Scowarr stayed behind with Tanis. The slender human had switched back into yesterday's rags-minus the bandages-no doubt to preserve his new finery.
'Why aren't you going with them?' the half-elf asked.
'Yesterday I was their hero,' he complained, sulking.
Tanis smiled at his all-too-human friend. 'Elves are not as fickle as humans, Scowarr. They won't forget what you did. But right now Kishpa deserves his praise. Don't be jealous of him.'
'Who said I was jealous?' Little Shoulders demanded defiantly.
Tanis didn't answer. A strange, loud scratching had captured his attention. It seemed to be coming from somewhere behind him. He looked over his shoulder and staggered back in horror at the sight. A long, thin, bloody spider's leg was looping over the barricade wall!
'I'm not jealous at all,' Scowarr went on petulantly. 'I'm surprised you would actually think-'
Tanis reached out and grabbed Little Shoulders by the collar and spun him around.
Scowarr paled as he watched another leg appear. 'It's not possible,' said the human in tremulous disbelief.
Another leg came over the wall. Then another. The barricade shifted under the weight, groaning as if in anticipation of the horror to come, as the spider pressed down on its forward legs. The grotesque body of the creature suddenly came into view, its back legs swinging forward, as it steadied itself on the top of the battlement.
A moment later, long, bloodsoaked, razor-sharp spider legs began appearing all along the barricade walls. On every side, the legs appeared, clawing, reaching, climbing. Up they came, the duplicate spiders following their master, a vision of death that moved inexorably down the barricades.
'I feel like a fly,' Scowarr mumbled.
'You'll taste like one, too,' Tanis answered.
'Now he makes jokes.'
The half-elf drew his enchanted sword, the blade glowing red. Scowarr began to follow suit, pulling his own broadsword from its scabbard. 'No,' said Tanis, stopping the human before the sword was free of its sheath. 'Go for help. I have my eye on the real spider, and if I can keep it at bay, the duplicates will not go forward.'
'You can't fight it alone,' Scowarr insisted.
Tanis was moved, even as he prepared to fight. 'You have broad shoulders, my friend,' he said. 'Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. But you can help me best by doing as I ask. Get Kishpa now. The spider will not wait while we debate.'
Still Scowarr wavered. 'I don't know if I should go.'
Tanis swung around, putting the tip of his blade at Scowarr's throat. 'Now do you know7'
Scowarr blinked. 'Uh… yes.'
'Then go!'
The human did as Tanis ordered, scampering as fast as his legs would carry him in the direction in which the villagers had gone.
The massive spider, touched by magic, sensed the presence of Kishpa's magic in the glowing red metal of Tanis's sword; this was danger. The spider rubbed its horrific legs, and a screeching, scratching sound pierced the air. It was a call, Tanis realized, to its duplicates to form a protective circle around it. They rushed toward their master in a flurry of skittering legs.
Tanis, trying desperately not to lose sight of the only real spider in this army of gigantic grotesques, charged among them, his sword raised and ready.
Racing into this web of monsters, Tanis's first thought was that he was committing suicide. The spiders towered over him and he questioned what good even an enchanted sword would do when all he could attack were the creatures' legs. Still, he hacked at the limb of the first monster that blocked his way. He sliced off a hunk of one leg; the beast sprayed blood, proving that while it was a duplicate, it was no mirage. It could kill and be killed. And what happened to one duplicate happened to all: blood spewed from numerous severed legs.
Wounded, the creatures flew into a killing rage. Those closest to Tanis tried to slash him with their sharp- edged legs. However, Tanis had a faster, sharper blade. His glowing broadsword, an extension of his arm, was a blur of color, whipping first left, then right, cutting off pieces of spider leg as if he were a mad woodchopper.
Blood ran in the street like water from a spring mountain thaw. But the runoff was neither cool nor refreshing for Tanis; his battle gear was splatterd with the hot liquid that made the cobblestones slippery underfoot. He had to get to higher ground, he thought, as he fought to keep his balance in the streams of flowing blood. As he slashed with every step, the spiders moved fearfully out of his way until he reached the barricades. It was here that the real spider waited, its army of protectors decimated and bleeding. The real spider suffered none of the wounds of the others.
Tanis rubbed his face to wipe off the blood that had nearly blinded him. The seemingly endless attack of the spiders had eased, many of the creatures hobbling away from him on uneven stumps.
But from off to his left, a huge spider, massive and untouched, began spinning a web. With a jerky movement of one thin leg, it threw the mass toward the half-elf, who tried unsuccessfully to outrun the sticky substance. The glutinous webbing caught the warrior, who fought uselessly to free himself, beating back the panic that he felt rising in his chest. With two of its forelegs, the spider pulled, knocking Tanis down. The half-elf tumbled off the barricade and fell into the bloody street below, his sword slipping out of his hand and becoming tangled in the spider's web near his feet.
The spider drew the thin, white cocoon closer. The half-elf, stunned from the fall and disoriented, rolled over onto his back. The behemoth, seemingly sure of its kill, brought yet another leg to bear in dragging Tanis closer. When Tanis was nearly underneath it, the beast began lowering its massive body, its maw dripping.
A dark shadow blotted out the sun. A horrible smell made Tanis want to wretch. A scent like rotting meat shocked him out of his state of semi-consciousness.
Tanis opened his eyes and saw through a hazy white webbing the dripping mandible of the spider.
He began to lift his hand, but the broadsword was not in his grip. He reached around frantically, trying to find the blade. But it was no use.
Time had rim out for him. With no sword, he could not defend himself. Trapped in the webbing, he watched in silent terror as the spider prepared to devour him.
20
The beast screamed. The roar, so close to Tanis, echoed painfully. Then the spider suddenly turned away from him, releasing its hold. Struggling against the sticky webbing, Tanis twisted to see what had happened. Looking through the spider's spindly legs, Tanis saw a most unlikely looking savior. It was Mertwig! The old dwarf had come up behind the creature and had crushed the bottom of one of its legs with his battle-axe. And now the monster focused its hate on a new enemy.
Mertwig cursed himself for a fool. What good could he do except get himself killed along with the half-elf 7 Yet he had to do something to help the noble soul who had saved his Yeblidod.
The dwarf had mindlessly dropped the heavy leather bag that he had carried out of the alley attacking the monster with the hope that he could divert its attention away from Tanis. In this he had been successful. But now who was going to save him from the deadly creature's wrath7
Mertwig cursed again, loud and richly profane. There was much battle experience in his aged heart, and Mertwig knew that one did not fenter a contest of war with the expectation of getting help from anything except the weapons carried in one's hands. Those weapons-his axe and a knife with a long, curved blade-were not going to be
