by Joshua Khan
“I don’t know.” The spiders climbed down the slab and scuttled across the floor.
Thorn smashed his boot down. The spiders shattered. But more came forward. He took her wrist. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
More and more spun their webs. They scurried off the bodies, leaving them cocooned in silver webbing. The larger ones turned toward Lily and Thorn.
Lily retreated. “I think you’re right.”
Thorn stepped on another. He brushed off a few climbing up his boot.
A chink of glass tapping glass made him look up.
The large spider, the one from the man’s mouth, tensed.
“Lily!”
Thorn jumped forward as it sprang at her. He swiped the candlestick across it, and two legs snapped off. But it still had six, and it landed on Thorn. It ran up his arm, digging into his flesh. Thorn stared at the jewel-like eyes and the needle-sharp fangs.
When it reached his shoulder, he smashed it.
Its shell cracked; he hit it again and again until it shattered. The pieces tinkled on the stony ground, which was now infested by these crystalline creatures.
Lily swung the door open and dragged him across the threshold. She slammed the door behind her, and he could see she was doing some kind of magic. Shadows from the corners of the corridor were gathering around the door, sealing the gaps.
She’s trapping them inside.
She was talking to him.
What was she saying?
Thorn saw the fear in her eyes. He shook his head, trying to understand why she was afraid.
He felt heavy and slow. Why was it so hard to walk?
He dropped the candlestick. His fingers were numb, and his arm felt strange.
Thorn collapsed to his knees as the numbness spread. He gazed up at Lily as she shouted.
“It bit you, Thorn! It bit you!” She was trying to get him up. “We need help! Stay with me!”
The spider bit me?
That was his last thought.
Thorn drew the arrow until the fletching brushed his chin. He let his gaze drift along the shaft, past the arrowhead, and through the curtain of green.
A gentle wind pushed the leaves, and bright summer sunlight danced on the silvery brook that gurgled between moss-patched boulders.
The deer—a three-year-old, judging by its height—tugged at a bush. Its hide was a soft, tawny brown, spotted with white along its shoulders.
Easy. So easy.
He sat, legs crossed, chewing the cooked deer meat. The sun had left the sky, and the moon now crowned the forest. Thorn ate alone at his camp with only moths for company. They flitted in their fatal dance around the waving flames of his fire.
Did anything taste better than meat hunted by your own hand? He didn’t think so.
What a perfect day.
Thorn sipped some stream water, cold and delicious, then rubbed an apple against his sleeve. Look at that. He’d never seen an apple so red. Or tasted one so juicy!
He leaned back on his bed. The leaves were softer than any mattress he’d slept on back…back…
Where?
He shook his head. Something nibbled at him, a flea trapped in his head that he couldn’t reach. What was it?
Homesickness?
No, impossible. Herne’s Forest was his home. He was never going to leave it.
The branches creaked, and a man appeared through the trees. He paused at the edge of the campfire’s glow.
“Mind if I join you?” His gray eyes sparkled with starlight, and his pale face wore an easy, friendly smile.
“Do I know you?” asked Thorn.
“My name is Iblis. You’re friends with my daughter.”
“Am I?” Thorn sat up and passed Iblis an apple.
“Thank you, Thorn.” The firelight shone on the fine silk clothes and the black jewels he wore. He sliced the apple neatly with his fingernail. “Most fine.”
“What brings you to Herne’s Forest, m’lord?” Always best to be polite to nobles, just in case.
“Is that where you are?” Iblis looked around him. “Of course. We make our own heaven.”
“This ain’t Herne’s Forest?” Thorn suppressed a shiver. Suddenly he wanted this man gone.
“No, Thorn. We’re in Castle Gloom.”
Thorn’s heart fluttered with panic. “Lord Shadow?”
“That’s right.”
Thorn didn’t understand. “But you’re dead.”
“Right again.”
“Oh no.” Thorn stood up. The trees were fading and the light around him turning pale. “I’m dead, too, aren’t I?”
He remembered. He’d been running with Lily, and the spider bit him.
And killed him?
“Is that why you’re here?” he asked. “Am I in the lands of the dead?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
Thorn swallowed. “Lily’s not going to make…to make me into a zombie or anything, is she?”
“No, she’s not.”
“I don’t think Dad’ll be happy about me being a zombie. Or any such undead thing.” He grimaced. “No offense.”
“None taken.” Lord Shadow finished his apple and tossed the core into the flames. “You are not dead. Just sleeping.”
“Sleeping? This is a dream?” He put his hand toward the fire. It felt hot. “If it’s a dream, what are you doing here?”
“This is the Dreamtime. It lies beside, and overlaps, the realm of the dead. It is the way we spirits are sometimes able to visit the living.” He flexed his fingers. “In the living world, I am a mere ghost. Here, I am more myself. More real. I’ve come to see if I can wake you.”
“If I’m asleep, why don’t you just throw a bucket of cold water over me?”
“You think we haven’t tried that? No, you refuse to wake up. Lily’s getting worried.”
“What happened? I remember being bitten by this weird spider….”
Lord Shadow opened up his hand. “Like this one?” There sat one of the horrid things.
Thorn stepped back. “Yeah.”
Lord Shadow tickled the creature’s head. It danced on its eight spindly legs. “It’s a jewel spider. Its venom sends you to sleep, but it also sustains you; it’s full of nutrients. Given the right circumstances, you could sleep for years, decades. Kept alive and happy in your personal dream world.”
“Happy? Why would you be happy?”
“You were.”
“I didn’t know it was a dream.”
“Who does, when they’re dreaming?” Lord Shadow closed his hand, and the spider vanished. “The spiders feed off the host’s dreams, but once the dreams go stale, they lay eggs within the hosts, to breed new jewel spiders. I believe that’s what happened at Pitch Farm.”
“How can dreams go stale?”
“Children have the most vivid imaginations and hence the richest dreams. Adults less so. The jewel spiders probably stole the two sons but implanted the parents with eggs. The spiders hatch within the body, and that’s always fatal.”
Thorn shuddered and looked about him. “How do I get out of here?”
Iblis smiled. “How do you think?”
Thorn’s heart leaped as he heard the beat of massive leathery wings. A vast shape swooped overhead; moonlight caught on the beast’s fangs and hooklike claws.
Hades circled, then folded his wings to half their full breadth and fluttered down to the camp.
Thorn grinned as he shook the bat’s furry cheeks. “You’d follow me anywhere, wouldn’t you?”
Iblis was up beside him, gazing at the monster with admiration. “The bond you have with Hades is quite unusual, Thorn.”
“I’m just good with animals, m’lord. Ain’t so special.”
“Really? You are trapped within the Dreamtime, and when you wish to be saved, your heart summons Hades.” He smiled. “Best you not mention that to Lily. She feels she’s your protector.”
Hades rolled his shoulders, the way he did when he was planning a long, hard flig
ht. Thorn stroked the stiff fur. If this is a dream, how come it feels so real?
Iblis took Thorn’s arm. “The spiders are building a web, to trap people in the Dreamtime. All those villagers who have gone missing are here, asleep in the waking world and lost in the Dreamtime.”
“It ain’t trolls taking them?”
“The trolls are a very real threat, but they’re not behind the disappearances and attacks in Bone-Tree Forest.” Iblis pondered. “Whoever’s doing it is trying to create a war between us and the trolls.”
“Then they’ve succeeded. Baron Sable just rode north.”
“This is no accident, Thorn. Jewel spiders are constructs, devices, not creatures with instinct and purpose. They need a will to control them.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know yet. But I feel his rage, hanging over all Dreamtime. War’s coming, Thorn, a war that will cross worlds. Tell Lily.”
“Why don’t you tell her yourself?”
Iblis grimaced. “I could, if she could get back into the Shadow Library. And it’s taken all my power to reach you here. I will try to contact her when she sleeps, but there is something stopping me from walking the path to Lily’s own dreams, something I don’t yet understand. You must locate the source of these jewel spiders. Find them, and you’ll find our missing villagers.”
“Where do I begin?”
“There was an infestation of these creatures in Malice, a town in the center of Bone-Tree Forest. That was about twenty years ago. My father, Charon Shadow, was ruler then and dealt with it. Perhaps a new nest has hatched?”
Was that it? Was there some hidden cave or den in Malice containing all the kidnapped villagers asleep and cocooned in webs like so many flies?
Thorn climbed up on Hades. The bat stretched out his wings and shivered, just to get the blood pumping to the very tips. This dream version of Hades was perfect in every way, even down to the stinky breath, full of the odor of half-digested cow.
“Tell Lily,” said Iblis. “Tell her not to be afraid. No matter what.”
Thorn gazed down at the man. He’d only seen him as a ghost, ethereal and little more than woven mist. Here, he was as real as any man. There was a light in his eyes that ghosts lacked. “I will, m’lord.” Thorn gripped the thick fur between Hades’s shoulders.
And then he flew up and out of the Dreamtime.
“Thorn?”
He groaned as he woke, feeling as stiff as a zombie. He blinked slowly, easing the pain out of his eyes.
Blurred shapes and muted colors filled his vision at first. Then the two spots of orange became sharper, and slowly he made out a pair of candles on a small table.
The ceiling above him had skeletons cavorting with one another and a devil beating a drum. Imps with colored hats and ribbons made up the rest of the orchestra.
“Where am I?” he whispered hoarsely.
Silk and linen rustled, and Lily leaned over with a glass of water. “The Bone Mile. It’s part of the infirmary. You’ve been here two days.”
“Infirmary? Why can I hear hammering, then? Or is it just in my head?”
“That’s Dr. Byle’s new apprentice, Eddie. He’s putting Wobbly Winston back together. He froze into the snow last night, and his legs came off when they tried to pull him out.”
Thorn’s head felt full of fog as well as hammering. He tilted it side to side, hoping to pour some of it out. “Two days?”
“You slept so deeply, Thorn.” Lily took the empty glass and refilled it. “I was…worried. Only a little, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
She looked exhausted. Her clothes were all wrinkled, and her hair needed a serious combing. Her gray eyes were sunken, and a little wild. Lily’s skin had always been pale but clear; now it was sallow, thin, and worn. A plate of nibbled-at food rested on the table, and there was a blanket at her feet.
She’d been here all this time.
“If I looked half as bad as you, it’s a miracle you didn’t bury me,” said Thorn. “What happened to the spiders?”
“I had the blacksmith seal the room up with lead. They’re not going anywhere, but you can still hear them scratching at the door.” Lily shivered. “Horrible things.”
“They’re called jewel spiders,” said Thorn. “Your dad told me all about them.”
Her eyes widened. “You saw my father?”
His shoulder still felt sore from the bite. And a little numb. “Yeah. He told me to tell you not to be afraid.”
“Anything else?”
“He thinks he knows where the spiders are coming from.” Thorn dragged his legs out from under the covers. The feel of cold stone under his bare soles was refreshing. He wanted to get up and get going; he’d slept long enough. “A town called Malice.”
“Dirty troll!”
“We don’t want your kind here!”
“Why don’t you go back to your filthy country?”
Thorn had been heading back from the stables, when he heard the shouts coming from the alleyway. What was going on?
A mob of squires was throwing stones at Dott. The troll girl was backed into a corner, waving her hands and sobbing. “Leave me ’lone! You all bad!”
There were plenty of them: a mix of the older boys, and a few Thorn called friends. Some laughed, mocking Dott’s clumsy attempts to deflect the stones.
“What in the Six are you doing?” He barged through the pack and planted himself in front of her. “Stop it!”
Lynch Tenebrae led the mob. He stood a good foot taller than Thorn and carried a blunt sword, one of the training tools the older squires used. “You here to save your girlfriend?”
Thorn had been warned about Lynch. He came from a clan that were rivals to the Shadows and always causing trouble among the other noble families. Lynch was a thug. But as a noble thug, no one could touch him.
Maybe it was time to change that.
A few of the other squires shifted uneasily. The fun of beating up a defenseless girl seemed to have dissipated now that Thorn was standing there.
Lynch prodded Thorn with his sword. “Out of the way.”
“Make me.”
Squires fought all the time. They fought in the courtyard, they fought in the dorms, they fought in the fields. They were a bunch of boys being trained for war, and fighting was part of the deal. Thorn had traded punches and black eyes and then shared breakfast with his opponents. It was a game, and there were rules.
But Lynch wasn’t playing by the rules. Thorn ducked below a swing that would have shattered his skull.
A few of the squires gasped, shocked at the ferocity of Lynch’s attack. One took hold of the big squire’s arm. “Come on, Lynch….”
Lynch shrugged him off. “The poacher’s son wants a fight. I’m going to give him one.” He edged forward, blocking any chance of escape. “No Lady Shadow here to save you now.”
Thorn caught sight of the worried looks of the other squires. They didn’t know what to do. No one was willing to stop Lynch, even though there were more than twenty of them. They just watched, afraid.
Thorn attacked, but Lynch laughed it off, dodging his punch with ease and slapping Thorn’s ribs with a flick of his sword. He blocked Thorn’s kick with one of his own, almost cracking Thorn’s kneecap.
I can’t beat him.
So Thorn picked up a rock and threw it hard.
Lynch ducked, and the rock smacked one of the squires behind him. There was a cry and a thud.
Lynch laughed. “You’re nothing without a bow, aren’t you?”
He swung his sword into the back of Thorn’s knee, bringing him down. Thorn was able to block the first kick to his ribs but not the second. He lay there, gasping.
“Make sure no one’s coming,” ordered Lynch.
“What are you going to do?” asked one of the boys.
“Never you mind.” Lynch gripped the sword with both hands. He looked down at Thorn. “Training accident. It happens.”
It was over…ex
cept for one thing.
The troll called Dott.
She roared and rose to her full height, towering over them all. Half the squires fled right then and there. The others stood, transfixed by fear.
She snatched the sword from Lynch and bent the blade in half with little effort. Her eyes blazed. “Don’t hurt little T’orn. My friend.” She lifted Thorn up by the collar. “You ’kay?”
“Yeah.” Thorn straightened his tunic. “Can you count to three?”
Dott nodded. “Easy. Prin’ess teach me up to ten.”
“Good, start at one. Then go to two, and when you hit three, tear Lynch’s arms off. We’ll call it an arm-wrestling accident.” He winked at her. “It happens.”
Dott flicked the broken sword aside. “One…”
No squire, including Lynch, waited for her to reach two.
“You’ve been fighting again,” said Wade the moment Thorn entered the room. “Who was it this time?”
“Lynch Tenebrae.” Thorn sat down on his bed. Ow, his side ached, and he had a day’s worth of riding ahead.
“I’m impressed. If you’re going to make enemies, you might as well make big ones. Why?”
“He was picking on Dott. They all were.”
Wade shook his head. “Only you would fight for a troll.”
“Someone had to do something.” Thorn lifted up his shirt. That bruise was going to be there awhile. “Get packing. We’re off to Malice.”
“Are we?”
“Better grab your gear.” Thorn glanced over. “Now, Wade.”
His friend stood there in his armor. It wasn’t the hard steel of the Black Guard but stiffened leather, well sculpted, if a size too big. Wade also carried a sword, a real blade. Then Thorn noticed Wade’s rucksack, packed and waiting beside the door. “What’s going on?”
“I’m going with Baron Sable.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s a squire’s job to support the knights, remember?”
“Older squires, yeah. You need to be sixteen, and you ain’t.” Thorn didn’t get it. “Are you in a rush for fame and glory? Want the minstrels to write a ballad for you, is that it? I’ll tell you what, I’ll have a word with Merrick, and he’ll make you the hero of a play. Have you defeat the troll king, if that’ll make you happy.”