Eye of the Wizard: A Fantasy Adventure (7 page)

"I hope so," Cobweb said and couldn't help but smile.
I said that sentence all right,
she thought. Somehow, talking to Gossamer always seemed easiest. She even managed a sip of juice.

But soon the sun began to set, and Cobweb's smile vanished. In a few moments the first star would rise, and then the Memory Boulders would glow. Cobweb gulped.
The moment of truth.

Indeed, a hush fell over the spiderlings as the elders, holding lanterns, emerged from the forest.

All eyes fell upon them. There were five elders; there had been five for time beyond memory. They were ancient beings of light, maybe centuries old. Their hair was long and white, their skin indigo, their faces cold and unlined. Fireflies haloed around their brows, and they wore robes woven of spiderwebs. Silent, paper lanterns in hand, the clan elders stepped into the meadow.

Cobweb whimpered and clutched Gossamer's hand.

The sunlight fleeing, the elders came to stand before Cobweb, gazing upon her with blue eyes, eyes far too large, deep, and old. Gulping, knees trembling, she stood to face them. The other spiderlings crowded around, holding moonflowers and primroses, the flowers of the night skies. Gossamer held Cobweb's left hand, while her friend Webdew held her right hand, patting it.

Please, spirits of Spidersilk, help me,
Cobweb prayed. The elders raised their eyes to the sky. Cobweb and her friends did the same. Everyone held their breath.

For a moment there was silence.

Shy, winking, the first star appeared.

The Memory Boulders that surrounded the meadow, arranged like the planets, collected the starlight. Their runes began to glow with azure light. Everyone exhaled and mumbled blessings and prayers.

"Cobweb of Spidersilk Forest," spoke one elder, her voice so loud and sudden that Cobweb started. "Tonight is your Star Ceremony, your passage into adulthood."

Cobweb nodded, allowing herself a tremulous smile. The light of the runes and fireflies seemed to spin around her, blinding her.
It's going to be all right,
she told herself, squeezing her friends' hands.
I'm going to become a woman tonight.

One elder examined her eyes. "Clear, perfect blue," she announced.

A second elder examined her hair, passing her fingers through it. "Soft, glowing white... pure."

The third elder examined her lips and teeth, deeming the former full and soft, the latter straight and sparkling. The fourth elder praised her purple skin strewn with "perfectly whimsical freckles", while the fifth and final elder deemed her body of "godly proportions."

Cobweb smiled.
They like me!
The elders, notorious for their sternness, actually smiled back.

"T-tank y-you," Cobweb blurted out, tears of joy in her eyes. "I-I'm weawwy happy."

The elders' smiles vanished.

Oh... damn,
Cobweb thought.

One elder scratched her chin, frowning. "Child, will you speak the chant of the forest?"

Cobweb bit her lip and shook her head.

The elder's frown deepened, blue sparks flaring in her eyes. "Speak the chant, child. Every spiderling should know the chant."

Cobweb looked at the elder, trying to make her teary eyes seem pleading.

"You can do it!" Gossamer whispered, squeezing her hand.

Cobweb took a deep breath, her fingers trembling. "F-f-fowevew we f-fwowick among da twees, p-puwe and pwetty."

The elders gasped. "A monstrosity!" one whispered.

Cobweb lowered her head, tears filling her eyes. Monstrosity. There was that word again.
I can say it so perfectly in my head,
she thought, sniffing.
It's not my fault my tongue is so clumsy. Everyone thinks I'm stupid or a monster, but I'm not.

The elders circled her, eyes flashing angry blue, and all around the spiderlings gasped. A few spiderlings covered their mouths, while others covered their eyes or pointy ears. The forest went silent, even the trees ceasing to rustle. Cobweb closed her eyes, crying.

"Cobweb of Spidersilk Forest," she heard an elder saying, "we deem you impure and a danger to the spiderling race. You are banished from Spidersilk Forest."

Around her, the spiderlings erupted in shouts, whimpers, sobs. A few girls laughed. Cobweb dared not open her eyes, and she sobbed into her palms. She felt hands grab her, pulling her away from her friends, tearing her away from her world.

"P-pwease," she whispered, "wet me twy again."

But they were dragging her away from the meadow, pulling her into the darkness of the forest, shoving her, scolding her, spiderlings shouting and crying around her. Cobweb opened her eyes, but the world seemed to spin around her. She saw only darkness, black trees, glowing elders pulling and shoving her, glimpses of spiderlings trying to chase her through the darkness.

How could this have happened? I'm banished. I'll never see my friends again.

"Cobweb!" came the distant cry of Gossamer, but soon her voice vanished in the darkness.

Tears and pain covered Cobweb's world.

* * * * *

Scruff stood on the raft, staring at the rocky island that rose ahead from the lake.

Wind moaned, rippling the water and cutting through Scruff's cloak. He shivered, perhaps more from fear than cold. The lake gurgled, and Scruff could imagine serpents coiling in its depths, ready to leap out and eat him. He leaned over the raft, trying to gaze into the lake, but the water was murky and thick as stew, gray-green under the overcast sky.

When he returned his eyes to the island ahead, the fear only grew colder in his belly. A mile away, Hermit Island looked lifeless and gray, its few trees scraggly. While mallards swam through the lake, and gulls circled the raft cawing for food, no birds seemed to fly over the rocky island ahead.
Even they don't want to live there,
Scruff thought, lowering his head. Everything about today seemed dismal, from the rotting planks of the raft, to the weather, to the weight on his heart.

The ferryman was humming a tune even older than he was, and he was old indeed, all wrinkly skin and long white hair. As he hummed his song, he rowed the raft as leisurely as a nymph running her toes through a sunny stream. That suited Scruff fine; he was in no rush to reach Hermit Island, his new home. Once he set foot on that rocky shore, who knew if he'd ever leave it?

He turned to look at Jamie. She stood beside him on the raft, the wind ruffling her short black hair. Though she no longer needed a disguise, she still dressed like a boy; boy clothes were all she owned. She wore black leggings, tall leather boots, and a deep green cape clasped around her neck with an iron acorn. Her eyes dark and her lips tightened, she looked like Scruff felt—miserable.

Their only valuables were their weapons and scant armor. Jamie carried Moonclaw over her back, the filigreed sword that once belonged to Father. Scruff kept Norman, his oversized mace, slung over his own back. Both siblings carried wooden shields emblazoned with the Thistle emblem, a cluster of thorns growing around a tower. Dull iron vambraces protected their forearms, and greaves protected their shins. They owned no helmets or breastplates—such armor cost a fortune—and they had left their chain mail behind, for it belonged to Fort Rosethorn. Vambraces and greaves weren't much, but Scruff was grateful for any protection. The world was a dangerous place, swarming with moldmen, grobblers, and God knew what else. Out here in the wilderness, any weapons and armor were worth more than gold.

After what seemed like hours, the raft finally reached Hermit Island, docking at an abandoned pier that seemed comprised of more moss than wood. A sign stood atop the pier, crooked and moldy, the letters so old Scruff could hardly read them. "A home for outcasts; may they live their shunned lives here, hidden from society," he read out loud.

"Not the most hearty of welcomes," Jamie muttered, eyes narrowed.

The siblings stepped off the ferry and paid the ferryman. The graybeard pocketed his penny and rowed away, singing a bawdy old song, leaving Scruff and Jamie on the island.

Rubbing his neck, Scruff looked over his new home. The shore was bleak, and the rocky hills ahead looked even bleaker. Bare trees covered the hills like old, gnarled men who'd wandered outside naked. Otherwise, Scruff saw no sign of life. He heard nothing but the murmuring water, the creaking trees above, and the distant call of a gull. Spring bloomed across the rest of the kingdom, but had not found the island. It was cold. Scruff tightened his cloak around him, shivering.

I should say something,
he thought, glancing at his sister. He cleared his throat. "Well, here we are. Hermit Island. Our new home for the rest of our lives." He tried to keep his voice cheery, but heard the gloom in his words.

Jamie covered her face. "Great. Just great."

Scruff sighed. "Let's go explore," he said, clumsily putting a hand on Jamie's shoulder.

She pushed his hand off, muttering. Scruff shrugged and walked away from the shore, Jamie following silently. The trees seemed made of nothing but twigs, and the rocks looked like chipped, rotting teeth. Soon they reached a hill and hiked up, stepping over fallen logs coated with snails. Mushrooms and moss covered the ground, but barely any grass. Scruff hoped to find other hermits who might share some food and a fire, but saw no sign of habitation. It was hard to climb with Norman bouncing over his back, his backpack bulging with pots and pans and a change of clothes. Soon Scruff was out of breath.

Would they find food here? Would the trees give enough firewood to warm them? They were meant to spend the rest of their lives on this forsaken rock of an island. As things were, Scruff didn't know how they'd last a week.

"Look what you did, Scruff," Jamie said, lips twisting bitterly. "Look what you did. Thanks to you, we'll be stuck here forever."

Scruff grunted. "Thanks to
me
? You're the one who got caught in your undies."

"Actually, I was naked."

"Oh, much better."

She glared at him, eyes aflame. "Well, if
you
could swing a sword—"

"If
you
were a boy—"

Jamie punched his head, hard enough to make his ears ring and white light flash. Scruff grunted and hit her back, a blow to the shoulder that nearly knocked her over. She leaped at him, snarling, and soon the two were rolling around on the ground, hitting each other, raising dust. Scruff was thrice her size, but Jamie had thrice his speed; the two were evenly matched, beating each other black and blue.

Somebody cleared her throat above them.

Scruff and Jamie froze.

The siblings raised their eyes, and their breath died. Jamie leaped to her feet, drawing her sword with a hiss. Scruff lifted his mace, tightening his hand around the grip, fear clutching him.

A she-demon stood above.

She wore nothing but tongues of flame that flowed across her red body. Her hair was made of fire, and her fangs and claws glinted. Her eyes glowed like lanterns, the irises rings of flame, and her tail flicked behind her. Scruff had never seen a creature more beautiful, a beauty of cruelty and sin.

"Hellooo," the demon said and waved.

Scruff raised his mace, preparing to strike. Beside him, Jamie raised her sword. They'd been exiled for only a few days, and already they faced a fight for their lives.

Before the battle could commence, Neev emerged from behind a thorny bush, sighing. "Don't worry, she's with me."

Neev!
Scruff and Jamie gaped. Scruff's mouth felt so wide, he thought he could swallow the island. He hadn't seen Neev in five years, not since the boy had joined the Coven. The skinny child had become a young man. His face was stubbly now, and he was no longer skinny nor short, but it was Neev all right, with the same roll to his eyes and weary sigh.

"Neev!" Scruff said, rubbing his eyes. "Baby brother! What are you doing here?"

The young, thin warlock buttoned up his fly. "Well, I
was
going to the bathroom, until you so rudely interrupted. As for the rest, it's a long story. Come, dear siblings. I have embers burning atop the hill and some cooking fish. Let's sit, eat, and tell our stories."

* * * * *

An hour later, they were sitting around the fire, picking their teeth with fish bones, mulling one another's tales.

"Well, if this isn't a pickle," Jamie said, leaning against a boulder, warming her bare feet by the fire. Her sheathed sword lay on her lap, and the sunset twinkled around her. "All three Thistle siblings—banished. We're all failures. And what's with those moldmen we saw?"

At the thought of the creatures, Jamie shivered. She could still smell their stink. She had slain three in Teasle Forest, and Neev had killed one outside the Coven; it seemed moldmen were crawling all over these lands. Jamie patted Moonclaw's pommel.
You will shed more blood yet, Moonclaw,
she thought with another shiver.

The demon Romy stared into the fire, eyes thoughtful, as if remembering her fiery home underground. "Moldmen are creatures of the underground, like us demons," she said, voice low. "Mostly they just sleep, but sometimes they wake up and go poking around underground, seeking worms, and they are nasty when they're awake. All they do is destroy, destroy, destroy. They live for chaos. But they're too stupid to leave the underground alone; a warlock brought them here."

Slowly, they all turned to stare at Neev.

The young warlock dropped the fish bone he was nibbling and raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me," he said. The fire painted his face red. "I didn't summon those things."

"You did summon Romy," Scruff said, patting his belly; he had eaten more than the others combined. "You could have summoned them too, by accident."

Neev shook his head. "Impossible. You know how difficult it was to summon Romy? I spent two years preparing that spell. A powerful warlock worked hard to summon these moldmen. You can't just do something like this by accident, no more than you can accidently build a cathedral by kicking stones around."