Warren bowed his head solemnly. “I hope this won’t make you think less of me, but I too may not be of much use in this. I must admit, I was not too happy with the experience of havingmy fur singed. I would prefer not to have any more of it burned off.”
“Completely understandable,” Braiden said. “And I don’t think it would be a great idea for so many of us to approach the spiders in one huge group, anyway.”
He turned to Elder Bahul, knowing it was a foregone conclusion. The elder was already snoring, bathed in the strange, balmy warmth of the nearby campfire.
“And don’t think you can count on the chatterboxes,” Newt said. “I know I said to fight fire with fire, but they’ll be very much useless for this particular expedition.”
The chatterboxes sped toward him as one, spinning in a dizzying circle around his head. “Is that what you think? Oh, look at him — big man now, getting to show off, leading an expedition against these incinerating arachnids. Useless, are we? We’ll show you.”
Newt did not utter another word, only winking at Braiden. Apparently, reverse psychology worked just as well on intelligent artificial constructs as it did on impressionable humanoids.
“Then that’s it,” Augustin said, finally buttoning up his tunic again. “Just as well, in case of an accident — say, getting splashed in the fiery blood of a cinderling. If we’re all prepared to go soon, we can get this over sooner.”
“You’re going already?” Newt asked in surprise. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. I’m just as excited as the rest of you to see the Heirloom in action.”
“But what about me?” Bones asked. “Bones?”
“You’re coming along, of course,” Newt said. “In fact, you might say that you’re the most important member of this expedition.”
Bones stood with his legs wide apart, hands on his hips and his chest stuck out proudly, if only he had a chest.
The cinderling raiding party took some time to regroup and discuss, each disclosing what abilities they could bring to the table. Braiden found it somewhat awkward, almost like bragging, how he had to talk about his own talents.
Still, it was important information to share, especially for the sake of strategy. Newt and the chatterboxes made for durable distractions, their metallic bodies resistant to spider bites. Braiden could entangle while Augustin focused on blowing the arachnids away. And with his ribs properly strung, Bones could contribute his horrible music, perhaps to terrify or enrage the cinderling spiders.
They took some time to eat and rebuild their energy by the fire, too. The flames had a uniquely calming property to them, their heat more akin to bright summer sunlight than a crackling blaze.
The demons eagerly shared what food they’d gathered from the burning meadow. Nuts picked from the bushes were already lightly toasted, warm as if only just pulled out of the oven. The berries burst with the brightness of sunshine, hot and sweet on the tongue.
None of the food actually burned Braiden’s mouth like he’d feared. Still, he and his friends, perhaps wisely, politely chose to skip the offers of steaming-hot beverages from the bubbling pool.
Braiden entrusted the Heirloom to Elyssandra and Warren. It would be the very worst for the thing to be destroyed by cinderling fire now that they’d come this far. They weren’t even anywhere close to finishing paying for it.
The trek to the cinderling cave was short, almost disappointingly so. It took a quick trudge through the obsidian forest, followed by a sharp turn once they’d emerged into a clearing, exactly as Newt had said.
Now, this cave mouth? This cave mouth meant business. Natural stalactites fell from the roof like the fangs of a gaping beast, droplets of suspicious liquid dripping from their sharp tips like amber venom. Very atmospheric, much better than the Weathervale dungeon’s main entrance. Braiden highly approved.
He did, however, disapprove of the fact that the entrance wasn’t plastered over with layers of cinderling cobweb. A small part of him had hoped that that would be the case — they could just tug on huge handfuls of the stuff and run, hoping for the best. But no such luck.
One of the messengers led the way, producing a tuft of flame big enough to act as torchlight, illuminating the cavern’s entrance. The absence of animal litter and discarded bones was an encouraging sign.
Perhaps the cinderlings had a more exotic diet — or perhaps they preferred to consume their prey deeper in their lair. Come to think of it, Braiden hadn’t seen any of the local fauna. He imagined birds with flaming feathers, or deer with antlers tipped in little fires, as lovely as candelabras.
But they ran into their first cinderling not far into the cave, and there was Braiden’s first brush with the local fauna. It hadn’t noticed them yet, waiting on its glowing orange cobweb on the far wall. Its carapace had the color and texture of dulled bronze, reminding Braiden of segmented armor.
He couldn’t say whether it was actually as durable as forged metal, but the way Newt had warned them against drawing cinderling blood suggested that the metallic armor held up in appearance only.
Little sparks of flame ran up and down the lengths of cinderling silk, prettier than even the rarest yarns and fibers that Braiden had ever seen. He wondered what magics he could render from the silk with the weaving way, then remindedhimself that they still needed to deal with the work of actually harvesting the stuff without ending up as a cinderling snack.
“Now, here’s our problem,” Newt whispered. “The cobwebs are over there, and we’re over here. And there’s no getting that cinderling to move unless we somehow distract it. Any takers?”
“Oh, no,” one of the chatterboxes said. “We’re not falling for that trick again. You can use us for torchlight, but that’s it.”
Newt rolled his eyes. “Fine. The rest of you go ahead and light up the place. It won’t make a difference to the cinderling, anyway. It can see in the dark.”
One by one the chatterboxes turned themselves into tinderboxes, spreading out through the cavern. As the last messenger lit up like a lantern, all seven of them froze in place. Braiden felt his muscles seizing, too.
The cinderling wasn’t alone. Positioned at various distances around the cobweb and all through the depth of the cavern were more cinderlings — bigger cinderlings. The first one they’d encountered must have been a juvenile.
