“Cara,” I said, “there’s something...”
My axe was off my shoulder and in my hand with the speed of thought as the splashing became louder, crashing toward us. Cara began to turn, reaching for her sword, when a horrific shape loomed up out of the mist.
It was a monstrous spider, as big as a roe deer, with legs as thick as my forearms. A huge, chaotic mound of red and black eyes bulged from the top of its head, shining with a horrible intelligence. Below the eye-mound there was a wide, square jaw with chin and lips like a man’s, though much bigger. The mouth was full of a mess of razor sharp, slavering teeth.
“Arachnon!” Cara shouted, leaping backward and hauling her sword from its sheath.
The thing reared up on its back legs, waving huge clawed forelegs, chattering and screaming at us, and snapping its nightmare jaws. The Arachnon were oversized spiders which were known to dwell in the marshes. I’d fought them on occasion, but they were generally content to be left alone. Never had I seen one that looked like this.
Its high-pitched jabbering suddenly deepened to a guttural roar, and it dropped onto all its legs and charged straight at me. I swung my axe, but the creature leaped to the right with horrible speed and dived at me with one swipe of a great clawed foreleg.
I pulled my axe back in mid-swing and punched the double-bladed head upward, catching the mutated Arachnon’s flailing claw and chopping it off halfway up the leg. Black blood squirted out from the wound, splashing and hissing in the moss. Then Cara was coming at the thing from my left side, ducking in and chopping at the hideous creature’s back legs. She took off one leg at the knee joint and followed up with a huge curved slash at its piled eyes. Her cut went wide, but as the monster leaped back from her blow and tried to turn to face Cara, I stepped forward and brought the head of my axe around in a great curving two-handed swing.
My axe thudded into the monster’s head and buried itself deep in the huge mound of eyes. The Arachnon spasmed horribly, its legs crashing up and down in the black water as the life went out of it, and I wrenched my axe free and jumped away as a wash of thick, stinking yellow fluid gushed from the snapping jaws. Then there was a gurgling sigh, and the monster sank, twitching, partway into the turgid bog.
Cara gripped my arm. “Look, Leo, what’s that?” As we watched, a thin wraith of white mist came up from the corpse of the monster. It solidified into a vaguely humanoid shape, then drifted upward and disappeared into the mist above us.
“It’s the monster’s spirit,” I said. “It must be some effect of the Festering, we can see the spirits of creatures we defeat in battle.”
“Hey, do you feel something?” Cara said suddenly. I looked at her. She was standing very straight, her hand on her chest, a look of pleasure on her face. I did feel it. Somewhere inside my soul, there was a deeply satisfying feeling, like the clinking of coins into a strongbox.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Feels good though, right?”
She nodded, slowly. “Like I gained something. Strange. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
“Let's get going. The morning is passing, and if that Arachnon is anything to go by, we’re going to have some work to do when we get to the source of the Festering.”
“All right,” she said, “but take a little of this first, and I will too.” She had unhitched a green vial from her belt, and, popping it open, she dipped a finger in and drew out a bit of thick green paste. “Hold your tongue out.”
I shrugged, and stepped forward. I had to bend down a little so she could reach my mouth. As her finger touched my tongue our gazes met and she smiled, her eyes sparkling. I drew the stuff into my mouth. There was a strange taste, bitter and sweet at the same time. I swallowed.
Green light flashed through me, followed by a warm feeling that rushed down my spine.
“Incredible,” I said as the pleasant feeling faded. Cara took a little too and placed it in her mouth.
“It will keep the cold and damp from getting to us. It’s my own recipe.”
“Good job,” I said, and she smiled at the compliment. “Now, come on. The Helm of Ironside is waiting.”
We marched off into the mist, heading in the direction from which I could sense the waves of malevolent energy emanating.
Most of the afternoon passed in a slow, wary trudge across the marshland. Now and again, we heard rustling and movement nearby, and once we heard something howling off in the distance, but we were not attacked again. As the light dimmed toward evening, we came upon something unexpected; a dark range of low hills looming out of the mist. Two spurs of land stuck out into the marsh on either side of us, enclosing a wide area of marshland in a wet, foggy valley.
I looked into the gloom. “The Festering, it’s emanating from up there. Let’s climb this nearest spur of land. Perhaps if we get a bit of height we’ll be able to see the Helm.”
“It surely won’t just be there on its own?” asked Cara as we began to climb the left-hand spur.
“I doubt it. Power like that is attractive. It’s sure to be guarded by someone... or something.”
It didn’t take long to get to the top of the ridge where the land flattened out into a wide, flat sward with a few scattered boulders. I glanced around and didn’t see anything, then I looked down.
In the valley not far below us, partly
