It took five days for the rest of Immanu to pull itself together. The Mutant had been slain, and without it, the crawl that’d infested the northern end of the glacier would gradually recede over the course of the next few months; the nest was effectively destroyed, and unless a second Mutant took command, the Boreus would slowly die out. The village simply needed to hold off the sporadic attacks here and there.
The Boreus remnants may or may not be drawn to the Mutant’s carcass, which was being stored in one of the village’s communal kitchens, but they hadn’t found the time to attempt to butcher it properly. Between fending off the attacks, bolstering their defences, and tending to the wounds Sparrow and Minki and the elders had sustained during the siege, none of the children talked to each other much at all—and it wasn’t until dawn of the eleventh day, the final week of Sparrow’s fifth month in Immanu, that all of them gathered under the bell tower to send off the bullet ant soldiers.
It was three coffins made with crystal wood, the lids woven with river reeds, and the sides of the coffin etched with the insignias of Immanu.
Inside, each of the children laid down one of their favourite pillows to make the fluffiest bedding any soldier could dream to rest on; pink cushions for Peregrine on the right, blue cushions for Crow on the left, and fierce vermillion for Harpy in the middle. All three of them were cleaned, wiped down, their wounds patched with thin fabrics and their gashes stitched together with quartz crystals, but their uniforms and rifles were left untouched. Apparently, it was Immanu tradition to lay the dead to rest the way they were found lest they couldn’t cross over to ‘the other side’. Now, Sparrow had no idea where that was, but… like with most things related to the Worm Mages, it was less about ‘understanding’ and more about ‘accepting’.
For his part, he simply stood at the back of the crowd with Minki as the children knelt next to the coffins one by one, whispering their prayers and offering crystal flowers for the departed.
“... Could we have kept them alive?” Minki whispered, lowering her head as one of the children stepped away, letting the two of them catch a glimpse of Harpy’s resting face before someone else filled in the gap. “If we had retreated after learning the Mutant’s capabilities… we could have attempted a second siege a few days later, fully prepared. The nest may be prepared for us as well, but we could have… maybe–”
“You were the one who said it,” he said, shaking his head softly. “We… are but one of tens of thousands of orphans displaced by the war and forged into weapons. If we die on the battlefield, we do not regret it. We do not wish to change the past. They were bullet ant soldiers, and they knew, when they picked up their rifles and set off from this village, that there was a chance they would never return. They simply did what they had to do.”
Minki whirled on him, eyes twitching, lips quivering. “You’ve had the worm system longer than me,” she breathed, her warping voice shaky like never before. “They were your comrades. They were your friends. Just because you may not have talked to them like they were doesn’t mean, somewhere in the back of your head, there isn’t a part of you that wishes they were still–”
“They did what only they could do.”
A few heads turned as he raised his warping voice, perhaps a bit too much—Minki flinched and reeled away a little—so he clenched his throat and forced himself to breathe, closing his eyes for a good few seconds.
“... They did what only they could do,” he whispered again, as Ninmah and Utu waved the two of them forward; everybody else had finished offering their prayers. “And now… I, too, must do what only I can do.”
“...”
Their hands held wooden cups of quartz crystals that threatened to slosh out the sides as they walked; it was only their pure and simple-minded focus to walk in straight lines that prevented it. The children parted, the elders that stood at the heads of the coffin bowed. Minki knelt between Peregrine and Harpy’s coffins, while he did the same between Crow and Harpy’s—and he forced himself, once more, to look his former leader in the face as he poured his quartz crystal onto her face.
With the three of them gone, he was the only bullet ant soldier remaining in the Hagi’Shar Forward Army.
----------------------------------------
After everyone said their farewells to the soldiers and the lids were tied over the coffins with reed cords, Minki immediately attached chains to each of the coffins and handed them to Sparrow.
While the rest of the children blinked in confusion, he double-checked the chains to see if they might fall halfway through, but… Minki had been a scout. She knew how to attach chains properly. He could probably drag the coffins all the way down to the bottom of the blackrock mountains without having to worry about them slipping out of his hands.
Okay.
All set.
I have less than twelve hours to–
“Where are you going?” Ninmah asked, arms crossed as he started dragging the coffins to the edge of the village; he didn’t want to strain himself by warping now when he’d be doing plenty more warping down the slope.
He glanced back at her, Utu, and the rest of the Worm Mages pointedly. “We eradicated the nest, and you can easily handle the rest of the Boreus over the next few months. I will go and return the three of them to the General.”
It was Ninmah’s turn to twitch her eyes. “Why? They may be your Empire’s soldiers, but they… they were children of Immanu, and they died up here, in Immanu. They should be laid to rest here–”
“That is not the agreement the General made with us,” he said, shaking his head as he slung the chains over his shoulders, dragging the coffins slowly forward. “If we eradicated the Boreus nest and returned the bullet ant soldiers to him safe and sound, he would not intervene in the matters of Immanu… but I was negligent. The Mutant may be dead, but so are the bullet ant soldiers. I must return their bodies to him personally.”
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Ninmah and Utu warped in front of him, spreading their arms, blocking his way forward. “So you’re just going alone?” she snapped, gritting her teeth. “No. No way. It’s not your fault that they died; all of us who weren’t strong enough to help you guys against the Mutant are at fault. If you’re going to meet the General, then we’re going with you.”
He furrowed his brows.
Then he warped past them with the coffins in tow, continuing towards the edge of the village.
“I will be the only one to make amends,” he said, ignoring the rest of the children shouting after him, chasing after him. Ninmah and Utu and the elders kept trying to warp in front of him, but he was faster; he warped past the fences in just a few long strides. “There will be only one of two outcomes when I meet the General: either he will be forgiving, accept the bullet ant soldiers’ bodies, and let me go free, or he will request I return to the Forward Army to replace the three of them. Either way, it is best if he does not see any one of your faces. I do not want another outcome apart from the two I listed.”
“You’ll return to the Forward Army with Minki just like that?” Utu said, scowling fiercely as he grabbed one of the chains Sparrow was holding onto. Sparrow looked back, irritated; Minki immediately warped in and yanked Utu’s hand off, allowing him to continue pulling the coffins forward.
“Only I will be returning to the Forward Army,” he muttered. “Minki will remain with all of you in case anything happens. Even if the General requests both of us return, I will simply tell him she was eaten in the battle with the Mutant. He may be a bit irritated that I do not have a corpse to prove my claims, but I also do not think he would care too much—the Boreus are exterminated. The Hagi’Shar Forward Army has won. He will be glad to return to the Capital so he can continue waging war against the Swarm in the far south.”
He didn’t have to look behind him to know everyone was staring at Minki, and, for her part, Minki wasn’t handling the angry glares very well; they’d talked about him being the only one to return a few nights ago, and decided not to tell everyone until the day of. Their attempts at intervention was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to tell them. Even if Minki was starting to regret agreeing to stay behind now, this was just something he had to do, and something only he could do–
“And if he gives up on Minki and only requests your return? Will you leave us forever and go back to being a soldier?”
Ten steps before reaching the edge of the village. Ninmah warped in front of him, arms crossed; the morning winds howled and blew her hair wherever which way, but he could still see the tears wringing out the corner of her eyes.
And he couldn’t look straight at her as he paused, screeching to a halt.
It was too ‘painful’ for his chest.
“We promised to meet each other ‘in-between’, didn’t we?” she whispered. “If we are the ones who want freedom while the rest of the world wants us to fight, then we’ll meet your General halfway. What happened to that? What happened to solving our problems together?”
“...”
It was ‘painful’ because he knew she was right, and he knew he was betraying her by wanting to go at this alone.
But what other option was there?
Trying to negotiate with the General was only an option if the bullet ant soldiers were still alive, and they weren’t. He was going to show up in front of the Forward Army with three coffins. Surely, if he just stared and gritted his teeth hard enough at the ground, Ninmah would understand—it was dangerous for any one of them to show their faces in front of the General.
He had to do this alone as ‘Sparrow’, designated marksman of the First Bullet Ant Battalion–
“And… I get it, you know? ” she breathed, and his head shot up. Her hands were trembling as she opened her arms, beckoning him forward; he didn’t oblige immediately, and that meant the children had to push him from behind, knocking him right into her hug.
She started caressing his head.
Pinching his earlobes.
Her fingers were so soft, so tender; his lips parted slightly as he gave a shaky breath.
“I understand… because I am a Worm Mage, and the thoughts you cannot say, I can read from your mind,” she whispered, her voice just as shaky, just as quiet. “So I’ll let you go here and now, and the rest of us won’t chase after you, but you… you have to promise you’ll come back. This won’t be the last time we’ll see you. You’ll be back here tomorrow for breakfast, and then you’ll have breakfast with us at least once a month from there on out. You hear me?”
“...”
Then, the rest of the Worm Mages moved. They warped around him, forming a large circle hand-in-hand, and Ninmah pulled away to grab him by the cheeks.
“You will not go to meet your General as ‘Sparrow’, just another weapon of the empire,” she said, pushing a smile onto her face though it was evident it hurt her incredibly, incredibly so. “I knew you were jealous back then when I gave Minki her name, you know? I’m sorry. I should’ve done this sooner, but… I just couldn’t find the right time for it. I’ll make up for it now.”
With that, the Worm Mages all bowed, leaving only him and Ninmah standing upright.
Ninmah gave him a small kiss on the forehead, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to do so.
“... Henceforth, you will be ‘Enki’, child of Immanu, and you will introduce yourself as such to the General,” she said, her cheeks quickly taken over by a rosy blush. “Among our ancestors, ‘Enki’ was the first human to be turned into a Worm Mage, and we know him as a great warrior—among the very first to slay a giant insect. It’s quite the fitting name for you, don’t you think?”
…
‘Enki’.
‘Enki’.
‘Enki’.
He’d no particular thoughts about the name itself, but when it was Ninmah saying it, somehow it just sounded a whole lot better.
So he returned a small kiss to her forehead and immediately stepped past her, covering his face as he began sliding down the slope.
“... I will return as ‘Enki’, Immanu’s bug-slayer,” he said, feeling heat in his face; he couldn’t help but wonder what this emotion was. “So… just stay here and wait for me. Don’t follow me no matter what, and I’ll be back for breakfast tomorrow.”
He didn’t dare turn and look up at the Worm Mages as they waved him down the slope, shouting and yelling at him to keep his promise—they’d be waiting tomorrow, and if he weren’t here, they may just decide to starve themselves out of breakfast.
That wouldn’t do.