My heart pounds faster and faster as we retrace our steps out of the cabin and onto the main deck. We pass several more mummified bodies hanging from the rigging, draped over supply crates. The young sailor’s bloody footprints come to an abrupt end midship, at the shadowy steps down to the crew quarters on the lower level.
I have not forgotten the boy’s words on the dock.Cocooned in webs! Blood sucked out!They ring in my head like a death knell as we approach the dark gap. Gods, I wish I had my bow in hand. All I have is the rather pathetic dagger I keep sheathed at my thigh, but that is better suited to harvesting medicinal herbs than dealing physical damage. Still, I feel a shade better with its glyph-covered handle gripped in my palm.
Soren looks entirely too nonchalant, given the circumstances. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat as I followhim, reminding myself with each step that panic is, above all, a paralytic.
No poison in the world more lethal than the fear running through your own veins,Eli used to say.
In my experience, the only known cure for fear is to grit one’s teeth and carry on in the face of it. Be scared; live regardless. For it is always better to die swinging at an enemy than cowering in a terrorized ball in the corner.
In theory.
But theory only goes so far—a truth I have never felt quite so acutely as the moment Soren draws up short. I slam straight into the broad planes of his back. He doesn’t spare me a glance as I step to his side. He is staring intently at the opening to the lower deck…where several long, serrated appendages are emerging one by one from the darkness.
Oh, hell.
The arachnida appears slowly, then all at once. With a tandem flex of eight double-jointed legs, it vaults like lightning from the hold. For a few breathless seconds, it is fully airborne above us. I gape up at its enormous body, unable to decide which of its characteristics is the most ghastly: the segmented abdomen, black and covered in coarse hair; the dozen orb-like eyes, shiny as mirrors, reflecting my horrified expression in miniature; or the fangs, coated with a viscous white venom, clacking together as the beast hisses a foul breath that reeks of rotten flesh.
This is no hound-sized arachnida.Horse-sized comes closer—and that does not even account for the leg span. Stretched end to end, it would almost be capable of straddling the ship. I am so stunned by its unexpected scale, I don’t realize it’s coming straight down at me until it is far too late to move.
Soren’s body collides with mine as he tackles me to the deck. The impact steals the breath from my lungs and slams my headso hard I see stars. There is no time to process the pain. His arms are like metal bands, pinning me to his chest as he rolls toward the port rail. We lurch to a stop the same instant the arachnida crashes down. Its immense weight drives its legs into the boards like nails, splintering the wood by several inches. A guttural scream emanates from between its fangs as it realizes it has lodged itself.
Soren drags me to my feet, not squandering the brief moment we have before the creature pulls itself free. I glance around for my dagger, which flew from my grip when he tackled me, but it is nowhere to be seen amid the lines and webs that cloak the deck.
“Forget the damned dagger!” Soren snaps. “You have better weapons.”
Even as he chastises me, he is lifting his arms, summoning two great globes of water from the harbor, each wider than the average soldier is tall. They rise up over the railing and hover there, suspended, for several seconds. I can feel the maegic surging through him, but his face shows not a ripple of expended effort as he holds his position, attention fixed on the foul, hissing monster not ten paces from us.
It has finally managed to work the last of its legs free of the deck. I swallow a curse as its inverted joints compress like springs, launching it straight into the air again. I think for sure it will come for us, but it has higher ambitions. Spinnerets on its underbelly shoot sticky white fibers at the booms overhead, adhering to the shredded sails with staggering speed. It begins to scurry upward into the rigging, all eight legs working together to climb faster than its size should allow.
I crane my neck to watch, mouth parched. “Soren—”
The second his name leaves my mouth, he flicks his wrists forward. Both water globes sail directly at the arachnida, envelopingit in midair. Its hiss of rage bursts out with a furor of bubbles. It attempts to climb, but its sticky web is floating, slack and useless, in Soren’s trap.
“This shouldn’t take too long.” There is a smug note in his voice. “Most everything drowns eventually.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s drowning,” I can’t help pointing out, eyeing the thrashing creature. “I think you’re just pissing it off.”
Soren grunts noncommittally. But as the minutes drag on and the monster continues to flex and flail its many legs, a faint line of strain appears on his forehead. More bubbles stream out between the thick black jaws that chomp relentlessly against captivity. Its beady eyes remain trained on us with unsettling wrath.
“Infernal hells.”
I glance over at Soren’s low curse. “What is it?”
“It should’ve run out of air by now. Damn thing must be from the Desert Depths. An amphibious varietal.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means I can’t drown it.” For the first time, I detect a bit of exertion in his voice. The effort of holding the massive globule overhead while the arachnida fights with all its might is beginning to take a toll. “It means, once I let it out of this water cage, we’re next in line for mummification.”
“Perhaps we should pivot to an alternative plan,” I suggest.
“I don’t have an alternative that doesn’t involve water powers.”
“Fantastic.”
“Don’t suppose you can spare some of your lightning?”
My brows arch, aghast. Has he forgotten the utter calamity in Caeldera, when I unleashed my electrical storm on the lake? “Only if you want me to fry everything and everyone in this harbor.”