Tales from the Darkewoode

Tales from the Darkewoode

Lost and Found

The silence had followed us.
We were accompanied by the crunching of leaves underneath our boots, and the sickly shrieking of the dusk’s wind, but there was something else.

I was far past my ninetieth, a veteran, and I knew the greener amongst my party had not learned the moods of the Darkewoode as I had. She could be violent in the summer months, inflicting spiteful storms that left you whimpering under her shelter until she decided she’d had enough. In the winter she brought death and decay, an eerie coldness to her temperament that left Men frozen in her midst. Now it was spring, a time for her benevolence, but all we were greeted by was the suffocating sound of silence. They shared my unease without knowing it. Our usual easy banter had shrunk to flinches as replies. Only our heavy breath reminded us of company.

Our ranger, Jude, suddenly stopped short. Her slight frame, unusual for the Beardfolke, had blessed her with the gift of stealth.

“Thorin, the footprints. They end here.”

We had been tracking for days. A villager had lost his young daughter, lame from an accident in the mines, or so Hildegard told me. He’d sought us out, and now we were in the heart of the Darkewoode. Glowing flower buds, eager for their bloom, were climbing up the trunks of ancient oaks. Above us were their thick leaves, silhouetted against the evening sky as the shine of the moon peeked through. The ground was littered with colossal mushrooms and tanglevine that threatened to trip you up on every step. The forest possessed a sublime beauty unmeant for mortals.

“Split up. Search the area. She can’t have vanished into thin air, boy.”

Even as I spoke, I knew something was wrong. My mouth tightened. I glanced around, and headed through a narrow clearing in the shrubbery. There was no green here. Only bone white and sickly yellow, with spiderwebs cluttering the area.

I froze. A body. Wrapped tight in glistening web, golden hair fanned out over the forest floor, mouth slick and dun eyes lifeless. I stepped closer.

A rumbling. The ground seemed to screech, tormented, in a frenzy to move. Trees shook. I stumbled – balance lost. In front, hairy, spiked legs peeled out of the ground, ripping the earth with its claws. An ear-splitting screech. Countless eyes were gaping down at me, bulging with mania, whilst fangs protruded from the depths of its mouth. I couldn’t move. My feet were trapped. Frantically, I tugged and tugged. The spider surged.

I broke free. Instinctively, I lunged. Anywhere. Hoping for a hit. My eyes were not what they once were. But my hammer connected with its thorax. Its skin crumbled beneath my metal. The spider pounced and hissed, pinning me to the ground. Hot slick breath smothered me. The stench of death choked me. I howled as it sunk into my neck, pain overwhelming me. My limbs stiffened, protesting against the agony. I relaxed, weak. Violent nausea took hold. All I could hear was screaming. Who was screaming? Something whizzed past my face. The edges of my world were black, fraying with every second. The weight on top of me had relinquished. I could feel hands on me, lifting me up. Darkness.