Into the Spiders' Lair

by Mark Cheverton

  “We don’t know anything about a wizard.” Miner held his hands out, showing they were empty and he was not a threat. “They are a thing of the past. We’re just a peaceful community, living in harmony with the land.”

  “Ssshakaar told usss you would lie,” the spider hissed as it swung a sharp claw at the villager.

  Winger noticed there was some kind of dark green ooze coating the point.

  The razor-sharp edge tore through Miner’s smock and dug into his flesh. Instantly he flashed red, taking damage. He groaned and clutched at the wound, then fell to the ground.

  “What’s happening?” Miner groaned. “What did you do?”

  He flashed red again.

  “I’m jussst making an example of you.” The spider glared down at the wounded NPC. “You have been infected with a new poissson. Your HP will be gone sssoon. Hopefully, the next villager will be more cooperative.”

  The other monsters stepped forward, ready for battle.

  Miner glanced up at his wife. She knelt at his side and offered him food to help rejuvenate his health, but nothing slowed the terrible poison. Cleric reached into his inventory for his sword, but the injured villager saw the move and shook his head. No, the old man mouthed, his dedication to non-violence unwavering even as the poison ravaged his body. His HP dropped lower and lower until, with a tear in his eye, he disappeared, leaving his inventory to float on the ground, no longer needed.

  Cleric turned his head and spoke something softly to one of his villagers. “Go get as many pails of milk you can carry.”

  The NPC nodded and ran from the congregation, heading toward the animal pens, a couple of companions with him to help.

  Scanning the crowd with its eight blazing eyes, the spider pointed to a small boy trying to hide behind his mother. “You . . . boy . . . come here.”

  The young villager hid behind his mother’s leg.

  “Come here now, or my ssspidersss will attack.” The other monsters clicked their mandibles together; it had a hungry sort of sound to it.

  The mother sighed, then stepped forward, her son still hidden behind her.

  “You will tell me about the boy-wizard, or you will tassste my poissson.” The spider’s eyes were like red-hot embers.

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” the mother pleaded. “Just leave us alone.”

  “Thisss isss your lassst chance.” The monster held out a dark-green claw, an acidic stench coming from its poisonous coating.

  “I know this wizard,” Cleric suddenly said in a loud, clear voice.

  The spider pushed the mother and boy out of the way and turned toward the voice.

  Pushing through the crowd, Cleric approached the fuzzy creature, his hands held calmly behind his back.

  “Tell me what you know . . . now!”

  Cleric glanced over his shoulder at Winger and nodded, then faced the monster. He murmured something softly.

  “What did you sssay?” the spider hissed impatiently.

  Cleric said it again, mumbling unintelligibly.

  The spider moved closer. “Ssspeak louder!”

  “I said . . . NOW!”

  His iron sword flashed out from behind his back and fell upon the monster. At the same time, Winger pulled out her enchanted bow and shot at the creature. Her arrows instantly caught fire, the Flame enchantment giving each shaft fiery life. The burning projectiles hit the spider, pushing it back a step. Advancing, Cleric struck the monster again and again, causing it to flash red as it took damage. It swung its claw at Cleric, but was blocked by the villager’s iron sword. More arrows from Winger’s enchanted bow struck the spider until it disappeared, the creature’s HP finally exhausted.

  The NPCs from Cleric’s village all charged with weapons drawn, but to his surprise, those from the savannah community also charged forward. Some had shovels, others with axes, while some just wielded sticks. They fell upon the spiders, their rage at seeing their leader murdered driving them to fight.

  Expecting the pacifists to just cower and yield, the spiders were not ready for the ferocity of their attack. They tried to fight back, but were badly outnumbered. They slashed at the NPCs with their wicked, curved claws, some of the sharp points finding flesh. Fortunately, only a few spiders had poisonous claws, and infected villagers were quickly given the only antidote to spider venom: milk.

  Winger’s bow hummed the song of battle as her bowstring buzzed with every shot. She drew and fired her flaming shafts of death as fast as she could, striking out at the creatures before they could fall upon the villagers of this savannah community. The NPCs’ courage was admirable, but they had no idea how to fight, and many of them were getting hurt.

  A spider slashed at a farmer, its sharp claw tearing through their brown smock. Winger kicked the monster back, the buried three arrows into the creature before it could stand. The farmer said something to Winger, but she didn’t stay around to listen; she was already firing on other targets. The creatures screeched in pain, echoing the villagers who were wounded.

  “Don’t let any of them get away!” Winger shouted. “KEEP FIGHTING!”

  She turned her bow upon the spiders trying to climb the wall. Two of the hideous creatures burst into flames as her fire arrows struck them, but one of them still made it to the top. The creature glared down at the villagers, looking pleased and thinking it had escaped, but suddenly, Cleric and a group of warriors appeared atop the barricade, their iron swords tearing into the monster. The creature tried to flee, but the villagers would not relent. They attacked it from both sides, blocking the spider’s attacks, eventually silencing the creature forever.

  The villagers cheered, the taste of victory sweet.

  Cleric climbed off the wall and ran to the center of the courtyard. One villager was lying on the ground, grievously wounded. Winger gave the NPC food to help them rejuvenate their HP. Many of the villagers patted Cleric and his armed companions on the back while others glared at the weapons in their hands.

  “Just because you are nonviolent, it doesn’t mean the monsters are as well.” Cleric glared at the villagers, a stern expression chiseled into his square face. “There’s something going on with the spider warlord, something that threatens us all. They knew we were here and came hunting my son.”

  “Didn’t the spider call him a wizard?” one of the villager asked, confused.

  “That’s what the other warlords called him as well, for some reason,” Winger explained. “We don’t know why.”

  Cleric nodded. “If the spiders sent this small group here to find my son, they will send more. In time, the spider warlord will send all her forces here. They’ll wipe this village off the surface of the Far Lands, leaving no survivors.” He turned and glared at the villagers, letting his words set in. “The safety of this community depends upon us, the NPCs from my village, not your wall.”

  Many of the inhabitants nodded their square heads as they listened, some standing proud with an axe or shovel in hand.

  “We can send an emissary to the spider warlord,” someone shouted. “Explain we aren’t involved in their war.”

  “Anyone sent to the spiders’ lair will be destroyed.” Winger moved to his father’s side.

  “Maybe we can defend our village,” another said hopefully.

  “Look around you.” Winger glared at the speaker. “You know nothing of warfare. You have no weapons, no armor. There are barely a hundred of you. The spider warlord probably has hundreds and hundreds of monsters under her command. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “My daughter is right,” Cleric said. “You can no longer stay here. When these spiders fail to report back, more will be sent to investigate.”

  “So what do you suggest we do?” Miner’s wife asked, still on the ground, her eyes bloodshot from grief.

  “We must abandon the village so when the spiders return, they find nothing.” Cleric’s voice was calm and wise. “Hide Fencer and a few people in the mines to take care of her, and the
rest go with us.”

  “If we abandon our village, where will we go?” someone asked, worried.

  “We go after Watcher and help him to find the witch. He’ll never be able to fight an entire army of spiders on his own.” He reached out to Miner’s widow and helped her to her feet. “If we are to save Fencer, we must also go help my son, or all of us will end up like Miner.”

  The NPCs glanced down at Miner’s belongings, still floating on the ground, then turned their gazes towards the weapons held by the warriors. Many looked disgusted by the swords and bows, their will to fight already fragile and close to shattering.

  “I’ll go with you,” an NPC said bravely.

  “What is your name, friend?” Cleric asked.

  “I’m Farmer, and I won’t let a bunch of spiders terrorize our village.” He glanced at his friends and neighbors. “This is our home, and if we must fight to keep it, then so be it.”

  Everyone was silent in the courtyard, with no other NPC willing to come forward, until . . .

  “I’ll help,” a young voice said. It was the boy who had been threatened by the spider commander. “This is my village, and my friends live here. Spiders are mean!”

  The NPCs smiled at the young boy’s bravery.

  “My son’s right,” his mother said. “I’ll help.”

  “Me too . . .”

  “And me . . .”

  “And me . . .”

  One by one, all of the villagers came forward, the flame of their bravery rekindled by a young spark. They looked at the weapons, now with hope in their eyes instead of disdain.

  “Okay, here’s what we need.” Cleric pointed to a group of men. “We need every horse, plus food, and iron for weapons and armor, and . . .” He doled out the responsibilities, transforming the village into a fighting force. As the NPCs moved throughout the village, gathering supplies, Cleric turned to his daughter.

  “I know you’re worried about Watcher, but we’re going after him. We’ll make sure he’s safe.”

  Winger nodded and smiled. “You know, I’m not sure this is what I really wanted for my birthday . . . another dangerous adventure with a host of monsters trying to destroy us.”

  “I know, little one, but this is all I have for you.”

  “Well, since we’re at least helping out Watcher and our friends, then I guess I’ll take it.”

  Cleric smiled and gave his daughter a hug. “Let’s go help the others prepare. I think we’re in for a long day.”

  Shakaar paced back and forth across the Hatching Chamber, looking at the hundreds of eggs spread out across the cavern, each shell as black as night with a smattering of bright red dots across its smooth surface. Blocks of spiderweb cushioned each egg on the stone floor of the chamber or held the precious cargo tightly to the walls and ceiling.

  Streams of lava oozed from the walls of the cavern, collecting in pools across the uneven ground. The molten stone cast a sulfurous orange glow through the cavern, making it easy for the dark-blue cave spiders to scurry about and tend to the eggs; that was their only purpose in Minecraft. Many of the poisonous spiders held clumps of green moss in their mandibles; the nutritious plant was a favorite food to newborn spiders. The smaller spiders moved through the tunnels and caves of Minecraft, searching for the hidden dungeons where the moss grew. After the plants were stripped from the mossy cobblestone on which it grew, they were brought back to the Hatching Chamber. Placing the verdant clumps of moss around the eggs, the cave spiders prepared first meals for the hungry new mouths that were soon to emerge.

  The spider warlord smiled as she watched the tenacious little spiders, the “brothers,” as they were known. They weren’t very strong, but their poisonous claws tended to dissuade other creatures from bothering them while they performed their task. Shakaar envied them this poison; it made the cave spiders extremely dangerous.

  A group of fuzzy black spiders, the “sisters,” passed by the opening to the Hatching Chamber, with newly-imprisoned witches alongside the monsters as they entered the tunnel. They’d just been captured from the great southern swamp and were now being taken to their new quarters in the spiders’ lair. It was likely the last home they’d ever know; prisoners never escaped from the spider warlord . . . at least, not alive.

  “Sssoon, you will be brewing poisssonsss for me,” Shakaar said to the defeated prisoners who shuffled past. “Enjoy your new home. Resssissstance is futile.”

  One of the witches glanced up at the spider warlord, a look of uncertainty on her square face. She glanced at the spiders around her, then a flicker of hope blossomed into life within her eyes. Suddenly, the witch turned and made a break for freedom, hoping the others would not notice . . . but Shakaar did.

  “Sssissstersss, a witch isss trying to get away.” Shakaar pointed with a dark claw. “Dessstroy her!”

  A pair of spiders scuttled after the escaping witch. The monsters ran along the walls of the passage, zipping passed the doomed witch, then leapt to the ground, blocking her escape route. The witch skidded to a stop, then reached into her inventory and pulled out a sparkling potion. She held it high, ready to throw it at the two spiders barring her passage.

  Shakaar moved with lightning speed, dashing out of the Hatching Chamber and across the uneven ground. She snuck up behind the witch and brought her razor-sharp claws down upon the woman. The witch screamed in pain, dropping her potion. It splashed to the ground, coating the witch and Shakaar, but causing no harm. It was just an Awkward potion, the precursor to many other concoctions, but harmless on its own. It had been a bluff. The spider warlord slashed at the witch, tearing into her HP with a vengeance. Finally, the prisoner collapsed to the ground, her black, conical hat tumbling off her head.

  The witch stared up at Shakaar, her eyes bright with defiance. “We will stop you somehow,” she said. “People will notice our absence.”

  “You fool. The villagersss hate you. Witchesss have been ssshunned from the NPC comunitiesss since long ago.” Shakaar moved closer, knowing that the witch was too weak to stand. “They no longer care about you, jussst like you care nothing about them.” She raised a claw high in the air, ready for the final strike. “No one will come for you. Witchesss will sssoon be extinct.”

  Before the witch could answer, Shakaar brought her claw down upon the helpless NPC, taking the last of her HP. She disappeared with a look of terror on her square face, a few useless potions and items falling from her inventory to the ground. Only one of those items seemed interesting: a golden apple. It was something Shakaar had seen before, but this one glowed with an iridescent purple luster, as if enchanted. She stepped forward and collected the items, then gave them to another spider.

  “Sssissster, put thessse itemsss into the chessstsss in the Gathering Chamber.” She clicked her mandibles together impatiently. “They might be of ussse. Perhaps we will have the witchesss make more.”

  The spider nodded, took the items and scurried through the tunnel toward the Gathering Chamber. Shakaar turned back to the other spiders and their prisoners.

  “No one essscapes from the ssspidersss’ lair.” She moved closer to the captives, her eyes burning with anger. “You will be dessstroyed before being allowed to leave thisss place. Obey usss, give up all hope, and you might sssurvive.” She glanced at the sisters. “Take them to the brewing chamber. Make sssure they work on improving the poissson. The ssspider eggsss will be hatching sssoon and will need a new coating, but we need sssomething sssstronger. The poissson mussst make thessse new hatchlingsss vicioussss, with an inborn hatred for all living creaturesss, except for ssspidersss, of courssse.”

  “Yes, warlord.”

  One of the spiders turned to the witches and struck the nearest one with her claw. The woman screamed in pain, but it forced her forward, and the other prisoners followed close behind.

  Shakaar smiled, then returned to the Hatching Chamber. She cast her gaze across the cavern, trying to count the hundreds of eggs.

  “You will hatch
sssoon, my children,” Shakaar said to the unborn spiders. “With the poissson the witchesss are brewing, you will all have the venomousss clawsss the brothers have.” She smiled. “After we treat your egg ssshellsss, the poissson will become infusssed within your bodiesss and your mindsss, filling you with hate. You will then be the perfect fighting machinesss.”

  She climbed the wall of the chamber, then scurried across the ceiling. Attaching a piece of spiderweb from her spinnerets, then lowered herself down, hanging in mid over her unborn children.

  “Sssome of the sssissstersss have complained thisss poissson will make my children violent and angry. They sssay that isss no way for a child to grow up.” She glared down at the eggs below here. “What do I care about your childhood? All that isss important isss the ssspidersss ruling all of the Far Lands. Sssoon, it will all belong to usss, and a new age will begin; the Age of the Ssspidersss.” Shakaar laughed, her eyes like bright red lasers. “And there isss no one to ssstop usss, just asss the wither king predicted.”

  Closing her eight eyes, Shakaar imagined what the war would be like, when all the eggs hatched, and the spiders were free to move across the Far Lands like a deadly black wave, destroying everything they touched. It made her smile.

  “Sssoon . . . very sssoon.” Shakaar smiled toothy, frightening grin.

  Watcher’s feet crunched through the frozen layer of snow covering the ground. His breath billowed in front of his face like soft clouds, the cold chilling the tip of his nose. They’d entered this frozen biome just as the moon set behind the western horizon. Now, the sun was peeking its radiant face over the mountains to the east, splashing warm reds and rich oranges across the world. The light cast brushstrokes of crimson and gold upon the snow, making it glow as if the frosty layer were covering molten stone. Rays of light from the rising sun pierced the frozen spikes of ice jutting up from the landscape, and as the light shone through the translucent blocks, the clear ice split the sunbeams into rainbow colors, decorating the snow.