Rise of the Spider Goddess

by Jim Hines

  He sat back against a wall. “Averlon was an elf, a member of our order who lived about two thousand years ago. He was a minor priest, who for many years lived a simple and uneventful life.”

  “He worked as a scribe, copying and recopying various works in the vaults. But one day, he read something that frightened him. Terrified, he took the book he had been copying and threw it into a nearby fireplace, destroying it. By doing so, Averlon violated one of our most ancient laws.”

  I have strong feelings about book burning.

  “Averlon’s membership in our order was revoked, though he was invited to remain and live among us. But Averlon chose to leave, still terrified by what he had read. When asked about it, his only reply was to mumble about ‘the spider.’”

  Thomas paused to let the significance sink in. “Years later, Averlon returned. He was old, and dying. He had with him the dagger of Olara, the same knife Olara wears at her side today.”

  “He was ushered into the temple. There, we attended to his illness as best we could, but to no avail. It was a strange sickness, almost magical in nature. I suspect Averlon died an unnatural death. Oddly, though, he seemed content. The terror that had driven him away years before was gone.”

  “The night before he died, he talked of many things. His journeys, the dangers he had faced, the mistakes he had made. But he took great pains to insure we knew of a scroll upon which he had written a spell. He described it only as ‘Olatha-shyre,’ which means ‘Spider’s Bane’ in an ancient elvish dialect. Unfortunately, all he revealed of the scroll’s location was that it was ‘safe from her.’”

  Thomas looked at Nakor. “We have never been able to locate the scroll. We don’t even know if it truly exists. If it is found, there is no way to say what the spell does.”

  “What happened to the dagger he brought with him?” asked Galadrion.

  Thomas gazed somberly at her. “It vanished from our vault two years ago.”

  He frowned for a moment. “You must leave now.” He stood up and escorted them to the temple’s doors as he talked. “Olara’s priests are approaching from the north. If you head south, then turn east, you should be able to make it back to your home without incident.”

  “Also, I’m tired of infodumping.”

  As they headed out the door, Thomas called after them. “Be cautious! I doubt Olara would be so considerate as to leave your home unguarded.”

  Nakor turned to express his thanks, but the door had already been shut behind them. Grimly, the four of them headed eastward at a swift pace into the forest.

  Chapter 4

  They were several hundred yards into the woods when they heard the horses. Pynne and Whoo disappeared, and Nakor and Galadrion fell to the ground to hide among the ferns and bushes. Looking back, they watched as a group of men approached the temple.

  A black robed priest was talking to the initiate at the door, while twenty men on horseback waited behind him. They looked like mercenaries, to judge from the assortment of weapons and armor displayed.

  Even Nakor’s elvish ears were unable to discern what was being said from that distance.

  “We’re selling Spider Scout cookies to raise money for Murder Camp. Would you like a box of evil thin mints?”

  The priest was saying something to the initiate. The initiate nodded, then turned and walked into the temple. A minute passed. Two. Five. The mercenaries began to fidget restlessly.

  After ten minutes had gone by, the priest backed away and pointed at the door. Two of the largest men jumped from their horses and drew out large, heavy axes. As one, they began to hack at the door.

  It soon became clear that their efforts were having no effect. The door stood without a scratch, despite their best efforts.

  Gesturing for them to move out of the way, the priest stepped in front of the door. He pointed a hand, and a blue beam of energy shot out, only to dissipate in a shower of sparks, inches in front of the door.

  He raised both hands, pouring more energy into his spell. Still, nothing happened.

  Nakor tapped Galadrion on the shoulder.

  “They could be there all day,” he whispered with a grin. “Let’s get out of here before someone intelligent shows up.”

  Given what we’ve read so far, I don’t think Nakor has anything to worry about.

  Moving cautiously, they began to make their way through the forest.

  Hours later, as the light was beginning to fade, they stopped.

  “This was a much shorter trip when I was asleep,” Whoo grumbled.

  “If you’d like, I’m sure one of us would be willing to knock you unconscious again,” Pynne shot back.

  Ignoring both of them, Nakor sat down with a sigh. “I’m hungry,” he announced to no one in particular. Then he began to pluck small red berries from a bush and pop them into his mouth. They were slightly sour, but Nakor didn’t mind.

  Dear kids: don’t eat strange berries in the woods.

  The pixies flew over to join him, still arguing.

  “If you would have kept up with me, maybe we could have killed him before he shot me!” Whoo said.

  “If you had ducked, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your wings to begin with!”

  Rolling her eyes, Galadrion walked away and began to sharpen her sword. “If you had both stopped arguing, maybe the vampire wouldn’t have ripped the tongues out of your heads,” she muttered.

  Heh. Half my career has probably been based on writing snarky dialogue for various characters.

  The conversation was interrupted as Nakor abruptly stood up and gestured for silence. Drawing his rapier, he stared out into the woods.

  Moments later, a small girl came crashing through the undergrowth. She was human, probably about twelve or thirteen, Nakor guessed. The girl was barefoot, and dressed in tattered rags held in place by a rope belt. Her brown hair hung in ratty tangles around her face. She ran to Nakor, throwing her arms around his waist.

  “Please don’t let them hurt me,” she cried frantically.

  Nakor, feeling slightly foolish, patted her absently on the back while looking for a place to put his rapier. Not finding one, he tossed it to one side.

  If only someone would invent some sort of sword-holding device, perhaps one that could be worn on a belt.

  “It’s okay, you’re safe.” Perplexed, he looked at Galadrion, who shrugged.

  “What’s your name? Who are you running from?” Nakor asked.

  “Jenn,” she answered, sniffling.

  “I’m Nakor. What’s the matter? Who is it you’re afraid of?”

  She didn’t answer, but continued to bury her face in his side.

  “I’ll go make sure there’s nobody following,” Galadrion offered.

  Jenn jumped, startled. Spinning around, she looked at Galadrion. “Oh! I didn’t see you,” she said, embarrassed. Then she ran to Galadrion to embrace her as well.

  Because this isn’t suspicious or creepy at all.

  It was Whoo, floating invisibly to one side, that saw it. He was the only one at the proper angle to notice Jenn slipping a small pouch inside her shirt as she turned away from Nakor. He flew over to hover by Galadrion’s shoulder.

  Whispering quietly, so that only she could hear, he said “She’s a thief.”

  WHAT A SHOCKING TWIST THAT NONE OF US SAW COMING!

  Galadrion’s sympathy fled. Grabbing Jenn’s rope belt with one hand, she lifted the small thief into the air. There she dangled helplessly, looking like a kitten being held aloft by its mother.

  “Did I miss something?” Nakor asked, confused.

  Instead of answering, Galadrion lifted Jenn higher until they were eye to eye. “Give it back,” she said in a low voice.

  Jenn squirmed, trying to escape. Seeing the futility of that approach, she turned to look at Nakor.

  “Help me! I didn’t do anything!” she pleaded. “Give what back? I don’t understand.” Tears were starting to fall from her eyes as she looked fearfully from Nakor to Galadrio
n.

  “She’s got a pouch she stole from Nakor tucked inside her shirt,” Whoo prompted, still whispering.

  “The pouch you stole,” Galadrion said, “the one inside your shirt. Give it back.”

  The tears stopped, and the look on her face changed to one of anger. “Fine,” Jenn snarled. “Probably wasn’t much in there anyway.”

  She reached up a sleeve and produced a dagger. Twisting around in Galadrion’s grasp, she slammed the dagger into the arm that held her, helpless, in the air.

  The blade tore through Galadrion’s shirt, then skidded harmlessly across her skin. With her other hand, Galadrion slapped the knife out of Jenn’s hand. Jenn cried out and grabbed her hand.

  How many times can you repeat the word “hand” before it starts to lose its meaning? Hand, hand, hand, hand, hand…

  Pynne ducked as the knife went spinning over her head. “Watch it,” she complained.

  “You bitch, you broke my hand!” Jenn shouted. Suddenly she realized that the last voice she had heard came from empty air.

  “Bitch.” When the author is just too darn lazy/sexist to come up with a more interesting insult.

  Jenn got nervous. Always in the past, she had been able to talk her way out of trouble. Failing that, there was always her dagger. But now, with this witch who seemed invulnerable to weapons, and voices coming from nowhere, Jenn was afraid.

  Rolling her eyes, Galadrion turned Jenn upside down, holding her by the legs. She gave one bone-rattling shake, and Nakor’s pouch fell to the ground, followed by a flat leather package.

  I’m curious what was in that leather package, but I’m pretty sure I forgot all about it by the next scene.

  Pynne smiled. Still invisible, she carried the pouch back to Nakor and dropped it in his waiting hand.

  Jenn’s eyes widened. Then, she looked up at Galadrion. “So now what are you going to do with me?” she asked. The outrage in her voice managed to cover up the fear she was feeling.

  “Oh, just let her go,” Nakor muttered, retrieving his rapier from the ground.

  “She’s seen us,” Galadrion replied quietly.

  Nakor froze. The coin Thomas had given them would protect the group from magical detection. But if Jenn were to tell the wrong person what she had seen, Olara could track them down with ease. Yet what other options did they have?

  “Hey, I didn’t see nothing!” Jenn insisted nervously. “Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone. I promise!”

  “Let her go,” Nakor repeated.

  Wordlessly, Galadrion set her on the ground. The first thing she did was grab the leather package from the ground and replace it inside her shirt. Once that was done, Jenn backed away warily. After scooping her dagger from the dirt, she turned and ran.

  “You believed her?” Galadrion asked.

  “Nope,” answered Nakor with a grin.

  Whoo and Pynne both became visible at the same time. “So now what?” demanded Whoo.

  Nakor just smiled. As he explained his plan, Galadrion fingered the torn sleeve of her shirt. “Stupid kid,” she muttered to herself.

  * * *

  Jaimus and Erik waited impatiently in silence. Jaimus, the larger of the pair, sat cleaning his fingernails with a small dagger. Erik simply waited, eyes closed, as he leaned against a tree.

  “She’s late getting back,” Jaimus complained.

  “She’s been slowing down for a while now,” Erik commented. “She’s getting to old to play cute and innocent anymore.”

  “So why don’t we just find someone else?”

  “Because it takes too long to break in a new kid,” explained Erik. “Don’t you remember when we first had to teach her all this stuff, back in the beginning?”

  “Yeah,” Jaimus muttered. “I’m gettin’ tired of the brat, though. Last time, she tried to hold out on us. I had to knock her around real good before she’d give us the rest of the money.”

  Erik, who habitually kept more than his share of the money from both Jenn and Jaimus, rolled his eyes. “I was there, Jaimus. I remember.”

  “Yeah, well I’m just getting tired of her. That’s all.” Jaimus went back to cleaning his nails, occasionally stopping to wipe the tip of the knife on his trousers.

  “We are bad guys!” In case that was too subtle.

  Hearing Jenn’s approach, they both stood up. Jaimus slipped the dagger back into his boot.

  Panting, Jenn stopped in front of the two men. There she took a moment to catch her breath.

  The trio had been working together for years. Jenn had grown up in a city, the daughter of one of the most successful husband and wife teams in the history of the thieves guild. When she was still young, they had been set up by a fellow thief and murdered. Ever since, Jenn had survived on her own.

  Erik had been a friend of her father. He had taken the girl in and taught her the skills she needed to be a thief. She had turned out to have a great deal of innate talent, pleasing both of them. With Erik’s help, she had eventually managed to have the man who had murdered her parents killed.

  Jenn’s relationship with Erik had never been close, but it had been profitable. As long as she did what she was told, she got to keep a share of the money they stole. If she made a mistake, she was beaten. Jenn made few mistakes.

  Lately, Jaimus had been working with them. The three of them had devised a plan that had kept them in gold for several months. Jenn would run up to unsuspecting travellers in the woods and steal what she could. She would then run back to Jaimus and Erik with an appraisal of the situation. If the travellers looked wealthy enough, Jaimus and Erik would attack, using surprise to kill and rob the unfortunate victims. They were both large men, skilled with their weapons of choice. Jaimus habitually carried a large, double-bladed axe, while Erik settled for a simple broadsword.

  Jenn was an excellent thief. It was the only way to avoid the beatings that were the reward for failure. Now, having returned empty handed, she steeled herself for the punishment to come.

  “Well?” Erik asked.

  Unable to think of a believable excuse, Jenn settled for truth. “I didn’t get anything. They caught me.”

  Erik raised an eyebrow. “They caught you. How odd.” He shook his head. “The last time anyone caught you was two years ago, and even then you came away with their gold. So this pair must have been truly extraordinary, hm?”

  Raised eyebrow count: 10

  “I had it!” Jenn protested. “I had his money, but then the witch caught me! She had invisible spirits helping her. I tried to get away, but my knife just bounced off her arm!”

  Erik listened patiently. “I suppose that’s possible,” he conceded. “But just in case, I think Jaimus should have a chat with you.”

  Jaimus smiled. “You wouldn’t be trying to hold out on us, would you?” he asked, advancing.

  Resigned, Jenn closed her eyes and waited. A moment later, a loud slap rang through the woods, and Jenn fell.

  Writing tip: villains don’t all have to be over-the-top, child-beating, puppy-kicking, moustache-twirling, black-hat-wearing caricatures of EVIL. This whole scene is making me cringe more than anything else in the book so far.

  She moved her jaw, making sure it wasn’t broken. As she struggled to rise, Jaimus hit her again.

  Because he’s EVIL.

  Erik walked over and knelt in front of her. Shaking his head, he said “I’m sorry Jenn, I truly am. But, well, I’m afraid that I don’t believe you.”

  Jenn spat blood out of her mouth. “So search me,” she demanded.

  “Oh no, little one,” he replied sadly. “I know you’re much too clever for us. You probably hid the gold in the woods, hoping to come back for it later.” He grinned. “It’s what I would have done.”

  Erik stood back up. “It just seems like we can’t trust you anymore. It’s too bad, really. You had a lot of talent.”

  He nodded to Jaimus. “I guess you were right. Maybe it is time for a new partner.”

  Jenn drew her
dagger and lunged at Jaimus. Moving swiftly for his size, he reached down and caught her by the wrist. Squeezing, he forced the dagger from her hand, then used his other hand to send her crashing into a tree.

  Dazed, Jenn slipped to the ground again. Erik was drawing his sword and walking toward her. She struggled to rise as he lifted the sword overhead.

  “Sorry kid,” he said with a smirk. “I guess we’re just not nice people, huh?”

  Then the smirk was replaced with an almost apologetic expression. Jenn looked, confused, at the red stain that was spreading across the front of his shirt. In the center, the tip of a rapier protruded from Erik’s chest.

  Nakor pulled his rapier from Erik’s body, which fell to the ground with a thud. Then he turned to see Jaimus approaching, wielding his enormous axe.

  Taking a swift step backward, Nakor looked at Galadrion. “Yours,” he offered.

  She stepped forward, into the path of the oncoming axe. Jaimus grinned as the tremendous force of his blow sent Galadrion tumbling to the ground. The grin vanished as she stood up, unharmed.

  Reaching both arms over her head, Galadrion leaned back and stretched her shoulder muscles. “That was a good one,” she admitted. Then a slow smile spread across her face. “My turn.”

  Ducking under the next swing, Galadrion locked her fists together and brought them crashing into Jaimus’s jaw.

  It’s the patented William-Shatner-from-Star-Trek style of double-fisted combat!

  Whoo whistled in appreciation as Jaimus flew a good ten feet through the air. He landed in a crumpled heap, quite unconscious.

  A blow to the head sent him flying ten feet? He ain’t unconscious. That dude is Dead.

  Jenn watched all of this without moving. Then, while Galadrion was leaning over Jaimus’s body, she stood up to try and sneak away.

  As she stood, Jenn heard a high-pitched buzzing, followed by a thud. Looking down in amazement, she saw that a small arrow now pinned the sleeve of her shirt to the tree behind her.

  Whoo shot twice more for good measure. Hopefully, the girl would now be too intimidated to try and run off. If not, it would still take her a minute to tear herself free of the three arrows.