Chapter 938

War Resurgent

My father, and even at this early juncture I must apologise for every one of my writings circling back to the man who raised me, was the first to ever mention the fifth stratum to me.

He described it as a world of endless and profound noxiousness. A place where every particle of substance that filled it had been bio-engineered into a vehicle for death. A single breath could kill. A single touch, lethal. He spoke of rivers of poison that flowed through the air. He talked of lakes filled with bile so virulent that reality itself was infected by it.

At the time, we lived in the fourth, within the temple city of Artas, home to the grand cathedral of the path, as I'm sure you know, and the idea of such a place existing within such relative proximity had me waking in screaming fear every second night for months. I cursed that old man, (silently within the recesses of my mind, for I wholly lacked the fortitude to face him directly) for sharing such horrific visions with me, a mere child. For many years I resented him for, wondering why he had never watered down his experience for me, not made it more digestible for a youth.

When finally I decided to face my fears, one by one, as an adult, it eventually came time for me to visit the fifth. I needed to dispel the horrific image of my tormented childhood and replace it with the firm reality which could not possibly match the terrors conjured by the imagination of a child.

I was wrong. He kept so much from me, when I was child. What I saw was so, so much worse than anything I could have imagined. How could a good world possibly stand for such things to exist?

Excerpt from "Recollections of my Father: Child of the Iron Fist" by Ingtin.

It's become something of a habit to poke into the gathered Will of the Colony whenever I want to know something about what my siblings are up to but I've started to think that might be considered something of an intrusion. I mean, it might not be the same thing as peering into their minds but it's adjacent! Instead of resorting to this more intrusive method of enquiry I prod one of the rushing workers with an antennae and fire off a quick question.

"What's going on? Why the rush?"

"Eldest! I didn't expect to see you there… resting."

I rear up to my full height, which is rather impressive now, over three metres at least. I certainly tower over this presumptuous carver!

"I fought two battles back to back and hadn't slept in days! Are you suggesting that I shouldn't be taking torpor?"

"Ah… no."

"Are you saying that torpor and rest are unnecessary?"

"No!"

At my words the shadows within this stretch of tunnel darken precipitously as a cold wind blows against our antennae. The rush of ants continues past us, even quicker than before, every individual avoiding paying any attention to the unnatural darkness or the ant I now loom over. I eye the suddenly nervous carver.

"Just one more question… when was the last time you had a rest?"

The question strikes the poor worker in the heart and she physically recoils, her antennae flailing wildly as she fails to control her panic.

"I – I – … I've been busy!"

So shouting she runs down the tunnel, only to be swallowed whole by the darkness that rises to embrace her. In a blink, everything has returned to how it was before, the workers streaming down the trail, no ominous living shadows, no bitter cold wind, and no carver.

Good work, I sign to the air.

Then I poke another of my siblings.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Eldest! I didn't see you there! I certainly didn't see anything that I shouldn't speak of…"

"Good. Any chance you can tell me what's going on? Why are there so many of us around here? Is there an emergency?"

"Not as such," the general rubs her head with one antennae as she ponders the question. "I came in as part of the third wave an hour ago and received a short debrief before I was directed to the front. Apparently the south east quadrant is seeing elevated enemy activity and fortifications in that region are only sixty percent complete as of last reporting."

Hang on… what?

"The three main fronts of concern are still the central, eastern and north eastern of course, the fighting there is intense I'm told. There was a counter offensive launched down the main tunnel thirty minutes ago which eased the pressure but they had to pull back to avoid supply lines being cut by tunnelling forces. The counter tunnelling efforts are draining a huge amount of antpower, but if they keep the termites off of our carapace' then it's all worth it of course. Anyway, thanks for the chat Eldest, I really need to get going."

With a quick and unnecessary salute, the general is gone, whisked off and vanishing into the endless blur of ants rushing past. Fighting? Counter tunnelling? Three active fronts?

[Crinis… how long was I asleep and mutating for?]

[Around six hours, master.]

Holy heck! In just six hours the Colony has brought in a further two waves of reinforcements and the termites have assaulted in numbers? I expected things to escalate, but not before I'd finished my nap! Dammit!

I spread my awareness out amongst the ants within range, dipping my awareness into the steam flowing through the Vestibule and letting the impressions of thousands of individuals wash over me. It's true, many ants are fighting, many others are still building, working, fortifying.

[We need to get out there guys! Things have gotten intense in the last little while!]

I keep half a mind on the Vestibule as we rush back to the front once more, trying to get a more complete sense of what is going on, and what happened while were sleeping. It looks as if the Colony has continued to reinforce in waves of ten thousand, as there are roughly triple that number within range of me right now. Across an area that covers dozens of square kilometres, ant and termite are clashing, in tunnels and behind defences, on open ground and buried beneath tons of soil.

A constant stream of termites seems to flowing from unknown sources to contest the Colony, but not as foolishly as they had before, running headlong into our defences. The termites are being more cautious, smarter, probing and testing, rushing in and then pulling back, as if they were being controlled by a more potent intellect.

Which of course they were…

Damn these lizards! They really can't stand being beaten, huh? All that's going to happen is they get beaten worse! That, I can promise.