Archmage,

for far too long has the Bane been a disruptive force for the safety of our nation. With the publication of his most recent book, “Of righteous Evil”, the Council has unanimously declared Elusco as a direct enemy to the nation of Ceraviehl and its people. The required arrangements with the Silent Conclave have already been set into place.

Sightings of the Bane are to be reported to the Council immediately. Anybody helping him is to be put to the trial without further questioning. A respective decree will be issued in the following fortnight. Although a capture would be the optimal outcome, neutralizing him as soon as possible takes precedence over a potential interrogation.

A letter from the Council to Archmage Gornatius Siti, dated 540 a.f.

Outside, the cracks of lightning rolled through the sky, bright flashes illuminating the otherwise dark forest. Smooth stone covered the interior of the tower, snaking patterns winding their way towards the far end of the room. A regal statue of a woman stood there on a wide pedestal, her arms reaching towards the sky. Despite the rough shape the tower was in, the statue had barely a scratch on it, its sapphire eyes still holding a faint glimmer to them.

There was something about the statue drawing Silas in and making his gaze linger. A kind of warmth that seeped deep into his bones and made him feel at peace.

“Ugh.” Zaya shook her hand to get rid of another thick strand of cobweb and cursed something unintelligible. “Make fire?” she turned to Silas.

“With what wood?” he replied, pointing at the still-raging storm outside.

“Nura kai,” Zaya mumbled.

Batu shot her a stern glance, saying something Silas couldn’t understand. It was already late, so they decided to rest for the night after sharing a set of cold rations. Silas offered to take the first watch since he wanted to do a bit of reading anyway. However, as soon as he took the booklet out, he stopped.

Something was wrong.

He glanced around the interior of the tower. Shadows slithered over the patterns carved into the walls. Lightning flashed outside. His heart skipped a beat as a face within the wall stared into him, its sockets empty. Silas let out a slow breath. Just a carving. Grabbing his spear, his gaze shifted between the entrance of the tower and the other path leading further down. Was he just imagining things? Even Gnarly was unusually silent, his amber eyes scanning their surroundings. Suddenly, a tide of fear flooded through the bond.

Silas craned his neck.

A set of eight huge, pitch-black eyes looked back at him. “Guys.” Multiple thick, twelve-feet long hairy legs tentatively crept out of the darkness obscuring the ceiling of the tower. “Guys, wake up.”

“What, you find wood?” Zaya muttered.

The creature descended further, occasional flashes of lightning shedding light on its huge bulk. Silas’ hand started to shake, sweat collecting on his fingertips. A gigantic arachnoid hovered above them, its long legs hooked into the walls of the tower. Eight eyes moved independently, flickering between him and the rest of the group. Fangs as large as his forearm clacked in anticipation, saliva collecting on their tips and dripping onto the ground in front of Silas. The Tokra struck.

“Spider!” Silas yelled, way too high for his own liking. Rolling backwards, he thrust his spear upwards as he dodged the incoming fangs. An ear-piercing screech tore through the air as his spear sunk into a gap of its black carapace. From his left, parts of the wall broke away to crush into one of the spider’s forelegs, shattering it.

The rear end of the creature started to bulge momentarily before spewing a mass of cobwebs that nailed Zaya to the far wall. Pulling two arrows out of the quiver with his Art, he shot them at the creature with a flick of his wrist. The projectiles cluttered uselessly onto the stone a moment later, not even having made a scratch in the spider’s armor.

Nergui joined his side, spear in her hand. Batu stood behind her, fumbling with a bow in his hands. She glanced at Zaya who was still stuck to the back wall of the tower. “I fight here, you help Zaya.”

Silas slowly edged his way closer to the girl. The instant he turned away from the Tokra, he realized he’d made a mistake. The creature twitched, its whole body turning to impale him with two of its razor-sharp legs. He tried to block the attacks with his floating shield, but knew he wouldn’t make it. Time slowed to a crawl as its hooked claws lunged at his chest and stomach.

Suddenly, Nergui stood in front of him, swiping her spear upwards. He hadn’t even seen her move. What kind of Art was that? A metallic clang sounded through the tower, followed by a muffled choke. Silas’ eyes widened as he saw one of the Tokra’s claws sticking out of Nergui’s lower back. She must have known she wouldn’t be able to block both attacks.

“Go,” she forced out.

Silas didn’t need to be told twice.

“Faster, boy,” Zaya said as he reached her.

Silas slashed through one of the thick threads. “My name,” he grunted, enhancing his strike with his Art, “is Silas”.

Zaya fell to her knees as she was released, making a face of utter disgust as she wiped the cobwebs off her clothes. “Alright, little boy.”

His nostrils flared. Who in Herald’s name did she think she was? Turning away from her, three arrows moved to float beside him him, all pointed at the Tokra’s head. Both he and Zaya let out a scream of rage as they attacked the arachnoid. Stones broke another leg, and the massive spider buckled under the sudden shift in balance. The creature turned around to meet Silas’s attack. An arrow sunk deep into one of its pitch-black eyes.

Silas slashed his spear in an upward motion, flooding his arm with energy. His shoulder ached from the strain, and he barely managed to keep the grip on his weapon. The spear cut deep into the Tokra’s face, light bluish blood immediately leaking out of it.

His eyes flickered behind the Tokra. Batu was stuck to the ground in a mass of cobwebs while Nergui lay on the ground, wrapping a piece of cloth around her midsection with practiced ease. Deep blood pumped out of her wound, yet her hands didn’t shake one bit.

The creature shuffled back, the claws on the end of its legs clacking against the stone as it moved. One fang hung loosely from its face. Its movements turned more and more erratic as it continued to work itself up into a frenzy, and Silas found himself hard-pressed to block its attacks with his spear and shield. A low swipe from one of its legs slashed into his right calf, and he lost his footing. The spear clattered to the ground as he fell.

The Tokra immediately turned, now directing its attention towards Zaya, who had just recovered from her attack. Claws and fangs flashed as the creature moved with supernatural speed. Zaya screamed, her back hitting the wall. She tried to stand up again, but there was no way she would make it in time. Rearing up, the Tokra moved in for the killing strike.

A creak came from Silas’ left. Massive vines sprouted seemingly out of nowhere, ensnaring the Tokra’s legs and binding them together. The creature struggled to free itself as its remaining fang repeatedly hacked into the vines. Silas’ eyes flickered to Zaya who leaned against the wall with one hand.

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“We need to attack it together, now!” he said, sending the same to Gnarly.

Zaya nodded. “Vu.”

Silas, Zaya, and Gnarly stood side by side, each one preparing their final attack. Heavy stone bricks loosened themselves from the wall and floated before Zaya. At least a dozen small sharp sticks pointed at the Tokra, the silver patterns in Gnarly’s eyes condensing into a glowing triangle that rotated with increasing speed. Silas flooded his spear with energy until even the last dredges of his Inner Landscape were pushed into his weapon.

Two screams and one creak filled the tower.

Bricks dropped onto the Tokra, crushing into its carapace and making its legs bend and crack under the pressure. A rain of small sticks whizzed through the air and followed the stones. The unseemingly small pieces of wood rapidly grew into long poles before impaling the Tokra, nailing it to the ground. Silas’ spear shot straight at the creature’s head, burying itself multiple feet into its flesh before eventually coming to a stop.

Long, hairy legs scuttled over the ground as the Tokra futilely tried to stand up again, its body riddled with holes from the bricks and wooden poles, the spear still sticking out of its head. Its screeches grew more erratic and low, until finally, the arachnoid collapsed, dead. Silas and Zaya let out a collective sigh of exhaustion. They had done it.

Zaya threw him a face, smirking. “Spider!” she imitated his earlier scream, her voice exaggeratedly high. Silas’ right eye began to twitch. Obnoxious girl.

***

A day after, only a soft drizzle remained of the raging storm. The forest came to a rest, the sounds of the wildlife filling the woods once more. The group shared an exhausted silence, each one having bandaged their wounds. Silas noticed Batu staring at his cloak. Silas frowned. He was relatively sure there had been more holes in it just the day before.

His mouth fell open as he held the cloak close to his eyes. How could he have missed that? Tiny threads slowly grew out of the tear, overlapping with each other and sewing it back together. What was that cloak Tom had given him?

“Can ask where get cloak?” the broad-shouldered barbarian asked him, also staring intently at the self-mending holes.

Silas narrowed his eyes. “Why?

“I be clothweaver. Much interest,” Batu said, leaning forward as he squinted his eyes to observe the threads.

“It was a parting gift from my master,” Silas relented.

Batu’s eyebrows climbed up his face. “Master teach you Ravuhn also?”

“What is Ravuhn?” Silas asked, shooting an irritated look at the barbarian.

Batu’s cocked his head. “You be Ravuhn. Is tor who use body magic. Hit hard. Body hard,” he explained, his fist pretending to hit the stone in front of him.

“Yes, I think he taught me that,” Silas replied slowly.

“Must be strong Vokha. How he be?”

“Grumpy, impatient, could force a rock to melt with his stare, a surprisingly good cook, hated rabbits,” Silas said with a soft chuckle before cursing himself inwardly. The barbarian seemed way too curious for his liking. There had to be a reason why he wanted that information from him.

“He send you away?”

“No, I left on my own because I…” Silas stopped as he met Batu’s eyes. He had left to join the Legion and fight the barbarians, yet here he was, traveling with the same people who had killed his parents. He clenched his teeth. What did they want from him?

“Be alright. You with friends now,” the barbarian nodded, his face soft.

Friends? He had no friends. The barbarians would turn on him the moment he let his guard down. Yet, at the same time, doubts began to seep into his mind. Batu’s expression made Silas hesitate. Despite the barbarian’s size, Silas couldn’t imagine Batu doing him any harm. But they were barbarians. So why were they being so nice to him? It didn’t make any sense. What was their goal behind all this?

Nergui had almost lost her life trying to save him from the Tokra’s attack. Without even a flicker of hesitation, she had stood in the way of the incoming claw. Why would she do that? Silas glanced towards the barbarian woman, her face white from blood loss. She met his eyes, giving him a weak smile. Silas found himself unable to smile back. He knew that if he wished, he could kill all of them right now, as weak as they were.

To his own surprise, something within him revolted against the thought, making him feel disgusted at himself. Her smile struck him to the core. She didn’t even bother to hide her vulnerability. Between all of them, she was probably the strongest fighter, yet she didn’t consider him a threat at all. Was it a trick?

Letting his thick brown curls fall over his face, he stared at the specks of dirt covering the ground. A storm of emotion clashed in his chest, the single spark that had just began to kindle desperately trying to pierce the ever-present darkness that shrouded everything else under its cold, smothering embrace. What if he was wrong about them? Yet, if he was wrong, what would that make of him? No, it couldn’t be.

“A murderer,” a voice whispered from the back of his head.

Gnarly climbed into his lap and craned his wooden head. “Creak.”

“Am I? Because so far, I haven’t done much good, have I?” Silas responded bitterly.

“Creak, creak!” Gnarly gestured at the family.

“But at what price?”

Gnarly looked deep into his eyes. “Creak?”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Silas answered without hesitation.

Gnarly nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

Nergui interrupted his thoughts. “There is old story of gajou traveler in Steppes. Have long, silver hair. Alone always. Very vokha powerful,” she began, picking specks of dried blood out of her short black hair.

Something tickled at Silas’ memory. “What was the story about?”

“Be of vokha from Ceraviehl. Want learn how be Ravuhn. Many Adhin’tor challenge him. All die.”

“What was his name?”

“El,” Nergui answered, gauging his reaction out of the corner of her eye.

Silas went silent. El… could it be Elusco? Didn’t Of righteous Evil have a chapter dedicated to the barbarians and their use of the Arts? This couldn’t be a coincidence. Had his master really known the dreaded Bane of the Sadmora, the most wanted and feared Artist in Ceraviehl? Whatever the case, one thing was clear: there were a lot of questions the old man would have to answer once he got back.

However, for the first time, Silas had doubts about returning to his master’s cabin. After all, he hardly knew anything about the old man. Although Tom hadn’t done him any harm, Silas still couldn’t shake the queasy feeling in his stomach telling him he might not like the answers his master would give him.

***

They chose to stay in the tower a few days to rest. Silas was the first to be up on his feet. “Want to have a look?” he asked Zaya, gesturing to the stairway leading further down.

Her eyes flickered to the dark hallway. “Nah,” she said, tossing her fine hair with her backhand.

“Scared, little girl?”

Zaya’s deep-set eyes gained a dangerous glitter. The stones around Silas began to rattle ominously. She stood up and walked towards him. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, faces mere inches apart. Zaya bumped into his shoulder, hard.

Her tiny frame disappeared as soon as she turned around the corner of the gloomy hallway, the torch in her hand throwing flickering shadows against the stone wall. Silas hurried after her and rubbed his shoulder. The passage continued down in a narrow spiral until it eventually opened up into a large chamber.

Both Zaya and Silas stopped as soon as they reached the end of the spiral. The putrid stench of rot assaulted their noses, making them take a step back. Zaya held the torch higher, and Silas felt the food rising from his stomach.

At least a dozen cocoons hung from the ceiling, each one held by a single, thick thread of cobweb. The cocoons were of varying sizes, some as small as his head while others were large enough Batu might have fit in it. Silas had to suppress a shudder as one of them twitched.

Stone racks stood on either side of the chamber, holding an assortment of metal tools and foreign objects. The left wall held small, geometrical metal contraptions, each one covered with faded runes.

“No touching,” Zaya hissed.

Silas pulled his hand back. “I wasn’t about to,” he mumbled.

But what really caught their attention was the back end of the chamber. A large mural covered the whole wall, with cities, rivers, and mountains chiseled into the stone. Unknown symbols were present everywhere, their colors long faded. The mural seemed to cover the entirety of Ceraviehl. Parts of it were unrecognizable, their symbols worn with age and the shapes chiseled into the stone already having crumbled away to dust.

“This is a map,” Silas said, his finger tracing the cracked engravings.

Zaya threw him a deadpan look before turning back to the mural with a small shake of her head. “Nura kai,” she mumbled. Her eyes lingered on a rather large city in the south, somewhere in the Crimson Dunes of the Endless Desert.

“Know that city?”

Silas frowned. “No.”

A city in the Crimson Dunes? Everybody knew nothing but deformed, unnatural monsters lived in that part of the Endless Desert. Some even said the Dunes were cursed. Judging by how big the name written below the city was, it must have been an important one, too. Strange. How could there once have been a city?

Silas couldn’t imagine anything surviving for long in that part of the Endless Desert. Even Mages of the Guild tended to avoid that area whenever possible. Their gazes wandered around the room, eventually resting on a small archway near the right corner of the chamber.

Their eyes met, neither needing to state the obvious.

The archway led onto a small stone-shaped platform. Below them lay a tunnel covered with rusty bits of metal rods that continued straight ahead and eventually ended before a heap of earth and stone where the tunnel had collapsed.

Who had built all of this? If the tower was connected to something via an underground tunnel, there had to be another exit somewhere else. Yet, Silas hadn’t even heard of any cities having buildings reaching that deep underground.

“Where do you think it leads to?”

“Don’t know. But this place be old. Very old,” Zaya said, turning around to go back up the spiral stairway. Silas threw one last glimpse at the odd metal rods before following her, his hurried steps echoing through the empty tunnel.