After twenty minutes, he managed to excavate most of them, using only his legs. Even now, the mental strain pounded in his brain, every touch of mana like a twinge on an exposed nerve. By the sands, he was tired.
“Mas… ter,” Ammon’sil groaned as he was uncovered.
[Be silent,] the ka’armodo commanded. [You have numerous broken bones, and I have not a speck of magic left in me. We will need to carry you inside the mountain.]
The leader of his servants closed his eyes and nodded wearily, his once-pristine scales covered in dust, even torn away in places. His wife, Rapsep’sil crooned softly as she knelt by her husband and brushed her hand over his crest. Rassan’tep looked aside; it wasn’t for him to observe such a private moment.
[What a disaster,] a mind touched against his own, filled with disgust and fatigue.
[Irion’tep. You have also survived?] he replied.
[Barely. You will have to answer to the Mahaan for this failure, Rassan…]
Politicking already. He calmed his mind and sank his emotions under the dunes.
[In what way have I failed, Irion?] he said calmly.
His ally remained silent for a moment, though his rage practically vibrated over the mental link until he mastered it.
[Does that really need to be said?] Irion finally asked. [The evidence of your failure is all around us. I have lost two of my attendants in this disaster, directly as a result of your plan to lure the ants here with a false trail of pheromones.]
[And my strategy was a success. They were successfully lured, we trapped them, and would have fed them to our termites had we not been interrupted. Are you really blaming me for not predicting the existence of a creature capable of such magic? Who could have known such a thing was possible?]
Unable to retort that yes, he should have predicted the existence of a super-ant with command over an unknown mana, Irion’tep could only seethe in silence as he dealt with the grief that overwhelmed all ka’armodo at the loss of their servants.
[Let us continue to retrieve those who can be saved,] Rassan’tep suggested. [These discussions can wait for later.]
The two continued to push through the rubble, searching for their allies and their servants amidst the rock. As they worked, the dust continued to settle and the scale of the devastation gradually became known. It was absurd. In the face of the mountain, an enormous sphere had been carved that encompassed most of what had previously been the main entrance. That spell, whatever it had been, ripped up the rock as if it were plain soil, tearing it from the mountain with ease. The trees in the distance, which had not long ago been coated in a layer of fungus, were now clear and flattened, many uprooted and dragged across the ground, leaving enormous furrows in their wake.
If it hadn’t been for their shield blocking so much of the spell’s energy, or their efforts to break the spell down, the scale of devastation would have been far greater. How could one creature produce such an effect against the combined efforts of so many minds? The secret had to lie in that strange mana type the ant had used, something Rassan’tep had never encountered before.
Indeed, a very promising prospect.
The life of a cultist was a difficult one. They endured thousands of failures in their mission to create the final Ancient, yet each toiled through the centuries knowing they only had to succeed once. For the first time in a long while, Rassan’tep felt his heart quicken at the prospect of finally finding the one.
This ant, this Anthony, already more powerful than an ant monster had any right to be, also possessed this strange power. With another evolution, possibly two, they would have a clearer picture, but any monster able to do something like this at tier six was more than a worthy candidate. He would have to report back to the other members of the Red Truth; things had escalated beyond what he was able to manage himself.
As the work continued, they found two of their fellow ka’armodo had succumbed to their wounds beneath the stone before more of their allies emerged from within the mountain to assist and provide healing. Below, the termites boiled out of the deep tunnels, responding to a perceived threat that no longer existed, only to find that their fungus gardens had been destroyed, which drove them further in a fury. It would be a day before they calmed themselves, most likely.
As more ka’armodo emerged, discussions continued to evolve, next steps being considered, adjustments to the overall strategy. Rassan’tep only half listened, as he had other concerns to deal with. The largest issue being how to ensure this promising ant survived the retaliation that may come as a result of this incident. His people did not tolerate the loss of their servants lightly, let alone two of their number. He tapped into the communal mind bridge to find his worst fears confirmed.
A divide had formed between those who wanted to forgo any pretence of neutrality and directly intervene with a combined force of ka’armodo, setsulah, and their controlled insects to annihilate the ant force and take the fight directly to the tree, and those who simply wanted to increase the scale of the termite force.
He had wanted to apply pressure to the ant, but things could rapidly get out of hand.
[Master?] Ammon’sil approached his side and placed a hand against his scales, having been healed.
[I am fine.]
He wasn’t. He was tired, in pain, and in desperate need of a scrub, the dirt between his scales rubbed fiercely, but he had no time to rest. He gathered himself before he made himself known within the discussion. With a little luck, he could salvage this situation and ensure his precious prospect wasn’t burned out before he had a chance to shine.
98. Shadow of Fear
The orphans were playing in the street below, and Enid smiled to see their carefree antics. One of the older girls caught her eye through the window and waved cheerfully, flashing a broad grin when Enid waved back. It soothed her old heart, watching the young ones play. Goodness knows she wouldn’t be around much longer, and little moments like this were a reminder of why she worked so hard. Everything they did in Renewal was to provide a better future for the displaced people who made a home here, and none had suffered more than the orphans.
She frowned. If only she could protect them from the shadow that now lay over the town. She’d seen it, that hesitation in the evenings when the tradesfolk where contemplating working for a few more hours. Or the wavering hint of fear in the eye of the farmer as they counted the hours of rest they’d had the previous night. So many had disappeared, vanished from their offices, fields, and somehow, even from the street in broad daylight!
She’d been talking with Mr. Hollin the smith about the lacking supply of raw iron as they walked toward his shop, only to find the man had been abducted right next to her mid-sentence! The fact she hadn’t heard or seen a thing only made the effect all the more chilling. She’d even taken several more steps, wondering why the usually talkative man would cut off so suddenly.
“They are causing havoc,” she growled to herself.
“Who is?”
Enid jumped, then realised her assistant had entered the room as she brooded on the emergence of these Sleep Police. Her surprise only added to her growing resentment. They had her jumping at shadows!
“The sleep enforcers, whatever you want to call them,” she grumbled. “People are scared of their own shadows, they record their hours of rest daily to ensure they remain above the threshold. It’s a reign of terror is what it is!”