by King, DB
“We were hoping you could answer that question,” Runa said. She folded the telescope and placed it back into her satchel. “Such symbols mark the world. It’s said that they appeared soon after the last War Wizard was slain, that they’re places of great otherworldly and magical energies.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. And that’s why we need to go, and now.”
She shook her head, a small smile tugging the corner of her full, red lips.
“I had a feeling you might say that. But we’ll have to wait until morning.”
“Morning? While we’re so close?”
“It’s simply too far to travel in one go. You may be ready, but the men need their rest.”
“Then they can stay. We—”
She placed a hand on his arm to silence him. “Let’s come under the stars. I have something that might… incentivize you. Come.”
Runa started back to the wagon, flashing a smile over her shoulder.
What might this all be about, eh? Logan thought.
He caught up to her just as they reached the wagon.
“One moment,” Runa said.
She climbed in, Logan’s eyes lingering on her while she vanished inside. When Runa returned, she was carrying a rucksack.
“Is everything this night going to be a damned surprise?” Logan asked as she dropped to her feet.
“Life is more fun that way. Come—the oasis you saw ends just a short way away from here.”
Logan and Runa formed up and headed to the east, the dunes sloping down. The rest of the men camped near the main body of the oasis, the water shaded with trees. Runa led Logan upstream until the men were no longer near.
The water was so inviting that he couldn’t help but squat in front of it and dip his cupped hands under the surface, bringing the cool and refreshing water to his lips.
“Now,” he said after rising and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That incentive?”
Runa flashed him a grin before rooting around in the rucksack. She pulled out a bottle and held it up.
“Not much room for anything but the essentials on this trip, but I made a little space for some good elven wine.”
“Ah. Not the incentive I was hoping for, but it will do.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Oh, did you think I’d brought you down here so I could throw myself at you?”
“Of course I did,” Logan said with an unflappable grin.
Runa laughed. “In your dreams. Now, take your mind out of the gutter and come drink with me, ranger.”
She pulled a blanket out of her bag and spread it across the emerald-green grass that covered the earth around the creek. Next, she slipped out a small dagger to open the bottle, jamming the tip into the cork and working it out.
“Plain to see that’s not the first bottle of wine you’ve opened in such a way,” Logan said.
Another chiming laugh. “Is it that plain? Well, that’s life when you spend nearly all of your days on the road. And you won’t be surprised to hear that there are no glasses. Now, sit.”
Logan did, and she took her place next to him. She held out the bottle, the curved shape covered in elvish script.
She smiled as she stared at the bottle. “This isn’t just any bottle of wine—this is from nearly your time.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. I snatched it from the royal cellar when I was first told of this insane plan to resurrect an Elderwood Ranger. I figured that, should we succeed, it would be a fitting way to celebrate.” She handed it over, and Logan took it. Without another word, he brought the bottle to his lips and pulled. “Most wine would be long spoiled by this point. But elvish vintner skills back then… they were something else. Legend has it that magic was involved. One bit of knowledge among many lost since the invasion.”
It was delicious—rich and tart with a coffee-like bitterness.
“Well?” she asked. “Elderwood Rangers were known for their wine and ale. How does it compare?”
“It’ll do the job.” Logan passed it over, and Runa laughed.
“I’ll take that as praise. The Tyan Kingdom was once known for its wine. But… times have been hard. Vineyards tend to wilt when a society stands on the brink of oblivion.”
She drank deep, passing the bottle over to Logan. As he took another drink, he decided this would be a good time to get some answers.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She looked confused. Her face was even more striking in the moonlight. “I’m Runa, of course.”
“You know what I mean, elf. You’re the leader of this expedition, and I assume your kingdom doesn’t give such responsibilities out lightly, and to just anyone.”
“You are right about that.”
“So, what are you? A princess? A noblewoman?”
“Not quite. I’m a priestess, actually.”
“A priestess? Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as the religious sort.”
“That’s because I’m not.”
He took another sip before passing the bottle over. The wine worked quickly, a pleasant warmth forming in his belly and spreading down his arms and legs.
She sighed, as if the topic of her role in society pained her.
“I’m what’s known as a Moon Elf. We Moon Elves were a priestly caste, highly respected. Though the role is mostly ceremonial now.”
“But you’re a fighter.”
“I am indeed. Moon Elves are trained in the art of war, filling the role of a general and battlefield priest. And that’s good. Now that the other roles of Moon Elves have fallen away, without our fighting skills we would be next to useless.”
“And what other roles are these?”
She snorted. “It was said we were able to once commune with the Moon Goddesses, to draw power from them.” Runa pointed up at the sliver of moon in the sky. “It was said that all Moon Goddesses were represented by the different phases of the moon, that they granted unique powers.”
“Why do you speak of this so derisively?”
“Because it’s been a long, long time since magic has been wielded in such a way. It seems to have… fallen away in the world. Which makes it all the more striking that you have done what you did on the battlefield. To those soldiers, magic has been nothing more than legend.”
She took another sip, as if what Runa was about to say required the steeling of alcohol.
“And… I’m glad you did it,” she said. “You had me worried when you changed on the battlefield like that. But I’m glad you did it. You may have given the men a hells of a fright, but you likely prevented some of my soldiers from dying in the battle.”
“If you wish to not lose soldiers, perhaps you should reconsider leading such inexperienced troops into battle.”
Runa seemed taken aback at this. “These are the only soldiers who were given leave to come on this expedition,” she said quietly.
“Is that so? Surely the king had more experienced men he could send?”
“He did. But he did not want anyone to know about this quest.” Runa sighed and stared across the water, her mind clearly a jumbled mess of thoughts.
“Still,” Logan said. “This trip was a risk. You had no reason to think that my people even existed, let alone could be summoned back.”
“The scrolls were all the proof we needed. But… yes. It was still a risk. The risk was worth it, however. Only a War Wizard can be granted the full power of the Archspirits and mark men with their runes, and only an Elderwood Ranger could be a War Wizard. We find only one Elderwood spirit who has not yet passed, and we are certain to find a War Wizard. And we found you.”
It was Logan’s turn to say something he rather wouldn’t have. He took the bottle from Runa’s hands and swigged.
“We’ve fought together on the field of battle,” he said. “And for that reason, I owe you some honesty.”
Runa cocked her head to the side, an expression of slight worry on her face.
He went on. “The things you wi
sh for me to do, to help your kingdom… While I am a ranger and do know a little of our magics, I know nothing of being a War Wizard. I have no confirmation of any kind that being the last surviving Elderwood Ranger also makes me the last War Wizard.”
“No confirmation? What do you think your transformation into the wolf-man was?”
Logan bit back his tongue. Well, there was that.
“And if you need sure confirmation, I’m certain you’ll find it where the spider rune lies. But you will wait until tomorrow.”
Logan sighed. “I have waited so long for answers. What’s another day?”
Runa smiled. “For one who looks so young, you are mature beyond your years.”
“I’ve had thousands of years to mature, even though my body may still be that of a man barely into his twenties.”
“What did you do all that time? When you were trapped between worlds?”
“Oh, a few things,” Logan said with a chuckle. “I had great power, the ability to conjure up phantasms that could talk, fight, and…”
Runa raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like you weren’t without company then.”
“Not true company,” he said. “They might have looked, sounded, and felt real, but they weren’t. At least not in the way we think of things as real.”
“Well, you are here now, Logan, and I can assure you, this world is real. The threat to my kingdom is real. And the glyph you saw earlier was real. And you are most certainly the last War Wizard of the Elderwood.”
There was determination on her face, and Logan couldn’t help but feel admiration for Runa. She was strong, brave, and loyal to her king and kingdom.
They continued to drink into the night, sharing tales of the Elderwood Rangers. It seemed that, for someone like Runa, who had heard many tall stories of Logan’s people, even the most mundane depictions of daily life were of great interest. For Logan, he found the woman enrapturing, his eyes drawn to her lips as she spoke and the swell of her breast as she laughed.
When she left to retire for the evening, he remained there, watching the moonlight reflected on the clear water.
“Gods, it’s good to be back in the world of the living.” He smiled and downed the rest of the wine.
Chapter 8: Logan
Logan, Runa, Raymond, and the rest of the soldiers, stood mere dozens of feet from the spider glyph. The early morning light cast the area in a golden glow. The air grew warmer by the second as the sun steadily rose higher into the sky. The tall trees of the oasis loomed over the party, casting a dappled shadow.
It was more incredible up close than Logan could have imagined.
“Well, ranger?” Raymond asked, slight irritation tingeing his words. “Say something. We’ve traveled nearly the entire morning to see this thing. Share your thoughts.”
Logan turned, the eyes of everyone there locked on him. He gestured to the trees.
“These… these are Elderwood trees—the kind that the forests of my people were filled with.” He swept his hands toward the impossibly thick, downed trees that comprised the glyph. “And these are Alderwood, the oldest of them.”
“How is this possible?” Runa asked, stepping forward. “I was under the impression all Elderwood trees were destroyed in the Scouring.”
Logan shook his head in disbelief, still able to comprehend that what had once been the greatest forest in all the lands was gone. “I was hoping you might have answers on that front. But Elderwoods are known for their hardiness. As long as the soil in which they’re planted gives them purchase, they can grow at astounding rates.”
“That proposes more questions than it answers, ranger,” Raymond said. “Now, the real issue is whether or not we can do anything here.”
Logan turned his attention back toward the glyph. He knew there was nothing to do but go to it and see what happened. He approached the center of the glyph, the body of the spider.
At first, there was nothing. It felt good to be once again under the shade of Elderwoods, but he needed more than the satisfaction of nostalgia. He stepped over the felled trunk of one of the trees that comprised the spider’s body, taking place in the center of the rune.
Logan waited. The branches of the Elderwoods swayed in the desert wind, the surface of the nearby pond shimmered.
But nothing happened.
“Please don’t tell me this was a waste of time,” Raymond said. “If—”
“Silence!” Logan’s voice boomed loudly through the woods, the soldiers shaking with fear. He could see that Raymond was not pleased to be spoken to that way, but he had bigger matters with which to concern himself.
Namely, that Logan’s wolf tattoo had begun to glow.
“I see,” Runa said, glancing at his forearm. “That’s a good sign.”
Logan turned back toward the woods, dropped to his knees, and closed his eyes. He allowed the peace of this small slice of the former grandeur of the Elderwood Forest overcome him. And as he emptied his mind, he could feel the presence of his people.
And soon, he felt the presence of something else. Prickling broke out across his body, the movement of thousands of tiny pinpoints against his skin. He opened his eyes to see that his arms and legs were covered in… spiders.
They were small and black, their bodies like moving bits of obsidian. Behind him, he heard the shouts of the elf soldiers and Raymond giving commands to keep them in line.
“Calm, lads!” Logan shouted.
“They’re everywhere!” exclaimed one of the elves.
“They’re in my armor!”
The sight of the creatures crawling over Logan’s skin gave him pause, his instincts calling out for him to frantically swipe them from his body.
But Logan remained calm, watching as the spiders covered his arms and legs like thick, black cloth. And as he watched, he realized something—they weren’t biting.
“Do nothing!” Logan shouted as he rose, calling the words over his shoulder. “They don’t mean you any harm!”
“Do as he says!” Runa ordered. “Remain calm, don’t panic!”
The elves did as their priestess commanded, though Logan could see the fear in their eyes. The soldiers had some experience, but they were still green enough to let the fear show on their faces. Logan turned his attention ahead to see a gray mist form at the head of the spider glyph. The wisps curled into the golden air above and vanished among the trees.
The spiders crawled down Logan’s skin, all hoarding forward and vanishing into the mist.
His instincts again called out, urging him to grab the axe at his hip and prepare for a fight. But he remained calm once more, letting his hand drop to his side as the mist began to take shape.
Something coalesced in the silvery haze.
It was the form of a woman.
“Raaanger,” spoke a woman’s voice, her tone gentle. “The one marked by Fenrir. At last. You’ve come…”
Logan pushed aside what little fear remained in him as he stayed focused on the woman’s shape in the mist. Whoever she was, her shape was unlike anything Logan had seen before. She was human, but… not.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice clear and calm. “Step closer so I can see you, woman.”
“How demanding,” she said in return. “That’s no way to speak to an Archspirit.”
The woman raised her long, slender arms, her fingers loose and limp at their ends. Webs began to form among the branches of the trees, the soldiers gasping and murmuring behind Logan.
“This… this is a relief. Years I’ve spent in these woods, certain you were all dead.”
The woman’s S’s were long and sibilant, her voice both languid and inviting.
“Let me see you,” Logan repeated. “I wish to know with whom I’m speaking.”
“Very well… Though I don’t much care to be ordered in my own realm…”
The woman stepped slowly toward him. And as her shape became clearer, he noticed another feature of her body, one that shook him to his core.
/> She didn’t have only two arms. Six more, three on each side, sprouted from her back, long and thin, jointed like the limbs of a spider.
She emerged, her figure clear.
The woman was stunning, her skin silver, her hair long and white and draped over her slight shoulders. Her eyes were black and red, and her full lips formed into a smirk, but her mouth was open wide enough to expose her fanged teeth. Her diamond-shaped face was striking, ethereally beautiful. She wore nothing but a translucent robe. Her round thighs extended from the bottom hem of the robe. Atop her head was an ink-dark crown adorned with jewels the same blood-red as her eyes.
“The ranger… what a sight.”
She emerged fully from the mist, appraising Logan. The spider-woman made a slow circle around him. His hand hovered near the handle of his axe, ready to strike if needed.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, her voice now clear. “Though your elfin friends might want to stay on guard.”
“They’re with me,” he said.
The spider woman stepped in front of him, looking him up and down once more before remaining still, her arms hanging loosely at her sides.
“Charming that you think your requests mean anything in my realm,” she said.
“Spirit, I request that you tell me who you are,” Logan said. He wracked his brain to think of the name of the spider spirit. But his memory came up empty. None of his people, at least when he was alive all those years ago, had worn her mark.
The smile remained on the spirit’s lips. “Strange that a mere mortal would ask such a thing of an Archspirit. But I’ll entreat you. After all, you’re going to need my help. And I’m in desperate need of yours.”
Logan glanced over his shoulder, seeing that his elfin party was still and silent, waiting to see how this would all play out.
“Then,” he said, turning his eyes back to the spider woman, “it seems we can come to an arrangement. I want to know what this place is, why one of the runes of my people is here in the desert, and why you’re dwelling on top of it.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I’m here because of you, ranger. Because of your people.” She lifted her slim arm and swept it slowly toward the trees.