by Cebelius
"Spiders. Are you afraid of spiders?"
"Of course not."
Terry flexed and leapt away, aiming for a gap in the light of the spells glimmering all around him as he shouted, "Well, you fucking should be!"
They carpeted the ground. They reached the behemoth and began scaling the tree that trapped one of its legs, and then as they reached them, all the other legs as well.
The behemoth began to jerk and writhe as the black, chitinous wave engulfed its legs and those tentacles it had left touching the ground and began to rise.
Spells began going off as it let out a screeching, indignant roar from its many mouths, and whole swathes of the swarm were annihilated.
More kept coming.
They swarmed into the goopy mess of the ruined eye, into the open mouths, and scuttled across the top of the creature. Every gap and chink in its armored body, every severed tentacle and wound became a feast, and its scream rose in pitch.
Terry had landed near Marcus, and turned to go get Yuri, but it was too late. The spider swarm had already covered him.
Yet as he watched, he noticed that they didn't seem to be stopping on him. He may as well have been a rock in the way. The only thing the black tide was attacking was the behemoth.
The wailing of the thing's many mouths faded as each was stuffed with spiders. Surely it crushed them, ate them, but it was being eaten in turn, and there was no doubt who would win that particular contest.
Terry watched in awe, and didn't notice Ephe until she stopped behind him and spoke in her peculiarly soft voice.
"Ahh. It was rude to leave me, Terry Mack. I thought you'd want to meet your children."
His eyes widened, then squeezed shut and his face twisted as the full import of her words hit him.
Gross.
23
Everywhere I Go
Asturial set her proxy down and returned to her cliffside perch. Once secure there she brought her conscious attention back to Florence, and watched as the last of the lizard folk entered the city. It was hours before dawn yet, but with these last safely behind the walls, her blood debt was paid.
"I 'eared you was doin' summat fer the lizard folk. Came to see me ownself."
The dragon proxy turned to regard Mamma Moo curiously for a long moment, then said, "I did not summon you. I have no need of you."
"Oh aye, that may be. But I've a word or two fer ye that ye may wish ta 'ear. Fancy a walk?"
Astur considered the minotress, then shrugged and turned to walk with her. They passed through the tunnel and into the city. Where before there had been an unruly mob, now there were at least thirty guardsmen stationed throughout the open space beyond the wall, and relative peace reigned. There were no fires either, but a haze of soot and ash hung thick in the air with no breeze to clear it away.
Mamma Moo seemed somehow to bustle, even though she was simply walking down the street. She had a sort of nervous energy about her that always amused Astur when she saw it. Once they were out of earshot of the guards and most of the common folk still stirring near the gate, the minotress spoke.
"Ye've 'ad a marker on me 'ide fer years, Astur, an' I think ye may be willin' ta cash it in at last."
"You've never had anything of true interest for me, Mamma Moo. Despite years of promises, it seems everything you acquire for me is either a sham or of very limited value. My occasional participation in your mortal games is my only consolation for buying you out of your debts, and even that benefits you far more than it does me."
The minotress gave Astur a vaguely put-upon expression and said, "Now now, I've always 'ad my eyes out fer the things ye've said ye wanted. Can't simply magic 'em up now, can I? But see 'ere, word is you've been doin' fer the lizard folk tryin' ta get on Terry Mack's good side. Aye?"
"Yes, what of it?" Astur asked, her attention finally focused fully on the conversation.
"Wot if I told you I've an 'ook innat boy, an' I could gift-wrap 'im for ye?"
"Speak plainly, cow, and quickly," Astur snapped. "My patience wears thin."
"Terry Mack owes me a fight," Mamma Moo declared, turning and folding her arms across her prodigious chest. "An' I could set it up so's 'e fights you for terms."
"Hmm."
Astur thought about that, then nodded. "Should you arrange such a thing and he agrees, I will cancel your marker. Placating him has been a hassle. I do not like being made to service the needs of my lessers. It is tedious. Beating my superiority into his body so that he never forgets it again on the other hand ... appeals."
"Oh, I'll arrange it, never you fear," Mamma Moo said, now gleefully dry washing her hands. "I jus' need to speak to 'im. 'E's one o' them what always keeps 'is word."
"I will take you to where he is," Astur said, turning abruptly down a new thoroughfare that would take them toward Florence Keep. "Follow."
"Aye."
Ephe seemed perfectly happy to leave her swarm behind as she accompanied Terry and the others back toward the road. They encountered a few zone beasts on the way, but most of those nearby in the forest had already been consumed by the swarm.
Those they did run into, Ephe dispatched without fanfare or apparent effort.
She was vastly changed in appearance when contrasted with their first meeting. Her previously massive abdomen was now flat and sleek, and the two legs that had been carrying the halves of her trapdoor had been dramatically altered as well.
Terry had asked, and been told that the 'rock' had in fact been silk, and in discarding it she had revealed a pair of extraordinarily wicked-looking weapons that reminded him of nothing so much as the mandibles on an exotic beetle. They were serrated, multi-segmented, and moved with shocking quickness.
Shy had only relinquished her grasp on the behemoth when it was clear the beast was dead, and had lost consciousness even after taking in some of Laina's milk.
Marcus had her cradled in his arms as they walked, and his expression was pensive, even for him.
Laina had suffered several broken bones, including two breaks in her lower right arm and one in her upper left that was a compound break Yuri had been forced to reset by hand. Both arms were now bound tightly to her body, and since Marcus was carrying Shy, the Axe of the Plains was given without ceremony to Terry for safekeeping. Laina also had a serious limp, and gritted her teeth with every step she took.
Mila was also unconscious, but since she wasn't physically injured, she'd wound up in a fireman carry on Terry's shoulder because Yuri was beat to shit and Marcus was carrying Shy.
We are a sorry bunch, aren't we.
'And entirely alive, which I must admit is something of a surprise after you completely screwed the pooch by attacking in the first place.'
The only reason I am alive is thanks to you.
'... was that an unalloyed compliment? Because I think it was. Careful, Master, or I'll begin to suspect you've been body-snatched.'
I've never even seen that movie. Quit picking obscure references.
'There he is. That grouchy put-upon I've come to know and lo- ... no, resp- ... hmm.'
Terry quirked an eyebrow as he glanced skyward, and Prada's mind-speech was smug as she said, 'It'll come to me, just give me time. I'm sure there's a word that fits somewhere.'
Thanks, Prada.
'You're welcome, Master.'
"Speaking to your familiar?"
Terry glanced up at the spider queen, who was walking next to him, then nodded.
"Why did you follow us?" he asked. "I mean, really. Why come? You had what you wanted."
"Greed," Ephe said without a trace of sarcasm or self-effacement. "I want more. The survivors of the brood I unleashed on the behemoth will grow into formidable creatures that will take over this woodland in the coming years, but I want more. If I stay with you, I can become a true brood queen, and our progeny will spread far and wide across the face of Celestine. What more could any mother want? I will be Arachne's pride by the end of the year."
"And you ..."
Terry trailed off as it occurred to him that he'd been told he should — and had become convinced he needed — to build an army. Here was a possible solution. One just-hatched brood of Ephe's had overrun and killed something that had wiped the floor with his whole crew.
"I see you contemplating the future," Ephe said, her soft voice somewhat smug. "Yes, template. I will be your brood mother. Together we will raise an arm-"
She stopped mid-sentence and Euryale screamed, "MASTER! LOOK OUT!"
Terry leapt sideways, grunting as Mila's weight along with the ax in his other hand put him off balance. As he landed in the grass next to the road he twisted, trying to get the ax into a position across his body as he searched for threats.
There was just one, and she didn't make herself hard to find.
With a shimmer, a tall, lanky woman with straggling locks of blue hair phased into sight next to Ephe, who dropped silently behind her as the mysterious woman jerked her arm away from the spider queen's back and lifted it up, putting what she had on display. Five fingers were arched to support a bloody heart that still fluttered, impaled by long, stiletto-like claws that crossed through the meat like scissors.
The creature's voice was high and soft, giving off an impression of gentle beauty starkly at odds with the rest of her.
"Master is avenged. Only one task remains."
Her long blue hair covered her face, hiding her features. Her fingers flexed, and the heart was shredded. She dropped her hand and the chunks of bloody meat oozed down her claws and dropped soundlessly to the earth as she stepped toward him, asking, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
An arrow sprouted from her shoulder, but she barely bled. Her olive flesh was already covered with wounds — many of them obviously spider bites — that variously oozed or wept, but slowly, and without the sort of pulse that the living might have.
Another arrow sank into her side, and a third struck her head, bouncing away as it jolted her. She took another step forward, asking again in her girlish, curious voice, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
Terry shifted Mila down to the ground and brought the Ax of the Plains into both hands as he asked, "Who are you?"
"No one. Not anymore. My master lies dead, and now no one will think me beautiful ever again. Except maybe ... do you? Do you think I'm pretty?"
As she spoke, Euryale was screaming, and arrows continued to thud into the woman's body, most garnering either no response or a bare shift. The woman — hair still covering her face — seemed focused on Terry.
"Do not turn away! You cannot run from a Kuchisake-onna! Behead her!" Yuri screamed from the road. "She is a cursed undead! Do not answer her question!"
The woman paused, then tiled her head and the hair fell away from her face, revealing flesh riddled with bites, punctures, and cuts. The worst injury by far though was the fact that her cheeks were both cut entirely through. Her smile was literally ear to ear as she opened a mouth of teeth filed to points and, with slow deliberation, asked, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
Terry didn't hesitate; he swung from the hip with all his might. The woman leapt back in eerie silence, then lunged forward, plunging her scissor-like claws toward his heart as he worked to arrest and reverse his swing.
Unlike the lumbering ax he usually held, the Ax of the Plains was a serious piece of hardware. Even with his enhanced strength, it didn't exactly stop on a dime. Terry felt a shock of fear as he realized he wouldn't be able to bring the ax into play in time, and he was too off-balance to dodge.
I'm a dead man.
Again, Prada saved him. She intercepted the claws, which sank into the slime's substance and immediately began to turn it black. His familiar shrieked inside his mind as he finally managed to bring the ax back in a vicious backswing. This time the undead creature couldn't get away. She tried, but Prada refused to let her go, and the ax passed cleanly through her neck, parting head from shoulders. So sharp was the blade and so violent the swing that he barely felt any resistance. There was no blood, no spray of gore. The head simply grinned manically at him, then slid off the neck as the body collapsed.
'Cut me too! Hurry!'
Prada dropped off him and extended a tendril off to one side. It was jet black, and it was obvious from the darkening length creeping back toward her main body that whatever it was threatened to infect her entirely.
Terry swung, and the ax sank to the haft in the soft loam, cleanly bisecting the jelly-like substance.
The infected portion turned back on itself, darkened to pitch, and bubbled as though boiling. A few seconds later it sank without a trace into the ground, leaving behind a neat circle of blackened, dead earth. Prada literally bounced back to him, landing on his arm and wrapping it up as her voice sounded in his mind.
'I suggest you get Mila away from here. Quickly. I'm not entirely sure whatever that was is dead.'
Terry gave the darkened patch of earth a wide berth as he scooped up Mila and got back up on the road, which was constructed of rather tightly-fit blocks.
Only then, when he had stone under his feet, did the reality of what just happened sink in.
Laina mirrored his thoughts as she gazed down at the corpse of the spider queen, Ephe. "It's not fair ... it isn't right. She saved us and now ... it isn't right."
With her heart ripped cleanly from her back, there was very little blood. It simply pooled in the empty hole and dribbled across black carapace, then dripped slowly onto the stone and slid toward the grass.
'That's ... unfortunate. I can sense the effects of the gift she gave you fading from your body. Your reflexes and ability to jump will soon dissipate. Truly a shame. She would have been an invaluable addition t-'
Shut up, Prada. Just ... no more.
As he stared at the body on the road, he wondered how much worse it would be if this had been Laina, or Shy, or even Mila, Yuri, or Marcus. It was apparent to him that their assailant had chosen her first target for vengeance, then come for him knowing that Euryale couldn't be killed. She had to have known, because Euryale had assumed her usual place at the back of the group. She'd been the most exposed, and they might have been able to do something, might have been able to stop her, if only Euryale had been attacked first.
She knew who we were. She knew Euryale had no weaknesses, knew Ephe turned the tide for us. Still ... it was Ephe. I suppose that's lucky.
The thought made him want to slap himself, and sent a spike of guilt through his conscience. Ephe had not been a force for good or evil; she had simply been living the life given to her to live. He had come into that life, and less than twenty-four hours later she was dead on the road.
Simple as that.
Everywhere I go. This is how it's going to wind up EVERYWHERE I GO.
He couldn't bring himself to feel for Ephe. He'd barely known her, and his bond with her had been a matter of utility, of convenience. Despite that, her death was something he felt as a personal burden, as though a giant finger were pointing down at him from on high, accusing him.
This. Everywhere you go. This happens.
With exaggerated care, he laid the battle ax next to the still unconscious Mila, then walked up to Marcus.
He couldn't feel a thing. It felt as though a switch in his mind had been flipped, and there was only one thing left to do. Just one thing of any consequence.
Nothing else mattered.
He looked the big man in the eye for a long moment, then asked simply, "You got a shovel in that bullshit magic bag of yours?"
Marcus stared at him, then nodded gravely and carefully set Shy aside as he said, "I have two."
Albrecht Ross was standing atop the mezzanine leading into the keep watching the gray light just before the dawn when he saw T-Mack's group arrive. He blinked as he saw the stumbling, blood-spattered lot of them, then reached out without looking and grabbed the lieutenant standing by waiting for orders.
"Go notify Asturial. Run. Tell her, 'He's back.'"
He let the man go and the fellow va
nished through the door behind him at a dead run as Al walked down the steps and across the bailey, stopping in front of Terry and looking him over.
His face was clean, but the rest of him was spattered with what looked like blood and filth. He stank of sweat and death, as did the rest of his companions. The Kolenkos were leaning on each other and Mila looked like she could barely hold her staff. The dryad was unconscious in Marcus' arms. Both Laina's arms were bound tightly to her body, obviously broken, and Terry held the battle ax she'd gone into the crypt with. His other, smaller ax was hung from the sanguine devil sash.
"What happened?" Al asked.
"Behemoth," the man replied dully. "It's dead. Every zone beast we could find is dead. I won't say the roads are safe, but ..."
He shrugged, looking at the lion man with lifeless eyes. "Best I can do."
"You killed a behemoth?" Al asked, the incredulity in his voice impossible to hide.
"No, but it's dead. You mind?" Terry waved a hand at the open double doors behind him. "I need to wash up and sleep for a year."
"Doubt you'll have that long," Al said drily. "I'm afraid I have to keep you here a few moments before you bathe. The dragon has returned."
"Fuck that bitch."
T-Mack said it with no force. He looked too tired to put any real venom in the words. "I'll deal with her later."
"Terrence Mack!"
The template rolled his eyes and without looking raised his voice and yelled, "What!?"
Asturial strode down the mezzanine steps and stopped next to Al, looking the template up and down as she quirked an eyebrow. She'd taken off her armor and now wore a blue silk sarong and blue half-shirt — also silk — that accentuated more than hid anything. Her previously wild red hair had been drawn back into a severe tail and a platinum diadem sat upon her brow, studded with sapphires. Even Al had to admit she looked impressive, cool, haughty. Every inch of her in charge.
He also couldn't help but notice that T-Mack was flatly unimpressed. His expression barely changed as the dragon stopped in front of him and said, "The matter of the blood debt is settled. I have come to discuss terms."