Trikk remained still as she studied her prey. Her kind had a keen sense of hearing, and when she focused upon the man, she could hear his heart quicken at the Grauda queen’s questions. Trikk had never heard of the Grauda having a king, especially one who looked so different to the rest of their race. One of her legs reached up and gently tugged on a string, causing it to vibrate, transmitting her order to hold the attack for miles in all directions.
The man sighed before pulling the Grauda queen’s hand up to place a kiss on it. “There is nothing to worry about. Not for now, at least. We should focus on what is in front of us.” He let go of her hand and turned to face the trees, which is when Trikk first noticed his gray eyes. They glowed brightly in the shade of the canopy and the thick webs above. Though he was not looking at her, she felt exposed, naked.
Something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what.
The Grauda queen said nothing for a moment, then she glanced at the bridge being built by the lesser of her race. “I have never been this far into their territory… I don’t know what to expect, but I am certain they know we are here.”
A grin spread across Trikk’s face. This one was a smart Grauda… she would take the queen’s flesh for her own when this was all over. But even as she thought about her spoils, the tiny hairs on Trikk’s six legs and abdomen stood up straight, her senses on alert. That man was dangerous. She couldn’t explain it, but everything inside her was telling her to run.
Trikk scowled. Run? She was queen; she would run from no one. She again reached out a leg and tugged on a string, before doing the same with another. This man had to die first, she decided—and fast. Once he was dead, the rest would be easy pickings.
Below her, the man knelt and reached out a hand, letting the droplets of water splashing out of the raging river land on his skin. “Reading and seeing drawings of nature is nothing like experiencing it firsthand,” he murmured. “We were in such a hurry to reach Whiteridge that I didn’t have the opportunity to appreciate it all. This river, the volume and strength of its life-giving water…” He gave a small smile. “It is quite beautiful.”
The Grauda queen scanned the canopy above. “It would be more beautiful if not for all the webs blotting out the light,” she complained as another tree was felled higher up the river.
“Tell me, Astrel: is it right to condemn a race for the sake of one’s own personal goals?”
Trikk’s eyes narrowed at the sudden question. From the way the Grauda queen was regarding the man, she wasn’t expecting it either. “I don’t believe right or wrong has anything to do with it. All that matters is protecting those you love and providing for them.”
The man gently ran his hand over the moss covering the rocks he knelt on. “This is only the second time I’ve been out of Soul’s Rest,” he said, his voice suddenly solemn. “Only the second time I have been able to experience the beauty and untold mystery this world has to offer. And yet…” He paused as his hands gripped the moss beneath his hands and squeezed. “And yet again, my only purpose in doing so is to destroy the life that inhabits it.”
The Grauda queen remained silent.
The man stood and dusted his palms against his breeches. “I suppose this has gone on long enough,” he said, almost sadly. He looked up, and Trikk froze as his glowing eyes met hers. A smile appeared on his face as he raised his hand—and a wave of dark green mana erupted from him, forming a series of large symbols. “Entangling Vines,” he said, his tone calm, as if still having a normal conversation.
Trikk panicked, high in her tree. Of course, the man was a weaver! A cursed mana user, just like those pesky Dryads! She reached out to pull on a string to start the attack… but stopped when she noticed all the strings around her were already vibrating.
Cries for help, for support, came from all over.
“Impossible,” she shrieked just as a vine reached out from one side to grasp her. She swiped one of her sharp legs at it and cut clean through the vine, but not before a vicious spike suddenly erupted from the side of the vine to prick her. She hissed at the stinging pain, appalled at how easily her chitin armor had been pierced.
Using her webs, she hurriedly pulled herself up and away from the vine, hoping a higher position would give her the protection and time to assess and regroup. Instead, all she saw was her cluster—hundreds of proud and battle-tested Arachne—entangled with more of those thick, spiked vines. They shrieked as they struggled to break free, but each movement caused another spike to stab them.
More vines appeared around her, dozens of them now coiling and reaching for her limbs.
Losing her patience, Trikk flashed her sharp teeth and stood on her hind legs, bending her abdomen under herself to point its tip at the approaching vines. A stream of thick and sticky silk spewed from her to coat the vines, quickly arresting their movement. Settling back on her six legs again, Trikk pulled out her curved sword and began hacking at the vines until finally, they stopped coming at her.
She felt a rush of satisfaction, but almost immediately snapped around at the sound of a high-pitched screech. It was one of her younger warriors; the vines already coiled around him were beginning to tighten.
Trikk jumped from one web to another as she tried to reach him, but just as she drew close, the vines pulled him from the branch toward the ground. She stared helplessly as, one after the other, each and every one of the Arachne under her care was pulled away, their helpless cries covering the Webbed Woods like a curtain of despair.
“You can come down now,” she heard the man’s voice say from below. Trikk glanced down, exhausted from dodging and hacking at so many vines. She could not see either the man or the Grauda queen through the leaves, and yet she still felt his gaze boring into her.
Somehow, he knew exactly where she was.
Around her, the countless strings which connected the Webbed Woods for miles in every direction slowly fell silent. Trikk pulled on one, then another, her panic rising. Nothing. How could she have misread the situation so thoroughly? That man had known she was watching all along.
All this time, she had been the prey…
“I will not ask again,” he said, and this time she heard the heat in his tone. Trikk felt a hopelessness envelope her—a feeling she had not experienced since the news of the death of the former queen, her mother.
Trikk let out a loud and terrible screech, which carried across the forest. No! She was queen! She had killed so many: sisters and brothers she had played with, hunted with as a young spiderling. She had earned her place through blood and strength. She would not let this man and the Grauda do as they pleased, no matter how powerful he was. Not without a fight.
Gathering all her strength, Trikk pushed off the branch with such force that it cracked under the pressure. She shot downward, to where she had heard his voice, her forelegs pointed forward with the intent to skewer him. Just as she cleared the thickest part of the trees, she saw him, his hands still extended, a massive dark green symbol hovering before him. He and the Grauda queen standing beside him were surrounded by a sea of Arachne, each pinned to the ground, unable to move or even twitch without risking a thorn skewering them. Even a prince, one of largest and strongest of her kind, struggled to free himself from the dozen vines wrapped around him.
The few who had managed to escape their bonds found themselves swarmed by the Grauda, spears piercing their sides as the creatures peppered them with arrows.
The green symbol pulsed, and Trikk knew it was already over. She never had a chance. This was not a battle between prey and predator, she saw too late. Her race was but pests before this being, a mild annoyance he had come to swat away—and just as she thought this, a vine whipped up and slammed her to the ground, the force of the blow knocking all the air from her lungs.
Something in her cracked as she hit the ground, and she shrieked as the sensation of a million burning pins speared one of her hindlegs. The other Arachne around her also screeched, the sound of their queen’s crie
s causing them to struggle against their restraints, even as the thorns repeatedly stabbed at them.
Sweat ran down her face and body, the water-resistant quality of her silkweave dress allowing the beads of moisture to run off it. She raised her head just in time for the man to grab a fistful of her hair and slam her face into the ground again.
Her mind went blank for a moment, before he raised her head again to face him. She could taste her own blood as it fell from her now broken nose and onto her lips.
Trikk tried to push her abdomen up, but the man placed one leg on her middle and pressed down. It was as if he had dropped a boulder on her. She couldn’t move—all she could do was extend her legs and scrabble at the ground beneath her, the movement kicking up sand and dust.
A crawling sensation moved across her entire body, and she knew she had been Inspected.
“Trikk,” he said, his voice still calm. “Where is Lhara, your queen?”
Trikk hissed as his tightened his grip on her hair. “Lhara is dead!” she screamed. “I am queen!”
“I see,” the man said, glancing at their surroundings. “Would you please tell them to stop struggling? After all the trouble I went through not to kill them, it would be a shame if they bled to death.”
“My king,” the Grauda queen said, moving to his side, her shield and impressive-looking spear held close. “Why are you doing this? We should just end them.”
At that moment, a loud snap cut through the Arachne screeching, followed by many others. The man looked in that direction, but he still held Trikk’s hair tightly, not allowing her to move or see what he was seeing. She heard heavy footfalls, coming closer, before a terrifying shriek brought a grin to her face.
The prince was free.
At first, the man did not react. Vines broke through the soil surrounding Trikk and wrapped themselves around her throat, torso, abdomen and every limb, even the broken one. Trikk hissed at the sharp pain of the thorns against her skin as the man lifted his foot from her body, and in the same movement pulled a long blade from a sheath on his side. The blade hummed as a white light illuminated its shaft.
With her hair free, Trikk was able to look up—just in time to see the massive prince Arachne use his bulk to push aside the puny Grauda standing between him and his queen. His many dark eyes locked onto the man as he stood before Trikk, his humming blade held to one side.
The prince’s massive fangs dripped venom, green and viscous, each drop causing the grass it touched to sizzle. With a roar, the prince pulled back and stood on his hind legs, then launched himself forward, his massive bulk rushing toward the man.
The Grauda queen let out a hiss, and her followers surrounding the prince drew bows from their sides and let loose a slew of arrows. Most struck his heavily armored chitin abdomen and legs, but a few imbedded themselves into his many eyes.
The great spider shrieked in pain. Trikk couldn’t look away as one of her most loyal soldiers, one of the few princes still surviving after the Rite, threw himself to her rescue… Even as wave after wave of arrows pierced him from all sides, he never stopped his forward charge.
The man widened his stance as he faced the prince. The prince only hastened his charge, his legs ripping up chucks of soil with every step, clearly intending to turn the man into a bloody smear using his sheer weight and size. Even so, Trikk couldn’t shake the fear which engulfed her.
The man was too calm—too calm altogether for someone facing a prince of the Arachne at close range.
Not a moment later, her fears were realized.
Just as the massive body of the prince was set to collide with his target, the man dropped to the ground, so quickly that the movement was a blur, his blade held high. The sheer weight of the prince’s forward momentum carried him over the man… and the glowing sword cut into his belly as if he were made of newly hatched spiderling’s silk.
The sound of cracking chitin and the prince’s agonizing screeches filled the clearing, before the man’s blade came cleanly out the other side, dark with blood.
The prince crashed to the ground, sliding some distance before coming to a complete halt. Copious amounts of blood seeped into the soil around his fallen body. The prince’s dozen dark eyes, now horribly dulled, still looked to his queen.
The man stood and flicked his sword sharply, the blood flying from the blade to spatter on the ground before he sheathed it once more. Trikk stopped struggling as he made his way to her again. A treasonous tear began its journey down her cheek. It was over, she realized, her dreams of an Arachne empire faded… to be replaced with this nightmare. She was the queen who had presided over the end of her race.
Trikk closed her eyes and dropped her head forward, the soft, warm soil pressing against her face as she awaited her fate.
“Look at me,” the man said, his voice soft.
Trikk kept her head lowered. She would not give him the pleasure of watching her cry. She would at least keep the pride of the Arachne alive.
“Look at me,” he said again, and she felt the soil shift as he knelt in front of her.
“Just do it,” she said, her voice muffled by the earth in her mouth. “Kill me and be done with it.”
“Let me,” she heard the Grauda queen say eagerly, and Trikk couldn’t hold back a choking shudder. The shame! Not only would she be the last queen, she would be killed by prey.
“Strike me down!” she screamed into the soil, no longer able to contain her emotions. “Slay me with your blade! Must you humiliate me so?!”
There was a heavy sigh, then Trikk stiffened as she felt the man’s hand on the back of her head.
“Do you know how many opportunities I had to kill you?” he asked. “All of you? I knew of your presence even before we started building that bridge. I could have had every tree you stood upon pierce your hearts.”
Trikk swallowed, hard. What he said was true. If she had not seen him weave the spell alone, she would have thought a whole grove of those nuisance Dryads were attacking. Capturing and pinning every single one of them down was a much harder and more troublesome task than simply killing them all.
“Why?” she asked, her head still lowered.
“Because I didn’t want the annihilation of an entire race on my conscience. And because I also needed you to understand that sparing you was a decision I made in the moment, while seated on that rock by the river,” he said, before lifting his hand. “A decision I could reverse at any moment.”
“What do you want? Why spare us?” Trikk blurted as she finally raised her head to stare into his gray eyes.
The man gave her a gentle smile, then reached out to wipe some loose soil from her cheek. “I want you to swear yourself and your cluster as my followers. I want you to join my faction and work together with the others who inhabit this land. I want you to strive to make it better for all, and built a nation worthy of your joint efforts.”
Trikk stiffened as the realization struck her, her heart pounding in her chest. This man was an Ascended. He must have been the one who burned the southern forest, which had been plagued by the humans. She almost laughed at the thought of how outmatched she was. She had been stalking a god thinking he was prey!
She glanced at the Grauda queen, who had a sullen look on her face, then at the corpse of the prince, before again meeting the man’s gaze. “I am queen,” she said, her tone reverting to one worthy of her station.
“And you will remain as queen of the Arachne, with the full support of my faction,” the man replied, his smile growing wider.
She reflexively licked her fangs and lips, as she tried to guess how many concessions she could extract from him. “The Webbed Woods will remain mine,” she stated, her focus entirely on his face, searching for any hint of what he was thinking.
The man nodded. “The Webbed Woods will remain under the supervision of the Arachne,” he said. The Grauda queen was openly frowning now. “With that said,” the man added, “the area known as the Webbed Wood will need to be adj
usted slightly.”
Trikk narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, adjusted?”
“I am building a city east of here. That city will need water, lots of it. You and your cluster will remove the webs from every tree on the east bank of the river. We will be diverting the river toward the city. The Webbed Woods on the western bank will remain as it is, and yours as it should be.”
Trikk glanced at the Grauda queen again, her glance quickly turning into a glare as she realized where this request was coming from. “Fine,” she spat. In terms of space, what he was asking for was quite small—the Arachne had only started expanding across the river, in fact, when the different groups vying for the title of queen during the Rite had tried to create their own space.
The man stood and waved his hand before him. As he did, the vines which bound her loosened, before they withered and melted away entirely.
“My king!” the Grauda queen exclaimed as she took a step closer, only for the man to raise a hand to stop her.
Trikk tried to stand, wincing at the sharp pain from her broken leg. The man tilted his head slightly, as if thinking, before weaving another spell which caused his hand to glow a bright green. He then touched her shoulder and Trikk moaned as energy burst through her. Aches and pains she had not even realized she felt instantly disappeared, and her leg—which would have normally taken several weeks to heal—snapped back into place.
All that remained was a feeling of ecstasy. She didn’t even notice when he released her shoulder. Instead, it was the sound of the man’s chuckle which brought Trikk out of her trance. She stared at him blankly before heat made its way to her cheeks and the tips of her elongated ears in an embarrassed blush. She quickly wiped her lips and chin with one palm. How unsightly, to drool in front of so many.
Trikk looked down at her completely healed leg, then up at the man again. He was still smiling, as if healing her was something he could do over and over again without effort. While Trikk wasn’t a weaver, she knew a little about it from her mother, who had made sure to teach all her children what she knew.
Fallen Ambitions Page 20