“He looks so old,” the Widow mused. “Oh, how time gets to us all.”
“Not you, my Queen,” Jinxton said. “You haven’t aged a day. In fact, you look younger and more powerful as the seconds tick on.”
Fangs bared in what seemed like a sickening smile. “Oh, Jinxton, you are too good to me.”
Jinxton got on one knee and bowed his head. “I am not worthy.”
Fangs still out, the Widow said, “You may rise.”
He did, and then waved the guards away, also now on their knees, out of the lair. With a large claw at the end of a massive leg, the Widow picked Ignatius up by his hair. The wizard moaned in pain, but remained unconscious.
“Oh, Ignatius Mangood. What shall I do with you?” she asked him.
The wizard didn’t answer.
A green eye settled on Jinxton, causing him to jump. It had gone an even darker shade of green since he’d arrived. Something was happening, something beyond the scope of Jinxton’s imagination. He almost didn’t want to know for fear of it driving him mad. The Widow was losing it more so than normal. Madness belonged to those in power, to the kings and queens of the world, the ones crazy enough to allow themselves to lose their minds. Jinxton wanted to keep his mind intact. He would need it. He’d become king, yes, but he would not act like any mad king so common in Oriceran. He’d rule with an iron claw. Power would not get the better of him, nor would any rival race. The Arachnids would rise again, then bend their knees as they looked up to their king, and there, Jinxton would be at the top of the mountain.
“Smart to subdue his magic like that, Jinxton,” the Widow said.
He bowed his head again in thanks. Yes, his life would go on…for now. All thanks to Ignatius Mangood.
“Shall we drain his blood now?” the Widow asked. “The tree looks thirsty.” With the sacrifice, the Blood Tree might show them the way to Harry, and to the Jewel of Deception. At that point, Jinxton did not care about the Jewel as much as he cared about revenge. He would gut the scavenger the moment he found him. Then he would cut off his eyelids, and make sure Harry watched himself bleed to death. That was better than the traitorous bastard deserved.
Rule with an iron claw, Jinxton thought again.
"I'm not sure, my Queen," Jinxton answered. "It is your call."
“No, Jinxton, not yet. We shall use Ignatius as a bargaining chip. With the old wizard in danger as he is, the young witch shall come, and she will come with the music box. It is as much a part of her as her heart or her lungs. She dare not leave it in any other’s possession, unless it was Ignatius Mangood himself. And we both know that will not be the case; not when we have Ignatius all to ourselves.” She brought another clawed leg up and stroked Ignatius’s beard.
Jinxton smiled. “Yes, my Queen. You are so wise.” He knelt again.
Suddenly, the green eyes flared as if a fire boiled beneath them.
“Cut the flattery, Jinxton. You have done well, that is true, but you have still lost the Jewel of Deception. You are lucky I do not kill you where you stand for your incompetence. If it were not for you bringing me the wizard, I certainly would have. And I certainly will, if you come back without the Jewel of Deception again. Bonus points if you also bring me the scavenger’s head.”
“You can count on me, my Queen.”
“Can I? It seems I couldn’t before.”
Jinxton casted his eyes downward at cracks in the stone that didn’t seem to be there until the Widow stormed down her web from high in the shadows.
Good, Jinxton, he thought. You made it out of here alive. You have another chance. All part of the plan…
Ignatius stirred, and the breath of both the Widow and Jinxton hitched. Amusement danced in each one of the Widow’s eyes.
Moaning, Ignatius said, “Ooh, what the hell? I need to lay off the Firejuice.”
The Widow laughed.
Jinxton was at the perfect angle to see the old wizard’s eyes shoot open, and his beard shift as his lips parted.
“No, Ignatius Mangood, this is not a nightmare. This is real,” the Widow said. “Unfortunately for you.”
“You,” Ignatius said, his voice calmer than Jinxton expected.
He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the calmness of the wizard’s voice irked him. He’d wanted the wizard to beg and plead for his freedom, only for the Widow to deny him.
“Yes, me. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
“Fuck you,” Ignatius said.
Jinxton’s heart dropped, so he couldn’t imagine how Ignatius’s felt. Probably normal, the cool, calm son-of-a-bitch.
The Widow looked past Ignatius’s shoulders, toward Jinxton. “What are you waiting for?” she boomed. “There is a Jewel to find and a scavenger to kill.”
“You’ll never win, she-bitch,” Ignatius said.
Drool slid down the Widow’s fangs. Her grip on Ignatius got tighter, causing him to groan. Still, he continued to talk.
“Maria will make you bleed. Your reign of evil ends soon.”
Jinxton then saw something like fear in the Widow’s eyes. Not quite, but something like it, for sure.
“Go!” she yelled at Jinxton, and go he did.
As he left the lair behind him, he heard the Widow’s low, rumbling growls. She may not kill Ignatius, but she certainly was going to make him miserable.
But, much to Jinxton’s displeasure, he did not hear Ignatius scream.
He wound through the tunnels in the pitch-blackness, up and up until he hit the surface of the Dark Forest, where the earthy smells of moss and tree sap hit his nostrils—plus the smell of the blood that some of the trees leaked.
Of course, that was nothing but legend from the local people. No trees leaked blood; parents just used to
