304: Hornets

Queen Vexira paced through her grand chambers, wings buzzing spasmodically, a messenger bug held in one hand. On the verge of arising from the Foundation Realm—the very peak of Tier Three—her furious Soul Sense blanketed the room and gouged at the walls.

‘How dare she,’ she snarled, the ripples through which she spoke booming. ‘How dare she! I am ripe! I am ready! And she restrains me, holds me back after all that I have done…’

‘It is because she fears you, my Queen,’ came a hissing ripple from a dark corner of the room. There a monstrous, dark-red spider lurked in a bed of webbing. Arcritch showed dagger-long fangs in a sneer. ‘She fears what you are capable of.’

‘Yes,’ spat Vexira. ‘And all the while she plagues me with these spies. I am of a mind to rip them all apart!’ She held the messenger bug, a pale, flea-like Symbiote, high. With a flex of her claws it was crushed into goo, releasing a plaintive deathripple.

‘My Queen,’ rippled another, tone subdued. Her daughter, Thryss, stood uneasily to the right of the throne. ‘You must restrain yourself.’ She was a tall, lean Hornet, dark chitin gleaming faintly, wings folded like blades against her back. Considered as beautiful as Vexira, but a beauty that was marred by the thing on her forehead. The Binding, the same as was on Vexira’s own. Thryss’ was starting to light up in response to the treasonous words her mother had been spitting, and from the pain in Vexira’s exoskeleton she knew hers was doing the same.

‘Of course,’ Vexira hissed. ‘My apologies. I was merely speaking nonsense, venting my… significant dismay at the Empress’ decision. But I am certain,’ she ground out for the Binding to hear, ‘that there is deep wisdom in this decision, just as always, which will one day reveal its sense to me.’

She knew the reason for the decision. It was the exact same reason there was a Binding on her forehead in the first place. Queens do not like competition. Empresses like it even less.

She strode past Thryss and threw herself petulantly into her Spirit Throne, a gigantic construction of bone-white, heavily inscribed Elysium studded with focusing gems. The Rituals magnified the effects of these precious materials, and the moment she was sat upon it her Soul Sense grew larger and thicker, the tendrils now able to extend throughout her entire hive.

She released a slow, humming breath. There were other Rituals set into the throne, too, secret Rituals she and Arcritch had worked up through careful experimentation. The Binding on her forehead slowly relaxed in response to them, and her mind cleared as the spikes of pain faded.

‘Why not have a meal, my Queen, to calm your mind?’ said Thryss brightly. Her head tilted the precise distance needed to phrase her question with the perfect degree of politeness.

Vexira gave another hum. The rage was still buzzing within her. ‘Yes, bring it out. A good idea, my daughter.’

Thryss spread her arms wide, wings stirring the air. She released a wave of ripples towards the far wall. A panel shifted open in response. Moments later, two of Vexira’s drones, Tier 1 warriors who’d yet to earn the right to be considered sons, came striding out. They held between them a bound human.

The thrashing, terrified creature was dragged before the Queen. She felt its terror as a pleasant tickle against her Soul, one that primed her predatory instincts. It was letting out a continuous, piping shriek.

‘We captured this one just this morning, Queen,’ said Thryss smoothly, circling the captive. ‘It is young.’ Her mandibles clicked in satisfaction. ‘Tender.’ Vexira perceived her words clearly, in spite of the screeching of the human.

Neither Thryss nor Vexira nor even Arcritch spoke as the humans did, with voice. Rather, they communicated in ripples, pushing them out with precise movements of their Souls, easily heard regardless of how loud the creature shrieked.

Arcritch stirred in his web. The spider’s hulking body shifted, dagger-fangs glinting with venomous drool. ‘It looks delicious,’ in a sibilant ripple, all eight eyes glimmering hungrily. ‘Ably chosen.’

Thryss flicked her wings without even a glance at the spider, the motion dismissive. ‘Of course. I see to my Queen’s needs personally.’

Vexira’s hum deepened in approval, and she settled further into her throne. ‘Wonderful.’

At her signal, Thryss snapped her claws. The two warriors obeyed instantly, setting the human on its knees while Thryss fetched a large golden bowl with a hole in the centre. Thryss directed them to slide it over the human’s small head, pulling an Artifact knife from her belt.

While the warriors held the screaming human tight, Thryss personally shaved its hair then drew a careful line of red around its head with the tip of the knife. She moved with the unrushed efficiency of one who loves their job. The incision made, she removed the top of its skull, and signalled all was ready with a triumphant flourish.

The warriors dragged the creature forward—its delightful screams were weakening—while Thryss presented Vexira with a tiny silver spoon. Vexira waved it away, leaning forward, mandibles thrashing eagerly as she tore right into the gooey matter.

She was halfway through the twitching meal when she bit down on something shockingly hard, her calm enjoyment shattered by a sudden stab of pain like she’d bitten a stone.

She shrieked, flinching back, one clawed arm striking out with reflexive rage. Soul and Symbiotes joined the motion. The warriors barely had time to dive aside before her attack blasted into the human with a tremendous crack. It was transformed into a spray of bright blood, dark gore, and pale bone that painted a long, gruesome line across the floor, ceiling, and even the distant wall of the chamber.

The others stared at the human’s unrecognisable remains for a beat. In the silence, a battered chunk of the golden bowl bounced loudly off a wall and slid across the floor.

Vexira carefully retrieved a tiny, complex piece of bloodstained metal from between her mandibles.

After staring at it in bafflement, she put it carefully on one arm of her throne. ‘Fetch some slaves to clean this mess,’ she snapped at the warriors, who hurried away.

‘Might I have a look at that shiny thing?’ asked Arcritch from the side.

Vexira picked the metal up and flung it across the room. The spider snatched it from the air, hunching curiously over it. Vexira ignored her advisor, instead casting a grim look at her daughter, who stood very tall and still.

‘I had no idea,’ Thryss pleaded. ‘I have… there is no reason for a human to have metal in its brain! It must be some strange birth defect.’ She bowed low. ‘I will take extraordinary care to ensure this never happens again.’

‘No birth defect,’ interrupted Arcritch. ‘That one was from the species that is often attaching metal parts to themselves, is it not?’ Thryss nodded, staring at him tensely. The spider chuckled, raising the tiny piece of metal. ‘Their obsession with doing so appears to extend even into their brains. I believe this is some kind of tiny machine. It wouldn’t surprise me if all humans of that race have something like this in their head.’

‘I see,’ spoke Vexira, the fury calming. She prodded carefully at her mandible. The chitin wasn’t cracked. She was fine, had merely been surprised. Her thorax thrummed with a rich laugh as she wiped the blood from her face and waved a claw. ‘Worry not, daughter. You couldn’t have known. And until the metal, it was quite delicious.’ Thryss’ body turned limp with relief. ‘In future, only humans from the normal species should be brought as treats.’

‘Of course, mother,’ murmured Thryss. ‘My Queen,’ she corrected instantly, feeling Vexira’s sudden irritation.

The great chamber doors rang out with ripples. From the shape of the ripples Vexira immediately knew who had knocked.

Vexira flicked her Soul Sense and the doors opened. Two humans stepped inside, strolling forward over the expanse of the chamber, coming towards the Queen and her flanking advisors. One of the humans was broad and bulky, muscular form covered by rough furs with a heavy weapon on his back. The other was tall and skinny, gaunt and pale, wearing a white robe cinched by a clinking belt of fine chains. Their expressions were entirely slack and empty, a contrast to the squealing creature whose brain Vexira had just nibbled on.

They paused, eyes running along the great big stain of blood and gore. Then they came smoothly on, stopped before her, and rippled their greetings. She looked them over carefully. She frowned, noting a difference between them and the human who’d so stuck in her mandibles. ‘Your faces are immobile. The fleshy faces of the squishy ones constantly shift and squirm.’

The two humans flexed their faces, blinking and grimacing in a way that looked more like the other one had.

‘Better,’ she said, nodding approvingly. ‘How has gone your day?’

‘Apologies, my Queen, for the interruption…’ began Arcritch.

The look she gave him warned that he had better have spoken for a good reason.

‘I have observed the humans you’ve captured over the past months most closely. I believe they communicate with their features in a similar manner as our kind communicate with ripples. The gestures must be precise, and if there is any mistake, they may detect it.’

Vexira frowned and looked back to the humans. The pair considered one another, bleeding uncertain ripples.

Thryss sneered. ‘Oh, just exit those forms. The sight of them disgusts me.’

Vexira couldn’t help but agree.

The big human stared at Thryss, ripples angry. ‘In that case, perhaps you ought to wear the form rather than one of us? Then you needn’t see it, unless you should fall foul of a mirror.’

‘And spend all day interacting with the squishies?’ Her mandibles spread in a sneer. ‘I have far more important duties.’

‘Enough,’ said Vexira. ‘You are all about important purposes.’ She waved at the two humans. ‘Return to your true selves.’

The two humans began to twitch, their bodies shifting, flesh crawling oddly. Under the curious gazes of the others, their forms shrank, narrowing and shortening, joints popping and bones crunching.

And then, at the end, after a period of time, the creatures had collapsed down to far shorter forms, both of a height with one another. The disguises had shrivelled into grotesque cocoons. Pale sacks of flesh with the clothing draped awkwardly over them, twitching as something sharper and harder struggled inside.

From the sudden unhappy ripples, Vexira knew that her sons were preparing to rip themselves out from those fleshy cocoons.

But she sent out a sudden sharp ripple. ‘Wait,’ she said, her eyes on the human clothing that still wrapped the pair. ‘Do not destroy the outerwear. We do not have a replacement.’

She gestured to Thryss, who gave the order. Once more the two Tier 1 hornets appeared. This time, a small army of far tinier bugs followed after them. Small, many-legged beetles with shells of sickly white. The slaved bugs flowed across the floor toward the stain, extended sucking mouthparts and began to clean.

Meanwhile, the two Hornet drones moved swiftly in her direction, carefully drawing the clothes free from the slack, skinlike husks, leaving only the pale remains behind.

The moment the Tier 1’s retreated with, clothes held safely, the heaps of dead skin burst into motion. Viciously torn apart from the inside, the hornets within letting out buzzes of joy as they ripped their way free. Their black-and-yellow forms emerged, naked and slick with juices from the flesh they’d been wearing, steaming in the cool air.

‘Finally,’ spoke Drekhul, wings letting out a sharp buzz as he beat them at full strength, flicking goo in the direction of the cleaners. He kicked the fallen skin-husk away. Some of the cleaning slave bugs flowed across the floor and tore into it. ‘Those things are disgusting.’

‘Disgusting and awkward. So ridiculously bulky, all that unnecessary fat and muscle,’ added Xyrrith. He spread his arms, emanating joy. ‘Such a step down from our perfect forms.’

‘Mine more than yours,’ put in Drekhul bitterly. His disguise was that of the larger, more barbarous human. ‘Have any other Marked human’s with City access been found? Perhaps a smaller one?’ he asked, Soul Sense rising hopefully.

Vexira glanced at Thryss, who answered. ‘A few were found, but their access was to the wrong Sector of the City. We continue to search diligently for any humans with the correct City access,’ she added, as though worried Vexira might doubt her. Drekhul’s Soul Sense had fallen with her words.

‘Good,’ said Vexira, before turning back to her sons. ‘And if their forms cause you trouble, then all the more reason to practice.’ This time she spoke aloud, pointedly using the tongue of those calling themselves Shenrans. ‘You must walk among them, speak their tongue, fool their senses,’ her voice came a little halting, struggling to speak it through a throat only just capable of the language. ‘No more speaking naturally,’ she proclaimed, to a dispirited reaction. ‘We will speak for now as the humans do, so that you might practice.’

‘Little point,’ put in Arcritch, his deep hiss coming as easily as if he practised the language daily, ‘when their ability to manipulate the humans’ faces remains so lacking. I feel sure they have already made many suspicious in the Phantom City.’

‘We performed perfectly,’ snapped Xyrrith. ‘Humans are far too stupid in any case, there isn’t a chance they would realise.’

But that was when spiderlings suddenly emerged from the clothes still held by the Tier 1 hornets at the side, scuttling swiftly over the floor. Drekhul and Xyrrith stared, shocked.

‘You planted spies on us?’ spat Drekhul, falling back into ripples.

‘Indeed,’ rippled Arcritch smoothly. ‘I was not sure I could trust you to be frank about your performance. These spiderlings have formed a spiritual recording of events. Just as your mother asked for,’ he added with a servile bow to Vexira, his many legs flexing, large body tilting forward.

The pair looked to her, wordlessly emanating a sense of betrayal and wounded pride.

She thrummed her thorax in irritation. ‘This task is too important for failure, my sons. Do not expect me to go easy on you.’ She didn’t bother to speak in the human tongue, nor to push the others to do so. In truth she found it as tiring as the others, and her energy for it had quickly faded.

To the side, Arcritch picked up the two spiderlings by extending one hairy leg. They ran up that leg and sat upon his head. There they suddenly died, their Souls absorbed into him, and they tumbled limply to the ground.

Arcritch breathed out, and a flow of soulstuff and Oma moved through the air. A shifting image appeared to one side. It showed the Phantom City from the point of view of the spiderlings.

Within the image Drekhul and Xyrrith’s false human forms were visible talking to a human wearing close-fitting dark armour.

‘Hello.’ ‘Hello.’ ‘Hello.’ Three voices came from the image, one after the other, sounding small and distant. Vexira observed the halting conversation, and the displeasure she emanated only grew.

‘Farawaya?’ she hissed at the pair, once the display had ended. Drekhul and Xyrrith avoided her eyes.

‘The human was mocking you, brothers,’ said Thryss with smug satisfaction. ‘You performed truly poorly.’

‘Yes, your faces did not move properly, not as the squishy ones do,’ said Arcritch.

Vexira let out a ripple of annoyance. ‘You will go and study the captured humans. I want you two to blend perfectly.’

‘My Queen, you don’t understand,’ whined Drekhul. ‘Their faces have so many tiny muscles. It’s ridiculous. It’s senseless. It’s impossible!’ he cried, wings spreading helplessly.

‘Silence,’ she snapped, and her will—channelled by the Soul of a Tier Three at the very peak—pressed down on all in the room. ‘Impossible? For a Hornet, there is no such thing! I have raised you two to Tier 2, given you the honour of this task, and you whine that it is hard? If you are incapable of this, then perhaps your Symbiotes could be better used by others.’

‘No, mother!’ cried Xyrrith. ‘We can do it, we will!’

‘We will!’ echoed Drekhul, folding his arms defensively, as though to protect the Symbiotes within him.

To the side, a faint ripple of amusement came from Arcritch. She snapped her eyes onto him, her will pressing down.

‘And you,’ she snarled. ‘Do not forget your place, spider. It is no good for you to stand on the side and speak of how they have performed badly. It is your role to ensure they perform better. I want solutions, not mockery of those above your station.’

‘Of course, my Queen,’ croaked Arcritch sibilantly. ‘My deepest apologies, young warriors.’ He bowed low to the two Hornets. They returned stiff nods.

‘Now,’ said Vexira, settling back into her throne, the pressure of her will relaxing. On one side of the room the white slave-bugs were flowing back out, guided by the careful ripples of one of the Tier 1’s. All the blood, gore, and skin had been consumed, the room left pristine. ‘What have you two seen? I do not wish to view everything from Arcritch’s recreations. I wish for your opinion.’

‘The necromancer houses are preparing for war,’ spoke Drekhul. ‘We found House Veyron and have broached the subject of joining. I think it went well.’ He glanced at his brother.

‘Maybe we were not the most convincing of humans,’ said Xyrrith. ‘But the necromancers understand them as little as we do. I believe our act convinced them. They are starting Trials two weeks from now, and we have secured places.’

‘And what did you learn of Veyron’s constructs?’ asked Thryss, excited. ‘I have heard their work is magnificent.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Xyrrith. ‘They have some quite interesting creations. As the spider said, I believe we can adopt some of what they have made to our own ends, through flesh-weaving on captured bugs.’

Vexira hummed, one claw tapping on her throne. ‘You will make a list of what you have seen, and discuss with Thryss and Arcritch which ideas could be used ourselves.’ Her Soul Sense brushed Thryss. ‘Separate some of the more useless slaves for testing.’

‘Ah, about that,’ said Thryss, voice low. ‘The slaves taken last year are dwindling. This Soul-plague that swept through them has proven to have a high lethality rate. The hive needs a fresh supply.’

Vexira’s mandibles clacked irritably. Slaves. The stupid things were constantly dying, and there were never enough. ‘What is the state of our Oma stockpile?’

‘Already it begins to dwindle, but it will be months before we run out.’

A sudden thunder of ripples echoed out from the door. Urgent and insistent. Vexira’s gaze snapped toward it. None would so rudely disturb her—unless something very important was happening. A gesture of Vexira’s Soul Sense and the ponderous doors gave a click, then swept soundlessly open.

Vexira’s irritation at the interruption immediately faded when she saw who entered. Her second daughter strode through the doorway. Sythera wore heavy, segmented armour of Black Bug chitin, fitted over her in a full suit.

Vexira’s interest turned to annoyance and concern when she saw who followed. One of her numerous brothers, spawn of the Empress. Vorath moved in a sidle, steps entirely silent. His chitin was unusually dark and glossy, always an irritating reminder of her—their—mother.

‘My Queen,’ greeted Sythera, standing straight-backed. She swung an arm over her chest in salute. ‘Scouts have detected a large mass of Grey Bug Clan moving through the outskirts of our territory. The latest report claims that they have found a hill and are currently burrowing into it, looking to make a nest.’

Vexira straightened, exchanging glances and ripples with the others. ‘How very… timely,’ she murmured.

‘A source of slaves has been found,’ returned Thryss, ripples emanating pleasure.