“I don’t understand,” Vergil said and pointed his sword at the gap between the spider’s legs. “Are you a friend? Is that what you’re saying?”

It hesitated for a long time, as if turning the words over, confused.

“Friend? We don’t know what friend is. We are of We. Speaking hard for We. Speaking is gift of false mother. Poisonous gift.”

“Is Erisa the false mother? Is she who you mean? What’s going on?”

The spider uncurled its legs slowly and turned over with difficulty. It regarded them with two pairs of large, black eyes, looking almost disproportionate to its small body. Tiny, spike-like hairs covered it, their colour shifting as it settled on the ground. It had been the colour of leaves before, now it almost disappeared against the dark shades of moss.

It had no visible claws or fangs. It legs were short and stubby, covered with the same bristle as the rest of it.

“The human is the false mother. She harms We. She harms all. She harms!” It stamped two feet for emphasis. “Please help We. We are last. Other human killed the rest. The false mother chases We.”

“Are you the one that attacked us when we got here?” Vergil thought back at the way in which Tallah had dispatched the leaping spiders earlier. One had, indeed, survived.

“We do not attack. We give Knowing. Please help We.”

* Kill it. Kill it. Kill it!

Vergil blinked away the sudden Argia instruction and it disappeared even from the log. Another hiccup? Not what he needed right this moment.

“Am I too tired or is it not making sense to you either?”

“I understand the words.” Sil lowered her hand and rubbed her eyes in the crook of her elbow. “I don’t understand the meaning. And I don’t understand how it’s talking to us.”

“We are of the Mother, of the one Mother of all. Few left. We need your help.” The spider almost danced in place, nervous energy still in it even as two of its legs hung off haphazard. It looked around and bristled, then seemed to relax and turn its eight-eyed gaze back on them.

The forest remained eerily quiet.

“Which mother is that?” Sil picked at the thread. “Erisa said she is mother.”

“The false mother has made her false brood. They are of us, but they are not We. We hear their cries. We hear Mother’s cries. We are not able to help. We are few.” The spider seemed to shrink back and tremble. “We are small.”

“What do you want from us?” Sil pointed to herself and Vergil. We and us seemed to have a particular meaning to the creature and the last thing they needed was confusion.

“You come to the Knowing. Oldest is there. Oldest will tell you of Mother. Oldest will tell you of the false mother. You can take the false mother back.”

“Why did you attack me?”

Without the threat of violence Vergil found the thing rather cute, as far as nightmares went. It looked fluffy.

Something rustled and he spun on the noise. Something small and furry leapt away through the undergrowth. Their screaming must have attracted attention and doubted all other animals were as small. His hands sweated on the sword’s grip.

“I think we should be moving, Sil.”

Sil wasn’t paying attention to him. She glared at the creature.

“We did not attack. We tried to give Knowing.” The spider reared up and almost toppled over. It was waving two very fluffy palps at them. “Knowing is given with bite. We would give Knowing so you could find Oldest without We.”

She recoiled and lifted her cestus again, shivering with every fibre. Her fear was as clear to Vergil as it must’ve been to the spider because it pulled slightly back and made itself smaller. “We do not mean harm. We did not mean harm. We lost many to help you. Please help We.”

“What do you mean to help us? What did you do?”

“In the fire. And in the dying hollow. We came. We saw the false mother harming you. We helped.”

“You strung us up? We almost died.”

It seemed confused as its gaze swivelled between the two of them.

“We brought you to safe place and led the false mother away. You wandered away from safe place. We had to save again. The false mother killed the others. Only this one is left.”

“Is it a trick of hers, do you think?” Vergil had a hard time coming to grips with everything happening just now.

“She could’ve just killed us earlier. What point would there be to another trick?”

“She’s been alone here for a long time. Who knows how she was starved?” To her raised eyebrow he added, “You know what I mean. With… the chalice? Maybe it’s happened to her? Nobody came to save her in time.”

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

He lounged forward before Sil hit the ground. It happened in an instant. Her knees buckled and she folded down like a puppet with strings cut. With one hand supporting her, he brandished the sword at the spider with the other. It drew back from him and balled up.

“What did you do?”

It wasn’t the creature he realised with a jolt. Sil burned with fever. She’d been pushing herself and had said nothing, but now heat washed off her as if from a furnace. How long had she been going like this? Probably from the very beginning.

What to do?

He knew nothing about how to care for a fever, especially here.

“Argia, what do I do about a fever?”

* Seek Medical help urgently if the fever impedes you from your duties.

Lovely. Utterly useless.

“You.” He lowered his sword and shifted Sil’s weight on his arm. “Do you know where the other humans are? Can you take me to them?”

“No. Other humans chased by the false mother. No others left to watch.”

Fuck!

“I need cold water, I think. She’s burning up.” On the Gloria, on the few instances he’d gotten sick eating something he shouldn’t have, they’d give him a couple pills and he’d be alright in minutes. Sil had forced him to drink the whole healing draught.

“You need healing?” The spider inched closer. “We can heal. We bring gift of precious water.” It reared up on its hind legs and did a complicated thing with its palps, almost as if vomiting out a bead of silk. It offered it up to Vergil reverently, held gently between the tips of its front feet. “We bring healing. You left before We arrived. Other bearer killed by the false mother.”

Vergil hesitated and, when he reached for the bead, the spider drew it back slightly.

“It is fragile. Last drop. Precious. No other left. Gift to… friend?”

Sil shivered violently on his arm as he set her down. Her teeth chattered so violently he feared she might bite her tongue off. Was that normal? He touched her hand, and it was cold as ice. Could he trust the spider? Could he afford not to?

Things rustled now in the undergrowth, closer. Some snuffled about and moved in circles around their little group.

Tallah would skin him alive, and he’d be glad for it if something happened to Sil now. So, he made the decision.

“Give it to me. I’ll be careful.”

It was the size of a pea, soft and yielding to the touch. He held it carefully, between thumb and index finger, above Sil’s half-opened mouth and squeezed. A single drop of water fell between her lips.

Nothing happened except for a soft gasp from Sil. Her breath hitched. Before fear of a fatal mistake gripped him, her eyes flew open, pupils dilated to black discs, and she bolted ramrod upright. She spun in place, wild-eyed and gaping, fists raised against some threat only she could see.

“What just happened?” Her voice was too loud, and her words echoed. Something ran away through the bushes, scared off by the sudden commotion.

Her eyes settled on him, and her breathing eased. “What did you do? What happened?”

“Are you all right, Sil?” He got up and gestured for calm. “I… You… You fell. You were burning up. I had to do something.”

She pressed her free hand to her forehead, then to her throat.

“Temperature’s norm—”

She lifted her damaged arm. Now she inspected it curiously, turning it at the shoulder, then the elbow, then the wrist and fingers.

“Very little pain,” she mused. Then pressed a hand to her throat. “No fever.” She shook off the helmet and lifted her sleeve to inspect her forearm. “Scarring’s gone too. What happened?”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. I shouldn’t be standing. I was barely standing before.” She looked about the forest, “Tallah found us? Where is she?”

“Not here. I don’t know. I… uh…”

“Out with it, Vergil. I either drank a draught or was healed by prayer. Which was it? How?”

“Neither. I… gave… you… what the spider offered.” He showed her the bit of web between his fingers, all that was left of the tiny orb. “It promised it would heal you.”

“I don’t follow.”

So, he explained. She listened while staring at the spider. It waited immobile at their feet, from time to time looking about at the red-hued forest.

“It could have been poison,” Sil said when he finished. Before he could blubber out an apology, she waved away the notion. “I would’ve done the same in your place. You did good, Vergil. Thank you. It was one drop, you say?”

“Like dew.”

“Incredible. What did you feed me, spider?”

“Gift for… friend?” It looked up at Vergil, four black eyes wide and questioning.

“Yes, friend,” he answered. “You helped us. You’re a friend.”

“Then friend help now? Please? The false mother seeks for We. Please come with We to Oldest. Oldest will tell all.”

“Yes. Good. Lead the way.” Sil still stared at her freshly healed arm, mouth moving without any sound coming out. Manic energy coursed off her as she shifted her stance restlessly, as if trying to find one thing that hurt.

“We’re trusting it?” Vergil picked up his helmet and reluctantly offered it back.

She refused it. “I’d be stupid not to. One drop.” She whistled in appreciation. “I need to know what that was. A single drop repairing that much damage? No side effects that I can identify right away. Goddess, that simply can’t be possible.”

“We lead. Follow.”

The spider tried to turn and lead the way, but it limped so bad that Vergil took pity on it. Against any kind of better judgement, he picked it up and set it on his shoulder. It wiggled its legs against being handled but settled quietly when it was clear Vergil wasn’t going to hurt it.

“If it bites your face off, I’m not helping you.” Whatever trust the spider had gained from Sil hadn’t bought it any further sympathy. She recoiled from the sight of it on Vergil’s shoulder and moved to his other side.

Vergil turned his head to the creature clinging to his shoulder. Its bristly hair stung his cheek.

“Will you bite my face off?”

“Do you need Knowing?” It raised its palps, eager.

“No.”

“Oh.” It deflated. “We do not bite then.”

“See, Sil? A little trust goes a long way.”

He smiled as she glared daggers at him.