The tunnels leading to the Skitter nest were a claustrophobic maze of slick, black rock and hanging, root-like tendrils. The air was thick with the cloying, metallic scent of the creatures, a smell that made Elias's skin crawl. Anya moved in the lead, her crossbow held high, her senses stretched taut. She was a predator in her element, her every step precise and economical. Elias followed close behind, his satchel bumping against his hip, his hand resting lightly on one of the clay pots.
"They're close," Anya whispered, stopping abruptly. "I can hear them clicking. Their legs on the stone."
The sound was faint, a subtle, chitinous rustling that seemed to resonate from the very walls. It was a sound that promised a swift, agonizing death.
Anya pointed to a narrow side passage. "This is it. The main nest is further in, but this side tunnel is an offshoot. It's smaller, easier to seal. We'll smoke them out from here."
She moved to the entrance of the side passage, peering into the darkness. The tunnel was barely wide enough for a single person, its walls slick with moisture. The clicking sounds were louder here, closer.
"Ready?" she asked, not looking back.
Elias took a deep breath, steeling himself. He wasn't a soldier anymore, but the discipline of the battlefield was a part of him. He focused on the task, compartmentalizing the fear. He was a healer, but in this moment, he was a weapon. "Ready."
Anya nodded and moved into the tunnel. She was a blur of motion, her movements honed by years of navigating the claustrophobic spaces of the Verse. She reached the first bend in the passage and crouched, her crossbow raised. A moment later, a skitter scuttled into view—a nightmarish insect, its body a segmented mass of chitinous armor, its legs tipped with razor-sharp claws. Its head was a cluster of twitching antennae and glistening black eyes.
Anya fired. The bolt struck the creature in its soft underbelly, sending it skittering backwards with a hiss. It wasn't a killing blow, but it was enough.
"Now!" Anya yelled, her voice echoing in the narrow tunnel.
Elias stepped forward, his heart pounding, and hurled one of the clay pots into the tunnel. It shattered against the opposite wall, releasing a cloud of the ground Cinder-puff. The spores filled the air, a choking, irritating dust that made his eyes water and his lungs burn.
The skitters reacted instantly. They clicked and hissed in a frenzy, their antennae twitching wildly. The irritating smoke was a sensory overload, blinding and suffocating them. They began to thrash and stumble, their normally precise movements becoming erratic.
Anya fired again, taking down another skitter. The tunnel was filling with smoke, the air thick with the acrid scent of the burning fungus. Elias coughed, covering his mouth with a cloth, but the irritation was still intense.
"Back!" Anya yelled, retreating quickly. "Seal it!"
Elias grabbed a large, flat stone from the tunnel entrance and, with Anya's help, wedged it into the narrow opening, effectively sealing the passage. The smoke was trapped inside, doing its work.
They retreated to the main tunnel, their eyes streaming, their lungs burning. The clicking and hissing from the side passage had become a frantic, chaotic chorus. They waited, their crossbows trained on the main tunnel, for the survivors to flee.
It wasn't long. The first skitter burst from the passage, its eyes milky white, its legs flailing wildly. Anya took it down with a clean shot. Others followed, their movements clumsy and disoriented. They were easy targets.
But there were more than they expected. The side tunnel had been a larger offshoot than they'd realized. The skitters poured out, a tide of clicking, hissing chitin. The air was thick with the irritating smoke, making it difficult to see and breathe.
Anya fired with deadly precision, taking down skitter after skitter, but their numbers seemed endless. One of the creatures, its vision impaired but still dangerous, lunged at her, its venomous barb extended.
Elias reacted instinctively. He pushed Anya aside, taking the blow himself. The barb struck his arm, piercing his leather sleeve. He felt a searing pain, a burning cold that spread rapidly through his veins.
"Venom!" Anya yelled, her voice laced with a fear she couldn't hide. She shot the skitter at point-blank range, then turned to Elias, her face pale.
The world was already beginning to blur at the edges. The burning cold was spreading, paralyzing his arm. He knew the symptoms. He had seen the effects of Skitter venom before. They had minutes, at best.
"The satchel," he gasped, his voice slurred. "The… the herb… quick…"
Anya ripped open his satchel, frantically searching through the contents. She found the small vial of dried, crushed leaves, the antidote. But his arm was already going numb. He couldn't feel his fingers.
She grabbed his hand, trying to force the antidote down his throat. But his jaw was locked, his muscles spasming. The paralysis was spreading rapidly.
"Damn you, Healer!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "Stay with me! Stay awake!"
But the darkness was closing in. The clicking of the skitters, the sting of the venom, the burning in his lungs… it all began to fade.
His last thought, before the darkness swallowed him whole, was a bitter, familiar irony. He had come here to save others, and in doing so, he had doomed himself. His principle, it seemed, had finally found its price.