The Plague of the Village (short story)

The cave was cold, dark, and damp; as desolate a picture as the boys had yet experienced in their young lives. Their boots sloshed through wet ground as they inched forward, the flames of their torches sizzling at the touch of the occasional drop of water from stalactites hanging above.

“We should not have come here, brother,” said Antus, the younger of the two, watching their rear flank. The cave’s entrance slowly faded from view as he spoke, further fraying his already-strained nerves.

“We know what we saw,” said Rallus, the elder, leading the way forward. “And since no one will listen, we have to investigate for ourselves.”

“Do you think mother will be okay?”

“I hope so. But she’s suffered this illness as bad as anyone else in the village.”

The brothers froze as they heard a scuttling noise nearby, drawing their swords from their scabbards. A moment later, Antus yelped as a large black object fell from the ceiling and landed atop his head, dropping both his torch and his weapon. His heart racing, Rallus reached out to his brother, hoping to grasp his arm and hold him steady, but it was to no avail.

“Get it off! Get it off!” cried Antus, his voice fraught with panic as he felt the spider’s legs creeping through his hair and across his skull.

“Hold still, dammit!” said Rallus, half as distraught as his brother. Antus finally obeyed, standing still with his knees bent down and his head held low. Rallus drew back his sword and swung forth, striking the spider with the pommel and sending it flying through the air. It struck a rock wall a scant few feet away, its legs still twitching as it fell to the floor. Pure adrenaline sent Rallus’ body and blade forth, striking downward and splitting the creature in half. Only after it lie dead and the boys’ breathing at last steadied did they finally note the size of the thing, seeing it was big enough to span Antus’ entire head, with glistening fangs that could easily have pierced his scalp.

“My thanks,” said Antus as he rubbed the back of his head with a shudder. Rallus picked up his brother’s sword and torch and returned them to him. “I hope there are no more of those things.”

“As do I,” said Rallus as he returned his gaze to the path forward. “But we have to keep moving.” Antus nodded anxiously, and the two continued, through moss, cobwebs, and narrow crevices that threatened to trap them in this terrible place.

Before long, the passageway fell into a steep slope which the brothers carefully descended, following another tunnel which gradually widened until the ceiling above rose sharply upwards, opening into a large cavern. Jagged, moss-covered stalagmites protruded from the floor, surrounded by small puddles which collected further moisture dripping from above. Ahead, a single beam of light from outside poked in through a hole in the ceiling, dimly illuminating the centre of the cavern.

The boys pressed on toward the light, and both could hear the sound of rushing water nearby, knowing it fed into a stream which flowed outwards to the lake, their village’s primary water source. Halfway to the clearing, they felt their boots sweep through a clutter of objects they hoped would be mere sticks and stones; but they nearly leapt from their skins as they held their torches down and took in the sight.

Bones. Both animal and human.

The boys once again heard scuttling in the distance, and instantly bolted for the centre of the cavern. Swords and torches held aloft, they stood back to back, anxiously awaiting another spider. But a moment later, one did not appear.

They stared ahead in utter horror as dozens of spiders flooded into the cavern, closing in as if commanded by death itself to spin a web that would entrap their bodies and ensnare their souls. Rallus swung his sword at the first spider to lunge at him, cleaving through the thing as easily as he had before. Antus clumsily stabbed at another creature approaching him, missing its hairy legs by a scant few inches and denting his sword on the floor. Panic set in again, as the boys feared they would meet their end in this place, knowing the agony they would suffer as they would be poisoned, wrapped into cocoons, and then slowly feasted upon by the clicking jaws of the arachnids.

But suddenly, the spiders scattered, as if frightened away by some unknown force. The boys nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but Antus suddenly gripped Rallus’ shoulder, causing his brother to whirl about and face his direction. They heard slithering and hissing nearby, petrified as a new creature slowly drew its scaly form toward them.

“No,” said Antus in a trembling voice. “No, gods no.”

Its body was the width of a horse, and many times longer. A fork tongue poked forth as it raised its head above them, staring down with yellow eyes that glimmered with an ancient malice, as if they commanded a power that could turn their very flesh to stone.

“Creator, save us!” cried Antus as the giant serpent hissed at them again. Acting for the first time in his life on pure battle-rage, Rallus charged forth, slashing at the beast’s scaly hide and leaving a thin red line across its belly. The snake gave a hiss loud enough to be mistaken for a roar, and brought its tail forth to strike out like a whip. Rallus barely dodged the force of the blow, with the tip of the beast’s tail catching his leg and throwing him off-balance. He dropped his sword and torch and fell to the floor, cursing as his arm caught a sharp rock which tore through his shirt and ripped open his skin. The serpent slithered forward again, bearing its dripping fangs as it prepared to finish off its first victim.

But seeing his brother in such peril finally brought forth the courage Antus had always been told he possessed, and he swung his sword forward in a clumsy flurry, drawing the serpent’s attention. Once the beast turned its focus to him, its tongue again flicking from its massive jaws, he backpedalled, holding his sword at the ready. The distraction gave enough time for Rallus to regain his footing and retrieve his sword. With a yell, he swung the blade above his head, then brought it down on the tip of the serpent’s tale, cleaving through it as easily as he had the spiders. The beast screamed in agony and lashed out, striking Rallus and sending him soaring through the air before he plunged into the nearby stream.

“Rallus!” Antus cried. Distracted by its pain, the serpent paid no heed to the boy as he rushed to his brother’s aid. The current had already carried him halfway to the tunnel, threatening to wash him away if his grip on a protruding rock failed. Antus frantically ran down the edge of the stream, taking his brother’s hand and pulling him with all his might back to safety. The two barely had a moment to catch their breath when the serpent appeared again, striking forth with a blow the two barely managed to dodge. Antus slashed at the beast’s side with his sword, drawing more blood from the creature before he joined Rallus in a mad dash back up the stream, where the elder retrieved his sword.

The brothers turned to face the serpent again, nearly slipping on a streak of its dark blood painting the floor, noticing its movement to be slower than before; though it still seemed as bloodthirsty as when it first appeared. Rallus held his sword pointed forward, and as the creature lunged at him again, Antus stabbed its side, carving his way through the neck. The beast roared in pain again as its weakness from blood loss took hold, its head falling to the floor as if Antus’ blade had left an immeasurably heavy weight in its innards. In a bold final move, Rallus climbed atop the serpent’s head. It moved weakly in an attempt to throw him off, but he held strong, raising his blade a final time before bringing it down in the crown of the beast’s head, driving the point straight through its skull. A final, near-deafening roar was cut short, and the great serpent went limp, oozing life from its many wounds. Rallus weakly withdrew his sword from the dead monster, and stepped down, falling to his knees. Antus rushed to his side, helping his brother remove his shirt and wrap it around his arm to stifle his flowing wound. The two sat still in the darkness for a long moment, each panting, heavily at first, then gradually lighter as they finally convinced themselves the battle was truly over.

“So it wasn’t a plague,” said Rallus as he turned to face the serpent. “It must have been this creature’s poison.”

“Contaminating the water supply,” said Antus. “So it is dead. But what of those already infected? What can possibly be done?”

“Perhaps...” Rallus said quietly as he examined the dead serpent. A silent moment later, he reached forth and grasped one of the beast’s fangs. With a great heave, he ripped the tooth from its owner’s jaw, and held it in the outstretched palm of his hand.

“We’ll take this to Angalmo,” said Rallus.

“The apothecary?”

“Yes. So he can make an-”

“Antidote,” the brothers said simultaneously.

“Perhaps we can save mother after all,” said Antus.

“I suspect we’ve saved many more lives this day as well,” said Rallus. His younger brother gave a somber smile, and helped him up before the two retraced their steps back through the darkness, eventually finding daylight again, more than happy to leave the cave, and the slain monster, behind.