Chapter 4 - Worm
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A large black mat spread smoothly across the floor, covering all but the edges of the room. Intricate white line work defined the edge in a circle which was bisected into two parts. In the center of each half was a small white box, and within each box stood a marmot garbed in black robes with white trim and red accents. All around the circle sat marmots in the same uniform, except for a larger marmot with graying fur, whose robes were reversed with white and black trim.
The cavernous room was dimly lit by glowing rock that outlined arch-like columns adjoining at the central high point of the dome. Two doors led out in opposite directions.
The two marmots in the ring faced each other and bowed slowly. The aging marmot in white robes approached the center with a slight hobble.
“Young masters,” he said with a smile, his voice wavering yet well projected off the cavernous acoustics, “this is the final round of the seventh trial. Master Jake and Master Greg will demonstrate the full martial prowess of a marmot trained in the Way of the Earthshaker!”
“The rocks remember!” shouted the marmots lining the ring in unison, and the elder marmot struck a small grin.
He eyed each of the combatants. “Masters, are you ready?” They each issued a nod of approval. “Take form!” Jake and Greg assumed different starting positions: Jake with a staggered stance and arms forward with open paws, Greg with feet spread wide and fists tucked tightly to his sides.
The cavern dojo was dead silent. “Initiate,” said the old marmot with firm but hushed command and took three quick steps backward.
Jake went on the offense, speeding towards Greg in a flash of unfathomable speed. To the untrained eye, it would be challenging to catch the intricacy and speed of their moves, but the observers were anything but untrained.
Greg made the slightest lateral movement, just enough to avoid a perfectly executed paw strike from Jake. Greg countered, and Jake anticipated; they locked arms and began a push, where neither appeared to make much progress.
The battle was within the mind at this point. The two marmots locked in struggle were now battling on multiple dimensions, driving into each other's minds. Two immovable wills attempting to break each other.
Then Jake saw it: a moment of weakness, a latent memory from Greg’s past. His father, in a long line of Gregs, disappointed by his progeny, worried he wouldn’t live up to the legendary namesake.
Jake struck, Greg faltered, and they physically and mentally severed. Jake seized the moment and summoned a powerful energy burst. The ring of marmots gestured an open-pawed movement, shielding the ring in a blue sphere.
Greg saw the blast coming and summoned a smaller version of the shield, deflecting the bulk of the energy upwards, where it was absorbed, distorting the shield in a prismatic display of color.
Greg refocused, angry with his weakness and for allowing Jake to see it, but it wasn’t quick enough. Jake was back on him and this time executed a perfectly formed Earthshaker Pawstrike which sent Greg reeling into the forcefield.
Again, Jake was on him. He had this fight and they both knew it. Greg's doubt filled his mind as Jake came in for the submission. Greg made moves to defend, but he was hurting. “He really is a disappointment,” he thought to himself, as Jake wrestled him down and got him into a chokehold. The room began to fade black and closed into a singular point. The call was made.
The old marmot ended the contest, declaring Jake the victor and Greg defeated. As the pinpoint of vision reopened to its typical full field, Greg saw the looks on the faces around the room. For over a century, the line of Greg has held the title of Archpsy, but not today. Today it returns to the line of Jake. The other marmots and prairie dogs that lined the circle were in states of surprise, excitement, and dourness.
Greg's body commanded him, running what felt like a routine program, as if he were a spectator watching the scene unfold. He returned to his starting block and bowed out with Jake, exiting the ring. Greg could hear the commotion and celebration behind him as he left the chamber.
“I truly am a disappointment,” Greg muttered to himself as he entered the dingy gear room. He grabbed his bag from the earthen cubby and solemnly but quickly changed to his civilian attire. No one was there for him, not a single brother or sister from the dojo. It was intensely lonely and gut-wrenching as he fought back the tears of his failure.
He left the training grounds; the historic dig that constructed them was the first large expansion for The Burrow nearly two thousand cycles ago. A massive carving of Chuck, the first Archpsi, stood at the entrance. “The last in the line of Chuck and the seed of a new era - may the memory of his sacrifice never be buried.”
As he passed through The Spine on his way home, he noticed quite the commotion as various citizens hurried about. Many were drenched from head to toe.
“Greg!” A voice called out from the crowd. Greg looked over his shoulder as if the voice was calling to another Greg. “Greg, what are you doing here?” Greg saw her, Mari mounted on Phlip’s back with her father hanging on, arms wrapped around her.
“Mari, what’s going on here?” Greg looked around in a state of confusion at the saturated inhabitants of The Burrow and washed-out passages leading to the various digs. “There was a breach at the dam. It seems like the waters have subsided for now?” Mari questioned as she looked around at the diminished flows.
“Jerro!” They both said at the same time. “He was on shift this lune, wasn’t he?” Greg asked somewhat rhetorically. “Well, you two better go check on your friend,” Mari’s dad said as he slid off Phlip’s back clumsily. “I’ll stay here and see if there is anything I can do to help get people back to their dens.” “You’re the best, Mr. Stonepaw,” Greg said as he patted Mari’s dad on the back. “Please, Greg, for the thousandth time call me by my first name!” Mari’s dad responded, pulling the much larger Greg in for a hug. “You got it, Jupi,” he said with a smile from far above Jupi’s head.
They broke ways. Jupi set off to aid his fellow denizens of The Burrow, while Greg, Mari, and Phlip pushed up the main dig that led towards the dam. Jupi never spoke of it, but he was a veteran of the last Great War with the birds, serving alongside Greg’s family. While his body may have been failing him, his mind was sharp, and his psionics sharper.
The path was in complete ruin. Flood debris and mud coated everything, blocking out the bioluminescent glow of the roots. All but those towards the top of the dig were blotted out. They trudged slowly through the slop.
“Stop,” Greg said suddenly. “I hear it too,” Mari said quietly. She looked at Phlip and pressed a paw to his ear, the signal to be quiet. He sank to the ground.
A low rumbling began, progressively building. “It’s coming at us…” Mari muttered. Down the dig, it came into view: a huge pulsating mass, filling the entirety of the dig, hurtling towards them, crushing the debris and extinguishing the last of the bioluminescence as it wriggled forward. The head, if you could call it that, came into view, massive spikes protruded around a beak-like mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth.
“Formation!” Mari yelled. Greg looked stunned, but her command drew him to action. He moved behind her as she pulled the petrified watermelon helmet from her bag. “We only get one shot at this. Focus your energy on me!” she yelled confidently over the earthquake-like conditions. The creature closed in: 40 tails, 30 tails, 20 tails—it was so fast.
“NOW!” Mari yelled. “Greg? NOW!” She looked back; he was frozen with fear. Mari reached her tiny paw up and smacked his face. “Greg, I need you or we’re dead. Focus your energy on me!” He broke the trance and quickly gestured, flourishing the finish towards Mari, who had already begun her movements. Mari harnessed the momentum of Greg’s blast and in perfect form rotated it around her as the beast’s mouth bared down on them, agape.
Darkness engulfed everything… and warmth… and disgusting entrails that smelled of rotting earth. Mari flicked on her lantern and turned toward Greg. Greg stood perfectly still, completely covered in chunks of flesh and blood. He stared at Mari, they both turned toward Phlip.
Phlip’s massive tongue licked Mari. His eyes widened and he started hacking and sneezing. “Gross, dude… why would you do that!?” Mari said to Phlip. Greg let out a laugh and Mari joined in as they proceeded down the now mud and entrails-covered tunnel.