The Final Storm

  “Be that as it may,” Thrivenbard went on, “we must still be on our guard. And we cannot forget that Paragor’s forces could be in the woods as well.”

  And at Thrivenbard’s command, the knights filed out of Guard’s Keep and marched swiftly to the dragon pens.

  As Splinter spiraled up into the sky, Robby looked out over the city walls and saw a large caravan approaching Alleble from the north. He applied pressure to the dragon’s flank with his right knee. She responded by drifting over closer to Trenna’s white dragon.

  “May I help you with something, Sir Knight?!” Trenna asked, smiling playfully.

  “Uh, verily, you can!” Robby answered, trying to sound noble and heroic. “Perhaps you could tell me who are all those soldiers.”

  “Those are Mallik’s kin!” she replied. “The mighty folk of the Blue Mountains! They come to fortify the walls of Alleble . . . thanks to your magnificent discovery!”

  “Why, thank you for thy kind words, m’lady!” Robby said. Feeling awkward in trying to speak more Glimpse-like, Robby decided to stick to his own manner of speech, such as it was. Even so, Robby did not speak again to anyone until they reached King’s Forest. For with Alleble now behind them, the dragon riders made for the gap between the twin peaks of Pennath Ador.

  Robby had traveled by plane before. He’d looked out the small windows inside the cabin and been amazed by the way the land below became a patchwork of greens and browns. But nothing could compare to the awesome grandeur of these immense mountains.

  Beyond the mountains, Robby saw King’s Forest. It was more vast than he had imagined, and it sat upon a mountain itself. The dragon riders descended to the stony foothills just outside the forest, and Robby realized that the size of the trees had deceived him. They weren’t growing on another mountain—they were just that tall!

  Some of their massive trunks were as wide as a house, and all were covered in huge scales of black and gray bark. They had sparse limbs that reached out like arms with bracelets of dangling moss and wide paws of ferny foliage.

  After securing the dragons, Thrivenbard insisted that the knights fan out into a wide row. Then he led them into the forest. “This is very different from the Blackwood,” said Nock excitedly as he drew near to Robby. “Blackwood trees do not tolerate other vegetation in their midst. But this place is teeming with vegetation! Cedar, oak, fir, and dragonwood—incredible! And look down!”

  By their feet were huge feathery ferns and massive patches of some kind of clover with large pink flowers.

  “Sorrel,” Nock said. “Beautiful, is it not? Oh, how I would like to lie in it!”

  Suddenly, Thrivenbard was beside Nock. “Master Nock,” he said, “we must all keep our focus on the task at hand. Do not allow your mind to wander.” And just like that, Thrivenbard was gone and back to the front line. Weird, how he does that, Robby thought.

  In spite of Thriven’s warning, Robby spent much of the first hour enjoying the natural surroundings. How could he not? There were squirrels the size of dogs, and once Robby and Trenna climbed up on the trunk of a fallen giant and strolled for more than a hundred yards along its length.

  The bright afternoon sun filtered down through the treetops and cast glorious golden light on the forest floor and gilded the broad leaves of many of the trees. But the search had turned up nothing. No sign of a village. No sign that anyone had come through the forest recently.

  The demeanor of the group had changed markedly after such a long, uneventful walk through the forest. Jarak and Locke amused themselves by telling stories of their hunting exploits in the forests of Acacia. Robby spotted Nock pointing all over the place to a very bored-looking Boldoak. Sir Rogan spoke with Baldergrim and trailed just behind Robby. Even Thrivenbard, who had been so tense early on, had begun to relax a bit.

  They came to a section of the forest where the ground cover was a bed of tan pine needles and dead leaves. “Do you notice anything strange?” Trenna asked.

  “No,” Robby replied, yawning.

  “A few moments ago, the wood was alive with sounds,” she replied, looking warily up into the treetops. “Now it is utterly silent.”

  Robby listened. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said.

  Trenna drew her sword.

  From up ahead, Jarak suddenly knelt. He reached down into a patch of ferns and held up a strand of gray. “Master Thrivenbard!” he called. “What do you make of—”

  He never finished his sentence. Branches snapped. A dark brown blur. And Jarak was gone, pulled into the greenery.

  “Hold, servants of the King!” Thrivenbard yelled. “Do not move another step!”

  But it was too late. Baldergrim vanished with a sudden grunt. Locke drew a long curved blade and raced in the direction Jarak had been taken.

  “Look to the skies!” Trenna yelled.

  “Nay, look to the ground!” Thrivenbard called back. He reached carefully down and parted some shrubs to see what was there. “There are strands of . . . of web strewn across this place!”

  Robby froze in his tracks. He stared at it: a twisted strand of gray stretched tight beneath the ground cover. “I see it!” he yelled.

  “I do not see anything!” Sir Rogan bellowed. He charged up to Robby’s side, but took one step too many. He stepped directly onto the web. Suddenly, from the brush in front of him, a brown night-mare shot forth—but Sir Rogan’s axe was at the ready. He swept the broad blade in front of him. They heard a shrill chirping screech, and black blood spattered Sir Rogan, Robby, and Trenna. There at Sir Rogan’s feet twitched a long, hairy, segmented limb of brown.

  “Spiders!” Sir Rogan spat.

  “Thrivenbard, what do we do?” Halberad cried out. “They have taken Jarak and Baldergrim!”

  “The webs are a type of tripwire,” said Thrivenbard, almost to himself at first. “These spiders live beneath the ground, and they will have taken our knights alive. We must find the burrows without ourselves being caught!”

  A bloodcurdling scream came from nearby. Turning, they expected to see another knight being taken away by one of the giant spiders. But to their horror and amazement, they saw a huge emerald-green snake withdrawing up into the treetops with Locke’s legs protruding from its massive diamond-shaped jaws. Serpents began to swing down from above, trying to yank knights violently from the ground.

  “Defend yourselves!” Thrivenbard yelled. “There are enemies above and below!” Several snakes fell headless, thanks to Sir Rogan’s mighty axe. Another snake, this one with jagged golden brown scales, seemed to materialize from the trunk of one of the gigantic trees. It opened its jaws behind Valden.

  “Look out!” Sir Oswyn cried. But the snake fell limp to the tree trunk—one of Nock’s black-shafted arrows embedded deep in its eye.

  Valden waved to the archer and drew in a great draught of air. Then, like a dragon belching forth its fiery breath, he unleashed a deep, guttural yell that rang among the trees and made those nearby clutch their ears.

  Valden continued screaming and began to run. A fanged yellow-green snake uncoiled from a tangle of similarly colored vines. It lunged for Valden, but he swung his two axes—one high and one low.

  “TRY OUT MY FANGS, BEAST!!!” Valden yelled as his axes connected. The low blade cracked across the creature’s snout. The other gashed deeply behind the snake’s head. The serpent fell to the ground, and Valden pounced upon it—screaming and hacking until the creature was still.

  Arbalests and bows sang out as archers fired volley after volley. Knights hacked at the descending snakes. Others ran and tried desperately to fend off the spiders.

  Trenna ran toward a giant snake, but a sudden shadow came upon her. In the chaos around them, only Robby saw her whisked away into the forest depths.

  Robby started off after her. Someone yelled, “Wait, Sir Robby!”— but Robby did not stop. He ran as fast as he could, ducking the strikes of several snakes, but when he got to where he thought the spider’s burrow should be, he was at a loss
. “Where is it?!” he yelled. But it was to no avail. The spider was too clever, too well camouflaged. It and Trenna were seemingly gone without a trace.

  Robby stood among the tall trees and looked this way and that, frantically searching for movement—some sign of where they had gone. “Arrggh!” Robby yelled. He’d failed Trenna, dooming her to die agonizingly in the darkness of a spider’s lair.

  “Never alone.”

  “What?” Robby asked.

  “You are never alone.”

  “King Eliam, help me,” he whispered desperately.

  An odd sense of calm descended upon Robby. He looked down at his feet, and his heart began to beat faster. There was a strand of web. If I follow it . . . Robby suddenly realized what he needed to do. “Thank you!” he uttered, and raced off.

  Heedless of the briers and scratching limbs, Robby followed the thread through the forest as quickly as he could. He did not want to trip the wire until he was ready. At last, he found where the web disappeared under a thin ridge of earth. As Robby looked more closely, he recognized the outline of a wide circular trapdoor.

  “This is gonna be close!” Robby said. He stood clear of the trapdoor and found a heavy dead limb. He tossed the limb in a high arc onto the web and waited with his broadsword. Quickly, the trapdoor launched upward. A hideous mass of black eyes, long segmented limbs, and dark brown leaped up from the hole. Robby swung his broadsword as hard as he could and felt it strike something solid. But it gave with a nauseating splatter and came through. Robby looked up and saw the gigantic spider drag its ruined body into the trees and then become still.

  His plan had worked—he’d drawn out and killed the spider that had taken Trenna. Now all he had to do was get her out of the spider’s lair. He just hoped that Thrivenbard was right about the spiders taking their prey alive.

  Robby went to work on the trapdoor, chopping and hacking with zeal. It was stronger than it had appeared, made of many alternating layers of spider silk, soil, and bracken. At last a vast dark hole gaped open in front of him. Robby stepped to the edge and peered warily inside. He saw a deep sloping tunnel lined with gray web.

  “Trenna!” he called down into the hole. “Trenna, answer me!” There was no response at first, but Robby heard a strange clicking sound followed by a swish and a dull thud.

  “Trenna, are you there?!” he called again.

  At last there came a muffled cry. “Trenna!” Robby cried out. He took a deep breath and leaped down into the tunnel. It was farther down than he thought, and he landed awkwardly, the unfamiliar weight of his armor throwing him forward. He drew himself up and realized just how large the tunnel was. Ten feet high and at least that wide. Robby thought about the spider that he had killed a few moments earlier. It didn’t seem quite that large. Robby strained to look down the tunnel, but the light from the hole above traveled down the tunnel only a few yards. From that point on it was pitchdark.

  “Trenna?” he called down the tunnel. There was no answer. Robby held his broadsword out in front and began to advance slowly. The web felt spongy under his feet, and the air was chilly and uncomfortable.

  Robby walked down the left side of the tunnel so that he could let his left hand trail across the wall. Every few steps, he would stop and listen. Several times, he heard the same click—swish—thud noise again. It was an eerie, almost rhythmic sound, and Robby began to wonder if the spider he had killed was the only spider that lived in this burrow.

  Suddenly, the wall on his left ended and he was reaching into darkness. “Trenna?!” No answer. No sound. It was as if his words had been swallowed up as soon as he spoke them. He reached out in all directions with his broadsword and found that the tunnel apparently opened up into a wide space or a chamber. Robby could see nothing, but he had the dreadful feeling that he was being watched.

  I hope you’re with me, King Eliam, Robby thought as he slowly moved forward. Never alone, right? Somewhere to his distant left, there came the click—swish—thud sound. Robby stared, but saw nothing. Then, the same sound, but to the right and not quite as far away. And this time, light glimmered briefly in some corner of the chamber.

  What is that? Robby wondered, and then he realized what it must be. Trapdoors. More trapdoors—but then that would mean this is not the burrow of one single spider, but the den of many!

  His heart hammering and sweat pouring down his back, he forced himself to move forward. A few more steps, and Robby had the distinct feeling that there was something in front of him. He pointed the broadsword forward, squeezing the haft in a death grip. He lunged forward just to test and heard an ominous scuttling. It sounded like the crunching of broken glass on pavement.

  Robby stopped and stood very still. He stared straight ahead. His mind whirled with a million thoughts—chief among them was that coming into this burrow was quite possibly the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life.

  “Not dumb. Valiant.”

  Robby smiled tentatively. Okay, but I don’t feel very brave.

  Suddenly, he heard the click—swish—thud sound. It came from far behind him, and there had been the briefest flash of light. It was enough at least to see what stood there in front of him—and to temporarily blind him. He’d seen long segmented legs, a pair of large sickle-shaped fangs, and eight black eyes. This spider was much larger than the other he’d seen earlier.

  Robby carved the air in front of him. “Get back!” he yelled. He heard the creepy scuttling sound. Then, click—swish—thud, and the light flashed again. The spider had reared up. Its forelegs were high in the air and menacing, its sharp fangs and opening jaws fully visible—if but for a moment.

  Robby backpedaled, keeping the sword moving. The light flashed again just as the spider pounced. He saw it coming at him in that momentary illumination. Screaming, he slammed the sword from low to high. He struck something so hard, it sent a tremor up his arms. There came an earsplitting chirping screech. And then something took hold of the end of his sword.

  Click—swish—thud! The light flashed again. The beastly spider had his sword somehow clenched in its mandibles. All went black again, and Robby wrenched his blade with all his might. But the spider wrenched back. It lurched quickly to the side, and Robby stumbled heavily to his knees. It heaved back the other way, jerking Robby off his feet entirely. He crashed to the ground and yelled. The pain was intense. It was all he could do to hold on to the sword, but he did. He knew to let go would mean the end.

  Somehow he got back on his feet. Robby gave one more weak pull and was about to give up, when he had a desperate idea. With renewed strength, he planted his feet and yanked back on the sword. He strained so hard he felt the muscles of his arms and upper back begin to pull. As Robby expected, the spider pulled back on the sword, trying to rip it from Robby’s grasp. Robby put all of his body weight behind a fearsome thrust and drove the broadsword into the spider’s jaws and up to the hilt into the creature’s ghastly throat. The spider died in an instant, its legs spasming, curling, and becoming still.

  Robby glanced to the right at the source of the light. One of the trapdoors had been flung open. Robby turned back, and in the shadowy light, he could finally see just how monstrously huge the spider was. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light, but something seemed to be moving on the spider’s abdomen.

  “Sir Robby?!” a voice called. He thought it was Sir Rogan, but Robby did not answer. He stared at the now undulating abdomen of the spider.

  “Sir Robby!” another voice called.

  “I’m down here!” Robby called. He recognized Sir Oswyn’s voice, but his eyes were still fixed on the creature. There was something there. No, several things. Then one came out of the shadows and Robby understood. It was another spider—a baby—and yet still as large as a great cat and menacing. Another spider came into view. Then two more. A dozen or more crept up from the big spider’s abdomen.

  Robby twisted his sword free at last from the dead spider’s jaws and began to back up. “Sir Rogan!” he cr
ied, the warning evident in his tone. “Sir Oswyn, get down here!”

  There seemed to be no end to the baby spiders, and they scuttled over the body and closed in on Robby.

  A torch in hand, Oswyn and then Sir Rogan leaped into the spider’s den, and what they saw took their breath away. A gigantic spider lay dead in the center of the underground chamber, but dozens more had Robby cornered at a distant wall.

  Then all at once, the spiders attacked. One leaped at Robby, but with a swipe of the broadsword, Robby cut it in half. Some pounced from the wall or leaped from the ceiling. Robby was covered with clawing, biting spiders. Each time he batted some off, others quickly replaced them.

  Sir Rogan swung his battleaxe like a clock’s pendulum, dividing and dismembering spiders. Oswyn joined the fray, his narrow blade carving easily through the teeming spiders. Black blood splattered everywhere.

  Finally, they reached Robby, knocking the last spiders off of him as he collapsed in their arms.

  “He has been bitten,” Sir Oswyn said gravely.

  Sir Rogan, with great effort, fended off the remaining baby spiders. “Will he live?!” he called back.

  “I cannot say!” Oswyn yelled. “I think so, but we have to get him out of here!”

  Then CLICK—SWISH—THUD! A flash of light brightened the chamber. Then another, and another. Sir Rogan turned and saw trapdoor after trapdoor open and large spiders coming into the den. “We are caught!” Sir Rogan exclaimed.

  “No, not yet!” yelled Sir Oswyn. “A trapdoor, there!” He pointed over Sir Rogan’s shoulder, and indeed there was a faint outline of light.

  “Trenna!” Robby whispered urgently. He struggled in Sir Oswyn’s grasp, attempting to stand.

  “What?” asked Sir Oswyn. “Sir Robby, do not exert yourself !”

  “No, I . . . I can stand!” yelled Robby. And to their amazement, he planted his feet and pushed himself up with his sword. “Trenna’s still down here . . . somewhere! I couldn’t find her.”