Some of Johan’s guards accepted their fate and fought until the bitter end. A few fools tried to flee. Yet most were familiar enough with guild protocols to drop their weapons, strip off anything of value, and feign unconsciousness, thus forestalling any possible incentive to dispatch them. Gorm’s descent into the palace basement brought them past at least a dozen prone figures lying in their undergarments next to neat piles of loot.
“We want… to catch… Johan.” It was all Gorm could do to speak rather than scream; rage and anticipation were squeezing his chest until his heart burned and his gorge rose in his throat. A red mist was hanging at the edge of his vision, begging him to release his fury.
“True,” said Heraldin.
“So we need… to… hurry!”
Gaist shook his head and pointed at the doorway ahead.
The heavy door wasn’t ornate, but it was covered in enough reinforced hinges, intricate locks, and clear signs of traps to give the impression of decoration—exactly the sort of door one would expect to guard Arth’s greatest treasures. It was open, supporting Gorm’s theory that Johan had recently fled this way. He had not, however, anticipated the massive cobwebs framing the entrance, swaying around a Johan-shaped hole in their middle. A hand-sized spider stared with undisguised malice from the desiccated corpse of a royal clerk just inside the threshold.
“We need to be careful here,” said Laruna. “Slow it down.”
“Like the others,” added Heraldin. The bard nodded to a couple of other exploring parties. Newbloods swarmed the palace upstairs, chasing guards and harassing servants, but seasoned heroes knew that the biggest threats and best loot were likely to be deeper in the newly declared dungeon. Grizzled veterans double-checked top-shelf gear, readied potions, and wove sorcerous wards in anticipation of moving through the ominous doorway.
“What? That?” Gorm asked. The red mists were closing in, inviting him to let go and give himself over to reckless pursuit. “All for a little spider?”
“I wouldn’t say little,” said Heraldin. The spider raised two legs as long as the bard’s fingers and waved them menacingly.
“There’s probably some simple explanation for all them webs anyway,” Gorm said, looking to Jynn.
The wizard looked at the Dwarf askance and shook his head.
“No?” Gorm felt his own unease rising. “I mean, a king’s about to die, right? Maybe that much destiny, I don’t know, compresses bugs’ breeding cycles or otherwise attracts spiders?” His shoulders fell at the omnimancer’s blank expression. “No simple, rational explanation for… for all this?”
He gestured at the spider. An even larger and hairier specimen leapt from the shadows to pounce on the distracted arachnid. In a matter of seconds, it covered its struggling prey in webs and, with an eight-eyed glare at the heroes, dragged its meal back into the shadows.
“No,” said Jynn. “This is just creepy.”
“There’s so much malignant sorcery here,” said Laruna. “And the transformation must have happened quickly. You don’t see this sort of infestation every day.”
Gorm deflated with a long sigh. The corruption ensnaring the palace in thick webs was disturbing, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. “Not every day, but I have seen it before,” he said.
All eyes turned to the Dwarf. “Where?” asked Heraldin.
“In my nightmares, mostly,” said Gorm. “But before that…”
“In the dungeon of Az’Anon the Spider King,” Jynn finished for him.
“Aye.” The Dwarf gripped his face in a mailed hand and grit his teeth. A nagging suspicion tugged at the back of his mind. “Gods, he must have brought it back.”
“Exactly. Help from beyond,” said the omnimancer.
Gorm took a deep breath and dropped his hands to his sides. “Explains a lot.”
“I wish you’d do the same,” said Laruna. “Who brought what back?”
“Johan brought something back from the dungeon of Az’Anon,” said Gorm. “Something big and evil and with an affinity for spiders. Back when Az’Anon killed some of the best heroes I knew and sent me runnin’, Johan of Embleden was just a young hotshot with more ribbons on his tabard than quests under his belt. But afterward, Johan started taking on solo quests to slay the most powerful wizards on Arth.”
The omnimancer nodded. “In a few years he was the guild’s most celebrated hero, and some time after that the Champion of Tandos, and then the King of the Freedlands. His rapid rise suggests aid from something supernatural.”
“The only question is what that somethin’ is,” said Gorm.
“I’ll bet it’s epic, whatever it is.” Heraldin grimaced and shot Gaist a meaningful look.
Gorm ignored the bard. “Could be a coven of dark magic users, or any kind of demon, or a spider totem, or even Az’Anon’s ghost. Not sure how we can figure out what.”
“I believe I can answer that,” said Jynn.
“Ye know what’s behind all this?” said Gorm.
“No,” said the wizard. “But I believe whatever it was also made Az’Anon the Black into the Spider King. My father and the rest of Az’Anon’s associates from the Leviathan Project were frightened of it, and I suspect they had theories about its nature. And I am nearly certain their letters on the subject are somewhere in the Royal Archives, near the back of this very vault.”
Gorm saw where this was going. “We ain’t got time for readin’ through an archive! I’ll allow that we need to be cautious, but Johan’s makin’ his way toward the stairs now.”
“The stairs we destroyed,” said Laruna.
“He seems to think he’s got a chance, and I ain’t willin’ to risk him bein’ right.” Gorm snorted. “If he can find a way down to the dragon, who knows what he and whatever’s pullin’ his strings will do?”
“Then go on ahead,” said Jynn. “Help me reach the archives, and I’ll find the letters while you make your way to Johan. If you stall for time, I should know what we’re up against before it reveals itself.”
Gorm considered the proposal as he checked over his gear. “We get him started on a monologue, maybe test his strength a bit, play up the final confrontation… I still don’t think ye’ll have more than ten minutes before the bastard either summons his helper or true-forms or some such.”
“Then I’ll make the ten minutes count,” said the omnimancer. The gemstone in the Wyrmwood Staff flared a little brighter at its master’s determination.
Heraldin stepped in. “It does make sense, my friend. We need to know what we’re up against.”
Gaist nodded and watched another party of heroes make their way into the vault. Their weapons gleamed in the amber light of their solamancer’s flame.
