Moon of the Spider by Richard A. Knaak

Author:Richard A. Knaak [Knaak, Richard A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: POCKET BOOKS
Published: 2006-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Zayl sat warily across from the wendigo, trying to decipher its thinking. The necromancer and the beast had not moved since first the latter had unexpectedly reached out not to tear the man apart, but to plead for his aid.

The practical side of Zayl—generally the far more dominant side—insisted that he leave the wendigo to its fate. After all, it was a cursed monster, a creature who craved human flesh. It had become a thing of the Prime Evils, nothing more. It was beyond redemption.

But a side with which the Rathmian was less familiar, an emotional side only recently stirred from a long slumber, pointed out that this beast was not acting at all as it should be. It reminded Zayl more of the ancient legends of the creature, when the wendigos and their cousins had been quiet, private beings of the forest and mountains.

And so, after staring for more than an hour at his former pursuer, the necromancer rose to his feet and strode toward the injured giant.

Meaty hands that could have torn him into bloody gobbets of flesh stayed lowered as he came within reach. Zayl bent down and touched one of those hands, which then cautiously turned palm up. The Rathmian murmured under his breath.

In response, the wendigo grunted several times. Zayl could not understand what the beast sought to say, but the tone seemed one offering peace and trust.

In darkness, there is light, even as in light, there is darkness. So Rathma preached. Zayl hoped that his ancient lord had been correct in that assumption.

He turned to the wendigo’s leg, the cause of the creature’s distress. Sure enough, it was broken from the force of the explosion. Only the brute strength of the wendigo had enabled it to even rise at first.

But that was not enough to explain the change in the furred giant’s persona. Somehow, the forces that Zayl had summoned had struck deep at the core of the wendigo’s heart and soul, wrenching from them the vile taint of the Prime Evils. It was the only explanation that made sense.

The necromancer started to reach for the shattered leg, then took one last look into the beast’s eyes. His brow arched. Even in the dark, he could see the astonishing transformation in them. Gone were the blood-redness and insane fury; here now was a pair of orbs so very touching in their nearly-human grief.

Those eyes decided it for him. The Rathmian touched his dagger to the area in question while his free hand drew symbols just above the leg.

The wendigo let out a grunt. Its paw slid near the leg. Zayl glanced toward the huge hand, but did not falter. All that mattered was his spell.

The wendigo withdrew its paw, leaving the necromancer to his task.

A faint moonlight glow spread across the ruined limb. As it did, the leg straightened and the tears in the skin sealed themselves. The scars tightened, then completely faded. Even the fur returned.

When he was done, Zayl let out a long gasp.

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