Tall Tales: The Nymphs' Symphony (Scott T Beith's Tall Tales Saga Book 1)

by Scott Beith

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying or how’s it even related to your mother,” I’d told him. “Are you trying to say there are parallel worlds to ours that exist somewhere in our own universe, up there in the stars?”

  “Yes… Well, close. But no, actually... I’m talking about mirroring worlds within our own universe,” he’d rephrased to me.

  “So what?” I’d said to him. “How does that statement explain what your mother does? If it were all true and duplicate worlds could exist out there, what would it ever matter to us seeing as we can’t fly up to go find them ourselves,” I’d replied, expecting that to be the end of it.

  “Because it means if my mother builds doorways that run on randomness and is shot out in any direction of the unknown, then there would always be a duplicate version of her doing the exact same thing but in the exact opposite direction. Which means anytime she opens a bridge from her side of the veil, somewhere out there another version of herself would also open the other half of the bridge so they would meet in the middle, and she exchanges place with that reflection each time a new gateway is formed,” he theorised.

  “Ok… So you mother works with alternate versions of herself? Have you ever told her that?” I’d pondered, still more or less oblivious to how she did something so physiologically unparalleled, feeling as if I knew less after I asked him the question then I did before it. Although of course too proud and afraid of looking dumb to ask him to explain it to me all over again.

  “No, but that’s the beauty of it,” he’d said, believing I was following his thoughts, happy when he had another intellectual soul to have these kinds of deep discussions with – the grateful look on his young face making me feel like I was close to being as clever as him.

  “Ok, why?” I’d divulged curiously, trying to ignore a bombarding sound of wooden splinters and clay brick built targets that his mother was violently smashing towards her opposition in order to win her duels and be elected the first ever ‘Legioness’ of the Borderlands.

  “Because when you cross that bridge you will only ever enter a world no different than the one you came out from. In other words, whenever she crosses it, she takes the place of a world in which nothing at all has changed, seeing as the point of divergence between both worlds will have never occurred before her transition from one place to the other,” he’d babbled. “So every time my mother disappears, I get a new one who’s exactly the same in every way possible,” he’d joked… I believe.

  That was the very first of many crazy ramblings we had. And, only upon my own arrival into a hypothetical shadowing world, had I the ability to realise what he and, by consequence, his father had tried to explain to me. That Camilla was the key to my current situation – the way out of the confining prison.

  The gnolls must have found a way to reconfigure her gateway stone and use the residual eclipses of the old faltering Sunspire to power their voyage back and forth between both worlds, which meant her gateway stones were going to be the only way out of the gnolls’ homeland as well – a big problem, considering much of the land had fallen to degradation and decay.

  And although clear of head and calm of mind, I did feel as though I was on the verge of insanity as Midas had been. He was the man who had first learned of the dying world and had taken some type of chance to try and save it – a selfless act most costly, considering all that he’d lost because of it.

  29

  Mercy

  “Arlo, are you here?” I cried out, giving up on staying quiet, noticing a shadow bolt past a greenish mossy tinge of the southern side wall remains, flicking up fungal spores as something in the immediate distance crushed over poisonous-appearing death cap’s that broke under the kicking force of someone’s step and rolled downhill along with the tripped assailant.

  I hesitated to chase it. I started to think that maybe their civilisation had been poisoned by their environment. After all, both mould and mushroom spore exposure were well known toxins for causing paranoia, such as seeing things and going mad, ultimately though I decided to chase into the potentially toxic area as fast as I could, risking the chance that I would only fumigate myself with further personal delusions.

  I saw a flashing silver twinkle of metal moving out in the distance, and instinctively I ran toward it in quick pursuit of what I hoped would be Arlo and the shiny right side shoulder plate he wore upon his armour. But in doing so, I had lost all sight of where he was just as fast as I’d first glimpsed him.

  I continued running forward. “Where are you?” I called out again, a fair bit louder that time, my voice echoing down the mountainous hills towards the lower grounds.

  The trees started vibrating as tiny things scattered out of them, branches depositing hunks of black and brown hairy abdomens as trees emptied their cargo with rapid shakes all around me. It was the unsettling sound of an entire nest of sleeping camouflaged beasts suddenly awoken because of my voice.

  Followed by the stalking pitter patter of predators creeping through the shrubs that surrounded the hillsides around me. The attack was well coordinated, as I was blocked off all possible paths. Clear to me that I had made a terrible mistake – perhaps a fatal one – as, for the first time ever, there was no one there to rescue me.

  “RUN!” Arlo shouted from somewhere behind the shrubbery to the left of me. “Just run!” he exhaustedly called out again, holding a thick heavy branch as he struck at the hundred swiping legs of spiders already around him. He was resilient to kick and push himself free, despite being knocked about by legs squishing him still and pinning him down as he panted and heaved to break free. Dropped by a swipe against his two restricted feet as webs began to be wrapped around him by a fleet of spiders all working together. Silk had covered entire willow trees tops as a cage of web had concealed us into a pit while Arlo struggled to try and untangle himself from the thick netting locking up his legs and then his waist as they took turns in rolling him around and slowly winding those webs upwards to cover him.

  He had no sword to defend himself with, just one frail wooden branch that broke upon the face of the closest beast capturing him. “Arlo!” I called to him with no particular intention. Before I had a chance to intervene, he had already been covered completely and was being dragged towards the gorge and cliffs, falling out of my sight as he passed the cage’s netting. I wanted to chase after him, but a swarm of giant carnivorous spiders flooded towards me, issuing the blood hungry clicking screech sounds of their war cries as they climbed over each other, lunging for the very first bite.

  “Get away from me!” I shouted, sprouting up a blunt wooden club from the shadows as tall and thick as I could, swinging it left and right harshly in attack towards those spiders. I was amazed to see how much my club grew in size. It started off like a waffle bat then had suddenly become as big and thick as a tree trunk by the time it clubbed the spiders over the head, flattening and crushing an entire passageway before my eyes with each following swing.

  Despite how large and heavy it looked, to me the bat felt as light as a feather, yet was strong enough to squash these giant critters with the strength of an avalanche. Truly empowered, my hand had become became engulfed inside the shadows completely, my fingernails growing as they branched out like long sharp claws as I swiped savagely at those deranged lurking spiders. I pulled them down from the treetops that some tried to escape in as I started slapping others in each opposing direction they lunged at me from.

  I was stronger than them and they knew it, but most of them didn’t care. They were so starved and desperate that the majority just continued relentlessly to chase towards me.

  I spared no time to try and get to high ground, I compacted my legs, building a tower beneath my feet to rise me up from the ground. I created mushrooms that built up until they exploded underneath each spider’s legs, hurling the creatures into each other.

  At a moment’s notice, I had created my own forbidden forest, thinning out clumps of fog into long stretched out vines as
it looked like mother earth was grabbing and wrestling each violent intruder and wrapping them around their very own web covered tree.

  When everything was still again, I regained the confidence to drop back down and contest the stragglers breaking free as they fled. “COME BACK HERE!” I screamed as loud as I could.

  Spores were exploding on either side of the evading predators as they ran away from me, tiny pin like particles ejecting out as the mist of sharp mushrooms spores disintegrated like water upon my pursuit. A click of my fingers was all it took to bring everything I created down to floor as I jumped onto it like a snowboard, riding one huge black wave of darkness and decay.

  That death-cloud rumbled unsteadily as I rode and surfed it, grafting four running limbs and then receding into two as my one gigantic spirit protector returned from beneath me. My feet on its ever-rising shoulders as an ogre that stomped and punched its way through trees, begun sending the spiders that climbed them fleeing across the ground and scattering towards the steep river gorge and cliff.

  What I was doing was pure carnage and evil. The creature stomped and squished those giant bugs like they were buckets of sticks and sand, but having lost sight of my prince, I needed them to flee so I could find the closest entrances to their lair.

  “More!” I malevolently ordered my protector as it stampeded towards the cliff.

  One bald black monster sucking up and consuming its surroundings as it grew like a snowball rolling down a hill, only ever getting bigger and heavier as it gained more speed and momentum towards the cliffs.

  Mounted safely upon its shoulders, I had made two foot prints to lock me firmly in it as we crashed through the old withered trees branches that blocked our way.

  We maintained a heated pursuit towards the cliffs that the spiders went vertical down in order to enter their tunnelling holes of the spiders’ cavern.

  A part of me felt like I was losing myself to the mayhem I was causing, as even the smaller bugs that could do no harm to me were dashing out from their hiding holes in retreat from being squished. I had no time to question my motives, nor did I bother to consider whether I was more compelled by the need to save a friend or just a form of repressed rage and berserker’s hostility while my wrathful protector continued to stomp over the vermin it could have very easily avoided, before it got to the ledge and jumped off the cliff without any fear of the fall.

  I was sadistically happy with myself for the demolition we had caused in our chase. I felt as though I wasn’t even chasing them down to retrieve my prince, but was rather doing it so I could bring fear back to things that had brought fear to me.

  I saw my ogre as a spirit of justice and retribution, rather than of pure vengeance. I also didn’t care that I had plunged that beast over the edge to fall and crack like a nut upon the rocks of the river below, while I merely created myself two long jet-black devil wings and swooped carelessly through the spiders’ hole and down the passage, straight into the huge open expanse of a chasm underneath the hills where all the spiders were burrowed.

  Fear was a powerful motivator, and for me the fear of being alone was scarier than any thought of failing to save my friend. As without sparing any time to gather a suitable plan, I had wings tucked around me like a cocoon as I fell down the chasm in a fast intended free fall.

  I saw Arlo’s silk covered body down by the green bile of the bottom level rocks, I expanded those wings, gliding and guiding my way down towards him and the crowd of spiders hanging above him on their silk lines.

  There was a whole cult worship about it, with a bunch of evil forest-nymph acolytes standing before the stable master upon his throne chair. The webbed-up prince brought to him and the massive brood mother spider queen as an offering.

  The spiders surround the stable master protectively upon my landing. I hadn’t even bothered to check but I had the wings of downsized colossal vampiric bats as my entrance alone was enough to scare all nymphs from the rock they all stood upon.

  The stable master, however, gazed towards me and my dramatic descent, unimpressed. Some spiders scattering in fear, while the majority kept suspended up on their lines in wait.

  My bat wings vanished to a puff of smoke as I walked confidentially around the edges that separated flat rock from the fluorescent green acidic venom pools below. I was stepping over the crumbling bones of former nymphs the spiders had feasted on, kicking the smaller pieces into the pits, only to hear it hiss as residual flesh melted from pure bone.

  Determined to not let that happen to my prince, I took one step too close to the prince and where he laid wrapped up, setting the vast majority of the spider colony to drop down their vines slightly in silent warning of an attack upon me.

  Still staring me down, the stable master jumped up from his stone throne seat, situated in the middle of his green moated rock island. He then proceeded to pull out two small tomahawks from a tattered loin cloth that served only as a belt to hold both weapons.

  I wasn’t sure if he could speak or not, but it was clear that he was attempting to match his aggression to that of my own bold entrance. The stable master and the spiders all looked to me as if I were fighting because I wanted their food for myself, and that left us in one prolonged stalemate, the stable master’s resilient stance almost symbolic of someone wishing to duel for the rights to his spoils.

  In my head, I knew what I was doing was foolish, as there was no shadow I could conjure that would be able to save me from the toxic cauldron of corrosive venom in the green pools below. Even upon the rock we stood upon, there were areas of drool dripping from the above spider lines of which I had to stay away from.

  But as it seemed to appear the brawl I was entering involved only the two of us, and that perhaps meant the spiders upon each corner of my eye were going to keep to their lines above free of intervention while he and I battled it out like animals upon their floating island rock.

  The rock itself was sturdy, but could sink in and tip if too much pressure was put into any one particular corner, a balance that had to be maintained while we both stood at opposing corner edges with the prince in the middle. The brood mother appeared to descend down towards the rock, hanging overhead as the true ringleader of the chasm, one gargantuan fat bellied tarantula that wished only to observe me from a safe distance above the island we stood on.

  The stable master waved his axes in an up and back direction towards himself while he stood in one forward facing duelling stance. His knees were bent as he licked his lips in some last minute preparation for making me part of his dinner plans. The man still had tattoos all across his skin, just like the man I knew back home. But this man was covered in war scars and surprised even me with his bipolar audacity, choosing to crazily charge at me. He was more of a cannibalistic beast himself than the spiders he allegedly could tame.

  I leapt out of his path, jumping to the side, conjuring just a shield to help deflect and obstruct all his lunging attacks. I then aggressively shoulder charged him with it, splitting it into two as I converted it back into wings and jumped forward whacking him and his axes backwards with just my right-hand side. Powerful enough to push against his throne chair while one of his axes flew into the acid pits that the island was moated around.

  Enraged and humiliated, he screamed with an attempted roar, only to throw the other axe at me, leaving me to humbly wing clip and slap that axe away.

  Upon back peddling in unarmed fear. He fell and tripped over Arlo, who remained motionless like a log, trapped inside his webbed cocoon. The stable master’s stumble was enough to spook the prince to life, shaking and wrestling as he attempted to rock himself to freedom, his efforts futile as all he did was rock himself dangerously closer to the ledges.

  His own shadows were arising out from under the cocoon to restrain him, resembling the roots of trees as I had to wrap them constrictively just to force him to remain safely still, realising it was imperative that I kept the fight on the other side away from him.

  My interest i
n his safety for something other than food had finally dawned on the stable master who signalled with a wave and skittish clicking mutter to the spiders above to collect their motionless bounty. The stable masters face was red with both rage and frustration as he seemed to have lost all his confidence in doing it himself. “GET HER!” he yelled to his kin, followed by further teeth chattering as he impersonated the spiders unique slithery language. It interested me to know he still spoke my language, but I had no choice but to back up towards the entrance of the lurking spiders descending down towards the rock.

  The sheer weight of each spider body added to the island was upsetting the floating balance of the rock and reducing its sinking size further into the acid pits.

  I cupped my pendant, looking around while countlessly outnumbered. I was smothering that glowing necklace shard with my hands, trying to string together as many swarming shadows as I could; tiny reptiles slithering between the spaces of my fingertips.

  I tried throwing orbs of scrunched up lice, forcing multiple balls of them to fly into swarms as a locust of fleas grew and morphed into the pint-sized shapes of miniature dragon flies that stabbed at the spiders with their pointy venom-less pincer tails.

  I had but two protective wings and a bunch of insignificant sewer parasites to help scare things away. I was up a creek with no paddle, and this creek was brighter and hotter than any boiling river I dare thought hell would be capable of.

  I felt the movement and shake of cave walls. A pathway down the old bark bridge exit shaking like it were calling attention towards itself. Upon it, the ogre I made and sacraficed had returned, pieces of its body reassembling itself just like one of Midas’s clockwork creations. It looked ferociously mad at me, the way it ran up and lunged off the rock cliffs of the winding tunnel track, vaulting in the air as if it meant to crush and flatten me where I stood.