Severed Empire: Wizard's War

by Phillip Tomasso

  With their faces so close together, it was impossible to see anything. They were in complete darkness now.

  Ida heard the spiders. They were crawling all over the queen. At first, Chorazin struggled, thrashing back and forth. Ida had to hold her down, keeping her fat body in the bed. The fight didn’t last long. The injected venom from the spiders paralyzed the queen. Their curse raced through her bloodstream with every bite.

  Ida pulled her hands away and stood up straight—as straight as her knotted back allowed—and walked over to the window. She threw open the heavy curtains. The sun crashed into the room with sudden intensity. Shadows were instantaneously forced into corners, nooks, and crannies.

  On the bed, the queen only had the strength, the ability, to move her eyeballs. Fear radiated from them like a distress beacon from a sinking ship. It would be cruel showing enjoyment in someone else’s suffering. Ida covered her mouth when she chuckled.

  Tears streamed down the corners of the queen’s face. Flat on her back, she succumbed to the arachnids. There was no other choice, however. They didn’t seem to bite her as much now. Ida wasn’t sure the wretched woman felt the sting of bites. She couldn’t remember if the paralysis prevented the victim from feeling pain, or if it simply rendered them immobile. Either way, it didn’t matter. The queen was completely subdued.

  The spiders were industrious and simply fascinating creatures to watch. The beautiful way eight legs choreographed each calculated step was both graceful, and stilted. Short, fast steps that jerked up, back, left, right, and down. The spinnerets spun sticky silver silk webbing that tethered itself from the start of the strand to the back of the spider’s body. They began creating a cocoon around every exposed part of her body. The hundreds of spiders had their work cut out for them. There was mounds of flesh exposed, and dangerous folds of fat and flab for them to consider, and yet it didn’t slow their work any. They scurried across and up and down her body.

  As entertaining as it was to watch the spiders work, Ida also took great pleasure in watching the Queen’s eyes. She didn’t think the woman had blinked yet.

  Perhaps she couldn’t?

  Regardless, Ida wasn’t sure if the queen fully comprehended the seriousness of the situation. It was more than dire; it was downright detrimental. There was enough venom inside Chorazin’s veins and arteries that even if by some miracle she wasn’t consumed by the inside out, and the spiders were exterminated, she’d be a shell of a woman, crippled, and bedridden. Surely as the sands of time dropped, the queen relinquished bit by bit pieces of any remaining sanity. If she lived through the ordeal she’d only ever be moved from her bed to a chair by the window and back to her bed again.

  Ida shook her head, as if shaking the ludicrous thought of survival from her mind. The queen could not survive this attack. The spiders were relentless, and hungry, and soon they’d lay eggs, and have millions of babies ravenously set loose inside the cavity of a dying, or already dead royal corpse.

  Ida knelt by the bed and watched turning her attention back to the spiders with renewed fascination. There was no way the spiders could get under the queen’s body in order to fully wrap her in their webbing, but that was not a deterrent. They tightly encased her feet, and legs with ease, her arms and neck were swaddled next. Lastly, they stretched the webbing from the neck to the back of her head, and across the queen’s forehead, and then over her nose. Mouth and eyes were about the only parts of Queen Chorazin left visible, and the queen’s eyes pleaded silently with Ida for help.

  Ida covered her hand over her mouth and chuckled.

  Without replying, Ida simply watched as one especially rambunctious spider laid webbing across Chorazin’s eyes, and covered her ears. The only part the black critters left uncovered was the mouth. Ida laced her fingers together and giggled as, one by one, the spiders converged from the different parts of the body to the face, and then after a few pulls at her lips, they crawled into her mouth. The queen gagged. It must be a reflex, regardless of paralysis. Her tongue protruded from the side of her lips, as if in an effort to escape the clutter of spiders filling the orifice. They were insistent arachnids, eager to get down the narrow throat, but were bottlenecked in the mouth. Hairy legs kept protruding up and over teeth, and then disappeared back inside an obviously overcrowded mouth. Once every last one of the spiders was inside the queen, a spinneret appeared just before a seemingly chaotic spray of web was ejected. It secured in place on top of the rest of the silk, and completed the cocoon covering over the entire jaw.

  Ida wasn’t sure how much longer the queen might live. The spiders were web-weavers, and their work almost certainly lead to hunger. Inside the fat queen’s body, the spiders would isolate organs and muscles, and spin webs until there was nothing left to eat, or to cover.

  The spiders, mostly female, almost certainly all pregnant, would also be busy laying eggs.

  It was truly a nasty way to die, Ida thought as she clucked her tongue off the roof of her mouth. With that, Ida stood up and took a final few moments admiring the work the spiders had done. The web was nearly all encompassing. It was quite truly an exquisite wrapping. The way the sun reflected off the spun web was as brilliant as the sun on mirrored glass; nearly as blinding.

  There was no way anyone could blame the king for the death of his wife. This could never be called murder. No investigation would be ordered. A curer wouldn’t even be called on for determining cause of death. The proof was the silky shroud around the obese body. Should they decided to dig deeper, an autopsy would reveal a belly full of spiders and spider-lings.

  That could prove dangerous. In twenty-four hours, all of the clutter would die. They lived short, magical, lives. If released from their self-sealed tomb, they’d move on to another target, a new victim. It could prolong their existence. She made a mental note to suggest the corpse be set afire immediately. The king would agree. It would prevent an unneeded and potentially hazardous outbreak.

  Feeling certain the queen was in fact dead, Ida closed the curtains, opened the bedchamber door, and when she was sure no one was around to witness her departure, left the queen’s corpse and shuffled back to her home inside the tower.

  ***

  As the Derecho approached the Isthmian Islands, the Captain gave the order to raise the sails. The tars repeated the command as they scaled the masts and tied off the sets of giant canvases. The Captain maneuvered his ship up alongside an empty slip, and beside an in-place gangplank with rope railings. Tars threw ropes over the side. Men on the dock caught hold, and secured the vessel off to large horn cleats.

  Before they disembarked, Captain Sebastian instructed Mr. Reed to escort them to Governor Hobb’s mansion. Mykal wasn’t sure what a mansion was. It was more than likely a place of business. Everything since boarding the Voyager vessel seemed foreign, as if they’d crossed over into some other world, rather than only travel halfway across the sea.

  Mykal really wasn’t sure what to expect, but with sun rising behind him what he saw was far from anything he’d ever imagined. There were unique looking trees with thick bases that grew slenderer the taller they were; like a tuft of hair at the top of the trees were a handful of long, spiky tear-shaped leaves, and dangling from the branches were clusters of dates. Rows of flat-roofed buildings nestled between the fruit-bearing trees along the inclining cobblestone roads looked like modest homes with clear glass for windows. Colorful birds with vibrant red wings, and yellow, orange, blue, and green bellies were the size of falcons. They sat perched on rocks, and roofs, and squawked to one another as if engaged in conversation. It was nearly impossible not to smile while walking past them.

  Just up the hill, the land leveled out. Surrounded by more trees and taller buildings was clearly a bustling marketplace. Vendors prepared for the day, setting out fish on tables of salt; dried meats hung on layers of thin rope that ran the length of the kiosk. There were carts with linens; tunics and pants, scarves and yards of raw material.

  Women were scanti
ly dressed. Bare midriffs and ample breasts showcasing cleavage stole the attention from the boisterous birds. Each woman possessed a sense of exotic beauty, whether they wore curly hair long, and loose, or bound under a scarf tied over the tops of their heads. What caught Mykal’s attention were the large brown eyes that watched him, and the others, as they walked past.

  There was the steady banging of a hammer on steel. This caught Coil’s attention, and he stared as they walked by the smith shop, where swords, daggers, and axes were hung on display. Aside from a fire pit, stacked with wood, and burning hot, the inside of the shop was dark. The steel the smith had been hammering slowly lost its red glow, and using forceps, the glow was extinguished when the forged sword was dipped into a bucket of warm water with a loud hiss. “Man does good work,” Coil said, a murmur really. Mykal simply nodded, as he knew nothing about working with steel.

  Beyond the plateau, and just past the street of shops, the road began rise. It branched out down different routes. They stayed straight on the cobblestone, and walked up toward a large three story structure. It resembled the size of a small castle. It appeared to be made of wood, and not stones, and blocks of cinder. The wood was colored bright yellow and resembled a giant sunflower. Just beside the building, where there was a significant rise in the terrain, and the foliage became denser, the ground was parted by a small, fast flowing creek. A waterfall produced a shimmering rainbow, and the arcing colors were transparent in the rising mist.

  “What is this place?” Mykal said.

  “That is where the governor lives,” Mr. Reed said.

  “That’s a… a house?” Eadric said.

  “That’s her mansion,” Mr. Reed said.

  “Her?” Quill said.

  “Her.” Blodwyn smiled. He continued past the cobblestone road onto the stone-block walkway that carved a narrow path through low cut green grass up toward the mansion’s front door.

  “How do the goats and cows eat the grass so evenly?” Eadric bent low and plucked blades from the ground, studied them closely, rubbed them between his fingers and then let the wind take them away.

  Mr. Reed laughed as though Eadric had told a joke. It felt like he was trying desperately to fit in. “We have rotating blades that run over the yards and trim the grass,” he said, continuing his insulting snicker.

  If he was trying to be funny, though, Mykal didn’t get it.

  ***

  Only the other day, and for the first time, Mykal had been inside King Nabal’s castle. Now he was being led into a governor’s mansion. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He assumed nothing would compare to a castle. He was wrong. There was a warmth associated with the mansion that the cold rock castle lacked.

  The inside of the mansion matched the outside when it came to beauty. The front foyer opened up to polished pillars which stood beside a broad staircase. A crystal chandelier dangled from above. The rising sun’s light sparkled of the gems, and a spectrum of colors played on the walls and floor. Tables along the walls, under mirrors, or framed paintings, displayed sculptures, or vases full of flowers, or brass candelabrum with three branches.

  Coil walked up to the pillars and ran his palms over them. “What kind of rock is this?”

  “Marble. Same as the floors,” Mr. Reed said.

  “Marble?” Coil cocked his head to the side.

  “Please, stop molesting the pillars, sir.” Mr. Reed grunted.

  Coil backed up a step. His hands no longer touched the marble, but he didn’t lower his arms. “Where do you get marble? There’s nothing like this in the Ironwall mines. And to the best of my knowledge, nothing like this exists on the east side of the river, either.”

  Mr. Reed let his lips thin out as he offered up a condescending smile. “There are many different civilizations beyond the Old Empire, foreign lands with different treasures, different foods and fruits, and types of people. The world does not revolve around the east and west banks of the Isthmian.

  “I will have you wait here,” Mr. Reed said. “I am sure this goes without saying, but do not touch anything.”

  Blodwyn smiled, and nodded. Mykal patted his uncle on the back because the cords running up the sides of his neck bulged, and his face reddened. Mykal thought he might have to physically restrain Quill, who was clearly offended by the insinuation.

  Coil didn’t look pleased with the comment either. Mykal assumed it was directed at Coil, anyway, and not so much to his uncle.

  Mr. Reed went upstairs and, a moment later, returned. He descended the flight slowly, and eyed each of them as if he suspected they’d gone wild in his absence, and stole all of the governor’s valuables. “The governor wishes to speak with you,” he said, pointing and Blodwyn, “and the boy.”

  Eadric stepped in front of his son. “They’re not going anywhere without us.”

  “Then I am afraid your trip was for naught. If you can show yourselves out, I still have a busy day ahead of me. We need to make up time and money for the tars after the wasted voyage to retrieve the lot of you. Good day,” Mr. Reed said.

  Mykal wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to strike someone as much as he wanted to strike Mr. Reed. He knew he was not alone. “Wait here,” he said. “We won’t be long.”

  Mr. Reed crossed his arms. Mykal was sure it was meant as an imposing stance. The effect fell flat. “I do not have all day to stand around while you decide.”

  “Mykal’s right,” Blodwyn said. “We’ll be fine. You wait here. Quill, keep an eye on everyone.”

  It was almost the same insult Mr. Reed had hurled a moment ago, but said this time with more tact.

  “Oh, I’ll be staying to keep them company. The two of you will go upstairs, make a right. It will be the first set of double doors,” Mr. Reed said. “There’s no need to knock. She’s expecting you.”

  “She?” Mykal said. He whispered, “The red scarf—it’s the governor’s?”

  Blodwyn arched an overgrown eyebrow, and one side of his mouth turned up in a devious, snarky grin.

  As Blodwyn and Mykal climbed the stairs, Mykal heard Coil begin drilling Mr. Reed with questions about marble. “Is the marble expensive? I imagine it is. How can it be used for flooring tiles, and solid round pillars like this? The shine is amazing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Can you imagine a sword made from this material?”

  “Marble would make a horrible weapon,” Mykal heard Mr. Reed saying as they rounded the corner at the top of the staircase, and out of earshot.

  The tall and wide double doors were a solid cherry wood with fancy black iron hinges and matching door knobs. “Nice doors,” Mykal said.

  Blodwyn stopped walking a few feet before the nice doors, and stared down at the handles.

  “You okay?” Mykal said.

  Blodwyn took in a deep breath, and sighed. “Apprehensive is all.”

  “Apprehensive? What about?”

  The doors were pulled open. A beautiful woman stood in front of them. Long silver hair with ringlet curls was draped over her shoulders. She had the bluest eyes Mykal had ever seen. Dressed in an opal dress with glimmering silver trim, Mykal did his best to avert his eyes from low neck cut that dissected the front halves of the dress all the way to her navel.

  “Wyn. It’s been some time,” she said.

  “Zeta,” Blodwyn said.

  Mykal wasn’t sure when it happened, standing a foot and a half apart the two now held hands.

  “You look exactly the same,” the governor said.

  Blodwyn cocked his head to the side. His soft smile indicated his appreciation of the fabricated compliment. “Then, including the failing eyesight, you have changed much since the last time I’ve seen you; you are even more beautiful.”

  They stood still as statues, just smiling and staring into each other’s eyes. Mykal gently cleared his throat. Nothing happened. He did it a second time, with a little more gumption.

  Governor Zeta Hobbs dropped her hands and pressed her palms onto supple hips. “And who is this? Is
he the young boy? Mykal?”

  Mykal blinked at the response. He could not recall ever having met this woman. He was sure if he had, he would remember. She was not the kind of woman one forgot easily. He bowed slightly. “A pleasure,” he said.

  She held out her hand. Mykal shook it. Seemed awkward. He couldn’t recall ever shaking hands with a woman.

  “Come in. Close the doors.”

  Mykal shut the doors. He was careful closing them, certain if they slammed shut the noise would echo down to Mr. Reed and the others. “This is an amazing home,” he said.

  “Why, thank you,” the governor said.

  A large wood desk sat in the back corner of the office by the windows with a most unusual chair behind it. Mykal saw two settles in a corner, with a small knee high table in front of them. They looked more like beds. He’d never seen a settle with a soft red and gold material covered cushion for sitting. Not even in the king’s castle.

  “Please, sit down,” Hobbs said.

  Mykal eyed the furniture almost suspiciously; the settle looked even more comfortable than the canvas covered straw bed he and grandfather slept on at home.

  “Sit,” she said, with a little more forcefulness this time.

  Blodwyn and Mykal sat side-by-side on one of the settles.

  “It’s called a sofa. Or a couch,” Governor Hobbs said, as she sat in the one adjacent to them. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s wonderful. I dare say my bum has rarely felt so comfortable.” Mykal wiggled around on the cushion, his arm on the armrest, and smiling. Only then did he regret his choice of words, but unfortunately they had already escaped his mouth. But the governor chuckled, one hand covering her mouth. “Forgive me, Governor Hobbs.”

  “Call me Zeta, Mykal. It’s only fitting, I suppose.”

  Mykal looked over at Blodwyn. “Is this—is she?”