Page 68 of Fateless

“There are too many of us on him,” Kysa muttered, as Rhyne sank a little in the air. Closer to the sea of jaws and skittering legs. “Cut the saddlebags, we have to lessen the weight.”

I drew my knife, but suddenly, from the carpet of ants below, a chitinous red body flew at us through the air. I caught a split-second glimpse of an ant with long, backward-jointed legs like a cricket. It landed on Rhyne’s back, drawing a yelp from Halek and a bellow from Rhyne, before Kysa spun and knocked it back into the squirming carpet with her spear.

“Stalker ants,” she muttered, as Rhyne dropped a bit lower, wings buzzing frantically. “Get ready,” she called back to us. “Don’t let them land. If they start clinging to Rhyne, they’ll pull us down into the horde.”

“Kysa Tal’Rahhe!”

A shout echoed over the wind, followed by the drone of wings, and two rock beetles identical to Rhyne appeared through the curtains of sand. A pair of riders in familiar chitin armor peered down at us from the insects’ shiny backs.

“We heard the fire jaws were swarming,” one of them called, dropping his mount to hover beside Rhyne. “The hive mother sent us to warn you, though it appears you already know.”

“I am aware,” Kysa said dryly. “Perhaps you can take Rhyne’s passengers before we all drop into the swarm?”

The other warrior nodded. “Quickly,” he added, holding an arm out to me. “Before the rest of the stalker ants arrive. The hive mother is expecting you.”

“Go, Sparrow,” Raithe whispered behind me. I took a quick breath and leaped off Rhyne, grabbing the warrior’s forearm, just as another chitinous red body flew through the air and landed on the back of the beetle with a hiss. The warrior gave a shout, releasing my arm, and I grabbed desperately for the saddle straps as the huge ant darted forward.

Raithe landed above me, eyes gleaming as he slashed his blade across the insect’s face, making it reel back with a furious shriek. The beetle we were on let out a bellow and veered away, trying to shake off the unwanted passenger. I clenched my jaw, clinging to the saddle straps, and below me the living red carpet swarmed after us, chittering with hunger and rage.

The beetle rider managed to turn and drive his spear through the stalker ant’s body, shoving it off his mount. With a shriek, it plummeted back into the swarm. Raithe reached down, grabbedmy wrist, and yanked me onto the rock beetle’s back. He was shaking slightly as he pulled me close.

The warrior gave his mount a command, and we soared over the horde. I glanced back and saw Kysa and Halek following us, leaving the swarm behind, and felt Raithe slump against me in relief. I had the strange musing that this was the second time we had been attacked by rather large insects who wanted to kill us, and I wasn’t sure which incident was more horrific.

“I guess that makes us even,” I whispered to the iylvahn behind me, and felt his soundless chuckle against my back.

“I suppose,” he murmured. “Though I hope saving each other from giant carnivorous bugs isn’t going to become a regular thing.”

Twenty-Three

After only a few minutes, I understood Kysa’s bias toward rock beetles.

The wind shrieked around us as we flew higher into the storm, and soon the ground vanished completely. As I hunched my shoulders, pulling on my hood to further shield my face from the driving sand, the wind suddenly stopped altogether. Blinking, I looked around and saw that we had risen out of the storm and were flying beneath a completely clear sky. Below us, the sands raged and howled, blotting out the land beneath, but up here, the stars stretched on forever, and the air was free of dust and grit.

“This should pass soon,” our rider said, peering down at the choking cloud below. “The storms are volatile, but they never last long on the steppes. And once the winds die down, the fire jaws should return underground.”

I shivered in the crisp, cold air, and Raithe drew me closer, shielding me from the wind. “Is there a reason these creatures come out during storms?” he asked the rider, who shrugged.

“No one really knows,” he replied. “Why the fire jaws swarm during a storm has been a mystery of the steppes for as long as we’ve been here. Not all storms, either. In fact, it’s pretty rare for them to get so aggressive. But every once in a while, when astorm blows in, the fire jaws come out of their tunnels in a frenzy and devour anything they come across.”

“Then we are very lucky you decided to show up when you did.”

“Our hive mother gave us the order,” the rider said, nodding back at us. His sharp black eyes fixed on me, curious and appraising. “Kysa Tal’Rahhe is one of our most respected warriors,” he went on. “It is... unusual for our people to take a liking to outsiders, but the hive mother knows that any request from an elite warrior is not made lightly. I will warn you, however, that very few non-riders have seen the inside of our camp. There are a few who will be suspicious of your intentions.”

Moments later, Kysa and Rhyne flew down in a buzz of wings, with the third rider following. “The storm is abating,” she announced. Behind her, Halek met my gaze and offered a weak grin. I could tell he wanted to say something about our most recent brush with death, but it was hard to talk over the drone of the three beetles’ wings. “We’ll meet at Carapace Basin,” Kysa continued. “I trust the council will be waiting for us.”

“Of course,” our rider said, and gave a wry smile. “We wouldn’t want outsiders to think that we are barbarians.”

The home of the Scarab Clan was unlike anything I had imagined.

From the back of the rock beetle, I watched the storm abate, the winds dying down and the sands settling over the steppes once more. As Solasti rose over the distant horizon, I saw what had to be Carapace Basin. The uneven steppes dropped awayinto a shallow, somewhat ovular bowl, not unlike the underside of a beetle wing. Dotted throughout the basin were enormous rock structures that, according to our rider, had been scoured so much by wind and sand over the course of millennia that they resembled large quills jutting up from the earth.

Nestled among the rocky spines and scattered in seemingly haphazard clusters throughout the basin were dozens of rounded clay houses. They seemed barely more than huts, though some had second floors that looked like they had been added on later. It surprised me; I had been expecting tents, like the one Kysa had used on the steppes. Something that could easily be packed up and moved. But this village of clay and stone houses seemed very permanent.

“I thought the Scarab people were nomadic,” I said.

Our insect rider glanced over his shoulder and arched a brow at me. “We are,” he replied, with a strange little smile. He swept the end of his spear toward the sprawl of houses below. “Look at our village,” he said, still gazing back at us. “What do you see?”

“Houses,” I answered. “Homes. Clay brick and stone, right?” I shrugged. “They don’t seem like the easiest structures to pack up and move.”

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