This was the end.
Watcher thought he was at the center of a titanic storm. The thunder grew so loud that the spiders stopped their advance to look up at the sky with their hateful, red eyes, uncertain and afraid. At the same time, the ground shook as if a giant was hammering the towering spruce trees into the ground like so many nails, making the forest floor quake in fear.
Then suddenly, a single battle cry pierced the air, just barely audible over the thunder, and then more joined the first, filling the forest with shouts a hundred strong . . . and in that moment, Watcher recognized one of the voices and smiled.
Cleric, riding on a large black stallion, emerged from the night leading the most beautiful cavalry Watcher had ever seen. The NPCs rode double on the backs of the horses, the front riders holding the reins while the back riders carried bows or swords or axes or shovels in hand.
“ATTACK!” Cleric shouted.
The mounted warriors charged through the spider ranks, raining arrows down upon the fuzzy monsters. One group of mounted warriors pulled away from the main body and attacked the opposite side of the spidery enclosure. Many of the double riders were wielding farming tools such as shovels or hoes, but the blunt edges of their weapons did not limit their ferocity or rage. They fell upon the spiders with a vengeance, the startled creatures stunned and surprised, unsure how to respond.
Behind the cavalry came a group of soldiers on foot, led by Winger. They crashed into the spider ranks, slashing at their fuzzy backs, catching their enemies completely unprepared. Winger’s flaming arrows were burning meteors of death as they sped through the air. They hit spider after spider, igniting the creatures with magical flames. Turning to face this new threat, the spiders charged at the infantry.
“We have to help them.” Watcher drew Needle and held it high into the air. “Charge!”
Watcher sprinted toward the monsters, hoping to close the distance to Winger’s troops, his friends following close behind. Needle slashed through the air. It was a bolt of razor-sharp, iron lightning, slicing into the monsters’ HP with lethal precision. The weapon slashed into spiders to the left and right as Watcher carved a path to his sister. To his left, Planter wielded her enchanted axe like a seasoned warrior, while to his right, Carver wreaked terrible havoc with his own diamond blade.
A claw swiped at his chest, scratching across his enchanted iron armor. Watcher kicked at the creature, sending it toward Cutter, who quickly finished it off. Suddenly, Blaster bolted past, his curved knives swiping enemies as he sped by. He darted through the battlefield, moving so fast, the spiders had little time to react. He whittled away at their HP, making the monsters easier to defeat when they finally reached Watcher and his friends.
A wicked, curved claw streaked through the air, heading straight for Watcher’s face. He ducked, allowing the sharp tip to flash over his head, then drove Needle into the creature. The spider took a step back, then attacked again with two legs, each aimed at his chest. Leaping over the deadly appendages, Watcher landed on the creature’s back. Needle came down upon the monster, smashing into its HP. Leaning left and right, the spider tried to dislodge him, but Watcher grabbed a handful of its fuzzy hair and held on as he swung his blade over and over. At the same time, Er-Lan appeared from nowhere, attacking the vicious creature with his own razor-sharp claws. The monster screamed in pain and fear, then disappeared, leaving behind three glowing balls of XP and a handful of silken thread.
Meanwhile, the cavalry stomped through the spider ranks, tearing great swaths of destruction. With the mounted warriors on one side and the infantry on the others, many of the spiders chose to flee instead of standing their ground. This emboldened the horsemen and horsewomen to charge at their foe, striking at the fuzzy bodies with their weapons and tools as the monsters tried to escape.
Someone cried out in pain to his left. Watcher spun and charged toward the sound, where Saddler was battling one of the only spiders left behind. It had the strangest claws: they were colored a dark green instead of the normal midnight black. Saddler’s chainmail was shredded in places where the monster’s claws had struck it, leaving her skin exposed. With her sword pointed defensively at the creature’s neck, the NPC tried to back up, but she bumped into another villager, leaving her no room to escape.
The spider sprang forward, dark green claws streaking through the air.
“NOOOO!” Er-Lan shouted, sprinting toward the villager.
Watcher was a step behind the zombie, but he knew they’d be too late.
Saddler managed to block one of the claws on the right side, but she didn’t see the attack from the left. The spider hit her in the side, its pointed claw digging through the chain links and sinking into the villager’s soft flesh.
Saddler screamed in pain and flashed red instantly, which was unusual. Watcher and Er-Lan reached her side moments later and attacked the spider. Needle blocked one of the spider’s slashing green claws, but another scraped across Watcher’s enchanted armor, tearing a deep gash in the metallic surface. Er-Lan brought his sharp claws down upon his enemy, making her flash red, but the spider ignored the pain; all eight of her eyes were focused entirely on the boy with the red hair, an insane, vicious look on the creature’s face.
Watcher rolled to the left, slicing his blade across the monster’s side. With a scream of agony, the spider stepped back, eyes burning with hatred, then attacked again, ignoring her peril. It swung two claws at Watcher from the left, then brought one up from the right. He blocked the first two, but never saw the third. The dark green claw tore through Watcher’s armor and sunk deep into his side. Pain exploded across Watcher’s stomach, and then spread throughout the rest of his body as if fire were pumping through his veins. It was unbearable, and he fell to his knees before finally collapsing to the ground.
Er-Lan leapt onto the spider’s back, slicing into the creature’s HP while the monster’s poisonous claws poked at the zombie, but the poison had no effect; the undead were immune to the poison. In fact, it had the opposite effect: it healed the zombie. Er-Lan, consumed with rage and maxed out on HP, destroyed the monster quickly.
Watcher, laying on his side, stared helplessly as Saddler writhed in agony, her body flashing red as it took damage.
“Help,” he said in a weak voice.
“Someone help!” Er-Lan’s voice was frantic. “Watcher needs help!”
“Watcher . . . what’s wrong?” Planter dropped her axe and ran to his side. Kneeling, she cradled his head in her hands. “Are you alright?”
He shook his head. “Something’s wrong . . . poison and . . .” He was too weak to continue speaking.
“The spider must have poisoned him and Saddler.” Er-Lan paced frantically back and forth, terrified for his friends.
“Mapper, Cleric, come quick!” Planter laid his head on the ground, then stood and searched for the two men.
The sounds of battle had drifted away as the spiders retreated, the NPC cavalry in hot pursuit.
“What is it?” a familiar voice said.
“It’s Watcher—he thinks he’s been poisoned!” Planter sounded terrified.
Watcher’s vision began to waver as the poison surged through his body, the pain overwhelming his senses.
Cleric knelt at his son’s side.
“Saddler . . . help Saddler,” Watcher croaked, his voice barely a whisper.
Cleric pulled out a bottle of milk and gave it to Planter, then moved to Saddler’s side.
Suddenly, a clicking sound filled the air; a spider had landed on the ground right behind Planter, having lowered itself noiselessly to the ground. She turned to confront the monster, but the creature was standing on her axe; Planter was defenseless.
But then Saddler, using the last of her strength, sat up and pulled out her husband’s pickaxe. She threw the precious tool at the dark nightmare, the metallic instrument tumbling through the air until the sharp tip embedded itself into the spider’s side. The force of the blow pushed the beast back a ste
p. Planter sprinted toward the spider. Bending over, she scooped up her axe without even slowing, then brought the golden edge down onto the spider over and over again until its HP was destroyed.
Putting her axe away, she turned toward Saddler only to see her collapse back to the ground. Cleric tried to offer her milk, the usual antidote for spider poison, but it was too late; she was beginning to fade in and out, parts of her body becoming transparent. She turned her head toward Watcher and, with a look of confidence in her eye, she spoke.
“I know you can do it. Save my daughter, please . . .” Then she disappeared, a lone tear falling to the ground.
“No . . .” Watcher moaned. A glass bottle was put to his lips. Cool liquid came pouring down his throat. It’s milk . . . they’re giving me milk, the boy realized.
He swallowed, then let them put more into his mouth. The milk seemed to extinguish the fiery agony that pulsed through his body, bringing him back from the brink of death. Mapper stood over him, then dropped a splash potion of healing on his chest, the red liquid sinking into his flesh and replenishing his health. He coughed, then sat up as the last of the poisonous fire in his body finally died down and was extinguished.
“I’m alive . . . I’M ALIVE!” He yelled as he turned and glanced at Saddler, but only found her inventory scattered across the ground; she had disappeared. His smile quickly turned to an expression of horror as he realized what had happened.
“I didn’t save her. I let Saddler die.” Grief crashed down upon him like a merciless wave, driving a deep sadness into every fiber of his soul. “I promised I’d protect her . . . and now look what I’ve done.” His guilt-ridden eyes sought out the only person he thought could help him: Planter. “Help me, Planter. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be to all these people. . . . I can’t protect them. I can’t protect anyone.”
She reached down and took his hand, then helped him to his feet. “You just need to be you.” Her voice was soft and lyrical, the melodious words easing some of his grief. “It isn’t possible to protect everyone. All we can do is prepare the best we can and be ready.” She took his hand in hers. “Saddler knew the risks, and broke her oath to come with us. She was helping her daughter, Fencer, and would do anything for her.” She moved closer and lowered her voice soothingly. “In the end, did she blame you for her death?”
Watcher thought back. The image of Saddler’s face just before she died was etched into his brain; he’d never forget it. The woman’s expression was not one of anger or accusation, but of hope, as if she were relying on Watcher to do what was necessary to save her daughter.
“No, she wasn’t blaming me.” Watcher’s voice was soft and weak. He bent over and picked up Needle from where he’d dropped it, putting the weapon back into his inventory. “In fact, it seemed as if she knew I could help her daughter . . . but how could she know that?”
“Perhaps it wasn’t knowledge, but faith,” Er-Lan said from behind.
Watcher turned and glanced at his friend. The zombie’s claws were still extended from the end of his stubby square fingers, each razor-sharp tip reflecting the light of the moon that had just emerged from behind a bank of clouds.
“It seems like all the spiders ran off,” Cutter boomed. “I guess they had enough from us.”
He sounded happy, as if this were some kind of game.
“We crushed those filthy monsters, and we’ll do it again.” Cutter held his diamond sword high over his head.
The villagers applauded, many of them banging their weapons or gardening tools against their chests. It sounded like a celebration, with NPCs smiling and cheering.
“This wasn’t a victory . . . it was a defeat!” Watcher shouted, his rage barely held in check. “Many of our friends and neighbors died here. Don’t just ignore their sacrifice.” He glared at the villagers, then raised his hand high into the air, fingers spread wide, performing the Salute for the Dead; it was a tradition amongst villagers in Minecraft since before the Great War. Slowly, he clenched his hand into a fist, the rage and sorrow and guilt squeezed tight within his palm. His knuckles popped as his clenched fist started to turn white.
“Watcher, lower your hand,” Planter whispered calmly. “Release your fist . . . it’s okay.”
Glanced up at his fist, he could see his arm shaking with the exertion. Slowly he lowered his arm and opened his hand. Four deep grooves were carved into his palm where his fingernails had dug into his skin.
“It’s not your fault,” Planter murmured softly into his ear.
He turned and stared into her deep, green eyes. Tears tried to escape from his own blues, but he refused to set the cubes of moisture free. The time for weeping was later; right now, they had to find those spiders.
Blaster handed a colorful pickaxe to Watcher, its handle decorated by a child’s hand; it was Saddler’s, the weapon responsible for saving their lives. Watcher stared down at it, running his hand down its handle. He knew how much Saddler loved this tool, how it had reminded her of her husband and daughter. It was a precious heirloom.
“I’m going to make sure Fencer gets this back.” Watcher put away the tool, then spoke in a clear voice, his body feeling like an old kitchen towel, wrung out and devoid of emotion. “We can’t stay here any longer. It’s time for us to follow those spiders back to their lair, and then we’ll save the witches. This isn’t over . . . not by a long shot.”
“But son, you should hear what the spiders did at the village,” Cleric said. “They showed up looking for—”
Watcher wasn’t listening. He had spotted the trail left behind by the retreating spiders and started to run, chasing his prey through the dark forest, a thirst for revenge filling his soul.
They moved quietly through the spruce forest, Watcher following the small scratches and dents left behind in the ground by the spiders’ sharp claws. The villagers walked, some leading horses by their reins, allowing the animals and the battle-weary combatants a brief respite.
“So, you’re telling me the spiders attacked the village, all because they were looking for me?” Watcher still couldn’t believe it. “I was hoping all this boy-wizard stuff was over. I don’t want to be a wizard; I just want to be me.”
“We know.” Cutter’s voice wasn’t very convincing . . . In fact, it sounded a little sarcastic.
Watcher glanced at Cutter, annoyed, casting him a questioning gaze. The big NPC flashed him an insincere grin, then turned to Planter, who was now walking at the warrior’s side. Glancing at the two of them out of the corner of his eye, Watcher noticed how close they were to each other, their steps synchronized. He felt something stir in the dark parts of his soul. With an unanswered glare, Watcher turned his attention back to the ground and continued following the monsters’ trail. Why did he say it like that? And why are they walking so close together, whispering?
The big NPC muttered something just out of Watcher’s earshot, causing Planter to laugh. The sight of Planter’s smile brought joy to his heart, but when she glanced at Cutter, the joy in Watcher seemed to turn sour. She had a look of adoration and respect on her beautiful square face, as if Cutter was the greatest person in the world.
Anger and jealousy swirled around within him like a poisonous serpent, its fangs ready to strike at his soul. Everything about Cutter made him mad for reasons he didn’t quite understand: his bulging muscles, his confidence, his fancy armor, his incredible diamond sword . . . he hated it all.
His father put a hand on Watcher’s shoulder. “Did you hear what I said?” Cleric asked, voice soft and calming.
“Ahh . . . no, sorry.”
“I said, one of the spiders that came to the village had poisonous claws.” Cleric stopped walking and turned to face his son.
“You’re saying the spider had poison, just like the one that got me and killed . . .” He didn’t want to finish the sentence.
Cleric nodded gravely.
Watcher lowered his voice. “Did you see the poisoned spider’s face?”
His father shook his head.
“The monster didn’t care if would be hurt by my sword, it just wanted to attack.” Watcher lowered his voice to but a whisper, making sure no one else could hear. “It looked crazed, as if its mind was completely consumed with violence and hatred. I got the impression the spider had no choice; it was compelled to attack and keep attacking, all because of the insanity that had consumed the creature’s mind. These monsters are something new and dangerous to every living thing in the Far Lands. How could a creature become so twisted and evil?”
“I don’t know, son.” Cleric put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But it’s no way to live . . . always being consumed by hate with an unquenchable thirst for violence. You have to pity a creature like that.”
“Yeah,” Watcher agreed.
“The poisoned spider is why we pursued you. We think the spiders are capturing the witches, maybe to make poison for those monsters . . .”
“Or maybe something else,” Mapper suggested, then shrugged.
“If the spiders are collecting the witches, then they’ll have them imprisoned somewhere, right?” Watcher didn’t expect an answer; he was just talking out loud. “If we can find where they’re holding them, then we can. . . . Hey, where’d the trail go?”
He dropped to his hands and knees and ran his fingers across the spotted podzol, frantically searching the ground as if he’d lost something valuable.
“What’s wrong?” Cleric knelt at Watcher’s side.
“The trail . . . it’s gone.” He moved his hands across the ground again, feeling for the telltale signs of the spiders’ passage, but found nothing. He glanced up at his father. “I can’t see where they went. It’s as if they disappeared.”
“What are you saying?” Cutter asked. “The spiders just flew away?”
“I don’t know what happened,” Watcher snapped. “Their trail is just gone. They must have done something we didn’t expect.”
Into the Spiders' Lair Page 9