How many times had Jason marched into lifeless tunnels to fight pretend monsters?
How many times had he been in a city other than Hadica?
They exited the city through an archway of sandstone, and it drew his eyes up. Even then, they rode at a trot because of traffic laws—and he thought, Traffic laws!
The grounded merchants had erected a wagon village outside of the city. It stretched from city to cavern walls where buildings and roads had been built into the rock.
Stairs connected balconies. Smooth, rounded windows looked out. Flower pots and crystal lanterns decorated the roads and window sills. The sight reminded him of Trest at the Rock. He’d seen paintings of Lighthouse that looked similar, its stone bleached white by the salt and sea.
Jason desperately wanted to walk along those roads.
The exit tunnel was large enough to field six carts. Without the golden roots, it relied on street lamps and windows for illumination. They dotted the walls like fireflies in the dark.
The buildings weren’t even the half of it.
From his saddle, he could look over the makeshift dividers into wagon camps. When they neared the exit tunnel, he could look a foot into the open doorways of inns and taverns. Strange figures sat around campfires, busied themselves with cleaning and cooking, balanced, arms outstretched, along the walls. They rode bikes and coaches on the other side of the road; patrolled as uniformed guards with inhuman faces and bored expressions.
If he had not honored Ymbre’s call, could he have found another quest here? Was it too late to turn his back on the theatre? Was that a coward’s thought?
He knew [Heroism]; a fanciful name for a spell that converted magic into fortitude and vitality. It may as well have been called ‘adrenaline rush.’
The city was a riot of peoples. He could catch a glimpse of the lives, and stories, they led by the light that spilled from their homes. Why was his quest to leave it all behind?
Ryan jerked his chin at a pair of guards. “We could ask for information. Do we even know what we’re fighting?”
“Nonsense,” Pepper scoffed. “You hired me as your guide, did you not? I can tell you all you would need to know.”
Jason held him to that claim with a prompt, “Veshim mentioned Spiderwolves?”
The Salamander beastkin was friendly, but he seemed like a sloppy worker. He rode alongside Lisa rather than leading them and, if he wasn’t mistaken, flirted with her. Which was strange and wonderful to see, and an irritation in the back of his skull. He needed them to hurry.
He felt the urge to spur his horse into a gallop past it all. The quicker he completed his escort mission, the quicker he could return.
But, traffic laws. Horse laws. They could only push their horses so far until they were left worse off for it.
Navid perked up. “Spiderwolves?”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“From reports. If I recall, they are unique to the Theatre.” He glanced at Ryan. “Think Prowlers with ink spirits, rather than blood or brack water, and additional limbs.”
“Their scent has drawn others to the feast,” Pepper said. “Actual wolves and beasts of the more magical varieties you might be familiar with from the lower floors.” His horse bridled and paper crinkled as he unfolded a large map in his saddle.
He pointed out two spots. “This is as far as the patrols go, about four kilometers out. They have specialists to hunt nests, but those move too slowly for your needs. Here is where the latest attack was staged …”
Jason peered over at the paper. The map outlined a cluster of caves, interconnected by overlapping roads. Curious, he led his horse closer and searched for any annotations or shadings that might denote elevation.
They studied cartography in school, but he’d never seen a map for an underground city. Were there other cities nearby? Other nations?
But Pepper drifted away from him, closer to Lisa, and pointed out a caravanserai near the estate where most of the errant actors and merchants were staying.
“A thought,” Navid said, “if there are so many merchants grounded there, they must be desperate to make a profit. And they would likely be thankful to whoever cleared the way …”
“If you want to buy your way out of your quest,” Lisa said, “do it on your own coin.”
“I wouldn’t even bet on gratitude,” Ryan added. “We saw how unhappy the actors were with Veshim. They’ll know he sent us. If they are hungover, it might be harder to wrangle the people there back to the city than it’ll be to clear out the monsters.”
Navid snorted, and Pepper shifted the map with a smile like he was about to say something, but then they hesitated and glanced at Ryan, all of them, as his words sunk in.
“Veshim did write ahead. Even if they don’t get their hopes up, they should be packed and ready to leave when we arrive … right?”
Jason said it and knew it wouldn’t be true. As the shade of the tunnel swallowed him, he turned to look back on the city that suddenly seemed like a pipe dream.
“Pepper,” he asked, “can you fight?”
The Salamander beastkin looked inhuman, but he sat up and his posture and eyes looked like he’d been put on the spot. “Uh, no. Maybe? I don’t know, why?”
“You probably won’t join Lisa in hunting monsters.”
He turned to her. “I mean, if you need me—”
“I could use your help? I think Anne is right. You three will have to step off the beaten path for your quests anyway, but we’re on a time limit here.”
Ryan urged his horse forward. “You want to split the party again?”
“I want to reach the actors and make sure they hit the road. I have a rod of light imaging, and Pepper could accompany me?”
The Salamander beastkin gave him a wary look. Because he didn’t trust in him? Jason knew he didn’t look the typical combat climber, tall and lanky, so he assumed that was the issue, but when he met his yellow and lime eyes …
They didn’t look frightened. They almost seemed calculating. That look was familiar to him somehow, though he couldn’t place why.
Pepper abruptly turned to Lisa and rubbed the back of his neck with a boyish smile, “What do you think?”
She shrugged and wrangled her familiar back on her lap. Sam kept trying to hiss at their guide when he got too close. No wonder; he must have looked like a monstrous version of itself to the little Teacup Salamander.
Ryan turned. “Navid, can you fight? Because it’s been a year and I honestly can’t tell.”
He scoffed, back straight. “I can defend myself.”
“So no?”
They began to bicker and banter about duels until Ryan cut him off, “A caravanserai. Full of actors running about, screaming—and you can cheap out on our quest, too, I guess.”
Navid rolled his eyes. “I’d noticed that myself. Fine.” He turned to Jason and sounded far less aloof than he had the entire trip. “I’m coming with you. Managing people is something I am trained for, and Chandler and Payne are adept as a paired offense, I hear.”
Lisa sat upright. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. ‘The Salamanders’?”
“What are you, a [Gossip]?”
What was that about? Wait, was Ryan blushing?
They approached a patrol coming back. Only street lights lit up the roads past that point.
Rather than pick up the Salamander comment, Pepper did his job for once and spoke with the guards. They knew of Veshim and seemed to see some sort of authority in their quest cards because they, like the ones inside the city, let them pass.
And rather than ask about what Navid meant, Jason said, “So, how do we do this?” He could explore the city when they got back. He could gossip at school. They had a quest to finish.
----------------------------------------
The plan was simple: Ryan would act as bait again. Except this time, he’d get to fight alongside Lisa, not even wearing the raincoat, against the enemy horde.
He shook himself after dismounting and slipped a hand under his coif. [Thick Skin] had mostly ‘set’ over the last five days, as some Skills needed time to do. He didn’t feel that different. Until he pinched himself. Then he found a resistance there like trying to squeeze down on a biceps.
In the first few days, it had reminded him uncomfortably of a bruise or pimple; he had begun to worry it would feel that way for the rest of his life, but then the ‘tension’ had left.
He hadn’t gotten to test it yet. If he did this right, he wouldn’t need it at all.
Guard up; one year of wearing the raincoat and one summer break later, he had to remind himself of basic training.
Lisa dismounted with Pepper’s help. Their guide attached ropes to the horses so he could lead them.
If Ryan squinted, he could almost imagine the amber orbs created by the street lamps to be fires, and her swarm of lizards crawling over the walls thrown ember clouds.
But the tunnel was dark. The breeze wasn’t that strong. And it was only when Jason drew a wand and cast a warbling pulse of light that he could take the vast space in.
He’d seen it, of course—he’d ridden into it—and yet, twenty minutes later, the sight of a six-laned underground street hollowed him out.
Navid led his horse in an anxious pace left and right, turned, and rode back to them. The animals had been unsettled for the last kilometer, but Navid only seemed reluctant to take the lead a moment before he had to.
Jason would have, but his eyes were distant as his wand mapped the surfaces. He pointed abruptly, without looking, to a spot on the ceiling just outside the lantern light.
A face watched them there, half-illuminated by the pulse like moonlight on a pond. No, not a face, it was a bundle of roots. No, a butterfly. No, a gnarled knee—
The first of the Spiderwolves flowed from a crack in the ceiling, pushed off the rock, and stretched its smaller, front arms and wolf-life neck down to howl long and high.
The stone turned the sound from an angry battle cry to a cold echo. The pack dribbled down around them, sprouted from cracks off the side of the road, and ran out of holes in the walls with a series of wind-cut snarls before they disappeared in the dark.
Ryan strode forward. “Go, go!”
Pepper jumped in his saddle. Navid and Jason spurred their horses. Their guide was one second behind them, leaving Lisa and him stranded five kilometers in the dark.
He didn’t know if Jason had thought of him when he’d crafted this plan, but Ryan was grateful for the opportunity to do things right.
“Eyes forward!” Lisa called and a flash threw their shadows forward.
Her improvised spell lit up the tunnel in harsh, sterile light. It revealed the artistry of the road, the jagged layers of the rock, the roots sticking out of cracks. It revealed the Spiderwolves—six-legged, crawling beasts. Roots of ink lined their limbs like exoskeletons, shifting and hinting at flowers, hands, and spinal cords. That same ink dripped from long jaws onto smaller, front arms. Their backs bulged with extra limbs rolling in shoulder sockets and they took loping steps.
Some crawled along the walls or chased after the horses. Lisa and Ryan shot [Firebolts] at those, shouting, “Hey!,” as her swarm closed in. “Here! Me!” he tried to taunt them, and then he couldn’t afford to keep his eyes on the distance.
“[Swathe of Flames].” He met the first three wolves with a blade of fire; opened a jaw, a neck, a shoulder with three quick thrusts, and slowly retreated.
They didn’t know how many there were. He didn’t have anyone but Lisa to back him up. They had to leverage their advantages. Endure.
A rush of mana cycling through his legs kept him light on his feet as the pack focused on the lone human on the edge of the light. They sprinted by in twos and threes; snapped at his heels, his arms, his waist.
He deflected and spun, thrusting each time they came and went. And when it became too much, and he felt like the next wolf would knock him to the ground, he swept out another [Swathe of Flames], turned—and fled.
In the center of the lantern light, Lisa was a shadowed figure beneath a harsh white sun. The wolves that hadn’t targeted him lay burnt or bleeding around her.
Sam, a small dog with an alligator’s jaw, viciously attacked anything that came close.
Wolves chased her swarm, and the warm red lizards popped like firecrackers to send them scrambling in one direction or another. She herded them closer to Ryan. When enough had clustered together behind him, she lobbed the first [Fireball].
He didn’t catch the beginning of its flight, only a streak of orange in the corner of his eye. He felt the explosion, the wall of wind and heat, and pressed his shoulders into his ears.
A horse neighed in the distance. A muffled, panicked whine. Someone cursed. The sounds were muffled beneath the pressure.
Ryan ran over an orange line on the road and shouted, too loud, “In!”
Lisa gestured. A ring of fire shot up, and the wolves who hadn’t been hit or frightened by the explosion broke around the fluttering flames like a river. The curls of fire chased after them.
Not even a minute had passed. He needed to breathe.
When he turned, he saw a brown horse galloping toward them through the wounded Spiderwolves. Behind it, a grim Pepper followed.
The runaway horse hurdled over the flames. Ryan scrambled up with a hand outstretched, calling, “Here, stay!” It was already on the other side of the ring again and running, drawing three wolves after it.
His heart tore. Could he run fast enough to chase a horse? If he threw a firebolt— What if he missed and hit it instead? He had to help the animal, but— “Lisa!” he called.
She shoved him and struck something. A wolf. It scrambled away on burnt legs. She said, “Focus,” lowered the ring, and thrust out a gout of flames to clear the area.
Pepper galloped back to them, leading one panicked horse by a leash through the wounded pack.
Under a distant lamp, Navid and Jason watched on.
Lisa lowered the ring of flames and called to them, “Keep going! We’ll be fine!”
Ryan looked back. The runaway horse kicked a wolf in the skull and vanished into the darkness. When he faced ahead, his teammates had done the same.
Their useless idiot guide was nearly there. Who the hell couldn’t even fasten a proper leash? Ryan shot a [Firebolt] and stepped out of the ring to defend him.
Then the first Spiderwolf hissed, “d I E!” It sounded like a parroted word, low and faint, with a child’s gleeful intensity. It leaped as it said it, too.
Ryan smacked it with the butt of his spear and dodged in surprise rather than stab it. They could speak?
If he listened past the pounding of his heart, the clipping hooves on stone, and the tearing flames, the quiet snarls and whines sounded more and more like words to him.
“H U r ts.”
“h u n G R Y.”
“D I E!”
A wolf licked another’s wounds. The third announced itself again before it pounced a second item. It hit the ground when Ryan dodged, and he hesitated before striking back.
Lisa didn’t. She smacked its shoulder with her staff. Sam barrelled into its stomach and tussled with its limbs. In a crouch, she wrapped one arm around its neck and heaved.
The moment he realized what she was doing, Ryan helped wrangle it into the circle.
Pepper and the horses leaped into the ring and danced on the spot. A split second after they made it, Lisa raised the wall again. By the timing, Ryan almost would have thought she’d forgotten about them.
The captured Spiderwolf struggled on its back. It looked so young to him as it screamed. He wasn’t sure if the sounds came from its mouth or the ink, “H e L P! H A L P! H E L P M E!”
Lisa said the words he had expected to hear, “[Appraise Creature].” A chorus of low, guttural growls filled the tunnel in an overlapping echo that seemed to shake the dirt, and he turned to face raised hackles and roiling ink as he heard the sentiment he’d feared he would, too: “Shit.”
The flames shrank as if the fight had left Lisa, and she tossed the wolf out of the ring like tossing a dog onto a couch.
It was too late. The pack didn’t care. Ryan battered the first body aside with a snarl of his own, “They’re people!?”
“What?” From his horse, Pepper scoffed. “Hardly. Intelligent beasts, maybe. Their parents, on the other hand—”
He was going to punch Navid and Pepper. So much for a plan.
“Stop!” Lisa drew lightning apart between her staff and fingers and began to zap anything that came too close. “We don’t have to fight!”
“They’re trying to eat us!” Pepper laughed.
Ryan used the butt end of his spear, but he wasn’t equipped for fighting monsters without deadly force, and with a bit of bad luck, a smack to the head could kill. “We can help! We have—”
Food? They didn’t have enough to feed a pack of wolves, let alone monstrous ones. Could they buy more somehow?
“Sam!” he realized. “My bag. Fetch me the bottom healing potion.” Charred bodies lay on the edge of the light, but if they could somehow prove their intentions …?
The Teacup Salamander, now an alligator dog, slammed into the back of his knees and scrambled up his legs. Buckling backward, a Spiderwolf jumped him and Ryan couldn’t dodge.
Its grey, humanoid hands were in his face, paws on his shoulders, teeth at his chin. Claws scratched his shield, dragged scrapes into his skin through the gambeson.
He stumbled, pressing Sam into the stomach of a horse, and dropped his spear to slam an elbow into its neck—or try to. One of its hands caught the blow and he could only push its jaw off him.
Pepper awkwardly kicked down from his stirrups. His horse spooked. He hit his shoulder, the back of his helmet. The horse stepped on his boot and rammed him with its hip.
Lisa grabbed the wolf by the scuff and hurled it. Before it hit the ground, a blast of wind sent it tumbling down the tunnel and flattened the guttering fire.
She swept an arm out and another wall of wind shoved three others back. With them standing together, the others tried to jump the riderless horse instead.
Pepper tried to keep it calm, and Ryan didn’t know how to slip between the pacing horses without being kicked or bitten.
“Enough!” Lisa shouted and swept her staff out in the same motion as his [Swathe of Flames]. But more wind swept out instead. She grabbed it, wrapped it around their group, and like they were in the eye of a storm, shoved it out.
Her ball of light flickered out. The wolves were thrown back, buffeted on the spot, or forced to the ground, claws scratching into the stone.
Ryan was ready to help Lisa onto the horse so they could retreat, but … the wind didn’t stop. Lisa kept it up for a second. Two. A long moment as she walked up and opened the flap of its backpack for Sam.
He shoved his head inside and awkwardly retrieved a bottle of glowing red liquid. It hung sideways. Ryan flinched at the screeching sound of its sharp teeth over the glass.
“Tower potion?” Lisa asked.
He nodded. “New spell?”
“More like relearning old ones …”
She looked tired. Not exhausted. Physically. Not manic because she hadn’t slept last night, but tired like she’d had a long day, or a shitty morning with not enough sleep.
Ryan didn’t know if he had ever seen her look like that.
But when she stepped into the wind, the bottom of her gambeson and thin strands of her flapped violently, and she didn’t so much as sway. She crouched in front of the nearest Spiderwolf, uncorked the bottle, smacked it when it tried to snap at her hand, and healed it.
Micah— It had been a while since Ryan had bought healing potions, but when he’d prepared for the trip yesterday, he’d gotten a good deal in the Bazaar rather than an alchemy shop.
Thankfully, it worked. The monsters were ‘fake’ so he hadn’t been sure, but the cuts of his spear closed. The burns on its stomach and paws soothed. The inky veins even thickened and glistened, but the burnt fur didn’t regrow. Its stomach was left looking wilted.
No wonder why he had gotten such a good deal. If he’d tried to heal a teammates’ burn with that … Buying potions. First aid. More things he had to relearn after a year.
Sam scrambled down his shoulder and shoved Ryan as he jumped off to rejoin Lisa.
She dropped the wind dome and held the bottle out. Then, trapping her staff against her shoulder, she fished some crumbling jerky out of a pocket and held it in her other hand.
The wolves still didn’t look friendly. Interested, yes. Not friendly. They stood, keeping their eyes on them, and slowly began to regroup and circle them.
“Uh, Lisa,” Ryan tried.
She sighed. “I know.”
They were either going to attack or flee. Shit.
The first wolf ran—and stopped. It sat and perked up, not upright like a dog. It sat hunched so its center legs could rest on the ground, but the look was that of a dog that had noticed something.
Ryan didn’t hear anything approaching in the tunnels around them. Had it smelled something instead? In the dim light, he wasn’t sure if its nose was twitching …
… but its ink was. It trembled, shifting shapes, and so did all the other wolves’. They panted like dogs’ smiles, glanced to the older members of their group, and flicked their eyes aside as if asking permission to leave.
One of the older wolves stepped forward and said, in the clearest voice yet, “Speak.”
“Speak?” Lisa asked. “We know you can speak. You want us to speak? What—”
The wolf kept walking. A meter or so away, it turned away, brushed past them, and repeated, “Speak.” It and half of the pack walked away. The rest stared, waiting on them.
“I think its parents want to speak with you,” Pepper said.
----------------------------------------
Jason missed the smoke. He caught his breath, leaning on his shimmering sword like a cane, and stumbled away from the dog-sized spider on the side of the road.
The air smelled of dirt and something metallic—not blood, though there was that, too. It was cool and soothing, but it was not colorful smoke. There was something unnerving about killing a monster that did not combust into a neat cloud after it died.
There was no glory in combat, no artistry in his swordplay, no honor in duty. His sword had sentimental value to him, but any sword in his hand was nothing more than one part cool stick in the park, and one part can opener. Like an extra-long pen.
What he was trying to say was, “You literally could have gotten off your high horse and helped.” He even thought the horse of the person he said it to was a bit taller than his. Of course, Navid had picked it for himself.
“Jason. What if the horses had run off, or been ambushed?” he said with mock horror as he led his frightened horse over.
Jason fished out a dried apple slice to feed it and looked back as he stroked its neck but their owner, Pepper, was far away. Looks like we’re stuck together.
Horse Doe seemed as enthusiastic about that as he was.
Other spider corpses dotted the road. The smell probably didn’t help? He wiped his sword, untangled the spell on it to recycle some mana, as he’d seen Lisa do time and time again, and climbed in the saddle.
It dipped and swayed, and the horse took a side-step away from him, but then he sat in place and the quiet clopping came again. Despite his minor frustrations and worries, he enjoyed this. He had to stay alert. That meant he could appreciate the scenery for all it was worth.
Because of the scent of blood, he even had a good reason to draw his rod again and expend another one of its charges to throw an inverted shadow over the halls.
Like a dream, it spirited his senses away. For a brief moment, Jason ran his fingertips along every bump, and ridge, and root ahead of him as his hair was caught in the wind.
He found bugs, small critters, a road sign, some weeds, and many cobwebs, some of which felt normal and others wet, like ink. He found things that felt smooth and rocky—crystals?—a wet trickle down one wall, and a nook in the wall with a flower vase.
No threats.
The rod spoiled his discoveries only in the sense that he knew what to look for when they got there, and then he could admire it all the while they rode by.
It wasn’t so bad, leaving the city. He’d never gone spelunking with enough space to stand tall, let alone ride on horseback. The trip had soothed his [Wanderlust].
Then there was Navid. “The others I get. Ryan is private. Anne is polite. Lisa doesn’t know any better. But you”—he wagged a finger—”you don’t like me.”
Jason sighed. [Breadcrumbs] told him they’d been stuck together for ten kilometers. He would have enjoyed the trip more in silence. “I don’t know you.”
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“We’ve been classmates for a year! I’ve seen you around. Your failed church group, your little marital spats with Tor, you hang out with Lisa sometimes.”
Navid had drifted in and out of silent contemplation during the trip, and it had made him seem halfway wise, but then, as if the silence had become too much, he’d do this: try to strike up a conversation; get a reaction out of him.
“I’ve seen you today, and you seem … happy to let others do your work for you.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“A teammate? If you refuse to pull your weight, why would anyone want to climb with you?” If Jason got hurt fighting monsters on his own, could he still explore the city later?
“They won’t,” Navid said, “nor will they have to for long. I won’t climb often after graduation, so you only have to play nice for another year—”
He had that self-assured tone like he was building up to something. Jason had seen him monologing at Ryan like a king to his vassal. He interrupted him, “All people have to do is shit, breathe, and die. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t put in effort.”
Navid grimaced but flipped it into a smile. “Is that one of your Shepherd’s quotes?”
“Common sense. Your body can force you to do three things, nothing else.”
“I think you’d be surprised— But, as I was saying, I will put in a little effort when we get there. And on that note, uh, would you mind lending me a pen and some paper?”
Jason eyed him. “Did you not bring any?”
Navid guided his horse closer to his. His smile turned sheepish. “It would be a help to me.”
What kind of an assistant doesn’t have pen and paper? Jason thought but kept his judgments to himself. He fished around in his pack and handed a journal and pen to him.
“Why do you need it?”
“I find communication is often easier with visual aides.” He pressed the journal against the top of the saddle and began to write down … names? The names of the missing actors. So he had been paying attention.
Had he Veshim? Jason hadn’t thought to do that, and his quest card didn’t list them. But then why was he making a copy? “Oh,” he said. There was no list. “[Social Memory]?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. Common sense.” He flashed him a smile and nodded at the road sign ahead.
There was the nook in the wall. It had a small, worn statue of a man with six arms that Jason had thought was an insect sitting still. Then came a fork in the road just past where his pulse had faded. Lights in the distance, voices, and the warm smell of food.
A patrol called, “Did you cause that light?” They’d made it.
They rode into a smaller cavern. It was large enough to house a five-story building but only had a dozen or so in total. Aside from the wagon camps that were stuffed into every nook and cranny of the alleyways and yards, hosting impromptu shops and crowds.
Most of the crowds weren’t buying anything. They sat on boxes and played with dice or cards, and looked like they belonged with the wagons, or were friends who lived here.
This seemed like a small village been built near the estate … or that was connected to it.
A balcony looked down from high above in one of the walls. It was supported by artful pillars, ringed by smaller golden roots, and Jason caught a glimpse of shadowed marble in the room behind it, like a mansion.
The village couldn’t buy all of the merchants’ wares, and the lord or lady of the manor … had supposedly hosted a party yesterday. Maybe they’d already perused the wares.
The guards had pointed them in the direction of the inn. It was the second-largest building in the space, halfway freestanding like their school. They found a hitching post and paid a stable hand a Kobold crystal to care for their horses—outside; the stables were full.
The frog boy stared at the crystal like it was a strange coin, and he a coin collector, and ran off.
Jason eyed the crowds near the entrance of the inn and slowed down, stretching and groaning after the long trip.
To his surprise, Navid did the same. He adjusted his clothes, pulled out a pocket mirror to check his face.
“Okay. I’m going to need you to cast [Magic Weapon] on your scabbard.” He sounded serious for once—well, as much as anyone could look while running a hand over his stubble.
“On my scabbard.” Jason mulled it over. “Why?”
“Obvious magic items are imposing. I know basic glamours, but there is a good chance some of these strange figures can see through illusions.”
“You can cast spells.” It was more of a statement of fact than a question.
“They save merit, before a certain threshold. Same as staying in shape. Do try to keep up. I’m also going to have to bop you with an [Enhance Stability] so don’t resist—”
“You’re going to what—?” Jason started but Navid clamped a hand on his shoulder and the spell suffused him like a lattice of cords, propping him up even as he jolted away.
“Why?”
“Looks are important.”
“So you ask for permission,” Jason complained and snatched his mirror away. It was thin and compact, with a protective case that slid open. He looked inside, held it up, and took a step back. He liked the pitch-black look of his gambeson, but— “I look exactly the same.”
Navid’s tone was contemplative, “No. Most people tend to look a bit buffer after I use it. You know, as if they’d gotten their party pump on?” He shook out his elbows, flexing his chest and shoulders. “Of course, you can’t see that underneath the armor. It was mostly to help your posture—no offense.”
“Offense taken. And if you can buff strength, why haven’t you been doing it all this time?”
“I am not a mage? And you had things well in hand. Your scabbard?”
With a sigh, Jason handed the mirror back and ran a glove over the sheath. A sheen enveloped the wood and Navid mimed at him to stand tall. He did.
Apparently not well enough. Navid circled him like a shark and manhandled his shoulders and back into place.
“What’s your plan?”
“You take this”—he handed him the handwritten note—”walk in first and take a look around the inn like everybody’s business is your business. I’ll head straight for the counter and find our actors. Stay a step ahead of me, then back, try to look Ryan had a bad morning, and attend me. Understood?”
Jason hesitated. How would he even have done this on his own? Asked around for the actors? He probably would have been distracted by the crowds halfway to the inn …
He would rather have done this with anybody else—even Frederick and Lemon would have been easier … maybe; maybe not. But unless you were up for leaving, you played with the cards you were dealt. He sighed, “Yeah, sure.”
Navid almost sounded like he was speaking to himself when he said, “Then let’s go.”
Jason pushed the door open. The interior of the inn was stone gilded with wood. A large open walkway led down the center, dotted with pillars that held picture frames. A long reception ran down the left side of the room, and a crowded lounge filled the right.
The cool air smelled of water, and he sensed a small body of it ahead—a pool?
Wooden pinwheels spun on the ceiling, though he didn’t spot enough vents to cause a breeze. Odd decorations, somewhat noisy, though not as loud as the clamor of the crowd.
He stared, a little excited. He’d never been in a hotel like this before. Mostly, they had stayed in caravanserais, bed and breakfasts, or sleeping on the couch of distant family.
Navid kicked the back of his boot, and he jerked.
Huh? Oh, right— Jason grimaced and glared left, right, ahead. He got the door for Navid and walked toward the reception, hand on the hilt of his blade.
Navid waltzed up to the reception with a magnanimous smile, put a hand on his heart, and sighed. “Finally, we made it! Are they here? Are they waiting?” He leaned back to glance between the pillars at the lounge, searching for faces.
The receptionist was one of the people with a floating ink head. He wore a tight yellow frock coat with a high collar, and Jason saw only darkness within it. His head shifted like a fire. His voice sounded young and confused. “I’m sorry?”
“The actors! I wrote ahead, man. Were you not informed …?” Navid sounded excited and young like he’d just made plans to do a pub crawl with his friends.
The receptionist searched through notes on his desk. “I must not have been—”
“Aww, that’s fine. A little insulting, don’t misunderstand me, but anyone would be hard-pressed to believe I could make the journey so swiftly.”
“My apologies. Are you a guest here, Mr …?”
“Madin. Lord Navid Madin, of the very same House, heir to the Sylvan Steward, at your service. And no, I’m just here to pick up my actors. I was promised a performance.”
He smiled. A handsome, pearly smile. His voice was casual, excitable, and kind but … Jason didn’t know. There was a glint in his eyes. A dangerous note to his enjoyment, like it hung on a worn thread.
He dropped the smile for a moment after he finished his sentence, working his lips, only to push it back up, and his smooth brown skin wrinkled as he squinted at the man.
The receptionist’s reply came a second late with a start. “Oh! You must be referring to the troupe from Hadica. If you’re looking for a play, I regret to inform you only some of the actors are resting here tonight. And the roads—”
“Aren’t you listening to me? Where do you think I came from?” Navid planted a finger on the counter as he leaned in. “Straight from Hadica. Assistant director Veshim asked me for a favor, so I obliged. My people are cleaning the roads as we speak.”
The receptionist glanced at Jason. He caught his cue and gripped his sword hilt. He could only catch a hazy reflection of himself in a bronze platter that hung on the wall, but with the shimmering sword and his pitch-black gambeson, he may have looked intimidating.
The receptionist’s head bubbled up high and thin as he took the news in. It reminded him of raised eyebrows. “I … see.”
Was this good news? Bad? Bad for business, but good for the workers’ health, Jason assumed.
He couldn’t find any of the signs he associated with exhaustion in the ink man’s expression, but other workers rushed about the back of the reception with notes, cleaned up tables and messes in the lounge, and carried fresh folded towels up and down the halls.
Busy. They had to be booked out.
The man sounded unsure. “I’ll … notify the actors—”
Navid held up a gloved hand and lazily snapped without looking.
Jason ‘attended him,’ handing him the note he had been given not a minute ago, and then took a respectful step back and did a sweep of the inn again.
The lounge had quieted down, and some of the patrons watching them, facing backward in their booths or leaning aside to look past pillars that stood in the way.
He took a tiny step forward and glared at them, trying his hardest not to blush or let his true thoughts show, Fuck this is demeaning. How did Alexander do it? Right. No integrity.
Was this how he wanted to complete his quest? Did it matter if the quest wasn’t one he wanted to complete in the first place?
“I have a list of names. I imagine they would prefer if you ‘reminded’ them of their … departure time rather than putting them on the spot and forcing myself to do it. Perhaps your manager could be assistance to you as well …?”
It was worded like a suggestion, but it didn’t sound like one. Navid suddenly had the air of someone who was used to getting what he wanted. Now, please and thank you.
“Of course, Lord Madin,” the receptionist said and compared the list of names to their guestbook. He rushed away with a tiny bow. “Just a moment, if you please.”
Navid tapped the reception one more time, turned and leaned against it with his elbows as he took the lounge in, and then pushed off and strutted over to Jason. His posture stayed the same, but his voice went back to normal.
“People tend to have certain expectations of others. Sometimes, it’s easier to meet those expectations. For their sake. It lets them think they know what you want, that they know what to do, how to play along. Few people who think they’d stand up to expectations would actually do it. It just isn’t cost-efficient, emotionally speaking, in the short run.”
“I pity your future employees.”
Navid rolled his eyes. “This was the simple route. You have to adjust your approach and know in which order to build people up and tear them down.”
“Uh, Lord Madin?” A woman in a tight dress and long skirt walked around the counter with his note. She introduced herself as the receptionist’s manager and said, “I can contact most of the actors here for you, if you’d like, however, I believe two of them are having lunch at the estate right now.”
“Ah, that will not be an issue,” Navid assured her, “I welcome the opportunity to catch up with one of my peers. Thank you for informing me.”
“Of course. I will send someone to guide you, but is there anything else you like, or that you would need before you leave?”
Navid’s smile grew wider, and they spoke for a short moment before she hurried off.
“I didn’t know you were an actual [Lord]. Aren’t your kind supposed to be extinct?”
He made a face, weighing his head. “Most noble houses have a few designated members to bear the service and Class. It’s mostly for tax navigation purposes but … two things: we’re not proper [Lords] at all, we’re business managers. And I lied. I have no idea how to address one of my ‘peers.’”
He gave him a sheepish look as if he expected a reaction of some kind, but Jason’s expectations had been nonexistent.
A new worker and the manager stepped out of the doorway, he searched for them, and she pointed them out and then pointed at the worker, a quick introduction from distance.
Navid began to move, “Well, they’re ‘fake’ anyway, if Chandler is to be believed, so this should be fun, finding out what the Theatre thinks lords and ladies should be like.”
The worker reached them and began to introduce himself with a nervous smile, but when they turned for the door, a small crowd had gathered at the stairs to the lounge.
A frogman in a shirt at the front of the crowd raised a finger and hurried to bar their path with a tipsy sway. “Ah, Lord Madin …? I’m sorry to interrupt you—”
“Not at all, not at all. What do you need, sir …?”
“Well, we— I couldn’t help but overhear, but uh, did you say the roads were cleared?”
“My people are clearing the roads as we speak, yes. Why, is there an issue?”
“No, not at all, I mean. It’s just, we’ve been stuck here with our wares all day, so we had been hoping— but we hadn’t known. Just our luck that you showed up—! Uh, lord.”
He looked awkward, having to address someone at least twenty years younger with a title, especially drunk, but the crowd behind him immediately began to jostle each other and send some of their members off to inform their caravans.
Some of them froze and turned when Navid spoke again.
“Wares, you say? I am traveling light at the moment—summer break, you understand—but I do have something of a shopping list … I would have sent one of my people out but, just my luck, you are here …”
This smile now said Navid very much knew how to speak to his peers. He glanced at Jason and, as if he had remembered him, said, “Oh, but the actors … Jason, my man, why don’t you go on ahead?”
“Are you sure …” He suppressed a groan and forced out, “My lord?”
“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about my safety. It’s the safety of others we should be concerned about. Go.”
Jason didn’t need to be told again. He practically dragged the hotel worker out of the door and breathed in the unpolluted air. The worker chattered away, telling him what he thought Jason needed to know, but as he exhaled, he noticed the balcony overlooking them.
A shadowed figure— No, one of those black cutouts, a void person, stood there. She, by her outline, leaned on the balcony and looked down on them, perfectly still.
Jason couldn’t see where she was looking. He raised an arm in a motionless wave.
Her hand twitched, but then she turned and walked away.
Inside, someone guffawed. So much for quests. He hoped his teammates were doing better.
----------------------------------------
The spiderwolves led them through a crack in the wall deep underground.
“This is a trap,” Pepper mumbled as they waded through inky spiderwebs. Tangled-up clumps of dust and dirt clung to their boots. “They’re probably leading you someplace they can slaughter you more easily.”
That much was obvious, but they squeezed through spaces wide enough for only one or two wolves to walk on either end of them. For now, the terrain was in their favor.
Or it would have been. Pepper had brought the horses.
They’d told him to let them loose so they could find their way home—they’d told Pepper to leave, for that matter. But he had insisted, “I’m staying with you. After what I just saw, there is no way I am going back on my own.”
The space was large enough for horses. The walls were narrow, the ground uneven. It was similar to a thin mountain trail. But if they wanted to ride the horses, they’d likely have to hug their neck to not smash their heads on the rocks.
Pepper walked sandwiched between them, Ryan at the front with a swarm of lights he had conjured all on his own, Lisa at the back with a single orb hovering over her staff.
If something happened, they would only get in the way or else be the first ones to go. It was stupid, but she couldn’t bring herself to scare the beastkin off.
A familiar gut feeling of indignation inside her told her she had something to prove here, and she could only do that if she was seen.
“They’re walking in a straight line in front of us,” Pepper whispered. “Why not just … you know ... bwah.” He mimed spitting fire down the narrow tunnel.
Lisa shook her head. It may have been wise, especially since nothing here was real, but she refused. Not yet.
A cold nose bumped into her glove. She scritched the spiderwolf walking alongside her behind the ears. It squinted up at her with a panting smile. One of its humanoid hands, elegant and grey fingers, held onto the side of her hip for safety.
Its brothers and sisters lay on the road far behind them. Bodies she had charred to a husk. It’d only been half an hour. She’d treated some of their wounds with the single Tower healing potion Ryan had brought. That, and a few treats later, and the pack had moved on.
The tunnel widened and drank Ryan’s light. Webs covered every surface, and the smell of bones, fresh stationery, and dusk wafted like a wet breath through them.
The horses balked, but they couldn’t turn on the spot without great difficulty, and Pepper had managed to wrangle them under his control over the course of the trip. The Salamander beastkin dragged them forward, careful step after careful step, into the lair.
The spiderwolves spilled in with the excitement of children, jostling their legs and throwing shadows onto their little islands of light. They vanished into the dark, one by one, and then all they heard were their distant snarls and huffs.
One must have run into a pile of bones. They scattered over the floor of a nest. Lisa recognized that sound, but she was distracted.
They stared up.
Something massive moved in the darkness. Glimpses of it caught the light when the underside of its body coiled overhead like a fish in the night clouds.
Sam shifted on her left shoulder, crawling down and sitting on the top of her pack so it could hide behind her helmet. It did that around her family sometimes.
The river of bodies herded them deeper into the cave. Lisa stumbled forward. Ryan tried to catch her arm but the spiderwolves dragged them apart.
Pepper stuck with his terrified horses. She cast a look over her shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t be mauled to death the moment he left the light, then split her orb in two and tossed one his way.
Maybe that was unwise. Some of the spiderwolves watched the three bodies with an impatient hunger, but a voice dragged their attention away.
“You came.” It seemed to come from every web around them at once. Rough, hollow, warbling like there was a large body of water in the room with them.
“‘Sapient.’” The second voice was tinged with derision. There would have been more of it, Lisa thought, were the speaker more used to speech.
She wasn’t sure which was male and which female—or if either was either. The difference between their voices was minuscule, and she wasn’t sure if the sound was natural or caused by the webs.
“Is that not what you call yourself? It is supposed to mean that you are better than us, yet you throw yourselves into our mouths.”
Ryan spoke into the darkness as if he didn’t know whom he addressed, “We didn’t come looking for a fight.”
“Then why did you come?” one of them hissed; Lisa couldn’t tell them apart. She tried ineffectually to track their bodies in the dark using eyes as real as they were.
“Your— children. You told them to lead us here. You must have had a reason.” His voice was a little less certain now. Maybe he was catching on.
“We told them to bring us food, and so they have.” A body swept past them, close enough this time to hit them with a wave of wind in its passing, and Ryan stumbled back.
Lisa had had enough of the charades. What was this? Was she speaking to parents hiding behind the door of their shithole home to scare off visitors?
She raised her staff and flared the light, barely restraining the anger in her voice, “You sent them out to die.”
It was odd how much they looked like deep-sea creatures when they consisted of ink, wolf, and spider parts. They clung to the ceiling, one larger than the other, both of them larger than Lisa but smaller than her parents. They had many limbs.
The light revealed hints of color within their ink. It was not all black. Where the chitin and fur didn’t fully cover the membrane of their bodies, it also shadowed the outlines of organs.
Eight beady black eyes ran up the sides of lupine heads. More dotted specific places all over their bodies. Those eyes squinted as they shied away from the light.
Cowards.
“You killed them,” one of them accused her and scuttled down the side of the wall.
“We didn’t know—” Ryan started.
Lisa interrupted him, “You don’t sound too upset about that.” They sounded annoyed, maybe. Insulted. They didn’t seem saddened by the fact that— “Your children died for your negligence.”
The larger one opened its mouth as if to say something, snapped at them in anger, and retreated into the corner of the cave where it pulled a few small cocoons out of one of the holes that riddled the walls.
Its children were running toward it before it even tossed them, and some had to scramble back and around to chase after the cocoon when it threw it. They tackled and tumbled over one another in a frenzy to eat whatever was inside.
The smaller one scuttled closer to them and leaned on its height to loom over them. With four of its eyes, it watched the feeding frenzy with something like envy. “We have too many. There isn’t a lot of meat on your bones; your horses will be a tasty treat—”
“Yes.” Its partner sounded hungry.
“—but,” its tone turned harsh, “if a few of them die, it is for the better. You didn’t bring the bodies with you?”
Lisa’s stomachs rolled at the implication. “It’s not better. If you would hear me out—”
“Hear you out? You are food.”
The other almost sounded amused, “Ah. So they have come to bargain. Again.”
“For safe passage? You want us to stop feasting on your little rivers of food, hide in a dark hole, and let our families starve to death.”
“A caravan will come down the road soon. A river of people carrying their own food. I need you to not attack them. I want you to talk to them.”
“What?” The word came from three people at once as Ryan, Pepper, and the larger parent rounded on her, and Lisa smiled as she took in a shaky breath.
It even dropped the cocoon it’d been holding in surprise. The meal beneath it turned vicious as its children swarmed it for another bite, snarling and snapping at each other with sharp teeth, hands pressing faces into the dirt to safeguard their scraps.
They reminded her of her siblings.
“Talk to them? Do you think we would fall into the same trap you did? What do you think would happen if we walked up the road, morsel?”
The larger one sounded exasperated as it broke up fights between its children. It had to carefully scuttle away to not step on any of them. “They think us monsters. They will not be as kind to us, when they see us, as we have been, to listen to your pleas before you die.”
“Not that we would die.”
“No. Not that we would die.”
Lisa held out her last bits of jerky and called out to pull some of the wolves over and make it easier for them. They jumped at her and tried to yank her arm down to get at the food, but she was stronger than them and shouted to keep them in line.
It was far more stressful than wrangling her siblings—these kids were feral, and she was stuck in a human body. But she had something to say, so she tossed the jerky to Ryan.
One of the wolves struck the ground. Its inky exoskeleton flowed into the webs and a sticky, black arm shot up from the ground to steal one of the pieces for itself. “M i n e!” it yelled as it ran away with its bounty, and its siblings tackled it, calling, “N o! M i n e! M i n e, g i v e! G i v e! U n f a i r!”
Her eyes widened—not her human eyes. Ryan, luckily, faced her way and was shocked by having to catch the pieces of meat anyway. Neither of the adults caught their reactions.
The stress eased up and Lisa spoke casually, “I don’t think you are monsters, except for the harm you can cause yourselves and others. You can speak, you can think, you could come to an understanding with Hadica. If you understand that we are here to bargain, you must understand the concept of trade.”
“Of course, we understand it. Why would we stoop to the level of lesser beings when we can just take what we want?” The smaller one stalked closer but rather than admonish the wolf that had used the webs to steal food for itself, it patted its head in praise. The strong survived.
“Because it isn’t smart,” Lisa said. “Because there are more of them than there are of you. Because they were here first. You can survive without allies, but not without losses, especially if you go out of your way to make enemies. Life shouldn’t have to be survival or death. You don’t have to live in the city, you don’t have to make friends with ‘lesser beings,’ but you could learn to live alongside them and you would prosper.”
“Prosper? Fighting, cutting off our ink and fur to sell when it grows long, digging out tunnels?”
“Fighting alongside them? Seeing your childrens’ fur and ink fill out? Digging a home for yourselves where you can live in peace?”
The smaller one climbed around her and sneered, “If they do not stab us in the back, you mean.”
“W— what,” Ryan began to speak up and stumbled. He struggled with the children that thought he might have more food, which he probably had. They pawed at his backpack. “What is your idea of prosperity? Not your family? Do you have any hob—”
“Fear,” the larger one said, “and the hunt.”
Ryan sounded respectful, “Excuse me?”
“We live in fear. The best of us create it, hunt its taste in this life or another. The worst of us …” Some of its more lupine eyes furrowed. It twisted its head a fraction toward Ryan in annoyance. The source of the reminder and a low sound gurgled up in its throat.
“They fear you!” Lisa spat out as quickly as she could. “They fear your children, even. They sent us here, expendable transients, to fight you because their warriors were too afraid to do it themselves.”
The smaller one preened at her words, scuttling further into the shadows where its ink and eyes began to look like half-formed monsters; the idea of something in the dark was more frightening than their naked appearance. It invited her mind to fill in the blanks.
The larger one watched Lisa with all of its eyes and, with slow and obvious movements, pulled a larger cocoon out of a hole and tossed it to her children. They’d already dispersed as if their feeding time had been over, and this appearance of an unexpected treat filled them with even more excitement than before.
It hit the ground with a solid thump. Lisa saw a patch of skin, a humanoid jawline, before a wolf sunk its teeth into the bone.
She didn’t flinch.
“But you aren’t,” it spoke and walked past Ryan to loom over her. “You aren’t afraid of us.”
Lisa looked up at the malnourished adult and felt the strangest urge to deck it across the face. Her family was in town. She was well-fed. It would not be hard.
She didn’t have to show deference—fear—but she did have to stay respectful. “I am not,” she said and tilted her head slightly toward Pepper and the horses.
It followed her eyes, looked around, and only then seemed to notice Ryan standing ramrod straight next to one of its legs, like a coiled spring ready to bolt.
“There are other things in these tunnels worth hunting,” Lisa said with the utmost confidence, “there are other cities. You could fight alongside Hadica. Prove your merit and your allies will fear your value too much to stab you in the back, but you would be paid, and your children could thrive until they no longer needed you.
“Let me speak to the city leaders; we can arrange for a meeting in a place you would both find agreeable. We can leave the horses here if you’d like. In the worst-case scenario, they might poke you with sticks as you leave—” Lisa scoffed, “As if that could harm you. You could remind them why they should fear you. And— then you’d come home to a tasty treat …”
Lisa was on a roll, so why did her voice falter near the end? She frowned and glanced around, but neither Ryan nor Pepper was speaking up. Shouldn’t they have voiced their disagreements? About leaving the horses here, at least?
When that other horse had fled on its own earlier, Ryan’s anguished expression had looked like his heart was tearing itself in two.
Lisa saw fear in the black eyes of the horses behind Pepper. One of them had pissed on the floor; a wolf had come over to sniff it and it’d spooked further into the corner.
But Ryan wasn’t looking at the horses. He watched the spiderwolves feeding on a humanoid corpse with a shadow of that expression and Pepper …
He looked unhappy, but he silently held their leashes. Was he too afraid to speak up?
It felt wrong. As if the wind had suddenly disappeared beneath her wings. This idea of hers was insane and nobody was even fighting her on it.
Did that mean it might not be so insane after all?
“Why risk it?” the larger one scuttled onto the wall to her left, stepping over Ryan. He visibly struggled not to react. The smaller one circled her to the right.
“Why shouldn’t we just kill you here and now; add three more bodies to our meal?”
Lisa shook the doubts off, stretched her arms wide, and put on her cockiest smile; something Garen might wear when he had an insane idea. “Imagine it! You could build a fence so large, your children could run forever and never find an end. You could even teach them to live alongside huma—”
A spiderwolf snarled. That, on its own, wasn’t so strange. They all snarled at each other here, but they did it as a family did. This sound was an echo of their snarls not an hour ago, and it was followed by a surprised squawk from Pepper and the horses’ panicked whines.
She turned. A spiderwolf dangled from Pepper’s arm, teeth sunk into his red scales and drawing blood.
Another jumped at his horse’s neck and he kicked it with just enough force to make it fly too low and tumble away. The horses tried to flee as claws raked their legs. Pepper couldn’t stop them anymore, but they didn’t have anywhere to run but deeper into the pack.
“Stop that!” Lisa bellowed. She raised an arm— remembered she was holding her staff. Human arm. Mana. She didn’t need it. She flung a wall of wind at them, leaving a hole where Pepper stood. It buffeted the children and drove them to the ground, but they didn’t stay down.
Her feet carried her forward. She flung another wall at them, harsher this time, and whirled on their parents. “Make them stop or I will!”
It’d been the wrong thing to say. She saw in their eyes, their posture, as they raised themselves into the shadows of the ceiling and spoke with indifference, “Let them feast, and maybe we will consider your offer—”
Pepper cried out in pain as another wolf bit into his leg and he went down.
Lisa had seen her family stop her siblings’ jailbreaks dozens of times. She drew on those memories as she conjured sloppy chains to shackle the wolves, then domes to press them into the ground when that took too much effort.
Ryan tried to help, but the disposition of the children rapidly changed as they noticed what their siblings in the corner of the cave were doing. They noticed Ryan’s tension, the way he pressed through their bodies, his lowered spear.
She saw the shift in their expressions. From one moment to the next, they became food.
Pepper bled. The horses bled. A spiderwolf jumped Ryan and her patience ran out.
Lisa booted a child aside, threw a windbolt that sent another tumbling like a sack of potatoes, and swept three with an updraft through a hole—they folded over the edge of the rock and disappeared. Their whimpers of pain echoed out of the dark.
They retaliated. Sam jumped off her backpack into the first spiderwolf’s face that came too close, bubbling into something more monstrous on the way. It scratched up its face and bit its ear. Lisa caught it by the neck and dragged it back before it could go too far.
Like a cat on a warpath, Sam almost bit her before it realized who she was, but that only made her smile. “Destroy the webs,” she whispered to it before dropping it again.
Ryan swept out a sickle of flames. In the firelight, she could see he’d already done the same, cutting off the inky clumps of webbing around his boots.
The smaller parent rushed her. Lisa slung a [Fireball] in its face. Its partner’s screech was clipped by the explosion as it fell over Ryan, “—liar!”
She conjured a wall of wind that shattered like thin glass, slowing it for a fraction of a second. That was all the time Ryan needed to dart for the exit tunnel.
Lisa reached Pepper, kicked one of the spiderwolves attacking him in the stomach to make it spit his leg out, and pried the other’s jaw open. Pepper kicked it with his good leg and scrambled away. He whistled for the horses as he fled.
One of them had managed to scale a wall and crawl into one of the lower holes, but it must have been a dead-end because it turned around at his call.
The moment they saw where to go, the horses nearly trampled them both and then Ryan in their blind panic to escape. He fought spiderwolves at the exit and flattened himself against the wall when they galloped by without slowing down.
The smaller parent still writhed in pain. She’d gotten half its eyes and its fur burned.
The other drew the inky webs that covered every surface of the cave up around it, like pulling a rug out from under their feet and— Didn’t catch them. Sam had torn all the webs around them to shreds. Lisa scooped it up and used a last gust of wind to help Pepper and her jump over the black river to the exit.
Ryan caught them. It was almost a hug. Lisa heaved a sigh of relief into his shoulder and looked up to see the tumbling bodies of the horses being dragged back by black webs.
She pushed a wall of wind against them and held it, grimacing.
Ryan tossed Pepper a dagger and they rushed forward to cut the horses free.
Trickles of dust fell from the ceiling and pittered off their shoulders as something massive knelt. The light from the orb Lisa had left with Pepper in the corner cut off.
Over her shoulder, she looked back into three massive eyes. Snarling spiderwolves tried to squeeze their way past their parent’s head into the tunnel to maul them. Others ran off.
The parent wouldn’t be able to fit, but they knew these tunnels better than them. It was only a matter of where until they came after them again.
“You asked if we were upset,” it said. “Not anymore. We have lost too much already, child. But ah, I can feel the river of people you spoke of, trundling over our webs.” Those eyes looked at something far in the distance. Its voice became dismissive. “Maybe I should teach you what it means to feel loss first.”
The head moved, letting the spiderwolves in. There were only three of them. The rest had left already.
And then the ground shook as two massive creatures ran, joining their children’s hunt.
The caravan. Navid and Jason had convinced them to leave already? Ryan stabbed a spiderwolf in the throat and shoved it off her. Pepper freed the other horse, but even if they could ride through the underground, they were wounded. They’d be too slow.
“No worries,” Lisa said, voice small as she watched the spiderwolf bleeding out at her feet. “It’s all fake. It’s— It’s just a challenge.” She didn’t know if she was thinking out loud, but Ryan looked at her with worry in his eyes. She said to him, “We’ve done this before.”
She conjured a true Salamander. And then she conjured another one.