LIADAN VII

  Awakening within the spider’s den was nearly as unnerving as what Liadan had experienced in the Land of Dreams. Small pockets of glowing fungus illuminated all but the darkest recesses of the cave. At some point during her slumber, the spider had captured its next meal. A deer-sized cricket fought to break free of the tightly bound webbing that ensnared it, to no avail. Liadan did not want to be present when it was time to eat. Her gaze drifted across the cavern. Eógan sat up on his hammock, rubbing his eyes blearily. Rhyolite was fast asleep, snoring softly. The spider had one long white limb resting on the Tengu priest’s chest, Esker followed it up to the ceiling where the rest of the massive spider clung. Six pink eyes regarded her. Liadan could not detect any emotion in them. She shuddered.

  “I wish I knew what time it was, or what the weather was upon the surface,” Eógan mused.

  Liadan understood his desires. “I do not think it will be long before we reach our destination and we will be able to see for ourselves.” She looked over at the spider. “That is, if we are ever able to separate those two lovers.”

  Eógan laughed. “Aye, she has got him highly strung.”

  She snorted, hating that she encouraged the Pecht, but he had a way with words.

  “Baka!” Rhyolite grumbled, his eyes both still shut.

  Eógan preened. A clacking sound drew his attention. “What is it Skellum?” The creature emerged from one of the tunnels branching off from this main cavern. It kept a cautious distance away from the large spider.

  The snipping pincers increased in intensity.

  Eógan hopped off his hammock and stretched. “Ack! You wee bandit, release me!” The pseudoscorpion held onto the Pecht’s ankle with its smaller claw. Eógan shook his leg vigorously, to no avail.

  Skellum released its pincer and scuttled over to the passageway it had entered from. It snipped its claws impatiently.

  “Alright, alright.” Eógan wrapped his tartan around his waist, tucked his dagger into it, and strapped on his spear. “I get the impression that Skellum wishes for me to follow him, care to join us?”

  “Sensei?” Liadan asked

  The priest groaned and rolled over, covering his ears.

  “I suppose that is answer enough,” she said. Gathering a few of her belongings and following after the Pecht and the pseudoscorpion.

  Skellum lead them through a series of smaller caves, pausing to carefully sense the surroundings whenever there was a juncture. Liadan kept the intensity of the light generated from her palm as dim as possible, partially due to the increasing frequency of fungal light sources, and to avoid attracting undue attention from any predators.

  “Where do you think it is taking us?”

  “He,” Eógan answered with certainty that felt unwarranted.

  Liadan rolled her eyes. “Fine, where is he taking us?”

  “On a lovely stroll.” He shrugged. “The best kind of adventure is an unexpected one.”

  She was not sure that she agreed. “Are we safe here?”

  Eógan stopped in his tracks. “Shh! Do you hear that?”

  “Stop it, do not tease me.”

  He put a finger to his lips and cocked his head.

  Liadan sighed, certain that Eógan was having fun at her expense. Despite her apprehension, she took a moment to listen. “Is… is that water?”

  “Aye,” he replied, smiling, “keen ears. I suspect Skellum wishes for us to take a bath.” He held his nose between his fingers for emphasis.

  Liadan brushed past him and up a slight rise. The narrow passage opened up into a large chamber. A rainbow spectrum of colors glittered off of the crystalline ceiling and walls, it was like standing in the center of a geode. A fast running stream bisected the cavern and large stalks of fungus bloomed with conical caps. A wide assortment of anemones clustered the edge of the water, beneath the surface. It was an idyllic setting, or rather would have been, had Liadan not noticed the writhing mass of orange arachnids.

  The creatures resembled spiders, yet had tucked barbed forelimbs on the sides of their heads and fewer eyes. The tangle of spindly legs and round bulbous bodies made it difficult to get a true count of their number. They gathered in a rocky area on the same side of the lifestream, by a slowly moving pool of water.

  “Oh fuck me,” Eógan said quietly. “Those things must be where Esker’s weapon is from.” He pointed at the pedipalps on either side of their hideous mouths.

  As she looked closer, Liadan agreed that the resemblance was unmistakable. “What does she call it? A harvestman’s limb? We should leave…”

  “Aye… where is? Skellum!” Eógan hissed. “Skellum!”

  The pseudoscorpion had other plans, casually strolling towards the swarm of larger insects. Eógan brandished his spear and followed several steps behind. Liadan was more reluctant.

  At first, it seemed that Skellum was unheeded. The orange hued arachnids happily continued their frenzied activity, which Liadan suspected was copulation. The pseudoscorpion reached the waters edge, lowered a pincer, and began to splash it around. One of the harvestmen took notice, breaking off from the rest. It reached a long, spindly leg forward, probing like a blind man leads with his cane.

  Eógan stalked forward silently, his muscles tensed.

  Skellum pivoted to face the approaching harvestman. In a blur of motion his pincers shot forward and clamped shut on the harvestman’s barbed forelimbs. Despite being overmatched in size, Skellum had better leverage. The savage looking pedipalps of the harvestman snapped weakly in the air, unable to reach the much lower pseudoscorpion. There was a groan of pressure as the pincers ground against the armored joints of the harvestman’s forelimbs. A loud snap severed the one held in Skellum’s larger pincer, milky fluid sprayed. All hell broke loose.

  The mass of harvestmen exploded with a different kind of movement, the coupling insects broke apart and swarmed toward their injured brethren. Now that they were no longer entwined, it was far easier to count their numbers: there were ten of them in total, including the wounded one in Skellum’s grasp.

  Eógan charged forward to meet them, unconcerned about being severely outnumbered. His fleet feet were further bolstered by his spectral deer spirits, enabling him to take impossible bounds.

  Liadan hated the chaos of this most unnecessary encounter, but would not abandon her friend, or his mischievous companion. An unfamiliar part of her mind took delight in the opportunity to test her training. Such bloodlust concerned her, these were living creatures. Despite their horrid appearance, the harvestmen had not provoked this conflict. The creeping approach of three harvestmen took the decision out of her hands, a fight was inevitable.

  Skellum tore into his opponent with gusto, managing to sever the other forelimb of his victim. He proceeded to amputate several of the harvestman’s longer limbs on the same side of its body, sending it crashing to the ground. It twitched and struggled, but could not escape the pseudoscorpion’s onslaught. Two more harvestmen closed on him, seeking revenge.

  Eógan darted back and forth, building momentum. The hoof strikes of the tattooed deers matched his stride. As four harvestmen converged on him, he jumped far higher than their grasping forelimbs. He landed on the back of the furthest one in a trail of spectral energy. His spear flashed with supernatural alacrity, punching through the hardened carapace with ease. Insect blood gushed from the wounds, the harvestman whose abdomen he mounted collapsed. Its legs went limp. As Eógan whirled to engage his next opponent, Liadan became preoccupied with her own.

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  Fortunately for her, the three advancing harvestmen jostled and battled for position as they approached. They did not appear to be coordinated pack hunters. As Liadan’s pulse quickened, her mind raced to decide on the best course of action.

  She could create a large enough barrier to obstruct the creatures, but that risked sapping her energy and would only delay an inevitable confrontation. She needed to be proactive instead of reactive. All at once she had an epiphany.

  Liadan held her palms facing upward and angled them back behind her head. As the golden filigree of twin barriers manifested, they combined into a wedge shape. She ran to meet the charging harvestmen.

  With a sizzle, she strained under the jarring impact. The harvestmen to her left and right stumbled awkwardly, thrown off balance. The harvestman in the middle absorbed the brunt of their shared momentum and was flung into the air. It landed with a thud on its oval-shaped back. Eight limbs flailed, struggling to find purchase so that it could right itself.

  Liadan dropped the barrier as soon as it passed through the trio of harvestmen, conserving her energy. She was only slightly taller than the arachnids. The two upright harvestmen spun on their spindly legs and raised their barbed forelimbs to strike her.

  She tried to draw upon Rhyolite’s lessons. The imminent threat of being lashed by two sets of nightmarish pedipalps proved to be too much of a distraction; she turned to instinct instead.

  She conjured a smaller rectangular barrier with her left hand as the nearest harvestman reached her. The joint of its forelimbs extended above her golden shield and the barbed segments lashed over the top. They sizzled as they contacted her defenses, burning with a foul smell. As she dropped that barrier, the harvestman behind it reared up in agony.

  Liadan raised another shield with her right hand to meet her next attacker. She bolstered it into a sturdy bulwark and advanced two steps. The divine heat of her barrier forced the second harvestman to retreat.

  Before the first harvestman could regain position to strike again, she closed the distance and stepped between its elongated front legs. Its twin eyes regarded her with the cloudy indifference of a creature that had adapted to life in the dark; yet its mouth parts opened, sensing her proximity. She summoned a small barrier on her hand and punched the front of its face as hard as she could.

  The blow was jarring. With a deep crunch that reminded Liadan of cracking into a crab’s shell, the harvestman’s carapace shattered inward. Ichor spewed out of the wound and the creature crumpled.

  She had little time to celebrate, as the second harvestman was already upon her and the third had righted itself. Powerful limbs slammed into Liadan’s shoulders, knocking her off her feet and into the path of grasping forelimbs. She brought her hands protectively to her face and summoned a mighty barrier.

  The barbed pedipalps ground into her shield, burning with the contact. The edge of the filigreed light expanded rapidly, shearing through four of the harvestman’s frontal limbs. It toppled face first into the barrier, no longer able to support itself. The mouth parts spasmed as they melted away. The weight upon her was crushing, the entire creature collapsed onto it.

  Exhaustion forced Liadan to lose concentration on her magic. The barrier dissipated and she was pinned beneath the harvestman. Its forelimbs swung toward her, but only from the creature’s momentum. It was motionless and dead.

  Limbs prodded and probed from atop the dead harvestman, searching for purchase. Liadan had little room to maneuver, the weight atop her was crushing. She squirmed, careful to avoid the hooked barbs dangling above her face. She tried to squeeze through a gap underneath the dead harvestman’s abdomen.

  Pain lanced through her body as her thigh was pierced by barbs. Liadan was dragged roughly across the rocky floor, pulled out from under the harvestman’s corpse. Her final opponent had sunk a forelimb into her leg and began to draw her up to its awaiting maw.

  She shrieked in agony as she was lifted legs first off of the ground. In the distance she could hear the sounds of pincers and forelimbs scrapping against carapaces, as well as, Eógan’s battlecries. Her companions were preoccupied with their own opponents, she could not count on them for aid.

  Blood ran from her leg, dripping down onto her torso in a steady flow. The capture spines of the arachnid’s limb tore jagged rents in her flesh. Liadan gritted her teeth and bore the pain. She raised a hand and flashed a strobe of blinding light. The harvestman did not react, further suggesting that their eyes were vestigial remnants, no longer necessary in this dark environment.

  Mouth parts closed on her boot, her ankle felt like it might shatter from the pressure.

  Liadan was desperate, she tried to land blows on the creature’s limbs, but they were spread too wide for her to reach. In a wave of agony, she swung upward by tightening her stomach muscles. The barbs embedded in her leg shifted, further opening the wounds. Her momentum carried her high and she struck the harvestman in the mouth with a barrier augmented palm.

  The blow was weakened since it landed as she had begun her descent, but the results were encouraging. The harvestman recoiled from the impact, its many legs scrabbled for purchase. One of which moved close enough for her to reach.

  Liadan hammered the sticklike limb with as much force as she could muster while hanging upside down. Her barrier crackled with energy and obliterated the arachnid’s joint, severing the lower half of the leg. This was enough damage to cause the barbed forelimb to release her calf. She tumbled headfirst into the rocky ground, barely able to brace herself with her hands before she landed.

  The harvestman reeled drunkenly, fluid seeping from the end of its maimed leg. Before she could rise, it was upon her. Twin pedipalps raised and slashed through the air with an audible whistle. Liadan raised her arms protectively to summon a shield. She had no success, her arms felt limp and exhaustion seeped deep into her bones.

  Before the forelimbs could tear into her body, a spire of rock exploded from the ground to her left and impaled the harvestman. It was lifted upward, its legs convulsed and its pedipalps cut through the air. After a moment its many legs curled inward as the creature died.

  “Daijoubu?” Rhyolite asked.

  “No, I am not alright,” Liadan answered. She lifted her injured leg and slowly pivoted in place. “Thank you, sensei.” She bowed her head.

  The large white spider was by the priest’s side, her many eyes flickered, following movement. With a burst of speed, she joined the fray. She used her bulk and the element of surprise to flatten a harvestman that grappled Skellum. The pseudoscorpion was battered, its carapace marred by crisscrossing slashes. As the spider sunk its fangs into the harvestman pinned beneath it, Skellum wrestled with another.

  Eógan danced across the rocky terrain with ease. Three harvestmen corpses were strewn around him. He circled the final creature, using his mobility to hunt for an opening. His spear flashed in ways that defied the position of his arm, it was as if the weapon could move of its own accord. Milky lifeblood coated it and ran onto the Pecht’s hands.

  Liadan averted her eyes, realizing that Eógan had disrobed at some point during the melee. She did not want to see his much smaller spear dangling between his legs.

  “Baka,” Rhyolite said with a chuckle as a Pechtish war-cry preceded a piercing crunch. Liadan turned back to see Eógan clinging to the end of his spear’s shaft. It had skewered the harvestman and he perched atop it, with his feet on his hands, like a squirrel.

  The only harvestman left grappled with Skellum. The pseudoscorpion moved awkwardly, he was missing three of his limbs. The larger harvestman leveraged its weight to keep Skellum backpedaling.

  The cave spider and Rhyolite watched the action closely, yet did not intervene. Eógan braced his feet on the sides of the face of the slain harvestman and drew the spear out. Viscera poured from the gaping wound. He charged towards his companion, his face frozen with grim determination.

  Skellum was backed into a large rock. His abdomen caught, lifting him off his remaining legs and exposing vulnerable regions. Before the harvestman could take advantage of the opportunity, Eógan was upon it in a frenzied blur. He launched himself upon the creature’s back and went berserk. His spear severed the forelimb on the harvestman’s left, followed by the one on the right. With another roar, Eógan spun his weapon, plucking the arachnid’s limbs off like petals from a flower.

  The Pecht stood astride the twitching oval-shaped body of the helpless harvestman, panting. Liadan had never seen him in such a fury, it was terrifying to behold. Skellum slowly raised himself and sidled over. He brought his pincers to the harvestman’s face and ended it.

  “You wee villain!” Eógan admonished. “You picked a fight and brought us as backup.” Skellum had the decency to look as abashed as a pseudoscorpion could. The creature seemed unfazed by the damage he had sustained during the battle, though a bit more unsteady due to the loss of limbs.

  Liadan did not appreciate being drawn into such a pointless battle, especially since neither she nor Eógan had escaped unscathed. She was too taxed from using her powers offensively to draw upon her healing abilities. Eógan had suffered multiple injuries: a few were deep gashes, fortunately, most were superficial in nature.

  The Tengu military supplies, which had been graciously donated by the squad who had attacked the temple, included abundant medical supplies. Liadan was unfamiliar with the various tinctures within the kits and was grateful for Rhyolite’s administrations. After the deep rents in her flesh were cleaned, the priest pressed a thick ointment into the wounds. At first it stung, yet the pain quickly numbed as the salve hardened and it became scab-like. A protective wrap was added as an additional precaution.

  Eógan had stoically refused to be treated first. Liadan smiled as he and Rhyolite bickered while the priest staunched the bleeding of his wounds and bandaged them. Her leg would require rest to fully heal, delaying their march to the surface. She was afraid that time was not a resource that they possessed in abundance. Lady Galdr had made their priorities clear: if there was a way to bring Guillaume back, Liadan would find it.