Disclaimer-i do not own the Deltora Books or Storm Hawks.

CHAPTER 8

REGROUP

"So...you saw a dead guy. And he sent you here as a reward for beating him?"

Fearon grimaced. Clearly, Lehvahk's incredulity was obvious, especially since he hadn't bothered to hide it. But the story was simply one of the most unbelievable things Lehvahk had ever heard, and he considered himself pretty open-minded.

The leader's one or two wounds had been patched. A few tiny red scrapes marked the side of his face. If Lehvahk had to guess, it looked like something he'd get from stone or glass shards, but where would Fearon encounter either out here?

"I'm serious. It happened."

"Or," Takar muttered, "You've finally gone crazy, bastard."

Fearon scowled at him. "This is one of those moments I wish I didn't owe you for wrapping up injuries," the swordsman growled through grit teeth.

"Oh, that's just fine."

"I hate you."

"Mutual feeling."

"Children, children. Let us not fight." Lehvahk's impish grin turned to a yelp as Somra threw a plastic bottle at him. "Ow!"

"Serves you right, little wench! Shut it!"

"Everyone stop talking!"

Fearon's shout had all the effectiveness of a cannon shot. The disagreeing pair became silent. Brendon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright." Fearon shifted his weight, settling into a more comfortable sitting position. Brendon noted a short wince, likely the product of the back wound, despite his nagging suspicions. "From the way Ream was talking, it sounds like he expects us to end up at the Hive. It wouldn't be too crazy to assume that's where Acryonoi is."

"But it is crazy to assume we can make it in there and out alive," Takar broke in, rather acidically. "Just how would we survive the Hive?"

"With the Ebon Nightslayer."

Brendon's answer was sudden and instinctual, even as his mind brought up the legend in full. "Remember what Neffar said?"

"The sand guy?" Lehvahk replied in fake confusion. "I think I zoned him out. What, was he talking about some kind of torch made out of obsidian? I'm sure that could keep the bees away."

Brendon groaned in exasperation. There were times he really didn't appreciate Lehvahk's jokes. "No. would you like me to recount the story in full? I'm sure it would fill in the blanks for you." Brendon felt a small flow of joy flood him at the prospect.

"Uh, no?"

"Too bad, you're hearing it."

"Great," Takar blew a sigh of unhappiness.

"Oh, come on," Somra murmured. "It's a great story." Her bright red eyes, unusually placid, regarded Brendon with anticipation.

"You like stories?"

"I'm starting," Brendon interceded, a fair amount of indignation in his voice. "Now stop interrupting."

"As the story goes, the Hive didn't always have a marked piece of land. The Shifting Sands didn't even exist then. The Hive came into being as a small, but rapidly growing group of huge bees, with a mysterious power at their center. Red wasps, deadly enough when small and in swarms. Only more so when larger.

The Hive became fairly greedy. They began to attempt to dominate the land around them. The local Mere tribe, as you can imagine, weren't that happy. They started to fight them, aiming to kill the queen, but never got there. The Hive's masses were just too thick, even with all the ferocity of the hardened tribe against them.

One brave individual trekked into the Hive's land, managing to get just close enough to the Hive's home spire to shear away a piece of it. The only known material to have power over the Hive was the very obsidian that their home had been crafted from.

His last name was Nyghthelm. He took the Obsidian home, and crafted it into a sword. Using it, he was able to carve through the ranks of the Hive. The legend says he got to the queen."

Here Brendon faltered in his story. This next part was the one that had always managed to disturb him. More than that, the last part of the tale was the strangest and most unbelievable. Despite that he had seen the words in a tome created by the most accurate means possible.

"Yeah?" Lehvahk's earlier unwillingness had crumbled. He was rocking in place now like a child, blue eyes wide and clearly wanting to hear more. "What next?"

Brendon took a deep breath, then continued. His rapt audience continued to watch him with wide eyes.

"When Nyghthelm got there, he saw a god. Or rather, goddess. One that looked unlike anything in the pantheon, but radiated the power of one who couldn't be anything else. The queen of the Hive regarded him as the mortal he was, and he regarded her as the immortal she was.

Nyghthelm asked this goddess what she represented. The answer was remarkably simple. She replied, 'I am the desert. I am the wind that rakes the land, the sand that buries those of weak will. I am the desert creatures, that descend on those who fall to feed.'

'This sword can shatter your Hive, the spire, and your offspring, all at once.' Nyghthelm began the debate. 'Stand down, claim only a set amount of land, and stay there. If you do so, no Mere will turn this blade against you again."

The Hive's queen considered this. 'Acceptable. This, I will allow. We will take the land you let us have, in your brief ignorance.'

And so, Nyghthelm sealed their pact. A wall of rock was erected around the land the Hive had staked as it's place, and the warning rhyme was devised."

In the wake of Brendon's story, everyone was silent. Fearon was staring out the window at the red wastes of sand, Takar was running a strand of wire between his fingers, Somra looked lost in a daze, and Lehvahk's mouth had formed into a small circle, his eyebrows raised.

"Wow. That's right up there with the stories of the Great Expanse and the Sky Sirens."

"Both have the common theme of a large, desolate place, with malevolent forces. The only difference is that a lot of the time, people are safe from the Shifting Sands threats if they fly across it."

"How do you know so much, anyway?"

Brendon bit his lip. He didn't love talking about his childhood, but the period Lehvahk spoke of had actually been when his life had taken a turn for the better. "I read a lot-in the best place one can possibly go for that."

"Being..."

"Ever heard of Annul Sarquis? Come on, you have to have heard of it."

"Uhh..." Lehvahk's face was completely blank.

Brendon sighed. Before he could respond, Somra said almost exactly what he'd been thinking. "Ever heard of the Archival Librarium, bonehead? Annul Sarquis is it's actual name."

"Oh yeah! It's that big place with all the books."

Shock didn't even begin to describe what Brendon felt at that. Righteous fury was closer. How could anyone be so ignorant? "It is not just a big place full of books. The Archival Librarium's the oldest structure on this planet. It records all of history, keeps full skeletons in fossils, statues and artwork..."

"What, the building does that by itself?" Lehvahk snorted.

"Uh, yeah." Somra snapped with fury. "It does."

Lehvahk blinked. "You..seriously? It does?"

"Yes." Brendon replied in irritation. "I lived there for years. I loved it. That's where I met Somra and Fearon."

"Those two liked to read?"

"The Librarium has a kind of...effect on you." Fearon spoke quietly. "You feel like you want to read all the books, and actually absorb the history in them. It's really..."

"Peaceful," Somra finished. "The world feels far away, like it's only you, the building and the books. You forget about your problems. The Librarium's got powers, too, but no one knows the full extent of them."

"Only that the rooms deny physics, based on the outside structure of the building," Brendon picked up the commentary. "And that to find sections, you think of what you need and get teleported there. It isn't possible to walk between all the history in there-especially if you wanted info from all the way back in the first days of creation. And, like I said before...the building writes the books and gathers the artifacts."

Lehvahk whistled. "Whoa."

"Yeah. But as much as you three are enjoying your nostalgia trip, shouldn't the current dilemma be discussed? Obviously, no matter what I say, our brilliant leader intends to storm the Hive." Takar clipped something onto the wire he was holding, slight scorn detectable in his tone.

Fearon shot the pilot a venomous look. Brendon quickly interceded, not eager to see another fight. "Let's start talking strategy, then."

As always, feedback highly desired. please leave some kind of review, even if it is only a few words, to tell me how you are liking this sotry and what you think of it. it boosts the writer's self belief in their talents a lot, especially when said writer doesn't have much steady support.

on that topic, thanks to GreyWolfDruid for bieng a steady supporter. it means more to me than i can put in words :D