“This is great.” Cutter’s tone was sarcastic again, at least to Watcher.
“Why don’t you come over here and find their trail?” Watcher’s face was red with anger. The fangs of that serpent within him stabbed at his soul.
“No, I’m sure you’ll find it.” Cutter waved a hand, dismissing the offer.
Is he mocking me?
“We need that trail,” Planter said.
“I know that!” Watcher shouted, then cringed. He didn’t mean to shout, but he was so frustrated with Cutter, not to mention scared they might never find the spiders or their lair.
At that moment, the image of Saddler’s face just before she died appeared in the back of his mind. I know you can do it. Save my daughter, please . . . Her last words echoed through his brain.
He glanced at Planter. “Sorry I yelled at you. It’s just that I promised Saddler I’d . . .”
“You promised her you’d save her daughter?” Planter’s green eyes were filled with compassion.
Watcher nodded. “I can’t fail her. Back there in the forest, when I thought there was no hope, I thought I’d failed you as well. That was a terrible feeling I never want to experience again.”
“You need to realize that failure is part of life.” Planter put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You can only do your best.”
“But what if my best isn’t good enough?” He glanced at Cutter, expecting more sarcasm, but found the big warrior silently listening, face hard to read.
“Then you make the best decision you can, and I’ll be there for you.” She moved a little closer, then whispered. “I’ll always be there for you.”
She gave him a strange look he didn’t quite understand, as if she were suggesting—
“So how are we gonna find the spiders now?” Blaster’s voice startled Watcher, making him jump and causing Planter to step back and look away.
“I can only think of one way.” Cutter stepped past Planter, then stood directly in front of Watcher and stared down at the boy. “The zombie warlord’s armor . . . you need to put it on.”
“But last time, it almost killed him,” Planter objected.
“He can handle it, I know it. Besides, it’s the only way.” The towering NPC glanced down at Watcher. “You must do it.”
“No . . . it’s too dangerous.” Planter pushed Cutter aside, then glared at Watcher. “You can’t.”
He sighed. “Cutter’s right, I must.” Watcher gave her a smile. “This is the only way.” Removing his magical iron armor, he set it on the ground, then pulled out the enchanted chainmail he’d taken from the zombie warlord. “Mapper, you have more of those healing potions?”
The old man nodded. “Yep, I’m ready.”
“Okay, here goes.” Watcher slowly lowered the enchanted armor over his head, then settled it onto his shoulders.
Instantly, the armor reached out for his HP. Daggers of pain stabbed at him from all over as his health gave energy to the enchanted chainmail. Closing his eyes, Watcher focused his thoughts on the spiders. A group of black, fuzzy creatures appeared in his mind. They were running across the tops of the tall spruce trees. He smiled. There were far fewer there than had been when they originally attacked; Cleric’s cavalry had inflicted considerable damage.
Moving his thoughts across the landscape, he focused on the monsters’ final destination. A cave materialized in his mind, showing chamber after chamber crawling with spiders. A huge cavern then came into focus in his mind. It was filled with thousands of dark eggs, each covered with bright red spots. Blocks of spiderweb surrounded them, likely to hold the eggs in place and provide some protection. They were all about the same size, which meant they’d likely hatch at the same time.
“Can you see where it is?” Planter asked. She placed a hand on his and squeezed his stubby fingers. The sensation filled him with strength.
I’m not gonna let her down. The pain was intense, like fire spreading across his body and burning away at his flesh, as well as his courage, but with Mapper continually pouring healing potions over him, Watcher could stay alive, even if it was agonizing.
He pulled back his vision, moving away from the spider caves until his mind was floating somewhere outside. Before him was a huge mountain, but not like any other he’d seen before.
The armor tore into his health again . . . agony on top of agony.
The mountain was made of ore: iron, coal, lapis, emerald, gold, redstone, and diamond. A strange purple glow surrounded the cubes like a protective shield; the mountain was enchanted, likely to keep the ore from being taken.
The speckled blocks gave the peak a spotted look, as if it had some kind of multicolored disease. At the foot of the mountain was a gigantic opening leading into the dangerous caves underground.
The pain exploded in his mind again—it was getting worse. He could feel liquid running down his back, but the healing potions couldn’t seem to keep up with the health cost the Mantle of Command demanded. Slowly, his HP was decreasing and decreasing; Watcher was losing the battle.
The image grew blurry. Watcher knew he had to get the enchanted armor off before it was too late. He reached up and tried to lift the sparkling chainmail off his shoulders, but it felt as if it weighed a million pounds.
The armor stabbed at him again, and he fell to his knees, crying out in pain. Focusing on the image, Watcher tried to figure out the location of the mountain, but all he could see around the spotted peak was a sea of stone . . . and then relief finally came as the armor was removed.
Watcher lay on the ground panting, his nerves still screaming at him. Another healing potion smashed against his chest, but this time, the rejuvenating liquid was able to extinguish the flames surging through his body; slowly, his HP returned.
“You came close that time,” Cleric said. “I don’t think using that armor again is a good idea.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.” Watcher took a flask of red liquid from Mapper and drained the contents. The potion flowed through his body, accelerating the healing process and making it feel as if he was among the living again.
“What did you see?” Planter asked as she took the empty bottle from his hands.
“I saw a mountain of gold.”
“A mountain of gold?” Blaster asked.
“Well . . . not just gold, but every ore in Minecraft.”
“A mountain of jewels . . .” Mapper was lost in thought.
“We need to find that mountain.” Planter stared at Watcher, an expression of determination on her beautiful face. “That’s where all the witches will be held. To save Fencer, we need to rescue them. We must do this . . . for Saddler.”
“But how do we stay ahead of the spiders?” Cleric asked.
“What do you mean?” Mapper sounded confused.
“Somehow, the spiders knew Watcher had been in the savannah village.” He looked at his son. “The spider warlord wants to kill the boy-wizard.”
Watcher nodded, then sighed. “I don’t know how the warlord is doing it, but that spider can see where I am.”
“It’s probably because you’re a wizard,” someone suggested.
“I’m not a wizard!” Watcher snapped.
Cleric put a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder, then spoke in a soothing voice. “What do you mean, son?”
Watcher glanced at Planter and Blaster, then gazed at Cutter and shuddered. They’d come close to being overrun by the spiders, and if it hadn’t been for Cleric and the other villagers, they’d all be dead.
“The spiders were clearly waiting for us,” Watcher said. “They set up a trap, and when the time was right, they lowered themselves down from the treetops and surrounded us. It was a perfect strategy, and should have been successful, except for—”
“Except for us.” Winger’s voice was filled with pride.
“Exactly.” Watcher nodded. “If we’re gonna find the spider lair, and sneak in there without ending up in another trap, we have to move faster than the spiders expec
t us to.”
“You’re saying we need more horses.” Cleric started pacing back and forth, lost in thought. “But we don’t have enough for everyone. We can only move as fast as the slowest person.”
“Maybe we can put three NPCs on each horse,” Blaster suggested.
“We could leave some people behind,” someone else said.
“Maybe if we . . .” More ideas were being shouted out by the NPCs. Arguments broke out as people debated what to do.
“The villagers need the Horse Lord.” Er-Lan’s voice was weak at first, but then it grew louder. “The villagers need the Horse Lord!”
No one was listening.
“THE VILLAGERS NEED THE HORSE LORD!” Er-Lan yelled, his voice like the thunderous roar of an ender dragon.
Everyone heard him now, and the villagers grew silent, many of them turning wary eyes toward the green creature.
“Er-Lan, what did you say?” Cleric asked.
“Since the Great War, zombie parents tell their children about the Horse Lord.” Er-Lan turned toward Watcher. “There was a time, before the War, when zombies were friends with some wizards. The Horse Lord made zombie horses and gave them to many in the zombie nation. My mother used to love telling the tale.”
“But this Horse Lord is obviously gone now.” Cutter’s comment sounded like an accusation.
“Cutter is correct, the Horse Lord was killed in the Great War.” The villagers moaned in frustration. “But the Citadel of the Horse Lord is rumored to still exist.”
“What did you say?” Mapper turned to Er-Lan. “What did you call it?”
“The Citadel of the Horse Lord. That is where they made the first zombie horses before the Great War. It was—”
“I’ve heard that name before.” Mapper pulled out a book from his inventory.
“What’s that?” Cleric asked.
“I’ve been copying things from old books stored in the many libraries around the Far Lands, especially the Library of Alexandria.” The old man pulled a stack of books from his inventory and dropped them on the ground. He knelt and looked through the tomes until he found the one he wanted. Opening the pages, he quickly flipped through it, searching for something specific. “I wrote down a section about the Citadel, but never really understood what it meant. I thought it was a—a misspelling.” He laughed, then stopped turning the pages and stared into the book. “Here . . . it says, ‘The Citadel is the mane place, the Citadel is the mane place.’ The book repeated that phrase over and over. I thought the word mane was misspelled, but now I understand what they were saying.”
“Mapper, what are you talking about?” Watcher asked, confused.
The old man moved next to a large white horse and reached up to the creature’s neck. “The hair along the animal’s neck . . . that’s called a mane.” He paused for a moment, waiting for the others to get it, then sighed. “The Citadel is where you find animals with a mane . . . that’s horses!”
“Great, but that doesn’t help us,” Cutter said. “We still don’t know where this Citadel is located.”
“Oh, haha, but we do.” Mapper put away the book and pulled out a map. He unfolded the parchment and placed it on the ground. “We’re here, in this mega taiga biome. You see this symbol here.” He pointed a red dot at the center of a huge “U”. “That’s the Citadel. And now that I see it, the shape around it looks like a hoof print . . . I should have seen it long ago. I thought it was—”
“What’s the green surrounding the Citadel?” Watcher pointed at the map.
Mapper held the map close to his eyes. “It says ‘The Sea of Spines.’ I don’t know what that means, but it seems as if we must go through it to get to the Citadel of the Horse Lord.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Blaster said. “The word spine reminds me of the spine of a wither. I hope it’s not a sea of withers.”
“That would be bad,” Planter said.
“Regardless, that’s where we need to go.” Watcher patted Mapper on the back. “Without more horses, we’ll never be able to sneak up on the spider warlord, and I won’t turn back. I made a promise to Saddler, and I’m gonna keep my word.”
Cleric looked at his son with a prideful expression on his face, then put an arm around him and gave him a hug. “Okay then. We’re going to the Sea of Spines.” He glanced at the map, then turned to Watcher. “You’re our leader . . . so lead.”
Watcher glanced at the map, then pulled out a compass to get his bearings. With Needle in his right hand, he took off running in the direction of the Citadel while others mounted their horses and rode double, following him.
Glancing at the forest around him, Watcher still felt as if the spider warlord were somehow still watching. “I have a bad feeling about all this.” His voice was but a whisper. “But we have no choice.”
Pushing aside feelings of doubt and fear, he shifted to a sprint while Saddler’s last words echoed in his mind.
The spider stumbled around spotted eggs as she scurried across the Hatching Chamber floor, heading straight toward her warlord. The weak creature’s eyes were a pale, faded red as her strength waned.
“Shakaar, the sisters were . . . defeated.” She flashed red as her health dropped to near death.
Shakaar quickly grabbed a clump of green moss sitting next to a spotted egg. She stuffed the fuzzy strands into the spider’s mouth. The wounded creature’s eyes grew brighter. Her mandibles clicked together, then skewered another clump of moss and crammed it into her slitted maw.
“Tell me, sssissster, what happened.” Shakaar backed away.
“We were waiting for the wizard and hisss companionsss, jussst like you ordered.” She finally was strong enough to stand again on her fuzzy legs. The sister grabbed another tuft of moss and devoured it, her eyes glowing brighter. “They were right where you sssaid they would be, in the giant foressst.”
“Go on, sssissster.”
The spider nodded. “We lowered down from the branchesss and sssurrounded the wizard and hisss underlingsss.”
“Yesss . . . why didn’t you dessstroy him, then?” Shakaar’s voice was agitated, her eyes glowing dangerously bright.
The sister tried to take a step back, but bumped into a block of spiderweb. She lowered her head to the ground in resignation. “A group of NPC warriorsss appeared out of the darknesss. They were on horssseback and charged through our linesss.” She glanced up at her warlord. “Many sssissstersss were killed in their firssst passs, and then they turned and attacked again and again.”
“I can’t imagine a mounted villager being a threat to a sssissster.” Shakaar couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“There were two on each horssse, one guiding the mount and usssing a sssword, while the other fired a bow. No sssissster could get near.”
“But you could have—”
“They cut usss to piecesss.” The spider lowered her head, expecting a fatal blow as punishment for her failure. “I’m sssorry, warlord. I wasss in command. I failed.”
Shakaar sighed in frustration, then glanced around the Hatching Chamber. The smaller cave spiders were scurrying all throughout the cavern, tending to each of the eggs as if they were precious, which they were. Sisters stood outside the entrance, guarding the warlord. If she chose to punish this sister with a fatal blow, no one would see.
As a claw extended from one of Shakaar’s legs, the razor-sharp tip scratched across the stone, making a high pitched screeeeech.
The spider before her shook in fear.
“The price for failure isss clear.” The spider warlord’s voice was quiet, yet menacing.
“Yesss, warlord.” The doomed spider did not move, her body shuddering ever so slightly.
Raising her dark talon high in the air, Shakaar was about to bring it down on the condemned spider when she glanced again around the chamber. I do not want this to happen amongst my unhatched children.
She lowered her arm and instead of striking, gently patted the sister on the he
ad. “You will not die today.”
The spider breathed a sigh of relief and glanced up at her warlord, a look of adoration in her eight red eyes.
“Come with me, sssissster.” Shakaar walked to the entrance of the Hatching Chamber. Her two guards instantly snapped to attention. She turned to one of them. “Take this sister to the surface so she can get some sun and recharge her health.”
“Yesss, Shakaar,” the monster said.
They moved off, with the reprieved sister between them, but Shakaar reached out, grabbed one of the guards, and pulled her back. She moved close and whispered in her ear. “That sssissster failed to stop the boy-wizard. Ssshe failed her warlord and ssshe failed everyone. Dessstroy her outssside of the lair. If ssshe dropsss any ssspider eyesss, take them to the witchesss ssso they can make more poissson for usss.”
“Yesss, warlord.” The spider nodded, understanding, then scurried away.
Shakaar moved back into the Hatching Chamber and rested a claw on one of the eggs. The sticky green ooze clinging to the shell smelled of tangy nether wart; she hated the odor, but knew it was necessary.
“I mussst know where the boy-wizard isss heading now.”
The spider warlord reached into her inventory and pulled out the Eye of Searching. She strapped it to her head and positioned the glowing lens over one eye. Instantly, pain radiated throughout her body as the ancient relic drew energy from her health. The image she saw through the lens showed the wizard-boy running through the tall woods, ranks of mounted warriors galloping at his side. There were far more NPCs than before; at least a hundred, if not more.
She also saw a lone zombie running at the wizard’s side. “How can that be?” she asked herself as pain splashed through her body again. A leafy mass was stuffed into her mouth—likely one of the brothers was feeding her some of the green moss.
She focused her attention on the zombie, using the Eye’s powers to inspect it. And then she saw it and gasped: there was the faintest spark of purple light within the monster. It was nestled deep within the zombie’s mind, far from being released, but when it did come to the surface, everything would change for that zombie and for the monsters of the Far lands.
Into the Spiders' Lair Page 10
