Spiderhunter (Ages of Argainen Book 1)

by Robe

  “Maybe she hadn’t defected yet,” Ziem suggested. “Maybe Argain got to her sometime between our arrival at Oluld and now.”

  “It’s very possible,” Auric said. He looked toward the common room where Reon had gone off to. “I’ll talk to him.” With a nod goodbye, he made his way to the common room and found Reon sending small licks of flame into the fireplace.

  “What’s going on?” Auric asked, closing the door behind him.

  “More of a mess than I care to be in,” Reon said quietly.

  “Elaborate?” Auric asked, sitting on the bench next to him. “I don’t mind hearing your troubles.”

  “Do you promise you won’t shout at me?” Reon asked.

  “Of course I won’t shout,” Auric said. “There is nothing to gain from losing one’s temper.”

  “Try telling that to my uncle.” He was quiet for a moment before speaking, “The same day that we arrived at Oluld, Chey came to me, tears in her eyes over her lost friends. I did my best to comfort her. We spent much time together, after both battles. Last night, while Dalk and I were on guard duty, she was signaling to me, so I convinced Dalk to go to bed, telling him I’d keep watch. Chey snuck up into the guard tower and we… I neglected my duty.”

  “You were much closer to her than we knew,” Auric said.

  “I didn’t tell her anything,” Reon said. “I swear to it. Aside from my own powers, that is, but plenty of the other Martins already know about me anyway. I never told her about anyone else in the group, or any of our plans, or least of all about Hazzul.”

  “I see,” Auric said. “That was wise of you. May I ask, did she seem curious about any of those things?”

  “I suppose, yes,” Reon answered, thinking back, “but at the time, it didn’t seem anything unusual.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, Reon,” Auric said. “There is no crime in wanting to love another. Are you alright?”

  “I will be.”

  Auric patted Reon on the shoulder. “Hang in. I care about you, and so do the people out there. You’re part of the team, and nothing is going to change that.”

  A visible swallow went down Reon’s throat and his head bobbed up and down.

  High in the sky, the sun beamed down much hotter than Joan had ever known it to be. Lon Gairdas wasn’t famous for being warm, but it wasn’t exactly frigid, either. Martin was something entirely different; the ground was dusty, and there were fewer plants. In fact, what plants were scattered about the dry land looked as though they’d never seen a good rain in all their lives. It seemed unlikely to Joan that Martin would even receive snow during the cold season.

  Joan and Kandon sweated as they waited for Emule and Marima to finish enchanting Veese’s sword. The two were leaning against the Long House exterior, Joan making a bubble of water levitate between her hands, and Kandon sharpening his hunting knife.

  He held the blade up to the sun and seemed satisfied with his work. “I’m gonna grab a meal while we wait this out,” he said, stashing his knife and sharpening stone away. “Want me to bring you anything?”

  “Liquid,” she said. “Any kind will do.” Kandon stared at her blankly until she looked up at him. “What?”

  “Really? You, of all people, need liquid?” he asked, looking pointedly down at the orb of water between her hands.

  “I’m not going to drink this,” Joan laughed. “Why should I risk drinking magical water if I don’t have to?”

  “I cooked with that back in the forest!” Kandon said.

  “Yeah, but you boiled it first!” Joan replied. “You know what, forget it. I’ll just die of thirst out here.”

  “No, no,” Kandon chuckled, opening the Long House door. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

  Joan sighed and shook her head but couldn’t help smiling. She refocused, staring down at the water ball. With great effort, she delicately separated the sphere into two, four, and then eight smaller water drops. Interestingly enough to her, the smaller motions demanded more focus and control over the water than simply releasing a rushing torrent. Carefully, she made seven of the little drops of water revolve shakily around a single one.

  “Impressive,” a voice spoke, making Joan jump and drop her water. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Joan looked up to see Morris, Ysseri’s nephew. “No,” she said. “I was just playing around.”

  “It was impressive. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to seeing the abilities of the Touched,” he said.

  “I’m still getting used to it myself,” Joan spoke, and she stood awkwardly as Morris continued staring at her silently. He didn’t look battle-worn like everyone else in Oluld. In fact, he didn’t even seem to be carrying a weapon. “Can I do something for you?”

  “My apologies. I’m just so fascinated by you,” Morris replied. “I’ve been all over the New World, from the northern tribes of the Harou to the Abyss, but the Touched are something entirely different. The world will never be the same.”

  “It certainly won’t if we don’t catch Argain,” Joan said.

  “Of course. We’re doing everything we can to make sure you do catch him. If he moves, we’ll know about it, and he’ll be yours to bring down. My great aunt calls you the Spiderhunters. Fitting name, I suppose, although it’s a bit abstract.”

  “Yes, well, your great aunt is quite eccentric,” Joan said.

  “Great, great, great aunt, actually,” Morris said. “She practically raised me. My parents never understood that I didn’t want to grow up learning to battle for honor. Great Aunt Ysseri figured me out and stole me away from combat training every chance she got to teach me the history of our land. Leave it to her to be the first to find the Touched.”

  “You don’t seem too concerned with such a daunting battle hanging over our heads,” Joan decided to point out.

  “Oluld won’t fall,” Morris said simply. “It takes more than a few suits of armor to bring down a village full of Martins. Besides, we’ve got the Spiderhunters on our team. What’s to be concerned about?”

  Joan couldn’t tell if Morris was making fun of her and her friends, or if he was being genuine. Either way, she wasn’t enjoying the conversation.

  Morris seemed to detect her discomfort, and he smiled at her down his nose. “Well, I’ve got people to meet. It was a nice chat, though. I look forward to hearing about more of your feats. Joan, right?”

  Joan gave a quick nod.

  “We will speak again at some point,” Morris strode off, leaving the aquamancer shaking her head.

  Kandon reappeared and handed Joan a glass of juice. “Something wrong?” he asked, leaning beside her and biting into a piece of meat he’d procured.

  “No,” Joan said quietly, “but I saw a weird bug.”

  -

  Throughout Oluld, every citizen was upon the edge of his or her seat and keeping an ear attuned to goings-on. As usual, the Martins kept their weapons on them at all times, but they found themselves fondling the grips of their swords and axes more often than not and peering over their shoulders at the horizon as if expecting to see something there.

  Emule proved to be quite tedious in his work, more than once requiring several hours to complete a single piece. Veese had emerged with his sword late into the afternoon; the rapier was aglow with a pale green light emitting from the runes carved into the blade. It was as sleek as ever, and he said little before sheathing it. It was clear he approved of the outcome.

  Joan went third and was followed by Ziem and Reon. The symbols of Joan’s weapon glowed blue, but a much deeper blue than Dalk’s. Ziem’s sword shone a brilliant yellow, almost painful to look at. He warned the others not to touch the blade, as he could feel the strength of the energy within it trying to overwhelm even him. The sun had fallen by the time Reon came out of the private room, wielding his ungainly weapon with more pride than ever. His mood had only improved as he displayed his newly-empowered blade, its runes blazing a bright orange and radiating
more heat than a blacksmith’s forge.

  Thraun offered to let Auric join Emule and Marima before he did, but the leader of the group declined the suggestion, claiming he wanted more time with his sword before investing such energy into it. With a nod, Thraun agreed and took his broad shield into the room. The night became late, and Auric found himself anxious even in the presence of his friends. Zanesh returned from her rest, annoyed she had been allowed to sleep so late, and rushed to join the guard that kept watch over Oluld’s boundaries.

  Finally, Thraun returned, his shield before him. Like the other tools, his shield was embroidered with the mystical-looking runes, each glowing a pale grey. It was quite a remarkable aegis, its edges gleaming with alluring radiance.

  “That’s spectacular, Thraun!” Joan exclaimed as he appeared. “But won’t it be a heavy burden?”

  “Yes,” Thraun replied. “The strain won’t kill me, and I could use a bit of muscle these days.” He turned to Auric. “Emule and Marima are waiting. They are quite tired, as you could guess, so try to cooperate even if it seems silly.”

  “Thank you,” Auric said, and he rose from his seat next to Ziem.

  “Where are Dalk and Reon?” he heard Thraun ask as he walked toward the private room.

  “They went to help guard the walls,” Ziem replied.

  -

  Auric walked through a doorway and entered the room to find Emule and Marima seated upon the carpet, waiting for him.

  “We never thought you’d be last,” Emule said as Auric sat before them with his sword in hand.

  “I am still new to my gifts and my weapon,” Auric replied. “I didn’t want to rush into this.”

  “Well, you may be in for an extended wait, so bear with us,” Emule said, taking the sword from Auric. “Marima, if you will please…”

  Marima nodded. “This will be strange for you,” she began. “Clear your mind of concerns and try not to become upset. It may disrupt things.”

  “Should I expect to be made to feel upset?” Auric asked uncertainly.

  Marima and Emule exchanged a glance, and then Marima answered, “No… but the process is taxing. Your friend Reon did get irritable. Although he hid it as best he could, it was still interfering with the process.”

  “What exactly is this process?” Auric queried.

  “Emule is going to induce a trancelike state and imbue your sword with your energy,” Marima explained.

  “This is a fine sword, by the way,” Emule interrupted before uttering an apology.

  “Using the technique Argain made us employ,” Marima continued, “I will help you focus your energy so Emule may perfect the weapon. You will feel it. Don’t try to block me out; that will make our jobs difficult. Your friend Veese tried very hard to stop me from channeling his power without realizing it. Even after I figured out what was happening and told him to relax, he struggled.”

  “I see,” Auric said. “So all I have to do is be calm?”

  “And patient,” Marima said. “As you’ve noticed, this takes some time, and it is quite late. Are you ready to begin, Emule?”

  “I am,” Emule said, and Auric nodded as well. Marima extended her hand and placed it into Auric’s, and then she closed her eyes. Immediately, Auric felt strange. He felt almost as if his thoughts were being invaded. A presence roamed about his head, an indescribable sensation of slight disturbance roving through his conscious. Goosebumps went down Auric’s back, but he told himself to breathe normally, that it was Marima’s doing and nothing else.

  Across from him, Emule was staring at the weapon with an unwavering gaze. Had he been looking at Auric, the hero would have been very uncomfortable. Suddenly, Emule’s eyes began to glow; first, it was just his pupils, but soon, the entirety of both eyes was shining. The glow started out white, and then it shifted to a brownish color. He reached a hand over Auric’s weapon, and from his palm emitted a thin beam of what Auric could only have described as pure energy. With it, Emule began slowly carving into the sword.

  Amazed by the mastery of the two people beside him, Auric couldn’t drag his eyes away from the strangeness of it all. Emule’s hand moved ever so slowly down the length of the blade, leaving behind smoking runes that gleamed brown in its wake. Auric finally understood the colored, magic symbols running about each of his friend’s tools.

  “Strange that they haven’t attacked yet,” Reon said quietly to Dalk as the two men watched the dark horizon from their seats high up in the guard tower. “Zanesh said their forces are stronger than ever.”

  “Argain is crafty. He is likely waiting for the most opportune moment,” Dalk replied.

  “Will the village fall?” Reon asked as his fingers traced the runes of his sword.

  Dalk frowned before answering, “No, I don’t think so. The Martins are a strong people. With leadership like Zanesh and Ysseri, I think it is very unlikely they will be overtaken.”

  “Are you scared?” Reon pressed, his face glowing orange from the runes on his blade.

  “You certainly are chatty tonight,” Dalk said.

  “You’re avoiding the question,” Reon grinned.

  “No,” Dalk replied, his eyes meeting Reon’s in the gloom. “Battle is not something to be feared. Death is not something to be feared. Should we die, it will be protecting those who cannot protect themselves, and we die knowing we’ve done everything in our power to do what is right.”

  Reon nodded, and he was quiet. The view before them was a vast stretch of flat land, savannah ranging from the outskirts of Oluld to the hills far off in the distance. Little light came from the stars, proving Dalk and Reon’s job, and the jobs of every other vigilant guard keeping watch, difficult. It was windy, and even though there were few trees to rustle in the moving air, the breeze was quite obvious as it rolled through the hills and pushed the hair out of Reon’s eyes.

  After awhile, Reon spoke again, “Have you ever been in love?”

  “No,” Dalk said. “My life has been very busy. I haven’t had time to find love.”

  “But certainly you’ve met women you want to court,” Reon said.

  “I’ve met many woman I would consider myself lucky to spend my life with,” Dalk replied. “My duties have prevented me from pursuing them.”

  “What?” Reon asked, astounded. “Certainly even in the harshest conditions, your superiors would not deny you, an agent of the law, the right to court a lady!”

  Dalk shuffled in his seat. “It is more complicated than that.”

  Reon laughed. “Women are not to be feared, Dalk.”

  “I am not afraid of women,” Dalk said, although he looked uncertain himself.

  Reon was about to press the matter further when he saw Dalk’s gaze switch to conviction. Almost knowing what he would see before he looked, Reon’s eyes snapped back to the horizon to spot a force, far off in the distance, but moving quickly toward Oluld. It was undoubtedly the black raiders, and in their hands waved torches burning fiercely.

  With a sharp look from Dalk, Reon dashed from his seat and thrust his sword out of the opening in the tower that faced Oluld, sending a blast of fire spewing over the city. Having garnered a great deal of attention at such a late hour, Reon called to the people below, “The black raiders approach! Ready your weapons!”

  Auric turned his head as he heard shouting from outside the Long House, and he was about to rise when Marima’s grasp on his hand tightened.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Be calm until we finish, or everything he’s done so far will be ruined.”

  Auric nodded, but he grew very uneasy. He was sure the thoughts of black raiders, Argain, and Balanch racing through his mind were interfering with Emule and Marima’s work regardless of how hard he suppressed them. A scream from outside almost made Auric stand unwittingly, but once again, Marima’s grip held him.

  A group of Martins lined up just outside of Oluld, each with a bow clutched in his or her hand. Veese was with them, and Kandon beside him with his crossbow load
ed at the ready. The raiders were nearing fast, each one mounted on a steed as usual, and each one looking more ferocious than the next.

  “They will try hard to reach us,” Zanesh spoke at the head of the group, “and those of them that do will meet a swift death upon our cold, furious blades. It is not mercy that drives us to slay these beings so quickly, but the exact opposite!” Zanesh was so passionate that the words spewed from her mouth with the sharpness of a spray of knives. “They will fall to our rage, our honor, and our everlasting lust for battle! Ready your bows!”

  Each archer in the group raised his or her bow to the sky, anticipating the movements of oncoming raiders. Kandon kneeled at the front of the group with several other crossbow wielders, aiming their powerful weapons for a closer engagement. A great gust of wind pushed the tunics and hair of the archers and made worried looks flash across their faces.

  “Aim as if there is no wind,” Veese spoke, and the wind was suddenly still as could be.

  The hooves of the raiders’ mounts thundered in the distance as the attackers neared, and just as they entered bow range, Zanesh shouted, “Fire at will!” From their bows, a volley of arrows was released, and for a moment, the projectiles hung in the air before raining down upon the front line of the raiders, bringing several of them toppling from their steeds. The archers hastily readied a second round of arrows, and they released at different times before tossing their bows aside and drawing their weapons. The remainder of the Oluld force arrived, including Dalk, Reon, Joan, and Thraun. Spears were passed out, and a line was formed just behind the crossbowmen and Zanesh. A few more raiders were taken down by late arrows, but the bulk of the force remained. Finally, the mounted raiders crashed into range of the crossbowmen, and Kandon and the others kneeling beside him released the bolts on their weapons with a series of powerful thunks.

  More than one of the black raiders was taken clean off its horse by the forceful projectiles, yet a daunting battalion of raiders remained, and they could only be described as enraged. Their fury seemed little more than a child’s tantrum compared to Zanesh’s though, and she let out a blood-lusting battle scream as she charged. The rest of the Oluld force was behind her, their spears poised to strike the raiders from their horses and their voices letting the sky, the sea, and the black raiders know they did not intend to fall.