by Phil Tucker
Ashanti emerged from a side room, her painted lips thinned with displeasure, glass of wine in one hand. “What have you done, Acharsis?” she asked, using Azo’s voice.
“No time. Send your girls upstairs. There another exit? Jarek, Kish, get the others!”
“The Palace is closed!” barked Ashanti, clapping her hands loudly. “Girls! Upstairs, if you value your lives. Everyone else, out!” She wheeled on Acharsis, eyes slitted in fury. “That’s it. You’ve used up all your credit.”
“Fair enough.” Acharsis was watching the front door. Any moment now. “Another exit?”
“Oh yes,” said Ashanti in her feminine voice, the thought of it causing her to smile. “I have the perfect escape for you.”
“You’re getting your revenge, aren’t you?” asked Acharsis, stomach sinking.
“If you don’t like it, there’s always the front door.” Her smile was sweet, almost innocent.
“Fine. We’ll take this exit. Where does it go?”
Ashanti started striding toward the back. “Down, of course.”
“Down? How far down?”
“All the way down.”
“To the bridge cavern?”
“Deeper.”
“Wait. To the spider caverns?”
Ashanti’s smile was answer enough, but then a sharp report sounded down the hallway as the front door was battered open. She gave his shoulder a sharp push. “They’re here. I’ll try and hold them off. Open the drainage grate and climb down. Go!”
CHAPTER SIX
Jarek’s head was slowly clearing, but not fast enough. Pain still lanced through his mind like jagged lightning strikes and his body felt heavy, as if he’d spent the previous night drinking an ocean of beer. Urgency, however, gave him impetus; he followed Kish into the back of the Palace, roaring for the others to emerge.
“What is it?” asked Sisu, leaning out of his doorway.
“Death watch!” cried Kish. “They’re coming! We have to run!”
Jarek shouldered his way into his room and took up the Sky Hammer from where it lay on the floor. Just holding it gave him strength. Affirmed his purpose. A moment later he was back in the hallway. “Annara! Elu!”
“He’s gone!” Annara emerged from her room, eyes wide with panic. “Elu’s gone!”
Jarek wanted to slam his fist into the wall. “Gone? Where?”
“He’d been talking about heading to Uros. I made him swear to wait and talk to Acharsis.” She clutched at her head, then took a decisive step forward. “I’ve got to find him—”
The sound of the front door being battered opened echoed dimly back to them.
“Too late,” said Jarek. “We can’t go that way.”
Annara tried to step around him. “I won’t leave him.”
“Yes, you will,” said Jarek. Anger, resentment, fury at this world - all bubbled up within him. He saw Kish dancing once more with the musician, how alive she’d seemed, how much of a future yet lay before her. “You’re going to escape. I’ll find Elu and bring him to you.”
Acharsis came running down the hall and slid to a stop at the sight of them. “We need to—where’s Elu?”
Jarek gripped Acharsis’ shoulder. “Get them out. I’m going to find him.”
“He’s gone?” He locked eyes with Annara and then visibly bit back a curse. “We’ve no time. Jarek, you’re leading everyone below. I’ll go after Elu. You won’t be able to fight your way through what’s coming anyway.”
Jarek felt frustration like a burning fever. “I’ve already decided—”
“You need to lead them through the spider caverns. I’ll sneak past the guards. Cross the canyon and then wait for a caravan led by a man called Oxundo by a marker called Hanging Rock. The escape is down the drainage grate in the bathing chamber. Go!”
Before Jarek could protest, Acharsis darted back toward the front of the Palace and was gone.
“Damn it,” said Jarek. The desire to punch the wall was still strong. “Come on. Run!”
“Spider caverns?” Sisu bunched up close to his sister. “Acharsis was joking, right?”
Shouts filtered back to them, a few screams of alarm, and then Azo’s voice raised in righteous indignation.
Jarek ran to the end of the hall and pulled open the bathing room door. The two tubs gleamed in the light, and the circular grate lay flush between them. Jarek knelt, grabbed the bronze bars and hauled them off, revealing a vertical shaft with wooden slats nailed to one side descending into darkness. Cool, damp air wafted up, as if exhaled by the creatures below.
“I don’t want to go down there.” Sisu shook his head. “Spider caverns?”
“Stay if you like,” said Jarek. “Make nice with the death watch guards.” He slid the Sky Hammer into its loop in his belt, took a rushlight from the wall, and dropped it in. The light guttered as it fell, dropping perhaps twenty yards before going out. “Great. Kish, grab a lantern. I’m going first.”
He sat on the edge of the shaft, turned over onto his stomach and found the first wooden rung with the toe of his boot. It was slippery from the bathwater. He tested it to see if it would take his weight. Satisfied, he began his descent.
The motions quickly became repetitive, and soon Jarek felt as if he were skimming his way down, hands and feet reaching and catching with mechanical precision in the dark.
Reaching the ground came as a shock, snapping him out of his reverie. He stumbled, knee buckling, then caught himself on a rung and straightened. “I’ve hit bottom,” he whispered back up. “Careful.”
How far had he descended? Below the bridge cavern, most like. The shaft opened up into a great, dark space, but he couldn’t get a sense of its actual size. The darkness had texture - subtle, but there - and he sensed movement, like the canopy of a tree stirring before a breeze.
Could the spiders see him in the dark? He drew the Sky Hammer and gripped it with both hands. Rustling. A strange, eerie creaking, like a rope being stretched. Pinpricks of sweat emerged on Jarek's forehead. His heart pounded in his chest.
Kish was next, her arrival presaged by a growing lambency of gold light. She leaped the final few rungs to land lightly beside him, and Jarek was finally able to make out the netherworld into which they’d descended.
They stood in a cavern, the walls smooth and shot through with seams of creamy white and rose. Flecks of mica glittered in the lamplight. Three large openings led into other caverns beyond.
No spiders. No cobwebs.
But through the openings he saw the glistening gleam of silvery strands; a hint of a shape drawing back, out of the lamp’s penumbra and into the deeper darkness.
“This isn’t how I expected the night to end,” said Kish, stepping closer to Jarek.
“It’s not over yet. Stay close. I’m going to try to open a way through.”
Shouts came from above.
“They’ve found us!” Sisu’s voice, echoing down the shaft. “They’re coming down!”
Annara was the next to drop, Kish steadying her as she nearly fell. “It’s all right,” she said. “Acharsis will find him. You’ll see.”
Jarek took the lantern and strode to the first opening. He raised the light high and saw a gloomy, long cavern beyond. Thick ropes of silk clotted together in wrapped bundles against the walls, most of them no larger than a chicken. Again, large, insectile shapes backed away before he could see them, retreating into the dark.
Sisu dropped the last few yards with a yell and then thrust himself against the back wall, as if expecting to be immediately assailed by an army of spiders. “No webs,” he said, voice tight with fear. “Oh. Good.”
“They don’t catch their prey in webs,” said Jarek. “No need for them. They’re anglers. They shoot spider silk. So, on my count, we run. Our only chance here is to go fast and avoid their attacks. Ready?”
“No,” said Sisu.
“Yes,” said Kish.
Annara nodded.
The sound of the guards descen
ding the shaft grew steadily louder. A few more moments and they’d be upon them.
“Then run!” Jarek handed the lantern to Kish and bounded through the opening into the next chamber, shoulders hunched, Sky Hammer raised. The ground was clear of debris and mercifully without strands of webbing that could trip them up. Down the length of the cavern he ran, whipping his gaze from side to side, then around a great pillar of stone and into a larger chamber beyond.
“Nekuul take me now,” groaned Sisu as they all staggered to a stop.
The chamber was easily four or five times Jarek’s own height, and divided by a forest of heavy stone pillars that held up the roof like great petrified tree trunks. Webbing covered the roof like a ghastly canopy, and bundles were ensnared throughout like horrific fruit.
But it was the spiders that drew the eye. They were as large as dogs, though here and there Jarek caught sight of an older specimen, some as large as mules. They were covered in black fur banded with gray, and hung from the webbing by means of six legs ending in hooks. The front pair, however, terminated in wicked-looking bone scythes. Their rounded heads glittered with eyes of different sizes, and their abdomens curved down and around beneath them to culminate in what looked like a shattered pomegranate of raw red, a wound edged with rounded fronds that pulsed, opening and closing with minute spasms.
There had to be nearly thirty in this chamber alone.
“Jarek?” Kish’s voice was little more than a croak.
“I see light through there!” came the harsh voice of one of their pursuers. “Gather up!”
The spiders seemed to be vibrating where they hung, not moving but fully alert. Their crimson spinnerets were flexing quicker now.
“With me,” said Jarek quietly. “As fast as you can. Go!”
He burst forward, and the chamber erupted. The abdomen of a spider just ahead and above him rippled violently; the spinnerets opened wide and a gobbet of silver came flying at him. Instincts honed on the field of battle caused him to sidestep, turning as the gobbet skimmed down across his chest to splat against the floor, connected by a thick cord to the spider above.
He didn’t stop. Recovering his balance, he ran on, ducking and dodging so as to not provide an easy target. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a larger spider spasm and launch a wad of webbing his way; he batted it aside with the Sky Hammer, only to be nearly pulled off his feet as the gobbet stuck to the hammer’s head and the spider yanked it back.
Grunting in alarm, Jarek staggered and almost fell, then set his feet, leaned his weight back into his heels and pulled. This spider was one of the larger ones, and the entirety of its bulk swayed violently from its webbing as it fought him, reeling in the rope of silk, sucking it back into its abdomen.
Jarek gritted his teeth, but still he slid forward, his boots not finding sufficient traction with which to resist its incredible strength. He wildly considered letting go of his hammer, but immediately discarded the idea.
Then Kish was there. She leaped up, grabbed the rope of spider silk with both hands and yanked with all her strength, swinging from the rope for a second before the spider lost its grip and fell to the ground. The impact was lethal; its abdomen burst open, spraying a milky green fluid, and it flailed with its hooked legs even as the pull on the hammer went lax.
To Jarek’s surprise, the rope didn’t stick to Kish’s hands. She backed away from the spider only to duck as a new gobbet sailed through where her head had been but a moment ago. Jarek blinked, took up his hammer and smashed it against the side of a column, raking its face against the rock and dislodging the still-sticky webbing.
Annara and Sisu were past him, weaving their way through the cavern, stutter-stepping and ducking as they went. Behind him, Jarek saw a party of the death watch emerge, some twelve or more soldiers who were clearly taken aback by the sight before them. A gobbet hit the lead man straight in the face, nearly knocking him off his heels, then yanked him forward so that he fell to his knees.
Cursing, Jarek ran after the others. Strands criss-crossed the cavern at perilous diagonals, but they weren’t themselves sticky; Jarek was able to push his way through them where they bunched closely together, taking care not to step on the gobbets themselves.
A wet splotch slapped onto his arm, spinning him around and nearly bringing him to his knees. Looking up, he saw that one of the smaller spiders had snared him and was now retreating into the webbing.
Jarek moved his arm around in a circle, wrapping more and more of the spider silk around his forearm, and then clutched it and hauled back.
The spider wasn’t big enough to resist him; it tore free of the web and fell to the ground. Unlike its bigger cousin, it wasn’t wounded by the impact, and immediately tried to scuttle away, still trailing the spider rope.
Jarek turned and swayed away from a sword slash that nearly removed the top of his scalp. Two guards had fought through, eyes wide and pale in the gloom, teeth bared in frozen snarls of terror and anger. Jarek backed away, was nearly hit by a new gobbet, deflected an attack with his hammer, and then hauled on the rope that was still attached to his arm with all his might.
The spider came off the ground, its hooks hissing across the rock as it sought to hold on, and then it was airborne and whipping around. The spider rope wrapped around the shoulders of the first guard, and the spider itself collided with the second, latching on to the back of his head and sinking its bone pincers into his neck.
The guard’s scream was immediately muffled by a gobbet of spider silk that smacked straight into his face. He fell, limbs flailing. His friend stared down at him, horrified. Jarek stepped forward and slammed the head of his hammer into the man’s gut, doubling him over, then cracked his knee into the man’s chin and dropped him.
A wet mass struck him square between the shoulder blades with such force that he was driven down to his knees, then the back of his shirt was torn free as Jarek threw himself forward against the pull. He rolled and came up running, joining the others in the far cavern.
Screams and cries followed them as the death watch battled the spiders. They entered a gallery of some kind; a long corridor of stone nearly choked with webbing, with openings between columns that looked out into the night. Fresh air caused the webs to sway, while the sound of the river below brought a sense of sweet relief to his fears.
“Where to?” cried Kish, holding the lantern aloft. “The bridge?”
“It’s above us!” Annara leaned out, gazing up into the night sky. “Should we climb?”
“No,” said Jarek. Spiders scuttled out of the main cavern behind them into the fishing gallery. They had no time.
He stepped up to the edge and looked out into the canyon. Thick strands of webbing arched into the night, disappearing toward the far and hidden wall.
He sheathed the Sky Hammer. “Grab a strand! Walk your way across!”
“Grab a strand?” Sisu looked to Kish. “What is talking about?”
Dozens of the silk ropes ran from each column out into the night. The larger of the spiders probably severed the strands against the rock when they missed their prey, leaving chaotic rope bridges extending out over the river. Jarek grabbed one that was at head height, then stepped out onto a second. They swayed beneath his weight, but held. Quickly, not daring to second-guess himself, he worked his way out into the night air, a good fifty yards above the ebon river that glinted in the light of the moon.
The strands remained roughly parallel to each other, but the farther out he edged, the more they swung back and forth. Hurrying only exacerbated the movement, so he forced himself to slow down, to move methodically, inching out into the void.
Above was the Waystation bridge itself. Broad enough for a caravan to cross, it was a marvel of engineering, a suspension bridge reinforced by countless twined ropes of spider silk.
Annara and Kish followed Jarek, and the arrival of several larger spiders flushed Sisu out onto the ropes as well.
“Watch out,” called Jarek. “
They’re following.”
But the spiders didn’t loose any more attacks. Instead, they clustered in the gallery, waiting. The last guards emerged, torches held high, only to scream and curse as more gobbets splattered into them. Jarek watched as they fought futilely to free themselves, then looked away as the spiders closed in, bone scythes gleaming.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Acharsis barreled down the hallway, heart pounding, with no idea as to how he was going to survive the next few seconds. The voices out front were raised in brutal yells; Ashanti wasn’t going to be able to hold the guards for much longer. The Palace was too small to hide in. How to get past? How?
A cry of indignation, a bellow of pain, then shrieks of outrage and fear. The guards were coming through.
Acharsis turned on instinct and ran upstairs. Stupid stupid stupid he thought as he took the steps three at a time. You’re cornering yourself. Yet a hunch, a hint of an idea was forming in his mind. Not daring to examine it any closer for fear of dispelling it, Acharsis ran through the low-ceilinged receiving room and into Azo’s office. He closed the door behind him, dropped the bar and leaned against it, panting for breath.
“Damn you, Elu,” said Acharsis. He scanned the little office. How to get out? How to—
His gaze settled on one of Azo’s mannequins. A shimmering robe of sapphire silk hung from the dummy. A wig of outrageous bronze curls sat atop its head.
Acharsis groaned, but the sound of men coming up the steps just outside the door spurred him into action. He stripped off his robe, vaulted over the desk, then carefully - as if handling a spider’s web - peeled the robe off the mannequin and draped it over his shoulders.
It actually felt quite nice.
A broad yellow sash served as a belt, and with great care he lifted the wig off the dummy’s smooth head. It gleamed like lost treasure in the lantern light. Tilting his head back like he’d seen women do a thousand times when about to gather their hair, he slipped the wig over his head and set to tucking his hair under its weave.
