by D. P. Prior
“A dwarf.” Shent wriggled his fingers before Nameless’ face. Silas tensed, expecting the Ant-Man to rip the dwarf’s eyes out. “A fellow victim.” Shent reached out to stroke Nameless’ cheek. “One of Sektis Gandaw’s creatures.”
“I’m no one’s creature,” Nameless said, eyes not wavering from the insect-thing facing him.
Shent made a series of clicking noises that might have been laughter. “Cutting your hair doesn’t change what you are; what he made you.”
The dwarf glowered beneath heavy brows but then dropped his chin to his chest.
“We are related in purpose.” The Ant-Man tilted his head as if trying to make eye contact. “Gandaw melded the flesh of humans to that of the homunculi to form the dwarves. Your people were made for the deep places of the earth—for the mining of scarolite.”
The dwarf snorted contemptuously. “And what were you made for? Harvesting bullshit?”
Shent stiffened, his mandibles vibrating with tiny tremors.
“The dwarves were made hardy,” he went on, but his voice was strained. There was an atmosphere between him and the dwarf as taut as a bowstring. “The homunculi could find the ore and work it, but they lacked the strength to cut it from the rock. Gandaw knew the power of scarolite and knew what it would be worth to others. That’s why he made my ants—to guard the mines, to protect his secrets.” Shent lowered his eyes and a shudder passed through his carapace. “I was made to control them, for they lacked a queen and could not understand the speech of humans.”
“What happened?” Silas asked. “How’d you come to be here?”
Shent’s eyes rolled towards him and Silas berated himself for not keeping quiet. After a pause, the Ant-Man gave his answer to the dwarf.
“When your people rebelled, when they turned against Gandaw during his first attempt at the Unweaving, there was no more use for my ants. We were forgotten. At least, we thought we were forgotten until the metal demons were sent to eradicate us. You see, Sektis Gandaw never liked to leave loose ends. He was a perfectionist, a trait that found its fulfillment in his lunatic project of unmaking the worlds. Thousands of my ants were incinerated by the death-magic of Gandaw’s sentroids; the rest, I led towards the relative safety of Qlippoth. We got as far as the Farfall Mountains but my ants would go no further. It was the first time they had refused my command. That is how we came to Malfen.”
“And you,” Shent turned his eyes on Silas, who wished he knew a spell that could stop him wetting his britches. “What brought you to Malfen in the middle of the night? Did you think to avoid my toll? You look like an intelligent man. Did it never occur to you to wonder why others hadn’t tried your plan?”
Silas shook his head so hard it made him giddy. “I wasn’t trying to sneak in. I was trying to help my companion who’d just slid down the scree. And whilst we’re on that point, don’t believe a word the little toe-rag tells you. He didn’t bring me to you—I came of my own accord.”
Shent gave a staccato clack of his mandibles. For an instant Silas thought that the walls behind the Ant-Man were writhing and shifting, but then he focused and saw that scores of giant ants were crawling over every available inch. He looked up and struggled to make saliva. There were dozens of them clinging to the ceiling.
“So,” Shent said, “you came to pay me a visit, did you? Did you book an appointment?” More clicking, and this time the giant ants seemed to join in. The hooked-nosed goon and his scrawny comrade hooted with mirth.
“Tell me your name,” Shent went on. “Perhaps I will remember you.”
“Silas Thrall.” The voice came out as he intended, brazen and strong.
Shent shook his head and rubbed a mandible with his thumb and forefinger. “No, sorry. I have no recollection of any such name. Tell me, Silas Thrall, where are you from, and what business have you with the Ant-Man of Malfen?”
“I’m from New Londdyr originally, but now I’m a traveler and a man of many talents.”
“Talents that might be of use to me?” Shent cocked his insectoid head and watched Silas with a look both malign and indifferent.
“They used to call me ‘Fingers’ in the city.” They didn’t—what they called him had been a lot worse than that. “Could pick a miser’s pocket even if he was a hyper-vigilant paranoiac with an escort of eagle-eyed legionaries. I can meld with the shadows, creep as silent as death and scale any wall like a spider.” He was exaggerating, but it was the sort of thing that impressed these kinds of lowlife.
Shent folded his arms across his chest and let out a hiss. “You expect me to believe you came to Malfen for employment?”
“I seek your counsel.”
The thugs roared with laughter but Shent shushed them with a wave of his hand. “Regarding what?”
Silas grimaced and flicked his eyes towards the dwarf. “It’s a rather sensitive matter.”
“Is it now?” Shent said. “Let me guess: you’re seeking something beyond the mountains; something hidden in the wilds of Qlippoth?”
Silas sucked in his top lip and bobbed his head.
“I’ve seen what you carry in your bag,” Shent said, “and I judge that it would be foolhardy for you to persist in your quest, and even more so for me to permit it.”
“But—” Silas tried to protest but Shent turned back to Nameless.
“And what can you do?”
The dwarf glared into those blood-pool eyes. “Kill. A lot.”
“See, I told you so,” Nils said, stepping out from a cluster of ants. “I’ve seen him in action. That is one dangerous shogger.”
“You backstabbing little runt!” Silas spat towards the lad, but Nils ducked back out of sight.
“Excellent.” Shent’s mandibles vibrated with apparent relish.
“But not for you,” Nameless said.
Silas groaned. The dwarf just had to go and ruin it.
“If not kill, then maybe trap.” Shent drew close to the dwarf, his crimson eyes boring into him. “Your people eluded me; they found passage deep beneath Malfen—ancient tunnels seldom used, even by my ants. They owe me a toll. A sizeable one.”
Nameless stared at Shent wide-eyed. “The dwarves came here? You saw them?”
Shent snapped his mandibles together. “Just the stragglers,” he said. “The rest escaped to Qlippoth. If they are canny enough to survive, I want them back. No one passes through Malfen without my say so.”
“Yes,” Silas said, seeing a glimmer of hope. “We go into Qlippoth after them and bring them back. Surely a fellow dwarf could persuade them, spin a tale with your silvery tongue.” Except he’d heard no evidence that the dwarf had a silvery tongue. “On second thoughts,” he said, “leave the talking to me.”
Shent gave him a dismissive look. “I have no need of you, human, except to fill my stomach.”
Silas winced and shut his eyes, trying to think, and think quickly. He’d hoped to bargain with the Ant-Man, find out what he knew, but he was hardly in a bargaining position. He scowled at Nils as the lad re-emerged, a huge smirk stretching from ear to ear.
“And I’ve no use for you either, boy,” Shent said.
The smirk quickly dropped from Nils’s face and he stepped back, straight into the embrace of a giant ant.
“But…I…I’m with the Night Hawks—the biggest guild in New Londdyr. Just think what we could do together.”
“All I’m thinking,” Shent said, letting strings of drool drip from his maw, “is how good your flesh will taste.”
“But I can help,” Nils said in a shrill voice. “I’ll do anything you like. Anything.”
Shent eyed him for a long moment and then clapped his hands together.
“We’ll see,” he said. “Go to the surface. Find The Wheatsheaf tavern and ask for Travid Yawl. Tell him time’s up and Shent wants his money. Have you got that? Succeed in this and I may find a use for you. Fail and you’re supper.”
“Yes, s-sir,” Nils stammered as he backed out of the cavern. “I won’
t let you down. You’ll see.”
“I’ll not lie to you, Ant-Man,” Nameless said, watching Nils scurry away. “I’ve already caused my people enough harm. If I caught up with them, I’d tell them never to come back this way.”
Shent hissed—it may have been a sigh. Silas was starting to wish he had a spell to make the dwarf shut up, or at least have the good sense to mislead Shent a little.
“Then perhaps they’ll pay a ransom,” Shent said. “If I sent this dolt after them with the message that I have you as my prisoner.”
Nameless laughed at that, a booming roar from the pit of his belly. “They might pay you to kill me, but what would be the point? If they didn’t play your little game, you’d kill me anyway, so they might as well save their money.”
Shent’s mandibles shook and clacked. He reached out with human hands and looked as if he were about to throttle the dwarf. He paused for a moment, fingers quivering, and then Silas saw his antennae twitch.
Shent stepped away as two gigantic ants scuttled towards Nameless. One bit into his shin and the dwarf gasped but clamped his mouth shut. The other used its front legs to drag itself upright on his back and then ripped into the flesh beneath the dwarf’s shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound and Nameless twisted and twirled at the end of his rope.
“My ants will eat you piece by piece, creature of Sektis Gandaw. Little by little, sparing you no pain. It will be a slow death, a death filled with despair. Once they start devouring muscle you’ll be helpless to move, even if your bonds were released.”
Shent started to turn away.
“You really are a shogging waste of space,” Nameless growled, his face screwed up with pain. “Gandaw must have been drunk when he put you together. What did he do, get a hive of ants to crawl up your mother’s crack and spray their stuff?”
Shent stiffened.
One of the giant ants took a chunk of flesh from Nameless’ thigh. He screamed and thrashed about on the rope.
“How do ants procreate anyway?” Nameless gave a maniacal laugh as he swung towards Silas. “Because I’m buggered if I know. Maybe they dropped a ton of eggs inside her. Shog, maybe they just shat in her womb! Funny thing is Shent, you shogging freak, I don’t suppose you’ll be making baby ant-men. Old Daddy Gandaw forgot to stick a cock and balls to the front of your carapace!”
Shent roared and leapt at the dwarf.
Silas scrabbled about at the back of his mind for the threads of magic that would weave his cantrip. The dark essence seeped into his veins and raced towards his wrists, which grew hot, the cords holding them starting to smolder. He was about to direct the current to the dwarf but then gasped as Nameless wrenched against his bonds, dislodging the pulley high above. Chunks of earth fell from the ceiling and then the pulley crashed down, narrowly missing Shent, who had to abort his attack to avoid it. Nameless dropped to his feet with the grace of a cat—or a lion, and double-fisted Shent in the stomach, rope trailing behind. He pressed in, clubbing the insect-head with resounding blows until Shent fell back, stunned.
Nameless used his teeth to free his wrists from their bindings and slung the rope aside.
Silas blinked as Shent’s body seemed to split open, and then he saw that it was the unfurling of two huge wings from the Ant-Man’s back. Shent soared towards the ceiling, setting a bunch of hanging bodies swinging, clacking out commands with his mandibles.
Silas yelped as the magic burned through his bonds and he fell awkwardly, twisting his ankle. An ant thrust its head towards him but Nameless clubbed it with a right cross that sent it veering away.
Hook-nose charged, hurling his net. Nameless ducked under it and rolled, coming up in a fluid motion, his fist cracking into the thug’s jaw and laying him out cold.
The lean one pounced, twin daggers stabbing towards the dwarf’s flank. Nameless stepped aside and hammered him in the back, pitching him into a cluster of giant ants. Shrill screams cut across the din of combat as the ants tore into his flesh. The other ants rushed to the feeding frenzy, clearing a space through which Nameless ran to snatch up his axe, lift it above his head and bellow at Shent.
Silas hobbled for the gap, casting this way and that for his bag. He saw it deposited in an alcove a mere twenty feet away and hopped towards it like a demented stork. Something mushy hit him from behind and he turned to see the thin man’s chewed up head rolling away across the floor.
A shadow fell across the cavern as Shent swooped down, claws extended towards Nameless’ face. The dwarf swung and Shent backed up, banging into a twirling corpse and spinning away from it. He chittered to his minions, who discarded their meal and bore down upon their master’s assailant.
Nameless’ axe split through a thorax and reversed to embed itself in a head. The others pressed in around him, nipping and groping, their clacking rising to a deafening cacophony. The dwarf hacked to right and left, his axe falling in sweeping arcs that sheered through carapace and limbs, but still the ants came on, crawling over each other to get at him.
Silas reached the alcove and shouldered his satchel, but at the same instant something grabbed the back of his shirt and hoisted him into the air. He thrashed about with his arms but could find no purchase. Spiny legs wrapped around his waist holding him firm. Fingers crept from his shirt to his neck and closed around it in a death-choke. He spluttered and kicked out in a futile attempt to break free. His vision swam and blackness descended. He tried to dredge up a strand of dark magic but it slipped from his mind like water through a sieve.
NAMELESS
Nameless was bleeding from a score of deep bites. Strength seeped from his limbs as the weight of ants threatened to overwhelm him. He’d lost count of how many he’d killed, but they showed no sign of letting up. What he’d have given for the Lich Lord’s armor! Shog, he’d have even risked taking up the black axe again in a scrape like this. It was all very well having a death-wish, but when it came to it, the idea wasn’t so appealing.
Mandibles fixed on his wrist, and the axe tumbled from his grasp. He wrapped his arms around the ant’s head and planted his feet, twisting from the waist until he heard a popping, tearing sound. The ant went limp and sagged to the floor, legs still twitching. He kicked another in the abdomen and followed up with a punch that threw the creature’s head back. Spinning in a crouch, he whipped up the axe once more and drove the ants back with a series of scything swings.
Something dropped from above, and Nameless dived out of the way as Silas Thrall’s limp body crashed into a huddle of ants. He ran, bounded onto the back of an ant, and launched himself high into the air. His axe followed in a vicious sweep, meeting flesh, crunching bone, and eliciting a gurgling scream from Shent. Nameless hit the ground hard, rolled, and came to his feet, searching for something to clobber, but when he looked up, the Ant-Man was nowhere to be seen.
Silas coughed and shuddered, drawing the attention of the monstrous ants. Nameless charged among them, hacking wildly, his axe whirling about in a lethal circle that forced them back. There was the faintest rushing sound, the barest hint of a buzz, and then something punched into Nameless’s back, knocking the axe out of his hands. Talons tore into his shoulders and bore him toward the ceiling. Gossamer wings beat furiously about him. Brackish blood spilled over his head and face. He twisted his neck and saw it came from an ugly gash in the Ant-Man’s belly.
Shent lurched, and they started to plummet like rocks. At the last instant, the Ant-Man pulled up and dropped Nameless.
The breath was slammed from Nameless’s lungs as he crashed into the floor. Before he could rise, Shent was on him again, dragging him into the air by the seat of his pants and speeding toward the wall. Nameless cracked his head back, struck something hard. Shent veered sharply and almost lost his grip. Not giving him time to recover, Nameless backhanded him in the face, slapping repeatedly until he felt a mandible rip away. Shent screamed his fury, and Nameless dropped free, rolling as he struck the ground and coming to his feet.
No sooner
had he found his balance, than Nameless was confronted with the sight of the Ant-Man landing in front of him, wings snapping in place on his back, and a new pair of arms bursting from his flesh—thin black appendages more akin to an ant’s than a human’s.
Shent leapt, wrapping his powerful human arms around Nameless’s waist, the ant-arms stabbing at his sides. Shent’s face thrust forward, the one remaining mandible quivering as it sought out flesh. Nameless arched away, but the Ant-Man’s grip only tightened. A giant ant reared up beside him, aimed a bite at his face and started to bear him to the ground with its weight. Others surrounded him, pulling him down as Shent continued to crush the air from his lungs.
Nameless took hold of Shent’s remaining mandible in both hands and yanked as hard as he could. Shent roared as flesh tore and cartilage cracked. Tearing the mandible free, Nameless held it like a dagger and plunged it into a big red eye. Gore splashed over his face, and Shent’s grip slackened enough for Nameless to twist and stab the other eye. The Ant-Man shrieked and writhed, his limbs racked with violent spasms.
“We are the same,” Shent gurgled, foul fluids bubbling from his maw. “You don’t have to kill me!”
The giant ants fell away from Nameless, rolling to their backs and shuddering. He forced himself to his feet and looked about until he found his axe.
Shent let out a pitiful wail, human hands covering his blind eyes. “Don’t blame me for what I am!” he pleaded in a voice like a child’s. “He did this to me. He made me—just as he made your people.”
Nameless’s hand closed around the haft of the axe.
“Sektis Gandaw,” Shent gasped. “He’s the one, not me!”
“I know,” Nameless said, raising the axe. “But he’s already dead.”
The axe swept down, and Shent was still.
An urgent rattling rose to a crescendo and then fell with the flaccid limbs of the ants—the last of Gandaw’s aberrations. The last of their kind.
“Bravely done, my friend.”