Chapter 179: The Echo

The black smoke from the sinkhole rose in a thick and oily column against the grey sky. It smelled of burnt resin and charred chitin. It was a heavy scent that clung to the back of the throat.

Vane stood at the edge of the woods. He cleaned the blue blood from his spear with a rag. His movements were slow and methodical. The adrenaline of the fight was fading. It was replaced by the dull ache of bruised ribs and the deep muscle fatigue that came from channeling the [Silver Fang] for too long.

Isole sat on a mossy rock nearby. She held a canteen in her hands. She stared at the smoke rising from the pit. Her face was smudged with soot. Her white hair was tangled. But her eyes were bright.

“We did it,” she whispered. She sounded like she was afraid to say it too loud. “The Queen is dead. The eggs are gone.”

“Target eliminated,” Vane confirmed. He sheathed the spear. “The ecosystem will stabilize within a week. The remaining workers will die off without the pheromone signals. They will starve or eat each other.”

He looked at her.

“You held the line Isole. The Nova spell was effective. You timed it perfectly.”

Isole looked up. A tired and genuine smile broke through the grime on her face.

“I was terrified,” she admitted. “When she looked at me I thought I was going to freeze. But then I remembered the training. I remembered the math.”

“Math saves lives,” Vane said. He offered her a hand. “Come on. Let us get out of this mud. The mission is complete.”

They hiked back to the village. The fog seemed less oppressive now. The grey fields didn’t look like a graveyard anymore. They just looked like a bad harvest waiting to be tilled under.

When they reached the square Alden was waiting. A crowd of villagers stood behind him. They clutched farming tools and held their children close. They looked like people waiting for a verdict.

They saw the black soot on Vane’s armor. They saw the exhaustion in Isole’s walk. They saw that the Sentinels were alive.

“Is it…?” Alden started.

“It is done,” Vane announced. His voice carried across the silent square. “The Brood-Mother is dead. The nests are burning.”

A cheer went up. It was ragged at first. Then it grew louder. People hugged each other. Some cried. The tension that had gripped Mourn-Hold for weeks finally snapped.

Alden rushed forward. He grabbed Vane’s hand and shook it with both of his. His grip was desperate.

“Thank you,” Alden choked out. “By the Stars thank you. We thought we were going to starve. We thought the winter would take us.”

Vane extracted his hand gently. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small packet wrapped in oilcloth. inside was a heavy hexagonal crystal etched with the coordinates of Argentum City.

It was a standard issue Recall Stone. It was a one-way trip back to the city beneath the Academy. All he had to do was crush it and channel a pulse of mana.

“We have the return link,” Vane said. He looked at the crystal. “We can leave now.”

Isole stood beside him. She was leaning heavily on her staff. Her legs were trembling slightly.

“Do we have to go right now?” she asked softly. “My core is empty Vane. I don’t know if I can handle the spatial tear without vomiting.”

Vane looked at her. Then he looked at the villagers. They were bringing out tables. They were rolling barrels of cider into the street. They needed this moment. And Isole needed to recover.

“No,” Vane said. He wrapped the crystal back up and put it in his pouch. “We are not in a rush. The threat is neutralized. We will rest tonight and activate the link at dawn.”

Alden beamed.

“Then we feast,” the Headman declared. “It isn’t much. Dried meat and roots. But we have cider. And we have music.”

They entered the Inn.

The common room was warm. Vane sat at a table near the window. He cleaned his gear. He checked his supplies.

Alden brought them two mugs of hot cider. He sat down opposite Vane.

“You killed the Queen,” Alden said. “In the sinkhole by the old mill?”

“Yes,” Vane said. “It was a large nest. The infestation should be cleared.”

“That is good,” Alden said. He took a sip of his drink. He frowned. “That is very good. But there is something that bothers me.”

Vane stopped cleaning his dagger. He looked at the Headman.

“What bothers you?”

“The sinkhole is in the north woods,” Alden said. “But the scratching… old Miller says he heard the scratching under his barn last night. And his barn is on the West Ridge.”

Vane went still.

“The West Ridge is three miles from the sinkhole,” Vane stated. “Grain-Maws are territorial. They do not hunt that far from the Queen unless the colony has split.”

“And the widow Kaelin,” Alden continued. His voice dropped. “She lives on the East side. Near the salt flats. She says the ground in her cellar is hot. Like something is breathing under it.”

Isole set her mug down. Her smile faded.

“Are you saying there is more than one nest?” Isole asked.

“I am a farmer,” Alden said. “I know bugs. If you find one beetle in the flour sack there are usually ten more in the dark.”

Vane stood up. He walked to the window. He looked out at the village.

The celebration was starting in the square. A fiddle was playing.

But beyond the light of the torches the fields stretched out into the dark. The West Ridge. The East Flats.

“The intel was wrong,” Vane murmured. “The Academy scan only picked up the largest heat signature. They thought it was a single infestation.”

“It is a colony,” Isole realized. “A network.”

Vane turned back to Alden.

“How many farms reported the noise?” Vane asked.

“Three,” Alden said. “Maybe four.”

Vane looked at Isole. The relief was gone from his face. It was replaced by the cold calculation of the Rank 1 Sentinel.

“We are not leaving,” Vane said. “We killed a Queen. But we didn’t kill the Hive.”

“We have until dawn,” Isole said. She stood up. She grabbed her staff. “We can rest tonight. But we have to check the ridges tomorrow.”

“We celebrate tonight,” Vane decided. “The villagers need the morale. If we tell them now that the war isn’t over they will panic. Let them have one night of peace.”

“And tomorrow?” Alden asked.

“Tomorrow we hunt the echoes,” Vane said.

He looked out the window again.

The fog was rolling in. It covered the East and the West.

Deep under the ground Vane felt a vibration. It was faint. It was rhythmic. It felt like a heartbeat that was too large for a bug.

It wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

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