The hidden village of the arachni had proven close. The journey took the best part of an hour, though the arachni at least had the decency not to extend the journey by obfuscating their route. They were hiding from a single foe and the shadows weren’t exactly renowned for their interrogation or map making tendencies.
An hour of total silence was still incredibly unpleasant, and it was with gratitude they were helped into the small hole that was the entrance to the village. They clearly had a skilled mage for no sooner had they gotten through it than the stone flowed to block the entrance, sealing them inside. It wasn’t quite airtight, arachni did need to breath afterall. Then, and only then, there was light.
It wasn’t much, just a glimmer of bioluminescent blue from some of the mushrooms that festooned the walls but it was blinding enough that it felt like Erebus was having the retinas seared from his eyes. Tears poured freely from the tender orbs as he blinked furiously, resisting the urge to simply hold his eyes shut.
It didn’t take him long to adjust to the dim gloom’s terrible brightness, the light revealing an archanophobe’s most terrifying fever dream. Giant spiders scuttled everywhere, down the walls, across the floor and ceiling, all heading in their direction.
To someone who didn’t know arachni body language it would have seemed like they were being swarmed in an attack. A thought that had him instantly grabbing Lana’s wrist before her blade could clear its sheathe. Fortunately for Erebus’ peace of mind he did know the arachni, they were merely curious and eager to greet the visitors to their home.
With so many arachni in close proximity Groundspeak was useless, which he knew was the only reason they’d even permitted light in even this, their inner sanctum. To be fair plain old Arachni wasn’t much use either, at least for Erebus, the language was a purely visual one, spiders lacking such fancy inventions as tongues or throats with which to speak, and the clamouring horde were too tightly packed for him to make out what was being said.
Then a voice rang out from somewhere close to him, beautifully mellow, like a fine wine. It was a voice that should have belonged to an elderly stateswoman, regal yes, commanding certainly, but softened by wisdom and kindness. “Back off a little children, you are scaring our guests.”
Glancing to either side of him provided no clue as to the speaker’s identity. Erebus rested his face in his palm as memory and realisation dawned, the necromancer looked up… and up… and up.
Directly above them lay Ariadne, first-born daughter of Ariadne, back and back and back to the progenitor of the entire species. Inheritor of her power and her will and by who’s grace and power this small village had survived even the predations of the Encroaching Darkness.
She was simply enormous, if most arachni grew to the size of a horse, Ariadne was the size of a building. Few arachni could generate the kind of magicka needed to support such a size, that she was a spellcaster in her own right was merely a bonus. She was also dead and the line of Ariadne had died with her.
Now that she wasn’t trying to conceal her presence it washed over Erebus and Natalya like a wave, rocking them both back a half step. Here before them was a lich, and not a weak one either, her very presence flavouring the mana around her.
She should have been a beacon to the shadows, an all you can eat buffet advertised in large font, and yet outside of the village they’d not gleaned even a whisper of her existence. Not even Erebus, who’d known to look for it.
“You return to the Great Web of the Caverns Beneath child.” Ariadne not quite asking a question, “and in unusual company.”
The voice really was just beautiful and the necromancer could see why she’d picked it. If he really focused he could make out the slight fluctuations of mana in the air where she was creating it. There was no spell there, at least not as he understood the term. Ariadne was simply weaving the mana into the right shapes, the effects happening not from the shape she’d created but the subtle ripples as it relaxed back into place.
It was humbling, a sign that for all his strength and skill there was still a long way to go on the path of magic. It was practically the opposite of a spell and he wondered if even his master had known this could be done.
He’d have rejected the idea once upon a time, the idea that any aspect of magic could have escaped the imperator’s notice was almost anathema. But he’d seen too much since he’d returned to Reath. Nowadays if asked he’d firmly declare not even the primordials knew all there was to know about magic.
“Not so unusual.” Erebus replied smoothly, “I’m often in the company of friends.”
“Then they are welcome in our web for so long as they wish to remain.” Ariadne promised, reaching out an immense leg to pat him kindly upon the shoulder, “though I have a suspicion you wish not to linger long.”
“You remain perceptive Great Ariadne.” He nodded, “I am bound for the uttermost depths, there has been a prophecy of apocalypse and wiser heads than mine believe one of the triggers may be there. I am to lay protections there such that your great enemy cannot pierce them for a thousand years.”
Natalya gave him a somewhat bemused look, not used to her friend simply sharing vital information without preamble or drama. It was a serious enough change in demeanour that she resolved to check him for charm or compulsion at the first opportunity.
“A heavy burden worthy of the heroes of old.” Ariadne pronounced gravely, “Yet you find us in little position to render aid.”
“I did not come for aid. Your people were kind enough to take me in, to teach me and to accept me as one of your own. I would be a poor friend if I did not give you warning of the calamity to come.”
“True enough. Please, go rest, we shall at least give you what food and light we can spare for your journey. Weaver of New Tales has missed you dearly, doubtless she will wish to catch up.”
Erebus carefully didn’t look at his companions, he didn’t have to.
Lana would simply be stood passive and aloof, the dalliances of mortals meant little to her, at least when the dalliance wasn’t with her personally.
Susan almost certainly would be entirely unreadable, without a facial expression she could have been standing with jaw open in shock and he never could have told.
Natalya though… the dry amusement he could feel rolling off of her was downright gratuitous. Her deep green eyes would be almost aglow with laughter unvoiced.
Ignoring the three of them studiously, he bowed to Ariadne before he headed for the hole in the floor that he’d been homed in when last he’d visited. It was exactly as he remembered it, which meant it hadn’t gone untouched. At the very least someone had been dusting it regularly, even looking after the books and rather battered journal he’d left there.
The hole in the stone wasn’t big enough for all four of them to set up camp so Erebus merely retrieved his stuff as the rest laid out their bedrolls around it.
“How long did you spend down here?” Susan inquired, sat crosslegged and carefully not watching the way the arachni were watching her.
“Oh a fair while. It took me the best part of a year to even find the village.” The necromancer smiled, laying back on the his bed to stare up at the cerulean glow of the mushrooms on the ceiling. “Another month of them pretending they didn’t exist. A few weeks of them trying to scare me away lest my presence reveal them.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t kill you.” Lana hissed, her own bedroll right next to Erebus’, not that she had any intention of sleeping, “It would have been the simpler course of action.”
“But also the most dangerous. A magical duel would have drawn the shadows down upon them.” The necromancer explained patiently, “Now are you telling this story or am I?”
“If you wish I will tell it, it certainly would save us time.” The ex-succubus jested, probably.
With an unseen roll of her eyes Susan put a hand over the devil’s mouth, ignoring the sudden scuttling around them as hundreds of arachni watched the shadow move to devour the poor creature only for nothing to happen. “Please continue.” She all but ordered over Lana’s muffled sounds of outrage. The devil bearing a more than passing resemblance to an apoplectic cockerel.
“Eventually they let me in. I spent the next two weeks webbed to the ceiling whilst Arachne took council on what to do with me.” He laughed, wry and wicked in his reminiscence, “I hadn’t bargained on them having an archmage in their pocket. I was far too young and arrogant back then.”
“Oh how things change…” Natalya drawled, sarcasm not just dripping from observation but managing a veritable impression of a flash flood.
“Do I need to get Susan to muzzle you as well?” Her ex-protégé retorted, “Anyway, they decided not to kill me. Instead asking me what I was doing there, which frankly could have saved a lot of time if done earlier but I’m not an ancient spider-lich descended directly from a line of cursed archmages so there might have been some subtlety I missed.
When that remark failed to get any reaction beyond mild bristling from the arachni eavesdropping, he ploughed on, “I told her I wished to learn umbramancy from her. She refused, naturally. That and demanded to know how I’d know they had shadow magic to teach in the first place.”
“I wouldn’t mind knowing that one myself.” Susan grumbled, still stifling Lana’s token protests, and they certainly were token protests, the pride demon going so far as to pull Susan into her lap. A situation Erebus decided he wasn’t going to pry into in the slightest. Either Lana was doing it to be annoying or it was absolutely none of his business.
“Oh it wasn’t much. My application to join Second Response had been rejected due to lack of diversity in my spellcraft and they had recommended I learn a travel magic, umbramancy was the one I decided to go with.”
“That isn’t an answer.” His fellow necromancer told him sharply. “It’s not even a hint.”
“Well I needed a teacher didn’t I? And I wanted something unique to bring to the table rather than just returning as another Umbral Temple cardboard cutout. So I naturally began looking up devils with a propensity for shadow magic…”
“Again I note an absence of magic wielding spiders in this tale.” Nat despaired, throwing her hands up in the air in near pathological exasperation, “If I stab you will answers come out instead of blood?”
“I was getting to that!” He protested, still staring up at the ceiling, “It was the entry for Azzarala the Carrion. It spoke of how he’d been taught by the arachni that lurked beneath Reath how to conceal himself from even the most hungry of thaumavores, how to weave shadows into solid objects and wield them as weapons. Well naturally I tried to summon Azzarala that very night.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“You failed?”
“Something like that.” Erebus shrugged, “Let it just be said that I didn’t get the knowledge I was looking for. Which just left the source.”
“A source that was officially not just dead but very dead.” Lana pointed out, “It is nice to see your recklessness has at least remained consistent.”
The necromancer gave his bodyguard a weary glance, “I am what I am, and I refuse to live my life in fear.”
“There’s a fine line between bravery and recklessness Ere.” Nat chastised, if gently. It wasn’t like she was unsympathetic to that point of view, risking one’s life and career to protect a wayward ex-subordinate could be regarded as reckless afterall.
“And an even finer one between caution and paranoia.” He countered with the swiftness of repetition.
“I fear we’re getting off-topic.” Susan interjected.
“Indeed we are.” Erebus said, chagrin written across his sallow features, “I had reason to believe the arachni had survived down here, it wasn’t much to go on. Just an idle comment from Dus, the Seruatis librarian. I don’t know how familiar you all are with her history but she and the arachni webs go way, way back.”
“And this idle comment was…?” Nat asked when nothing more was forthcoming, quite sick of her friend’s melodramatic style of storytelling.
“That she wished her niece would visit.”
“Her niece?” Susan asked, befuddled and not bothering to obscure the fact.
Erebus let that linger just a moment before he stared pointedly at the ceiling where Ariadne lurked. The great spider didn’t so much as twitch but an astute watcher would note that at no point had they left the vision of at least one of her many eyes.
“My aunt is thoughtful. If any of you survive to see her please send her my fondest regards and my regrets at my inability to go to her. Duty compels me to remain here.” The soft voice hadn’t originated from the great carcass that was the world’s sole spider-lich, instead it might as well have been sat down next to them.
“Oh. I almost forgot. Assume anything you say here everyone can hear. Because they can.” Erebus warned belatedly.
“Hang on… you said you weren’t counting on them having an archmage, yet you went exploring because a librarian had hinted Ariadne was alive?” Susan spotting an apparent hole in the web Erebus was weaving.
“She hinted an Ariadne was alive, not that the Ariadne that had last been seen over ten thousand years ago was still alive. The name is inherited, like a title almost. I was expecting ‘Ariadne, highly talented mage and peer, not Ariadne, Archmage of Shadows and Eldest Lich.’” The necromancer explained, “Seriously, I don’t think even the Necropolis has a lich that old.”
“Is it no longer rude amongst humans to discuss a woman’s age?” Ariadne grumbled.
Natalya gave that a lot of thought, “I think the oldest surviving lich we have is Yttrian the Adamantine, and she’s only three thousand years old. Give or take a century.”
“Anyway, they did eventually decide to teach me… but there were a few conditions.” Erebus continued, “Firstly I was never to share the magic they taught me with a non-arachni. That one they had me take an oath. Secondly I was never to reveal their location to anyone… which I have technically stuck to. If they hadn’t approached us I’d have passed them by.”
“A technicality I will allow, this time.” Ariadne hissed, and it was a real hiss, the lich stripping the kindness and warmth from her magical voice to become something truly inhuman.
“And I thank you for your graciousness oh wise one.” The necromancer remarked swiftly, and not even a surgical examination could find even the hint of the sarcasm all were certain was there.
“Was there a thirdly?” Susan asked, “Usually you don’t start a list unless you’ve at least three points.”
“The third point was an issue on our end.” The great arachni told them, “We don’t allow our magic to be taught to people who aren’t members of the village, and as persuasive an orator the necromancer proved we would not be swayed on this issue.”
“Then how-?” Nat began, stopping herself as she decided not to provoke the ancient arachni archmage.
“Some of us thought our great ancestor a little strict and hidebound.” A new voice answered the unfinished question, and it didn’t have half the deference even Erebus had used.
“Weaver of New Tales, this is a private conversation.” Ariadne sighed.
The four humans, or at least humanoids, turned to face the new arachni. She was small for an arachni, more large dog than small horse, but what stuck out most was that she was colourful. Literally. Amidst the dark browns, deep greys and all consuming black of her fellow spiderfolk, Weaver of New Tales stood out, a vibrant, almost opalescent blue, literally glowing in some places where she’d either taken to eating or smearing the glowing mushrooms on her carapace.
The oddness of the spider was only further accentuated, her two primary, forwards facing eyes had a pair of spectacles fastened firmly to them, although the series of lenses probably didn’t deserve that designation but no one else there had a better term for them. Even as they watched she used her two forelegs to flick a few of the lenses in and out of place to get the resolution she was after.
“I prefer to think of it as a family conversation.” The arachni chided, stepping in amongst the group to rest companionably against Erebus’ leg, the necromancer didn’t flinch. “It is good to see you so well, though you’ve grown sloppy at hiding yourself. I felt your magicka from across the village.”
“I see no need to hide myself when amongst friends.” The necromancer smiled, reaching down to rub at the top of her carapace, only for the spider to irritably swipe at the spot he’d touched. Erebus a true multilingual menace when he chose to be. “It is good to see you alive teacher. I feared time would have done for you by now even if the enemy had not.”
“Titles is it?” Weaver laughed, though the spider was completely still even as her voice verily shook with mirth. “Very well. Do you want to complete the tale or shall I, husband?”
“Do you blame me? You knock yourself out on the ceiling just once and suddenly everyone decides your name is Clumsy Bug.” Erebus grumbled, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed its playfulness.
“So you and Erebus?” Natalya inquired, with the caution of a bomb-disposal technician who’s worried that not only do they not know which wire to cut but is starting to quietly suspect they should have told their boss they were colour-blind.
“What can I say it was a whirlwind romance.” Weaver replied, fussing with her pedipalps in something that seemed to at least approximate embarrassment, “You know what they say about love at first sight well the moment he walked into the Great Web I knew that he was the one.”
“It was a marriage of political convenience that allowed me to circumvent the ‘residents only’ rule and let Weaver of New Tales undermine Ariadne in the process.” Erebus said flatly.
“Spoilsport.” The blue spider grumbled, “Don’t make me web you to the wall. I’ll do it.”
“I’m not some naïve youngster you can bully around anymore Weaver.” Her husband grumbled.
“But you’ll let me do it anyway.” She said airily, patting him reassuringly on the back. Clearly she’d spent long enough teaching Erebus to pick up some basic human body language and gestures. “You find the bickering comforting.”
“He does doesn’t he.” Natalya giggled, “So was the marriage ever… consummated?”
Erebus rolled his eyes, gaze ending up on the ceiling, though whether it was divine intervention he was after of Ariadne’s it was hard to tell. Either way both ignored his plight.
Weaver of New Tales took a couple moments to clean her palps before answering, “Oh yes. He was simply marvelous. You primates are so fortunate to have tongues because-“
“No. Arachni traditionally eat their mate.” Her husband cut in, trying to kill that topic in the cradle.
“You really hate fun don’t you?” Weaver whined, “Come on, what harm would it have done?”
“Anyway. Weaver agreed to teach me arachni shadowweaving as a way to try and break Ariadne of her isolationism. It failed and once I had learned what I sought I left to travel to the Academy Vulcanus to train under Amara.” Erebus explained. Less dodging the question than denying its existence entirely.
“Has anyone else noticed that all his teachers are women?” Susan asked, ignoring Erebus’s comic look of betrayal.
“And you?” The necromancer gasped, one hand over his heart as he staggered.
“I had.” Natalya smirked, thriving on his discomfort, “Me. Amara. Weaver. Lana. The imperator he trained under. Then there’s his whole crush on Dus… I should probably dig into who his teachers were at Necropolis.”
“Is there something you’re trying to say Nat?” He sighed, realisation finally dawning that he wasn’t going to be able to stop this conversation without violence. And even then he’d probably just end up webbed to the ceiling having to listen to it anyway.
“That you’re highly attracted to women with more power than you.” She explained, arms folded as she stared him down.
“Is this your way of asking me out?” Erebus pushed back, bordering on apocalyptically unamused by this point.
“Hardly. I’m no longer more powerful than you.” Natalya replied, just about managing to keep bitterness out of her voice. She wasn’t naïve, she knew that past a certain point, a point they had both passed long ago, powering was less paid for in time and more often in suffering. She didn’t want to be as powerful as Erebus had become.
The mage in question took a moment to absorb that, “Do you really think I’m that shallow? That mindlessly sycophantic?”
“I think you’re that fearful.” His old mentor (or rather the human one) said softly, all spirit of fun leaving as she tried not to make it an accusation. “You don’t trust yourself with power. You never have and I would have thought it one of your better traits if not for the fact you trust others with it even less.”
“And this affects my dating life how?” He asked, trying for boredom but only managing resigned.
“The same way it affected Sato. Same way it effects all of us. You don’t let anyone in because you’re afraid you’ll hurt them, probably by accident. Because you’re aware the power imbalance is so great that any agency they have is there purely because you allow it and that thought alone is enough to turn your stomach. Except it’s a little worse for you, all the rest of us have hit our peak. We’ve found our peers, but your star is still rising and you’re terrified that it will rise so high there will remain nothing above it.”
“I’d have to be spectacularly arrogant to believe that.” Erebus protested.
“Yes. You would.” Answered the pride demon.
“Ah. You think I’m flying close to the sun. Gonna get my wings burned off huh?”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to but if you had been spawned a demon you would be a devil of pride even I would have little choice but to bow to, yes.” Lana told him honestly. “You have an ego, necromancer mine. Sometimes, in moments like this, it is good to deflate it lest your recklessness doom us all.”
“My recklessness?” The necromancer spat, starting to get genuinely outraged. “Name one decision I’ve made since this whole debacle began that hasn’t paid off?”
“None. That is my concern.” The devil growled. “You continue to act with complete disregard for your life and I fear this damnable prophecy has sent you death-seeking.”
“I don’t pretend to know all of what’s going on.” Weaver all but whispered, which had to be affectation given then spellwork involved, “but I don’t think he’s enjoying the bickering anymore… also what prophecy?”
There was a brief conferral of glances before Erebus sighed, “Fine, but you have no idea how much it hurts my throat.”
He took a deep breath before launching into another rendition of the prophecy. It was exactly the same as last time. Exactly. Not a syllable, quaver or warble out of place as only an unliving or conceptual entity could manage.
As Erebus finished the choral premonition he seemed to sag, as if he’d undertaken some great trial, “I don’t like that at all.” He noted, mostly to himself before he turned his gaze to Weaver and Ariadne. “Well now you know.”
“Some of that was decidedly dire.” The spider-lich agreed, “though I must admit I can not think of anything, even a god or imperator, that could lay low Seruatis. Still I can at least make a guess to what you seek. The gravitic chain will not be an easy journey but I can… oh don’t look so surprised, did you honestly believe I could reside this close to an artifact of that power for thousands of years and never realise?”
“Well no. But not even the archmages in Seruatis knew exactly what the chain did, just that it was an important one.”
“The archmages are old and rather forgetful, especially where their mistakes are concerned.” Ariadne observed dryly. “Still nothing in that prophecy should set you to deathseeking.”
“The archmages believe me to be the chainbreaker.” Erebus explained, the words like lead in his mouth. Heavy and poisonous.
“I see. A noble pursuit at least.” The great spider sighed, the actual spider, a deep intake and outflow of air coursing through the unliving, shiny, black carapace. “This changes the equation. I will have a nest of my finest scouts lead you down but I warn you, you will find the chain besieged beyond even the finest luminomancer’s ability to fight through.”
“That will be our problem to handle great Ariadne.” Erebus promised her.
“And I’m coming too.” Weaver added.
For a moment no one spoke. Which wasn’t because no one was trying, Ariadne was furiously trying to weave sound into being but her errant descendent was having absolutely none of it, disrupting the patterns in the air with her own, the small arachni’s gaze laser-focused on the lich as she tore at the weft and weave she was trying to create.
It didn’t take long for the lich to lose her temper. In a single swipe of her forelegs she swept the invisible patterns out of the air and wove anew, not relying on the subtle method of before but weaving the mana into cables of intent so thick and sturdy that they were visible to the naked eye from the ambient energy they exuded.
“If you go, you will not come back.” Ariadne proclaimed, and the cavern shook with the force of her artificial voice.
“Then I will not come back.” Weaver of New Tales replied calmly, taking the pronouncement in stride, and an arachni had a lot of stride to take, “But know this. Though I may never return to the Great Web, I predict the Great Web shall return to me. Now come husband. We have work to do.”