Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos Cameron Hopkin (read a book txt) 📖

Renna was a plant Weaver, not an insect one, and even with her backwater upbringing Nira had heard that the insect-loving Hands of Gaia were a despised group. Indeed, Renna had nothing but evil things to say about them. When she had told them, then, of her plan to use the centipedes to incapacitate the guards if necessary, Nira had asked how it was that she was able to work with the insects. True to form, Renna had told her to keep her tiny mind on matters she was capable of understanding. When she pressed the issue, the older woman had grimaced and muttered about necessary sacrifices, rubbing at her ribs as if she were wounded there.

In the here and now, the other guards backed against the wall, stamping at the crawling things with panicked curses. Their efforts were in vain, and the insects crawled up their legs and the wall behind them, finding any warm skin they could. In seconds, each of them had no less than twenty of the things attached to them. The sensible one had kicked away from the table, falling over, and was now stumbling away, having a hard time keeping his feet in his haste. Can’t let him get away! Kest was in no shape to be of help. He seemed to have gotten all the bugs out of himself, but he was still backing away from the things on shaky legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked horrified.

‘Don’t let them touch your skin,’ was what Renna said. Good advice if I ever heard it. Still, she had to do something. Darting forward from where she had been flattened against the far wall, she swept her cloth boot in a kick through a mass of the centipedes that were wandering lost in the center of the hall. Chitinous bodies flew through the air in the general direction of the guard, landing around but not on him. Swearing, she kicked again, making sure to watch for any stragglers that might sniff her out and come her way. Already the bugs were more sluggish than they had been. One more kick, and she heard the retreating guard crying in fear. Got him. He collapsed no more than ten meters down the hallway, slapping at his neck frantically. Looking down, Nira saw a couple of the armored insects nosing at her lightly-shod feet. She crushed them underfoot quickly and moved well away from the remainder. Their twining was growing weak. They didn’t survive long without attaching to a host.

The other guards had already fallen insensate, the jaws of the lamprey centipedes having injected a powerful, fast-acting toxin into their blood even as they dined on their flesh. Renna had sworn that the effects were non-lethal so long as the bugs were removed within a few hours, but Mackey had no less than fifty of the things feeding on him. Looking at the guard’s slack, unshaven face, Nira decided that she wasn’t too concerned about it. She went to Kest, who was leaning against the wall, breathing as hard as if he’d just run all the way from the Coliseum. “Are you all right?” she asked, patting his shoulder. She was careful to use her gloved hand.

He shook his head, his one good eye pained. “Never. Doing that. Again,” he panted. His voice sounded as raw and harsh as a lifelong hazebark smoker.

“A smart guy wouldn’t have done it the first time,” she said. He nodded and shrugged, hoisting himself back to his feet. “Still,” she said hesitantly, “thanks. It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

He shrugged again. “Had to.” And with that simple phrase, spoken offhand and without premeditation, Nira decided that he was her friend.

“Is… everything all right up there, gentlemen?” called up a querulous voice from the balcony at the end of the hallway. It was the butler they had spoken with when they first entered, calling up from the front parlor below. Apparently even that prissy old fellow stepped carefully when there was a ruckus up near the chaos wielder’s rooms.

Kest perked up immediately and moved down the hallway so as the be as far from the suite doors as possible without being seen from below before he called back. “It’s fine now,” he rasped. “Think so, at least. Mackey was just – making noise about losing and threw a fist or two, so Master Guyrin, uh… called him in to talk. Private.”

There was a long silence from below. “I see.” Nira could almost see the old fellow dry-washing his hands in anxiety. “But… all’s quiet? Master Guyrin isn’t – upset?”

Kest looked to Nira, who shrugged, and back toward the railing. She had no idea what to say. She wasn’t good at this kind of thinking on her feet. “He wasn’t happy,” ventured the Beast Rider, “but I think he’ll be fine as soon as he has a talk with Mackey. I wouldn’t send anyone else up, though.”

“Ah. Indeed not.” The butler sounded relieved. “I suppose we’ll have to collect his remains when we send up the evening meal.” He paused again. “Is that you, Spinder? You sound odd.”

“Got punched in the throat. I’ll be fine,” husked the young Pacari. “Best leave us be up here and quit with the noise, though, yeah?”

The old servant didn’t reply, apparently taking the injunction to heart. Kest sagged with relief and turned back toward her, stepping wide of the inert pile of centipedes. They looked dead now, but she imagined he’d learned to be cautious in the jungles of the southern isles. She put back on her glove and met him in front of the suite doors.

“Do you think he’s drunk in there?” she whispered. “That was a lot of noise.” She wondered if all plans of this sort went so badly awry so quickly. No, we’re probably just really bad thieves.

“Let’s hope he’s out cold,” replied the lad, scratching at his eye patch. “Him and his