“Stay close,” ordered Rey. “Shields up. We thrust together. Take it down from below.”
Hekla took a fortifying breath, her boot edging against Gunnar’s.
“Don’t worry, Smasher,” he said. “I won’t let the little spider near you.”
“Shut it, bjáni.”
The wolfspider crashed through the brambles and Hekla’s breath seized in her throat. It was larger than any she’d ever seen, astall as three men and just as wide. Eight glowing red eyes burned down at them, fangs as long as longswords gleaming. The beast scuttled on legs as wide as tree trunks, crushing brambles and trees as though they were kindling.
Hekla was held immobile, some part of her recognizing that this being was ancient—a creature from the deepest part of the woods. The wolfspider came to an abrupt stop, and she could have sworn those beady red eyes looked directly at her.
You,it hissed in her mind.
Hekla stumbled back, trying to understand how she could hear this thing inside her mind.
Our mother has warned us of you. You won’t escape us this time,taunted the spider.Gjalla Eight Legs will taste you first.But we will end you last.
Mother?Hekla vaguely wondered. It must mean the mist. But a series of rapid clicks burst from it, diverting her attention. Hekla was distantly aware of Rey shouting orders, but she could not hear him over the ringing in her ears. She was going to be sick…
The spider crouched low with a high-pitched shriek. Hekla fell to her knees, clapping her hands to her ears. Her sword fell free, but she could do nothing but hold on as the horrid sound burrowed into her skull and chewed up every thought in her mind.
At some point, the spider must have stopped screaming, but it echoed in her skull, rendering Hekla senseless. She was dimly aware of the spider surging forward, yet she was no longer in control of her limbs.
“Hekla!” someone bellowed as the spider surged at her with impossible speed, and Hekla knew she’d be too late to dodge it. Pinchers flashed through the air, and Hekla readied herself to feel them tear through her flesh. But the moment didn’t come. A sword lashed out and steel cracked against the spider’s chitinous fangs.
“Get back!” shouted Eyvind, and Hekla’s senses rushed back to her in a torrent. She scuttled backward until hands hooked under her armpits and hauled her into the fold of a small shield wall.
Gunnar crouched before her, shaking her shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?” he demanded.
“N-nothing.” Gods, she needed to get her head on straight—needed to shake off her dislike of spiders. Hekla shoved to her feet and shouldered between a pair of warriors. “Eyvind,” Hekla whispered, heart sinking into her stomach. She stared in horror at Eyvind, facing down the spider all by himself.
But Kritka shot out, teeth sinking deep into a joint in the spider’s foreleg. The enormous wolfspider gave a shriek so earsplitting, Hekla’s vision warped. Kritka’s attack was enough to give Eyvind the time he needed to dart back to their group.
“Shore up, Kritka!” bellowed Rey. But when the stubborn beast did not relent—not even when the spider lifted its foreleg into the air and shook it roughly—Rey swore. “We rush the spider on the count of three.”
Hekla reached for her sword, then cursed. It lay in the grass, near the spider’s opposite foreleg. She drew her hevrít instead.
Rey counted them down, and they rushed as a unit. Hekla hacked into the carapace joints in the spider’s foreleg, trying not to vomit as black blood coated her blade. Rey bellowed commands, urging the warriors to aim for the spider’s underbelly, where its armor was not so thick.
The spider scuttled back, its voice rattling inside Hekla’s skull.Meddlesome little pests. Gjalla will string you up one by one. Savor your lifeblood over many long days.
But their group was relentless, chasing the spider to the edge of the glade. Gunnar’s sword sliced clean through a thick, hairy foreleg. Black ichor poured from the wound, and the spider gave one last furious shriek before crashing through the underbrush and into the greater forest.
Chest heaving, Hekla turned in a full circle. The scent of rot lingered in the air, but the crash of bodies through the greater forest was growing fainter. She blinked at the realization that the mist and its army were retreating.
Victory swelled in her chest, but it faded a touch as she took in the silent carnage in the clearing. Countless Turned creatures. Sigrún, bandaging her arm. Eyvind, kneeling over a pair of corpses—both warriors from his retinue. Shame filled Hekla as she retrieved her sword. How could she have allowed herself to falter in the middle of such a battle?
But before she could dwell too long on her failure, Kritka—in squirrel form—clambered up Hekla’s body and settled on her shoulder. “I told you to warn me before doing that, you tree demon,” she bit out. But her anger soon shifted to worry as he flopped on his belly and lay still. “Are you hurt?”
Only tired,he said.Our wolf form takes much strength. When Mistress is fully restored—
At the thought of his mistress, Hekla whirled toward the tree. The tiny woman sat in the tree’s hollow, grassy wisps of her hair swaying as she blinked at the scene before her. Hekla rushed forward, dropping to her knees before the Forest Maiden. Carefully, she pulled Kritka from her shoulder and lay him gently on the ground.
The antlered woman pushed to her feet, her foxlike tail twitching behind her. She looked from Hekla to Kritka with dark, verdant eyes.
“Who isthis?” she asked, her voice reedy and thin, like wind whistling through a forest.
Kritka lifted his weary head. “Kritka has brought to you the Protector, Mistress. It took much convincing and proving of trust, but—”
