Dark Path: Book Three of the Phantom Badgers

by RW Krpoun

  Kroh ran an inked finger down the rings on his axe, mentally reviewing the names; he loosened the dirk at his left hip and the boot-dagger in his right boot, and tapped the head of the throwing-axe on his right hip. The latter was loot from the Alantarn raid last fall, and was enchanted so it would return on command three times per day; Durek bore its mate. Axel had examined both carefully, however, and advised both Dwarves that the enchantments on the weapons were old and, for lack of a better term, 'worn'. Each use of the light axes could be its last. Kroh's long axe, despite its size, could be thrown and recalled as well, and there was nothing worn about the good Dwarven runes that empowered it, but they were only capable of defying logic and natural law in such a fashion once in a day's span.

  "Tell us how we do this again," the Waybrother growled at the Threll, who had fished a piccolo case out of his pouch and was looking about thoughtfully. "You can scare the birds later."

  Halabarian cocked an eyebrow, but returned the cased instrument to his pouch. "It is a simple matter, much like courting a lass with a stubborn chaperon: the forest Titan is a web-spinner, rather than a jumper like its cave cousin. The Titan selects an area where the trees and tall brush are close and interwoven; from these it spins a complex structure of strands that are both highway and warning system. Very few, even when aware of the presence of such a web-complex, can move through the area without the Titans being alerted, and made aware of every step the quarry takes. The Titans then slip up close, and attack in a rush from cover, seeking to either overwhelm their foe or drive it into some concealed snare; in either case, its poisoned mandibles are its primary means of attack. It cannot 'shoot' webs, or wrap a foe who has use of its limbs; such is the work of myth. Nonetheless they are dangerous even if you are forewarned."

  “To hunt them properly, you must first note the exact borders of the colony so as not to accidentally fall into an unknown web-complex while stalking another. Once that is done, there are various methods used to hunt them; we Threll prefer to wait until fall when the lack of leaves greatly hinders the spider's ability to hide, while others employ men with scythes over-watched by archers to clear away the underbrush, destroying the web complexes and forcing the Titans out into the open. We must use a more dangerous option: one of us walks into the complex, drawing out the spider, while the others wait with bows. This requires great nerve, complete trust, and quick reflexes, as the spiders often hunt in twos and threes without pattern."

  "Have you ever done it this way, Halabarian?" Rolf asked.

  "On occasion, when no other method was feasible," the Threll shrugged. "It's hardly a preferred method, but sometimes it is the only way. Some who walk 'bait' prefer a burning torch to a regular arm, as the Titans fear flame; the torches can also be used to create a secure path to retreat into, by leaving a row of burning brands behind you."

  "Do you trust us enough to walk 'bait' in your turn, singer?" Kroh grinned evilly.

  Halabarian met the Waybrother’s' gaze evenly. "Of course; no Guardian of the Way would think to compromise his honor and the honor of his clan by doing less than his very best under such circumstances." Kroh grunted sourly, trapped.

  "So the first step is to mark the outer confines of the colony," Rolf observed.

  "Exactly so; the colony would consist of a large circle, much like a necklace of pearls if seen with an eagle's eyes from above. The individual pearls are hunting-complexes occupied by one to three adult spiders, and the inside of the necklace, called the nest, is a mating ground and a place where the young can be tended; Titans care for their young much as herd animals do. Additionally, young adult Titans will travel some distance from the colony to establish temporary hunting-complexes."

  "Why don't animals stay away from the colony after a while?" Rolf asked.

  "The Titans use musks to lure plant-eaters close, and the smell of their victim's remains lure in small carrion-eaters. The colony is also located with wind patterns and water sources taken into consideration. Lastly, Titans do not attack every creature that enters the complexes, unless it gets close to the nest; this keeps most animals off their guard."

  "How smart are they, then?" Rolf frowned. "They sound awful clever."

  "That is a topic of argument amongst many forest-dwellers," the Threll admitted. "Many believe that Titans are much smarter than dogs, and that some of the old ones can actually think like Threll or Men." 'Or at least like Dwarves,' he mentally added.

  "So how many are there likely to be here?" Kroh asked, bored with all the talking.

  "Not all that many; perhaps twenty adults if it is a mature colony."

  "Not too many, then," the Dwarf stood and stretched. "Let's get to the boundary-marking; sooner done, sooner killing."

  The noon sun was warm on his armored shoulders, a familiar annoyance that did not reach him now; other things were bringing the blood rushing to his temples as his tattooed hands tore yet another strip from the rapidly-shrinking bolt. Rolf carefully tied the rag to a prominent branch while the Dwarf stomped over to where the Threll stood, spear driven into the leaf-mold to free his hands for his bow. Before Kroh could speak Halabarian swept up his bow, aimed for a fraction of a second, and released; thirty paces away a brown and green mottled shape dropped from a tree, thrashing.

  "Two," Kroh jerked his axe towards the dying spider. "Good shooting. We've spent hours marking the edge of this thing, which is huge, and we're no more than two-thirds done. How many spiders are there?"

  The Threll pulled the spear from the soft ground and scraped dirt from its butt with the side of one soft boot, a thoughtful frown on his face. "To tell the truth, I'm surprised, as I've never seen one this big. They're hollow, like I explained: a circle of hunting complexes surrounding a nest area. Once there are excess adults, some move away and start a new colony. How long ago did you put out the warning markers?"

  "Two years ago, and they were well outside of the area," Kroh rumbled angrily. "Now the last one we passed is inside a hunting complex."

  Halabarian shook his head. "I've never heard of a colony growing as fast as this, nor so large, but it is clear that we must find out what is happening here before we can hope to deal with it."

  "And how do we do that?" Rolf inquired.

  Kroh grinned happily. "That's easy: straight into the center; if the answer's not on the outside, then it must be in the middle."

  The Dwarf's two companions gave this some thought, and finally Halabarian broke the silence. "True enough, I'm afraid. If there is an answer, it must be within." He frowned at the surrounding trees. "Back about a hundred paces was a place where the ground is thin on the mountain's bones, and a ridge line rises towards the nest’s center-that should be as safe a route as we're likely to find. I suggest we eat a meal, refill our flasks, and proceed apace with Kroh's bold plan."

  Kroh advanced up the gentle slope of the time-worn ridge at a slow and cautious pace, axe in one hand, lit torch in the other. His helm rode securely on his belt-pouch because full vision and especially hearing was vital in this task. He paused and applied the torch to a leafy branch, grinning as he smelled the sickly stench of spider-web burning. It would not do to just slay the spiders on their trip in; the trio would need to burn or cut all webs that lay across their path to ensure a safe return journey. To his right and left scrub brush and spindly trees rose in fair profusion, the slick gray surface of spider-lines as thick as his little finger catching the sunlight from branch and trunk. Here and there were the tangled bones of rabbit, deer, fox, squirrel, and all manner of birds, mute testimony of the horrors that lurked in the shadows.

  The Dwarf took another step and scorched a scraggly clump of grass that thrust up between two badly worn rocks. Movement flickered to his left; pivoting, he dropped to his right knee, fanning the torch in a hard arc in front of him. The racing spider flinched and broke stride, the hesitation giving the Waybrother just enough time to swing his axe one-handed. The beautifully-balanced long axe was intended to cleave armor and hide: t
he spider's meager husk split at its enchanted edge with no more resistance than a melon's.

  Kroh stood, casually glancing at the thrashing, arrow-transfixed spider to his right before moving on, his blood singing in his ears.

  Rolf moved easily, Moonblade held at the ready. The great sword was too long to use in conjunction with a torch, so the big Badger did without a brand. Sidestepping a scrub tree, he checked to make sure his following archers were still able to cover him, and moved another pace up slope. They had slain a half-dozen spiders, and advanced more than two hundred yards in the space of an hour without reaching the colony's central nest-area.

  Sudden movement to his right brought him and Moonblade's silvery length sweeping in that direction, but the darting green-brown shape was suddenly bowled to the side by a yard-long shaft. Rolf sighed and gave the Threll a short wave before resuming his careful exploration.

  Twenty minutes and another cautious thirty yards passed before the big half-Orc halted; after studying the terrain before him, he gestured the others to join him. As Halabarian and Kroh came up he motioned up slope with his sword-point. "Look at that."

  The trees ahead were festooned with lacy tendrils of web that resembled age-worn banners and ribbons; the ground was littered with debris of some sort. Just beyond sight could be heard the stirrings and shakings of branches as numerous somethings moved through the tree's upper reaches, slipping away from the intruders.

  "The nest," Halabarian nodded, pleased. "The webs you see are left from breeding rituals; the trash on the ground are the remains of creatures brought here for the young and their wards to feed upon. From here onto the center there won't be any more traps or triggers, or hunting adults. The eye of the storm, as it were."

  "What about the young and the adults tending them?" Rolf asked, capping his flask after a careful drink.

  "If we each carry a brand, and do not harm them or the egg sacs, we should be all right for the moment, so long as we keep moving. Should we tarry in the nest too long adults from the hunting-complexes will begin to come in to defend the nest."

  "So we don't wipe out any egg sacs?" Kroh was disappointed.

  "Not yet; it is always best to clear the hunting-complexes first, where you encounter the adults in ones and twos, rather than assault the eggs and young only to draw the attentions of a dozen or more adults. To judge from the size of this colony, I would guess there could be as many as forty adults here, which I presume must be some sort of record outside Goblin breeding grounds."

  "Goblins breed them," Rolf nodded. "Tribal Goblins, anyway. But why are their breeding areas bigger than in the wild? You would think that they should be smaller, what with the greenskins culling out the young to train for war."

  Halabarian frowned at the question. "Because the Goblins drive goats, sheep, or wild beasts into the breeding grounds; with such a steady supply of food, the spiders breed faster..." The Threll thoughtfully stroked his chin. "But who could be feeding them out here?"

  "One way to find out," Kroh grinned, slinging his axe.

  Torch in one hand, knife or dirk in the other, the trio moved out in single file, staying close together. Bones crunched underfoot and dried wisps of web stroked their arms like a ghost's caress as they moved deeper into the nest. Now and again they caught sight of groups of young spiders, some no larger than a man's hand, shepherded by an adult, but the resinous stench of the torches kept the Titans, young and old, at bay.

  "That makes four so far," Rolf indicated a slimy bundle that looked like a wet gray-green hornet's nest near the top of a tree. "And we're going straight through; unless this is a popular place for egg-laying, there must be dozens of sacs."

  "What's stranger is this," Halabarian indicated a dried strip of web that trailed limply from a bush, across their path, and ascended loosely up a tree trunk. "That's part of an old hunting-complex."

  "So the colony grew over it," Kroh shrugged. "We figured that out from the warning-marks from two years ago."

  "Yes, the colony grew over it, but that's not how it works. Colonies grow to a certain size and then the excess spiders go off to form sub-colonies that will grow into new colonies. As old as this colony is, there shouldn't have been much growth in size since you marked it, yet where we're standing was a hunting-complex right after the first thaw." Halabarian kicked a wild goat's skull aside. "This makes no sense at all."

  Rolf waved his torch at an inquisitive bunch of young Titans, sending them scurrying off. "We better keep moving; these torches are burning down, and once we're down to one apiece we'll have to head back."

  Lanthrell are a people of the woods; even with his mind on the mystery of the Titan colony's abnormal nature Halabarian was alert to every nuance and aspect of the trees he was moving through. Although distracted by internal debate, his subconscious noted the unnatural twitching of the branches and alerted him to danger even as the spider began its assault. Moving with the speed and grace that was a hallmark of his people, the Threll half-turned while flowing back a step (in the only direction he could be sure was untrapped), bringing his torch up in a short, hard jab that planted the burning, pitch-soaked rags that made up its business end directly between the shiny black mandibles. The arachnid's spasm of pain ripped the nearly exhausted brand from his grip; letting it go, the limber Lanthrell stepped in to administer the finishing thrust with his long knife.

  Crashing movement brought him around, jerking his spear off his back with his left hand as he turned, but the weapon was not needed: Kroh slammed his dirk into the head of a Titan he had just blinded with his thrown torch. The Dwarf straightened and saluted the Threll with his greasy, ichor-coated dirk-blade. "Not to worry, you're safe." The Waybrother grinned evilly. "I saved you."

  "Nice work," Halabarian nodded, slinging his spear and pulling out a fresh torch, which he held to Rolf's to light. "I couldn't have done better with my bow." He saw the Dwarf's face fall, as the Waybrother mentally caught the unspoken 'as I did for you earlier'.

  "Are they coming to defend the nest?" Rolf asked as he lit Kroh's new torch; the big Badger's own brand was nearing the end of its service, Halabarian noticed.

  "No," the Threll scowled as he indicated gleaming strands on a nearby tree. "This is a hunting complex." Shaking his head, he turned in a full circle, checking his bearings. "But we marked most of the colony; there is no way we're reached the outer belt yet. In fact, we should be fairly close to the center of the colony."

  "So what is a hunting complex doing here?" Kroh rumbled, looking about thoughtfully. "What could they hunt that could get in this far?"

  "I don't know, but we need to find out," Halabarian extinguished his newly-lit torch and sheathed his knife after wiping the blade on his boot. "Do you want me to 'bait' or cover?"

  "Cover," Kroh sheathed his dirk and unslung his axe. "I hates spiders, and I'll kill dozens 'ere we're through, I will. Let's get about this."

  Rolf tossed his torch aside and stepped into the stirrup of his crossbow to cock it. Settling the quarrel into place, he moved to Halabarian's left and began the careful business of covering the Lanthrell's sides and rear while the Threll covered Kroh as the Dwarf advanced a careful pace at a time. It was always eerie in the hunting-complexes, he had found, as the normal forest bird's noises were missing; those birds who had not fallen prey to the Titans had fled the area.

  He was alertly carrying out his duties as flank and rear guard, watching so closely for any sign of danger that what he was seeing escaped his attention for several minutes. When he noticed them for the first time, it was so familiar as to escape actual recognition for a bit, until the out-of-place of it all nagged at him too strongly to ignore it. Pausing at a likely spot, he called for a halt in a hushed voice and stepped to the bushes, pulling a quarrel from his belt-quiver. Using the missile to pry amongst the webs, he whistled through his teeth. Moving a few steps back, he dug in the leaves beneath a tall bush before finally standing up and wiping off the bolt.

  "What is it?" Kr
oh called in a low voice.

  "Rock rats," Rolf jerked his head to where he had been investigating. "Lots of them; nearly all the bones we've passed."

  Halabarian heard Kroh curse in a tone of voice that indicated understanding, and shook his head. "What about rock rats?"

  "They live underground," Rolf explained. "What are so many doing above ground?"

  The Threll saw the point at once. "You mean that they are coming up onto the surface in numbers? Then that would explain things: a ring of hunting-complexes around where the rats are coming out, and a normal ring of complexes on the outside; two colonies, really, sharing a common nest." He nodded pleased with himself. "There must be a fissure or vent nearby. The mystery solved."

  "Yeah, one of them, anyway," Kroh growled, studying the lay of the ridge and the rocks. "It'll be a bit south of here, I should imagine. Yea, one mystery solved, and another one to solve, now."

  "What mystery is that?" Halabarian shrugged. "We can block off the place where the rats are coming through, and the colony will revert to a normal state; while it is in flux, your Ravenmist should make short work of the problem."

  "Not exactly," Rolf, who looked no happier than Kroh, shook his head. "You see, rock rats like being underground. Oh, one or two might wander onto the surface now and again, but no matter how many there are, they would never come onto the surface in these numbers without a good reason."

  "And what would be a good reason?" Halabarian asked with a sinking feeling.

  Kroh gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Something big and mean coming up from below would do it, tune-player. Something very big and very mean."

  Chapter Seven

  The vent bothered Kroh, bothered him a great deal. It was south of them, just as he had predicted, forty yards and another spider distant from Rolf's discovery, a sharp rent in the ridge-side two feet wide and a dozen long, slightly crooked in layout, looking for all the world like a huge axe-wound. The grass and brush grew close to the lips of the stony crevice, and even the Threll had had to admit that only Kroh's skill at stone-reading could have located it as surely as they had, but wringing a compliment from that bastard's fancy tongue gave Kroh no pleasure, no pleasure at all, not while looking at this hole and wondering what was wrong about it.