by Sam Ferguson
Erik shook his head. “No, that’s alright.”
“I’m not asking,” Alferug said tersely. “Come over here and put your hand right here.” Alferug jabbed a finger down on the beast’s snout.
Erik sighed and slowly approached. He reached his hand out but stopped suddenly when the lizard opened its big yellow eye and looked right at him.
“Go on,” Alferug urged. “Put your hand on him.” Erik barely inched forward with his fingers. His eyes were locked on the cavedog’s eye. Alferug reached out and grabbed Erik by the wrist and yanked him the rest of the way until his hand was on the cavedog. “What do you feel?” Alferug asked.
“It’s rough,” Erik said noting the thick, bumpy scales.
Alferug shook his head. “No, not that,” he said. “What do you feel in here?” He jabbed a finger into Erik’s chest.
Erik shrugged. “Nothing,” he said.
“Bah,” Alferug gruffed. The dwarf stood up and scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll try again some other time then,” he said.
A loud howl pierced through the forest.
“What was that?” Erik asked.
“Not sure,” Alferug admitted. “But it is still a ways off yet. Come, let’s see if we can stay ahead of it.” He turned quickly and shouted out, “Faengoril, time to move!”
“Already ahead of you,” Faengoril shouted back from across the camp. Erik looked over and saw the dwarf was already atop his cavedog as were several others. “They’ll be on us by nightfall,” he added.
Alferug nodded. “If not sooner.”
“We can make Buktah by then,” Erik put in.
Alferug turned back with a wicked grin on his face. “Oh yes, you mean the town where you severed the captain of the guard in half?” he chided. He quickly shook his head. “We will find no rest there. Besides, the beast that tracks us is not one we should take to a city.”
“So where do we go?” Erik asked.
“We stick to the forest south of Buktah, like we planned originally.” Alferug threw his leather saddle onto his cavedog and tightened the strap before hopping on.
Erik went back to his horse and jumped into his own saddle. Faengoril led the pack with a sharp shout and the cavedogs tore off through the forest, darting through the trees and bushes with blinding speed. Erik spurred his horse into a gallop, but had to stick to wider paths as he followed the cavedogs. His horse nickered and snorted any time one of the great lizards ran close to it. Erik patted his horse as he leaned forward.
“They make me nervous too,” he confided.
The group charged through the forest, trampling over sticks and leaves, churning up dust and breaking ferns and bushes back as they rolled through. Occasionally a howl would sound from somewhere behind them. Each time, Erik would look back, but he never saw their stalker. Still, the hairs on the back of his neck started to prickle and raise as the howls seemed to grow closer to them.
Erik was careful to keep his head low to avoid branches as they departed from the main road and went deeper into the forest itself. The trees in this part grew close enough together that Erik could not keep up with the cavedogs. The dwarves pulled ahead of him as their animals were much nimbler and easily able to navigate the tight turns. Erik almost shouted out to the group but a loud, piercing howl made him turn back. His horse snorted and increased its speed, carelessly bolting through the trees and through a patch of brambles and briars that ripped and pulled at Erik’s legs.
He grit his teeth and tried to pull the horse off to the side but it was no use. The animal was spooked and running any way it thought it could go to escape from the howling. A deafening growl ripped through the trees and a great beast broke through the forest canopy snapping large branches like dry twigs. The horse whinnied and turned off to head due south.
The beast landed hard on the forest floor, just a few inches short of the horse’s rump as it got a mouthful of hair from the animal’s tail. The horse jumped forward tearing off for all it was worth. Erik looked back. The great beast folded its wings close to its massive body and sped forward after them, nipping at the horse’s heels. Erik had no idea what to do. He tried to reach for his sword but had to lay flat against the horse’s back in order to avoid a thick, low hanging branch.
A great shout sounded from his left and a cavedog burst through a holly bush. It snatched the beast by the left foreleg and dragged it to the ground as the dwarf warrior jumped up from the cavedog’s back and bore down with his axe on the beast’s spine. The beast howled and twitched, but it was no match for the surprise attack.
“This way!” Alferug shouted.
Erik nodded and tried to pull the reins, but the horse was not soothed by the sight of the great lizards. It turned slightly toward the east, jumping over a small brook and out from the trees into a rocky clearing of black sand and pink, porous rocks.
“No, not that way!” Alferug shouted. “Come back!”
Erik tried, but his horse would not obey. Above circled several more of the horrid winged beasts. They howled and swooped down, snapping their great maws at him. Erik pulled his sword and was able to slice one of the beasts across the chest. It fell to the ground behind him, but it was not dead.
A great hole loomed before him and the horse tried to jump across. It didn’t make it. Its forelegs fell short of the opposite rim and the horse flipped over, flinging Erik to the ground beyond while the horse slid into the large, funnel-shaped pit.
Erik rolled and slammed into a large rock, spitting the black sand from his mouth. He rose quickly and kept his eye on the beasts above. Arrows zinged up from the edge of the forest and Erik saw dwarves furiously working short recurve bows from the back of their mounts.
“Don’t move!” Alferug shouted.
“What?” Erik yelled back.
His horse started to get up and Erik went to move to help the beast, but something moved in the bottom of the funnel that caught his eye. He stopped and watched as what appeared to be a black, furry snake stretched out.
“What is that?” Erik asked.
The horse saw the thing too and started to run up the side of the funnel. As it did so it churned the black sand, tearing down the loose side of the pit and gaining no traction. A flash of black erupted from the bottom of the pit and a great spider seized the horse. Massive fangs bore down and Erik heard a resounding crack as the animal’s spine snapped in two and blood showered the black sand of the pit.
Erik blanched and took a few steps backward until he felt nothing below his left foot. He turned around and narrowly avoided falling into a similar pit. His mouth dropped open and he surveyed the area about him. He was in the middle of a field full of such pits. He looked back to his dead horse and the spider dragged the limp corpse under the sand.
Then Erik saw the bloody chest of the winged beast he had wounded on the opposite side of the pit. The winged monster growled, pulling its lips back to reveal blood red gums over gleaming, sharp fangs. It launched toward him, extending its wings to glide across. Erik dove to the side, slamming into the ground and letting the beast sail into the pit behind him. By the time the monster realized its mistake it was too late. It beat its wings furiously, but its heavy tail dragged along the side of the pit and awoke the spider inside. A great, brown spider lunged out with scary accuracy, wrapping its fore legs around the beast’s wings and biting into the back of its neck. The beast howled and snarled, slinging a string of foamy slobber, but it was no match for the giant spider.
“Come on, try to stay atop the rocks,” Alferug shouted. Erik pushed himself up and sprinted as quickly as he could while still picking his steps carefully. When he was able he jumped from rock to rock. The remaining winged wolves circled above, kept at bay by the dwarves’ arrows.
One of the wolves howled and fell from the sky to land in a pit, arrows protruding from its chest. No sooner did it touch the sand than a great spider leapt out and pounced on it. Erik couldn’t help but watch the hairy spider, but he should have been
watching where he was running. He tripped on a large stone and tumbled forward, barely stopping before falling into a pit himself. His heart pounded in his chest as he gingerly lifted his foot and pulled it back from the rim of the funnel. A couple of pebbles jiggled and skitted down a few inches and he held his breath, too afraid to move, staring at the bottom of the funnel.
Nothing moved.
He exhaled and slowly rose to his feet.
“Behind you!” Alferug bellowed.
Erik wheeled around and barely caught sight of a mass of fur and teeth before a monster plowed into him. The two of them went down into the funnel, tumbling and lashing out at each other. Erik fumbled for his sword and barely pulled it out in time to catch the massive wolf in the jaw and prevent the beast from tearing out his throat. The wolf snarled and growled, ripping at him with its front paws and snapping down with its great maw. Erik furiously worked the sword, but he couldn’t get the right angle for a killing thrust.
The sand below his back shifted and heaved under him. Then a great flurry of sand and pebbles exploded out around him and a pair of hairy, thick legs planted themselves in the sand on either side. The wolf above him howled horridly and lurched down, nearly crushing Erik. A sharp pain stabbed Erik in the stomach and then the wolf was yanked back, away from him. The beast twitched and gnashed its fangs until it disappeared below the sand with the spider. Erik slowly, delicately pointed the tip of his sword at the bottom of the funnel.
With his left hand he picked up a sizable rock and threw it at the opposite side of the funnel. It splashed into the sand and then tumbled down the side, creating a small slide of sand and pebbles. Nothing happened. Erik picked up another rock and threw it. This time the rock only rolled half way down the funnel when the spider emerged.
However, it didn’t pounce like it had before, it came up slowly, letting the sand fall from its hairy, black body as it pushed up from below. Erik’s heart jumped into his throat and his breathing became fast and shallow. His hands trembled and he had to struggle to keep the sword steady.
The beast turned on him and looked down with eight, beady black eyes. A pair of pedipalps spread apart slowly, revealing bloody fangs dripping with green venom. Erik held his breath, hoping beyond hope that the beast would be satisfied with its previously caught meal. The spider pulled its legs free of the sand and stretched to its full height, towering over him. It leaned to the left and then broke to the right before pouncing. Erik called forth the sword’s magic and the blade encased itself in white-hot flames and sunk deep into the spider’s body through its mouth.
The pair of bloody fangs stopped just inches from Erik’s hands and the spider twitched and quaked wretchedly until its strength expired and its legs collapsed. Erik barely managed to roll the spider off to the side and retrieve his sword before being crushed. As he pulled the blade back, the flames were gone, replaced by a hissing, steaming sheath of green ooze that dripped slowly to the ground.
Erik backed away and scrambled up the edge of the funnel with more than a little difficulty. Sand and rocks fell away from under him as he clawed his way up. When he finally made it to the top he pulled himself onto a flat rock big enough for him to lay his upper body on and he hugged the stone.
“Come on,” Alferug said gently as he bent down and grabbed Erik’s arm. “You did well, but we aren’t safe yet.”
Erik stood with Alferug’s help and followed the dwarf back through the dangerous pits to the forest. He barely noticed when the last of the winged wolves fell to the ground, and may not have noticed it at all had the other dwarves not let out a chorus of victory shouts and cheers.
“Nasty beasts,” Faengoril noted when Erik finally was back in the safety of the trees.
Erik looked back to the field and doubled over, sick to his stomach. Faengoril slapped him on the back and then motioned for the others to move back. Alferug stayed with Erik while the boy regrouped.
“I have never in my life even heard of those,” Erik said. “How is it that I can live so close to something so awful and yet have no idea it is nearby?”
Alferug spat on the black sand. “Humans have a way of not talking about things that displease or scare them,” he said. “Sometimes they ignore evil for long enough that they forget about its very existence.”
Erik shook his head and went down to his knees. “I need a few minutes,” he said.
Alferug knelt down and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you…” his words trailed off and Alferug looked down to Erik’s stomach. “Lean back,” he said.
Erik gave the dwarf a curious look, but Alferug was not patient enough to repeat his request. He roughly pushed Erik down to lie on his back and awkwardly pulled his legs out to set him straight. His hands went down for the bottom of Erik’s chainmail shirt and lifted it up.
“You have been bitten,” he said grimly.
Erik lifted his head, trying to look past his clothes and armor to where Alferug was looking. “No, it bit the wolf,” Erik said. “That is just a scratch.”
“Stonebubbles,” Alferug said. “I know a bite when I see one. He may have only hit you with one fang, but he got you. Probably bit through the wolf and got you as well.”
Erik tried to sit, but he found the strength in his arms was waning. Alferug’s face became blurry, as if covered with a thick sheet of water. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but barely more than a whisper of air came out.
“Faengoril!” Alferug shouted. The stocky dwarf bounded through the brush quicker than a rabbit, axe drawn and ready. Alferug shook his head and gestured with a nod of his chin to Erik’s stomach.
“By the Ancients,” Faengoril muttered. “I don’t have anything for him,” he said.
“Me neither,” Alferug admitted. “Pick him up and let’s get him strapped to a cavedog.” Faengoril reached down and plucked the boy up with one hand, slinging him over his shoulder and ran back to the main group.
“Klefil, I need your cavedog, now!” Faengoril yelled.
“Yes sir,” the dwarf warrior shouted as he hopped off the cavedog.
Faengoril put Erik on the lizard and lashed him to it so that he would neither fall nor have any dragging limbs as the beast moved.
“Will he live?” someone else asked. Faengoril shrugged.
“We have no remedy for him,” he said.
“There is someone who might help us,” Alferug put in as he jumped atop his cavedog.
Faengoril spun around. “He is not fond of dwarves,” he said.
“What other choice do we have?” Alferug asked.
Faengoril looked to Erik and saw the blood draining from the boy’s pale face as the area around the puncture in his stomach started to turn purple and blue. He shook his head. “There is no other choice,” Faengoril agreed.
Alferug gave the signal and charged out. Klefil jumped onto a cavedog behind another dwarf and all tore off after Alferug. The cavedogs slithered and skittered through the woods farther to the south, but careful to stay away from the funnel spiders.
Erik’s body bounced and shook as the lizard he was lashed to darted under a fallen oak and then leapt up onto an outcropping of boulders that allowed it to cross a brook without getting wet. The dwarves traveled at a grueling pace for the space of two hours before they finally came to a green knoll in the middle of a small clearing. Marigolds and poppy flowers caught the last light of dusk as the dwarves dismounted and walked through the knee-high grass up to a wooden hut at the top of the hill.
“Hatatuk,” Alferug called out. “Hatatuk, are you home?”
The door opened and a two foot tall gnome with a long, hooked nose and wispy gray whiskers dangling from his angular chin emerged. He rubbed a bony hand over his liver-spotted bald head and stared up at Alferug through a pair of thick spectacles.
“What do you want, eh?” Hatatuk inquired.
“We need a healer,” Alferug replied.
“Can’t help you,” Hatatuk snipped. “Go north to Buktah.”
&
nbsp; “You don’t understand,” Alferug said as he stuck his hand out and stopped the gnome from closing the door to the hut.
The gnome snapped his fingers and out from hidden holes in the ground popped a small army of young gnomes, most holding spears leveled at the dwarves, some holding short crossbows. “You must truly be desperate to come here,” Hatatuk said. “Everyone knows I have no love for the dwarves.” His beady, blue eyes looked Alferug up and down and then he glanced out to the others. “I suggest you leave, you are trying my patience.”
“It isn’t for a dwarf,” Faengoril bellowed as he stepped forward. A pair of gnomes pressed the tips of their spears into his chest just enough to force the dwarf to stop walking. He glowered at them for a moment and swept the spears away abruptly. “It’s for him,” he insisted as he stepped to the side and revealed Erik lying upon a cavedog’s back.
“Can’t help you,” Hatatuk repeated.
“He is the Champion of Truth,” Alferug said.
Hatatuk stopped and turned back around slowly. “That is the Keeper of Secrets,” Hatatuk said. “I can see for myself that it is Master Lepkin.”
“Still you won’t help?” Faengoril growled. “Why?”
Hatatuk reached up and pulled his spectacles down to clean them with an old brown cloth he pulled from his green trouser pocket. “Where was he when the Wyrms of Khaltoun first arrived in the Middle Kingdom?” he asked. “Where were any of you?” He slipped his spectacles back over his nose and wrinkled his forehead. “We were the first to see them, in the islands in the west. We tried to warn you, but none came to our aid. You let us die by the hundreds. When we escaped and sought refuge, no one would take us in. We had to come here.” Hatatuk gestured around the field with a sweep of his arm. “We had to come out and live deep in the forest past the funnel spiders and next to the old giants who roamed these parts at that time.”
Alferug looked to the ground. “Neither I, nor my father lived during that time,” he said.
“True, a gnome’s life is much longer than that of a dwarf, to say nothing of a human’s lifespan, but I was there, and I remember the way your grandfathers treated us. Now you come to me as though I should owe you anything. I suggest you leave.”