by A. J. Smith
Ruth was a small figure, gliding smoothly across the pitted stone towards the tear, though her eyes were constantly moving from one dark cave entrance to another. Then she stopped and began to change shape. Dalian narrowed his eyes to see through the black shadows and crackling green energy. The woman began to stretch, then swell, then contort, until a huge, brightly patterned spider crouched in the cavern. She was thick-limbed and hairy, with vibrating feelers and huge, downward-curving fangs.
‘This visit is overdue,’ croaked a voice from the darkness. ‘You look old, my mother.’
The huge spider reared up, raising her front two legs off the ground and baring her fangs. It was a threat display that would terrify a lesser creature or one not already blessed with the divine fear of Jaa.
‘I warned you,’ said the matron mother. ‘But you stayed in your hole and ignored me. It is I who have done this thing, for my own power, and you may not take it. You will wither and decay while I am queen of this world.’
Ruth hissed at the air, her vibrating feelers producing a shrill echo around the cavern. Slowly, the sound formed into recognizable words and the Gorlan mother replied to her offspring. ‘Madness has infected you, daughter. A madness borne on the wings of fear – fear of your end.’
The matron mother laughed, the sound appearing from darkness and displacing Ruth’s hiss. Dalian couldn’t tell in which hole she skulked, nor if she was alone, but there was confidence in her laughter, as if she’d lured them into a trap.
‘Your games of intimidation are lost on me,’ hissed Ruth. ‘Face me: now!’
Dalian heard a strange clacking sound. He turned sharply to see that Randall’s teeth were chattering. The young squire had a hand clamped round the hilt of his old longsword and his feet shuffled nervously.
‘Easy, lad,’ said the Thief Taker. ‘I don’t think you or I have a part to play in this struggle.’
Randall scowled at him, his eyes drawn to Utha’s dead body, before he managed a response. ‘Just shut up,’ he mumbled, embarrassed.
In the crackling cave, Ruth moved further away from them, spreading her thick legs wide, but keeping her fangs bared. She passed the shimmering tear and planted her front legs before a patch of muddy, green darkness. Her feelers twitched in the air, using a sense not available to Dalian to locate her errant daughter.
‘You have nowhere left to run,’ hissed Ruth. ‘Your dead god cannot help you.’
When the matron mother appeared, she had shed her human form. Long, slender legs of black and gold reached out of the darkness, planting their spiked ends on sickly green rock. A wide face and a long, tapered abdomen followed, revealing a huge, golden spider with flashes of black dotted across its body. There was nothing of the cracked old woman, no sign of her wrinkled body or hateful eyes. Her leg-span was as large as her mother’s, but she was far more spindly. Ruth was thick-bodied with heavy legs, whereas the matron mother was light and nimble, with a fragility not seen anywhere in Ruth’s huge, hairy form.
‘I hate spiders,’ said Randall, through quivering lips and chattering teeth.
‘They’re Gorlan, not spiders,’ replied Dalian, echoing the squire’s own words. ‘Perhaps the first time for a millennium that two of this size have been seen together.’
The two Gorlan mothers circled each other amidst arcs of rotten green energy. Ruth stayed in the centre of the cavern, watching closely as the matron mother moved over the higher, pitted rocks around the tear. Dalian didn’t share Randall’s fear, but still found the creatures awe-inspiring. They were true beings of deep time, all but forgotten in the lands of men, but mightier even than the reborn wind claw.
When they clashed, it was the matron mother who attacked first, causing a dark distortion between them that even the green energy could not penetrate. Her long legs snapped downwards at Ruth’s head, to be swatted aside in a flurry of dizzying movement. Their legs met in the air, flashing more darkness across the cavern each time they clashed. It was as if small pockets of ancient energy erupted in the air, signalling to the cosmos that two Gorlan mothers fought. Each attack, each defence, each time their fangs flashed forwards, there was a surge of blackness. It was impossible to tell who had the upper hand. Ruth was slower, but much heavier, and used her thick legs to keep the nimble black and gold spider at bay. Though their fangs were bared, neither landed a bite as they maintained a stand-off from the tips of their flailing legs.
‘Can we help?’ murmured Randall, largely to himself.
‘Be my guest,’ replied Dalian. ‘However, I believe I will remain here.’
He could sense the young man’s head whirring. He still kept half an eye on his dead master, but was not so distracted as to step out of the shadows, or get too close to the battling Gorlan.
Ruth was still hissing, filling the cavern with ancient anger, while her daughter remained silent, striking out from the pitted rock with dizzying flicks of her front legs. Her movements forward and back were too fast for Dalian to follow closely, but he saw Ruth’s reactions struggle to meet every attack. Even so, the older Gorlan did not appear to be in any distress, as if she were conserving her energy while letting the matron mother exhaust herself. It was a brand of combat unknown to the Thief Taker, its ebbs and flows incomprehensible to a man who relied on blade and armour.
Then Ruth leapt upwards. Four of her thick legs pushed down and extended, like the release of a powerful spring, propelling her at her daughter. The matron mother tried to shuffle sideways, but Ruth’s mass was difficult to avoid. A hiss and a squeal followed, accompanied by the frenetic clicking of opposing legs. Half their struggle was lost in shadows, but it appeared to Dalian that Ruth had pushed her daughter against the wall. The older Gorlan’s huge, hairy abdomen twitched up and down, sending flashes of red and yellow hair through the rotten green twilight of the tear. Then a sickening pulpy sound filled the cavern as Ruth pivoted to fling her offspring back into the light. The matron mother writhed on her back, exposing two shallow bite marks in her underside as she tried to right herself.
It was the closest he had been to the lesser Gorlan. In the light, he thought her gold and black markings were strangely beautiful, giving her abdomen the appearance of a flower with its petals yet to open. Her legs had the same banded pattern as they clicked inwards, trying to gain purchase on the pitted stone floor. Ruth approached slowly, spreading her eight huge legs, but her movements were now lopsided and a pulpy wound above her eyes oozed pus on to the green rock.
Randall gasped in pain and took a step out of the darkness, feeling the distress of the Gorlan mother.
‘Stay back, boy,’ warned Dalian, but the young man ignored him and unsheathed his old longsword. His remaining wounds had disappeared, either through the obscuring darkness or some eldritch ability to heal. The fetid green light whirled around him, but was repelled. Not by Ruth’s power, but by Randall’s own slowly emerging might.
‘It’s my fault,’ murmured the man of Ro. ‘If she’d not given of herself to save me, she’d be stronger.’
The matron mother ignored the approaching young man and managed to pull herself upright, facing Ruth. The larger Gorlan rubbed her feelers across her eyes, trying to clear blood from her vision. Her movements were jerky, as if her legs struggled to support her bulk. Her daughter was also wounded, but had less weight to carry, and raised her front legs in a final, defiant challenge. The two huge spiders circled each other, warily keeping their wounds out of range of attack. The matron mother turned until her forked spinnerets faced Randall, flickering in the air like a hand with missing fingers.
Dalian didn’t know if the young squire was afraid. He certainly didn’t show any fear as he gripped his longsword in both hands and hacked at the Gorlan’s abdomen. The creature stood twice as tall as Randall, but the savage cut in its black and yellow body drove it downwards, until its belly pressed against the green-lit stone. It hissed and twitched, its spindly legs drumming loudly against the ground as it tried to turn. Randall backed awa
y, narrowly avoiding being struck.
Then Ruth seized her opportunity and pounced. She plunged her vicious fangs downwards into her daughter’s fragile-looking body. Again and again she struck. Shiny droplets of venom oozed from her fangs and bubbled within the matron mother’s dying body. The attack was frenzied and terrifying, causing huge blobs of black energy to blink into being and disappear around the two Gorlan mothers. The green lightning from the tear suddenly darkened, as if afraid of what was happening. Shub-Nillurath’s high priestess was dying, her body slowly dissolving from corrosive venom and curling upwards into a skeletal hand with eight twitching fingers.
When the matron mother stopped moving, Ruth backed away, though the rotten arcs of green light did not return. The Gorlan mother was badly wounded and it took time for her to pull her bulk back into her slender human form. Randall stood by her until she was fully transformed, and helped her up. She had no obvious wounds, but she clearly needed the young man’s strength to stand.
‘Hurry,’ said Ruth. ‘Bring Utha.’
‘I must commend you, great mother,’ replied Dalian. ‘I have never seen such an expression of pure power.’
She glared. ‘Commend Randall, he will soon be all that is left of my power.’
‘Just hurry up,’ snapped Randall, approaching the tear.
Dalian made his way to the bottom of the cavern, staying well clear of the dead Gorlan mother. Even with her legs turned inwards and green pus oozing from her body, she was intimidating. But he focused on the tear and joined the other two, basking in its grotesque, rotten energy. It was glassy, like a distended orb of green and black, ripping through reality in a single, gaping slice.
‘The power of the Dead God is weakened,’ said the Thief Taker, as the fetid green energy retreated to the tear. ‘Perhaps if we collapse the tunnel—’
‘Throw him through the tear,’ snapped Ruth, wiping hair from her snarling face.
‘What?’ enquired Randall. ‘Can I go with him?’
She straightened and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. ‘Your journey with him is over, young Randall. I will have to look after him from now on.’ Her words were suddenly kind and her eyes betrayed genuine feeling for the squire. ‘I didn’t predict your involvement and I have no answers for you. You are a complication – a delightful, spirited, innocent complication.’
Dalian hefted the dead body towards the tear and prepared to throw him into its glassy surface.
‘Wait,’ snapped Randall, running to his master’s side. He placed a tentative hand against Utha’s forehead and a single tear trickled from his left eye. ‘I’m sorry, master, I’ve got to stay here. Ruth will look after you from now on. I wish I’d got to you sooner; we could have talked some more. I’ll miss you, Utha. You were my friend.’
When Dalian was sure the young man had finished saying goodbye, he flung the dead body through the tear. The inert form twisted slightly in the air, but disappeared soundlessly, as if breaking the surface of a millpond. A moment later, the slight ripple had faded and Utha the Ghost was gone.
Randall faced the Gorlan mother with tears flowing freely down his face. ‘Please tell me you told the truth. That he will live.’
‘He will live,’ replied Ruth. ‘He will live many lives and see many things, both beautiful and terrible. But I must go; my time is now short.’ She left Randall and strode towards the shimmering barrier between worlds. ‘You will live too. You will live as I endure, as the last shred of my power – and all that remains of the Gorlan. I name you Gorlan father, Randall of Darkwald. Do not be afraid to explore your power once I am gone.’ The young man reached for her, as if he had far more to say, but she ignored him and closed her eyes. With a single wide step, the Gorlan mother glided through the tear, disappearing just as Utha had.
Then everything was still. Dalian wiped his hands, shrugging off a dried smear of Utha’s blood. ‘Fascinating,’ he remarked, aware that Randall was glaring at him. ‘I’m sorry, should I be in some way reverent?’
Randall wrung his fists and shouted. No particular words or meaning, just an expression of frustration and anger, echoing around the jagged cave. It was unfocused and emotional, conveying loss that moved even Dalian to feel empathy. The young man began to kick the dead Gorlan. He shouted and swore, driving his boot into the slender abdomen of the matron mother until the huge dead spider rocked over and deposited a viscous pile of blood on the stone.
‘You’ve killed it once,’ said Dalian. ‘Do you intend to kill it again? Perhaps that would further weaken Shub-Nillurath.’
Randall dropped to his knees and cried. He looked at the tear, at Dalian, at the retreating green glow, but none of it lessened his grief. The young man didn’t seem to realize that he now emanated power, making his tears strangely out of place. Dalian thought of a crying shark or some other terrible beast moved to tears. Ruth had gone, but she’d left something dark and ancient in the young man of Ro. Something Randall did not yet understand.
‘You would be welcomed as a servant of Jaa,’ said Dalian. ‘I have many battles yet to fight and you would be a mighty ally.’
‘What?’ spluttered Randall. ‘I’m a lot of things, but mighty is not one of them. I’ve known and served mighty beings; I’ve been friends and enemies with mighty beings. I’ve seen them fight and die – I lost my virginity to one, in a dusty cabin on a Karesian ship. But I’m just a confused squire, too far from home.’
Dalian stood over him, considering and deciding against a reassuring hand on the shoulder. The boy hated him and would not appreciate it, but he needed to compose himself. ‘That may once have been true,’ said the Thief Taker. ‘But no longer. Do you not feel it? The power racing through your veins?’
He looked at the subtle energy crackling across his fingertips, but before the young man could respond, the sound of hesitant feet reached their ears. From the darkness, near the matron mother, a number of young girls appeared. They varied in age by about ten years, with not one above late teens. Each swayed on her feet, leaning on another for support.
‘Greetings,’ said Dalian, inclining his head.
Randall stood and joined him in the centre of the cave. He wiped tears from his eyes and glared at the young enchantresses.
‘The matron mother is dead,’ said Dalian. ‘Her power has invested and sustained you. Without her, you will wither and die, unless you allow Jaa’s divine fear to save you. The Seven Sisters were once devotees of the Fire Giant. They can be so again.’
The girls staggered forward and he saw blood creeping from the edges of their eyes and the corners of their mouths. Perhaps he was wrong and they had no future but to return to the dust of the world. As they moved, the youngest, a girl yet to see her tenth year, fell forward on to the rock. Blood spread from her small body as she died, convulsing behind her sisters.
‘I don’t think they can be saved,’ observed Randall. ‘It feels like their power is draining from a broken cup.’
The eldest girl bared her blood-stained teeth at them, snarling like a starved beast. ‘We need your energy, your blood – give it to us.’
All the girls licked their lips and reached out with shaking arms. They looked at Dalian and Randall as if they were sides of meat. There was little sanity in their eyes, just depthless hunger. The blood increased its flow as they slowly approached, seeping from under their fingernails and tumbling from their mouths. They didn’t charge or run, just walked on frigid legs across uneven ground, seemingly unable to move quickly.
‘Stop!’ shouted Randall, drawing his sword. To Dalian, he muttered, ‘Go back to the steps.’
The Thief Taker slowly removed Zarzenfang from its sling and backed away, finding the young man’s confidence intriguing. Randall remained in the cavern, pointing his old sword at the eldest girl, but he was gradually side-stepping towards the nearest wall.
‘Give me your blood,’ growled the lead girl as the young enchantresses encircled Randall. They ignored Dalian, focusing on the nearest
source of energy.
‘Last chance,’ said Randall, keeping away from the girls and reaching the wall.
The girls were now covered in their own blood, frenzied hunger on their faces. Randall showed no fear. He gritted his teeth. His hand was against the wall and the subtle glow rose in intensity, making cracks appear around his fingers. Small stones began to fall from the ceiling as the young man made a jagged fissure travel quickly upwards.
‘Dalian,’ he said. ‘Run!’
The cavern groaned and a large stalactite fell, to smash on the floor and send one of the girls flying. From Randall’s glowing hand a web of cracks spread outwards, causing boulders and dust to fill his vision. The stairs shook and Dalian backed away. The whole cavern was starting to collapse. From where Randall stood, the destruction spread quickly, crushing the matron mother’s body and dispersing the blood-covered enchantresses. Three were killed, mangled under fallen rocks. Two more flung themselves at Randall to be killed by his longsword.
‘Time to leave,’ said Dalian, shouting to be heard above the sound of a dozen cave-ins happening all at once.
The young man of Ro darted away from the wall, though the boulders and stalactites did not touch him. A spray of gravel covered his head, but he reached Dalian unharmed. They sprang up the first few steps just as the cavern ceiling fell. In a single show of power, Randall of Darkwald had killed ten enchantresses and buried the Footstep of the Forest Giant beneath tons of rock. It would take decades, perhaps more, for the chamber to be unearthed.
‘I think we should get to the surface,’ said Randall, looking with alarm at the spreading cracks in the rocky ceiling.
‘Can you not control this?’ replied Dalian as chunks of rock fell from above.
‘Err, apparently not,’ said the young man. ‘I just... did it.’
The destruction was spreading and the staircase was beginning to shake. They stowed their weapons and rushed upwards, chased by a collapsing tunnel of fractured stone. They outdistanced the cave-in quickly, leaving just a rumble, far behind them, but they didn’t slow down. Dalian was amazed at the young man. Not only could he strike at a Gorlan mother and collapse an ancient cave with little apparent effort, but he could keep up with Voon’s powerful body as they ran. He wasn’t even sweating or out of breath when they sighted the clear blue sky of Oron Kaa.