Wychetts and the Key to Magic

by William Holley

Chapter 16- A Little Grub

  “What have we here?” asked a whispery female voice. “What strange creature has fallen into our trap?”

  “It is just a maggot,” said a second, similar sounding voice. “A puny, skinny little grub.”

  “I’m not a grub,” said Edwin. “I’m a human.”

  The spiders laughed. Edwin didn’t realise spiders laughed; it was a fascinating, yet oddly disturbing sound.

  “This little grub has delusions of grandeur,” said the nearest spider. “A human indeed! Let us eat it straightaway.”

  “There’s hardly enough meat on it to bother,” said the nearest spider, who was larger than the rest. “But in these tough economic times, one must make do with whatever one can find. I claim this grub as mine.”

  “But Wincella,” said another spider. “It fell into my web. By rights, I should have it.”

  “I am the eldest daughter,” said the spider named Wincella. “And I claim this grub for myself.”

  Edwin tried to wriggle away, but Wincella pinned him to the ground with the tip of a leg. “Hold still,” said the spider. “This will be a lot less painful if you co-operate. I’m just going to take a little bite, and inject you with my lovely venom which will turn your insides into jelly, which I will then suck up and savour.” The spider loomed over Edwin, its drooling mandibles twitching excitedly…

  “What is the commotion, my daughters?”

  Every spider tensed at the sound of the husky, ancient voice. Wincella withdrew from Edwin, and bobbed her body as the owner of the voice came lurching into view.

  It was another spider, but larger and uglier than all the others. To the miniature Edwin, its body was as large as a car, and its legs had the girth of drainpipes. Its swollen abdomen bristled with wiry grey hairs, and its eight eyes burned with an eerie intensity as their gaze swept the assembled spiders.

  “Why do my daughters argue amongst themselves?” asked the largest spider, her husky voice reminding Edwin of shrivelled dead things.

  “We are not arguing, dearest Mother,” said Wincella. “We are merely debating who should have the honour of presenting you with this delicious young grub.”

  “This pathetic creature?” The giant spider’s eight eyes switched their attention to Edwin. “Times are indeed bad, when my daughters should consider it an honour to present me with such a feeble worm.”

  “I’m not a worm,” protested Edwin. “I’m a human being.”

  The giant spider examined Edwin closely, then stretched out a long hairy leg. Edwin tried to wriggle away, but the giant spider leg lunged down, its sharp tip raking along his body.

  Edwin heard a collective gasp as his web straightjacket tore open. The spiders moved closer, staring curiously at him as he struggled to his feet.

  “It seems your little grub has transformed,” observed the giant spider. “But into what manner of creature, I know not.”

  “I’m human,” said Edwin, getting shakily to his feet.

  The spiders laughed again. Edwin ignored their mirth, and met the giant spider’s gaze. “May I ask who you are?”

  “I am the Widow Splicefinger,” said the giant spider. “Great Mother and leader of the Sisterhood.”

  “The Sisterhood?” Edwin gulped. “So you’re the enemy of the Ratello Mob?”

  “And with good reason,” confirmed the Widow Splicefinger. “Since they have lately slain so many of my daughters.”

  “That’s probably because you murdered their old boss,” suggested Edwin.

  “We have done no such thing,” rasped the Widow Splicefinger. “Whilst the rats are not our friends, we have done nothing to prompt their aggressive actions against us.”

  Such was the vehemence in the old spider’s voice that Edwin decided to change the subject.

  “My name is Edwin,” he said, pulling some lingering strands of web from his hair. “And like I said, I’m human.”

  “You are a peculiar creature,” observed the Widow Splicefinger. “But not the first of your kind we have welcomed here today.”

  “Edwin?” A familiar voice echoed from above. “Edwin, is that you?”

  Edwin glanced up, and saw a human figure hanging upside down in a web above him. It took a few seconds of frowning and head turning before he realised who it was.

  “Bill?”

  “Oh Edwin, it is you.” Bill grinned. “Are you OK? What’s happened to Bryony and your mother?”

  “They’re fine,” replied Edwin, deciding it was best not to give Bill too much information at this stage. “How did you end up here?”

  “I’m not sure,” confessed Bill. “One moment I was on the beach with you kids, the next I was flying through the air. Then I fell into some sort of crack, and got trapped in this web with these giant spiders.”

  “They’re not giant,” said Edwin. “You’ve been shrunk.”

  “Shrunk?” Bill grimaced. “Oh dear. I don’t think our holiday insurance covers that.”

  “You know this creature?” asked the Widow Splicefinger.

  “He’s my stepdad,” explained Edwin. “Please let him go.”

  “That isn’t possible,” said the Widow Splicefinger. “Pre-nuptial arrangements have been finalised in advance of the ceremony.”

  “Ceremony? Pre-nuptial?” Then Edwin understood. “There’s going to be a wedding?”

  “Indeed there is.” The Widow Splicefinger’s voice became light with excitement. “I love a wedding, don’t you?”

  “Not really,” admitted Edwin. “They go on for hours, and there’s never enough to eat.”

  “Then you’ll enjoy this one, my little grub. It will be over very quickly, and there will be lots to eat.”

  “Cool. So who’s getting married?”

  “Me of course,” said the Widow Splicefinger.

  “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky groom?” Edwin scanned the assembled spiders to see if any might be wearing a top hat; it was the only way he could think to tell.

  “Unfortunately there are no eligible male spiders left on this island,” sighed the Widow Splicefinger. “And I can’t get out and about as much as I used to, so it’s quite difficult to find that special someone.”

  “How about the internet?” suggested Edwin. “You could have tried the world wide web. Hah! Get it?”

  “I already cracked that one,” said Bill. “I don’t think spiders have a sense of humour.”

  “So you see,” continued the Widow Splicefinger, “at my stage of life, all I can hope for is that my special someone will drop in one day. And luckily for me, that is exactly what happened.”

  Edwin gasped as the realisation struck him. “You’re going to marry Bill? You’re kidding me.”

  “Why?” asked the Widow Splicefinger. “You think I’m too old for him?”

  “It’s not that,” said Edwin, hurriedly. “Just that you’re a spider. He’s a man. What about the children? They’d look really weird, what with his face.”

  “Oi,” said Bill. “There’s nothing wrong with my face.”

  “I meant with your face and her legs,” explained Edwin.

  “And there is nothing wrong with my legs,” protested the Widow Splicefinger. “I have very comely legs for a spider of my age.”

  “I’m sure you do,” agreed Edwin. “Just too many of them. It would be a nightmare when your kids started school. Just think of the shoe bills.”

  “There won’t be any children,” sighed the Widow Splicefinger. “It may not be obvious from my beautiful and youthful appearance, but my egg-laying years are well behind me. This marriage will be purely ceremonial.”

  “But he’s already married,” persisted Edwin. “To my mum. It’s against the law to have two wives.”

  “I never worried about the law,” croaked the Widow Splicefinger. “And in any case, it’s too late now. The order of service has been printed.”

  Wincella passed Edwin a dried leaf with some writing on it. Edwin read the writing and frowned. “But it just say
s ‘Food’.”

  “Exactly,” said the Widow Splicefinger. “That’s basically what a spider wedding consists of. And it is traditional for the groom to provide the food.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Bill. “But it’s rather short notice. Give me half an hour and I could probably rustle up a few rounds of sandwiches. Maybe even those little bits of cheese and pineapple on sticks.”

  “No need.” The Widow Splicefinger stared at Bill, and rubbed her front legs together. “We already have all the food we need.”

  “Oh no.” Suddenly Edwin understood. “You’re going to eat Bill?”

  “It is a spider tradition,” said the Widow Splicefinger. “The groom is always the main course. And today we are lucky to have a second course, as well.”

  By now Edwin had guessed he was also on the menu. “But isn’t there something else you can eat?” He looked around for a sympathetic spider face. He wasn’t even sure how sympathy might appear on a spider’s face, but none of the looks he got in return came anywhere near to it.

  “Food is scarce on the island,” said Wincella. “The accursed rats take most of it.”

  Edwin had an idea. “I was carrying a sack with some food in it. I dropped it when I fell into the web. It must be around here somewhere…”

  “You mean this?” Wincella gestured to the sack that was brandished by one of her sisters.

  “That’s it,” said Edwin. “How about I swap you the food for my life, and the life of my stepfather?”

  “The sack contains only filthy rodent food,” sneered Wincella. “The Sisterhood will not lower themselves to dine on such scraps. Not when there are live morsels for the taking.”

  Edwin realised it was going to take more than a sack of mouldy crumbs to save his skin. And then he had another idea: it was risky, but he had no choice…

  “You mustn’t eat me,” he blurted. “I can do magic.”

  “Magic?” The Widow Splicefinger’s husky voice rose with apparent interest. “I thought you looked like a magician.”

  Edwin was pleased to hear that, until he realised he was still wearing that silly waiter’s jacket and bow tie.

  “We could do with some entertainment at the reception,” said Wincella. “Do you do card tricks?”

  “Not magic like that,” scowled Edwin. “I am a Guardian of Wychetts, a descendant of the Wise Ones.”

  “Huh?” Bill gawped at Edwin. “What are you…”

  Edwin put a finger to his lips, and then addressed the Widow Splicefinger again. “So what do you have to say to that?”

  “There are no Guardians,” said the Widow Splicefinger. “They died out centuries ago.”

  “But now we’ve returned,” said Edwin, grandly. “I am the Principle Guardian, and I can help you if you spare our lives.”

  “Prove it,” said Wincella. “Show us your powers.”

  “I can’t do that now,” admitted Edwin, his grand tone fading. “Not without the Wychetts Key. It’s the source of my magic power, but it fell into the Pit.”

  “Then you are useless to us.” The Widow Splicefinger pointed a hairy leg at Edwin. “Except as a light starter.”

  Edwin backed away from the giant spider. “But if you help me find the Key, I’ll give you anything you want. Freedom. Victory over the Ratello Mob. Even card tricks. Anything!”

  The Widow Splicefinger considered Edwin’s request for a few moments. “Vengeance over the Ratello Mob is a tempting thought, and the Pit could be reached within two days at a brisk scuttle. But it would be risky to attempt such a mission. The lower drainage tunnels are prone to collapse, and there may yet be other dangers lurking down there.”

  “The Ratello Mob thought it a risk worth taking,” said Edwin, seizing on the chance to press his case. “And they’ve already launched an expedition to find the Key.”

  The Sisterhood gasped in unison. The Widow Splicefinger raised a leg for silence. “But surely the rats cannot use the Key’s power. Not without a Guardian.”

  “Ah.” Edwin chose his next words carefully. “I’m not the only Guardian. My disciple, Bryony, is also on the island. She made a deal with the rats. She is not as powerful as I am, but told the rats she could use the Key’s magic to help them.”

  Another gasp resonated around the spider’s nest. “We cannot allow the rats to find the Key,” announced the Widow Splicefinger. “They will use its magic against us. Therefore I will agree to your request for help, Guardian. And in return you will use your magic power to help us defeat the rats, leave this prison, and conquer the world.”

  “Er…” Edwin hesitated. “I don’t mind helping you beat the rats, and even setting you free. But I’m not so sure about the conquering the world bit.”

  “You will do as I say,” ordered the Widow Splicefinger, “or I shall marry your step-father, and let my daughters feed on your scrawny little body.”

  “OK,” agreed Edwin, who realised he wasn’t in a position to haggle. “I’ll help you do anything you want.”

  All the spiders cheered, and the discordant noise sent a shiver down Edwin’s spine. He was taking a risk, he knew that; but he had to find the Key before Bryony and the rats, even if that meant doing a deal with the evil Sisterhood.