"I'm not going in there," Aelfric says, voice low with suspicion.
"You're not," Landon replies calmly. "He is." He points at me.
"What is this?" I growl, shadows gathering around my hands. "You said you'd help her."
"I am helping." He gives me a look like I'm particularly dense. "An herb grows deep in that cave. One of the only things that might slow the decay in her blood and buy her time for proper treatment. You want her to live? Go fetch it, vampire."
"You first," Aelfric says, sword still half-drawn.
"As you wish." Landon produces a spectral lantern from his cloak. "This way."
He leads us into the cave. The lantern barely lights the path ahead. Shadows crowd the edges, thick and close. He guides us into a fissure between two massive slabs of stone. The air grows colder with every step, our breath misting in front of us.
"You trust him?" Garrett whispers behind me.
I shake my head briefly. Only a fool would trust a fae, especially one who serves Eirik Bloodhound.
But I follow anyway. We all do, weapons drawn and ready. Hrolf stays just behind me. Garrett and Aelfric bring up the rear, their blades unsheathed and gleaming in the spectral light.
The path narrows until we're walking single file, shoulders brushing the walls. Then suddenly it opens into a vast cavern.
"Shit—" Garrett walks face first into something and recoils, clawing at his face. "What in the—"
The thin threads cling to his face and he tears at them with both hands.
Webs. Everywhere.
They shimmer faintly in the dark, catching what little light the lantern provides. Thick silver cords like harp strings stretch from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. I duck beneath them carefully. The further we go, the more complex they become.
Aelfric's hand tightens on his blade. "This isn't an herb cave."
"No," Landon agrees quietly. "It's not."
I raise my hand to halt the others. At the center of the cavern lies a massive shape.
A spider.
She is enormous, easily the size of a house, her body low to the ground. Eight legs span the width of the chamber. Silver and black, the same colors as the webs she made.
The others fall back. Even Hrolf looks uneasy, his hand moving to his axe.
She lies coiled in the heart of the chamber, body sunken and limbs trembling. There is no menace in her stillness.
Only ruin.
The spider is dying.
She would have been terrifying once. But her carapace is cracked along the thorax. Her abdomen has deflated, her legs curling inward beneath her, slow and involuntary. All eight eyes are open but the brightness is leaving them. One catches the lantern light and reflects Landon's face as he steps forward.
Landon drops to his knees at her side without hesitation. The cold edge of him falls away completely. He presses his forehead briefly to her head and grief crosses his face.
"My old friend," he whispers. "Doireann."
The spider shifts barely. One foreleg moves just enough to touch his outstretched hand.
"I told you I'd come back, old girl," Landon says, his hands gentle against her enormous carapace. "I brought food."
This fucker.
