by White, T. A.
It was too dangerous before. The pale masters would have heard.
“Pale masters? I don’t understand.”
Night nudged Tate’s hand up into the dim light. Next to his darker fur, her skin was as pale as moonlight. Tate drew her fingers through the fur at the base of his neck. It was soft, softer than she’d expected. She traced his lethal claws gently and startled at the pebbled skin under the claws.
She’d been wrong. There was nothing monstrous about him. He was simply different from anything she’d seen before, but that didn’t make him a creature to be feared. It made him majestic and fierce, and he was the only one she could count on at the moment to get her back to the surface.
“My name’s Tate,” she said.
Name?
“Yes. It’s what I’m called to distinguish me from others. What do people call you?”
He thought about it, his forehead creasing in thought. Hesitantly, he said, Experiment 1162.
“Experiment?“ The answer shocked Tate. Furthermore, it wasn’t a name, simply a number for an experiment. Tate didn’t have much in the way of a past, not even a full name, but what she did have she clung to with every fiber of her being. She wondered if he was the same. “Do you like that name?”
His response was slow in coming. It is simply what they called me.
“Who?” she asked.
The creators, he said, looking off into the darkness, his eyes glowing briefly as they caught the light. Memories are fragmented. Woke up from sleep. Worlds different. Hard to remember things.
Tate felt a sense of kinship with this being who was as lost as she was. At last, here was the link to her past she’d been looking for. She just hadn’t expected that clue to be as forgetful as her.
She confided in him what she had never told another, “We’re alike, you and me. I remember nothing from before I slept as well. Only my name. Tate. I don’t know who I was. Every new situation is a test. How can I react to something if I don’t even know what my actions should be?”
Tate let the silence fall, tired from putting into words what she had struggled with for all these long months. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, her burden shared even if only through words.
When you think of me you use the word Night, he said.
Tate blinked at him. “I hadn’t realized you could pick that up.”
Why Night?
She shrugged. “I often name people and things. It helps me keep things in perspective and gives me a little entertainment at the same time. If you don’t like it we can change it.”
His tail swished behind him. It’s too short.
After a moment of stunned confusion, Tate started laughing until tears streamed down her face, a laugh that flung away the dark thoughts and feelings that had been weighing her down all these months.
“What did you have in mind?” Tate asked when her laughter had died down. “We can change it if you don’t like it.”
Night, Ni-eght, Niiiight, he tested the name, stretching out the syllables. Still too short, he yowled plaintively. How about Pounces Through The Night Swiftly?
Tate blinked at him, nonplussed. That was a very unique name. “I’m not calling you that.”
She climbed to her feet. Why not? Night asked as they followed the tunnel to another intersection. The length will strike fear into my enemies hearts.
“It’ll strike something alright.”
One Pounces Mightily from the Dark.
“No.”
Roars Deeply into the Silence.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this haven’t you?”
You like it? he asked, perking his ears.
“Definitely not.”
The two bickered back and forth as they made their way through the tunnels, their voices echoing off the walls. Night proposed names, each worse than the last, and Tate just as quickly shot them down.
It helped keep Tate’s mind off the endless tedium of dimly lit corridors as they proceeded like rats trapped in a maze. The awareness of how deep underground they must have been persisted in the back of her mind, keeping her on edge and making her sweat more than the cool temperature would normally allow.
Night’s ears swiveled, as he tilted his head to listen to something. Tate froze in place while he crouched and sniffed the air. He bared long white fangs in a silent show of aggression. Tate strained to hear whatever had made him upset. There was a whisper of sound, like silk rubbing against skin. Tate couldn’t even be sure she’d heard it, that it wasn’t something her mind had made up, a result of listening too hard.
She held her tongue, wanting to know what it was, but also knowing that to speak now would no doubt alert whatever it was to their presence. So she waited, every muscle in her body tensing for battle. Even the presence in her mind waited in watchful anticipation as the dragon’s claws kneaded her arm.
Tsuchigon, Night hissed.
“I don’t know what that is,” Tate whispered. From the way Night said it though, it didn’t sound good.
They have the face and torso of the hairless ones but many, many more black legs, Night said without taking his eyes from the tunnel. Wandered into territory while escaping.
“Lucius was saying something about them,” Tate said inching forward. She stopped when Night flicked an ear at her in irritation. She thought about the conversation and gasped.
What? Night asked, backing towards her. It was odd how carefully he moved, considering the tunnel was empty. He ducked under another unseen barrier and crept to the wall as he made his way back to her, abruptly belly crawling for no reason that she could see.
Momentarily distracted by his antics, she said distractedly, “Lucius said they were responsible for killing his men… I’m sorry, what are you doing?”
Free of whatever had been bothering him, Night bounded to his feet at Tate’s side. Tsuchigon strands. They trap and hold prey until spinners come. Night’s whiskers pointed to a gossamer thin strand a foot in front of Tate’s face. It was all but invisible and only because Night had pointed it out could Tate even see it. She reached out to touch. It didn’t’ look remotely strong enough to trap anyone bigger than an insect. Night’s teeth closed gently on her wrist.
She withdrew carefully. He let her slip her arm from his mouth. “What was that for?”
Vibrations to the web will alert them to our presence. They’re not strong enough to entangle. Those are closer to their nest’s center, but can track us with them. They are fierce warriors, especially when protecting their nests. Pale two legs make a good meal, especially for the young.”
Tate’s nose wrinkled. That was not a good image and definitely not how she would want to die. “What do we do then? Go back?”
Night studied the dark as he thought. It would be difficult for him alone to navigate the threads and with someone who could only see them with assistance, near impossible. Turning back wasn’t an option with Lucius’ men combing the tunnels looking for them, and the Red Lady’s keep was on the other side of the Tsuchigon’s territory. Finding an alternate route was impossible without backtracking all the way to the Night Market, costing them time they didn’t have if they wanted to rescue his cubs.
The facts of their situation weren’t lost on Tate. Night’s indecision could only mean this was the only way.
Night’s posture was dejected as he bent his head in resignation. His sorrow pulled at Tate. How bittersweet it must be to have someone that you were willing to do anything for, even risk unimaginable danger. It made her yearn for forgotten things.
“Night,” she said before he could speak. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”
Gratitude filled his face before a mask of grim resolve hardened it. Follow me.
Tate’s lips quirked as she replied, “Lead the way.”
If the web triggers, run as if the hounds of the abyss are nipping at your heals, Night told her. Fighting’s useless. If lucky, we’re on the edge of their territory and can make it out b
efore they reach us.
Tate nodded. Trigger web, run. Seemed easy enough, though the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach made a mockery of that thought.
It was slow going with Night leading and Tate following in his exact movements. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d simply been walking, but contorting the body to slip through the fine strands only to sink and crawl a few feet afterwards made their progress painfully slow. Tate’s elbows smarted from one of those floor crawls, stinging in a way that let her know she’d rubbed the skin off. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and nodded as Night indicated a series of closely woven threads.
They fell into a pattern, letting Night move forward a couple of feet. She followed and stopped to let him plot out their next few feet. Soon her back screamed in protest and sweat dribbled down her face. Her companion seemed to be made of rock, relentless in his endurance and pace. She couldn’t prevent a tinge of envy for the big guy’s abilities. He slipped through the web like a ghost with her plodding behind like an ungraceful giant.
She kept waiting for her pains to coalesce and fade into the background, but they never did. She remained fiercely aware of the cramping in her left calf and the throbbing in her right knee. She wouldn’t complain though; she’d chosen to come. It was tempting to beg for a break but one look at Night’s bristling fur and any comment she thought to make dried up before leaving her tongue.
Night twitched his tail, signaling her to freeze. She did, one foot hovering in the air, terrified that she’d triggered the web. She didn’t move, barely daring to breathe as he crouched down and sniffed the air.
The web’s are getting closer and closer together. Gets more difficult from here, he said his whiskers twitching in thought. The sight of her frozen one foot in the air, her eyes bugging out of her face, caused him to snort back a huffing sound that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. Put your foot down. You won’t touch as long as you don’t straighten.
With a relieved sigh, Tate put her foot flat on the ground but remained bent slightly forward. “More difficult? What’s the last hour been like for you?” she muttered.
I don’t see any way not to alert the Tsuchigon to our presence if we continue forward, he said. The strand groupings are getting more intricate and exhaustion will eventually make us careless.
“Who’s exhausted?” Tate bluffed, knowing he was talking about her. “I could go on like this for hours, days even.”
Night huffed at her. She supposed it was his way of saying not likely. “We can’t go back,” she finally said. “We’re too far in and our circumstances haven’t really changed.”
No. We can’t, he agreed, his feline face deep in thought.
His eyes sharpened on something above Tate’s head. She held stock-still. He moved with a feline grace, standing up on his hind legs as he plucked a strand of clear silk from her hair with one claw. She closed her eyes in dismay.
Danglers. My fault. Was careless, he said. Didn’t think they’d have them this far out.
“Danglers?” Tate asked, not really caring if he answered. The damage had already been done, it didn’t really matter if she knew why they were going to die or not.
They attach loose threads to the web so they can wave in the air and attach to prey. It’s a defense against my kind who can see the threads and slip through, he said examining the thread closely. He pulled it carefully from her hair. When it had attached to Tate, it would have broken from the web sending a vibration, warning the web master responsible for this section of intruders.
Night’s ears swiveled as they picked up the faint skittering sound of many legs approaching. He hooked his teeth into her sleeve and dragged her in his wake. We need to go.
“No argument here.”
They picked up their pace until they were running flat out, not caring anymore if they were breaking the web’s strands. Night led, his stronger legs eating up the distance in an easy lope. Tate struggled to keep up with his rigorous pace, trusting that he knew where he was going.
It wasn’t long before she could hear what had frightened him, the quick click, click, click of thin spider legs against stone. By now the threads had grown stronger and weren’t as inclined to break easily, instead holding on with a tensile strength that belied their delicate appearance.
Tate shook free of one particularly sticky one and noted that Night had stopped at an L-shaped intersection.
“What’s wrong?” she panted, reaching his side.
We’re trapped. He roared at the approaching enemies, his trumpet call of aggression echoing off the narrow walls. A swarm of chittering, high laughing squeaks were his reply.
“What do you mean? We can just keep going,” Tate said pointing down the tunnel.
No, they’re coming from that direction too, he said dejected. We’re dead.
What? No. She wasn’t ready to die, especially not by whatever was coming. She spun in a circle, her mind filtering through possible escapes. She had no weapon, so fighting was definitely out. From the way Night acted, bargaining for safe passage would do no good either.
Her eyes settled on a small stone that glowed slightly brighter than the others. It pulsed in a quick sequence of slow, slow, fast, slow, slow, fast. She hit it in frustration. Pretty lights weren’t going to be enough to save them. Instead of hurting her hand as she expected, it gave under her fist in a welcoming burst of light.
Night snarled when her arm sunk up to her elbow into the stone. He was on his feet and trying to pull her back when the entire wall flared with light and they both fell through.
The stone clung to Tate’s skin and clothes like sticky honey before abruptly she was on the other side.
Tate spun around expecting to see the Tsuchigon looming out of the dark and instead was greeted by the smooth façade of stone. She put one hand out and touched it, half expecting to fall through the wall again. Instead, she felt the solidness of real stone that was impenetrable, no matter how hard she pushed.
Strange. Amazing, but strange. Very timely too, she had no doubt Night and her would be wrapped in a cocoon of silk waiting their turn on the dinner menu if they hadn’t fallen through a solid wall.
Night groaned softly at her feet, regaining consciousness. He’d passed out during the passage through the wall, the shock of which had been great. Tate bent to help him. A sharp growl was her only warning, before he lashed out with claws filled with lethal intent. She barely stumbled back in time to prevent being bloodied.
“Night! Night! It’s me. Tate,” she said backing away with her hands held palm out to show she was unarmed.
Night’s eyes focused on her, his growls fading with recognition. Tate?
“Yeah,” she said relieved.
His tail and ears drooped. Sorry. I didn’t recognize you. Thought you were the Tsuchigon.
Tate snorted. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or appalled. I’ve never been mistaken for a many legged monster before.”
Where? he asked, noticing the room they were in for the first time.
“I was kind of hoping you could tell me,” she said. “This being your territory and all.”
He shook his head as baffled by the turn of events as she was.
They’d fallen through the wall into a perfectly round room. Unlike the rest of the tunnels, the walls here were built with a white rock that was put together seamlessly. Even the sharpest eye would be unable to distinguish where one rock began and another ended.
Brighter than the tunnels, the light here was softer and more serene. Tate ventured into the middle of the room, noticing a table made of an impossibly thin metal. A clear, white material coated every inch of the room including the walls and ceiling.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” she asked looking around. The ceiling was at least ten feet above their head, and there was a faint whir of sound that had been absent in the tunnels.
No. Whoever built this made sure it wouldn’t be discovered, though, Night said, prowling the e
dge of the room. There’s no way out that I can see or feel.
“Great.”
Tate fought to keep her head. Just because there appeared to be no exit didn’t mean there wasn’t one. She hadn’t seen the entrance either until she’d fallen through it. There was no reason to assume that it’d be any different now.
Idly she said, “I’ve noticed that you’re thinking in full sentences more often now.”
He made a chirrup of agreement. The more we talk the better my speech will get.
Made sense.
She ran a hand over one of the tables watching as it lit up. The lights followed her fingers. She inspected one finger. No dust. No dirt. Normally she would have assumed the cleanliness of the chamber was a sign of people, but this entire place defied convention.
She tapped on the table again, its coating feeling similar to glass. Once again it lit up in response to her touch. Curious. She ‘hmmd’ to herself. With both hands she made several slashing motions across the glass, strange symbols followed close after each color. Beeeeeeeep. There was a loud warning screech, and the entire glass lit up with red. Tate jumped back afraid she’d broken it.
“Uh-oh. You broke it,” a female voice said from behind her.
Tate screamed and danced away from the voice. Night covered the distance of the room in a leap, landing in a crouch at her side and snarling at the stranger. A young girl no more than 15 regarded the two of them from a sweet looking face that was completely serene. There was something off with her, however. It wasn’t just that she was serene; it was like no expression had ever touched those features, leaving it unmarked with human life.
Creator’s spawn, Night hissed. She has no presence. None. I can’t sense her, nor smell her, nor hear her heart beat. If it wasn’t for my eyes, I’d say she wasn’t even there.
The girl had long brown hair that hung to her mid back. Her skin shown with a luminescent sheen against a set of simple trousers and a plain shirt, clothing nearly identical to Tate’s. She regarded them from inscrutable eyes and let her lips tip into a smile. The movement was isolated to her lips, not affecting any other muscle in her face. It was like a puppet master was manipulating her face, isolating each feature from the rest.