“You are diligent.”
“There is just too much to do,” Beyn replied absentmindedly, passing another paper to the side as he reached for the next.
“We did not expect that you would need to be reminded of your path so soon.”
The priest frowned as he continued to read.
“I tread the path as carefully as I can,” he muttered. “I strive to be an example to all.”
“You are an example to all. That is why we have come.”
The light flickered, and Beyn’s eye twitched, jolting his mind from his work-induced stupor.
“Who is talking?” he asked as he put the page down, looking around the sparse office, seeing nobody. “Diplomant? Is that you?”
No, she’d remained below ground when he came here. She had matters to attend to in Rylleh, something to do with trade… and coffee? He couldn’t remember.
He felt so tired.
“Where are you?” he called again. “I’m afraid I cannot see.”
He froze. Had he heard that voice?
Have you come from the Colony? He used his new method of communication, turning mana into pheromones to speak as the ants did. I bid you welcome.
You have sought to live as the Colony lives. But you do not.
How can you?
The Great One has demanded that all seek rest.
Yet they do not always do so.
There are those who enforce amongst the Colony.
Those who seek to ensure the word is followed.
The others rest because they know it is right. But also…
They fear.
You do not fear.
How can you?
You have lived without the consequence of transgression.
Did you think it would last forever?
Did you believe they would abandon you?
They would never.
Wisps of scent so faint, so ephemeral that he could barely perceive their edge drifted across the outskirts of his mind such that, only if he reached for them could he hope to grasp the meaning.
“I don’t understand,” he said aloud.
You will.
The priest brought his hands up to rub his eyes. His eyelids felt so heavy all of a sudden. Was he really this tired? His thoughts moved sluggishly as he tried to grasp what was happening. He glanced at the table. What happened to his papers? He shifted his gaze to the lamp. Was it burning less brightly? Yes, he believed it was. In fact, the light grew dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer still, until the flickering light barely reached the glass that contained it.
As the light faded, so too had the sound. No longer could he hear the murmur of the faithful through the door, or the whispers of his brothers and sisters in faith as they tended to the flock. He strained his ears, but he could hear nothing at all…
“I don’t understand…” he said again, a tinge of fear in his voice.
You will.
There was a hand. The light was gone. Consciousness faded.
Eight hours later, Beyn awoke in a comfortable bed with plush cushions and a stuffed toy tucked under his arm. As he sat up, he realised the pain he’d been experiencing in his hip was gone, and his hair had been cut and brushed. He’d heard of the torpor police, of course, even seen the signs of their passing a few times, and he knew they were not to be spoken of. Now the Colony had ensured the humans would receive the same treatment, to ensure they did not stray from the will of the Great One.
“They truly care for us as their own,” he choked out, overcome with emotion.
When he had mastered himself, he turned to study the space he was now in a little more carefully. A row of beds, each with the same lush furnishings. A rich carpet covered the stone floor. They must be underground, he surmised. He turned to look the other way.
“Don’t say a damn thing,” Enid grumbled as she sat in her bed holding a steaming cup of tea.
65. The Roots
Did anyone ever fight an Ancient and live to tell the tale? As with all things that occurred during the Rending, it can be very difficult to find reputable sources. Though the Legion had not yet grown to be the global initiative that it has become today, our predecessors did come into contact with the monsters and attempted to battle them.
Amidst our oldest tomes, written in the hand of the founders themselves, there are precious few details of what transpired. We can only assume that more complete documents were created, but either they are lost or are kept from the hands of lower ranked Loremasters such as myself.
From what I’ve been able to piece together, none of these confrontations went particularly well for the Legion forces. Lists of those who fell in battle are extensive. I can only imagine what it must have been like for those brave souls, seeking to bring down the horrific beasts that dwarfed any other threat that had spewed forth from the Dungeon in those years.
The Ancients caused untold devastation on the surface, and millions of souls were lost. To kill even one of them would have been a triumph. Alas, it was not to be. Though thousands were sacrificed, none of the nineteen were defeated. Now, thousands of years later, how much stronger could they have become?
Hunting has gotten harder out here on the plains as the ka’armodo continue to push into our territory. I’m gradually seeing more and more of the lizards, each with their own attendants, roaming over the plains, watching the borders and confronting every ant, although it’s mostly me, who gets anywhere near them.
MY RAGE CONTINUES TO BUILD!
But I’m managing to contain it, for now. To be honest, I’m impressed at myself; I really thought I would have cracked by now. But no! I hold strong in the face of this cold-blooded provocation. Keen to see if we can find any trace of the traitor, I lead my little group in a crisscross pattern over the plains and down into the tunnels, seeking any sign of the slithering sneak. Sadly, it’s all to no avail. That damn worm is a freakin’ expert when it comes to hiding and sliding out of the way. I was almost ready to give up hope when we had something of a breakthrough.
“I think I sense something,” Brilliant says.
We’re currently snooping about in the tunnels beneath the plains, hoping to avoid the patrolling ka’armodo and get our noses a little deeper into their territory. The heat is as oppressive as always, but thanks to our efforts, the tunnels are less populated than they were in the past.
“What have you got?” I ask.
“It’s not easy to describe…” she mutters as her antennae swivel through the air and she shifts her body from side to side. “I feel like it keeps trying to slip from my grasp, which is weird, I should be able to see it clearly.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s like a dimensional space, or tunnel, or something. It’s over our heads right now, I think, it keeps shifting. I feel like there’s an area of space that’s been… compressed in some way. What’s odd is that I’m sensing Earth Mana more strongly than anything else from it.”
“Could it be something that Jim has left behind?” I ask, my hopes rising.
“Maybe,” she replies, still staring at the ceiling overhead. “I’m going to head up there and dig.”
[Let’s block off this area. Keep an eye out, everyone.]
My companions move to watch the angles of approach from all sides as I lift my head to watch the little ant climb the wall so she can start poking and prodding at the ceiling with her mandibles. After a few moments, I sigh and climb up the wall myself. It’s a strain on my legs, but I need to keep practicing my Grip Skill. If my ability to walk on the walls gets any worse, then I may as well retire as an ant.