Book of Venoms - 4. The Tribe Arrives

“Assassin Wasp: While the Mammoth Wasp is considered the queen of these flying insects due to its enormous size, the Assassin is rightfully deemed to be the deadliest. Unlike most other wasp species, whose venom merely causes mild pain and discomfort to humans, this nasty creature can cause great harm to a man, and a single sting can kill smaller animals such as rabbits and dogs.

Even though wasps have inhabited most corners of our world, this particular species is found only in the western forests of Du’tar. The natives of the region have long used these vicious insects as a method for torturing their enemies: the culprits would be stripped naked and coated in honey before these flying stingers would be unleashed upon them. Even though Assassin Wasps cannot kill a human, they can certainly inflict enough pain to make the victim beg for a swift and merciful death.”

--

All signs pointed to another calm sunset at the Sonoraj Oasis. The caravans and merchants were slowly packing their wares and preparing for rest. Meanwhile, the few dozens of people who lived in the large oasis on a more permanent basis were scattered about. Some walked around, enjoying the pleasant evening air after the scorching hot day, while others lounged by the lake or in the water, beneath the palm trees.

“No sign of Felos yet?” a slim, dark-skinned woman asked her friend as the two were resting by a lake.

“No, his caravan isn’t due until the next full moon, I’m afraid,” the other woman said, wistfully looking at the purple evening sky, where the first stars had started to emerge. “I envy you, you know. You have your husband by your side all the time.”

“At least Felos is gentle with you when you’re together,” the first woman sighed. “Haraj barely even touches me anymore.”

“Surely it hasn’t come to that, Maria? Perhaps you need to remind him of what he is missing out on. Tomorrow, we shall go and buy you some oils and lotions to help you enchant him once again,” her friend offered.

“Thank you for caring, Lara. You’re a good friend,” Maria smiled sadly, grabbing a fistful of sand and letting it slowly spill between her fingers.

Lost in conversation, the two friends did not even notice when the night came. They were among the few people still outside. There was no one else besides the soldiers who guarded the oasis. The caravans who traded there had to be protected, so the oasis always had at least a dozen guards on duty.

“Shall we go?” Lara asked, getting up and fixing her yellow gauzy dress.

“Why, do you think Haraj misses me?” Maria quipped, drawing a chuckle out of her friend.

“Yes, I’m sure he-” Lara started to reply, but suddenly went quiet, looking around.

“What’s the matter?” the other woman asked, giving her friend a confused look.

“Do you hear that noise?”

As both women went quiet, all of the guards rose at the same time, drawing their sabres and yelling: “Everybody inside! We’re being attacked!”

Scared for their lives, the two friends ran toward their humble cottages as the noise became louder and louder. Moments later, there was no mistake about what was happening - the ominous sounds of a loud horde running toward them, yelling and banging their battle drums filled the air.

“The Mataki are coming!” the guards shouted, warning the oasis inhabitants who came out to see what was going on, but it was in vain.

As they stood at the edge of the oasis and watched the savage nomadic tribe approach them, the guards knew there was little they could do. They were outnumbered and had nowhere to run. Most of the people in the oasis were women, children and merchants who hadn’t held a sword once. On the other hand, the Mataki were a notorious tribe that only cared about conquests and pillaging. They were at their mercy.

“Ma’taki sara’gi!” the wild pack of at least fifty people shouted their battlecry in unison as they approached the oasis, ready to plunder the caravans and slaughter anyone who dares to oppose them. Most of them were half-naked, with red markings across their face and chests. Some had terrifying masks covering their faces, revealing only the savage look in their eyes.

The tribe chieftain, a tall, burly man with long, raven hair, bravely ran in front of everyone else. To the confusion of oasis guards, he was wielding no weapons, but it quickly became painfully obvious just why he didn’t need any. With a mighty cry, he shifted into a black, hairy Blood Spider the size of a tiger. The two tall men standing by his side shifted a mere second later, taking to the air in the form of two Fiend Bats. Spreading their black wings, they circled above the frontline, ready to swoop down on anyone who dares come too close.

Running on its eight legs, the spider chieftain was incredibly quick, sinking its venomous teeth into one of the unlucky guards who happened to be the closest. The poor man dropped down instantly, foaming at the mouth and dying.

Not discouraged by the death of one of their comrades, the rest of the guards fought bravely, their sharp sabres cutting down two tribe members, inflicting fatal wounds. Two guards transformed into black panthers, viciously killing two more men.

As one of the guards was trying to dodge a blow from a tribeswoman wielding a club, a young man took aim and skillfully shot him in the leg with his javelin. The guard fell and screamed in pain, knowing his death was imminent. The young man ran toward him, ready to deal the fatal blow, but a girl grabbed him by the hand, pulling him back.

“He’s defeated! We don’t have to kill him!” she shouted at the blond boy desperately.

“He would kill us the first chance he gets,” the boy shot back, turning back to the fallen guard.

“We need more allies, Ercil! If our plan is to work-”

“Fine! You’re right,” the boy stated. “You serve us from now on, no matter what my father says,” he whispered to the guard, who quickly nodded in desperation.

Looking up, Ercil could see the spider killing another unlucky guard, while the two panthers were bitten by the bloodthirsty bats whose venom instantly put them to sleep.

The battle with the guards was over, but the chaos inside the oasis was only beginning. Half of the tribe had already barged in, ransacking the caravans and tents. Screams and pleadings of people filled the night air, as they begged for their lives. As usual, only those who dared to fight back were killed on the spot, while the others were spared, especially women and children. The Mataki code of battle did not allow them to commit the shameful act of killing defenseless people. Doing so would bring dishonor upon any true warrior.

Shifting back into his human form, the Mataki chieftain stood tall, red tribal markings across his rough face, neck and thick arms. Looking around, he assessed the situation. Four of his men were dead and several more injured, but what they gained from the invasion was worth it. The caravans were packed with valuable goods and gold, while the oasis would provide them with shelter, food and water. Besides, his men will certainly appreciate the company of the women living there.

“Chieftain Kotho!” one of the generals called out. “We have five injured men!”

“Carry them inside the oasis, let our shaman look at them. And see if they have a healer there, perhaps he can help. If he refuses…”

“As you command!” the general turned around, ordering the tribesmen to carry the injured ones inside.

Away from the crowd, a lonely tribeswoman knelt down in the sand, crying over her husband’s corpse. He was one of the four unlucky men who were killed in battle. Observing the scene, Kotho approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“He’s dead…” the poor woman weeped, tears streaming down her face and soaking her clothes.

“Your husband was a brave man. He died a warrior’s death,” Kotho spoke in his deep voice, staring at the dead man on the ground.

“I don’t give a shit about that! He’s dead and for what?!” the woman cried out desperately, only to be shocked by a sharp slap across her face.

“Talk to me like that again and you’ll be joining him!”

With those words, the chieftain left the widow and approached one of his generals.

“See to it that the dead be buried. Quickly.”

“Yes, chieftain,” the man nodded and went on his way, as most of the tribe entered the oasis, eager to get their share of the loot. Of course, most of it would go to the chieftain, his family and generals.

Well-fed and rested, the tribe was scattered across the oasis. Two dozen men were ordered to stay alert just in case, while the rest of them withdrew to tents for some much needed respite from all the wandering and fighting. In the largest of the tents, chieftain Kotho and his wife Letha laid together, drinking sweet red wine.

“Ercil did well. He fought bravely,” the woman said, proud of her son.

He was nineteen and it was time for him to be treated like a man. He had to fight and learn all the skills he needed to survive. Even though he was the chieftain’s son, his future in the tribe was uncertain. One day, when Kotho is gone, whoever is strongest would be chosen as the new chieftain. It would likely be one of the few shifters in the tribe - that was the tradition. Since Ercil was not a shifter, he didn’t stand much of a chance. Thus, he had to learn how to fend for himself.

“He did,” Kotho confirmed. “And don’t think I didn’t notice he saved that guard. That is a sign of weakness.”

“Or perhaps strength,” Letha countered.

“We shall see…” the chieftain took another sip from his bronze cup, staring into the distance.

“My love, have patience with him. We have already lost one son. Let us not lose the other one, too.”

“We did not lose him. He deserted,” Kotho grumbled with contempt in his voice, looking away from his wife. He knew she would be ready to forgive their son should he return, but he couldn’t. Once you abandon your tribe, blood ties do not matter anymore.

“He better pray I do not find him, for I will forget he is my son,” the chieftain added. “We better rest now, it was a long day… A long week.”

“When do we advance?”

“As soon as possible. This oasis is but a temporary stop.”

“Macarius will surely know we’re coming,” Letha pointed out with concern showing on her aging face. She was still a rather good-looking woman, although years of nomadic life and combat have made her features rougher compared to those of an ordinary woman. As great as Kotho was in his role of the chieftain, she was equally good as the chieftain’s wife. Although she spent years raising their two boys, she did not shy away from combat, being proficient with a spear.

“Macarius is but one man. Hiding in his Citadel won’t help him much. We shall conquer it and then take over the entire Desoloth ta’Pah,” Kotho said, brushing off Letha’s concerns.

Taking no heed of his wife’s worried look, he then lay down and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

~~

Finding herself in a large circular room, Dymia looked around nervously, taking in her new surroundings. This was clearly not a place for entertainment, that much was clear to her. Aside from the barebones furniture, the shelves that covered the walls were stacked with flasks, tubes and strange instruments. The stone floor was filthy, smeared with all kinds of stains and dried up fluids. A large, dark stain was under one of the tables. Was that blood?

I’m in some kind of a laboratory, the girl realized as the gravity of the situation finally hit her. Who knows what he plans to do with me, she wondered in fear, glancing at the sorcerer for a brief moment.

Although there were several windows on one side of the room, all of them had narrow, white bars, preventing anyone from escaping. Anyone, that is, except a tiny, flying insect. If she could just open a window without being noticed, she could shift and try to fly out. Where would she go then - she didn’t know. With no home of her own, the only plan was to keep wandering.

Her grandparents were her only family - an elderly couple that loved her more than anything, but she left them. Ever since she discovered she could become a wasp, she was filled with the desire to fly and explore. Every night she would go out, shift and fly around fearlessly, as if she was the largest predator no one could touch. The last time she saw them was ages ago. How could she go back and look them in the eyes after abandoning them without a goodbye? She couldn’t, even if she managed to get away from this place.

However, it was nearly impossible to attempt an escape. Even though she wasn’t tied up, Macarius was right there next to her, arranging some instruments on the center table. He was ignoring the girl for the moment, but she knew even the smallest of movements would alert him.

“What do you want with me?” Dymia asked. She could not stand to be kept in the dark any longer. She had to know what her fate would be.

“Worry not, girl. As long as you cooperate, you will live,” Macarius said, still not raising his head, engrossed in his work. Even though his words were supposed to be encouraging, his tone was as ominous as ever and did nothing to reassure the girl.

Finally, as he finished with his task, he picked up a small glass cup and turned to the girl.

“I need your blood. But first, I need to collect your venom. You will now shift and deposit it here.”

With a calm nod, the girl stepped closer.

“Fine by me.”

She saw an opportunity and she was going to take it. Maybe she couldn’t open the window and escape, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have other options. Without any announcement or warning, Dymia shifted into her wasp form and flew toward the glass in the sorcerer’s hand. At the last moment, she changed directions and aimed for the man’s hand, delivering a quick, but painful sting.

With a scream, Macarius dropped the cup, letting it shatter on the floor.

“You will pay for this!!” he grumbled, raising his staff in the air. The golden orb on top of it suddenly flashed even brighter. Trying to aim at the wasp that flew around the room tirelessly, Macarius fired beam after beam of orange energy at the insect. His other hand was already swollen, causing him an immense amount of pain and making it harder to focus on the task at hand. Finally, one of the missiles hit the wasp and it immediately fell down on the floor, shifting back into the girl.

Panting and moaning, Dymia managed to pick herself up, afraid to look at the sorcerer. As soon as she was up on her feet, a wave of energy hit her and she slammed backwards into the wall.

“Try anything like that one more time and you die!” Macarius warned, stressing the final word. Of course, the poor girl could not have known he was merely bluffing.

“I-I won’t, I promise,” the girl pleaded, her confidence shattered and replaced with fear.

“Oh, don’t think you’re not getting punished for this,” the sorcerer pointed to his left hand, which still hurt like hell. He raised his staff and muttered a few words in a language Dymia didn’t recognize. As soon as he was finished, the girl’s hair burst into flames.

Dropping down on her knees and screaming, Dymia begged Macarius to put out the fire, not realizing it was merely an illusion. Tears were streaming down her cheeks from the pain - she was sure the scorching heat she felt on her head was all real.

Once he was satisfied that the girl had suffered enough for her attack, the sorcerer ended the illusion. With the pain suddenly gone, Dymia looked at her long hair and noticed it was still the same! Touching herself all over the head, she realized there was no damage, no burns.

With a devious smile on his dark face, Macarius looked at the girl as she understood what had happened.

“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson here.”

“Y-yes,” Dymia nodded obediently.

“Good. Now, let’s try this again, shall we?” the man said, picking up another glass cup.

I'd like to thank everyone who's reading this story! I hope you're having fun!
Castor and Sawyer return in the next chapter.