Free Rise of the Spider Goddess by Jim Hines Page A

who was involved.”
    He looked sympathetically at Nakor. “I also know what happened to the others.”
    Nakor sat down hard. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “I should have been there. I was too slow to save Roth. Too late to save Caudi.”
    He looked into Thomas’s eyes. “I wasn’t even around when Wanni and Serina were murdered!”
    â€œThere was no way you could have been everywhere at once.” Thomas answered in a gentle voice. “There was no way you could have known.”
    Nakor lowered his eyes again. When he spoke, his voice was pure bitterness. “I should have.”
    â€œAnd why is that?” Thomas asked. “Why were the lives of these people your responsibility?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Thomas looked at him sadly. “Each of your friends was just as responsible as you were for freeing Olara. Why do you take all of this responsibility upon yourself? No man can hold that much weight upon his shoulders.”
    A tear fell from Nakor’s left eye. He clenched his fists and looked up at Thomas. “Who are you?” he demanded.
    â€œStop intruding on my angsty elf-pain!”
    â€œDoes that matter?” Thomas replied.
    Something snapped inside Nakor. The months of pain and anger came rushing to the surface, and he stood up to grab Thomas by the front of his robe. “Of course it matters,” he shouted.
    Thomas grabbed one of his wrists, and the next thing Nakor knew, he was lying on his back, staring up at the plain stone ceiling. For a brief moment, he lay there, stunned. He blinked, and the emotions came rushing back. Rationality completely forgotten, Nakor stood up and drew his sword, levelling the blade at his foe.
    In Fantasyland, all monks are martial artists. Which makes you wonder why Nakor didn’t know what he was getting into…
    Thomas watched, calmly, without reacting.
    Gradually, the tip of the sword began to quiver. Then it was slowly lowered to the ground. There was a metallic crash as the rapier slipped from Nakor’s hand. Overcome by despair, he sank to the ground and clutched his head in his hands.
    â€œMy elf-pain is the ANGSTIEST elf-pain!”
    Thomas walked over and lay a hand on his shoulder. Nakor looked up, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
    â€œYou can sleep here tonight, if you wish,” Thomas offered.
    Nakor nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
    â€œI stayed for about a week,” Nakor said, looking up at Galadrion, Whoo, and Pynne. “During the day, I did what work I could to help out. At night, Thomas and I would talk, sometimes for hours at a time.”
    Nakor smiled. “Since then, I’ve come here when I needed a place to rest, away from the rest of the world.”
    â€œSo,” began Whoo, “would any of these people have some idea as to how we’re going to kill Olara?”
    â€œWe?” asked Nakor, raising an eyebrow.
    Raised eyebrow count: 9
    â€œShe burnt my wings!” Whoo replied, outraged. “I’m not just going to sit around and let her get away with that!”
    Nakor looked over at Pynne.
    â€œEvery time I let him go off on his own, he gets in trouble.” she commented, smiling evilly. “So I guess I should go to.”
    Or go “too,” even.
    He turned to Galadrion, who simply nodded.
    Taking a deep breath, Nakor addressed them all. “I don’t know,” he pronounced. “I don’t know how to kill a goddess, and I don’t know how to keep her from killing us if we try.”
    Silence fell over the room, as each person felt Nakor’s despair spread out to touch them.
    â€œThis is my elf-pain, which I share with you in the ancient elven ritual of the misery-meld. ‘My angst to your angst. My pain to your pain…’”
    At that point, there was a knocking on the door. Galadrion walked over to let Thomas into the small room.
    â€œYou must leave, soon.”