Rolo placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself onto the back of the horse. He gripped the reins tightly and stared down at the nape of the beast with uncertainty. Behind them stood the massive wall looming over them. They were in a private, fenced off stable for those involved with defense of the island.

Captain Dennis Dikenbargobolla, who’d mounted a steed next to Rolo, nudged his horse forward. “You’ve ridden one of these before, haven’t you?”

Rolo looked up. “I’ve never had the need,” he said, as his mount huffed and stomped.

The captain pointed to the rear of Rolo’s horse with his chin. “Just give her a gentle nudge, she’ll follow your lead.”

“Are you sure I can’t follow you on wing?”

“I’d prefer we kept a low profile while we travel inland, if it’s all the same to you.”

“And this … sack is completely necessary?” said Rolo, adjusting the oversized bag strapped to his back. “You know this is the kind of thing we make our students wear at the academy if they break the rules.” The burlap pack had been quickly sewn together for Rolo during the day to cover his most prominent features. The seamstress had been very confused as to the application, until she saw the big half-man, half-bird. The captain paid the woman double the price to be discreet about the project.

“Aye,” said the captain. “Now you look like a normal traveler, albeit an over prepared one.” The pack did indeed look oversized and unusually lumpy, but better a raised eyebrow than a hundred uneasy townsfolk, the captain explained.

Rolo gave his horse a nudge with his heel and it reared up, then reared again with an annoyed neigh. He clung to the reins and nape until the beast settled. “Don’t think she likes me much.”

The captain click, clicked at his horse with his cheek and tongue, and wound it in the direction of the road inland. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said before storming off in a gallop.

“Come now, you dumb beast,” said Rolo, patting the side of the horse’s neck. “Let’s be agreeable, yes?” He nudged the horse again and this time it complied. “Okay then,” he said, loosening his grip a bit and steering in the appropriate direction.

Rolo followed the captain on the well trodden dirt road as best as he could manage. The unfamiliar bumpy trot made his crotch ache, and reminded him of just how much he missed his warm, and heavily padded wooly underwear.

The smell of spring was present. Small animals scurried passed the road holding nuts and berries. The trees on either side were enormous and ancient, each possessing thick branches as wide around he was and covered in green leaves. The canopies were so compact and intertwined they only let the faintest pillars of light through. Rolo had a hard time seeing more than ten or so yards into their depths from the road, even with his crisp, hawk-like vision.

The road had a steady flow of passersby, most on foot. Many seemed to don a kind of black, furry leather that Rolo had a sneaking suspicion was arachnid in nature. A few wagons and carts made their way along, pulling loads of supplies. Many were full of food but some contained freshly fletched arrow shafts, most likely to supplement the black powder arsonals on the wall.

Very few people passed by on horse or hog, but those that did seemed to be dressed in much nicer garb, in styles that indicated they were foreigners, or had some affiliation with the mix of hired soldiery. Rolo offered a nod and a smile to most everyone, save for those who gave him a blatant stare or flat out frown. For those he grinned even wider.

The sun was nearing the horizon by the time they passed through the first town. For a while the dirt road transitioned into cobblestones as they passed the storefronts. Old, but well built of stone and timber, many shops lined the streets. All your usual wares: A tannery, a blacksmith, a tools shed and supplies house. Multiple crop markets, a few taverns and a cafe. Two eateries that advertised spider meat, dry and wet. There was a shop that sold seeds and chickens, and another that specialized in alchemical healing solutions. There were multiple leatherworks and wood crafters too. Lots of fruit vendors directly in the streets. All of these places were unique in their own right but a common thread wound them together. They all had some reference to the spiders. Whether it was the name of a shop, or the use of spider bones. Or paintings of men fighting abstract eight legged beasts hanging on their walls. There were spiders everywhere.

Rolo pulled the reins when he saw a haberdashery. He crouched down to look through the windows for a hint of wool. He thought of popping in for a quick visit but didn't want to lose the captain, who’d already passed the town’s boundaries and was back in the woods. He’s have to make a stop here on his way back, he decided.

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They passed through another stretch of wood, this one a bit rockier than before, and then along the edge of a meadow that had been plowed for planting. Another field beyond that displayed signs of sprouts of an early spring crop.

Another town came and went, which felt nearly identical to the first, save this one had a sweets shop that fancied itself the only supplier of sweet spider powder on the island, something Rolo had no interest in learning more about.

There was a point where Rolo and the captain rode side by side at a slow trot. The captain took advantage of the moment to inquire about a curiosity.

“I’m curious,” he said. “How does it happen? The wings, I mean. How does one … obtain them? They’re not passed down from the father, I know that.”

Rolo shrugged. “Only the gods know. They choose whom they will. There seems to be no rhyme or reason, no pattern to predict where another archon may crop up. No bloodlines. The arbitrary nature of the matter makes finding them bloody difficult, believe me. The only consistent traits are gender and age, thereabouts.”

“Always male and in their late teens?” said the Captain.

Rolo nodded.

“You’ve done this before then?” asked the captain.

Rolo looked at him, confused at the question.

“I mean to say, you’ve gathered other archons before? Brought them to your academy?”

“Oh … no. This will be my first. It’s the last thing I need to solidify my place on the council. Seeking out one of our kind is a … rite of passage, of sorts.”

“Will you wait for his wings to sprout before you take him?”

“Oh, sweet Gemma, no. We’ve people at the academy for that.”

The captain shot Rolo a concerned glance.

Rolo caught the look and continued. “It’s a brutal, bloody transition, giving birth to a pair of wings, captain. One of the reasons there are so few of us to speak of. Only the strongest survive. Best to be with the right people to help see you through. I’m just an escort.”

“So you’ll bring him to this academy of yours, then? Teach him your ways?”

“Of course. Why? Did you have other plans for the boy?”

“No, but his aunt might not … Well, she’s very fond of young Felix. And she’s … oh how can I say it? Not the easiest of people to persuade.”

Rolo huffed a laugh. “I think I can handle a single woman.”

The captain chuckled softly. “You’ve not met our good Jane Darry, my friend.”

Rolo raised an eyebrow. “Does she know what he is?”

“I’ve spoken to her about it privately, but I’m not sure I’ve convinced her of the matter. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“A stubborn one then, eh?”

The captain smiled, knowingly, and chuckled again.

“You can’t … carry him by air to the academy, I assume.”

“No. The trip is too far, and I don’t have the equipment for that. Plus, it would be too dangerous in his condition to attempt.”

They made their way through one more stint of heavy wooded road before reaching a clearing. There sat a quaint town, smaller than the first two, but more condensed. And just beyond that lay the lake. Rolo remembered it being a prominent facet of the island while soaring overhead. At first glance from the road, he mistook it for the southern edge of the island.

“Here we are,” said the Captain, coming to a halt.

“That is one big lake,” said Rolo, trodding up behind. “I don’t remember it being that large from up above.”

“Just wait until you see the size of the fish,” said the captain, dismounting.

Rolo followed suit, relieved to be out of the saddle. Together they walked their horses to a community stable near the edge of town. The captain paid a stable boy a copper chit and the pair made their way towards the town center.

There were about two dozen buildings built around a small commons area where a group of farmers sat around a bonfire. Some were roasting meat, mostly fish, and cooking an assortment of veggies. A church that doubled as a hospital was the most prominent of the structures. The rest appeared to be mostly residential, save for a tavern. All, like the buildings before it, seemed to have some reference or innuendo of spiders.

“Good evening,” said the captain, addressing the group.

Some responded, calling the captain by his first name.

“Come to spend your evening with us lowly farmers, have you, captain?” said a portly man with red, droopy eyelids.

“Unfortunately, not tonight, Frederick. I’m on official business.”

“Who’s your friend?” said a thin woman with a large scare over her cheek.

“This is Rolo. He’s a traveler from, uh, … well from last we crossed with Delamar, come to help me with a project. We’re looking for Jane and Felix. Are they working in the tavern tonight?”

There was a crash from a few buildings away. All heads turned to find a man tumbling down a set of stairs and a woman standing in a doorway. The man on the ground groaned and rolled over onto his side.

A tall, strapping boy with a massive hunchback and a mop of golden hair hobbled out onto the porch and stood in front of the woman. “Go home, Tomel,” he said. “I warned you to keep your hands to yourself.” He didn’t say it with anger. His tone was that of a tired father discipling a child. There was even a subtle hint of amusement behind it.

“Ah, there they are,” said the captain.