There were no immediate signs of the half-elf or Maldred, but—beyond the screams he had heard—no obvious indication of trouble. A cursory search revealed Maldred’s and Riki’s footprints headed west toward where the smaller trees gave way to older oaks and maples. Dhamon followed their trail, listening as he went, moving briskly, then stopping when the sun suddenly disappeared. Foliage had not shut out the light—webs were responsible. A few were artful, huge and beautiful with intricate patterns that shimmered in the diffused light, but most were ugly masses as dense as a dwarf’s beard. They stretched between the tallest branches, in several spots reaching the ground.
He pressed forward more cautiously, walking now, keen eyes scanning the ground in search of more of his friends’ tracks, glancing at gaps in the webs, where he thought he spied something moving. What’s there? he asked himself. “Who’s there?” He stared and saw nothing. The woods became grayer the deeper into the forest he went—thick with night-dark shadows and with heavier curtains of webs that hung from practically every tree. There were hundreds of spiders everywhere. Some were so small they were barely discernible, black specks jumping from strand to strand. Others were larger, the size and color of steel pieces, and these moved slowly if at all. Dhamon noted a few as large as peaches, shiny black and with eyes that appeared sunken. Others were brown, long-legged varieties, like some he’d seen in the woods near far-away Palanthas.
“By my father!” Dhamon faintly heard a voice up ahead. “Is there no end to these?”
“Mal?” Dhamon called. Louder, “Maldred!”
He heard the half-elf scream again, but faint and muffled this time. In response Dhamon tugged free his long sword. He listened, hearing nothing but the coarse breath of the draconian and footsteps pounding behind him—Varek.
“Where’s Riki? Where’s my wife? Riki!”
Dhamon tried his best to ignore Varek. He concentrated on Maldred’s voice hailing from somewhere to the west.
“Maldred!” Dhamon shouted. “Mal! Keep talking!”
“Here!” came Maldred’s reply. “We’re in here!” He kept shouting, most of it curses in his ogre tongue directed at something Dhamon couldn’t see.
“Here,” Dhamon muttered. “Just where is here?” Dhamon headed toward the voice, slicing through veil after veil of gossamer web. Ragh followed, using his claws to tear at the thickest veils. Varek was behind them, constantly calling for the half-elf. Some of the webs were so thin Dhamon simply stepped through them, brushing at his face afterward. He marveled that they felt like pieces of damp fog.
“This is your fault,” Varek hissed. “You sent them here, Dhamon. You were so worried over the Legion of Steel Knights. Your damn fault. You—”
“Quiet!” Ragh warned. The sivak and Dhamon brushed aside another curtain of webs and pressed on.
“No, Dhamon. The tracks lead this way! This way!” Varek insisted, pointing at the ground. “Riki!
Riki, I’ll find you!” Varek was almost screaming, and he had angled to the southwest now, moving away from Dhamon and Ragh.
Dhamon had spotted those tracks, too, but he was instead relying on Maldred’s voice to guide him—it hinted at a different direction.
“The boy—” Ragh began.
“Can take care of himself,” Dhamon finished. “I just wished he wouldn’t bellow. Makes it hard to hear.”
“Riki, where are you? Please, Riki!” Varek frantically shouted the half-elf’s name. Dhamon and Ragh slipped behind the web curtain, and then behind another one, and another, moving deeper into the woods. The webs were dampening and distorting everything—sometimes Varek’s voice seemed closer and other times it was Maldred.
“A rat in a maze,” Dhamon grumbled.
The farther he went, the thicker and even more plentiful the webs became, obscuring most of the trees and effectively forming corridors. He and the sivak followed one twisting path, then paused only a moment when it forked. To the right were elaborate webs with great gaps between the strands, looking like crocheted quilts dotted with beadlike green spiders. “Left,” he decided, thinking Maldred’s voice was coming from that direction. Another dozen yards and he was staring at a dead-end veil of webs directly in his path. Everything was night-dark. The webs were thick overhead and allowed only the faintest bit of light. He saw the webs move in places from the myriad of spiders crawling over them, not from any wind. He knew there were far more spiders than he could see.
He breathed deep, smelling the damp ground beneath him and an odd muskiness. It left a sour taste in his mouth. He reached to his backpack, finding it covered with webs and spiders. Brushing both away, he tugged free one of the bottles of liquor he’d taken from the spawn village, uncorked it, and took a deep pull.
“Better,” he pronounced. He took another sip and held it, then forced himself to recap the bottle and put it back in the pack, offering none to the sivak.
He thought about going back to where the web corridor forked and taking the other path. Indeed, he had turned and started to do that, when, with his acute hearing, he heard Maldred’s voice clearer and louder than before. He spun and approached the web wall.
“Your friend sounds close,” Ragh observed.
Dhamon nodded. This was all so unnatural. Spiders didn’t spin webs like this, at least not that he’d ever heard of. So just what was responsible? Magic? A Legion of Steel sorcerer’s spell? Perhaps, he mused, the ghost of Cazen Graelor from Graelor’s End was playing tricks. He decided he didn’t want to know who or what was responsible. He just wanted to get away. He would find Maldred and Riki before nightfall and get as far away from these woods and Graelor’s End as he possibly could.
Whatever would draw Riki and Mal into this… mess? he wondered, as he reached out and tentatively touched the dead-end wall. It was spongy but firm, and he couldn’t move it aside as he had the others. He knew that despite the half-elf’s bravado, she was squeamish and wouldn’t traipse into this web maze without a good reason. She had been lured, perhaps by the promise of treasure. Maldred no doubt had followed her.
“Maldred!” Dhamon shouted as he swallowed the wine. It slid pleasantly down his throat and warmed a path to his stomach. “Riki! Maldred!”
He could still hear Varek. The young man had apparently given up on the tracks and was again following him and the sivak.
“Wonderful,” Dhamon said aloud. “Ah…” He smacked at a spider that had dropped on his sword hand and bit him. A red welt immediately formed. He used his free hand to brush at his arms and neck, knocking more spiders loose—there seemed to be an endless supply of them. He felt something tickling his ankle and kicked out, managing to lodge his foot in a sticky web mass. It took a moment to tug himself free.
The sivak was brushing at some spiders, too. The large ones were able to bite through even his scaly hide.
“This is your fault, Dhamon!” Varek was somewhere close behind, hoarse from all his shouting.
“Your fault! You sent Riki here because you were afraid of the Legion of Steel Knights. If she’s hurt, you’ll wish I would’ve turned you over to Commander Lawlor. Why, I’ll…”
Varek stopped short, having finally managed to find Dhamon and Ragh and the dead-end corridor.
“Aye, boy, it’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Now, shut up about it, and listen.”
Varek cocked his head. “A voice.”
Dhamon nodded. “Uh-huh. Maldred is calling to us. He’s somewhere on the other side of this wall. I suspect there’s a far easier way to get to wherever he is. He certainly didn’t come this way.”