by King, DB
“Pleased with my magic?”
Logan didn’t need to turn to know it was Arachne who approached. She moved to his side, a sly smile on her lips.
“Very,” he said. “Your skills won this day.”
“And they will win many more,” she said, smiling. “Imagine a battle in the future, sending my acolytes in to remove the enemy chieftain or general before the fight even begins.”
“You’re making quite the case,” he said. “And it sounds to me like you’re more than eager to increase your own power.”
She shrugged. “Can’t blame an Archspirit for wanting to rise above the rest, no?”
Logan made a mental note for when he began to collect more spirits. They had personalities of their own, wants and desires. And he’d have to manage them.
But he sensed there was something else to the spider Archspirit’s words, a reason why she’d chosen that moment to make her case.
“The woman,” he said. “Where is she? And what is she?”
Arachne’s posture fell, as if she were disappointed. “She’s in one of the servant’s quarters. And… she is a priestess.”
“There’s more to it than that. Tell me.”
“She’s a Priestess of Maar.”
“The serpent Archspirit?”
“Yes.”
Logan shook his head, slightly annoyed that such an important bit of information had to be pried out of Arachne. But he kept his frustration to himself, not wanting to upset such a powerful ally.
“Rest and gain your strength if you need to,” he said. “We’ll be moving out soon.”
“As you wish, ranger.”
Logan took the ladder back down and made his way through the camp, overseeing the freed slaves. When he was satisfied with what they’d been able to gather, he commanded them to bring all that they could into the caravan, then gave the word to his men to get underway when that was done.
Logan was eager to speak to the priestess. And when the caravan was finally able to lurch into motion, the prow pointed back in the direction they needed to go, he went to find her.
After being directed by one of the servants to the quarters she’d taken up, he made his way to the door and knocked.
“Come in.”
Logan opened and stepped inside. The room was dark, the curtains drawn, only candlelight illuminating the silk-adorned space. The priestess was there, lounging in a tub of steaming water. Bubbles covered her body above her breasts, and one long, tanned leg was draped over the side.
A pleased smile formed on her lips as Logan entered and shut the door.
“The man who saved my life,” she said. “We finally meet.” Her voice was low and enticing, her words spoken with noble diction.
Logan gestured to the tub. “I’m assuming you didn’t gather the water and heat it yourself.”
She shook her head slowly. “You think a woman of my stature would draw her own bath when there are ample servants to do it for me? Perish the thought.”
“A bold move for a woman whom I haven’t decided if she has a place in this caravan.”
“Oh, you’ll want my help,” she said, with total confidence in her words.
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
She nodded slowly in the direction of his tattoo, the Fenrir rune on his forearm.
“Because you already bear the mark of one Archspirit. And your mark is authentic. It is not a poor imitation. Which means you have somehow found a way to access the old magics. You and your band of elves, and that strange spider woman.”
“I am an Elderwoord Ranger and the last War Wizard,” Logan said. “And those elves are my marked, and the woman you speak of is the Archspirit Arachne.”
The woman in the tub seemed taken aback, and it took her a few seconds to compose herself.
“If Arachne herself is traveling with you, I can assume that you’ve already won her allegiance and have her mark somewhere on that powerful body of yours. Or, perhaps, she made promises to entice her to work with you.” She continued to smile. “A War Wizard. Incredible. I was certain that you’d all been destroyed.”
“We had been.”
“Then how are you here? How have you escaped the notice of the Archspirits for so long?”
“That’s a story that would take too long to tell.”
“But one I’m most interested in hearing.”
Logan leaned back against the wall across from the bath. “Nothing comes for free. You tell me who you are, what you’re doing here, and how I can get to your master. When I’m satisfied with your answers, you can hear my story.”
She arched her dark, full eyebrows. “And you think you can simply set the terms of this arrangement? What if I have other intentions in mind?”
“Such as?”
She grinned. To Logan’s shock, the head of a snake poked out from the top of the water.
“The hells?” he exclaimed.
The woman didn’t say a word as the snake, its ruby eyes locked on Logan, slithered out of the tub, creeping silently across the rug. Logan slipped his knife from his belt and, with a snap of his wrist, launched the knife in the direction of the snake.
The blade stuck into the ground with a thwack. But the snake was gone.
“My spirit gives me power, wizard,” she said. “And I have many, many ways of getting what I want.” She reached for the nearest towel, which was out of reach. “A little help, please?”
Logan snorted with amusement as he stepped over to pick up the towel. He handed it over, and she clasped it.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, turn around like a good gentleman.”
The amused smile still on his face, Logan turned as she rose from the water and wrapped the towel around her body.
“I’m decent,” she said.
He turned back to see that she was out of the water, the towel wrapped around her.
But he didn’t bother ogling her like some sex-starved fool. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the tattoos on her body. Over both breasts were the forms of snakes from the side, their faces regarding one another at her sternum. Strange, runic script that Logan didn’t recognize was written across her chest.
“You like what you see, wizard?” she asked, her body on full display.
Logan ignored her comment and gestured at her tattoos.
“I want to know where you got those marks,” he said, not pausing to indulge her attempts at seduction. “There are no War Wizards beside me, and there haven’t been any for centuries. Where did you get them?”
She arched her eyebrows, as if wanting to make sure she’d heard him right. She stepped out of the tub and made her way across the room to where her clothes lay draped over the bed.
“They’re tattoos,” she said. “Not true runes like yours, but more… signs of my devotion to Maar.”
“But you have his power?”
She glanced away, and he got the impression she didn’t want to tell him the answer.
“We have… some of his power. There are ways to obtain the powers of an Archspirit through runes, without having a War Wizard inscribe them. It is a lesser, bastardized form of the old magic. And it comes at a great cost. The truth is that we haven’t spoken to our lord in a long, long time.”
“How long?” Logan asked.
“Since before I was born. And before my mother was born. And before her mother was born. And… you get the idea.”
“Then what purpose does being his priestess serve?”
“One day he will return,” she said, resolute. “And when he does, I have no doubt he will reward me and my sisters for our devotion.”
Her clothes in her hands, she sat down on the bench in front of the vanity.
“Then there are others?” Logan asked. “Other priestesses?”
“That’s right. Although they do not have quite the power I do.”
“Where are they?”
“At a town by Maar’s rune beyond Graysmoke Forests. The town is called Edgewood.”
Logan’s eyes flashed. “Maar’s rune?”
But she didn’t answer. Instead, she gave him another pleased smile, and she shook her head, as if in disbelief.
“My sisters and I… we were having a crisis of faith. After so many generations without our master speaking so much as a word to us, it was only natural that we’d wonder if he’d forgotten about his daughters. But I had a dream, one that told me to travel south if I wanted to find him. My sisters told me not to go, but I knew my faith would keep me safe.”
“Doesn’t seem like it did,” Logan said.
She sighed. “I took a small group with me, men and women who were devoted to Maar and would protect me. As you have seen, they did an appalling job. When the orcs captured us, it took all the strength I had to trust that the father would watch over me. And then you came to my rescue. Not just any soldier, but a War Wizard. And you have the power to speak to Maar. He works in mysterious ways, does he not?”
Logan had to admit it—the path that had brought the priestess to him had been an interesting one.
But he had more pressing matters on his mind.
“He does,” Logan said. “But now it appears that our goals are one in the same—we both want to meet Maar.”
“Indeed, we do. I have a feeling that you don’t need me to tell you that great power awaits you, should you bring Maar back into the physical realm.”
“I’m sure of it.”
The door to the quarters flew open. It was Jaleth, a tense expression on his face.
“What is it, soldier?” Logan asked.
“Bandits,” he said. “They approach.”
“More orcs?” Logan asked.
“It doesn’t appear so,” Jaleth said.
“Is there no place safe in this godsforsaken world I’ve been reborn into?” Logan muttered.
“There hasn’t been a safe place for humans since the War Wizards died,” the priestess of Maar said.
Logan grunted.
“It would appear my master has decided to give you a demonstration of our gifts,” the priestess said. “Let us go.”
“Make sure the freed slaves and the servants are safely inside,” Logan commanded Jaleth. “Inform Arachne, and prepare the rest of the troops for defense.”
“Oh, you won’t need to go to all that trouble,” the priestess said. “Let me handle it.”
She glanced at Logan, then at Jaleth.
“Can’t a girl have a moment to get ready?” she asked. “Out, the both of you.”
Logan snorted and smirked, then nodded for Jaleth to follow him out of the room.
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Jaleth asked.
“Go ahead.”
“I… I get a bad feeling from her. I’ve heard stories of Maar, of his powers. They’re not just the powers of the serpent, they’re the powers of blood magic. Serpents are only the symbol of it.”
Blood magic. Logan knew little of it, but he had heard tales back during his time. It was known as ‘the red gift’, a dark magic that could inflict unspeakable violence on those at whom it was directed. That was about the extent of his knowledge on blood magic.
“We’ll keep a close eye on her,” Logan said. “But for now, we deal with this bandit attack and get back to the rest of the caravan.”
“Understood.”
They stepped out onto the westward balcony of the caravan. Arachne was already there, having cast webbing that connected from the railing to the roof. A few arrows were stuck into it, answering the question of why she’d done what she had.
“Did you get what you wanted from the priestess?” she asked, a scheming smile on her face.
“We discussed our next step—traveling to Maar’s rune.”
“Maar,” she said, shaking her head. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, ranger.”
Another arrow zipped toward them, sticking harmlessly into the webbing. Logan stepped closer and peered through the gossamer strands, spotting who was there.
It had to be nearly a hundred men in total—humans, as far as he could tell. They were on horseback, all clad in studded leather armor, huge bows in their hands, scimitars at their hilts. The group was around three-hundred paces away, their open position letting Logan know they were goading him into a fight. One man at the fore watched them, huge and hulking on his horse, his hair long and dark, scars on his arms and face so deep that Logan could see them from a distance.
The leader, Logan thought. Brave and stupid—two qualities you need to be a successful raider.
“They’re not firing at the beasts,” Jaleth said. “I’d guess they want to kill us and capture the caravan as undamaged as possible.”
“Right,” Logan said. “But if they don’t get a fight, they’ll kill the beasts and leave us to rot.”
“I can hold this web,” Arachne said. “However, I don’t have the power to summon more children. I would need more rest.”
Logan considered the matter. A hundred enemy soldiers was a large force, but he had seven marked—one less now that Camred was running a message to Runa. It would be an interesting test of power levels, but probably an unwise one to attempt. The men were still tired from the battle with the orcs—another melee could result in men lost.
“Alright, alright,” the priestess said, her voice sounding out from behind Logan and the soldiers. “Let me handle this.”
She was annoyed as she approached the webbing.
“Who put all this shit here?” A blade flashed at her hip, and she sliced through the webbing with a quick swipe. The blade back in her hilt, the group had a clear view of the bandits.
“Elves!” shouted the bandit leader, his voice booming enough to rattle bones. “Abandon your caravan and the women and treasure you carry. If you refuse, we’ll kill you down to the last child!”
Logan didn’t have a single doubt that the man spoke the truth. Logan’s body yearned to fight, to hop down from his height and cleave the leader’s skull in two with his axe.
“Darling!” the priestess called out. “A counter-offer for you to consider—you turn your mangy horses around and leave, and I won’t kill you on the spot!”
The leader laughed, his men joining in with him.
“You’re good-looking enough, wench!” he shouted back. “Maybe I’ll keep you as my pet when we’ve killed the rest!”
“Ohh, I hate when men talk like that,” she said, shaking her head. “Is that your final answer?”
“Talking is the last thing I want to do with you, love!”
“Alright,” called back the priestess. “But remember before you die that I gave you the choice!”
The priestess raised her hands in front of her. She closed her eyes and began moving her hands in a slow circle, her fingers glowing red. She chanted something under her breath, words in a sibilant language.
“This is evil magic,” Arachne said quietly. “Blood magic.”
Logan watched as the priestess slipped the blade once more from her hilt. She placed the long end against her flesh and cut enough to draw blood. She raised her palm and called one more word in the strange language before flicking her wrist, tossing a shower of blood onto the cracked and ruined earth beneath her. The blood hissed when it landed, like water splashed on a hot stove.
Something was happening. Logan could feel it.
“What the hells is going on?” the leader asked.
Before he could speak another word, his face twisted into an expression of mild confusion, as if something were happening to him that he didn’t understand. His hands then shot to his neck, sickening choking sounds coughing up from his throat. His skin turned a deep red, the whites of his eyes like two small pools of ivory floating in blood. He struggled, trying to breath but failing. The choking grew louder and louder.
And he popped.
At first, Logan couldn’t believe what he saw. But as surely as a bladder filled with water beyond capacity would burst, so did the leader. One moment he was there, the next he
was gone.
The horse he rode was covered in red, the earth around him a splatter of gore. The leader had been out front, but his nearest men were still covered in droplets of red. They were stunned.
“Now!” called out the priestess. “Do I need to send a clearer message than that?”
None of the bandits said a word. One bucked his horse and turned and rode off, the rest following. One of the bandits circled back to the leader’s horse, grabbing the now-gone leader’s blade from the side of the animal.
“Good weapon!” he called out as an excuse before turning to join the rest of his men.
The bandits disappeared into the distance. When they were gone, the priestess turned around, a broad smile on her face.
“Now,” she said to Logan. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” She held out her hand, blood still weeping from the wound. “My name’s Marseille. What’s yours?”
* * *
“She… blew him up?” Raymond leaned forward against the map table in the command room, his expression perplexed.
They’d returned without incident. Logan was back with the rest of the caravan, giving his superiors their debriefing. And he’d just reached the messiest part of the trip.
“She blew him up,” Logan repeated. “Tossed a little blood onto the ground and popped him like a too-full water skin.”
“Blood magic,” Runa said, her arm hanging over the side of her chair. “We have a blood magic priestess among us now.”
“She saved the caravan,” Logan said. “If we’d been forced to battle those bandits, it might’ve been a fight we would have lost.”
“The only price was that now we have a practitioner of the evilest form of magic within our ranks,” Raymond said.
“Or so the legends go,” Runa said. “Just because blood magic involves, well, blood doesn’t mean that it’s any better or worse than any other kind of magic.”
“Moreover,” Logan said, “it’s the magic of the serpent spirit Maar. And Marseille says that his rune isn’t too far from here.”
“What are you proposing?” Raymond asked.