Tordek insisted on an oath to divide equally any shares of treasure they might find in their quest. Lidda and Vadania were not surprised by the suggestion, but Devis found the proposal excessively formal. Lidda kicked the half-elfin the shins until he agreed to swear. Tordek intoned a simple oath in the Common tongue, but its cadences were purely dwarven. The others repeated it solemnly.
"By the gods who watch us," Tordek added, "by Moradin's beard and by our own honor, we swear not to wield the hammer of Andaron for ourselves."
"What makes you think it's the hammer?" asked Lidda.
"I just know," said Tordek. He exchanged a conspiratorial look with Vadania, but neither elaborated.
"Right," said Devis. "No problem. It will probably fetch a pretty price in New Koratia, and it'll be easier to split the loot that way."
"Idiot," spat Tordek, "we won't be selling it. We must shatter it and bury the pieces under the corners of the world."
"What if we can't break it?" asked Lidda. "You said mortals couldn't destroy it."
"In that case, we'll hide it where it'll never be found again."
"What if we sell it to someone we trust to keep it safe?" suggested Devis. "Maybe some powerful lord would keep it under guard in his feast hall."
Tordek stepped forward and grabbed the bard by his jacket. Lidda barely managed to wiggle her way between them.
"Boys, boys," she said. "No need to quarrel. Just swear it, Devis. You're in this for the story, remember?"
"Right," said the half-elf. "I swear it. I swear it! We don't keep the weapon, and we don't sell it. All right, now?"
Tordek grunted and let him go, but his eyes were wary beneath his shaggy brows.
They marched across the western fields, stopping at midday for a brief dinner of sausages and ale from Tordek's pack before continuing their journey. When they hacked through walls of brambles and felt scratches on their faces, Vadania healed them with a simple orison to Obad-Hai or nature itself. When their feet grew weary, Devis lightened their steps with a song about the adventures of mischievous Fharlanghn, the Dweller on the Far Horizon. Even Tordek sang along, his bass rumble providing an anchor for his companion's high voices.
They reached Gossamer Wood an hour before dusk on the second day of their journey. Before they penetrated a hundred yards into the forest, the setting sun burnished the white webs that hung between the boughs, transforming them into veils of spun gold. Despite the implications of the obvious origin of the webs, the vision formed a glorious tableau that inspired Vadania to sing a dulcet praise to Elhonnna, Lady of the Forests. Devis provided a subtle counterpoint on his lute, and they entered the bower in a peaceful reverie that made Tordek nervous even as it lulled his companions. Even Gulo paused to rub his face upon the bark of an old oak, whuffling at the scent of forest pollen. This was the last sort of place in which they could afford to enchant themselves into a false sense of safety.
Before Tordek could decide how to bring his companions back to their senses, Lidda saved him the bother.
"Spiders are nasty," she said, sticking out her tongue as they passed under the webs.
"I think they are beautiful," said Vadania. She walked on blissfully, unaware of her companions' pointed looks.
Everyone else walked a little farther away from the elf druid after her remark.
"Well," said Vadania, finally noticing the effect her words had on her companions. "I do."
They spread out to find a suitable campsite before nightfall. Soon after, the others came running when Devis began shouting, "Over here! Hurry!"
They found the bard standing over the corpse of an enormous spider, its body bigger than that of a pony. The vivid hues of its black-and-red carapace were faded, and crusty black trails of blood streaked down from the deep, triangular punctures all over its body. Beside it lay the clumped remnants of its demolished web and the cocooned bodies of its prey, apparently untouched by whatever predator had slain the arachnid.
"Oh, thank you very much," said Lidda. "I was beginning to worry I wouldn't have any nightmares on this trip before you showed us this. I'm not sure I like you anymore."
"No, look," said Devis. He crouched down and poked the dead spider with a branch.
Something wriggled beneath the softer flesh of the spider's abdomen.
"Ah! Now I know I hate you," said Lidda, making a great show of gagging.
"Burn it," said Vadania. "Quickly"
"I thought you said spiders are beautiful," said Tordek. Even so, he knelt and opened a tinderbox. Soon he was urging fire out of a spark from his knife and flint, and with it he ignited a torch. Vadania dragged the arachnid's corpse and the detritus of its web away from a tree and cleared the brush beneath it. Afterward, she helped Devis pack kindling under the spider's body.
Tordek lit the pyre on all sides and stood back with the others to watch it burn. The carcass whistled and popped as its flesh withered in the flames. The webs burned first, revealing a jumble of humanoid bones within the fat white sacs, along with thick leather armor and a spear. Soon the spider's skin burned away to reveal dark, wriggling larvae imbedded in the flesh beneath.
"We will sleep safe from the web-spinners tonight," Vadania told Lidda. "Spiders shun a place where one of them has fallen to a spider-eater."
"Yeah?" said Lidda dubiously. "Maybe we should shun it, too."
After they set camp nearby, Devis plucked out a bright tune while Lidda sat with her back to the fire, scanning the gloom for any sign of beady spider eyes gleaming in the forest. Despite the bard's frequent attempts to turn his song about a brave young lad into a tale of a courageous halfling facing the wicked spider queen, Lidda remained wary and restless.
"I'm not afraid of them," she insisted. "I just don't like 'em."
After a supper of pan bread and the last strips of venison, Vadania and Tordek took turns minding the smoldering remains of the dead spider lest its last embers leap out onto new tinder. Eventually, assured that the fire would not spread, they returned to camp where they found Lidda finally, reluctantly asleep beside the campfire. Devis put a finger to his lips as he finished tying the strings of his padded lute bag.
"I'll take first watch," he mouthed, pressing the tip of his thumb into his chest.
Tordek shook his head. "I'll wake you later."
Devis shrugged and smiled his thanks before lying down beside the banked campfire. As he snuggled into his worn blanket, Tordek and Vadania found a spot just beyond the dim firelight and sat back-to-back, each watching the opposite direction as they spoke in whispers.
"Goblins?" said Tordek.
Vadania made an affirmative hum. "Not the same ones, surely. Their lives are so brief, and it has been so long."
"Perhaps," said Tordek. His fingers moved as of their own will to the thong around his neck. They spoke no more throughout the long, quiet hours of the night.
CROAKER NORGE
Four days later they skirted the northern shores of Adder Lake and turned south to find a naked road, muddy from the steady summer drizzle that had followed them since the previous night. Except for the ruts carved by the occasional passage of wagons over the course of decades, it was barely more than a path marked with crude milestones. After counting six of them, they came to a forking path where Devis found a fallen post with three pairs of nails. On the ground nearby he found a pointed sign whose faded paint read "New Koratia, 80 Leagues." Lidda pulled a second sign from the muck. "Croaker Norge," it read. "6 Leagues."
"Which way?" asked Tordek.
Vadania pointed west. "Toward the fens."
"Joy," grumbled Devis, "and me without netting for my tent."
"Without a tent, even," said Lidda. "Don't be such a dandy."