Book of Venoms - 7. Citadel of Bone

“Blood Spider: The ultimate creation of Odum, the God of Death and Underworld, the Blood Spider is a grizzly arachnid that should be avoided at all costs, for it is highly dangerous.

Incredibly agile and with venom that kills in a matter of seconds, these spiders are very efficient killers. Their most striking feature is certainly their size: while most specimen reach the size of larger dogs, some grow to be as big as tigers.

Nearly all encounters with these black, hairy beasts have resulted in human casualties. For this reason, sorcerers and other brave adventurers from all over Escaria united centuries ago in an effort to eradicate this threat, forming the Blood Crusade. Nowadays, the number of Blood Spiders is extremely low, with merely a few hundred living scattered in the eastern kingdoms.”

--

Rising in the middle of the desert land, the Citadel of Bone stood solitary and proud as the only evidence of human presence in the area. The imposing fortress was made of limestone, with four tall spires at its corners. Each of them housed a single stone statue - a large gargoyle perched on the very edge. With their dragon-like bodies, gaping mouths and bat-like wings, the hideous statues seemed to be looking outwards, as if observing the area for any unwanted visitors, as unlikely as it seemed. All around the fortress, there was nothing but sand, rocks and the occasional bush on the nearby mountains. The nearest oasis was miles away. Of course, the hot, barren land was no issue for someone who could teleport - someone like Macarius.

A child prodigy, he started showing immense talent in certain fields of magic from a very early age. Shortly after he turned seven, his parents started sending him to a renowned master sorcerer Velloaj, who trained many a sorcerer in kingdoms of Thar and Alduin. It was Velloaj himself who noticed Macarius’ aptness for illusions and mind-altering spells - a high-level field of magic only a few managed to master. Fearless and reckless in his youth, Macarius even mastered the skill of teleporting. His future seemed promising as he grew into one of the most brilliant sorcerers of his time.

Unfortunately, things took quite an abrupt turn for the worse one year, changing his life forever and leaving him with scars that would take years to heal. One night, when he was away, a group of desert bandits broke into his home, stealing all of his valuables and killing his wife in the process. Mad with rage and thirsty for revenge, Macarius set out to find the murderers and make them pay. Unable to dissuade him, his former master Velloaj accompanied him, concerned for his well-being. Sadly, that was a mission the old sorcerer never returned from.

Devastated with the loss of two of the most important persons in his life, Macarius isolated himself in the desert land of Desoloth ta’Pah, building his Citadel of Bone. In this secluded fortress, he continued his life and studies.

Now, as he sat in his library, his mind was focused on nothing but the weathered pages of the old tome in his hands. Its title was inscribed in ornamental letters on the pale yellow covers - Book of Venoms.

The magical tome, written by an ancient alchemist named Parroleus, had been in the hands of only a few people in all of Escaria. It contained descriptions of most poisonous and venomous animal and plant species, as well as numerous man-made toxins and instructions on how to create them.

While red and purple magical flames danced in the nearby fireplace, warming up the room during the cold desert nights, Macarius turned the pages of the book, finding the recipe section, filled with paragraphs on the rarest and most potent toxins, how to obtain and combine them.

“Where is it…” he muttered to himself as he flipped the pages, scanning each of them for one particular chapter.

“Finally!” the sorcerer stopped and placed a finger on one paragraph: Fireborn Scorpion venom. He needed to extract this deadly substance from Jarin without killing either of them in the process. It was a vital ingredient in his recipe, along with the venom of the Scarlet-tailed Serpent and the Assassin Wasp.

Then, once he obtains all of the ingredient, he will finally be able to concoct the substance that is his ultimate goal. As with everything Macarius did, there was no room for failure - the potion had to be perfect. For weeks he had been planning this, trying to locate the shifters in order to obtain their venom. Now, he was only a few steps away from the grand prize.

A knock on the door caused him to pause, looking up and closing the book, keeping his finger on the page he was reading. A young, pale girl entered, looking almost unnaturally tidy in her orange dress and yellow apron. Her long, auburn hair was fixed in a large braid that fell down her back.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” the servant girl stood in the doorway, not daring to come any closer.

“Yes. Has the wasp waken up?” Macarius asked coldly.

“She has. I brought her food and made sure she cannot escape. Is your hand-”

“It’s fine,” he replied, raising his voice, a clear indication to the girl to never mention it again. “Very well. We wouldn’t want her to try and fly out, I just might need her again... Go and take food to the other two,” the sorcerer ordered. “And Cassandra, tell the scorpion boy to be ready. I shall come for him shortly.”

“As you command, sir,” the girl nodded obediently but hesitated to leave. “Sir, is this, um, is this going to work?”

Looking up at the servant girl, Macarius sighed.

“It has to. I have all of the ingredients. It mustn’t fail.”

“It won’t, sir. If anyone can do it, it is you. Excuse me,” Cassandra bowed and left.

~~

“What’s going on with Dymia? We haven’t seen her since Macarius took her,” Jarin asked, sitting on a rock.

“Do you think he might have killed her?” Cyr said, looking around the room.

“I don’t know,” the scorpion shifter shook his head. He was scared, but he would never admit it. Not to Cyr, and certainly not to Macarius. “What will you do when he comes for you? Will you tell him the truth?”

“I don’t think I have much choice,” Cyr mused, deep in thought. “He’ll find out sooner or later.” And then he’ll go after Castor. The question is, will he keep me alive or not? Why would he when my brother is the one he needs, Cyr thought. The resentment he felt for Castor was slowly giving way to concern. As soon as the bloody sorcerer realizes his mistake, Castor will be an easy target for him, much like I was.

“We need to try again,” Cyr decided. “Now we know about the gargoyles, so we’ll be prepared for them next time. I think we should be safe as long as we don’t make any noise.”

“And then what?” Jarin raised an eyebrow. “Where do we go? It’s nothing but sand and rock as far as the eye can see!”

Cyr sat quiet, looking up at the sky through the glass ceiling. He had no answer.

“Anything’s better than being stuck here.”

“What do you think he wants with us, anyway?” the scorpion shifter asked. “So maybe he wants our venom, but why?”

“He’s a sorcerer, there’s probably a million things he can do with it. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Suddenly, the key turned in the lock and the door to their terrarium room opened. The two boys turned their heads in unison, seeing Cassandra entering with a plate of food in her hands.

“Here is your supper,” the servant girl stated, placing the plate on the floor. “Jarin, I suggest you eat quickly. The master will come for you soon.”

“What does he want with us?” Cyr asked, observing the girl attentively. He was trying to discern her role in all of this through the look in her big, brown eyes. Was she a puppet of Macarius or merely a poor servant trapped in this Citadel, doomed to serve him for the rest of her days?

“That does not concern you,” Cassandra replied, politely yet coldly at the same time. Cyr found it strange, but then again, when you have to serve a man such as Macarius, you probably have to learn to behave like that, he realized.

“And where is Dymia? What did he do to her?” Jarin stood up, causing the girl to step back toward the door.

She was scared, Cyr concluded. So, she was probably not a sorceress herself. She was defenseless.

“She is well, but she will not be joining you today. That is the price of her… foolishness,” the servant girl replied. “You have nothing to worry about so long as you do what the master says. Please, be smart and don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.”

“Can we see her, please?” Cyr dropped to his knees, surprising the girl. He put on his best innocent look, clasping his hands as if praying. Just as he thought, Jarin took advantage of the moment - with the girl distracted, the shifter jumped to her and grabbed her by the arm.

“Let me go!” the girl yelled and struggled, but was unable to escape his strong grip.

Cyr immediately got up, grabbing hold of her other arm.

“Shut up! You may be fine with serving that maniac, but we’re out of here! And you’re going to help us,” he hissed in her ear. “Otherwise, Jarin over here would be more than happy to share his venom with you.”

“Come on, show us the way out. And not a word,” Jarin threatened with a smirk, leading the girl out.

Without a word, Cassandra led them out into the hallway. Looking around, Cyr realized that was the first time he was outside the terrarium - except for that short-lived excursion to the roof Jarin and he had the day before. With maroon rugs covering the stone floors, sharp, white spikes coming out of the corners of each wall, and torches illuminating the hallways with purple fire, the place looked truly eerie. However, they had no time to stop and look around. They had to keep moving and get out as soon as possible.

“The exit is that way,” Cassandra pointed to the left.

Suddenly, Jarin stopped in the middle of the hallway, drawing looks from the other two.

“Wait! We have to go and get Dymia. We can’t leave her here,” he whispered. The girl was barely more than a stranger to him, but he couldn’t escape while she remained here, left at the mercy of Macarius. “Take us to her first,” he ordered Cassandra.

“No, are you insane? We can’t waste time on her now!” Cyr was impatient and nervous, eager to leave.

“I am not leaving her here to die,” Jarin shot back, looking angrily at the dark-skinned boy. How could he be so insensitive to a fellow prisoner? Did he care about no one but himself?

“Then you will doom us all! Either we save ourselves now, or we all die later!”

“Then go, but the two of us are going to get her,” Jarin replied coldly. “Come on, unless you want to die,” he told the servant girl, pulling her with him.

Furious at Jarin for being so stubborn and stupid, Cyr left the two of them behind, running off to the left, where the servant told them the exit was located.

Realizing she had no choice but to do as the shifter said, Cassandra went alongside Jarin, leading him to the hall on the right.

“The girl is kept there,” she whispered, pointing to the room at the far end of the hallway. With heavy, iron door, the room was obviously kept very secure, preventing anyone’s entrance - and escape. Once they reached it, Jarin stopped and turned to the servant girl, still holding her firmly by the forearm.

“Come on then, unlock it!”

“Very well,” she replied, pulling a ring of keys from her pocket and selecting one of the largest ones. As she unlocked the door, she pushed it halfway open. Nothing but utter darkness came from the inside. There were no windows in the room.

As soon as they stepped in, Cassandra pushed Jarin away, slipping out and slamming the door behind her, leaving him inside.

“You bitch! Let me out!” Jarin banged on the iron door, but no reply came. The only thing he heard was the sound of the key turning in the lock. He was trapped!

Running down the hall at the other end of the fortress, Cyr desperately tried every door he came across, but none of them led outside. A few of them were locked, so he didn’t even bother with those, knowing he had no time to waste. If he didn’t find the exit soon, Macarius would find him and he would probably end up like Dymia… or worse.

Reaching the end of the hall, he stopped. There was one stairway leading down, and another leading up. His choice was clear - he quickly ran down the stairs, finding himself in a hall nearly identical to the one he came from. There were several doors on either side, and best of all - a window! Unfortunately, it was barred.

Approaching it, Cyr looked outside only to see nothing but sand and barren mountains in the distance. Still, the sight of blue sky filled him with hope. Maybe there was a way out of this prison.

One by one, he tried every door until he reached the last one. A heavy, wooden door painted deep blue. The boy opened it and gasped in shock, the blue light from the centre of the room reflecting in his eyes. As if in trance, he entered the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

Extravagant furniture, the likes of which he had never seen before, decorated the room: a large, lavish bed stood in one corner, while two chest drawers were placed against the opposite wall. Under the window, there was a wooden desk with intricately carved legs. Large paintings of the night sky covered the indigo walls, while the ceiling had all seventeen zodiac signs painted on it.

However, what fascinated Cyr most of all was the large glass case levitating in the very centre of the room, emitting a magical blue glow. Inside it, a boy who seemed to be around Cyr’s age lay peacefully. With slow, quiet steps, Cyr approached him, observing him from head to toe.

“Who are you?” he whispered, looking at the strange boy who seemed to be in deep slumber. “And what on earth are you doing here?”

~~

The night fell upon the oasis, bringing with it a chill in the air and cold breeze. It was always a wonder to anyone who found themselves in the desert for the first time, how the scorching heat during the day was so easily replaced with cold nights.

Achmed, one of the caravan merchants, left his tent as soon as the sun set and headed toward the area where the Mataki Chieftain Kotho resided with his wife Letha. He knew very well what his mission was. Ercil had explained it to him earlier that day. He was to allow himself to get caught lurking around the Chieftain’s tent. When brought before Kotho, Achmed would sow the seeds of doubt that his generals might be conspiring against him. The task seemed straightforward enough, but he was still nervous, wondering if it was a good idea to get involved.

The danger of Kotho killing us all is real, but who is to say the young man who hired me will not do the same, the merchant wondered. If only I could escape, but alas - it is impossible.

As he neared his destination, Achmed knew it was time to make his choice. Soon there would be no turning back.

Hiding behind a palm tree, he waited until one of the Mataki men was close enough and deliberately shuffled, hoping to make enough noise to alert the other man. With lightning-quick reflexes, the tribal warrior immediately stopped and turned around. Readying his sabre, he creeped over to the source of the noise, surprising the merchant from the back.

“You! What are you doing here?” the warrior asked, grabbing the poor man by the arm and pointing the blade at him.

“Mercy!” the merchant pleaded, acting surprised. “I mean no harm.”

“Then explain yourself! Why are you here?”

“I was hiding. Please, let me go,” Achmed whispered, looking around as if in fear.

“Hiding from what exactly?” the man asked, still keeping a firm hold on the merchant.

“Some men. They sounded as if they were plotting something, and I was afraid they would see me.”

“We shall see…” the warrior said suspiciously, pulling the man up on his feet. “The Chieftain will decide what to do with you.”

Finding himself in Kotho’s tent, Achmed suddenly felt smaller than a grain of sand. The man before him was not only tall and burly, but simply exuded might and confidence. It was as if he was carved from a massive rock and brought to life by Gods themselves.

Achmed dared not look him in the eyes. More uncertain than ever, he tried to decide on his next step. Does he continue with this charade and hope for the best, or does he tell the truth and pray Kotho will be merciful? If he stands on the Chieftain’s side, he could very well avoid being another in the long line of casualties of the Mataki. Besides, the talk of the riches that the tribe planned to pillage sounded very tempting. If he proved to be a valuable ally, maybe he would get a part of the wealth.

“Speak!” Kotho ordered, his booming voice instilling fear in the merchant.

“I… I’ve come to warn you,” Achmed spoke, deciding to come clean after all. Starting from the meeting with the unknown young man, the merchant told the Chieftain everything – the entire plan to overthrow him as the tribe leader and kill his two generals.

Kotho sat silent the entire time, as did his wife beside him. While concern was easily readable on her face, the Chieftain refused to show any emotion. A slight frown was the only movement his face made.

“Tell me, what does this man look like?” he finally asked when the merchant stopped talking.

“He’s a young man, couldn’t have been older than twenty. Tall, with orange hair. He was with a young woman with long, raven hair and dark skin,” Achmed explained.

With a frighteningly cold look in his eyes, the Chieftain turned to his wife.

“Ercil.”

The woman looked away, afraid to even think of what Kotho would do to their son if he was indeed a traitor. Whatever Ercil did, she couldn’t allow anything to happen to him. No, she couldn’t lose yet another son, even if it killed her.

“So, my son recruited you and you betrayed him for my sake,” Kotho mused, looking at the merchant from head to toe, like a hungry lion about to devour its prey.

“I knew not that he was your son,” Achmed muttered. “I only wanted to warn you.”

“Oh, I am glad you did,” Kotho nodded, stepping closer to the man, towering over him. “I suppose you deserve a reward now.”

“I-I do not expect it, but if you are feeling generous…”

“I am,” the Chieftain smiled. In an instant, he shifted into a giant Blood Spider and sunk its fangs into the merchant’s neck, filling his bloodstream with deadly venom.

Releasing his victim, the Chieftain turned back into his human form as the man dropped to the ground, foaming at the mouth and quivering. Just a few moments later and his body went stiff as a board. He was dead.

“There, a swift death. Not many get such luxury,” Kotho said calmly, as two of his warriors grabbed the body and proceeded to take it out. “Find the shaman Vaunga and bring her here. We have things to discuss.

Big huge thanks to all my readers!
Sawyer and Castor return in the next chapter!