Blackveil
Page 161
This time it was Ard who appeared to her. She was sure of it. No mistaking him for Lynx or Grant, and certainly not the Eletians. He watched them from behind a tree.
He was no more than illusion, she concluded, just like the masked tumbler, just like Lynx. She’d lost her grip on what was real.
The Ard figure peered at the scene very carefully, and with a final glance toward the creatures, he backed away and ran into the woods. Karigan watched him go with regret.
Perhaps the creatures were illusion, too, but no such luck, for Yates kept demanding for her to tell him what she saw. It was clear he could hear the monsters well enough. They’d halted several yards away from the web, swiveling to face each other. One was clearly larger and raised its claws and tail high as though to impress the other with its size. The other sidestepped away as if wanting to flee, but the bigger creature moved with it, blocking it. The smaller then jabbed its claws at the larger, and the larger caught and held them in its own pincers.
Their movement became a sort of dance, the pair circling around and around, holding claws.
If the creatures kept busy, Karigan thought she might still have a chance. The urgency of the situation cleared her mind of illusion and fear. Resolve surged within her.
“Yates,” she called, “do you still have your sword?”
“Yes.”
“Carry it pointed ahead, toward my voice.”
“Why? What—”
“I am caught in a web. You hear that noise? The web belongs to one of those creatures making all the noise, and the last time I was caught in a web like this, I was supposed to be food for that creature’s offspring.” So far, with her limited range of vision, Karigan had not observed any eggs.
“Oh,” Yates said, the lilt in his voice telling her he remembered her story about the creature of Kanmorhan Vane. He remained silent after and Karigan feared he’d frozen.
“Yates! You all right? We haven’t time. . . !”
“Yeah. I think I’m sometimes glad I can’t see.”
Karigan kept talking, guiding him slowly toward her, trying to sound calm while panic reared up inside her once again, and the two enormous creatures continued their dance on the other side of the web. They appeared transfixed with one another, their tails arced high, stingers leaking poison, poised for battle. How long would they remain preoccupied? She hoped, when they knocked over another tree, that they would not knock one down on her and Yates.
Finally she felt the pressure of Yates’ sword against the small of her back.
“Stop!” she cried.
“Whew. Didn’t want to run you through.”
“I need you to cut me out of the web,” she said, and continued to give him painstaking instructions, guiding his sword with her words.
He nearly cut off her hand, but he turned the blade just in time, slashing through the sticky, strong filaments of the web. When her arm was free, she was able to draw her long knife and cut herself out the rest of the way. She backed away from the web, pulling sticky strands off her face and hair and body. The broken filaments of the web floated after her, reaching for her.
“Can we go now?” Yates asked.
“Definitely.” Karigan collected her staff and glanced back at the creatures. And did a double take. Their dance had concluded, and now the larger was clambering onto the back of the smaller, which had lowered its tail submissively to the side, its stinger planted in the earth.
A choked, half-hysterical laugh crept out of Karigan’s throat.
“What is it?” Yates asked.
“They weren’t fighting after all,” was all she said.
“Oh.”
She had no idea how long the mating of the creatures would take, so she hurriedly placed Yates’ hand on her shoulder and started leading him away as fast as her painful leg allowed. She did not have a plan or direction in mind, just to get as far away from the creatures and the web as she could.
“By the way,” she said as she limped along, “if I say I’m seeing something, you make sure I’m really seeing it.”
“Like Lynx earlier?”
“Yeah.”
“How do I do that?”
“I don’t know. Pinch me, kick me. Question me. Do whatever it takes.”
Yates sighed. “Life with you is not dull.”
Karigan lost track of what direction they were headed in. For all she knew they were wandering in circles, but she kept stumbling on until night swooped down on them like the dark wings of one of Blackveil’s giant avians. When Karigan found a seemingly safe place beneath a leaning pine—any place away from the web and those creatures seeming to be safe—she collapsed on the spot. Her leg was screaming and oozing, and all she cared about was getting off it. Immediately the languor descended on her once again. Yates slid down beside her.
“We lost our stuff,” he said.
“I know.”
“What about a shelter?”
“I’ll make one.” But she could not imagine rising again. All her remaining strength bled from her and her mind felt gray, as gray as the fog of Blackveil. With the pain and exhaustion, she just wanted to rest.
“We don’t have any food,” Yates said.
Why must he state the obvious? “Eat some dirt,” she mumbled.
“You want me to eat dirt?”
“Thought I saw Ard.”
“Just now?”
“Earlier. When I was stuck in the web.”
“One of your illusions?”
He was no more than illusion, she concluded, just like the masked tumbler, just like Lynx. She’d lost her grip on what was real.
The Ard figure peered at the scene very carefully, and with a final glance toward the creatures, he backed away and ran into the woods. Karigan watched him go with regret.
Perhaps the creatures were illusion, too, but no such luck, for Yates kept demanding for her to tell him what she saw. It was clear he could hear the monsters well enough. They’d halted several yards away from the web, swiveling to face each other. One was clearly larger and raised its claws and tail high as though to impress the other with its size. The other sidestepped away as if wanting to flee, but the bigger creature moved with it, blocking it. The smaller then jabbed its claws at the larger, and the larger caught and held them in its own pincers.
Their movement became a sort of dance, the pair circling around and around, holding claws.
If the creatures kept busy, Karigan thought she might still have a chance. The urgency of the situation cleared her mind of illusion and fear. Resolve surged within her.
“Yates,” she called, “do you still have your sword?”
“Yes.”
“Carry it pointed ahead, toward my voice.”
“Why? What—”
“I am caught in a web. You hear that noise? The web belongs to one of those creatures making all the noise, and the last time I was caught in a web like this, I was supposed to be food for that creature’s offspring.” So far, with her limited range of vision, Karigan had not observed any eggs.
“Oh,” Yates said, the lilt in his voice telling her he remembered her story about the creature of Kanmorhan Vane. He remained silent after and Karigan feared he’d frozen.
“Yates! You all right? We haven’t time. . . !”
“Yeah. I think I’m sometimes glad I can’t see.”
Karigan kept talking, guiding him slowly toward her, trying to sound calm while panic reared up inside her once again, and the two enormous creatures continued their dance on the other side of the web. They appeared transfixed with one another, their tails arced high, stingers leaking poison, poised for battle. How long would they remain preoccupied? She hoped, when they knocked over another tree, that they would not knock one down on her and Yates.
Finally she felt the pressure of Yates’ sword against the small of her back.
“Stop!” she cried.
“Whew. Didn’t want to run you through.”
“I need you to cut me out of the web,” she said, and continued to give him painstaking instructions, guiding his sword with her words.
He nearly cut off her hand, but he turned the blade just in time, slashing through the sticky, strong filaments of the web. When her arm was free, she was able to draw her long knife and cut herself out the rest of the way. She backed away from the web, pulling sticky strands off her face and hair and body. The broken filaments of the web floated after her, reaching for her.
“Can we go now?” Yates asked.
“Definitely.” Karigan collected her staff and glanced back at the creatures. And did a double take. Their dance had concluded, and now the larger was clambering onto the back of the smaller, which had lowered its tail submissively to the side, its stinger planted in the earth.
A choked, half-hysterical laugh crept out of Karigan’s throat.
“What is it?” Yates asked.
“They weren’t fighting after all,” was all she said.
“Oh.”
She had no idea how long the mating of the creatures would take, so she hurriedly placed Yates’ hand on her shoulder and started leading him away as fast as her painful leg allowed. She did not have a plan or direction in mind, just to get as far away from the creatures and the web as she could.
“By the way,” she said as she limped along, “if I say I’m seeing something, you make sure I’m really seeing it.”
“Like Lynx earlier?”
“Yeah.”
“How do I do that?”
“I don’t know. Pinch me, kick me. Question me. Do whatever it takes.”
Yates sighed. “Life with you is not dull.”
Karigan lost track of what direction they were headed in. For all she knew they were wandering in circles, but she kept stumbling on until night swooped down on them like the dark wings of one of Blackveil’s giant avians. When Karigan found a seemingly safe place beneath a leaning pine—any place away from the web and those creatures seeming to be safe—she collapsed on the spot. Her leg was screaming and oozing, and all she cared about was getting off it. Immediately the languor descended on her once again. Yates slid down beside her.
“We lost our stuff,” he said.
“I know.”
“What about a shelter?”
“I’ll make one.” But she could not imagine rising again. All her remaining strength bled from her and her mind felt gray, as gray as the fog of Blackveil. With the pain and exhaustion, she just wanted to rest.
“We don’t have any food,” Yates said.
Why must he state the obvious? “Eat some dirt,” she mumbled.
“You want me to eat dirt?”
“Thought I saw Ard.”
“Just now?”
“Earlier. When I was stuck in the web.”
“One of your illusions?”
