Into the Spiders' Lair

by Mark Cheverton

  “Well, that’s not something I do every day,” Cutter said, brushing at his arms as if trying to get rid of the shimmering particles, which were already disappearing on their own.

  “Everyone make it through? Okay then, come on . . . this way.” Watcher pulled on the reins and urged his horse into a gallop, heading through the birch forest toward something dark in the distance.

  “You have any idea where we’re going?” Cutter asked.

  Watcher shrugged. “Not exactly, but I have this strange feeling telling me where our next destination is located, and it’s this way.”

  “Maybe we should be figuring out where the spiders’ lair is hidden and head for that,” Cutter suggested.

  Turning in his saddle, Watcher stared at the big warrior and shook his head again, his arms glowing brighter. “This is the right way.”

  “I think we should listen to him,” Blaster said. “Being a wizard and all, he seems to know what’s going on.”

  “He isn’t a wizard . . . he’s just Watcher.” Cutter gave Blaster a scowl. “Enchanted items don’t make someone a wizard. If they did, then my armor would make me some kind of legendary sorcerer.”

  “Cutter’s right . . . I’m not a wizard. At least, that’s not how I think of myself,” Watcher said as he stared at the other villagers. “I’m just me . . . just Watcher. But for some reason, I can feel our next location, and we must go there, or all will be lost.”

  Someone said something, but Watcher didn’t hear what was said. A gentle tug pulling at the back of his mind urged the boy forward. He ignored the discussion and turned toward the path laid out before him. Giving his horse a gentle kick in the ribs, he trotted through the forest. Watcher ignored the questions being levied toward him; he was completely focused on where they were heading. The path ahead now looked like a line of sparkling particles to him, similar to those around the portal; the silvery sparks hovered just off the ground in a neat line.

  Watcher turned to Planter as his side. “Can you see them?”

  “See what?” She sounded confused.

  “The shining particles on the ground . . . you can’t see them?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, no. But if you can see them, that’s good enough for me, as long as you’re okay.” Planter reached out and put her hand on Watcher’s, a concerned expression on her square face.

  His heart soared.

  “I’m okay,” Watcher said. Glancing down at her hand, he smiled.

  “I know you are,” she replied. “I’m just worried about you. . . . Many of us are.”

  “Well, you don’t need to be. I know where we’re going and I know what I’m doing, for a change.” Watcher could feel the certainty in his words, but still saw the worry in his friend’s eyes.

  They rode in silence, weaving around the white-barked trees with ease. Gradually, Er-Lan caught up with Watcher and rode at his side.

  “You’re doing well on the horse,” Planter said to the zombie.

  “Er-Lan understands animals and they understand Er-Lan.” The zombie smiled an eerie, toothy smile. “That makes it easier.”

  “Did you have horses when you were a child?” Planter asked.

  But suddenly, her faced changed to one of fear. Pulling her horse to a sudden stop, she reached into her inventory, pulled out her enchanted golden axe, and pointed with the glowing weapon.

  Watcher also brought his horse to a halt. The birch forest had ended, and before them stood a roofed forest, the wide, interlocking leafy canopy blocking most of the sunlight from reaching the forest floor.

  “We’re going in there?” she asked, frightened.

  Watcher nodded. “Our path leads through this forest.”

  “But monsters are always in dark forests. They like the shadows and being out of the sun for some reason.”

  “Zombies like the dark forests,” Er-Lan moaned.

  “I know,” Watcher said. He raised his voice so all could hear. “Our path leads us through this forest. We’ll stay in a close formation and ride fast. Speed will be our ally, and no monster will dare confront us.”

  Many of the villagers seemed worried and doubtful. They all knew roofed forests were dangerous places in the Far Lands. Uncertainty and fear were visible on their faces, their courage close to shattering.

  Just then, an old man from the savannah village kicked his horse forward to the head of the column.

  “What are we waiting for?” he said with a scratchy voice, his frail body barely able to stay in the saddle. “Fencer needs a golden Notch apple, and the spiders have all the witches.” He turned and glared at all the NPCs, his wrinkled face a visage of courage. “If going through this forest will help us save those witches, which will in turn help us save Fencer, then what are we waiting for?”

  Still, no one moved.

  “Oh, I get it,” the ancient villager continued. “You’re afraid of a little darkness. Well, don’t worry. I’m Carver, knight of the wooden sword.”

  He pulled a wooden sword from his inventory and held it high over his head. The weapon was almost useless. Many of the villagers laughed. Even Watcher had no choice but to shake his head at how ridiculous it was.

  “If you are afraid, I’ll protect you.” Swinging the pathetic weapon over his head, the old man kicked his horse forward and headed into the roofed forest, stopping at the first tree. “Take that, tree monster!” he cried fiercely, swinging his wooden blade without effect at a dark oak standing on the border of the biome. As he slashed at the woody adversary, his weapon bouncing harmlessly off the tree’s thick trunk, more villagers laughed, then urged their horses forward.

  “Come on, Watcher, let’s get this done,” Cutter said. “I don’t know about you, but if Carver’s able to summon the courage to push forward, I think I can as well. So lead the way.”

  Watcher smiled, then snapped the reins and galloped into the dark forest, unaware of the lifeless eyes watching from behind them.

  They rode through the roofed forest, moving as fast as possible. Watcher followed the sparkling particles that only he could see, weaving around trees and splashing through narrow streams. At times, they had to pass between two trees at a time, their trunks growing close together.

  Every now and then, Watcher caught a glimpse of the sky overhead through the smallest of gaps. It was growing dark, and fast. He wasn’t excited about being in this terrifying forest at night, even though the lack of sunlight would likely do little to make it darker; the leafy canopy blocked most of the sunlight, even during the day.

  The branches from the dark oaks stretched out far, interlocking with the neighboring trees and creating a green roof of leaves overhead that was, in some places, completely solid. Even the rays from the afternoon sun were unable to penetrate the leafy covering at these places, leaving the ground cloaked in shadows. But in other places, where the trees were further apart, the leafy canopy left openings for the light of the sun to leak through and cast its rays on the forest floor.

  “Watcher, where is it we’re heading?” Planter asked.

  “What?” Watcher put a hand to his ear. It was difficult to hear over all the hoofbeats.

  “I said,” she shouted, “where are we heading?”

  He slowed to let his horse rest. The animal panted, taking in huge gulps of air. Watcher moved his spotted horse right next to Planter’s chocolate brown animal. His leg brushed against hers; it felt electric. Should I say something now . . . let her know how I feel? Fear exploded within him at the thought of confessing his emotions. She could reject him, or laugh, or . . . it was a terrifying prospect. Just then, a group of villagers rode near, slowing their horses to let them rest. No, this isn’t the time, but will there be time later? Uncertainty filled his soul.

  “All I saw was a vision of the destination. It looked unlike anything I’d ever seen in Minecraft.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice so only she could hear. “It’s a building constructed during the Great War.”

  “You mean some k
ind of castle?”

  He shook his head. “No, not a castle, but a mansion. In my vision, it looked like the biggest house you’ve ever seen, with countless rooms. The vision said I had to go to the second floor and look at the walls. I didn’t understand, but I know it’s important. When we get there, I’m gonna—”

  “Something’s up ahead,” a voice shouted from the darkness in front of them.

  Blaster emerged from the shadows wearing his favorite black leather armor and riding a bright white horse.

  “What is it?” Cleric asked.

  “I’m not sure,” the boy replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. It looks sorta like a . . . ”

  “A mansion?” Planter said.

  “Exactly.” Blaster nodded, an expression of surprise on his face. “How did you know that?”

  Planter just glanced at Watcher and smiled. His heart skipped a beat.

  He heard Cutter giving commands at the back of the formation, deploying archers and swordsmen along the edge of the group. Watcher glanced over his shoulder and saw the big NPC on his horse, brimming with confidence and strength. Then he glanced at Planter. She too was looking at the back of the group, and toward Cutter.

  The vicious fangs of jealously again stabbed at his heart. He hated it when Planter looked at Cutter and smiled; it made him feel on fire inside, with a jealous rage bubbling deep within his soul. But he couldn’t worry about that now. This path, laid out by the Flail of Regret, was fraught with countless perils; if he were to become distracted, it could cost someone their life.

  “I must focus,” Watcher whispered to himself. “I can’t let myself get distracted by thoughts of jealousy and self-doubt. The spider warlord must be stopped . . . for Fencer and for the Far Lands.”

  He turned and found Planter staring at him, confused.

  “What?”

  “Ahh . . . nothing.” Sitting up high in the saddle, Watcher spoke to the villagers. “That’s our destination up ahead.” He cast his gaze across their faces. Many were scared, as was he, but Watcher knew they had to push ahead, or they’d ultimately fail in their quest. “There’s something we need in there, on the second floor. I’m not sure what it is, or whether there’s something standing in the way of us getting it.”

  “Or maybe somethings,” Cutter said.

  Watcher nodded. “Cutter’s right . . . maybe somethings, so we need to stay together. Search every chest you find; we could always use more enchanted weapons. Be on the lookout for pressure plates and tripwires—there might be traps in there waiting for us, just like in many of the other ancient structures in the Far Lands.”

  He nudged his horse forward, moving at a slow walk, the rest of the army following.

  Blaster moved to his side. “Just so you know, I heard monsters in the forest and inside that mansion. Zombies and skeletons, I think. “

  “I’m not surprised; they like the darkness,” Watcher said.

  “But it’s different.” Blaster lowered his voice. “We’d expect a skeleton or two, but by the sounds I heard, there are a lot of them moving about in the forest. I also heard lots of monsters inside the mansion.” His voice became a nervous whisper. “But there was something else . . . a growling, wailing sort of sound I’ve never heard before. I’m kinda worried about that. I don’t think getting trapped in this building with lots of monsters inside and out is a very good idea.”

  “We have no choice.” Watcher stared at Blaster, then smiled. “Besides, if we get trapped in there, I bet you can figure out a way to create a new exit.”

  Blaster grinned, then scowled again. “That’s only if these walls can be damaged. If it’s like the sand in that cactus forest, then we might be in trouble.”

  “Let’s not worry about problems that aren’t here yet.” Watcher put a hand on the boy’s arm. “Don’t worry, it will be alright.”

  “If you say so, but I’m still gonna worry,” Blaster said.

  “Me too,” Watcher said, and for the first time, he saw something in his friend’s dark brown eyes he hadn’t ever seen before: fear.

  As they neared the mansion, the sounds of monsters greeted their ears. The creatures weren’t very loud—the thick wooden walls muffled their voices—but they could still hear the moans and clattering of bones. The sounds caused little square goosebumps to form on Watcher’s arms. When they moved through the last of the trees and saw their first glimpse of the mansion, Watcher pulled his horse to a halt.

  “It just looks like a big house,” Mapper said skeptically.

  “But not just big . . . really big.” Blaster dismounted and tied the reins to a tree branch, then helped the old man dismount from his horse. “It must be at least sixty blocks wide.”

  Watcher nodded as slid off his horse and tied it up, then turned and faced the woodland mansion.

  The outside walls were constructed from dark oak planks, an ornate line of stone separating the bottom floor from the one above. Huge windows adorned the walls of the second floor, the gigantic openings spilling light out onto the forest roof. The third floor was smaller than the second, but the windows there were also filled with a flickering glow.

  “It’s from before the Great War.” Watcher pointed at the roof. “There’s something on the second floor that we need . . . that’s our goal. The only problem is, I don’t know which room.”

  “Any idea what the thing we need is?” Mapper asked.

  Watcher shook his head. “The enchanted weapon we found in the Citadel of the Horse Lord, the Flail of Regret, showed me a vision of this place.” He pointed at the second floor. “There are monsters all throughout the building . . . I saw some of them with those windows in the background, but I also saw some creatures I didn’t recognize at all.”

  “There is great danger here,” Er-Lan said in a low voice. “Something from the distant past. It is wise to avoid this place.”

  “I can’t do that, Er-Lan. I must go in.” He put a hand on the zombie’s shoulder. “You can stay out here if you wish, though I suspect there are threats out here as well.”

  “Er-Lan stays at Watcher’s side.” The zombie’s voice was loud and filled with confidence.

  “Okay then. I’m always glad to have you next to me.” Watcher patted him on the back. “Let’s go knock and see if anyone is home.”

  The rest of the villagers tied their horses to trees standing next to the structure, then moved to the front entrance.

  The doors of the mansion stood open, inviting anyone to enter . . . or daring them. Bright crimson carpet covered the floor, a white border around the edges. The carpet stretched off to the left and right, with a cobblestone stairway directly in front of them, leading to a carpeted landing. The steps then split to the left and right, disappearing into shadows.

  Watcher stepped inside the structure and glanced down the long passages. The sky could be seen through the huge windows at the end of the hallways. The one pointing to the west showed the sun settling down upon the horizon, while the one to the east revealed the silvery face of the moon peeking over the mountains.

  Suddenly, the sounds of zombies, along with the rattling of skeleton bones, filled the air, the eerie noises bouncing off the wooden walls. It was a creepy sound, loud, as if they were right nearby, but none could be seen.

  “There must be rooms on the other sides of these walls.” Cleric moved to one wall and patted it with his hand. The moans grew louder.

  “I don’t like hearing monsters I can’t see.” Blaster scowled in the direction of the moans.

  “Me neither.” Planter pulled out her golden axe and drew her red shield with the three dark skulls adorned across the center.

  But then came another sound mixed in with the clattering bones and sorrowful moans, something Watcher had never heard before, and that worried him.

  “I’m thinking there are some monsters here.” Blaster smiled, removing his leather armor and donning a set of iron.

  Watcher glanced at him, perplexed.

 
“I don’t have any leather armor that’ll match the color of this carpeted hallway.” Blaster gave him a mischievous smile. “Might as well wear something durable and strong.”

  Watcher nodded, grinning. “Okay, here’s what I want to do. I need to go upstairs and find something, but I’m not really sure what. I need everyone to search the rooms and take any enchanted artifacts that may be hidden here.”

  He turned and scanned the faces of the villagers congregated around him. When his eyes fell upon Er-Lan, Watcher instantly recognized something was wrong. The zombie seemed unusually terrified, his normally dark-green skin pale with fear. He shook almost uncontrollably.

  “Er-Lan, you okay?” Watcher asked.

  The zombie shook his head. “Evoker . . . evoker.”

  The monster wasn’t making any sense.

  “What do you mean, Er-Lan?” Planter asked. She put an arm around her friend and tried to calm him, but it had little effect. “Just take a deep breath and tell us what’s wrong.”

  Cleric took a bottle of water from his inventory and handed it to the zombie. “Here, drink.”

  Er-Lan took the flask and drained its contents, then finally calmed down. His eyes darted to the left and right as if he was searching for something sneaking up on them.

  “An evoker is speaking into Er-Lan’s mind,” the zombie said. “It was thought they were gone, all destroyed in the Great War, but one still lives.”

  “Er-Lan, you aren’t making any sense.” Watcher moved to his side and grabbed his face. He turned the monster’s head so they were looking eye-to-eye. “Tell me what an evoker is.”

  The zombie was still shaking. “Zombie history, passed down from parent to child, teaches about what happened during the Great War.” He glanced to the left and right again, searching for threats, then continued. “Near the end of the war, when the warlocks could tell their enchanted weapons were not able to compete with those of the wizards, a new strategy was formed. Instead of making swords and shields, living weapons were made.”