The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 302
Pawn inhaled the scent, along with the crisp fresh winter air. Yes, the above world was not as familiar as the Hive, but there was beauty in it he had never seen below. Why did no one ever appreciate it? Why hadn’t he? But it occurred to him that when he had been a nameless Worker, not once had he ever really stopped to stare up at the stars.
The Antinium looked up. The sky was dark and black—it was cloudy.
“Ah.”
After a moment, Pawn walked on. He took side alleys, detours—he had no fear of being mugged, and indeed the one skulking shape he encountered in a rougher part of the city retreated when it saw Pawn comings its way. No robber wanted to arouse the wrath of the Antinium, and crime wasn’t very profitable in a city where the Antinium lived in any case. Something about an Antinium Soldier smashing through a wooden door as ten more burrowed out of the ground tended to discourage thieves and muggers.
Perhaps Pawn should look for crime, though. Wasn’t that a useful pursuit? He could chase after the thieves, hit them, maybe. Or just warn them verbally?
Pawn sighed. He knew what he was doing. He was procrastinating, avoiding doing what he needed to do. It was the first time he’d ever done it, really. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings; he knew he had to act, yet he was caught in indecisiveness, holding himself back. No, it wasn’t comfortable at all. But he still hesitated. He did not want to talk to Revalantor Klbkch.
Because he was afraid.
When had he ever been afraid? Not really…ever. Only once, perhaps. Pawn could remember being afraid when Ksmvr came for him and questioned him. Then he had been terrified. And he had been afraid when he’d heard the undead were attacking Liscor and he’d feared for Erin’s life.
Twice, then. But beyond that? What about when he’d been a simple Worker?
No. Never. Pawn hadn’t been afraid. He hadn’t been much of anything, really. He’d just been, the same way as a tool was. But now he felt, and what he felt was fear.
He did not like Klbkch. Pawn knew that the former Prognugator was considered well-liked even by the usually hostile residents of the city. He had friends among the Watch, and he was a familiar face, even if all the Antinium looked the same. Pawn had seen the Prognugator—every member of the Hive had at some point. The Prognugator was old, far older than anyone but the Queen, he commanded them in battle and oversaw them as they worked. He slew Aberrations, too. He was known. And one thing Pawn knew about him was that Klbkch didn’t seem to like any of the Workers or Soldiers.
The Queen did. They were her creations, her children, after all. Pawn had stood before her once, and thought she had questioned him and the words had shattered his spirit, he had known that she cared for him in her own way. She would not hesitate to use him for the Hive, but he was part of her Hive, and thus she cared for him if not as one individual, then as a part of herself. That was reassuring, and all he had expected of her. But Klbkch?
No. He had friends. Relc, the angry Drake. And Pawn knew he liked Erin. But everyone liked Erin. Pawn liked Erin, but he could not bring himself to like either Ksmvr or Klbkch. And he was fairly certain that the Revalantor had the same opinion of him.
It wasn’t anything the two had ever said. And Klbkch hadn’t ever done anything to Pawn. He hadn’t ripped off Pawn’s antennas and cut off his fingers and parts of his arm while questioning him for instance. But Pawn still didn’t like him.
And he was afraid of what Klbkch would say. Ksmvr had been ruthless, but he had been new to his role, and inexperienced. It had given Pawn the courage to stand up to him, later. But Klbkch was ancient. If the Antinium had legends, he would have been one. But they had no stories, no individuals to name and speak of. There was only the Queen, and Klbkch, the Prognugator.
That was how it had always been.
Pawn stopped in the snow street in front of the entrance to the Hive. He stared down at the dark entrance into the ground. The dark didn’t scare him, nor did the underground. But the hole still looked ominous. Pawn took a deep breath, and then another one. And another one.
He didn’t want to do this. But he had to. If only Erin had been there—but there had only been Lyonette. Erin would have helped him. She would have said something reassuring that would have made Pawn not afraid.
Like what? Pawn thought about this.
“Ah. ‘You can do it, Pawn! If Klbkch gives you any trouble, kick him in the nuts! Do Antinium even have nuts?’”
A passing Drake [Guardswoman] walking down the street gave Pawn a look of deep suspicion. He dropped the falsetto and nodded to her politely. After a moment she hurried on her way.
“I am not sure if Klbkch eats nuts. I believe they may contain gluten. I will inquire, however.”
“You do that. Good luck, Pawn!”
“Thank you.”
That made Pawn feel a bit better, although he still didn’t understand the nuts reference. He took another breath, and then marched into the Hive. He could do this. He was Pawn. If he reached the end of the chess board he could become a Queen! Or a bishop. Or knight. Queen was the optimal piece to play, but under certain situations it might be better to choose knight.
From street level in Liscor, descending into the Antinium Hive looked ridiculously easy. There were no noticeable guards, and the dirt was sloped for easy entry. But that was an illusion.
About ten steps into the darkness below, Pawn glanced left and right. The silent Soldiers standing in their alcoves in the wall watched him pass without moving a muscle. On the other hand, if he’d been anyone but an Antinium, they would have immediately apprehended him, and his survival would have been contingent on how much of a fight he put up. The Antinium had made many concessions to live in Liscor, but they did not suffer intrusion lightly.
As always, the Soldiers looked identical as they stood at the ready, even to Pawn. He could identify some other workers by the scratches on their chitin, or their jobs, but the Soldiers were one alien mass to Pawn. Workers did not talk to Workers, and Soldiers did not work with Workers unless there was some construction that needed their cooperation. Or if they trampled a Worker by accident.
But today Pawn was feeling reckless. He stopped and looked at one of the Soldiers. The Antinium was head and shoulders taller than Pawn and far broader, too. Pawn looked at his stub-like fingers, designed to pierce an enemy’s skin and let the Soldier bash his opponent into submission. But they were Antinium, weren’t they?
“Ah, good evening.”
The Soldier stared at Pawn. Pawn stared back uncomfortably. What was he doing?
Exchanging pleasantries. That was it. What came next?
“Rather cold outside, isn’t it? I hope you are all warm?”
The Soldiers didn’t respond. They couldn’t—they couldn’t speak. But they made no move either. They just stared at him. But all of them were staring, now.
After a second, Pawn continued walking. He felt the gaze of the Soldiers on his back as he left, though. And his mind was in turmoil. Pawn entered the flow of other Workers and groups of Soldiers and descended into the hive, wondering. Why had he done that? It was stupid. Had he expected a response? No, of course not. Then why had he done that?
Maybe because it was something Erin would do. Something she’d done. She’d asked a Worker his name, and treated him as if he weren’t just one of many.
Pawn sighed, and the Workers around him stiffened for a second as he walked through the shifting mass in the tunnels. That was stupid. He wasn’t Erin. And Soldiers couldn’t be Individual. He’d tested them with Klbkch. They took longer to respond being questioned. And they didn’t react to being asked who they were and what their names were in the same way. But when they did—
The Worker shuddered as he remembered Klbkch whirling, cutting, limbs and green gore flying everywhere. No. Soldiers could not be Individual. It didn’t work for them. It barely worked for Workers without Erin.
As Pawn walked through the endless traffic of the Hive, the Workers around him slowly began to peel off, taking other corridors elsewhere in the Hive. In the end, Pawn reached his destination—a small room at the end of a dirt corridor—alone. He stared into the room and saw a seated Antinium, a being with two arms and slim frame instead of the normal four arms and bulkier body.
Klbkch.
Pawn wasn’t ready to talk yet. He wasn’t ready—but it was too late. There were no doors in the Hive except where it was crucial to maintain an airtight environment. Klbkch looked up as he noticed Pawn standing in the hallway.
“Enter.”
Immediately, Pawn’s legs obeyed the order. The Worker mechanically entered the room and stood before Klbkch. The Revalantor and Prognugator of Liscor’s Hive looked up at Pawn from the small wooded desk he sat at, expressionless. The two swords of his station hung at his side; the Antinium did not take them off even in the Hive. Pawn found his eyes drawn to the blades; they were the same ones that had sliced off his limbs.
“Pawn. Is there something you need to bring to my attention?”
“Um.”
Pawn stared at Klbkch, feeling his heart racing frantically. His mind felt blank. He didn’t know what to say. But now Klbkch was staring at him, and he had to say something. What would Erin say?
“Yes. No? I have a lot to say. About classes. Mine, that is.”
“Indeed?”
Klbkch shifted in his seat. He looked at Pawn—coldly. Yes, it was a cold look. The Antinium didn’t have many expressions, but Pawn could tell he wasn’t happy.
“Have you received a different class? Or leveled up since we last spoke?”
The Queen had told Pawn to report any changes in his level or class to Klbkch. The Revalantor was in charge of monitoring the new Individuals. Pawn hesitated. He had to tell the truth. But he really didn’t want to. Maybe he could work up to it?
“Yes, I have news. But I ah, also came to ask about it. News, that is.”
“News? What are you referring to?”
“Erin.”
Pawn didn’t know what he was saying. Why was he asking the Revalantor for information? But he did want to know.
“Is she well? I went to her inn today, but the girl living there told me that Erin was missing. Lost. In a Human city?”
Klbkch nodded reluctantly.
“That is so. She is well, and Ryoka Griffin is with her. She cannot return yet due to the Goblin presence in the region, but she is safe.”
“I see. I…see. That is good.”
“It is acceptable. Now, inform me of the new class or level you have obtained.”
Klbkch was staring hard at Pawn. The Worker felt like sweating, even though the Antinium didn’t sweat. Or maybe he just felt like excreting liquids.
“I have…gained a new class. A while ago, in fact.”
“Indeed? Why did you not report this to me at once?”
Klbkch’s tone grew colder, if that was even possible. Pawn lowered his head.
“I was unsure of the nature of the class. I received it after a conversation with Erin Solstice, and I have been unable to discern the nature of either the Class or Skill I received.”
The Revalantor shook his head slightly.
“Erin. Of course. What Class did you receive after speaking with her?”
“[Acolyte].”
The Revalantor paused. Pawn could see him visibly thinking. Then the other Antinium shook his head.
“I am unfamiliar with the class, as well as the word.”
“As am I. I was hoping you could shed light upon the meaning of the class.”
“I see.”
Klbkch did not rise from his seat, but he shifted ever so slightly.
“You said you obtained this class after speaking with Erin? What was the context of your discussion.”
“It was…”
Pawn hesitated. It had been just after his questioning by the Queen. He had been in turmoil, asking about the dead Workers. His friends. Erin had comforted him, given him hope. But he didn’t want to tell Klbkch that. Instead, Pawn chose the simplest answer.
“We talked about religion. And I believe my class pertains to Gods.”
Instantly, the Antinium seated in front of Pawn froze. His entire body grew still, and Pawn could sense the emotions whirling in Klbkch. But the Revalantor didn’t do anything. Instead, after a minute he looked back up at Pawn as if nothing had happened.
“Gods?”
“Yes.”
“Intriguing. Do you refer to the dead gods of ages past?”
“No, a new God. A living one.”
There it was again. Klbkch froze, only for a shorter period. Pawn watched him carefully.
“Revalantor Klbkch, do you know anything of Gods? I had a discussion with Erin Solstice about them, and she informed me of a being known as a God. In the past, people prayed to them. And they possess powers similar to magic. But…”
His voice trailed off. Klbkch was staring at Pawn, but it was as if he was looking straight through him. Suddenly, the Revalantor’s body was tensed, and his expression—
“Revalantor Klbkch?”
The other Antinium slowly shook his head.
“I know nothing of Gods. But you said that after you talked with Erin, you gained the [Acolyte] class?”
“Yes. Because I…believed in Gods. Or so it seems.”
Klbkch stared at Pawn. The Worker shifted uncomfortably.
“You do not know what this means? I received the Skill of [Prayer] for reaching the first level in my class.”
“I see.”
The Revalantor nodded once, twice. He paused, and then looked up at Pawn and shook his head slowly.
“This class is a mystery to me. I know of Gods, but only those who are dead. It would appear your class is an enigma.”
“So it would appear.”
“Yes. But I have noted it’s occurrence. You said you were Level 1 in the [Acolyte] class?”
“That is so.”
“Very well. You may return to your quarters.”
Pawn stared at a Klbkch for a few more seconds, disappointed. He felt…let down. He’d expected the Revalantor to say something, or reveal something to him about the class that Pawn hadn’t known. At the very least, he’d expected Klbkch to be disapproving, but this?
It was almost as if Klbkch was hiding something. But whatever it was, Pawn didn’t expect Klbkch to confide in him. Reluctantly, he turned to go.
No answers here. What should he do next? Pawn stopped at the doorway, thinking. Only Erin could help him after all. Did Klbkch know when she would return?
“Revalantor Klbkch? May I ask if you know anything of when Erin will ret—”
Pawn turned and saw Klbkch, frozen in place with one sword raised to cut him down. The two Antinium stared at each other. If they were Human, perhaps Klbkch might have pretended it was a joke. Laughed, maybe, and tried to play it off. But the Antinium were different. Klbkch made no pretense; he lifted his sword and spoke calmly.
“If you are loyal to the Hive, do not move. You will be dead quickly.”
“What are you doing?”
Pawn backed away from Klbkch. The Revalantor was advancing on him—cautiously. Both of his silvery swords were aimed at Pawn, and the Worker knew that Klbkch could cut him into pieces in a second. But why?
“Revalantor Klbkch, have I offended you in some way? If so, I—”
“Silence.”
There was quiet menace in the Revalantor’s voice. Normally such an instruction would have made Pawn shut up, but he knew he was about to die ether way. Panicked, Pawn raised his hands as he retreated from Klbkch.
“I have done nothing wrong. I am not an Aberration! I—”
Klbkch shook his head.
“You know of Gods. You must die.”
He said it as it were a simple truth. But Pawn still didn’t understand. He backed up again and felt his back hit the dirt wall.
“I do not understand. Revalantor Klbkch, if I have erred please allow me to correct my mistake.”
“The only correction can come from your death. No one may know of Gods.”
Klbkch walked forwards, the two deadly blades in his hand. For a second Pawn considered running, but he knew he would be dead in an instant if he did. The only reason he hadn’t died yet was—
Was…?
Klbkch was hesitating. He was staring at Pawn as if he didn’t know where to cut. Maybe because he wasn’t sure? If that was the case…Pawn’s mouth worked with desperation.
“You should not kill me. Knowing of Gods is not dangerous to the Hive.”
“It is.”
“Erin told me of Gods. Will you kill her, too?”
The other Antinium hesitated as he lifted a sword up. Pawn stared at the deadly edge as it poised to come down.
“Erin is different. But you—you are expendable.”
That was true. Pawn knew it. But still. He stared upwards at the blade, and then down at the ground. He couldn’t close his eyes, no matter how hard he wanted to. His voice was quiet, yet his pulse thundered.
“Please. I do not wish to die.”
He could see only Klbkch’s legs. Pawn kept his head bowed, trembling. Waiting. Would it hurt? Would he feel it, or would his next thoughts be when he was in—
Heaven.
Time seemed to slow for Pawn as that thought emerged. He imagined it, a place without pain or fear. A place where he was welcomed a place to be. But then he thought of God and wondered.
He wanted it. But he didn’t. And as he thought of that, Pawn remembered Erin and wondered what she would do when she found out he was dead. And in that moment he didn’t think of heaven. He wanted to live, still. In the second before he died, Pawn whispered the word. His desire.
A prayer.
“Please.”
He felt nothing. Pawn kept his head bowed, and then sensed it. Movement. Slow—and then a noise. He heard the sound of metal on metal and dared to open his eyes. Klbkch was sheathing his swords.
