Is it worth meeting the Widow?
He had to think about the answer for a moment as his hand trailed along the rock walls. They were moist. He tried not to think about blood.
“Yes,” he said aloud as he walked. “It is worth it. I owe it to those kids trapped in the world in between. I’ve already gotten an artifact that can use the Jewel; no sense in stopping now.”
Suddenly, the darkness gave way to a greenish light that reminded him of sickness and death. A haze hung in the air. He stopped, his feet no longer wanting to go on.
No, Harry; now’s not the time to freeze up. You gotta keep going.
So he did.
He entered a vast chamber. Webs hung from the walls, swaying in a gentle breeze. There was a tree to one side, its trunk white and ashy, and a dais in the middle with large stone steps leading up to it.
He turned his head and saw the source of the smell: two headless Orcs, their bodies shrunken with rot and ruin. It looked as if they’d been dead for years, chewed up and spat out by…something. But Harry knew better than that. They’d only been dead for days—maybe hours. Something had drained them of all their blood and life.
He heard scrabbling above him. Harry craned his head upward and saw only looming shadows, but the sound was there. It was a heavy sound.
It can’t be. There’s no way she’s alive after all these years…
But it was.
The Widow descended down the wall, her huge, black legs crawling with an eerie grace that a creature as big as she shouldn’t have possessed.
“Welcome, Harry,” the giant spider said.
Harry had to practically pick his jaw up off of the floor.
“H-Hi,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.” The fear was present in his body, but he still didn’t let it show.
The Widow landed on the dais with her legs curled and her back arched. Harry saw the giant stinger protruding from her back end.
Against his better judgment, Harry walked forward, his hand out in preparation of a greeting. “I don’t know if this is how you do it around here.”
“You do not touch me,” the Widow boomed.
“Oh, well, I thought it was polite to offer you a handshake.” Harry put his hand down.
“Let’s get to business,” the Widow said, ignoring his antics.
Her eyes were green, and Harry found himself entranced as he looked into them. He shook his head and blinked a couple times, trying to shake free from the hypnotic feeling that had come over him.
“I-I, uh, appreciate that,” Harry said, his voice distant to his ears. “A businesswoman.”
Fangs jutted out as the black lips of the Widow’s mouth parted. Harry cringed and then hoped against hope that she hadn’t noticed it.
Of course she had, but it was such a common reaction from someone who was first seeing her that the Widow didn’t pay it any direct attention.
“The Jewel of Deception,” the Widow began. “I’m sure my soldiers have filled you in on the mission.”
“Eh, kind of. The details are bit hazy. No problem. Most of the jobs I do are hazy. But I always come out on top.” Harry brought his nails up to his mouth, breathed on them, and then he wiped them on his chest—a gesture that said, I’m hot stuff, no worries.
“I understand most of your jobs do not require much violence,” the Widow said. She shifted, and the stone beneath her massive body groaned.
“Right you are, your gracious Spider Queen,” Harry confirmed, a smile playing on his lips as he said the title. “It’s in and out.” He chuckled. “Sounds like my Saturday nights.”
The Widow was not amused.
“Oh, okay, I see you’re not the laughing type. My apologies.”
There was only silence as the Widow’s bulbous green eyes bored deeper into Harry’s soul.
She spoke after a long moment. “This will not be an easy task. Not like any you are used to.”
“All of my missions are easy, no matter the difficulty. I’m that good…Okay, nothing? Not even a smile. Can Arachnids smile, anyway?” Harry asked.
The Widow ignored him and went right on talking. “The Jewel of Deception is a very powerful tool—one that I am in dire need of, do you understand?”
Harry nodded. He was beginning to get past the feeling of discomfort; now he just wanted to run. It was not something Harry was fond of doing in the face of fear, but it was sometimes required.
“There will be quite the payment, if you lead my soldiers to success,” the Widow continued.
“What type of payment?” Harry asked, perking up.
He had been under the assumption (by the Arachnids) that he would have no choice but to steal the Jewel of Deception—if he wanted to continue living, that was. Normally, Harry didn’t take a job if there wasn’t payment, or if he couldn’t sell the artifact he was stealing for oodles of coin. He could’ve avoided the Arachnids easily enough, but the mention of the fabled Jewel of Deception had gotten his attention. If he got his hands on it then he could finally get those people of out the world in between. It was a just a matter of deceiving the Arachnids…and the Arachnids weren’t easily deceivable. They killed first and asked questions later, if at all.
Harry didn’t dare think about any of this while in the presence of the Widow. Fabled as her legend had become, he knew there was definitely something…supernatural about her. It had been said that she could read minds, see into the past as clearly as if she were living in it, and even raise the dead.
Did Harry believe all of that? No, not exactly.
“Gold, jewels, treasure,” the Widow answered. “I’ve accumulated quite a fortune over my many years. You name your price upon completion, and when the Jewel of Deception
