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Duke lay on his back, his shoulders, lower back, buttocks, and feet supported by the hands of multiple graylings, who were carrying him through the series of tunnels. He had tried to keep up with the wooly pig, but it simply wasn’t possible. It ran too damn fast, and it had much more stamina than Duke. As such, Duke ran until he couldn’t—which, admittedly, didn’t take very long—and the graylings, who were evacuating the tunnels, helped him out by carrying him along with their supply of corn.
Duke stared at the ceiling, the details of the rocky tunnel barely visible in the dim, purple lighting. Although this wasn’t how he expected to get to Silva Volucris, being carried by graylings was surprisingly comfortable. Their hands and fingers were softer than he had expected; it wasn’t like lying on protruding bony surfaces at all. As the graylings marched, Duke couldn’t help but yawn, his eyelids growing heavy.
Duke tried to stay up, but eventually, the sweet comfort of sleep took him, and he passed out. It wasn’t unreasonable—though, some could argue it a bit rude—after all, he had a stressful time in Et Serpentium. His accommodations might’ve been luxurious, but he couldn’t relax whilst wearing a shock collar around his neck, and his sleep had been short and intermittent then. Simply put, Et Serpentium had exhausted him, and the graylings had a much more relaxing atmosphere. They didn’t want to beat him up under the guise of sparring, and they didn’t shock him for amusement.
Duke didn’t dream as he was carried through the tunnels, and when the graylings brought him up to the surface, his eyelids twitched, and he raised his arm up to shield his face from the sun. He opened his eyes, keeping them mostly closed, and looked around. At some point, the graylings had put on their eyewear, black, lens-like coverings to protect their eyes from the sun. Duke understood why they needed them. After being underground in dim lighting for so long, seeing the sun again was physically painful, and his head throbbed, a headache taking form. Around them, there was sand, sand all over and nothing else.
“We’re still in the desert?” Duke asked. He felt like they had traveled for miles, but the desert Et Serpentium was located in must’ve been quite expansive.
“Yes,” one of the graylings said. “The desert is one of the best locations for our exits and entrances. There’s no good reason for surface dwellers to settle in the desert.”
Duke grunted and the graylings holding him up placed him onto the sandy ground. He looked around, and he easily spotted the trail Sam and the wooly pig had left behind; it was hard to miss considering it was almost a straight line in the desert. “How far did they go?” Duke asked with a frown on his face. Hadn’t he hired Sam to escort him? What was Duke supposed to think when Sam went off on his own and left Duke behind with a colony of doomed graylings? How was he supposed to feel? Duke wasn’t sure what the socially acceptable answer was, but he knew he wasn’t feeling too good—there was a serious lack of communication on Sam’s part.
As for Sam, he was negotiating with the wooly pig. Rather than holding onto its ankles as it ran, now that they were out of the narrow tunnels, wouldn’t it make more sense for Sam to ride on Manga’s back? Luckily, Manga wasn’t unreasonable. It let out its four-syllable-long cry and came to a halt, allowing Sam to release his Toughen technique. He stretched his limbs and cracked his neck before climbing up the pig’s side to the top of its back, the endeavor quite easy because practically every inch of the pig’s body had a handhold: its wool.
Once Sam was atop the wooly pig’s back, he exhaled through his nose and lay down. The pig’s back was broad enough from him to splay his limbs without falling off, and he allowed the sun to warm up his body. It wasn’t freezing underground, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. Sam took in a deep breath through his nose as he let the sun wash over him as he used his All-Seeing Gaze to examine his surroundings.
They were in a desert, and the only things around were the graylings, a few cactuses, and some small animals. Not too far behind the pig, Sam detected the graylings walking in his direction with some more graylings still coming out of the ground. The graylings were carrying thin, flat bowls made of stone over their heads. It shielded their skin from the sun while allowing them to transport their corn at the same time.
Manga turned around to look at the graylings on the horizon. It let out a cry, encouraging the graylings to move faster. Since the wooly pig couldn’t carry all of them, it’d do the next best thing, which was keep the morale up for the marching graylings. It walked alongside them, chanting with its four-syllable-long cry. Although the graylings didn’t march any faster, the wooly pig continued the chant. Even if their speed hadn’t increased, the graylings could definitely cover more distance in a day with Manga cheering them on; at least, that’s what the wooly pig believed.
Duke turned his head, looking at the wooly pig Sam was riding on. There was plenty of space on the pig’s back, but Sam hadn’t offered Duke a seat. Duke wasn’t bitter or disappointed, but he wasn’t happy either. The pig was chanting the same word—which sound made up—over and over, and it was getting on Duke’s nerves. He wanted to punch something, his solar plexus region heating up. The sound of the graylings’ footsteps in the sand were amplified, and the sun bearing down from above made Duke grind his teeth. With the crap he had been putting up with, it was understandable he was angry, but this wasn’t his usual anger; then again, he didn’t get angry very often.
Sam exhaled through his nose and stroked the sloth’s back. It was complaining about the heat, and thanks to that, the auras of the living creatures around it were tinged with red. Although the graylings weren’t affected by Joe’s passive ability too much, Duke’s aura had been completely overwhelmed, turning into a shade of scarlet in Sam’s All-Seeing Gaze. Sam couldn’t help but wonder where Duke got the courage to head to Silva Volucris without the strength to protect himself. Then, Sam recalled the time Wendy had dragged him and Raindu to Et Serpentium. Hadn’t he been in a similar situation? He risked his life for money, so how was Duke any different for risking his life for his dream? Well, Sam had something to rely on, Raindu, a ferret that could kill whatever it touched in an instant. Did Duke have a similar talent backing him?
“Hey, Duke,” Vercedei said as the illusion of Sam waved to catch Duke’s attention. “How are you holding up?”
Duke wanted to crawl up the wooly pig and push Sam off. While Duke was suffering under the heat, trudging through sand that made each step harder than it needed to be, his bodyguard was relaxing on a mount that had enough leisure time to sing as it walked. Duke took in a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he said. “This journey could definitely be more bearable if you let me ride the pig with you, but it also could be worse, so … I’m fine.”
Duke had said he was fine twice, so it’d be safe to assume he was doing fine, but Sam knew better, and it wasn’t because someone not fine had told him they were fine in the past; it was due to Duke’s aura and vibe which were expressing anger and isolation. Well, once the sloth cooled down, Duke would return to normal, but who knew how long that would take? And how long would it take to reach Silva Volucris?
***
A week later at twilight, Sam woke up and activated his All-Seeing Gaze. He yawned, sucking in air through his nose because his mouth was covered by a snake’s body, and he stretched out his limbs. The night was cold, but thanks to the wooly surface he was lying on and the animals resting on his body, he didn’t have much to complain about—other than the lack of oxygen he got during his sleep because he could only breathe through his nose.
Duke, however, had a lot to complain about. The desert might’ve been hot during the day, but at night, it was bone-chilling, the ground having sapped away all the heat generated by the sun while it was out. If it was only cold, maybe Duke wouldn’t have cared so much, but it was windy too, and sand kept blowing into his clothes, pelting his skin. One or two grains of sand being thrown at him didn’t hurt, but when he was attacked by sand again and again in the same spot—his face—well, that was a different story.
Even though it wasn’t the first night Duke had spent sleeping in a heap of graylings, he only slept for a little over an hour—more than he had slept during the other nights. He sat up, his brain in a fog as he looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The graylings were stirring, waking as well. They climbed to their feet as one, picking up their covered bowls of corn, and raising them overhead. The graylings turned in unison to look at the top of the wooly pig’s back, and Birdbrained let out a squawk.
Duke winced at the sound, and he let out a yawn before standing up, shaking out his limbs to get rid of the sand that had built up in his clothes as he slept; it didn’t help much. He turned his head towards the graylings and cleared his throat. A group of them gathered around him and hoisted him over their heads. Once the sun came out, the front part of his body would be roasted, but he was going to be roasted by the sun even if he walked on his own; at least, this way, he didn’t have to walk. It was difficult walking when he could only sustain himself on corn and water. The lack of protein must’ve been why the graylings were so skinny.
“How much further do we have to go?” Duke asked, his lips cracking.
“We should see it soon,” Vercedei said, answering for Sam. “A few more hours, and Silva Volucris will be yours for exploring.”
“Provided a war doesn’t break out because of all these graylings, right?” Duke asked. “Your mantid friend, are they in a position to make decisions for all mantids?”
“Nope,” Vercedei said, “but if you could find someone who had connections with a mantid that high up, you wouldn’t have gone to Monarch in the first place, right?”
It was true, but Duke hoped not to hear it. After suffering all the way to Silva Volucris, was he bound to suffer more once he was there? Well, this was what it took to accomplish his dream. This was the amount of suffering required. He had told himself the same words multiple times in the past week, hypnotizing himself into believing them. If he didn’t have anything to believe in, he would’ve quit right there, but then he’d be stranded in the desert; in other words, quitting meant death, and chasing his dreams gave him a shot at survival.
***
Silva Volucris, the land of the mantids. Sam had only heard mentions of it but never any clear details. It was a land far removed from him when he was a talentless, so he couldn’t be blamed for not knowing anything about where the mantids lived. He had no expectations for what the place should look like, what kind of environment insect-people would thrive in, but he was still surprised by Silva Volucris when he saw it through his All-Seeing Gaze from atop a large sand dune. The mantids’ country looked very … human.
A sprawling metropolis lay on the horizon, one with buildings made of metal alloys. They weren’t rectangular like skyscrapers or the buildings found in Et Serpentium; rather, the mantids’ buildings were rounded, curving, twisting, and turning as if the mantids detested straight edges. Plants were interspersed between the buildings, and some of the buildings had trees growing on their hemi-spherical roofs, reminding Sam of hair growing from someone’s head. A clear, green boundary of trees and shrubs separated Silva Volucris from the desert, keeping the endless yellow sand at bay.
“Is that it?” Duke asked, his voice cracking as it came out of his parched mouth. He squinted at the metropolis. Once they trekked down the dune, Silva Volucris would only be a few minutes of walking away. “Please tell me I’m not staring at a mirage.”
“We’re here,” Vercedei said. “Up ahead, our destination, Silva Volucris.”
Duke exhaled and fell forward, dropping to his knees. Although he let the graylings carry him most of the way, the journey through the desert was still an arduous one. However, it was finally over; he had made it to Silva Volucris, and it was mostly what he had expected: lush, green, vibrant, and, for some reason, metallic. Why was it metallic? Weren’t insects supposed to be afraid of fire? Then again, humans had to respect flames as well; it wasn’t like they were fire retardant. Who said insects couldn’t forge and smith using high temperatures?
Duke looked around, and when he saw the wooly pig had no intention of moving, he sat down and crossed his legs. “Are we waiting for your friend now?” Duke asked. Marching on Silva Volucris with a crowd of grayling refugees was probably not a smart option.
“That’s right,” Vercedei said. “He should be here shortly.”
Duke stared off into the distance, and as his bodyguard had assured him, a few dots emerged from the green boundary, and with some squinting, Duke was able to make out their features. Mantids, large praying mantises with eight legs instead of the usual six. They had two pairs of legs for walking, a pair of legs with scythes on the end, and a pair of legs with finger-like appendages underneath the scythed legs. Underneath the mantids, there were large, black beetles with reflective carapaces, their shells glinting as the sun reflected off of them.
Although Duke thought it was a bit strange to see a praying mantis riding a beetle, he figured it wasn’t too different from a human riding a horse. The mantids were the smartest insects; thus, every other insect species in Silva Volucris was at their mercy.
It didn’t take long for the beetles to cross the distance from the green border to the large dune where the wooly pig was waiting. There were six beetles and six mantids, and Duke couldn’t differentiate between the praying mantises. They looked like carbon copies of one another; though, there might’ve been differences in size he couldn’t detect.
Sam, however, could differentiate the mantids quite easily since he wasn’t looking at them with his eyes but through his All-Seeing Gaze. They might’ve had the same outer appearance, but their auras were different enough for him to tell them apart. For example, the mantid with the most relieved aura, a yellow and orange one, was Gregor.
“Gregor,” Vercedei said. “As promised, I’m here.”
“This is the human who stole and destroyed our world seed?” the leading mantid asked, its mandibles opening wide.
Duke swallowed upon seeing the mantid speak. There was something unsettling about its mouth, and there was something even more unsettling about the way the mantid was eyeing Sam. The praying mantis regarded everything it gazed upon as food to be eaten—in Duke’s eyes. Also, what exactly did the mantid mean when it asked whether or not Sam stole a world seed? A world seed sounded expensive, and Duke did not want to be associated with a thief; the mantids would never accept him if the person who brought him here was a felon. What kind of bodyguard had he hired?
“Yes,” Gregor said from his position at the back of the group of mantids, “but he didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Oh, so he accidentally stole and destroyed our world seed,” the mantid in the lead said. “I’m not sure which is worse.” The lead mantid tapped one of its scythes against the beetle it was riding on, urging it forward. The mantid wanted to tower over Sam, but the beetle was as large as Manga, so the illusion of Sam and the lead mantid were face to face with one another. The mantid shifted its head to look at the swarm of graylings below that had been obscured from its view previously thanks to the size of the dune. The mantid swallowed back the words it was about to say before nodding at Sam. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I destroyed the topaz supporting their colony,” Vercedei said as the illusion of Sam gestured behind itself, “so they’re following me until I can make up for what I’ve done to them.”
“You destroyed a yellow topaz of life?” the lead mantid asked. Although it wasn’t speaking the Sam language as Sam, through its intent, he could tell the mantid was in disbelief. “And the Anunaki didn’t dismember you?”
“Right,” Vercedei said as the illusion of Sam nodded its head. Meanwhile, the color leaking from Joe’s body was tinging the auras of the mantids, turning them into various shades of lime. “I talked it through with them, and we came to an agreement we were both happy with; I reckon you and I can do the same.”