Clover ground out a curse under her breath, her mace half-raised as if ready to cast a spell, even though we both knew I was too close for her to do so safely. Her brows furrowed with worry, and when she glanced at the venom still leaking onto my neck, she hissed another, fouler curse.

“By the spirits’ hairy ball sacks, how did we miss that?!”

A snort escaped me at her…creative choice of words. The clerics back home would be scandalized. Beatrice would probably bust a lung laughing.

They would make a lethal combo if they ever met. If I survived this, I'd have to introduce them, just to see what happened. Putting those thoughts aside, a hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest and I choked out.

“Such foul language from a cleric. What would your spirit say?”

She shot me an exasperated glance. “Really? A Giant Spider is merrily camping on your back, and now’s the time to critique my language?”

Another string of venom oozed onto my neck, and I flinched, fighting to ignore the renewed pain as it burned through my skin.

“I can multitask.” The words came out strained, and she scowled, her fiery eyes once again locked on the spider. It hadn't moved since it dropped down onto my back. If I hadn't seen its status, I might have thought it was non-hostile.

But we both knew better. It all but pulsed with rage, the hair along its legs and body standing to attention. The faintest tremor shook it, traveling down to where it pressed me into the floor.

No, it was far from calm… but why wasn’t it attacking then?

Clover twirled the mace, and the spider’s many eyes followed it. She then stopped with the top pointed at us and spoke in a voice that throbbed with the promise of death.

“Here's how this is going to go, you giant eight-legged freak. You’re going to let my paladin go, and I won't incinerate you from the inside out. If you don't,” she paused as magic built into another lance in her palm, “this shiny magic bolt is going directly up your cloaca.”

That was definitely an interesting threat––one I would love to see become a reality, if I were being honest. But part of what she said caught my attention, and I raised a brow, though I knew she couldn't see it from that angle.

“Your paladin? And here I thought you didn't like me.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I could feel the unamused glare she leveled at me more potently than the spider's venom.

“...Shut up, or I'll leave you to be spider kibble.”

I nodded, fully believing the threat. “Shutting up now.”

Stealing a glance at the spider still eyeing Clover, I cleared my throat and asked, “Not to critique you, but what's the plan if she gets off me? I like the sound of the spider dying by bolt.”

Right about now, the idea of every last eight-legged creature dying from light magic sounded downright amazing. I'd accept fire magic too, so long as the spiders were dead.

She didn't look away from the creature, her focus sharp and ready at the slightest move of that maw toward my throat.

“If it gets off you, you'll kill it, obviously.”

I nodded into the stone floor and hummed. “Solid plan. But why isn't the Enraged spider attacking?”

I'd seen people become Enraged before––hell, Berserkers made it part of their fighting style––but this creature was eerily calm.

It ate at my nerves.

The one that attacked Beatrice had been calm and it had acted more feral than this one.

Clover grimaced and considered us for a long moment. Then her eyes flashed, the subtle sign of analysis, and she froze.

“It is attacking. Its poison is ripping through your Hit Points at an alarming rate. It's smart enough to know that if it waits, you'll die without it biting you.”

Well, wasn't that an awesome realization. I'd been trying to ignore the steady sting, but now my focus shifted to it. With each new string of venom, it was spreading to coat more of my skin. Clover was right­­––this was going to turn deadly if we didn't act soon.

Forcing down the sick wave of unease that followed the thought, I consider our options––or the lack thereof.

She hadn't attacked yet, which meant the only spells she had would probably injure me too. I wasn't in a hurry to be a pile of ash today, so that was off the table.

I tried to shift, testing how far I could move, but the spider chattered angrily and pressed me harder into the stone. The sheer weight of it made my bones creak in warning, and I grit my teeth.

“It isn't going to let me move more than an inch. Any suggestions?” I asked, keeping one eye firmly on the spider now.

It's gaze flicked between Clover and me, tracking both our movements. I twitched my fingers experimentally, and it hissed in warning.

Clover noticed too and grimaced. “Do you have any spells that would hurt it? I have one called Spiritual Armor––anything that touches me takes damage.”

I shook my head, only to hiss when the venom slid to coat new skin. “The only spell I have is Retribution and even if I felt like breaking my arms today, I couldn't reach the spider from here.”

She ground out another curse, and this time I didn't tease her. Silence stretched as the standoff between the spider and Clover continued until finally she spoke.

“Pray to your spirit and ask for another spell. It's odd that the only attack you have is one you can't reliably use. In a worst-case scenario, I can throw the lance and aim high. You still might get injured, but it's better than being spider food.”

Yeah, no kidding.

With that supremely uplifting thought, I did as she suggested, uncertain if it would do any good but officially desperate enough to try anything. The few times I'd tried to contact the spirit since our initial meeting, I'd been met with nothing but silence. Hopefully now wouldn't be the same.