STORIES • Re: Swen
As I headed east, feeling the cold wind on my face, I turned around once more. The Pasewalk bunker was far behind me, and the Scribes and mercenaries were beginning to rebuild what was left of their shelter. But to me, this was just another battle, another stop. My destiny was to wander.
I walked through a sandy wasteland where the only trace of human existence was the endless ribbon of road. Sometimes the wind would pick up tiny grains of sand that would hit my face, reminding me of the harshness of this world. I had traveled more than three hundred kilometers from the last buildings before I encountered the first obstacles. The rocky ground began to turn into muddy earth, and the few trees grew like distorted shadows that seemed to follow my every step. Was it my imagination, or was it really warmer? A glow appeared over the horizon, as if the sun was trying to break through heavy clouds.
I had no time for idle thoughts. Such a journey was beyond the strength and capabilities of an ordinary person, but as a mutant I was forced to give more. The ground beneath my feet trembled slightly as I took each step. I knew it wouldn't be an easy route. Avoiding the beaten path exposed me to the cursed dust that seeped into every nook and cranny of my clothes.
At night the silence seemed to last forever, interrupted only by the sounds of nature. The few hours of sleep I managed to catch put me back on my feet, although fatigue didn't leave me completely. I wandered through an area that seemed half dead. At one point, a herd of small creatures resembling hares flew out from between the dense bushes. I managed to hit two of them with a knife. Dinner was ready - there wasn't much to do.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day. The day after tomorrow too. With each step I entered deeper into unexplored territory. The stone walls were gray and nondescript, and the road before me seemed to lead nowhere. As I approached the marshy terrain, the air became heavier. The Szatmar-Bereg swamps awaited, and their sinister atmosphere made me uneasy. The ground beneath my feet grew softer and softer, and each step made a quiet splash. The mist hung low, enveloping me like a damp blanket.
My gaze swept over the tangled vegetation, searching for any sign that I was not alone here. The swamps held secrets and dangers that could surprise anyone who let their guard down for a moment. I knew that this area was teeming with creatures whose existence was often the result of radiation aberrations.
I was about to cross the swamp boundary when I heard a cry. “Swen! Over here!”
I turned quickly. On a small hill, overlooking the murky water and the twisting vegetation, stood Bahar. Her faithful camel, laden with a variety of packages that barely fit on its back, accompanied her. Bahar waved at me, her bright smile piercing the dark swamp landscape like a lantern in the darkness.
“Bahaaaar!” I cried, relieved to see a familiar face. As I wandered through the thicket of trees and ruins, I had missed people I could trust, and Bahar was one of the few I did trust. She was a keen storyteller—her route mostly took her along the trade route between the Schinias bunker and the Peeter Suure tunnels. Meeting her always brought news of the surrounding settlements.
I approached, and her camel stirred impatiently, as if expecting us to move on at any moment.
“Long time no see. Are you still on the road?” I asked, approaching her.
Bahar laughed, her voice melodiously echoing in this hostile land. “Of course you are, Swen! And you? You look a little worse than usual.”
I chuckled, though I could still feel the weight of the battle that had not yet left me. “I’ve had some intense days lately,” I replied, looking out into the distance at the misty horizon. “I encountered something unusual. A monster that controls the dead. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Bahar’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Tell me more!” she said, not hiding her fascination. “You always come across the strangest things around here!”
I smiled slightly, remembering those difficult days. “They attacked the Pasewalk bunker. A whole army of the living dead!”
“Really?” she asked, climbing up to adjust her things on the camel’s back. “You have to tell me all about it by the fire! Scribes always mess up, don't they? And now? Are you on the trail of more secrets?"
"Possibly!" I replied jokingly, narrowing my eyes at her. "But first I need to replenish my supplies. The swamps are no place to rest and drink water."
Bahar nodded and began to tell me about her journey to the underground city of Matiate. "You know they're having trouble with the wind turbine? They said they might be without power soon, and that would be a disaster for them. I thought of you when I heard that—if anyone can help them, it's you, Swen."
I considered her words for a moment. Working in the underground city? It sounded like something that would take my mind off the memories of the battle. Something that would give me a new purpose. "Matiate, you say? That could be interesting."
"Think about it. It's only a few weeks' journey south," she added with a smile, looking around the swamp. "But first, let's find a safe place to camp. I know this area – we don’t want anything to surprise us here.”
Together we began to look for a place where we could safely build a fire. Bahar walked ahead, her camel following patiently behind, its heavy steps rhythmic and soothing. The marshes were treacherous, but she was right—it was better to prepare for the night and rest by the fire before moving on.
Several days of peaceful travel passed. The morning sun painted the old Friendship Bridge in an eerie golden glow, the rusted metal reflecting the pale haze of fading stars. Bahar and I stood on this once-imposing structure, now crumbled by war and time. The waters of the Danube flowed beneath us, a reminder of times gone by.
“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked, my hand on the hilt of my old knife.
“Nothing’s happened here in months,” Bahar replied, “but we should be vigilant.” There was a hint of concern in her voice.
We began a slow march across the bridge, our footsteps echoing off the cracked stones. The bridge, scarred by the past, seemed to be a silent witness to the human tragedy. I walked closer to the edge, looking out at the river. The air was dry, but it smelled of rotting vegetation and something unsettling. Bahar followed me, and the silence around me was increasingly difficult to bear.
"This bridge connected people," she said, her voice distant, "and now it's just a symbol of destruction. "
The tension grew, and as we approached the end, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching us. As my gaze wandered behind me, I noticed three shadows growing between the rubble. Their eyes shone with wild hatred.
"Swen?" Bahar's voice surprised me. "Are you okay?"
"Thieves!" I said, drawing my knife, ready to fight.
Bahar responded just as quickly - her machete gleamed in the sun. We rushed to attack. The metallic sound of blades slicing through the air and brutal blows echoed around us.
“Shit!” I cursed as one of the thieves struck me in the shoulder, but I refused to let up. Our fight was wild and chaotic, as if the bridge itself was crying out for blood.
Bahar, with incredible grace, threw herself at her opponent. Her movements were like a dance—fast, fluid, but deadly precise. The machete flashed through the air, and the steel blade sank into the thief’s shoulder. A scream filled the air, and the man staggered back, clutching at the bleeding wound.
The fight became a chaotic, whirling madness. Our breaths quickened, hands slipping on the sweat- and blood-soaked weapon. I kept dodging blows—one, two, three—before my knife found its target in the assailant’s stomach. His weapon clattered to the stone floor of the bridge, and he tried to strike again, desperately fighting for every breath. Blood dripped from his body, creating a red stain at his feet.
“Swen!” Bahar’s cry pierced the din of the fight. I turned around—her face was twisted in pain, blood seeping from her left thigh, but even then, her eyes were blazing with rage, and the machete was still whistling through the air. Each blow took more and more effort, but she refused to give up.
I gritted my teeth, lunging at her. We were like one organism, our movements synchronized—I blocked blows, she attacked. The fight grew more brutal, as if each successive blow would decide our fate.
With an undisguised, desperate effort, I plunged the knife into the chest of the last attacker. He dropped his blade with a dull thud, his eyes widening in surprise before he slumped to the ground, his life draining away along with the darkening pool of blood.
Bahar swayed on her feet, her face pale. Before she could fall, I caught her, pulling her to me. I could feel her trembling, but her gaze remained sober.
"We have to keep going!" she said through clenched teeth, her voice trembling with pain. "We can do it, Swen. We always do."
As I headed toward Matiate, I felt the weight of the fight weighing down my steps. Bahar had to travel by camel because of her wound, but her determination did not waver. With each step, we were surrounded by the remains of destroyed villages, where the silence was ominously broken by the rustling of distant trees, and the rivers we passed sounded like echoes of past disasters.
Suddenly, after four weeks of exhausting but peaceful travel, the first signs of Matiate began to loom in the distance—a city hidden underground. Its entrance was blocked by a huge wind generator. The rotor stood still, and the metal blades that had once proudly turned against the sky now stood motionless like sleeping sentinels.
“This is it,” I whispered, and Bahar nodded, not hiding her relief. I had to get to the city elders and fix the generator that kept the city alive, but with every passing moment I felt a growing sense of something sinister hanging over us. As if the shadows that had followed us all the way were not coincidental.
“Take care of your wound, Bahar,” I said as we stopped at the gate into the city. “I’ll try to talk to the elders.”
Bahar nodded, weak as she was. We knew we had a challenge ahead of us, and it wouldn’t be limited to fixing the machine. Nothing was that simple in this broken world.
“We were expecting you, Swen,” one of the elders said in a serious voice as I entered the council chamber. “The wind generator is failing more and more often, and there’s no one here who can fix it.”
I nodded, my mind already racing with the task ahead. “I’ll do what I can.”
The elders exchanged meaningful glances, a mixture of hope and fear in their eyes. "We know you'll do your best, Swen. We trust your abilities."
When I was heading towards the generator a moment later, the sun began to set, casting a glow over the city gates. I took a deep breath, a new task awaited me. I was ready to face it, ready to write another chapter of my story.
I climbed upwards, and with each subsequent rusting rung I felt the air around me thicken. The earth slowly receded, and I felt as if I was entering a world where I shouldn't be. I silently cursed those who had decided to install the generator at such a height. I walked carefully, praying that I wouldn't end up like the hero who tragically fell into the abyss, whose name no one remembers anymore.
When I finally reached the top, the dark interior of the room surrounded me with a strange silence. I noticed bones scattered on the floor. Someone had been unlucky here.
Cobwebs. Lots of cobwebs. They seemed to be full of life, as if created by something very sinister.
"Traces of the presence of Ursus Aranea," I thought. A creature from the Far East, living in forgotten corners of the world. What is it doing west of the Aral Sea?
The entire drive shaft and brake were covered in sticky web. I pulled out a knife and began cutting through the webs, making my way to the generator. "What won't a man do for a world that barely functions," I thought ironically.
Suddenly I heard a sound - the sound of a moving shadow. I froze. A spider emerged from the corner. Great, and that too!
I instinctively raised my knife, ready to fight. The spider lunged at me, its legs whistling in the air. I blocked one of its attacks, but the blow was strong - I almost fell into the remains of the webs. I felt the beast trying to circle me. Well, it wasn't the first time I had dealt with such a brute.
I made a few quick slashes at the spider legs, trying to slow it down. One of them happened to hit its abdomen. It hissed in pain but didn’t stop. I had to move faster. I dodged it. Before it could attack again, I jumped for the drive shaft, then spun around with full force, slamming my knife into the center of its body. The spider howled, then fell dead.
With my breathing returning to normal, I began to clear the webs from the drive shaft. Inside the room, I noticed something else—three enormous eggs. The spider definitely wasn’t alone here. I decided to take them with me. Who knew, maybe the elders in town would know what to do with them.
This wasn’t just an ordinary encounter like the other abominations on the ruined Earth. I had a feeling this was something more.
By the time I returned to the village, it was deep night. The darkness was oppressive, with only the faint glow of the moon slipping through the narrow streets, guiding me to the seat of the Elders. The air was thick, and the silence of the shadows around me reminded me that in this world, even night brought no peace. The Elders waited in a torchlit building, their figures trembling in the flickering light.
I crossed the threshold. Their faces, carved in the stone of experience and centuries of knowledge, turned toward me. I could feel their gazes on me. I had always believed they knew more than they could say, as if the past still left its mark on them. I sat down, calmly ignoring their expectant gazes.
“The city has power,” I said, leaning back in my chair and trying to cover up my tiredness. “I fixed the generator, but there are new problems,” I trailed off.
I noticed their faces tighten slightly. As if they knew something else had happened.
“Something strange happened to me,” I continued. “Have you heard of the Ursus Aranea?”
The Elders exchanged glances, and after a moment one of them, probably the oldest, frowned. “Ursus Aranea?” he asked slowly, as if each word weighed a ton.
“Yes. A spider,” I confirmed, leaning forward. “Not like you see every day. A huge mutant. This one built a nest in the generator room, but they’ve never ventured into these parts before. They’re only seen in the far east.”
Silence fell over the room like fog. Each of them seemed to be thinking now. Their faces were drowning in shadows. Finally, one of the Elders broke the silence. “We’ve had a few similar reports. People say they’ve seen similar creatures up the stream from where we get our water.”
“And what did you do?” I asked, although the answer was obvious.
The Elder nodded. “No one came forward to check on those reports.”
I frowned, feeling irritated. This place was their home, their source of life, and yet they were afraid to take the risk? I couldn’t understand how fear could paralyze action so much.
“I’ll check it out,” I said, looking directly at the Elders. “I’ve never refused to help. Perhaps my skills could be of use.”
The Elders were relieved to hear my words, but before I left the room, I pulled something out of my bag that caught their attention. “I found these eggs in the nest. I’d like you to give them to the local Scribes. They might learn something.”
The Elder respectfully accepted the eggs from me, nodding, “I’ll deliver them myself.”
I waved them off when they tried to thank me. Now all I wanted was some rest. As I left the room, I felt the mysterious atmosphere leave behind me, but the walls of the place still seemed to whisper.
When I finally reached my room, everything became easier. A hot bath brought relief to my tired muscles, and a hearty meal reminded me how much I had missed such comfort. I went to bed, but sleep brought no peace.
Nightmares. I saw huge spiderwebs, like when I first fell into the Ursus Aranea trap. The webs wrapped around me, and I fought two beasts at once. I killed them, but I paid a high price for it. It was only by chance that people found me in the ruins of the Saraman-Kosa tower. I lay unconscious for days. I almost died.
I woke up with a start, trying to catch my breath. Reality returned, but the memories were too vivid. Fortunately, I managed to get some sleep, and that was something.
After breakfast, I went in search of Bahar. I found her in a small house, where an herbalist was tending to her wound. Fortunately, it turned out to be less serious than I had thought. Bahar looked better, although she was still weak.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting down opposite her.
“Better!” she smiled weakly. “How are you?”
I told her about the spider, the Elders, and the task they had given me. Bahar listened in silence, and when I finished, I looked at her with a smile.
“Would you like to join me?” I asked jokingly. “You always said you wanted an adventure. And my expeditions rarely end in anything predictable.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, clearly hesitating. I could see the fear in her eyes, but there was also excitement, which was becoming more and more evident with each passing second. “I never know what I’ll get into when I’m with you,” she replied, then added, “Okay, I’ll go with you.”
I smiled broadly. I knew fear was holding her back, but curiosity and a lust for adventure were stronger. Together we would go on an adventure, to discover what lurked upstream!
We walked through narrow, damp tunnels. The echo of footsteps mingled with the soft rush of water. Bahar spoke almost continuously. At first, it seemed to me that she was trying to fill the silence, or drown out the fear.
"My grandfather was a Scribe, did you know? He told me a lot about the past," there was something in her voice that was more distracting than the echo—as if she were absent, lost in her own thoughts. I wondered how much of it was simply to hide her emotions, and how much of it was from a genuine need to share this knowledge.
"Before the explosion, humans were too dependent on machines," she continued, and I simply nodded, letting her continue. I replayed the map of the caves in my head, trying to find logic in their endless corridors. With each passing moment, it seemed that we were getting further and further away from reality.
“You know, people were stupid,” she said suddenly, almost as if she was expressing something she felt deep in her heart. “They were so stupid that they trusted technology more than each other.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Was she trying to tell me something? Or maybe she was just repeating what my grandfather had told her, unaware of how appropriate those words were to our situation.
The silence that followed was almost tangible. The tunnel seemed smaller now, the stream quieter. Was she waiting for an answer?
“People have always been like that,” I replied after a long moment, without taking my eyes off the narrow passage ahead of us. “Technology is just a tool. Some people have simply forgotten that you have to know how to use it before it can be useful.”
Bahar didn’t answer. Maybe we had reached a point where it was no longer necessary to talk, but to just move forward, deeper into the darkness? No. She continued her story. She seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into her memories, as if the dark tunnels and the cold of the stream were awakening long-forgotten images in her mind.
“When I was little, everything was different in the Schinias bunker,” she began, quickening her pace. “The walls were cold, and the air always smelled musty. We lived in constant darkness, because they were saving energy. We had a generator, but we never knew how long it would last.”
I wondered what it must have been like—living underground, locked up, with no space, no sun. Perhaps that was why Bahar had been so eager to go to the surface. Space, even if it was destroyed, was better than the darkness of the bunker.
“Grandpa always said that we women had it harder. Men had our strength, went hunting. Women raised children, cooked, learned to survive. It’s funny that now I’m the one traveling and trading, isn’t it?” She fell silent for a moment, as if the words meant more to her than I had expected. I left her in that silence, giving her time to think, but it didn’t last long.
“I always dreamed of seeing the world outside. My father said there was nothing there – only death and ruins, but my grandfather had a different opinion. He told me about the time before the explosion, about cities full of life and light. He always ended with one sentence – people destroyed it all themselves.” She looked at me briefly, as if looking for confirmation that her words made sense.
“I was always curious about what was on the surface. People who went out said it was hell. But I wanted to see it with my own eyes. And when the day finally came that I could go out, it was like waking up. Everything was destroyed, dead, but at least it was different. At least we were no longer locked in this concrete tomb.” Bahar’s voice was clear, telling her about the past was a burden, but at the same time it gave her a sense of security.
“Maybe that’s why I travel,” she finally said. “I’ve never found a place I could call home. I felt trapped in the bunker, and now, outside? Maybe someday I’ll find something that will hold me for a while longer.” She fell silent, and the silence that fell was different this time. More deliberate. I had the impression that her story, although rich in detail, hid something deeper—something she was still afraid to talk about.
We continued in silence, stepping carefully over the damp rocks. Upstream. The tunnels closed in around us more and more, and the walls seemed to tremble in the semidarkness. Bahar, usually talkative, was silent. She seemed restless, but there was no turning back. Her hand was nervously clenching the hilt of her machete, which worried me more than the silence. When we entered a larger, expansive cavern, we froze. Cobwebs hung heavily from the ceiling, entwining every stone and ledge. Bones gleamed on the ground, gleaming in the glow of our torches—some were clearly animal, but others were eerily human.
“Can we really do this?” Bahar asked, pulling out her machete. Its blade gleamed in the dim light, ready to cut.
“We have no choice,” I replied, pulling out the old knife that always accompanied me in such situations. It was like an extension of my hand, reliable, but this time I felt a special fear. These were no ordinary animals. The Ursus Aranea were something more. “We have to try. It would be too dangerous to return now, and those spiders could threaten the city.”
Bahar looked at me seriously, and I saw in her eyes the same determination that often guided my steps. Despite my fear, she knew we had to act.
I began to prepare a new torch. I knew that fire was our only chance. I quickly tied the material I had in my backpack around the already burnt stick. I rubbed the flint on the stone, feeling the adrenaline quicken my pulse. The fire flared up rapidly, and the cave was instantly filled with warm, shimmering light.
“Ready?” I asked, and she nodded. She was fully focused. Three spiders were in front of us, moving slowly, as if they were exploring the area. Their bodies were huge, dark, and armored. Their spider legs, long as swords, made soft, scratchy sounds as they moved across the stony ground. We decided—we had to strike first.
“Strike quickly, before they realize it. On three?” I whispered, counting in my mind.
“It will be quick,” she replied in an equally soft voice, and we jumped out of hiding.
We rushed towards the spiders. The fire in my hand shot forward, and one of the monsters hissed furiously, retreating from the flame. Bahar moved quickly, the machete in her hands cutting through the spiderwebs and the creature's legs. She cut precisely, but I felt that with each blow we were meeting more and more resistance. The spider's armor was thick, as if these mutated creatures were protected by nature from anything that could hurt them.
The spider attacked, throwing itself at Bahar. I only had time to jump to the side as its legs flew right past my face. I quickly got up and aimed a blow at the spider, driving the knife into its soft tissue under the armor. "Aaargh!" the creature made a terrifying sound, staggering from the blow received, but I knew that this was only the beginning.
The second spider approached me, and I raised the torch, trying to scare it away with the fire. It squealed loudly, but did not give up. I felt its jaws getting closer with every second, but at the last moment Bahar struck it from the side, severing one of its legs. The spider staggered, and I used the moment to finish the attack - the knife dug deep, and the monster fell to the ground.
There was a third one left. We were already tired and wounded, but we had to defeat it. Bahar was fast, but the spider caught her leg with its claw and knocked her down. Before it could bite, I threw myself at it with the knife. I dealt a few blows, but the creature was too strong. Bahar, despite the pain, managed to stand up and plunged the machete into the spider with such force that its armor cracked. "Shhh!" the creature gave a final hiss, then fell dead.
We breathed heavily, trying to catch our breath. I thought it was over, all the spiders were dead, but then something huge moved in the darkness of the cave. She emerged from the depths of the lair. Three times larger than the rest, her eyes sparkled with intelligence, and from her throat emerged a voice I never expected to hear. It was surprisingly… human?
“Why are you killing my children?” she asked, her words rough, unnatural, but understandable. We held our breaths, staring at her in shock. “Arachne,” she said slowly, her voice echoing in my head. “Don’t you understand who I am?”
I closed my eyes for a split second, trying to calm the tremors in my hands. Arachne approached slowly, tensing the atmosphere with each step. Still, she wasn’t the biggest threat now. Bahar’s breathing quickened, and her gaze became unsteady.
“Swen, I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
I looked at her, surprised. This wasn’t the same Bahar I’d seen a moment ago, fighting spiders, full of determination. She was a different person now—frightened, on the verge of breaking down.
"I can't, you understand? I can't," her voice cracked and tears filled her eyes. "I've always, always been afraid of spiders. Obsessively! I wanted to be brave, I wanted to impress you. But now? Arachne? I can't anymore!"
I knew it wasn't just fear, it was real panic. Bahar was holding the machete, but her hands were shaking so much she couldn't even hit a stone. Arachne was getting closer. Just a few more steps and we'd have no way to escape.
"Bahar, listen," I began, trying to speak calmly, but inside I felt the same thing - fear. "We can't give up now, do you understand? If you run, I'll be left here alone. I can't do it alone against Arachne. I need you. I need your help like never before!"
She looked at me, but I could see she was fighting with herself. Her instincts were screaming to run, and I had to find a way to stop it.
"Bahar!" I tried to keep eye contact. "We fight together. We've always fought together. Now, more than ever, I need you here. I'm just as scared as you are, but if we run now, there's no going back. This is our only chance!"
Bahar's eyes glazed over, and her hands were still shaking. She took a step back, as if she had already made up her mind. "You're my best friend," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to leave you, but I don't know if I can do this."
"I know," I interrupted, trying to sound as certain as possible. "This isn't about me right now. This is about us. If you leave now, we won't win. If you can't, I can't either. You know I won't leave you alone, and you won't leave me alone, right?"
Bahar closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Arachne was almost standing over us. I could tell we didn't have much time. But Bahar had to go through this. She had to understand that running away wasn't an option.
"I can't, Swen," she repeated quietly. But then she did something I didn’t expect. She clenched her fists around the hilt of her machete and stood up straight. She looked at me, her gaze suddenly more focused. “If I’m going to die, I want to die with you.”
I smiled at her, though I could feel the tension in my stomach. “We won’t die. Not today.”
Arachne was within reach, her human voice echoing through the darkness again: “Why are you killing my children?”
“Not today!” I roared, raising my knife and aiming straight at the spider’s belly. Fully concentrated, I struck with all my might, but the blade merely slid off its thick armor. The monster reacted instantly, one of its legs striking with full force, throwing me into the air. I fell hard, hitting my back against the damp cave wall. Pain burned through my ribs, and for a moment I felt as if my breath had completely disappeared from my lungs. I tried to get up, but every bend, every movement, reminded me of shattered bones. I was barely aware of what was happening around me, but I managed to see Bahar lunge at the spider, striking with her machete with a precision and energy I had not seen from her before.
Each of her blows seemed to be a precisely planned part of a deadly dance. The machete, glistening with her blood, swung at breakneck speed, striking Arachne’s limbs. Bahar was fast, and each cut found its mark. Unfortunately, each blow met with the same result – the armor of the mother of spiders deflected the blade. She was indestructible, her skin was as hard as steel.
Bahar's fight resembled a real dance, full of verve and emotion, but eventually her pace slowed down. She was wounded, and blood ran down her arms, creating bloody lines on her skin. Every step was slower now, every blow weaker, as if she was starting to lose hope.
Finally, the moment came – Bahar fell to one knee, breathing heavily. I thought it was the end, that Arachne would finally catch her. My heart froze in my chest. This was supposed to be our end.
Then I heard something strange. A calm and melodic voice began to echo in the cave. The echo of a quiet song filled the air.
"In a dark cave, where shadows weave tight,
Arachne spins in the still of the night.
The gods look down with scorn in their eyes,
Laughing at pride that her armor belies".
A male voice. It was eerie, as if from another world. I looked toward the tunnel and saw a torch. It was held by a long-haired, slender man. His clothes were worn, but they must have once been beautiful. Every note of his song seemed to hypnotize Arachne. She stopped. For a moment her mortal legs stopped moving.
"Though fate entwines her in cruel despair,
Her pride still burns, though her heart may tear.
Wounded, yet fighting, she will not yield,
Weaving her fate on this shadowed field".
I did everything I could to focus on the song and understand what was happening. Bahar, seeing an opportunity, slowly backed away. She managed to reach me. She put her arms around me and began to help me stand. Every movement reminded me of my cracked ribs, but I knew we couldn't stay where we were. I felt the weight of her body, tired, battered, but full of determination.
"The gods are laughing, their mirth rings clear,
Yet Arachne’s pride shows no trace of fear.
Trapped by her hubris, she dares defy,
Weaving her threads as time passes by".
Bahar and I looked at each other. Who was this man? How on earth could his song have such a powerful effect on Arachne?
"But only the blade that hides in the shade,
Can cut through her throat, where silence is laid.
Quietly ending her life’s fragile thread,
Leaving her story in whispers unsaid".
"Throat!" I tried to shout, but all I could manage was a wheeze from the pain. But Bahar understood - we had to aim for her throat. It was the only weak spot.
Together, slowly, tired and wounded, we rose. Bahar broke into a run, and I followed her, although each step hurt more than the last. We knew this was our last chance.
Arachne, distracted by the song, didn't notice us running closer. Bahar threw the first blow, aiming exactly where it was needed - for the throat. The strike was perfect. The machete's blade dug deep, and I, fighting the pain, joined her, pushing my knife into the same spot. The blades sank into the monster's flesh. Arachne screeched, trying to pull away, but she was too weak. With every second I felt the life draining from her body. Finally she fell dead.
We were breathing heavily, soaked in blood, but alive. I looked at Bahar, her face was tired, but she smiled at me, and in her eyes I saw what I felt - relief.
As we looked toward the tunnel, the man disappeared, as if he had never been there.
When I finally gathered my strength, I looked at Bahar and asked rhetorically, trying to control the trembling in my voice, "Who the hell was that man?"
Bahar was silent for a moment, as if she was struggling internally, before she answered slowly, "I'm not sure, but he reminds me of someone. Long ago, when my grandfather kept the Scribes’ books, a man dressed very similarly visited him. They were searching for something important in the old tomes together. I don’t know what it was, but my grandfather called him a bard.
The word sounded familiar, like an echo of a long-forgotten song. Whoever the bard was, his presence here was like a piece of a larger puzzle that I didn’t yet understand.
We sat in silence for a while, as if each of us was trying to piece together in our minds what had just happened. Weariness was finally starting to take over my body. Even thinking about going back to the city seemed like a challenge.
“Let’s go back,” I said, trying to get to my feet. Bahar nodded, but I could see that she was as tired as I was.
We got to our feet and headed toward the city. All I wanted was a bath, hot water to wash the blood and dirt off me, and a bed where I could forget about this nightmare. For a while, at least.
Statystyki: autor: BIG POTATO — 14 gru 2024, 23:04
---
https://bigpotato.online/viewtopic.php?p=7&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=blogger&utm_campaign=grzegorz%20w%20sieci%21#p7
I walked through a sandy wasteland where the only trace of human existence was the endless ribbon of road. Sometimes the wind would pick up tiny grains of sand that would hit my face, reminding me of the harshness of this world. I had traveled more than three hundred kilometers from the last buildings before I encountered the first obstacles. The rocky ground began to turn into muddy earth, and the few trees grew like distorted shadows that seemed to follow my every step. Was it my imagination, or was it really warmer? A glow appeared over the horizon, as if the sun was trying to break through heavy clouds.
I had no time for idle thoughts. Such a journey was beyond the strength and capabilities of an ordinary person, but as a mutant I was forced to give more. The ground beneath my feet trembled slightly as I took each step. I knew it wouldn't be an easy route. Avoiding the beaten path exposed me to the cursed dust that seeped into every nook and cranny of my clothes.
At night the silence seemed to last forever, interrupted only by the sounds of nature. The few hours of sleep I managed to catch put me back on my feet, although fatigue didn't leave me completely. I wandered through an area that seemed half dead. At one point, a herd of small creatures resembling hares flew out from between the dense bushes. I managed to hit two of them with a knife. Dinner was ready - there wasn't much to do.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day. The day after tomorrow too. With each step I entered deeper into unexplored territory. The stone walls were gray and nondescript, and the road before me seemed to lead nowhere. As I approached the marshy terrain, the air became heavier. The Szatmar-Bereg swamps awaited, and their sinister atmosphere made me uneasy. The ground beneath my feet grew softer and softer, and each step made a quiet splash. The mist hung low, enveloping me like a damp blanket.
My gaze swept over the tangled vegetation, searching for any sign that I was not alone here. The swamps held secrets and dangers that could surprise anyone who let their guard down for a moment. I knew that this area was teeming with creatures whose existence was often the result of radiation aberrations.
I was about to cross the swamp boundary when I heard a cry. “Swen! Over here!”
I turned quickly. On a small hill, overlooking the murky water and the twisting vegetation, stood Bahar. Her faithful camel, laden with a variety of packages that barely fit on its back, accompanied her. Bahar waved at me, her bright smile piercing the dark swamp landscape like a lantern in the darkness.
“Bahaaaar!” I cried, relieved to see a familiar face. As I wandered through the thicket of trees and ruins, I had missed people I could trust, and Bahar was one of the few I did trust. She was a keen storyteller—her route mostly took her along the trade route between the Schinias bunker and the Peeter Suure tunnels. Meeting her always brought news of the surrounding settlements.
I approached, and her camel stirred impatiently, as if expecting us to move on at any moment.
“Long time no see. Are you still on the road?” I asked, approaching her.
Bahar laughed, her voice melodiously echoing in this hostile land. “Of course you are, Swen! And you? You look a little worse than usual.”
I chuckled, though I could still feel the weight of the battle that had not yet left me. “I’ve had some intense days lately,” I replied, looking out into the distance at the misty horizon. “I encountered something unusual. A monster that controls the dead. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Bahar’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Tell me more!” she said, not hiding her fascination. “You always come across the strangest things around here!”
I smiled slightly, remembering those difficult days. “They attacked the Pasewalk bunker. A whole army of the living dead!”
“Really?” she asked, climbing up to adjust her things on the camel’s back. “You have to tell me all about it by the fire! Scribes always mess up, don't they? And now? Are you on the trail of more secrets?"
"Possibly!" I replied jokingly, narrowing my eyes at her. "But first I need to replenish my supplies. The swamps are no place to rest and drink water."
Bahar nodded and began to tell me about her journey to the underground city of Matiate. "You know they're having trouble with the wind turbine? They said they might be without power soon, and that would be a disaster for them. I thought of you when I heard that—if anyone can help them, it's you, Swen."
I considered her words for a moment. Working in the underground city? It sounded like something that would take my mind off the memories of the battle. Something that would give me a new purpose. "Matiate, you say? That could be interesting."
"Think about it. It's only a few weeks' journey south," she added with a smile, looking around the swamp. "But first, let's find a safe place to camp. I know this area – we don’t want anything to surprise us here.”
Together we began to look for a place where we could safely build a fire. Bahar walked ahead, her camel following patiently behind, its heavy steps rhythmic and soothing. The marshes were treacherous, but she was right—it was better to prepare for the night and rest by the fire before moving on.
Several days of peaceful travel passed. The morning sun painted the old Friendship Bridge in an eerie golden glow, the rusted metal reflecting the pale haze of fading stars. Bahar and I stood on this once-imposing structure, now crumbled by war and time. The waters of the Danube flowed beneath us, a reminder of times gone by.
“Do you think it’s safe?” I asked, my hand on the hilt of my old knife.
“Nothing’s happened here in months,” Bahar replied, “but we should be vigilant.” There was a hint of concern in her voice.
We began a slow march across the bridge, our footsteps echoing off the cracked stones. The bridge, scarred by the past, seemed to be a silent witness to the human tragedy. I walked closer to the edge, looking out at the river. The air was dry, but it smelled of rotting vegetation and something unsettling. Bahar followed me, and the silence around me was increasingly difficult to bear.
"This bridge connected people," she said, her voice distant, "and now it's just a symbol of destruction. "
The tension grew, and as we approached the end, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching us. As my gaze wandered behind me, I noticed three shadows growing between the rubble. Their eyes shone with wild hatred.
"Swen?" Bahar's voice surprised me. "Are you okay?"
"Thieves!" I said, drawing my knife, ready to fight.
Bahar responded just as quickly - her machete gleamed in the sun. We rushed to attack. The metallic sound of blades slicing through the air and brutal blows echoed around us.
“Shit!” I cursed as one of the thieves struck me in the shoulder, but I refused to let up. Our fight was wild and chaotic, as if the bridge itself was crying out for blood.
Bahar, with incredible grace, threw herself at her opponent. Her movements were like a dance—fast, fluid, but deadly precise. The machete flashed through the air, and the steel blade sank into the thief’s shoulder. A scream filled the air, and the man staggered back, clutching at the bleeding wound.
The fight became a chaotic, whirling madness. Our breaths quickened, hands slipping on the sweat- and blood-soaked weapon. I kept dodging blows—one, two, three—before my knife found its target in the assailant’s stomach. His weapon clattered to the stone floor of the bridge, and he tried to strike again, desperately fighting for every breath. Blood dripped from his body, creating a red stain at his feet.
“Swen!” Bahar’s cry pierced the din of the fight. I turned around—her face was twisted in pain, blood seeping from her left thigh, but even then, her eyes were blazing with rage, and the machete was still whistling through the air. Each blow took more and more effort, but she refused to give up.
I gritted my teeth, lunging at her. We were like one organism, our movements synchronized—I blocked blows, she attacked. The fight grew more brutal, as if each successive blow would decide our fate.
With an undisguised, desperate effort, I plunged the knife into the chest of the last attacker. He dropped his blade with a dull thud, his eyes widening in surprise before he slumped to the ground, his life draining away along with the darkening pool of blood.
Bahar swayed on her feet, her face pale. Before she could fall, I caught her, pulling her to me. I could feel her trembling, but her gaze remained sober.
"We have to keep going!" she said through clenched teeth, her voice trembling with pain. "We can do it, Swen. We always do."
As I headed toward Matiate, I felt the weight of the fight weighing down my steps. Bahar had to travel by camel because of her wound, but her determination did not waver. With each step, we were surrounded by the remains of destroyed villages, where the silence was ominously broken by the rustling of distant trees, and the rivers we passed sounded like echoes of past disasters.
Suddenly, after four weeks of exhausting but peaceful travel, the first signs of Matiate began to loom in the distance—a city hidden underground. Its entrance was blocked by a huge wind generator. The rotor stood still, and the metal blades that had once proudly turned against the sky now stood motionless like sleeping sentinels.
“This is it,” I whispered, and Bahar nodded, not hiding her relief. I had to get to the city elders and fix the generator that kept the city alive, but with every passing moment I felt a growing sense of something sinister hanging over us. As if the shadows that had followed us all the way were not coincidental.
“Take care of your wound, Bahar,” I said as we stopped at the gate into the city. “I’ll try to talk to the elders.”
Bahar nodded, weak as she was. We knew we had a challenge ahead of us, and it wouldn’t be limited to fixing the machine. Nothing was that simple in this broken world.
“We were expecting you, Swen,” one of the elders said in a serious voice as I entered the council chamber. “The wind generator is failing more and more often, and there’s no one here who can fix it.”
I nodded, my mind already racing with the task ahead. “I’ll do what I can.”
The elders exchanged meaningful glances, a mixture of hope and fear in their eyes. "We know you'll do your best, Swen. We trust your abilities."
When I was heading towards the generator a moment later, the sun began to set, casting a glow over the city gates. I took a deep breath, a new task awaited me. I was ready to face it, ready to write another chapter of my story.
I climbed upwards, and with each subsequent rusting rung I felt the air around me thicken. The earth slowly receded, and I felt as if I was entering a world where I shouldn't be. I silently cursed those who had decided to install the generator at such a height. I walked carefully, praying that I wouldn't end up like the hero who tragically fell into the abyss, whose name no one remembers anymore.
When I finally reached the top, the dark interior of the room surrounded me with a strange silence. I noticed bones scattered on the floor. Someone had been unlucky here.
Cobwebs. Lots of cobwebs. They seemed to be full of life, as if created by something very sinister.
"Traces of the presence of Ursus Aranea," I thought. A creature from the Far East, living in forgotten corners of the world. What is it doing west of the Aral Sea?
The entire drive shaft and brake were covered in sticky web. I pulled out a knife and began cutting through the webs, making my way to the generator. "What won't a man do for a world that barely functions," I thought ironically.
Suddenly I heard a sound - the sound of a moving shadow. I froze. A spider emerged from the corner. Great, and that too!
I instinctively raised my knife, ready to fight. The spider lunged at me, its legs whistling in the air. I blocked one of its attacks, but the blow was strong - I almost fell into the remains of the webs. I felt the beast trying to circle me. Well, it wasn't the first time I had dealt with such a brute.
I made a few quick slashes at the spider legs, trying to slow it down. One of them happened to hit its abdomen. It hissed in pain but didn’t stop. I had to move faster. I dodged it. Before it could attack again, I jumped for the drive shaft, then spun around with full force, slamming my knife into the center of its body. The spider howled, then fell dead.
With my breathing returning to normal, I began to clear the webs from the drive shaft. Inside the room, I noticed something else—three enormous eggs. The spider definitely wasn’t alone here. I decided to take them with me. Who knew, maybe the elders in town would know what to do with them.
This wasn’t just an ordinary encounter like the other abominations on the ruined Earth. I had a feeling this was something more.
By the time I returned to the village, it was deep night. The darkness was oppressive, with only the faint glow of the moon slipping through the narrow streets, guiding me to the seat of the Elders. The air was thick, and the silence of the shadows around me reminded me that in this world, even night brought no peace. The Elders waited in a torchlit building, their figures trembling in the flickering light.
I crossed the threshold. Their faces, carved in the stone of experience and centuries of knowledge, turned toward me. I could feel their gazes on me. I had always believed they knew more than they could say, as if the past still left its mark on them. I sat down, calmly ignoring their expectant gazes.
“The city has power,” I said, leaning back in my chair and trying to cover up my tiredness. “I fixed the generator, but there are new problems,” I trailed off.
I noticed their faces tighten slightly. As if they knew something else had happened.
“Something strange happened to me,” I continued. “Have you heard of the Ursus Aranea?”
The Elders exchanged glances, and after a moment one of them, probably the oldest, frowned. “Ursus Aranea?” he asked slowly, as if each word weighed a ton.
“Yes. A spider,” I confirmed, leaning forward. “Not like you see every day. A huge mutant. This one built a nest in the generator room, but they’ve never ventured into these parts before. They’re only seen in the far east.”
Silence fell over the room like fog. Each of them seemed to be thinking now. Their faces were drowning in shadows. Finally, one of the Elders broke the silence. “We’ve had a few similar reports. People say they’ve seen similar creatures up the stream from where we get our water.”
“And what did you do?” I asked, although the answer was obvious.
The Elder nodded. “No one came forward to check on those reports.”
I frowned, feeling irritated. This place was their home, their source of life, and yet they were afraid to take the risk? I couldn’t understand how fear could paralyze action so much.
“I’ll check it out,” I said, looking directly at the Elders. “I’ve never refused to help. Perhaps my skills could be of use.”
The Elders were relieved to hear my words, but before I left the room, I pulled something out of my bag that caught their attention. “I found these eggs in the nest. I’d like you to give them to the local Scribes. They might learn something.”
The Elder respectfully accepted the eggs from me, nodding, “I’ll deliver them myself.”
I waved them off when they tried to thank me. Now all I wanted was some rest. As I left the room, I felt the mysterious atmosphere leave behind me, but the walls of the place still seemed to whisper.
When I finally reached my room, everything became easier. A hot bath brought relief to my tired muscles, and a hearty meal reminded me how much I had missed such comfort. I went to bed, but sleep brought no peace.
Nightmares. I saw huge spiderwebs, like when I first fell into the Ursus Aranea trap. The webs wrapped around me, and I fought two beasts at once. I killed them, but I paid a high price for it. It was only by chance that people found me in the ruins of the Saraman-Kosa tower. I lay unconscious for days. I almost died.
I woke up with a start, trying to catch my breath. Reality returned, but the memories were too vivid. Fortunately, I managed to get some sleep, and that was something.
After breakfast, I went in search of Bahar. I found her in a small house, where an herbalist was tending to her wound. Fortunately, it turned out to be less serious than I had thought. Bahar looked better, although she was still weak.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, sitting down opposite her.
“Better!” she smiled weakly. “How are you?”
I told her about the spider, the Elders, and the task they had given me. Bahar listened in silence, and when I finished, I looked at her with a smile.
“Would you like to join me?” I asked jokingly. “You always said you wanted an adventure. And my expeditions rarely end in anything predictable.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, clearly hesitating. I could see the fear in her eyes, but there was also excitement, which was becoming more and more evident with each passing second. “I never know what I’ll get into when I’m with you,” she replied, then added, “Okay, I’ll go with you.”
I smiled broadly. I knew fear was holding her back, but curiosity and a lust for adventure were stronger. Together we would go on an adventure, to discover what lurked upstream!
We walked through narrow, damp tunnels. The echo of footsteps mingled with the soft rush of water. Bahar spoke almost continuously. At first, it seemed to me that she was trying to fill the silence, or drown out the fear.
"My grandfather was a Scribe, did you know? He told me a lot about the past," there was something in her voice that was more distracting than the echo—as if she were absent, lost in her own thoughts. I wondered how much of it was simply to hide her emotions, and how much of it was from a genuine need to share this knowledge.
"Before the explosion, humans were too dependent on machines," she continued, and I simply nodded, letting her continue. I replayed the map of the caves in my head, trying to find logic in their endless corridors. With each passing moment, it seemed that we were getting further and further away from reality.
“You know, people were stupid,” she said suddenly, almost as if she was expressing something she felt deep in her heart. “They were so stupid that they trusted technology more than each other.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Was she trying to tell me something? Or maybe she was just repeating what my grandfather had told her, unaware of how appropriate those words were to our situation.
The silence that followed was almost tangible. The tunnel seemed smaller now, the stream quieter. Was she waiting for an answer?
“People have always been like that,” I replied after a long moment, without taking my eyes off the narrow passage ahead of us. “Technology is just a tool. Some people have simply forgotten that you have to know how to use it before it can be useful.”
Bahar didn’t answer. Maybe we had reached a point where it was no longer necessary to talk, but to just move forward, deeper into the darkness? No. She continued her story. She seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into her memories, as if the dark tunnels and the cold of the stream were awakening long-forgotten images in her mind.
“When I was little, everything was different in the Schinias bunker,” she began, quickening her pace. “The walls were cold, and the air always smelled musty. We lived in constant darkness, because they were saving energy. We had a generator, but we never knew how long it would last.”
I wondered what it must have been like—living underground, locked up, with no space, no sun. Perhaps that was why Bahar had been so eager to go to the surface. Space, even if it was destroyed, was better than the darkness of the bunker.
“Grandpa always said that we women had it harder. Men had our strength, went hunting. Women raised children, cooked, learned to survive. It’s funny that now I’m the one traveling and trading, isn’t it?” She fell silent for a moment, as if the words meant more to her than I had expected. I left her in that silence, giving her time to think, but it didn’t last long.
“I always dreamed of seeing the world outside. My father said there was nothing there – only death and ruins, but my grandfather had a different opinion. He told me about the time before the explosion, about cities full of life and light. He always ended with one sentence – people destroyed it all themselves.” She looked at me briefly, as if looking for confirmation that her words made sense.
“I was always curious about what was on the surface. People who went out said it was hell. But I wanted to see it with my own eyes. And when the day finally came that I could go out, it was like waking up. Everything was destroyed, dead, but at least it was different. At least we were no longer locked in this concrete tomb.” Bahar’s voice was clear, telling her about the past was a burden, but at the same time it gave her a sense of security.
“Maybe that’s why I travel,” she finally said. “I’ve never found a place I could call home. I felt trapped in the bunker, and now, outside? Maybe someday I’ll find something that will hold me for a while longer.” She fell silent, and the silence that fell was different this time. More deliberate. I had the impression that her story, although rich in detail, hid something deeper—something she was still afraid to talk about.
We continued in silence, stepping carefully over the damp rocks. Upstream. The tunnels closed in around us more and more, and the walls seemed to tremble in the semidarkness. Bahar, usually talkative, was silent. She seemed restless, but there was no turning back. Her hand was nervously clenching the hilt of her machete, which worried me more than the silence. When we entered a larger, expansive cavern, we froze. Cobwebs hung heavily from the ceiling, entwining every stone and ledge. Bones gleamed on the ground, gleaming in the glow of our torches—some were clearly animal, but others were eerily human.
“Can we really do this?” Bahar asked, pulling out her machete. Its blade gleamed in the dim light, ready to cut.
“We have no choice,” I replied, pulling out the old knife that always accompanied me in such situations. It was like an extension of my hand, reliable, but this time I felt a special fear. These were no ordinary animals. The Ursus Aranea were something more. “We have to try. It would be too dangerous to return now, and those spiders could threaten the city.”
Bahar looked at me seriously, and I saw in her eyes the same determination that often guided my steps. Despite my fear, she knew we had to act.
I began to prepare a new torch. I knew that fire was our only chance. I quickly tied the material I had in my backpack around the already burnt stick. I rubbed the flint on the stone, feeling the adrenaline quicken my pulse. The fire flared up rapidly, and the cave was instantly filled with warm, shimmering light.
“Ready?” I asked, and she nodded. She was fully focused. Three spiders were in front of us, moving slowly, as if they were exploring the area. Their bodies were huge, dark, and armored. Their spider legs, long as swords, made soft, scratchy sounds as they moved across the stony ground. We decided—we had to strike first.
“Strike quickly, before they realize it. On three?” I whispered, counting in my mind.
“It will be quick,” she replied in an equally soft voice, and we jumped out of hiding.
We rushed towards the spiders. The fire in my hand shot forward, and one of the monsters hissed furiously, retreating from the flame. Bahar moved quickly, the machete in her hands cutting through the spiderwebs and the creature's legs. She cut precisely, but I felt that with each blow we were meeting more and more resistance. The spider's armor was thick, as if these mutated creatures were protected by nature from anything that could hurt them.
The spider attacked, throwing itself at Bahar. I only had time to jump to the side as its legs flew right past my face. I quickly got up and aimed a blow at the spider, driving the knife into its soft tissue under the armor. "Aaargh!" the creature made a terrifying sound, staggering from the blow received, but I knew that this was only the beginning.
The second spider approached me, and I raised the torch, trying to scare it away with the fire. It squealed loudly, but did not give up. I felt its jaws getting closer with every second, but at the last moment Bahar struck it from the side, severing one of its legs. The spider staggered, and I used the moment to finish the attack - the knife dug deep, and the monster fell to the ground.
There was a third one left. We were already tired and wounded, but we had to defeat it. Bahar was fast, but the spider caught her leg with its claw and knocked her down. Before it could bite, I threw myself at it with the knife. I dealt a few blows, but the creature was too strong. Bahar, despite the pain, managed to stand up and plunged the machete into the spider with such force that its armor cracked. "Shhh!" the creature gave a final hiss, then fell dead.
We breathed heavily, trying to catch our breath. I thought it was over, all the spiders were dead, but then something huge moved in the darkness of the cave. She emerged from the depths of the lair. Three times larger than the rest, her eyes sparkled with intelligence, and from her throat emerged a voice I never expected to hear. It was surprisingly… human?
“Why are you killing my children?” she asked, her words rough, unnatural, but understandable. We held our breaths, staring at her in shock. “Arachne,” she said slowly, her voice echoing in my head. “Don’t you understand who I am?”
I closed my eyes for a split second, trying to calm the tremors in my hands. Arachne approached slowly, tensing the atmosphere with each step. Still, she wasn’t the biggest threat now. Bahar’s breathing quickened, and her gaze became unsteady.
“Swen, I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
I looked at her, surprised. This wasn’t the same Bahar I’d seen a moment ago, fighting spiders, full of determination. She was a different person now—frightened, on the verge of breaking down.
"I can't, you understand? I can't," her voice cracked and tears filled her eyes. "I've always, always been afraid of spiders. Obsessively! I wanted to be brave, I wanted to impress you. But now? Arachne? I can't anymore!"
I knew it wasn't just fear, it was real panic. Bahar was holding the machete, but her hands were shaking so much she couldn't even hit a stone. Arachne was getting closer. Just a few more steps and we'd have no way to escape.
"Bahar, listen," I began, trying to speak calmly, but inside I felt the same thing - fear. "We can't give up now, do you understand? If you run, I'll be left here alone. I can't do it alone against Arachne. I need you. I need your help like never before!"
She looked at me, but I could see she was fighting with herself. Her instincts were screaming to run, and I had to find a way to stop it.
"Bahar!" I tried to keep eye contact. "We fight together. We've always fought together. Now, more than ever, I need you here. I'm just as scared as you are, but if we run now, there's no going back. This is our only chance!"
Bahar's eyes glazed over, and her hands were still shaking. She took a step back, as if she had already made up her mind. "You're my best friend," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to leave you, but I don't know if I can do this."
"I know," I interrupted, trying to sound as certain as possible. "This isn't about me right now. This is about us. If you leave now, we won't win. If you can't, I can't either. You know I won't leave you alone, and you won't leave me alone, right?"
Bahar closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Arachne was almost standing over us. I could tell we didn't have much time. But Bahar had to go through this. She had to understand that running away wasn't an option.
"I can't, Swen," she repeated quietly. But then she did something I didn’t expect. She clenched her fists around the hilt of her machete and stood up straight. She looked at me, her gaze suddenly more focused. “If I’m going to die, I want to die with you.”
I smiled at her, though I could feel the tension in my stomach. “We won’t die. Not today.”
Arachne was within reach, her human voice echoing through the darkness again: “Why are you killing my children?”
“Not today!” I roared, raising my knife and aiming straight at the spider’s belly. Fully concentrated, I struck with all my might, but the blade merely slid off its thick armor. The monster reacted instantly, one of its legs striking with full force, throwing me into the air. I fell hard, hitting my back against the damp cave wall. Pain burned through my ribs, and for a moment I felt as if my breath had completely disappeared from my lungs. I tried to get up, but every bend, every movement, reminded me of shattered bones. I was barely aware of what was happening around me, but I managed to see Bahar lunge at the spider, striking with her machete with a precision and energy I had not seen from her before.
Each of her blows seemed to be a precisely planned part of a deadly dance. The machete, glistening with her blood, swung at breakneck speed, striking Arachne’s limbs. Bahar was fast, and each cut found its mark. Unfortunately, each blow met with the same result – the armor of the mother of spiders deflected the blade. She was indestructible, her skin was as hard as steel.
Bahar's fight resembled a real dance, full of verve and emotion, but eventually her pace slowed down. She was wounded, and blood ran down her arms, creating bloody lines on her skin. Every step was slower now, every blow weaker, as if she was starting to lose hope.
Finally, the moment came – Bahar fell to one knee, breathing heavily. I thought it was the end, that Arachne would finally catch her. My heart froze in my chest. This was supposed to be our end.
Then I heard something strange. A calm and melodic voice began to echo in the cave. The echo of a quiet song filled the air.
"In a dark cave, where shadows weave tight,
Arachne spins in the still of the night.
The gods look down with scorn in their eyes,
Laughing at pride that her armor belies".
A male voice. It was eerie, as if from another world. I looked toward the tunnel and saw a torch. It was held by a long-haired, slender man. His clothes were worn, but they must have once been beautiful. Every note of his song seemed to hypnotize Arachne. She stopped. For a moment her mortal legs stopped moving.
"Though fate entwines her in cruel despair,
Her pride still burns, though her heart may tear.
Wounded, yet fighting, she will not yield,
Weaving her fate on this shadowed field".
I did everything I could to focus on the song and understand what was happening. Bahar, seeing an opportunity, slowly backed away. She managed to reach me. She put her arms around me and began to help me stand. Every movement reminded me of my cracked ribs, but I knew we couldn't stay where we were. I felt the weight of her body, tired, battered, but full of determination.
"The gods are laughing, their mirth rings clear,
Yet Arachne’s pride shows no trace of fear.
Trapped by her hubris, she dares defy,
Weaving her threads as time passes by".
Bahar and I looked at each other. Who was this man? How on earth could his song have such a powerful effect on Arachne?
"But only the blade that hides in the shade,
Can cut through her throat, where silence is laid.
Quietly ending her life’s fragile thread,
Leaving her story in whispers unsaid".
"Throat!" I tried to shout, but all I could manage was a wheeze from the pain. But Bahar understood - we had to aim for her throat. It was the only weak spot.
Together, slowly, tired and wounded, we rose. Bahar broke into a run, and I followed her, although each step hurt more than the last. We knew this was our last chance.
Arachne, distracted by the song, didn't notice us running closer. Bahar threw the first blow, aiming exactly where it was needed - for the throat. The strike was perfect. The machete's blade dug deep, and I, fighting the pain, joined her, pushing my knife into the same spot. The blades sank into the monster's flesh. Arachne screeched, trying to pull away, but she was too weak. With every second I felt the life draining from her body. Finally she fell dead.
We were breathing heavily, soaked in blood, but alive. I looked at Bahar, her face was tired, but she smiled at me, and in her eyes I saw what I felt - relief.
As we looked toward the tunnel, the man disappeared, as if he had never been there.
When I finally gathered my strength, I looked at Bahar and asked rhetorically, trying to control the trembling in my voice, "Who the hell was that man?"
Bahar was silent for a moment, as if she was struggling internally, before she answered slowly, "I'm not sure, but he reminds me of someone. Long ago, when my grandfather kept the Scribes’ books, a man dressed very similarly visited him. They were searching for something important in the old tomes together. I don’t know what it was, but my grandfather called him a bard.
The word sounded familiar, like an echo of a long-forgotten song. Whoever the bard was, his presence here was like a piece of a larger puzzle that I didn’t yet understand.
We sat in silence for a while, as if each of us was trying to piece together in our minds what had just happened. Weariness was finally starting to take over my body. Even thinking about going back to the city seemed like a challenge.
“Let’s go back,” I said, trying to get to my feet. Bahar nodded, but I could see that she was as tired as I was.
We got to our feet and headed toward the city. All I wanted was a bath, hot water to wash the blood and dirt off me, and a bed where I could forget about this nightmare. For a while, at least.
Statystyki: autor: BIG POTATO — 14 gru 2024, 23:04
---
https://bigpotato.online/viewtopic.php?p=7&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=blogger&utm_campaign=grzegorz%20w%20sieci%21#p7