Tanis, trying desperately not to lose sight of the only real spider in this army of gigantic grotesques, charged among them, his sword raised and ready.
Racing into this web of monsters, Tanis's first thought was that he was committing suicide. The spiders towered over him and he questioned what good even an enchanted sword would do when all he could attack were the creatures' legs. Still, he hacked at the limb of the first monster that blocked his way. He sliced off a hunk of one leg; the beast sprayed blood, proving that while it was a duplicate, it was no mirage. It could kill and be killed. And what happened to one duplicate happened to all: blood spewed from numerous severed legs.
Wounded, the creatures flew into a killing rage. Those closest to Tanis tried to slash him with their sharp-edged legs. However, Tanis had a faster, sharper blade. His glowing broadsword, an extension of his arm, was a blur of color, whipping first left, then right, cutting off pieces of spider leg as if he were a mad woodchopper.
Blood ran in the street like water from a spring mountain thaw. But the runoff was neither cool nor refreshing for Tanis; his battle gear was splatterd with the hot liquid that made the cobblestones slippery underfoot. He had to get to higher ground, he thought, as he fought to keep his balance in the streams of flowing blood. As he slashed with every step, the spiders moved fearfully out of his way until he reached the barricades. It was here that the real spider waited, its army of protectors decimated and bleeding. The real spider suffered none of the wounds of the others.
Tanis rubbed his face to wipe off the blood that had nearly blinded him. The seemingly endless attack of the spiders had eased, many of the creatures hobbling away from him on uneven stumps.
But from off to his left, a huge spider, massive and untouched, began spinning a web. With a jerky movement of one thin leg, it threw the mass toward the half-elf, who tried unsuccessfully to outrun the sticky substance. The glutinous webbing caught the warrior, who fought uselessly to free himself, beating back the panic that he felt rising in his chest. With two of its forelegs, the spider pulled, knocking Tanis down. The half-elf tumbled off the barricade and fell into the bloody street below, his sword slipping out of his hand and becoming tangled in the spider's web near his feet.
The spider drew the thin, white cocoon closer. The half-elf, stunned from the fall and disoriented, rolled over onto his back. The behemoth, seemingly sure of its kill, brought yet another leg to bear in dragging Tanis closer. When Tanis was nearly underneath it, the beast began lowering its massive body, its maw dripping.
A dark shadow blotted out the sun. A horrible smell made Tanis want to wretch. A scent like rotting meat shocked him out of his state of semi-consciousness.
Tanis opened his eyes and saw through a hazy white webbing the dripping mandible of the spider.
He began to lift his hand, but the broadsword was not in his grip. He reached around frantically, trying to find the blade. But it was no use.
Time had rim out for him. With no sword, he could not defend himself. Trapped in the webbing, he watched in silent terror as the spider prepared to devour him.
20
Fight to the Death
The beast screamed. The roar, so close to Tanis, echoed painfully. Then the spider suddenly turned away from him, releasing its hold. Struggling against the sticky webbing, Tanis twisted to see what had happened. Looking through the spider's spindly legs, Tanis saw a most unlikely looking savior. It was Mertwig! The old dwarf had come up behind the creature and had crushed the bottom of one of its legs with his battle-axe. And now the monster focused its hate on a new enemy.
Mertwig cursed himself for a fool. What good could he do except get himself killed along with the half-elf 7 Yet he had to do something to help the noble soul who had saved his Yeblidod.
The dwarf had mindlessly dropped the heavy leather bag that he had carried out of the alley attacking the monster with the hope that he could divert its attention away from Tanis. In this he had been successful. But now who was going to save him from the deadly creature's wrath7
Mertwig cursed again, loud and richly profane. There was much battle experience in his aged heart, and Mertwig knew that one did not fenter a contest of war with the expectation of getting help from anything except the weapons carried in one's hands. Those weapons-his axe and a knife with a long, curved blade-were not going to be enough against this hovering monstrosity. Nonetheless, Mertwig stood his ground, spinning his axe in a wide arc over his head. He intended to throw it at the spot where the spider's legs joined, hoping to strike one of its bulging eyes, blinding it. Perhaps then he would have a chance to pick up the heavy bag and run. It was his only chance.
The spider appeared to see no threat from the axe whipping in a tight circle around the dwarf's head. It lunged forward with three legs, its body dipping low. Just then the dwarf let go of his axe. The weapon soared upward, cutting through the air on an angle that took it high over the spider's head. It struck nothing except the barricade behind the behemoth.
"Reorx!" Mertwig bellowed, and dove to the ground behind the massive, leather bag.
As soon as Mertwig had distracted the spider, Tanis tried once again to find his broadsword by feeling his way along the edges of the imprisoning web. He couldn't locate it. He wanted to raise his head, but the restraining cocoon around his body made that impossible. Frustrated, he kicked at the lower end of the webbing with his boots, hoping to tear it.
It did not tear or rip. His leg motion, however, caused something caught in the webbing near his right foot to rattle and scrape against the ground. Tanis heard the sound and rejoiced. He had found his sword.
Tanis quickly rolled over on to his right side. Curling up as much as the glutinous webbing would allow, he used his right foot to push the blade higher while he bent downward to reach with his right hand.
His fingertips touched the edge of the broadsword's handle.
Tanis stretched as far as he could. He gained another inch but could not quite grip the sword. His muscles felt as if they were going to snap from the strain, but he pushed them even farther. This time, his fingers were able to wrap around the end of the handle. Then he gave the handle a little tug, and it jumped up into his palm.'
The sword glowed crimson.
Tanis lifted the blade, and it easily sliced through the webbing. He was free.
Scrambling to his feet, the half-elf saw Mertwig's danger as the dwarf dove behind the sack. Even as Mertwig leaped through the air, Tanis was dashing up the side of the nearby battlement with long, loping strides. At the top, he saw that the dwarf had briefly avoided the spider's sharp-edged legs. The monster would not miss the next time.
The half-elf had to kill it outright, or die in the attempt. Gauging the distance, Tanis ran along the top of the barricade toward the spider's body, and then jumped out into open space. He flew through the air until he landed on the monster's back, his sword his anchor, digging it deep into the spider's body.
The spider reared up in shock and pain, trying frantically to throw Tanis off its back. Tanis slid off to the right but kept both hands firmly wrapped round the handle of his broadsword. The sheer weight of the half-elf's body caused the blade to slowly slice downward, gutting the creature.
The spider tried to get at Tanis with its flailing legs, but the angle was impossible. Then it rammed its side against the barricade, nearly crushing Tanis. The half-elf anticipated the impact and jumped free, pulling the sword out of the spider. But before the monster could right itself, Tanis leaped up yet again. With one swift and powerful stroke, the sword came down on the center of the creature's body, where its nerves and all its senses met. In that moment, all the wounded duplicates vanished. And the one, lone, vanquished spider curled and crumpled heavily to the ground, dead.
Tanis fell with the creature, landing at the foot of the barricade.
Mertwig hurried to the half-elf, kneeling at his side. "Are you hurt?" The dwarf shook uncontrollably, his face ashen.
Tanis, brea
thless from the fall, could not answer at first. He pulled himself into a seated position, but his head whirled.
Mertwig shoved the half-elf's swimming head down between his knees. "Yeblidod makes people do this when they feel faint. Stay there, and breathe slowly. I'll fetch the healer," the dwarf ordered. But Tanis reached out for Mertwig's arm and held him there. After a few moments, Tanis was able to speak. He lifted his head. "I'm all right," he wheezed. "Help me up."
With the dwarf's assistance, Tanis got to his feet. Despite some wooziness, he was relieved to find that he was still in one piece. Which was more than could be said of the spider.
"I've never seen anything like it-" Mertwig began.
Tanis would not let him finish. Instead, the half-elf said, "If not for you…" He fought back another wave of dizziness, then continued. "I owe you my life, Mertwig. If there is anything I can ever do-" This time Mertwig cut him off, looking up with an insulted expression. "It is I who owed you a great debt for saving my Yebbie." But then he paused as the two heard the distant sound of people storming up the street. "But now that you mention it," Mertwig hurriedly amended, "there is something you can do. I beg of you, tell no one I was here. You never saw me. Never. What you did, you did alone. May I have your word?"
Tanis was bewildered. "But why…?"
"Please. I must have your word!" insisted the dwarf.
"Of course, but-"
"Then it's a solemn oath," said Mertwig. With that, he dashed over to the heavy sack he had dropped earlier, hoisted it over his shoulder, and then ran down a dark alley. He was already out of sight when Scowarr, Kishpa, and Brandella turned a corner, leading hundreds of elves in the half-elf's direction.
Scowarr and the others slowed and then stopped. The sight of Tanis standing alone near the fallen spider filled them all with a sense of awe.
Kishpa studied the half-elf.
"I feared to find you dead and the spiders rampaging through the village," said the mage, visibly relieved.
Brandella's reaction surprised everyone-especially Kishpa, it seemed. After stopping and taking in the scene, she suddenly dashed ahead of them all and wrapped her arms around the half-elf, hugging him close.
Eyebrows were raised over numerous pairs of almond- shaped eyes, but no one spoke except Kishpa, who, when he reached Tanis, said with considerable restraint, "We are grateful for what you have done for Ankatavaka." And then he gently but inexorably pulled Brandella away from the bloodstained half-elf.
'Tell us how you did it," Scowarr asked excitedly, mindless of Kishpa's jealousy and the embarrassment of the rest of the elves. Tanis, taken aback by Brandella's uninhibited approval, tried to minimize his actions, saying, "I could not have survived if not for the spell Kishpa cast over my sword. Beyond that, I simply had much luck."
"And much bravery," added Scowarr, proud of his friend.
Kishpa's eyes narrowed. He seemed to be battling several emotions-discomfiture with Brandella's reaction to Tanis, respect for his bravery, and perhaps jealousy over sharing the spotlight with a half-elf who increasingly appeared to be his rival. Tanis, watching, wondered which sentiment would emerge victorious.
He got his answer when the red-robed mage turned to face the crowd. "We have yet another victory to celebrate today," the wizard cried. "To the feast!"
21
The challenge of truth
It was a feast that would be remembered for years ever after.
The bonfires burned along the beach, and there was much rejoicing. Scowarr was pleased that Tanis had been right. Throughout late morning and early afternoon, the human was besieged by well-wishers who praised him for his heroism. He had not been forgotten, after all. He beamed.
Later, when Scowarr finally sought out Tanis, he found the half-elf sitting by himself on a rock ledge at the fringe of the merriment, watching the soothing monotony of the waves.
"Where have you been?" asked Little Shoulders.
"Sleeping. I'd almost forgotten what it was like."
Just then, Mertwig arrived with Yeblidod on his arm, the bandaged cut on her temple partially concealed by a wide-brimmed hat. She was pale but seemed much stronger. The shock of the attack apparently had worn off, and a good, long rest had done her wonders.
Canpho, the healer, rushed over to Yeblidod to see how she was feeling. He was obviously pleased with the answer because he smiled broadly and called out, "Friends, we have cheered many heroes today, but there is one here now who remains unsung. With her considerable healing skills, she helped to save many of you and your friends from certain death after the first day of battle. Herself nearly killed last night, she has come back to us whole and happy! I give you Yeblidod!"
Everyone cheered.
Mertwig's face was blissful. He looked at his wife with a gaze bordering on reverence. She returned his look with one of awkward embarrassment. "I don't know what to say," she whispered to her husband.
"Just say thank you," he replied sweetly.
She lowered her head humbly, unable to speak. Kishpa and Brandella applauded lustily along with everyone else.
Mertwig quieted the crowd and proclaimed, "Canpho, you and all of our friends know how much my wife and son mean to me. Like yourselves, I wanted to send my family away before the attack. But Yeblidod, like several of the women"-and Kishpa sent a barbed look in Brandella's direction-"would not go. She sent our boy away for his safety, but she stayed behind to add her healing powers to those of the wondrous Canpho."
One elf, obviously a bit worse for wear after imbibing a few tankards of victory ale, stood on the sand and burst into another hearty cheer-although it was uncertain whether he applauded Yeblidod, Canpho, the victory, or the ale. His compatriots, giggling, pulled him back down on the sand. Mertwig cast a patient look at the sky and waited for silence.
"For my own part, like all of you. I did what I could on the barricades," he said, the sun casting strange shadows on his craggy face. "With the danger we all faced, many of you, I'm sure, made promises to your loved ones that you would do this or do that for them if all went well with the battle. I, too, made such a promise."
Yeblidod looked surprised as her husband continued, "And before all of you, I now keep that vow."
Mertwig opened a small box and took from it a fragile, delicately detailed glass ball that shimmered like a huge diamond in the sunlight. This, before all of you, I give to my beloved Yeblidod."
The glass globe, which rested comfortably in Mertwig's hand, was mostly clear, with subtle traces of azure and moss. Mertwig used two hands to pass it gently to Yeblidod. 'The clearness of the glass is for the purity of my wife's love," he proclaimed, looking steadily at Yeblidod. "The strands of blue celebrate the sky that witnesses this moment. The green threads in the glass… well, they simply reminded me of the gentle green eyes of my own true love," he concluded.
The crowd heeved a collective sigh as Yeblidod, oblivious to two huge tears creeping down her cheek, stroked the glass bauble and held it up to the sun. Even Tanis was moved. There were thunderous applause and cheers from everyone-except Kishpa. The mage frowned with dismay and looked at Brandella. She, too, had a worried expression. It did not stop her, however, from clapping her hands in appreciation of the old dwarf's romantic gesture.
After his speech, Mertwig proudly shepherded his wife through the crowd, yet kept his distance from Kishpa. He also stayed away from Tanis. The half-elf was perplexed by Mertwig's strange behavior.
Suddenly, everything went black. The sun disappeared. The beach was no more. There were no sounds from the crowd. All was emptiness, except for the loud, irregular beating of a heart. There was no up or down. No east or west. Tanis found himself trapped in a void, neither rising nor falling. He groped ahead of him, reaching for whatever he might find in the darkness. But there was nothing. Only the thudding that seemed to grow weaker with each passing moment.
The half-elf reached for his sword. It was an empty gesture; there was no enemy to fight. Helpless, not know
ing what he should do, Tanis cried out, "You must live! I will save your Brandella. Keep fighting!"
Did Kishpa hear him? Tanis would never know. But a moment later the sun reappeared. He was back on the beach, still perched on the rock, and the celebration was still on. But it was much later in the day than it had been just a moment ago. The sun was low in the sky, sending long, amber shadows across the sand. Lunitari, the red moon, could be spied on the horizon.
More worrisome yet was that the happy idyl of mere seconds before had turned into a confrontation between Mertwig and a pasty-faced elf whom Tanis did not know. The faces of the observers were somber.
"I saw you sneak out of my uncle's house," declared the elf, whose honey-brown hair just brushed his shoulders. "I could not imagine what you were doing there. I knew you and he had been friends once, but that ended long ago. My uncle had no use for you and your dwarvish ways."
Mertwig opened his mouth, but Canpho, his brown eyes crinkled with worry, interrupted.
"This is a joyous time," the healer said, coming between the young, angry elf and the distressed Mertwig. Canpho faced the elf. "There is no need for these hard words. You're upset by your uncle's death. We understand-"
"You understand nothing!" shouted the elf, unmollified. 'This dwarf, knowing that Azurakee was dead, broke into his home and looted it while the rest of us were at the barricades!"
At the heinous charge, the assembled elves fell silent. The waves breaking on the shore and the crackling of the dimming bonfires were all that could be heard. The faint smell of roast venison mingled with the usual scents of the seashore.
Tanis the shadow years p2-3 Page 12
