Santiago Reding-Ortiz

Not All Ants Can Fly

Everyone in Antloon always talked about when and how they’d leave; some ants brave and capable enough would fly themselves away when the weather cleared, some would save around 7 years' worth of their wages to take the Beetle-airships, and others still would pay smugglers to get them away. The methods differed, but the destination was always the same: the Hivecity of Apodia.

Apodia was, strictly speaking, a vast improvement to Antloon. Antloon was underground. Exits to buildings were exceedingly rare, as every building was so interconnected with one another that there was no way to leave one without entering another. In fact, the ants who left with smugglers paid most to simply be guided out of the labyrinth. Knowledge of exits was limited, since the routes to them changed along with the new structures continuously being built in the city.

Jezebel lived by the idea that one should be as careful as possible when it came to these sorts of things, so she opted to save her money and take the Beetle-airships away to Apodia. Jezebel knew that her prideful prudence and virtuous patience had been what kept her strong where others had failed. Besides, Jezebel had never grown wings, so even if she was as brave as the others, she just simply could never fly. And the smugglers, though efficient and skilled, never had strict allegiances, as their deals were too murky to be followed through with. Yes, working the forge was enough for now, and soon she would be in Apodia.

The forge never left more than what she needed in terms of money, save for when an affluent patron would come with a strange kind of metal, and trusted Veit Family Forge to work the material with skillful craftsmanship. As far as Jezebel was concerned, it was a miracle that anyone could find the place nestled between 4 other similar structures.

But today, it was a termite who had asked for work to be done. Jezebel’s parents had always said the termites only ever moved to Antloon to get to Apodia, since Antloon had better work than those piles of dirt the termites lived in. Jezebel had no reason to believe this wasn’t true. After all, Antloon was horrible, but the termite villages were completely unlivable. But work was work, and not having the luxury to deny the termite service, Jezebel was sent to work on the armor the termite needed repaired.

But as Jezebel lifted the hammer, her front right arm lifted differently, like a new joint was added behind it. She put the hammer down and ran her fingers across her back. There were two buds, the seeds of new wings. Jezebel had tried to push down her excitement, as it could only be a distraction from her work, but it had opened a new opportunity; she could leave, and leave soon. She pushed the feeling down again, but it buoyed itself up; fear of the flight surged up and a new hope stirred, not a vague distant hope like the one that had maintained her for so long, but a real, close hope that felt just barely out of reach.

Jezebel returned to her work, but that night, she knew that a new path had laid itself forward.

***

Jezebel was now being escorted to an exit. This trip had hardly cost any money at all, nothing compared to what she expected to pay the Beetle-airship pilots. This trip may not have been as safe as those but, it was reasonable in its own way. This way, she had enough money to start her new life in Apodia, and pay to become an apprentice of The Royal Apodian Blacksmiths. Sure, she hadn’t been able to get too much flight practice in Antloon's short ceilings, and narrow corridors, but what she did get would have to be enough.

They had arrived. The tunnel out was much brighter than anything Jezebel had ever seen. She turned around before she left to give the soldier ant who had guided her the money she owned.

“Payment,” the guide grunted,

“I was just about to hand it over. Here.” Jezebel handed the ant half of all she had, but he kept looking at her bag.

“Payment,” the ant grunted again,

“That's how much we agreed on. I can assure you, that's all,” she said, she knew soldier ants weren’t smart enough to count properly, but she couldn’t give even one more coin up.

“More in bag,” he said pointing at it.

“Yes, but I’ve given you all your colleagues said I had to pay. I can’t afford to give you any more.”

“Friend don’t set price, me set price.” The ant said, now approaching Jezebel.

Jezebel clutched her bag and ran, but the soldier ant caught her bottom right arm. “Give now and me let go,” he said. Jezebel drew her sword, but the soldier ant gripped tighter. “Let go,” she said, but the soldier ant gripped even harder. Jezebel saw no other way out, she lunged the sword with her weaker upper left arm. It cut through, but the soldier ant, and he reeled back but still didn’t let go, and the soldier ant fell, taking Jezebel’s bottom right arm with it. She screamed as she felt it be plucked away. Jezebel had no time to nurse the wound, and she bolted for the exit, the hole where her arm once was throbbing with pain. She reached the grass for the first time and had to fly up before the soldier ant caught up. She lifted up, up and there she saw it, the hive that held Apodia, with its rivers of honey, and blacksmiths that knew secret ways of forging metals so they could last unweakened for lifetimes. 

But then, she saw a drop fall, then another, then several more at once. She saw one drop careening down towards her and she drifted left to avoid it, but another came and took its place. It hit her. The cold stung her wound and her wings were too wet to push the air beneath them. She came crashing down, back to the city she left, the city where she was too foolish to wait just a little longer to make it to Apodia. Down, down, and then gone.