Rise of the Spider Goddess (13 page)

Whoo sat comfortably behind him, grasping Nakor's cloak with one hand to keep his balance.

There was a shout, followed by a thump behind them. Nakor vaulted from the saddle and walked over to where Jenn had fallen. “You okay?” he asked.

“The stupid thing stopped suddenly,” Jenn replied sullenly. “I told you I couldn't ride.”

Nakor grinned. “You took that fall without getting banged up too badly,” he observed. “That's the first step in becoming a good rider.”

On a related note, I think for many of us, the first step in becoming a good writer is to write crap. In all seriousness, none of us are born knowing how to write. Almost all of us will produce a lot of really lousy stories before we start to get good. (Not all of us will choose to publish those lousy stories, but that's a whole separate discussion…)

He studied the saddle briefly. “First of all, let's get this saddle adjusted properly.” Nakor took a moment to shorten the stirrups. “That should help you keep your balance a little better.”

He walked up to the horse. After casting a quick spell, he whispered something into the horse's ear. Its eyes widened, and its ears flicked back. Nakor just stepped away and raised an eyebrow at the horse.

Raised eyebrow count: 13. Now we're raising eyebrows at horses?

“I think it should be okay now,” he said to Jenn. Making a basket with his hands, he boosted her up onto the saddle. Turning, Nakor returned to his own mount.

As they trotted onward, Pynne flew down to hover alongside Nakor. “What did you say to that horse?” she asked.

“I just told him how important it was that we make it to the temple as quickly as possible,” Nakor replied innocently. “I also mentioned what would happen to anyone, horses included, that got in the way of that goal.”

Nakor really is a bit of an a-hole, isn't he.

Pynne looked back at Jenn's horse. The animal seemed to be stepping very carefully now, turning his head from time to time to check on his rider.

“I think things should be a bit smoother from now on,” Nakor said with a grin.

The next day, Pynne peered down at a group of men who sat around a campfire, chatting idly among themselves. Once they had gotten away from the town, Galadrion had suggested someone scout ahead to make sure they didn't run into any unpleasant surprises.

Pynne and Whoo had both volunteered. With their ability to fly and become invisible, they were ideal for looking around without being detected. Furthermore, as far as anyone knew, Nakor only had one travelling companion. The only people who knew about Jenn or the pixies were either safe in Thomas's temple or dead.

Assuming those bad guys at the temple haven't gotten in and killed everyone there. This whole book has a bit of an “Out of sight, out of mind” thing going on.

Whoo had taken the first day, flying about a mile ahead of the others and reporting back every few hours. It had been remarkably uneventful. Boring was the word he had used.

Only an hour after setting out this morning, Pynne had overtaken a group of travellers. A few of the men rode in a horse-drawn wagon, while the rest sat astride horses, surrounding the wagon.

Immediately after finding them, Pynne had flown back to inform the others. Once that was done, she quickly returned to the small band and had been watching them ever since.

A few minutes ago, they had stopped for lunch. For the first time, Pynne was able to see everyone clearly. Fourteen of them, mostly men. There were a few women, too. They must have been riding in the wagon, Pynne concluded.

She landed on a branch, almost directly over the campfire. Her wings were sore from flying back and forth with such urgency, and she welcomed the chance to rest her aching muscles.

Pynne waited quietly, only half listening as the group chatted idly about the food and other everyday matters. Suddenly she sat upright, hoping her ears had misunderstood what was just said.

“What was that?” asked one of the men, echoing Pynne's thoughts.

“I said, I wonder what this ‘City of the Spider' is going to be like?” the speaker repeated. “If you'd stop cramming that lamb down your throat like a starved beggar, you would have heard me the first time.”

Of course these random travelers on the road just happen to be connected to Nakor's quest. The way the worldbuilding is going, nothing outside of Nakor's quest exists at all. If you drew a map of the world, it would literally be the routes he and his companions took and the places they stopped. The rest of the page would be blank.

Someone leaned forward intently. “I know what it's like,” he said in a quiet tone.

“And just how would you know that, Howard Barkett?”

“I talked to Morselas.”

Instantly, the group was quiet. “You talked to the elf priest?” a woman asked, awestruck.

“You did not,” said the man who had asked the question to begin with. He turned to the others. “Only moved here a few months ago and he's already trying to impress Melanie over there,” he added, pointing.

A few of the men laughed, but most of them were still intent on hearing what Howard had to say.

“Morselas has been in our village for a year now, and nobody has been willing to talk to him,” Howard explained. “But now, with him pressuring us to visit Olara in person, I decided it was time to ask some questions.”

“He's always been willing to talk about the second coming of Olara, and how she will restore the world to a more pure form. But he always seems to ignore the more mundane details.”

“What do you mean?” Melanie asked.

“Why did Morselas come to our village? Are there other priests in other towns, preaching the worship of Olara? What is this marvelous City of the Spiders, of which he speaks so fondly?”

“What did he say?”

Pynne leaned out from her perch, listening.

“He welcomed me into the small hut in which he has lived for the past year. There, he began to speak again of the wonder and power of Olara.”

The others nodded, having heard that kind of talk many times before.

Despite the fact that NOBODY TALKS LIKE THAT!

“At first, he was unwilling to answer my questions. But suddenly, I know not why, he changed his mind and began to talk about Olara's city.”

“He said it is centered around the small stone hut in which Calugar the Betrayer first designed the spell to resurrect Olara. For the past two years, her followers have gathered around that point until now there are hundreds, thousands who live there.”

“It is a place of great power, alien and primitive. But it is the place where Olara has begun to change the world, to improve it. She is returning everything to its natural state.”

“So why does he want us to go there?” someone asked.

“Olara's power grows daily,” Howard answered. “But there are many who oppose her in her quest. The journey to her city is one of the final tests of faith that must be endured by her followers. Others, both gods and men, have created obstacles in the hope of weakening our mistress. The forests have begun to grow black and twisted through their efforts. They have spread rumors about Olara, describing her as evil and cruel.”

“We are needed to aid her in her efforts. As her following grows, it becomes easier for her to hunt out and destroy these heretics.”

Ever feel like other people only exist to spoon-feed you plot details?

With that, Howard stood up and stretched. “And now, if you'll excuse me,” he said to his audience, “I need to go answer a call of nature.” Turning, he walked into the forest. Hidden from the others' view, he pulled a necklace out of his shirt. Curious, Pynne followed.

Once he was far enough away, he stopped in front of a tree. Pynne flew up next to him and studied the small talisman his hand. Her eyes widened.

Clutching the small silver spider in one hand, Howard closed his eyes. “Olara, your servant calls.”

He cocked his head slightly, as if listening, but Pynne heard nothing.

“They should arrive within a day, mistress.”

He paused again. He must be hearing Olara's responses in his mind, Pynne decided.

“No, they suspect nothing. I told them that I needed to go into seclusion for a month of ritual prayer. In this way, Morselas's disappearance will be unnoticed long enough for me to lead this first group to your city. Once they arrive, others from the village will soon follow.”

Pynne tensed. This must be Morselas, the elven priest. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

Yes, she could barely detect the presence of the illusion masking his form. Pynne opened her eyes again.

“Yes mistress, I am aware of the problem. Nakor and the vampire,” he frowned, as if someone had interrupted him.

“Pixies? He has pixies helping him? And a girl?” He looked confused.

“Ah, a young thief. I see. Thank you, Olara, I shall inform the others.” He glanced behind him. “I must go now, before they suspect anything.”

Tucking his amulet back into his shirt, Howard walked back to rejoin the others.

Stunned, Pynne just sat on her branch and stared. Olara knew about her and the others. How had anyone managed to learn of their presence? Olara obviously knew Nakor, and Galadrion had been staying with him for long enough for anyone to learn of her. Pynne's brow furrowed as she tried to figure out how this had happened.

A few minutes later, she flew back toward Nakor and the others.

Pynne popped into view between Galadrion and Nakor. She hovered there briefly, out of breath. Sensing something was wrong, they pulled the reins of their horses, coming to a halt. Jenn's horse stopped on his own, Nakor's words from the previous day still echoing in his mind.

“There's a group a few miles up heading towards the ‘City of the Spiders.' They're being led by a priest named Morselas.”

She looked intently at Nakor. “He knows about Jenn, Whoo, and I.”

Nakor closed his eyes. This was the one thing he had hoped to avoid. If nobody knew about the others, it would be easier to keep them relatively safe.

“Do you know how he found out?” he asked.

Pynne shook her head. “He was talking to Olara through his holy amulet. She told him. But I don't know how she learned about us.”

“The obvious answer,” Galadrion began slowly, “is that we're being spied on.”

Nakor nodded his agreement.

Jenn looked around nervously. “So what do we do?”

“Whoo,” Nakor began, “could you fly behind us for a while and see if anyone's following?”

With a nod, Whoo vanished.

“Whoever is watching us, they haven't done anything yet,” Nakor said. “So we probably aren't in any immediate danger.”

“But they probably know where we're going,” Pynne pointed out. “Once we get to the temple, there could be hundreds of guards waiting for us. For that matter, how do we know that we won't be ambushed the next time we ride over a hill?”

“We don't,” Nakor said. “So it would probably be a good idea for you to keep scouting ahead as we go.”

Pynne rolled her eyes. “Whatever would you do without me?” she asked sarcastically. Then she launched herself into the air, fading from sight in mid-leap.

Nakor watched her go, staring off into the distance even after she was gone. Absently, he petted Flame with one finger as he wondered what to make of this new development.

Sighing, he turned to look at Galadrion and Jenn. “Be careful,” he said simply. Nudging his horse with his knees, he began to follow Pynne.

Galadrion and Jenn glanced at each other. Turning, they began following Nakor. Galadrion held back, allowing Jenn to get ahead of her. Hopefully, she and Nakor would be able to provide some small measure of protection this way, if necessary.

Somberly, the group rode toward the mountains in the distance.

Desperately, the readers prayed for variation in sentence structure.

* * *

The horses snorted nervously. The mountains were closer now. One peak in particular loomed majestically ahead of them, overshadowing its brothers. But that was not the cause of the horses' discomfort.

“I don't like this,” Pynne said nervously.

Whoo had been unable to find anyone following them, and had stayed with the others since returning. Likewise, Pynne had returned, occasionally flying ahead to make sure they didn't overtake Morselas. But something about the area instilled a sense of discomfort, causing her to unconsciously remain close to her companions.

Nakor started. “Hm?” he asked, distracted.

“We don't like this,” Whoo said in a loud voice.

For hours now, it had been like this. To Jenn, it felt like the forest had grown angry. She imagined that the trees themselves wanted to reach out and strike her dead. The slightest noise would make them jump.

Nakor closed his eyes. “The land is sick,” he muttered, almost to himself. He could sense the disturbance all around him. It permeated the air, the trees, the ground, even the insects that buzzed annoyingly in their ears.

“The land is sick”? It's like I gobbled up every fantasy cliché I could find, then vomited them onto my word processor. (Word Perfect 6.0, if I remember correctly.)

He looked at the ground. “The leaves are starting to fall,” he commented.

“It's the middle of summer,” Whoo protested. He could see the thin carpet of dead leaves on the ground as well as the rest of them. But there was a strong urge to deny the existence of the wrongness around them.

Even if it had been the right season for the trees to shed their leaves, he would have known something was wrong. The leaves that had not yet decayed to a crispy brown color were green, as if the tree had been perfectly healthy when it lost its foliage.

“I know,” Nakor answered.

There was silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Jenn spoke up hesitantly.

“What's happening?”

“Everything is dying,” Galadrion answered quietly. She had an intimate connection to death, and could feel it surrounding them. For the first time in years, she felt uneasy.