3 Weaver of Shadow (8 page)

The Queen swung herself forward again, armoured legs slicing through the air towards him, green eyes glittering, more and more of her scuttling children dropping from her back to confront the Guardian.

He slashed at one of her legs. It was a mistake. The sheer weight and momentum of the Queen bowled him over, partially deflecting his blade even as it cut into the great column. The blade stuck and he found himself being dragged along beneath his foe with a pack of her children snapping at his heels.

The ground rippled beneath his feet now, sending skeletons and skulls tumbling once more, even when they had not been hit by the Spider Queen’s massive limbs. It seemed like the earth was in the grip of a quake.

He ripped his blade clear and grasped one of the Queen’s unwounded legs, wary as he was of the ichor flowing from the cuts he had left. He pulled himself up the limb, rolling over onto the Queen’s back, finding himself confronting more of the small spiders.

He crunched them under his boots, breaking their carapaces with his weight and raced forward, aiming for the first of the great cables that supported the Queen. She realised what he was trying to do and reared into the air, sending him toppling backward. Desperately he drove his blade into her back, deep enough to embed itself, and perhaps cause pain, and he held on as she bucked and reared.

Beneath him he could see the pack of spiders start to advance once more, clambering up onto their mother’s back as he had done. He twisted the blade. Oily blood oozed forth. The Queen let out a long eerie wail and toppled forward.

Kormak rose, pulled his blade forth and sprang, chopping at the first of the great cables that held her weight. One side of the Queen sagged forward as she became unbalanced.

The movement almost sent him flying, but he managed to grab a horny protrusion in her back and hold himself in place. He rose and threw himself forward again, slicing at the second supporting cable. It parted with an audible twang, like the string of a great mandolin suddenly cut.

The Queen sagged forward unable to support the weight of the front of her body. He raced up her back, now tilting like the deck of sinking ship sliding underwater prow first, slashed his way through the horde of tumbling, wrong-footed spiders racing towards him, sprang into the air and sliced the third supporting strand of web, leaving the Queen’s great bulk suspended from one final thread which slowly stretched and threatened to give way.

He landed on a pile of bones that crunched under his weight, rolled to his feet and raced for the exit, leaving the Queen floundering unsupported among the remains of her victims, and her children scuttling in pursuit.

The whole vast root system of Mayasha was shivering now, as if a Titan were smashing into it with his hammer. The lights flickered erratically. He turned at bay and slew another huge spider and turned to flee back up towards the surface. The spiders pursued for a while until summoned back by the pained cries of their mother.

Kormak lengthened his stride and raced upwards. He had achieved the task the god-tree had set him. He could only hope that the Spider Queen would be crushed in Mayasha’s death spasms. If she was not there was nothing he could do about it right now. He needed to get clear of this place and bring warning of what had happened to his Order.

He tried to remember what he could from the information placed in his mind by Mayasha and find a way out. In the end, the easiest thing was to keep taking an upward route.

He wondered how long it would be before word of his escape spread and he was pursued. If the Queen spider was still alive, it would not take long he imagined. In the meantime there was not much he could so about it other than stay alert and try to get out of the way if he heard anyone coming. It was unlikely that anyone he met in this place would be friendly.

In the past he had escaped from such situations as this by means of disguise but there was little chance of that here. He looked like neither an elf nor a spider.

The chances were that he was not going to live very long. He was surrounded by enemies in a place where the Shadow was strong indeed. He told himself he had never expected to die of old age and he kept putting one foot in front of the other. He had survived his encounter with the Mother of spiders. Perhaps he would live through this yet.

The path kept going upwards, the ground continued to shake. Horrible creaking noises sounded from above him, as if the giant tree were shaking its limbs in its death throes. He might end up crushed down here if the root structure shifted or collapsed. He lengthened his stride till he was jogging along. He had his sword in his hand. Anything he encountered he was going to kill.

Ahead of him he saw a glimmer of more natural light. He slowed his pace somewhat and moved cautiously forward, poking his head out of a tunnel mouth that was perhaps three times the height of a man above the ground.

Overhead the branches of the great tree swayed as if in the clutches of a hurricane. With a splintering sound a lesser branch above him dropped off and plunged towards the ground. Frantic activity seethed everywhere around the dying tree. Elves rushed to and fro, uncertain of what was happening. Spiders dropped out of the branches on long strands of silk. The webs holding the prisoners below shook.

He looked up and saw the moon peek through clouds as if the Lady desired a closer view of what was happening here for her own mysterious purposes. His heart lightened a little. Even though there were thousands of elves down there and even more spiders, they seemed preoccupied with what was happening to Mayasha. If he was cautious and swift he had a chance to escape in the confusion.

He sheathed his sword, and lowered himself from the ledge on which he stood till his body dangled at arm’s length, then allowed himself to drop to the ground below. He picked himself up and scrambled along through the darkness, choosing areas that were clear of elves and spiders, moving as calmly and as cautiously as possible.

With every step he expected the alarm to be raised. His shoulders tensed in expectation of a poisoned spear point being driven through them. His heart raced and his breathing becoming more shallow. He forced himself to breathe deeply and with an effort of will he made his muscles relax.

He was half way towards the forest’s edge now, walking along in the shadow of one of the giant shaking branches overhead, suddenly aware of another potential danger: that more branches might snap and come plunging down on him. The fear of it doubtless explained why no one had stepped forward to challenge him.

He began to notice the sheer number of elves who were present along with their arachnid allies. There was enough here to form an army, to invade the Settlements and drive the humans out. Or capture them and add them to the Shadow corrupted forces that had already been gathered.

He saw the real danger now. Weaver planned on enslaving the small isolated communities of the Settlements, and adding Shadow-warped men to her armies. With such a force she could defend the Blight, defy any armies sent against her, use the forest as a base to enslave the surrounding provinces. If that happened, only the king of Taurea with all his barons united behind him would be able to muster the strength to stand against such a force, and the king was a sick old man whose sons made war over a divided realm.

It was imperative that he get word out to his Order so that they could organise whatever resistance they could. This Blight was potentially a festering wound in the flank of the kingdom of Taurea, and like all such wounds it might prove fatal if untreated long enough.

He reached the forest’s edge and stepped into the shadow of other, lesser Blight-corrupted trees. He felt slight relief at the cover they provided against the eyes of the elves who would soon pursue him. This warred with the knowledge that they would provide cover for others to sneak up on him.

Huge moths fluttered around glowing toadstools taller than Kormak’s head. Large webs hung between trees. Mould crackled beneath his boots. Shadows shifted in the uneasy light. Somewhere in the distance a great predator growled. He marched on deeper into the forest, feeling with absolute certainty that somewhere alien eyes were watching him.

At least he was free, he told himself. He was going to have to make sure he stayed that way, long enough to get his job done.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KORMAK RAN THROUGH the darkened woods, heart pounding, sweat running down his face. In the distance, he could hear the hunters. They were making no attempt to silently stalk him. They were blowing horns and yelling to each other in the thrill of the chase.

At least he hoped they were.

He did not rule out the possibility that all of the noise was merely a distraction to keep him thinking that he was safe while others snuck up on him. Elves were clever, subtle and they did not think as men did. They were famous for their woodcraft.

He sprang over a fallen log and gave a quick glance to his surroundings. As far as he could tell there was nothing lurking in the shadows under the eaves of the forest. The trees looked warped, their leaves were furred with mould but that was normal in this blighted land. At least the sickly phosphorescence of their blooms gave him light to see by.

Nothing moved through the branches above him but he was wary. The elves and their hunting spiders ran along those as easily as a man ran along an open pathway. Twice he had been surprised by mad-eyed elves dropping on him from above. Twice only his quickness of reflex had saved him from being taken.

He pulled the wraithstone amulet out from beneath his armour and checked it. The once milky stone was dark now. Long tendrils of darkness writhed through the heart of it, and it had lost all its chill hardness. It was starting to crumble at the edges. It would not be able to protect him against the corruption of the forest much longer. Perhaps it was not able to do so now. He offered up a prayer to the Sun, grateful it had lasted this long.

He was not sure how much longer he could keep this up. He had been on the run for days now, had slept only in snatches when he had thrown himself down beneath bushes and he had grown wary even of that. Once he had woken to find a spider scuttling close to him. Another time, a blighted insect nibbling on the flesh of his face had brought him to wakefulness. The flesh it had bitten was swollen and sore.

Now he struggled to keep his eyes open, to place one foot in front of the other, to keep moving. He was not sure that if he was caught he would have the strength to fight, and he did not want to fall back into the clutches of Weaver’s people. He knew he did not have the strength to escape again and it was imperative that word of what was happening here was brought back to his Order.

Something large fluttered through the branches overhead. A great owl swept by, its wings suddenly still and outstretched as it glided along, perhaps looking for prey. He studied it. It was almost as large as a man but it showed no other signs of being twisted by the power of the Shadowblight. It blinked down at him once with saucer-sized eyes and then was gone.

The movement had been so sudden it had woke him from his trance. He realised he had been standing there for minutes simply looking around in a daze. Something dropped from overhead, a tall, almost-human shape. It swung a poison-tipped spear at him, which he avoided only by swaying backwards at the last moment. He shook his head and his trained reflexes took over. He raised his blade to parry the spear, turned the parry into a lunging attack. The elf had obviously heard about the sharpness of his blade. He met the strike with its tip and still the obsidian chipped. He lashed out with his foot catching Kormak on the shin and almost over-balancing him.

Kormak suppressed a curse, a sign of how tired and angry he was. He slashed at the elf, aiming at his head. The elf bent back almost double so that the blade passed him by and then stood upright again with the fantastic, limber grace of his people. Kormak struck again and the elf backed away, ducking and weaving.

“You are slow, man,” said the elf. His voice was high but strangely beautiful. “You grow tired. Surrender to me. I will spare your life and you will win me Weaver’s favour.”

Kormak stepped back and brought his blade up into the guard position warily. He wondered why the elf was talking. Was he simply trying to buy time until his comrades arrived? It did not matter; Kormak was grateful for the rest, which in itself told him how drained he was. “How so?”

“Weaver wants you very badly. You have upset the Mother by invading her nest and killing her children. You have upset Weaver by destroying the Seed of Mayasha. You will die slowly and in great pain. Weaver plans on giving you to the Mother… eventually.”

Kormak laughed softly. “You are not making the prospect of surrender very attractive.”

The elf tilted his head mockingly. “In general, I have found your kind are pleased to buy a few extra minutes or hours of life in any way they can. A short-sighted people. Most of them would take my offer— prefer the option of death later rather than death now.”

“That may be so but there is a flaw in your argument,” Kormak said.

“I feel sure you are about to point it out to me.”

“I don’t think you can kill me.”

“On this we disagree. You are tired and you have been badly used over the past few days and even at your best you would not be a match for me. I am First Spear of Mayasha.”

“I was told Mayasha no longer exists.”

The elf looked curious. “Who told you that?”

“A Kayoga I met in these woods.”

“The Kayoga are not to be trusted.”

“Says the Shadow-sworn elf who just sprang on me from ambush.”

“I can see you are going to let that prejudice you against my offer.”

“I make you a counter-offer.”

“What would that be?”

“Go now and I will spare your life.”

“I do not think you are in a position to make such an offer.”

“It’s the best one you are going to get today. I have heard that elves live for centuries. Drop your spear, run and enjoy those years that are left to you.”