Being a Beacon

[Once a Fool]

Evangeline looked down upon the bleeding dwarf.

- waning -

Life surged through her fingertips and opened his eyes. They almost said “thank you.”

This dwarf, Enok, a hollow worshipper of an infernal deceiver. A selfish, opportunistic, often evil-hearted little man. But Evangeline held on to hope for him.

The battle died down around her.

A short distance away, a horse and its armored rider lay unconscious, silvery scales glistening through the tall stalks of unyielding grass. The horse had been surprised by the prairie dog, even as it charged, blinded by a prismatic spray of the gnome-girl’s magic, and pummeled into unconsciousness by the half-orc. Then they had started on the warrior - a captain, from the town of Bounty.

Bounty. No such town existed, anymore. It had been a human town - entirely human - on the frontier…

The smell of charred flesh still haunted her memory.

This man, Cedrick, had nearly given his life for something he believed in - vengeance.

Evangeline could not help but pity him. Of course, she had saved him…

A chill wind bit into the back of her mind. Something very bad had almost happened to this man. Evangeline had been facing the other way when it happened. She was facing the man with the two swords - the one who was hunting her. The two had traded arrow shots, but his were sharper, honed with malice.

But then, she had felt the world weep behind her.

She had felt something like it before, at the half-orc’s monastery…

Rotting corpses surrounded them - crawling, climbing, clawing through the ruins of the Monastery of the Burning Fist. Half-orcs, all of them. Dead, but not. The air had held it, then. A charge of anger and suffering. Ill will.

That was the surge that Evangeline had felt behind her…

The dwarf, now conscious, began to pray. Evangeline did not speak the infernal tongue, but the inflection was clear enough:

“Pyris. You know the deal. I’ll need to be alive.”

Pyris did not always yield to the temperamental dwarf’s demands, but He did apparently want to keep the dwarf alive.

The Fire-God cauterized Enok’s wounds.

The dwarf was not all bad. He had protected Evangeline from the Elf-Hunter, after all. That is how he had fallen, unaided by the half-orc, who was in his own struggle, and Lo Chi, the gnome, who was busy looting the fallen captain.

The half-orc, Ororck. What of him? He’d been a blur of fury, a streak of murder in his attempt to get to Adam.

Adam. The Delusionist.

Ororck had never trusted him, hated him. So, when Adam had begun to fire crossbow bolts toward the Elf-Hunter, Ororck gave him no credit, no quarter.

Adam had betrayed them and there would be no saving him. Evangeline had nothing left to give. Adam had protected her, but she could not protect him.

It happened in the blink of an eye…
Adam was sitting on a horse, loading his light crossbow…
Then he was pinned to the earth in the iron grip of the foaming half-orc.

If Ororck could appreciate poetry, he might have seen poetic justice in it; Adam had once boasted that he was a champion wrestler in an attempt to win Evangeline’s affection.

Her attention swung back to the Elf-Hunter. Now revitalized, Enok had rejoined the battle.

This time, the human’s blades would find no way through the dwarf’s scaly armor, as Ororck bounded to his aid and something moved unseen through the grass, crippling the overwhelmed foe.

No one noticed Lo Chi as she slipped quietly toward Adam’s broken form and discreetly slit his throat.

The day waned.

 

[Angel of Adventure]

Glad to have you on the SH boards, Once a Fool. First installment was very enjoyable.

-AoA

 

[Once a Fool]

Thank you, Angel. More to come...

 

[Once a Fool]

Chapter Two

Enok's hammer forged another horseshoe. He beat them out as fast as he could. He wasn't here to make horseshoes. He was merely paying the smith for the use of his smithy. Enok had another project...

They had left the Elf-Hunter and the Captain unarmored and unarmed out in the plains, behind them. Enok didn't have a problem with the Elf-Hunter, but the Captain, Cedric, would be trouble, later.

Stupid half-orc. Wouldn't let me kill him when I had the chance. Pyris wanted me to kill him...

Pyris had even given the dwarf the means to absorb the warrior's life, right on the battlefield, but the Stupid Captain had resisted.

Stupid God. Hard enough to get anything out of Him, and He can't even kill a stupid human meat sack when I want it.

Sometimes, being a Priest of Pyris wasn't worth the trouble.

At least he had the human's armor. It was a poor fit for the dwarf and the craftsmanship was not very good, but that didn't matter. The material was good steel, and that is what Enok needed.

Ororck had talked Enok out of the obviously sane option of killing Cedric, because Cedric could clear their names.

Somehow, the Stupid Goody-Two-Shoes-Elf had made Cedric change his mind about the party. Enok could guess how. She'd done it while the rest of the party was asleep.

Enok's diplomacy had worked in its own way, too. Who can argue with logic? Enok could certainly recognize Truth when he heard it.

Cedric wants to kill me. Well, we'll see.

One day, Cedric would come looking for Enok and the dwarf would be ready for him. The day would come.

First thing to do would have to be...ditch the party. That should be simple. Simply stay in the Lost Haven when they go.

Enok laughed at the absurdity of the town he found himself in. Only an elf would build something as entirely impractical as this place. It was a town built inside a massive log cabin out in the middle of nowhere!

Exiles, all of them. Or descendents thereof.

At least I know where that druid got the dwarven liquor from.

Since dwarven liquor, like everything else dwarven, was property of the Dwarven Empire; it shouldn't have been possible to obtain it.

There must be a black market in this town.

Making the dwarven liquor, grog, was actually the responsibility of the dwarven clergy. It was essential for dwarven survival. Enok tended to get a little territorial over such matters.

The druid's real name was Lofton, but that wasn't the name Enok knew him by. Apparently, he was very well connected in this town.

And exiled from a town of exiles. How did he manage that?

No matter. The druid was definitely back in town. Enok had seen him. The whole party had, in fact. Up on the top level. In the Market Square.

In the fields. That ain't natural.

The top level didn't have a roof. It was farmland.

Enok didn't like this place; he felt confined in a way that he would not in any cavern. But when the party left, he would stay, anyway.

Can't stand them. Bunch of Do-Gooders.

Well, the gnome-girl wasn't a do-gooder, but she was annoying and untrustworthy. Sure, she had saved the dwarf's life, once, but she'd also nearly gotten him killed, looting.

Enok turned over a thick, triangular gold piece in his mind. Property of the Dwarven Empire. This had come from the druid, too. Lo Chi had lifted it off of him. Little thief.

Another horseshoe. One less thing to worry about.

Enok chuckled as he thought about the gnome girl's prairie dog. Who had ever heard of a bloodthirsty prairie dog? Too bad he'd never gotten a chance to eat it. Her armadillo had been delicious.

Ororck had helped him eat that. Despite himself, Enok would sort of miss Ororck. Not too bright, but a mean combatant. Quick and strong.

But the elf...

Enok swore as he threw a twisted scrap of metal aside. Stupid horseshoe. A dwarf shouldn't have to pay attention to a horeshoe to get it right. Elf's fault, anyway.

That's what you get for worshipping the sky-gods. Stupid elves who want to save the world. Go save the world, elf. Leave me out of it.

The elf-wench who founded this town, Celest, ran the tavern. The Elfin Exile. She was putting some stupid ideas into Evangeline's head, no doubt. She was a failed paladin. Even gave Evangeline a silly little stick of a sword.

Holy, my hairy dwarven...

Enok's hammer fell to the floor. A soft thud broke the silence in the smithy. The largest human Enok had ever seen walked in. The man's face was misshapen, broken more times than the dwarf imagined possible. His voice was thick.

"I'm looking for someone. You're going to help me."

 

[Once a Fool]

Chapter Three

The prairie dog tried to burrow into the earth, but hit solid hardwood only a couple of prairie dog-lengths down. What was this place?

He'd gone up to get here. Up? Somehow that didn't seem quite right. But that didn't matter, now; hide from the spiders.

His name was...Kosher? Yes, Kosher. He was pretty sure about that. He'd definitely heard that somewhere.

Kosher tried to remember his last conversation with the gnome. Lo Chi, he was pretty sure.

It was all sort of jumbled together; Kosher didn't have much of a memory, but fragments drifted to the forefront of his mind.

He had to tell her about the Graveyard. She didn't seem interested, but she clearly couldn't grasp its significance.

A stone watcher, a monk in meditation, a prairie dog stood silent over an empty cavern. The prairie dogs held them back, here. The not-living-not-dead-tunnelers.

Here.

Only a prairie dog who is of stout heart may enter.

Kosher thought he was of stout heart, but, try as he might - and he might - he could not bring himself to pass through the cold gaze of the guardian rock. It was unnatural. Shaped by no paw; simply was.

He should have stayed. No spiders there. Here, they were beginning to crawl in his hole. And they were fast.

Hindsight has perfect vision, he'd heard somewhere. He looked at his hindquarters, trying to make sense of the proverb.

No time now. Spiders. They could crawl faster than he could dig. Kosher was trapped.

 

[Once a Fool]

Chapter Four

Lo Chi opened the box. She had to open the box.

This guy, Warren, the Woodworker, had agreed to take her on as an apprentice -he's more than just an artist - that's for sure. With his connections... All she had to do was a favor. Confirm a rumor. Done.

But when she got back, he was talking with someone, didn't see her, and there was the box.

Her prairie dog had shown up again. Chittering wildly. Gnomes have the innate ability (with some effort) to speak with and understand such creatures, but not always the innate desire to do so.

Lo Chi hadn't even bothered to try, this time. Couldn't have been important. Never was.

He had found an underground stream when they needed water, but they couldn't get to it.

He had found flakes of gold in the stream, but they couldn't get to it.

He'd had some crazy dream when he fell off Cedric's horse and passed out (that was Lo Chi's fault) about some light at the end of a tunnel and some old prairie dog telling him to wake up and save the world and...

He never had anything useful to say.

He'd run off again on the top level. Into the fields. Who needs him, anyway? Lo Chi had gone up there on that errand for Warren. She had definitely spotted Lofton. Rumor confirmed. Same druid she'd gotten the gold-filled bunny off of.

Curious pouch; apparently loved to gamble. Of the original forty-eight assorted gold pieces in it (mostly from the human kingdoms, one from the Dwarven Empire, a few from elven lands), only twenty-two now remained.

The bunny-pouch kept telling her she could win, but she had lost a whole lot more than she won.

That ornery dwarf who ran the gaming house (conveniently located next to the barracks) - Talented Trenok? - must have been cheating, somehow. Only explanation.

Why was she always getting into trouble?

Take this box, for instance. Beautifully ornate long, narrow wooden chest. A sturdy lock, but simpler to unlock than its appearance would suggest.

How was she to know that it was filled with spiders? Who keeps spiders in an ornate wooden box?

Warren was terrified. Furious and terrified.

I don't think he knew what was in the box. Surely, he won't hold it against me.

The spiders were all white. The climbed, they crawled and they jumped. They were fast, fast.

Several bit Lo Chi before she had a chance to coat herself in a magical greasy fluid. Icky. But the spiders had a hard time climbing on it.

Only, it was very hard to move, now. It was very hard to stand up after slipping to the ground. And it was very, very hard to lock that box back up with the constant flow of spiders - far more than a box that size could actually hold - pushing against the lid.

Somehow, Lo Chi pulled it off, but by now, the spiders were everywhere.

Evangeline showed up and started spearing spiders with her shiny new rapier as she advanced into the shop. She called to the two frightened humans:

"This is no place for you to stay!"

But they didn't believe her. She tried a different approach.

"PUT THAT DOWN!"

Warren clearly did not want Evangeline to throw his overpriced handiwork. He loved his things.

"Come with me."

Warren relented and the other took only a moment more to consider that this new turn of events would leave him alone with the spiders, if he stayed.

Before they could get moving, something huge appeared in the doorway.

Lo Chi couldn't be sure, but she thought it might be a magical construct. No human could have a face that malformed.

It walked right through the spiders, grabbed Warren, and picked him up. Its voice was thick.

"I've been looking for you."

Lo Chi didn't stick around to see more.

Outside the shop, a white sheet of frost blanketed everything. Only, it was climbing and crawling and jumping. Spiders were everywhere and were headed for the stairways and out the massive front doors.

Hope nobody finds out it was my fault...

The entire level was dimmer than before; the spiders had discovered that they could crawl over the torches-with-no-flame without being burned. Not that it mattered much to Lo Chi, but others were having some trouble. There was a human in spiky armor wearing a scythe on his back (great. A warrior-farmer) who had somehow gotten his spiked gauntlets stuck in the hardwood floor.

A drunken half-orc staggered through the swarm.

A few guards were swinging longswords around wildly, more a threat to themselves than to the spiders.

In the center of the fountain (a hundred feet across, certainly magical!) Ororck frantically killed spiders as they jumped on him. His hands were fast.

Lo Chi decided to help him, even if he did eat her armadillo...

Bastards. That armadillo was trying to warn me about something.

Lo Chi scrambled over the edge of the fountain (made out of a stump, made from a tree that must have been a mile tall).

Guess the elfin exile has a thing for dead trees. That's wierd.

Magic licked at her fingertips as Lo Chi neared the center of the fountain, being careful to stay out of Ororck's way.

Light flowed from her speech, winding its way down her arm as she crushed a lightning bug into the fountain's source. It began to glow like a torch - and not a moment too soon; now the spiders blocked out the narrow windows set high in the walls. The open doors to the outside and the fountain were the only two light sources remaining.

I sure hope I don't get in trouble for this...

 

[Once a Fool]

Chapter Five

Lo Chi was gone. Ororck had watched her chant some spell after she lit up the fountain. Whatever it did, she stood staring out in shock at all the spiders. Then she faded. Just faded.

Now Ororck was alone with the albino spiders. Fine. Ororck was no stranger to solitude. The fountain's water fell over him in waves as the half-orc perfected his new Spider Claw technique.

A big man with a broken face went by, carrying a littler man over his shoulder. Toward the big doors. Toward outside.

The elf went by, pricking spiders with her stick-sword, leading another man. Toward the big doors. Toward outside.

Ororck knew what to do, now. He had to find Khan.

Khan was a half-orc, same as Ororck. Older. Much more a drunkard. He had once been Burning Fist, same as Ororck.

Burning Fist dead, now.

No time for reflection. Ororck dashed up the wide stairs, hollow echoes following him. Homes on this level. And a temple. Into the temple.

The temple was empty. Devoid of trappings, of worshippers, of spiders, of all. An empty temple.

Ororck ran through the alleys, shouting for Khan until his voice gave. No people. No Khan.

The next level had smaller homes, once had had the feel of familial life. Only spiders, now.

On the top level, tomorrow's festival was now a playground for the white swarm. No people anywhere. Perhaps a thorough search...

When scattered mounds of white begain to rise from the sea of spiders, to take on humanoid form, and, as quickly, to collapse again, Ororck's mind was made up. He did not search thoroughly for survivors. He forgot about Khan. Ororck ran.

Ororck ran down to the second level. The temple. Yes. That would be the place. He hefted a clay bottle Khan had given him. Pulled out the stopper. Drank.

Fire in his stomach, his chest, his vomit...

Ororck grinned a jagged half-orc grin. He was breathing fire.

At the last second, however, Ororck had a change of heart and refrained from burning the empty temple. Instead, he set fire to someone's home.

The sound of horse's hoves galloping across wooden floors echoed from one of the stairways and Evangeline appeared atop her white, tasty-looking horse. Curiously, the spiders seemed to avoid the animal.

"Have you searched for survivors, Ororck?"

Ororck had difficulty with the clumsy common trade-tongue and the elf had never taken the time to understand orcish.

Even so, Ororck would have thought that yelling out, "NO!" clearly meant, "I'm setting fire to this whole place; I wouldn't advise going up, if I were you."

The elf apparently misunderstood him; she went up.

Ororck went down, spitting up fire as he went.

Almost to the door...

Immediately to his right, the spiders began to climb onto each other, to jump, to rise. Taller. Broader. Arms. Legs. Then, gone, a pile of spiders, again.

Ororck's spider-bites were beginning to itch. To really itch.

He burst through the doorway, into the morning's light...and disappeared.

 

[Once a Fool]

Chapter Six

"Dewhollow"

The man's voice was thick as he said it. Something terrible had begun to gnaw at her stomach, even then. Evangeline sighed.

Home.

Warren, the woodworker from the Lost Haven, had told the broken-faced man that the spiderbox had come from someone who had gotten it from someone who had gotten it from someone who got it from Dewhollow. This was not the way Evangeline would have wanted to return home.

I'm going to have to tell them that Sylvan is dead.

Tears welled in Evangeline's elven eyes. When she had first set out from here - Had to go. Just had to, didn't you? - she had taken him with her.

Elfin Angel, linger on.
The soul sets its course;
yet I would stay with you.
Friend in dark times,
Guiding light in Shadow.
Elfin Angel, lead me on.
I will follow.
Though the path tear me apart,
I will follow.

Sylvan had followed. He did not survive the town of Bounty.

Evangeline bit her lip and fought back her tears. She would have time later to mourn. Now, she had a town to save - somehow - and friends.

The journey had been rough. They had lost time. A day lost skirting an orc hunting party. A day lost at the elven border, while the Southern Army decided whether or not to let them in. Humans were easier to trust when they were outside elven lands and Merv was not a person who immediately inspired trust. Even so, Evangeline found that she did trust him.

At least the tribe of Wild Humans hadn't slowed them down. A simple offering of food had placated them.

Now, they had finally come to Dewhollow, as the trade-tongue speaks it. Set in the hollow of an enormous oak, high above the forest floor, facing east, to catch the morning sun in the ascendant months and the evening sun in the ecliptic months. Here they were, at night.

Home.

Since the Shaper lived on the ground, in a dead tree, his was the first place to go. As it turned out, he was expecting them.

"Dearest Evangeline,
You have come home.
You travel with company,
And still all alone."

The Shaper was always...odd. He had a look about him that was neither young, nor old, yet somehow both - beyond the span of elven nature. He had a strange fascination with deadwood. And he always spoke in riddle and rhyme.

Merv approached with the spiderbox, prepared for some heartfelt interrogation, but before he could speak, the Shaper turned to him with a disquieting smile.

"Brokenface, brokenface,
Come you in;
You have my box
And the spiders therein."

They were close. Whatever they needed to do, they were very, very close.

Inside of the hollowed tree, furnishings were scant. A desk sat, cluttered, to one end. A massive rug adorned the floor. Torches blazed gloomily in the chamber. The Shaper spoke again.

"Spiderbox, Spiderbox,
Open the lid;
Now you must find
Where the door is hid.
Look on no wall;
Look for no hole.
A room with no exit
Is where you must go.
First form the Body,
Then form the Legs.
Place it all on a bed of webs.
Hurry your thinking;
If you are late,
Your friends may meet
With a Spidery fate."

With that, he burst into a thousand thousand tiny white spiders and swarmed out of the door.

 

[Once a Fool]

Chapter Seven

All was darkness, an absolute blanket of black that Lo Chi's gnomish night vision could not pierce. Her feet were stuck to the ground. Springy but firm. Wherever she was, time seemed a meaningless abstract. At some point, Lo Chi began to hear the comforting sounds of company (loves misery).

"Ororck not like this place."

So. The half-orc was standing next to her. That was reassuring. Especially when the screaming started.

Whatever was out there - and Lo Chi could guess; Ororck informed her that the ground stretching as far as he could see was web - whatever was out there, Lo Chi did not intend to be caught helpless. She prepared to cast an illuminating spell.

"You. Undo boots."

"What?"

"I put you on shoulders."

"That's exactly what I was about to suggest."

Once on Ororck's shoulders, Lo Chi prepared once again to cast her spell, but she lost her balance in the dark and somehow ended up lying on her back with her palms stuck to the web.

At least I didn't break my neck.

More screams.

The kind of screams a village cries out when it is being slaughtered and razed. And weeping. Weeping.

Somewhere near her, someone was weeping.

"Ororck rip your clothes, now."

"What?'

"To pull you off web."

"But my hair...my hands are stuck."

"That okay. You have knife?"

Lo Chi had a dagger. She'd slit Adam's throat with it.

That orc leader wanted us to assassinate his shaman with this dagger. No such luck, buddy.

The dagger was of elven make, an odd find in the caves of the Waterwalker Tribe, far from elven lands. It was well-honed.

Hair and clothing fell away and patches of web were cut away from exposed skin; Lo Chi was free again. Ororck lifted her up and planted her bare feet solidly on the small patch of her clothing now carpeting a tiny section of the web.

"Ororck. Take off your clothes."

"Ororck what?"

"If you put them on the web, we can walk around."

A curious bystander might have wondered what a gnome might have been doing, talking to a half-orc in fluent orcish in the pitch black of their current situation. A linguist might have marveled at the grace with which the gnome spoke the crude tongue.

No bystanders were curious, however; nor were any of them linguists. They were uniformly terrified. It is for this reason that Lo Chi's reasonable repetition of that plan in the trade-tongue was met with little enthusiasm.

Ororck rumbled, "That my idea."

Whatever. She tried again. And again. Finally, someone saw the sense of it.

"Hey. If we take off our clothes, we can walk around on them."

Lo Chi shouted out, "That was my idea!" No one was listening.

More screams out of the dark.

Lo Chi something else, even as Ororck moved around in the darkness, going about his half-orcish business.

"If we consolidate, we may be better off against whatever's out there."

No response beyond the general hysteria of the situation.

An elven voice spoke into Lo Chi's ear.

"You have the makings of a great leader, little one. Lo Chi, is it?"

The Elfin Exile. Celest. What was she talking about? Nobody was listening to her. They listened to Celest when she repeated the idea, though. Bastards.

In the darkness, the confused, frightened and, now, chilly crowd condensed.

Ororck's voice snuck up behind her. "Spider come. Big as you. Take knife."

"There's a spider as big as me out there?"

Someone screamed, very nearby. Woops. Should have stuck with orcish.

"Three."

"Three?"

Panic. Hysteria.

"No worry. That the small three."

 

[Once a Fool]

Chapter Eight

Merv dropped his torch through the trapdoor to see what was down there. Something caught on fire and spread throughout the entire chamber beneath him. The torch fell through, even deeper.

That's gotta be fifty feet down, easily. Good thing I come prepared.

Nice place. Dead tree, trapdoor under the rug, hollowed out roots lined with webbing - that's what burned - and now another chamber beneath it all.

This place ain't right.

And he couldn't get that spider-freak's riddle out of his head.

Spiderbox, Spiderbox;
Open the lid...

Merv glanced at the elf beside him with unconcealed suspicion. Halfway here, she had told him this was her hometown. Coincidence? Sure.

Merv resolved to keep an eye on her.

She could cut this rope, while I'm climbing down...

But she did not cut the rope, if that counted for anything.

Octagonal room. No doors. Thirty feet across. Stone floor with strange, almost natural etchings. Runed tiles on the walls.

"Better get down here, Elf."

Merv was strong - almost as strong as the half-orc - but he would need help moving the larger tiles.

Once the elf was down there, they moved quickly; there was a sense of urgency in the room.

Most of the runes were duplicates of each other on triangular tiles of varying sizes. One of the runes consisted of three lines coming to a point and intersected by another.

The big ones fit against the wall...no, not here. Here.

"We've got to hurry. Something bad is happening."

"We are hurrying, Elf."

Now, where did the smaller ones go? These were small enough that they each could take one. These were trickier to place. Here? No. Here? No. Here? No.

The elf inverted hers and placed it near the center. Merv looked at the other tiles on the wall. That might work...

First form the body;
Then form the legs.
Place it all on a bed of webs.

This could be a bed of webs. The large square piece with the double-ended swirl (one side much larger than the other) was probably the body. It would go in the center.

That left the legs, each a swirl with a straight line extending from the top and bottom. The pieces fit; the puzzle was complete, but nothing happened.

In an instant, the atmosphere of the room shifted from a cool and analytical ordered process to a frantic scramble for something the two might have missed.

Finally, they had it. A reorientation of the legs and...

The floor fell away from them; the door was opened.