“He’s gone,” Vaasurri yelled over the wind and edged closer to Uthalion. “Leave him!”
“No!” Uthalion replied angrily and stepped closer still, refusing to give up on the half-elf.
“Not one of you!” Brindani growled as the trees shifted, shaking from their roots to the tips of their branches. Their white, unnatural bark wavered, rippling like a mirage as deep cracks appeared in their trunks, growing and splitting as thunder roared through the sky. Brindani’s voice joined the cacophony, “I am not one of you!”
The deep cracks spread through the trees in long-curving lines. The rippling bark smoothed out, revealing large, bulbous knots that squirmed against one another. Long branches fell into well-ordered groups, gathering beneath the bulges and falling away from one another in a scampering tangle of limbs and skittering bodies. Shining blue eyes sprouted like gems above screeching sets of long mandibles and circular mouths set with rows of triangular teeth. Tiny, handlike claws pawed at the ground beneath the large, white spiders as they separated into groups, abandoning their treelike illusions.
For a moment, Ghaelya hesitated, feeling the slow buildup of an inevitable inertia pushing her to the edge of a long drop. She raised her blade to defend herself, heightened her
Rinses, and Kent her lrnees i-ntIi a ficVitinor efonoo The wrViife spiders rose on their back legs, waving their forelegs in a threatening display as they edged forward in quick, scurrying steps. Remnants and distortions of her name emanated from the beasts, a constant hum of clicking chanting from ‘ their horrid maws. Brindani turned, his sword drawn high over his shoulder. Uthalion started forward, waving his free hand and yelling, but Brindani’s blade fell and struck true, cleaving the small head of a spider in a spray of viscous yellow fluid.
Ghaelya felt her stomach turn as the brief moment of impending threat descended sharply into the chaos of battle. She rolled and slashed as a pouncing spider hurtled over her, slicking her blade with yellow blood. Her loosed cloak flew out with the wind, blinding the seeking eyes of one beast as she sliced at the legs of another. Tiny segmented claws reached for her from all directions as she bent her will to the water in her spirit.
Twisting and turning in a crowd of clamoring spiders, she danced wildly out of their reach, leaping cautiously over the blue flowers which continued to brighten and crackle. Thunder and wind hid the voices of her companions; white claws and bobbing abdomens dominated her field of vision. A popping shower of sparks exploded from the ground, sending one spider rolling and thrashing, several of its legs charred by a patch of glowing flowers. Another creature quickly took ‘| its place, careful to avoid the blooms as it joined the droning J chant of the others. J
Ghaelya… Ghaelya… §
She leaped at the newcomer, dodging its nimble forelegs 1 to vault over its back. As she turned through the air, she | glanced outward, catching sight of the flashing plains and | the growing number of white trees. Her stomach turned | again, and she hit the ground in a panic. J
“Too many,” she whispered, swinging her broad sword 1 in a wide arc for breathing room. “Nowhere to run.”
Uthalion and: Vaasurri held their ground, fighting back to back as Brindani tore through the spiders like a man possessed, his blade no more than a steely blue blur. She managed a single step toward them before feeling a strong tug on her arm. Spun by the force, she struggled against a long strand of sticky gray filaments roping around her wrist. She hacked at the webbing even as the tiny, arms of a spider pulled her closer. The heavy broadsword managed to sever the line, but another web snapped out from her right, snatching the weapon away.
Lightning struck nearby, close enough to leave bright forked lines through everything she saw. The resulting thunder deafened her as her legs were pulled out from under her. The world spun, and she struggled to hold on, lashing out at anything that came near. The spiders surrounded her, cooing softly in their alien voices, their legs reverently grasping her ankles. She screamed and kicked furiously, the energy lines on her skin burning where the creatures touched, sending shocks of heat through her body and threatening to ignite the flames of her family’s heritage.
Clouds flew overhead, swirling faster and faster across the gray plains. Tiny arcs of lightning, so high they were barely more than threads of jagged light, lit the highest parts of the spinning storm. A mandible crunched beneath her heel, and she tore out a set of blue eyes. Yet still the spiders held her, singing her name as she was slowly dragged across the ground. Thick webbing muffled her angry cries, and in the midst of it all she briefly imagined being strung up among the white trees. She recalled Uthalion’s words, coming back to replace one fear with another.
“Tohrepur reaching out for us,” she whispered to herself.
As another strand of webbing covered her eyes she heard the shivering crack of more trees falling apart, the scamper of eager legs across the dry grass. In the dark she imagined.
TeSSaeril’s fierv eves waitincr for her hlrmmintr anA nwoninn red nectar, and she renewed her struggle against the webs and groping claws.
Suddenly the spiders stopped and pulled away. A faint high-pitched whistle carried through the wind and thunder and buzzing song of her captors. The constant chant quickly changed, becoming painful shrieks and screeching. Heavy bodies fell to the ground, rolling over and around her. Sharp claws scratched her exposed skin as the spiders writhed, screaming in unison, and she felt as though her ears might bleed from the noise.
‘ She screamed along with them, barely able to make out the familiar whoosh of missiles darting solidly into tough, white carapaces. The loss of several voices did little for the cacophonous chorus pressing against the sides of her skull, though with each silenced scream she could better hear the swift retreat of skittering legs through the grass.
Dazed and in pain, splashed by the spiders’ warm fluids, she struggled to free herself of the tight webbing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
11 Mirtul, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR) The Lash, Akanul
Uthalion winced as he ducked low and pulled his sword free of a twitching spider. An arrow grazed his ear, the fletching sending a shock down his spine as it passed. He cursed at the near miss, flinching and holding up the edge of his cloak as a makeshift shield. Though it couldn’t have stopped the speeding missiles, it gave him a little peace of mind. The white spiders scampered awkwardly away as fast as they could. The lightning strikes intensified, reaching down from the clouds to make contact with the patches of glowing blue flowers and vibrating the air with thunderous crashes. Distant trees fell apart into more of the beasts, also fleeing the high-pitched whine that reminded him of an animal trainer’s whistle.
Grateful for the reprieve from what would have been certain defeat, Uthalion kept up his guard, fearful of having traded one dangerous threat for another. Vaasurri crouched nearby in the cover of a dead spider’s abdomen; Uthalion could just see the killoren’s drawn bone-blade held out straight and low over the short grass.
“Can you see them?” Uthalion called out, adjusting his cloak so that he could see the killoren.
Vaasurri shook his head slowly, not bothering to look up as he inspected an arrow from the spider’s body. The head was finely worked bone, and the shaft seemed cut from the bone-trees of the Lash. The fletching shined and sparkled as the killoren turned the arrow over, the feathers bearing a silver, metallic sheen like the birds they had seen earlier.
“Local,” Vaasurri said at length, shrugging. He turned to peer over the spider’s body as the flight of arrows ceased and the eerie whistling faded. Squinting over his arm, Uthalion saw a line of figures in mouse-brown robes with tall longbows at their sides. Deep cowls hid their features, and there seemed to be an awkwardness in their stance, something less than comfortable yet more than inhuman. Cautiously, Vaasurri stood, gesturing behind him as he prowled closer to the bound figure of Ghaelya. “Perhaps they can do something for Brindani,” the killoren said.
Uthalion glanced at the prone half-elf, taking in the many wounds scattered across Brindani’s body, a few of which were certainly bites and undoubtedly poisoned. He stirred and moaned softly, the sound little more than a whisper in the increasingly howling winds. Uthalion shivered in the icy chill and limped over to the half-elf, careful to mind his own wounds until they could manage some kind of shelter.
Brindani did not resist or complain as he was hoisted up to hang on Uthalion’s shoulder. He was just strong enough to push against the ground and maintain some footing. They turned together as Vaasurri freed Ghaelya, and Uthalion stared down at the genasi curiously.
