THE LIGHT OF A'LEST

CHAPTER 18

Redaxe grumbled as he slid the bearded blade of his axe over the stone. The sound of the grating steel over stone brought back memories of home. To him, the repetition of passing the blade over stone was soothing. A pastime he'd enjoyed nearly every night before turning in. He continued while the rest of the group sat around a large fire, wrapped in hooded cloaks, engaging in idle conversation as they ate. Lord Alaric's men were louder than the crew he paddled with. Far more boisterous, too, but still, Atus liked to listen. "I heard the Anasi's hide is impenetrable to blades," one of the men was saying. A younger fellow with only a wispy red beard and crooked teeth. Several of the men around him shifted while casting curious glances at their commander. Lord Alaric said nothing, just sat quietly beside the fire, gnawing on a piece of dried meat.

    The paddling took most of the day. By the time they reached shore, the sun was already low on the horizon. They had luckily come upon a squat farmhouse shortly after making landfall. A spindly old man with a wood cane greeted them. Thankfully, the farmer owed his allegiance to Grantook and agreed to lend them horses, give them food, and aid them in any way he could. Lodgings, however, were not part of the deal. So, they would have to make their beds under the stars. The farmer had led them on his wobbly cane to a small outcrop of willow and spruce, which was where they were now. Atus shrugged as he looked up. It was a fine spot, with long thick bows that would do well to keep the rain off their necks. He'd spent many a night sprawled out in the cold, wet mud. To him, the arrangements were as luxurious as his chief's estate.

     "Could the bird be mistaken?" Lord Alaric's voice was unmistakable, but the dim firelight and the distance between them made seeing the man's face difficult.

     The younger lad with the crooked teeth piped up, "My mother used to tell me bedtime stories about the Anasi, ma lord. Big as a house. With glowing red eyes and legs as long and sharp as spears." The young warrior chuckled. "She would say they would drag children away into the forest and devour them whole when they refused to go to sleep."

     Another of his men cut in, his voice gruff and low. "Of course, the bird is mistaken. The Anasi are a children's tale. Monster myths meant to curb the behavior of young whelps. They're not flesh and blood." Everyone in the group nodded.

     The Lore Master was sitting on an old stump, staring at the glowing gem in his palm. Zander looked up from the ground. "Master Vicam, what do the legends say about the Anasi?" The oldest member of their group looked up and saw Keko, Kara, and Zander on his right, Lord Alaric and his men lining the small fire to his left, Atus's large form farther away. The repetitive sound of his axe sliding across the whetstone stopped, and the crack and pop of their small fire dominated the air.

     "Well, young master. There are many in my order who believe just that." Master Vicam gestured to Lord Alaric's man, who had just finished telling the group about his mother's bedtime stories. "The tale of the Anasi is as ancient as any. Gaia's legend speaks of them as being both myth and real. If my memory serves me, Anasi are harbingers of darker things. Ferocious creatures, spider-like in appearance, indeed much as the bir—um, excuse me, Pebble described." Master Vicam glanced up at the trees to find Pebble's black, beady eyes staring back at him. The crow said nothing, so he continued. "In the legends, Anasi are said to be the vile offspring of Weaver Silene. The immortal mother. Luring men into the forest, where they strip them of more than just their lives." Master Vicam waved an old hand flittingly about... "But these are just stories. Tales as old as time itself and thought to be greatly embellished." He regarded the group. Wood cracked in the fire, sending embers of light high into the sky. Several of Alaric's men jumped.