Rise of the Spider Goddess (7 page)

The next time the skeleton struck, Nakor again caught it on his rapier. Suddenly, he dropped his sword and grabbed the skeleton by the wrist. As it struggled to free its arm, Nakor drew his dagger with his free hand and lunged forward, wincing at the pain in his side and legs.

He shoved the dagger into the skeleton's backbone. Using all of his remaining strength, he twisted, trying desperately to separate its vertebrae.

The instant he succeeded, the skeleton collapsed into a pile, joining its companion on the floor.

Dazed and bleeding, Nakor crawled away. After a while, he collapsed to the ground. He frowned, feeling a slight breeze on his face. He looked to his left.

Weakly, he studied the wall of the tunnel. From the floor, he could see a slightly irregular projection on one of the stones. Having nothing to lose, he pulled himself over to the wall and pressed it.

A door slid open, revealing a small room. Thankfully, Nakor crawled inside and shoved the door back into place. It took all of his concentration to heal the wound in his side. Then he cut strips from his cloak to bandage his legs. The cuts were shallow there, and he could deal with them later. Then, mercifully, he lost consciousness.

* * *

Nakor opened his eyes. Disoriented, he wondered why he was laying on a straw mat, and how his legs had been healed. Then he looked over and saw Whoo, snoring peacefully, while Pynne slept a little ways beyond.

Everything came rushing back to him. Moving quietly, so as not to wake the pixies, he rolled over, expecting to see Galadrion sitting by the door. But she was gone.

She's off to see if Jim Butcher has any vacancies in his books.

Concerned, Nakor stood up, wincing at the soreness in his back and shoulders. Between sleeping on the hard, unfamiliar ground and having such an intensely realistic dream, his muscles were in knots. He took a moment to rub a shoulder, allowing the healing magic to flow into his aching muscles. Moments later, he slipped soundlessly out of the room, and into the temple.

Galadrion was nowhere to be seen. Nakor walked to the temple entrance, where the door was once again mounted on its hinges. Raising an eyebrow at that, he opened the door.

Raised eyebrow count: 8

Nakor blinked as the sunlight momentarily blinded him. He was shocked to realize that it had been just last night that he was sitting in his tree, watching the sunset. It felt like ages ago.

The white-robed initiate who stood outside the door watched him expectantly. It was not the same man whom Nakor had trapped the night before.

“I'm looking for my friend,” Nakor said.

The initiate nodded. “She went in that direction,” he said, pointing.

Nakor thanked him, and walked off to find Galadrion.

He found her sitting on a rock, watching the sky. “Galadrion?” he asked curiously.

“I saw the sunrise, Nakor.” she said quietly. Her voice was trembling. “It came up over there, between those hills.” She pointed to a spot in the distance. “I haven't seen the sun in twenty six years.”

Nakor studied her, noticing the tiny pouch she wore around her neck.

She grabbed the pouch in one hand. “Thomas gave me a way to see the sun rise.” There were tears running down her face, and she still stared at the sky in wonder.

Finally, she turned to look at Nakor. He was smiling, enjoying the happiness that shone from her eyes. For as long as he had known her, Nakor had never seen Galadrion happy. It felt good to see, and for a brief time it distracted him from his own troubles.

For a moment, they both sat there, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to last as long as possible. Then Nakor frowned, as memories of his dream came rushing back into his consciousness.

“What is it?” Galadrion asked, noting his change in mood.

“Two years ago, I made a mistake,” Nakor began. “I set loose a force that could eventually destroy my world. It seems only fitting that I be the one to correct that mistake.”

“But I can't shake the feeling that I'm not strong enough to do what needs to be done. Olara is a goddess, one that even the other gods are unwilling to act against. Who am I to challenge that kind of power? I'm just another elf with a slight gift for magic.”

Galadrion looked at him, concerned. Nakor habitually exuded an air of careless confidence. To see him without that mask was disconcerting, to say the least. She searched for words to comfort him, but found none. Finally, she settled for resting a hand on his shoulder, unconsciously imitating Nakor's gesture from the night before.

Nakor glanced at her, smiling slightly. Then he began to describe the dream that was disturbing him.

“Olara slashed my sword in half like it was nothing. I was completely helpless as she backed me off of the cliff.” He paused, feeling the helplessness overwhelm him for a moment.

“Then I was back in the temple.” He looked at Galadrion. “It was just as it was two years ago. Scrunchy and Serina had been arguing again. They always seemed to rub each other the wrong way. I don't even remember what they were fighting about this time.”

“I decided to look around while everyone else dealt with their little disagreement.” He smiled ruefully. “I fell through a trap door into some underground tunnels, and got attacked by some animated skeletons.”

“Skeletons?” asked Galadrion.

“Page 106 of the
Monster Manual
. Didn't you do the reading?

“When a necromancer, or some other wielder of magic tries to raise the dead, the body must be healed first. Otherwise you end up with zombies or skeletons, or worse. Someone probably put the skeletons in the temple deliberately, as some sort of guard. They have no wills of their own, so it's easy to control them.”

He paused to make sure his explanation was clear.

“I almost died down there,” Nakor admitted. “My magic was useless, and one of them slashed me in the side. The other one cut my legs. After that, it's a hazy memory of crawling away and waiting for the others to find me.”

“Eventually, they discovered the open trap door and came down to find me.”

He looked at Galadrion for a while. “Almost everyone who was with me in that temple is dead now.” He closed his eyes, the pain of those deaths still strong within his heart. When he spoke again, it was in a quiet, hesitant voice.

“It scares me to think that could happen again.”

They were both silent for a while. Then Galadrion spoke. “You were only asleep for a couple of hours. You should go and get some more rest.”

Nakor nodded, once. Then he squeezed Galadrion's hand, which still rested on his shoulder, and stood up.

Fear and concern momentarily forgotten, Nakor snuck back into his small room in the temple. As he lay down, he felt the weariness begin to overcome him once more. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Galadrion watched sadly as he left. It felt good that Nakor had been able to trust her enough to admit being afraid. She herself had been unwilling to trust others for years, now. Nakor was the first who had begun to penetrate that shield of distrust, but even he was kept at a distance. It was the only way she knew to keep herself sane.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Galadrion thought about her husband. Devin had been a good man, but he had been weak. She had long since forgiven him for inviting a vampire into their home. Like Nakor, Devin had been a man who loved nature. She remembered once when he had woken her up in the morning and taken her out to the lake to watch the sun rise.

Everything comes back to sunsets and sunrises!

Tears stung Galadrion's eyes, and she wiped them away without noticing. That morning with Devin had been less than a week before he was killed.

The emotions were threatening to overwhelm her, now. Years of pain and loneliness fought to reach the surface. Angrily, Galadrion forced them down again, refusing to acknowledge such feelings. Clearing her mind, she turned to stare once more at the sun.

After a while, her features softened again. Her memories buried once more, Galadrion allowed herself to relax somewhat.

Hours passed. Galadrion continued to sit outside, marvelling at her rediscovery of the day. Pynne and Whoo both slept soundly, their exhausted bodies recovering from the exertions of the night before. And Nakor dreamed again.

* * *

Dazed, exhausted, and bleeding, Nakor pulled himself into the small room, leaving the scattered bones of the skeleton behind him. Once inside, he used all of his energy to heal the wound on his side.

That's right, it's another dream-flashback!

Examining his legs, he found that they had both received shallow slashes, with the right leg barely even scratched. He used a dagger to cut bandages from his cloak, and tied them around his injured thighs. Once that had been accomplished, he allowed himself to rest.

Hours later, he heard a metallic clanking coming from the hallway. Nakor smiled, recognizing the sound of Scrunchy's armor banging against itself as he walked. Using the door to pull himself to his feet, he walked out to rejoin his companions.

They led him back to the trap door, berating him all the way for running off like that. Once they climbed out up through the hole in the ceiling, the scolding quickly stopped as they continued to search for the gems. But Nakor limped for the rest of his time in the temple.

His vision blurred, and a moment later he stood in a grassy clearing. He blinked his eyes to clear them, then unwillingly took a step back.

In front of him lay Scrunchy's body, just the way they had found it. The rats had left little more than a skeleton, still wearing a silver breastplate and helmet, sword clutched in one outstretched hand. A pair of daggers lay on the ground by his waist. A brown rat peered up at Nakor from within the rib cage. After a moment, it scurried away and vanished.

Suddenly, the book takes an unexpected turn toward the gruesome.

Nakor turned away, only to see two small stones set on a sandy beach. The fingers of his hands clenched, unnoticed, into fists. Nakor had not been there when Serina and Wanni were killed. They had been out hunting, less than a day after they had freed Olara. It was almost a week before Nakor, Roth, Caudi, or Brigit learned what had happened. Roth had heard a rumor of two strangers who had been found dead by the shore of the lake. According to the people who had buried them, Serina and Wanni were both pierced through the heart by a single arrow. They would have died instantly.

“The fingers of his hands.” As opposed to the fingers of what, his left armpit? What kind of weird anatomy do these elves have, anyway?

There was a snorting noise behind him. Knowing what was about to happen, Nakor tried not to look.

The dream took over, and Nakor felt himself turning to watch as a mounted warrior thrust his spear through Roth's unarmored chest.

The snorting noise had nothing to do with any of this. That was just a random pig wandering through the dream. Nakor's subconscious is a weird place.

Just as had happened in reality, Nakor felt pain and fury overwhelming him. He stretched out one hand, fingers spread, to point at the murderer before him.

The man turned his horse to look at Nakor.

Wait, is the man looking at Nakor, or is he just trying to get his horse to look?

Drawing upon the power of the air itself, Nakor sent a blast of wind at the man that knocked him from the horse.

As he struggled to rise, Nakor raised his other hand. He used the pain and anger at the death of his friend to fuel his magic, drawing upon power he had never before allowed himself to use. Now, he used it with an almost insane rage, sending the man hurling through the air to smash against a large oak tree, back broken by the impact, just as had happened two years ago.

“Use your aggressive feelings, boy. Let the hate flow through you. Strike me down with all of your hatred and your journey towards the dark side will be complete!”

Nakor sank to his knees, overwhelmed. Then he raised his head, knowing what must come next. As he watched, the young wizard Caudi raced into view, pursued by two men.

She turned and started to cast a spell, but one of the men hurled a dagger that lodged in her stomach. She stumbled backward.

Sprinting, Nakor tried to reach her in time, as he had been unable to in life. He was still too far away when one of the men stepped up and stabbed Caudi through the heart, killing her instantly.

Nakor slowed to a walk, watching as her body crumpled to the ground. One of the men yelled as he spotted Nakor approaching. The other looked up, and said “That's the other one we want.”

They approached, swords drawn. Too numb to even attempt a spell, Nakor silently drew his rapier in one hand, dagger in the other, and waited motionlessly.

As the men neared, Nakor suddenly leapt into motion. He batted a sword out of the way, and almost casually stabbed one of the men with his dagger. Smoothly, he stepped back, avoiding a thrust by the other man's sword.

Seeing his companion bleeding out his life on the ground seemed to put fear into Nakor's remaining opponent. Gathering his courage, the man lunged again.

Nakor caught the sword on the long blade of his dagger, diverting the attack to one side. Then he smashed the basket hilt of his rapier into the man's face.

He stumbled backward with a yell, dropping his sword and clutching his hands to his face. Nakor brought the point of his rapier up until it touched the man's throat. Walking slowly, he backed the bleeding man up against a tree.

The rage was clearly audible in Nakor's voice as he spoke. “Who sent you?” he asked simply.

The man's voice was almost a whimper. “Olara.”

Nakor killed the man quickly and cleanly. It was a far nicer death than he would have had otherwise, when Olara learned of his failure. Olara was not known for her tolerance.

He turned around, and discovered that he faced the entrance to Olara's temple. From within, he could hear Olara's mocking laughter echoing through the tunnels. Then she began calling out his name. “Nakor…”