CHAPTER 9

THE HIVE

Personally, Brendon loved the plan they'd developed.

Smoke had been what had been used in the past to infiltrate the Hive-but personally and factually, Brendon didn't think it an effective way to go any deeper than the initial part of the fabled obsidian spire. They had caught a first, distant glimpse of it last night, after a day of flying and recovery, through telescope. A tall, black monolith, radiating menace. It was both thrilling, and downright terrifying in a stark, primal sort of way.

The structure dominated the land around it. It had helped make that land-the remains of the Hive's many victims had built the desert, down to every last grain. The Shifting Sands had been literally made by death.

And clearly we're insane enough to challenge that power head on, Brendon had thought grimly.

He'd suggested the use of radio interference to scramble the Hive's collective communication. Several questions had arisen in the event of that proposition-one of the most prominent was Takar's, who had assumed correctly that such a tactic would need to have a powerful transmitter. Brendon had responded rather simply. All the brilliant but grumpy inventor had to do was enforce the Strikeflier's already powerful, worldwide radio.

The next part of the plan was the rather classic divide and conquer scenario. Fearon, Somra, and Lehvahk would be going ahead, to strike as far into the heart of the Hive as they could. Things got ambiguous there, given that there was no real info on what the colony hid in the deepest depths of the spire. Brendon and Fearon had both agreed that there was nothing else to do but plunge right in, be careful, and hope for the best. There was no way the target Acryonoi would be stupid enough to come out in the open. Going in was the only real option.

The next day was spent preparing. Lehvahk holed up in his room, and by the time he came out, he was decked in every small blade and firearm ammo they had available. He'd streaked black paint on his face. Despite the comical touch, the look in his eyes was rather cold.

Fearon stuffed more training in, aggressively working on the Fire and Lightning enhancement spell. He was panting and shaky when evening came around, but proudly knew he'd achieved a whole new mastery over the spell, perfecting what he had done in the fight against Ream.

Brendon tore through his spellbooks all night. He added more runes of power to his staff, knowing they'd help, but not sure how much. He was running on the hope that the unknown wouldn't have too many nasty surprises.

Somra did nothing more than sharpen her spear. The rhythmic grating of the sharpening stone comforted her on some subliminal level.

Takar spent it rewiring and adding to the ship's arsenal. By the time he'd finished, the Strikeflier had several new improvements, most of which invisible and adding to the old, small carrier's already excellent abilities.

There was nothing more to do but wait.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rising sun painted the desert a light red pink. The droning of ever present insects, hiding out of sight, seemed strongest at this time, when the wastes of the Shifting Sands woke up again.

Fearon, coincidentally, woke up first. It made it even harder to stand up-usually he slept late, given how fast he ran out of energy. Grimacing at the thought and fumbling for his medicine, he swallowed two of the pills without water. He didn't bother to fetch water-there was no warning against doing it this way.

He sighed in relief when the lethargy retreated. As he swung his legs of the bed and padded a few feet over to his dresser, Fearon felt his thoughts race back to Ream, and the aftermath of the fight.

He'd forgotten about the medicine that day. The pills were Corimads, a adaptive medical achievement that eased whatever ailment detected in the body. According to Brendon, they were a combination of magic and science, and had no ill effect unless taken in bulk without intervals. Of course, he didn't know about them. Fearon hadn't let anyone know.

But he nearly had. He'd lost track of when he'd last taken the stuff, and as a result, the battle with the spirit Ream had taken much more out of him than he'd wanted. Any longer in the eyes of his friends and he would have broken down.

Fearon's hands clenched tighter around the desert shawl he was clutching. His mind was now anywhere but his room.

I can't be seen that weak again.

Biting his lip sharply, Fearon drew the shawl across his shoulders and clipped it at the neck. After exchanging his pajama pants for a pair of light gray shorts, he exited the room amid the rattling of cooling pipes and vents. There was only one place to go now. The bridge, for debriefing.

Then the Hive.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Takar slung a heavy sword over his shoulder, tightening the strap. Grunting, he looked out the window. The brooding spire was their next destination. While everyone else seemed suitably cowed by it, from the pilot's viewpoint, the thing radiated fear.

They were all going to die. He huffed as he waited for the others to arrive. Terasal and the Hive were two fundamentally different things-not apparent from the outside, but it would likely be once the real action kicked off.

The bridge door ground open. Takar scowled, expecting it to be Lehvahk. If it was Brendon at least, they'd be easier to talk to-both of them were early risers by habit.

"Been awake all night, or just this morning?"

The voice sounded tired, and didn't belong to either of Takar's first guesses. He looked over his shoulder to see Fearon there, arms crossed. The question had lacked any bite. If anything, Fearon looked older than he was right now, tired and beaten.

When the leader spotted Takar looking at him, he made a visible effort to patch up his physical stance. It mostly seemed to work, but Takar couldn't unsee it. His curious mind only began to run over possibilities.

"And you look like you still haven't slept. One night doesn't make up for a few completely sleepless nights, you know."

"Yeah, I get that," Fearon responded flatly. "But everyone's not able to sleep sometimes."

Takar snorted derisively. Did the swordsman actually think he was that dumb? This was already looking even more idiotic than it had at first. An exhausted leader didn't bode well at all for them. And he didn't believe the 'sometimes,' not being able to sleep bit for a second.

And Takar thought he was the insomniac here-Fearon had broken his record of sleepless nights by a day.

"Whatever you say," he responded, equally a flatly. "But no one would think you're fine if they'd been here a second ago."

"Let it go, would you?"

The argument seemed to end there. The normal venom didn't seem to be in either of them, the Hive domineering their thoughts and eyes instead. Takar could swear it was getting closer. He glanced at the menacing black shape again, hoping he was wrong.

The pilot did turn out to be wrong. The Hive spire was where it had been all morning and the night before. Takar scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, irritated by the sheer pressure of all this.

Lehvahk didn't make his arrival quiet. He jumped whooping onto the table, landing in a semi crouch. Takar could feel the beginnings of a headache as the sniper yelled again. "Oh yeah! Let's go. Who's in the house? We are!"

"Please, for the love of the gods, don't be so dramatic," Somra acidically added her own piece. She tightened the straps on a pair of spiked gauntlets, the only additional kind of gear she appeared to have fetched besides her weapon. "I'm sure they love watching you flash to the world."

The target of her fierce sarcasm just grinned and ignored the biting remark. He struck another pose. "Can't help it if the world thinks we are amazing. Hell, the whole universe probably knows."

"That also means they know how much of an idiot you are."

"I'm a selective idiot."

Somra raised a skeptic eye ridge. "Hehe, sure. Just cause you acted smart a bit doesn't mean you aren't inherently dumb."

"That doesn't matter right now." Brendon meandered in, wraps of runed cloth up and down the lengths of his arms and his staff, marked with even more, slung over his back. "Does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Fearon cut in pointedly. "All that will matter is that we can survive the battlefield and bag the shaman."

"Oh yes, how fun that'll be for you," Takar let a grin peek past his curled lip. "You'll be all the way down there, me up here. Sounds like a perfect recipe for success."

Generally, the pilot and the leader worked well together when needed-but Takar found it an uneasy thing at best. It was clear Fearon agreed, if the tightening of his jaw was anything to go by. "Yeah, kinda what I had in mind."

Takar whirled to face the Strikeflier's controls, sparking the ship alive with the flick of a finger. The systems hummed and vibrated as they came online. Fading footsteps heralded the departure of his teammates from the bridge.

"Prepared for sky drop?"

The query was partly a test, to see if the attack squad had gotten to the hangar yet. His heart skipped a beat when someone responded-Somra, it seemed. "Oh yeah. Skydiving without strings will be fun."

"Sure you don't want the skimmers?"

"Not worth it. They'd be a disadvantage down there anyhow in underground tunnels."

Fearon again. Him and Brendon seemed to like being the voices of reason. Takar bared his teeth in a silent snarl. No one wanted to listen to him when he tried that.

"Fine. Prepare for airdrop."

Takar throttled the ship into a higher gear, using the action to vent his frustration. The Strikeflier surged from zero to twenty ticks in the span of two seconds. A squawk and clatter from Scout didn't bother him-rather, the grumpy kerion took some minor, dark satisfaction in knowing that he may have unbalanced one of the idiots who wanted to go bee hunting.

The Hive loomed under them. Takar brought the Strikeflier to a halt, the small carrier drifting in the process. Three figures dove from the runway, into the small entrance at the tip of the spire.

Brendon had been hovering silently at his shoulder the whole time. Takar had noticed him even less amid his mental ranting, but now the mage drew attention to himself. "The Strikeflier's quiet, but not so much it wouldn't escape a red wasp's hearing."

"Yeah, we planned on that, remember? That way those three-" Takar jabbed a thumb in the direction of the invading trio-"Won't get eaten on the way down. Hopefully."

True to form, the rumble of the Strikeflier's engines, typically a barely decipherable hum while cruising, drew the Hive's aerial guardians soundly-aided by the radio wave signal sent out by the enhanced ship radio. The first one surged up with a harsh buzz, hitting a pontoon with its initial impact. Takar swore, gunned the engines, and shot away. The wasp, the size of a horse and far more vicious, gave chase. Two other wasps were right behind it.

Takar banked, then sent the ship into a arching dive. The broadside cannons flared, striking one wasp down, laming the other. It tottered uncertainly, one wing tattered. With a feral grin, Takar swung the ship around and accelerated once more.

The Strikeflier's sharp, sparlike pontoon rammed the bee, barely slowing the craft down. A crunch later, the huge insect had been torn in half, and the two halves fell, gaining momentum.

Takar laughed, envisioning the remains being a sand beast's lunch. His predatory gaze locked on to the last bee-only for two more to rise into the air behind it.

He growled in irritation and looked at the ship's radar screen. The erratic movement of the three green dots that were their teammates seemed to indicate fighting. He hoped that was the situation down there.

Brendon wasn't where he had been standing before. Takar blinked, realizing he must have lost track of that in the thrill of battle. The grating of the hangar door opening and closing was all the answer he really needed.

A flaring fireball scorched one wasp to a charred husk, while an arcane spear pierced another. Takar caught sight of the caster soon enough-Brendon was outside, in the air on his modified red Switchblade. One hand held the skimmer's handle, the other occupied with casting. Brendon had turned such fighting into an art.

The two caught each other's gazes and nodded. Time to unleash hell on the bugs.

Scout, still by the weapons controls, gave the pilot a toothy smile. He grinned back, a rare expression on his face. Steering the Strikeflier into a sharp turn, Takar blew past the newly arrived Hive guardians, causing them to tumble in midair.

It didn't last all that long. The wasps rightened themselves and flew after the ship again. Takar brought the Strikeflier to an abrupt near stop, then swung the ship around. One wasp was batted heavily by a pontoon, dazing it and causing the huge insect to flail. In a flash it had been frozen solid, tumbling down into the desert below.

Given that Brendon had taken care of that target for him, Takar signaled Scout to unleash the broadside cannons. The visorak screeched with vigor and obeyed. The boom of the artillery sounded, three other wasps caught in the blast. The two remaining, scarred and bigger than the others, let out a low, screeching hum Takar could barely hear thanks to his own keen hearing. They were calling more help.

Let them come…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lehvahk plummeted downward with his two companions, feeling strangely weightless. And calm.

A good thing, especially since he was part of making a safe landing so all of them wouldn't die.

"Now!"

A nod of understanding from Somra. Even as Fearon's shout faded, she had thrown a round, inscribed orb down into the dephs. It pinged against something hard-rock, maybe, but given this was an insect nest of giant bees, it could have been anything else.

Better not to think of it. Lehvahk unslung his rifle, twisting in midair to aim. The faint blue glow of runes could be seen even from up there. He shot, hitting the mark barely an effort for his skills. A burst of wind billowed up when the orb was destroyed, slowing the trio's fall.

It gave time to stare at what flashed past them on the rapid descent, and what was still extending into the dark below.

The Hive had existed for seemingly all time-nothing was more proof than the pyramid of bones and valuables on the uppermost level of the spire. The legends had described the grim monument as being wider, more of a pyramid, but it seemed to have undergone evolution like the Hive's obsidian spire. Now the pyramid had narrowed and slimmed, looking more like an obelisk than the more traditional shape in legends. The gruesome structure extended down to where the glow of the orb had been.

The three thumped to a solid landing. The very base of the obelisk, a complicated tangle of bleached white bones and rocks, was easier to look at in the near dark. The slight indentation around it seemed to show that the thing went even deeper.

But the residual effects of the deathly structure remained even when not able to see it well. Lehvahk felt slightly sick with fear, and Somra's rapid breathing seemed to indicate the same. The collection of bones, jewels and gold hadn't just appeared here-it had come from the Shifting Sand's many, countless victims over uncountable centuries. It was proof of their deaths, immortalized in a terrible way.

Lehvahk shuddered. He almost felt like the whispers of ghosts were wafting out of the bones and cobwebs.

"Too creepy. Really."

"For once, I agree with you," Somra grumbled reluctantly.

"What did you expect?" Fearon sounded grim and focused, and not on the obelisk of death. "The Hive's been around forever-it's always amassed what's left of everything that dies out in that desert. But that isn't our problem." He began to edge further off into the dark. Aware that varons had superior vision in said darkness, Lehvahk shrugged, tried to forget about the obelisk, and hurried after him. Somra followed, gaining ground faster. She grabbed his arm and roughly began to guide him.

The sniper squinted. The darkness had closed even more, in a manner that suggested a dark, enclosed space. They were going downward on a slanted slope, steep enough to warrant a slow approach.

He supposed the giant wasps didn't really care about that-they probably just flew down here.

A prick of light glinted ahead. A quick intake of breath from Fearon, and Somra started to move faster. The smooth slope evened out. The pinprick became a triangle, then they were out.

Only to freeze on the spot. The place they were now was a hollow chamber, the bone obelisk running straight through the middle. The light was coming from glowing, amber colored orbs that had been slipped into chinks between the bones. The structure had valuables in it again, too. Lehvahk spotted several gemstones, gold and silver rings, inscribed boxes-the list continued on, much in the same manner as the upper part.

This time, it wasn't the obelisk that gave the group pause. Rows and rows of horse sized red wasps lined the walls, those in immediate vision and the ones extending out of sight. A light chirring was all around them, doubtless coming from the millions of sleeping insects. The sound was worse than anything Lehvahk had ever heard before. It made him keenly aware of the thousands of sharp pincers and stingers that could be woken up with a single transmitted signal.

"If we wake any of these up, we don't survive," Fearon's voice was barely higher than a whisper. "Quiet. Got it?"

Lehvahk nodded slowly. Somra gave the leader a red eyed look of agreement.

Stepping as if walking on air, Fearon began to move with a sleek grace that Lehvahk couldn't copy for the life of him. Wincing and wishing he'd used a less grim comparison, the blizzarian sniper followed, stepping as lightly as he possibly could. It looked awkward, but kept Fearon in sight, and he was moving, after all.

Somra's following was-as Lehvahk jealously noted-a bit closer to Fearon's level. The midnight blue varon's eyes seemed less on the ground, though, and more above them.

Understandable. The pressure of the Hive looming all around them made Lehvahk feel remarkably claustrophobic, and he'd never felt claustrophobia before. He wasn't enjoying this new, primal fear the least bit.

The trio seemed to reach the triangular opening across the room in hours rather than minutes. Lehvahk released a long, quiet breath he hadn't known he'd been holding-then sharply inhaled when a new presence made itself known.

Three pairs of insect eyes were gleaming in the spaces between hewn rock walls, slick with a amber-like residue.

The eyes bobbed closer, revealing the intimidating, spiny bodies connected to them over time. Far from being normal wasps, Lehvahk felt his heart flutter when he found they were walking on two legs, bore rough armor made from bone, and each held a fearsome weapon-a sword, spear, and axe respectively. All three humanoid bugs had the battered, scarred looks of war veterans.

Upon their dramatic entrance, though, the giant insects were surprisingly slow to do anything directly threatening besides surrounding the group in a loose circle. Fearon drew both his swords, letting them hang loosely from his hands. Somra bared her teeth in a snarl. Lehvahk hesitantly moved his finger, removing the sound muffler on his rifle. He might need more power than the firearm could provide while hampered.

The real question was just what these three mystery guardians were capable of. Lehvahk was eying the still figures in an attempt to find out when Fearon abruptly broke the silence.

The dim amber glow had bleached his green blue scales a strange, orange hue. His swords were reflecting the light in ethereal glints. Lehvahk couldn't see the leader's eyes from were he was, especially with his black hair in the way, but Fearon sounded both controlled and angry. Typically, a sign he was ready, if not eager to fight. In a situation like this, Lehvahk couldn't help but think that detrimental.

"Just who are you? Why are you in our way?"

The guardian holding the sword tilted his insect head, antennae twitching. The weapon he held was two handed, with a wickedly hooked tip. The dangerous curves emphasized themselves when the huge bug shifted it in his hands, the light outlining the weapon in white.

Somra, her dark blue scales looking black in the shadow of the axe wielding guardian, growled in a threatening warning. "Better answer him, or I'll make this one talk," she snarled, jabbing her free hand in the guardian's direction.

Lehvahk hunched his shoulders, the brown blizzarian preparing for the worst. He raised his rifle to shoulder height, letting his gaze flit across all the enemies in turn. He wouldn't be surprised if that goaded them into attacking straightaway. It unnerved the sniper even more when the two legged wasps still didn't move.

A rasping voice answered Fearon's and Somra's demanding questions. It carried a low clicking undertone, causing Lehvahk's finger to tighten on the trigger. "How could such fragile beings hope to challenge us? Not only are you frail, flesh beings, you are young." the guardian let out a chirring laugh that was clearly contempt. "Never could you hope to win. Only the worthy pass by us, and that worth can only be earned by winning-and you will not win."

"Watch us," Somra held her spear across her chest.

"How about this?" Fearon sounded just as wired as his appearance seemed to indicate. "Do you have a renegade shaman sheltering in this hellhole of yours? Say no, and we'll leave. Say yes, then throw him out, and we'll leave to deal with him." Fearon's voice dropped to a low growl. "Either way, it ends better than if I have to kill all three of you to check myself."

The sword bearing guardian's eyes flashed. Lehvahk glanced over and gulped. Fearon's savage snarl was reflected several times over in the huge insect's refracted eyes. The look intimidated the sniper, even on the face of a friend, even as a former black market dealer.

"The Hive has the shaman, yes. The Hive is protected, long as he is satisfied," the guardian lowly intoned. The bipedal wasp's sword lifted. "He controls the earth. If he is satisfied, we are safe. The Hive is safe."

Fearon shifted by his stance near Lehvahk's shoulder. His tone shifted too, becoming more demanding. "So you do have him. Kick him out, or we'll come get him."

The guardian just seemed to sneer, even though the expression had no chance of actually forming on his insect head. The hooked sword swung. "Only the worthy may approach the Queen!"

"We didn't come here for your godsdamned queen!"

"Scatter!" Somra yowled. The three split up, the sword bearing wasp's weapon cleaving the ground where they had been standing. Dust blew upward in a curled torrent. Lehvahk performed the fire maneuver-stop, drop and roll-when an axe came whistling his way.

The other three bone adorned insect warriors, seemingly spurred into action by their leader's attack, had just begun to advance. The axe came down again, this time in a lightning quick downward cleave. Lehavhk rolled aside and in the same motion came to his feet, eyes wide and breath shallow at the near miss.

The third guardian, the one facing Somra, let out a high whine. The buzzing of millions of wings sounded from the chamber the group had just left.

"Blow the entrance! Collapse it!"

Somra didn't wait to follow Fearon's instruction. She pulled out a round explosive and threw it, lodging it in the rock above the triangle of light. Lehvahk shot not a moment after.

The rifle boomed. The explosive boomed a second after. The entryway came down in a tumble of rock. Frustrated scraping echoed from behind it.

"They will come through." Lehvahk backflipped, escaping another beheading. Metal clashed somewhere behind him as the lead guardian continued to talk. "It is only a matter of time."

"Who says you have any?" Fearon goaded, launching another attack.

The guardian blocked. His eyes glowed. "Me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx\

Taking advantage of the brief respite, Takar wrung his hands, trying to flex the cramped muscles. The sky was clear of wasps for now-although none of it had been easy. The Strikeflier's patchy armor plates had been dented and scratched, and on one side a deeper rut had been carved. The streak of black insect blood by the graze served to show the point of impact.

His first indication of something wrong was when Scout threw his head to one side, ears swiveling. Then he dashed off, dizzyingly appearing again on Takar's right.

"Quit that, would you? I need straight vision to fire on the bastards," he snarled.

Scout gave him a wide eyed look of apology. Takar sighed. Scout was one of the few things he couldn't irrationally stay angry at. Maybe it was just that he always hung around the scarlet visorak…

All musings were broken when the radar went crazy. By then, Takar had already seen the cause past Scout's position by the window. He cursed loudly.

"Shite!"

The right side of the Strikeflier had ended up facing the Hive. Emerging out onto the tip of the structure was a new wasp, nearly as large as a small carrier-therefore, Takar noted with frustration, it was nearly the Strikeflier's size. The carrier was small as that sect of airships went. If the scarred, clearly battle hardened wasp made a solid hit or was able to get a good grip on the ship, it could do tremendous damage.

The insect's wings, more like a bat's than a bug's, tented slightly above the plated back. The wasp's head angled upward, the flashing eyes zeroing in on the red and gray carrier ship.

The tented wings snapped fully open. A powerful thrust sent the huge wasp screaming upward, creating a miniature sandstorm on the desert below.

Takar wrenched the ship sideways, pushing it into faster gear. The wasp's sharp pincers sparked along the side of one pontoon, creating another shallow graze. Grimly focused, Takar swung the Strikeflier back around, releasing a barrage from the broadside cannons.

The wasp was hit solidly, but in a show of strength it threw the batlike wings before itself. Flaring them, the wasp pushed through the clouds of explosives. Takar guided the Strikeflier out of the way. Riding on a burst of speed, he whipped the carrier around and in a lightning fast dash struck the wasp on the side of the head.

The sharp tip of the Strikeflier's right pontoon nearly gored the huge bug's multi faceted eye out. As it was, Takar was gone before it could strike back-and even then, he knew he'd achieved at least part of his objective. The pilot had been aiming to completely disable the eye. Even when blazing a hasty rush out of melee range, the pilot could tell that he'd at least half blinded his enemy.

The theory was supported when the wasp awkwardly turned in midair. One reflective eye blazed with rage, the other leaking black blood, the eye a mess of broken and torn tissue. A grating screech tore from the wasp's throat.

Takar smiled grimly. This would be a challenge. A beautiful aerial dance-one he would do everything in his power to win.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brendon was about to meet the wasp's ill tempered twin. He had watched the first one attack the Strikeflier. The hybrid insect's size and the sheer strangeness of it had attracted his attention, capturing it simply by the thing's essence. It looked primeval, old. Possibly as old as the Hive, even though there was no true way for the mage to know.

The wasp and Takar had now engaged in a fierce, elegant dance of conflict. The Strikeflier was always fascinating to watch in a fight-guided by a talented pilot, it moved like a bird of flashing metal, cannons blazing, swooping and diving out of reach.

The spectacle wasn't quite enough for Brendon to be taken completely by surprise should any danger approach. A whomp of wings from behind him sent the mage instinctively veering downward.

The second wasp just glanced the wing of the skimmer. It slowed, spun, and flapped huge batlike wings again.

The resulting wave of air sent Brendon tumbling backward. He recovered in time to see huge pincers closing in on him, and threw up a hasty arcane barrier. The insect reeled backward slightly, pausing in it's maddened attack. Brendon used the time, gunning the modified Switchblade so that the small vehicle was right above the beast.

Brendon set the skimmer on autopilot with the punch of a button. In a split second he had brought his hands together, aimed and recited a spell.

The resulting spectacle was hugely satisfying to Brendon's more sadistic side, and served to deal just as much damage as he'd wanted. Rings of fire appeared around the hovering wasp. The twenty foot monster found itself bound by them as the fire rings suddenly constricted. A anguished squeal worked it's way from the huge bug as it struggled to move, wings and body smoking.

The wings seemed to be taking the most damage, a benefit Brendon hadn't originally intended even with his clever mind. As it was, he'd take what he could get in terms of advantage.

Hastily recovering manual control, the draconic blizzarian darted even further out of range of his ailing target. The wasp thrashed even more. A particularly strong effort broke the monster free, dispersing the fire.

Reflective eyes refocused on Brendon. He gulped, easily reading one emotion in the strange orbs-anger, pure and unbridled. On one hand, it could make this somewhat easier. A more reckless target made stupid mistakes. On the other, if he was caught the bug would rip him apart.

Brendon winced at the mental imagery. He'd have to be extremely alert, fast-and likely lucky. Very.

The huge insect came at Brendon again, albeit in a far more crippled way than before. It was still shockingly fast. The mage had thought Teresal was hard, with the shocks of betrayal and the mayhem at the end-but this was quickly starting to outrank everything he'd seen before.

This was either going to fun or mortally terrifying.