by King, DB
“Excellent,” Maar said. “What you feel is my power flowing through you. Now, close your eyes and focus on it. Let it change your body. Let it transform you into something incredible.”
Gareth took a slow, deep breath. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Everyone in the room was silent, all eyes on him.
His skin began turning green, scales spreading across his flesh. He grew until he was over seven paces tall. A massive, golden cobra hood sprouted from the back of his head. His eyes turned a deep red, his teeth sharpening into fangs.
“Excellent!” Maar shouted. “Now, you are truly one of my warriors.”
“One of my warriors,” Logan was quick to point out. “These men are still under my command.”
“Oh fine, fine,” Maar said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They’re under your command, of course. But so long as they bear my mark, the more power I have.”
Logan spotted Arachne from across the room. The look on her face seemed to say, “you’d better keep an eye on this one, if you aren’t already.” Logan shared that thought, but he did his best to keep any sign of suspicion or unease from showing on his face.
After marking the other elf with Maar’s tattoo and making him into a Naga warrior, Logan did the same to the other. He moved onto the final two unmarked elves and performed the same ritual, except this time, he marked them with a variation of the first tattoos, versions that would make them into Naga priests.
“There,” Maar said. “Now, tap into your power and change into Naga priests.”
The two elves shared a look of uncertainty before closing their eyes and shifting. Green scales covered their bodies, but they didn’t change in size. Their faces blended into forms that were a perfect mix between human and snake.
“You made a wise choice in becoming a Naga priest,” Maar said. “The spells you will learn to cast are like none other.” He raised a long-nailed finger toward one of the priests. “You. Raise your hand and focus, imagine a snake, its fangs dripping with deadly venom, launching from you.”
The priest did as he asked. He raised his hand and closed his eyes, an expression of concentration taking hold on his snake-human features. It took a moment, but green waves of energy began to form around his fingers.
“Now, do it!” commanded Maar.
The priest let out a cry of surprise as the snake fired from his hand. Gasps sounded out from the elves as the snake shot across the room like an arrow, colliding with the wall and falling to the floor. It raised up, its red eyes locked onto the group as it hissed. It lowered and began slithering toward us—its target Logan.
It reached Logan’s feet and coiled around his leg, traveling up to his waist. Once he realized what was happening, he reached down and grabbed it by the neck. It gazed at him, the glint of a predator in its eyes.
“Good reflexes, War Wizard,” Maar said as he stepped over. He outstretched his hand, the snake losing interest in Logan and moving up Maar’s hand. It coiled around the length of his arm, and Maar petted the creature with affection. The snake dissipated into green energy and was gone.
The Archspirit smiled. “Their bite is venomous, of course. One snake might not seem like a threat on its own. But imagine a legion of serpent priests launching volley after volley of my children into the ranks of your enemies. Create confusion and thin their numbers, then send in the warriors to finish the job. Many battles have been won with such tactics. And, should a priest specialize as a Cobra Conjurer, they will be able to add elemental properties to the summoned snakes.”
“Maybe next time we could have a demonstration that doesn’t involve me nearly getting bitten by a snake with enough venom to take down a pack animal,” Logan said.
Maar raised his eyebrows. “You mean, a snake like this?”
Maar outstretched his hand once more, green energy appearing and taking the form of a snake. Logan snatched his axe from his belt and went to cut down the snake he knew would shoot from Maar’s hand, but the snake didn’t shoot in Logan’s direction. Instead, it shot toward Jaleth. It struck the elf and sank its teeth into his forearm.
“Ah!” Jaleth yelled as he swung his arm about. He snatched a knife from his belt and cut the snake in two at the neck. The body of the snake fell to the floor and vanished into green mist, but its head remained, still stuck on the elf’s arm.
“What have you done, serpent?” Logan spat at Maar as he went over to Jaleth. Logan slipped his axe back into his belt, took his own knife, and pried the snake free from the elf’s arm. The snake head dropped to the floor and vanished in a puff of green smoke. Where the snake’s fangs had been on Jaleth’s flesh were two angry puncture marks. Veins stood out on either side of the twin wounds, and rather than being a healthy-looking red, they were a sickly green.
Jaleth dropped to a knee, his breath coming hard and fast. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he collapsed.
“You’ve just killed one of my marked, Maar,” Logan growled as he sheathed his knife and grabbed his axe again.
“And you will pay, snake!” Arachne screeched, her spider arms extending from her back. The marked elves fanned out around her, even those marked by Maar.
Good, Logan thought. Despite who they’ve been marked by, they are still loyal to me.
“No!” Marseille cried, throwing herself in front of Maar. “There must be a reason—”
“Silence, priestess,” Logan cut her off and twirled his axe in his hand. “I see it was a mistake to ally with you, Maar. I will just kill you now and take what power I can get. And if you should choose to die with your god, Marseille, then so be it.”
“Wait!” Maar said, raising his hand. He was smiling, but there was a definite tremble to his lips and a fleeting look of fear in his eyes. “Priest,” he said to one of the newly marked elves. “Come.”
Logan raised his hand. Arachne and the elves under his command held back.
“Go,” he commanded the priest. “Do as the serpent Archspirit requests.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Logan watched as one of the priests hurried over to Maar. Even through his serpent features, panic was visible on his face.
“Place your hand on the bite,” Maar said. “And focus.”
The priest nodded and did as asked.
“Focus,” Maar said. “Focus on pulling the venom from his body.”
The priest closed his eyes. The area around Jaleth’s wound became an even brighter shade of green, like the leaf of a healthy Alderwood tree. It grew brighter and brighter, until it was almost too bright to look at, then the color faded, and Jaleth’s skin was a healthy flesh color again. The puncture wounds hadn’t closed up; they were still very much angry and red. Jaleth groaned and pushed himself up, and the priest assisted him to stand.
“Dress the wound,” Logan said. “We don’t want it turning bad while we’re in this filthy temple.” He glared at Maar, hoping his words might sting the Archspirit a little.
They didn’t. If anything, they only served to bolster Maar’s spirits.
Maar held out his hands and smiled, as though expecting a round of applause. “See? Experience is the best teacher. As you can all see, one of the skills of my priests is to remove poison, venom, and other impurities from the body. It’s a skill that should come in handy in your travels and battles to come. I saw what happened to the elf that stumbled across one of my traps—a tragedy that you can avoid in the future. And more than that, I’ll teach your craftsmen the ability to make antidote potions to carry with you, should a priest not be available.”
“That will come in handy, to be sure,” Logan said. “But another demonstration like that and you might not like what happens.” Logan placed his hand on the handle of his axe and met Maar’s gaze.
His eyes flicked down, a smile spreading across his face. “Point taken, wizard. But I merely wanted a demonstration of both the priest’s and the venom’s power. It’s good for you to know just how deadly of a venom you’re working with, is it not?”
Logan said nothing, removing his hand from the axe.
“What else?” Logan asked.
“So much more,” Maar said. “You’ll see the new powers your warriors and priests gain as they grow in strength. And your own powers will grow, too. Simply continue to use my abilities in battle, and cover as many fighters as you can with my mark. You won’t regret bringing me onto your side.”
Maar scanned the room. “I see that there are no women here but the spider, and the faithful one who already serves me.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Logan asked.
Another serpentine smile. “Only women are fit to serve as my personal guard, and only they can use the blood magic that I gave up. Bring willing women to me, and I’ll be more than happy to show you what I can do. And I’m more than certain my faithful here has been an adequate demonstration of the power of my guard.”
Marseille stepped forward. “It would be my honor to bring more faithful into the fold.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that, young one. And I’ll be even happier to see it happen.” Maar pursed his lips. “But I will need to grow in power and so will you, War Wizard. Even if I were to have more elf blood, I have, unfortunately, reached my limit. By then, elf blood will no longer be needed. Although you can always kill a few elves in my name if you feel like it.”
Just like Arachne, Logan thought. When he grew in power, he no longer needed the swordspiders’ venom.
“The town,” Logan said. “We need to save the hostages. And that would give us an opportunity for…”
Maar smiled. “A battle. Indeed, that would grow our power.” He nodded. “Give me just a moment, wizard.”
Maar strode past, making his way to the edge of the room on the side that overlooked the forest and the town far beyond. He summoned more energy, a snake slithering down his arm and onto the floor. The creature traveled over the ledge and was gone.
Logan and the rest of his party stood watching, waiting to see what would happen. Minutes ticked by before Maar turned and faced them.
“Pardon the wait,” he said. “I had to perform a bit of reconnaissance. My children are keen spies, after all.”
“What did you find, master?” Marseille asked.
“There are members of my faithful being held in the church. The orcs have slain the rest.” He stepped over to one of the tall columns in the room and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest. “The battle ahead will be a difficult one, but a fight that I’m confident you can win.”
“Then let’s move,” Logan said. “Before those orcs change their minds and decide to execute hostages.”
Maar grinned. “That’s not going to happen. They’re still waiting for the group that unwisely ventured into the fortress to return before making any further moves. That means you’ll have ample time to strike with the element of surprise on your side.”
There was something more to what he was saying, something he was dancing around.
“This is a… wonderful opportunity, if you ask me. Many Archspirits have… terms that they will insist upon before they lend their strength to a War Wizard. Some will simply fight you and it will be up to you to overpower them, to wrest them under your control.”
“And let me guess,” Logan said. “You’re about to lay out those terms.”
Another smile. “Correct.”
“Fighting your minions wasn’t enough?” Logan asked.
Maar shrugged. “That was more an entertaining spectacle. A lark to make sure that you were even worth my time. This,” he swept his hand toward the landscape, “this will be the true test to see if you are worthy to wield both my power and to carry the title of the last War Wizard. This should be more than within your skills. I wouldn’t be sending you on a suicide mission, of course.”
Frustration boiled in Logan’s belly. But a part of him knew Maar had reason to act this way. After all, the Archspirits needed to know that the War Wizards they gave their skills to would be worthy of them.
“Go to the town,” Maar said. “Use the powers that I’ve so graciously given you. Cleanse the orcs and return to me. Then we can discuss our next moves.” He raised his palm. “But only you, the newly marked, and my faithful, Marseille are to go on this mission.”
“More terms,” Logan muttered.
Another grin. “Get used to them. Archspirits don’t so easily give their blessings.”
Logan turned to Jaleth, Arachne, and the rest of the spider-marked elves.
“This fortress is going to serve as our base of operations in the region,” Logan said. “I want you all to explore this building and get a sense of what it has to offer.”
“A wise decision,” Maar said. “Always a good idea to assess what resources you have at your disposal. I’ll accompany your soldiers, make sure they don’t stumble into any of my traps.”
“Not I,” Arachne said. “I don’t need some serpent to look over my shoulder. Not to mention, Silverfang needs to be attended to.”
Maar waved his hand dismissively. “As you like, spider. Go find some quiet corner to spin a web.”
“Ohh,” she said. “That sounds positively delightful.”
“This mission, War Wizard,” Maar said. “It’s not only to secure my faithful. Years ago, this region was one of the most valuable in all of Varsyth. The hills you see are some of the most fertile you’ll find. If you can retake this town, populate it, and use those followers to tame the woods and the lands, you’ll have a solid base of operations from which to spread your power.”
“In time, Maar,” Logan said. “For now, I owe a debt to the elves.”
Another dismissive gesture. “Debts, agreements, obligations—simply gain power and take what you want.”
“A good way to make enemies,” Arachne said.
“One with power will always have enemies,” Maar said. “The key is to simply be stronger than them.”
“Enough bickering,” Logan said. “I’m ready to do this.”
“Wonderful,” Maar said with a smile. “Prepare your forces and begin. And good luck.”
Logan gathered Marseille and Gareth and the others, leaving Jaleth and Arachne in charge of the rest of the elves in Logan’s absence. The party assembled in front of the fortress, the woods spread out before them.
“Alright,” Logan said, Gareth and Marseille and the Maar-marked elves behind him. “The journey to the town shouldn’t take long. We travel as quickly as we can, and once we reach the edge of the town, we’ll come up with a plan of attack.”
The elves nodded, a smile on Marseille’s face that suggested she was more than eager to free the rest of the faithful and retake the town.
“Let’s move,” Logan said.
Together, they made their way back into the woods. The sun was almost below the western sky, the line cutting through the forest at slanted angles. By the time they reached the town, there would be little light left. And considering this was going to be a stealth attack against a force of greater size, Logan knew that might very well work to their advantage.
“What are we getting ourselves into, Marseille?” Logan asked in a low, hushed tone, the rest of the soldiers behind them. “Is Maar worth my trust?”
Her eyes flashed with confusion, as if she couldn’t even believe that he would ask such a thing.
“You want to know if we can trust Maar?” she asked. “I hope you don’t think simply because snakes tend to be figures of deception in children’s tales that he’s the same way?”
“I’m not basing how I feel on children’s tales,” Logan said. “I simply want to know more about this Archspirit for whom we’re embarking on such a dangerous mission.”
She turned her eyes forward, nodding. “I understand. Life for us as the faithful… it’s different. We learn about Maar from a young age. Our first words are his name. Our training is all to serve and protect him. Not that he needs protecting.”
“So I see.”
She smiled. “B
ut I can assure you that your trust in him won’t be misplaced. He has his… way of doing things. But you will find that, in time, he will become one of the greatest allies you could hope for in your quest.”
“I hope that’s the case.”
They continued, the sun dropping lower and the beams of light that shot through the spaces between the trees taking on a color of brilliant gold.
“It shouldn’t be much longer now,” the snake priestess said. “I know the path we’re taking like the back of my hand. We’ll soon be at the outer reaches of the—“
Logan sensed something on the wind. And when he did, he raised his palm and gave the silent order for the group to halt. They obeyed, and he continued to listen.
“What is it?” Marseille asked, her words coming out in a hushed whisper.
It was Logan’s Elderwood training, the skill in taking the slightest bit of sensory information and using it to gain knowledge of his surroundings. And at that moment, it was unmistakable—the scent of orc.
“Orcs,” Logan said. “They’re near.”
Marseille’s eyes lit up. “That’s perfect! If they’ve dispatched a scouting team we can slay them and thus have fewer warriors to worry about in the town.”
A small smile formed on Logan’s lips as he turned his attention back to the woods. Marseille truly seemed to enjoy killing. He found himself wondering if, in saving her followers, he was inheriting a town of blood-crazed militants.
It was a problem to worry about down the line. At that moment, he could sense a small squad of orcs in the woods. He closed his eyes and focused, listening for the faint sound of branches breaking underfoot and puffs of hot air from orcish noses.
They were near. There was no doubt about it.
Logan glanced down to the wolf tattoo on his left forearm. It glowed gently, as if offering its help. When he’d transformed into a wulver for the first time, he remembered his senses of smell and hearing being enhanced. Could he tap into a part of that power without giving into it fully?
Only one way to find out, he thought.
