by R C Gray
Stone of the Denmol
Shadows of Hiraeth, Volume 1
R.C. Gray
Published by R.C. Gray, 2019.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
STONE OF THE DENMOL
First edition. October 6, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 R.C. Gray.
Written by R.C. Gray.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Into the Web
A Chance Meeting
Strong as Iron
A Bottle of the Finest
Two in the Bushes
The Red Banner
The Shadow and the Flame
A Small Measure
The Broken Temple
The White Tower
The Roads of Mivara
A Heart in the Darkness
Walls of Stone
A Tale of Sigurn and Ingrid
A Reason for all Things
The Will and the Word
The Burning Man
A Parting of Ways
Shores of Solis
The Banshee
Unhallowed Ground
The Shifting Darkness
This book is dedicated to all my family and friends. Without your support, I wouldn't have made it far.
Into the Web
His footsteps were silent as he made his way across the fallen leaves and thick moss that lined the forest floor. The woodland around him stretched out for miles in all directions, and the towering trees dampened the glow of the morning sun that was beginning to break over the horizon. Tall oaks, golden maples, and white pines swayed gently in the cool breeze, covering any sound his light footsteps might make. Several birch trees pushed up through dense rows of brambles and blackberry bushes, their bright white bark contrasting the dark brown tangles of branches that wove tightly around their trunks. Large rocks jutted up like broken teeth between the trees, hiding the mouth of the cave just a stone’s throw away.
Crouching to one knee on a small game trail, Skara stopped to check for any signs of movement in the area. Although he had gone into the cave many times, it was never without risk. Brushing the dirt off his palms, he reached for the small pouches that hung tightly on his belt and opened the flaps of each, checking to make sure he had brought his vials of antidote. Feeling the small bottles wrapped in strips of cloth inside, he closed the pouch and slid his hand forward to rest on the hilt of one of the twin daggers he had found long ago deep inside the cave.
The dagger on his belt was nearly the length of his forearm with dark brown leather tightly wrapped over its hilt. Its slightly curved blade was blackened and inscribed with silver runes that ran down its length and was pressed firmly into a leather sheath that hung on his right hip. A second dagger, nearly identical to the first, was attached on his left hip, and a straight-bladed knife hung in a horizontal sheath on the back of his belt. Giving each of his weapons one last touch, Skara rose to his feet in a crouch and slowly moved forward.
His soft deerskin boots padded lightly on the damp earth as he crept between the trees and rough stones that lay scattered around the edges of the trail. His dark green tunic and brown pants blended with the forest around him, but the sharp eyes that were trained to hunt could easily see his movement if they were watching. Pausing at the base of a large tree, he raised his face into the wind, his slightly pointed nose sniffing quickly as his dark yellow eyes darted from side to side across the small clearing that stretched out between his position and the mouth of the cave. Hearing a slight rustle in the canopy above him, his pointed green ears twitched, and his pupils narrowed into slits, scanning the branches that hung high overhead.
The morning light glittered through the brightly colored autumn leaves, making the red, gold, and orange look like flames dancing in the wind against the brightening blue sky. The leaves that had blown free fell lightly into the clearing, painting the dark green patches of moss with bright flecks of color. Skara closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the brisk air around him. Shivering slightly, he opened his eyes and focused on the task ahead.
“Must’ve been the wind,” he muttered to himself while scratching at the black arm wraps that covered his mottled, dark green skin. His voice was low and slightly rough as his breath cut sharply through his pointed teeth. Being so close to the caverns always put him on edge; but the chance at finding gold, weapons, or other treasures was worth the effort. Licking his lips nervously, he pulled his long black hair into a tight ponytail and glanced around one last time before darting across the clearing and into the vast, dark mouth of the cave.
Once inside, he scurried behind a large rock near the wall and waited, watching for any movement in the depths beyond. Running his hand lightly along the damp wall, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness, being careful of his footing over the slick, uneven stones scattered across the cavern floor. And although he could see in near-total blackness, one wrong move could draw unwanted attention and put him in a dangerous position.
The cave was nearly forty feet high and twice as wide with massive weavings of webbing covering the walls and portions of the opening that led deeper into the murk of the Surwynd cave. Moving away from the wall and pulling out a small sack that was tucked into his tunic, he rubbed a slick salve on his hands and tugged at several thick strands of web that hung tattered between two large rocks, shoving pieces into his bag.
Above him hung balls of webbing suspended from the cave ceiling, each filled with something that had been unlucky enough to stumble in or be caught and carried here. There weren’t many that chose to visit the cave, as its inhabitants and depth kept away most explorers; but occasionally, someone or something would venture here unprepared and get caught up only to meet a horrible fate. And as unfortunate as it was for someone else, it made for easy scavenging that led him to find quite a few valuables that would have otherwise been lost.
Reaching out his hand, his fingers stuck slightly to the rope-like webs attached to the rock in front of him. Pulling out his dagger, he cut lengths of it away, wrapped it into balls, and stuffed them into the open sack on the ground. Cutting several more strands, he shoved them into the bag as he glanced around the cave, looking for anything else that could be useful. Catching sight of a large bundle of web hanging from the ceiling, he picked up his bag and moved over to the slightly swaying mass.
It was wrapped from head to toe in webbing, and only a small opening could be seen around the noticeably human mouth. The cold air in the cave had turned the partially open lips a pale pink, while the stubble and skin around them were damp with moisture from the cave; or from the man forcing his tongue through the web trying to get air. The body hung at an angle with the head slightly lower than the feet, attached to the high ceiling by several thick lines.
“Poor bastard. I hope it was quick,” Skara said, jabbing his sharp nail at the side of the hanging body.
The body suddenly let out a loud gasp and began to twist and writhe inside the cocoon, swinging it from side to side. Letting out a startled grunt, Skara stepped backwards, tripping on the stones behind him, his right side scraping down a long, rough stone before he landed hard on his back. Scrambling back to his feet, he quickly drew a dagger and hid behind a broken boulder, eyes searching the ceiling as he glanced back and forth between the swaying body and the massive white webs.
“Who’s out there? Answer me! I know you’re there; I can hear you. You have to get me out of here. I’ve been here all night, and that thing could be back at any minute.”
The man began to grunt and jerk frantically at his bindings, causing him to rock unsteadily back and fort
h. “Can you please help me? You can’t just leave me here,” the man said as he stopped struggling, letting out a loud roar that echoed off the walls around them.
Moving quickly over to the body, Skara placed his hand over the man’s open mouth. “Shut your mouth or you’ll get us both killed.”
The man stopped squirming, and Skara could hear a muffled groan coming from beneath his hand. Moving his palm away from the man’s mouth, he quickly gulped in air.
“What are you doing?” the man said, breathing hard. “Are you trying to kill me? The one opening that I have in this death trap is for my mouth, and you cover it up! Now stop playin’ around and cut me outta here. I know you may not want to know this, but this web is really...constricting.”
“What?”
“Tight. Around the...” the man paused, thinking about what to say next. “Around the lower region. I think I’m losing circulation! It’s like when you’ve slept on your arm wrong and woke up to a painful, tingly sensation. Think about how that feels, but in your nether region. Now, will you hurry up?”
“I think that’s the point. The whole purpose is to keep you in place until the spider can come back, stick its fangs into your squishy torso and suck out your innards. It’s not a warm hammock meant to keep you cozy,” Skara said as he eyed the man and took hold of one of the lines holding him in place. Hearing the skittering sound of small rocks cascading down a wall farther into the tunnel, he gripped the hilt of his dagger as he scanned the tangles of webs hanging in the distance. “Don’t move.”
“What is it?” the man said, fear tinging his voice.
“Quiet,” Skara said, his sharp eyes peering through the darkness as he ducked below the man’s body, watching for any signs of movement but seeing nothing.
The man moved slightly, tugging at his bonds. “Are you still there?”
“Do you know how many spiders there are in here?” Skara said, catching the scent of alcohol as he stood up next to the man. “This cave stretches under the whole of Uthrea, they say. It goes deep underground with openings everywhere. No one really knows what’s down there, but I know there’s more than spiders! Most likely a few clans of deep dwarves and dark elves; and they’re the least of your worries. And you think you can get drunk and come down here...”
“Thanks for the lesson, but that’s not what happened. Besides, you’ve just let me hang here for some time for no reason. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to take out a knife, cut these webs, and let me down.”
Working quickly, Skara reached out his hand and took hold of the thick strands of webbing and began to saw through them. He made sure to cut the strand nearest to the man’s head first so that his body hung at an awkward angle before cutting through the web at the man’s feet, letting him fall limply to the ground. The man let out a small groan as he landed hard against the stone. He writhed and strained as Skara cut away the webbing that held his legs in a tight bundle.
“Stop moving, or you’ll get cut. It’s hard enough to take this off without you wriggling all over like a worm.”
“Then, hurry up. I don’t like being so close to getting eaten.”
“We should be fine if we’re quick. The spiders move deeper into the cave to nest before the sun comes up. They don’t get out and moving again until close to dark. They’re night hunters. I’m sure that’s when they got you, stumbling alone out in the dark. They strung you up to finish you off in the evening. Most likely, a little meal for one of the younger ones.”
Skara ran his dagger through the white, sticky mass, pulling it open as he went. As he neared the man’s chest, cutting his arms free, the man ripped the remaining webbing from his face and sat up. Rubbing his eyes and pushing back his long, dark blonde hair, he winced as he rubbed a bloody bump on his forehead. Moving his hand down to rub the back of his neck, he looked over at Skara, his eyes opening wide in surprise as he looked him up and down.
“So, you’re a goblin,” the man said, pulling strands of webbing off the tips of his pointed ears. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just not what I expected.”
“And you’re an elf,” Skara said, tilting his head to the side and squinting down at the man. “I thought you’d be some little lord-ling out playing the hero. No one else would be foolish enough to come in here otherwise. Or maybe you are a lord-ling, although you couldn’t tell it from your clothes.”
The elf was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved tunic, its top buttons left open to show what looked like a black tattoo on his upper chest. His left sleeve hung down over his wrist, unbuttoned at the cuff, while his right sleeve was rolled up over his elbow. The black pants he wore were dirty and tattered and tucked into his black boots that reached halfway up his calf. He wore a plain black belt with several small pouches and what looked like an empty sword and dagger sheath on his left hip.
“Well, let’s not forget you’re in here too...and I’m about as much of a lord-ling as you are,” the elf said, pushing himself to his feet and brushing the dirt off his pants. “I don’t have the luck for that. Although things would be a lot easier if I were. Faine is my name.”
The elf slightly bowed, twirling his hand in an exaggerated motion as he bent down.
“Skara.”
“Well, Skara, it looks like I owe you one for saving my life. Do you know what it’s like to have eight hairy legs wrapping around you? I mean, normally I wouldn’t mind having eight legs twisting around me, but not from a massive, gods-damned spider. Now, I think we should stop standing around and get out of here. These spiders could come to tear us apart any second now.”
The elf looked from left to right before lightly running towards the brighter end of the cave. Grabbing his bag and following the elf, Skara smirked to himself as he watched Faine stumble over several of the slick stones that were scattered across the cave floor.
“So, how’d you end up here?” Skara said, following close behind the elf.
Faine shook his head and tried to clear a bit of the fog that still hung there. “It’s kind of a long story. Let’s just say I got into something that I shouldn’t have and ended up in the woods in the wrong place at the wrong time last night.”
“You got lucky,” Skara said. “They don’t always wait to eat what they catch.”
“I don’t know if I’d say that...but maybe you’re right. There’s a lot more in these woods that could have gotten me in the dark,” Faine said, glancing back over his shoulder at Skara. “But why are you here?”
“For the web.”
“What do you mean?”
“I take the webbing down, roll it into balls, and sell it to a merchant in Banrielle. They make it into fabric or use it to make clothing or light armor.”
“How can they do anything with it when it’s so sticky?” Faine said, running his hand across a small patch of webbing still clinging to his pants. His face twisted in frustration as the white threads stuck to his palm and had to be scraped off onto the jagged edge of a rock.
“It has to soak in a solution to get it clean. The merchants won’t touch it if they can’t do anything with it.”
“So, you just show up here to collect webs? Hardly seems worth the trouble unless the merchants pay good coin for it. But you know when the spiders sleep, so you must come around quite a bit.”
“As much as I need to. You never know what might’ve been dropped by someone else down here.”
“You mean someone caught up like an animal? How often do you come across people hanging in here?” Faine said, breathing heavy as made his way up the incline out of the cave and into the light of the clearing. He stopped, leaning over to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath. “Oh, thank the gods...sunlight.”
Skara scowled, looking over at Faine. “Not often. But if they’re here, they don’t have use for what’s in their pockets anymore. Coin’s no good to the dead.”
“True enough. I’d say that I’m sorry about you missing out on possibly getting a few coins from me, but since
that means I would have been dead, I’m really not that sorry. And besides, you still have your balls.”
Skara looked at him with a puzzled look, his face turning into a slight frown.
“Your balls of web. You know, to sell back in town. Speaking of which, where is it? I know it’s north of here, but about how far?”
“About four miles or so.”
“You heading there now? I’m a little turned around. There’s a gold coin in it for you if you can get me there.”
Thinking about how the coin could make up for some of the trouble the elf had put him through down in the cave, Skara slung his bag over his shoulder and motioned for Faine to follow. “Come on, then.”
The woods were quiet as the sun rose higher in the sky, its scattered light shining down on the small trail as they walked, Faine talking about several other exploits that he had barely escaped. Only speaking occasionally, Skara kept his eyes on the path, watching for rocks as he moved quickly through the trees, trying to reach the edge of the forest.
The two walked for nearly two miles before Faine suddenly froze, his face going blank. “Skara, stop!”
Skara turned to look at Faine, a worried expression washing over his face. His ears twitched as he heard the branches of the thick tree in front of them creaking under a heavy weight. Small twigs broke and fell around them as they both raised their eyes to look at the branches above. Glaring down from the tree directly above their heads, a massive spider perched, watching them with eight large eyes.
Its grotesque body was nearly the size of a warhorse with a brown abdomen and a spotted grey thorax. Thick, bristly hair covered its spindly legs as it stretched them out towards the pair, picking up their vibrations and scent with the delicate hairs on the tips of its legs as it leaned forward, getting ready to jump.
“Run!” Skara said, taking off in a sprint in one direction while Faine ran in another.
