Spider Wars: Book Three of the Black Bead Chronicles

by J. D. Lakey

  “You will do me a great favor, Ramhorn,” Connor said sharply, cutting off Sigrid, “by not interfering in Blackwind business.”

  “That is enough!” Cheobawn shouted, pulling Cloud Eye to a stop. “Be still, Connor. I have half the known universe pressing down on my head right now. I do not need your cruel comments or your unfair judgments. Excuse me if one solitary goddess cursed leopard slipped past my guard and ate a bennelk. I am sorry. OK? Bloody sorry. Consider it collateral damage. Now shut up about it!”

  Connor opened his mouth to shout back but Sigrid pressed his fingers into the boy’s thigh.

  “Listen to your Ear, young Father,” Sigrid said. “The leopard was just a pebble. Be thankful that the avalanche has not yet fallen on your head.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Connor asked, his anger and suspicion seething just under the surface of his words.

  “That in a rain of rocks, one can count oneself lucky if your Ear lets the smallest one fall on your head, knowing that a step in either direction will get you squished,” wheezed Sigrid, amused by his own clever words. Cheobawn laughed in spite of herself. Sigrid had taken her words and used them for his own argument.

  Connor’s eyes glittered ominously from the depths of his mask. “Will somebody talk with words that make sense, please?”

  “Your Ear just told you that there are worse things than smoke leopards and grimstorms coming at us out of the Waste,” Erin said softly.

  Cheobawn turned her head and met Erin’s eyes, unable to suppress her own look of surprise. Erin shrugged and looked away to hide the pain in her eyes. Behind that pretty face, Sigrid’s Ear had undiscovered hidden depths, it seemed. Cheobawn shook that unkind thought from her head. Erin was Sigrid’s Alpha Ear and knowing Sigrid as she did, she could only assume that Sigrid had chosen well.

  “There is something else we need to consider,” Sigrid said.

  “Other than rocks falling on our heads?” Connor asked, glancing between his three companions, a suspicious look on his face. Cheobawn understood the source of his displeasure. He did not like Sigrid’s intimacy with her. Packs did not fraternize with each other. The competition was too intense between them. Connor suspected her of being too familiar with the enemy. Perhaps she was, but it was very hard to think of Sigrid as a foe.

  “Consider this,” Sigrid said as he forced himself to sit upright. “If the smoke leopard did not kill the cattle, as Cheobawn suspects, then he will not likely try to hunt them anytime soon as he has an entire bennelk carcass to fill his belly. We can still go get them tomorrow.”

  Erin snorted in disbelief. “You are out of your mind.”

  Cheobawn wholeheartedly agreed.

  Chapter Seven

  Their tardiness in returning had not gone unnoticed. Cresting the last rise before the descent down to the orchards, they spotted a small patrol headed up the slope. Cheobawn stood in her stirrups and peered into the gathering dusk. Erin did the same.

  “No cattle at the staging area. They left without us,” she moaned. Erin’s anguish bled into the ambient. Cheobawn flushed, embarrassed. It was not the foray Erin missed, but her Pack. The rest of Ramhorn Pack had been forced to abandon their two Alpha leaders to the elements, the needs of the dome outweighing the needs of one small Pack. Cheobawn felt bad for Erin and Sigrid. She had gotten them involved in this foray and the mountain of negative consequences just kept growing and growing. The Elders would not be pleased, especially the ones riding towards them. She recognized one of the riders.

  “Sybille,” she said in resignation as she slumped back down into the saddle, “and Hayrald. I recognize his mount.”

  “We need to make sure we have our stories straight,” Connor said.

  “What about just the truth, you little bug,” hissed Erin, her patience at an end.

  “Because Blackwind is used to being in trouble. You guys are so perfect you practically shine in the dark,” Connor said. “We can make it sound like you guys tried to keep us in line but we were horsing around and fighting, which is not a lie. We say we didn’t find the tracks 'til it was too late. We can even make it sound like it was our fault you got stuck on the wrong side of the fence. That way Vinara won’t have your hide for losing one of her animals.”

  “No,” Sigrid with some finality. “Thank you, but no. We do not sully our reports with half truths, ever, Little Father.”

  “OK, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Connor as Sybille’s patrol galloped up the hill.

  Sybille peeled off as the patrol thundered by them. Herd Mother planted her feet in front of Kite Wing, sliding to a halt in a spray of ice and snow that showered them all with its stinging particles. The patrol continued on in a long curving arc that turned the patrol around and pointed them back down the hill while Sybille looked them over, her eyes missing nothing.

  “Where is your mount, Young Father?” Sybille asked Sigrid pointedly, her displeasure written in every line of her body.

  “Dead, Mother,” Sigrid said, trying to come at attention. He managed to get upright but it was obvious by the way he bent to one side that he was hurt. “A smoke leopard took her.”

  “It was all my fault, Mother,” Connor interjected quickly. “I was messing around and wouldn’t listen to Sigrid’s advice when …“ Connor squeaked in pain as Sigrid punched the fist of his good arm into Connor’s thigh. “Hey!”

  Cheobawn covered her face with her hands, and tried to stifle the laugh that was welling up inside her. It was not funny, not really, but they were alive and that seemed to be something to be very happy about.

  “You are such an idiot,” Erin said to Connor with a long suffering sigh.

  Cheobawn burst out laughing. After a moment of surprise, Erin joined her.

  “Ignore them,” Connor growled. “You know how hysterical Ears can get sometimes.”

  “No, tell me,” drawled Sybille, Mora’s Third, her displeasure now bordering on incensed outrage.

  Sigrid snorted and would have laughed, except his breath caught in his throat as he clutched his side.

  “Stop, stop. You win, bug,” he groaned. “You kill me. I surrender.”

  Connor did not laugh but the look he cast in Cheobawn’s direction was full of dark amusement.

  “Enough foolishness,” Sybille snarled as she put heel to bennelk rib and wheeled Herd Mother around as the rest of the patrol swept them up and herded them down the hill. “Keep up or I will gut you and leave you for the carrion eaters.”

  They rode in tense silence all the way down the hill.

  The herd had passed through the orchards when they finally caught up with the trailing riders. Vinara had her hands full as the cattle tried to spread themselves across the half click of fallow fields that surrounded the dome. The head drover needed every rider on the fringes of the herd, driving them back into a tight line and encouraging them to pick up the pace. The glow of the dome was now brighter than that of the sky, acting as a beacon to draw them on.

  It was Hayrald who directed the rear guard. Sybille gave a terse report to the First Prime before abandoning her charges to his care. She raced away, her patrol close behind while Hayrald put his fingers under his mask and sent a piecing whistle out over the din of animal and human. Every head within hearing turned as the First Prime took out his lance and pointed it at the sky. Arm yourselves, it meant. No one hesitated. A small forest of blades sprouted in the deepening dusk. Hayrald cast a worried look in Cheobawn’s direction but did not ride close to see how she fared. Hayrald had bigger worries. If there was one leopard there could be more, perhaps even now hunting the shadows around them.

  It was a tense ride after that, surrounded by silent warriors, their weapons at the ready, their eyes peering into the darkness. Sunlight failed completely, leaving only the dome lights to guide their way. The light reflected off the snow, casting the people and animals in strange shadows. Sybille, somewhere far in front of them, perhaps trusting the instincts of the mounts, pushed them
all hard until the barrel-shaped, short-legged cattle were close to trotting. Cloud Eye, her breath becoming labored, wanted to slow but was not allowed. Her head started to droop with every step, a sign she had spent too much of herself in too short a time.

  Are you well, sister? she asked. It is not much further.

  Cloud Eye said nothing.

  Alarmed, Cheobawn pulled her young friend to the side, bringing her to a halt and letting the herd stream by. Hayrald wheeled his mount and raced back towards her.

  “Keep Moving!” he shouted.

  “There is no danger,” she said. “Why kill the animals ….”

  “Do not argue an order!” he barked, furious at her insurrection. He brought the flat of his lance down on Cloud Eyes rump. Cloud Eye shuddered and began walking again.

  Cheobawn glared after her Da, furious at the abuse of her mount, but the First Prime was already headed back to the end of the line. The other riders around her, noting her humiliation, were quick to avert their gaze. She was glad for the protection of her face mask as the heat rose to her cheeks. Connor leaned over and muttered something, perhaps trying to comfort her, but she heard nothing but the misery of the bennelk between her legs.

  Her energy faded as Cloud Eye’s seeped away and she found herself drooping in the saddle. unable to find the will to fight anymore. Her anger at Hayrald faded, her heart gone cold and weary.

  She began to wish a smoke leopard really would attack them and break this spell.

  The herd and its outriders streamed around the dome past the stables and continued on towards the animal barns. Hayrald peeled Cheobawn’s group away from the rear guard and sent them into the stables, obviously glad to be rid of them. It was a mark of how ill Sigrid felt, that he did not protest or insist on gathering up the rest of his Pack. Erin looked at him, deeply worried, and followed him quietly into the stable yard.

  Vinara, having led the drive all the way home, stood at the stable-yard gates, a phalanx of wranglers standing at the ready, a portable com unit in hand. The Head Drover scowled down at them as they dismounted and handed the reins of their bennelk to their keepers. Cloud Eye’s head drooped nearly to the ground as she coughed wetly. Gann snapped a lead rope to her bridle and looked at Cheobawn with reproachful eyes. Cheobawn flinched and looked away, deeply mortified.

  Vinara checked the animals off on her list and scowled at Cloud Eye’s raspy breathing.

  “What have you done to my elk?” she demanded. “One missing and the others barely standing. Your carelessness is appalling. Appalling. They will all need menthaleaf burnt in their stalls all night to heal the lung burn, I’ll wager.”

  Ramhorn and Blackwind hung their heads. None of them could think of anything to say. The Head Drover was right. The first rule of any patrol was keep your animals sound. They submitted to her rant as she lifted the bennelk’s legs to inspect the pads and nails, rattling off instructions to the wranglers about caring for the cuts and abrasions and broken, ragged claw tips. When the animals had been sent off to a well-deserved pail of hot mash and a grooming, she turned and pinned Sigrid with her hawk-like stare.

  “The cattle count was eighteen short. You saw the tracks that showed where they went, I hear,” she said coolly.

  “Yes, Mother,” Sigrid said, flinching as he tried to stand straight. “We can lead you there tomorrow at first light. I have consulted with Erin and Cheobawn. It is felt that they are still alive.”

  “You are in no condition to go anywhere, young Father,” Vinara said with a shake of her head. “I will take your Ear and anyone else from your Pack that is willing to volunteer.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Sigrid said, casting a worried look back at Erin.

  “I will be safe with Meshel and Breyden,” Erin said softly, touching Sigrid’s face to ease the worried frown. “Iroc and Soral can stay and take care of you. Cheobawn can ride with us and Connor can ride as her shield man.”

  “That would be best,” Sigrid said, “but do not …”

  “The Coven may have a say in Blackwind’s duties tomorrow,” Vinara interjected. “If there is a smoke leopard roaming the lower pasture, I need armed warriors out there and not children.”

  Erin considered the Mother’s words solemnly and then shook her head.

  “I will not go out without Blackwind, Head Drover. If we must play hide and seek with an enormous cat and an impending storm, I would prefer to go with someone who can tell me the mind of both.”

  And that was that. Erin stood her ground, answering Vinara’s protests with silence and a repetition of her demands when it seemed Vinara had forgotten them. Cheobawn sagged in exhaustion as the argument flowed over the top of her head.

  Connor left Erin to her task. He put Sigrid’s arm over one shoulder and tugged Cheobawn away. Together, they helped Ramhorn’s Alpha to the great double doors of the South Gate.

  Gudu let them in. The warm, moist air inside the dome hit them like a blast from the smelting furnace. It hurt to breathe. Cheobawn held her breath as she shed hats and gloves and fumbled with cold-numbed fingers at the closures on her duster and parka.

  “Why are you still here?” Connor asked Gudu, helping Sigrid ease out of his outer wear. “Did Finn grow tired of your ugly face and ban you from the worksheds?”

  “Nice to see you in one piece, pipsqueak,” Gudu said, coming over to help. “Volunteered to do double shift 'cause the entire second shift went out on the drive. Where is everybody else? What did you do to Sigrid?”

  “I’m fine,” Sigrid said, flinching as the parka got caught up on his arm and Connor had to pull a little harder.

  “Sure you are,” Gudu said as he put a hand out to steady Ramhorn’s Alpha.

  “Smoke leopard tackled his bennelk out from underneath him,” Cheobawn said all in one breath. “I think he has a couple of broken ribs.”

  Talking triggered a cough. The air was too heavy. It filled her lungs and she had no strength to push it out again. One cough led to a dozen more. She bent over and tried to breath as sparkling tracers of black lightning blurred her vision and a thousand needles of pain burst inside her chest. Gudu was kneeling in front of her when she finally drew a breath and blinked the tears from her eyes. His fingers were unbuckling the closures on her riding leathers one after the other as fast as they could move.

  “What were they thinking, sending you out on a foray in the dead of winter,” hissed Finn’s apprentice. “Smoke leopards and storms coming, and they send out a kid.”

  “I had to run,” she wheezed apologetically, “I got scared 'cause I thought it was after Sigrid but it just wanted Star. Open the gate. I will be fine outside where the air is not so hot.”

  “I have a better idea,” he stood up and looked around, spotting what he needed. “Bre’en, Nonna! I need help!” The last was bellowed at a pair of oldmas strolling by on the nearest cross walk. The two women looked up in alarm and then hurried towards them. “Stay here while I get a cart,” Gudu ordered as he turned and strode to the large shed behind the guard station. Throwing open the doors, he dove in and emerged moments later driving one of the small electric carts used to transport cargo inside the dome. He stomped on the go-pedal and raced towards them before whipping the steering wheel around at the last minute as he stood on the stop-pedal and yanking the brake lever. Finn would have been horrified at the abuse of his machine.

  “Cool move, Gudu,” crowed Connor. His admiration was cut short as he pressed his fist against his mouth to stifle a cough.

  “If I ever catch you doing that, I’ll cut off your ears, pipsqueak,” Gudu warned.

  Connor leaned over and coughed hard. Gudu swore and started pulling coats and weapons out of his arms and tossing them aside “Please tell me Cheobawn was the only one running races out there?”

  “She charged that cat, Gudu, like she was going to take it out. Scared me bad,” Connor wheezed.

  “Little idiots,” said Gudu shaking his head in dismay.

  Gray-haired Nonna arrived fir
st. Gudu started rattling off instructions as he gathered up coats and hats, shoving them into her arms until she could barely see over the top of the heap.

  “Gotta take these three to the infirmary,” he explained hastily. “Can you make sure the gear gets taken back to the changing room and the weapons locker, please?”

  Plump Bre’en arrived, red-faced and breathing hard, her snowy curls in disarray. Gudu took her hand and guided her to the guard station, still rattling off directions.

  “Pinque is due to relieve me in about an hour. If somebody buzzes the gate just hit the big green button and then make them help you watch the gate until Pinque comes. If anyone from the First Circle asks, I have taken Sigrid, Connor and Cheobawn to the infirmary. Just remember to check the com screen to make sure what is coming through the gate won’t try to eat you.”

  “I am not stupid, young Father,” Bre’en sniffed. “I was doing guard duty long before Amabel planted you in your natalmother’s womb.

  “Bless you, Mother,” Gudu said with a grateful grin. “Phillius will have my head for this but the little ones have a worrisome cough and Sigrid needs a bonesetter.”

  “Menthaleaf for coughs,” Nonna called as she waddled away under a burden of coats, scarves, and hats. “Those chits in the infirmary don’t like the old remedies but they work the best.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Gudu called as he guided Sigrid to the passenger seat of the cart. “Thank you for that advice.” Connor helped Cheobawn into the bed behind the seats and hugged her close as Gudu got in and stomped on the go-pedal.

  Cheobawn tried to suppress her cough but each breath bubbled ominously inside her chest. She fretted, worried about her own health for the first time in her life.

  “If we go to the infirmary, Amabel will not let us go out again tomorrow,” Cheobawn said over the noise of the cart wheels on hard pavement.

  “Wise woman,” Gudu yelled over his shoulder as he whipped around a corner, and then veered sharply to avoid a gaggle of underagers on their way to the dining hall. “You would be crazy to go out again. Need to heal.”