“It doesn’t matter now,” Cicera said with confidence. “Order a fighting withdrawal.”
Over the next hour, the Legionaries began to pull back. After spending all of their ammunition, the auxiliaries covered for their fatigued allies as the artillery barrage continued overhead. The tree and its children continued to fight, but they were a spent force. The tree was going to fall, and they all knew it.
The last to walk back over the bridge were the Praetorians, their armour scorched and blackened in places, but otherwise unharmed. The army gave way as these titans of the battlefield walked through the ranks.
Cicera knew they wanted to be gone as soon as possible. They had duties and responsibilities below that could not be allowed to wait. It had been difficult for the Legion to spare even this handful of its mightiest soldiers for this campaign.
They approached the command tent and saluted. Without ceremony, she saluted back, fist to heart, and then they turned and were gone, back to the endless war below.
In the distance, the Folk pushed forward, taking up defensive positions, entrenching themselves as their mages began to take hold of the bridge and destroy it. The Grand Marshal watched them, disinterested.
It began as a low groan that quickly grew into an all-encompassing roar. The Mother Tree cracked and crunched as it gave way under its own titanic weight. In slow motion, the enormous trunk split, and the tree began to fall.
So large was it, the wind it stirred became a storm as it fell. When it finally crashed into the water, the waves it created were dozens of metres tall. The impact resounded around the stratum, heard hundreds of kilometres away by curious people and fearful monsters alike.
“A successful campaign, Grand Marshal,” she was commended by the commanders standing nearby.
Cicera looked down on the Folk, their warriors bushy-tailed and ready to continue the fight. Were they demanding that the Legion respect the fallen? Were they trying to protect the remaining tree creatures?
Or was it something else?
“Withdraw,” she ordered.
Suspicion was not enough. The Legions gathered here were needed elsewhere; there were never sufficient soldiers to do the work that needed to be done. They could delay no longer.
It wasn’t easy to move so many people, even with the renowned discipline of the Abyssal Legion on your side. Nevertheless, six hours later, the mighty army of steel was gone.
The bruan’chii turned and looked with sadness on their fallen mother. The great tree was no more; the trunk and its vast canopy had been toppled into the water, already breaking apart without her mana to support it.
Around them, a small garden began to spring to life, the flowers and vines writhing with malicious glee.
159. Un-ant
That… was exhausting. Holy moly, I’m tired.
I managed to break the stalemate, but it wasn’t exactly the most subtle or efficient way to do it. This is why I leave the thinking to the Council. I nearly died, but hey, the problem has been solved!
The bruan’chii are more than happy to keep rolling the offensive forward. The poor dudes have been bottling up their aggression for so long, they’re practically about to burst! Now that the big Mum has let them off the leash, the pent-up rage is quite the thing to see.
Nice to see them so full of beans. The bruan’chii can be a lively sort when the mood takes them. Good on ’em. Go be the best wooden tree people that you can be.
I’m just going to chill for a bit. Maybe try and count all the holes I now have in my carapace.
“Master, are you well?” Crinis asks, worried.
“I’m just dandy. A little worse for wear, but nothing that won’t heal up in fairly short order. How about you?”
“I lost a great deal of flesh. Those filthy, worthless creatures… I will be glad when they no longer trouble us.”
“Me too.”
Going around the group, it seems as though we mostly pulled through ok. Tiny is exhausted, having drained his stamina completely. He barely has the energy to shovel some Biomass into his face, which is saying something. Invidia was barely scratched, which is a good thing considering how relatively squishy he is. One bite from a termite, and those copious brains might have been leaking out again.
By far the most wounded is Sarah. Under the careful ministrations of our floating eyeball demon, she’s recovered a fair bit, but even Healing Magic has diminishing returns. To completely heal, she’ll need food, rest, and ongoing treatment over a couple of days.
She seems to have fallen asleep in the meantime.
Although one can never be certain of safety within the Dungeon, I can feel an entire army of my family running through the area, so I don’t feel too threatened. It won’t be long before they converge on this area, so in the meantime, I might indulge in a quick bit of torpor.
“Eldest.”
“BOOGAH!”
I jump back to alertness and find the tunnel around me has already become filled with ants. There’s a ton of Biomass to be carted off, and my family is already hard at work. Shaking off my disorientation, I find Advant and Burke standing nearby.
“Who called me?” I say. “I’m awake!”
“We… can see that, Eldest. I was just hoping for a chance to thank you for what you’ve done. Our situation has been turned on its head because of what—”
“Whoa there!” I break in, prodding the soldier between the eyes with one antenna, freezing her in place. I turn to the scout leader. “Were you planning on saying something similar?”
“Uh… yes?”
Yuck.
“Don’t make it weird. There was a job to do that only I could do, so I did it. Every ant in the Colony would have done the same if they had the ability to.”
I stare at them like they’ve gone weird. Then a thought strikes me, and I dive into the Vestibule, actively sifting through the stream of Will that flows into me. To my surprise, I find this feeling of gratitude is widespread amongst the ants around me. They are awed, filled with respect.
It’s strange. And a little worrying.
What sort of attitude is this for an ant to have? Honestly, the only Colony member I expected to celebrate what I’d done was Leeroy, which obviously isn’t a good thing! What I said to the two Council members, I meant. The ants are the most selfless creatures I’ve ever met or heard of, just like they are in their natural state on Earth. The intelligence they’ve gained hasn’t seemed to change that one bit. The only exception seems to be me.
I run off and risk my life in ways that I would frankly be annoyed by if any other ant did them, and to be honest, getting this gratitude for it is making me uncomfortable. Not forgetting for a second just how un-antlike I find this behaviour. What is going on with them?
“Sarah deserves far more of the credit than I do,” I tell them firmly, making sure to say it loud enough for all the ants around me to hear. “She threw herself into the fight and sustained the worst injuries of all of us. If you want to give someone some praise, then give it to her.”
“Of course, she’s being treated well. We’re extremely grateful for what she did.”
“Good. But don’t thank me, I did what any member of the Colony should. The work itself is the reward. Like I said, don’t make it weird.”
“All right, Eldest,” Burke holds up her antennae, “have it your way. What are you planning to do now? New fortifications are being dug, and we need to be careful about counterattacks. There’s a mountain of work to do.”
I stare at her.
“Are you kidding? I’m going to stuff my face and rest up until we storm the nests! I’m exhausted. We’re all exhausted. You need to give us a little time to recover…”