by King, DB
“I had nothing to do with your fate.”
“Oh, but you did. The War Wizards of the Elderwood Rangers… there was a spell, one that sealed me here upon the death of the last one of their ranks.”
“A curse set to go off when the caster dies,” Runa said. “A kind of insurance.”
The spider woman nodded. “It’s as such. When the last War Wizard died, my children and I were trapped among these trees. And I will be here until a War Wizard sets me free.”
“I…” Logan steeled his resolve and forced himself to say the words. “I am a War Wizard, spirit. I will set you free. On one condition. You grant me your mark, and the knowledge of how to mark others.”
“You do not know?” The spider cackled. “Ah, yes, I am sent a War Wizard, but he knows nothing of who—or what—he is. Fenrir is a crafty wolf, oh yes he is.” The woman chittered. “But I should not be so picky. For centuries, there was not even the hint of one such as you, but now, you have returned. And with your return, comes the return of the War Wizards.”
As she spoke, the spiders crawled out of the trees once more. And this time, the spiders were larger, their mandibles moving as their rows of red eyes glared at Logan and his party.
“There,” she said, glancing down at his tattoo. “The mark of Fenrir. You carry the power of the wolf… and I crave it.”
Logan’s hand moved back toward his axe. “Why do you want it?”
“Because if I can kill you, I can take the power of the wolf from you and sacrifice it, breaking the spell of the War Wizards and freeing me from this place. Fenrir might not be pleased, but I have not sensed his presence for almost as long as I have not sensed a War Wizard.”
“And I’m sure it goes both ways,” Logan said. “I kill you, and I take your power.”
“Indeed,” she said. “One of us must die today.”
Logan slipped his axe from his hip. “Then it’s you who shall die this day, creature.”
He heard the rustle of the soldiers behind him as they readied their weapons.
“Hold,” Raymond said.
The spiders hissed and chattered, their red eyes snapping from target to target.
Logan was ready to fight. If he had to kill this Archspirit and attempt to take her power, then he would do it. He had not been reborn into this world, as foreign as it was now to him, to be killed by an Archspirit. No, his vengeance would come about, and even an Archspirit would not prevent it.
“So eager to battle,” the spider spirit said. “Why?”
“Because I will fight until every last orc is dead. And if you wish to stop my blood quest, you will fall too.”
Her white eyebrows arched in surprise. “Orcs? You think I am allied with those foul creatures?”
“Why else would you oppose me?”
She said nothing, giving the matter some thought.
“I have no common cause with those beasts,” she said, disgust in her voice. “But if you wish to have my power, and I wish to have yours… perhaps we can work together. It is, after all, what was agreed upon.”
Agreed upon? By whom and when? Logan hadn’t the slightest idea, but this turn in the spider spirit’s disposition was a welcome one.
“Work together?” Logan asked. “So, you would give me your mark, and allow me to mark others?”
“Forge an alliance, yes.”
Was this the way the War Wizards did things in the past? Logan couldn’t answer that question—the internal workings of War Wizards were tightly kept secrets.
“I see you don’t understand,” the spider spirit said. “I will elucidate for you. The War Wizards of old slew us Archspirits and took our power. And we would simply reincarnate elsewhere. Each time they killed us, they were granted more power. But it does not need to be this way. It is possible for you to share in my power, if we forge an alliance. Most War Wizards of old did not know this. Or they refused to use the method of alliance.”
“An alliance with an Archspirit?” Logan mused. “I can see how it may be a better path.”
“Or it’s some trick,” Runa said.
“No, no trick,” the Archspirit said. “It is the most ancient way. And the most effective. It would mean only allowing me to travel with you. The power of a War Wizard can break my bonds to this place, granting me and my children the ability to walk freely in the world.”
“That’s all?” Logan asked. “And you will do as I say?”
“I will be yours to command,” the spider replied.
“It sounds simple,” Runa said. “Too simple.”
“Turn around, War Wizard,” the Archspirit said, ignoring the elf, “and I will grant you my power.”
Logan was still unsure of whether or not to trust the spider woman. But he needed the power—there was no uncertainty about that. And if she even gave a whiff of betrayal, then he would do things as the other War Wizards had done before him: slay her and take her power without her permission. He wasn’t sure how he would then mark himself, or how he would go on to mark others with the spider rune, but he could always figure that out later. For now, though, the easiest and simplest path would be a tentative alliance with the spider spirit.
He turned. The group of elves watched with eager eyes.
“Now,” the spider spirit said. “You might feel a sting.”
The pressure of something stiff and furry touched the back of Logan’s neck.
He felt a sting.
The sensation was like a thousand needles digging into his flesh. Logan clenched his hands into fists, gritting his teeth as the spider woman did her work. The pain was immeasurable, like his flesh was being peeled from his muscle.
Finally, it was so intense that he dropped to his knees. But as soon as he was down, the pain ended. In an instant, it was gone. He turned to see the spider woman drop to her knees behind him and bring her face to his side.
“And just like that, ranger, we are bound. But be warned—the other Archspirits will not submit so easily. It is possible they will not ally with you. You may need to vanquish them as your kind have done before.”
Logan rose, placing his hand on the nape of his neck. When he brought it forward, he expected to find his palm covered in blood. But it was clean, spotless.
“What is it?” he asked, glancing at Runa.
She stepped forward and craned her neck to look at the spot that he couldn’t.
“It’s… a tattoo. It matches the spider glyph.”
“And with a second mark, there is proof that you indeed have the power of a War Wizard,” the spider-woman said. “I shall reveal the ingredients of the ink to create the tattoo of my mark. And once you have them, you’ll be able to tattoo the runes of power into the skin of whomever you wish.”
“What is your name, spider?” Logan had not known any rangers with spider runes, and he had never heard the name of a spider Archspirit whispered among his people.
The woman smiled the pleased smile of a woman who was getting exactly what she wanted.
“My name is Arachne, ranger.”
“I am Logan Grimm, son of Jesper,” Logan said. “The last War Wizard.”
“It will be a pleasure to work with you, Logan Grimm. When we have the ingredients, I will guide you in etching the first follower with my mark. Which one will it be, Logan?”
He looked over the handful of soldiers who’d accompanied him. One of them, youthful with bright blue eyes, stepped forward. His expression was steely and serious.
“Me, wizard,” he said. “Mark me first.”
“An eager one,” Arachne said. “While I travel with you, I will guide you to what we shall need. While there are multiple ingredients that can be used to inscribe my mark, the simplest is by using the venom of swordspiders. The venom is so potent on its own that, after I bless it, you could use it to mark your men. We shall need to find venomous swordspiders.”
“Then we shall find them,” Logan said.
Power coursed through him. He was eager to see what abiliti
es this new mark allowed him. And he was eager to gain followers, to prove that he was worthy of leadership, to mark them with their own runes of power, to train them into the army he would need to remove every last orc from this world.
But he knew he had a great responsibility. He was the last of the War Wizards, the last of his people.
He would have his revenge. And he would lead those he commanded to the heights of power.
No one would stand in his way.
Chapter 9: Logan
Logan could feel the power coursing through him. And he liked it.
The nape of his neck still throbbed from the tattooing. He used his axe to catch the reflection of the rune on a blade he held behind his back. It was a difficult angle, but by using the two blades as mirrors, he could get a glimpse of his newest rune.
The lines of the tattoo were clean and straight, forming the simple shape of a spider viewed from the top down. And when Logan concentrated, the lines took on a faint glow, the color the same deep red as Arachne’s eyes.
“So much power,” Arachne hissed.
Logan flicked his eyes up from the mark. The small group gathered their gear at the oasis. The elves packed their provisions and filled their skins for the hike back to the caravan. Logan caught their glances now and then, as if they still weren’t sure of what to make of him.
“I’m going to need it,” he said, taking one last look at the rune before sticking the blade into the soft earth and hooking his axe into his belt. “And the sooner I have more, the better.”
Arachne nodded, as she steepled her fingers, the spider legs on her back doing the same thing.
“Spoken like a true War Wizard—always wanting more, more power,” she said. “But don’t worry—you will get it.”
Logan strode over to the clear, sparkling stream of water and ducked down, cupping his hand and bringing it to his mouth. He swallowed the water and let out an “Ahh,” the water crisp and cool and fresh.
“Tell me how this works,” he said after he’d had his fill, looking over his shoulder at Arachne.
“It’s simple,” she said as she moved in perfect silence over to him. “My power grows the more followers I gain. And the more my power grows, so grows yours.”
“Now,” he said. “What if I had decided to simply kill you back at your shrine?”
She arched a silver brow, an expression on her face that suggested she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right.
She laughed, a sing-song, chiming laugh that echoed through the space.
“Well, my little ranger, I supposed you would’ve had that option. It’s not uncommon that the power-greedy feel that they would be better off killing the spirits and taking their power.”
“Is this possible?”
“It’s… it’s how it was done years ago, when War Wizards sought to claim our powers instead of allying with us. And yes, it would give the spirit slayer the opportunity to take the power for their own.”
“Then the spirit would be dead for good.”
Another laugh. “Oh, no, child. No mere mortal could simply kill one of us. There are ways to do it, but…” She shook her head, as if wanting to leave the subject behind. “If one of us is bested in combat, we’re merely banished from the physical realm for a time. And when we returned, we would be more powerful. The War Wizards would hunt us down again, and try to kill us once more to claim our increased strength. And on and on it went.”
“Why would I choose to ally with you instead?” Logan asked.
“Is my charming personality not enough?” Arachne smiled. “Because we are more useful as allies and companions in battle. Not to mention, it appears you’ve got enough on your plate with the orc-infested continent. I doubt you want to add rivalries with Archspirits on top of that.”
Logan rose, turned, and folded his hands over his chest. He watched as the elves loaded up their gear, Runa and Raymond supervising.
“First, you earn followers,” Arachne said. “Those who would follow you into battle, who would kill at your command. It’s not easy to be a leader, to inspire men and women to follow you to the ends of the earth. But you’ll have to learn. Then, when they’re yours to command, you mark them with my rune. Each follower marked gives me more strength, ties me more to the earthly realm. I will become a more renowned spirit, as I was during the time civilization fell into the mere shade it is now. As their powers grow, so do yours.”
“What sorts of powers do I gain? And my followers?”
She glanced at one of the tall, thick-trunked palms that sprouted from the oasis floor. Arachne sized it up, nodding as if it was just what she’d been looking for.
“Climb to the top of that. Go on—think of me as you do, and you might find it easier than you think.”
Logan gave Arachne a skeptical look before turning his attention to the tree. He stepped over to it, dusting his hands once he was at the base.
“Now, climb,” called out Arachne.
He gripped two of the many points that jutted from the trunk of the tree. With a heave, he pulled himself up, lifting his body until he was high enough to place his boots onto other jutting points below. The tree wasn’t exactly suitable for climbing, and it took great effort to keep himself in place.
“Now,” called out Arachne. “Think of me and focus. Focus on your hands gripping the tree.”
Logan could feel the eyes of his group on him. He knew that Arachne had spoken true—he needed to inspire the loyalty of the men, and falling from a tree onto his ass wouldn’t exactly do that.
So he did as Arachne suggested. He closed his eyes and focused, keeping her in his thoughts, imagining his hands gripping the tree.
And as he did, something strange happened. He could feel his grip securing, many small somethings sprouting from his hands as he held the tree. He pulled his hand back, exerting effort to take it from the tree.
His eyes went wide at what he saw. Hundreds of tiny spikes had extended from the palm of his hand, like those that covered the legs of a spider. He glanced back at Arachne and the group who’d all gathered to watch him climb.
“There!” she said with a smile. “Now, use my power to climb to the top!”
Logan turned his attention back to the tree, pressing his palm against it. He could feel the small sprouts dig into the flesh of the tree, making holding on as easy as walking on a flat surface. He pulled his left hand back, exerting a small amount of effort to yank his skin free, and pressed it against the tree up higher.
He did this over and over, each bit of distance easier than the one before it. Soon, he was climbing effortlessly, reaching the top of the tree within seconds. Once he was there, he turned and hung off, one hand gripping the tree enough to support his weight.
The elves spoke eagerly among themselves, pointing to him in excited tones.
“Now!” called out Arachne. “Drop!”
Even from his elevation, he could make out the wide smile that spread across the spider spirit’s full lips.
“You won’t break your legs if you think of me, dear!” she yelled.
This better not be some kind of trick, Logan thought as he hung.
He closed his eyes and focused on the image of Arachne, allowing her to fill his mind. Then, when he was ready, he pushed off with his feet and fell. The ground rushed up to greet him, and for a moment, he was certain he was about to break every bone in his body.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, his body turned of its own accord—instinctively, the way one would pull their hand back from a fire without needing to think about it. Logan fell toward the ground with his palms and feet facing down, landing on all fours.
The force of the impact was spread across his body. It was jarring, his muscles tensing as he landed. But it didn’t hurt a bit. Once he got his bearings, he rose and regarded the group. Everyone was shocked, Runa and Raymond watching skeptically.
“Back to work!” Raymond commanded, the elves breaking and hurrying back to what they were doing bef
ore.
“There you are,” Arachne said as she approached Logan. “You see what power my rune can afford?”
“What more can I do?” he asked, eagerness in his voice.
“So, so much more,” she hissed as she stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around his body, her spider legs pressing into his torso. “At this moment, you have the agility of a spider. But as my followers increase, as my power grows, you’ll gain more and more. You will gain the ability to summon spiders, to infuse your weapons with venom, to create webs to trap your foes. But that will only come in time, if you give me what I want.”
She swept her spider legs toward the men. “And they will gain powers, too. You can specialize them, give some of your men into Arachnid Summoners who can call upon my children to do their bidding. And my soldiers make excellent infiltrators, men and women who move in pure silence, who can spy and assassinate with ease.” She drew out the S’s in “assassinate”, making it clear she wanted him to keep that word in his mind.
Logan grinned, imagining what he could do with an army of spider infiltrators. He’d heard stories of warriors in the far east who had the ability to sneak into any fortification, to set traps or steal information or assassinate powerful leaders. He relished the idea of leading Arachnid Summoners into battle, of overwhelming his foes with an onslaught of venom.
“In time, spider,” he said, turning his thoughts to the moment. “For now, we need to get back to the caravan.”
Logan glanced at Raymond, letting him know without words that he was aware of the guard captain’s leadership role, and that Logan was still deferring to him.
“Yes,” Raymond said, placing his hands on the hilt of his blade. “Load up and march. We can’t afford to waste another moment.”
Logan rejoined the group, helping the men load up their gear and prepare for the trek back.
“Come along,” Runa said to the men. “It’s still morning. If we get moving now, we can catch the last bit of cool weather before the sun begins to roast us from above.”
