by T.A. Barron
“Whooo eeelse is heeere?” So loud came the voice that flakes of dirt shook loose and fell on our heads.
No answer. Only a gasping sound that I assumed was the rapid panting of the frightened little giant.
“He is Shim,” answered Rhia. “Also of the Druma.” She drew in a deep breath. “Please don’t eat us. We need your help.”
“Fooor whaaat?”
“To save the Druma! My home!”
I added, “Your home as well.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, all of a sudden, light filled the chamber. We looked at one another, truly amazed. For we found ourselves in an enormous cavern cut from the rock. Although the walls around us fairly glowed, there was no clear source of the light. More mysterious yet, there was no sign at all of the Grand Elusa. But for ourselves, the radiant cavern looked empty.
“Where is she?” I scanned the glowing cavern walls.
Rhia’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea.”
Shim, meanwhile, sat with his face in his hands, shivering.
“And this light . . .” I reached a hand to the wall. “Look! It comes from the rocks themselves!”
“Crystals,” said Rhia in wonderment. “A cave of glowing crystals.”
Indeed, the walls, ceiling, and floor of this cave radiated a clear, dancing light. Crystals sparkled and flashed all around us, as if the sunlight shining on a rippling river had been poured into the very Earth. And I am quite sure that my own face glowed as well, for even in the days when I could see with my own eyes, when colors ran deeper and light shone brighter, I had never seen anything as beautiful as this crystal cave.
Then I felt a sudden surge of warmth against my chest. Peering into the neck of my tunic, I jumped. The Galator was glowing as bright as the walls! Vibrant green light flowed from the pendant’s jeweled heart. I looked up to find Rhia watching me, smiling.
“You like my cave?” A new voice, airy and small, floated to us from one of the walls.
While Shim continued to shiver with fear, Rhia and I leaned closer to the source. There, amidst a massive curl of crystals, hung a delicate web. Its strands radiated out from the center like the light from a star. Upon this web dangled a single spider, the size of a thumbnail. Its tiny head and back were covered with minuscule hairs which glowed as white as the crystals themselves.
“I like it very much,” I replied.
“It reminds me of all the stars I have ever seen,” said Rhia.
I watched the spider, the round hump of her back jiggling as she climbed to a higher strand. “Are you—”
“I am,” declared the spider, “the Grand Elusa.”
“But your voice was so much . . . larger before.”
Ignoring me, the white spider hooked a silken thread to the strand. Throwing a line over a torn section of the web, she leaped down to a lower level. With a quick motion, two of her eight arms tied off the line. Having completed her repair, she scurried back to the center.
“How could you have sounded so large?” I asked again.
“Oh, I can be large when I please.” The spider waved at Shim. “Large enough to eat that shivering morsel over there with one bite.”
The little giant, his face still in his hands, gave out a groan.
“If I am not in the mood to eat my guests,” she continued in her airy little voice, “I make myself smaller for a while. My stomach shrinks, even if my appetite doesn’t. Anyway, image and reality are rarely the same. As you surely know by now, Emrys, that is the first rule of magic.”
I caught my breath. “I know nothing about magic! Except that it’s dangerous, very dangerous.”
“Then you do know something about magic.”
“That is all I will ever know.”
“Too bad. You might have found it useful in the future.”
“Not me. There is no magic in my future. At least not of my own making.”
The spider seemed to observe me for a moment. “If you say so.”
Spying a beetle twice her size who had flown into the web, she rushed over, bit its neck, then waited for it to cease struggling. In a flash, she secured it tightly with a strand of silk. She plucked off one of its legs and started munching. “I do enjoy eating, though. That much of the image is reality.”
“Can you help us?” pleaded Rhia. “The Druma . . . it’s in trouble.”
The Grand Elusa pulled off another leg from the beetle. “Of course it is in trouble! Like all the rest of Fincayra! As much trouble as this poor beetle, being consumed bit by bit. Have you only just realized that?”
Rhia hung her head. “I . . . didn’t want to believe it.”
“Until now, when the Blight is practically at your door! You have waited too long.”
“I know! But maybe there’s still time. Will you help?”
The spider took another bite, chewed avidly. “Just what do you expect me to do?”
“You could explain why it’s happening.”
“Why?” More chewing. “It would take too long to tell you everything. I will run out of food and then I will have to eat all of you.”
“Just tell me if it can be stopped. By anything.” Then Rhia added, with a glance in my direction, “Or anyone.”
The spider reached a leg up and scratched the hump of her hairy back. “I will tell you this. Fincayra—and that includes the Druma—is doomed, unless the king you call Stangmar can be toppled.”
“Toppled! Is that possible?”
“It all depends,” declared the spider, “on what Stangmar calls the last Treasure. Something he once had, then lost long ago.”
I looked down at my tunic, under which the Galator glowed. “Can you tell us its powers?”
The spider considered the question for a while before answering. “The last Treasure carries great powers, greater than you know.” She grabbed another leg and bit off the bottom half. “Stangmar is convinced that when he finds it, his power will be complete.”
Rhia sighed. “He is right.”
“No! He is wrong. It is not his power that will be complete, but his servitude.”
“Servitude?”
“To the most terrible spirit of all, the one known as Rhita Gawr.”
I stiffened.
“To Rhita Gawr, your king is nothing but a tool for his greater goal.” She nibbled on the beetle’s knee, then gave a satisfied smack of her lips. “To dominate all of this world, the Earth, and the Otherworld. That is his true desire.”
She smacked her lips again, before crunching into the joint. “His supreme adversary, Dagda, is battling him on many fronts, too many to name. Yet Rhita Gawr has already won over Stangmar, and he has used the king to gain control of much of Fincayra. Few things now stand in his way, and the most important of them is . . .”
Another smack, another crunch. “The last Treasure. If that too falls into his hands, he will certainly win Fincayra. Then Rhita Gawr will control the bridge between the Earth and the Otherworld. He will be within reach of winning the Earth itself. Tough, but tasty—this leg, I mean. And if that ever happens, all is lost.”
Frowning, I tried to understand. “Doesn’t the king know he’s being used in this way?”
“He knows. But he was corrupted by Rhita Gawr long ago.” She swallowed the last section of the last leg. Then she carefully wiped her mouth, using the two arms nearest to her head. “Stangmar has lost the ability to choose for himself.”
“Yet if he could be toppled somehow, Rhita Gawr might still be stopped.”
“Perhaps.”
Rhia, looking discouraged, leaned against a wall of glowing crystals. “But how?”
The Grand Elusa bit into the beetle’s belly. “Mmmm, tender as could be.”
“How?” repeated Rhia.
The spider swallowed. “There is only one possibility left. No, no. It is not really a possibility at all.”
“What is it?”
“The king’s castle must be destroyed.”
Rhia blinked. “The Shrouded Cast
le?”
“Yes. It is the creation of Rhita Gawr, and through its walls the evil spirit’s power flows into Stangmar and his army. The ghouliants themselves are part of the castle they guard, you know.” She took another bite of the belly. “Mmmm. Very good. What was I saying? Oh yes, the ghouliants. That is why they never venture outside the castle walls. If you can destroy the castle, you can also destroy them.”
“It can’t be done!” exclaimed Rhia. “The Shrouded Castle is always spinning, always dark. It would be impossible to attack, let alone destroy.”
“There is a way.” The spider, still chewing, turned toward me. “Just as there is a way for a man who is blind to see again.”
I started. “How do you know that?”
“In the same way you can see things with your second sight that others cannot see with their eyes.”
At that I faced Rhia. “The writing on the walls inside Arbassa! That’s why it was invisible to you.”
“And if you should survive,” continued the Grand Elusa, “your second sight could improve further. One day you might not only see, but understand.”
“You mean it could help me read the writing?”
“If you survive.”
“Really?”
“Do not underestimate your second sight! One day, you might come to rely on it. To love it. Maybe even more than you once loved your own eyes.” She paused long enough to nibble on the beetle’s forehead. “Though I happen to love eyes myself.”
Rhia addressed the spider. “You said there is a way.”
Using three of her arms, the white creature grasped the remainder of the beetle and ate some more of the belly. She chewed slowly, savoring its flavor. “I may not have time to explain it to you. In fact, you ought to leave while you can. I will finish this morsel quite soon, and then, with my appetite, I am afraid it will be your turn next.”
Again Shim groaned from behind his hands.
“What is the way?”
“Do you know about the Cauldron of Death?” asked the spider, cleaning one of her arms.
Grimly, Rhia nodded. “Just that anyone who is thrown into it is killed instantly.”
“True enough. But it is also true that it bears a fatal flaw. If someone were to crawl into it willingly, not by force, then the cauldron itself would be destroyed.”
“Crawl into it willingly? Who would ever do such a thing?”
“No one who wants to live to see another day.” The spider munched some more, lips smacking. “Yet, in the same manner, the castle itself has a flaw. A tiny one, perhaps, but a flaw nonetheless.”
“What is it?”
“There is an ancient prophecy, as ancient as the giants themselves.”
At this, Shim spread his fingers just wide enough to peek through.
The spider swung to another strand, pulled free an old antenna that some victim had left behind, and gobbled it in one bite. Returning to the nearly eaten beetle, she chanted:
Where in the darkness a castle doth spin,
Small will be large, ends will begin.
Only when giants make dance in the hall
Shall every barrier crumble and fall.
“What does it mean?” demanded Rhia. “Only when giants make dance in the hall . . .”
“Shall every barrier crumble and fall.” I pushed some black hairs back from my face. “So the castle walls would crumble if giants ever danced there?”
Having finished off the beetle’s belly, the spider tore off one of the wings. “So goes the prophecy.”
Rhia’s expression darkened. “So that’s why Stangmar has been hunting down all the giants! He must have heard this prophecy, too. He’s doing everything he can to make sure it never comes true.”
The spider crunched on the remainder of the wing. “Including destroying Varigal, the most ancient city of all.”
“Ohhh,” moaned Shim. “I doesn’t means it when I says I wishes to be big. I doesn’t means it. Really, truly, honestly.”
The Grand Elusa eyed the shivering mass of dirt, twigs, and honey. “I pity you, shrunken one. For though your parents came from the giants’ race, you have not learned that bigness means more than the size of your bones.”
“But I is happy being small! Just a foolish whim to gets big. Big and dead! I is happier small but alive.”
“So be it,” said the spider. “Now, I ought to warn all of you. This little morsel has only one wing left, and also part of the head.” She pulled off the wing, crammed it into her mouth, and chewed for a few seconds. “Hmmm. Now just the head. I am still very hungry. And also tired of being this size. If you do not leave my crystal cave quite soon, I will be forced to sample a few of your arms and legs.”
Rhia clutched my arm. “She’s right. Let’s get out of here.”
“But how?”
“I am not certain,” the spider answered, “but I think you might be able to climb out on the crystals.”
“Of course!” exclaimed Rhia. “Let’s go.”
She began to scamper up the radiant wall, using the larger crystals as holds for her hands and feet. Shim pushed past her, scaling the steep wall as rapidly as his stubby arms and legs could manage. He left behind a trail of gooey syrup on the crystals.
Seeing me standing beneath her, Rhia called down. “Quick! Or you’ll follow that beetle.”
I hesitated, driven to ask the Grand Elusa one thing more.
“Come on!”
“Go ahead,” I called back. “I’ll be there right away.”
“You had better do just that.” The spider reached for the beetle’s head, leaving nothing but an empty noose of silk. “On the other hand, you do look scrawny but edible.”
“Please tell me one last thing,” I begged. “About my home. My true home. Can you tell me where it is? The Galator—glowing right here—is my only clue.”
“Ah, the Galator! Come closer and show it to me.”
“I don’t dare. You might . . .”
“My, but you do look more meaty than I thought.”
“Please!” I cried. “Then can you tell me how to find my mother? My father? My true name?”
Swallowing the very last of the beetle, the spider answered, “I cannot say. That is for . . . I daresay, you do smell unusually interesting. Come closer, boy. Come closer. Yes! Leeet meee taaake a cloooser loook!”
As the spider’s voice swelled in size, so did the spider. But I did not stay to watch the change. I scurried out of the cave with all the speed I could muster.
22: ENCOUNTER IN THE MIST
I emerged from the cave into the swirling mist. I could barely make out Rhia, even though she was only a few paces away. Beside her stood Shim, so covered with sticks and dirt and leaves that he looked more like a miniature mountain than a miniature person. Glancing down at the Galator, I noticed that it no longer glowed.
Rhia sat in a small grove of elms, where five young saplings had sprouted around an elder. She watched me exit the cave, clearly relieved. Then she leaned close to the old elm tree in the center of the grove. She began talking with it, whispering in low, swishing tones. In response, the tree rocked slowly on its roots, creaking with a voice that seemed terribly sad.
In time, Rhia turned to me, her eyes clouded. “This tree has seen more than two hundred springs in Druma Wood. Yet now it’s sure it has seen its very last. It weeps every day for the future of its children. I told it not to lose hope, but it said it has only one hope left. To live long enough to do at least some small thing to keep the Druma safe from warrior goblins. But it expects just to die of grief instead.”
Shim, standing beside her, rubbed his dirt-caked nose and looked down.
I could only nod sadly and watch the streaming mist. All at once I picked up the sweet scent of apple blossoms.
“You sssseem sssso very glum,” said a familiar voice.
“Cwen!” Rhia leaped to her feet. “What ever brings you here? You almost never go out walking anymore.”
Passing a branched
hand before her face, Cwen emerged from the mist. “I sssshouldn’t have followed you.” She hesitated, a touch of fear in her teardrop eyes. “Issss it possible you can sssstill forgive me?”
Rhia’s eyes narrowed. “You have done something terrible.”
At that instant, six huge warrior goblins stepped out of the mist. Swiftly they surrounded us. Their thin eyes glinted beneath pointed helmets, their muscular arms protruded from shoulder plates, their three-fingered hands grasped the hilts of broad swords. Beads of perspiration gathered on their gray-green skin.
One of them, wearing red armbands above his elbows, brandished his sword at Cwen. In a wheezing, rasping voice, he demanded, “Which one has it?”
Cwen glanced furtively at Rhia, who was glaring at her in astonishment. “They promissssed me I could usssse the Galator to make mysssself young again.” She waved her shriveled fingers. “Don’t you ssssee? My handssss will wither no more!”
Rhia winced with pain. “I can’t believe you would do this, after all the years—”
“Which one?” rasped the goblin.
Cwen pointed a knobby finger at me.
The warrior goblin stepped into the grove of elms and aimed his sword at my chest. “Give it to me now. Or shall I make it very painful for you first?”
“Remember what you ssssaid,” urged Cwen. “You promissssed not to harm them.”
The goblin wheeled around to face the aging treeling. A thin smile curled his crooked mouth. “I forgot. But did I make any promise about you?”
Cwen’s eyes widened in fright. She started to back away.
“No!” cried Rhia.
It was too late. The goblin’s sword whizzed through the air, slicing off one of Cwen’s arms.
She shrieked, grasping the open wound as brown blood gushed from it.
“There.” The goblin’s wheezing laughter filled the air. “Now you won’t have to worry about that old hand anymore!” He advanced at Cwen. “Now let’s do the other one.”
Screaming in terror, blood pouring from her stunted arm, Cwen stumbled off into the mist.
“Let her go,” rasped the goblin. “We have more important work to do.” He jabbed his sword, dripping with brown blood, at my throat. “Now, where were we?”
