For what soldiers wouldn’t carry around some common antidotes? Whatever Balagra had cooked up to keep them asleep couldn’t have been anything fancy. Where would he have gotten the ingredients?
Ajune uncorked the stopper and drained half a vial down each guard’s throat. There wasn’t quite enough for them all, but this would at least rouse them. Which suited him just fine. Awake, but not in any capacity to panic or resist. Perfect for selling them his pitch.
Malik was fussing over his camp organization plans when he was interrupted for what had to have been the tenth time in as many minutes.
“What is it?” he asked wearily, unable to recall the last time he’d gotten some proper rest. The caged caravan wasn’t exactly the most hospitable environment, nor were the open pits they were supposed to call a camp. How anyone ever adjusted to resting with soot continuously falling upon them, Malik could not fathom.
This time, it was a large-framed, muscular Warrior who approached. At least a familiar face.
“The water, sir. We’re running low.”
While not everyone had adopted the military discipline Malik had so badly desired, there was progress. And, while it was glacial progress, Malik supposed he ought to be thankful he had even that.
“Already?” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. We seem to have gone through our stock at an alarming rate.”
“Check the food,” Malik said after a pause. “Double the guards and bring as much of our supplies to the command tent as you can. Just… don’t make a big deal of it, yes?”
The demon he’d appointed nodded slowly. He caught on quickly—one of the reasons Malik had chosen him in the first place. That, and his large stature and Aspect tattoo helped dissuade any who’d oppose him.
“Understood,” he said, nodding in salute before walking off.
“I must admit, you are more patient with them than I would have been,” Balagra said, taking a sip of water.
“Yes, well, spend a few years in logistics, and you will learn patience,” Malik replied, sagging his shoulders.
“We have a saboteur,” Balagra said quietly. Though they were the only two in the command tent, its walls were hardly thick enough to muffle voices.
“Seems that way,” Malik agreed. “I anticipated not everyone would agree with Neel’s actions, though I hadn’t expected treason so early.”
“Which means he’s smart,” Balagra said. “He sees our dismal prospects and aims to take action to avoid that fate.”
“At least we can ensure no more food and water is taken if we bring them here. I’d considered it, but decided against. It’d have sent the wrong message.”
“Perhaps,” Balagra said. “But is a hit to morale more important than starving or dying of thirst?”
“That is an unanswerable question, and you know it.”
Balagra let out a slow breath. “Perhaps it is.”
“Do you believe in him? In Neel?” Malik asked. In truth, the same feeling had been nagging at the back of his mind—and, he suspected, the minds of everyone else. What now?
Malik understood the need to address their immediate worries, of course. Food, water, better armament. Then training and discipline. But what then? What came after?
“I like to focus on the present,” Balagra said, avoiding Malik’s question. “If our saboteur succeeds, it will be he who benefits.”
“At our expense,” Malik completed, his lips tight.
“Indeed. As I said. A smart one.”
“I suppose the only question that remains is to see just who is smarter,” Malik replied. “Us? Or him?”
Neither spoke what didn’t need to be said. Whoever this person—or persons—were, they had the initiative. And if they’d already managed to drain the water without being detected, they were likely up to worse. As for how much worse? That was in Badrak’s hands. Only the trickster god would know.
Perhaps I should make a round, Malik thought, though no sooner had he decided that, a pair of demons ambled up to him.
“You two are… the guards assigned to watch over the Chitrans, yes? Why are you here?” Malik asked with annoyance. And why would you leave them unguarded?
The look of confusion on their faces sparked some of his own.
“You asked us here, didn’t you?”
Malik frowned. “I did not. Who told you this?”
“Dunno. Some bloke. Said he was sent to relieve us.”
Malik’s eyes shot wide. “That wasn’t me, you dolts! Seize him. Immediately!”
“You’re awake,” Ajune said. “Good. Keep your eyes shut. I fear we have little time.”
The Chitrans did as they were told, hardly giving a single sign that their consciousness had returned.
This was what professional troops looked like. Discipline, even in the midst of confusion and crisis.
“The prisoners drugged you and put you under, intending to feed you to Ash Beasts to eliminate any evidence,” Ajune lied. The only reason they were still alive was because Neel and Balagra saw some value in it. But the Chits didn’t need to hear that.
“I disagree with their plan. I disagree with what Neel did to the Overseer. As such, I am setting you free. In return, I would like protection back to Garrison Atnu. Wag your tails if you agree.”
Ajune kept his voice low and his tempo quick. He wasn’t joking about time being short. The moment those ‘guards’ reached Malik, he’d have a minute or two at best.
Several of the Kothis’ tails wagged.
“Good. I have brought your weapons, though I was unable to procure any Ash’va as they are under heavy guard. When I give word, take your weapons, turn right, and follow me.”
Ajune took a glance at their surroundings. Demons milled about, blissfully oblivious to his actions.
He cracked a grin. Finally, something was about to go his way at last.
“Now!”
51
THE PRANA GORGER’S LAIR (PART ONE)
Vir had seen much during his time in the Ash. He’d even visited the lost city of the gods, and had witnessed all the terrors that lurked deep within. In fact, he’d bet that aside from Cirayus and perhaps a select few other demons, there were none who had fought as many Ash Beasts nor ventured as deep as he had.
Which was why, when the writhing black mass screeched from below, it terrified him in a way that only City Enders such as Wyrms and Prana Swarms could.
This was neither, and yet just as fearsome. For what stretched beneath Vir as he Leaped was an enormous creature that had neither arms nor legs, but jet-black, oily tentacles. Dozens of tentacles each a dozen paces long. Each as thick as tree trunks at their base. The creature’s torso resembled no animal, but rather a misshapen hemispheric dome with bumps and black protrusions all along its surface.
Its main body was easily fifty paces in diameter.
Vir hung midair. Time slowed as Haste activated, allowing him to digest the inexplicable sight.
There were no buildings in this part of the city, having all been subsumed by the abomination long ago. All that was left was a pit—or crater. Barren and empty, save for the creature and the hundreds of minions that surrounded it.
These smaller Ash Beasts lacked the forms Vir was used to. Or at least, they’d been changed so drastically, Vir could barely identify them. Some resembled Phantomblades, but where those had oblong turtle-like shells, these were misshapen and deformed, like poor replicas.
Like the gigantic monster, their hides were inky black, and slopped off as they shambled, bumping into one another repeatedly.
It was all Vir had time to take in before he fell. Slow at first, then faster.
Directly into the middle of the swarm of demented beasts.