Chapter Four - The Hive, Part One
By Peeling

Reprinted with permission.
Added 08/01/2002.

Light.

Dark.

Ragged breath in burning lungs.

One arm pumping madly, blood flying.

One arm sizzling, still cooking in its socket.

Whiteness; a blur of stone walls.

Blackness.

Noise, like a hive of monstrous pale bees set to swarm, echoing through the catacombs behind.

Heat crossing flesh; such a gentle touch. Falling.

Legs kick regardless, knees cracking, toes smashing against the floor. Run, run, run. Must get away.

Buzzing is all around now. Cool light blooms across patterned tiles and spreading blood.

Broken teeth scrape on stone. Must not look. Run.

White.

The buzzing is inside me.

Black.

The buzzing is me.

White.

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The day was abysmally hot, and Thomas's robe clung and itched as he walked, patches of sweat darkening the coarse material. Flies droned sleepily through late afternoon air the consistency of warm honey. Thomas mopped his wrinkled brow with a clammy sleeve and squinted down the road ahead, leaning for a moment on his staff. Still no sign of Arwic town, and not a scrap of shade in sight either.

"Come to Arwic, she said" he grumbled, tapping stones out of his sandals. "See the world, she said. Get out of that musty old library and get some fresh air. Fresh! I've spent a week in pants fresher than this soup."

He had to admit though – privately of course – that the journey had been worthwhile. The satchel slung across his back contained several interesting volumes of Tumerok folklore he'd picked up along the way, as well as some more... esoteric items, packed carefully in linen at the bottom. Material enough for a dozen manuscripts; certainly enough to while away the coming winter.

A glitter of reflected sunlight caught his eye: an armoured figure emerging from the heat-haze perhaps a mile ahead. A very large figure – Lugian, surely. And was that someone else beside him? Much smaller, and dressed in darker clothing. Despite himself, Thomas's face broke into a whiskery grin, and he set off with renewed vigour.

As the pair drew closer he assumed a ferocious scowl, and his gait became more laboured.

"So, decided to come and look for me, did you?" demanded Thomas. "Hoping to find my bones bleaching in this infernal sun, no doubt!" The Lugian looked askance at his diminutive partner, who was grinning broadly.

"Poor grandfather. Does the heat disagree with you?" She reached up and laid a concerned hand against his bearded cheek. His mouth twitched.

"Violently. Well, come on Tanya, aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Sorry grandfather. Choth, this is my grandfather – well, not EXACTLY my grandfather, but he's evidently much too old to be an uncle and great-uncle is such a mouthful, especially when he’s not really my great-uncle either. Grandfather, this is Choth, my friend and companion."

Thomas squinted up at the impassive grey face and grunted.

"They can't have had much left when they finished making you, hmm?" He paused. "Not enough to make another Choth, I expect." Choth shook his head. Thomas nodded slowly, eyes boring into those of the Lugian. "Well. It seems my granddaughter's talent for attracting trouble has only matured in the years since I last saw her." He looked pointedly at Tanya at the word 'years'. She blushed. He continued: "Well, I don't intend to marinade in this cloak for a moment longer than necessary. I require a cool taproom, a ready supply of ale and a room in which to change beforehand. I trust you possess the necessary coin?"

Tanya giggled.

"Of course, grandfather; I have been saving the pyreals I earn waiting tables all summer." She lowered her voice. “Sometimes they slip me an extra coin if I flash some leg."

Thomas snorted.

"You in a dress? I'd believe that of your companion here before I'd believe it of you." He stamped between them and off down the dusty track. "I mean it! If there isn't cold beer and a comfortable bed at the end of this road, I'm recalling straight back home."

Choth and Tanya looked at one another. Tanya laughed.

"You'll get used to him. It's his way of showing affection" she whispered.

"I heard that!" shouted Thomas over his shoulder. Tanya rolled her eyes.

"He might look decrepit, but there’s nothing wrong with his ears."

"I heard that too! That's going to cost you a full roast dinner. With gravy!"

"Perhaps," rumbled Choth as they trotted to catch up, "you had better be quiet while we still have money for our own beds tonight."

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The weather grew steadily more oppressive as the day wore on, and by the time the trio reached Arwic thunderclouds clenched like sullen fists overhead.

"A fascinating region you choose to inhabit, Tanya" said Thomas as they hurried between fat drops of rain towards the shelter of the inn. "I must make special note of it in my journal, the better to avoid accidentally encountering it in future." Lightning flickered across the sky, thunder whip-cracking hard on its heels.

They made it just as rain became hail; thumb-sized chunks of ice pattering on the grass and rattling off the inn's slatted roof.

Inside was a blessed relief. All three felt the prickle of magic as they crossed the threshold – beyond the air was dry and pleasantly warm. Thomas paused and reached back, touching the invisible field, running his fingers through it with an expression of deep concentration. Then a grin split his face and he roared:

"Auri Tokah! Where are you, you cheap taproom conjuror?"

In the far corner of the room a hooded figure jerked and spilled his drink. Tanya and Choth followed Thomas as he strode across the room, Choth ducking slightly below the roof-beams. The figure rose and cast back the hood of his robe, revealing the angular, toothy features of an elderly tumerok, eyes creased with delight. He was not much taller than Tanya. He and Thomas clapped hands exuberantly.

"You son of a sirraluun! What are you doing this far into barbarian territory?"

"Ah – adventure, the prospect of other people’s good fortune financing mine. The usual." Tokah mimicked Thomas's smile, eloquently demonstrating why Tumeroks do not normally express pleasure in that fashion. Tumeroks have a LOT of teeth.

"I knew it was you. Nobody else ties off a spell quite so lopsidedly after a few jars."

Tokah laughed gutturally.

"You're just jealous. You never could master Air spells properly. A regrettable lack of finesse."

Thomas remembered the others with him. He also realised he'd been speaking in Tumerok, which made the most amiable conversation sound like a declaration of war. Sure enough, Tanya and Choth were standing warily a few feet away, hands – accidentally of course – not too far from their weapons.

"Choth, Tanya, this is Auri Tokah, a very old friend of mine whom I've not seen since – my word, before you were born Tanya. Perhaps even before YOU were born, Choth."

The tumerok's ears flattened in astonishment, and he bowed slightly towards the lugian. When he spoke it was in surprisingly unaccented Isparian.

"Choth, indeed! My, we are travelling in esteemed company these days, Thomas."

"Can you tell who taught him the language?" Tanya muttered sidelong to Choth. Thomas ignored her.

"Alas, it is my granddaughter you must thank, for both our presence. I remain the disreputable bookworm you remember – which reminds me!" Thomas slapped his backpack excitedly. "I have some books here which I would greatly appreciate your opinion of, as well as some arcane objects of considerable interest." He moved to open his pack, but stopped as Tanya laid a hand over his.

"I believe you were going to change?" She eyed his soiled robe, wrinkling her nose.

"Ah. Of course. Well, later then. You will be here?"

Tokah gestured at his drink, and the numerous empty tankards accompanying it. Tanya blinked. Full, they would have contained sufficient ale to put two good-sized lugians on their backs.

"Where else? Although this water they call beer is scarcely enough to take the chill from my old bones."

"Until later then!" Thomas turned to his companions. "So, my room. Lead the way! What? You mean you haven't arranged it yet? Should I perhaps have travelled even FURTHER to visit, to give you more time?" With a parting slap of the tumerok's shoulder he bustled away, gesticulating with his staff, remonstrating with Tanya about her appalling hospitality.

Choth remained behind. He was still fingering his sword. The tumerok met his stare unflinchingly.

"Is it to be now? Here?" asked Tokah, in the lugian tongue.

"It is not the time." replied Choth in gravelly Tumerok. "Later, perhaps, when you have spoken with your friend." He turned and strode away.

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