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“The kinkoo was pacing back and forth. The cavity in which he had established his headquarters, several hundred feet below the Shell, had the capacity to hold dozens of Kitins of his size. Yet his followers were all cowering against the cave walls, fearing for their lives. Too long, the wait was becoming too long. It all began when the kipestas, sent to scout the future landing zone, came across a small nest of primates. The kinkoo had not chosen this broken stump at random. The disarticulated roots of the huge wooden frame made the Shell brittle. Although the scouting report had described those Ambigus as particularly skilled and tough, the Kitin general was unwilling to change his plans. Instead, he decided to strike a blow and launched a large swarm of of kinchers, aggressive Kitins spawned in large numbers and often sent out to scout at the start of a battle. And since then, nothing. No news from his troops.
So, the kinkoo was pacing back and forth, not hesitating to violate his unfortunate minions on the way. He didn't understand. The area of the Matrix that he had been assigned was, in principle, sparsely populated. It wasn't his choice, it was an order. He would have liked to storm the main nest in the area, but this glorious task had been assigned to a kinkoo devoted to the most ancient and powerful kizarak lord. A pretender to the throne. Yet he had dreamed himself winning the war many times, receiving the honors of his lord, the corpse of the enemy chief between his claws. Or better yet, the recognition of the Queen herself. But no. He had been assigned to an empty and quiet plot of land… At least, that's what he thought, before he lost contact with his troops. He could already see himself in horror returning to the nest defeated, broken by his inability to carry out a mission that his masters imagined to be trivial. No, he would kill himself first. Such a disgrace was inconceivable.
The kinkoo was still pacing. How long had he been waiting? He didn't know. He didn't know anymore. His cerebral ganglion, still hobbled only a few cycles before, could not, already, handle such an emotional load. After a whole life diluted in the collective consciousness, his nascent mind was still fragile and unstable. He could feel erratic electrical impulses running through his ventral nerve chain, impacting the movement of his legs and certain regulatory functions of his body. This, this was individuality. This poisoned gift, which he cherished as much as he cursed it. He tried to calm himself, but it only made him feel worse, and his senses began to blur. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing panic. He was losing his footing. Then he felt the chemical signal in the distance that he had been waiting for. A scout was approaching.
Too nervous to wait in place, the general moved toward the opening of the small gallery through which the kipesta was coming. Soon he felt the vibrations of the wings of the flying kitin, which entered the cavity a few seconds later. Aware of the seriousness of the news it was bringing, it dropped miserably to the ground and crawled toward its intended recipient. The kipesta hoped, by the display of its extreme submission, to escape the imminent and mortal anger of its master. From now on immobile, it offered to the general its back, and the olfactive message which impregnated it. The scout had been careful to describe there the defeat of the kincher battalion in detail, and knew what reaction his master would have upon decoding it. Of the lower Kitins, the kipestas were by far the most intelligent. Their proto-mind gave them the autonomy to adapt quickly in unfamiliar territory and a special ability to formulate complex messages to their superiors, mixing pheromones and variations in wingbeat frequency. The kinkoo lowered himself towards his minion and scraped at once and without care the armour to collect the information-rich mucus.
The kipesta flinched, and in an instant, the headquarters was overwhelmed with scents of rage. Several of the surrounding Kitins died instantly, overcome by the intensity of the odor charge, while others froze in place. Some even took flight, so panicked they forgot flight was their death warrant. Furious as he had never imagined he could be, the kinkoo swept the kipesta with one blow of its paw. The scout was propelled to the other end of the cave and crashed into the shell of a kinrey. The tetany added to the corpulence, the royal soldier did not flinch under the shock, while the unfortunate messenger was collapsing on the ground. He had just broken a wing, but his life was safe.
The warlords rage was fulminating, his body trembling. There was worse than defeat, there was humiliation. His battalion had been wiped out, and almost no Ambigu had been killed. How could this be? Yes, these primates had mastered a form of power reminiscent that of the Primessences. Yes, their interchangeable limbs were reminiscent of those of the Steriles. But the power of these mythical entities was said to be out of all proportion to those of these frail, soft-fleshed creatures. Had he been lied to? No, comparing the respective powers was irrelevant. It was not their individual strength that the kinkoo had underestimated in the small bipeds, but that of the group. According to the data collected on the kipesta, the primates had as good as sensed the nature of the Kitins' attack and accordingly developed a defensive strategy to counter it. When applied with a high degree of coordination, this strategy had enabled them to repel wave after wave of kinchers that the kinkoo had sent out in his naivety.
Strangely, this report was nothing like any of the previous ones, where the species was consistently described as particularly disorganized and individualistic. Had the kizarak lords been mistaken, or worse, had they been duped by the enemy? Was this nest simply made up of particularly bright individuals, or was there a guiding entity, akin to a Queen Kitin, controlling the species in the shadows? Whatever the answer to these questions, these creatures posed a danger to the Burning Swarm's plans, and for the kinkoo, that meant only one thing: he had to get there to eradicate the threat, and report what he would discover to his superiors. A new wave of effluvia invaded the space, and his minions, until then paralyzed, activated themselves in all haste, following the new olfactory instructions of their master. Yes, he had made the mistake of underestimating these puny creatures. But what about them? After their stunning victory, did they view themselves as safe from defeat? Did they think the Kitins were stupid beings? The kinkoo hoped so. Because the more stunned they would be, the more complete their debacle would be. He meant to take revenge, to humiliate them. To wash away the affront he had suffered with their blood, that was what he wanted.
A few hours had passed since the end of the assault. Night would soon fall. Despite its size, the monstrous swarm had been entirely contained and annihilated. Yet the victory was not perfect. The huge stump that usually provided protection to the village had been deeply bruised and thirty-three of its inhabitants had died as a result of the many collapses it had suffered. They were toddlers and elders, too weak to flee in time, while those in charge of watching over them were too busy down below fighting off the bulk of the invaders. In Ceremonial Square, none of the soldiers saturated with life-saving magic, had perished. Such was the sad irony of war. While the many carcasses of the monsters had been mostly incinerated, some had been preserved for study. And while the bodies of the dead were being prepared for burial, a small group of experienced soldiers were sent on a scouting mission into the breach through which the creatures had entered the stump.
Pü was relieved to learn that his mother, assigned to protect Grandmother Bä-Bä, had had no trouble getting rid of the few creatures that had managed to approach them. However, he had not yet had the opportunity to see her again, as there was so much to do in the field of ruins that the village had become. And it is while he was busy, like many others, reducing to ashes a heap of chitinous remains, that he was called by Niï :
- "Pü! Don't you think that Pia and her scouts are taking a long time to come back ? They should already have been back a while ago. I was with father just now… He's getting anxious."
The young Zorai glanced toward the Ceremonial Square below, where his father was talking with his Uncle Ke'val in front of the now-cleared tear. Half-concentrated, he replied in a monotone.
- "Those monsters smell horrible. If more of them were on their way, we'd already be aware, wouldn't we? Our warriors should be back soon, don't worry."
It was a logical answer. Well… the first one that came to his mind, rather. For, in truth, he had not paid much attention to the question that showed his brother's concern. He was thinking of something else. He was thinking about their mother. No matter how much he had been told that she was well, he would have wanted to make sure for himself. Sometimes he looked up to the upper levels of the stump, hoping to see Looï among the villagers busy erasing the scars of the battle. But Without success: at no time did he see passing the figure he knew by heart.
- "I hope you are right. In any case, father is asking for you," replied his brother.
Pü took off his pair of magic amplifiers, blew off the film of ash that had settled on them and tied them to his belt. He headed with his brother to the Ceremonial Square and jumped into the pit. Seeing it thus deprived of its ancestral totem, now broken, did not leave him indifferent. Sang Fu-Tao, their father, turned to them:
- "Ke'val and I are worried about the squad we sent to scout the gallery. They should have been back long ago. The orders were very clear and Pia is not in the habit of disobeying them."
Other warriors gathered around the four Zorais.
- "But father, by sending more soldiers across the rift, aren't we risking the same thing?" objected Niï.
The Black Mask nodded sternly.
- "That's why we're going to form a chain to go search for them while minimizing the risks."
The Black Mask detailed the strategy to his soldiers. And just as he was about to finish his presentation, a noise echoed through the gallery. In a split second, the Zorais drew their weapons and took up their positions, ready to intervene. A deathly silence filled the pit. The soldiers focused all their senses on the dark hole from which the monsters had emerged the first time, and where they now hoped to see their comrades reappear. Pü swallowed. He heard nothing, saw nothing and smelled nothing.
- "That's right, I can't smell anything," he thought.
This thought, however banal, resonated intensely in his mind. As he had reminded his brother earlier, these creatures exhaled a pestilential smell. It was mainly thanks to this that their assault had been so masterfully countered. Their stench had betrayed their approach and allowed the tribe to mount a major defense. He didn't smell anything, so why panic? He didn't know, and yet the mental echo didn't falter. There was something else, lurking in the shadows. An insidious answer, ready to pop up at any moment.
- "What if these scents had been emitted on purpose?"
At this thought, his chest abruptly lifted. Time froze. With dry mouth, shortness of breath, and dilated pupils, he stared into the breach. Some animals were capable of producing odorous exhalations at will, which acted as an attractant or repellent. Yes, that was it. The odor of these monsters was not their primary odor, they synthesized it as they pleased. Even more terrible was the thought that followed. If these monsters were there, a few meters away from him, hidden in the darkness of the tunnel, stripped of all scent, it also meant that they had voluntarily decided to change their strategy, and therefore that they were not the creatures without conscience that he had imagined them to be. Their suicidal stupidity was feigned, it was a lie. Pü wanted to scream something, but his body was as good as petrified. A projectile then shot out of the gap, waking him from his torpor. It bounced off one of the shields and crashed limply to the ground. It was Pia's head. Instantly, several gunners armed their launchers and pounded the tunnel. But it was already too late, Pü knew it. Distraught, he looked up at the village heights. The last of the starlight was disappearing behind the top of the stump, marking the beginning of night. Yet the sky seemed darker than usual. Black and shifting. Swarming. Full of legs and spikes. It was a diversion. This time he managed to shout:
- "Up top! They're up top!"
The warriors looked up in turn, and the Black Mask reacted without delay.
- "Soldiers, disperse, in pairs! Everything is on tonight! So let your weapons roar, be at the top of your art! Give it all! Your soul, your heart! For Ma-Duk!"
Pü, flanked by his brother, was about to bolt to the top of the village, to join and protect his mother, as black creatures began to run down the sloping sides of the stump. But his father stopped them. Ke'val, his Shadow, had stayed close to him, facing the gap.
- "Stay here my sons! We need you here!"
As the soldiers dispersed, a huge creature was emerging from the darkness. While its general features were reminiscent of the creatures of the first wave in many respects, there were many others that set it apart. Measuring about five meters, it was on the whole much more imposing. Its legs, much thicker and vigorous, also seemed much more dangerous and deadly. Instead of fangs, two enormous nozzles, oozing with an organic and smoky liquid, crowned the head of the monster. Its abdomen, which featured no stinger, was not arched under the legs, but stood proudly at the back of the thorax. Its armour, mostly jet black, was coloured yellow in some places. Drawing a pair of sinister eyes on its abdomen and swollen skull, the pigments formed patterns reminiscent of those, intended to ward off predators, that can be found on the wings of certain butterflies. If the giant insects they had defeated a few hours earlier were low-ranking soldiers, this creature seemed to be an elite soldier. The four Zorais backed away cautiously, without taking their eyes off it, while the crash of first fights could be heard in the distance. No sooner had it emerged from the darkness than a creature identical in every way to it followed on. Pü swallowed. How many of these horrors were they going to face? He got his answer when a third and final monster struggled out of the breach. When he realized that its legs were even more imposing than the first two, he understood why his father had ordered them to stay. Twice their size, the chitin colossus was an enlarged version of the two kinreys that had preceded him. In addition to the size difference, its carapace was painted in gleaming colors ranging from blue to orange, and it's back was studded with sharp spikes. Positioned between his dark armored soldiers, about ten meters from the homins, his presence was all the more overwhelming.
- "Sang, he's their commander for sure," Ke'val said in a confident tone.
The kinkoo's skull swept the air from left to right, as if it were looking around. Yet, like all the insectoid creatures they'd encountered so far, it didn't seem to have any visual organs. Nothing except this huge pair of yellow fake eyes, both splendid and terrifying. When he finally turned his head towards the four homins, Pü felt nauseous. The air had just been suddenly charged with odorous effluvia. Beyond their intensity, it was especially their subtle multiplicity which upset the olfactory system of the young Zoraï. Because what he inhaled at the moment did not smell like a jumble of odors without tail nor head. It was rather a coherent composition. Yes, the creature seemed to distill selected fragrances in the atmosphere, similar to the notes of a score… It tried to communicate! The nausea turned into dizziness. They had been wrong, all along. As usual, her father did not give in to panic.
- "He's trying to communicate, he's obviously smarter than all the other creatures put together, by far. If we take him out, there's a good chance his army will be routed. Your uncle and I will take care of him. You take care of the two soldiers. Whatever happens, I ask you to stay together."
Pü put his gaze on his father's mask. He read there a determination that was second to none.
- "We can't afford to make mistakes, you both know that. I trust you. You are my sons, my flesh. One day you will succeed me and your uncle. But that day has not yet come. Because today, Ma-Duk is watching us, Ma-Duk is testing us. He wants to make sure we are ready for the Sacred War! So make him proud, as you make me proud! To death!"
In a flash, his uncle tilted his shield backwards, while at the same time, Sang jumped on it with both feet. Holding the protective plate firmly with his left arm, Ke'val had only to infuse Sap into his right arm to multiply his strength, and to crush his hand on the back of the shield to propel his brother toward the titanic insect. The kinkoo, who did not expect that the homins would attack him while he was trying to communicate, and especially not from the air, did not react in time. Thrown like a projectile by his Shadow, the Black Mask hit the creature just as it began to raise one of its gigantic, sharp limbs, ready to strike. Quickly, Sang took advantage of the opportunity so offered to grab it and leap onto the spiky abdomen of the creature. As he drew his sword, Ke'val, who remained on the ground, began to cast neutralizing and debilitating spells, hoping to contain the chitin colossus. A new wave of effluvia, this time much more acerbic, invaded the space: incapacitated by the magician's powers and unable to get rid of the warrior who had just hit the back of its skull with his weapon, the monstrous insect expressed its anger.
Pü remained frozen for a few seconds. His father's speech never ceased to surprise him and occupied all his thoughts. Was he really proud of him? Since his return from exile a few years ago, Pü had been in public conflict with the Black Mask. So why this speech, why now? Was he really proud of himself? As if weary of the endless inner questioning the Zorai was accustomed to, the sky answered him with a dull roar. At least, Pü thought it was the sky. Raising his head to the heights of the stump, his heart heaved with joy as he realized that it was not: gigantic incandescent lightning bolts were sweeping across the space from the root on which Grandmother Bä-Bä's hut was built; his mother was, at this moment, demonstrating how she was definitely the most powerful individual of the tribe. It was taking only a few seconds for her sharp arcs of light to reduce to ash the black monsters, which, aware of the danger of their adversary, gathered in her direction to overwhelm her. Although Pü assumed that Grandmother Bä-Bä was magically supporting her mother, he also knew that she could not display her superiority indefinitely. Pü imagined running to join her, but his brother tapped him on the shoulder and gave him no time to think longer.
Especially since the two guards of the monstrous kitin commander had come dangerously close. Deciding to leave space for their father and uncle, Pü and Niï infused Sap into their thighs and leapt out of the pit in two jumps. The two creatures followed them, keeping their distance as if to gauge them. The two brothers stepped back without taking their gaze off them. Gradually, the beasts moved away from each other, and started to go around the two brothers while advancing. Cornered, Pü and Niï stopped, back to back. The two kinreys were now circling around them. Once again, the way they acted had nothing to do with the first monsters they had met. The fight was going to be much more difficult than the last one. To defeat them, they would have to act in concert with extreme concentration. Their weapons had been enchanted since the beginning of the battle, and their pockets were full of Sap crystals to power them with magic. They were ready. Pü drew his short sword and dagger, Niï his hatchet and buckler, and they each charged at a creature. With his blade bouncing off the ebony carapace at the first blow he struck, Pü knew it would be a long fight. At the first spout of blood oozing from Niï's armor, he knew that they would not be allowed to make a mistake. The fight was promising to be grueling, physically and psychologically. First dodging, thanks to small leaps, the attacks of his opponent while watching his brother from the corner of his eye, the young warrior then sheathed his weapons to slip without delay his hands inside his magic amplifiers, without even lowering his eyes. No sooner had he donned them than the first bursts of life-saving magic shot out toward his brother. During the maneuver, and despite his skill, Pü was unable to dodge one of the many pawing blows that his assailant was trying to deliver: a sharp point pierced his breastplate to the flesh. The pain, although intense, was of short duration. Indeed, as soon as he felt the flow of blood, the healing spell sent in response by his brother closed the wound. After healing, the two warriors took up their weapons as quickly as they had sheathed them and charged at their prey again. The two brothers were experienced in this way of fighting, which was the pride of the tribe and explained the fear it inspired. No formation, no predefined roles. They were at once the shield, the weapon, and the cure.
As the minutes passed, the two brothers gained the advantage. Although the gigantic monsters were much stronger and more powerful than they were, they were not able to use the powers of the Sap to heal themselves. The homins would win by attrition before their reserves ran out. Pü was the first to finish off the creature in front, then joined his brother to help him finish off the other. Both exhausted, they returned to the pit where their father and uncle faced the commander of the insectoid army. They saw with horror that another monster, identical in every way to those they had just faced, had joined the fight. On the ground, the carcass of a second creature lay. It was not one, but three opponents that their elders had had to face. The two warriors appeared to be in an advanced state of fatigue and their armors had long since shattered. Their bloody bodies were covered with barely closed wounds. Although capable of practicing magic, the homins could not relentlessly channel the Sap that irrigated them . They were not Kamis, able to manipulate the Sap of Atys indefinitely. Pü, seeing that the two elders were reaching the limits of what they could achieve, prepared to jump into the pit. But his brother blocked his way with one arm:
- "I'll take care of it Pü."
- "But… I can't let you go in there alone Niï, it's too dangerous! Did you see in which state are father and Ke'val?"
- "It doesn't matter, go find Mom and Grandma Bä-Bä. Their safety is our priority."
Too focused on the fight, Pü had, for a moment, forgotten his mother. But several bearing roots had now caught fire at the top of the village. Fights were raging there. Was Looï all right? Her youngest son's throat tightened.
- "No! Father ordered us to stay together!'' he said.
- "Pü…. I know you're dreaming, like me, of going to check if Mom is all right. So obey me, please!"
- "But, Niï, I am your Shadow, I cannot let you run this risk! When father dies, you will become Black Mask, I must protect you whatever the cost! The Prophecy says that…."
Without even looking at him, his brother slapped him hard. Pü froze.
- "Seriously Pü, the Prophecy? This is when you talk about the Prophecy?! You never believed in that crap Pü, so don't talk to me about the Prophecy!"
Niï was still staring at the pit. He continued, and his voice went off the rails.
- "Besides, no one ever really believed it…. Except father. Everyone knows it, Pü. Everyone understands it."
Pü rubbed his mask and stammered.
- "What is that? What… What are you talking about, Niï?"
Then his brother looked at him. His eyes shone with an unusual brightness and tears were streaming down his mask.
- "I am not the prodigy they expected I would be. I never was. You were always far more talented than me. I will never become Black Mask, you will never be my Shadow. The prophecy associated with our name is a fable, Pü, the visions of Grandmother Bä-Bä are untruthful."
Stunned, Pü did not know what to answer. Then his brother did something he hadn't done in years. The last time, when they were not yet rivals. The last time, when they were children. He leaned toward him and pressed his forehead against his own.
- "However, if there's one thing that's not a lie, it's the fact I love you, little brother. Mother and Grandmother Bä-Bä are the two most important people in the village, you know that as well as I do. Our entire destiny depends on them. And of the two of us, you alone can protect them.
Niï brought his hands down on his brother's shoulders, still speechless. He turned him around and pushed him hard on the back.
- "I trust you. Go! Find them! May the Kamis guide your rush, Pü! Run there fast!"
Then, Pü jumped up, his mask covered in tears and his brain on the verge of implosion. A flood of memories and questions flooded his mind and time dilated. Her brother's words were bursting with hope, yet they sounded like the last ones. Was he acting fairly, or was he letting Niï go to his death alone? Allowing himself one last look, he turned around briefly. Niï was no longer there. He had jumped. Pü took a deep breath and resumed his run. He had to keep faith, that was all he had left. Then he heard a shout.
- "No! Niï!"
The voice was that of the Black Mask. Faith disappeared and despair overcame Pü. Frozen with horror, he instantly turned around and put on his amplifiers. Damn him. He should never have left Niï alone, he knew it. Infusing all the sap he could into his legs, he pumped up his muscles and accelerated. The pit was only a few strides away, everything would be fine soon. But just as he was about to leap, the sky darkened. Pü looked up: a huge piece of fire-blackened bark was falling. He tried to swerve to dodge the impending collision, but too much accumulated speed caused his left leg to give way under the sudden change in direction. Pü collapsed on the edge of the pit and only had time to see his brother, his feet in the air, his body pierced by one of the huge black legs of a kinrey, before the black block hit him full force and his head hit the ground hard. Instinctively, he infused his skull with Sap to repair the trauma, but a black veil was already beginning to blur his vision. No, he couldn't go into a coma! Not now! He concentrated as hard as he could on the brain injury, the only point of light in the darkness. But then his senses shut down, one by one, and he sank.
Belenor Nebius, narrator
