by King, DB
“We have to follow her,” Logan said. “Find the rune and gain the power of the serpent spirit.”
Logan was excited by the chance of acquiring another Archspirit. Arachne had revealed so much he hadn’t known—what Maar would know, Logan could only guess.
“We don’t have to do a damn thing,” Raymond said. “You can go wherever you wish. But our duty is to our king.”
“And that’s what we’re going to do,” Runa said. “Fulfil our duty to our king. The more power Logan gains, the more chance we stand of getting back to him. You saw what Camred showed us when he returned. The magic he could command through the spider rune. More warriors with more runes will only serve to help the king.”
“There is no point in acquiring more power if we return to Tyan only to find the king dead and our home in ruins,” Raymond said.
“We have time,” Runa said. “I believe we’ve conversed enough this evening, Raymond. Get some rest with your men. And Logan… stay for a while. I’m not quite done with you yet.”
Chapter 15: Logan
“And what’s this about?” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall as he looked at Runa. “There something you want to discuss other than strategy?” He let his eyes track up and down her body, a grin playing on his lips. “I’ve got things in mind that would be much, much more fun than talking.”
Runa snorted, rolling her eyes with an expression on her face equal parts amused and annoyed.
“Keep it in your pants, ranger. This is important.”
Logan wiped the grin from his face and nodded. “What is it?”
“I understand the importance of what we’re doing,” she said. “But there’s still the matter of why we rescued you to begin with. As much as Raymond was being impatient, his concerns are not unfounded. We do not have endless amounts of time to roam Varsyth in search of Archspirits. We have the spider spirit. Do you really need another?”
“You’ve seen for yourself what kind of resistance we’re facing out there, what we’ll undoubtedly face on the way back. Gods, it’s a miracle the caravan made it as far as it has.”
She nodded. “You’re right.” She swept her hand, as if encompassing the entirety of the caravan with her gesture. “This caravan, this group of soldiers, represents a massive investment by our kingdom. We elves… we aren’t what we once were. The years have reduced our strength, left our kingdoms mere shades of our former power. And there is another power growing, one that calls itself the Lunar Empire. The king put much faith in the success of this mission. If we were to return prematurely with a War Wizard not yet capable of commanding the full extent of his powers…” Runa shook her head, as if she didn’t want to even consider the possibility.
There was fear in the elf that Logan hadn’t seen before. Without a word, he stepped over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. At his touch, she raised her eyes and nodded.
“We’ll get back to your kingdom,” Logan said. “After all, you did raise me from the dead. It’s the least I can do.”
Runa’s eyes flicked to his hand, then flashed as she realized that he was comforting her. She shrugged off his touch then stood up straight and squared her shoulders.
“Ignore my weakness,” she said, her tone firm.
“Nothing weak about the fear of losing those you care about,” Logan said. “It’s a pain I know all too well. And it’s all the more reason why I plan on standing true to my word of helping you.”
“Then we must get back as quickly as possible,” she said.
Logan shook his head. “No. We must make haste, yes, but we also must ensure that this caravan is strong enough to make it back in one piece. And the more power we collect, the more soldiers that we can gift with the Archspirits’ powers, the better chance we have. More than that, I have no doubt their powers will assist you and your king greatly in reestablishing your kingdom.”
She sighed, glancing down at her feet and nodding. “Yes, you’re right. You’re thinking long-term—that’s good.” Runa cleared her throat and locked eyes with him. He could feel the intensity in her stare.
“But all these slaves,” she said, once more sweeping her hand toward the caravan. “What are we to do with them? We’re stretched thin as it is, so we can’t afford to take on a few dozen more hungry mouths. Not to mention whatever other supplies they might need. And who’s to say they’re not going to cause trouble while they’re here?”
All good points, Logan had to admit.
“But they’re people,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side. “Logan, I never pictured you as this much of an altruist.”
He let out a snort of a laugh. “That’s not exactly what I mean. Yes, as an Elderwood Ranger I’m sworn to protect the weak. But there’s more to it than that. People are power—the more the better. The Elderwood Rangers were wiped out because, despite our training, we couldn’t resist the onslaught of the orcish horde. But if we were greater in number…”
“You mean, turning them into an army?”
“Imagine gathering hundreds, thousands even, of slaves taken by the orcs. We could raise an army and give them their freedom in the process. Just imagine returning to your kingdom not only with a War Wizard, but with enough manpower to secure your kingdom.”
She said nothing, giving the matter some thought.
“That would mean more than just fighters. We’d need workers to harvest resources. And we’d need food, water, medical supplies. And we’d need something more secure than a caravan.”
“Leave that to me,” Logan said. “I’ll make it my responsibility to manage the freed slaves and the soldiers marked with the power of the Archspirits. Give me this, and I’ll give you an army.”
“Or, you’ll lead us into disaster and get us all killed in the process.”
“That won’t happen,” he said with a sly smile. “And more than that, it’s a risk we have to take. This land is overrun with orcs—we’re going to need all the advantages we can get if we’re to make it back to the eastern side of the mountains.”
She nodded, as if accepting it all.
“Alright,” she said finally. “I run the caravan, you run the rest. But I doubt Raymond will be happy about this. He’s already not sure what to make of you. And now, here I am, giving you more power.”
“I can assure him that his trust, however small it might be, won’t be misplaced. “
“Don’t assure him—show him. Actions and words, and all that.”
“Very well. But for the time being, we’re going to need to see what sort of value the priestess can provide us. She said that there’s a rune of Maar the serpent Archspirit beyond Graysmoke Forests.”
“Ah,” Runa said, her eyes lighting up. “I remember there were ruins and a small town beyond the forests. Perhaps this is what the serpent priestess was referring to?”
“It sounds like it. The priestess called the town Edgewood,” Logan said. “And the Graysmoke Forests, I recall the name from my time. Does the forest still stand? It wasn’t ravaged like the Elderwoods?”
“They still stand,” Runa said with a nod. “But they’re a shadow of what they once were. The orcish hordes ravaged them, tore down whatever suitable tree they could find. What remains are the old, rotting trees. We can travel through them and continue toward this rune.”
Logan shook his head. “No. We should take an expeditionary force. Me and Marseille and Arachne, along with a few soldiers. Any more than that would draw attention. With the amount of action we’ve already seen, there’s a good chance word is spreading that this caravan is the juiciest target in the region.”
“You’re likely right about that,” Runa said with a sigh. “The trees of the Graysmoke Forests are not what they used to be, but they’re numerous enough that they should make fine cover for the caravan. We should be reaching the edge of the wastes soon. The Graysmoke Forests are near.”
“Then let’s move,” Logan said. “We find a place to conceal the caravan i
n the woods, and then I venture north with my party.”
“It’s settled,” she said. “But Logan… do not forget that I’m trusting you with the lives of everyone in this caravan.”
“I won’t.”
With that, the caravan journeyed on. It took two more days before they finished crossing the wastes, the hardscrabble landscape giving way to the gnarled woods of Graysmoke Forests. Logan remembered these woods from his days in his first life. The Graysmoke Forests, named for the ashy color of the leaves of the Spirewood Trees that comprised the woods, marked the furthest the Rangers would venture if they were to leave the Elderwoods.
He spent the two days it took to reach the forests training, checking in with the former slaves and making sure they were settling in. There was tension between the slaves and the elves of the caravan. And more than that, it was rooted in the same thing—the elves felt that the former slaves were nothing but drains on their precious resources, and the former slaves clearly wished they could do more than eat and drink away what little supplies the caravan had left.
Logan would have to find a way to make them useful. If not, the caravan wouldn’t last much longer before it ran out of supplies.
After breakfast on the third day, Logan made his way to the front of the first caravan and watched as the Graysmoke Forests appeared on the horizon. It did him some good to see that, while the forests were but a shade of their former glory, they were much the same. The Spirewood Trees extended up like thick fingers into the sky above, the gray of their leaves making the woods seem as if they were blanketed in a thick fog.
Logan sipped his coffee and watched them grow larger and larger, something deep inside of him alighting, letting him know that his destiny, whatever it might be, lay ahead.
“Enjoying the view, ranger?”
The voice of Arachne snapped him out of his daydreaming. He looked around, not seeing her.
“For one who has my power, you certainly lack the imagination to figure out what I’m capable of,” she said.
Logan snorted. He glanced at the front of the caravan. She was there, her usual crafty smile on her face, her long spider legs gripping the side of the huge, wooden craft.
Her eyes locked onto his as she climbed up the front of the caravan and stood before him, her spider legs tucking behind her. She was dressed in nothing but a wrap of silver spidersilk around her waist, the material just enough to cover her womanhood. And her long, silver hair was draped over her breasts. Logan would have had to have been a fool to not recognize how stunning and shapely she was, despite her strange form.
“I didn’t come here for you to ogle me, War Wizard,” she said with a playful smile. “Though I certainly don’t mind the attention.”
“You’re certainly dressed like someone who doesn’t mind the attention,” he said.
“I’m dressed like someone who hasn’t had to worry about clothing in centuries. But I’m glad that you like what you see.” She placed her hand on her hip and cocked it to the side, drawing attention to her curves. She was certainly a feast for the eyes, but Logan had more important matters on his mind.
“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Logan asked.
“There was indeed. I wanted to tell you that the training of my—our—soldiers is continuing apace. They’re going to need more battlefield experience to truly tap into their powers, but so far, all are developing well.”
“Excellent. We’ve a scouting mission ahead. I’ll be taking you and the soldiers and Marseille ahead into the woods and to the ruins beyond.”
“As you wish, Logan. As long as you think you can trust this Marseille woman.” She said the priestess’ name with disdain.
“You think that she’s not worthy of my trust? Why?”
“Maar,” she said. “The snake spirit. A fitting animal for a schemer such as himself. And the blood magic he wields… terrible, disgusting power. Maar was always a loner when us spirits walked the world together. Although he did have something of a fling with another Archspirit. It didn’t end well. That’s the sort of life you’re forced to lead when you make a hobby out of backstabbing.”
Logan remembered what Arachne had said about the Archspirits, how they had their own desires and motivations. Perhaps she spoke true about Maar. But he wasn’t about to trust every word that came out of her mouth. After all, perhaps she had her own issues with Maar that colored how she viewed him. Either way, Logan knew it would be essential to stay above the feuding and interpersonal problems of the Archspirits.
“Then I’ll need you there as support,” he said. “I’ll need someone to count on.”
A smile spread slowly across her face. “A wise choice to count on me, Logan. Now, I didn’t simply come here to satisfy my own curiosity. I wanted to show you something. Come—climb down with me.”
Before Logan had a chance to respond, Arachne’s arms extended and she began scuttling down the front of the caravan. He closed his eyes and focused, extending the spines from his palms then placing them on the sheer, wooden front of the caravan. He moved down with ease, soon reaching the ground. From there, Arachne led him inside the second caravan, to the horse stable at the bottom. Around thirty horses were there in total.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Come.”
She took his hand and led him to one of the horses—a massive, coal-black beast of a horse with powerful muscles.
“This is Storm,” she said. “Or so the horsemaster tells me. I’m not much for the name, personally. I took the liberty of marking him.”
“You what?” Logan asked, more surprised than anything. He had known that War Wizards could mark weapons and armor with runes, but he’d never heard of a living creature being marked. Although there were legends of creatures who ancient War Wizards rode into battle, infused with the power of Archspirits—maybe this kind of thing was where the legends stemmed from?
Arachne smiled back over her shoulder and stepped toward Storm. The animal didn’t budge as she approached.
“Sit, Storm.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the horse did as she asked.
“Look, Logan.”
She swept the thick, dark hair of his mane aside, revealing her mark on the back of his neck.
“What did you do to him?” Logan asked.
“Gave him my power. Watch.”
She slid onto the horse’s back, riding him sidesaddle. Once she was on him, Storm rose. She placed her hand on her mark.
What happened next was beyond Logan’s expectations. Storm’s dark eyes grew into many more, their color a deep, dark red. Fangs sprouted from his mouth, curved and glistening with poison. Eight legs, four on each side, jutted from his sides. He stood on his legs, moving back and forth, scurrying with the speed and precision of a spider as he climbed up the walls and roof of the caravan. He appeared like some sort of unholy combination of a spider and horse, all the advantages of both.
“What… what is this?” Logan managed to say.
Arachne smiled as she petted Storm’s mane. “A Spidersteed. The speed of a spider, the power of a horse. My finest warriors rode such beings into battle. You can imagine the sort of terror a hundred of these beautiful creatures might cause as they rushed toward their enemies.” She leaned in and spoke into Storm’s ear. “Good boy. Sweet boy.”
“Does the horsemaster know that you’ve done this with one of his creatures?”
She smiled. “Storm… he had something of an attitude problem. When I told the horsemaster what I could do, he was more than amenable.” She cocked her head to the side. “But Storm… that name won’t do. I think Silverfang is much more fitting.”
It was a suitable name. The twin fangs that hooked from its mouth were silver as steel and sharp as blades.
Arachne placed her hand on the back of its neck, on her mark. Silverfang changed back into its normal form, and Arachne descended.
“The power of the Archspirits isn’t limited to men and women, Logan. A
nimals, like objects, can be marked.”
“I have heard legends that may have spoken of this practice.”
“Ah, yes, they were mere legends in your time. I suppose, like many things, the knowledge of marking beasts was lost, and, for one reason or another, the Archspirits chose not to teach the War Wizards again. I suppose that is what happens when you slay the gods in search for power, rather than allying with them. Perhaps I should say this knowledge was not lost to the War Wizards, but ‘forbidden’ from them? The Archspirits they gained power from were slain. They did not ally with us as you seek to do. And it is only in allying with us that you can be granted our full powers, such as marking beasts. In time, I’ll show you more of what I’m capable of. And all the other spirits you awaken and form an alliance with will be eager to do the same.”
Logan was still in a state of mild shock. Truly, the extent of his potential powers was beyond imagination. He had only ever aspired to become a War Wizard, and now he was one. And to learn that there was a way to become even more powerful, with more magic at his fingertips, than the War Wizards he had known in his time? To be more than his father had been? It truly boggled his mind and filled his heart with determination.
“Can the soldiers you’ve trained ride these mounts?” Logan asked, turning his attention back to the present.
“They can—in time. But they’ll have to specialize when their skills improve. Arachno Assassins can become Spider Lancers, fearsome warriors who ride these mounts into battle and wield spears that drip with venom. Give me time, Ranger, and soldiers, and I’ll give you an army.”
She smiled, placing her slender hand slowly onto Silverfang’s back.
“But for now, I believe I’ll be content to take him along on our little expedition. I trust that’s not a problem?”
“Not at all,” Logan said. “We’re leaving as soon as we find a place for the caravan to take shelter—be ready.”
Another broad smile. “You can count on me, handsome.”
He let out a laugh before taking his leave of Arachne.
They reached Graysmoke Forests, the thick canopy above casting the caravan in shadow. It didn’t take long to find a suitable place to make camp. They came across a small, freshwater lake with rock cover on the western side that provided protection. Only a narrow channel between the rocks and the lake gave access to the encircled caravan.