The sky and other things.
Something thin and sticky touched his cheek, stinging, as he forged upwards and tore it free. Another traced a silken path over his sleeve, more joined it, formed a mesh which parted as he jerked his arm, lifted to settle on his hair. The smoke protected him, settled vapor preventing the silk from adhering as designed to do, maintaining the freedom of motion he needed. A rustle and his hand lifted, caught the hilt of the knife, slashed as mandibles snapped an inch from his cheek, slashed again to complete the ruin, then again to send the oozing creature from its perch to plummet below.
One taken care of-how many others would be waiting?
The things were the size of a small dog, legs doubling the body area, mandibles capable of closing around a neck. The hooked limbs could rip and tear flesh from bones, but the most dangerous part was the venom which would numb and paralyze with immediate effect. One bite, if it broke the skin, and he would be worse than dead.
A branch interrupted his upward progress and, in a sudden area of clarity in the smoke, he saw a scuttling shape, silk streaming from its spinnerets, limbs rasping as it lunged towards him. Chiton broke beneath the smash of his fist, covering his knuckles with ooze, and a thrust of his knife drove steel into the main ganglion, cutting and twisting and severing the muscles leading to the mandibles. Higher, and the smoke thinned, ebon wreaths tracing smears across the morning, soiling the first pearly light.
Touching the twinkle of diamond dew, which graced the clouds of gossamer hanging in delicate veils.
Laying a patina of darkness on the long shape shrouded and bound with layers of web to branches which crossed and made a platform.
A bier for the, as yet, undead.
Threnond was stung, paralyzed, locked in a mental torment of helpless awareness. Meat processed for later consumption by the newborn spiders which would hatch from the eggs festooning his chest and throat, his stomach, groin and thighs. Doomed to lie immobile while the hungry mandibles gnawed into his flesh. To know the horror of being eaten alive.
His eyes were open, glazed, already seats of torment. Targets for the glare of the rising sun. Blindness would be the first of his many extra hells.
There was no cure and only one mercy.
Dumarest administered it, then slid down the bole of the tree to land, coughing, doubled and retching as acrid vapor tore at his lungs. He heard Bochner cry a warning, then the impact of a sudden weight on his back, the snap of mandibles at his shoulders, the touch of chiton against his cheek. A touch which fell away as the hunter smashed the scrabbling spider to the loam, to thrust his wooden spear into its thorax, to crush it with his boot as it fretted the shaft.
Another which, crippled, moved slowly back up a tree. A third, which Egulus killed as Dumarest, fighting for breath, stumbled free of the smoke.
'So, you found him.' Bochner glanced at the red smears where Dumarest had wiped his knife against his thigh. 'And gave him an easy way out.'
'Thank God for that.' Egulus glanced uneasily up at the smoke. 'I know what it's about now. Some spiders sting and paralyze, and others do not-how did you know which kind these are?'
'I didn't.' Dumarest straightened, fighting a sudden giddiness. He had inhaled too much poison. 'I just couldn't take the chance.'
'He was lucky,' said Bochner. 'Threnond, I mean. He was damned lucky.'
Dilys said, 'Lucky? I thought he was dead.'
'He is. That's what I mean.' The hunter glanced at Dumarest. 'Sometimes that's what a friend is for-and he had one of the best.'
Chapter Eleven
The fire was small, the animal skinned and suspended over it slowly cooking, the smell tantalizing as it stimulated primitive appetites. Watching it, Dilys remembered her youth. Would the spit have been considered a machine? The means of starting the blaze? Vagrant thoughts, which grew in the dullness of fatigue. Fruits of an undisciplined mind.
Leaning back against a rock, she looked at the vast expanse of the sea far below. Light shimmered from the water in brief splinters of flashing brilliance, sparkles which caught the eye to vanish even as they were born, to flash again in a coruscating pattern of hypnotic attraction. A floor to match the sweeping bowl of the sky in which the sun hung like a watching, malefic eye.
And, suddenly, she was afraid.
All her life she had been confined. The village had been small and always there had been walls. Even later, when she had run away to the town to study, there had been close restraints; the cramped room she shared with others, the lecture halls, the classrooms, the workshops and, later, the interiors of ships, the engine rooms she had made her world. And now, agoraphobia gripped her so that she wanted to cringe and hide from the threat of the vast, open spaces.
'Dilys?' Dumarest was beside her. 'Is anything wrong?'
Had she cried out in her sudden terror? Had he sensed her need? No matter, he was close and she felt a warm reassurance. Impulsively, she reached out to take his hand.
'Earl! Earl, I-'
'Should be watching the fire,' he said quickly. 'If you let the meat burn, I'll beat you.'
He was joking, turning the subject from intense emotion, and yet she sensed that it was not wholly a jest. If the need arose he would beat her. Strike her, as he had killed Threnond. From need. From mercy.
Could she have done the same?
Could Egulus?
They came from different worlds, she thought. To them, the hull was the natural boundary, the hum of engines the voice of the wind, the glow of lights the shine of the sun. Planets were places to be visited and left without delay. Worlds were names in an almanac. Here, on the dirt, they were like stranded fish.
And she was tired. Tired!
They had dropped down the slope until clear of the trees, then turned to the left where Dumarest had spotted a long ridge running up the foothills. A relatively safe path a few miles away, the distance trebled by the undulations of the terrain, trebled again by the difficulty of progress. A time of stumbling on, of drinking when they found water, eating when they had food. Days which had passed into nights and nights which had turned pale and become days again. How many? She had forgotten.
'You're tired,' said Dumarest, 'but it won't be long now. We're almost at the summit of the peak. Tomorrow we'll be able to see what's on the other side.' Then, when she made no comment, he added, 'Watch the meat, girl. Game is scarce up here.'
Game and fruits and even leaves succulent enough to chew. He looked back down the slope as he left the girl, frowning as he judged their progress. It was too slow. Hardship had weakened them but here, facing the sea, was a bad place to linger. Over the crest would be shelter and the possibility of larger game.
Egulus sat with the radio on his lap, Bochner beside him. The captain was busy checking the mechanism, fingers deft as he traced circuits and tested connections.
'It's crude, Earl.' He looked up as Dumarest's shadow fell over the mechanism. 'Threnond had to use what was available, but he had limited knowledge of electronics. I'm trying to alter the circuits a little to boost the emissions.'
'It's still working?'
'Yes. I've tested the energy cell and it's viable. The thing is, I'm not too sure of the emissions. It should be sending on the general planetary band if it's to be any good at all, but there's no way of telling.'
'Ships and field installations operate on a wide-band spectrum,' said Dumarest. 'They might not recognize it as a message at first, but they'll hear and investigate.'
'By adjusting the receptors,' agreed the captain. 'If the operator on duty isn't a fool, or thinking of something else, or is willing to take the time and use the power. On any normal world I wouldn't be so anxious, but this is Hyrcanus.'
