Book of Venoms - 6. Conspiracy

“Fiend Bat: Inhabiting the vast, treacherous caves of the Uludar region, Fiend Bats are both feared and revered by the local tribes. Supposedly created by Thulnos, the God of Night and Sleep, these small creatures are incredibly fast flyers, feeding on insects and fruit.

Should any predator be foolish enough to try and hunt them, Fiend Bats retaliate by biting the attacker, injecting it with venom that quickly puts it to sleep. Although not deadly, their venom can - in large quantities - cause the victim to fall into a coma that can last for weeks.

Once they mastered capturing these bats, the Uludar natives started using their venom to produce potions against insomnia. Even though no negative effects have been discovered so far, exercising caution is recommended, as extensive tests on humans are yet to be conducted.”

--

All of the caravan merchants were kneeling in the sand in the middle of the Sonoraj Oasis, their heads low, looking at the ground in front of them. The Mataki tribe has taken all of their wares and gold, and for all they knew, their lives would be next. Brutal tribe warriors stood unflinching behind them, making sure no one tried to escape. An unnecessary measure, to say the least, as the frightened merchants had nowhere to run. Their camels, which they used for travelling, were too slow for any kind of escape, and the nearest settlement was days away.

“When is the next caravan due to arrive?” Dakon, one of the generals asked, pacing back and forth in front of them. He had no sturdy, metallic armor on his body - none of the Mataki did. Still, he looked so rough that people could swear arrows and blades would bounce off his skin, causing him no harm. However, the sharp, curved sabre in his hand had certainly seen its fair share of victims - slaughtered in the name of the Mataki.

“I-in three days,” one of the merchants mumbled nervously, not daring to look the general in his dark eyes.

“Very well,” Dakon said, stopping for a moment. They have more than enough food, and water was hardly in short supply in the vast oasis. That was the reason they chose to invade it in the first place. “For now, everything proceeds as normal. Go back to your duties. And don’t try anything funny if you value your lives.”

One by one, the frightened people got up on their feet and went on their way, eager to get away as quickly as possible. They hurried past the healer’s hut, where the resident medicine man treated the injured Mataki with the help of the tribe’s shaman, Vaunga. While the injured oasis guards were left to die, the Mataki warriors received the best treatment.

None of the merchants dared say a word until they were out of earshot of the tribesmen, in the northern part of the oasis, where a small settlement was built.

“Do you think they’ll do the same to the other caravan as they did to us?” one of them whispered to his fellow companion.

“I have no doubt they will,” the other one replied. “I pray to Gods they let us go.”

“Prayers will not help you against Chieftain Kotho,” a voice whispered to them and the men stopped, looking around until they saw a shadowy figure standing behind a palm tree. “But I can make sure you stay alive.”

“Who are you?” one of the two merchants asked, distrustful of anyone. Still, he was afraid for his own survival and was eager to take any chance given to him, as slim as it seemed.

“Follow me and I’ll explain everything,” the voice said, rapidly vanishing behind the tree and into a nearby hut.

The two men looked at each other and followed the stranger inside. There were three people in the hut - a young man and a woman they did not recognize, clearly from the Mataki tribe, and a man they knew as one of the oasis guards.

“I’m glad you chose to follow me,” Ercil whispered, peeking through the curtains every now and then, looking outside to make sure no one was nearby. As the eldest - and now only - son of Chieftain Kotho, he knew what he was doing was highly dangerous, not just to himself and his wife to be, but to everyone that is found to be conspiring with them.

“Who are you?” one of the merchants asked, looking at him distrustfully. He was clearly nervous, unsure if he made the right choice to follow the young Mataki man.

“I am someone who can help you. This man can vouch for me, as I have already spared his life,” the young, orange-haired man stated, pointing at the guard who sat on the floor, his calf wrapped in bandages.

“He speaks the truth,” the guard nodded.

“What do you want from us?” the other merchant spoke, briefly turning to look behind him. He was on edge, constantly expecting someone to stab him in the back when he least expected it.

“We need as many allies as we can get. The Mataki have strayed long enough under the leadership of Kotho and his unquenching thirst for riches. He does not care how many of us die in his foolish pursuit for more land and treasure. That has to end.”

Even though he was whispering, passion was clear in Ercil’s voice.

My brother was a coward to run away instead of confronting our father, but I will put a stop to his mindless wars before our entire tribe is eradicated.

“If you follow my instructions, I will make sure you live. Otherwise, make no mistake the Chieftain will have you killed as soon as the next caravan arrives with new goods.”

“What would you have us do?” the wounded guard asked.

Ercil gathered them close and presented them with his plan to overthrow his father, and the others nodded in understanding. Without much to say, they agreed to do as he asked and left. If that was their best chance of survival, they had no choice but to take it.

Once Ercil and his wife to be, Magana, were left alone, the young woman approached him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Love, are you sure we can convince the rest of the tribe to follow us?”

“Not all of the tribe is loyal to my father,” Ercil stated. “Most of them will follow whoever is the leader. Our main problem, apart from Kotho himself, are his two main generals. If we could dispose of them as planned, we’d have little trouble handling Kotho.”

“I pray that you are right,” Magana whispered, raising herself on her toes and brushing her lips against her lover’s.

Even though their marriage was arranged by their families when they were just little kids, they fell in love and could hardly wait to perform the ceremony next summer solstice. That was considered to be the most powerful day of the year for the Mataki, worshippers of Oxo, the God of Sun and War.

The young couple was in love, but as long as their tribe continued with their endless wars under his father’s leadership, their future was uncertain - and not just theirs, the entire tribe’s.

If I was a young weakling like my brother, maybe I would have escaped with Magana long ago, Ercil thought. But no, I cannot do that. I must stay and fight for these people.

“What would I do without you by my side?” Ercil muttered as he squeezed the girl tight, bringing her closer to him and slowly kissing her exposed neck. Magana moaned, melting in his arms.

“Let’s not think about that. We have plenty of time until nightfall,” she cooed. Kissing him, the young woman caressed his firm back and strong arms, inhaling his scent. He was becoming a man in every sense of the word, and she certainly appreciated it.

“That we do,” he smirked, getting down on a blanket that lay on the floor, pulling her down with him.

~~

“Calm down, children. It seems as though the Goddess Nammis does not want you in my home,” Sephare mused, looking at Castor. “Why do you think that is?”

Tangled up in magical vines, Castor tried to wriggle himself out but there was no escape. The plants had a firm hold on him, wrapping themselves around his legs and arms.

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “Let me go, dammit!” He wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed or scared by the situation. Maybe it was a mistake to seek this woman after all. What if she hurts Sawyer? It’s all my fault, Castor thought, cursing himself for being so careless and naive.

“What if it has something to do with your other form?” Sawyer asked. “You know about the legend of Zharo.”

“Are you a shifter, boy?” the sorceress asked with curiosity, immediately approaching Castor, her dress fluttering as she walked. The boy nodded hesitantly.

“Yes. A Scarlet-tailed Serpent,” he admitted, realizing there was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Well, that would certainly explain why Nammis would have reservations. She is not terribly fond of snakes, as your friend here has noted,” Sephare explained, as she waved her hand and the vines loosened their grip on the boy, retreating into the bushes they came from.

“Yes, I know. Many people are not fond of snakes,” Castor said bitterly, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He rubbed his arms where the vines had a hold on him, rolling up his sleeves to see if they left bruises.

As soon as Castor was free, Sawyer reached for his hand but Castor brushed him off, turning away from him. When even Gods get hostile towards him without even getting to know him, what kind of a treatment can he expect from people then?

“Of course, that is no reason for you not to be allowed into my home,” the woman smiled enchantingly, ignoring the obvious tension between the two boys. She ushered them in, following them inside and closing the door.

Even though he had the distinct feeling he was not welcome, Castor reluctantly went in. If this woman was able to help him find Macarius, then he had no choice but to humor her.

Looking around the spacious room they found themselves in, the two boys easily realised that Sephare was clearly a devout follower of the Goddess of Nature. The place was filled with plants of all sizes, planted in pots and carefully arranged around the room. Most of them were in full bloom, creating an explosion of colors and filling the air with the most pleasant fragrances. Two large windows took up most of the south wall, providing plentiful amounts of sunlight.

Four small birds - a sparrow, nightingale and two canaries, fluttered around the room as they pleased, flying out the window and then returning, filling the air with their song.

“Please forgive me for that little incident,” the sorceress said, gesturing to her guests to sit on the couch. “One can never be too cautious, I find.”

Castor and Sawyer sat on opposite sides of a large, mint-green couch, still feeling awkward. Sawyer glanced at the other boy, but didn’t say anything. Taking a deep breath, the shifter relaxed slightly and focused on their host, ignoring his boyfriend.

“Very well, tell me what happened? When did Macarius take your brother?”

“It was three days ago. He appeared at our house at night, grabbed him and vanished,” Castor explained, getting visibly agitated. “Why would he abduct Cyr? I need to find him!”

“Easy, darling,” Sephare tried to calm him down with her soothing voice. “All in good time.”

“No offence, lady, but if your brother was taken from you, I doubt you’d be calm,” Sawyer couldn’t help himself, his tongue always faster than his brain. Castor shot him a nervous look, but the sorceress simply chuckled, closing her eyes for a moment. It was as if she found their struggle amusing, which infuriated Sawyer even more.

“What is your name again?”

“Sawyer,” the young sorcerer replied gruffly.

“Sawyer. You’re a fellow sorcerer, I see. How come you don’t have a scepter yet?” the woman pointed at the thin dark wand he had been clutching all that time.

“Um, I just started practicing magic more seriously this year. I haven’t learned how to make it yet,” the boy felt himself blushing. There he was, before a proper, powerful sorceress and he dared to talk back to her like that! She could probably turn him into one of those birds she keeps in her house and there’d be nothing he’d be able to do about it.

“That’s alright, you’ll do it in your own time,” the sorceress stated simply, smiling at him. “Alright, let’s deal with your friend’s problem first. Castor, dear, can you tell me about your brother? Why would Macarius take him? Is he a shifter as well?”

“No, he’s not. Cyr and I are twins. We haven’t really gotten along in the past few years, but… he is still my brother. I can’t let that man kill him,” the boy shook his head dejectedly.

“Hmmm,” the woman pressed her palms against one another as if she was praying. “I do not believe your brother to be in any immediate danger. Macarius may be strange and secretive, but he is not known to go around randomly murdering people. If he took your brother, it is because he had a reason. He needs him. But for what purpose, I cannot tell.”

“How do I find him?”

“I understand you wish to find your brother, but-”

“Yes, I need to rescue him,” Castor nodded, interrupting her. “How do I find him?”

With a sigh, Sephare leaned back and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

“Macarius lives in his Citadel of Bone, deep in the desert land of Desoloth ta’Pah. You can reach it by going directly north, across the Ragged Mountain, but I do not recommend it. Even though it may seem shorter, the path across the mountain is treacherous and will likely slow you down greatly. The other way is to go east, through the desert, and circumvent the mountain. That path is longer, but should prove much easier than the mountain pass.”

“Then we’ll go east, through the desert,” Castor said, glancing at Sawyer, who nodded in agreement.

“However,” the sorceress interrupted him, her face turning serious. “If you intend to take the eastern path, beware, for the entrance to Desoloth ta’Pah is a sacred place, said to be the last known residence of Eteon, God of Time,” she explained, reverence evident in her voice.

“What does that mean?” the shifter asked. “Is it forbidden to go there?”

“No,” Sephare spoke hesitantly. “However, all of the travellers who went there experienced hallucinations of some kind. Ultimately, everyone’s account was different, so no one actually knows what that place truly contains. You may face… anything.”

“Thank you,” Sawyer said politely. “But that is a risk we must take if we are to find Cyr and Macarius.”

“If your mind is made up, so be it. This is where you will find them,” the sorceress picked up her scepter and pointed it at the table in front of her. The wooden surface sparkled and a large scroll appeared on it. As Castor unraveled it, he realized it was a map. It showed the neighboring lands in detail, including the main roads and the location of the Citadel of Bone.

“Thank you,” Castor nodded in appreciation, inspecting the drawing on the parchment.

“You’re most welcome. While you study the map, allow me to borrow your friend for a moment. I feel he might have some use from learning a trick or two. Would you not agree, Sawyer?”

“Uh, I suppose so. I am willing to learn,” Sawyer said nervously and stood up, following Sephare to the open space in the middle of the room. He was always keen to get better and learn more about magic, especially the practical side.

The woman stood in front of him, explaining the basic principles of nature magic - the school of sorcery she was proficient in. The boy listened attentively, absorbing every word she said. This was all new to him, as Esthor mainly taught him about conjuring and elemental magic. Truth be told, he hadn’t even managed to master that part yet, but he was willing to learn more. Maybe this type of sorcery would suit me more, he wondered.

“Nature magic relies heavily on one’s state of mind and having a strong connection to nature and the outside world. That is why I chose to live here, away from the settlement,” Sephare stated, gesturing with her hand.

She continued the lesson by showing Sawyer how to clear his mind and perform an array of incantations and charms. Whenever she would cast a spell, he would attempt to replicate it, often failing. Still, he didn’t give up easily and repeated each spell several times until he got it right - more or less.

Finally, once he was exhausted and Castor began to feel anxious and ready to leave, the boys decided to end their visit.

“Before we take our leave, may we ask you for one more favor?” Castor asked, and Sephare looked at him questioningly. “I would like to let my parents know where I am.”

“Of course,” the sorceress nodded and took him to a window. She performed the same ritual Sawyer had seen Esthor do many times, and the face of Castor’s mother promptly appeared in the window.

“Castor! Is that really you?” the poor woman cried out, tears welling in her eyes as soon as she saw her boy.

“Yes, mother, it’s me. I’m sorry I ran away, but I had to do it. I need to try and find Cyr,” Castor said apologetically, his heart breaking at seeing his mother so concerned. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, just come back home, sweetie! We’ll get someone to find Cyr, I promise! Your father is working on that. Please, come back! It’s too dangerous for you to go alone!” the woman pleaded, wiping the tear stains from her face.

“I’m not alone, Sawyer is with me. He’s helping me.”

“Oh, so I imagined. His parents were here, they are terribly concerned about him. Where are you now? Your father and I can come and get you.”

“No, mom, Sawyer and I will go, we can handle this,” the boy explained, ignoring his mother’s pleas. The last thing he wanted was for his parents to expose themselves to danger. Besides, someone had to stay home and look after the animals. That farm was all they had and their livelihood depended on it.

“Sweetie, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Mom, I have to go now. I just wanted you to know I’m fine. I’ll be alright and I promise to bring Cyr back with me,” Castor said, waving goodbye. “I love you.”

With those words, the boy moved away from the window and gestured to Sephare to cancel the spell. Moments later, the face of his mother vanished from the pane.

Sawyer’s talk with his own parents passed much in the same atmosphere as Castor’s. His mom begged for him to abandon his dangerous quest and return home. When he refused, she angrily ordered him to return at once, forgetting he was no longer a baby. In the end, he couldn’t help the feeling of guilt for running away from home and causing his parents to worry.

“Your families clearly love you very much,” Sephare noticed, observing her guests as they were preparing to leave. “If you wish, you can pray at the altar of Nammis before you leave,” she offered, pointing to the shrine she created in her home. “Give her an offering and-”

“Thank you, but no” Castor shook his head, interrupting the woman. “I don’t want to risk getting attacked again.”

“Darling, you have no reason to be afraid, I assure you,” Sephare tried to reassure him, but to no avail.

“No? Your plants tried to strangle me before I even stepped foot into your home just because the Goddess had a beef with the God of Underworld ages ago? And now you want us to pray to her? I’m sorry, but I cannot do that,” Castor replied, mustering all the confidence he had. Sawyer stood beside him, looking surprised. He had never seen Castor be assertive like that.

“Come on, we should go,” the young shifter said, taking his bag and moving towards the door, expecting the other boy to follow him.

Sawyer glanced at the altar and then at Castor, hesitant to make a move.

“Um, I actually wanted to try it,” the sorcerer said, thinking that a Goddess’ blessing can only be helpful. Even if nothing happens, at least he’ll know that he tried.

“Of course, you two are a perfect fit, you both hate snakes. Why did I even think you could change and come to accept me one day?” Castor shot back, reaching for the door knob before Sawyer’s hand stopped him, pulling him back.

“Cas, it’s not like that. I just thought if we are going up against Macarius, we need all the help we can get,” Sawyer tried to explain.

“Help?! Nammis tried to strangle me and you think she’d be willing to help?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s worth a shot. I don’t think she’ll hurt you. I know I wouldn’t,” Sawyer looked him in the eyes, hoping that Castor would see all the love and affection he has for him. However, the shifter freed himself from Sawyer’s grip and opened the door, stepping out.

“Do whatever you want. I’ll be outside. And when you come out, the old rules shall apply again - keep your distance and don’t talk to me.” With that, he turned away and closed the door behind him.

“He’ll come around,” Sephare smiled at Sawyer and nodded.

“I hope so,” the young sorcerer stated as he approached the shrine, shaped like a small wooden house, with faces of numerous wild animals carved on all of its surfaces. On top of it, a bright yellow wax candle stood. As Sephare waved her hand and lit the candle, the eyes of all the animals carved into the house lit up for a moment.

Sawyer’s eyes went wide and the sorceress pointed down to the ground in front of her, looking amused.

“Now, kneel down in front of the altar and conjure something natural - any small token of appreciation will do. You can then place your offering at the bottom of the altar, here,” Sephare instructed him.

Closing his eyes, Sawyer found it hard to focus. He kept thinking of Castor. How long were they going to keep fighting? They used to be so close and happy together.

Suddenly, a pleasant memory from a few years ago came to him. It was Castor’s sixteenth birthday and Sawyer came to his house, bringing him a bouquet of the prettiest flowers he could find. He had spent that entire morning wandering all over the nearby meadows, picking only the nicest flowers for his boyfriend. Castor was thrilled with his boyfriend’s lovely gesture, rewarding him with a long kissing session later that evening.

As Sawyer relived the romantic moment, a beautiful white and pink orchid appeared in his hand and he placed it at the altar as instructed.

“Goddess of Nature, I give you this flower as a symbol of my appreciation and gratitude, and I beg for your blessing. Please, give me strength to help my love find his brother.”

With those words, he turned and looked at the sorceress.

“I shall pray for you two as well,” she nodded, smiling at him.

Finally, having said goodbye to Sephare and thanking her for all of her help, Sawyer left her home and looked around, searching for his boyfriend.

“Castor!” he called out, but no one responded. “Cas! Are you here?”

Seeing a horseman riding a dark grey horse further down the path, Sawyer ran toward him and noticed another figure with him on the horse, tied and struggling. It was Castor!

“Sawyer!” the shifter yelled upon seeing his boyfriend running toward them. “Sawyer, help!”

“Shut it,” the man ordered, spurring the horse on. The animal kept galloping down the dirt path, leading away from the settlement and toward the mountains.

“Stop!” the sorcerer shouted, rushing toward them, but unable to get any closer. They were just too fast. Moments later, they turned right, disappearing behind a hill.

Desperately looking into the distance, Sawyer kept running as fast as he could until his legs betrayed him and he collapsed, gasping for air.

Thank you very much for reading this story!
More about Macarius and his prisoners await us in the next chapter.