It knows I can’t move. Her jaw dropped. Is it smart?
She swallowed hard and tried to find enough calm to speak. “S-Strix…” She coughed. “Strixian, give me the wildkin whisper!”
If ever in her life she wanted anything, this was it.
Strands of white energy coalesced in the air, twisting in a spiral that settled into her chest, giving rise to strange whispery noises coming from the spider as it wound silk around her leg. The odd sounds became speech.
“Sssmall. Too sssmall,” it rasped in a whispery, breathless hiss that trailed off to silence. “Won’t keep. Eat sssoon. Babiesss did not wrap it well.”
“Hello,” said Emma.
The giant emerald creeper whirled around fast, making the web bounce and sway.
“Speaksss?” It reared back, raising four legs and its venom-soaked chelicerae.
“P-please, let me go. I’m too small to eat.”
It lowered its legs to the web; a strange feminine quality filtered through the hollow voice. “You are in my web. You will feed my children.”
“But, I’m only a child too. I have a mother. H-how would you feel if someone killed your babies?”
The spider rushed at her, stopping with its ever-moving mouthparts inches from her nose. Wetness sprayed over her as it rasped. “Humans do slay my babies! I should drag your dry bones back to them.”
Emma cringed at the feeling of its bristles on her legs. The memory of the wagon covered in dead spiders, which had haunted her dreams for years, came back to her. She whimpered as the spider took little delicateness in lashing several strands of web tight around her chest.
“But, I didn’t hurt any of your children.”
“You think that mattersss?” It reared up over her. “My children did not kill humansss.”
She struggled to unstick her finger, and pointed at the dead man two feet away. “What about him?”
“Hisss companion killed one of my children.”
Fear washed over her in waves; she closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing even. The webbing around her middle made it hard to get air. “They said they were attacked first.”
“I do not believe you,” hissed the spider. “They have hunted usss for the all of exissstence.”
“Humans are scared of spiders. They run away from even tiny ones,” she whimpered. “I’ll tell them to stop if you let me go.”
The spider slipped to the side, circling. “You sssaid you are a child. They will not lisssten to you.” It shifted to appraise her. “You are alssso an egg-layer. Humansss do not listen to their egg-layersss, even when they are not children.”
Emma glared at it in shock. “Humans don’t lay eggs!”
“You are trying to trick me!” it hissed. “You have soldiersss and egg-layersss, just like usss.”
Her unconscious struggle against the web ceased, leaving her limp and out of breath. “It’s not true. The town elders always do what my Nan tells them. They’re afraid of her.” Now, I know why. She flashed a nervous grin. “Believe me, I can help.”
“You deccceive! You ssseek only to live.” It moved to gather silk around her other leg.
She did not even try to struggle. “Please. Let me go. I know how I can make them stop killing your babies.”
The spider pulled a strand up, wrapped it over her thigh and pulled it taut. It hesitated; eight eyes flicked up to look at her. A moment of consideration passed, and it resumed its work. At the point where it reached the hem of her dress, it wound silk around both legs.
“Wait, please!” Emma lapsed into sobs. “I can help you. They kill your babies for silk.”
“Isss that ssso?” The hollow whisper turned her blood to ice. “Than I ssshall kill you for your juicccesss.”
Emma snarled. “No. That’s stupid! I’m the only one that can stop them.”
“I do not believe you.”
She ducked her head back as its immense abdominal orb swung overhead. The spinneret yawned, a cavernous, pulsating orifice wider than her head. White lumpy things embedded in pale green flesh inside swelled, about to spray her in the face. Emma rambled as fast as she could speak, ignoring the thread of viscous liquid descending onto her cheek and nose.
“How many humans can talk to you? I can make a deal. I can stop them. Please!”
The white bulges undulated and glistened with unformed strands. Emma shivered, staring at it. Please, please, please, please. The orifice closed, covered by armored plates, and the spider whirled around. It lowered itself, face close to Emma’s.
“How can I know you will not sssimply run away and hide?” Eight eyes narrowed. “I ssstill think you are deccceptive.”
It took her a few breaths to regain the nerve to speak. “It is true I could run away and never come back. All I can do is promise.”
The spider leaned away, the whisper trailed off to silence. “I have heard enough of promisssesss. The green ones always promissse.”
“I’m not a goblin.” Emma raised her head, whining as the webbing pulled her hair. “I’m a druid. Uhh… I will be a druid when I grow up.” If I grow up. “Do you know the Raven?”
The spider stood taller. “Thisss one has heard of her.”
“That’s my Nan. I’m her grand… Uhh, I’m her baby’s baby.”
“Sssuppossse I releassse you?” It swayed side to side. “What do you propossse?”
A way out of the worst situation she could have imagined brought a nervous giggle. Emma tugged at her arms, shifting her hips in search of a way to escape the web constricting her breath. “I will come back once a month to collect scraps of old web and bring them to the humans. I will tell the merchant I won’t bring him more if anyone hurts your children. They are greedy and will not want that.”
The enormous spider twitched its chelicerae, fangs scraping over each other like sharpening knives. Agonizing minutes slid by as it leaned one way or the other, pondering. Emma squirmed and whimpered.
“What isss wrong?”
“I can’t move, and it’s hard to breathe.”
The spider’s reaction, uncontrolled laughter, turned Emma’s face red with anger.
“It’s not funny!” She whined. “I’ve had nightmares about big, green spiders since I was little. I’m so scared I’m not even scared.”
“That makesss no sssenssse.”
She cringed; the pitch of its whispery voice rattled her bones. “I thought you were monsters. I’m sorry.”
The largest emerald creeper Emma had ever seen positioned itself over her and looked down. “You will be our emisssary to the humansss.”
She trembled, her body rebelling at being immobilized so near to a creature so deadly. “What’s that mean?”
“Your offer. To trade sssilk. Sssay you will do thisss.”
Emma nodded, the only movement she could manage. “Yes. Yes. I will.”
Its great mouthparts stretched out and swung down. Emma held back a scream, closing her eyes and flinching as the web bobbed and bounced. The tightness about her chest released, then her arms detached. She squirmed amid the stickiness as it slashed her loose from waist to toe, and lifted her in its forelegs. A wail came out of her as it began to rotate her like a chicken on a spit and wrap more silk around her into a cocoon.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
It stopped turning her and scuttled down the web to the floor. “Sssorry. Inssstinct.”
The spider set her on the ground and backed away. She sat up, using the dagger to slice her legs apart and tearing the beginnings of a cocoon away, before plucking stray webs from her hair. After clearing her dress of as much webbing as she could find, she stood and put the dagger back on her belt.
“Is this the way out?” She went to leave, but stopped, horrified at the cave full of dead things wrapped in silk.
A presence next to her almost stopped her heart. Something hit the ground behind her with a splat. Emma glanced down at a large bundle of spidersilk next to a furry limb as thick as her father�
�s thigh. She gulped as she turned. The spider, now standing on solid ground, was tall enough for her to walk under without stooping. Within the glop of silk were numerous strands of long, black hair. What had a moment ago immobilized her in the face of certain death had become a potential offer of truce.
She stooped to pick up the bundle, which despite its size, was quite light. The feel of touching the sticky mass made every muscle in her back tense.
“Thisss way.” It prodded her with four legs, towards the cave.
Emma crept over webbing so old it was no longer sticky, like clouds under her feet. A goblin-shaped impression in a silken wall twitched as she neared. She yelped and jumped sideways, crunching into a dry cocoon that sprouted a bony human arm and a puff of dust. Emma gulped and moved away from it, looking down at the pillowy ground, rather than witness any of the horrors mounted on the walls. After quite a while of travel, the ground became stone and dirt and the amount of webbing diminished.
The great spider prodded her in the back here and there to signal turns, and soon she came to a halt at the entrance to a cavernous space packed with silken orbs the size of wagons. Before Emma could ask what was going on, the spider chittered.
“Come, children.”
A rush of fear made her light headed. Three caves led from the room, in addition to the one behind her. None of them seemed promising, and all teemed with sudden motion. Hundreds of emerald creepers crept forward. Most were as big as the ones she had seen before, bodies about four to five feet long. Innumerable others emerged, some as small as a man’s hand. The swarm rushed to within a few feet of her. Emma instinctively backed away, stopping at the insistence of four stick-like prods in her back.
“Be calm, child. Thessse are my children.”
The smallest spiders scurried over her feet, spiraling up her legs and over her back. She shuddered, too afraid to move, even to blink. I’m not going to be afraid of spiders after this.
“Now that they have ssseen you, they will not harm you.” The Emerald Queen clasped her by the shoulders and spun her around, eye to eyes. “Unlesss you betray usss.”
Emma shook her head so hard she almost knocked herself dizzy. “I won’t.” She traced an X over her chest. “Swear.”
One leg, bristles as thick as carrots, raised and pointed. Emma curtsied at the giant arachnid and crept towards the writhing mass of spiders. An ocean of shimmering emerald hair receded as she moved, parting enough to let her walk by before it filled in behind her. She dragged her feet, afraid to step on one of the smallest and anger them. Numerous egg sacs vibrated with a high-pitched sound that made her skin crawl and tightened her jaw. No spider followed her into the passage at the far side of the chamber. Once she was sure the ground was clear of little creatures, she picked up to a run. As soon as nothing green and furry remained in sight, she fell to her hands and knees. Realizing how close she had come to death, she threw up. When it stopped, she crawled away from the puddle and collapsed, shivering out the last of her terror. The spiders can talk. No, I can talk to them. They’re not evil, just defending themselves. Her shaking faded to a mild tremble in a few minutes. She sat up and took a deep breath.
“I’m scared of them because they might kill me. I can talk to them and they promised not to kill me. I don’t need to be scared.”
Emma rocked back and forth.
“I don’t need to be scared.”
Drips in the distance punctuated the silence every few seconds. Emma got as close as she could get to convincing herself not to be terrified of spiders and stood. After collecting the wad of spidersilk, she marched onward. The cave continued for some distance, flooded with a scent of earth so heavy she could taste dirt. Mosses of green, violet, and blue grew around the walls, studded with tiny pink mushrooms. She held her arms out for balance as she navigated patches of strange-colored jelly and gleaming slime. Clear rock was sparse, and she had to leap several times to keep from stepping in the unknown. At the far end of the rainbow cave, water collected in a shin-deep pool where it bubbled out of the ground. She squatted at the edge, gathering several handfuls, which she gulped down before wiping her face with the back of her arm.
It got harder to walk through the tunnel past the wet section, making her believe she was moving uphill. At the scent of fresh air, she raced ahead until she reached a curtain of roots. The darkness of Widowswood waited on the other side. Emma looked over her shoulder, face paling at the memory of how many spiders were down there. She faced the roots, shaking at the thought the Banderwigh was still out there, waiting.
Stuck between her two greatest fears, she could not bring herself to move. She peered through the hanging strands at the sky, wondering how long it would be until the sun came up. There was no guarantee the Banderwigh would not be out during the day. Every tiny noise in the cave made her twitch, expecting a spider. A twig snapped somewhere off in the dark, making the cave feel safer.
Poison fangs or an axe… what a choice. She exhaled hard. Standing here chicken won’t help anyone.
She grasped the roots, thought of her family, and crawled into the moonlight.
naps, crunches, and whistles echoed over the whispering wind. Emma clung to the pillow of spidersilk as though it would protect her. A short distance from the cave, she found a trail wide enough for a horse. The night sky offered little clue as to which direction was east or west, and she stood at the edge of the dirt path for several minutes, looking left and right. Soft and cool, the road was a welcome relief from the occasional painful twig or root gnarl.
Emma jumped at a crunch in the undergrowth to her left. She took two steps back, ready to run for her life, when a deer bounded out onto the trail. It stared at her, frozen for an instant, and scrambled off into the distance. Fear drained out of her, leaving her slouched and panting. A few minutes later, a glint of moonlight at the side of the road attracted her. A metal helm, bashed and spattered with dried blood, sat upside down in a clump of weeds.
Bandits.
As if creeping would make walking barefoot on dirt any quieter, Emma tiptoed to the edge of the road and hid among the trees. Bandits won’t bother me. I don’t have any money. She glanced at the wad of silk as big as a pillow. Marsten paid in kingscoin for a small fraction of that amount. A peasant family could live for two months on one of those coins. Bandits would kill for this lump. It’s silly to pay so much for something the spiders have lots of. Her eyes widened. It’s hard to get. The creepers are deadly. She had another shiver thinking how close she’d come to the end.
Her resolve cracked and let a few tears out. Between the Banderwigh chasing her, her Father missing, and being stuck on a web, she wanted to crawl into Mother’s lap for the rest of her life and stay there. Assuming, of course, that Mother ever woke up. Now angry, Emma pushed away from her hiding tree and stomped in a random direction. Her mind swam with worry. Should she stay off the road to avoid bandits? What happened to Father? Don’t make noise so the Banderwigh hears you. Why won’t Mother wake up? Don’t step on thorns, don’t drop the spidersilk, watch out for glue traps, and don’t stop.
Her pace had fallen to a slow, careful walk. She absentmindedly plucked threads of web from her hair and dress, shaking her hand until they floated off on the wind. Emerald creeper silk was as thick as twine, and far tougher than anything a common spider produced. She knew people made rope out of it, tough rope a fraction of the weight of hemp. Nan once said wizards used it for special robes, and she had rolled her eyes. Emma drew the dagger, feeling like Princess Isabelle after escaping the castle of the Mad Wizard. For a few moments, she swung the knife at branches or vines unfortunate enough to hang close.
“Tamrin Brae, Tamrin Brae,” she whisper-sang in a faltering voice, “went to the well one summer’s day.”
The Banderwigh will hear you.
She sucked in the next line, put the dagger away, and halted in place to listen for the sound of anything coming. After a minute of silence, she exhaled and ventured forward. Another deer g
alloped past, scaring her against a tree. Emma closed her eyes, for the first time in her life disliking the cute forest animal. Animal! If she could find a bird, she could ask it to go fetch Nan. But, what if Nan is still sleeping? An animal could still lead her east… Do animals know about east and west?
Feeling hopeless, she stumbled ahead, staring at the ground. The same tree seemed to go by for the third time before she stopped again, not having a clue where she stood or where she was going. A faint noise seeped through the wind. Emma held her breath to listen. It came again: metal, squeaking. She imagined an iron weathervane shifting in the wind, and moved ahead in a turning walk, listening for the direction from which the sound came.
Beyond a thick patch of trees, the forest floor ended at an earthen ridge three times her height. The sound of rusted metal had grown louder moving in this direction. For a moment, she stared up at the two blue and one green moons, bright in a sky of cloudless indigo. Emma gathered her hair in front of herself and pressed the spidersilk bundle to her back, sticking it to her dress like a pack. She kicked her feet into the dirt and grabbed at root bundles, climbing until she could see over the top.
Damp earth and pale toadstools bigger than her head filled her nose with an unpleasant musky stink. A short distance from the ridge, the ruin of a building was well on its way to rejoining the earth. All that defined it as a house was the hearth and chimney, and a rectangle of stones that indicated its former outline. Some rotting bits of wood remained in the shape of a fence, with a rotting, mushroom-covered plow frame still recognizable at one corner. The scraping noise turned out to be a fragment of metal gate swinging from a fencepost. Whoever had lived here was long gone.
Emma bit her lip and reached over the top to seize a fistful of grass. With a heavy grunt, she hauled herself up and over, crawling forward until she could go limp and catch her breath. A cool breeze picked up, carrying away the sweat that built up from the climb. She peeled the bundle from her back, gasping as it tugged at her hair. With the lump on the ground, she stepped on it and gathered her ebon locks in both hands to pull them free. Emma scowled at the iridescent mass of silk now stuck to her foot as she hopped. She plucked it loose and threw it to the ground, ready to punt it away for hurting so much. She remembered the bargain and stomped the dirt, growling.
Emma and the Banderwigh Page 16
