CHAPTER 42

THE HIVE

334 AR

“Ten minutes.” Renna stopped at the most defensible spot she could find, but the tunnels all glowed with dim light from some fungus on the walls. It meant she could see with her eyes for the first time since the Spear of Ala, but it also left her feeling exposed, even with her warded cloak and Shanvah’s singing.

“Of course.” Shanvah reached out to halt her father, and the two of them knelt facing outward, on guard as Renna prepared the couscous.

“Want some?” Renna asked when it was steaming in the bowls.

“Thank you, no.” Shanvah spoke the words quickly, never missing a note of her concealing song.

“I require nothing.” Shanjat’s voice was cold.

The two of them could easily last a day on a single bite of the couscous and a sip of the water, but despite the race to catch up with Arlen and Jardir—if they were even still alive—Renna could not ignore the needs of her rapidly expanding belly.

The deeper they went, the stronger the ambient magic became and the faster her son grew. Renna once wondered how the demon queen could hatch so many, but now she began to understand.

Renna was putting away two full bowls of couscous at a sitting, stopping to eat thrice as often as Shanvah and Shanjat required. By that rough measure, it had been over a week since Shanjat began silently leading them into the bowels of the world.

When questioned, Shanjat could answer little about the route, as if the mind had simply sketched a map in his brain. He did not know what the glowing moss was, where it might end, or how much farther they had to go before they reached the hive.

If they weren’t already in it.

Renna ate in silence, feeling the inside of her belly come alive with the repast. The hard outer muscle she formed to protect the child did nothing to diminish the shock and discomfort of his powerful kicks and punches. He shoved against her bladder, and Renna moved quickly behind a stone for a privy break. He had gotten so big, she feared he might come any day.

Hold on, just a little longer, she begged. What would happen if the child came now? Could she hope to protect him?

They moved on quickly when she was done eating. Up ahead, Renna heard familiar sounds of battle—the shriek of demons, the sizzle of combat wards. Could it be Arlen? She pulled her knife and raced down the tunnel toward the noise.

“Father, keep pace!” Shanvah called as she followed. “If attacked, defend us and yourself!”

It was simple for the Sharum to match Renna, whose run had become something of a waddle. She used magic to put on speed, and the three of them were a blur as they rushed into the tunnel junction where the sound originated.

A group of wild-looking humans had surrounded a cave demon, stabbing from all sides with obsidian-tipped spears. Their auras were hot with core magic, and their weapons flared with battle wards.

Renna could tell Arlen’s script at a glance, and her heart leapt. “They been this way.”

Shanvah nodded. “The Shar’Dama Ka and Par’chin have armed the alamen fae.”

Several feet away, the corpse of another cave demon lay with legs hacked off, oozing guts and ichor from its bulbous belly. Two of the core dwellers lay nearby, auras cold save for the venom still in their veins. Another was stuck to the wall with silk, half her head bitten off.

The core dwellers hooted and howled as they brought the second demon down. Magic crackled along the lengths of their weapons, and they shivered, absorbing even more power.

Their eyes were wild when the alamen fae caught sight of Renna, Shanvah, and Shanjat. They closed in from all sides, much as they’d surrounded the demon, huffing and beating their chests.

But then they took note of Renna’s belly, and their aggression faded. They circled, chattering in a rudimentary language that sounded vaguely like Krasian. The crowd parted, and an elder female crawled forward. Her body remained strong but her hair had gone white, and Renna could taste the weight of years on her aura.

The female reached for her. Renna wanted to flinch back, but she could see the elder meant no harm. Her hands were rough with calluses, but surprisingly gentle as she ran them over Renna’s belly. She put her ear to it, and laughed aloud, a cry that made the core dwellers take up a cheer. She pulled some of the glowing fungus from a pouch in her belt, mixing it with water and drawing a heat ward in the thin skin of soil over the stone of the tunnel floor.

“Renna,” Shanvah said warily, when the old woman presented her with the steaming cup.

“Stay calm,” Renna said. “Don’t mean any harm. Near as I can tell, they think I’m good luck.” Whatever tea this subterranean Herb Gatherer was serving smelled awful, but she held her breath and quaffed it. The female nodded and gave an approving grunt.

The alamen fae next moved their gaze to Shanjat. No doubt the powerful male seemed to present the greatest threat, but when one of their males moved up to him, grunting and thumping his spear, Shanjat gave no reaction. The male went so far as to poke Shanjat in the chest. At a word from Renna or Shanvah, he could have broken the core dweller’s arm, but without it he stood impassively, and the core dwellers lost interest in him.

Shanvah, however, drew the attention of several males. They knuckle-walked around her, sniffing the air and grunting. Renna looked their way, and her eyes bulged.

“Corespawn it!” She averted her gaze. More than one had a visible erection.

One of the core dwellers reached to touch Shanvah, and she had enough. She caught his wrist and twisted into a sharusahk throw that sent him tumbling head over heels. She snapped a kick into the erection of a second core dweller who moved too close, and he dropped to the slick tunnel floor, moaning.

The next male backed off when Shanvah hissed. The two she put down collected themselves, and all the males retreated into the forming crowd.

Renna looked at the others—females, children, and less aggressive males, many holding weapons warded by Arlen and Jardir—and wondered what she should say.

Before she could open her mouth, one of the males returned with a haunch of meat from some unknown subterranean beast. He offered it to his Gatherer, gesturing at Shanvah and grunting.

Shanvah gaped. “Is he…”

“Marriage tradin’?” Renna asked as the Gatherer turned with the haunch to open negotiations. “Sure as the sun looks like it. Must think I’m your mam.”

“I am flattered.” Shanvah’s voice was flat. “But please refuse.”

Renna was about to attempt just that when another came forward, offering the Gatherer some scaly pelt, also pointing at Shanvah.

“Want to wait and see how high they go?” Renna asked Shanvah.

“That is not funny, sister,” Shanvah said.

“Ay, guess not.” Renna powered the wards on her skin. They flared to life, filling the tunnels with light. She turned her gaze on the males. “She ent for sale, you randy bucks!”

The males cowered at the display and went quickly to their knees, followed by the rest of the core dwellers.

“Erram,” they began chanting. “Erram.”

The collective aura changed, and Renna pulled at it, absorbing a taste to Read. Images of Arlen and Jardir flashed in her mind, and she knew they were not far behind. She could sense the tunnel they had taken.

But there was something new in the air now. A vibration that was almost like sound, so loud she wondered how she had never sensed it before. Then she thought back to the mind demon’s brain she’d consumed and instinctively understood the source.

“Sister, what is it?” Shanvah asked.

“Know where to go,” Renna said quietly. “Can hear the queen moanin’ in my head as she lays.”

Jardir and the Par’chin watched the alamen fae, perched high on the stone walls, waiting in silence as the clutter of spiderlike cave demons approached.

Cave demons were the most common breed of alagai the minds employed as sheepdogs in the larder, herding Jardir’s distant cousins like camels. The demons were wary now, the territory of the alamen fae suddenly become dangerous. The camels had begun to kick.

Still, the alagai were unprepared as the core dwellers dropped on them from above, roaring as their spears struck.

The core dwellers were strong, and their enthusiasm for the fight was impressive once they had weapons that could bite at the alagai. For centuries, the demons had herded them, killed them, dragged their fellows off to butcher. No longer.

The cave demons twisted, but their long segmented legs were not designed to strike at creatures on their backs. The alamen fae were too quick, hopping back from the demons’ swipes, keeping them distracted as their tribe rushed in to attack. Men, women, and children entered the fight, crude wards scrawled on their obsidian weapon tips and the shields Jardir taught them to make from leather and bone.

Sparks of magic flew wildly through the tunnel as spiked clubs rose and fell. They had only a fraction the power of properly warded weapons, but it did not stop the alamen fae. Blows from the weakest kept the demons disoriented as the stronger tribe members broke limbs and slowly beat in skulls.

Their glory was boundless.

One demon managed to leap away, clinging to the tunnel wall and skittering out of easy reach. Obsidian-headed arrows skittered sparks across its armor until one stuck, followed by another.

Knowing it could not escape, the demon turned to fight, tensing to spring back down among the tribe. They would still bring it down, but not without the cost of lives.

Jardir raised his spear to blast the life from the creature.

“Ahmann, no!” the Par’chin cried, grabbing his arm.

Jardir scowled. “Remove your hand, Par’chin. I must help them.”

“Can’t.” The Par’chin withdrew his hand.

“Why not?” Jardir saw the demon drop into the knot of alamen fae.

“Because, fool, the queen knows everything her drones do,” Alagai Ka sneered. “Unruly livestock will not concern her. The Heir of Kavri will.”

“He’s right, Ahmann,” the Par’chin said. “Right now, the crown and my wards have us hidden. But we start throwin’ real power around, ent no missin’ that.”

Jardir gripped his spear so tightly his hands ached, and the demon gave its hissing laugh. “It pains you to sacrifice drones. Even pathetic savages like these.”

“They were my people, once.” Jardir saw blood spatter the tunnel wall and knew it was too late to help.

“Queen knows the thoughts of drones this far from the hive?” the Par’chin asked.

The demon turned his head-tilting stare the Par’chin’s way. Jardir was coming to recognize the look as more derision than curiosity. As if Alagai Ka was wondering how they could be so utterly stupid.

“We have been inside the hive for days, Explorer,” the demon said, and Jardir felt his blood turn to ice. “The queen keeps her larder close. When the laying is done, she will feast on them by the thousand to replenish her strength. The losses in your petty uprising are meaningless.”

“Not meaningless,” the Par’chin said. “They serve something greater.”

“Do they, Par’chin?” Jardir asked.

“You’re the one always talking about fate,” the Par’chin said. “About Everam’s Plan. Well maybe He’s got one, after all. Maybe He didn’t abandon these folk. Maybe He set ’em here to help us when we needed it most.”

“At what cost, Par’chin?” Jardir asked.

“Don’t matter the cost,” the Par’chin said. “Victory is worth any price. Ent that what you always said? Ent that your excuse for killing your way across Thesa? But now, when victory is so close you could touch it, you suddenly grow a conscience?”

The greenlander’s words gave Jardir pause. He looked at his old friend, trying to peel away the years to see the innocent young greenlander beneath the hard, painted man.

“Do you remember the first time we argued, Par’chin?” Jardir asked.

The son of Jeph nodded. “In the Maze.”

Jardir nodded. “When the Pit Warder was ravaged by alagai talons and readied himself for the lonely path.”

The Par’chin’s eyes flashed. “He had a name, Ahmann. Zaji asu Fandra am’Hessath am’Kaji. He was my friend. The man who taught me one-way wardings and pit magic. The man I could have saved, had you not murdered him.”

“Do not condescend to me, Par’chin,” Jardir said. “I knew Zaji far better than you. He had in his grasp what every warrior dreams of—a glorious death. But you would have snatched it away, forced him to live for decades as a crippled shell of the man he had been, heedless of his wishes, all because Arlen asu Jeph would give the demons nothing.”

The Par’chin’s aura spiked, and Jardir knew his words hit home.

Arlen felt like he’d been slapped.

Give the demons nothing. A childhood oath that had become the defining lens of his life.

He’d broken it before.

Arlen looked at the core dwellers, bringing down the last cave demon. Some clutched wounds already beginning to heal, but two lay cooling on the tunnel floor, auras snuffed.

Jardir was right. The man he had once been would never have stood by and left anyone to the demons—corespawn the greater good. Leaving folk to the demons wasn’t the man his mother taught him to be.

“You told me on that day that Heaven was not true,” Jardir said.

“It ent.” Arlen’s answer was a reflex, but his thoughts did not match the conviction in his voice. Who was he to say? “And if this world’s all we got, I’m going to do whatever’s needed to save it.”

“Including spending the lives of the alamen fae in a feint,” Jardir said.

“Ent forcin’ ’em to fight, Ahmann,” Arlen said. “Doin’ it of their own free will.”

“Because they think us gods,” Jardir said.

Arlen laughed. “You been calling yourself the Deliverer without irony for years now, Ahmann! These folk ent fighting demons for us. They’re fighting because they’re sick of being slaves.”

“They are savages,” Jardir said. “Are we empowering their will, or manipulating it to our ends?”

The mind demon made his hissing laugh—a dark, eerie sound. “You are barely less savage than they. Both clinging to fictions you do not understand.”

“Used to feel that way,” Arlen said, “but the deeper we go, the more I see things I thought fiction are real enough to touch.” He met Jardir’s eyes. “Demon said it himself. We ent successful, most of these folk are gettin’ et anyway. Better they go down with spears in hand.”

“They might not have gone down at all, had we pointed them toward the surface and not the center of the hive,” Jardir said. “If you have the heart to sacrifice their lives, give them the honor of admitting it.”

It was an unexpected lash from his old friend. Indeed, their roles had reversed, for his friend had always been able to see the Creator’s Plan in everything, while Arlen was plagued by doubt every day.

But now…Now his whole body was thrumming with the call of the Core, a song that roared through him like a hurricane. It was power incarnate, the source of all life in the world, and it spoke to him, whispering of greater truths. The world was out of balance, and there was only one way to set things right.

“Ay,” Arlen spat. “That what you want to hear? Know they can’t win against the hive, but they can hold its attention while we do what we came to. This ent stealing wells, Ahmann. It’s Sharak rippin’ Ka. Either we win, or everyone loses.”

Jardir looked at the fallen sadly, but he nodded. “Of course, you are correct, Par’chin.” Doubt clouded his aura.

Arlen looked at him, confused. “Can’t you hear it?”

Jardir cocked his head. “Hear what?”

“The Core,” Arlen said.

Jardir closed his eyes a moment. “I hear nothing.”

Again, the mind demon gave his hissing laugh.

“Don’t listen with your ears,” Arlen said. “Not really hearing anything. More than that. Sense we ent got a word for. Shifts in the way the magic feels when it flows through you, telling more than words ever could.”

Jardir fell into his breath, aura going calm as he reached out with his crown. “I can sense the abyss—feel its power. I can Draw its magic, shape it to my will, but it does not…speak to me.”

“Maybe you just ent listening,” Arlen said, “because it’s got a lot to say.”

Jardir crossed his arms. “And what is the abyss telling you, Par’chin?”

“That it ent the abyss,” Arlen said. “Life flows from there, Ahmann, not the other way around. Every livin’ thing’s got a touch of magic in it, and the sun burns magic away.”

“What are you saying, Par’chin?” Jardir asked.

“Maybe there’s a Creator, after all,” Arlen said. “Just been looking for Him in the wrong place.”

They followed silently in the wake of the alamen fae, hidden by wards of unsight and silence that even the core dwellers could not penetrate.

Jardir welcomed the quiet, still reeling from the Par’chin’s words.

Could it be true? Everam and Nie, Heaven and the abyss, all lies? It was blasphemy. It was madness. And yet, when he searched the Heavens, they were empty, and the demons knew nothing of Nie.

More and more tribes joined them as they approached the tunnels that led to the center of the hive. The core dwellers adapted quickly, and the crude but effective wards Jardir and the Par’chin taught them spread like stones in an avalanche to every bit of sharpened obsidian in the larder.

Jardir could not deny the glory of the sight. These tortured souls, hundreds of generations born into a captivity they could not possibly understand, finally rising up against their gaolers.

They did well, at first. The drones were unprepared for their sheer ferocity, or the speed with which the masses armed themselves. They came with insufficient numbers, and were slaughtered.

They entered a great cavern, dotted with stalagmites. Some were just a few feet high, others larger than the minarets of Sharik Hora. All were hot with magic. Were they vents from the abyss?

The alamen fae did not seem to notice, advancing into the cavern as if they had been here many times before.

“Par’chin,” he said.

“Ay,” the son of Jeph agreed. “Place ent right.”

Suddenly demons clinging to the stone on the far side of the stalagmites sprang from hiding, striking at the core dwellers. Rock demons appeared behind them, moving to cut off any retreat.

“Alagai’ting Ka has taken notice,” Jardir said.

“There.” Alagai Ka pointed upward to a small cave high on the far cavern wall. “My brethren use that vantage to overlook the larder and choose savages for culling.”

“For eating, you mean,” the Par’chin said.

The demon hissed. “Do not feign superiority, Explorer. You are hardly above eating my kind.”

“Ay, and don’t you forget it.” The Par’chin looked to Jardir. “Wait here. Follow me up when the mind is dead.”

Jardir nodded, watching the Par’chin’s essence drift apart just enough to lighten his body. His wards of unsight throbbed as he went aloft, flying like an arrow for the cave mouth.

The cave was too far for the demon’s psychic death to kill the drones fighting the alamen, but it was immediately apparent when the demons lost the mind’s guidance and became animals once more. The rock demons left their positions guarding the exit and charged, eager to join in the killing, even as the core dwellers regained footing against the enemy. There were shouts and flares of magic, human screams and piercing demon shrieks.

Jardir could not guess how the battle would end now, but there was no time to ponder. He gripped his spear and took to the air, the crown’s bubble carrying Alagai Ka along behind.

They landed at the lip of the cave to find the Par’chin holding the head of a juvenile mind demon. It looked as if he had twisted it off with his bare hands.

“This way.” Alagai Ka affected not to notice the body of one of his brethren. He pointed into the darkness of the cave, out of reach of the luminescent moss and lichen that grew on the larder walls. “We will progress quickly now.”

Jardir tensed as they entered the narrow tunnel. He could still could hear the battle as the alamen fae fought—died—to draw attention away from them.

He felt a crushing pain at their sacrifice, wondering again how Everam could have left them here to suffer in the abyss for thousands of years.

If there was an Everam. If the abyss was not just molten rock below the surface, hot with magic, as the Par’chin and the demon both believed.

The tunnels were smooth-walled with sharp turns, sometimes narrowing or widening abruptly. Jardir could sense the magic flowing through them, linking with countless other tunnels to form a three-dimensional greatward.

The ward was not one of forbiddance—as Jardir encountered from the mind demons that attacked Everam’s Bounty—preventing humans from approach. The demons would not forbid entry to their livestock. This ward simply focused power, Drawing it like a whirlpool down to the center of the hive where the queen lay.

As the Father of Lies promised, they moved at speed for a time, but Jardir began to notice something amiss. Mimic demons patrolling the tunnels were pausing, sniffing the air. Searching for something they could not fully perceive.

“Sensing us,” the Par’chin said.

“How is that possible?” Jardir asked. The crown and Leesha’s cloak protected him, and the Par’chin’s wards of unsight glowed bright with power. Alagai Ka was trapped in the crown’s bubble, unable to reach beyond the forbidding.

“Your wards are keyed to lesser breeds,” Alagai Ka said. “Even my brethren and I are only a flickering reflection of the queen’s power.”

“Ent got queen wards on the crown?” the Par’chin asked.

“Not even Kaji faced one and lived to tell,” Jardir said.

“So she senses something, but doesn’t know what it is,” the Par’chin said. “And the mimics only know what she does. Maybe we can still tiptoe by.”

“With every step you take, her power grows,” Alagai Ka said. “Soon there will be no hiding from her.”

Indeed, not long after, a seemingly empty tunnel came alive with tentacles tipped with magic-dead spikes. The tentacles slapped against the crown’s bubble, but the spikes penetrated and fired like arrows. Jardir spun his spear, scattering them, but one thudded into his thigh.

Unarmed, Par’chin moved with incredible speed, plucking two of the spikes out of the air even as he twisted and wove around the others. These he threw back at the tunnel wall near the base of the tentacles. The spikes sent up spurts of ichor as they struck. Mimic demons sloughed off the wall to loom before them.

Jardir embraced the pain as he tore the spike from his thigh, focusing his magic to heal the wound. He tried to push the attackers from their path using the crown’s forbidding, but too much of the power was focused on holding Alagai Ka in for him to project it outward with any force. The demons clustered at the end of the tunnel, and the bubble prevented him from approaching.

“I can clear them,” the Par’chin said.

“No,” Jardir said. “We must do it together.”

“You lose focus and drop that field, Alagai Ka escapes,” the Par’chin said.

“Then perhaps the Father of Lies has led us far enough,” Jardir said, pointing his spear at the demon.

“You cannot hope to find—” Alagai Ka began.

“Think you’re right.” The Par’chin turned a cold eye toward the demon. “Reckon we can find our own way from here.”

The Consort read their auras and knew the game could go no further. Steeling himself, he summoned his last reserves of power, burning his own flesh from the inside out to sear away the killing wards tattooed on his skin.

A flash of agony, hot and raw, and he was able to molt off the ruined dermis, free at long last.

Free, but crippled. The act nearly killed him. His body was in desperate need of repair, his aura dimmer than the lichen on the larder walls. He was too weak to fight.

Immediately the Consort took to the between-state, becoming too diffuse for physical attack. He remained trapped in the Heir’s bubble, but they could no longer touch him.

It was a risky ploy. With so little magic left, the Consort did not have the strength to rebuild his body. But only the Explorer could dissipate after him, at the cost of the wards protecting his will. The Consort hoped the Explorer was so foolish, but even human stupidity had its limits.

The Consort spread himself thin across the field, casting shadows that made him appear to be gathering in one place. His captors took the bait, sending great blasts of energy at the spot. Most of it ran along the edge of the forbidding, though some of the current jolted painfully through the Consort.

His captors paid a heavy price for the assault, revealing themselves fully to the mimics at last. With visible targets, the demons renewed their attacks, hurling stones and sending magic-dead spikes in a killing spray.

Again the Explorer and the Heir were too quick to take serious harm, but they were distracted, fearing what the Consort could do if they lost track of him for even an instant.

But the Consort was not where their attention should have been. This close to the queen, she had direct control of her guardians. The mimics drew impact wards in the air, knocking his captors from their feet. They kept the press, adding heat and pressure wards, buffeting the humans about the tunnel until at last the Heir’s crown was knocked askew, and the bubble flickered for an instant.

The Consort’s first instinct was to go to the drones, but touching any of their minds would be the same as contacting the queen. She would see the failure in his memories, the treachery and betrayal of the hive. Most of all, she would sense his weakness. It would be the end of him.

He could not return to the hive until his power was restored. Instead he reached for the nearest path to the surface he could find and took it without considering where it went. Thousands of miles passed in an instant. He found another path down, and another up, swimming along through the planet’s crust until he himself did not know where he was, and the Explorer could never follow.

“Corespawn it, he’s gone!” Arlen cried.

“So are we, if we do not focus,” Jardir snapped.

He was right. There was no way to tell where the demon had gone, but the mimics pressing in were powerful and could not be ignored. Individually, none was as powerful as Arlen or Jardir, but collectively they had the advantage.

The mimics surged forward while the forbidding was down, closing to just a few feet before Jardir managed to right the crown. The field he raised now was smaller, barely more than the reach of his spear.

Arlen tasted the magic on the air, Reading the current the way he might translate a scroll. The queen was nearby. He could sense her power, hear her lowing in his mind. She was clawing at their mind wards, attempting to break through, but the protections held. These demons were her last line of defense.

“Almost there, Ahmann,” Arlen said. “We can still win this if we press.”

Jardir raised his spear. “Then let us hold nothing back, my true friend.” He slammed a mimic up against his warding field, then dropped the forbidding to rush forward and impale the creature, sending waves of killing magic through the Spear of Kaji. The demon burst into flames, shrieking as it burned to ash.

A mimic reared up before him, and Arlen drew a cutting ward, cleaving it in two. Mimics could heal most any injury, growing back even severed limbs, but there was no regrowing half its body. For a moment the split halves tried to reconnect, but Arlen kicked one away, drawing a mimic ward at the other to knock it in the opposite direction. The distance too great, the halves lost cohesion and melted away.

A heavy stone struck him in the chest, but Arlen wrapped his arms around it and planted his feet, skidding back. He hurled the stone back the way it had come, clearing a path through the demons. He ran into the gap, Jardir at his back, gaining several yards before the demons managed to block the way once more.

Magic-dead spikes thrust at him. Arlen dodged and parried what he could, but one dug into his side, another his shoulder. The mimic came in close, wrapping itself around him, suffocating.

Arlen powered the mimic wards on his skin, tearing the demon to pieces that showered its fellows in ichor and gore.

Jardir dropped the crown’s forbidding as a mimic charged, then raised it right between the demon’s legs, trapping one half on either side of the bubble. He sent a blast of magic from his spear, incinerating the half on the inside.

Arlen Drew more and more power, but the magic seemed without limit here. He felt like Jardir in the Spear of Ala, sweeping powerful demons out of his path like unruly vines before the machete.

Unburdened by Alagai Ka, Jardir began experimenting with the crown’s warding field, using it to trap mimics in with him where he could destroy them in the enclosed space without fear of others coming to their aid.

Slowly at first, they made gains to the deeper tunnels. Arlen could hear the queen with his own two ears now—partly the lowing of an animal birthing, and partly a moan of panic and fear at their approach.

Realizing they could no longer hold them back, two of the mimics turned and drew heat and impact wards, trying to collapse the tunnel. Arlen countered with wards to turn the falling stone to mud as he and Jardir gave a final push. They smashed through the last of the guards and sprinted down the tunnel as it opened into a vast chamber.

There lay the demon queen, bloated and pulsing.

She had a conical cranium not dissimilar in shape to her princes’, but huge, with a mouth like a barn door, big enough to swallow Twilight Dancer whole. Her body filled the room, little more than a massive and distended abdomen, scaled and slimy, expelling what seemed an endless stream of eggs. Her legs were short, vestigial things that had obviously not been used in many years, unable to support such bulk.

At the end was a long reticulated tail tipped with a two-pronged stinger dripping venom that glowed hot with magic. Unlike the limbs, the stinger looked limber and strong. The queen would use it to kill her female offspring before they could usurp her.

Arlen did not want to know what a strike would do to a human.

Small worker demons collected the eggs, carrying them away for hatching. The workers were not combat drones, lacking armor and talons, but they froze as Arlen and Jardir entered, then turned and attacked.

The demons smashed against the crown’s warding field, but in that moment Arlen felt the queen’s psychic scream vibrate through him, piercing out into the world.

The response was immediate. All around, mists flowed into the room, forming into mind demons and their mimic bodyguards, almost a dozen in all, the last princes of the hive.

Mind demons were cowards by nature. Not given to acts of bravery or altruism, it seemed even they could not deny the demands of the queen and the survival of the hive.

They were weakest in the shift from the between-state to solid, and Arlen and Jardir both struck in that moment. Arlen fed power into the impact wards on his knuckles, punching through a mind demon’s chest, even as Jardir parted another’s head from its shoulders with a slash of his spear.

Before, the death of a mind demon had always sent out psychic waves of agony that killed other demons in the vicinity, but here in the presence of the queen’s overwhelming dominance, that effect was nullified. The mimic forming beside the mind Arlen killed struck back hard, magic-dead ridges on its tentacle tearing deep grooves in his chest as it knocked him back.

Arlen rolled with the blow, already healing the wound as he powered the mind and mimic wards tattooed all over his body, and drew others in the air, scattering his enemies.

Jardir’s warding field was expanding and contracting like a beating heart, finding harmony with the pumping of his spear. He pushed demons back to create striking space, then pulled it in close to stab the point of his weapon out of the field while keeping his hands and body protected.

And all the while, the queen lowed and flailed her stubby legs, distended body quivering as it continued to expel eggs.

A mimic pitched a heavy rock at him, but Arlen caught it, meaning to hurl it right back. Instead, one of the minds drew an impact ward and it exploded in his hand, smashing him onto his back.

A mimic pounced on him, growing plates of thick, magic-dead armor his mimic wards could not repel. Arlen curled back, rolling up his feet and powering the impact wards on his heels to kick out and knock the creature back. But the demon’s horned tentacles dug into the stone floor, body stretching like a bowstring.

When Arlen’s kick reached full extension and retracted, the demon snapped back at him, growing spikes that punched through toughened layers of muscle to ricochet off hardened bones.

He was aware that he was screaming, but barely heard it as he poured power into his mimic wards, finding the demon beneath the magic-dead armor and throwing it back. Again it stretched, but this time Arlen drew quick cutting wards and the tentacles that anchored it were severed. The demon flew back into its master.

There was no respite, Arlen already rolling and leaping away as the ground where he lay exploded with fire and concussion. The floor he landed on was suddenly slick with ice, and he lost his footing and had to roll again as a stream of acid glanced off his back, burning.

Jardir was faring little better. The demons could not pass through his warding field, but it was scant protection against their magic and projectiles. Small stones flew from all sides of the room, drawn unerringly to the crown.

Jardir threw up an arm to protect his face, jamming the crown down tight as he weathered the barrage. He dropped the field and re-energized it to trap a mind and its mimic within. He let out a huge blast of power from the spear, incinerating them before they could escape, but the attention cost him as a heavy stone hit him hard in the back.

As he hit the ground, a mimic put a spike through his right forearm, and his grip on the Spear of Kaji was broken. He smashed the spike before the demon could yank back and sever his hand, but before he could free his arm, an impact ward kicked the spear out of reach. Jardir leapt for it, but other minds took up the game, bouncing the weapon across the chamber as their mimics blocked his path. He attemped to trace wards to summon it back to his hand, but the demons countered the magic, and the spear resisted his call.

It was hand-to-hand with the mimics then, Arlen and Jardir focusing power through the wards on their fists and feet, knees and elbows, as they dodged, absorbed, and weathered blasts of magic from the minds. All along there was a tickling in Arlen’s brain, the demons trying to claw past his defenses and attack his will.

Slowly, the tide began to tell. Arlen was breathing hard, his blows slowing, defenses sluggish. He began taking more hits than he blocked, and they were increasingly difficult to heal. Even this close to the Core, in the center of the hive’s greatward where the current was so strong, he felt his magic waning. The demons were Drawing on the power from all sides even as the queen continued to feed, and his internal reserves were dwindling.

He could see Jardir’s aura dimming as well, his scarred flesh bleeding freely from a dozen wounds, chest heaving as he drew great gulps of air.

They were losing, and the world would lose with them.

A mimic spread out like a blanket to envelop him, and Arlen let it, snuffing his mimic wards to embrace the creature, touching his tattoos directly to its amorphous flesh. Before it could grow layers of magic-dead protection to trap him, he Drew hard against his wards, sucking magic from the demon like juice from an orange. His strength restored, he tore through its lifeless husk.

Before the minds could react, Arlen turned to the growing pile of slime-covered eggs. Demon larvae pulsed and writhed within their translucent shells. Arlen had to swallow his nausea as he drew a line of impact wards and imparted much of his remaining strength into them.

Eggs shattered, scattering in every direction with a spray of hot sticky fluid and squirming larvae. Before gravity could pull it back to the floor, Arlen added a line of powerful heat wards. The symbols flared hotter than firespit, setting fire to fluid and flesh. Larvae squealed and writhed, kicking and thrashing as they burned. Greasy smoke billowed up to the high ceiling of the chamber.

The minds shrieked at the sight, but it was nothing compared with the demon queen. Her lowing became a roar and she found new strength, rolling onto her stub legs and scrabbling until she was close enough to lash out with her stinger.

Arlen tried to dodge, but the queen’s strike was faster than he believed possible. He powered the wards of forbidding on his skin, but the wards were no protection against a queen and the two prongs of the stinger caught him in the side, pumping hot venom into his body.

It was like swallowing boiling acid. His insides screamed and melted as the poison worked its way into him. His legs went limp, and he collapsed.

“Par’chin!” Jardir was by his side in an instant, chopping his hand like a hatchet into the reticulation beneath the stinger. Cutting wards scarred alongside his little finger and palm blazed with magic, severing the demon queen’s tail. He pulled the stinger free of Arlen’s body, the organ still spurting venom that smoked and hissed as it struck the stone floor.

Arlen summoned the last of his magic to neutralize the poison, but the venom fought him, bringing its own dark magic to bear.

He could see in Jardir’s aura the desperate need to help him, but his friend’s attention was split, working to defend them against the tightening ring of enemies.

“Fight, son of Jeph!” Jardir shouted. “All Ala hangs in the balance!”

But Arlen felt his fight draining away. He forced venom from the wound, but the dark liquid ran down his body like firespit, melting flesh into a putrid ooze. Still more coursed through his veins, using his own heart against him as it spread through his body.

Arlen propped himself on one arm, and Jardir let him go to focus on driving back the surrounding demons alone. Arlen tried to rise, but the chamber was spinning. He could barely tell up from down, and knew even getting to his feet was beyond him.

“Quiet, now.” Renna pulled her Cloak of Unsight tight around her as she, Shanvah, and Shanjat crept into the birthing chamber.

Shanvah had been singing for hours, but still her voice continued, pure and unbroken, making them a part of the tunnels, part of the darkness, part of the stone. The demons, focused on the melee with Arlen and Jardir, took no notice of them as they hugged the wall, circling the mammoth chamber.

Every fiber of her being screamed at her to go to their aid, but Renna knew it would be a losing battle against so many. She and the two Sharum were powerful—they might hold back the minds a bit longer at Arlen and Jardir’s side—but it would only delay the inevitable.

She shuddered as the queen’s stinger struck Arlen, but she bit her tongue and kept moving, eyes on the only prize that mattered.

The Spear of Kaji lay forgotten on the floor, far from the fighting. Jardir could not get to it, and the demons could not touch it, so it had fallen from attention as the battle raged on.

Renna swallowed, forcing herself not to run. The queen and minds were focused on Arlen and Jardir, but the cloak and Shanvah’s song were scant protection here in the center of the hive. Their magic worked best when standing still, or moving at a slow, deliberate pace.

The baby writhed in her belly, and she wondered if she was about to doom the child, herself, her husband and friends, all for a fool’s chance.

The spear was a dozen yards away. Then ten. Five. One.

Renna scooped it up, feeling power surge into her from the mighty artifact. She broke from her slow stride, putting magical speed into her run and leap.

At the last moment the demon queen’s eyes flicked to her. She lashed out with her tail—so fast. It struck Renna a glancing blow and would have been the end of her, but the stinger was severed. The stump gave her a painful smack, spraying her with ichor. She twisted in midair, never losing sight of her target.

The queen’s cry echoed through the chamber as Renna buried the Spear of Kaji deep into her eye.

The orb burst, spraying Renna with fluid. The demon queen’s head swung wildly, gigantic maw snapping at her. Renna caught hold of one of the many spiked horns and held fast, kicking against the giant teeth in a desperate scramble as she tried with one hand to force the spear in deeper.

The Spear of Kaji seemed to come to life. Its wards glowed brighter and brighter as it Drew the queen’s power and turned it into killing waves of magic. The shaft grew hot, and Renna was forced to let go, the imprint of the spear seared into her flesh.

“Inevera!” Jardir shouted, but whether he was calling out to his wife or to his deity, Renna could not say. He lashed out with his crown, scattering demons with the forbidding as he took three great running strides and leapt. He struck a mighty blow against the butt of his spear, driving it like a nail all the way into the demon queen’s skull.

The queen’s entire body thrashed in response, and Renna could feel her psychic scream, echoed by the shrieks of the minds and mimics in the chamber. They attempted to retreat, but Shanvah and her father were waiting, spears thrusting into dark, cold hearts. Renna leapt clear of the queen’s convulsions, landing in a crouch and drawing heat and impact wards to scatter the remaining corelings.

Jardir began warding as well. He shattered the entrance to the main tunnel to bar escape as the terrified and disoriented demons were cut down by Renna and his Sharum. Arlen still propped himself on one arm, but Renna could see him Drawing power, working to burn away the queen’s poison.

For a moment, she thought they had won.

But then the queen gave a last moan and collapsed. Her cervix opened wide, expelling eggs in a great, shuddering flood. They ran over the floor with slime and fluid, reeking and steaming in the open air. It seemed no threat, until the last.

Six eggs the size of nightwolves burst from the womb, shattering the moment they hit air. Renna knew immediately these were the hatchling queens Alagai Ka spoke of. Unlike the mature, bloated creature Renna killed, these were sleek and battle-ready, crouching on powerful limbs, reticulated tails moving as if with minds of their own, prongs dripping venom.

The remaining minds hissed in delight. One, bolder than his brethren, rushed forward, talons clutching, as if hoping to snatch one of the demon queens and abscond.

She stung him instead. The mind threw his head back, mouth foaming, and fell to the cavern floor, twitching and convulsing.

The juvenile queens were still small, barely larger than Renna herself. They were disoriented by their sudden hatching—vulnerable. Renna pulled her knife, stalking forward to finish things once and for all.

But then the queens began to glow.

Auras already bright with power, the hatchling queens sucked at their mother’s magic like babes at the teat. As they did, they started to grow. In seconds, they were the size of horses. Then rock demons. Still the power flowed into them.

They turned as one to face her and Renna backpedaled in sudden fear. There was intelligence in their eyes to match the power in their auras. Alagai Ka had said the first thing juvenile queens would do was fight and kill one another until only one remained, but it seemed that came second when there was a threat to the hive.

One of the queens leapt at her, slimy wings unfurling on her back, beating furiously as she cleared the distance. Renna Drew magic to fight back, but the baby began kicking wildly, and she stumbled, the power slipping away.

“Kill!” Shanvah pointed with her spear, and Shanjat launched himself forward, meeting the queen in midair before she could reach Renna.

Shanjat’s spear punched a hole in the juvenile queen’s side, but she seemed to take no notice of it. His shield was made of thick, powerfully warded steel, but the queen clawed through it like paper, tearing his arm away with the blow. Her maw darted forward, snatching the warrior up and swallowing him in three, quick bites.

Shanvah shrieked, not the sound of a daughter in mourning, but the full force of her magically enhanced voice, attempting to drive the queen back as she herself charged in.

But the sound did even less to deter the hatchling queens than Shanjat’s shield. If anything, it angered them. One flew at her, and Renna could only watch as Shanvah was torn in two.