Forging Destiny

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “We.” The gnome turned to one of the web-wrapped bodies and pointed. This one was not a gnome. It was big, larger than any orc Tovak had seen, only it clearly was not an orc. In the shifting shadows under his magical light, he had missed it, for several smaller animal carcasses had been piled on it. Tovak took a step closer. Under the webbing, whatever he was looking at appeared to have fur and it was lying on its side. Some of the web around it had been pulled away, as if the gnome had been working to remove it.

  Tovak realized what had happened. He looked over at the gnome. It had unblinking black eyes with no pupils and stared back at him without any fear. Tovak now understood he had surprised the gnome when he had arrived in the chamber. The creature had simply hidden amongst the carcasses. He turned back to the large webbed body, then looked back at the gnome.

  “You want me to help you carry that out?” Tovak asked in clear disbelief, pointing at the body. “It’s dead.”

  “Greku no dead,” the gnome said firmly. “Greku lives. You help. You help me free, yes? I show you way out. Deal?”

  Turning back to the body, Tovak felt himself scowl. How could it be alive? Leaning closer, he shined the light over the webbed body, trying to see the creature better. It was hard to see what was under the webbing. While he studied it, the gnome began to pull away the web, almost frantically, and as it did, the creature wrapped up inside seemed to give a shiver. Whatever it was, the gnome was right; it was still alive. Tovak made a snap decision. Even if this turned out to be a race enemy, he could not leave it down here for the spiders to feed upon. That was a fate no one deserved. Besides, Tovak did not like spiders and never had.

  “Hold this,” Tovak said and held out the torch to the gnome.

  The small creature took it and as soon as it did, the light extinguished. They were both plunged into darkness.

  “Stupid Dvergr magic,” the gnome hissed, with clear indignation. “Never works when you need it.”

  Tovak took the torch back and it instantly flared to life. Did the magic only work in the hands of his people? The web-wrapped creature gave off a moan, followed by some speech that was muffled. Tovak turned back to it and, one-handed, began pulling the web, ripping it away. It was fresh and sticky. The web clung to him as he worked. He rolled the creature onto its back. There was a muffled sound from its face, which was completely covered in webs. How it could manage to breathe, Tovak had no idea. Carefully, he began removing the web from around the face. He lifted the last layer off and then stood in horror as the creature before him gasped a huge breath of air, seeming to gulp it in.

  He was looking on a feline face, like Thulla’s lion, but different. The creature had orange-and-black-patterned fur, yellow eyes, a mean-looking disposition, and a vicious set of teeth on display as it breathed deeply.

  The creature’s eyes were fixed on him.

  “Are you going to kill me, while I lie helpless?” the creature asked in Tovak’s tongue. The language sounded rough, and heavily accented, but easily understood. “Perhaps I was mistaken. I thought you people had honor, Legend.”

  “What?” Tovak asked, suddenly put off guard. “Me, kill you?”

  “Yes. If you are going to kill me,” the creature said, “do it now. Don’t waste my time. I hate waiting.”

  “No,” Tovak said. “I don’t know what you are, but I have no wish to kill you.” He looked over at the gnome and then back on the creature. “He said your name was Greku. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.” The creature grunted as it made an effort to break free of the webbing. The webs flexed but did not tear. “If you aren’t going to kill me then free me. Get me out of these cursed webs.”

  “How do I know if I do, you won’t kill me?”

  “Hess and I will be in your debt,” Greku said simply. “I would not incur my god’s wrath through such a disservice. A debt is a debt until fully paid.”

  “Hess?” Tovak asked, looking over at the gnome. The little creature gave a nod.

  “I Hess the Mighty,” Hess said, puffing up his chest and hitting it with a tiny fist.

  “Hess the Stupid,” Greku said.

  “I not one who got bit by spider,” Hess snapped back, in an angry tone. “You stupid cat. Want to play with spider, like ball of string, and get bit. Stupid kitty.”

  “When I get out of here,” Greku growled deeply, “you and I, gnome, will have a talk, one that’s been long in coming.”

  “Right,” Tovak said and began working at freeing Greku from the restricting web. He worked quickly and within moments had freed one of Greku’s arms, which was fur-covered and muscular. He was about to start on the other, when he heard a soft chattering sound that filled him with an almost uncontrollable terror. It echoed up the hallway from behind him, the one through which he had originally come.

  He froze, as did the gnome and Greku.

  The chattering increased in volume, and then it was joined by another … and what seemed like another. There were multiple spiders out there. As Tovak turned slowly, he saw … three of them … stalking down the passage he had come through. He felt his heart sink as he took them in.

  Krata.

  Their bodies were only about three feet long, with their eight legs spreading out almost four feet across. They were covered with a thick layer of soft, brown fur streaked with green and red that turned pale on their undersides. Long, black, spiky hairs stuck out of their legs, looking almost like barbs. Under the light of his torch, they seemed to glisten. He could not see their fangs, which were tucked beneath, but he knew they were there, and he knew that any one of them could kill him with a single bite, as the fangs were filled with venom.

  Sucking in a breath, Tovak made a decision. He turned back to Greku.

  “Lie still,” Tovak said quietly. The gnome was gone. It was as if Hess had vanished into thin air. “Pretend you are dead. I will distract them. You are almost free. If I die, when they leave, escape.”

  Greku gave a nod.

  Tovak turned back to the spiders, which had clearly spotted him. What terrified him the most were their eyes. Just above the venom sacks was a row of four obsidian orbs the size of walnuts. Above those were a pair of buurl-sized, iridescent black eyes focused squarely upon him, and above those, set a little wider and farther apart atop their rounded heads, were two smaller obsidian orbs that seemed to be staring off into nothing. Their gaze was one without feeling, and that filled him with terror. They did not view him as an enemy, only as food.

  “I will not be your food today,” Tovak said, standing. “Do you hear me? You will be my food.”

  Undeterred, one crept forward slowly along the center of the passageway, another was just behind it and to the side, while the third made its way above them both, crawling from the floor to the wall and then along the ceiling. They were almost into the chamber.

  These were krata, pack hunters, and they were incredibly dangerous. He glanced at the torch in his hand and knew in an instant that he could not possibly kill all three of them. The torch’s shaft was stout, but against these killers it would not be enough. Tovak had no illusions on his chances of survival, but that did not mean he was going to give up. No, he’d fight with every ounce of strength within his body. He would go down fighting.

  Despite his resolve, Tovak’s heart pounded in his chest with barely controlled terror. All three spiders entered the chamber. Tovak gripped the torch tighter. The light seemed to intensify. The spiders shied back for a heartbeat, as if suddenly afraid. Then, after a hesitation, they continued towards him.

  “You are not going to eat me,” Tovak said firmly to them. “If anything, I am going to eat you.”

  The krata in the middle of the passage paused for a moment, seeming to study him. Its forelegs rose slightly into the air, quivering. Its back legs lowered and its body went into a crouch.

  It leapt straight at Tovak, flying through air.

  Tovak reflexively swung out with the torch as he scrambled backward. The torch hammered into t
he giant flying arachnid like a club and sent it sideways, crashing into the floor.

  It landed on its side and then teetered for a moment, before falling onto its back. Tovak moved towards the wall and the side passageway. He needed a better weapon, and the only one he knew that was handy was the paladin’s sword. He hoped the long-dead warrior would not mind if he borrowed it for a short while.

  One of the spiders moved to counter him, while the one that attacked scrambled madly to right itself. Tovak kept his eyes on both spiders that were still right side up. The one moving to counter him climbed onto the wall. Seeing an opportunity, Tovak sprinted for the passageway. As he did, the spider overhead lunged for him, jumping and spinning in midair.

  He dodged to the left and slid painfully into the wall. His arm and shoulder, which already hurt, cried out in agony with the fresh impact. The spider crashed to the ground next to him. Tovak swung the torch as hard as he could down upon it. There was a clunking sound as the butt of the torch hammered into the carapace. The powerfully delivered blow knocked the spider off its legs and onto the floor. It squealed painfully.

  The other spider had not moved from its spot on the wall. It seemed to be watching. Tovak sprinted again for the passageway. Legs clicking on the stone loudly, it gave chase.

  In a panic, with the spider close on his heels, Tovak entered the warrior’s tomb and threw the torch back at the oncoming spider as he crashed hard into the sarcophagus. The tomb was plunged into darkness, save for the small beam of sunlight shining down from above. He reached out towards the weapon. As he did, he thought he saw the skeletal warrior lifting its bony hands towards him. The spider hissed, almost on him, as Tovak’s fingers wrapped around the pommel.

  There was a brief shock of icy cold, as if he had connected the world of life with the underworld and the great beyond. The chill coursed up his arm and across his entire body, freezing the life within. Then something countered that. The spark inside him seemed to blossom into a full-fledged fire that roared like a lion, pushing back the terrible and biting cold of death.

  Time seemed to slow. A distant bell tolled, deep and ominous. The darkness around him lifted slightly, becoming brighter. Dust motes that had been moving through the beam of light from above froze as if caught in amber. Tovak seemed frozen with them, only he wasn’t; he was still moving, bringing the large sword around.

  With a snap that was almost audible, time began moving again. Having yanked the volzjain free, he rolled out of the way. The krata leapt towards him and slammed into the sarcophagus. There was a flash of intense light, followed by a snapping and sizzling sound. The spider screamed. It was a terrible sound that tore at the ears.

  As Tovak came back to his feet, he saw the spider attempting to crawl back the way it had come, only half of its legs were not working. Smoke rose from its carapace. The stench of burned spider was on the air. Without hesitation, Tovak swung. The blade came down with a gruesome THUCK. The heavy weapon easily cleaved its carapace in two, splitting it straight down between its eyes and halfway through its body. He was sprayed with gore as the sword made a crunching sound.

  Mortally wounded, the spider screeched. Its legs flailed beneath its body uncontrollably. Tovak pulled the sword back out. The krata flopped around beside the sarcophagus in a slap-dancing patter of legs. He was about to finish it when another spider entered the hallway.

  “Come on, you bastard,” Tovak said, turning to face it and raising his sword. Tovak hefted the volzjain in his hands. Though the weapon was a heavy one, it felt light, almost as light as his regular sword, and it was perfectly balanced. No weapon had ever felt so good in his hands. He had always preferred the volzjain, and felt more comfortable with it.

  The spider came scrambling straight towards Tovak and, without hesitation, leaped at him. Tovak swung the weapon in a flat arc in front of his body. The blade caught the krata in mid-air, cleaving off three of its legs and slashing deeply into its hardened carapace. The strike caused the creature to fly sideways, where it hit the wall.

  “Barasoom!” Tovak roared as he moved towards the stunned creature. He raised the sword and drove it point-first down into the center of the krata’s head and between the eyes.

  The blade passed completely through, the tip making a clanging sound that echoed hollowly in the tomb as it bit into the stone floor. The krata’s legs shook, quivering as the creature died. Another chattering sound and clicking of many feet forced Tovak to turn just in time to see the third spider launch itself into the air straight for him.

  He dropped down and ducked beneath it. He felt the tips of its legs on his back armor as it flew by. The krata hit the wall and dropped to the floor, its legs a blur as it recovered its balance and spun around. Wrenching his weapon free from the spider he had just killed, Tovak backed up. It lunged for him. Tovak thrust with the sword, meeting it and jamming the blade into its body.

  Badly wounded, it gave out an ear-splitting screech and pulled away from him. As the sword came free, it made a sucking sound and pulled the spider’s insides out with it. The spider gave off a whining sound. Not willing to give it any time to recover, Tovak followed, raising the blade above his head in a two-handed grip. The spider hissed at him and made to lunge again. He swung down and caught the krata in the middle of its body and stabbed hard, pressing downward with all his effort. The blade passed clean through. He gave the weapon a savage twist.

  The krata’s legs spasmed and then went limp as it collapsed to the stone floor. It seemed to give a hissing sigh and then expired. Gasping for breath, Tovak pulled the sword free. He looked around. All three spiders were dead. He could not believe he had not just survived, but bested them. He had killed three krata by himself and, as impossible as that seemed, he would live to tell the tale. Only, Tovak thought, no one would ever believe him.

  His heart, hammering away in his chest from the exertion of the fight, felt like it was going to leap out or explode. The terror of the moment began to drain away, leaving him tired and spent. Tovak lowered the magnificent weapon to the floor, allowing it to rest point-first on the stone. He noticed that his hands were shaking badly. He looked down at his hands and contemplated them for a long moment. He was fairly coated in gore. He had survived. Tovak blew out a shaky breath …. He had survived.

  He suddenly doubled over and vomited, spilling out what little had been in his stomach in a violent gush that splattered onto the floor at his feet. He heaved again … and again … and again.

  Finally, when the dry heaves stopped and the terror faded to the point where he could think straight, he stood up and wiped his mouth clean with the back of his arm. His breathing came in desperate gasps. He turned back towards the sarcophagus and dropped to his knees. He bowed his head.

  “Thank You, Thulla, for placing this fallen warrior in my path. Thank You for granting me the strength to face these vile creatures and emerge victorious.” He turned his attention to the sarcophagus and placed a hand upon the stone. “And thank you, my friend, for allowing me the use of this fine weapon. Without it, I would surely have joined you in death.”

  Tovak rose to his feet and hefted the volzjain, examining it slowly. It was soiled from the fight. He wiped it clean against the hem of his tunic. There wasn’t a spot of rust or a single nick in the blade, not even at the point where it had contacted the stone. It was perfect, beautiful. As he inspected the weapon, he saw small etchings just above the hilt in the form of Thulla’s lion. Beneath them were symbols or characters that were similar to what he’d seen in the catacombs. It was both like and unlike his own. He was certain they were script from a long lost Dvergr language.

  The blade was, without a doubt, the most magnificent weapon he had ever laid eyes upon, let alone held. It was perfection in the extreme and felt like it had been made just for him. He loathed the thought of parting with it. But the weapon was not his and he did not have a right to claim it. He was unworthy of such a magnificent weapon.

  He stepped back around the sarco
phagus. He was no grave robber, and the idea of taking something from a noble servant of Thulla was not an act he felt right about, no matter how perfect the weapon was in his hands. As he stepped around to the open side of the sarcophagus again, he froze in his tracks. A chill ran down his spine.

  He remembered the shock of cold he had felt when he’d pulled the volzjain free. He blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. When the view didn’t change, all he could say was, “Thulla be praised.”

  The warrior’s skeletal hands had been raised and were held forth as if it had given something away. Had the paladin really handed Tovak the weapon?

  “It can’t be,” Tovak whispered. “It just cannot be.”

  The weapon is yours, My son, and fairly earned. Wield it with honor and My blessing as others doing My service have done.

  Tovak froze. He felt a wave of rapturous joy, not from the fact that the sword was now his, gifted to him, but that Thulla had blessed him greatly. He bowed once more, solemnly, thoroughly overwhelmed. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He saw that there was a scabbard fixed to a harness inside the sarcophagus, where moments before there had not been one. He reached in and pulled it out. The leather felt supple in his hand, fresh. It was of the highest quality and something he would never have been able to afford.

  He knew this was a miracle. All of it was. Thulla had seen to it.

  He slid the harness over his shoulders and onto his back. It was a perfect fit. Then, carefully, he sheathed the sword in the scabbard. It felt natural against his back, as if he had always been meant to wear it. Glancing down at the paladin, he considered that might not be far from the truth, for surely this day, with Thulla’s help, Tovak had truly begun to forge his own destiny.

  He looked around, then bent down and picked up the torch where it lay on the stone floor. It immediately lit, filling the room with a brilliant light. Tovak suddenly recalled Greku and Hess. He turned away and made for the hallway. There was a heavy grinding behind him. It shook the floor, and he had to lean a hand against the wall to stay on his feet. Dust cascaded down from the ceiling. He turned back to look.