Now here he was, accompanied by a corpse in a dirty sheet. The pile of dirt. The unconscious bodies of two wizards and three Arachnids. There was Harry, still alive, still breathing—somehow.
“Well, it really lives up to its name, doesn’t it?” Harry said, his voice coming out as a whisper. Reaching into his robes to pull out a handkerchief, he eyed the Jewel of Deception with caution. “Not gonna fall for that trap again.” He picked the ruby up with the handkerchief, wrapping it tight, and placed it in his small travel bag.
Standing up, he surveyed the clearing that had turned into a battlefield.
“I’m sorry, all. Nothing personal. If you can hear me, you giant spider-freaks, know that I’m gonna bring this thing back to you in a jiffy. Got some people to save from that world in between. You know, gotta be a hero and all.”
He chuckled, turned, and opened a portal. Gold sparks lit up the darkness, and through the portal he saw Austin, Texas and the hotel where he would do his heroic business.
It was only a few moments after Harry left that Jinxton woke with a pounding headache and a few loose teeth. He could taste blood in his mouth. The other Arachnids were dead. Jinxton noticed Ignatius Mangood nearby, unmoving. Beneath the Widow’s decapitated warrior was the other wizard, Salem. He also seemed dead.
What happened?
Jinxton had lost time. If Ignatius was knocked out…then who had knocked Jinxton out? Certainly, Ignatius wouldn’t have done it and then knocked himself out. What am I missing? He brought up one claw-like hand to his head and rubbed. He felt hungover, like he’d had a rough night at a bar—but Jinxton hadn’t had a drink since the Great Spider Wars.
He turned around, and the bright moonlight blasted his eyes, causing the pounding in his head to increase. He saw the shallow grave and the mound of dirt. Near that, he saw the corpse wrapped hastily in an old canvas sheet. It all came flooding back.
Harry. The damn scavenger. Where is he?
Jinxton turned around and scanned the clearing for the half wizard, half Elf, but didn’t see him. The only other plausible solution to the scavenger’s whereabouts was…
Jinxton looked up to the sky and let out a deep, rumbling growl, so loud he thought he saw the moons shake and cower behind the dark clouds floating by. Of course, it was only the Arachnid’s imagination.
The damn scavenger. He had stolen the Jewel of Deception, and with it, Jinxton’s life. Surely the Widow would kill him as soon as she heard the news.
Unless…
He looked back to the clearing. Ignatius Mangood’s chest rose and fell with ragged breathing. He was still alive.
An idea flashed through Jinxton’s brain, and he pulled out his blade.
It was simple: He would cut the famous wizard’s head off and bring it to the Widow as a peace offering. That would surely save him from her rage. She may even like this gift better. Ignatius Mangood had brought too much death and destruction and turmoil to the Arachnids over the years. They’d laud Jinxton as a hero. Perhaps he could rise up the ranks. Overthrow the Widow. Take his rightful place on the throne. He was meant to be a ruler, not to be ruled.
Yes, yes. Yes! A perfect plan.
It could only be better if he brought Ignatius Mangood, intact, to the Widow herself. She could kill him, mutilate him, do whatever she pleased to the old wizard. Jinxton would gain more of her trust; perhaps he could rule by her side. Then, when the time came, he could overthrow her. Kill her in the night while she slept in her large web, when those green eyes were closed. Yes, I can do that. That would be the better decision, wouldn’t it? Gain her trust then stab the massive black heart beneath her armor. Then he could rule as long as time itself. Isn’t there a rumor or a prophecy that says whoever kills the Widow will take her place on the throne? He thought so, but he wasn’t sure. He did know, however, that something had to be done before the Widow ended the entire race of Arachnids in her crusade to rescue the old king from the world in between. She had killed too many already. Jinxton remembered, many years past, when he was but a young spider, how the kingdom had thrived, how the Arachnids had been feared among wizards and Elves alike. But not anymore.
Yes, that is what he would do.
He put away his blade and instead reached into his pack, pulling out the ropes. His father had gifted these to him many years ago in the hopes he would catch his own witch or wizard. These ropes were said to keep a wizard or witch’s magic at bay.
The Arachnids were not a naturally magic people, but they did possess the abilities to ingest magic and use it for a short time. Too much magic to an Arachnid’s brain would cause delusions and mild craziness, like it had for the Widow. But her craziness translated to an odd sort of power that evoked fear amongst her people—well, the few remaining ones at least.
With the ropes, Jinxton wouldn’t have to worry about Ignatius breaking free and killing him with magic; though Jinxton’s dead father would be disappointed in the fact that he wasn’t keeping the wizard’s abilities for himself. But Jinxton liked being sane and levelheaded, and draining a wizard’s blood for its magic didn’t sound very good. He’d never developed an appetite for tainted wizard blood. Leave that to the crazies. But he could use the ropes for his own personal gain.
He eyed the wizard warily. The only problem would be slipping them around Ignatius’s wrists without waking him. The wizard lay there, unmoving except
