Brothers in Arms; the re-awakening

They left on a keen and bitter morning; the weather had turned cold, as if compliant to their mood, and the morning stars were still visible in a clear and austere sky. The farewells they gave each other were brief and undemonstrative; partings like this were common in an unforgiving world, and in any case most of the goodbyes had been said the night before.

Ethan thought Jac more cheerful and jaunty than he might have been; perhaps his homecoming, however warm and welcoming it had been, had not been able to live up to the expectations engendered by seven years of youthful yearning. Or much more likely, he considered, the prospect of a long journey with Kitti in the company and without his parents looking on was a more obvious reason for his palpable good mood.

Kitti, by contrast, seemed subdued, and more than once he saw her cast backward glances, full of longing, towards what had perhaps been the first comfort and love she had ever known. Not true, he corrected himself, for Targon loved her, his affection unspoken yet obvious; but wasn’t there something about a woman’s touch? Sosanna had acted like a mother towards her.

At the brow of a small grassy drumlin they looked back for the last time. Kyram and Sosanna stood on the verandah, Rose as usual half-hidden beneath her mother’s skirts; they waved briefly, saw Kyram salute, and then they had rounded the hill and disappeared from view.

It had been agreed that Jac would guide them northwards out of the valley, and through the foothills, but as the trail they planned to follow then turned west, and he knew very little of the lands where it then would bring them, Kitti would take the lead from there to the coast. She had warned them that it was a long and tiring journey, most of it through uncomfortable and infertile desert, with very little to forage on the way, and they had taken the suggestion seriously and were well

stocked with provisions. Kyram had given them an extra mule, a fine strong animal, and most of the food had come from Sosanna’s kitchen garden. Ethan felt that the supplies contained an inordinate amount of green vegetables, but Jac reassured him that this was the most sustaining and healthiest food it was possible to find.

“You’ve filled out very nicely in the last few weeks so some loss of weight would be welcome; it would be most unkind to expect your horse, no matter how willing, to carry such an onerous burden all the way to the sea,” he said.

By the end of the day they had left the valley far behind them, and within a week they had traversed the western vestiges of the Glass Mountains and were well on their way to the sea. Kitti’s advice had proven sound, if depressingly accurate; they had descended rapidly out of lush green hills into a dry, arid land of thin withered scrub and bleached grass, and now even that impoverished vegetation was becoming scarcer and scarcer. The soil was sandy and very fine; they raised tiny dust-clouds as they walked, making all of them cough and splutter, except Jack and Kitti, who were leading the way. The signs of their passing were also disconcertingly clear behind them.

Donal looked back at the scuffed sand in their wake, very unhappy at the evidence they had left of their progress.

“Much too obvious; it is not good,” he said, “It is against all my instincts to leave them, but it would take too long to cover our tracks sufficiently.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ethan, “You wouldn’t need to be no Davy Crockett to follow that trail. I don’t see any gophers either,” he continued, looking around and sounding disappointed, “this sure ain’t like the prairies.”

There was little wildlife, and whatever there was scuttled from under stones, or hovered near their camp at night, always staying beyond the edge of the fire-light without ever becoming visible, and Targon was unable to mind-meld with any of the desert animals.

“We’ve been through here a few times; each time he has tried it, and it has never worked before. The creatures are too small and primitive. A great pity; it could tell us for sure if we were being followed, but it is very tiring for him to try and not succeed,” explained Kitti.

She further counselled them to be cautious.

“Most of the insects are poisonous, and not particularly pleasant to eat. Anything that can survive in this desert has to be pretty tough,” she said, starting to laugh at Ethan’s grimace, “but even so Targon and I have had to chance them once or twice.”

“Maybe they wouldn’t taste too bad barbecued in a sandwich, with a few big dollops of ketchup, and some fries,” suggested Ethan, “By the way, shouldn’t there be an oasis or something like it in this joint; we always had them in the Hollywood films. Nice little swimming pools, fancy dames in bathing-suits, Bing Crosby singing us a lullaby, Bob Hope cracking a few jokes, bananas and grapes and coconuts hanging from the trees; those were the days, I tell ya.”

The weather was mild; Kitti told them that the southern deserts were bigger by far and searingly hot.

“Just hope that you never get to compare them at first hand,” she said.

In the beginning the company had been in high spirits, with an occasional song being permitted when high ground reassured them that no pursuit was near, but little by little Donal had felt an imperceptible dampening of their mood. By the tenth night of their journey there was little chat at supper, everyone apparently lost in their own thoughts. He wondered if they simply regretted the lost home-comforts and if the desolate surroundings were bothering them, or if there could be a more sinister reason, perhaps some malign will hovering over them like a fog.

He saw Jac look around uneasily once or twice, and he had learned to respect the young man’s intuition. But when asked if he could sense any danger, Jac just shrugged.

“I’m fairly sure there’s nothing close by, but I can’t shake off a feeling of uneasiness. Maybe I’m getting homesick again, but I think we should set a double watch, just in case.”

“Yeah, and why don’t you and Kitti take the first shift and then the rest of us can go off to bed real quiet-like and go to sleep like babies; just remember rule number one - no canoodling while on guard duty,” teased Ethan.

“At least we can be assured that no-one, not even the most elusive thief, could sneak up on two such single-minded and dutiful guardians,” agreed Donal with mock seriousness.

“It’s not like as if there would be anything to distract them from their duties, would there?” said Ethan, “You’d need to be nearly invisible to sneak up on those two.”

“You men just love this, don’t you?” said an annoyed Kitti.

“Every minute of it,” admitted Ethan, laughing as he laid his head on a makeshift pillow.

“I don’t know what “canoodling” means,” said Jac, “but I hope you don’t find any scorpions under your blanket during the night; and in the morning, don’t forget to check your boots for spiders.”

“Spiders?” said Ethan, “Now you’ve really spooked me; I hate spiders.”

“Will this damn desert ever end?” muttered Ethan, stumbling yet again on the uneven ground. A thin wind was constantly whipping the sand in their faces, and this, plus the scarf he was wearing to protect his eyes, made it difficult to see the many ruts and divots in their path. Here and there the dust and sand had been heaped by the wind into great dunes and these were interspersed with rocky outcrops, which had been scoured into weird and bizarre shapes by the unremitting forces of wind and driven sand. The rocks were mostly slate-grey, but here and there coloured blue-green by a hardy lichen which seemed to thrive in these

adverse circumstances. Kitti had said that in dire straits this lichen was edible, although very tough and leathery, but Ethan hoped he wouldn’t have to check out the truth of this statement too closely.

Donal plodded steadfastly beside him, less inclined to complain; he had known deserts much harsher and hotter and wider than this. Up ahead both Jac and Kitti seemed infuriatingly fresh, as if untroubled by the rough terrain. These two now spent most of their time with each other, talking and laughing together as they picked out the safest routes for the others to follow. If Targon was jealous, or felt ignored, he gave no such sign. Trudging along doggedly at the rear of the company, the travelling was hardest of all on him, and the others would often look

back with concern. But still he kept up, and they had had no occasion to slow their pace on his account. They had been leading their horses for five days; Jac had insisted they ride as little as possible, as the desert stones were small and sharp and would lacerate the horse’s hooves unless they were guided with the greatest of care.

“Any cuts in this heat and dirt will probably become infected, and might take a long time to heal, if ever, and we can’t risk laming even one of the horses. Walk for a few days now, or walk all the way to the sea; it’s a simple choice.”

Kitti was as usual impatient to make the greatest speed, but she now seemed far readier to take Jac’s advice than before, and she often accepted this as wise counsel.

“In any case, we don’t have much further to go,” she assured Ethan, “Another day’s walk and we’ll see the Devil’s Splinter. Once we get through that the going will be much easier; grassy meadows, plenty of game, lots of fresh water, you’ll see - a few days hard riding will get us safely to the coast.”

“The Devil’s Splinter?” Donal was doubtful, “I do not like the sound of it; the name is an ill omen.”

“What else did you expect in a crazy joint like this, Irish? The Traveller’s Rest, The Welcome Mat, The Warm Fire, The Big Feed, The Few Beers; or maybe The Cosy Bed?” said Ethan.

“I surely did not expect anything so sweet,” said Donal, with a wry smile, “But even a weary pilgrim is allowed to hope for better things sometimes.”

“Don’t worry,” Kitti reassured them, “Targon and I have been through the Splinter many times, and we have never come to any harm.”

“Yeah,” said Ethan, “It’s amazing you turned out so well.”

Sure enough, the next day the ground began to rise again and Ethan saw a range of low hills ahead of them. Though not very high, even at a distance it was clear that they were steep, and would present an impassable barrier to the horses.

“And maybe for us too,” he muttered to himself, wondering if the path they were following would take them around these hills. He couldn’t see any gaps in the cliffs which might allow them an easy passage.

Kitti, however, appearing unconcerned, held them unvaryingly to their course, and when she led them right in among the butt of the hills a hidden valley appeared before them, narrowing progressively till, at it’s far end, it dwindled to dark cleft in the cliff-face. They halted, peering at the cleft uncertainly, Kitti looking satisfied and the others more dubious. Kitti urged her horse on, wanting to press ahead without delay, but Donal was more cautious.

“Hold, Kitti,” he called ahead, “Now that I am here I like the look of this Devil’s Splinter even less. It would seem a good place for an ambush - one I might even choose myself.”

“And that’s a hell of a recommendation,” said Ethan.

Jac was also wary.

“The walls are steep and the passage narrow,” he said, “If we are attacked we will have no cover whatsoever.”

“Do we have any choice?” asked Ethan, “We have to get out of the desert somehow. Is there any other way through these hills, or should I even bother to ask?” he said, turning to Kitti, who shook her head in irritation at the thought of any further delay.

“It will take us at least two days to go around to the south and three days to the north. If we leave the horses, of course,” she continued, lookin at Donal and Ethan, “we could probably find a place we could climb about half-a-day’s ride away.”

Donal shook his head emphatically; “As you know all too well, Kitti, I’ll not leave Parsifal behind, whatever trouble we may encounter,” he said, as Ethan nodded in agreement.

Targon came wheezing up from behind, and they judged from his expression that he was no more enamoured with the passage of the Splinter than they were.

“Could Targon not try the mind-meld again?” said Jac hopefully, “It saved us the last time. We can climb over the top and the horses take the long way around.”

“The last time, in the mountains, there was plenty of water and fresh grass. This time, it’s desert all the way, for at least five days. No water, no fodder; we’d be sending them to their deaths,” said Kitti, “It’s either this way or another week in the desert, with a pursuit possibly right on our tails.”

“Another week in the desert? You must be joking,” said Ethan, “Hey, what are we waiting for? Git along little doggie!”

As they came closer, they began to see just how narrow the passage really was, and at the entrance Kitti stopped them.

“There is only room for one of us at a time; Ethan and the horses will barely fit as it is,” she smiled to soften the jibe as Ethan scowled in mock anger, “And there are many twists and turns, and a maze of blind alleys, so we must stay close together. The walls are soft and crumble easily and so are impossible to climb, so anyone who gets lost will stay lost; there is only one way in and one way out - it isn’t called the Devil’s Splinter for nothing. But it isn’t far; with any luck it should only take a few hours to see us through to the other side, and there’s a place about half-way where there will be enough space for us all to rest together for a while.”

“Maybe we should eat first,” said Ethan, glancing sideways at Targon, who looked exhausted. He was trying valiantly to hide it, but the others could clearly see the strain showing, and realized he would need a rest, however brief.

“Just for a while,” said Kitti.

A thought struck Ethan.

“By the way, there won’t be any more of those damned bats inside, will there?” he asked.

“No, Ethan,” Kitti replied, looking him straight in the eye, “I can promise you there will be no bats.”

“Well, that’s good news, at any rate,” said Ethan, satisfied.

They entered the Splinter just after noon, with the sun still high in the sky and their shadows small and squat. Kitti had tied them together with a rope, to prevent anyone getting lost. Again she led the way, stepping boldly ahead as if to confound the other’s misgivings about the course she had chosen for them. Jac followed her, and Ethan saw them hold hands briefly as if they were helping to guide each other

and smiled to himself despite his uneasiness.

This time Donal took the rearguard; a final glance back over the windswept desert had revealed no sign of pursuit, yet he was still concerned. His instincts warned him clearly that their troubles were far from over. Their passage across the desert had been untroubled, when it should have been all too easy for an observant enemy to pick up their trail at any time after they had left the valley and the foothills. And the Inquisitors had already proved themselves resourceful foes. He heard Kitti shout something from up ahead, but her voice was muffled as she turned the first corner and disappeared from his sight.

“What did she say, Ethan?” he called.

Ethan looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

“She said, “Watch out for the spiders - they’re deadly poisonous”.”

“Don’t worry,” Ethan turned to shout ahead, “we won’t be petting ’em. And, by the way, when we get to the other side, southern gentleman or not, I’m gonna smack your pretty little ass till it glows.”

The Devil’s Splinter was just as Kitti had described it; a maze of passages, all too narrow for more than one man to stand alongside, barely wide enough for the horses and the mule. The passage twisted and turned so swiftly that Ethan often lost sight of Targon, who was next in line ahead of him. Branches lead off erratically to both sides, and peering down them Ethan could see these branches in turn sending out their own passages. He wondered how Kitti was finding her way though this maze, and he was thankful that she had insisted on tying them together with rope and that he could hear the others talking up ahead. Their voices seemed unusually loud, and the conversation had a slightly strained quality, as if they were, all of them, anxious for the reassurance that they weren’t alone in this bizarre place.

Here and there the bleached, wind-scoured skeletons of small animals bore testimony to Kitti’s remarks about the spiders, but even a few hundred yards into the Splinter Ethan needed no indirect proof of the their presence. The walls were dry and crumbly, as Kitti had advised, and they were riddled with tiny crevices. Every crevice, he could now see, was decorated with a tiny silvery glistening web, some of them almost pretty in the noon sunlight; sometimes a little black spider would withdraw out of sight as he approached. There were millions and millions of such crevices and each one seemed to have it’s own occupant. Not all of them were so small, either; the bigger fissures had coarser, ropier webs, and once or twice he glimpsed a long chitinous leg which implied that the spiders could grow to the size

of soup-plates. Something struck him; what the hell do they live on? The few small animal skeletons he had seen wouldn’t feed this multitude. Maybe they eat each other, he thought hopefully. Despite their eroded roughness he could see that the walls would be impossible to scale; even a child’s weight would be too much for the rock to support.

“Not to mention getting a fistful of spiders in your face at every step,” he thought.

There were no plants growing in the sandy soil of the labyrinth, but shaggy carpets of moss and lichen hung from the higher outcrops and waved their fronds in the draught that blew constantly through the Splinter. Every so often two outcrops would join to form a natural arch; occasionally the arches themselves would join together and the company would find themselves walking through a dimly lit tunnel. With the fronds undulating in the breeze and the half light, Ethan

felt it was almost like walking under the sea. But wherever they walked, they could sense that the spiders were watching them.

After a few hours they came to a small island in the maze, a few yards square only, with one exit path leading onward on the far side. Here there at last was room for them to sit on the sandy floor and rest all together and water the horses, whose grateful slurps seemed abnormally loud in the confined space.

“Not too long to go now,” said Kitti, “and it hasn’t been so bad this far, has it?”

“Yeah, a genuine holiday,” said Ethan, gratefully taking a huge swig from his water bottle, “Don’t you just dig that scenery passing by; we really should make a weekend out of it, bring the golf clubs next time.”

“Parsifal is restless,” said Donal, patting the great horse, “He is eager for a gallop, but I fear that there may be more than that troubling him.”

“I too am concerned,” said Targon, “The spiders seem agitated. Usually I can’t sense them at all, but today..,” he frowned uncertainly.

“What do you think it could be?” Kitti asked him, “It cannot be due to us alone; they must be well used to being disturbed by travellers, and most caravans would be much larger and noisier than our party. Something is very wrong here; we’d better not stop in this place too long.”

She raised her voice.

“This is the last hard push; after this, it’s an easy run to the coast. But the going gets tougher now till we reach the end of the Splinter; the paths get narrower, and the spiders get bigger. Whatever you do, whatever you do,” she repeated, “Don’t get lost or stray off the path.”

Ethan peered ahead up the path they would be taking.

“What the hell is all that white stuff?” he asked, “Looks like curtains to me, if you excuse the pun.”

Kitti followed his gaze and gasped.

“Targon,” she called, “Take a look at the size of that web. Have you ever seen one as big?”

The hunchback shook his head, looking even more worried.

“And the strands are lying across the path,” he said, “I have never seen such a thing before; we may be walking into a trap. It might be more prudent to turn back and skirt the hills.”

“Web?” said Ethan “That thing is a web? I hope I never meet the spider that built that mother.”

“Listen,” Jac broke in, “Can you hear that noise? What could be making it?”

They were all still for a long moment, listening intently. Ethan could hear it now; a high-pitched, scratching noise, like a cricket might make, or, much more likely, he thought, like a million crickets might make.

“It’s coming from behind us, I reckon, and something tells me I’m not gonna like it, whatever it is,” said Ethan, “This place is just one lark after another, ain’t it, Donal?”

Donal did not reply; he had already drawn his sword and stationed himself at the entrance through which they had come.

“The noise, whatever is causing it, is growing louder,” he said, “Something is coming this way - or many things!”

“Then let’s get out of here,” said Ethan urgently, heading towards the other exit.

“Not that way,” shouted Kitti, “We’ll only get tangled in the web; we mightn’t be able to cut through it; it’s a last resort.”

“Have you any magic we can use?” Jac said to Kitti.

“I could throw up a barrier,” she said, “It will not hold anything powerful for long but at the least it might give us time to see whatever it is that is coming at us.”

“Do it quickly then,” said Donal, “Whatever it is, it is nearly upon us; at least the narrowness of the path will aid our defence.” The urgency of his words belied the calmness of his tone, and not for the first time Ethan wondered how the big Irishman could maintain his composure even at a time like this.

They could all hear the noise much more clearly now, a high-pitched chittering, only multiplied a thousand times.

“I wonder what it could be?” said Ethan sarcastically, “Anyone need three guesses.”

“We shall find out for sure in a moment - it is almost on us,” said Jac, “Targon, Kitti, stay with the horses. Ethan - behind me; if Donal falls, I’ll take over. If I

fall--.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” saidd Ethan, “I’ll act like the little boy and stick my finger in the dyke; hey, big guy,” he called to Donal, “Don’t let nuthin’ past you now, d’you hear?”

“Ethan,” Donal said unexpectedly, “Shall we take Jac on our fishing trip?”

“Well, I dunno, big fella,” laughed Ethan, as the others looked on in bemusement, momentarily forgetting their fear, “You know what young lads are like, no patience, they can’t sit still even for a moment; he might get in the way, be too busy running along the riverbank chasing after pretty girls, and that kind of thing might disturb the fish.”

As he spoke the noise reached a crescendo, and around the corner spilled a flood of spiders, a mass of tiny, wriggling creatures that formed a living carpet on the floor of the path.

Donal jumped back.

“There are far too many of them and they are too small. Swords will be no defence against such as these,” he shouted, “We’ll have to go on.”

The little spiders boiled up against the invisible barrier of Kitti’s spell, washing furiously upon it like tides on a beach.

“Will it hold them long?” Jac asked Kitti.

“I don’t know,” she said, struggling to bring the terrified horses into line, “I’ve never tried it before.”

“Oh, great,” growled Ethan, “We can rest here for the night then, I guess – maybe even throw a few steaks on the barbecue and have a few cool beers as well.”

“Donal, you go first with Parsifal; the other horses might follow his lead,” said Jac, “And you’ll have the best chance of cutting through that web; the strands look much too thick for my blades.

Donal didn’t answer, but grabbed Parsifal’s bridle from Kitti and ran down the tunnel, before plunging, sword swinging, into the web.

“Man, look at that crazy Irishman go,” said Ethan, lost in admiration despite the extremity of their plight, before barging in after him.

Donal hacked desperately at the web, knowing all too well that he was the company’s only hope. The strands were thick and gluey, and although his sword cut them easily enough they stuck to the blade and then in turn to his hands as he tried to release it. Nevertheless he pushed on, trying with all his might to force a passage for the others; he could sense Parsifal’s fear, but he knew they had no other option, and he ploughed onward, chopping desperately with all of his strength. He sliced through the last of the thickest strands; the path ahead was almost free.

Suddenly a spider scuttled down the web ahead of him to block his way forward. It was huge, as large as a dog, it’s fangs drooling what Donal guessed was the poison Kitti had mentioned.

It began to stalk forward towards him. Perhaps used to more passive, entrapped prey, it’s movements were sluggish and predictable, and it was an easy target. Donal hacked at it, and his sword sheered easily through legs and body alike. The spider collapsed, it’s legs spasming widely, it’s wounds dripping green ichor. Donal could see other dark shapes creeping along the webs towards him, stalking him; then he heard Parsifal scream in terror, a frightening sound from the great war-horse. Donal looked back and saw that the great spiders were on him. Further back he could see dim forms that he knew were his friends struggling

despairingly in the folds of the web while spider shapes scuttled around them and over them in their thousands. The forms slumped to the ground, still covered by swathes of web and a living coat of spiders.

Ignoring the clear path and chance of escape ahead of him he started back, hacking once more at the web; futile though he knew his efforts would be, he would not desert his friends, but before he had gone even a few yards he was struck heavily from behind, and something large clutched onto his shoulder. He was knocked to the ground and his face was gouged roughly into the sandy soil; he felt a burning sting on the back of his neck. He tried in vain to raise his sword arm, but by now it was securely bound to his body by sticky bands of spider-silk. A wave of nausea washed over him.

“Just let me have one last strike,” he thought to himself, heaving up from the ground against all the weight of the web with a final effort. Then, the last of his strength gone, he collapsed down to the sand again, and his world slowly went black.

“So this is how it ends,” he thought, as his consciousness worried briefly about his friends, then fluttered away like a whisper in the night.