Obsidian Ridge (13 page)

Despite the extra light, the princess couldn’t find what was making the clicking sounds, and they continued, growing louder and more regular. They filled the whole room, seemingly surrounding her on all sides. Whatever it was that was making them was closing in.

Pressing herself against the pillar as tight as she could, she gripped the jagged stone she had used to cut herself free in

one hand like a dagger, ready to fight. The light on the wall, cast by her magically lit stone, grew long spindly shadows. The clicking noises slowed, coming now from the opposite side of her pillar.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The princess held her breath, and a tingle ran down her spine, as something cold and thin touched her hair and brushed against the back of her neck. Turning her head, Mariko swallowed hard as she gazed down on the brown, hairy tip of a giant spider’s leg. It was hugging the pillar with all eight legs, each easily long enough to wrap around the huge stone column.

Slowly turning sideways, the princess reached back and grabbed her hair, pulling it away from the spider’s leg that held it pinned against the pillar. Once free, she took one huge step away and spun around. With the pillar between her and most of the spider, Mariko could only see the creature’s legs and the parts of its bulbous body that stuck out from the sides of the stone column. The spider was easily four times her height. Gripping the pillar as it was, its back legs touched the floor—its front legs easily reaching the crack in the ceiling.

Staying as close to the wall as she could, Princess Mariko moved deeper into the room. She figured if she could get to the next pillar, she could zigzag her way across to the other side, keeping herself concealed from the hairy beast. She didn’t know what she’d find when she got there, but it couldn’t be much worse than what she had here.

Two quick steps, and she turned around another pillar— right into the face of a second massive spider. The creature was already standing on the ground. It was so big it didn’t quite fit between the stone columns. Two of its legs were bent back, touching the pillars on either side, its body tilted. Any other beast would have looked encumbered, maybe even trapped in such a situation. But the spider only looked like it was at home, wedged in the confined space, its legs pulled back ready to pounce. Slime dripped from the beast’s fangs,

as they worked their way up and down in anticipation inside the creature’s huge mouth.

Mariko held her hands up, and started to back away. “Nice spider,” she said.

Spinning around again, she bolted even deeper into the room. She got maybe four or five good steps before being knocked down from behind, her legs pulled out from under her by the spider’s spindly limbs. Falling to the floor, Mariko held her arms out to catch herself and skidded across the stone.

Scrambling to get back to her feet, the tapping sound began again, filling her ears and making her skin crawl. Halfway up, Mariko was knocked sideways. She rolled onto her back, up against the wall. A huge spider leg came down on her shoulder, pinning her to the floor. She whipped the jagged stone in her hand around, taking a large gash out of the creature’s leg. The thick, natural armor made a popping sound as it crushed under her blow. A thin, reddish-brown fluid gushed out of the newly formed wound, splashing across the princess’s shoulder.

If the spider was affected by the blow, it didn’t show it. Another-of its legs came down on the princess’s other arm. The tips of the beast’s legs were sharp, and they dug into Mariko’s flesh, holding her in place from the sharp pain. The princess let out a yelp. She didn’t want to, but the weight of the spider pushing the sharp ends of its legs into her arm and shoulder was excruciating. She squirmed to get free, but it was no use. She was stuck.

The spider quickly skittered out from between the pillars, using its other six legs to pen Mariko. It positioned its fat, round body over hers and lowered it onto her stomach. The weight of the creature nearly crushed the princess, and she struggled to breathe. Letting up on its front legs, the beast held the princess in place with just its own gargantuan abdomen. It looked down on her with its eight beady eyes.

Mariko grabbed at the wall and the floor, trying to pull

herself free, but she couldn’t get a good grip. The stones were worn smooth by the claws and nails of earlier victims. All she could get her hands on were two piles of dusty, broken stone, lying at the base of the wall and beside the nearest pillar. With each failed attempt, the princess grew more frantic.

The first spider climbed down, wedging itself now between the wall and another pillar—facing Mariko and the spider that held her down. With the exception of the tapping of their legs against the stone, neither of the beasts had made any noise. Now they both began to make a high-pitched hiss. A thick, stringy substance that looked purple in the dull light of the room, dripped from the spiders’ fangs, splashing in small puddles on the floor beside the trapped princess.

Mariko swung her broken bit of stone again, catching the spider right in the mouth, breaking away one of its fangs. The sharpened bone clanked as it hit the floor and skidded off into the darkness. The creature let out an angry screech that echoed throughout the room. It flailed around, clearly unhappy, then reared back and dived for the princess, burying its other fang into her neck.

Mariko screamed. She beat at the creature’s face with her fists, but it was no use. She could feel the poison pumping into her body. Her head started to float, and her arms felt heavy. Her legs and stomach cramped up, and she tried to curl into a ball.

Looking up, the spider’s eyes seemed to waver, and the dim light in the room flickered.

Her body went limp, and she laid her arms on the ground beside her, unable to struggle any further.

“Claw,” she said. “Please… please…”

With her last bit of strength, she reached to her neck, gripping the locket the Claw had given her, and undid the clasp.

+++++

“Where in the Nine Hells could she be?” Jallal Tasca growled. This was not going well.

First the cloakers, then the princess escaped. What else could go wrong?

Coming around a bend in the hallway, Jallal and his guards stepped into an open room—a crossroads with passages leading off in four different directions.

He threw his hands in the air. “Any guesses?”

He turned to look at the others who accompanied him. None of them had been seriously hurt in the cloaker attack, but they just stared at him, not responding, clearly unhappy about their current situation.

The scream came from the hallway to the left.

Jallal lifted his sword and bolted toward the sound. “Come with me!”

At the end of the passage the group entered a high ceilinged room, awash in a pale purple light. Against the right wall, a pair of huge spiders faced each other, hunched over something—or someone.

Drawing closer, Jallal came around a large stone pillar to see the limp body of Princess Mariko, pinned to the ground by a huge spider’s fang.

“Damn,” cursed Jallal, his anger starting to rise. “The Matron is not going to be happy about this.”

We’re all going to die,” Whitman muttered as he left the palace, heading down the darkened road toward the docks. He clasped his hands together, fidgeting with them on the long walk. “We’re all going to be eaten, torn to shreds by those… those vile… disgusting… repulsive… repugnant… unseemly… dirty… hairy beasts.” His knuckles were white from his own grip, and his palms were damp with worried sweat.

As he went, his mind wandered through all the terrible, disgusting ways a man could be killed. Torn to shreds by slavering, diseased beasts ranked pretty high. He relived the scene in his head, watching from afar, as he had, the death of the entire unit of soldiers who had approached the Obsidian Ridge. He didn’t want to end up like one of them. He didn’t want anyone else to end up like that either.

Crossing over from the dirt and stone road onto the wooden slats of the wharf, Whitman wrapped his cloak tighter around his chest. It was not particularly cold here. In fact, the damp air coming off the water was quite refreshing on a warm, spring evening. But something about the docks always gave Whitman the shivers.

Down a few blocks, he turned into a darkened dead-end alley. At the end was a single, wooden door with a plaque attached to it. On the plaque was the relief carving of a

woman, her long hair flowing around her face, a tiara on her head—the symbol for the temple of Waukeen.

Knocking on the door, the king’s scribe waited, his eyes darting around the shadows, nervously watching, assuming someone was waiting in ambush in every corner. After a few moments, the latch on the other side slid noisily across the wood, and the door opened.

“What are you doing here?” asked a voice from the dark interior.

“I’m here to see the Matron,” Whitman said in a stern voice. “Let me in.”

The door swung wide, the burly guard stepped aside, and the king’s scribe was allowed in.

Three armed men stood in the hall. One shut the door while the other two searched Whitman, patting him down for weapons.

“Believe me,” he said, as they checked under his cloak, “there is nothing to find. Even if I had a weapon, you’d still all be safe.”

The men finished their search and left him be. “He’s got nothing.”

Whitman adjusted himself, annoyed by the intrusion. “I wouldn’t know how to use it anyway.”

“Go inside,” said the guard who had opened the door. “I’ll let the Matron know you are here.”

Whitman did as he was told, heading down the corridor and descending a long set of steps. He had never been inside this building before, but he had heard the stories. The meetings of the underworld council took place here. For a criminal, this was a sort of a holy shrine. Every infamous figure in the Erlkazar underworld was said to have walked down these steps. Several had even died here—killed as a punishment for wronging another member of the council, or perhaps for simply disappointing the Matron.

At the base of the stairs, four guards waited. As Whitman approached, they took hold of one huge steel door, and

together they pulled it open. The heavy hinges groaned as they rotated and let the metal door swing wide.

Whitman nodded to the men as he stepped through the doorway. A huge, wooden table dominated the inside of the room. Mage-lit stones sat in sconces on either end and in the middle, filling the chamber with cold, bluish-white light. The door closed behind him with a tremendous clang, and Whitman stepped down from the entrance to the middle of the room.

Besides the table, the chairs, and the sconces, there was nothing else in the room, except four huge metal doors—three that led out to the corridor where Whitman had just come from, and another on the opposite side of the room. That door swung open, smooth and silent, and out stepped a woman, a tight purple robe adorning her body, a veil over her face.

She stepped down into the room, the only noise of her passage the light brushing of her hem against the stone floor.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a seat at the far end.

“We have to talk,” replied Whitman.

“You compromise yourself by coming.”

“I’m aware of the consequences,” replied Whitman. “But the situation is growing dire. We’re running out of time.”

The Matron tapped her fingers against the wood table. “This is why you came to me?”

“Matron, we are gambling with the lives of everyone in Erlkazar. We must turn over Princess Mariko, and we must do it now.”

The Matron stood. “I am aware of the situation, Whitman. But I disagree with your assessment.”

“Then you are blinded by your greed. We are risking too much. The stakes have gotten too high.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“You saw what happened to the soldiers the king sent out to negotiate with the Obsidian Ridge.”

“I know what happened.”

“Are you prepared to let that happen to all of us? Never mind the Elixir business. Are you willing to lose every one of your followers? Every one of your associates? Every customer in the kingdom?”

“There are risks with every venture,” replied the Matron. “But there are rewards too.”

“What reward? What is all of this worth to us?”

The Matron took a deep breath. “Freedom,” she replied. “The freedom to run our trade the way we want to, without the meddling of the monarchy.” She thought for a moment. “And for control. The right to control our own destinies and marketplace without interference.”

“You risk all of this for a little bit of freedom? For the ability to run our business without the fear of reprisal?”

“Don’t be so shortsighted.” The Matron slammed her fist against the table. “Some of the largest conflicts in the history of this world have been over freedom. What we’re talking about here—it’s not just about a little more breathing room, or even about greed. It’s about the future. It’s about establishing a foothold here in Erlkazar, where we cannot only run our businesses, but also decide what rules we live by. Us. Ourselves. Not some silver-spoon-fed monarch who did nothing more to earn the right to govern than be born.”

The Matron came around the table. “But I tire of this argument. It seems I say the same thing every single day, and each time I do, my conviction for our course of action just grows stronger.” She stopped when she reached the opposite end. “Is there something useful you can tell me?”

“There is one thing.” Whitman paused, pondering his next words.

“Well?” she said. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Senator Divian has been bending the king’s ear about some sort of plan she has to fight the Obsidian Ridge.”

The Matron perked up. “Tell me more.”

“She wants the king to try to unite all of the kingdom’s

spellcasters, a convocation of mages, in an effort to counter Arch Magus Xeries.”

“I see.” The Matron rubbed her chin.

“The king is rightfully nervous about Xeries’s magical power.”

“Does he think the senator’s plan has merit?”

“He’s not sure there are enough wizards in Erlkazar to match the power of the Obsidian Ridge, but considering the alternatives, it’s the best plan he feels he’s got at the moment.”