3 Weaver of Shadow (21 page)

He said something to the alchemists. Their masks hid their expression but their body language spoke of the same dismay as the wizards. Kormak guessed that Graydon suspected the same thing as he did, that the battle was lost unless desperate measures were taken.

The alchemists were piling their casks of chemicals up on the back of a wagon which was rolled towards the edge of the Order’s position. The wizards followed it at a discrete distance. One of the alchemists placed something in the back of the wagon, then whipped the horses forward into the enemy lines. They fell back from around it. The brother mounted on the back, dived off and tried to fight his way back to the Order’s lines but was dragged down by the elves. A moment later his severed head was being waved aloft, blood dripping from what was left of his neck.

The horses kept racing along, panicked. Elves jumped into the wagon to investigate. A huge explosion ripped them and the cart apart, the horse’s terrified neighing ceased in an instant. A column of brightly coloured alchemical flame rose above the battlefield. It kept burning and burning as it fed on the oil and alchemical fire contained in the urns and barrels. The wizards began to chant.

Suddenly Kormak understood what was happening and why they were afraid. They were trying to summon and control an elemental made from the blaze of alchemical fires without benefit of Elder Sign or ritual accoutrements. It was a dangerous type of magic, with nothing to constrain the summoned being. Nonetheless it was just about the only thing that might work. They had not been given enough time to work more formal sorcery. The flames gradually began to take on a humanoid outline, a towering gigantic figure that rose above the battlefield. The roar of its fires resembled awful demonic laughter. There was malice and hunger in the sound.

The entity seemed half solid, part of it made of flame and part of it from flowing liquid and after a moment Kormak understood why. The creature was composed partially of magical fire and partially of the chemicals that had gone into providing it with a form. It strode through the battlefield now, striking at the elves with long arms of fire. Its lower torso resembled a wave of glowing liquid. It flowed over anything that got in its way. Anything engulfed burned and kept burning even as the elemental passed on. The elves near it turned and fled. It pressed on through them, lashing out at anything and Kormak realised to his horror that no attempt was being made to control the creature, that the exhausted wizards were simply watching it with wide anxious eyes, hoping that it would not turn on them.

They need not have worried. The hungry elemental was heading directly for the centre of the clearing towards the rotting Stump of Mayasha. If fuel was food to the creature, and Kormak suspected it was, then the corpse of the great tree represented a banquet for the ravenous elemental. The elves did not seem to have realised what Kormak had though. They fled before it as if the great beast was coming for them personally. Weaver stood her ground before the great tree, mounted atop her great spider. She pointed her staff at the elemental and chanted a spell. The immense fiery creature wavered for a moment and then reached out for her. She dived clear as its blazing talons grasped her enormous mount. The spider writhed in the elemental’s grasp then its carapace sagged as steam emerged followed by gouts of heated fluids. The elemental raised its arms in triumph and advanced.

Horns sounded among the human lines. Lord Rhys was taking advantage of the panic to reform his force into a more conventional fighting line. Heralds raced across the battlefield, carrying orders to banner bearers. The knights, who had broken through, took one look at the oncoming elemental and charged back into the fleeing elves, disrupting them still further as they desperately tried to return to their own line and get out of the way of the oncoming monster of wildfire.

Even as some of the elves tried to rush into the forest, they were cut down by a hail of arrows. Packs of dire wolves rushed out from the shadows of the trees and sprang amid them, rending and tearing and then running away again. Kormak felt a sense of relief fill him. It looked like the Kayoga had finally shown up. None of the Lost who made it into the forest were likely to survive.

He glanced around the battlefield and saw what he was looking for. Weaver stood in the entrance to the root system of the great tree and with her were others. Kormak recognised Grogan. They were disappearing into the depths of the tree.

The Elemental reached it and embraced the bole with arms of fire. Kormak expected the flames to spread from it to the stump but something in the tree resisted the magical fires. The Elemental turned green as it attempted to consume the tainted wood, howled in fury, and then disintegrated into a shower of burning chemicals and green flickering flames.

The horns of the Army of the Morning sounded. As one the human army began to advance, slaughtering what remained of the elves and spiders that still stood against them.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

KORMAK STOOD BY the great gaping hole in the side of Mayasha into which he had seen Weaver disappear. He took a deep breath of the foul rotting smell and then looked back over his shoulder. Behind him the last embers of the battle still burned. Knots of elves fought with companies of men. A group of riders approached. At their head was Baron Enderby, his face flushed with triumph. He looked drunk on blood and battle and he grinned at Kormak. All previous animosity seemed forgotten in the moment of victory. Despite himself, Kormak grinned back.

“What are you looking for, Guardian?” The Baron’s voice boomed out over the battlefield, echoing inside the cavern-like interior of the tree.

“Weaver went down here,” he said. “She took the last of her people.”

“You are going after her?” Kormak nodded.

“I am going to finish this thing. I do not want that Shadow lover coming back to trouble us.”

Enderby nodded. “Let’s go then,” he said. His followers looked uneasy. They did not quite have his triumphant self-confidence. Noticing this he turned and said, “Any man too frightened to accompany me is excused.”

It was a direct challenge to their manhood and their courage. The knights squared their shoulders. Enderby turned and looked at Kormak and said, “What are we waiting for?”

Kormak shrugged and strode down into the depths. It was dark down there. The glow was not as bright as he remembered. That might have been because his eyes were accustomed to the sunlight outside but it might be for other reasons. The smell of mould and rot was getting worse as well, and somewhere down in the depths he heard the muted roar of the Mother echo through the caverns.

Enderby’s confident grin became somewhat sicklier.

“Weaver is with the Spider Mother,” Kormak said. He could not help but maliciously add, “I was considering waiting for my Order to bring up their war-engines but I was inspired by your example.”

Enderby wiped sweat from his face with a perfumed handkerchief and said, “You make me very proud,” There was a note of mocking irony in his voice that told Kormak the fat little man knew exactly what he was thinking. “I would not think of going back now.”

They pushed on down into the depths of the earth. Glowing fungi emerged from the walls of the tunnels all around them. Small translucent eggs clinging to the wall showed Kormak where the Spider Mother had passed. He did not need the trail though. He already knew where she and her mistress were going. It was a path he had followed once before and which was emblazoned forever in his memory.

They emerged into the great chamber that Kormak remembered. It was even bigger than he recalled, and the floor was still carpeted with bones. The Spider Mother was there, newly woven strands of webbing still holding her upright. Weaver was beside the creature, stroking its side, like a concerned knight gentling a skittish horse. All around were elves of her guard and corrupted humans. Grogan was there with his bow in his hand. Kormak pulled a sunflare from his belt-pouch and held it in his hand. It was cool in his palm.

Weaver looked up and saw him. “Guardian,” she said. “Things have changed a little since last we spoke.”

“You have broken the Law,” Kormak said. “You must pay the price.”

“I may,” she said. “But you will not live to see it. Grogan kill him.”

The ranger raised his bow. Kormak knew he would not miss at this range in this dim light. He tossed the sunflare, praying to the Holy Sun that it would not misfire. The stone hurtled through the air, glowing brighter as it flew. At the height of its arc, it flared to blinding brightness. Only Kormak had known what was coming. He shielded his eyes as he jumped to one side. Grogan’s arrow struck him and not even his dwarf forged mail could totally blunt the impact. The arrow buried itself in his side. He gritted his teeth, ignored the pain and raced forward, knowing that first he would have to deal with the Queen. He raced forward right at the head of the gigantic monster.

His blade sliced into her forehead, bursting her eyes. Even when the effects of the sunflare faded she was not going to be able to see. Kormak slashed again, severing her mandibles, smearing the blade with poison. He leapt at Grogan and drove his blade into the ranger’s chest. There was a faint sizzling sound as the blade passed through flesh and burned out the evil magic.

By now those around him were starting to be able to see again. Their eyes watered and they would be able to perceive only outlines and shadows but they at least knew he was there. Kormak aimed a blow at Weaver but the arrow in his side slowed him and the Shadow witch managed to leap aside. The extra limbs on her carapace armour spiked the walls and she raced up them, with fantastic speed. Kormak leapt among her followers slicing right and left, killing with every blow.

The knights let out a great shout and raced into battle. Hearing them or perhaps perceiving the vibration of their movement, the Spider Mother responded, moving forward, pinning one man beneath her carapace-armoured leg, crushing another with her great bulk.

On the carpet of bones and skulls men fought to maintain their balance. Kormak danced and slashed at elves. Weaver looked down from the ceiling, smiling mockingly, chittering something in a strange tongue. As she did so the Spider Mother wheeled left and right, trapping the knights, crushing them, spraying out webbing from one nozzle in her face. Kormak realised that the great beast was responding to Weaver’s instructions.

Grogan was reaching up for him, trying to say something. “Bow,” he muttered. “Kill the bitch. I’d do it myself but I don’t seem capable of moving.”

Kormak looked down into Grogan’s dying eyes. It was not a trick. Maybe Kormak’s sword had purged him of the taint of Shadow and freed his mind and soul in death. The Guardian bent over, picked up the bow and knocked an arrow. He was not the greatest shot in the world but he did know how to use the weapon. He took careful aim at Weaver, even though his wounded flank felt like it was burning, and fired. The arrow flew true and smashed into the witch’s armour. A scream emerged from her mouth. The Spider Mother halted for a moment.

Howling his battle-cry Baron Enderby raced forward and slashed at her leg with his battle-blade. It bit deep, partially severing the limb. The Spider Mother wheeled to attack him but with surprising quickness he leapt away, stumbling and falling as a pile of bones gave way beneath him.

Weaver scuttled across the ceiling, clutching at the shaft of the arrowhead. Kormak took another arrow from Grogan’s quiver, aiming again. This time Weaver was ready and dropped from the ceiling, landing atop the Mother’s back. Kormak fired a third arrow, this time hitting Weaver and sending her spinning. She was chittering at the Mother again, and her fall put her out of Kormak’s line of sight high atop the giant spider’s back.

He scabbarded his blade and raced forward. Leaping up and grabbing the Spider Mother’s side, he hauled himself onto her back. The pain in his wounded side was awful. He thought he was going to black out but he needed to finish this. The Spider Mother swayed in response to Weaver’s chittering, turning to assault the spot where Kormak had been. She reared up and brought her full weight down. He was glad he was no longer standing there, as he listened to bones break and skulls crunch.

He pulled himself upright, swaying with the violent motion of the great arachnid. He saw Weaver waiting there and realised that she had the advantage. She could maintain her position just as easily here as she had on the wall. He could barely remain upright.

Weaver saw him coming and shrieked. She raised her skull tipped staff. Its eye-sockets glowed with a horrible greenish light. She pointed it at him and a fog of bile-coloured ectoplasm seethed towards him, swirling around him in a hideous cloud that made his skin itch and threatened to clog his lungs. He felt the Elder Sign grow warm on his chest as it fought the dark magic. He reached up to unsheathe his sword. The pain almost made him howl. Blood flowed in his mouth from where he had bit the inside of his lips. He felt as if he was choking.

He staggered forward along the Mother’s back, hardly able to keep his balance. Weaver smiled evilly as he closed and brought her staff sweeping down towards him. He tried to parry but was too slow. The staff hit him on the chest near where he was wounded. Agony surged through him. The Elder Sign felt as if it was branding his flesh.

Two of Weaver’s limbs flickered out towards him. He could see sharp points extrude. The curved over his shoulders and buried themselves in his back. He felt himself hoisted aloft like a joint of meat. Warm blood ran down his back beneath his armour. Weaver smiled at him and he could see the fangs in her mouth. The stab of pain sent the dwarf-forged blade falling from his grip.

“If nothing else, I will have the pleasure of sending you to hell before me,” she said. She paused for a second, considering him. He felt all strength drain from him. He was weaponless and at her mercy and she was enjoying the sensation for a few extra moments.

Kormak writhed in her grip. The arrow felt like fire in his side where it pushed against her armour. He reached down with his hand and pulled it free. Blood came out in a spurt and splattered her face. She turned her head to one side in a reflex action; when she brought it back, Kormak drove the sharpened obsidian point of the arrow in her eye and down into her brain. He twisted it and then struck her beneath the jaw with the heel of his hand. She spasmed reflexively, pulled her claws clear of his flesh and fell off the back of the great spider.