by Pirateaba
“Neither of you can understand what it means to be a Worker or a Soldier! We are not just numbers, Tersk. We feel pain. We suffer. We despair. And we die. If we do not feel boredom, it is because we have never known respite. You cannot understand what makes us Individual.”
“The other Individual, Belgrade, froze up due to his fear. Is that the weakness of your new identity, Individual Pawn? The Prognugators do not bow to emotion.”
“Neither do we.”
Pawn spat the words at Tersk. He felt angry, angry because Tersk did not understand, because he couldn’t. How could this Antinium be a Prognugator, lead Soldiers and Workers like this?
“If you cannot understand Belgrade’s fear, then it is because you have never experienced failure. You do not feel the same danger. You wear armor. We have none. If you want to understand us, take off your armor and fight as we do, with your bare hands. I would tell you to ask your Soldiers, but they have no voice. That is a pity, or they might tell you all you are doing wrong.”
He turned and stormed away, despite Tersk shouting for him to stop and explain. Pawn left the chess room, and Tersk stood in the silence as Workers hunched over their chess boards. At last, the Armored Antinium looked over his shoulder at the two silent Soldiers.
“I do not comprehend that strange Individual Pawn. What am I doing wrong?”
They just stared at him and did not reply.
—-
The next day, Pawn went to see Erin. She was not there. He waited, but before long he had to return to his Hive. It was time. One second he was in the Wandering Inn, speaking with Bird, asking him to tell Erin…to tell Erin…
And then he was in his Hive, facing his Soldiers. They were arrayed before him, a hundred, a little less than half of his entire command. They faced him, painted bodies standing tall, unflinching.
Pawn wished he felt half as confident as they looked. He walked slowly down their line, staring at each Soldier in turn, at their markings. They looked back at him, their leader.
Pawn had never felt like more of a fraud in his life. He had never felt like a fraud, in truth. He had been as true a Worker as any other, and confident in that knowledge. But a leader?
He was no leader. He didn’t have the class. He didn’t have the Skill, or the skill. He was not Zel Shivertail.
But he had to try. So Pawn squared his shoulders and spoke to the assembled Soldiers. His Soldiers.
“We are going into combat in twenty minutes.”
They looked at him. Not one Soldier moved. They had expected this. Perhaps they had known. They had ears…earholes, after all. Pawn nodded.
“You have fought before, I know. I have not. I believe I am unworthy of leading you.”
The Soldiers did stir at this. One of them paused, hesitated, and then shook his head. The other Soldiers looked at him, and then they all shook their heads. Pawn stared. He felt like he wanted to cry, like he’d seen Erin do. But the Antinium could not cry.
Instead, he bowed his head and uttered a prayer.
“I am praying.”
The Soldiers stopped shaking their heads. Pawn lowered his. He couldn’t close his eyes, but he clasped his hands together.
“I am praying for us all. I pray that we will survive this, each one of us. I do not pray that we will not fight. We must fight. It is right that we were chosen to fight. Because we, all of you, and me, are capable. We aren’t just fighting for ourselves, or to stay alive, but for the entire Hive.”
He gestured at the Soldiers standing in front of him, solemn, each one an individual, marked with paint, given identity.
“You are my people. If one of you died, you could never be replaced. Ever. And yet…the unnamed Workers and Soldiers who die each day are my people too. I did not think of it that way before.”
Pawn clenched his fist.
“I do now. Each day, Soldiers and Workers die. Sometimes only one or two. Other days, hundreds. Of late, too many have died. So we must fight. You are stronger than the average Soldier, you have levels. If we fight here, maybe a few less Soldiers and Workers will die. I think…I have to think that is worth it.”
There was no reply. Pawn looked at his Soldiers. He spoke to them like Zel told him to. When you held a dying soldier in your arms, you lied to him. You told him it would be alright. Or you told him the truth. But when you spoke to soldiers before they were going to die, you told them nothing but the truth. Or you lied.
This time, Pawn told them the truth.
“We are going to fight. Some of you may die. I may die. I hope none of you will. After this, I will bring you to the Wandering Inn and we will all eat. But we must fight. If we do not, our comrades will die. Other Soldiers will die, other Workers. We are fighting for each other. Remember that.”
He raised his hand, clenched it into a fist. Pawn raised all four arms, shouting.
“We will fight. We will win. So do not die!”
There was no response. But the Soldiers’ eyes burned. If they could speak, if they could only express themselves…there was no time. It was now. Pawn turned.
“Please don’t.”
He walked out of the barracks. Each of the Soldiers marched out behind him. And in minutes, in no time at all, they were fighting.
Fighting monsters.
—-
Two hours past noon, Belgrade was screaming. He screamed at a group of Soldiers.
“Move up! Take the L4A tunnel!”
They obeyed him as he projected his thoughts at them, telling them where he needed them now. He should have sent five times their number, to hold off the Shield Spiders dropping out of holes in the ceiling, flooding the corridor, but Belgrade didn’t have enough reinforcements.
They were all blocked off from the fighting. A tunnel had collapsed at the wrong moment, sending two suits of magical armor falling in with them. They’d begun hacking apart the Soldiers and Workers trying to clear the rubble, and until they were destroyed, Belgrade had to hold the front on his own.
The former Worker could have laughed at the thought. A front? The network of tunnels and interlocking corridors leading from the dungeon to the Hive was anything but a unified front. Belgrade would have traded both his antennae and two of his arms for a neat, clear board like chess to fight on.
Instead, he had to defend countless tunnels at once, collapse the ones he could to stop monsters from advancing while he slaughtered as many as he could before the passages reopened. It would be easy, so easy if Belgrade could funnel his opponents into one spot, but—
The monsters dug. The Antinium dug, and the monsters dug. Everyone dug. So a monster could dig right into a corridor filled with Workers rather than fight through all the entrenched Soldiers. It meant nowhere was safe, and it meant Belgrade had to be everywhere at once.
And he was failing.
“Workers! Twenty of you—no, forty! Hold back the Crypt Worms in the R98 tunnel!”
A group of Workers immediately ran to an upwards-sloping tunnel, going to do battle. It was a desperation play. Anand would never have made that call. Or would he? Belgrade knew the Workers would be slaughtered in an instant, but there were no more Soldiers. And there were three Crypt Worms rampaging through the R98 tunnel at once!
The horrifically long, fleshy creatures with tendrils that could rip open carapaces and remove skin from anything they touched were difficult foes at the best of times. By now Belgrade knew they were the smaller, weaker versions of the monster Skinner, the first creature he’d ever done battle against. They lacked Skinner’s incredibly thick armor he’d built over the centuries of skin, but they could still have several layers a Soldier had to rip away, and worse, they could command the dead.
Sometimes they’d bring rotting zombies, other times skeletons or Ghouls. The worst times were when they brought undead Soldiers or Workers. It was hardest for Belgrade to fight them.
And now they were advancing. In his mind—using the [Battlefield Eye] Skill he had recently acquired, Belgrade saw the Cryp
t Worms advancing, tearing the Workers he’d sent to shreds.
“Hold out. We just have to hold out for more Soldiers—”
He was talking to himself as he studied the map he was constantly updating with forces. Could he take some soldiers from S41? No, they were fighting the horrific poisonous worm things with wings. If they got through, everyone would be dying of poison. Then what about—
Belgrade’s hand fell on a spot on the map, one of the corridors he and Anand had designated the ‘death spots’. It was marked by a golden piece and Belgrade hadn’t moved any forces to or from it.
Pawn was there. He was fighting in one of the widest corridors, places where thirty Soldiers could line up shoulder-to-shoulder. Crypt Worms often came down there, and monsters would flood the huge passageway.
“Does he have Soldiers? Can I—no!”
Belgrade jerked away. He couldn’t ask Pawn for help. He didn’t even know how Pawn was doing. Belgrade had let Pawn take his command to hold the tunnel, made the Antinium promise to send word if he needed reinforcements. He might be fighting with all he had. If Belgrade took his forces away…
Pawn had to survive. So long as Belgrade could keep hurling the Hive’s forces at the monsters, he’d hold them off. It was a horrible thought, but the Hive had thousands of Soldiers and Workers remaining. Their concern wasn’t any one particular battle, but keeping the number of Antinium the Hive produced each day higher than the average morality rate of their people.
They just had to reopen one of the tunnels to let the Soldiers reinforce his position! Belgrade turned and uttered another desperate order.
“Twenty seven Workers, engage the enchanted suits of armor.”
That would give them time to dig, and lose him the Workers. Belgrade turned as Workers began to move, and then heard a voice.
“No.”
One of the Workers had paused. Belgrade looked at him.
“I said go—”
“No.”
Workers didn’t speak. It wasn’t that they couldn’t, it was that they never voiced their opinions. Belgrade stared as the Worker he’d ordered to fight and die turned, and started shaking. The voice that came out of his mandibles was suddenly loud, filled with horrible madness.
“i wILl nOT. I ReFUSE. diE? DiE fOR THe HiVE? nO! pOINtleSS! i rEFuSe!”
He turned, arms shaking, and pointed at Belgrade. His hands clenched and unclenched, and then he seized the nearest Worker and grabbed the Antinium’s neck with all four hands. The Worker who’d refused twisted and the other Worker’s head made a snapping sound and he went limp.
The Workers around Belgrade froze. He froze. There was only one explanation for this Worker’s suddenly behavior. He had gone insane. He’d turned against his Hive, become a killing thing that had no reason, no purpose. He had become…
An Aberration. Belgrade reached for his side. Klbkch had given him a weapon, although Belgrade had no Skills. The Worker, no, Aberration, charged at him, screaming.
“dIE!”
The Aberration ran at him, throwing off the other Workers who tried to bar his way. Belgrade waited until he was close, and then slashed with the enchanted sword he’d been given. Too slow, too late.
The former Worker ducked. Belgrade cut one of his antennae off, and then the Aberration knocked him to the ground. Two of his fists began to pummel Belgrade as the other two reached for the sword. Belgrade used all four of his arms to cling to the sword, trying to bring it to bear.
It ended when the other Workers tore the Aberration off Belgrade. He came away with one of Belgrade’s antennae. The pain was—Belgrade stumbled up and ran the Aberration through as the Workers held him down. The thing that had been a Worker kept reaching for him, trying to kill him until Belgrade twisted the blade and he went still.
Shaking, the [Tactician] got off the Aberration’s body and looked at the other Workers. They looked as shaken as he did, and they had been about to fight and die without hesitation.
“Take the body away. Now.”
Belgrade hurried back to the table. But no sooner had he used his one remaining antennae to sense what was going on then he felt a cold jolt of fear in his chest.
“Oh no. No, no!”
He looked up, and now he could hear the sounds of fighting. Belgrade turned, opening his mandibles to shout for every Worker he had to go above, but it was too late. Something shot down one of the tunnels, knocking aside the two Workers who’d been hauling the Aberration’s body away.
A red whip of flesh struck a Worker and pinned him to the ground. It pressed down, and the Worker was crushed into paste. Belgrade stared numbly up as the rest of the body followed, a huge, sinuous brown-red form, and a faceless head with long antennae. A worm with arms? No, something much worse.
A Crypt Worm. In his struggle, Belgrade hadn’t noticed them slaughtering the Workers. And now…they were here.
The first Crypt Worm loomed over Belgrade, slashing with its tendrils, sending the Soldiers running at it flying into walls where they broke. It was wounded in many places, but it was too large, too furious to be stopped. And it was in front of Belgrade.
And he had no more cards to play. Belgrade stared up at the Crypt Worm, suddenly calm. He’d used his Skills. The tunnel where the enchanted suits of armor were had been cleared somehow, but it was too late. His reinforcements were too far away and the Crypt Worm was looking at him.
Sword. Belgrade found it and raised it with one of his hands. He spoke, not to the Crypt Worm, but to his friend, as if he could hear him. It was just a foolish thing, but it comforted Belgrade.
“Anand. You must become strong for the both of us.”
That was it. Belgrade thought Erin might have approved. He stood up from the table as the Crypt Worm slithered towards him. A tendril shot out. Belgrade cut at it.
Again, too slow. This one sent him flying towards a wall. Belgrade heard his body crunch and slid to the ground. He looked—and didn’t see his left arms. Either of them. He knew he should feel pain, but there was nothing.
“So—so that’s what it’s like. Should have sent more Soldiers.”
Belgrade wheezed as he stood. The Crypt Worm was finishing off the last Soldiers trying to fight. Now it came towards him. Belgrade looked up. How would it end? He raised his sword. Try to cut it, just once—
The Crypt Worm dove. Something flashed towards its head, and suddenly there was an empty space in the air. There was no more head. Belgrade flinched as he heard the air tearing.
The Crypt Worm fell, head torn open. It jerked, trying to stand, despite missing part of its brain, and Belgrade heard the sound again. This time he saw…
What? It looked like a white jet of something moving unbelievably fast. It tore straight through the Crypt Worm’s center, cut it in half. And then…what was that?
Splattering. A spray. Some of it had blasted backwards from impact and struck Belgrade. He flinched, and then studied the liquid on him. It wasn’t blood. It was…
“Water?”
He got up. Belgrade was bleeding, but he had to see. He turned down the corridor the water had come from, as two more Crypt Worms shot down the passageway, and a group of Shield Spiders burst out of one of the tunnels. Everywhere was being overrun. Too late. Had to retreat. But all of Belgrade’s hazy thoughts stopped when he saw her, shining like the sun.
Xrn.
She was holding a staff in the air, a staff with a crystal orb. Her eyes shone with every color Belgrade had ever known and more he hadn’t. And from her came light. A piercing, brilliant light that made the Crypt Worms flinch away, screaming in high-pitched voices. But the light was soothing to Belgrade and all the Antinium who saw it.
Then she spoke. And her voice was thunder.
“I am Xrn, the Small Queen!”
It echoed down the cavern, filling the minds of the struggling Workers and Soldiers. They turned and saw her holding her staff high, the light emanating from it shining like a sun underground. Xrn raised one hand, and c
alled a word.
“[Burning Lightning].”
Something red and orange and brilliant shot past Belgrade. He turned, and saw one of the Crypt Worms shriek as lightning struck and turned the creature’s skin and body into flame. It writhed, and died. Just like that.
With one spell. Xrn strode forwards, and Belgrade saw Soldiers and Workers running after her, ahead of her. It looked like the entire Hive. They flooded the tunnels, abandoning their duties, called by her voice. Xrn pointed at the monsters rushing towards Belgrade’s position and shouted.
“Stand, Antinium. Fight, Antinium! In the name of your Hive, stand with me and push back the invaders!”
Some of the Workers had survived the Crypt Worm’s attack. They rose. Belgrade was already running. He didn’t think, he just ran. The first of the Shield Spiders was crawling towards Belgrade. It reared up, half-blind from the light and Belgrade cut it apart with his sword. He was shouting. A worker charged into a Shield Spider, threw it down. And then the tunnel was full of Antinium, fighting, pushing back the stunned Shield Spiders with a ferocity unknown even to Soldiers.
They charged into the tide of monsters, a black wave of flesh and carapace that smashed the first rank of monsters to pieces. The Crypt Worms lashed out, but the Workers clung to them and the Soldiers tore flesh from the writhing, screaming horrors.
Xrn swept a wave of blasting steam down one corridor, broiling a group of obscenely large maggot-butterflies that were shedding a poisonous miasma. She was not alone. The Silent Antinium raced past her, half-invisible, disappearing from Belgrade’s sight. The sword-wielding clones of Klbkch formed a shield around Xrn as she cast spells. She planted her staff in the ground, and burnt a Crypt Worm to ash as the Custodium dueled a suit of enchanted armor, nimbly dodging and cutting at it, their enchanted blades slashing through the thick steel.
The Silent Antinium, the thin assassins with scythes for arms, brought down a group of the huge not-Gnolls, as Belgrade marshaled the Soldiers and Workers around him, sending them to reinforce Xrn’s position.
The transparent Antinium leapt from a wall where they had been waiting, practically invisible and beheaded two of the lumbering monsters before they realized what was happening. Their scythes were as sharp as any blade and in moments they were moving away from the bloody remains of the group.
