by King, DB
The elves didn’t need an order from Raymond to know what to do next.
The spearmen took advantage of the orcs’ immobility, Runa commanding them to pick up the pace of their march. The spearmen thrust with surgical precision, cutting through the necks of the orcs as they moved in a relentless line, mowing down their enemies as they made their way to Raymond and the rest of the detachment.
Logan’s axe dripped with blood as he stepped out of the fray and watched the spearmen do their bloody work. Cheers sounded from the caravan as they realized the battle was won.
When the last orc had fallen, Logan trotted over to Arachne. Her eyes glowed silver as she held the spell, but once the fight was over, they reverted to their usual color.
“That was impressive,” he said as he reached her. “But I have to say, it’s hardly sporting to slay immobile enemies.”
She smiled. “An advantage is an advantage, no? And considering we only lost a single man, I believe I made the right decision.”
“You did. Thank you.”
Arachne nodded. “You’re most welcome. But my magic comes with a cost.”
“What do you mean?”
“At the rune, my place of power, I can recharge my magic. But here, out in the world, my magical reserves are quickly depleted, and will take time to build up again.”
“There’s nothing we can do?”
“There are ways to build magic back up faster,” she said. “And if I can create a new place of power, that could be used for similar purposes. But for now, I need rest.”
Logan turned attention back to the battlefield. The troops, under Raymond’s guidance, moved slowly through the ranks of fallen orcs, jabbing their spearheads into the slayed enemies, ensuring that they were down for good.
And a thought occurred to Logan as he watched the soldiers clean up—the fight had been easy.
Too easy.
The orcs had been few in number, and even if Logan and the rest hadn’t shown up in time, wouldn’t have been in sufficient numbers to prevail.
“Captain!” one of the soldiers shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice clear and loud enough to carry across the entire battlefield. There was panic in his voice, a tone that suggested something was very, very wrong.
Raymond, his guard following closely, ran in the direction of the voice.
“Go,” Arachne said to Logan. “I’m too drained to run.”
“I’ll come back for you,” he said.
She nodded, and Logan turned back to the commotion. He caught up with Raymond, the group running through the caravan and arriving in the middle of the circle.
Once there, no one needed to explain what had happened.
During the battle, another team of orcs detached one of the caravan cars from the line, taking advantage of the distraction to lead it off.
“The servant’s quarters,” Raymond said. “They took it.”
“That was the real purpose of the attack,” Logan said. “A distraction so they could make off with one of the caravans.”
“Form up, soldiers!” Raymond shouted, turning back to his men. “We’re going on a hunt!”
Logan liked the sounds of that very much.
Chapter 11: Logan
Logan, Raymond, Arachne, and a team of a dozen elf soldiers loaded their gear as they prepared to disembark and track down the missing caravan.
They were to travel lightly. The elves were kitted out with bows and arrows, short swords, and spears. But their plate armor had been replaced with mail more suited to traveling distances in a hurry.
Raymond moved in front of the men, his eyes flicking up and down their bodies to make sure they were in ship-shape to move out. Logan recognized a few of them from their trip to the rune. But the others were unfamiliar faces.
Their captain gave one last, satisfied nod. “Good. We don’t have a moment to spare. Each second that we wait before pursuing is a second the orcs get ahead of us. And I don’t need to tell you what sort of fate awaits our people if we don’t reach them in time.”
Arachne, who was near Logan, leaned in and whispered into his ear.
“What sort of fates do await the elves?” she asked. “I only know of the orcs through whispers.”
“The orcs kill for sport,” Logan said. “Some of the servants will be slain for simple amusement, their bodies put through exquisite tortures as entertainment for the rest of them. The women who survive will be raped, and sold into slavery, the men who survive will be gelded, and sold into slavery. If there are children… their fates depend on whether they’re old enough to walk, to not slow the orcs down.”
Arachne’s expression turned grim. “I see… Then we must move quickly.”
Before Raymond had a chance to give an order, however, Runa and a pair of her guards approached.
“Yes, Mistress?” Raymond asked.
“New orders,” Runa said. “Raymond, you’re to stay.”
He whipped his gaze in her direction. “Stay?”
“We’ll need your help in marshalling the troops in preparation for another possible attack,” Runa said. “I hoped to do the job, but the crew is more shaken than I’d anticipated. They’ll need me around to keep them calm and reassured. If another attack happens, we’ll need you commanding at the front.”
Raymond’s hard features flashed with a grave expression, one that suggested he wasn’t happy with the order. But his discipline quickly returned.
“Yes, Mistress. But who do you plan on having lead the rescue?”
She nodded to Logan. “Him. The War Wizard.”
Just as frustration had appeared on Raymond’s face a moment before, now surprise took hold.
“You want to let… the ranger lead? But Mistress, he’s not one of us.”
“That was my inclination. But Logan has proved himself to be more than capable in battle. He can follow orders, and he can fight. More than that, he has access to powers he’s going to need to train and improve.” She glanced in Logan’s direction. “Logan, how does this strike you? Do you feel capable of leading my men into battle?”
“Without a doubt, Mistress,” he said. “If I’m to grow as a War Wizard, I’ll need soldiers to command. And it would be an honor to lead your troops.”
“Excellent. Consider these men to be your squad from here on out. You’re still under Raymond’s command, who himself is under my command. And we expect you to obey our orders.”
“As you command,” Logan said.
“Then get moving,” Runa said. “Our people await your rescue.”
She and her guards turned to leave. But Raymond didn’t go with them. Instead, he quickly closed the distance between him and Logan, placing his hand on Logan’s shoulder and leaning in closely to speak.
“You bring these men and our people home,” Raymond said, his face solemn. “You fail, and you’ll answer to me.”
Logan said nothing, instead meeting the elf’s eyes and not breaking his gaze. When Raymond was satisfied, he turned and left, his long strides soon catching him up to Runa.
“A suspicious one,” Arachne said. “No doubt you’ll need to win his trust if you’re going to lead an army.”
Logan turned his attention to the men, who awaited him in an orderly line, their eyes fixed forward.
“An army can wait,” Logan said. “Right now, these are my soldiers.” He cleared his voice and spoke. “Elves! Are you ready to bring your people home?”
“Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison.
“Are you ready to deliver justice to the orcs?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then come with me and let’s kill every last one of these mutts!”
The men let out a shout that made it clear they were of one mind. Logan turned his attention forward to the horizon of the wastelands, the sky a murky green and the earth rusty and cracked.
And they marched.
* * *
The first hour of the journey passed in silence, the men moving in a quiet and disc
iplined fashion, Logan at their head and Arachne at his side.
He contemplated the attack. No doubt the orcs were moving as quickly as they possibly could—they surely understood that by then the elves had noticed one of their caravans missing. Luckily, the wheels of the caravan left deep grooves in the dusty dirt, allowing for easy tracking. Logan could smell the rotten meat stench of orc on the wind.
“What would the orcs do with the elves if they managed to get them where they wanted them?” Arachne asked.
Logan snorted and smirked. “For an Archspirit you sure seem to be out of touch with the way the world works.”
“It’s been only a short while since I’ve managed to return to my avatar form. And my memories from times before that are faint. It will be some time before I manage to recover them. Until then…”
He nodded. “When orcs raid, they take treasure and supplies and people. They keep the treasure, use the supplies, and then sell the people into slavery.”
“Then there are slavers out there?” Arachne asked.
“Yes. Back when the Elderwood Rangers were still around, slavers feared us. We would send expeditions into the lands around our territory and wipe out whatever slavers we found. That is, until…”
“Until what?”
“Over the years, the Elderwood Rangers grew more and more isolated. There was a time when we viewed our duty as one of the pursuit of justice and the extermination of evil wherever it could be found.” Logan shook his head, sighing softly. “But we lost our way, became more insular. And in the end, our refusal to do our duty in the world around us cost us everything.”
“Hm,” Arachne said. “Then perhaps when you grow stronger you can rebuild the Rangers and make them what they once were.”
The idea excited Logan so greatly that he didn’t even want to think about it.
“Perhaps. But for now, we have a mission.”
“Indeed, we do.”
They continued, the terrain growing more rugged and hilly as they did. And after a time, Arachne stopped, her attention on something in the landscape.
“What is it?” Logan asked.
She placed one of her spider legs onto his shoulder, the bristles rough against Logan’s skin. She pointed with her human finger in the direction of what appeared to be a cave. The entrance to the cave was ringed with foliage of deep green, small, silver flowers in among the vines.
“There. You see that cave entrance?”
“What about it?”
“Those plants you see around the entrance are known as silver crawlers. Their growth on the outside marks the entrance to particular cave systems that you might find interesting.”
“Interesting how? Tell me what you mean in plain words.”
The elves took seats around Logan and Arachne, seizing the opportunity for a moment’s rest.
“The mark—my mark. Within those cave systems are swordspiders. Their venom is not only powerful, but it is blessed with magical properties..”
“Wait,” Logan said. “Swordspiders? The spider’s venom that can be used for tattoos?”
“That’s correct. However, the process isn’t easy. You must extract the venom from the spider’s venom glands while it still lives. If the spider slain, then the magic is spoiled.”
He glanced in the direction of the cave. “And you’re certain it’s there?”
“Almost entirely certain. Unless someone else got to it first.”
As Logan gazed into the dark circle of the cave’s entrance, he realized that he was on the verge of making his first major decision as the leader of the squad. They could keep in the direction of the caravan, hopefully getting to it in time. But they would be without the power of Arachne’s mark.
However, if they were to stop and try to extract the venom, they risked too much time passing. The orcs and the caravan they lead could very well be lost.
And more than that, Logan knew he didn’t have much time to deliberate. The men waited for Logan’s answer, and he didn’t want to give them the impression of indecisiveness.
“We need that magic,” he said. “And if I’m to grow as a War Wizard, I’ll need men who are marked to command.”
“That’s right,” Arachne said. “You mark your men, and my power grows. And when my power grows, your power grows.”
But he knew there was more to it than that—he needed the men’s compliance. He couldn’t simply force them to take a tattoo.
“Men!” Logan called out. “Who among you would volunteer to be marked with Arachne’s rune?”
There were ten in total, and a few of them glanced at each other as if waiting to see what others did, taking their cue from them. But one of them, a steely-eyed elf with long, golden hair, rose without hesitation. Logan recognized him from the trip to Arachne’s rune.
“I would bear this mark,” he said, his voice clear and confident.
“Your name, soldier?”
“Jaleth,” he said. “Of the House Rivelle.”
Just one man so far. But one was all Logan needed.
“You are all under my command,” Logan said. “But none of you will be expected to undergo such a process.”
“But,” Arachne said, a smile forming on her wide lips. “There is power, so much power, in becoming one of my pledged. Imagine your blades imbued with venom, imagine moving with speed and precision, assassinating your enemies. Such is the power of my magic.”
As she spoke, Logan considered that Arachne was making a case to become one of her followers. He imagined that each of the spirits he encountered would be just as motivated to gain legions of those marked with their rune.
“But there may be other spirits, yes?” asked one of the soldiers, as if reading Logan’s mind. “What if we wish to be marked by them?”
“Then throw away your chance at my gift,” Arachne said as she shrugged. “It’s your choice to make. Remember, those who aren’t War Wizards can only carry one mark.”
“Men, follow me to the cave,” he said. “Form up around the entrance and keep watch. I’ll enter with Arachne and see what’s to be done about this spider. Take this time to consider what you want.”
That answer seemed to please the men. Jaleth, however, appeared as determined as he had been.
Logan led the men to the entrance, the interior of the cave black as pitch. The men formed a semi-circle around the entrance, all of them watching Logan and Arachne.
“We must hurry, spirit,” Logan said. “We still have a mission to complete.”
“Of course, Ranger,” Arachne said. “Trust me, when we’ve gained this power you’ll understand that you made the right decision.”
Logan removed a torch from his pack, lighting it with a piece of flint. When it was ablaze, the flames casting their glow down into the cave, he began. Together, they made their way down the winding interior of the cave, the entrance growing smaller and smaller behind them.
“How will we know this spider when we see it?” Logan asked.
“You won’t need to ask when we’re near,” Arachne answered.
They continued until the entrance was long behind them. Logan held the torch ahead of himself and cast the light as deeply as he could into the depths of the cave. The path grew larger and larger, opening into a chamber.
And as soon as he crossed the threshold and stepped into it, he understood what Arachne had meant by her words.
The chamber was divided into two sections by a massive web. The strands glistened and sheened as if they were covered in water. With webs like this, Logan thought, the spider that made them can’t be too far.
Wrapped figures peppered the walls. They reminded Logan of stories he’d heard about civilizations that embalmed and wrapped their dead. These things stuck onto the web were human-sized.
And as Logan drew closer, he saw that they were humanoid.
His body tensed as he spotted a skittering figure in the upper reaches of the chamber. His hand went to his axe. Logan gripped the hilt, ready to draw at a mo
ment’s notice. The figure zipped down the side of the web with incredible speed, and before Logan knew it, he was face-to-face with the creature, its many eyes the same blood red as Arachne’s.
It brandished its fangs and reared its head back to strike. Logan yanked his axe from his belt and prepared to jam it into the mouth of the creature.
“Child, cease!” Arachne’s words echoed through the space, the spider stopping as soon as they were spoken. Logan held fast on his strike, waiting to see what happened next.
And as he did, he took in the sight of the creature they’d come to find.
The spider was massive, its body the size of a barrel and its legs as long as the elvish spears. The legs were razor-sharp at their ends, leaving no question as to how the swordspider earned its name. Hundreds of red eyes gazed down at Logan, the fangs of the spider dripping with silver venom. The beast’s body was as silver as Arachne’s hair.
“Hush, child,” Arachne said as she approached the spider, who stood still and ready for orders as a well-trained hound. She placed her slender fingers on the spider’s body, soothing it. “I have need of your gift, child. Would you be so kind as to spare some for your mother?”
Without hesitation, the spider opened its mouth, presenting its fangs.
“Logan,” Arachne said. “Do you see those small glands at the base of the fangs?”
The primitive part of his body was tense, aware of nothing but the pure danger ahead of him. But Logan pushed that aside, craning his neck to look deeper into the spider’s open mouth. Sure enough, there were small, yellow glands about the size of a fist at the root of each fang. They pulsed, as if so filled with venom they might burst at any moment.
But to get at them, Logan would have to reach deeply into the spider’s mouth.
“Don’t fear my child, ranger. She’s presenting her gift to you. All you need to do is nick the gland with your blade and collect what comes out. But be careful, she’s well-trained, but her… lesser instincts might kick in at the pain.”
