Book of Venoms - 18. Prisoners

“Cryptwing: The Frozen Forest and the north parts of Menelyn are home to a peculiar bat species called the Cryptwing. These large, flying creatures live in colonies in caves, only coming out at night to feed. Their Impressive size and strong venom help them hunt not only small animals such as mice and lizards, but also rabbits and owls. Their venom is particularly vicious, and a single Cryptwing bite is enough to kill a human if an antidote is not given in time. However, due to their size, they are not very fast flyers.

What makes these bats strange is their unique ability to wrap their wings around their bodies when they feel threatened, forming a protective cocoon that becomes as hard as a rock. While in this form, they become nearly impossible to harm.”

--

Even though they had successfully fled from the Citadel of Bone, Castor was still on edge. After narrowly escaping the horrific mutation that Xaviel had shifted into, the boy couldn’t help but turn around and look behind himself nervously every now and then, thinking something was going to pop up and grab them - whether Xaviel or the gargoyles. However, nothing did. With the Citadel left behind them, the four boys continued their slow trek through the desert, riding on their camels.

“We are so lucky they waited for us,” Castor exclaimed, grateful that the two camels Sawyer had summoned were still around when the boys escaped from the fortress. “Are you sure you didn’t somehow make them super intelligent and told them where to wait?”

“I wish!” Sawyer chuckled. He was sitting in front of his boyfriend, while Jarin and Cyr were on the other camel’s back. “I don’t know if that’s even possible. Although, Esthor did tell me his master can communicate with his pet crow. So maybe it can be done, but that’s probably some very advanced magic.”

“Imagine that, having a pet you can talk to!” Jarin wondered aloud. “I would have a panther, or one of those sabre-toothed tigers that live in the north. I saw them once from afar, when we passed through the Foggy Mountains.” That was the only thing the scorpion shifter missed about his old life - visiting many of the enchanting places across Escaria. Still, there was no reason he couldn’t do that now, even by himself, he thought. As soon as he is out of here, he will start planning his next adventure.

“Maybe I’ll ask Esthor to introduce me to his master next time I visit,” Sawyer said as his curiosity and desire to learn started awakening again. He almost couldn’t believe that he was so disinterested in learning more about the magic world until a year ago. Now, he couldn’t imagine living any other way. He wanted to expand his knowledge as much as he could.

“Alright, we can make plans for the future when we’re further away and safe,” Cyr interrupted them, frowning. “But for now, does anyone actually know where we’re going or have any kind of a plan?”

“Of course, we’re going back the way we came from,” Castor explained. “If we just follow this path, it will lead us out of the desert,” he added, pointing to a winding path that led between barren, rocky mountains.

“So we’re just running away?” Jarin jumped in to ask. “What about Dymia, we’re leaving her? We don’t even know if she’s alright.”

Sawyer turned around, looking at his boyfriend with a guilty look on his face. The two of them didn’t know Jarin or Dymia at all - they had only come for Cyr. Now that they had finally found him, they were caught between feeling relieved for saving him, and guilty for leaving without Dymia.

Castor glanced at his twin with worry in his eyes. He knew the right thing to do was to go back and try to find the girl, but he couldn’t bear the thought of putting his brother or boyfriend in danger, not when they were finally out of the woods.

After a long silence, Cyr finally spoke.

“And if we came back, then what?” he asked, turning to look at Jarin. “How do we beat Xaviel?”

“We go by day, when he can’t shift. It’d be two of them against the four of us. And we’ve got magic on our side,” Jarin replied, pointing at Sawyer. “Come on, how would you feel if one of you was left there? I know I’d be hoping you’d come back for me.”

“Jarin has a point,” Castor conceded, and Sawyer nodded in agreement. “We can’t just leave the poor girl alone. Who knows what they’d do to her.”

“You’re such a pain, you know that?” Cyr shook his head, but his face broke into a smirk. “Alright, I’m in. Let’s go back and-”

Suddenly, he went quiet, looking around suspiciously.

“I thought I heard something.”

“Me too,” Sawyer added. “It came from over there,” he raised his hand to point to his right.

Just a moment later, strange men and women jumped out from their hiding places behind the desert rocks, brandishing their weapons and surrounding the four boys from all sides.

Jarin looked at them with panic in his eyes, like a man sentenced to death. He recognized them at once - they were his fellow tribe members, the Mataki. He turned his head, trying to see how many of them were there, until his eyes fell upon a young man with orange hair, similar to his own. The man gazed into Jarin’s eyes, as if looking deep into his soul.

“Hello, brother,” he finally spoke, stepping forward to Jarin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ercil,” Jarin scanned his brother from head to toe. His heart beat wildly in his chest as excitement and fear battled within him. It was as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, even though it was only a few months. If the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t mind seeing his brother again. In fact, he’d even be thrilled to be reunited with him. But now, he didn’t know what to feel. What did Ercil even think about him now that he raw away from the tribe?

“What- what are you doing here?”

“Not looking for you, if that’s what you thought,” Ercil replied coldly and his words wounded Jarin deeply. It was as if the young shifter feared - his brother would never forgive him for leaving the tribe.

“This was just a happy coincidence,” the older boy added, glancing at his brother’s three companions who sat quietly and looked around, not daring to speak a word.

“Very happy indeed,” a strong, booming voice made them all turn their heads in the direction it came from.

Jarin held his breath as he saw his parents appear, flanked by several Mataki warriors. Chieftain Kotho looked smug and victorious as he observed Jarin triumphantly, ignoring everyone else. On the other hand, Letha stood like a statue, her face frozen in fear as she watched her younger son surrounded by so many armed men and women.

“And so the family is back together again,” Kotho remarked, throwing a brief look at Jarin as if he was nothing but an insignificant little insect.

“Father,” the boy muttered, giving him a look full of bitterness. His fear of the man was almost as strong as his resentment toward him.

Kotho was always chieftain first and father second, or even third. While Letha tried to take care of her two sons and be a proper mother to them, Kotho rarely saw them as more than tribe members and future warriors - or in Jarin’s case, the future chieftain. For as long as Jarin could remember, Kotho’s main concern was not to raise his sons and give them love and support, but only to train them as fearsome and ruthless fighters. They had a role to play in the tribe hierarchy and that was the only important thing to him. Blood ties did not matter.

At that moment, Letha couldn’t seem to hold on any longer. She sobbed, ignoring her husband who tried to grab her hand and rushing toward her son.

“Jarin,” she whispered desperately. It was as if there was no one else but the two of them. As tears streamed down her face, she reached up to hug him, wanting to hold him in her arms. It felt strange, seeing this strong woman and fighter suddenly appear so fragile.

The boy dismounted from his camel and reluctantly returned his mother’s hug. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss her, she was one of the few highlights of living with the Mataki, along with his brother Ercil. But neither of them had any power over Kotho. His word was final and if he decided they would spend every waking moment of their lives fighting, pillaging and roaming from place to place like savages, there was nothing anyone could do to change that. No matter how much his mother loved him, that was ultimately not enough. Kotho’s will would always be stronger.

“How could you leave?” Letha reproached him, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She observed her son’s face, his hair much longer than the last time she saw him. He looked skinnier, too. Was he eating enough? Was he ill? “We were so worried about you! Where were you?”

“I’m sorry, mother,” Jarin whispered, steeling himself. He would not cry, not in front of Kotho. He could not show his father any sign of weakness. “You know why I left and I’ll leave again, as soon as I get the chance,” he added quietly so that no one else could hear him.

Letha leaned back and looked him in the eyes, startled by his words. She knew that if he set his mind on something, he would do it sooner or later, and that scared her. She didn’t want to lose her son yet again. But even more than that, she was afraid of what Kotho would do if he caught Jarin trying to escape.

“You can’t do that,” she whispered quickly, barely moving her lips. “Kotho will-”

“I did it once already, didn’t I?” Jarin smirked. “And this time I’m not alone. I’ve got friends to help me.”

“Now, then,” the chieftain interrupted them, getting the attention of his men. “Tie the prisoners up. All four of them.”

A group of tribesmen immediately approached the boys and pulled them down from their camels, putting their hands behind their backs and tying them up. They pushed them down, letting them fall to the ground next to each other.

“Not Jarin?!” Letha turned to her husband with fire in her eyes, grabbing him by the arm. “He is not a prisoner!”

“He is whatever I say he is!” the man grumbled impatiently, roughly batting her hand away. Even though Letha was strong, she was no match for him. “I told you what would happen if I ever found him again. He is no longer my son,” he stated coldly, staring at his wife.

Once he was satisfied that the four boys were tied up and unable to escape, he nodded in approval.

“We’ll decide what to do with them later. For now, we eat and rest. We move toward the Citadel at dusk. Macarius falls tonight.”

~~

With his arms and legs firmly tied with thick rope, Sawyer sat on the ground, leaning against a large rock. The other three boys were right next to him, all in the same position. Even though the rock shaded them from the merciless sun, the boys were feeling lightheaded from the terrible desert heat and hunger. Ever since they’d been captured, the only thing they received was some tepid water.

The young sorcerer felt angry and helpless, especially since the Mataki found his magic wand and took it from him. He was quite sure he could use magic to free himself even without the wand, but four tribesmen were constantly watching them like hawks. The boys couldn’t make a single move without someone noticing it. That meant any attempt to escape would be quickly foiled and likely result in brutal punishment.

As far as Sawyer could see, most other tribe members were resting in nearby caves or tents they pitched. He couldn’t see the chieftain or his wife anywhere, so he concluded they must be in one of the tents.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” Jarin whispered to the other three. He felt guilty they were all in so much trouble because of his father.

“Don’t apologize. Just because they’re your family, doesn’t mean this is your fault,” Cyr replied. “But Sawyer, when we somehow get ourselves free, I want you to turn Kotho into a bug so I can step on the bastard.”

“Get in line,” Sawyer started chuckling, but then quickly stopped himself so he wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention to himself. “I’m going to use all the magic I know on that arrogant prick! But we’ll need to get my wand first.”

“We can’t even free ourselves from these ropes,” Castor lamented, trying to get into a more comfortable position. His back hurt, his legs were going numb and the ropes were cutting into his arms. If only it was night, Jarin and he could shift and easily slip from the constraints. For the time being, it seemed they were stuck there.

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” a voice came from behind, startling all four of them. Then, a tall, slim figure appeared in front of them, observing them with a stern look. “Or you might not live to see another sunrise.”

“Ercil,” Jarin whispered, making eye contact with his older brother. If he ever thought he’d be reunited with Ercil, he never imagined it would be this way. There was much Jarin wanted to say to him, but he didn’t even know where to start. They had hardly spoken a few words to each other and the young shifter had no idea if Ercil would ever forgive him for running away. “Brother, can we talk?” he pleaded, his ember eyes staring at Ercil’s frowning face.

“And what could you possibly tell me? Excuses for running away without a word? Save them, because I don’t want to hear them!” the older brother retorted without hesitation.

“Ercil, please, you know I have nothing against you. Our father is the reason I left.”

“Then how could you go without saying anything? You took the coward’s way out, leaving everyone else at Kotho’s mercy. Did you not think that maybe I would have liked to have joined you?” Ercil whispered, moving closer to his brother. He could not risk anyone from the tribe overhearing their conversation. He was risking too much just by being there.

“You? But… I didn’t know things were that bad between father and you,” Jarin said, surprised at his brother’s revelation.

“Now you know,” Ercil raised an eyebrow, but did not elaborate. Jarin didn’t have to know about his failed attempt at overthrowing their father and how Magana was punished because of it.

“But be honest: if I had told you I was leaving, would you have honestly been able to leave the tribe behind?”

Ercil went silent for a moment, pondering the question. He knew the answer was negative. Jarin was a free spirit, wanting to choose his own destiny, but Ercil would remain loyal to his tribe even if it meant enduring the rule of his father.

“Perhaps not. But that doesn’t excuse you from leaving without so much as a goodbye. I cannot forgive you for that.”

“I’m not sorry for leaving, but I am sorry for not saying goodbye to you and mother. That is my only regret. But there was no time, I had to move quickly so I could slip away unnoticed,” Jarin explained.

“Then you have made your choice,” Ercil stepped back, turning to leave. The anger he had been holding on to was too strong. No matter what his brother said, the sense of betrayal was still polluting the air between them.

“Wait! Can I just tell you one more thing?” Jarin called out as quietly as possible. Ercil stopped in his tracks, turning to look at him. “Father said you were going to face Macarius?”

“Yes. Another one of his brilliant ideas,” Ercil rolled his eyes. “Why?”

Jarin glanced at Cyr and then back at his brother, as if seeking for permission to reveal the secret. “We believe Macarius is dead.”

“What?” Ercil hissed, gripping his spear tightly. “Impossible! How would you know that?”

“Because we came from there. He held us as prisoners until… his son killed him. Xaviel is-”

At that moment, Ercil could see Kotho appearing in the distance. He immediately straightened his posture, turning away from his brother.

“I have to go now,” he quickly added before walking away without looking back, leaving the four boys alone.

If Macarius was indeed dead, there would be nothing to stop Kotho and the Mataki from conquering the Citadel and claiming this land for themselves, Ercil thought. Which meant that Vaunga’s plan was in vain. Would she make another move or not? Even though he desperately wanted to expose her treachery, he did not know how to act. The old shaman was cunning and had General Dakon as her ally. Whatever Ercil decided to do, he would have to think it through.

Of course, all of this was under the assumption that Jarin was indeed telling the truth. It was difficult to know which side was he on - was he trying to protect his family, or did he only care about his new friends? As much as Ercil was once able to trust in everything his brother said to him, he was not so sure anymore.

~~

“Oh, hell! Now what?” Dymia muttered as she knelt down, turning Macarius over on his back. The sorcerer lay on the floor unconscious, so it took a lot of effort for the shifter girl to move him.

“Macarius? Are you…” she tried to shake him awake, but he was not coming to his senses.

When she noticed the man was still breathing, Dymia let out a sigh of relief. She had never seen anyone die and was most certainly not ready for it now. Even when her parents passed away after catching a sudden illness, she was not present. Her grandparents took her to their home so she would not see them die. She was only three at the time and had no idea what was happening. She couldn’t even remember their faces. All she ever knew was living with her maternal grandparents, who did their best to tell her stories about her mother and father.

As she started to get older, Dymia began craving something more out of her life, leaving that house and seeing what’s out there. She knew the world had more to offer and she wanted to experience it. She did not even realize how similar to Xaviel she was in that regard.

Now, however, after everything she went through, her biggest wish was to return home and see her grandparents. Even now, as she was panicking over Macarius’ limp body, she wondered if they were still alive.

Getting up off the floor, the girl looked around herself, taking in her surroundings. She was in a very clean room that looked like a study of sorts. Rows of books were neatly lined up on shelves along the wall, while two large cabinets were filled with various instruments, potions and dishes. In a way, it reminded her of Macarius’ own alchemy laboratory, only smaller.

“Find Parthus,” she muttered to herself, repeating Macarius’ instruction. “Who is that and how do I find him?”

As she left the room and sneakily headed down the hallway, she abruptly stopped when she felt sharp steel poking her in the back. Instinctively, she raised her hands in surrender as her heart raced as if it was going to burst.

“Who- who is that?” the girl asked, trying to turn her head and take a look at whoever ambushed her.

“You’re in MY house, intruder! I should be asking questions. Turn around slowly,” a male voice ordered and she felt she had no choice but to obey. Carefully, Dymia turned around to see a middle-aged, graying man standing in front of her, holding a thin rapier in his hand and pointing it at her chest. “Who are you and how did you get here?”

“I- I can explain,” the wasp shifter girl slowly nodded, looking the man in right in his dark brown eyes. “My name is Dymia and… I know this may sound difficult to believe, but I was teleported here by a sorcerer. It’s true, I swear on my life!”

Dymia could see the man’s expression change as he raised his eyebrows and put the sword down.

“Is this sorcerer, by any chance, Macarius?”

“Yes! So you know him?” the girl asked, nodding vigorously.

“Of course I know him, he’s one of my customers,” the man rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “What did the old nuisance get himself into this time?”

“Actually, he’s here,” Dymia said, pointing to one of the doors on the right. “He’s been badly hurt and asked me to find someone named Parthus.”

“That would be me,” the man said, rushing to the door of his study and opening it. “Oh, Gods! What happened to him?” he shuddered, seeing the old sorcerer lying unconscious on the floor. Kneeling down next to him, he removed Macarius’ robe, revealing the bloody wound on his stomach.

“He was stabbed,” Dymia said, standing to the side and observing the man get to work.

As fast as lightning, Parthus took several bottles from the shelf. After cleaning the wound, he applied an ointment to it, after which he moved to his desk and started mixing various ingredients into a bowl, grinding them and stirring quickly, yet with precision. A light smoke rose from the dish, and a faint smell started spreading throughout the room, reminding the girl of marbleshine, a flower from her grandma’s garden.

“Take that bottle, please,” the man asked, pointing to one of the tiny glass bottles at the other end of the table, “and shake it for five seconds.”

Dymia quickly grabbed the vial and started shaking it, counting to five, before handing it over to him.

“So, who exactly are you?” the girl asked. “And… Where are we?”

“I’m a healer, in case it wasn’t obvious,” Parthus smirked. “I’ve been treating Macarius and his son for years. And we are in Wimborne. Do I dare to presume you know where that is?”

“Yes, of course I know where it is,” Dymia replied, irritated by the man’s tone. Wimborne was one of the largest towns in the Kingdom of Thar and one of the greatest trading centers in western Escaria. Even though she had never been there before, Dymia has heard much about the place. It was far away from home, but still closer than the Citadel.

“Good. Now help me move him to the bed, we can’t have him lying on the floor, now can we?”

Together, Parthus and Dymia managed to lift Macarius just enough to get him to the nearby bed below the window. The healer immediately grabbed the bowl containing his finished mixture and applied it to the wound.

Staring in awe, Dymia watched as the swelling rapidly subsided and the wound started healing until only a large scar remained.

“How?” she asked, turning to Parthus in confusion. She had never seen anything like it. It must be magic, she concluded, even though the man seemed to use only natural ingredients to prepare the healing salve.

“Why do you think Macarius chose to come here? Because he knows I’m the best,” the healer retorted. “The medicine I applied will now start working on repairing his internal tissues. However, he is not out of the woods yet. It will be some time before he regains his strength and wakes up. Take this mixture right here,” he said, handing Dymia the small ceramic bowl with a greyish-blue substance in it, “and apply it to his wound every two hours.”

“Am I suddenly your apprentice?” the girl frowned at him, but still took the offered bowl.

“I’m afraid you’d need a lot of training for that position,” Parthus replied, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. “But if you wish to leave, I certainly do not intend to keep you.”

“I… I never said that,” Dymia looked away, moving to sit in a chair. “May I have some water? I’m parched.”

“Of course, let us go into the kitchen. We can have something to eat if you wish,” the healer suggested. “There’s not much we can do for the old guy right now, anyway. We just have to wait until he awakens.”

Thank you for reading! See ya soon in Ch. 19!