Book of Venoms - 19. Ercil’s Gamble

“Cult Spider: This small arachnid is mostly found in temperate regions, such as the kingdoms of Thorodan, Alduin and Amaret, and small parts of Menelyn. It can grow up to two inches in size and has thin, long legs and a body the color of umber. This species is easily recognizable by a small yellow mark on its back, resembling a thin dagger. Females are slightly larger than males.

Cult Spiders are hunters that feed on insects, catching them in their web and then using venom to paralyze or kill their prey. Fortunately, this venom is not lethal to people, even in large quantities. However, it is known to have other effects when ingested, causing people to become pacified and very susceptible to suggestion.

As such, the venom of Cult Spiders was used by leaders of numerous cults as far back as the third century of the Age of Humans. Once they discovered the effects of this toxin, they would mix it into the food or drinks of their followers, making them easier to manipulate.”

--

The young couple sat in Macarius’ laboratory, the massive table in front of them covered in books. They both browsed through the tomes, occasionally stopping to read headings and passages, hoping to find the spell they needed. Now that his father was gone, Xaviel needed to somehow take control of the gargoyles atop the Citadel. He knew they would not turn against him, but he needed to find out how Macarius was controlling them so that he could also use them in times of need.

Of course, Xaviel knew that would only happen if he was actually able to cast the spell. He was never as skilled with magic as his father, but he would certainly not let that deter him. He decided he’d try a thousand times if need be! If there was something he had in spades, it was determination.

As they sat searching for the spell, Xaviel and Cassandra exchanged but a few words, mostly staying silent and focusing on the task at hand. However, there was some tension in the air, uncomfortable silence waiting to be broken.

The boy knew things in the Citadel had changed drastically since the day before. Their whole lives had been turned upside down. Even he was still trying to fully grasp the consequences of his actions and understand what they meant for his and Cassandra’s future. But now, he couldn’t help wondering how his loved one felt about everything. Even though he had no regrets, the boy shuddered to think Cassandra might start hating or fearing him, leaving him alone. She was the only light in his world, the only person he cared about.

When he finally couldn’t handle the uncertainty anymore, he put down the book he was reading and looked up at the pretty, auburn-haired girl sitting across the table from him.

“Darling,” he cleared his throat, getting her attention. “I need to know something.”

“What is it?” she lifted her head to look at him, noticing his hesitation.

“Do you still love me?” Xaviel asked seriously, staring at her lovely garnet eyes.

“Of course I do, my love! Do you even need to ask that?” she replied, surprised by his query. Leaning over, she reached for his hand and covered it with her own. It was warm to the touch and almost as small as her own.

“Even after what I did? I know you said you understood, but-”

“And I do. I always do, because I love you,” Cassandra smiled at him. “Remember last year, for your seventeenth birthday, you wanted your father to take you to Alduin when Queen Loreena organised that fair? But Macarius refused and you threw a tantrum.”

“He was never going to change,” the boy replied bitterly, shaking his head. “He never understood my desires, my ambitions.”

“You forced me to clean your room three times and make you five different meals for lunch,” Cassandra continued, ignoring his remark. “I did it without complaint because I didn’t want to make your day even worse. And I knew you just wanted to spend more time with me,” she added, pursing her lips playfully.

“I probably could have expressed it better,” he let out a laugh before falling silent again. He turned their hands so that his was on top, lacing their fingers together. “And what about my transformation? You’ve seen my animal form and… it would pain me to know you’re afraid of me.”

“Rest assured, love. If it were anyone else, I’d have likely ran as fast as my legs could carry me. But I know that underneath that fearsome creature it is only you,” the girl squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“You find me fearsome?” Xaviel asked, a smirk on his dark, thin lips.

“Most horrifying,” Cassandra smiled at him. “It is no wonder those little pests fled as soon as they saw you.”

“Too bad I didn’t get to finish them off. Should I see them again, I will be more prepared.”

It was shortly thereafter that Xaviel finally found the spell he was looking for in one of his father’s scripts. His jaw dropped and face lit up in excitement and he saw drawings of several magical creatures, including gargoyles and minotaurs. Next to the drawings, there was a text clearly written in his father’s handwriting.

“This is it!” the boy exclaimed, his finger moving over the heading ‘How to Conjure and Control Sentinels’.

He remembered when he first saw the gargoyles and thought they were just ordinary statues, only to be shocked - and then thrilled - when they took flight before his eyes. He was only eight and the magical creatures fascinated him. His father explained to him that they were called Sentinels, a type of magical beings sorcerers could summon to guard and protect them. Xaviel remembered reading some texts about them, but he could never manage to summon a Sentinel of his own. Hopefully, taking control of an existing one should prove to be a much easier task.

“You’ve found it?” Cassandra asked, moving over to look at the manuscript in her lover’s hands.

“Yes, this is exactly what I need,” Xaviel said, his eyes still on the text. “I must go up to the roof. If the spell is to work, I should be as close to the gargoyles as possible.” While Macarius would likely be able to cast the spell from another town, Xaviel needed to do it at a short distance.

After collecting all the supplies he needed to perform the incantation, the boy headed up to the top of the fortress. The hot desert winds blew fiercely over the roof of the building, making Xaviel’s dark purple robe flutter behind him. He walked over to the very centre of the flat stone roof and sat down, placing the old tome and the items he brought before him. The morning sun was slowly rising, so the boy turned west, covering his eyes from the light. Having spent the majority of his life within these walls, he was not used to sunlight.

Carefully, he lit a candle, shielding it from the wind. The boy then grabbed a dagger and pricked his finger, letting several drops of blood fall upon a stone the size of his fist. After the stone became tainted with blood, Xaviel picked it up and placed it above the candle, letting the flames lick it from all sides.

“Pentori moro’daum et pacytus. Falleo me’kho dalleren yrdos zamarh-kah!”

The boy repeated the incantation several times, each time louder than the last. Finally, he put the stone down and blew the candle out, rising to his feet. As the wind swept over the desert land and the lonely Citadel, Xaviel turned around, glancing at each of the four gargoyles. Just like his father’s fortress, they would be his to control!

“Sentinels! Rise up and fly to me!” the boy shouted, his voice almost lost in the wind. “Come to your new master!”

For a moment, nothing was happening and the boy believed the spell had failed. He would just have to try again until he succeeded. However, that was when he heard the unmistakable grinding sound of the creatures’ stone heads turning to face him. Their wings rose and they all flew up into the air, making a circle around the Citadel before coming to land at the boy’s feet.

With a proud grin on his face, Xaviel nodded in satisfaction. He was successful.

~~

The sounds of metal weapons clanging and people murmuring around him woke Castor up from his slumber. Drowsy from the heat, he lifted his head and opened his eyes, struggling to keep them open.

“Hey, are you awake?” Sawyer whispered, sitting next to him.

“Yes… What’s happening?” the snake shifter asked, wishing his hands were free so he could rub his eyes. They had been tied up for hours, sitting in the same uncomfortable position. The little sleep they managed to get felt good, but they were still hungry, having only been given some morsels of bread and a bit of water.

“Everyone’s up and about, preparing for battle. I think we’re about to head out soon,” the sorcerer said, observing the warriors sharpening their sabres and the women practicing with spears and javelins.

“Do you think they’ll take us with them or...” Cyr asked, not wanting to finish that sentence. The fear that Kotho could execute them at any moment was real. Not even his own son, Jarin, was safe.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” the scorpion shifter shrugged, trying to appear calm. In reality, he was probably the most scared of the four. In his mind, he had the most to lose - his father could kill him while his mother and brother would or could do nothing to stop it. How long until they ended up the same way?

For the hundredth time, he struggled against the restraints, but he could not free himself. The ropes were simply too tight. With a sigh, he looked at the horizon, where the sun was slowly setting. Willing it to move faster, Jarin was anxious for the night to come. Once he is able to shift, he’d be free and then he could free his friends too, but for now, he would have to wait.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Sawyer asked, seeing that his boyfriend was gazing into the distance, watching a woman fussing over a young man that was clearly her son.

“What do you think our families are doing now?” Castor replied with a question, his eyes not leaving the Mataki boy and his mother. “Have they given up on us?”

“Of course not!” the blond boy replied, needing to reassure his boyfriend. The truth was, he wasn’t sure either. He knew his own parents must be worried sick, and the twins’ mother and father were no different. “I’m sure they’re praying to the Gods and waiting for us to return. They wouldn’t lose faith that easily.”

“Sawyer is right,” Cyr added. “Remember that Macarius visited them and told them we were alright. He said he’d bring us back.”

“Yeah, and where is he now?” Castor asked. “For all we know, he’s dead.”

“Whether the old man comes back for us or not, that is irrelevant. We’ll ride back just the way we came here, alright?” Sawyer stated, and Cyr nodded in agreement.

Jarin sat beside them, listening to their conversation, but decided not to get involved. Provided that they all survive, the other three boys had families to go back to after this is all over, but where would he go? His own family would be torn apart at best, and slaughtered by Xaviel at worst. He knew he had to warn them somehow - either Ercil or Letha - but that was hard to do without drawing attention to himself. Even though the entire tribe was busy preparing for the last part of their journey to the Citadel, he couldn’t exactly call out to his brother or wave him over.

Luckily, an opportunity arose sooner than he expected. A Mataki warrior whom Jarin recognized as Odhuk approached them, brandishing a sabre in his right hand. The man was just a few years older than Ercil and was an excellent fighter, if a little hot-headed. As he came over, the four boys looked at him with apprehension, wondering if he was sent to slit their throats or stab them to death. However, the man stopped in front of them and looked Jarin in the eyes.

“Legs out,” he ordered, pointing with his sabre at the ropes tied around Jarin’s ankles. “You can’t walk with your legs tied, can you?”

As soon as he heard that, the scorpion shifter stretched out his legs, allowing the Mataki member to cut the ropes. Odhuk repeated the procedure with Cyr, when Letha appeared beside him, interrupting him.

“I’ll do the other two. You’re free to go,” the chieftain’s wife ordered. The man nodded obediently and left.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Letha cut the ropes binding Sawyer’s and Castor’s legs and then opened her satchel, pulling out something wrapped in thin cloth.

“Here, have something to eat,” she whispered, presenting the food to the four starving boys. Her gaze lingered on her son and he felt an involuntary smile tug on his lips. “I’m sorry I can’t free your hands, it’s too risky at this point.”

Even though she tried to hide her emotions, the woman’s eyes were misty with tears. She cares, Jarin knew that much. Letha was never like Kotho; she was able to be a fierce fighter and a mother at the same time - something Kotho could never learn to do.

“Mother, thank you,” the orange-haired boy said gratefully as he grabbed a piece of roasted meat with his tied hands and brought it to his mouth. He knew it was probably only due to his hunger, but it was the most delicious meal he had ever had. Not even the feast they had in Macarius’ Citadel the other night could compare.

Sadly, like all good things, it was over too soon.

“What is this?!” the thundering voice of Chieftain Kotho could be heard as the man strode over, grabbing his wife forcefully by the arm. “I said no talking to the prisoners! Or did you forget that?”

“I am talking with my son,” Letha hissed at him, trying to wrench herself free from his grasp. “It seems that you forgot he is our own blood!”

“He is nothing but a coward who left his tribe for the company of these… weaklings,” Kotho said, glancing at the four boys with contempt. “Perhaps I should sacrifice him to the Gods to aid us in battle tonight,” he added, a smug expression on his hardened face.

“Try that and I will kill you myself!” the chieftain’s wife threatened, feeling a surge of emotions boiling inside her. She raised a hand to hit him, but Kotho quickly grabbed it and slapped her across the face with his other hand, causing her to fall to the ground. Even though she was a strong and nimble warrior, her physical strength was no match for Kotho’s.

“Leave her alone, you bastard!” Jarin yelled, but Kotho paid him no mind. With great speed, he pulled out his sabre and pointed it at Letha’s throat.

“You may be my wife, but I’m still your chieftain,” he barked at her, not even noticing that most of the tribe had stopped what they were doing and were observing the two of them.

“And I am the woman who fought by your side in all your battles, tended to your wounds and raised your children!” Letha shot back, gazing into his eyes as if the sharp weapon was not even there, just inches from her skin.

Just then, a group of six warriors had rushed over, faithfully standing by Kotho’s side. Alerted by the commotion, Ercil and Magana followed them to see what was happening. As soon as he saw Kotho hitting Letha, the chieftain’s older son knew he had to do something. He would have to deal with the consequences later, whatever they may be.

“Father, enough!” the young man yelled out, getting everyone’s attention. “Is this how you wish to inspire your tribe before the battle? By quarreling with your wife?”

It was only then that Kotho looked around, noticing that all eyes were on them.

“Instead of fighting her, you would do better to focus on the real enemy here,” Ercil added before turning to point at the shaman standing further away. “Vaunga.”

As if under a spell, all heads turned in unison toward the shaman. The old woman’s stony gaze was fixed on Ercil as she smiled self-assuredly, much to his annoyance. This was a battle she was sure she would win.

“What are you talking about?” Kotho asked impatiently, walking over closer to his son and the shaman. “Explain yourselves!”

“I overheard her scheming with General Dakon. She has no power to protect us against Macarius’ magic, it’s all lies and trickery. All she wants is to bring ruin to our tribe,” Ercil explained with as much confidence as he could muster. Magana stood by his side the entire time, holding his hand in support.

“Lies! We all know the boy is the true traitor here,” Dakon exclaimed as he stood up abruptly, fire in his dark eyes.

“I have proven my powers time and time again,” unlike the general, the old shaman spoke slowly and peacefully, as if starting to tell a tale. “And I have no problem doing so again. This young man should be afraid, as the ancestors will not bless him for conspiring against his own people.”

Kotho stood silently, his eyes darting between General Dakon, the shaman and his own son. One or more of them were lying, but he had no time to try and find out who. People were getting restless, and they have wasted too much time already. The night was almost there and they had to start moving toward the Citadel as soon as possible.

“Do you have any proof of this?” the chieftain finally asked his older son. Ercil looked at the shaman, his fists clenched in anger.

“No.”

“Then your words mean nothing,” Kotho said, turning away from him.

“You will get your proof when your people start dying at Macarius’ hand!” Ercil called after him, but the chieftain did not look back.

Instead, Kotho approached Vaunga, towering above her like a giant. A few moments later, once all the whispering had died down, he started to address the crowd.

“People of the Mataki tribe, the hour of reckoning has come! The night of our glory is here as we march to conquer this land and claim its riches for ourselves,” the chieftain shouted, raising his axe-wielding hand high into the air as the crowd cheered.

“Before we go into this battle and defeat our enemy, we must make ourselves impervious to his magics! Shaman, start your ritual! Summon the spirits of our ancestors! May they come to our aid this fateful night,” Kotho ordered.

Not a soul uttered a word as all eyes were on Vaunga, waiting to see what she would do. From the ground next to her, the shaman picked up an old wooden mask, one of the many in her collection. This one was red with black symbols - Ercil had seen her use it only once or twice so far. While red was the color of the Mataki, black was the color of the underworld. It meant the shaman would try to communicate with the dead, calling upon them to protect the tribe in battle. At least that is what everyone believed she would do, but Ercil knew better.

The young man felt Magana place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently in support. Whatever comes, he knew they would face it together.

As they observed the shaman perform her false ritual, Ercil could only pray that his brother Jarin was right and that Macarius was indeed dead. Otherwise, they would all likely perish.

~~

After successfully finishing his spell, Xaviel returned to the Citadel from the roof. He had managed to assume control over the gargoyles so they would bow only to his will. Now, he and Cassandra would be better protected in case of any… unwanted visitors. He wasn’t sure if those children would return, but if they were foolish enough to do so, he would make sure they regret it.

Xaviel also remembered his father’s mentions of a nomadic tribe nearing this part of the kingdom. The Mataki… He knew little about them, except that they were uncivilized brutes with no home of their own. They lived to roam and pillage, leaving a trail of blood and destruction in their wake. Macarius did not seem too worried about them, but Xaviel decided it would be better to be prepared in the unlikely event they decide to come to the desert. They certainly had no reason to - why would they want to willingly come to these inhospitable, dry lands? Surely, only his father was crazy enough to build a home there.

As Xaviel returned to the laboratory, he heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. The door opened and breathless Cassandra barged in, her face as white as a sheet.

“My love, what is wrong?” the boy asked, rushing to the girl.

“Macarius’ body… it’s gone!”

For a moment, Xaviel was rendered speechless, thinking the girl was delusional or joking with him. If it was indeed a joke, it was in very poor taste.

“What?! You cannot be serious?” he asked as he squeezed her hands with a little more force than necessary. “Cassandra, do not jest with me like that…”

“No, I am serious… You said you left his body in your room downstairs, did you not? Well, it’s not there anymore.”

“This can’t be,” he shook his head, rushing for the door and then down the stairs, with Cassandra following close behind.

As he entered his room, Xaviel froze in shock, realizing his fear came true. In the corner where Macarius’ body used to lie, there was nothing but a large, dried blood stain on the rug.

“No! No no no no no!” the boy shouted in anger, pacing across the room while Cassandra stood in the doorway, watching him with concern. “He cannot be alive! This is not how it was supposed to be… I was sure he was dead!”

“My love, what do we do now?” Cassandra asked as she led Xaviel to the sofa and sat beside him.

After a moment of silence, the boy let out a deep sigh and spoke.

“We must prepare ourselves. If he is indeed alive, he will return sooner or later. Are you willing to follow me wherever I go?” he asked, gazing at the girl’s beautiful eyes.

“Of course,” she nodded, bringing a hand to his cheek and caressing it.

“Then we must take everything we need and leave this place,” Xaviel said before placing a soft kiss on Cassandra’s lips.

Thank you so much to all my readers, I hope you're enjoying this journey!