Jenna Helland - The Fanged Crown

“Since when are ants so smart?” Verran gasped as he ran beside Harp. Harp was equally shocked that the ants could execute such a trap, but he was breathing too hard to respond. As they ran, Harp saw a tree with vines dangling down to the ground. Up a tree was better than over the edge of the ravine, he thought. At least it would give them time to come up with a strategy of their own.

“Climb!” Harp shouted, grabbing a vine and pulling himself up as his feet scrabbled for traction against the bark. Boult was close behind him, while Kitto and Verran scurried up another tree that was across the clearing.

“Can ants climb trees?” Verran called from the other tree.

“Not sure,” Harp gasped, as he perched on one of the branches and surveyed the ground below. These trees weren’t as tall as the ones they’d slept in the night before, and the vines weren’t as thick. At the moment, the ants weren’t climbing; they were just milling around the bases of the trees. Boult and Harp climbed to the widest branch and waited to see what the ants would do. In the moment of calm, Harp realized he was trembling, not only from fatigue but from fear as well. As a younger man, he’d been stronger and faster than most men his size and went into battle with no hesitation. There had been too much comfort in his life in recent years. His body didn’t remember how to react to danger.

“Look at the big ant, Harp,” Boult said after a moment. “I think it’s giving orders to the smaller ants.”

“How can you tell?” Harp asked. The red queen paced back and forth across the clearing below them, moving between the two trees where the crewmates had taken refuge.

“Just watch,” Boult said impatiently.

The queen moved through the swarm, its jaws clicking loudly. It would pause, change directions, and resume the rhythmic noise again. Harp recognized a pattern in the clicks—Boult was right. The queen was telling the soldiers what to do. The smaller ants began to methodically move up the trees. They didn’t climb quickly, but in answer to Verran’s question, they could definitely climb trees.

“Kill the big ant,” Harp urged.

Boult pulled his crossbow off his back, loaded a bolt, and fired it at the queen. The bolt hit square at the base of her neck, but it bounced off her shell harmlessly. Boult tried two more times, and while his aim was dead on, the shell was too thick to penetrate.

“She’s got to have a weak spot,” Boult said in frustration. “But I’m not hitting it from this angle.”

“What do you need?” Harp asked.

“The underbelly,” Boult said. Immediately Harp began to move down the trunk and grabbed the longest vine.

“Don’t you dare!” Boult shouted when he realized what Harp was intending to do.

But Harp was already sliding down the vine. “If I can’t flip the big one over, then I’ll lead her to the cliff,” he called. “All of you fire at once, and we’ll knock her over the edge.”

“Get back here!” Boult shouted. “The small ones will eat you first!”

But when Harp dropped to the ground, it was the queen ant that charged him while her troops continued their methodical climb up the trees. The queen was so fast that Harp had to scramble backward to get away from her, tripping over the underbrush and falling on his back. The ant lunged at him, her tusks slicing through the air and her beaked mouth easily capable of snapping his head off his neck. Harp twisted out of the way, scraping his chin against a rock and getting a face full of mud. Pushing himself to his feet, he pulled out his sword and ran to the edge of the ravine.

“Maybe flipping her isn’t such a good idea!” Harp yelled.

“Get her between you and the cliff,” Boult shouted.

But that was easier said than done, and the ant seemed to have the same idea about knocking Harp into the river. Every time Harp tried to switch their positions, the ant lunged, forcing him to go on the defensive. Harp got the unsettling impression that she was toying with him, and as soon as she tired of the game, he was going to be the one squished on the ground.

“Last try!” Harp yelled. “When I go down on the ground, shoot at the same time!”

“No, Harp!” Kitto shouted.

Harp dodged as the ant lunged at him. With a burst of speed, he sprinted away from the ant to the edge of the ravine. Planting himself a few paces from the drop-off, he let the queen charge him. In the instant before she smacked into him, Harp dropped backward onto the ground, raised his sword, and plunged it into her underside just as she barreled over him.

When they saw Harp fall backward onto the ground, Kitto and Boult fired arrows that struck the ant’s back, but they bounced harmlessly off the hard shell. Instead, it was the ant’s own momentum that propelled her to the very edge of the ravine. The creature struggled against gravity, her legs skittering for a hold on the muddy bank before she flipped over the edge, taking a smattering of loose earth, Harp’s sword, and Harp with her.

“Harp!” Kitto screamed, as Harp disappeared off the edge of the ravine.

“Hold him, Verran,” Boult shouted. Verran grabbed Kitto’s arm, but the boy jerked it away.

Kitto started down the trunk, and Verran grabbed his elbow again. Kitto glared up at him furiously and pulled away.

“The ants will leave,” Verran assured him. “And we’ll go after the captain.”

Kitto looked doubtful, but he hesitated. Just as Verran said, the rank-and-file ants didn’t know what to do without their leader. The ants on the tree trunks dropped to the ground and milled around in confusion, eventually wandering in different directions into the underbrush. A few walked directly off the edge of the ravine and into thin air, following the path of the queen. As the horde dispersed, the crewmates scrambled down the tree trunks, but the few remaining ants didn’t seem to notice them.

Kitto ran to the edge where Harp had disappeared, dropped to his knees, and peered over the side. “Do you see him?” Verran asked.

Boult stood at his shoulder. “It’s not a vertical drop, Kit. He could have grabbed onto something. And I can’t see his body.”

“Let’s find a way down,” Verran said. A few paces up the river, a faint path traversed the bank down to the river. Halfway down the trail they could hear Harp calling to them over the rush of the river.

“See Kitto?” Boult said. “You’re not going to get rid of him that easily.”

Kitto’s head was tipped forward, so his shaggy black hair covered his face, and he didn’t say anything until they reached the bottom of the ravine. Harp was waiting for them by the river, wincing as he rubbed his shoulder. His face was muddy, and blood from his chin had dripped onto his sweat-stained shirt.

“Are you all right?” Kitto asked.

“Hah, stupid ant,” Harp said. “Lost my sword, though.”

“Bad luck,” Boult said.

“Maybe not,” Harp said, pointing downriver. “I found something else.

Set into the face of the riverside bluff, the wooden door was half-covered in flowering vines. The edge of the river was just paces away from the door, and there were watermarks halfway up the planks as if there had been recent flooding. A narrow path, just wide enough for a single person, led from the door to the river.

“Doesn’t look much like an ancient ruin,” Boult said, looking at the sturdy metal hinges and doorframe set into the bank. Between Bootman’s attack and the ants, Chult’s surprises were nothing to underestimate. The door was one more thing. What hid behind it?

“There’s something here,” Verran called from where he’d wandered down the bank. A short slope led down to the river, and a ring of three boulders formed a pool of calm water. Judging from the smattering of tracks along the slope, it was a popular watering hole for animals.