“Trean Potter,” said the boy.
“Emilia Cretherton,” she said.
“In this place, we have no names, though you are not one of us, yet. For now, you will keep these names, and we will see how far you will come. Should you follow all the way to the end, you will be the first non-ant members of our order.”
The girl raised her hand once more.
“Why do you want humans to join?” she asked.
She didn’t intend to be rude, she was merely curious. The ants had always appeared so powerful, so distant and alien. The idea that they might want her help seemed… wrong, impossible, and strange. There was silence as the ant considered her answer.
“It isn’t necessarily that we want other non-ants to join us, but we have no reason to refuse those who yearn to spread the discipline of the Great One. There are many among the humans who seek to follow in the ways of the Eldest, but who is there to help those who would go astray? Who is there to provide guidance? Here in the Colony, we are ever watchful, but up there? Amongst the humans? If there will be those who follow the ways of the Colony, then we too must have our counterparts, to ensure it is done with the proper… respect.”
Each of the three processed what they heard. Then the voice went on.
“There are civilisations above who are yet to hear of the Colony, but they too will soon have those who are swayed by our ways. The teachings of the Great One will cover this planet eventually, it is simply a matter of time. When that happens, you will be ready. You will bear our burden and carry on our task amongst your people.
“You will be: nameless.”
63. Raised in the Shadow, Part 2
She never knew when they might come for her. She would fall asleep in her bed in the orphanage, alongside the other children who’d lost their families, and wake up somewhere else entirely. At first it was confusing, opening her eyes and finding herself still enveloped in perfect darkness, but she grew used to it. The nameless one would meet them when they awoke each time, welcome them back to the sanctum and initiate the next round of training.
The loss of sight was the first challenge that was posed to her and the others. Could they learn to move in the darkness as if it were the light? Were they able to adapt until this state of sightlessness was as comfortable and relaxed as the daylight? To achieve this, they needed to rely on their new senses, to follow the scent that the nameless one laid down for them, even if it was an indistinct wisp, masked by misdirecting and misleading trails.
“Our training for you will be difficult for both of us,” the nameless one told them. “We have never explored the different ways the System interacts with you as opposed to our kind. You cannot mutate, cannot evolve, but you have your own advantages. We will push those to their limits, and it will require patience, trial and error, and dedication. Remember, you can quit any time you like.”
The reminder that they were free to leave came often, and at the end of every session. That first night, they had to walk through a maze relying only on their strange new sense of smell. None of the children succeeded, wandering for hours between cold, stone walls. When the time ran out, the nameless one gathered them up and reminded them that they could quit if they so chose. None of the children took the ant up on the offer.
She didn’t remember drifting off, but she awoke back in her bed, somehow refreshed and rested. She went about her day as usual, and the next, and the next, never knowing where she would wake after falling asleep.
“Welcome back,” the nameless one greeted them the third time. “Let’s get back to it.”
Over the weeks, they sharpened their senses and their minds to the point where traversing the maze without sight was trivial. Their trust in the new sense was absolute, and it continued to level at a rapid pace. If the ant was pleased with their progress, she did not show it; she simply told them it would be harder next time. And it was, it always was. The next time they entered the sanctum, the maze was gone, replaced with a running track. They would only be allowed to move on when they were able to complete it in under a minute.
Determined to show how much she’d improved, Emilia took off as fast as she could, her concentration complete as she sought any hint of scent.
“Jump,” she perceived.
Then she fell in a hole.
“There are obstacles on the track,” the nameless one told them, “which will change every time you arrive here.”
In order to complete the course in the required time, the three had to sprint as fast as they could, ducking, jumping, swerving hazards they could not see, the scent warnings coming at only the last possible moment. She was grateful the ants managed to find a way to pad everything; otherwise, she would likely have knocked herself out a dozen times over the month it took them to master the course.
“Remember, if you do not wish to return, you have but to say so,” the ant reminded them at the end of each session.
None of the three replied.
The next time they awoke, they were upside down.
“Unlike we ants, you do not have Grip, nor do you have the claws which we use to hold fast to the stone,” the nameless lectured the three startled youths from her position hanging from the ceiling. “Nevertheless, we believe this training is a fundamental part of being one of us. You must be able to move where the other humans do not think you are able to move. You must be as silent and as still as the stone itself. They must never see you coming.”
Emilia’s forearms were burning after a minute, and her fingers locked after three. Without a sound, she dropped from the ceiling to land on a soft padded surface.
“Rest for five minutes, then climb back up,” she was told, so she did.
When they could cling to the stone for an hour without falling, they were deemed to have passed.
“If you were ants, it would be twenty-four hours, but I suppose this is sufficient,” the nameless one stated.
On and on it went. Every time a challenge was overcome, a new one was presented. Move without sound until they could run without making a whisper. Blend into your surroundings until it became impossible to tell them and the darkness apart. They played games where they had to find each other whilst remaining completely hidden from the others. Emilia asked the nameless one to play once. Only once.
“This is called the eightfold genuflection,” they were told. “It will be difficult to perform with only four limbs, but I believe we will be able to modify it so we can recognise it and you can still comfortably perform it.”
The ant contrived a series of moves that pushed the three humans to the brink of their flexibility, straining and contorting their limbs to their limits and beyond. Then they practiced for hours on end, for weeks, until the nameless one was satisfied.
“It will do,” she finally relented. “You will repeat this practice for an hour at the start of every session here. Now you will learn the hidden speech of the order. Again, it will be hard, your bodies are different from ours, but I believe we are clever enough between the four of us to make it work.”
It took a long time for them to master the signs, a whole new language of gestures and postures designed for a shape so much different than their own. The nameless one never allowed them to grow complacent as they practiced. They had to practice while running the ever-changing courses. They had to practice while hanging from the roof. They had to practice while hiding from the nameless one.
You have done well, the ant signed to them. I am proud of you.
The rare word of praise filled each of the three with a warmth they could not express. Emilia’s eyes welled up, but no sound did she make.