the Elementals, and they had vowed to be ready to defend against their demonic powers.
But the Elemental Order was still neutral, a bastion of calm amidst the chaos. It was a place any could seek refuge and shelter from the storms. Even so, they were not without their own network of eyes and ears throughout the world, and the reports coming back from the lands devastated by war were not good. Lawlessness ruled vast regions as warlords drained their own empires, holding power by brute force alone.
He turned his mind away from the chaotic comings and goings of the wider world and narrowed his thought to the Amnans request. They needed aid ridding themselves of a hive of Bituks which had infested one of their mineshafts, killing or taking its occupants.
Fillas had no prior knowledge of such creatures and had to consult the tower librarians to acquire a few books on the subject. Bituks were an insectoid race; each nest was controlled by a queen through a hive mind of sorts. From the crude drawings in one of the books, she was a bloated, bulbous thing, all carapace and legs. Her sheer bulk required her to remain in her chamber at the centre of the nest; she directed the workers and soldiers as if she were some great general.
The books lacked details, often concluding Bituks weren't much of a threat and were not worthy of further study. So, Fillas's plan was simple: he would burn out the nest, kill the queen, and save the miners. His vanity and ego swelled his head for a moment, but the admonishing of his teachers echoed in his mind.
Once you believe your power makes you greater than all others, then you will become the lesser. Here, in the order, power is used for the benefit of others foremost. Remember that.
There was something more to the matter; there had to be. An infestation should have been something within the power of the Amnans to deal with. The drawings he'd seen of the worker Bituks showed them to be no bigger than a small dog, and the book noted the soldiers weren’t much bigger.
Naming something so small a soldier was laughable. But the book was old, written by some obscure author. Remembering his teachings, he would try to keep an open mind.
Fillas squirmed and winced, his buttocks and thighs on fire as he tried and failed to find a more comfortable position in the saddle. Adjusting his double-headed axe strapped across his back did little to ease his plight.
Well, maybe the queen will eat me and save me such a horrid journey back. His morose joke soured his mood further. To distract himself, he strategized ways he might fend off the insectoid race, weighing up the usefulness of one spell against the other. Whatever happened, he would be prepared. The thought of fighting the queen raised his spirits.
Maybe I will come back with a trophy or two and an outrageous tale for each new scar. Anything to brag to the local girls about would do. But then again, if these creatures were that dangerous, they wouldn’t have sent me alone.
* * *
Loggath sat propped up against the bar, hiccupping into his drink. The sun had barely reached overhead, yet here he was, drunk. But, after receiving the dire news, there was nothing else he could think to do. He had lost much to this infestation, a brother and sister-in-law, and now his favourite nephew.
He squinted at the cup in his hand and lifted it toward his lips, frowning as the dark contents sloshed over his callused fingers. His mighty grip built strong by many years toiling in the mines, but exhaustion and grief would make anyone unsteady. He discounted the fact that this was his fourth ale; he deserved every one. Afterall, he'd lost so much.
His family was on the Breakfall Council, had been for generations. Loggath had helped run the place when he wasn't mining. His brother had been the real leader. Not anymore. I'm alone, and there won't be a Breakfall if there isn't a mine. He blinked away fresh, stinging tears.
With one hand clutching a now empty cup, his other caressed the head of his pickaxe. He — like everyone else these days — never went anywhere unarmed. The Bituks were aggressive and territorial, and this hive seemed worse than most. It wouldn’t surprise him if they burrowed up into the middle of the Inn. He craved to sink the sharp end of his pick into one of the creatures. Not that he would be able to swing his pickaxe in his current state. He licked at the rim of his cup and tilted his head back to seek out the remaining dregs. The barman wouldn’t give him any more; the man had denied Loggath's last two requests for a refill. He was outraged at the disrespect, but he hadn't left. He didn’t trust his legs to carry him with dignity past his fellow townsfolk. Instead, he sat and brooded over the situation.
The council had sent out missives seeking aid, be it might of arms or of magic. The Elemental Order had been the only one to offer aid. He hoped they would send a Firebreather to cleanse the filth from the mines. Everyone had heard of the Elementals, the more famous ones being the magic chuckers. If the stories were to be believed, they could conjure all sorts of magical fires to burn their enemies. He imagined hordes of Elementals arriving, robes fluttering in the brisk mountain winds, eyes burning with sulphuric flames.
Their own botched attempt at clearing the nest had gone terribly wrong. The strong ale hazed his memory, but it didn’t dull the revulsion he felt at the loss of life. The Bituks invading Breakfall this time differed from any they had ever encountered. The soldiers were bigger, more aggressive. The size struck him as odd; there wasn’t enough food to sustain so many of them.
The fact they had settled in Breakfall was even more odd. Normally, a queen would select an abandoned place, avoiding the turbulence of human activity. But these threw themselves headlong into a populated area.
After they'd failed to rid Breakfall of the Bituks, the mine had been barred from the outside. The creatures could still burrow outside of the mines, but it prevented the brazen and curious from adding their names to the list of the dead and missing. Even with the entrance barred, people were going missing, disappearing in the night from the street, from their homes.
“Doesn’t matter.” He slurred his words. “Those…" — hiccup — "… magic chuckers will be here soon.”
The whinny of a horse outside drew his drunken attention. They didn’t keep horses in town for themselves, which meant they had visitors. Lurching to his feet, he swayed as his sluggish mind reorientated itself. Somehow, he kept his feet and his pickaxe. Leaning heavily against the bar top, he ignored the look of disgust the barman gave him.
“You sold me the…" — hiccup — "… drinks.” He snarled back.
Stumbling forward and bumping into many a chair, he made his way into the harsh noonday sunlight. He squinted against the sun's burning glare, but there was no evidence of a visitor. He lurched up the muddy street toward the other inn in town, stopping only to empty his stomach onto the street. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, he stumbled on, already feeling better. He wobbled his way to the Coalpit Inn where his hunch paid off. A stable boy was removing the saddle of a horse, a brush at hand. The saddle bore the emblem of the Elemental Order.
Just one? They only sent one Elemental? Did they not take our pleas seriously?
He burst into the common room of the inn, the door bouncing off the wall.
“Where is ‘e?” He demanded, swaying as he spoke. “Where’s that damn magic chucker?”
The few heads turned to stare with open mouths and wide eyes. Others looked away or buried themselves in a long swig of ale. A few scooted out the door in a hurry.
A broad set man turned to face him. Dressed in leather armour, with an axe strapped to his back, he appraised Loggath with a wry smile.
“And you are?” the man asked.
“Me? Me? I’m Loggath. Who are you? The Elemental's guardian?”
The man chuckled at that. “I wish.”
“Is there an Elemental ‘ere?”
“Why do you ask, friend?”
“Coz, I’m ‘ere.” A little hiccup finally escaped. “I'm 'ere to tell him, he ain’t goin' into that mine without me! I got a score to settle.” He waved his pick emphasising his point.
The warrior grew stern, standing straighter, his forbidding expression giving Loggath pause. The man crossed his muscled arms — bare and hulking — and stepped closer. Loggath’s liquid courage almost failed him, but he held the warrior's gaze, refusing to back down.
“Well, Loggath, if its vengeance you want. It’s vengeance you shall have. Sober up as best you can. Meet me here later this evening, and we can inspect the mine together. I trust you know it well?”
Loggath nodded.
“Good. I’ll see you later then.” With that, the broad warrior turned his attention back to the innkeeper.
Loggath blinked in surprise at the turn of events, his mouth falling open. A snigger drew his attention, and he glanced around the room to see who had laughed. A few blushed and averted their eyes. The cobbler's son, though, sat back in his booth grinning and shaking his head at Loggath. He'd said it before, and Loggath could hear the young man's words in the way he looked at him. You're a sad failure, Loggath. A drunk. If it weren't for the amusement I get from watching you, I might even feel sorry for you. Your brother was the leader, not you.
Suppressing his anger, he turned and left.
I’ll show you.
Back in the street, he approached a water trough for the animals and plunged his head into the freezing water. Coughing and spluttering, he drank his fill before shaking the water from his scruffy hair and beard. Suddenly alert, he headed home, determined to sober himself up.
* * *
Fillas watched as the drunken man left the inn. Normally, he would have sent him packing with some stern words, but the man was emanating raw pain. A quick delve into his mind confirmed his grief and gave Fillas an idea of what to expect in the mine, though the memories were hazy and distorted due to his inebriation.
Still, these Bituks looked bigger in Loggath's memory than they were portrayed in the books.
“Do you know that man?” He asked the innkeeper.
“Yeah, we all do. He was — is — a good man. But he’s lost his brother's family to the roaches. He’s been in a drunken stupor since the failed reclamation of the mine. I’m surprised he roused himself so much for you.”
“Hmmm…” Fillas stared at the exit where Loggath had stormed out.
He will make a useful guide, once sober.
Loggath's mind was overwhelmed with grief, but Fillas was sure that, if focussed correctly, that grief wouldn’t jeopardize his mission. He slid three coins across the bar to pay for his lodgings.
“I can’t accept this.” The man spluttered. “Your here on behest of the council. You’re here to save us.”
“Take it. It's a fair price. You have need of it more than me.”
The innkeeper bowed as he swiped the money off the counter, replacing it with an empty cup. “Drink?”
“Just the one.”
The innkeeper didn’t ask what drink. There wasn’t much of a choice in a rough mining town like Breakfall. The council members probably had access to finer stuff, but ale suited Fillas just fine.
Taking the drink, he sat at a lonely table in the corner and leaned into the nook where the walls met. He settled into calm meditation in anticipation of the night to come as he waited on the return of his guide.
* * *
Later that evening, a fuzzy-headed Loggath led Fillas to the mine entrance. Fillas wasn’t surprised when the miner had arrived at the stated time. He had seen some determination behind the fog veiling his mind. Loggath sought retribution, but he needed guidance, and guiding Fillas would help him get both.
The man’s breath still stank of stale ale, but he had cleaned himself up remarkably well. Fillas appraised his sober guide. His skin was pale, as all Amnans were, but he wasn’t a deep dweller and had no issues walking in the light. He was smaller than Fillas, but the life of mining has given him a muscular physique, and Fillas wagered he was stronger than he looked.
“When was the last time you were here?” Fillas asked.
“When we tried to clear the mines some weeks past now.”
“Have the Bituks attacked the town yet?”
“There's been talk of them taking people. Coming right up out of the ground. But it ain't been confirmed. Just rumours right now.”
“Hmmmm… were any tunnels found to support this?”
“None.” Loggath shot Fillas a confused look. “Why do you ask?”
“Forewarned is forearmed. I don’t want them springing up out of the ground at us.”
Loggath grunted in reply. “Why did you wanna come here right away for? Don’t you need to speak to the council first?”
“Probably.” Fillas said. “But I’d like to scout the mines first."
“They won’t let ya, not without council say so.”
“Who won’t?”
“The mine guards. It’s been sealed, no one in or out.”
“Don’t you worry about them.”
Fillas wasn’t in the mood for bureaucracy. The image taken from Loggath’s mind troubled him. Now that he was here in Breakfall, he knew there was more to this than he'd been told. He didn’t trust speaking with the council just yet.
Why not go straight to the source?
* * *
They soon arrived at the barred mineshaft entrance. Two armour-clad Amnans blocked the way. They nervously gripped their weapons, one an axe, the other a sword.
“The mine’s closed,” the axe-wielder said.
Fillas opened his mouth to speak, but Loggath took the initiative.
“Do you know who this is?” Loggath nodded at Fillas.
“No, Loggath, I don’t. But you know the mine's closed. Why are you ‘ere?”
“Rimi, don’t be a fool. Look at 'im. He’s no Amnan.”
“And?”
Loggath pointed his pick at Fillas. “Look at ‘im proper. He’s one of those Elementals. You know, the one the council sent for.”
Rimi thrust his head forward as he squinted at Fillas. “He don’t look like a mage.”
In answer, Fillas channelled a tiny amount of magic into his own eyes. It was a simple enough trick. In the dusky evening light, they glowed bright orange and leaked a red mist.
Rimi yelped and backed away until his back clattered into the door of the mine. Fillas released the power he held, and his eyes returned to normal.
“Satisfied?” he asked. “Now, open the way. I want to see what I’m dealing with if I’m to rid your town of its Bituk problem.”
The guard drew a key from his waist, his hands shaking as he struggled to unlock the door. After some rattling, an audible clunk indicated the locking mechanism was undone.
“I’ve gotta seal it shut behind ya though. Sorry. I can’t risk the town by leaving it unlocked. Just knock when you’re done, and we’ll let you out.”
Fillas had no problem with that. The door wouldn’t prevent him from leaving when he was ready, anyway. Smiling, he nodded to the guards and stepped through the open doorway, closely followed by Loggath.
The door shut behind them with finality, and with a twist of the key, the locking mechanism twisted into place.
“You know they're gonna run and tell the council you came ‘ere first?”
“Loggath, by then, I hope this will all be over with.”
“W-what?" Loggath stammered. "I thought we were just scouting?” .
“Why stop at that?”
“What? Why not stop at that?”
“I’m here alone, no one else from the Elemental Order is coming," Fillas said. "There is no aid that the town can give me, and the time of day has no impact on anything down here. So… let’s see what we see. If you want to go back, take me to the last place you sighted the Bituks and then return. I’ll go on alone.”
Fillas watched as Loggath’s emotions played across his face. He refrained from delving into his mind. There was no need; he already knew what the man’s answer would be.
“Let’s do this, then.” Loggath brandished his pick. “Come on, I’ll show you where I last saw ‘em.”
Loggath marched sure-footed into the dark of the mine. He’d forgotten the Amnans could see in the dark, more than most humans.
“Wait!” Fillas called out.
Fanning his magic outwards, he twirled fine filaments of power into a silvery lattice that settled around him, creating enough light to see several paces in all directions.
Satisfied, he followed the miner into the first large cavern. It had been abandoned in a hurry. Tools and mining materials were scattered across the floor and sprawled over tables. A few dubious stains marred the floor, but there were no bodies. From their request for help, Fillas had some idea of what had happened. The Bituks' largest and most vicious attack was so swift that survivors had been forced to leave the dead behind. And now the dead were gone, confirming for Fillas that the Bituks were using human beings as food, and not only attacking out of a need to establish territory.
“Loggath, I understand your people can see very well in the dark, is that right?”
“Yes, we can. Better than most. But even our eyes can't pierce the deep blackness of the mines. It's lucky we only need a little light to get by.”
Fillas considered his options. The further they ventured into the mine, the more likely his spell would give them away. For now, stealth was their best tactic, at least until they were discovered.
“How do you see in the dark?”
Loggath frowned at him, “What d'ya mean? We just see better. That's all.”
“Can you sense heat?”
Loggath shook his head. “Only some deep dwellers can do that. They've never stepped foot on the surface.”
“We can’t go too far with this light aura spell. It will give us away. I can see in the dark via other means. Do you mind if I cast a temporary spell so you can sense heat, too?”
“What sort of spell?”
“A painless one, I assure you.”
“You can make me sense heat in the dark?”
“Yes, amongst some other things. It’s a simple enough spell. But it will take some getting used to.”
“How temporary is it?”
“It will wear off after a few hours. We have a better chance of succeeding with the element of surprise. Plus, the Bituks will have their own ways of seeing in the dark.”
Loggath considered the words before nodding.
“One more thing, Loggath. Down here, you obey my every command as if your life depended on it, because it does. Otherwise, you’re on your own, and you may as well turn back. I can do this alone.”
“All I want is to kill some Bituks. I'll do whatever you say if it means getting rid of them. I ain't walking away. No way, no how.”
He’s rough around the edges, but he’ll do.
Closing his eyes, Fillas conjured Words of Power within his mind's eye. The symbols vibrated as he allowed the magic of the world to run through him. Diverting its flows, he spoke the words. The spell was invisible to the mundane senses, but anyone with the sight to see beyond the mortal realm would see lines of power settling around the miner.
Fillas severed his light spell, and the foyer entrance plunged into darkness.
“This… this is amazing.” Loggath stuttered. “The light… it's everywhere.”
Fillas switched his own vision to the astral plane. Pale light replaced the dark of the world. Nothing was truly dark in this realm.
“Follow me. But be careful and take your time.” Fillas took the lead. “Follow me, but give me directions to where the Bituks first appeared."
“Okay.” Loggath whispered. “Wow, you look so strange. So bright. Looking at you kind of hurts my eyes.”
Fillas smiled as he heard the awe in Loggath's voice. “Any pain you experience will fade. It’s just your mind processing the extra information.”
Fillas stepped forward. There was only one way from the cavern into the deeper parts of the mine. With his senses straining, he moved with caution.
* * *
Loggath ignored the dull ache in his head. With Fillas's light spell extinguished, darkness surrounded him, but it was a different kind of darkness now that he'd been given a sixth sense. He could track heat; it emanated from different sources, the colours more intense and vivid when looking at living things. The walls and floor glowed a cool blue, barely distinguishable in the dark. Shades of iridescent red rushed about the Elemental's body, faint whisps of orange rolling off him to dissipate in the air.
Loggath held up his own blazing hands. He trailed a finger down the chilly dampness of the rock and watched in awe as he left lines of colour where his finger had been as a trace amount of heat transferred from his body to the wall.
These mages are capable of such wonders!
“Don’t tarry behind.” The mage's whisper sent a jolt through Loggath, and he tore his eyes away from the fading mark of his finger on the wall. “This is amazing.,” he said. "Is this how my brethren who dwell in the mountains see?"
“Yes, I believe so," the mage answered. "It has its uses, but try not to waste time gawking. Try to keep up and stay quiet.”
* * *
Vathot scratched his beard as he reread the reply from the Elemental Order. The timescale outlined had been very precise, but they hadn’t arrived yet.
Where the blasts are they?
Another person was missing, presumed snatched by the roaches. It was the fourth one this week. Disappearances were becoming a daily occurrence. He looked to his old battle-axe affixed to the mantle. It wouldn’t be long before the Bituks came in force for all of them. He wondered whether he still had the strength to wield his mighty weapon, Biter.
Vathot was in his winter years, the strength of his youth fading. Before his hair had turned snow white, he had fought the Bituks in the dark, among other creatures, but this was different. These were larger, stronger. And there was something else, something he couldn’t put his finger on.
When the clearing of the mine failed, he had no choice but to seal it shut and beg for aid. Closing the mine meant aid from the deeper cities was impossible. By the time they sought another entrance to the world below, the town would be overrun.
No, the only choice was to beg for aid from outsiders.
His despair turned to relief when he received a prompt reply from the Elemental Order. Their message, by way of bird, detailed when a representative of theirs would arrive.
He smoothed out the crinkled folds of paper from where he had gripped it in anger and stared at the elegant calligraphy. He could just about read the words.
Fancy bloody mages and their stupid writing.
The strain and worry of the last few weeks were taking a toll on his ageing face. New, deep wrinkles marred his features, and he felt as if he'd aged years in a matter of days. The thundering of boots on the wooden decking outside drew him out of his pit of despair. One of the mine guards came bursting in, his chest heaving from his sprint.
“Sir, the Elemental is here. He’s here.”
“What? Where?”
“He’s just gone into the mine.” The guard's words came out in a rush. “He’s with Loggath.”
“Slow down, slow down. Tell me again, from the beginning.”
The guard took a breath. “Sir, I was on guard at the mine, and Loggath brought an outsider. A mage. They’ve gone inside.”
“Are you sure he was a mage? No one has presented themselves to the council.”
“Yes, he was a mage, alright. He made his eyes glow and everything.”
“Who’s guarding the mine now?” Vathot asked.
“Rimi, sir. He’s guarding the entrance. We locked it after they went in.”
“Good, good.” Vathot stood up, shuffling the various papers off his desk and tucking them into drawers.
“Go rouse the rest of the guards, and meet me at the mines. We’ll see about all this.”
* * *
Fillas crouched and waved his hand for Loggath to do the same. They had stopped at the first cross section in the mine. Already he could see signs of infestation. He touched a sticky substance on the wall; it was freshly secreted. More of it had dried elsewhere on the wall, now hard as rock.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
It seems they’ve already begun remodelling.
“Loggath, where do we go now?” Before the miner could answer, a sound echoed down the halls of the mine. Fillas held up a hand. “Wait. Don't move."
Expanding his senses, he sent tendrils of his awareness creeping down the tunnels. He couldn’t penetrate the bedrock, which limited his vision. His ability to expand his senses was weak compared to the other Elementals. He considered sending out his spirit simulacrum, but that would mean leaving his mortal body vulnerable.
Most members of the order could conjure spirit simulacrums; some could project themselves farther than others. Travelling the astral plane was an essential skill for any mage of ambition, but even that realm had its limitations. He decided to risk it, just briefly. He projected himself outward, exploring, and came upon a small group of worker Bituks busy sealing off another passageway with secretions from their mouths.
Almost at the limits of his ability, he stopped to assess them, comparing them to what he’d read and seen in the tower library. These five workers were bigger than he expected, but still small enough to handle. Apart from the difference in size, they seemed similar to the images in the book. As he was about to move past them, one of them somehow reacted to him.
Impossible.
Its small antennae-like appendage on its head quivered, and the others turned around to face him. They could somehow see his presence.
This shouldn’t be possible.
He withdrew immediately. There was nothing in the books which suggested a sensitivity to magic. Doubts formed around his decision to push on without consulting the town’s council.
“We’ve got a problem.”
“Eh? Come again?” Loggath asked..
"They know we're here." Fillas drew his axe from the harness on his back. Now that they’d lost the element of surprise, there was no need for stealth. Invoking a Word of Power, flames sprang up around the blade of his axe. The orange fire flickered along its edge. He closed off the spell, anchoring it to the weapon itself. It would burn for some time before dying out.
The chittering of multiple legs as the worker Bituks approached was a strange sound in the mine's emptiness. Without hesitation, Fillas brought the fight to them. Charging forward, his first swing sliced the two front legs off the lead worker. A dark ichor leaked from the wounds, and the legs fell hollowly to the ground. Around its mouth, Fillas noted smaller limbs he'd only expected to see among the soldiers. His axe sizzled as he swung it through the air. Firelight danced wildly, reflected in their shiny, black carapaces, but none could withstand his weapon.
He worked through them, cutting them down as if they were nothing more than firewood. As quick as it begun, it was over. Using the tip of his boot, he flipped one onto its back and brought the fire of his axe closer so he could examine the creature.
Why attack when you aren't built for fighting? He thought as he studied its legs.
He looked back at Loggath, who held his arm against his face.
“Are you hurt, Loggath?”
“It’s your axe. It’s too bright for my eyes.”
The heat sense spell.
“They know we’re here now. So, no need to walk around in the dark. Come close, let me modify the spell.” Channelling energy, he examined his magical construct resting over the Amnan miner. With a few tweaks to its structure, he imbued it with more power. “There. The heat sense remains, but it won't kick in straight away and only when its dark. My apologies. I should have realised my weapon would hurt your eyes.” Slowly, the miner lowered his arm and looked about. Fillas stepped closer and motioned to the pickaxe. “Here, let me help with that.”
Drawing in magic again, he gripped the shaft of the weapon. This time, he formed a rune in his mind and, by strength of will, transferred it to the weapon. A sigil flared to life as he imbued the pickaxe with the same flames as his own axe.
“Don’t burn yourself with it.”
Loggath nodded in awe, holding the pickaxe head away from his body. He gave it a few experimental swings, testing the weight, if Fillas had to guess. Loggath held his hand to the flames and snatched it back quickly as if he hadn't expected it to be hot.
Fillas laughed. “It’s as real as any other fire. If it's going to burn them, it's going to burn you.” Ignoring the miner's embarrassment, Fillas motioned onwards. “Let’s get moving.”
* * *
The Hive Queen stopped what she was doing as the mental communication from her workers came through.
+Intruder. Incorporeal. Awaiting instructions.+
She stopped to consider the message, given not only in words, but rather accompanied by a combination of images and scents that conveyed a more complete message. She differed from all her predecessors. Words, even mental ones, were a new concept to Bituks, something that developed as she did.
She consumed the message, absorbing it in its entirety and forming the scene in her mind as her workers perceived it.
Interesting.
In her mind, the intruder was a faint mist steeped in a powerful energy. This being was from the surface world; besides herself, her species could not shape energy like that. Memories of her ancestors, buried in her genetics and passed down through generations, told of simple, instinctual Bituks who cared not for anything except survival. Something had changed when she was forming, when she was new, confined in her egg. It was a random quirk of nature. She desired to become more, for her species to become more. A new age had dawned for her kind.
But she was still a mewling larva. She didn't understand the energy she tasted all around her. She had to protect herself, for she was the future of her species. The intruder must perish; they threaten us. Her body flooded with aggression, with the passion to defend her territory.
With an iron will, she beat down her primal instincts, and stayed her hand. Instead, she considered what this meant and what she should do. Clearly this intruder used the energy of the world in different ways than she'd ever dreamed.
What else does it know?
Reaching out with her own mental faculties, she found her network of workers spread throughout the nest. Through her connection, she sought the intruder, but her raw power wasn’t enough. She failed in her task, so she withdrew. She'd only become aware of the full range of her senses recently, and she had yet to explore them. Survival and growth had been her priorities, and that included exhausting tasks of building a nest, spawning, and expanding her territory.
But now, she turned her full attention to these senses. There were ripples in each layer of energy. It was chaotic, yet peaceful. Weak yet powerful. Dark and light. It was everything and nothing at the same time. Confused, she shifted her focus, trying to shape the energy to her will.
As she held it, knowledge came unbidden, comparable to genetic memory. She suddenly knew what to do. Splitting her concentration, one part monitoring her network of children spread throughout the hive and the other focusing on her genetic design for future generations.
She brushed aside unhatched eggs. She would subsume their biomaterial later and use it to fuel the next generation. With fresh ideas, she redesigned the soldier and worker template, enhancing them to give them new abilities so they could read the latticework of energy she could perceive in greater detail and feed it back to her.
With the new template, she continued laying the eggs. As long as she had enough food, she could produce an unlimited number of them. As her production continued, she diverted her attention back to the intruder.
If I can capture it, I can learn how it does what it does.
And besides, she was Bituk. She could not tolerate trespassers in her nest.
As she monitored her network, she felt the workers die as they investigated the source of the intrusion. The new generation would be able to show her what the intruder did to defeat them, how the creature wove energy. But they wouldn't hatch for days. She needed a quicker solution.
Another idea sprang to mind.
Summoning her soldiers, she tried something different. As each came and prostrated themselves before her, she reached out with limb and mind, and rewrote their genetic coding, granting them new abilities and strength.
Ahh, it works.
She had wrought distinct changes in each of them, experimenting with what would work and what wouldn’t. Four of them begun weaving cocoons about themselves as their changes were more pronounced and needed extra care to manifest.
With the care only a mother could give, she helped wrap them, adding her own saliva to their casing, strengthening their bond to her.
My children, she crooned, do not fear.
She sent the soldiers still standing before her back to continue guarding various routes into the nest. Three she ordered to the outer tunnels.
Go. Seek. Find. And to the third she added, Wait and see.
There was more meaning interwoven behind the words, coded instructions that would reveal themselves when certain parameters were met.
The three improved warriors received their commands and left without hesitation. The queen could multitask easily, diverting her mental energy to different problems simultaneously.
Now, she gave her overarching plans additional consideration. As she waited for her three warriors to make contact, she added new variables to the genetic code, considering the possibilities. Her excitement rose, her mind awash with new ideas. She could see so many ways to manipulate energy into a tool, one that would accelerate her schemes. Each new idea birthed greater ambitions.
Why limit myself to dominating the underground? The surface world should belong to the Bituk, to me, as well.
* * *
In the eerie quiet of the mine, the only sound was the slap of boots on the rough stone ground. A chill went up Fillas's spine when the chitter of insect legs on stone joined their own footfalls.
“Be wary. I can hear more coming.”
Two more Bituks came into view, starkly different from the workers they had encountered earlier.
Soldiers.
These walked on six legs. Their long abdomens were covered in hardened chitin which formed a natural armour, and their torsos curved upward from their waists, reminiscent of the mythical centaur.
The soldiers were about as tall as Fillas, but each torso had four arm-like appendages, the hands tapering into razor-sharp claws. Their heads swivelled — small, black, reflective eyes surveying him — as they clicked their mandibles and emitted a skittering noise.
Battle was moments away. Fillas absorbed as much magic as he could hold, eyes blazing with inner power. With his axe held loosely in one hand, he formed a fist with his other and concentrated on a singular bolt of energy. This took almost no effort to hold ready in his palm. Splaying his fist open, he unleashed the condensed energy and fired it into what appeared to be the creature's chest.
But the spell failed. Or more accurately, it didn’t have any effect on the Bituk. Instead of the expected explosion of chitin shell and stinking ichor, the ball of energy unravelled as it came into contact with its body. Its polished carapace flared as the magic dissipated around it, leaving a web of red lines snaking its shell.
That's new, and definitely not in the book!
He gaped at his failed attack, and his reaction to their counterattack was sluggish. Four sets of claws reached hungrily for his chest. He dodged backward, avoiding the brunt of the attack but they still managed to wound him; their sharp claws shredded his outer layer of armour and clothing, breaking the skin underneath.
The pain was a great incentive and focused his attention. He summoned a burst of wind, using his open palm to help symbolise and anchor the spell. The blast of air knocked the nearest Bituk down the corridor. The spell was too narrowly focused and had little effect on the second soldier who didn’t hesitate to attack.
Fillas was ready for it and swung his axe in a loop that cut off two of its arms. The clicking sound intensified, but he redoubled his attack, pushing the Bituk back with his flaming axe. The creature wasn’t fast enough, though, and he continued to hack it apart. He paid no heed to his own pain or the stench of burning metal. Soon the Bituk was reduced to chunks of steaming meat.
The first soldier pushed forward, stepping over parts of its dead companion. As it ambled forward, Fillas noticed a third Bituk hanging back. Behind him, Loggath shouted a long battle cry, seeming to have found his courage; he charged past Fillas, slid under the second creature's swing, and went after the third with flaming pickaxe raised overhead.
“For family!” Loggath shouted, the acoustics of the mine creating an echo out of his words.
He made up for his lack of skill with courage and strength and embedded his pick deep into the third Bituk's chest. As it jerked back, it snatched the weapon from the miners' hands.
Fillas parried the second creature's attack as he tried to monitor his companion.
He has courage, I’ll give him that.
Dancing around the soldier, Fillas grabbed the now unarmed miner by the scruff of the neck and stood protectively over him, now positioned between the two Bituks.. He directed the flow of magic inwards, increasing his speed and strength slightly.
He had to be careful how much magic he used, even though he drew from the natural world. As always, when it came to using magic, there was a price to pay. It could deplete his energy until he could no longer stand.
The third Bituk had pulled the pick from its chest and discarded it into the shadows. Though the pick had pierced the creature's armour, the magical flame still inflicted little damage.
Maybe if I strike it with flame more precisely, in the same spot in quick succession, I can overpower its protection.
It was worth a shot.
Bolts of pure magic were easiest to fashion, and so — one immediately following the last — he fired a dozen balls of white light in mere seconds, all the while holding his flaming axe out as a deterrent for the second Bituk. White lines rippled across its surface as the fire flared against its carapace. Fillas's eyes widened as he recognised basic runes form on its shell just before its defences were overwhelmed. It exploded, coating him further with its innards.
Urgh. I’m gonna need a bath after all this.
Wet matter dripped down his face and off his nose. Wiping his face clear of its entrails, he turned to face the remaining Bituk, which had backed farther away from his axe.
It tilted its head, scrutinising him. Its mandibles clacked together as if agitated. As it backed away, he felt a flicker of something similar to a mental presence, but as he tried to focus on it, it slipped through his ethereal fingers. The Bituk turned a corner, out of sight.
Slowly, he advanced, axe held high in a two-handed grip. Letting it go would enable it to follow him and attempt another attack. But there was no trace of the Bituk. Again, something brushed against his senses, an exotic aura, a bold scent he could not place. He closed his mind to the strange entity and bolstered his mental defences.
He returned to the massacre he'd inflicted, taking a moment to study what remained of the Bituks. He could gain no further insight from their bits and pieces, and so he straightened up and sighed, ready to check on the miner now that the immediate threat had been vanquished. But his guide had vanished.
“Loggath?” He expanded his awareness, but there was no trace of the man. “Great. Just bloody great.” A quick scout back the way he came revealed nothing. He could only assume Loggath had been taken or fled back to the entrance. Either way, Fillas would continue.
Resting his axe against his shoulder, he pressed on further into the mine.
* * *
Loggath cowered on the ground after the Elemental pulled him to safety. Shock had set in when his blow had not felled the creature, when he'd lost his weapon and was sure his own death was upon him.
The mage took the lead, moving with incredible speed as he found himself between the two soldiers. Paralysed with indecision, Loggath could only watch. Trying to help now would likely get them both killed.
Lucky for him, Fillas didn't seem to need help, anyway.
Loggath covered his face as flashes of bright white light blinded him. A wet, meaty popping sound preceded a shower of innards as bits of the creature pelted Loggath's body. He slid his hands over his ichor-drenched hair, grimacing at the clumps of meat he dislodged in the process.
The stench was too much. He heaved, emptying the contents of his stomach, adding to the charnel mess of dark ichor and bug meat strewn across the ground. The sight, illuminated by the magical flames of Fillas's axe, would haunt his dreams forever.
He couldn't manage to speak as the mage went after the Bituk who'd fled. Loggath groaned. Stomach aching and throat burning, he stood and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He didn't mind being plunged into darkness again, for it was easier to ignore what was underfoot when he couldn't see it.
Slipping in the gore, he fell backward into the wall, the sticky surface catching him. He pushed against the wall to regain his balance, but he couldn’t move.
What?
He struggled to detach himself, but he was stuck. The sound of chittering legs sent his heart to pounding. Panic and horror enveloped him as he strained to free himself from the walls embrace.
He thrashed about, but the sound of an approaching Bituk only got louder as he slowly peeled part of his body free. Even in the dark, he expected to see some outline of a creature, but there was none.
Where is the sound coming from?
Part of the wall nearby bubbled and contorted, and he realized the secreted substance had covered the entrance to a new passage as a Bituk broke through the sticky membrane.
The soldier that fled Bituk must have doubled back through this hidden tunnel!
He yanked harder, sweat beading his forehead as the Bituk entered the tunnel and turned to face him. One last heave and Loggath would be free, but it was too late.
The Bituk snatched him up with powerful limbs. A warm, thick liquid saturated his clothing and clung to his skin as it covered his torso and arms. It hardened mere seconds after conforming to his shape. It was the same consistency as the sticky substance on the walls. Body stiffening, he opened his mouth to scream, only for a layer of the secretion to stretch over his mouth, silencing him.
Loggath was completely cocooned, unable to move. The Bituk's limbs wrapped tightly around him, and then he was moving, jostled by the quick gait of the creature. His lungs could not be satisfied as his breathing was too restricted. Alert though he'd been from the spike of adrenaline as the Bituk first approached, Loggath's mind started to drift and numbness spread from his mind to the rest of his body, reminiscent of when he'd drunk too much too quickly. His thoughts were distorted, and his fear ebbed, giving way to the sensation of floating. The dreamworld called to him, and he welcomed it gladly.
* * *
The Queen removed her tendril of consciousness from her soldier. She had watched, linking herself to her offspring as they engaged the intruders. Through the senses of her soldiers, she'd learnt there were in fact two intruders, but only one was gifted as she was.
She could feel the intruder shape the Power. The nuances of what it did were beyond her, for now. But his actions gave her ideas. She waited as the surviving soldier brought the more mundane of the two strange beings. When the soldier returned, she heard him through their connection.
+Queen, I return. Request entry.+
She felt his presence beyond her chambers, blocked from entering until she gave the order. Her elite soldiers guarded her from hidden alcoves. One command from her and they would emerge and attack.
Her cocooned soldiers still slept, their bodies mutating as they underwent a metamorphosis; the changes were slight, and she sensed they were ready to emerge. Reaching out with her gift, she delayed their rebirth, instructing them to await her command.
Even now, as she learned, she devised other alterations.
Could other Hive Queens develop similar abilities?
That thought unsettled her. She'd imagined absorbing other colonies into her own eventually, but she'd never considered the possibility of another queen plotting against her. As far as she knew, she was the only one of her kind with gifts, with such advanced thought.
Still, I must protect against such vulnerabilities. And not just from rival queens.
She mulled over the intruders, especially the one who could shape the Power.
What else can it do?
If she could discover more, she could learn to do the same things herself.
In time. I’ll find out in time.
But until then, she would study the non-gifted one.
+Bring it+
Her soldier heard the command and entered her chamber. He trembled as her pheromones overwhelmed his senses. Her children were all programmed this way, ensuring total devotion and loyalty to her. Following her mental command, he placed his prize at her feet, before scurrying away.
She picked up the hardened bundle and ripped away some of the shell, exposing the soft, pale flesh beneath.
So, what do we have here? She thought as she entered its sleeping mind.
* * *
As Fillas ventured deeper into the mine, he could hazard a guess at how Loggath had disappeared. Hidden behind the newly fashioned walls and ceilings, he discovered a network of smaller tunnels. Exploring one briefly revealed a system of shafts and tunnels, some recently made and others ancient.
The Bituk likely doubled back through one of these and took the miner. I hope the gods have the good grace to see that he survives this.
He berated himself for not thinking of it sooner. Why else would they have changed the very fabric of the mine? Guilt at the loss of the miner grew steadily as he continued into the depths of the mine. He'd been responsible for Loggath for mere hours. It didn't take me long to fail him, did it?
“He lives. He lives.” He muttered the words like a mantra.
Gritting his teeth, he vowed he would either rescue the poor man, or bring his body back to his people for proper death rites. His eyes flared with flames as he drew on his magic.
Holding his weapon like a torch, he held onto his power, readying spells of destruction for when he encountered more of his enemies. On a whim, he held the head of his axe against the hardened surface of the wall and watched the pink solution melt like wax. Great globs of the stuff formed on the floor, revealing the rock underneath.
Good, at least the townsfolk can restore it after I’m done.
Alert and prepared, he continued deeper into the mine on what he hoped was now a rescue mission.
* * *
Vathot paced the entrance to the mine, his anger growing with every step. It had been two hours since the guard had informed him that the Elemental and Loggath had gone into the mine, two hours of waiting.
Are they dead, I wonder?
Upon his arrival he had questioned Rimi, but his demands yielded nothing new, and he had heard no sounds from inside.
“This is a lack of respect.” He muttered, not for the first time. “He should have come straight to the council, straight to me. Damn that Loggath. What was he thinking?”
He shivered against the chill wind. Nights were never warm in the mountains, no matter the season.
“How much longer could they possibly be?” he asked the guards.
“How would I know?” Rimi shrugged.
"You shouldn't have let him go inside!" Vathot snapped.
Rimi frowned. “He’s a mage. I couldn’t stop him.”
“Some bloody guard you are,” Vathot said. “I’m not standing out ‘ere all night. I’m going back to the council. Make sure when the night shift relieves you, they know to inform me right away when they come out. Do ya 'ear me?”
“Even in the middle of the night?”
“I don’t bloody care what time it is. I don’t want that mage slinkin' off into the night. There’s a proper way to do things.”
The very thought of the Elemental Mage disregarding precedent and etiquette flustered Vathot. Without another word he stormed off, leaving the extra guards he’d brought with him standing there, mouths agape.
“Are we supposed to stay?” One of them asked.
Rimi shrugged. “That’s your problem. I’m going to bed when my replacement gets ‘ere.”
“Great. Just great.”
* * *
The mine shaft gradually led him deeper underground. The Bituks had been busy, and he could see many freshly dug passages and more of their strange material coating both walls and ceilings. It created a claustrophobic effect the further he went.
He proceeded with caution, aware that an attack could come at any moment through these hidden passageways. It seemed the hardened, sticky material interfered with his senses. The substance had an organic feel to it, and it resisted his questing tendrils of awareness when he tried to pry beyond its protection.
It’s a rather effective barrier.
He quelled the rising panic at losing the foresight of a coming attack. Unlike most practitioners of the arcane arts, Elementals never relied solely on their magical skills.
You must be able to function both with and without the use of magic if you are to survive in this world.
He recited the teachings of his masters. He was no stranger to working without his full range of magical ability, and he could wield his double-headed axe with skill. The weapon itself was unadorned and basic, constructed by the tower's blacksmiths. It was a serviceable weapon and suited his needs.
He lacked any skill with the bellows, and the idea of crafting his own weapon from red-hot coals and mixed metals did not appeal to him. But everyone, from the lowliest initiate to the greatest master, was expected to imbue their own weapon. It was not just a tool for killing. It was a totem to focus the elements they were so famous for mastering. The faintly etched runes on his axe were almost invisible unless empowered, but they were what made the axe special.
Fillas had trained for every scenario and felt no fear within the dark of the mines. As much as he favoured fire, he soon became uncomfortable in the growing heat, the temperature rising as he descended toward the heart of the nest.
Can’t be far now.
He was surprised he'd made it this far without further challenge. From what Loggath had told him, this nest contained enough soldiers to fend off a small army of miners. Yet, Fillas had encountered so few of them. He suspected the Bituks were concentrated at the centre.
After what seemed like an age, the path levelled, ceasing its downward trend. There was only one route ahead. The corridor widened as he went, and soon it led into an enormous chamber. He slowed to a stop at the entrance, assessing the danger ahead.
Reaching out into the darkness with his mental awareness, he could sense the size of the chamber as well as the presence of two soldiers guarding a doorway. The organic walls prevented him from seeing beyond into the next room. He focused on the Bituk; they were larger than the three he had already encountered.
Guarding the queen, I hope.
There was likely more Bituks hiding behind the organic wall, but he boldly strode into the cavern toward the doorway on the other side. The closer he got to the soldiers, the more he appreciated their considerable bulk. These two were nearly twice the size of the others; they were different, and that made him wary.
They regarded him without surprise, but he kept a safe distance. Their poise struck him as odd, almost automaton, as if awaiting instruction.
Can they act autonomously from their queen? He wondered.
Taking his eyes off the obvious threat, he once again searched for where the rest of the colony might be hiding, but neither his magical senses nor mundane faculties could pierce the organic structure. His axe still slung casually over his shoulder, he looked at the immobile insect guardians.
“I don’t suppose you fancy moving out of my way, do you?” He feigned humour, not expecting them to understand. Their large mandibles didn’t seem capable of forming human words. They looked at him, unblinking. Fillas sighed as he readied his axe to strike.
“Any chance I can have my guide back, preferably uneaten?” He considered whether they would also be resistant to his magic. If they were — and he expected them to be — it would make the next few minutes of his life unpleasant.
As any warrior would, Fillas took stock of his surroundings, noting the stalactites hanging from above. Tentatively, he sent tendrils of himself high above, testing the weakness of the rock.
Another weapon, perhaps.
While he favoured fire, it would not serve him best in this place. Surrounded by the rock of the earth, he considered what he would do if he could not defeat the queen and her army. As a test, he drew deeply on the abundance of magic around him, bringing himself near his limit. The hairs on his arm stood to attention, his body energised. He waited, Words of Power on the tip of his tongue, seeing if they would make the first move.
How much of what I’m doing with the Power can they sense?
As he listened and observed, he felt the exotic presence again.
The Queen.
“So, I’ve got your attention then,” he said to her. “You know, I am going to kill these two. I hope they aren’t your favourites.”
Feeling a swirl of Power, he switched sight as his magic coalesced around both the Bituks. In answer to his spoken words, the exotic energy became stronger, and then it bluntly forced its way into his mind, bypassing his defences as if they did not exist.
His knees sagged from the sudden mental intrusion, but instead of an assault, an insidious voice filled his mind.
+Why do you seek me out?+
The voice shocked him; it was like nothing he had heard before. But from its intrusion, he sensed no malice behind the question, only curiosity and amusement. The presence exuded the impression that he was so far beneath her, he posed no threat.
You took my guide.
+Guide? I do not know this word.+
The one that travelled with me.
He felt the queen literally rip the meaning of the word from his head.
+Why was he guiding you to me?+
Because you have infested their mine, their territory.
+No! This is my territory!+ The voice intensified and sharpened, like a scream but more immersive
He stumbled under the onslaught but kept his feet as the pain subsided. He had to be careful what he said to her. Her mental power made his seem insignificant in comparison.
Knowing his life and the town above was at stake, he decided on a show of strength to gain her respect. Without that, she would never listen to him.
Still awash with power, he ignored the presence in his head, and formed a spell. Channelling magic through his axe, he filled the weapon to overflowing.
+What are you doing? I can feel you drawing in the Power.+
Fillas wasn’t surprised she was so sensitive to magic.
She must be powerful. He tried to keep his thoughts in a shielded part of his mind, away from her enveloping touch.
He drew in as much magic as he dared, filling the weapon to its limit. Her mental sending seemed more tentative now.
+How do you hold so much?+
Oh, this is nothing. He bluffed. I can hold much more than this, but I think a lesson is in order here.
Her mental presence shrunk from his mind until only a small part of it lurked, watching and waiting.
Eyes and axe alike bled light into the room. Speaking a Word of Power, he threw the axe at the two soldiers. Waves of white fiery energy pulsed out of it as it spun through the air. The soldiers surged into action, whether by some self-preservation instinct or at the command of their queen, but whatever spurred them to move was too little, too late.
The axe became a blazing streak as it radiated magic fire, hot and deadly. They had no defence, whether magical or otherwise, to such a devastating attack. The spinning axe became a deadly line of steel and magic that expanded as it sizzled through the air, becoming long enough to cut through them both. With a blistering meaty sound, it cut them both in half. The heat evaporated the ichor as it parted from their bodies.
The enchanted axe didn’t stop there. Finding no resistance in the flesh and blood of the Bituk soldiers, it continued onward and collided with the door they had sought to protect. The door and surrounding wall disappeared in an intense explosion. The vibrations from the tumbling rock of the walls travelled up to the high ceiling above.
The work of his axe caused jagged spears of rock to fall around him.
“Bloody hell!” Fillas wove through the downpour of splintered rock, running back to the safety of the tunnel. Panting for breath from his sudden exertion, he laughed at the stupid thing he had just done.
“By the gods, the boys are going to love this story.” He waited until the sky stopped falling and hoped the way wouldn’t be barred from him once it had settled.
“That would be my luck.” He muttered as he dusted himself off.
* * *
As a result of what the intruder did in the chamber beyond, the queen retracted herself from his mind. But not before she had learnt much.
Human. The word and meaning swam in her mind. She now knew there were swarms of them on the surface world. Many of them wielded the Power. It had distressed her to learn the human outside her chambers was not even a master. He was merely a journeyman, still on the path to rank and power.
His remarkable feat and the carnage it produced was amazing. Her soldier drones hadn't stood a chance, which was why she didn't order her hidden protectors to attack.
What else can this human do?
The realisation that she was but a novice compared to him dismayed her. She didn’t dare face him. Not yet. Glancing at the cocoons by her side, she considered whether she should test the human further. Her deep-seated instincts screamed at her to kill. The need ran hot through her veins.
But now she knew she wasn’t ready for such a test. Her potential far exceeded his, but only if she lived to realise it. One thing was obvious to her, as she sensed him out there, waiting for the dust to settle: he would not stop.
The guide her soldier had taken still lived, wrapped as he was. He lay prone on the floor amongst her unhatched eggs. A new feeling crept in, gnawing at her.
If he defeats all my children, I will be alone in the world again.
She would be vulnerable to attack by others of her species. Losing her brood would hinder her ambition considerably. In addition, her task was harder now; she knew some of what she would face up above.
She changed her plans and sent a mental prod into the cocoons. The giant egg-shaped shells rippled with movement as the creatures within awoke. Claw-like appendages pierced the membrane, and the egg flaked to the floor. Two massive warriors arose.
Her captains.
Shaking limbs free of the viscous substance, they stood before her and waited for her commands. Surveying her latest creation, she was once again tempted to unleash them on the human. She fought this urge and considered a more tactical approach. She would move the hive, keeping it mostly intact. She would usurp another, weaker hive and begin anew. She would bring forth new generations of warriors. One by one, she would take over every hive until there were none left. Only then could she declare herself Mother over them all.
The memory of the human and what he had accomplished was burned into her mind. She now knew not just his likeness, but his very essence. There was nowhere he could go where she wouldn’t be able to find him. She vowed that when she did, he would fear her.
Her decision made, she issued mental commands, broadcasting them throughout the hive. Every worker drone surged to life, stopping what they were doing to gather up all organic material. Even as the thought left her mind, workers swarmed in from hidden passages and began picking up her unhatched eggs. They would take everything with them.
Concentrating on her own body, she started a metamorphosis of her own, shedding unwanted limbs and birthing appendages that would only hinder her travel. Like a snake shedding its skin, she shook herself free of her excess.
She would continue with her plans for her race and let the humans have their peace, for now. The workers removed her shed limbs and the remains of the cocoons.
+No, leave those.+
She wanted the human to see something of her, of what was to come.
+We will meet again, Fillas of the Elemental Order.+
* * *
Rimi had just been relieved by the night guards when the explosion hit. He heard it before he felt the ground tremble. Exchanging looks with the guards, he let out a sigh.
“Damn it. What are they doing down there?” Rubbing his hands across his tired eyes, he addressed the others still in attendance. “You lot wait ‘ere. I’ll get Vathot, tell 'im something's afoot.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he started running towards the town to fetch the councilman, all the while muttering under his breath.
* * *
The falling rock stopped, and the dust settled. He heard the familiar click of the scurrying clawed feet of Bituks, but none came his way. To his ears, it sounded like a mass exodus.
Cautiously, he stepped out into the rock-strewn chamber. His spell had made a mess of the wall opposite him, and his axe was no more.
That’s another good axe gone.
Fatigued from his earlier spell casting, he held a much smaller amount of magic. He didn’t want to risk burning himself out. A life without magic was no life at all. He wasn’t addicted to it like Tomean, but he enjoyed the status and power it brought him.
Stepping through the ruins, he entered the chamber beyond. Pools of fluid dotted the ground. Discarded in the centre was the most grotesque, massive creatures he had ever seen.
Questing with his senses, he felt no life in the creature or in the surrounding room. The queen had left no nasty surprises. Emboldened by these returns, he hefted one of the great limbs. It was light for its size, and further investigation revealed why. The queen — for no other would have such sheer size — had discarded her outer shell like a lady would discard a dress. Most of it was hollow, except for large, tubular appendages sprouting from a bloated abdomen of some sort.
He surmised it had something to do with how she reproduced, as he seemed to recall something like it from the book he'd read. Something else which had not been in the books drew his gaze.
He surveyed the remains of massive eggs, too big to have come from the appendage left behind. One look inside the egg's structure confirmed that something had gestated inside before ripping itself free.
I’m glad I’m not facing whatever was in these.
Amongst the unwanted parts of flesh on the floor was the body of his guide, still wrapped tight. Kneeling beside Loggath, he touched the miner's forehead and delved into the body seeking signs of life.
His skill with healing was basic, but he would be able to tell if Loggath lived. He detected faint signs of life, as if the body had slowed down. The heartbeat was strong but unusually slow. Wasting no time, he conjured a thin blade of focused fire. With deft strokes, he freed the miner from the confines of the hardened shell.
Once free, Loggath's heartbeat began to pick up and the colour returned to his skin. It was as if the hardened matter somehow contributed to his deathlike animation. Fillas attempted to pick him up and carry him out, but the man was heavier than he looked.
I think I’ll wait till he wakes.
Further exploration of the chamber revealed nothing but more chambers. It seemed the Bituks had left and taken everything of theirs with them.
I’ll let the townsfolk clean off this resinous crust.
He waited, sitting on the fallen remains of the wall. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Wha… what?” Loggath croaked.
“Finally. You're awake.”
“What happened?”
“What do you remember?”
“Um… not much.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes. You’re from the Elemental Order.” Loggath sat up. “Fillas.”
Fillas nodded. It seemed there was no permanent damage.
“Are you strong enough to get out of here?”
Loggath made one shaky attempt to stand that failed, but his second try had him on his feet.
“Good," Fillas said. "Let’s go.”
* * *
The return journey through the mine was uneventful, and Loggath only stumbled once. By the time they reached the entrance, the miner had regained his strength.
When they reached the door to the outside, Fillas motioned for Loggath to do the honours.
“They locked it behind us," Fillas said. "I expect you'll be able to get their attention to let us out?"
Loggath stepped forward with a nod and gave the double doors a loud rap with his knuckles. There was no reply. Frowning, he banged louder.
“Oi!” He shouted. “Let us out.”
“Who is it?” Came a wavering, youthful voice.
“Who is it? Who the bloody hell do you think it is? We ain’t no Bituks speaking the common tongue. Open up.”
Fillas hid a smile behind his hand as he looked away. The sound of a key turning in the lock greeted them. The door opened a crack, and a timid looking guard stuck his head through. Loggath didn’t give him a chance to do much more as he barrelled past him into the cool mountain air.
Fillas followed suit and was glad to feel the cold caress of the fresh air across his dirt-stained face. He walked past Loggath who was staring slack-jawed at their welcome party.
A puffing, older man gripped what looked like an ancient battle axe. He led a dozen armed guards.
With practiced ease, Fillas skimmed some of their minds. The older man’s mind was locked tight, but Fillas pieced together who he was from the fragments of the others' thoughts.
“Ah, Councilman Vathot. Lovely to meet you.”
The older man blinked in surprise as the words robbed him of his unvoiced challenge.
“I don’t know about you," Fillas said, "but I could do with a bath and something to eat if you can manage it.”
“But… what… who?” Vathot stuttered, and his face turned red in the flickering light of the torches held aloft by the men behind him.
“Get me an ale, and I’ll tell you all about it.” Fillas draped an arm around the councilman as he turned them all back to town.
* * *
Three days later, Fillas left Breakfall. The mine was cleared, and his work was done. The townsfolk had celebrated his success with a feast. They'd toasted the dead and fallen and praised him and the Elemental Order. Fillas bore it all with stoicism. He would have rather celebrated with Cortain and Tomean, but he would not insult his hosts with too early a departure.
They laughed and joked as the wine and ale flowed, but only he and Loggath truly knew how lucky the town was. If not for his bluff, they would have been overrun in weeks, if not days. The problem had moved for now, but after the queen's mental invasion of his mind, he knew he hadn’t seen the last of her and her brood. It worried him, but he would report back to the Elemental Order. They would know what to do.
The clean-up would take a while, and the town could continue as before. The fear of loved ones vanishing in the night was gone. On his way out of town, Fillas guided his mount with his legs. He dwelled on the event of the last few days and the powerful memory the queen had imprinted into his memory. It appeared to him as a vision of the future, an omen, so to speak.
It was the future the queen envisioned, and it was terrifying. The scene repeated whenever he thought about it, vivid and brutal. Wave after wave of insectoid soldiers swarmed from great rents in the earth and consumed the lands of men.
The very thought sent shivers down his spine. For along with that memory, the queen had imparted her thoughts and feelings of supreme confidence and superiority, as if it was all a foregone conclusion. She had been certain. The Bituks would rule the world.