…

Outside The Fount

…

Helena seated in front of him, Gregor flew high above the Underland on Neptune, casting out as far as he could with echolocation to try to sense the incoming cutter invasion force. As of yet, he'd sensed nothing, but they'd only departed from the Fount fifteen minutes prior. It was a good sign he'd sensed nothing yet.

Gregor leaned back and sighed, trying to force some tension out of his shoulders. He hated to betray Luxa like he had, but he believed with all his heart that it was necessary. One day, he hoped she'd understand. And if she didn't, well… Gregor didn't want to think about that.

"This is what I always imagined flying with the Warrior to be like," Neptune purred suddenly.

Gregor quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Off on a frantic quest into the heart of enemy territory. Danger and daring. All fliers hear the tales of Ares in their youth," Neptune said.

Gregor stiffened, Ares's final moments rushing back to him. Just another nightmare he had to live with.

"You do him a disservice by remembering him that way," Neptune said, as if reading his thoughts. "Remember him as he was. We all must lose our light one day."

Gregor let out a sigh. "You're right." In his five years away from the Underland, the War of Time had haunted him, both when he was asleep and when he was awake. It was as if all the people and creatures of the Underland had been frozen in that dark time by his psyche, forced to relive the tragedy and horror of the war over and over again. Only upon his return to the Underland had he been able to see how the Underland had healed and moved forward from that war. It gave him hope.

"One day, I hope to have my own bond, and fly over these lands peacefully, recording all there is to see," Helena said quietly. "It's a wondrous place."

In the short time Gregor had known the woman, he hadn't been sure what to make of her, but her words then resonated deeply within him. He imagined holding onto Luxa, soaring with her on Neptune over the Waterway, equipped for a picnic. "That sounds beautiful," he said honestly.

Helena wrinkled her nose suddenly. "What's that smell?"

Gregor took a deep whiff. It smelled like… he froze. It was that sharp, iron scent that he often smelled when he squished an ant on the counter back in Virginia. Except this scent was stronger, thicker, and growing more pungent by the second.

"The cutters are not far ahead," Neptune growled. "We will have to fly over them."

"Full speed, and fly as close to the ceiling of this cavern as you can" Gregor said. "We don't want them seeing us."

Neptune obliged, banking sharply upwards. Helena clung to the fur on the flier's neck, eyes shut tight. Gregor held himself in place with his thighs alone and angled his ear towards the incoming cutter horde, casting out with his echolocation.

The crawling, the scratching, it was so intense it almost overwhelmed his senses. He blinked rapidly. He tried to focus away from that, lest it drive him insane. Instead, he focused on the movement of the ants, but it didn't sound right. That wasn't regular ant movement. It didn't sound like movement at all.

Neptune rounded a great bend in the cavern, and all of a sudden, the cutters were everywhere. Gregor couldn't help but gasp as he looked down and realized what he'd been hearing.

There were so many cutters, they simply couldn't all fit on the wide cavern floor that stretched over a mile across. The cutters, clambering over each other, were piled four or five high, spilling forward ever closer towards the Fount. A tidal wave of squirming bodies and pinching mandibles. Gregor gulped. Even with modern weapons, a horde of that size could not be stopped. The Americans would run out of bullets first.

Gregor scanned far out over the horde. He could not yet see its end. It stretched for miles and miles down the great cavern, disappearing around the far bend. "This mission depends on us, now," Gregor said quietly to Helena and Neptune. "Nothing can stop this horde."

Helena paled, but Gregor could see that she agreed. He wondered how she was holding up, considering her lengthy time as a cutter prisoner. Best not to bring it up. He leaned down flat against his red-black flier, slowing his breathing, and Helena mirrored his movements.

Their strategy worked for well over a mile, with Neptune hugging the ceiling the whole way. Gregor remembered from science class long, long ago that ants could not see in three dimensions. Maybe cutters were the same. Maybe they were safe.

At the far end of the cavern, Gregor finally saw the end of the horde. He felt a surge of relief. While this horde numbered well in the millions, it was not infinite. They were going to make it.

Just then, Helena whispered fiercely to him. "Gregor, what is that?" she said, pointing downwards.

Far, far below them, the cutter horde seemed to ripple strangely. Rather than piling forwards like the cutters farther ahead, these cutters seemed to be… swaying in place?

Cold horror flooded him as it clicked. The cutters weren't swaying in place. They were climbing on top of each other towards them! "They've noticed us!" Gregor exclaimed. "Neptune, faster!"

Neptune picked up speed, but no matter how fast he went, the pile seemed to move with the, creeping ever higher. Soon, he was able to pick out individual cutters, mindless, mandibles quivering, beady black eyes emotionless as they were buried alive to make room for their brethren. They didn't seem to care how many died, as long as the collective got closer to their goal.

Gregor looked towards the end of the horde. Strangely, no attempt was being made to close off the way from which the cutters had come from, and the horde continued to roll forwards. Gregor frantically tried to recall what else he knew about ants.

They took orders from their Queen, and had limited independent thinking. If they had received orders to "wipe out the Fount," they would not halt their advance for a lone flier, even if it was Gregor clearly on a mission to assassinate their Queen. Gregor smiled. These cutters were powerful and overwhelming, but they were incredibly stupid. Gregor pointed towards the next turn of the cavern, just a few miles ahead, completely bare of ants. "If we make it there, they won't pursue us," Gregor said. "Quickly!"

As the minutes wore on, Gregor started to realize they weren't going to make it. The mountain of bodies underneath them was growing larger and larger, and was keeping pace with them no matter how fast Neptune went. Gregor squinted. It would be close, though. If he could hold them off… that was it. "Neptune, when I tell you, start flying in a loop," he said.

Helena went even paler and immediately clung as close as she could to the flier. Gregor drew his sword as Neptune grunted his acknowledgement.

The cutters were ten feet below them, five feet, three… Gregor took a deep breath. "Now!"

Immediately, the flier started looping, and Helena stifled a scream. Gregor laughed as he cut through the ants, just barely keeping them from grabbing onto Neptune. His rager senses danced to life, electrifying his blood and every swing. How good it was to fight like this again. Back on a flier, the battle lines clearly drawn. This was what he was born to do.

The cutters began to fall away, thrown off by his flier's spiraling and Gregor's wide slashes. They could not get any closer. Gregor laughed as he beheaded two cutters in one clean stroke, blood splattering, his vision spinning between the rocky ceiling and his prey.

Suddenly, they were in free air, and Gregor twisted around and extended his arm as far as it would go to cut down one last cutter. His head pounded as he watched the mountain of cutters slowly descend back into the sprawling mass, which hadn't changed its course in the slightest. Gregor let out a whoop. "Nice work, Ares!"

The flier was silent for a long time, and Gregor suddenly jolted back into himself, noting the blood splattered all over him, feeling the grin still plastered on his face. Helena was looking at him with an expression akin to horror. His hands trembled slightly, and he hurriedly sheathed his sword. "Neptune, I'm—"

"Get a hold of yourself, Gregor," Neptune said quietly. "We have a ways yet."

Gregor fell silent, and no one said a word as Neptune started to descend towards the tunnels at the far end of the cavern. Towards the cutter queen.

…

Outside Regalia

…

James landed in the darkness of the Underland to oppressive noise. All he could hear was scuttling and scratching. What was that? He pressed his hands to his ears to shield himself from the noise. Around him, he could see several of the soldiers that had already descended doing the same.

Up ahead, Captain Johnston made a quick gesture with hands, which was interpreted to him as "proceed silently and cautiously." More and more soldiers landed behind James, who were all flicking on their night vision goggles. James did the same. He navigated through the growing crowd to find Mareth.

"Where is Araxes?" he asked quietly. "I think we should fly ahead to the Fount."

Mareth nodded in agreement, and gestured down one of the side tunnels. The flier had not wanted to enter the Overland, instead dropping the Agents and Mareth off at the entrance and then flying down to wait for their return in the Underland.

The two made their way through the crowd of amassing soldiers unnoticed, who were more preoccupied with pressing down the tunnel towards the Fount. Mareth led them down the side tunnel, and sure enough, around the corner waited the great reddish bat Araxes. His head rose as the two approached.

Mareth raised his hands. "Peace. It is your bond. The Overlanders come to our aid."

The bat purred. "That is good. Do you wish to fly ahead?"

Mareth nodded. "Yes. Gregor's father will be accompanying us," he said, gesturing to James.

Araxes's massive furry head dipped towards James. "It is an honor to meet the father of the great Warrior," he said.

James flinched slightly in discomfort at the name but bowed his head slightly. "It is my pleasure to meet you as well, great flier, but we must make haste."

Araxes nodded and lowered himself so the two men could climb on his back. "Let's not fly directly over the Americans," James said. "Don't want them getting scared and shooting us. Is there another way out?"

"There is," Araxes said, "although it is partially collapsed due to the Central Park explosion. I can fit—" all three of them flinched as they heard a burst of gunfire in the distance. The Americans had made contact with the enemy.

Mareth patted the side of his bond's neck. "Quick. We don't have much time."

Without another word, the great bat took flight and sped down the zigzagging tunnels at speeds that made James's head spin and wrench about. He clung forwards onto Mareth for support. Suddenly, the bat spiraled upwards over a great mountain of rubble, twisting through a small gap less than five feet wide. James opened his eyes and saw the stone of the ceiling less than a foot from his face.

Then, the tunnel fell away and suddenly the bat was soaring out over a great cavern. Below, James noted with horror was the horde. And it covered everything.

Sharp sounds echoed across the cavern as the Americans continued to open fire. The sound of bullets had been continuous for several minutes straight now. Far below to his left, James made out a half-arc of American soldiers, firing relentlessly into the swarm. Corpses were piling up faster than he could blink, but it wasn't enough. As the Americans fired, the corpses began to form a small barrier, which transformed into a large barrier, which only helped the cutter force. As the cutters climbed up and over their dead brethren to get to the Americans, the pile of corpses slowly shifted towards the American position. Towards the mouth of the tunnel.

"There's simply too many," James whispered. "They're going to get buried under all those bodies."

"They will buy us time," Mareth agreed grimly. "Look, Overlander. The cutter force is splintering. The Overlander fire will result in fewer cutters marching on to the Fount."

It was true. While many still clambered over each other down the cavern to the Fount, just as many poured towards the tunnel where the Americans were.

As they flew on, James looked down at the horde. He almost thought some of the cutters were looking up towards him, trying to clamber up towards him… creepy. Luckily, they flew ahead of the horde in just a few short minutes, hurtling out into open air towards the Fount. Faintly, in the distance, he could already make out the light of its many towers.

Araxes took a deep whiff of the air. "I smell smoke," the bat purred. "There might already be trouble in the city."

Mareth frowned. "Luxa was concerned about riots… we should make for the port. That is where she will be."

James shook his head. "Drop me off at the wall first, please. I need to speak with my son."

The grizzled soldier went quiet.

"Mareth?" James asked slowly. "Where is my son?"

Mareth twisted around on the bat to give James a sympathetic look. "He's not in the Fount. He set off some hours ago with Helena behind enemy lines to assassinate the cutter queen."

James's heart fell out of his chest.

…

The Fount

…

Luxa shoved a man backwards into the screaming crowd, half-drawing her sword. "Wait your turn!" she barked.

She spared a half-glance behind her. The last ship was almost full, and there were still women and children ashore. She could smell that sharp iron scent in the air. The cutters were mere minutes away. She had failed. She was the last of her line, and she would live to see the end of her people.

York, her towering uncle, grabbed two men by the scruff and threw them back into the teeming mass. Luxa was convinced his presence alone was all that had allowed them to maintain a semblance of order for as long as they had. When all hope was lost, and love was dead, men only answered to fear and strength.

Suddenly, she saw her cousin Stellovet at the front of the mass, face pale, with Hero, Kent, and Chim holding onto her hands. "Cousin, let us through," she begged. "They are young enough."

Luxa gave a quick nod to her guards, who parted ever so slightly to let them squeeze through. "Thank you," Stellovet whispered as she quickly ushered her siblings toward the ship ramp.

"SO YOUR FAMILY CAN LEAVE, BUT NOT OURS?" A large man with a child on his shoulders called out. "DEATH TO THE LAST CUTTER, AS LONG AS YOUR FAMILY IS OUT OF THE WAY?" The crowd began to roar with rage and shove with renewed vigor.

York turned to her. "Luxa, you need to leave immediately. This is about to get ugly."

Luxa shook her head stubbornly. Wrenching her crown roughly out of her hair, she flung it out into the crowd, watching it disappear into the mass of people. She drew her sword, and tears welled in her eyes.

"I killed their hope," she said. "I will take responsibility for that." She thought of Gregor, and the quiet looks he'd given her over the last few weeks. Those words he'd whispered to her when he'd thought she was asleep. Why were her mistakes so much easier to see now, at the end of all things?

York stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. Luxa felt resolve flood her. She turned to the guard nearest to the ship. "Raise the ramp and set sail," she said. "This ship is full."

"NO!" The people nearest to her roared, and the news rippled through the crowd. Suddenly, the crowd pushed forward harder than before, and Luxa stumbled backwards, falling on her back. As she fell, she noticed her guards around her falling as well. The people ran right over her, trampling her alive. Pain. Her arms, legs, face, everything. She grappled at the swarm of legs, trying to claw her way upright to no avail. The weight of the crowd forced her flat. All air fled her lungs as her body was kicked and jerked around out of her control.

"RIPRED! AURORA!" She cried out as she was kicked in the face. "GREGOR!"

And that was when the ground started to shake.

…

Author's Notes

I hope you're enjoying the different POVs. There are more to come, although the focus will as always remain on Gregor, Helena, and James.

This makes seven new chapters in seven days… lol.