The villagers moved further into the chamber while Watcher and the spider warlord battled. Needle flashed through the air, striking at the monster’s side. Shakaar brought a poisonous claw up to block. The blade clanked as it struck the monster’s defense, but Watcher was ready. Rolling to the side, he slashed at the creature’s legs, hitting two and causing her to flash red. She screeched in pain and stepped back, glaring at her opponent.
“You know, I only need to hit you once, and our new poissson will do the ressst. You may have dessstroyed my hatchlingsss, but we will make more poissson. Sssoon, all of my sssissstersss will be as venomousss as their warlord.” She held her dark green claw in the air and pointed it at Watcher. Shakaar glanced up at the dark ceiling, then clicked her mandibles together and yelled. “NOW!”
Suddenly, the sound of a million crickets seemed to fill the cavern as hundreds of spiders clicked their pointed mandibles together.
“You villagersss think you are ssso clever. Now, witnesss your doom.”
Watcher stepped away from the spider warlord and glanced up at the ceiling. Hundreds of spiders were slowly lowering themselves from the roof overhead. Their eyes blazed red with hatred as the monsters glared down at the intruders. Many of the villagers shouted in surprise and fear, some wanting to flee.
“Hold your ground,” Cutter boomed. “We haven’t finished what we came here to do.”
Courage and strength boomed from the NPC’s voice, keeping the other villagers from running away.
Shakaar laughed as she watched her sisters descend from the ceiling.
“There must be a hundred of them . . . maybe two hundred,” one of the villagers said. “How do we fight that many?”
Shakaar smiled.
“What do we do?” another asked.
The spider warlord clicked her mandibles together excitedly, anticipating her victory.
Watcher just stepped back away from Shakaar and stared up at the descending monsters. He didn’t see any with the dark green poisoned claws, but even still, their normal claws would be dangerous enough.
“I hope I didn’t doom all of my friends,” he said in a low voice, then brought his gaze up to the spider warlord again.
“You look ssscared, boy-wizard.”
Watcher dropped Needle, the enchanted blade clattering to the ground, then reached into his inventory and found what he was searching for.
“I’m not a boy-wizard!” Watcher shouted. He grabbed the leather-wrapped handle firmly and pulled out the Flair of Regret, the huge enchanted weapon flooding the cavern with purple light. “I’m a wizard!”
The iridescent light from Watcher’s arm blazed bright purple, causing the spider warlord to shield her eyes. Now it was Watcher who was smiling. He glanced over his shoulder, then shouted as loud as he could.
“NOW!”
And the battle for the Jeweled Mountain began.
The villagers put away their swords and drew bows. They notched arrows, then fired up into the air, but they weren’t aiming at the spiders; instead, they shot at the strands of silk from which the spiders dangled as the descended. One of the arrows sliced through a gossamer strand, and the spider attached to it screeched as she plummeted to the ground, the impact fatal.
“Keep firing!” Cutter shouted.
Arrows streaked through the air, severing more strands of spider silk. The black, fuzzy monsters fell like a dark hail, their bodies flashing red, then disappearing on impact.
“NOOOOO!” Shakaar screeched as she watched her sisters perish.
Watcher moved closer to the villagers’ position and glanced at Er-Lan. “You ready?”
The zombie pulled out a splash potion and held it far from his body; it was poison to him. Regardless of the danger, Er-Lan nodded to his friend.
“Let’s do this,” Watcher said, an expression of grim determination on his face.
He knew what was in store for him, but it was necessary, and might mean the difference between victory or defeat.
Sprinting through the chamber, Watcher swung the flail over his head. Pain stabbed into his body as the magical weapon used his HP to recharge. He moaned, but continued to run as, swinging the weapon high over his head, he aimed at the spiders that were still descending to the ground. The chain connected to the handle extended—a lot—allowing the spiked ball at the end to slice through the strands of web hanging from the ceiling.
A dozen spiders fell to their deaths.
The weapon tore into his HP again, but then a glass bottle broke across his back, spilling a healing potion across him, rejuvenating his health a little. Watcher could hear Er-Lan’s footsteps behind him, the monster staying far enough away to avoid getting splashed.
Watcher swung the flail again, the chain stretching out so the spiked ball could reach his targets. More spiders fell to their deaths.
“My sssissstersss . . . nooooooo!” Shakaar was in a rage. “You will pay for thisss, wizard!”
Watcher kept running with Er-Lan following three steps behind. He swung the Flail of Regret again and again, the spikes cleaving silken threads, causing more spiders to crash to the ground.
Then, images of Saddler and Farmer suddenly appeared in his mind, their terrified faces staring at him, accusing him of their deaths.
I did what I could, Watcher explained to the images. I did my best. I can’t do more.
More images of his many catastrophes surged through his mind. He thought about his village; it had been burned to the ground by the skeleton warlord. Watcher had failed to stop those skeletons from that atrocity. It was your fault, the image of a fallen NPC told him. My son died in the wither king’s mines, another face accused. He hadn’t freed them from the wither king’s captivity at the Capitol soon enough. The images of his countless failures hammered at him from within his mind, the Flail of Regret demanding payment, not just in HP, but also in remorse.
Pain tore through his body as he swung the flail at another group of descending spiders. Some were hitting the ground and flashing red, but not disappearing; they were surviving the fall, which was bad. Another bottle of healing splashed across his back, Er-Lan keeping him alive. Watcher swung the weapon at the spiders, the spiked ball stretching out and cleaving through what was left of the monsters’ HP.
He saw the faces of Planter’s parents in the deep recesses of his mind. They were fighting hand-to-hand with zombies invading their home, giving their daughter time to escape through an attic window, but suddenly, they stopped their struggle and stared straight at Watcher, their eyes pleading for his help. At the time, when the zombies had invaded his village, Watcher had been unconscious, or he’d been pretending to be, at least.
I can’t help you, he pleaded with the two villagers in his imagination. But I’m helping your daughter now . . . I won’t let anything happen to her. Which was true. He’d protected Planter and many others from the violence of the zombie warlord and the skeleton warlord. Watcher had struggled, but he’d learned from his mistakes and helped those he could.
Why do we fail? . . . Why do we fail? . . . Why do we fail? . . . The deep, mysterious voice from the Flail of Regret echoed in his brain. The fog of failures grew thicker in his mind as the images of more deceased villagers stared at him, their eyes pleading for help.
I can’t help everyone, but those that I could, I did, Watcher thought.
Why do we fail? . . . Why do we fail? . . . Why do we fail? . . . The magical voice grew louder, hammering away at Watcher’s sanity.
And then, somehow, he suddenly knew the answer. It emerged from the deepest recesses of his soul like some kind of universal truth. “We fail so that we can learn to overcome,” Watcher shouted. “Farmer . . . I understand!” Strength seemed to surge through him as the realization of this truth filled him with courage. “I did what I could and helped as many people as possible. I could have helped more if I’d embraced who I really was, but now I know the truth.” He glanced down at his glowing arms and nodded. “I understand who I am now
. . . I’m a wizard!” he shouted with pride, unafraid of being different from everyone else.
Watcher skidded to a stop just as a splash potion of healing shattered against his diamond armor. He turned and faced the spider warlord, who was directing her troops in the battle unfolding in the Gathering Chamber.
“I’ve learned from my failures and I know who I am,” he said.
“What is Watcher saying?” Er-Lan asked. “Who is being spoken to?”
“I’m a wizard, Er-Lan, and I’m not afraid anymore!” He pointed the Flail of Regret at Shakaar. It no longer tore into his HP; the magical enchantment pulsing through his body was now powering the ancient relic. It was a part of him now and could never harm him; it could never harm a wizard. “I’ve learned from my failures, and now it’s time to overcome . . . and destroy my enemy.”
He walked toward the spider warlord. “SHAKAAR . . . IT’S GO TIME!”
And then Watcher charged into a battle that would only end one way: death.
Shakaar screeched with delight, her sharp mandibles clicking together, as her foe charged.
Swinging the flail with all his strength, Watcher struck out at his enemy. Shakaar jumped into the air just as the spiked ball streaked by, passing underneath the monster. Watcher readied for another attack, but he knew a moving target would be hard to hit. Swinging the magical weapon over his head, he stepped to the side, hoping to surprise the warlord by doing the unexpected.
It worked.
A razor-sharp claw sliced through the air where he had been standing, an acidic aroma coming from the poisonous tip. The smell made his eyes sting a little. Watcher wiped at them with his left hand, then pulled out his shield again just as the spider warlord attacked again. The claw punched through the shield, stopping just inches from Watcher’s face. Shakaar tried to yank it out for another attack, but it was stuck.
Pushing forward to knock the spider off balance, Watcher swung the flail at the warlord, the spiked ball smashing into her body. She shrieked in pain, then yanked her claw out of the shield and moved back. An image of Saddler appeared in his mind, reviving all of Watcher’s feeling of guilt and sorrow over her death.
While the two leaders battled, the group of villagers continued to fire at the few spiders still lowering themselves from the ceiling, while rest of the NPCs built fortifications to slow the oncoming wave of fangs and claws from the spiders who had made it safely to the floor.
Winger directed the placement of blocks, allowing gaps for the archers while placing inverted stairs on the edge of the wall to keep the spiders from climbing over the tops of their defenses. Er-Lan moved across the barricade being constructed with a group of NPCs behind him, placing blocks of cobblestone as fast as their hands would work. Other groups of villages added to the barricade on the left and right, making their fortified wall wider and wider. Swordsmen stood atop the battlements, slashing at the spiders, allowing the zombie and NPCs finish the construction.
The villagers placed blocks as fast as they could, extending the wall to form a wide arc. The spider mob crashed upon the barrier like a tidal wave meeting a rocky cliff. The spiders tried to climb up the wall, but were stopped by the cubes of dirt sticking out over the edge of the barrier. Meanwhile, archers fired through the gaps and warriors stabbed at the monsters from above. But the spiders had the numerical advantage; it wasn’t clear if the NPCs could prevail.
A group of spiders attacked the left flank, trying to get behind the intruders. Cutter charged at the creatures, with Planter and Winger at his side. They tore into the spiders’ ranks, each watching the others’ backs. Planter’s enchanted axe tore through the monsters like golden fire, tearing at their HP with its keen edge. At the same time, Wingers fire-bow launched pointed shafts at the spiders, lighting them ablaze before they could ever get near.
Watcher tore his gaze from his friends and focused his attention on the spider warlord again.
“Your friendsss will sssoon be dead,” Shakaar said. “My ssspidersss will dessstroy them.”
“We’ll see,” Watcher said. He had no intention of letting that happen.
Charging forward, Watcher swung the Flail of Regret at the warlord. The spider leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the sharp spikes. She paused to catch her breath; it was clear she was tired as she panted heavily. Watcher was thankful for the respite as well.
Farmer’s lanky image appeared in his mind. The villager seemed so happy as he rode on a horse, but suddenly, his prone body began flashing red, with a terrified expression on the dying villager’s square face. Watcher couldn’t do anything to help him . . . he’d failed Farmer just like he failed Saddler.
No . . . my guilt lies in not learning from those failures, Watcher said, his thoughts shouting at the images. I won’t fail my friends and I won’t fail Fencer. I made a promise to Saddler and I’m going to keep it. I am Watcher, and I keep my word!
“You won’t stop us.” Watcher scowled at her. “We’re gonna free the witches and take the potions before the wither king can get them. But first, we’re gonna destroy all your followers. History will know it was Shakaar, the worst warlord of all time, who led her spiders to destruction.”
The monster shrieked in rage and charged, her eyes glowing a hateful red. Watcher brought his shield up at the same time as he swung his flail. The spiked ball hit the spider, knocking her to the side. She rolled across the ground, flashing red with damage, then screeched to a halt and leapt toward Watcher again. She crashed into the young boy, her deadly legs flailing wildly.
Suddenly, a pain like liquid fire tore into his neck. Watcher kicked the spider away, then dropped his shield and felt his neck. A long, jagged scratch extended down his neck, the wound already swelling as the poison seeped into his blood.
Shakaar laughed and moved back. “It will take more than an NPC-boy to sssurvive my venom.”
“NO!” a voice shouted. Planter pushed through the spiders and ran for Watcher, but Cutter caught the back of her armor and held her back. The rest of the villagers saw Watcher stumble and screamed in rage, then climbed over their own fortifications and fell upon the spider horde, fighting with a ferocity Watcher had never before seen. The spiders tried to move back, but Winger’s fire arrows were taking down those that fled.
Watcher saw all this, but knew his fight wasn’t over. OK, I’m poisoned, he thought, but I’m not dead . . . not yet.
Why do we fail? . . . So we can learn and overcome. The thought resonated within his mind.
“Just because I’m poisoned . . . doesn’t mean I’d already dead,” Watcher whispered to himself. “If I go, then I’m taking the spider warlord with me.”
He charged on unsteady legs, swinging his flail with all his strength. The spider, not expecting his attack, was caught off guard. The spiked flail slammed down, slicing through more of her HP, almost taking the last of it . . . but she still lived.
Shakaar’s legs started to buckle under her, as did Watcher’s. They both fell to the ground. Watcher tried to swing the flail for one more hit . . . he wanted to be the one to take the last of her HP, but his strength was waning. He collapsed to the ground, almost dead. The spider, with the slightest bit of additional health, dragged herself toward Watcher. He could see it in her eyes; Shakaar wanted to be the one to end his life.
She crawled closer, but then her strength finally failed and she just lay on the ground too.
“At leassst I get to watch you die.” The spider warlord smiled bitterly.
A fiery agony blasted through his body as the venom spread through him, the poison eating away at his HP. Watcher felt his health falter as it dropped lower and lower, until . . .
A voice suddenly filled his mind. It was a deep voice, and sounded as if it was coming from a hundred blocks away . . . or maybe from a hundred years ago. Grab the totem . . . grab the Totem of Undying.
Watcher was confused.
Grab the totem and use your powers.
In that last moment before his death, h
e remembered the tiny doll the evoker had dropped in that forest mansion. He dropped his flail and reached into his inventory. There were just a few seconds left—he had to find it before then—and then his fingers brushed against the soft item. He clasped his hands around the Totem of Undying and glanced toward Planter. Driving every drop of magical power he had into the totem, Watcher tried to smile at Planter, but he lacked the strength.
Planter and Er-Lan were pushing through the remaining spiders, trying to reach him, but Watcher knew they wouldn’t make it in time.
He didn’t want to die, not like this. A tear trickled down his cheek, not because of his imminent death, but because he never had the chance to tell Planter how he felt.
“If I survive somehow, I’ll tell her and . . .” he started to say, but then the last of his health was devoured by the poison, and Watcher perished.
Darkness enveloped Watcher for the briefest of instants, and then his mind was filled with the most beautiful yellow sparks he’d ever seen. They reminded him of Planter’s glorious blond hair and . . . Wait . . . I’m alive . . . I’m alive.
The Totem of Undying was gone, but he could now feel his body. He was weak . . . unbelievably weak, but the poison was gone and he was alive.
“I’M ALIVE!”
Slowly, Watcher stood and glared down at the spider warlord.
“Imposssible!” Shakaar glared up at Watcher, a confused expression on her dark face. “The poisssson continuessss until death. How are you sssstill alive?”
“You have harmed too many people, spider. It is time for you to be punished.” Watcher raised the flail and spun it over his head, ready to bring the spiked ball down upon her . . . but she was helpless. The spider’s health was so low, she couldn’t even stand. The monster was finished.
“No . . . I’m not gonna kill you,” Watcher said. “I’ll figure out an even more fitting punishment.”
“Watcher . . . you’re alive!” Planter rushed toward him, then wrapped her arms around his weakened body, nearly knocking him over as she enveloped him in a giant hug.
Into the Spiders' Lair Page 20
