Poisonwell
Page 97
One is awake. The girl.
She wriggles. She struggles.
Phae saw shadows through the gossamer threads, huge, eight-legged shadows that drew nearer to her. She stopped moving, trying to suppress the shudders of horror. Were they all captured? Had none of them survived?
Can you hear us? whispered one of the spider-creatures.
Can you hear our thoughts?
“I hear you,” Phae whispered.
Pretty thing. Sweet thing. Just a sip. Just a taste. Your blood smells warm.
Would you see us, pretty thing?
Would you see our faces?
Phae stifled a horrified scream. She wrestled against the strands, trying to wriggle her way loose, but the stickiness only enmeshed her more.
One of the spider legs began to bat her gently, twisting her around. From the gap in the strands, she saw the others similarly suspended. She counted five other sacs, all wrapped in cocoon threads, suspended upside down from the oak trees. One of them, she recognized as Shion, was bound tightly and suspended from multiple strands to prevent him from moving. Several huge, dead spiders lay on the ground near his sac.
Only they weren’t exactly spiders.
Phae peered closer, trying to understand the double image she was seeing. The jostling sac disoriented her. As it slowed, the image of one of the dead spiders on the turf took form. It was the shape of a woman, lying on her back. Instead of skin there was shaggy black fur, but Phae could see the mound of breasts and the abdomen that connected to a large, bulbous spinneret. Six legs grew from the woman’s body at the sides, each like a giant tarantula’s. Most spiders had eight legs, but the last two on this creature weren’t legs at all, as the woman’s arms lay limp. Where the mouth of the spider should have been, a woman’s head thick with tangled black hair lay still, her lips deformed in a death cry of mute pain.
Pretty thing, whispered the voice, and a feminine hand stroked the side of Phae’s face. It had fingers, just like hers, except the skin was covered in dark, black fur. She felt the other legs coil around her and she started to buck.
Just a taste, my pretty. Just a sip.
She felt teeth sink into the skin on her shoulder.
“No one is left to defend us. Boeotians are ascending to the Archives. We’ve barricaded the doors the best we can, but I have little hope. It is the end of the world. I cannot write for the tears.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XXIX
The Raekni’s fangs sank into Phae’s skin, deep into the flesh. There was pain and the bloom of blood and Phae screamed. Struggling was useless; the creature’s strong legs held her bound. Her temples throbbed with pressure, but she twisted and heaved, trying to wrench herself free of the strands. Her arms were bundled up at her side and she managed to lower one arm and felt, amazingly, the pommel of the dagger still tucked in her belt.
“Phae!” Shion roared in unremitting fury.
He cares for you? the spider thought gleefully. The fangs left her shoulder, leaving it itching and burning. The strands around her face parted. See him squirm. The Master comes for him. The Master comes.
Phae saw him stretched out, suspended above the ground, as if the spiders had intended to pull him apart with all their strength. One of them scuttled over to Shion, stroking him through the sticky strands. Be patient. Your end will come soon enough. Mayhap the Master will let you watch her die?
Shion let out a groan of rage, the entire mass of strands quivering with his pent-up emotion. The strange harmonics sounded again as the vibrations took hold.
The Raekni toying with Phae turned back to her, mouth smeared with Phae’s blood.
Their eyes met.
Phae stared hard into the Raekni’s eyes, gripping her fast with her Dryad magic. The Raekni’s mouth contorted with agony, but she could not look away. The magic inside of Phae trembled, nearly failing as the core inside her filled with pain again. But Phae refused to let go of the glance, knowing it to be her final chance. She blinked, severing the connection, dragging all the Raekni’s memories with it, stealing every part of her except the mindless instincts of her nature. The memories flitted through the aether, lost forever.
The Raekni’s face twisted with confusion. She looked around, befuddled, and Phae managed to slip the dagger from her belt.
He comes. The Master comes.
Phae sensed a presence enter the woods. She could not hear any steps, but it was as if a quiet chill had breathed into the grove. Phae twisted the blade, bringing the edge against the strands at her belly and slit them open. They parted easily, opening her shoulder for broader movement. Hastily, she bent herself double and slashed at the webs tying her ankles and keeping her suspended. The ground met her back with a violent jolt, dazing her.
She wriggles. She struggles.
Phae saw shadows through the gossamer threads, huge, eight-legged shadows that drew nearer to her. She stopped moving, trying to suppress the shudders of horror. Were they all captured? Had none of them survived?
Can you hear us? whispered one of the spider-creatures.
Can you hear our thoughts?
“I hear you,” Phae whispered.
Pretty thing. Sweet thing. Just a sip. Just a taste. Your blood smells warm.
Would you see us, pretty thing?
Would you see our faces?
Phae stifled a horrified scream. She wrestled against the strands, trying to wriggle her way loose, but the stickiness only enmeshed her more.
One of the spider legs began to bat her gently, twisting her around. From the gap in the strands, she saw the others similarly suspended. She counted five other sacs, all wrapped in cocoon threads, suspended upside down from the oak trees. One of them, she recognized as Shion, was bound tightly and suspended from multiple strands to prevent him from moving. Several huge, dead spiders lay on the ground near his sac.
Only they weren’t exactly spiders.
Phae peered closer, trying to understand the double image she was seeing. The jostling sac disoriented her. As it slowed, the image of one of the dead spiders on the turf took form. It was the shape of a woman, lying on her back. Instead of skin there was shaggy black fur, but Phae could see the mound of breasts and the abdomen that connected to a large, bulbous spinneret. Six legs grew from the woman’s body at the sides, each like a giant tarantula’s. Most spiders had eight legs, but the last two on this creature weren’t legs at all, as the woman’s arms lay limp. Where the mouth of the spider should have been, a woman’s head thick with tangled black hair lay still, her lips deformed in a death cry of mute pain.
Pretty thing, whispered the voice, and a feminine hand stroked the side of Phae’s face. It had fingers, just like hers, except the skin was covered in dark, black fur. She felt the other legs coil around her and she started to buck.
Just a taste, my pretty. Just a sip.
She felt teeth sink into the skin on her shoulder.
“No one is left to defend us. Boeotians are ascending to the Archives. We’ve barricaded the doors the best we can, but I have little hope. It is the end of the world. I cannot write for the tears.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XXIX
The Raekni’s fangs sank into Phae’s skin, deep into the flesh. There was pain and the bloom of blood and Phae screamed. Struggling was useless; the creature’s strong legs held her bound. Her temples throbbed with pressure, but she twisted and heaved, trying to wrench herself free of the strands. Her arms were bundled up at her side and she managed to lower one arm and felt, amazingly, the pommel of the dagger still tucked in her belt.
“Phae!” Shion roared in unremitting fury.
He cares for you? the spider thought gleefully. The fangs left her shoulder, leaving it itching and burning. The strands around her face parted. See him squirm. The Master comes for him. The Master comes.
Phae saw him stretched out, suspended above the ground, as if the spiders had intended to pull him apart with all their strength. One of them scuttled over to Shion, stroking him through the sticky strands. Be patient. Your end will come soon enough. Mayhap the Master will let you watch her die?
Shion let out a groan of rage, the entire mass of strands quivering with his pent-up emotion. The strange harmonics sounded again as the vibrations took hold.
The Raekni toying with Phae turned back to her, mouth smeared with Phae’s blood.
Their eyes met.
Phae stared hard into the Raekni’s eyes, gripping her fast with her Dryad magic. The Raekni’s mouth contorted with agony, but she could not look away. The magic inside of Phae trembled, nearly failing as the core inside her filled with pain again. But Phae refused to let go of the glance, knowing it to be her final chance. She blinked, severing the connection, dragging all the Raekni’s memories with it, stealing every part of her except the mindless instincts of her nature. The memories flitted through the aether, lost forever.
The Raekni’s face twisted with confusion. She looked around, befuddled, and Phae managed to slip the dagger from her belt.
He comes. The Master comes.
Phae sensed a presence enter the woods. She could not hear any steps, but it was as if a quiet chill had breathed into the grove. Phae twisted the blade, bringing the edge against the strands at her belly and slit them open. They parted easily, opening her shoulder for broader movement. Hastily, she bent herself double and slashed at the webs tying her ankles and keeping her suspended. The ground met her back with a violent jolt, dazing her.
