Nightfell Games (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 5)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Orthoni was almost upon me. I was too far from the steps. The spider loomed overhead, raising its forelegs into a high-step as it readied to fall upon me.

  I gave one last glance around, looking for another way out, when I realized something about the ornate treasures displayed in the gilded cathedral.

  "I'll destroy your creations!" I screamed, spreading my arms to the side rather than the front.

  Orthoni stopped, metal leg poised two feet from me, palps quivering. I was close enough to see saliva dripping from her mouth.

  "You may kill me, but I'll make sure this room is a smoking ruin," I said. "Back away. Back away now."

  The spider's alien gaze regarded me for long seconds. My heart tried to climb out of my chest. Only when Orthoni took two steps back did I take a breath.

  "You're not a lover of fine art," said Orthoni.

  "I love my skin more," I said.

  "Then we are at an impasse," said the spider.

  "You are mistaken," I said. "I'm going to back away and leave your underhall with my flesh intact."

  That chattering laughter erupted from the spider's mouth. "You'll find that quite impossible..."

  "Katerina," I said, deciding there was no harm in a first name.

  "Yes, Katerina, that name suits you," said Orthoni. "But you will not be leaving the underhall, not without my permission."

  When I glanced over my shoulder, keeping my sorcery at the ready, her words became clear. The ornate staircase no longer climbed out of the underhall. Instead, it clung to the ceiling, blocking my escape.

  "You see," she said, spreading two limbs out in a wide arc, "these are my webs. Like my tiny cousins, I can manipulate my webs to trap my prey."

  Orthoni suddenly reared back on hind legs. Her front legs reached down to the spinneret on the end of her thorax and manipulated a glistening material that spewed forth. The hot scent of burning metal filled the air as if we stood in Vulcan's forge.

  When Orthoni was finished, she rolled her creation towards me. I stopped it with my boot. It was a mesh ball made of silver. The material was warm to the touch and springy.

  "It's quite beautiful," I said with my fingers entwined with the mesh.

  Words caught in my throat as the slivery ball condensed around my fingers, trapping them. The spider lunged toward me, but I threw myself to the side, narrowly avoiding a foot to the chest. I ran around the honeycomb columns trying to pull my fingers free, but the silver blob squeezed tighter.

  Orthoni was right behind me. I dodged around a partition, but it led to a dead end. As I turned to find another way out, the partition curled around me, trapping me against the wall. I felt like a rabbit in a cage.

  With the chase finished, Orthoni approached in deliberate steps, drawing out the final conflict. Her palps vibrated with the expectation of feeding.

  I funneled my sorcery into my hands. At first, the magic collected at the end of my arms and grew painfully hot. Then the dam broke and the silvery mesh blackened and dripped away from my skin, while miniature flares of sorcery rolled off.

  With my hands free, I shot jets of energy at Orthoni. The spider sliced my attack into dissipating ribbons with her metal legs. Though my magic did not damage her, it pushed her back, giving me space to free myself.

  Rather than focus the magic into my hands, I imagined my body like the sun, radiating in all directions. In a flash, the metal partition melted off my body, taking sections of my clothing with it.

  Orthoni lunged forward while I was distracted trying to free myself. I ducked out of the way of a metal leg right as it slammed into the wall, breaking tile and ceramic, throwing it into a wide arc.

  Scrambling away, I threw bursts of sorcery in the spider's direction, forcing it to slow down long enough to block my attacks. I found an empty corner and put the wall to my back.

  Orthoni came within a dozen paces, legs articulating in the same way a common house cat might prepare to pounce on a foolish mouse.

  "I'll destroy the rest of it," I said.

  "Maybe I'm bored with it. Once I've eaten you, I'll have plenty of time to rebuild. I needed a new project," said the spider.

  "Merde," I muttered under my breath, then louder, "Can we speak for a moment? Make a deal, perhaps? At least would you listen to my proposal?"

  Orthoni chuckled. "You've proved quite interesting so far, so I shall indulge until my hunger gets the best of me."

  "Your art, Lady Orthoni, it should be displayed in the finest museums in the world. I've never seen its like," I said honestly.

  "Do you think they would let me eat the patrons as payment?" Orthoni chuckled.

  "Why, that would be rude," I said, glancing around the room for something I could use to escape. Even if I could pull the delicate staircase down, Orthoni controlled it and could easily wrap it around me.

  "I'm sure the museums could pay in livestock," I said.

  The massive spider shook in revulsion, the coarse black hairs on her thorax swaying.

  "You misunderstand my intent," said the spider. "I eat only those that can enjoy my creations. If Matka would allow me to roam your world, I would gorge myself on your kind, because they are lovers of art."

  "What if I freed you?" I said, a plan starting to formulate in my head. The only thing I lacked was a cup of water. "Would that satisfy you?"

  Orthoni's palps glistened with saliva.

  "Matka would never let me be free. She likes to keep me as a pet," said Orthoni disdainfully.

  "I can free you," I said. "Imagine all the plump men and women of my world for you to sink your fangs into. I can offer you that."

  Her palps moved back and forth excitedly.

  "As much as this offer excites me, I know it is not in your power to give," said the massive spider. "Instead, you would escape, and I would be left without a meal."

  I took a step closer to Orthoni. If she reached out a metal foot, she could stab me in the chest.

  "I'm only one meal, and a scrawny one at that," I said, my stomach gurgling in reminder of my own hunger. "When you're finished with me, you'll be longing for the next meal. You're a clever spider—together we can find a way to make this work."

  "The offer is tempting..." said Orthoni.

  "Think of the fat little children," I said, staring at the bone-white palps. "Think of how they would squish beneath your impressive bulk. Little Prussian boys who enjoy cream and milk for breakfast, and who have enjoyed the sights and sounds of the cathedrals of Europe."

  A huge slop of saliva sluiced from Orthoni's palps and splatted against the tiles.

  "It would be nice...but why are you so willing to give up your own people?" asked the spider.

  I took a step closer and reached one hand into my pocket, praying the bean had not fallen out or been destroyed when I'd unleashed my sorcery earlier. Once Djata's tiny creation was resting in my palm, I shot a blast of magic at Orthoni's eyes. She reared back, blocking it with a crossed-legged stance. I dove forward, scooping up a viscous ball of spider saliva. It was warm and clung to my fingers.

  She brought her legs down and I rolled out of the way, right as they impacted with the floor, exploding tile and stone. I shot another blast of sorcery to keep her from following as I ran towards the exit. Between my hunger and the continual use of my magic, I was drained.

  Orthoni screamed, her chattering anger echoing through the gilded underhall.

  I shoved the bean into the ball of saliva in my other hand, then using my free one, let loose a torrent of magic to char away the staircase against the ceiling. Melted gold and silver dripped onto the ground. I hoped it was enough because I had no more magic to give. The well was empty.

  When I reached the spot beneath the hole, I threw the moist bean onto the ground and stood directly on it. Orthoni galloped towards me in a murderous rage, her many eyes glowing red, her metal feet chipping away tile.

  She was not going to stab me, or bite me. Her charge would crush me beneath her bulk. I motioned with m
y hands as if I was going to throw more sorcery, but she ignored the feint and kept coming.

  "Come on, bean," I said.

  The massive spider leapt and I prepared to be crushed, but the bean expanded beneath my feet, throwing me upwards through the hole in the ceiling. I flailed as I flew through the air, catching my fingers on the edge at the top and slamming hard against the side.

  Orthoni extended on her back legs to reach me. I scrambled up as her metal legs broke stone where I'd been a moment before. When I was on my two feet again, I kept running, fearing that Orthoni might pursue.

  I took the thirteen lefts and exited through the invisible door. It was too dangerous to stay in Matka's realm. I realized that she'd known I was behind the divan. She and Tobbin had tricked me into going into the underhall. I should have known that a powerful being like her would know when people were in her realm. Which left the final contest as the only way to get the True Caul.

  I reached the golden doors, and to my surprise, they pushed open, allowing me to escape. Once I stepped outside, they closed on their own with a resounding boom.

  The contest chamber was empty, save a few curious souls wandering around the stage. Everyone had returned to the festival halls. I could hear the murmur of voices reverberating from outside.

  I looked to the right, expecting to find Voltaire, but the rock wall was empty. It seemed unlikely that he would venture out on his own, due to his blindness.

  My wonder at his location was dispelled when I saw Pavel waving at me from across the chamber. He was holding up Voltaire's Continental Blue army jacket.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My son led me through the tunnels and passageways, always staying far enough away that I could not speak to him. I assumed he was worried about my sorcery, but I was drained dry and had not a drop to give.

  The battle with Orthoni and the many days of no food had left me weak. I marched on, despite my quivering knees.

  We passed one of the food halls and the smells made me delirious. The thought of ripping a hunk of salted bread apart with my fingers and shoving the pieces into my mouth to dissolve on my tongue was all I could think about.

  Long after we'd left the chamber, I could still smell the bread. I was so busy thinking about how hungry I was that I barely registered that we'd come to an empty chamber off the main passages.

  Pavel stood on the other side, holding Voltaire's jacket. His face was gaunt, his eye sockets sunken with black rings. It made his expression flat and unreadable.

  "Greetings, Mother," he said. "You're not looking well."

  "This place is not healthy for either of us, or our seconds," I said.

  "At least Viktor's transformation was more useful than your sorry Frenchman's," said Pavel. "Which is why I've brought you here to talk."

  "Are you going to offer me a deal?" I asked.

  He scoffed. His forehead knotted while his lips curled. "A deal? I'm giving you my demands. If you want to call it a deal, so be it. My deal is this: do not attempt to find the True Caul or compete in Matka's final contest, or Viktor will kill your second."

  He held up an item not bigger than the palm of his hand. It looked like a tiny folded paper bird.

  "With a breath of magic I can send this to Viktor, relaying my command," he said.

  "Will you release him once the final contest is over?" I asked.

  "Only if I have the True Caul," he said. "So if you want to see your Frenchman alive, you'll help me win the final contest."

  "What if it's something I can't help you with?"

  "Then stay out of my way," he said. "And pray that I win, because if Viktor sees anyone else but me, he's been instructed to kill his prisoner."

  I sat down and leaned against the stone. "I accept your offer," I said, before closing my eyes.

  "What are you doing?" he asked angrily.

  I peeked out one eye. "Isn't it obvious? Resting. Who knows what the third contest will be and I'm exhausted."

  It was risky to sleep in his presence, but I could barely keep my eyes open. I had to hope that my son wouldn't kill me while I lay defenseless. It was a hope.

  I awoke later, hungry. My stomach made noises of protest. It felt like it'd shrunk to the size of a walnut.

  Pavel sat on the other side, clearly fighting with his exhaustion. His head nodded in brief jerks while his eyes fluttered closed.

  I checked my magic to find it still empty. I could muster a bubble of sorcery no bigger than my forefinger. Which left no way to subdue Pavel without risking Voltaire's life.

  When he realized I was awake, he snapped up, back straight and tall.

  "You won't catch me sleeping," he said.

  Good, I thought. I hoped his tiredness would lead to a mistake. Otherwise, I wasn't sure I had a way out. While Viktor held Voltaire, I couldn't win the contest, unless I was willing to sacrifice the Frenchman. Which I wasn't. Maybe I could have before, but not after he gave his eyesight trying to win the first contest. It wouldn't be fair of me to offer him up so I could win the third.

  So I was stuck. I couldn't leave Pavel's presence, or he would notify Viktor. Not that I knew where they were keeping Voltaire. These caverns were extensive, going on for miles and miles. They could be anywhere, though I had to assume they weren't too far.

  As well, I doubted I could best Viktor since he'd been transformed into a horrifying bird-man, especially with little magic to fall back on. Even as a steely-eyed soldier he was more than equipped to beat me one-on-one. Maybe if I had a rapier, I might win, but now I feared to face him.

  Pavel and I sat in the empty cavern for a whole day. My son nodded off a few times, but woke quickly. I didn't try to move from my side of the room. I hoped that my magic would return, but I was so hungry that I wasn't sure I could walk, let alone use sorcery.

  My son drank from a water pouch, which made me acutely aware of my thirst.

  When he saw me watching him, he said, "I'm not a fool, Mother. There are ways around the rules."

  "I never said you were," I said. "Could you spare a sip? I think my throat is closing up. I won't be able to help you if I'm dead."

  He thought for a minute, then threw the pouch across the room. I caught it against my stomach.

  "Not too much. Only enough to wet your lips," he said.

  I tried to adhere to his demands as much as possible, letting the water drip onto my tongue. When I'd had a couple of mouthfuls, he motioned for me to throw it back.

  "Thank you, my son," I said.

  "Don't call me that," he replied.

  Not long after, the high-pitched whistle announced the final contest. Pavel made me take the lead as we marched back to the huge cavern.

  I stumbled my way, bouncing off the colorfully dressed revelers. I was surprised that none of them looked at me oddly. My clothing was torn and burnt from my battle with Orthoni, and I stunk from days without a bath.

  We reached the cavern, and Pavel had us stand near the back. He dug his fingers into my arm. The other hand was in his pocket around the paper bird.

  The goddess Matka entered through the golden doors. As she climbed onto the stage, she glanced directly in my direction with a smile hooked on her lips, confirming my assumption that she'd known I was in the room with Tobbin.

  She faced the crowd, clenching her hands at her waist, and addressed the crowd.

  "Once every slow turn, we gather under my roof and celebrate the Festival of the Infinite Earth. And each festival, I offer boons to those that are worthy enough to earn them. Today, I offer a challenge in the form of a pair of riddles. The first I will speak out loud and if you can tell me the answer, I will tell you a second. If you can solve them both, I will give the last boon."

  The crowd cheered the new contest, and while the noise died down, Pavel looked to me, his eyes wide with excitement. "You've always been good with riddles."

  I kept a flat expression. I was fair with riddles. It was Catherine who’d loved them, always presenting them to the nobility
as tests for their intellect, then berating them for not developing a more agile mind when they failed to answer correctly. Voltaire was good at riddles, too, but he was stuck somewhere with Viktor. I assumed Franklin was also excellent at them, only because he seemed to excel at every activity of the mind.

  "I'll do what I can, but I can only help you with the first," I said.

  Pavel grinned wickedly as he pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and dabbed his forehead. A faintly glowing substance was stuck to the cloth. "You'll help me with both. She didn't say you couldn't shout out the second riddle."

  "True," I said.

  It was hard not to be proud of my son's cleverness, even if it put me at risk of losing the contest.

  He was about to say something else when Matka's booming voice gave the riddle:

  "There is a house. One enters it blind and comes out seeing. What is it?" asked Matka.

  A wave of murmuring traveled through the crowd as men and women repeated the riddle to themselves in low voices.

  I didn't recognize the riddle, which meant it was something Matka had made up for the contest. Pavel seemed to be thinking about the riddle, but also kept glancing at me in hopes I'd already solved it.

  A cry of alarm went up at the front of the crowd as an old woman with streaks of gray in her hair, wearing maroon robes bounced up the steps with her hands in the air.

  Matka leaned over when the old woman neared, nodding as she gave the answer. When a wide smile creased Matka's smooth cheeks, I knew the old woman had gotten the answer correct.

  Matka stood tall and held up her hand for silence. "Desula answered the first question correctly."

  Then the goddess leaned down and whispered into Desula's ear for about twenty seconds. The old woman reacted with a flinch at the end.

  Pavel pinched me. "Don't worry about her, Katerina. Figure out the first riddle."

  "But she whispered the second. How will I know what she said?" I asked.

  "Leave that to me," he said. "I came prepared, unlike you."

  After a minute, Matka prompted the old woman for an answer, but she shook her head, cheeks sagging with disappointment. The goddess touched Desula on the crown of the head and she fell to her knees, transforming into a mangy dog with streaks of gray in her brown fur. Then, to my surprise, she stood on two feet like a human. She wasn't completely a dog, but a hybrid between the two. Desula stared at her shaggy fists before leaping from the stage and running off.