John sighs. He is unfortunately getting used to being a prisoner. This will be the third time in his life he was the captive of a hostile force. Fourth if one counts the weekend he spent in a Kansas drunk tank after a long night of drinks which resulted in three black eyes and a crushed police cap.

  This experience is somehow even less comfortable than all of those. Being tied up with rough leather straps in tattered clothes in the blazing heat is bad enough. Being strapped to a large, hard skinned lizard twice his size in a chariot that barely fits the both of them makes it the absolute worst. As the Night Fiends tow them through the endless desert, John can only think of one thing.

  “Yael, why did that Termitent kick me over and over again after we surrendered?”

  “Yeah, that was hilarious. Guess he just didn’t like your face.”

  “Hah-ha. My sides are aching from laughter. Or maybe it was his clawed feet that scratched my ribs when he was making me a football. Why didn't they hit you?”

  “Clearly they knew better than to try me. Royalty deserves respect, after all.”

  A large gust of wind blows sand into both their faces.

  “I am feeling the respect.”

  There are three Termitents. John has been studying them to the best of his ability. The lead Termitent is the tallest with the largest spear covered in the most decorations. He, or she, or it John really can’t tell, has numerous scars from various battles. Many of the etchings and tassels of his spear are meaningless to John. However, there is one form of mark he knows well. Across the spears shaft are several rough, shallow cuts. They are without ceremony nor uniformity. Each in different angles, deepness and seemingly different blades. These are death marks. Each representing a life taken. At a far glance, there appear to be dozens. Every once in a while this veteran takes a peek back at John. This was also the one who beat John senseless at first sight. He really does seem to hate John’s face.

  The other two are shorter and seemingly younger. Their chitin is of a brighter color with fewer cracks and scars. Each rides their Fiend with confidence. Unafraid of these monsters below them. Packs are strapped to their sides carrying vital supplies. Included the bags they stole from Yael and John.

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “We appeal to the sensibilities of the higher command. Or die. That is also likely."

  “That’s all you have? Don’t you have some kind of repertoire with these guys? Past relations or something?"

  “Not in the slightest. Termitents kept to themselves even before the Crimson Empire invaded. They were a rare and far off sight at the best of times. In fact, until an hour ago, I believed them to be extinct.”

  “Exticnt?”

  “What happens to those who oppose the Crimson Empire. I was on another world when it began. I only heard stories from those who witnessed it themselves. The first year was a full scale invasion. Thousands of Knights and a hundred soldiers for each spreading out all across Dest. This was the first world they took. The valuable Saprophite needed to fuel their attacks elsewhere. As the defenders of the sacred Saprophyte, the Termintents suffered countless losses. The last of the great cores were stolen and the lifeblood of the Terminents destroyed. The larger forces were pulled back. There was nothing else worthwhile to take. What we have seen is but a puny garrison to keep the locals in line.”

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  “That’s what you call puny?”

  “Now you see why fleeing is the better option. We can never outnumber them. I was hoping to outgun them. Perhaps the Termitents would agree. It is our only bargaining chip.”

  “You think we can trust them?”

  “Not particularly. Though, anyone is more trustworthy than a Crimson Knight.”

  Shouting of some gruff, language unintelligible to John comes from one of the riders. Sounds like broken Germanic mixed with metallic clicks and the moo of a particularly fat cow.

  “Don’t suppose you understood that.”

  “Not in the slightest. They can speak the common tongue. They are doing this on purpose.”

  “Smart. Let’s hope they choose to listen.”

  Hours pass as the sun starts to dip past the horizon. The Termitent captors stop at one of a million identical sand dunes. From deep within an opening rises. John and Yael are dragged off the Chariot and pushed at spear point down the corridor. They are forced to walk in near darkness for some time. Just as the sunlight from above begins to fade, a new light from the darkness begins to shine. Far below the dry surface, they enter a pocket of stale air. The roof is low and space as a whole cramped with many impromptu pillars keeping everyone from being crushed. Smokeless fire burns a deep green in the center. Enough light being produced to see in most corners, but not heat to keep the sun deprived room warm. Termitents of all ages and sizes fill the room. Some work, some sleep, some just sit waiting for a use to present itself. It’s dreary and cold.

  John has quickly realized that the more intricate the Termitent’s spear is, the higher in rank they must be. So when one wielding a spear in the shape of a lighting bolt, something that must have taken many days to hand carve, he knew this must be the one in charge.

  “Drak’aan. No sight of such in many winters. Come to burn more village?”

  “If I was, why would I have killed so many Knights?”

  The Chief or Commander or what have you looked towards the veteran Termitent, who silently nods his confirmation.

  “This one eat. As to this one. Never seen one such as you. Who’s loyal do you follow?”

  “I kill Knights, isn’t that enough.”

  “Many kill Knight. Enemy of enemy is not all friend. You may eat. We can find if friend later.”

  A loud clang fills the space as a cooking pot is thrown out of John and Yael’s bag. Several Termitents riffling through their belongings.

  “Hey, those are ours.”

  “And will be once more, if friend. We no want secret of you until then.”

  One of the Termitents finds the Sapro stone. He raises the bag and calls out in their language excitedly. The Chief raises his hand and the bag is lobbed across the room into his claws. He takes one stone and inspects it carefully.

  “You have many stone. No common. Where you find so valuable?”

  “Would you believe a magic toad gave them to me?”

  “Not at now.”

  More shouting as they find the map. The Chief takes this as well. His eyes widening at the find.

  “Where do this lead?”

  Yael places a claw on John’s face to prevent him speaking.

  “That is our business.”

  “Yael, I don’t think they like that answer.”

  Ripping paper confirms John’s words. The map is shredded into small scraps then eaten piece by piece by the Chief himself.

  “We needed that!”

  “You are of need of nothing. I know where that show. You are not to know this thing. None are but me. Must protect last Great Hive. No eat for two of you.”

  THUNK

  The sound echoes in the room. All go silent. A single Termitent tries desperately to lift a mysterious item wrapped in cloth. The Chief wastes no time. He pushes through the gathering crowd. Knocks the younger Termitent out of the way as his hands shake, gently removing the detailed cloth. Revealing a serpent head wooden club. Gasps and murmurs fill the whole room. Some fall to their knees. Other gasp holy fetishes across their necks or belts. Strange prayers and chants filling the silence. The Chief looks back at John and Yael. A look of awe and terror.

  “Why do you have the Mytee?”