by Clark Graham
Hemlot regained his composure, “But enough of the past that we cannot change. I need a map.”
The Scouts were kind enough to let Hemlot study their map. Looking at the vastness of Westwood he started to get a little discouraged. “I shall never find them; there are too many ways that they could have gone.”
Ermort looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Who are you looking for?”
“Our prince is on his way to the Mountains of Iron and he has a three day head start,” replied Hemlot.
“Nobody has crossed the river,” Ermort responded.
“Are you sure?” Sarchise said with urgency in his voice.
“Yes. The ferry is still on our side,” came Ermort’s response.
“What does all of this mean?” Hemlot asked.
“It means that you are looking for your friends in the wrong direction. The river is a half a day’s journey from here. If they didn’t manage to cross it then they didn’t get very far. I am afraid that our worst fears have been realized and we are on the same quest.” Sarchise said,
“You mean that you think the spiders got them?” Hemlot asked.
“Either the spiders or the bears. If the bears got them then they are all dead. They kill for food and for the joy of killing. If the spiders got them then there is still some hope for a few of them. But time is running out,” Sarchise said,
“What does that mean?” Hemlot asked still confused.
“It’s too disgusting to tell you but we may be able to save some of them,” came Sarchise’s response.
Into the Spiders Lair
The scouts were getting ready quickly, as they suddenly seemed to have a sense of urgency. Hemlot was still puzzled but he grabbed his helmet and axe and he was soon following the humans and the other dwarves. They walked past last night’s campfire to pick up the trail of the spiders and followed it.
They soon came across another old camp where a bonfire had been lit. This one was larger than the first. In the middle of the campsite lay a couple of dead Giant Spiders. Axes and helmets were strewn across the area. It was very obvious what had happened here.
“Ambush; they never stood a chance.” Sarchise commented.
“The spiders came from this direction,” said Ermort, pointing to the ground, “and this direction. They came from two directions at once. The dwarves had been sitting down at the time of the attack because it looks like they were scrambling to get to their feet. The prince must have set out guards just beyond the light of the campfire. These two spiders were killed with arrows. Either the guards got away, which is unlikely, or the spiders got them too. It looks like about thirty spiders were here by the number of tracks.”
Hemlot went over and picked up an axe, “This one is the Prince’s.” he said, “It has the ancient runes on it signifying royalty. The King will be very sad when he finds that his son is no more.”
“There is some good news in that it was the spiders that got to them and not the bears,” replied Ermort. Hemlot just looked at him.
A sad groan came from Hemlot and Glowin.
“The spiders don’t kill all of their victims, they save some for, well, they save some for later. There is good hope that a few are still alive.”
“We’ll find what’s left of them. The spiders left a trail a mile wide.” Ermort commented as he headed down it. The rest of the group followed after him at a run.
For three hours the humans ran down the trail as the dwarves stumbled along as best they could. The trees were old in this part of the forest and their roots spread out underneath a carpet of dead leaves. The humans were having no trouble with this but the dwarves were picking themselves up from the ground quite often after tripping over hidden roots. Just when Glowin, the oldest of the dwarves, thought that he could not go on another foot, the pace slowed down to a crawl.
“What is it?” asked a panting Hemlot.
“They are just up ahead. Get your axes ready. Hit them between the eyes, don’t bother with the legs,” explained Ermort.
Sarchise positioned the men and dwarves for the attack. They too would come in from two directions.
The warriors stood at the ready and with a nod from Sarchise rushed into a small clearing behind a grove of trees. A warrior yell came from the dwarves as they rushed in. The humans unleashed arrows in all directions felling spiders as they rushed towards the group. The axes started swinging as the spiders neared. Glowin killed two spiders but the third one bore down on him too fast. An arrow from Tom’s bow hit a spider in the side of the head but it was not a fatal blow. Fangs sank deep into the side of Glowin’s neck before Ferdin’s axe drove home killing the spider. It fell, but so did Glowin.
Twice spiders knocked down Fordin. Each time Ferdin got there just in time to kill the attacking spider before it could bite Fordin.
“How am I supposed to ignore their legs if they keep knocking me over with them?” he asked as they both sank axes into the head of the same spider. Black tar like blood oozed from the spider’s open wound. The twins started turning their backs to each other for mutual protection.
Axes and arrows flew in every which way. Every once in a while a human would use his sword on a spider that had gotten too close.
In the fog of war one spider got behind the group and sank fangs deep into Harn’s back before two arrows ended the spider’s life.
The spiders rushed Hemlot, but the fierce little dwarf cut three down before they could get to him. A fourth one knocked him down and was ready to pounce when an arrow from Sarchise dropped the spider. It landed on top of Hemlot. The spiders attacked the remaining two dwarves, the humans had to abandon their bows and rush to the aide of the twins before the spiders could overwhelm them. The group formed a defensive circle. Swords and axes sliced in all directions to fend off the spider’s ferocious attack. The group of spiders that had rushed the twins all lay dead at the warrior’s feet. The rest of the spiders fled.
Ermort and Will pulled the dead spider off of Ermort. Black ooze was smeared all over him.
“You all right?” asked Tom.
“I think so,” he said and then rushed over to where Glowin lay. His two sons were already over him trying to revive him.
“Nothing can be done for him yet. I don’t know how much venom got into his system but it looked like he got bit pretty badly. We’ll do what we can but we can’t do it here,” Sarchise said,
Will was standing over Harn. “He’s gone,” was all he said as he placed Harn’s hands over his atop his chest.
Hemlot looked around at the lair of the Giant Spiders. Bones and armor were strewn about. He looked down at his feet and realized the pile was about two feet thick and filled the whole lair. There were white web strands in all directions, some of them holding up bundles that were hanging between the trees.
Tom, Ermort and Sarchise started cutting down bundles wrapped in spider webs from the trees. There were ten bundles in all. They cut all the bundles open. Each bundle contained a dwarf. Sarchise called Hemlot over.
“Is any of these your prince?” Sarchise asked.
Hemlot studied each in turn. They all had pale skin and looked dead. Being wrapped up for a few days didn’t help their looks any either. He looked at the last one and said, “This one.”
“So,” Sarchise said as he took out a knife and cut open his tunic. There was a puncture wound in the middle of his stomach with a huge bruise around it the size of a plate. Sarchise took his knife and cut open the stomach where the puncture wound was. He reached into the cavity and started pulling out eggs by the handful. Will, Tom and Ermort started doing the same with the other spider bundled dwarves next to the prince. Hemlot turned his head and started swallowing very hard. The twins started vomiting in the bushes. When they were all done they tied up the wounds using the torn tunics.
“There are seven of us and we have to transport twelve out. I suggest that one of the humans take Harn and a dwarf the other three can take two dwarves each. The three of you will h
ave to take four others somehow. The spiders will go to another lair and get reinforcements. They will be back in a few hours and if we are still here we stand no chance,” Sarchise said,
“Harn is dead,” Ferdin commented. “Can we just leave him here?”
Scowls formed on Tom’s face but Sarchise answered calmly, “We leave no food for the spiders.”
With that the humans threw the wounded over their shoulders and headed out. The dwarves had to alternately drag and carry their wounded out. When they got back to the outpost they all set the wounded down.
“Where do you intend to take them?” asked a panting Hemlot.
“South Fort is the closest city. We will have to take them there,” Sarchise answered.
“That is at least a five day journey from here,” Hemlot protested. “Many of them will die.”
“Seven days journey, probably nine with you having to drag your wounded. Some of them are as good as dead already, but we cannot leave any behind for the spiders. If I had more men we could burn them and defend ourselves against the wandering spiders and bears, but I don’t have enough men,” Sarchise said.
“High Mountain is only a day away,” Hemlot responded.
“Are humans welcome there?” Sarchise asked.
“Many of your people came and helped us fight the gremlin wars. Those that died are buried in a place of honor,” Hemlot answered. “You will be welcome.”
“High Mountain it is,” said Sarchise.
With that they bundled up the wounded. They made use of some of the branches to make stretchers. They tied the tunics of the wounded between the poles. Instead of carrying both sides they let the one side drag. That way two healthy dwarves could drag three wounded ones.
“There must be another lair nearby; where else did the other eleven dwarves go?” Sarchise asked Ermort.
“It looks to me that they were eaten, by the amount of armor and axes at the bottom of the lair. Also, did you notice that there were small daggers there? Those are not dwarf weapons. That is what the gremlins use in battle. I hope that we are not facing an even larger problem,” Ermort said.
“I think that you are right about the dwarves. I would hate to think about eleven bundles of eggs hatching. I did see the daggers too. That is a bad sign,” Sarchise replied.
“That would be a terrible thing,” agreed Ermort.
They wished they could have left someone to guard their outpost, but every man and dwarf would be needed to get the wounded back. It was a journey Sarchise was not looking forward to. After eating some dried meat and drinking wine to wash it down, the group headed off in the direction of High Mountain.
Sarchise took the lead and Ermort brought up the rear. Every once in a while they would stop to listen. Spiders are very quiet, but did make some noise. The men of the Royal Scouts had trained themselves to hear these noises.
High Mountain
The unlikely group of man and dwarf alternately carried and dragged the group of drugged travelers along towards the entrance of High Mountain. They had to stop twice to fend off attacks by the Giant Spiders. They would stop every once in a while to look and listen. When they heard the approaching spiders behind them, they would leave the wounded on the trail as a decoy and slip into the trees. The spiders would go after the wounded and not see the others until it was too late. Luckily no more of the group’s members were stung.
Finally Hemlot could go no more. They formed a defensive circle around the comatose group and sent Ferdin and Fordin on ahead to the lower entrance of the mountain. Four hours later, a group of fifty dwarves with handcarts came plodding through the underbrush to the rescue. Sarchise studied the newcomers. They were all old battle-hardened dwarves in full armor with no smiles. One could tell that these dwarves did not relish the idea of being outside, and quickly they packed up the wounded. In a few minutes, the group was once again on their way. Two hours down the road, they were out of the trees and walking at the edge of the mountain itself. High walls with battlements greeted them when they got closer. They walked between the walls towards the entrance of the caverns.
As they came around the corner, there were two high towers on each side of the door. Guards with axes stood at the bottom doorways of the towers. The upper parts had rows of archers. There was a bridge built between the towers extending above the doorway. This also had a row of archers across it. The party stopped abruptly at the door to the High Mountain.
Hemlot stepped forward. “Open the door in the name of Hemlot, commander in the King’s service.”
The guards stood motionless.
A dwarf stepped forward. He was Prince Caspin, fourth born of the King. “The dwarves may enter but these are not welcome here,” he said with a sneer.
“Open the door,” came a voice from the bridge. “All the travelers are welcome. Send the hurt to the healers and the others to the King’s chambers for he desires to speak with them.” It was the voice of the Captain of the Guard.
Caspin glared at him, but he just smiled back. Caspin had no authority at the gate, even though he always tried to order around the guard.
As they entered the mine doors, Sarchise looked around in awe. He had lived in the world of men and elves all of his life and had never seen how the dwarves could carve the stone. The door led through a long archway. Every few feet, cut into the side of the archway, were statues. They were a visual history of the dwarves. The statues started at the gate and led through the archway, telling the story of the dwarves of Elvenshore and their battles with the gremlins. It told of how brave men and elves had come to their aide and how they likewise came to the aide of men and elves. It told of the creation of the Four Kingdoms of men, how they lived and of their fall. It even told of the time when Therin, son of Kyle, came to be the current King of the mountain.
“Amazing,” came the voice of Ermort.
“I have never seen such beauty carved from solid rock,” Sarchise said, awed.
When they came through the archway, they stepped into the Lower Hall. It was twenty feet high and fifty feet wide. It stretched forward a hundred feet with pillars every ten feet. There were dwarf maidens carved on the bottom of the pillars spreading flowers all around and at the top of the pillars there were carved dwarf warriors, with axes strapped to their belts. They had their arms above their heads to hold up the roof. In the middle of the hall was a round fire pit. It had a bonfire blazing in it with off-duty guardsmen sitting around it, feasting and drinking ale, while telling stories.
The group was escorted to the right and up a long stairway, past more statues and then sat down into a parlor. The benches were carved out of the stone but had many pillows on them. On the parlor’s forward wall was a great oak door with iron hinges. On either side of the door were two dwarf guards. Each of the guards had spears in their hands and axes in their belts. Both stood at the ready.
The captain of the guard went up to them. “Inform the king that they are here.”
One of the guards bowed, then opened the door and went in. A minute later he returned and took up his position at the door, but did not close it as the King was the next one out. All the dwarves in the room including the guard held their hats or helmets to their chest and bowed deeply. The humans followed suit. The King looked directly at the Master of the Royal Scouts held his crown to his chest and said, “I am Therin, son of Kyle, King of the High Mountain. You must be Sarchise.”
Surprised at the King’s ability to spot a leader, Sarchise blurted out. “Why, yes I am, you are correct, most noble King.”
The King smiled, “The twins have told me the tale of how you saved my son’s life. That makes you his brother, and the brother of my son is also my son.”
At this the dwarves in the room got a momentary look of surprise on their faces, even the guards, but only for an instant. They quickly regained their look of indifference. Sarchise shrugged it off. He didn’t understand all this dwarf lore. He understood that if you save a dwarf’s life that they owe you a favo
r. He didn’t know how big a favor it was and what all of this brother thing was all about. He did have the good graces to thank the King.
The King turned to one of the guards. “Send for the healer, I want to know how my son is.”
Sarchise piped up. “I could probably tell you more than they could, unless they have experience with spider bites. I spent the last two days carrying your son.”
The King nodded. “Go ahead.”
“He was not deeply bitten. He will sleep for days but then should awaken. When his blood starts to circulate better, he will start to bleed from his abdomen wound. It must be sewn up soon, before his blood stirs. This is true for the others too,” Sarchise explained.
“And Glowin?” Hemlot asked.
“He was deeply bitten. There is not much hope. If his blood does not stir within the week, he will die,” Sarchise said with a sad voice.
“You have all fought hard. Get some rest and tonight there will be a feast in your honor. A grand feast, the likes of which have not been seen for a generation, for my son was lost, but now he is found!” declared the King.
One of the guards ran down the stairs to tell the cooks to tend their fires while the other one went to tell the butchers. The Captain of the Guard led the weary group of warriors to sleeping quarters. Each bed was a carved stone platform with pillows tossed onto them, except for the dwarves.’ All they had was a single pillow for their heads.
The Captain of the Guard looked at the humans and said “Sorry to treat brave warriors so softly but the King said that you would be more used to the soft ground than you would hard stone.”
“This will work just fine, thank you, Captain,” Sarchise said.
“Yes, my Prince,” The captain gave a deep bow.
Sarchise shrugged it off and lay down on the pillowed stone bed. His journey to the Tall Mountain had been long and sleep was soon in coming. All the travelers slept while the feast was being prepared. Cooks, butchers, and maidens all made ready. Long tables were brought and positioned around the fire pit in the Great Hall. Plates and knives placed at each spot. Bread was baked and goats were slaughtered. Barrels of ale were rolled up from the cellar. Two large logs were brought in, then laid beside the fire pit. All of the dwarves were talking about the happenings of the day.