Ch: 99 Feel The Sting
Down in the town by the riverside, things were getting active. When Gary’s gifts stopped and the music wound down, a horde of crawling, armored, pinchy nightmares found themselves at loose ends, in downtown Spiderville.
Many were entangled and struggling in webs and threads of sticky silk. Hand sized spiders crawled over the bulky, shelled horrors biting and spinning threads.
Likewise, pincers and venom tipped tails lashed and snipped a terrible toll in the silent, eight eyed swarm. Scorpions as big as wild hares made a terrible scene, hurling and grabbing their distant kin as more and bigger spiders joined the fray.
The deeper shadows and basements of the village boiled with shiny, bulbous forms, they bobbed and scuttled into the mess with an audible clatter.
Their grotesque, bloated abdomens dwarfed the scorpions, but thin spider carapace did little against claws and piercing stings.
#
“Nope, the ant hill was informative, educational and memorable. Like seeing my own butthole up close, no need to revisit.” He said firmly.
“I have a charm built into my armor, it works like the one on your horse's tack, notice you haven't had any fleas, flies, ticks or chiggers?” He tapped a bronze oval tablet at his throat, inscribed with a multitude of tiny symbols.
“There was no way I was taking my woman and kids out in the woods without protection, I stitched those charms into their clothes, armor and toys. They are in all your clothes and armor, I inscribed them in Herlick and Bannock’s gear too.”
He gave his collar a twist and pop, as though dusting lint off his shoulder. “I never had a passion for fashion before…”
His mad crooked grin put Luna at ease somehow, Annie also vouched for his bug repellent charm, that helped.
“Things are getting ugly in town. Let’s add some background music, it needs a dramatic score.” His huge flute appeared and began a low, ominous drone. Somehow, things got more chaotic in the madness below.
The low, droning music from the boy resumed, it invigorated the spiders. Revived and furious, the mad music sent them on the attack, with deranged courage.
“Oh, wait.” Luna murmured, distracted by the carnage unfolding below, in the streets. “Here comes the queen's drones. This should be good.” It wasn’t.
The drones were big, big dog, or small person sized. They crawled with surprising speed and in utter silence into the swarm, hurling themselves at the enemy with dagger fangs flashing and webs flying.
Their sweetheart was a tremendous nightmare with eight ghastly legs and as many enormous eyes. Standing ten feet tall at her shining cephalothorax, her abdomen loomed even larger behind her.
She had a massive body, lumpy and hard to describe, until one realized that the terrible creature’s bloated back end was a massive ball of crawling spiderlings. A horrifying multitude of tiny baby vermin with flashing eyes and way too many legs covered the huge creature.
Amy and Wilford sat on the cart rapt, watching the carnage with wide staring eyes.
“Cool” Wilford mumbled, awestruck by the spectacle.
“I dunno if they should watch this…” Gary mumbled.
“Boy, they do see the horrors outside yer soul cast intae the devourer every night… be silent.” Shai scolded him. “The God of Beasts dinnae shy away from the workings of nature. They be touched by his grace, as are thee and me.”
Spiderville was rapidly becoming scorptopia. The army of heavy armored, low slung battle bugs shattered the spider lines with sheer hunger and numbers. They snipped, stabbed and snacked their way through the town much as the seaside aquatic horde had in the remains of Evard Village.
In this case the buildings remained, becoming the scene of a running battle between chitinous, crawling armies. Directed, focused and intense, the spiders gave their all to protect their queen and nest.
They spun webs across whole streets and descended on silent threads to assault from above. Or dropped from eaves and rafters, hurling their almost endless numbers into the fray.
Dozens, if not hundreds of scorpions were entangled, struggling or dangling limp in the webs throughout the village. Hundreds more swarmed over the spider lines in mindless hunger and rage. Shattered armor plates and festering spider bites showed the fury of the defending vermin.
The larger drones and the matriarch wrought a fearsome carnage on the swarm of young scorpions, their dagger-like fangs could pierce those tough shells, but not without cost. Once a bite was made, that spider quickly found the pincers and stings of the stricken creature’s ravenous siblings.
The queen herself seemed impervious, stomping, biting and entangling the scorpions wholesale, as their stingers bounced off her legs. Their pincers could not encompass those thick limbs and her shiny chitin gave no grip to their grasping claws.
The battle was a foregone conclusion, the spiders lost their town street by street, at the end, the queen shook her swarm of spiderlings off and began to scamper for the brush. The sprawling field of small, but still horrible spiders, began a delaying action, as their queen multi legged it.
Khan and Luna bent their bows and flung arrows into the fleeing queen, scoring solid hits, only slowing her flight.
“She won’t get far, the scorpions will handle the rest. They are highly antisocial and cannibalistic once they have had their first meal after hatching.” Khan said calmly, as the struggling queen kept making for the desert. “The spiders were a growing problem, the scorpions will self regulate in a few hours.”
“Is she going to be a problem?” Liam asked, watching the spider mother bust a creepy, crawly move.
“She is a tough one. With so many scorpions about, we should withdraw, they will begin spreading out into the surrounding desert, once they finish eating.” Luna said, watching the spider’s escape.
“Hey, Khan, Luna, back me up for a minute, I wanna try a new toy.” Gary mumbled, as his armor reappeared around him. He walked down the bluff the band was watching from, for a better view of the escaping queen. “Oh, she’s coming up this way… nice.”
The boy reached into his backside and produced a wooden box with feet to hold it steady. A strange assortment of hooks and bars jutted from its face and a cradle awaited… something.
He pulled out a heavy quiver of thick, wooden quarrels and a familiar, enormous crossbow. He clicked it into a bronze pivot atop the box, to support the weighty device.
“Spoils of conquest… the duke said this is a real monster, I can vouch for it.” He put a bolt in the weapon’s channel and gingerly seated the braided spidersilk cable.
He took a careful aim at the beast, slowly climbing in their general direction, with a few straggling scorpions in pursuit.
With a slow squeeze, he fired, blasting a nearby boulder with steel and wooden shrapnel.
“Missed… oh well.” He leaned the enormous weapon forward in his wooden stand, clicking it into place, buttstock in the air, while he dug out a fresh quarrel.
A moment later he dropped the new bolt in place, raised the weapon and fired, shattering a barrel cactus into paste and thorns.
“Dang…” the weapon leaned forward into its mount again and rotated back up, ready to fire, without much fanfare. He plunked another bolt into the weapon with a satisfied smile and took a careful aim. “I gotta get it on this one, running out of bolts.”
This bolt shattered too, taking a good portion of the creature’s head with it. The beast shuddered to a halt and collapsed a dozen yards downslope from the madman. He tucked away the enormous naval arbalest and slid down the slope like a fool.
He calmly speared the three scorpions gamely chasing the horror, and collected them by their tails, like the worst bouquet of flowers.
He stowed the vermin and carefully went over to examine the twitching monster, spear at the ready.
“Gahhh! My friend doesn't smell like that… ya nasty!” He yelled, making a few of the kids laugh for some reason.
He drew a machete and a hammer from nowhere and began doing… things to the corpse. When he was finished, he stepped behind a bush, reappearing in common clothes, his gore and filth spattered armor had vanished.
“Stay back, I’m all gross.” He said, holding up his hands. “Yet another advantage of my ‘stick horse’, I won’t inflict this reek on any poor defenseless equine. I never leave home without my old model stink ring… this thing is nasty.”
“Boy.” Khan said calmly. “How did you snap off three shots with that monstrosity, without cranking a windlass or hauling it back with a team of bloody mules?” He smiled pleasantly and continued. “Because it really looked like you just fired a crew served weapon like a toy slingshot.”
“I don’t sleep much, anymore… so I get a lot of time down in the lab… goofin’ around.” He pulled the gigantic weapon out of his behind again and staggered a little from the heft.
“The duke dropped this thing on me and it was stupid heavy. There was a twenty pound windlass on the nose of it. No wonder Skrigg had trouble. Lucky me!” He stashed it again and grinned. “Let’s get outta here, I need a bath.”
#
“That still didn’t answer…” Khan was in the saddle and still having a hard time. Gary was on his ‘stick horse’ pedaling along beside, or rather below, Khan.
“I took off the windlass and lightened the whole thing up, otherwise it’s perfectly mundane. The bow stand flexes the arms and cocks the bow again for me, but at a truly awful manna cost.” He yawned, looking deeply tired, but not physically.
“It won’t operate more than a few yards from me, and it drains me dry in just a few seconds, but damn that thing hits hard.”
They found a clearing a few miles down the road, with the sun still relatively high in the sky and set up for the night. The musician kept everyone at arm’s length until he stumbled for the bath saying; “I can’t smell it, but I know it’s there!”
Gary emerged a half hour later much improved. Khan was still on about the arbalest. “... rate of fire could turn a whole battle!” He was saying, or something.
“Dude, it’s a dead end, crossbow tech is going nowhere. This thing is so inefficient, it only makes sense for me and even for me, barely.” He sighed and sat down to dinner with Shai and the kids.
“No shop talk at the table, we gotta eat in the workshop otherwise… so shush.” He winked and refused to discuss it further.
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“Did you two try the ants too?” Gary asked the tiny duo.
“Yes we did, you didn’t see, cause you and Shai were too busy being babies.” Amy had disappointment all over her tiny face.
“Big babies.” The hanging judge passed his sentence and that was that.
Gary and Shai stiffened at that, becoming indignant. “Indeed, dae the pair o ye think tae go monster smushing? An we being great cryin bairns an all. There mayhap be a stinkroach nest hearabouts…”
“Wait, stinkroaches, is that a thing?” Gary asked, distracted from their playacting. “Sounds super gross…”
“Trapdoors are worse for sheer stench, and more of a danger, but stinkroaches are their own special blend of nasty. That’s why your rings are worth a fortune. Most monsters stink at least a little…” Khan murmured with pleasure. “Annie has a very sensitive nose as well.”
“Boring!” Amy shouted while the grownups were lingering over tea. She ran off with Wilford to annoy Bannock and Herlick.
“Anyway, forget crossbows, I’m working on some things…” He mumbled. “I’ve been meaning to ask… the Flintspire worm, what was that thing you and Luna did together? You both shot it with arrows imbued with something… then it grew that nasty tumor.”
“Ah, pestilent arrow, my gift from the spirits of Air and Earth, I enspell an infectious tangle of magic on the tip of my arrow, it will debilitate most creatures in a day or two. Khan added something of his own.” Luna grinned savagely. “We discovered this combination by accident.”
“The bog slime… yes, good times to forget about. Could have used a stink ring and magic bath then…” He grimaced behind his ‘stache. “My arrow was from my Contract with the spirit of Light. Healing radiance and the glow of the sun spread from my victim’s wound.”
He smiled so happily as he smoked and chatted, the man seemed a whole new person from the Khan the met on the road in winter.
“It does things to fungi, shadows and the undead that are terrible to behold. But when combined with Luna’s pestilence, our natural resonance makes it really pop.”
He leaned back on his chair and stretched with happiness.
“We don’t all get handy notes about our gifts boy, we have to fumble around in the dark.”
“I wondered about that, nobody is throwing fire or lightning around, nothing dramatic. How do you deal with big stuff?” Gary asked as Becky took the little ones up to bed.
“Siege weapons if we can get them to hold still. Arbalests like yours and environmental traps, like we used on that second worm. Finding and breaking a summons is child’s play in comparison. If that pans out, it will save a lot of lives and blood.”
“Meh, it has so far. You saw the ritual to summon the deadly ballsack. Somebody had a name and a suspiciously long pube to summon that thing with.” He grumbled softly. “Hentai monsters… against me? Doesn’t know who he’s messing with…”
“Long story short, boy… unless they plan to; join War, enter the clergy, or go Adventuring, most people learn and master the gifts related to their trades and let the rest lie fallow.”
He puffed his pipe to life, filled with a fragrant, non intoxicating blend of comfrey and mint.
“You have to train, struggle and strive to embrace and grow your gifts. Only when all your gifts and attributes are relatively well balanced will your rank begin to increase. That’s why most humans remain firmly at normal rank.” He puffed contented smoke rings into the garden, as the sun slowly fell over the high desert.
“You are growing into iron rank quickly, be careful as you do. You will be getting a bit stronger, faster and more resilient over the coming weeks. Congratulations, now you can begin cultivating properly…” Luna said with a smile he remembered, from the ant hill.
“What does that mean?” He asked, dreading the answer.
“Cultivation is just that, training the mind and body to perform at their limits for an extended period, then breaking those limits… usually with great suffering.” She smiled coldly. “Very great suffering.”
#
“We found our missing farmers…” Gurdan Singh sipped his tea and shook his head. “We found them tied, palms of their hands and soles of their feet together in a ring around a thornbush and an anthill. Inside a ritual circle.” He shuddered with revulsion. “They will be fine, in a few days, after some counseling.” Even hot tea couldn’t banish that chill.
“We broke the circle, our warriors at the front report that the giant reptile just vanished, mid rampage. The boy may be right, moontouched or no.”
“Find who is doing this and you will enjoy my full gratitude. Bring them to me intact and I will be in your debt.” The duke sat at ease, calmly enjoying a pastry and wishing there was someone or something in range, that he could shove a lance into.
“Any missing persons, or strangers behaving strangely are to be first priority… this ends now. I want a squad with a veteran in the lead, stationed in every settlement in my lands.” He took another cake from the tray with exaggerated care. “Reactivate the militia, recruit the pensioners in the Adventure compound. This is Wheatford going to war..”
“Should we recall Khan and his ducklings?” Vera asked quietly, dreading the answer.
“If I may…” Amicus began, holding up a hand for their attention. “These ritual summons produce distinctive magical emanations…” His voice grew stronger as he warmed to his topic. “I can instruct any mage of apprentice level or any member of clergy in a number of ways to detect these energies at considerable range… now that we know what to look for.” He made a slight bow to Vera.
“However, that boy emanates those very energies at a truly prodigious… well, he is a mess, best we keep him at arm’s length for a few days.”
“That seems very wise…” The duke smiled at his second benignly. “Your antipathy to my daughter’s friends is noted, Vera. I will try to avoid subjecting you to them, send Rolf if you need anything from them. It will be good for him.”
#
Sarah Dobbins decided she quite liked leading a troop of her own, even if it was just a small platoon of twelve. Two veterans and a half score raw recruits and town guards made a good sized band for patrolling civilized lands.
Most had been living the town life too long to jump back into road living easily. Camping in pastures and hay barns in spring was a fine duty, particularly in Wheatford.
Whatever family they wound up staying with, or adjacent to, seemed to take it upon themselves to stuff the warriors so full, they were having trouble getting back into uniform…
Fortunately, they only had six horses for the troop, so the warriors ran and the horses followed the baggage cart. Fresh horses were worth more than fresh men, in most cases.
“Doubletime! We make Staley village by sunset, or its field rations tonight and a cold camp.” She barked, running backwards, while scolding her sweating townies.
“That blueberry pie will be worth it.” She teased, nodding at their baggage cart and six horse train. “Mistress Juratawat sent her green mango salad along too… and some of that spicy stewed chicken…” Hungry rumbles almost drowned out the sound of boots hitting the road in time. Motivation, that was the key to getting troops in position on time.
#
Staley village was so picturesque in the late afternoon sunshine it hurt to look at too long. The river fronted it on two sides, with docks and piers jutting out into the water. Wide pastures and a lovely orchard stretched off to the low hills to the north.
Forest covered the outlying hills, showing the bright green of new leaves among the evergreens and a few still barren trunks. Ponds and canals surrounded and wove through the fertile lowland village.
Sara had her second, Ali, uncase their banner and lift it high. Wheatford’s green and gold sheaves and shield rippled from his lance tip, as the village rang its bell once, in welcome.
She halted her formation just outside the village wall, to address her troops. “We will be riding a circuit of ten miles a day at half strength, six on patrol, three on duty in the town, one on barracks duty and two on leave. Ali will have a schedule, mind your manners in the village.”
She scanned her small troop with a jaundiced eye. “We haven't worked together before, so let’s be clear… If the village elders complain, we might find ourselves reassigned and riding circuit in the hills.” That sent an uncomfortable ripple through the formation. “Exactly my point.” She finished with a smile.
Haing Shi Minh, the village elder led the troop to a small warehouse near the main gate, smiling and chatting effusively. She seemed almost as excited to have new people in town as to have protection in uncertain times.
“We don’t have a propper inn or tavern, but old Konkh Whelter brews beer and ale next door to the bakery… he might have a get together in his garden most nights, but officially we are not licenced for an inn.”
Her broad ‘you know what I mean’ wink, almost turned her happy, leathery face inside out.
“Phelan Dune the baker and Margret Tang, the local merchant will keep you supplied. Let me know if there is anything else you need.”
The warehouse was clean, warm, dry and had been equipped with twenty simple bunks and cots, no doubt gathered from all over the region. A pair of iron stoves and a small kitchen and hearth near the door, suggested the ‘warehouse’ did a lot of other jobs as well.
“I trust this will serve… Holman, next door, will stable and care for your horses and provide fodder. My home is the one with the red door on the village square.” She wiggled with girlish excitement before continuing. “If it pleases, you and your second may dine at my home tonight if you wish…”
Her weathered and friendly smile became predatory. “We are dreadfully behind on the current gossip… Tell me, who is Gunnar Shah seeing currently…”
She bustled the pair over the square despite their protests.
“...should stay with my troops…” Ali was mumbling while Sarah kept trying to make excuses.
“Tutt tutt! My oldest daughter will be by to cook for your troops… She has been so restless since the children left town…”
Mai chattered on while Sara asked; “Your children left town? What do you mean?”
“Ohh, a ducal tax officer came by yesterday morning, they said all the children in the village, between the ages of seven and twelve were ordered to the city. They marched out at noon yesterday, you should have passed them on the road, poor dears, such a long walk.”
#
Fresh horses were worth their weight in silver, as Sarah and Ali led four volunteers on an evening ride. Armor and tack jingling, they cantered up the road, following a subtle trail.
The occasional fruit rind, child’s footprint in the soft road margins and frequent stops to water the trees, led the troop to a small side road. Better described as a trail, it wound up into the hills in the gathering dark.
Tazz, their scout, came slipping back through the trees, silent and smooth. “A dozen children in a clearing, I sense compulsion magic and something else. I’m no mage… One adult, in ducal officer’s robes, no other people.” She reported.
“What are they doing?” Sarah whispered. “Are they encamped?”
“They’re sitting in a circle quietly… that’s the odd part, they’re just sitting there.” Tazz mumbled. “Felt… weird.”
“Jonah, we need you on this. Slip in and get a taste, tell me if you can counter that magic before we get busy. Tazz, show him the way. Stealthy…”
Tazz’s long, slender, dark form seemed to ooze into the darkness, pulling Jonah along. He was a big, blocky man, built like a plow horse and farmboy strong. He was that rare creature, a self taught mage of some skill.
He did his best to follow the lithe, slippery form of the scout. Even in armor, she slipped from shadow to shadow in near silence, while he struggled, wearing common clothing.
They peered out through a screen of young alder trees, entangled in a nest of morning glory and knotweed vines, at a clearing.
A dozen children from twelve to eight years old sat in a circle, swaying back and forth in arrhythmic patterns that made both watchers vaguely nauseous.
Jonah nodded, silently and they withdrew, rejoining the troop. “I can break the compulsion, spells, but they are working something, it’s active and strange…”
“Troop, form up. Jonah, when we hit that clearing, break that magic, don’t be subtle. We are going in hard. All those kids come home. Tazz, Kurt, you are with me, we take the robe, alive if possible. Ali, you and the rest, secure the kids. No fuckups.”
Ali hitched his golden brown Healer’s robes and cracked his knuckles. “No fuckups indeed. Praise Cowl’s name, I can guard us against compulsion with her grace… for a time.”
His ritual was brief and lovely, a short whispered chant and a mix of crushed rose petals and mint dotted between each warrior’s eyes. “Smells nice too… let’s go.” The Priest said, with a hungry look in his eye.
“All right crew, we are about to live the dream, let’s go kick a tax man’s ass.” Sarah said softly.
#
They broke cover in two groups, only Jonah remained in the rear, working his arts in the treeline while keeping an eye on their horses. Spellcraft crackled and hissed in the atmosphere, as competing workings clashed.
Ali and Tybalt swooped in on the close knit ring of children, taking up position over their quiescent forms.
Sarah, Tazz and Kurt circled the brown robed, tall figure like a wolfpack. “Surrender by order of duke Belen of Wheatford, release these children!” Sarah barked, while in motion.
The brown robe didn’t jump or startle, it just slowly turned to face them and pulled a short, double bitted ax from its robes. “I am the law of the land, withdraw or perish.” The figure droned, in a strange, wet sounding voice.
Sarah answered with her iron shod staff, driving it at the robed form. Sparks struck from her staff, as a wracking chill ran up her arms when their weapon’s clashed. Sarah fell back, gasping. “Undead, Ali!”
A high ululating wail of pure fury and bloodlust ripped from the peace loving cleric, as he flashed through the trio of retreating warriors.
He leapt at the robed figure with feet and hands moving faster than mortal flesh should have allowed, still giving his wild cry of battle madness.
His flying kick pushed the ax out of line, while his other knee crashed into the abdomen of his foe. Iron hard fists drove into the robe’s hood, striking again and again.
That deadly ax drove towards the pugilist priest, as the robe struggled to stay upright under the small man’s onslaught. Nothing but a well placed elbow stood between the priest and grisly end.
Instead, a sharp snap rang out as the robed figure’s right shoulder deformed in ways shoulders should not.
Sarah stood by, shaking the feeling back into her arms, while the small man brutally disassembled whatever was inside those robes.
The others bustled the children over to Jonah and the horses, in the next clearing while She witnessed her second’s deepest secret in silence.
With each blow, a soft, golden glow began spreading over the figure. Too slight to see at first, now the form shone bright as the moon above, as it staggered under pounding fists and feet.
Radiant, blessed warmth spread from the tiny man in golden robes, as he struck a rigid hand into the being’s robe and ripped… something out.
The robe collapsed into a pile, as he tucked whatever it was he pulled out of the thing, into his robes for safekeeping.
The stench of decay and death washed over the clearing, as Ali turned back to his fallen foe, the light of rage still burning in his eyes.
“Ali, Ali, stop, you’re done… Ohh gods…”
She turned her back in embarrassment as her gentle, soft spoken, humble and kind, second in command, performed his tribe’s ‘teabagging’ ritual on his fallen foe.
#
The kids rode double on the tired horses, as the troop walked back to the village. They were still exhausted and silent when the squad got to the town gate, long after mid night.
The town bell sounded and chaos ensued, as parents who had been concerned, but trusting, became panicked, relieved, angry, grateful and confused all at once in the town square, under a bright three quarter moon.
Sarah detailed a squad to retrieve the remains and examine the scene in the morning and collapsed in her bunk.
“Wake me when the paperwork is done.” She groaned.
#