Web of the Spider Queen

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by John Grover




  Song of the Ancestors

  Book I

  Web of the Spider Queen

  By John Grover

  Combining elements of horror and sword and sorcery, John Grover weaves an epic fantasy tale full of action, mystery and suspense.

  A long vanquished evil has returned to the beautiful and peaceful realm of Orum. An evil that will stop at nothing to plunder and enslave all of the realm’s people and lay waste to its lands. An evil that refuses to die, that has ravaged every realm it has touched. Its name is Sinnia, the Spider Queen and she has set her eyes back on the one world that eludes her grasp.

  The leadership races must come together and harness the old power of their ancestors, sing their song of lore as one people and defeat this horror once and for all. These races will come to discover a long lost secret about their own ancestry, their connection to each other and the realm itself, a secret that will change their world…forever.

  Song of the Ancestors

  Book I

  Web of the Spider Queen

  Copyright © 2013 by John Grover

  All rights reserved

  Cover Art Copyright © 2013 K. H. Koehler

  https://www.khkoehler.com/

  World Map © 2013 Jared Blando

  https://theredepic.com/

  Edited by Louise Bohmer

  https://www.louisebohmer.com

  All characters, events and descriptions in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead are the product of the author’s imagination and are purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  The Rising Darkness

  The Realm of Orum

  Seeing Through the Mists

  The Journey by Night

  Eyes of the Unseen

  Past and Present Collide

  Lair of the Spider Queen

  The Rising Darkness

  Pale moonlight poured over the grassy hills, illuminating a forest of skeletal trees stretching to the night sky. Hiding in the shadows, a group advanced, crawling on their bellies until they reached the edge of a cliff.

  The steel of their swords glinted, and they prayed they would not be discovered. Many lives depended on them. This mission had to be successful.

  Nix, the Elf Captain, stared into the eyes of his friend, Edon, and saw sadness there. Edon witnessed his brother, uncles, and neighbors die at the hands of these butchers. Rage burned in his heart that would never die, not until they were all stopped and for good this time.

  “Don’t worry, my friend.” Nix placed his hand on Edon’s shoulder. “They’ll never reach White Fern.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Edon, not sharing Nix’s confidence, the very thought of them wiping their beloved village from existence only fueled his hatred of them and… her.

  “Hope,” Nix dared to utter it. “We must have hope. We will defeat them.” He turned and lowered his gaze as the others joined him. Fourteen in all spotted their enemies in the distance.

  Three small campfires glowed far below. Hulking figures weaved aimlessly around the flames. The firelight reflected off their black armor, while axes and long swords clanked in the night. These dark warriors were preparing for battle. The elves scanned them closely, searching for weak spots, taking in their number--twenty, maybe more.

  The horror multiplied as they watched the dark soldiers herd their steeds--enormous spiders as large as horses. The arachnids’ bulbous bodies were midnight-black, and coarse hair sprouted over every inch, including eight legs of deadly strength, strong enough to crush a tree trunk.

  The warriors used these hideous beasts to ride into battle, and in their army, as soldiers who spit poison and spun webs of death. These abominations were pets for the leader of this great, dark army that threatened to enslave the once peaceful, lush world of Orum.

  She was a self-proclaimed queen, with the blackest of hearts and the coldest of gazes. Her fierce eyes were filled with the wild. Tall in stature, she possessed a commanding presence. What monsters she couldn’t find in this world, she created through sinister magic. A necromancer and invoker from the shadows of the abyss, she ripped her way into Orum a millennia ago with one purpose: rule this world or destroy it. Her name: Sinnia, the spider queen.

  Back when the world was young, Sinnia’s first attempt at domination was thwarted. Her nightmarish self was hurled back into the shadowy realm and the rift between the planes sealed. Yet her lust for power knew no bounds and somehow she returned, craving to rule this world above all others. She’d enslave all of its dwellers or destroy them trying.

  Her sorcery summoned every evil thing that slithered, crawled, and fluttered from beneath the filth and dirt. Spiders, great and small, served and obeyed her every command. A psychic link was known to exist between them. They were her family.

  The lizard people controlled the swamps for her, with tyranny and cruelty, murdering anything good that tried to escape these lands. The Gibbelin King ruled the mountains in her name, his brood keeping watchful eyes on the events below. They joined the battles when they seemed one sided, or stopped anyone from escaping over the mountaintops.

  Many other creatures fought on her behalf--necromantic clans, marsh men--whether they wanted to or not. But the most feared, the most powerful among her minions, were simply known as the Ebon warriors. They were her infantry and first into battle, paving the way for destruction. No one really knew where they came from. They had only appeared when she did. Emotionless, their faces were hidden behind grotesque helmets with carved faceguards. Skilled in fierce combat, sometimes accompanied by their queen’s favorite spiders, they fought relentlessly. Not many lived through a fight with them. The ones that did were considered…unlucky.

  It was the elves turn to face them now. White Fern village had received word from Amazonian spies that the Ebon warriors were on their way to destroy White Fern. They had to be stopped. The village moved three times to hide its existence, but it had done little good. It was time to take a stand. They would not watch their home vanish, as Glimmer Wood and Lily Hollow had. The race was at risk. The elves were already losing their ability to reproduce. They couldn’t let every lineage be wiped from Orum.

  “Archers ready,” Nix whispered, and ten of the fourteen raised their bows. The best marksmen of the village had been chosen, sworn that their aim would be true.

  Turning to his friend one more time, Nix raised his hand and nodded. Edon nodded back, trying to swallow the fear that swelled inside him.

  Dropping his arm as he made a fist, Nix cried, “Fire!”

  A flock of arrows screamed through the air, raining down on the beasts below. Agony-filled screams cut through the silence.

  A spider went down, an arrow sinking deep into its tough hide. It was not yet dead but incapacitated. Wails escaped it as thick blood drooled from its body.

  Other arrows found their marks, ripping through the warriors’ armor and sending them to the ground. They crawled for cover, dragging themselves through blood-stained dirt.

  But most of the Ebon warriors carried on, seemingly oblivious to the onslaught. Arrows protruding from their legs or chests, but they showed no pain. As if bears awakening from hibernation, the warriors staggered about sluggishly, disorganized and confused, searching for the source of the attack.

  Their questions were soon answered.

  “Attack!” The call sounded over the moans of pain and misery. The elves, swords now drawn, charged down the steep face of the cliff and into the camp. As if greeting their own oblivion, they rushed to meet their foes. The two forces clashed in a clatter of metal, flesh, and carnage.

  Two elves met their death swiftly as an enormous spider spat poison onto them. Their fles
h shriveled, and shrieks of torment resonated as they died.

  With courage, Nix charged his adversary. His sword drove hard into the warrior’s armor, but it barely pierced it. It was if the armor were forged by some wicked sorcery. Probably that of their despicable queen. Through undying determination, Nix triumphed, killing the warrior as another faced him.

  Edon ducked the swing of his foe’s axe and responded by jabbing his sword where his enemy was vulnerable. Looking about, he watched as his comrades’ fell. One was simply hauled up and thrown into the roaring campfires, where he ignited then fled, his cries diminishing in the distance. Another met his end at the blades of many axes, relentlessly chopping him down, while still others succumbed to the sticky, deadly webs spun by a bloated spider anticipating its next meal. Tonight it enjoyed eating its prey alive.

  Edon stood back, having lost his edge. Mesmerized by the destruction around him, he watched as his people gave their lives for a cause he felt was hopeless. Lowering his sword, he grew lost, and pondered his reason for being there. Should he stay or flee? He could not decide.

  Nix swung high, lobbing the head off the warrior before him. Turning, he caught a glimpse of his closest friend. Edon was in serious peril. Behind him lurched a mercilessly warrior, with his weapon raised high.

  “Edon!” Nix screamed, racing towards him. He launched his sword like a javelin, and watched with silent prayers as it soared through the air. It plunged right through the body of the advancing warrior. The beast went crashing to the ground. Edon was safe.

  “Edon?” Nix said. “What is wrong with you? Snap out of it! I need you now. We need you.”

  “Why? We're doomed. Can’t you see that?”

  “No I can’t,” Nix said. “We must stick together. Only united can we drive them from our land. And we will. Be strong. Now pick up that sword and swing it proudly!”

  With newfound strength, Edon lifted his sword, joining his friend and captain’s side. The two dashed back into the heat of battle.

  They had done it. With a heavy price paid, the elves defeated the dark warriors and drove the spiders out of the area. Only six of the fourteen survived, Nix and Edon included, but White Fern was safe…at least for now.

  “See?” Nix smiled while he whispered to Edon. “Unity.”

  Edon did not reply, but a twinkle showed in his eye. Perhaps the tide was turning. Maybe, just maybe, they could reclaim their world. For the first time, in such a long while, he was beginning to believe that.

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