He thought of the elf girl who had warned them out in the forest. She had been right. He thought of Grogan who had foreseen the ambush was likely but had gone forward anyway.
He thought of the long mazy roads that had brought him to this point, the wanderings across three continents and scores of kingdoms, the wars and battles, the women he had perhaps loved and the Order he had served, and he knew it was all a distraction to keep him from thinking about what he had to do and what he had to face next.
He thought about the Great Tree surrounding him, not dead yet, trying to extinguish the last remnants of its life and consciousness in order not to fall to the Shadow it hated and feared.
A sense of futility settled on him. Mayasha was older than many of the kingdoms of men, had seen generations of long-lived elves come and go, had in its time been as powerful as any living being on the face of the world, and even it, in the longest of runs, had fallen. What chance did anything as tiny as a man have of opposing the Shadow?
He entered the chamber he had been shown in his vision. Ahead of him lay a huge mound of coins, helmets, carved objects, like a heap of offerings piled in front of the altar of a wicked god. Atop the pile lay a familiar scabbard, thrown there by those who had captured him. He raced forward and picked up the weapon, breaking all custom and training by drawing it, to make sure it was his own weapon. He felt the familiar weight of it resting in his hand, looked upon the glowing runes and knew them to be true. He felt whole again.
A long time ago as men measured their lives, if but an eye-blink to the gods of Shadow, he had taken up this weapon and he had sworn an oath. While he lived he would keep it. He had spent his lifetime walking into the dark with this sword in his hand. He was a Champion of the Sun. Whatever he could do to oppose the ancient evil here, he would do.
Ahead of him, deeper in the chamber, the green glow intensified, a vast bulk shifted, a demon woke.
Kormak stepped forward, deeper into a vast cave-like chamber. The walls seemed to be made of an interlocking tangle of roots, covered in a carpet of sticky webbing. At its centre, was a stump of wood that looked like any other save that it was covered in a pulsing, brain-like nugget of fungal growth. Next to it, watching it like a dragon watching its hoard, was the largest spider Kormak had yet seen. It was big as a house, bloated and evil. It considered him with glittering green eyes from which shone boundless hunger and boundless malice and an ancient inhuman intelligence.
The body was so huge that he doubted that even its massive columnar legs could have supported it without the aid of the vast cables of webbing that suspended its body from the ceiling. It lay on a carpet of broken bones and shattered skulls. Its mandibles looked big enough to decapitate a bull. A swarm of smaller spiders scuttled around it and over it, tending it, picking small parasites from its carapace, grooming the furry hairs of its abdomen, feeding her morsels of something.
How long had this thing been down here, Kormak wondered? How long had it been growing bloated on the power of the Shadow and the flesh of the living?
The stench of rot was strong. The oily taste of the Shadow’s presence was on Kormak’s tongue. He met the spider’s gaze and felt an immediate sense of contact, of a hungry alien presence trying to force itself into his mind. The Elder Sign burned on his chest. He muttered prayers of resistance to the Shadow, and worked the rituals of cleansing. A wave of nausea passed over him and was gone.
The ground shook as the Queen spider raised herself up. There was a creaking sound as if her legs could barely support her weight. A flick of her limbs scattered bones and sent a skull rolling to Kormak’s feet. It looked up at him mockingly with empty eye-sockets. Smaller spiders tumbled off the greater one as it moved; some regained their balance, some lay on their backs, spindly legs kicking in the air.
Kormak stood sword in hand, waiting, like a small boy confronting a maddened mastodon. The thing dwarfed him and made him feel almost powerless. It came to him that there was still time for him to turn and run.
The Queen’s mandibles clicked. A sound like a wheezing roar emerged from her maw. The other spiders moved, some clambering over it, some spreading out to circle the walls of the chambers, leaving a clear space for the Queen to advance over, while letting them threaten Kormak from the flanks. There were all different types of them and they looked lethal.
The Queen moved forward as much swinging from her web as charging on her legs. She gained huge momentum as her massive form advanced. Poison dribbled from her mandibles.
She grew larger and larger in Kormak’s vision, swelling to terrifying proportions. His heart pounded against his ribs. His mouth felt suddenly dry. At the last moment, he threw himself flat and rolled under the vast flabby body, slashing up with his razor sharp blade, opening a great wound in the armour of her underbelly. The Spider Queen shrieked and raised herself up. Kormak kept moving, heading towards the node that represented the last glimmer of the consciousness of Mayasha.
A spider intercepted him, moving under the bulk of its mother and Queen, throwing itself at Kormak like an attack dog leaping on prey. Kormak slashed at it, severing its front legs, and kept moving, even as the Queen brought her great bulk down. He rolled faster, just managing to pull himself clear. The spider was not so lucky. Black fluid flowed from beneath the Queen and when she raised her bulk again, Kormak could see that her child had been crushed.
A pack of smaller spiders raced towards him, trying to cut him off from his objective. He danced through them, slashing and twisting and killing with every stroke till he reached his goal. He hacked at the node, cutting it in two, sending the corrupted fungus-covered head skittering away across the floor.
Something landed on his back. He reached over his shoulder with his free hand and caught something hairy and scuttling. Stick-like legs brushed against his hands. He tossed the small spider away before it could sink its fangs into his hand, and slashed a creature the size of a dog that was threatening to bury its mandibles in his leg.
He turned at bay. The Spider Motherwas turning, twisting the cables of web as she tried to bring herself round to face him, hissing and bellowing with frustrated rage at the way the things that supported her weight restricted her movement.
Kormak felt safe for only a moment until he saw small valves open on either side of her mouth. A moment later jets of webbing squirted towards him. He threw himself flat and they passed over his head, but as he did so another spider bounded towards him.
He raised his blade and the creature impaled itself on it. Kormak got a boot under its stomach and using its momentum and the power of his own leg muscles kicked it off, sending it sliding off his blade. He rose to one knee and just had time to slash at another of the spiders as it closed the distance with him.
Another strand of webbing hit the ground where he had been. He kept moving, knowing that to be hit was to be rendered immobile and in this place that meant death.
He studied the plant-like growth rising from the floor, wondering if he had fulfilled Mayasha’s last commandment. So far he could see no sign that what he had done had made any difference. He hacked at it again, taking off another chunk. This time the luminescence in the chamber dimmed a little.
The Spider Queen let out an angry hiss that held a note of warning. Perhaps it had just occurred to her what Kormak was attempting. En masse her children threw themselves towards him, uncaring of their lives, threatening to swamp him with sheer weight of numbers.
For a dozen heartbeats, he dodged, parried and struck, a whirlwind of death tearing through the heart of the scuttling pack. Poisoned mandibles clashed before his face. Bony spearpoints at the end of chitinous legs stabbed at his mailed torso. Skeletons crunched beneath his boots, providing an uncertain platform for his footwork, threatening to overbalance him at any momentary miscalculation.
Something heavy hit him from the side and bowled him over. For a brief, terrible desperate instant, he scrambled on all fours on a carpet of human bones under the belly of a monstrous
arachnid, then rose to his feet.
He lashed out once more at the last shard of Mayasha, this time severing it close to the root. The ground shook slightly. The phosphorescent lights dimmed. The Spider Queen bellowed her rage and twisted away from Kormak. She raised herself into the air on her front legs and swung herself backward so that she would pass over his head and be in a position to charge him once more. As she did so she spat more webbing at him. A glob of it landed on his foot and wrapped round his leg, tightening swiftly. Desperately he lashed out with his blade severing the strand and leaving himself free to move once more.
The Queen swung herself forward again, armoured legs slicing through the air towards him, green eyes glittering, more and more of her scuttling children dropping from her back to confront the Guardian.
He slashed at one of her legs. It was a mistake. The sheer weight and momentum of the Queen bowled him over, partially deflecting his blade even as it cut into the great column. The blade stuck and he found himself being dragged along beneath his foe with a pack of her children snapping at his heels.
The ground rippled beneath his feet now, sending skeletons and skulls tumbling once more, even when they had not been hit by the Spider Queen’s massive limbs. It seemed like the earth was in the grip of a quake.
He ripped his blade clear and grasped one of the Queen’s unwounded legs, wary as he was of the ichor flowing from the cuts he had left. He pulled himself up the limb, rolling over onto the Queen’s back, finding himself confronting more of the small spiders.
He crunched them under his boots, breaking their carapaces with his weight and raced forward, aiming for the first of the great cables that supported the Queen. She realised what he was trying to do and reared into the air, sending him toppling backward. Desperately he drove his blade into her back, deep enough to embed itself, and perhaps cause pain, and he held on as she bucked and reared.
Beneath him he could see the pack of spiders start to advance once more, clambering up onto their mother’s back as he had done. He twisted the blade. Oily blood oozed forth. The Queen let out a long eerie wail and toppled forward.
Kormak rose, pulled his blade forth and sprang, chopping at the first of the great cables that held her weight. One side of the Queen sagged forward as she became unbalanced.
The movement almost sent him flying, but he managed to grab a horny protrusion in her back and hold himself in place. He rose and threw himself forward again, slicing at the second supporting cable. It parted with an audible twang, like the string of a great mandolin suddenly cut.
The Queen sagged forward unable to support the weight of the front of her body. He raced up her back, now tilting like the deck of sinking ship sliding underwater prow first, slashed his way through the horde of tumbling, wrong-footed spiders racing towards him, sprang into the air and sliced the third supporting strand of web, leaving the Queen’s great bulk suspended from one final thread which slowly stretched and threatened to give way.
He landed on a pile of bones that crunched under his weight, rolled to his feet and raced for the exit, leaving the Queen floundering unsupported among the remains of her victims, and her children scuttling in pursuit.
The whole vast root system of Mayasha was shivering now, as if a Titan were smashing into it with his hammer. The lights flickered erratically. He turned at bay and slew another huge spider and turned to flee back up towards the surface. The spiders pursued for a while until summoned back by the pained cries of their mother.
Kormak lengthened his stride and raced upwards. He had achieved the task the god-tree had set him. He could only hope that the Spider Queen would be crushed in Mayasha’s death spasms. If she was not there was nothing he could do about it right now. He needed to get clear of this place and bring warning of what had happened to his Order.
He tried to remember what he could from the information placed in his mind by Mayasha and find a way out. In the end, the easiest thing was to keep taking an upward route.
He wondered how long it would be before word of his escape spread and he was pursued. If the Queen spider was still alive, it would not take long he imagined. In the meantime there was not much he could so about it other than stay alert and try to get out of the way if he heard anyone coming. It was unlikely that anyone he met in this place would be friendly.
In the past he had escaped from such situations as this by means of disguise but there was little chance of that here. He looked like neither an elf nor a spider.
The chances were that he was not going to live very long. He was surrounded by enemies in a place where the Shadow was strong indeed. He told himself he had never expected to die of old age and he kept putting one foot in front of the other. He had survived his encounter with the Mother of spiders. Perhaps he would live through this yet.
The path kept going upwards, the ground continued to shake. Horrible creaking noises sounded from above him, as if the giant tree were shaking its limbs in its death throes. He might end up crushed down here if the root structure shifted or collapsed. He lengthened his stride till he was jogging along. He had his sword in his hand. Anything he encountered he was going to kill.
Ahead of him he saw a glimmer of more natural light. He slowed his pace somewhat and moved cautiously forward, poking his head out of a tunnel mouth that was perhaps three times the height of a man above the ground.
Overhead the branches of the great tree swayed as if in the clutches of a hurricane. With a splintering sound a lesser branch above him dropped off and plunged towards the ground. Frantic activity seethed everywhere around the dying tree. Elves rushed to and fro, uncertain of what was happening. Spiders dropped out of the branches on long strands of silk. The webs holding the prisoners below shook.
He looked up and saw the moon peek through clouds as if the Lady desired a closer view of what was happening here for her own mysterious purposes. His heart lightened a little. Even though there were thousands of elves down there and even more spiders, they seemed preoccupied with what was happening to Mayasha. If he was cautious and swift he had a chance to escape in the confusion.
He sheathed his sword, and lowered himself from the ledge on which he stood till his body dangled at arm’s length, then allowed himself to drop to the ground below. He picked himself up and scrambled along through the darkness, choosing areas that were clear of elves and spiders, moving as calmly and as cautiously as possible.
With every step he expected the alarm to be raised. His shoulders tensed in expectation of a poisoned spear point being driven through them. His heart raced and his breathing becoming more shallow. He forced himself to breathe deeply and with an effort of will he made his muscles relax.
He was half way towards the forest’s edge now, walking along in the shadow of one of the giant shaking branches overhead, suddenly aware of another potential danger: that more branches might snap and come plunging down on him. The fear of it doubtless explained why no one had stepped forward to challenge him.
He began to notice the sheer number of elves who were present along with their arachnid allies. There was enough here to form an army, to invade the Settlements and drive the humans out. Or capture them and add them to the Shadow corrupted forces that had already been gathered.
He saw the real danger now. Weaver planned on enslaving the small isolated communities of the Settlements, and adding Shadow-warped men to her armies. With such a force she could defend the Blight, defy any armies sent against her, use the forest as a base to enslave the surrounding provinces. If that happened, only the king of Taurea with all his barons united behind him would be able to muster the strength to stand against such a force, and the king was a sick old man whose sons made war over a divided realm.
It was imperative that he get word out to his Order so that they could organise whatever resistance they could. This Blight was potentially a festering wound in the flank of the kingdom of Taurea, and like all such wounds it might prove fatal if untreated long enough.
He reached
the forest’s edge and stepped into the shadow of other, lesser Blight-corrupted trees. He felt slight relief at the cover they provided against the eyes of the elves who would soon pursue him. This warred with the knowledge that they would provide cover for others to sneak up on him.
Huge moths fluttered around glowing toadstools taller than Kormak’s head. Large webs hung between trees. Mould crackled beneath his boots. Shadows shifted in the uneasy light. Somewhere in the distance a great predator growled. He marched on deeper into the forest, feeling with absolute certainty that somewhere alien eyes were watching him.
At least he was free, he told himself. He was going to have to make sure he stayed that way, long enough to get his job done.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KORMAK RAN THROUGH the darkened woods, heart pounding, sweat running down his face. In the distance, he could hear the hunters. They were making no attempt to silently stalk him. They were blowing horns and yelling to each other in the thrill of the chase.
At least he hoped they were.
He did not rule out the possibility that all of the noise was merely a distraction to keep him thinking that he was safe while others snuck up on him. Elves were clever, subtle and they did not think as men did. They were famous for their woodcraft.
He sprang over a fallen log and gave a quick glance to his surroundings. As far as he could tell there was nothing lurking in the shadows under the eaves of the forest. The trees looked warped, their leaves were furred with mould but that was normal in this blighted land. At least the sickly phosphorescence of their blooms gave him light to see by.
Nothing moved through the branches above him but he was wary. The elves and their hunting spiders ran along those as easily as a man ran along an open pathway. Twice he had been surprised by mad-eyed elves dropping on him from above. Twice only his quickness of reflex had saved him from being taken.