“Tighten the formation!” Glade cried, forcing Kedryn into a crouch behind the ragtag line of spearmen. “Brace spears and ready for impact!”

The fight was as confusing as it was random. The Strikers had proven themselves capable of limited reasoning as well as launching devastating attacks. If Glade had been a hair slower earlier, the dwarf spearman would have been killed instantly and their formation left in disarray. Then they would have had to deal with attacks on multiple fronts.

Glade didn’t hold any illusions. Their line was made up of craftsmen and miners, the only ones with even a modicum of skill in warfare were Krazzik, Bragden, and the three hunters with crossbows. Add in the shoddy equipment and it was genuinely surprising they had lasted this long.

The dwarves in front of Glade did their best to follow his orders. They shuffled closer and braced the butts of their spears. There were still significant gaps, but that would only be fixed with experience and training. The only reason they had held out this long could only be attributed to the Slaghammer clan’s fierce determination and even fiercer courage.

The group behind him stopped their clubbing, declaring the spider was dead. Risking a moment, Glade glanced at the group. The spider’s remains were cracked and bleeding in multiple locations and was also being dragged away. Everyone but Krazzik and Gird were in a loose formation well back from the front line, ready to respond wherever they were called. The dwarven chief and the smith were speaking emphatically with each other, Gird waiving Kedryn’s staff in Krazzik’s face.

Fortunately, the dwarf that had tanked the hit from the Striker was being helped outside with an obvious limp and bloodied shirt. It could have been far worse, but hopefully Riya could tend to his wounds.

Thinking of Riya made him wonder why the elf wasn’t there with them. He had overheard that she was indisposed outside, whatever that meant, but it would be great if their only healer was present.

Putting the elf out of his mind, Glade turned his attention back to the problem before them. A half dozen offensive and defensive strategies ran through his mind, each one weighed and measured before being summarily discarded.

They could rush the monster, but that would place their people in the middle of the remaining swarm of astral spiders. While they might get the Striker doing that, the smaller version of spiders were plenty dangerous and would overwhelm them in seconds. Likewise, their crossbows had proven ineffective, and Kedryn was on his last dregs of mana, ruling out any ranged options. Ember was still unconscious, or whatever happened to the egg when it expended its power too quickly. That left baiting the spider out, a prospect that would likely end up with one or more of their group dead.

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Glade absently spent another will point to stave off his mental feedback debuff for another minute. Crippling himself was out of the question.

“Do you think you can incapacitate the that last Striker?” Glade asked, though he already knew the answer from looking at the Kid’s status page.

“Sorry,” Kedryn said through gritted teeth as he glared at the large crystalline spider he was actively burning. The eyes had completely melted away, the flames now eating away within the creature’s skull. “I’ve got just a few seconds left…” he paused, then let go of his spell. “That’s it, I don’t have any more.”

There wasn’t a notification saying the spider was dead, but Glade couldn’t imagine it would last much longer.

“Why hasn’t the one still standing attacked?” Gent asked, aiming his reloaded crossbow at the last Striker before firing. The hunter cursed as the bolt glanced off its crystalline armor. The spider didn’t even flinch.

“It’s waiting for reinforcements,” Glade responded, already sensing the last mind moving toward them at a leisurely pace. “There’s one more on the way, but it’s slow.”

“Sir, can you attack the one staring at me with your telepathy skill?” Kedryn asked.

“How do you propose I do that?” Glade shot back. “Mentally scream at it?”

“That’s better than waiting around for it to attack,” Kedryn said with a shrug. “We might learn something about them while you’re at it.”

“When in doubt, attack,” Bragden interrupted, tossing his golem spider on the ground before the group. “At least that’s the dwarven way o’ doin things.”

The old dwarf muttered a few phrases before the runes along the Golem’s body flared to life. Then the spider began to grow.

Everyone but Kedryn gave the dwarf an appraising look.

“Temporary enlargement enchantment,” Bragden explained, the spider doubling, then tripling in size in a matter of moments. “Not me finest work, but it’s all I could do with the mana I had left. It’ll last for the next few minutes or so afore the magic tear the thing apart. If’n ye can hold or corner the slagging Striker, me Golem should be able to at least crack its shell. The extra size reduced its overall dexterity, meanin it be a mite slow. The longer ye can keep the slagging spider in one place the better.”

Glade grunted his understanding before using his telepathy skill to connect to the Striker’s mind. He didn’t see an other option that didn’t include risking his, or the other dwarves, lives.

Normally, connecting to another’s mind was as simple as breathing. Glade’s skill automatically linked with the part of his target’s consciousness responsible for communication. Which was how he knew he was in trouble the instant the link was established.

Glade’s consciousness was swept away in a sea of dozens, if not hundreds, of minds, each focused on one singular objective. To serve their queen. Every astral spider’s mental signature, no matter how faint, was tied together in a web of complex magical astral threads that passed information back and forth at the speed of thought.

A deluge of images, smells, sounds, and countless other sensations flooded past him as the hive minded spiders pushed everything they experienced to the brightest mind Glade had ever felt. Overwhelming hunger laced every thought, both from the spiders and their queen. Hunger for food, power, recognition, and above all, hunger for him.

“Why, hello there,” the queen sang through the Striker’s mind to Glade. “I have waited so long to meet you. To taste you. I was beginning to wonder if sensing others was your only gift. But no matter, you are here now. Welcome, little fly. Welcome to my web.”