Spider Wars: Book Three of the Black Bead Chronicles

by J. D. Lakey

  “But the odds are against it,” Cheobawn reminded him, appalled at the risk he had taken.

  “Yeah, you would be a fool to risk everything on that,” Connor said, his voice full of admiration. “Nobody would expect it.”

  “How could I lose?” Sigrid said serenely. “I had the luckiest person on the planet sitting next to me.” Cheobawn smiled up at him, grateful for his confidence in her.

  The rest of Ramhorn came back to Sigrid’s side, huge grins painted on their faces.

  “Try not to gloat,” Sigrid growled softly, “At least until after Xander concedes.”

  Everyone laughed. Xander was still arguing with the War Master but his team was busy assessing the damage and running the numbers on their game consoles to see if it was possible to counter move with the pieces they had left. They looked grim. Xander’s Second came over and consulted softly with Xander. Xander closed his eyes, a look of suppresses fury on his face.

  “That is not a happy man,” Soral said softly.

  Xander threw his hands up in disgust, turned and stomped over to his King, knocking it flat with an ill-tempered kick. Turning he strode towards Sigrid, his Pack running to fall in line behind him. Breyden and Meshel moved to flank Sigrid while Iroc herded Erin and Soral behind him to stand as honor guard.

  “Clever, Ramhorn,” Xander said with a slight bow. “I concede. You have beaten me fairly. But it was a bluff that will only work once for you. You will have to show more skill to get to the final round.”

  There was angry muttering in the crowd around them. As concession speeches went, this one was hardly gracious.

  “Thank you for pointing that out, Father,” Sigrid said to the older man, nodding his head in the barest of bows, his arm pressed against his side to ease the pain of such a motion. “I will try not to shame your legacy in the coming games.”

  Cheobawn frowned as she looked from one Alpha to the other. What Sigrid said sounded polite but the words could be misinterpreted as insult. Xander’s eyes narrowed but he said nothing more. With another slight bow, he turned to stomp away, his Pack in tow. Sigrid watched him go, his lips pinched and pale. The crowd moved in, wanting to embrace the winning team. Ramhorn Pack had their hands full keeping Sigrid from being jostled. Cheobawn grew weary of the endless parade of admirers.

  “I’m hungry. Somebody promised me steak pie,” she said to Connor as she rose to her feet. “I think I am going to sit in the courtyard behind the common room while you wait on me.”

  “OK, a promise is a promise,” Connor agreed, offering her his arm. Sigrid rose, as well. “That sounds like a nice way to spend the rest of the afternoon,” he said. “Sitting like a conquering hero while being fawned upon by my vassals.”

  “What vassals might those be? You are not War Master yet,” Soral said lifting her nose into the air in mock offense.

  “Really?” Sigrid said, clutching his ribs theatrically. “I am wounded in battle. I deserve a little tenderness, don’t you think?”

  “If I did not like you so much,” Soral sniffed in disdain, “you would go hungry, injured or not.”

  “Ah,” Sigrid said with a smile, “that’s my Soral, always playing hard to get.”

  Soral turned and flounced away, a rosy flush on her cheeks. Meshel grinned at Sigrid and then ran to catch up with her. He caught her hand and stopped her with a few whispered words.

  “You’d better get well quickly,” Erin said with a smile as she wrapped an arm around Sigrid’s waist. “The longer you wait the harder she will punish you in the first sparring session.”

  Iroc took Sigrid’s other arm and the threesome joined Soral and Meshel and headed towards the breezeway along the side of the communal dining hall. Cheobawn and Connor followed behind.

  “What was that all about?” Cheobawn whispered softly into Connor’s ear.

  “I have no idea,” Connor said out of the corner of his mouth. “I think Sigrid has to work very hard to keep Soral happy. If it were me, I would have let her walk out of my Pack long ago.”

  “I think that sometimes older kids say things that mean something else entirely, like they have secrets that can’t bear the light of day. Do you think it is part of the mating ritual?” Cheobawn asked softy. “Like the dance of the carrion lizards?” She was remembering the Spider battles that preceded the egg maker’s transition into seed bearer; the intense emotions of battle surely must be part of the trigger for transfiguration.

  Connor choked and then burst out laughing. Sigrid and Erin turned to see what was so funny. Blackwind’s Third tugged her along, catching up with the Ramhorn.

  “I cannot wait until Tam gets out of Temple,” Connor said to Sigrid, “so he can answer all these impossible questions.”

  “You don’t know, do you?” Cheobawn accused him.

  “Is it a question we can help you with, Little Father?” Erin asked.

  “Her questions will make your head spin,” Connor groaned. “She thinks humans have mating rituals.”

  “Of course we do,” Erin said with an inscrutable smile and a quick glance from under her lashes towards Sigrid. “But it is a more subtle game than War and neither side discusses their strategy in mixed company.”

  “Girls,” snorted Iroc. “They would make us dance for them like the fen cock.”

  The male half of Ramhorn laughed at the joke, the two older girls exchanging amused and knowing looks. The young Fathers, filled with good humor over their win, began to dance around Soral, cooing like fen cocks. By the time they reached the small kitchen courtyard and Connor had pushed Cheobawn into a chair there and gone in search of real food, Iroc had been persuaded to show Cheobawn his impression of a fen cock dancing for his lady hen. The young Father bent down low and tucked his hands into his armpits. Elbows flapping, and feet stamping out a beat, he strutted around the small courtyard, his parody eerily accurate. Ramhorn roared with laughter while Cheobawn watched in puzzled amusement.

  “See,” Erin said softly as she leaned close to Cheobawn’s ear, “they deny they dance for us, but do it anyway. Such is the power of love, to muddle even the strongest Father’s mind. But never point it out. Their egos would become bruised and the joy would go out of their displays. Some secrets must never be revealed.”

  Cheobawn smiled, pleased to be included in the older girl’s confidences but she truly did not understand the complicated undercurrents that lay at the base of the young Pack’s actions and motivations. It was a puzzle to be studied when there was more time.

  The thought was banished from her mind when, in the next moment, Connor returned with Nedella, half a dozen kitchen helpers in tow bearing trays heaped with food and drink. Iroc and Meshel pulled up two more tables just to hold all the plates and bowls of food and scrambled to find more seating. He had to settle on using two empty crates and a barrel.

  Nedella scowled down at Cheobawn and Sigrid.

  “Congratulations on your win Ramhorn. I see two people just out of their sick beds. I am going to trust that their packmates keep them from overindulging. Stay with the lighter fare, you two. I have a fen hen stew that should sit well on dodgy stomachs and the apple turnovers are yours to share if you want, but this lot has plenty of other things to eat that you should not, so do not feel honor bound to do so. The rest of you, good eating. I expect extra help in the kitchens tonight for dish washing duty.”

  Ramhorn Pack hooted in appreciation as they fell onto the pile of food like half starved fuzzies. Cheobawn did not feel like fighting them for ownership of any of the dishes but both she and Sigrid managed to snag a bowl of the stew and a plate full of turnovers and biscuits drenched in honey; a treat that they shared between them.

  While they ate, villagers trickled down the breezeway to congratulate Sigrid on his win and greet Cheobawn, genuinely glad to see her up and about. Some came bearing gifts. A couple of pitchers showed up on the tables, one full of beer, the other fruit juice. The laughter around the table increased and Soral and Erin’s cheeks flushed wit
h drink. Soral grew relaxed and giggly. Erin flirted shamelessly with Connor who could only blush in confusion. Cheobawn ate so much her stomach ached, though in truth it was no more than half a bowl of stew and a single turnover. She nibbled delicately on a biscuit while everyone else polished off the last crumbs of pastry.

  Around mid afternoon, the crowds around them thinned, the tables cleared, their glasses empty. They were finally alone. Sigrid looked around the courtyard and leaned over the top of Cheobawn to pin Connor with an owlish stare.

  “Have you told her yet?” the Alpha asked.

  “Not had the chance, have I?” growled Connor. “I was going to ease into it, gentle like.”

  Cheobawn stared at the both of them and then looked at the faces beyond. Iroc looked guilty and Breyden had a sly smile on his face. Whatever the secret was, all of Ramhorn knew about it.

  “Tell me what?” she asked warily. “Is this the surprise you were hinting at before? It can’t be the puppies. Zeff has already showed me my puppy. She is gray. I have not had a chance to ask her what her name is.”

  “Maybe this is not the time or the place,” Erin suggested looking around the courtyard.

  “I think showing is better than telling, anyway,” Breyden said as he nodded sagely and nearly fell over. Cheobawn had not kept track of how many pitchers of beer had graced their table but it seemed the young Father had more than his fair share.

  Chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, Connor looked around and spotted something.

  “Nedella wouldn’t mind us borrowing her cart, what with our injured folk not being able to get back to bed in one piece.”

  “Eh?” Sigrid grunted, looking around to follow his gaze.

  “I bet we could all fit if the girls sat on the boy’s laps,” Meshel said, standing up and helping Soral to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but so was Meshel. Together they managed to keep each other standing.

  Breyden leapt to his feet and ran over to the cart, claiming the driver’s seat. Erin helped Sigrid into the seat next to him before clambering into the truck bed along with the rest of Ramhorn. Connor handed Cheobawn up into Iroc’s arms before climbing in himself. He barely found a seat on the rough boards of the cart bed before Breyden took off.

  Cheobawn recognized their route. They were retracing the path she had taken on week before.

  “Are we going for another sauna?” she asked in dismay. Truth be told, she did not think she had the strength left for one more adventure.

  “Hmm, that sounds like a lovely idea,” Erin said, a dreamy look on her face. “Can we do that while we are there?”

  “Business first,” Sigrid said firmly.

  “What business?” Cheobawn asked, looking curiously from face to face.

  “They set up this really cool conveyor system that feeds from the waterworks dome into the foundry furnaces,” Iroc said. “We volunteered to be on egg shoveling duty to help dispose of all those spider eggs.”

  Cheobawn blanched, the food she had just consumed suddenly resting uneasily in her stomach.

  “No,” she breathed out slowly, shaking her head.

  “We just want to show it to you,” Erin said with a strangely pleased look on her face.

  Cheobawn was trying to control the panic rising around her heart. “Stop the cart. I refuse to watch while you burn the children of Spider.”

  Connor patted her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “We just need to get out the gate. Play along. You said the eggs were important. We did listen, you know.”

  “I did? You did?” Cheobawn said, unable to contain her surprise. “What did you do?”

  “Just wait and see,” Connor said patiently, a pleased look on his face. It made him look uncannily like Tam when he was bursting with a brilliant idea. Cheobawn closed her mouth and reminded herself that packmates trusted each other.

  The guard at the West Gate was a young Father named Laird who congratulated Sigrid and Ramhorn on their win as they approached his post. Breyden pulled a flask of beer out of the folds of his tunic and threw an arm over the Father’s shoulders.

  “Knew you wanted to help us celebrate, so we brought you a little something,” he said with a lopsided grin.

  “How much of this have you had already?” the guard asked, smiling back as he twisted the cork out and took a long drink.

  Breyden scrunched his face as if thinking hard hurt his brain. “Not sure. Lots, I think.”

  “We wanted to show Cheobawn the new addition to the smelter intake. She is a fan of Finn’s genius, apparently,” Sigrid said.

  “I am being relieved in two hours. The Temple takes control of the outer dome then and you all have to be back inside before the initiates can use the saunas.” Laird said, shaking his head doubtfully.

  “Not a problem,” Sigrid promised, a fist over his heart. “Out and back again.”

  Breyden encouraged Laird to take another swig from the flask. In no time at all, the guard entered the two Packs into the dome database and checked them out of the dome. Cheobawn was too distracted to follow the particulars of the conversation; there was a place in the center of her heart that felt as if a thousand flutterflies were caught there, trying desperately to get out. She tried to breathe around this odd feeling. Was it anticipation or fear? What was the source? She peered into the faces of the people around her. Connor, misunderstanding her look of worry, took her hand in his own and held on hard.

  “I am afraid,” she whispered, “but I cannot tell you why.”

  Connor bent down to put his lips next to her ear. “It will be OK. I promise.”

  Breyden sauntered back, a pleased look on his face. He handed one of the tags in his hand to Connor. The gate was already swinging open. Connor tugged Cheobawn into motion, pulling her quickly through the widening gap, leaving Ramhorn Pack to negotiate their way through the gate with their wounded leader, on their own. He led her down the gravel path towards the cooling pond.

  Cheobawn eyed the sauna huts but they appeared empty, their chimneys free of smoke or steam. Tam and Megan and Alain would be out here soon and she desperately wanted to wait for them. She wanted Megan to hug her and tell her not to worry so much. She wanted Alain to smile at her mistakes and Tam to scowl at her with his stern disapproving look while he wished her more wisdom – Tam, her Tam, who loved her to distraction and worried that he would not be able to save her when the time came. Was this that moment, the moment meant to test her metal and the depth of her wisdom? She wished for more wisdom all the time but wishing did not seem to help.

  Connor explained as they walked, his words rushing out of his mouth like spring melt down a ravine. “We tried to think what to do, but with you asleep we had no one to ask and no guide but our own instincts. Sigrid thought we could gather the eggs into our own secret cache in the southern woods but the Fathers know the nearby forests as well as we do and Finn’s cursed machine would have uncovered them long before the eggs could hatch in the spring. Erin thought we could smuggle a few eggs into the dome and keep them in the empty storage vaults but the eggs are just too large to hide from the gate guards and Sigrid did not want to risk them hatching inside the dome. Breyden was the one who volunteered us to go on the egg search details. We rode with the patrols and studied the Elder’s disposal process, looking for holes to exploit. It all led here.” Here was the shore of the pond. Cheobawn looked around and then looked back at him, truly confused.

  Ramhorn Pack sauntered down the path, surrounded the remnants of Blackwind Pack, and herded them along the water’s edge, their laughter tinged with excited anticipation.

  “No spoiling the surprise,” Soral laughed breathlessly. “We must all be there to see the look of surprise on her face.”

  Breyden took Cheobawn’s hand and tugged her on until their feet found the deck planks of the first dock. Leading her out along its length to the very end he beamed at her, his mirth barely contained. Connor elbowed the elder children aside, scowling at Breyden’s unwelcome familiarity wit
h his Ear.

  “Well, what do you think?” Breyden asked.

  “Well?” Cheobawn asked. “Well, what?”

  “It was the only thing I could think of,” Connor said. “We had this pile of eggs and nowhere to hide them so we hid them in plain sight. It was just a matter of chucking them into the water when the Elder’s backs were turned.”

  Cheobawn opened her mouth and then closed it again. She turned and looked in horror at the deceptively calm pond.

  “You didn’t,” she breathed. She peered down into the depths of the water but the light was waning and the bottom was dark and murky. She listened with her internal ears. The water was near to freezing but it was far warmer than outside the dome. The eggs had thawed and initiated the next cycle of growth. The babies inside their shells were awake, their gills fanning the fluid inside their shells. She could hear them. She could feel the microscopic pulse of their little hearts. She could feel the frantic fluttering of their bloodstone minds as they struggled to find their place in this world so far from their mothers. This was the source of her unease. Cheobawn pressed the palms of her hands to her chest as her own heart tried to match the flutter of those under the water.

  This was madness. Was she still lying in a coma back at the infirmary caught in a Spider induced nightmare?

  “How are you going to get them out of the pond?” she asked levelly, her even tone belying her panic. The ensuing silence drew her eyes away from the dark water. The faces arrayed around her were worrisomely blank. “You had a plan, right?” she asked, trying to keep the emotions roiling around in her chest from bleeding out in her voice as judgment or criticism. “They are awake. The water will warm with the coming spring. They will hatch. What did you think you would do with the juvenile spiders?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” Sigrid said. That crazed look of adoration and utter confidence in her skills as a witch was back on his face.

  “I?” she said, “There are what? More than twenty spiders down there? Did you think the Elders would not notice when they all began to hatch?”