The Halfling

Chapter 8

His heart was pounding when he woke. Into the ground once more. He remembered the dreary walls of the Hound Tunnels, the moist dankness, the terror. But he had experienced it once, he thought. He'll be prepared this time.

Not quite.

All around him, darkness, a shroud of silt and earth. The ground fully sealed, no light pierced through. He was still dragged by whatever, his head thumping against rock, pebble and dirt. He didn't feel the pain now. But it would be splitting later. His staff was no longer beside him. He could not cast spells with only his hands; he had forgotten to.

Fear betook him. He imagined the myriad of haunting creatures all around him, slowly killing him.

Thirst rapped at the door, his throat drier than a desert. As if he had not at all taken in some of the droplets of rain a few moments ago. But was it a few moments ago? Hasn't he been inside here for hours, just being dragged and dragged, held tightly, by manacle-like fingers banding all around him?

His head crashed against a rock and everything went black.

When the boy opened his eyes, darkness greeted him. There was something about his body that felt heavy and awkward, but he didn't think much of it. Who would under those circumstances?

Rivulets of sweat fell down his nape, the hairs on his body stirred like leaves under pelting rain. The scent of rock filled his nose, its dank perfume arresting his movements. Water trickled far-away, the only companion of his breathing.

Pebbles stirred. "So, awake now, eh?" a voice growled.

It was the Arachnid. It came behind him. He spun around. He tried to, at least. About his body, a cocoon of silky spiderweb spun, with a horrific silver sheen to them.

"Let me go, monster!" the boy cried.

"After I've caught you?" the spider asked, voice rumbling. It was evidently a very large room. "Sorry, but no. But monster? Who? Me? Or was I the one to massacre a slew of spiders? Gambits, snakes, tigers! Small spiders, brown spiders, green spiders, some dirty as dirt, some neat and spick-span. Wicked spiders, spawn of me! And you tried to slaughter all of them, you tried to drown us night creatures with your light. Now the others hide like prey within trunk-hollows and -recesses and -nooks. Like household spiders! Children of the Great Arachnid! Can you imagine that!"

The boy felt his head being crushed. The spider, indeed, tried to. But it chuckled and said it would be mad to deprive her children of that pleasure.

The boy's eyes had adjusted to the dark; he wished they hadn't. The Arachnid was monstrous, its eyes communicating nothing but a bloody death. A few of them were broken, black blood dripping out and tarring the pincers.

But he also noticed something he hadn't before. His staff, glowing a bluish glow on one of the corners of the room. He wondered why the Arachnid hadn't quenched it. Or broken it. Perhaps it couldn't?

"Well," the boy said, mindlessly. He caught himself.

"Well, what?" asked the Arachnid.

"W—Well," the boy staggered. "Well what Great Arachnid would trap a halfling? I have seen many a great monster and all of them have battled me fair and square."

"Square! Me? A square? A square spider? Funny ratty brat!" The boy's spine shivered as its hairy leg smeared his face. He went limp with disgust when the Arachnid ceased right in front of him. "You'll meet your end soon enough. If you hadn't burnt my children, you'd have been dead long ago. But now they come marching, with their as-of-now-short tethers. Looking forward to you as their meal. Well, and we shall see. Ah, my mistake! I shall see! You will be dead! Hurrah!"