John Ringo - There Will Be Dragons

In the center was a pit filled with a black, nameless goo that roiled with movement. Surrounding the pit were low masses of nameless purple fungi that extended delicate pseudpods to its edge and apparently drew sustenance from it. Extending outward from these, others seem to draw from them in turn until the entire room was packed with strange growths, colored in noisome purple and leprous green. The growths reached all the way to the walls and there pods appeared, some still small but others the size of Chansa’s torso. The fungi were not still, but seemed to pulse in the odd light, many of them shimmering with colors and giving off a faint glow of their own. The overall impression was of a gigantic organism driven to some malign purpose.

“Okay,” he choked out after a moment, trying to conceal how disgusted he was, “this is pretty… horrible.”

“Oh, it is far more than that,” Celine laughed lightly and led him down the stairs and to one of the pods against the wall.

“Here, look here,” Celine said, excitedly, kneeling down to rub the noisome black liquid off of the pouch. “Look.”

Chansa, fighting his gorge, squatted down opposite her and looked at the sack, moving the torch around to try to see through the translucent material of which it was made. As he moved the torch to the side and leaned forward for a better look, the sack gave a lurch from within and a face out of nightmare turned up to look at him.

It was the face of an elven child, perfect and pure, and it twisted and struggled against the enwrapping material, seeming to scream from within the liquid. It had an expression of absolute pain and total horror and its eyes were open and unseeing. After a brief, merciful, moment its writhings took it out of sight if not mind.

Chansa rocked back and looked across at the woman who had created this monstrosity.

“My God, Celine, even for you…!”

“It is perfect, no?” she replied, her eyes bright and her mouth moist in the torchlight. “Do you know the story of the elves?” she asked, snatching back the torch and standing up.

“No, I do not,” Chansa said, considering translating out right now. For whatever reason they were brought to the conspiracy, this… infernal pit was beyond anything that could be allowed to exist.

“They were created by the North American Union as the perfect soldier,” she said walking over to the main portion of the pit and turning to look at him with the pit as her backdrop. “But the spineless leaders of that weak and puling land wanted soldiers that could be trusted to bring as little harm as possible to the people that they fought. That… idiot society thought that they could take the sting, the horror, from war.”

“That is a somewhat incorrect description…” Chansa said but was cut off.

“They created the elves as their supersoldiers, mostly from the genes of the chimpanzees. They had studied the best of their own soldiers and come to the conclusion that the primary strength of the greatest was, believe it or not, calmness . They wanted soldiers who would not, even in the greatest stress of battle, perform atrocities, so they made them calm . They bred a species that was so calm that after a time they would not fight at all. Indeed, many opted out from the beginning, preferring to spend all their time in games and, eventually, the Dream.”

“Elves do not fight,” Chansa said. “Well, hardly ever.”

“Of course not,” Celine snorted. “They’re all living in a delightful world of perfect calmness; why should they fight ? But the basics of the elves remain. Intense strength, incredible reflexes, superhuman intelligence and the ability to turn aside the stress of war and simply be in the most intense battlefield. And the weak scientists of Norau failed in only one particular. What they forgot was anger . These, these will never quit killing for all the rage and hatred for which they hold the world. And they are fully under our control, I have ensured that. Whosoever couples that to their side will surely defeat all of their opponents!”

“And… this?!” Chansa said, waving at the pit. “You breed elves ?”

“I breed demons, ” Celine laughed happily. “The elves have not self bred for a thousand years; they are born of special trees under the dispensation of the Lady. I simply… tweaked the method a bit. There they are born in pain and that pain and anger remains with them all of their lives. The perfect monster. And they can grow with anything . Take a seed of the growing pit, put it in a dark place, feed it with fell meats, and… power! Just one specimen of the pit, fed with sufficient organic material, and this whole room will grow from it. And in time… warriors.” She laughed delightedly and patted the pouch like a mother might pat her pregnant belly.

Chansa lowered the barriers of his horror and thought about that. “How long for them to grow?”

“Oh, some years,” Celine admitted. “But they can grow on practically nothing, anywhere that conditions are appropriate in the caverns of the area. The cavern can’t be too hot or too cold and there has to be no sunlight; the fungi are very susceptible to ultraviolet. But, within those constraints, we can grow them in job lots.”

“We must keep this secret,” Chansa said.

“Oh, yes,” Celine replied. “We must surprise those weak fools who would stand in the way of my research.”

“I wasn’t thinking of them,” Chansa snapped. “I’m still hoping beyond hope we can conceal it from Her Ladyship!”

“All it is is a bit of genetic manipulation,” Celine smiled. “Everyone does that.”

Azure woke up, stretched and sniffed the morning air. From the scent of the house it was obvious that the main human had gone and not much food was left around to scrounge. He walked to the back, nudged open the door and stalked outside.

Another quick sniff confirmed that there was nothing to eat, screw or fight in the immediate vicinity. How boring. There was a faint chittering of mice somewhere in the woodpile, but that was hardly worth his time. After contemplating the distressingly empty scene for a moment, he wandered down the hill to Raven’s Mill.

It was immediately apparent that more of the humans were in town than normal. And the excess didn’t seem to be doing anything except scratching fleas. He wandered through town, accepting the occasional pet on the head that was only his due, headed in the general direction of the kitchens. So there he was, peacefully minding his own business, when he spotted what he had been searching for; a new dog in town.

Perhaps apprised by an instinct for trouble, after a few moments the napping Rottweiler opened up his eyes and scanned the area. Much to his surprise, the first thing that he saw was the world’s largest house cat. Glaring at him. Balefully.

Azure wasn’t too sure what was going through the doggie’s simple little mind, but it probably was something like this: Cat. Big cat, but cat. Must chase.

The Rottweiler began barking frantically, on his feet now and edging closer to the cat.

Azure cleaned one paw, sliding the five centimeter retractable claws out to carefully get underneath.

The dog got closer, barking harder, unable to believe that any cat, no matter how large, would be stupid enough to stand up to him.

Azure used the paw to clean his ear, rubbing hard to make sure he got it good, one eye closed in apparent ecstasy.

Finally, enraged beyond reason, the Rottweiler charged. With an apparently startled yowl, Azure leapt straight into the air, landing on the dog’s back. The yelp that was emitted was more of a scream as sixty kilos of happy cat landed on the dog’s back. The Rottweiler tried to roll and for a few moments there was nothing but dust, yelps and the furious yowling of an enraged tomcat.