The next tangleweed-looking ‘web construct’ reached me a few seconds later, and I hacked that one even before it unraveled into a mutant spider. The creature’s glue-y blood splashed my sandals and the third construct unraveled a few tombstones away, scuttled closer on all fifteen or twenty legs, then leaped at me like a thornspider.

I snorted in derision. Another dumbass jumping spider. I cut that one in half in the air, and more blood splashed me, and I spotted three more tangleweeds rolling toward me. Each one was coming from a different direction across the tombyard, like they were triangulating my position. Like they were planning to reach me at exactly the same time.

So I started to reposition myself ... and couldn’t.

I couldn’t move my feet.

For a terrible second, I panicked: they’d paralyzed my legs. My stomach clenched with dread, but my knees still bent and my toes still wiggled. Oh! I wasn’t paralyzed. My sandals were glued in place by the creatures’ sticky blood.

That’s why they were so easy to kill. They weren’t supposed to hurt me, they were supposed to bleed their syrupy quick-drying blood all over me.

“Goddamn,” I said.

I pulled my feet from the sandals--leaving a little skin behind--and jumped barefoot to another tombstone. That one still glowed with cold flames around the shrunken, blackened remains of a skeleton, but I didn’t have a choice. Bones crunched beneath the bare soles of my feet and I ran faster across the top of the stones, aiming for the nearest construct, so all three wouldn’t hit me at once.

I halfway succeeded.

I sliced the closest one in half before it unravelled, but the next two reached me simultaneously, and in full spider-form. I smacked one away with a backhand from the flat of my left hatchet and slashed the next with a spike. Then the first one clamped its leech-mouth to my leg and I hacked through its body like an overripe melon and the second one snagged a dangling strap of my backpack and started climbing behind me.

I spun and sliced off a bundle of its legs ... then fell to my knees, tripping over my suddenly-immobile feet. I managed to chop the last construct in half but I was drenched with syrupy-blood. My hatchets were welded to my hands and my feet were superglued to the top of the tombstone.

“Well, shit,” I said, standing.

Or trying to stand, because my fucking knees were welded in place, too.

And two more constructs were tumbling toward me ... followed by something bigger. Much bigger. A spider loomed from the darkness, with a body the size and general shape of a kayak. Long and thin but goddamn enormous, hanging low in the saddle of its thick, hairy legs.

INTUIT: Ichotry the Maker, Level 8

Level 8? That dire puma had been seven, and completely out of my league. Oskar was level 6, and equally beyond me. And while I suspected that I was a strong level 4, with my boons and gem, I was still just level 4.

“Hey, princess, you still there?” I called. “A little help?”

She didn’t answer, and another web construct dropped from Ichotry’s ass. Well, okay: another construct was woven by Ichotry’s spinnerets.

Still, I said what I said.

“Shitting spiders at me,” I growled.

The first one reached me, and despite my lack of maneuverability I managed to block-and-chop it into a pile of sticky goo. The second spider circled around, though, then waited for the third one to fully unravel ... and to attack.

With Ichotry staying back--probably preparing another barrage--the constructs jumped me at the same time. I slashed, I blocked, I swayed unsteadily on my knees and almost toppled to one side.

The construct behind me latched onto my elbow and started chewing. It took a few seconds to draw blood, given my tougher skin, and I spent that time battering the one in front. I managed to smack it off the tombstones to the ground, then I punched the elbow-eating creature to death with my off-hand weapon.

The one I’d knocked to the ground crawled back into the fray, circling around behind me so I needed to twist to even see the little fucker. I flailed and swore and lost chunks of flesh and finally caught the construct with a quick swipe.

Health: 33/47

The bad news wasn’t the fact that I’d lost 14 health points. No, the bad news was that I was completely glued in place. I struggled against the adhesive blood, but couldn’t shift my knees an inch. They were superglued, through my borrowed leggings, to the stone. Also, my hatchets weren’t just glued to my palms anymore; the blades were glued to my jacket now.

I didn’t do anything except watch Ichotry stalk close.

The big spider must’ve weighed a ton, with eight hairy legs, each as a thick as my waist. Its limbs rose high above its kayak-body to spiked joints, then angled back down to meet the body. The creature’s mouth opened on the underside of its body, fifty times the size of the constructs’ leech-mouths but the same shape. Judging by the position, it used that mouth to feed, not to hunt ... but each hair on it legs looked like a sharpened knitting needle.

So first it glued its prey in place, using disposable sack-of-syrup constructs. Then it pierce its prey with spiky hair. And finally, it lowered its body to feast. A good strategy. Lovely. Effective and horrible at the same time.

“Princess?” I asked again.

Still, no response.

Well, so much for getting help. That was okay. I had the glimmering of a plan. Except this thing was cautious. Careful. It had clearly evolved--or been created--to neutralize its prey from a distance, andit clearly didn’t like to get too close too fast.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Hey, Ichotry,” I said, as the big spider glided across the tombstones.

It stopped and seemed to peer at me.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, big guy. Or are you a big gal? I don’t want to misgender you. I want to chop you into fishfood, but not misgender you. There are rules, as the princess might say, of polite society, yeah?”

It inspected me for another moment, then delicately stepped closer, and cautiously extended a scalpel-leg. Like it was checking if I was really glued in place.

Which I was.

So when three sharpened knitting needles pierced me, I cried out, but couldn’t dodge. I couldn’t block. I couldn’t lift my hatchets. Still, I struggled mightily, and almost tore one free.

At the movement, the big spider withdrew its leg quickly. Then it paused, watching. Waiting to see if I’d counter-attack harder.

When I didn’t do anything except bleed, it struck again.

And again.

And finally, finally, after an agonized delay, it rested four forelegs on my tombstone and stood over me, it’s gaping belly-mouth working hungrily. Digestive fluids splattered my face. Two legs swept closer, to finish me with a deadly hug.

I turned into smoke.

Free of the glue, I pushed myself upward. Still in my gaseous form, I started slashing my left-hand hatchet at one of the legs while with my right I chopped overhead.

In mid-blow, I resolidified. One hatchet blocked a spider leg and the other hacked through Ichotry’s vulnerable underbelly.

A waterfall of spider guts poured onto my head. I channeled my revulsion into anger, and slashed upward again and again, widening the slit in the creature’s belly, ignoring the piercing wounds caused by the spider’s other leg, until a weight slammed into me.

Ichotry collapsed on top of me.

Unmoving.

Health: 11/47

Mana: 15/22

Goddamn. I crawled from beneath the huge spider’s corpse and rolled to the ground beside the tombstones. I hit hard, causing another point of damage, but at least there wasn’t any glue there. I lay still for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I needed to retreat to the courtyard, to recover. I’d eat one of my four pearl beads to jump-start my healing, get some sleep and try to forget this nightmare. At least until I returned for Princess.

Spider goop dripped down the tombstone onto the back of my neck. I shivered. Yeah. Time to go. Except standing was hard. My legs hurt and my knees felt weak.

C’mon, Alex. Move your ass.

“Hey, princess?” I said aloud, hoping that a little royal conversation might help.

Well, or a little royal sympathy. Or even gratitude. Yeah, I’d take gratitude. There was still no answer, though. So I sat there for another minute, then finally stood onto my bare feet. I scanned the cavern gloom, mostly toward the biggest tombs. I could try for the princess now, except she’d warned me to expect two more monsters and I was down to 25% of my health. She’d have to wait. She was sleeping, anyway.

“Sweet dreams,” I said, and turned toward the big dead spider.

I almost looted the corpse, but then I turned back.

Because I’d seen movement. A flash of motion in the gloom.

I didn’t want another spider-monster hitting me from behind, so I put my back against a tombstone, and scanned the darkness.

A moment later, I caught motion again. Another tumbleweed construct? Another looming Ichotry? No, this shape looked about size of a dog. A great dane, but still, that was a lot smaller than a damn kayak. Except it wasn’t a tumbleweed-y construct. It was a ... thornspider. An extra-large thornspider, but still so familiar that I almost found it comforting.

INTUIT: Tirofry the Mover, Level 7

Cancel that comfort. A level 7 thornspider would’ve been trouble at full health. Manageable, if I got lucky, but not a sure thing. And these named spiders had special abilities.

So I backed off, holding my hatchets defensively--

And Tirofry dashed forward, twice as fast as a Level 4 thornspider. Like a fucking blur. That explained why it was called ‘the Mover.’ Yet it didn’t, thank all the billowing gods, charge at me. No, the new spider raced at the big spider’s corpse then just ... dove inside the stomach slit. Squelch, squelch. Burrowing through flesh.

Great. Dig in. Yummy spider guts. You do you, Tirofry.

Nothing happened for a second, so I kept backing away from whatever the hell that was, and one of Ichotry’s treetrunk-sized, needle-spiked, dead limbs slashed at me.

Let me repeat. One of that fucker’s DEAD limbs slashed at me.

It hit me, too, because I wasn’t keeping that close an eye on the corpse. The impact drove ten needles into me and crushed me against a tombstone that part of my dimming awareness noticed said: --embraced his formless form ... gifted with a gem affording the ability to shape smoke into figures which--

With a flicker of thought I checked my status.

Health: 2/47

Mana: 17/22

Fortitude, now, now goddamn it! Add point, add point!

Warmth flowed through me. Scalding heat poured through me, in channels of healing lava. The pain faded and while I still felt shaky, I didn’t feel fragile. I didn’t feel wounded and as my mind cleared I rolled to avoid another swipe of that stiletto-covered, tree-trunk-sized corpse-leg, and checked my condition.

Fortitude: 14

Mana: 22/22

Health: 50/50

Ha! The cheat worked perfectly. Hot damn. Look at me, gaming the system! Go me. Looks like I’d live for one more day. Well, or one more minute, depending on this goddamn zombie spider.

So even as I celebrated internally, I kept rolling away from the spiky spider leg. Then I stood into a crouch and trotted along the aisles between tombs. When I got enough distance, I peeked around a corner and saw the big spider--the corpse of Ichotry--standing unsteadily, with gore pouring from the slit in its belly. What the hell?

The little spider, Tirofry, had burrowed inside and--

Oh.

Oh, Tirofry the Mover. ‘Mover’ didn’t just mean that the little fucker ran fast, it meant that it wore corpses like suits of armor and moved them. Lovely.

On the bright side, could the spider piloting the corpse see anything? It was crammed inside a sack of dead organs, after all. So I crept to the rear of the big zombified spider and hacked at back leg-joint before leaping aside.

The corpse spun, but not quickly. Not smoothly.

I darted in for another blow. My third chop removed the lowest segment of one leg, which made the corpse even more unbalanced. Still, I never stopped checking my surroundings, never stopped worrying about an ambush. There was one more creature in here, and I couldn’t see much in the gloom.

Yeah, I definitely needed more points in Awareness.

I hacked into the corpse four more times before Tirofry changed strategy. Instead of recoiling from my blow, it jerked the corpse toward me. Which helped my blade shear through the leg completely--an instant before a ton of spiked spider corpse slammed down at me.

I turned to smoke a moment too late to dodge the blow.

Health 43/50

Mana: 14/22

Still, at least I avoided getting crushed completely.

I wafted higher around the zombie spider, as the ‘Mover’ pulled back to check the damage, to see if it had squashed me. When it realized I was missing, it paused for a moment. Standing absolutely still as I lined up the blow ...

Mana 7/22

I returned to my body and thrust a hatchet upward through the slit in the dead spider’s belly and caught something with the spike. Something inside. I jabbed again and felt another impact and the corpse collapsed onto me--engulfing me inside the body--and when I realized I was surrounded by spider guts I lost my fucking mind.

In the slimy dark interior of the dead spider, I slashed and thrust and chopped. Thorns and fangs tore at me, but after a second I realized that Tirofry couldn’t see in there any better than I could. We were both blind inside the cramped thorax.

Except wait a second: I wasn’t completely blind.

INTUIT: Tirofry the Mover, Level 7

Ha! Screw you, thorny! The intuit ‘label’ followed the spider inside the slimy, dead interior of the giant spider. It wasn’t a targeting crosshairs, but it gave me the right direction every time.

So I landed two blows for every one of the spider’s despite the disparity in our numbers of arms. Also, half of Tirofry’s blows only bruised me, and didn’t even draw blood. Fortitude was paying off for more than healing: my bare skin could turn a spider slash. At least, some of them. Helped by my armored jacket.

And using my Intuit as a guide, I slaughtered the zombie-puppeting fucker.