The Orb of Wrath (The Merchant's Destiny Book 1)

by Nic Weissman

  Erion put another arrow in his crossbow, cocking it with a quick and trained gesture. He shot the second wolf. A part of its coat had been burned from the impact of Mithir's magical projectiles, and the animal was roaring angrily when the arrow pierced its skull, next to one of its ears. It dropped dead instantly. And then there were two.

  The third came to them in a flash, with no time for further reaction. It jumped on Erion, trying to dig its fangs into his jugular. Erion slightly moved his head back, as he wrestled with him. The beast was much stronger; he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer. Behind, Mithir dismounted and took his wooden quarterstaff. He approached the wolf from behind and, taking advantage of Erion's struggle with it, hit it as hard as he could in its head. The animal did not suffer great damage but remained quite dazed and released its prey. Without a second's hesitation, Erion seized the moment, drew his short sword and struck it with a quick and violent movement at the wolf's neck, which fell dead moments later.

  Erion then felt a sharp pain in his left leg. The last beast, which was also wounded in the leg, had finally reached them and had taken him by surprise. The wolf would not let go of the leg and could hear how it tore his muscles. He thought he was going to lose consciousness because of the pain. In an effort of self-control, he moved his sword to his left hand, because he could not reach the animal that was behind him with his right hand, and stabbed it in neck, killing it instantly.

  *******

  Erion woke up with excruciating pain. He turned to see the status of his leg. It was completely bandaged below the knee. Mithir was at his side. It was obvious he had done everything he could to heal the wound.

  Mithir reached for something in his backpack. It was a small bottle. He uncorked it and held it.

  “You must drink this. It will help you heal,” he affirmed seriously.

  “I hope it's not our last healing potion,” Erion said.

  “Shut up and drink!” Mithir replied impatiently, as he approached the bottle to his lips.

  Healing potions were expensive, but relatively easy to get. Almost every town had a healer who dealt with them.

  “What has happened? How long have I been asleep?” Erion asked.

  “You lost consciousness. Fortunately, the fight was over. You slept for about an hour. Just enough time to cure your wounds. Do you think you can ride?”

  “Let me try.”

  “Yes, but you must wait a while for the potion to take effect. That will help so the wound doesn't open again.”

  A while later, Erion felt better. His leg still hurt a lot, but he was able to move. He thought he could even walk with a cane, though perhaps not for long. Fortunately they had horses. He climbed onto his and tried to ride across the meadow. He could see that he didn't feel a lot of discomfort with the horse's movement. Mithir motioned for them to continue their journey.

  As he rode with his brother, Erion pondered what happened. The world of Oris was a dangerous place. Especially as you stepped out of the cities. In addition, a small group or a solo traveler were running far greater risks, because there were far fewer dangers which you could take defense from. It was, therefore, even more important to be cautious.

  Mithir and Erion had traveled much of the kingdom of Bor, since leaving the orphanage about six years ago. That was the year that Erion turned twenty, and could do legally by Mithir. Otherwise they would have had to wait for Mithir to turn eighteen, the age when the orphans left the Lefport orphanage. Erion should have left it at that age, but he managed to convince the Mother Superior to let him stay as a worker for two years, until Mithir was old enough. He did everything: cleaned floors and toilets, took care of farm animals or worked in the kitchen. But this allowed him to continue taking care of his brother and at the same time, earn a small amount of money (very small), while making big plans of everything they would do once they left the orphanage.

  He could not say that the orphanage had been a bad experience. They were welcomed very small, when otherwise they would not have survived. They had been fed every day, although the food was not much; and most importantly, they got an education, a very basic one, though. Although the sisters and the workers had been severe and disciplined, they always received a reasonably fair treatment. Another thing was the treatment of the other children at the orphanage; some were real thugs. As for the sisters, if they had ever received any kind of punishment, usually it had been deserved.

  Erion then recalled how on one occasion Mithir and he had gotten a little mouse in the bag of the helping mother. She worked in the small infirmary at the orphanage and worked in the gardens, as well. She cultivated different types of medicinal herbs, then collected and kept them carefully. She was stiff as a stick, but she was not a bad person. Now that he remembered the episode, he couldn't understand why they had chosen her for the mouse prank, having other more deserving to be their "victims".

  When the helping mother picked her bag to return to the main building of the orphanage, she did not perceive the friend who was inside it. But once she got to the infirmary and opened the bag to take the herbs that she collected, and... Well, the cry was heard in the surrounding buildings. Erion and Mithir believed for a moment that they could get away with it, and it was possible that a mouse had slipped naturally into the bag while in the field. But nothing escaped Mother Superior. That bitch was damn smart. She always ended up finding out what had really happened. He did not understand how; but she was extremely difficult to trick; simply trying it was a big challenge. In recent years in the orphanage school tricking her was proposed several times. Not to make any mischief, but only to try to overcome the challenge. In practice it turned out to be a great training; and a varied one since, different skills had to be used: hiding, disguising, changing the voice, lying, simulating a problem or physical or mental harm, and so on.

  So, the orphanage was even funny at times; and certainly very instructive. The hardest part of the orphanage was what wasn't in it. The difficulty for a child to have to grow and mature without the love of parents. But this was, in fact, what the orphans didn't talk much about. It was easier to speak well, or poorly, of the educators, Mother Superior or the food. Anything but face the bitter reality that they were alone in the world. Eventually, all orphans ended up having to deal with that reality. But usually this did not happen until the date of leaving the orphanage approached.

  Erion felt the pain in his leg had referred considerably. He could probably walk almost normally at dinnertime. Although it would have been preferable to rest for a couple of days for him to fully heal.

  The almost total absence of pain allowed him to appreciate the scenery around him for the first time since the day before. Bor was a beautiful kingdom, as far as the landscape was concerned. Green grass fields stretched across most of the Kingdom. The forests, of various extensions were common in all the counties. There were many rivers and lakes, with clear and cool waters. The winters could be cold but, usually, the temperatures were reasonable most of the year.

  Erion remembered the spring, from a few months ago. Maybe it was the most beautiful season in the landscapes of Bor. It was common that, after the rains early in the season, colorful flowers bloomed across the fields of the Kingdom. Life woke up after the winter hibernation, and you could see all kinds of animals in the different territories. The hunt was good at this time of year.

  A portion of those colors had faded or had switched to darker tones with the arrival of autumn. But you could still see abundant flowers in many fields. And the green of the grass was still alive, even though during that season it didn't rain much. It had started late and it was cold. The temperature was not pleasant, but bearable.

  The afternoon passed quietly, without incident. Almost without realizing it, they were nearing the end of their journey.

  “I think this is the crossroads that the instructions indicated,” Erion said.

  “I remember being here on other occasions, but always heading north or south to Deepcliff,” Mit
hir added.

  This time they made their way to the west. By late afternoon they had reached the forest of their destination. Indeed, it was the only forest in the area and it did not seem very large. They entered it at nightfall, riding slowly, while paying much attention and looking for the camp. It took a while to find it, more than he would have liked, his leg was in need of rest. Finally, after a little less than an hour wandering through the woods, they saw a clearing below where someone had lit a fire, and tents for the night, horses and some ammunition were visible. They walked into the clearing.

  *******

  Thost and his companions had made a fire at nightfall at the rendezvous. Usually the fire drove away the wild animals, and gave them a good view of the entire clearing. They also used it to roast dinner: a pair of rabbits Samar had hunted, as usual.

  Thost looked around. His son Ithelas and Samar were sitting around the fire. The camp consisted of four tents of various sizes, a few piles of wood already cut and prepared, a place for cutting logs, a small water hole, and little else. When they arrived, they inspected it thoroughly, but found virtually nothing beyond the described; neither valuable, nor worthless.

  A hawk descended at high speed on the clearing and, after hovering around, landed on his outstretched fist. He wore a leather glove on his left hand, which prevented the claws of the animal to harm him. It was Houraz, his favorite falcon. And at that moment, the only one. He remembered the times in his castle in Borydos where his lackeys helped him keep a dozen falconry birds of all kinds. He loved to spend evenings with the animals, training them and teaching them tricks, admiring their flight and their ability.

  He had a great ability to understand birds. The key was to know when you had to give them room. Birds are animals who appreciate their freedom, above all. He could have given the hawk the remains of the rabbits for dinner. Houraz liked to peck around the bones to precisely remove small pieces of meat. However, when the right time came, just before sunset, he removed the cap that limited the hawk's vision and released it, pushing it skyward. The animal would seek its dinner on its own. And in the process would enjoy the flight and freedom. But a few hours later, he would return with his master; the man who had raised him with love and affection since he was a little more than a chick.

  When the magnificent animal was back, he stroked it a few times and put it on a stick with a tiny pedestal, which was stuck in the ground near one of the shops. Then he put his hood on again. He had chosen that tent to sleep in the case, seemingly likely, that they had to spend the night there. He didn't know what to expect, really, but he didn't think that the mystery client would ask them to leave that camp immediately after the conversation he hoped to have with him at midnight.

  The letter he had received a day and a half ago was really intriguing. It also gave the impression of having been written by someone with education and money. This had been one of the key factors why he decided to accept the invitation; and also the mention of a good bag of gold after completing the request. Of course, not a word of what it was about. Anyway, in the worst case scenario, if the job didn't seem reasonable, they could go the way they had come, without losing much; only some time. But the only thing he had in abundance was time, now that he didn't have the responsibilities of running a county.

  They still had to wait two hours until midnight. Although the client may arrive earlier. Midnight was a most unusual time for an appointment like this, especially in such a remote place.

  Finally, two riders came into the clearing. Thost looked at them carefully. They were two young men in their twenties. The one marching first was dressed in dark brown leather armor, tight dark green pants and high riding boots. The clothes were of good quality and denoted a lot of use. The young man was bareheaded and watched them intently as he approached them. He seemed slightly annoyed.

  The one behind him looked to be somewhat younger. He was dressed in traveling clothes, and was very thin. He seemed to be a week young man, without strength. However, his face was very serious and showed character. Thost had always been good at reading people. It was a skill needed to direct a court. All kinds of charlatans came almost daily to provide a product or miraculous solution to his problems. It was important to identify them quickly so as not to waste time, nor the valuable resources of the County, with them.

  The riders got down from their horses.

  *******

  Erion wondered who these people were. He could not see his client anywhere, and there seemed to be no one else in the camp. Observing the man, the boy and the elf, he could not help think that he was in front of a group of competitor adventurers. Was this some kind of test? Would they have to overcome the other group somehow in order to win the contract? His client had never submitted them to a situation of that kind. Although he did remember one occasion where a different contractor had summoned several groups in an abandoned quarry to fight, and decide who would be his "service" provider. Mithir and he had abandoned the quarry when they realized what was happening. He hoped this was not a similar situation. The elf who they were waiting for was, at present, the one who gave them the best commissions.

  Suddenly, before they could start any conversation, the elf took the bow from her back and put it together in the fastest movement he ever remembered seeing from an archer. However the girl wasn't aiming at them, but at the other end of the clearing.

  “Take cover!” the elf cried as she fired.

  The arrow crossed the hundred steps that separated them from the end of the clearing in less than a sigh. All heads turned in that direction and then they saw ... the horror. A huge spider ran towards them at high speed. Also considering the size of its legs, the terrible creature was the size of a small horse. It was completely black, hairy. Its head was covered with thousands of eyes, and had two powerful jaws that folded and stretched endlessly. Its fangs pointed down, ready to inject venom. Even at this distance they could perceive its foul odor.

  The arrow stuck right in the monster's head. But the spider did not stop. It advanced towards them at breakneck speed. In these frantic moments a lot of things happened at once. The man who looked like a knight, who apparently was the leader of another group, ran a few steps back toward the camp tents. There was a falconry hawk there and he removed its cap. The animal flew immediately. The knight picked up a long sword that was in a rack next to the tents, with other weapons and equipment.

  Erion and Mithir's horses considerably reared in the presence of the creature, they turned and trotted into the woods, the same way they had come. Mithir reached for his small brown leather bag and after taking a few reagents, invoked again the spell of the spheres, which they used against the wolves that very morning. It was a spell called magic missile, as he once had explained to his brother. The magic missiles always reached their target, although they weren't extremely powerful. Again, the four orange spheres rapidly crossed the clearing in strange trajectories and hit the monster in the head. The spider paused just a moment, and then continued the race to them.

  Erion was lucky to have been able to get his crossbow that was hanging from the saddle, just before his horse fled. As he turned to his horse, he felt a chill even greater than when he saw the spider appearing on the north side of the clearing. Two other monstrous spiders were approaching from the southeast. They were very similar to the first, equally terrible and disgusting, although one was a little larger than the others.

  While this was happening, the elf armed her bow and fired again at the first spider in the head. Erion saw how she tightened her bow to the maximum. That girl had an amazing hand. The spider fell this time, apparently dead. Erion pitched his crossbow and shot one of the spiders that had entered from the southeast. The arrow hit its shell. But it was so hard that it bounced out without digging or causing significant damage.

  The young man from the other group began to sing a song. It was similar to some he had heard as a child in the temple. After a moment, a strange circle of about ten steps across appeare
d on the ground around the young man. The circle was formed with a strange yellow light, like if thousands of tiny fireflies had been perched on the grass in a perfect geometry.

  “Come in!” he cried watching them very seriously.

  Mithir ran and with five or six strides entered the circle with Erion after him.

  It was then when they saw the hawk again, which swooped down on one of the spiders, digging its claws into its eyes and took flight again. The spider just paused, looked up and resumed its pace. The elf, who took less time to fix her bow than the time it took Erion in saying kingdom of Bor, shot and hit one of the spiders, again in the head. A green viscous liquid poured from the wound caused by the arrow, but this did not make it stop.

  Mithir began performing another spell. It was a new spell that he had recently learned. He had not yet mastered it and had already had a couple of accidents with it. But the magician knew it was time to take some risks. A yellow and deep red ball, from which small flares flowed, was ejected at high speed and exploded violently upon reaching the spiders. A large black circle was drawn on the ground, completely burning the grass in that area. Both monsters shouted with a horrible, disturbing screech. One of them sprouted some small flames for a moment. The stench of the beasts now mingled in the air with a terrible plague of decay. But both spiders continued. The one wounded by the arrow seemed to move a little slower, however.

  Erion fired his crossbow again and this time hit the wounded monster in its head. The creature stopped and, after a while, fell dead. The knight and the young man moved brandishing their weapons, a long sword and mace respectively, and placed themselves at the end of the circle waiting for the arrival of the spider that remained. It was only a few steps away from the group and seemed ready to avenge its comrades. It was the biggest spider.