Weaver: A Silver Crown

Chapter 6

“s**t!” I whispered in frustration into the darkness. What is this? A test? A challenge? My mind exclaimed in outrage. I had sensed the strange magic before Koell had even left my presence and yet I had still walked in like a blasted fool, my own eagerness for answers my enemy. I wanted to kick myself tremendously but knew that wouldn't work in my current situation. So I steeled myself. I placed my hunting knives into their holders and stretched out my muscles. I knew I would have to climb my way through the darkness – it was a blessed thing that I'd been sent to the Pits. My stamina was exceptionally high and my body honed for tight spaces as one would expect a spider to be.

Okay, old woman, you want some fun? We'll have some fun, I yelled in my mind. I heard a maniacal laugh echo around my skull. I reached into a hidden compartment in my cloak and grappled for my vials of night vision potion. Pulling out the crystal vial, I popped off the cork and eagerly guzzled the sweet, sickly contents, feeling the viscous liquid trickle down my throat and the magic spread through my body. Something that felt like impressed surprise brushed up against my mind but I pushed it away, locking Koell out. I had been trained for many things, including Oracle's magic. A smirk spread across the width of my face.

“Okay,” I breathed, stepping one foot in front of another, travelling up the spiralled stairs. It truly was as dark as night, perhaps thicker than that, for the night had moonlight and this did not. I hastily let go of my limp, allowing myself to feel the full effects of the aching pain but relishing the stretching out of my muscle. The night vision potion swiftly set in fully and let me see everything as clearly as one would in daylight. The only unfortunate part was it did not last very long. Ten minutes at the most, since these were my most basic ones and I did not have the ingredients and time to make advanced potions – potions I had to learn to make for my own survival in the Pits. A fluttering of girlish laughter echoed through my mind, but I pushed memories down. Now was not the time to battle with my silly tender heart. A silly tender heart that was not a Weaver's.

Time was ticking down for the potion. 7 minutes, I counted, nimbly hopping over missing wooden steps and booby trap ropes. It'll require more than that to trick me, I gloated inwardly with a huff. The stairs never seemed to end the more I darted up them, the spiral stretching out and on and on. I grabbed onto the banister and pulled half of my body over, peering up into the darkness. It was almost like a tower that abruptly cut off to flat ceiling. And it looked around 50 flights away.

The stairs, something within me called me out, the magic is in the stairs, it chimed. I halted my hurried scurry, scarcely missing a gaping hole where a wooden step was missing. I eyed my surroundings, searching for things I could use other than the stairs. The walls were not an option, unless one was a spider, which I was not. And I had no rope. Does the banister count as the stairs? I asked silently.

I scrutinised the smooth wood banister and felt it for sturdiness. Peering over the edge, I gauged the distance between each jump I would potentially have to take. And then I looked down, judging my fall and the death it may bring me. The higher I got, the more likely I would die. So do not fall, Anera, I firmly commanded.

Hastily, I slung off my boots and socks – for extra grip – and shrugged off my cloak with much effort. I rolled it up and placed it on a step carefully, promising it I would come back. Unfortunately, it would most certainly slow me down and get in my way – something my weapons would also do, but there were some things I felt unsafe to part with. Swinging myself up onto the bannister, I carefully bought one knee on for balance and bought one foot flat to it. Then I slowly rose up, my arms straight out in air, and turned towards the wall, looking up to my destination. It was reachable in a big hop. I almost sighed with relief. And then I leaped.

I grabbed onto the floor of the steps above me, my legs swinging under as I held myself up, my nails ripping with the strain. Quickly I built up a sideways swinging momentum before my leg whirled through the air and my foot landed precisely between two wooden beams that held the banister up. I grappled for the beams and pushed with all my strength to get myself up. And then I was standing and climbing and precariously balancing once again. And then I was leaping.

By the time I reached a smooth flat ceiling, I had already flopped my sweating and aching body on some steps, my potion having worn off five minutes ago; the rest I had left in my cloak. I lay for what felt a long time, panting and rubbing my leg when the creek of a door alerted me. I was instantly hopping onto my feet with my twin blades drawn, their obsidian pummels rough against my splintered skin. A slither of yellow light broke through the darkness and a shadowed female figure stepped in front of it. I tensed and growled, not recognising her scent as Fliteen's or Koell's. I saw the rise of a thin long blade before it struck mine and I was slicing through it, sending it crashing out of her hand. She pounced but I lithely dodged and whirled around her, my blade to her throat hard enough to bring the rise of blood. I breathed it in, relishing its scent.

It's scent... I paused, halting my slice. I took a shaky breath as I realised. This female had masked her scent with magic. This was Mira Diya. So I stepped away and stood in the c***k of light.

“Was this my final challenge? Reach the top of the stairs and battle an apprentice swordsman?” I said with obvious boredom. Mira hissed at me and I saw in the slight light that she spun around, hurt flashing through her eyes. She scrambled for her blade – I let her pick it up – and swung for my legs. I hopped over easily. “Good move.” I encouraged. She swiped at me again and I leaned back, nimbly dodging and dancing around her. Mira twirled round with a slicing arc of her blade – precisely for my neck – and I smoothly ducked and stepped to her side. “Nice try, keep going.” I teased, toying with her.

Roaring with anger she leaped for me and I jumped aside, which was not an easy thing to do on stairs I might add, and she clattered into the banister. “Let's not do this Mira. You lack much fighting discipline and control.” I taunted with a deadly smirk. She paused and swivelled her head to face me, shock lighting in her eyes. Well it could've been blasted shock for all I knew, it was as black as night.

“How do you know I'm Mira?” She asked, catching her breath and leaning up. Her voice was deeper than Flit's, more mature and lady like, contradicting her poor show of fighting moments before. I c****d my head to the side and raised an eyebrow at her, thinking it was obvious. “I have masked myself with magic, so you would not know who I was.” She explained, putting her hand to the cut on her throat. I flicked my eyes to that.

“Did you mask your blood?” I asked, watching where her hand pressed against the wound.

“Ah,” She breathed, understanding lighting her eyes. “The blood.”

“For the record, I didn't smell you before I cut you.” She nodded at me in understanding.

“I hadn't intended for you to do so.”

“Never underestimate your enemy.” I chided. We stood in silence for a moment. “So, what's going on here? Am I able to leave now?” I asked impatiently, dying to rest my leg. Mira moved past me and I tensed, readying for battle.

“There will be no more fighting.” She assured me with a flick of the wrist towards the cracked open door.” Follow me. Koell is waiting for you.” I took a breath of relief and exhaustion. Finally.

~

“You want me to what?” I exclaimed, looking up at the canopy above and then back down to the little wooden balcony we stood on.

“You need to climb through the branches and spider web to reach grandmother's house.”

“And the stairs?” I asked with an attitude. She turned and scowled at me.

“You will face the same problem you did in the tree.” I gave a melodramatic huff and scrubbed at my face. Mira was much like Fliteen but taller and less petite and more odd. Her breasts were larger, her body sensually curved and her black hair bobbed and wavy. She had Talo's jaw and a slightly longer nose with a bit more of a pointed chin. Her eyes were dark and her eye lashes long. It was said that Weavers were the most beautiful of Fae. It’s what made them more deadly. I did not look much like the Weaver's I had grown up with. My skin wasn't as pale, my eyes and hair were light and curled and my lips a light pink. Perhaps I’m adopted, I mused, knowing it was impossible.

“Will you climb with me?” I asked even though it was a fleeting question.

“Yes.” Was the quiet reply. I looked at her with shock and mild appreciation. “Let us hurry. It is getting cold.” Indeed, I thought. Dusk had swept in as I'd been in the tree. It had felt like I'd been in there for hours when it had only been minutes.

We set about climbing up, leaping for large branches that were – to my dismay – spaciously spread out and climbing along thick spider web. My leg painfully pushed my weight into the air, leaping for another branch. Sore fingers scraped against the rough wood, my body swinging gracefully beneath. I grunted with the effort of pulling myself up and hanging over the branch by my waist. Sweat dotted my brow as I searched for the next branch. They spiralled around the top of the tree, all the way up to the balcony and canopy house above. There were webs dotted here and there, carefully placed to assist in climbing. I gritted my teeth and whimpered shakily as I gingerly bought my wounded leg over and straddled the branch, taking a reprieving moment to catch my breath.

The view was breath taking in itself, let alone the trek up here. Better be worth it, I grumpily thought, squinting my eyes over the vast distance of the village. From here I could see everyone and everything. The charcoal smoke of fires dancing sleepily out of chimneys and flowing through the evening breeze; the homely yellow haze of windows glowing in the dim Auralit streets; the lazy evening strolls of villagers wondering through the winding of streets, inspecting the flowers and looking up to the stairs; and yelling of concerned mothers calling in their playful, energetic children, handing them blankets and bowls of warm broth to chase the autumn chill.

I let myself take a contented breath and have a small smile as I looked over the village, its tranquillity alien to me. There were evenings I had often spent on unseen little cliffs in the mountain, watching the sea or the moonlight glisten silver on the web atop the Silver Forest – the reason it had that name. I had often thought of another life, of other things I wanted. Of peace and hope, two things Weaver’s did not take kindly too. I watched a guard calmly patrol atop of the wall, talking easily with his work mate, unburdened by fear and hardship. And then the branch creaked beneath me.

I scrambled to get myself up, refusing to look down at the deadly drop. It creaked another time beneath my weight, cracking and snapping. The branch snapped off beneath me, plummeting down with me above it. My stomach flew up into my mouth and I let out a strangled cry, the wind making my hair flail. Of all the ways to die, this was certainly the most foolish. I braced myself for impact when something wrapped tightly around my waist, sticking to me and pinging me back up. I flew back up through the air, my arms and legs waving around me and then went straight back down again. The cord constricted and I squeezed onto it, feeling its soft, sticky texture. Spider web.

I flew back down and pinged back up flipping my body round to see who had caught me. I swung sideways through the air and coughed when another web caught my chest, jolting my fall. Slowly, my body began to get dragged back up and pulled over onto a smooth wooden surface. Strong hands were on my waist, hauling me over, laying me down and unwrapping the sticky web. I opened my eyes I hadn’t realised I’d even scrunched up and looked up into green ones. A male’s face. He looked at me and smiled broadly, a light hearted crinkle to his beautifully light green eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He said with a little huffed laugh as he continued to pull the web off of my body. “Just wasn’t quite your time to go I’m afraid.” He leaned back into a crouch and slowly stood up. I sat and gawked at him.

“Why did you save me?” I asked, patting myself down and picking at my splinters.

“It would be a shame to let a good swordsman die by falling.” He shrugged – a strong movement of his shoulders – and wondered off. I was left staring as he ambled across the large balcony. Hesitantly, I stood up on shaky limbs and peered over the ledge. I had been pulled all the way to the top, the canopy just a stretch on tip toes away. There was fencing all around the large platform that circled round the tree, a house built around the trunk in the middle. I shuddered at the sheer plunge of the drop; I was lucky to be alive. Too many people have saved my life, I thought with a frown.

“Are you coming then?” He called. I looked over my shoulder at him and saw Mira beside him, a grin on her face when she looked at me. He was a bit taller than her with cropped ash blonde hair. He wore simple grey trousers, black leather boots with a matching tunic and a white shirt underneath. He also had a sheathed blade. Casually, I sauntered over to them and walked to Mira’s side; Mira who was now looking at someone else. Koell.

“So you managed not to die on your little adventure up?” She chimed, gesturing me to follow her through two glass doors into a leaf ceiling house. I grinned at her and stalked inside.

“I wouldn’t have called it an adventure.” I deliberated with a deadly gleam to my eye. She turned and looked at me and grinned wickedly when she saw my face.

“Pity you couldn’t make that last jump.” She pouted her bottom lip mockingly, c*****g her head to the side.

“Pity I didn’t splatter on the ground and stain the steps of your precious village, Grandmother.” I said with a sweet, venomous smile, battering my eye lashes. She gave me a levelled stare for a long moment, before sighing and sitting on a large, worn armchair. I took the opportunity to assess my surroundings.

The canopy was thick branch and leaf above with shiny wooden plank walls going round the trunk. An old carpet lay with two large sofas and an armchair on top, carefully placed around a fireplace carved out in the trunk. How they had managed to make that work, I did not know. It was a simple home, with glass windows all around and the occasional large cushion and Auralight orbs placed upon the balcony. I spotted a little area which I assumed was used as a place to prepare food or potions and saw a little hatch that led down somewhere next to it. I wrinkled my nose at the idea of that being an en suite without decent plumbing.

“Come, sit girl. Rest your leg. I know it addles you so.” She said gesturing to the large chairs beside her. “We have much to discuss.” Oh Gods.