John sips the soup. It is thin and bland. Bits of grain and various vegetables with a small amount of hard meat float in the liquid. Rock hard bread soaks up the broth to become just soft enough to eat without cracking a tooth. A rough, effervescent beverage similar to low grade beer washes it down. Soldier food. Weird to miss it.

  John sucks down his third helping. This is the first proper meal he has had for too long. He can’t identify most of the ingredients and he does not care to do so. It’s no worse than what came out of cans in the trenches. Dinner is better with a show. Mytee is providing just that. The club is head down in the ground. Staying stalwart against its would-be wielders. One after another the Termitents grasp Mytee’s handle and attempt to raise it. One by one they fail. Never moving it even a fraction of an inch. Some take the loss gracefully. Others less so. Nice to see someone else having a bad time for a change.

  “Can I get another?”

  The Termitent Chief himself ladles more soup into John's bowl.

  “Of course, friend. Eat till filled. This day is glory. Mytee has return to my people. Tomorrow we travel. Find Apex. Here, drink much as also.”

  He fills John’s cup with more beer. They both raise their cups in cheer.

  “To end of war!”

  John sips while the Chief chugs. Slamming his empty clay cup on the ground so hard it cracks.

  “What is the Apex exactly? I’m still learning about this place.”

  “You ask right one my friend. I know many many much about Apex. Long, long history. Come, all who want hear, the story of Apex.”

  Many of the Termitent surround the Chief. Those at front sitting so those standing at the back can see. A fresh, uncracked cup filled with beer is handed to him which he sips, preparing to speak.

  “Many, many times before. Before the days of Pentastar. Before Days of the Saprophyte. When Dest was young and sun not so bright. Termitents arose from the sands from egg laid by Greatest Mother. Of those was a Termitent bigger and stronger then all other. The first Apex.”

  The gallery chatters with hushed awe.

  “Apex carve the lands. Create large cavern deep below sands for Termitent to live. Many great tasks as Dest grow and rise. First Apex pass on. New Apex rise. For generations Apex protect Termitent peoples. Rautt and Cerpant rise as well. Apex defend all. Then war come.”

  There is a deafening hush. All sounds stopping at the mention of a war.

  “Angels come. Bring death. Bring destruction. Apex bring peoples of Dest together. Fight. Lose. Angels, too terrible. Too powerful. Apex of time, Crak’t, strongest Apex of any age before. Not strong enough. He journey through desert. Deeper than any before. Find Greatest Mother far and far away. Greatest Mother give Crak’t two gifts. Seed for Saprophyte which change life for all peoples of Dest. And branch from Life Tree for which he carved that very weapon.”

  Chief points at Mytee still in the ground.

  “With gifts, Crak’t drive away Angels. Bring peace to Dest. Champions from other world come. Ask Crak’t to help fight Angels. Crak’t know that Angel will never leave for long. Will only kill all on those world, then return for Dest. He go with them. Many warrior by his side. Great war rage. Crak’t and Champions slay the Angels till none remain. From this came Pentastar.”

  Cheers fill the room. Spears rising as they chant in their native tongue.

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  “Sad that Pentastar not last. Many new Apex come after. Not all Termitent. More wars come. More monsters attack. Other worlds begin fight. Champions refuse, try keep peace. Apex weaken. Strength less as time goes on. One day, Apex pass. No Apex arise. The Mytee disappear, waiting for owner who no come. Termitents turn away from surface. Protect Saprohyte. Trade only with those brave and strong enough come to us. Many generation of quiet. Then, Empire come.”

  Cheer turn to vitriol. What must be their version of boos echo.

  “Crimson Empire send Knight. Rip Saprophyte from ground. Brun village to ash. Termite pray that Apex come. To save as we fight in losing battle. Our pray not answered. Until today.”

  The Chief points to John and Yael. All eyes are now on them.

  “Mytee have return to us. Soon Apex return as well. Fight together to free peoples of Dest. Drive away Knight as drive away Angels. And bring strength down upon the enemies of our peace. To Apex! To Pentastar!”

  One more comes from them all. Some in common, most in their own language. Drinks and food are rationed out for another round. More try to lift Mytee, assured that they can get it after a fifth try. Yael just rolls his eyes. These old stories are nothing more than fancy for him. John is hesitant to be so dismissive.

  “How will we know when we have found the Apex?”

  “Beside lift Mytee? You will know. It will be the strongest of us. Strength comes first to the Apex. More strong of Apex, more need be of them. In this day, I suspect an Apex as strong as Crak’t himself.”

  John thinks to himself. His strength is great. Far greater than he could have ever imagined. Yet he is not the Apex. Hephes said as much. The Termitents are not yet aware of that strength. Should he tell them? What would it mean? Would that help or only make things worse. He decides that he must tell them, just not at the moment. Best to let them have one good night of cheer. Who knows how long it may take for another.

  Besides, there is another issue that is bothering John. That veteran Termitent who beat him earlier. All through that story, he never once took his eyes off John. John is not so great at reading the emotions of these buggy faces. Though even he can see the unabashed hatred in those eyes.

  “Chief, mind telling me why your man has such a problem with me?”

  Chief only now becomes aware of the vitriol in his most skilled warriors face. He shouts at him in their strange tongue, which is shout in return. A grave look comes across the Chiefs face as he turns to John once again.

  “Warriors of Termitents have long tradition. After first blood is drawn, they gain vison. See last face that will be seen before they too pass. Dont’la see your face.”

  “What? But I would never-”

  “Face of Death never lie. Dont’la think you kill him. Perhaps prove wrong?”

  “How?”

  The Chief’s mandibles move upward at the edges. A sort of ugly grin.

  “Chak’tlia.”

  A great cheer fills the room again. All saying the same word in unison.

  “CHAL’TLIA!”

  Yael drops his cup on the floor and stands tall next to John, finally showing some enthusiasm about something going on.

  “Oh you did it now. Chak’tlia is great.”

  John is pulled to his feet and forced into the center of the room. He is surrounded by a wall of Termitents. He and Dont’la have their left hands tied together by leather. A crude knife of glossy stone placed in their right.

  “Chak’tlia is the will of Greatest Mother. A tradition created by Crak’t in the time after the Angels. Each of you has been given a raw Hrtu blade. Very sharp, but very brittle. On my command, you shall both stab the other with the Hrtu blade. If the blade withstands the blow, you will kill the other. If it shatters, the other will be unharmed. It is up to the Greatest Mother who shall still stand.”

  “What! I’m not doing that. You can’t make-”

  “Crak’t demands!”

  Without hesitation, Dont’la stabs his blade into Kihn’s chest. It shatters on impact, leaving just a few shallow marks on his bare chest.

  “You unbelievable insect. Fine! Take this!”

  John stabs back in anger. His blade too shatters. Leaving Dont’la more concluded than harmed. More cheers from everyone but Yael, who is utterly disappointed by the outcome.

  “Greatest Mother decree. No death on this night. Come, no hatred any more. Drink together.”

  Chief forces John and Dont’la together. Death may not come tonight. That doesn’t fix the issue. Dont’la still has no trust for these outsiders. And John now knows Dont’la would not hesitate to kill him if given an excuse to do so. All he can do now his hope no such excuse will appear.

  “They are here!’ A Termitent who was guarding the surface shouts. The Crimson Knights have found us!”