Through the gates Jaris and Mara rushed, and cried out alarm, and woke all the town, and gathered them together.

So gathered, Jaris addressed them thus: “Fellows of Haven, a fearsome party of the Duke’s men rides even now into the valley and upon this town, with intent to destroy it and all us with it. We must prepare now to flee, all of us but the strongest warriors. Go, and gather only what you need for a journey, and be quick.”

But the town-chief and his allies, who had been tasked with the founding of Haven by Gareth, were not to be found among the gathered multitude. Remembering the words of the vengeful Knight, Jaris sought them out, and found them having mounted the fastest steeds and preparing to flee without concern for any of the town.

At this sight was Jaris enraged, and barred exit to the stable, and presented to them the spy’s medallion, bearing a mark of those in secret service to Gareth upon it, and accosted them with words. “Hold there, cowards, for an agent bearing this I have heard was sent to warn you alone, in secret, of our coming, but was prevented from completing this task. What say you to these accusations?”

“Aye!” said the Hob chief, in accent thick. “So it was to be, now our lot shall be cast with your like if we do not flee.”

“Through what treachery were you to be given this knowledge, you who so many here trusted?”

“’Twas through the blessing of the King of the Hob Gareth, who caused this village to be built,” said the afeared chief.

“Why, then, was Mara to be spared along with you?”

“I know not, but that the King considers her of great worth, and knew of her before even she came to this place. Now stand aside, or we shall ride you down!”

“Strange are these things, but no more time have I for questioning your like,” said the noble once-knight. “Begone!”

And he allowed their passage, and the treacherous Hob fled into moonlit night toward the lands of their master.

Returning to the gathered throng, Jaris addressed them thus: “Their number is too great for us to stand and fight, and their horses too fleet of foot for us to flee, and the town-chief has forsaken us in cowardice and taken our fastest seeds. This shall we do: Under cover of darkness, you shall cross the bridge, and scatter to all the directions, and travel on foot so to leave no tracks. If any are caught, the others may still escape, for their paths will diverge greatly. In the meanwhile, those strongest of us shall pull down the bridge, that it might delay their pursuit, and we shall stand and fight, so that they might think the town still inhabited. And if the gods smile upon us, when the battle is lost, the men shall perceive the cowardly town-chief and his escort, riding fiercely on horses to the north, to be the majority, and give chase to them in your stead.”

“But then what of the chieftain?” protested one Hob.

“If he be caught, such is the punishment for his betrayal, for he meant to escape, and leave us all to the sword, but his messenger was struck down before he arrived. Now stand to me, seasoned guard, and the rest go, and scatter, and live!”

In any other place, never would a Man be trusted by Hob over a chief of their own kind, but this strange once-Knight and the Hob girl who followed him as a son bore greatest respect among the people of the town, and none questioned his command. So it was that the people of the town of Haven, which was born and died within the span of a goat’s age, gathered their meager belongings by the light of the spring moons, and scattered themselves like seeds to the blowing wind.

Under the silver moons, bright and cold, Mara went to the Hob boy Geoff, who prepared to travel with his mother, and said to him, “My thanks, dear Geoff, for the kindness you have shown me, and your intentions to woo. Would that the gods granted us more time in one another’s company.”

The boy was saddened by this, and said to her, “Come you not with us, pretty Mara?”

“Nay,” said she, “my place is here, blade in hand. Now go, and live well, and perhaps one day we will meet again.”

And she placed a kiss upon his cheek, and went to her father’s side, who was troubled deeply by her appearance.

“Why do you come here, Mara? Go, and flee, and guard that Hob boy, and be safe.”

“My blade is second only to yours, father, and my place is at your side, where its value will be greatest. Now let us gird for battle, and fight with valor to defend this place that we call home.”

Jaris was saddened, but also proud, for this was the mien of a Knight, truly, and one worthy to be called son, or daughter, by any man who swore upon a sword. And so he smiled upon her, and said to her, “So be it. You are of age, and the path is yours to choose. No greater honor was ever bestowed upon me, in all my days as a Knight of the Realm, than to fight this night with you at my side.”

As preparations were made, the spider who called himself Ketar, who had not yet fled across the river, appeared before Jaris, and hissed to him in spider-voice, “Good sssir, how isss it you ssseek to make your essscape when the battle here is lossst?”

“We shall mount these fine steeds taken from a man I once called friend, and pray to the god of cowardice that their hooves bear us faster than those behind.”

“I am no warrior, sssir, but sssurely thisss cannot end well,” spoke the spider, and his words were true, as Jaris well knew. “Might I offfer to you a diffferent meansss, fffor there is a place not fffar north offf hhhere where a lone tree ssstands opposssite anothhher upon the bank offf the rifer. I ssshall sssteal there, and cassst a web betwixt the two, that you might make your essscape unssseen acrosss it, and conceal in the hhhut nearby asss they ride passst.”

“Very well, Ketar. There was a time long past when a bridge of spider-silk carried me and the one who calls me father to safety, so perhaps it is the will of the gods that again one shall be our salvation.”

“I pray to the godsss of Ssspidersss and Men for your sssafe essscape. Though I cannot fffight, allow me to undertake one more fffeat offf engineering, that it might aid in the battle.”

And so preparations were undertaken, and all but a brave few Men and Hob fled into the hills beyond the river with no name, and the bridge was pulled down, with two strands of spider-silk hung in its place for benefit of those who remained.

Those who remained, who were once gladiators, or mercenaries, or soldiers, girded themselves for battle, and barred the gates and stood ready for the coming charge.

Afore long the Duke’s war-party bore down upon the town walls, and made no cry of ransom or yield, but hurled torches over, putting flame to the huts within, and set a ram to the gate. Those within were ready, and cast bolt and arrow from tower and roof upon the attackers, and hurled flaming peat back, which set the steeds into confusion.

Even so, soon was the gate breached, and the war-party charged within, but found their way barred by carts and straw set ablaze. So they cast off their steeds and pressed onward, amid flame on all sides, and were met by the brave warriors of Haven, who fought valiantly in the inferno of their home.

A first wave repelled, the attackers withdrew to prepare for a new charge, and those of Haven who remained standing knew that no more could they resist.

“Go, ‘cross the bridge of silk, brave friends,” said Jaris, “then cut it down behind, and scatter in silence, for there are only fleet-footed steeds for two. We shall draw their gaze as you make your escape. May the goddesses of the moons smile upon you, and hide you, this night.”

And so the warriors, bleeding and beaten, fled across the strands of spider-silk, and cut them down, and made quietly into the chill spring night, never again to meet.

Jaris and Mara took to their steeds, finest chargers from the stables of the Duke, and waited for the rally to come. When the war-party came with renewed force flooding through the gates, they fled from a crack in the wall to the north, along the river with no name, along the path the cowardly town-chief had followed.

Finding no-one left within the walls, follow the war-party did, in haste, but were caught in a great web of spider-silk, strung, invisible in the night, between the stone houses, which set their chargers into a great panic, and threw the men to the ground. Cursing, others cut at the strands, and took up the pursuit.

In the time so gained had Jaris and Mara reached the place where the Spider who called himself Ketar had promised a route ‘cross the river. But saw they no bridge there, and Jaris cursed the betrayal of it.

“Hold, father, but look, there it is, high in the tree, where the wind must have carried it.”

And indeed, a single strand of silk hung, gossamer, from a branch above, a final boon from the kind-hearted Spider, whose grand tale did not end there, but will be told some other day.

So they sent their steeds onward, and climbed quickly to it, and made their way across the strand, shining silver in the moonlight above a river that reflected the bright stars of the sky above.

Reaching the other side, they concealed themselves in a hut there, and waited as the war party rode past, intent on following the track to the north. The riders, finding no other trace but that left by the cowardly town-chief and his men, presumed in error the absent folk had been warned of their coming, and taken the path deeper into the lands of the Hob, and gave chase.

So it was that the town of Haven met its end, yet few who called it home fell to the sword.