Cronica Acadia

by C. J. Deering

  Each time he entered the slumber state, he appeared in a library filled with more books. Once he entered to find a gross of new titles on the shelves. Every book he had read in the other world was now replicated here in his library: The Maltese Falcon. Catch 22. Animal Farm. The Hardy Boys! There they were a bunch of them from his youth: The Tower Treasure, The Secret of the Old Mill, The Clue of the Broken Blade! (With some chagrin Dangalf realized that he had unconsciously named the Keepers of the Broken Blade after an old Hardy Boys mystery and not by spontaneous brilliance.)

  Each mystery was wrapped in cellophane and with their Dewey decimal number on the binding. He excitedly picked up The House on the Cliff and opened it. There it was as true as the day he looked at it as a boy. He turned past the title page and was shocked to see that the following pages were blank. The same with What Happened at Midnight and While the Clock Ticked. And then his memory struck twelve. When he turned to the back of each book, there he saw the final pages. In his youthful impatience and ignorance, he had skipped most of the stories only to read the dénouements. He only wanted to find out the secret of the old mill or what happened at midnight. He hadn’t wanted to actually read the books. His youthful indiscretion now forever deprived him of these books in their entirety in his psychic library.

  Finally he took one of his newly captured books from the shelf and sat down to read it. Medicinal Applications of Slumber. It was a dreadful title, but Weyd had suggested it should be among his earliest studies. It proved to be a fascinating lesson on the consciously directed repair of the physical body during slumber. It demonstrated that with sufficient intellect a human could apply the life-extending regeneration that was natural to the immortal elves and dwarves. After finishing the book, he ruminated on it a bit. He marveled at the idea that his intellect would allow him that kind of control over his body’s healing functions. But how to proceed? Suddenly a knock came at his door. He got up nervously and then relaxed. This library, and whatever world existed outside were all in his mind. His doing. There was nothing out there to be alarmed about. Or was there? He made a peephole in the door, slid the peephole cover aside, and looked out. All he could see was a burning candle. Curious, he opened the door, and there stood seven dwarves in mining helmets with little candles attached to them.

  “We’re here about the repairs,” said the dwarf foreman. They carried tools and barrels and wheelbarrows of electroplasm, protoplasm, blood, and white bile. (The White School had little use for the Red School biles of yellow and black.) Dangalf stepped aside, and the dwarves marched into his library and looked about.

  “Should I make you a—a doorway?” asked Dangalf.

  “Would be better than us tunneling through these fancy walls,” said the foreman.

  “Ooh velvet,” said another dwarf, rubbing his hand on the upholstered walls.

  And Dangalf added a lovely wood door, which he made blue in honor of the dwarven craftsmen who would be using it. The foreman opened the door, and it led down a fleshy, veiny tunnel that shimmied with respiration and circulation. “We’ll work as quietly as possible,” the velvet-loving dwarf promised, and they squished down the fleshy tunnel until the lights of their bobbing candles disappeared in the dark.

  And with that Dangalf began the process of consciously repairing the damage done to his body by injury and age. In fact he became so proficient that he awoke one time to Ashlyn staring at his beard and asking him if he was dying his hair. After that he took the dwarves off of follicle duty. They had serious work to do after all.

  XIX

  After six weeks of training, Doppelganger was finally given one day a week off from training and guard duty as was customary for students and workers. Doppelganger was both, but he still only got one day off.

  On their first day off together since arriving in Hempshire, Doppelganger and Nerdraaage met up with Dangalf and Ashlyn in her room. Neither Doppelganger nor Nerdraaage thought anything about Dangalf spending so much time in Ashlyn’s room. The stables were no place to store all the books he was surrounded by (even outside his imaginary library), and her room had a small desk and a lamp. And she had a comfortable bed for all the time Dangalf spent lying down with his eyes closed and snoring but not sleeping.

  Dangalf asked the others for a moment to finish reading. “I thought you didn’t read books anymore!” charged Nerdraaage, who was still unclear on the concept of the library Dangalf had built in his mind.

  “He reads while he’s asleep,” Ashlyn corrected, incorrectly. They started going through his piles of books that Doppelganger and Nerdraaage were certain that he didn’t need and could never hope to read. There were grimoires, language books, divination deck instruction, and at least one book of poetry: Mayhap the Rain. (Mayhap the third-worst poetry in this universe.) Dangalf bought the book because he had become one of those book lovers who not only enjoyed books for their content but for their actual appearance. It was a slight but well-bound book, and, at only two farthings at the Hempshire library’s equivalent of a bargain bin, he could not resist it.

  His friends started making up titles for the books as they pretend-catalogued them: “The Big Book of Sorcery.”

  “The Necronomicon, Cliff’s Notes edition.”

  “Magic For Dummies.”

  “Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Hex but Were Afraid to Ask.”

  “I Should Have Been a Warrior by Merlin the Magician.” Even the increasingly humorless Doppelganger was getting in on the action. What magic there is in a day off from work, thought Dangalf.

  The three laughed harder which each new title they imagined. Clearly they were not going to let Dangalf finish the book he was capturing, and he only had about sixty pages left. “So you guys started drinking early I see,” he said.

  “Black Magic Voo Doos and Voo Don’ts.”

  XX

  They had a big, leisurely brunch, and Dangalf chided Ashlyn for introducing the word “brunch” to a befuddled Mistress Tolliver. “So what do we want to do?” asked Ashlyn.

  “How about a quest?” suggested Nerdraaage.

  “Why not? It would give Doppelganger and me a chance to use our training in a practical situation,” said Dangalf.

  “Practical situation?” countered Doppelganger. “Just what do you think I’m doing each night for six hours?”

  “Guarding the toilet?”

  “You know I’m at the front gate now!”

  They strolled over to the shire-reeve’s office to see what quests were posted. There was another presumptive adventurer perusing the board as well. He wore green tights and a feather in his cap and carried a modest bow and quiver over his shoulder. Ashlyn wondered if he knew how much he looked like Robin Hood and if he also knew that it wasn’t a good look for him. It wasn’t even a good look for Robin Hood. For his part, the stranger looked upon the Keepers with obvious bemusement.

  “Mayhap this,” suggested Dangalf of a posted quest.

  “What is mayhap?” asked Doppelganger.

  “It means perhaps.”

  “So why not say perhaps.”

  “Come on,” protested Dangalf. “We’ve all begun to speak more formally, more traditionally since we’ve been here.”

  “Not ‘mayhap,’ we haven’t.”

  “You don’t want me to say mayhap?”

  “No.”

  “I vote no,” said Ashlyn.

  “We’re voting?” asked Dangalf.

  “Ten thousand gold pieces for the head of the Witchfinder General!” said Nerdraaage breathlessly over the largest and most sun-faded posting. “That’s like a million gold pieces here.”

  Robin Hood laughed out loud. “I can just imagine you four marching your way through the Temple of the Red Rose to slay the Witchfinder General,” he said.

  “We did it before,” said Ashlyn.

  “Take that back,” demanded Doppelganger.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have insulted me and my friends. Apologize for your commen
t unless you will face me in a duel.”

  Robin looked Doppelganger up and down. Doppelganger was still poorly clothed and geared but for some reason the dandy adventurer did not take up the towering brute’s offer to duel. He smiled generously, removed his hat and bowed. “Mistress Elf, Master Dwarf, honored fellow humans, forgive this humble vagabond for speaking out loud of your wretched appearance.” Robin returned his hat to his head and left them cheerily.

  Nerdraaage fist-bumped Doppelganger. Doppelganger boasted about how no one would speak to his friends that way, and they certainly wouldn’t speak to him that way and certainly not anyone wearing tights.

  “Did that guy insult us with his apology?” whispered Ashlyn.

  “I believe he did,” Dangalf whispered back.

  They came upon this faded quest: “Heroes, Seekers, Mercenaries, and Adventurers, a quest awaits you! Daughters of Arachne continue to harass travelers on the road to Vinland and other points south. It is believed that they are responsible for the murder of several children and many more sheep. Bring their carcasses to the office of the shire-reeve of Hempshire for a reward of five copper each.”

  “Daughters of Aratch-nee,” said Nerdraaage. “They want us to kill women?”

  “Spiders,” explained Dangalf.

  It was agreed that this quest would be good for their reputations and the reward was fair. It would also take them down the southern road, which none of them had taken except for Doppelganger, who had patrolled it for only a few miles. And they all agreed killing spiders would be far less distasteful than killing dire wolves.

  They separated to gather their gear, what little they had, and met again at the front gate. Dangalf and Ashlyn arrived together at the gate first. They sat on the ground in the shade of a guard tower. Nerdraaage appeared next and carried a small hemp bag in his hand.

  “What is the bag for?” asked Ashlyn.

  “For the spiders,” said Nerdraaage.

  Dangalf and Ashlyn shook their heads at him. He turned to see Doppelganger approaching them and pulling a wagon behind him. He turned back to the others.

  “Big spiders,” said Nerdraaage. Dangalf and Ashlyn nodded.

  Doppelganger walked past them. “Come on,” he said. Dangalf and Ashlyn spontaneously jumped on the back of the wagon. Doppelganger barely noticed their weight. “You want a free ride?” he asked and then he suddenly began running all out. His powerful legs propelled them quickly, and Dangalf had to grab the side of the wagon to keep from tumbling out backward. Nerdraaage ran after them, his little legs unable to keep up. He caught the back of the wagon as he fell and was dragged for many yards before Dangalf and Ashlyn could help him into the wagon.

  And this is how they traveled for about ten miles. Dangalf marveled at Doppelganger’s strength and endurance. But it was a melancholy feeling. Doppelganger was the one least like he was in the other world, personality wise, and he missed how his dear friend used to be.

  The elf eyes saw it first. “There,” she said pointing into the woods. Doppelganger stopped and pulled the wagon to the side of the road.

  “What?”

  “Webbing.” Doppelganger pulled the wagon into the woods with them. He had borrowed it, and it was important to hide it from thieves.

  The canopy of the woods blotted out most of the noonday sun, and the color of the leaves and bark gave the woods a gray, monochromatic look. It felt ten degrees cooler in the woods than it had on the road.

  The others saw what Ashlyn had seen from the road: trees decorated with white spider webbing. The webbing became thicker and more expansive deeper into the woods until the trees became coated in whiteness, giving a wintry look to the cool darkness.

  Dangalf brought out his wand. Doppelganger strapped on his borrowed shield and axe. Nerdraaage armed himself with his dagger and sucked some wine from his bag. So far he felt none of the apprehension that he had when they faced the dire wolves.

  Ashlyn was unarmed, but it was agreed she was capable of taking care herself with her heightened senses and gazelle-like swiftness. Still, Dangalf took the opportunity to tell her to “stay close.”

  Ashlyn went to a small white mass. She peeled the sticky web back, and the others were surprised to see the mass begin moving. She revealed a fawn, barely higher than her knee. It bounded away from the spider-infested woods. A spider with a body the size of a softball scurried toward Ashlyn. “Whoa,” gasped Nerdraaage.

  Doppelganger was first to the spider and raised his axe, but before he could strike, Dangalf shot a bolt from his wand that killed the spider instantly. The others stood over the smoking carcass.

  “Very nice,” Ashlyn said.

  “Are you okay?” Dangalf asked.

  “Of course she is, dumbass,” said Doppelganger. “Spider didn’t come anywhere near her.” And he pressed on into the woods.

  Ashlyn did not have an issue with killing the spiders. The Legion planted broodmothers, first-generation daughters of Arachne, around Acadia as part of their ecological warfare. Even an untrained naturalist such as Ashlyn recognized these spiders as harmful invaders of the Vinlandian ecosystem. Dangalf had told them the legend that Arachne, the Spider Queen, was a daeva escaped from the center of the world. What was undisputed was that she now resided deep in the Palusian swamps, where she was worshipped and feared, and fruitfully multiplied.

  The Keepers stopped short of a cluster of spiders resting on their webs. Doppelganger suggested that he and Dangalf, as the trained members of the group, would kill the spiders while Nerdraaage and Ashlyn would do carcass runs back to the wagon. Dangalf and Ashlyn agreed that was a good idea.

  Nerdraaage, however, took a swig from his bag, raised his dagger, shouted, “For Hybernia!” and charged into the cluster. His vibrations on the webbing brought a dozen spiders descending on him. He stomped the first one, and it cracked and oozed under his foot. But others followed. He stomped and stabbed at them, but they were too numerous, and he felt one scurry up his back and onto his neck. Doppelganger punched the spider from Nerdraaage and chopped it neatly in half before it hit the ground.

  Dangalf wanded bolts of fire as other spiders attacked. After less than a minute, there were a dozen spider carcasses. Webbing ran all through the trees, some of it nearly invisible, and each plucked strand summoned more spiders.

  Nerdraaage smiled with great satisfaction. The wine had done its trick. He had fought well and fearlessly as a dwarf should. And he still hadn’t had a day of training.

  “Did you get bitten?” Dangalf asked.

  “No,” said Nerdraaage. “It will take more than a big bug to bite through this hide.”

  They ventured on, careful to not rouse more spiders than they could handle. Ashlyn ran the spider carcasses back to the wagon. After several trips, she returned to find the others covered in spider goo and resting. The smell of burnt spider was sickening, and it was almost as dark as night under the tall trees. She stopped over one dead spider with a body the size of a basketball. Its long legs still twitched. “They’re getting bigger,” she said.

  “The deeper we go,” said Dangalf approaching the carcass. “Maybe it’s time to pack it in.”

  “How many carcasses do we have?” asked Doppelganger.

  “Five or six dozen,” she said.

  “I think we’re getting close to the broodmother,” said Dangalf. “I don’t know if all of us together could kill her.”

  “We could,” said Doppelganger.

  “Even if we killed her,” said Ashlyn, “someone might get hurt. Let me get my healer training before we test our limits like this.” It was agreed that they should call it a night, and they rose to collect the remaining carcasses. Ashlyn turned suddenly toward the unexplored woods.

  “What?” asked Dangalf.

  “Someone called for help,” she said.

  “In there?” asked Nerdraaage. “With the broodmother? Good luck to him!”

  “It’s a dwarf,” she said.

  “We could go get help,
” said Dangalf.

  “And if he’s dead when we return?” asked Doppelganger.

  “We’re a not ready for the broodmother,” said Dangalf. “We’re two apprentices and two noobs. There’s no dishonor in going for more help.”

  “I would feel dishonor,” said Doppelganger.

  “That’s just your blood and bile talking,” said Dangalf.

  “I say we help him,” said Doppelganger.

  “Well I say we go for help,” said Dangalf. They looked to Ashlyn.

  “I won’t be of any help, so I abstain.” They looked to Nerdraaage for the deciding vote.

  “You heard the she-elf,” he said. “There’s a dwarf that needs help.” And he took another swig of wine.

  Dangalf made torches from bark and branches and spider silk and lit them with his wand. Ashlyn took the lead and moved stealthily through the traps of web. The three pressed on with limited spider contact. Those that did approach them mostly retreated in the face of the torches. A few aggressive ones were quickly killed.

  Finally they lost sight of Ashlyn. They looked about in panic. Dangalf was about to yell out when she dropped from the trees behind him. “It’s me,” she said gently but not without spooking him. “I’ve found him. Wrapped up like a mummy and attached to a web that reaches sixty feet into the air. To the top of the tallest tree. And on that web…”

  “Let me guess,” said Dangalf. “Broodmother?” She nodded solemnly.

  “How big?” asked Doppelganger looking at the edge of his blade.

  “Smaller than a car. Barely.”

  Ashlyn returned to the lead, and they followed her to the dwarf’s cocoon. The space was crisscrossed with fine white silk leading up into the darkness above. The others could not see the broodmother up in the darkness, but Ashlyn assured them that she was there. “Would our torches hold her off?” asked Dangalf.

  “I doubt it,” she answered. “Her legs are longer than your arms even with torches.”

  “The way I see it, we have two choices,” said Dangalf. “We grab the dwarf and try to make a quick escape, or we attack her and have a fight that we might not need to have and may not win.”