Arachne rushed throughout the mists that blanketed the land surrounding the Garden, her destination was far to the north. While she usually appeared as a porcelain beauty with white hair hanging to her waist, currently all but her face was inky black and her lower body had reverted to that of a spider. At incredible speed she raced forward, her eight legs an unceasing blur.
‘I know not who these guests are,’ she chuckled to herself internally. ‘But never would I dare be so rude as to not prepare an appropriate welcome.’ While her face rarely displayed anything but calm or care towards Faerie, currently her face was split from ear to ear in a massive grin displaying dozens of needle-like teeth. Were she not obscured by the magical sea of fog, any who saw her face would have wilted in fear.
As Arachne approached the edge of the fog barrier, her figure seemed to dissolve into wisps of black smoke leaving no sign of her passage. To many of the beasts that were still in the area nearby, it seemed as though a fell wind blew, chilling them to the bone. Just as many were about to give into their dread and flee, a dark mist would descend upon them, leaving them bound in webs and covered in bites. It would then vanish the next instant, on the hunt for more prey.
As night descended, the Wilds had gone unnaturally quiet, save for the skittering of countless spiders.
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Camp of the Wildfire Legion, north of the Wilds
For days now, the legion had been trying to push south to establish a foothold in the region, and for days Triyet’s forces had been met with resistance. The Ashen were a warlike people, and fancied themselves among the best on the continent when it came to their ability to conquer, and yet here he was, a Legatus at the head of a full legion, being stymied before even managing to take the first step in the conquest.
For days now, Triyet had been dispatching scouting parties to map the region, dozens of experienced troops whose only occupation was war. And yet day after day, the only reports he received were lists of teams listed MIA after failing to return. His forces had yet to advance and there were nearly a hundred men and women of the scouting corps simply gone.
‘This is unacceptable!’ He thought, hissing in fury. ‘How is it that not a single team has returned? This godless jungle, home to no more than mere beasts and heretics, has managed to devour every last scout thrown at it? If this continues, I’ll be forced to offer the Ashen Lady my head to erase the shame of this failure!’
Triyet closed his eyes, taking several long breaths to calm himself and refocus, before calling for his aide de camp. “The scouting corps has failed to investigate the lands we are bound to conquer, but I will not let this indignity stand. At dawn tomorrow the legion will march, and the Ashweavers will burn these lands. As for the failures of the scouts… Decimation. Weakness will not be tolerated.” The aide quickly saluted before performing an about face and leaving the command tent. Triyet let out a tired sigh before looking back to his papers. ‘Illiet, if this legion is weak, I will forge it anew in your name.’
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That night, the legion was assembled to witness the Decimation of the scouting corps. The scouts were assembled in groups of ten, naked above the waist and without weapons. With the camp Prefect presiding over the scene, they were ordered to purge their weakness. Nine men would surround one and beat him to death with their bare hands while their brothers in the legion watched.
After the killings, the legion returned to their tents to rest and prepare for the morning march. Though some were downcast after witnessing the decimation, far more had hardened resolve in their eyes, and if one were to view them from the outside, they would feel an aura of bloodthirst surrounding the camp.
At dawn, the Wildfire Legion rose and formed ranks. Instead of the rabble that had been serving as the vanguard until now, the Legion itself took the lead. Several columns of Ashen led the way, with cohorts of robed Ashweavers close behind. As the front lines advanced, the Ashweavers began casting large gouts of fire into the treeline, burning everything that stood in their path. Like this, the legion advanced for the entire day, burning a path several kilometres into the wilds.
With the area shrouded in smoke and flame, ashes rained from the sky like snowflakes blocking the vision of their surroundings, yet the legion was met with no resistance. When night fell, the legion set up camp, digging trenches around their position before setting ablaze as much of the surrounding jungle as possible.
The next morning, the camp rose from slumber without incident, and the legion again advanced as they had the day before, burning everything before them as they marched for a full day before digging in at night. On this night, tired after days of marching through rough terrain covered in smoke and ash, the sentries had grown somewhat lax. The legion hadn’t encountered any living things as they pushed forward, and many of those on watch were not as vigilant as they should have been.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
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Just outside the camp of the Wildfire Legion
Arachne looked at the invaders in disgust. ‘My lady… Give me the strength to show these beasts how they have erred. If it is destruction they bring, then I shall make them an offering in kind.’ Smoke and clouds had obscured the night sky as Arachne’s black form moved towards the camp. She advanced like a silent spectre towards the sentries, springing out of their shadows and wrapping their throats in invisible silken lines as she garotted each one she came across. As each sentry went limp and collapsed, she would bite their exposed flesh before moving on to the next victim.
Soon, she moved away from the sentries and towards the tents, drawing out her venomous dagger she would pierce each sleeping soldier with it before biting them and moving forward. The venom coating the dagger had anaesthetic properties, and their sleep remained undisturbed even as spider eggs grew and incubated beneath their skin, waiting for the right moment to feast upon the still living victims.
Arachne continued to make steady progress throughout the camp, visiting the bunks of dozens of soldiers while the camp remained unaware. When she had implanted as many eggs as she felt able, she then proceeded to look for the legion’s stores of food and water.
It wasn’t until after Arachne had already withdrawn from the camp that the alarm was raised, and she observed the panic that ensued from a safe distance within the trees. Someone had stumbled upon an incapacitated sentry, and Arachne grinned as she thought. ‘Wake now, children. It’s time to eat.’
At that moment, many soldiers who were seemingly fine, were completely unaware of the fact that masses of baby spiderlings had hatched beneath their skin and were about to feast upon them while they still lived. Fortunately for them, Arachne’s anaesthetic venom had yet to wear off, and the situation went unnoticed until they began collapsing one after another with movement visible beneath their skin.
The fallen soldiers were completely consumed by the spiderlings before their skin would rupture, the spiders sloshing out like water from a burst dam. The newly emerged spiders would then find new victims to attack, injecting their own eggs within, and spreading unspeakable terror to all those who had witnessed what occurred.
Before long, cries went out for the Ashweavers to burn the arachnids that were plaguing the camp. Unfortunately for the Legion, Arachne had not been indiscriminate in the process of selecting her targets. Knowing she was unable to infest the entire force, she chose to spread her eggs through the Ashweavers she had observed throughout the day, noting that their numbers were relatively few compared to rank and file soldiers. At this point, nearly 60% of the Wildfire Legion’s Ashweavers had already met a truly gruesome end, and any that remained to cast fire into the swarm of spiders would soon find themselves the primary focus of thousands of the tiny fiends.
‘Well deserved,’ thought Arachne, ‘A barbaric end for barbarous creatures.’
With that thought she turned away, making her way back towards the garden while her many children within the trees kept watch over the legion.
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Command Tent, Camp of the Wildfire Legion
Thunk!
The body of a watch commander fell to the ground as Triyet removed his head from his shoulders, a pool of dark blood spreading across the ground. Triyet threw the head straight out of the tent with as much strength as he could muster, where it struck a post and burst like an overripe melon. “More than half of the Ashweavers are dead!? This is inexcusable! How the bleeding hell did something infiltrate the camp and assassinate more than 80 magic users unopposed and unnoticed!?”
At this point, Triyet was incensed and his voice had risen to a shriek. First, there was the repeated failures from the scouting corps. Now, something had invaded the camp and slaughtered more than half his mages, which would make it impossible to advance south in the manner they had been. On top of that, seeing the manner in which the sentries and Ashweavers had been killed, the troops were shaken and morale was abysmal. ‘I’ll be lucky if I’m not executed when I report this debacle to the Pillar. Fuck! This is supposed to be one of the preeminent legions of Illiet and we’re being made fools of by godless heretics! I can’t allow this to continue!’
Triyet stared at the body on the ground as it began to cool, wheels turning in his head as he thought about how to salvage this disaster. “We have no idea what infiltrated the camp other than it being some kind of spider. It can evade detection both by sentries and magic, as it failed to trigger any of the wards set up… and it was clearly a targeted attack at our contingent of Ashweavers, as they were the only ones targeted aside from the sentries on duty at the time.”
Triyet considered for a few more moments before coming to a decision. He looked to one of his aides saying “Send word to Fort Ratus. We’ll need another contingent of Ashweavers to reinforce us, and request a contingent of hounds as well. In the meantime we will fortify our position, double up sentries and have the men sleep in shifts. We cannot afford to withdraw, nor can we allow attacks like this to continue.”
‘I cannot fail here, not now.’ Thought Triyet. Little did he know at the time that his day was only going to get worse from there on.