Tyrus nodded, scanning the ground and then the trees. Hettie reached out toward one of the thick strands, and blue fire burst from her fingers. She held it against the strands, but nothing happened. She summoned more heat but the webs resisted its burning. The flame in her hand snuffed out.
“Of course,” Tyrus said darkly. “It is enchanted against flame. He means to hold us here until the Tay al-Ard refreshes or force us to cut our way through and reveal ourselves. We don’t have time to dally. Try your blade, Hettie.”
The Romani girl nodded and slung her bow across her shoulder and drew her knives. She slashed at the first cord and it severed, but there was an eerie reverberation in the woods, like a plaintive discordant chord from a harp.
“Quickly,” Tyrus said. “Shion and Hettie—lead the way. Do you have a dagger, Annon?”
The Druidecht nodded and produced a small hunting knife.
“I have one,” Phae said, but Tyrus waved at her not to draw it. He put his arm around her and went with her into the gap carved by Shion and Hettie. Prince Aran took up the rear, searching the heights of the trees for a sign of the Raekni.
As they cut their way through the thick barrier, Phae felt the stirrings of pain begin again deep inside her. She breathed rapidly, taking little gulps of breath, and hugged herself to endure the pain and still walk. She was lightheaded after vomiting and still felt no hunger. As more of the strands were severed, a strange music seemed to linger in the air, wafting unseen as strands of different length were snapped. It was a ghostly hymn, a funeral dirge. It made Phae shudder.
Hettie and Shion struck down the webs that blocked their way. Sometimes the nets were so thick that it took both of them to clear the path so that they could pass single file. Annon craned his neck, staring up at the trees.
“Shadows,” he said, pointing upward.
Through the veil of strands came the outsized shadow of spiders, skittering in the trees above them. These were huge, man-sized, and easily outpaced them. Phae saw only three, no more.
“If their webs are immune to flame,” Tyrus said, “it is likely they are protected as well.”
“The webbing is thicker ahead,” Hettie said. “How did they work so quickly?”
A low-hanging branch blocked the path, and Tyrus helped Phae duck. Glossy strands stuck to her face and she brushed them away. Their boots crunched in the leaves and twigs. Anticipation coursed through her veins, mixing with worry and dread. The shadows of another spider creature passed overhead, making her shrink.
Sweat began to glisten on Hettie and Annon’s brows as they continued to labor. Only Shion could work with unflagging strength, his expression dark and brooding. The pace was slow and tedious, and it became apparent that the spiders had been more than thorough in securing the way against intruders.
“At least the Weir won’t be able to reach us here,” Hettie murmured. She raised her arm to slash another strand. A spurting sound occurred just then and Hettie was hauled off her feet by her outstretched arm.
“Hettie!” Annon yelled, lunging forward, but Shion was faster. He grabbed her by the belt and pulled her back.
“Cut the strand!” Shion barked, yanking as Hettie squirmed.
Annon managed to slice through the bond that had snared her and she fell to the ground with a thud. Her legs began to kick and twitch and when Annon rolled her over, he saw her eyes had rolled back in her head as she convulsed in heavy spasms. A bloodstain bloomed from the front of her shirt.
A discordant chittering sound filled the air and new lines of webbing began to streak down at them. Tyrus drew a blade and fended off the webs as they came for him. At that moment, Phae doubled over in pain, seized by a violent cramp in her abdomen. She crumpled to the ground, pulling in her legs, groaning with anguish. The pain wracked her, blurring her vision as the web strands began to stick to everyone. She heard voices cry in alarm and felt something land next to her on the ground. A furry, stout spider leg was next to Phae’s cheek, and she writhed and twisted away. Another pain struck her on the side as she rolled, and she saw the large black stinger protruding into her shirt. It withdrew immediately, dripping crimson.
“Shion!” she screamed, experiencing a surge of fiery pain.
Looking up, she saw him slashing wildly, beset by four spiders at once, a mass of quivering furry legs and spindle sacs that shuddered and bobbed in the fight. In horror, she watched another twisting Hettie into a bundle of spindly webs, wrapping her in the strands with effortless ease. Phae tried to sit up but the spider that had stung her batted her down. She felt her legs lashed together and suddenly the world was spinning, faster and faster, whirling round and round, her stomach so tender that she blacked out.
“Of course,” Tyrus said darkly. “It is enchanted against flame. He means to hold us here until the Tay al-Ard refreshes or force us to cut our way through and reveal ourselves. We don’t have time to dally. Try your blade, Hettie.”
The Romani girl nodded and slung her bow across her shoulder and drew her knives. She slashed at the first cord and it severed, but there was an eerie reverberation in the woods, like a plaintive discordant chord from a harp.
“Quickly,” Tyrus said. “Shion and Hettie—lead the way. Do you have a dagger, Annon?”
The Druidecht nodded and produced a small hunting knife.
“I have one,” Phae said, but Tyrus waved at her not to draw it. He put his arm around her and went with her into the gap carved by Shion and Hettie. Prince Aran took up the rear, searching the heights of the trees for a sign of the Raekni.
As they cut their way through the thick barrier, Phae felt the stirrings of pain begin again deep inside her. She breathed rapidly, taking little gulps of breath, and hugged herself to endure the pain and still walk. She was lightheaded after vomiting and still felt no hunger. As more of the strands were severed, a strange music seemed to linger in the air, wafting unseen as strands of different length were snapped. It was a ghostly hymn, a funeral dirge. It made Phae shudder.
Hettie and Shion struck down the webs that blocked their way. Sometimes the nets were so thick that it took both of them to clear the path so that they could pass single file. Annon craned his neck, staring up at the trees.
“Shadows,” he said, pointing upward.
Through the veil of strands came the outsized shadow of spiders, skittering in the trees above them. These were huge, man-sized, and easily outpaced them. Phae saw only three, no more.
“If their webs are immune to flame,” Tyrus said, “it is likely they are protected as well.”
“The webbing is thicker ahead,” Hettie said. “How did they work so quickly?”
A low-hanging branch blocked the path, and Tyrus helped Phae duck. Glossy strands stuck to her face and she brushed them away. Their boots crunched in the leaves and twigs. Anticipation coursed through her veins, mixing with worry and dread. The shadows of another spider creature passed overhead, making her shrink.
Sweat began to glisten on Hettie and Annon’s brows as they continued to labor. Only Shion could work with unflagging strength, his expression dark and brooding. The pace was slow and tedious, and it became apparent that the spiders had been more than thorough in securing the way against intruders.
“At least the Weir won’t be able to reach us here,” Hettie murmured. She raised her arm to slash another strand. A spurting sound occurred just then and Hettie was hauled off her feet by her outstretched arm.
“Hettie!” Annon yelled, lunging forward, but Shion was faster. He grabbed her by the belt and pulled her back.
“Cut the strand!” Shion barked, yanking as Hettie squirmed.
Annon managed to slice through the bond that had snared her and she fell to the ground with a thud. Her legs began to kick and twitch and when Annon rolled her over, he saw her eyes had rolled back in her head as she convulsed in heavy spasms. A bloodstain bloomed from the front of her shirt.
A discordant chittering sound filled the air and new lines of webbing began to streak down at them. Tyrus drew a blade and fended off the webs as they came for him. At that moment, Phae doubled over in pain, seized by a violent cramp in her abdomen. She crumpled to the ground, pulling in her legs, groaning with anguish. The pain wracked her, blurring her vision as the web strands began to stick to everyone. She heard voices cry in alarm and felt something land next to her on the ground. A furry, stout spider leg was next to Phae’s cheek, and she writhed and twisted away. Another pain struck her on the side as she rolled, and she saw the large black stinger protruding into her shirt. It withdrew immediately, dripping crimson.
“Shion!” she screamed, experiencing a surge of fiery pain.
Looking up, she saw him slashing wildly, beset by four spiders at once, a mass of quivering furry legs and spindle sacs that shuddered and bobbed in the fight. In horror, she watched another twisting Hettie into a bundle of spindly webs, wrapping her in the strands with effortless ease. Phae tried to sit up but the spider that had stung her batted her down. She felt her legs lashed together and suddenly the world was spinning, faster and faster, whirling round and round, her stomach so tender that she blacked out.
