On a simple bed of vines, leaves and tattered rags, the Spider lay. She appeared as a harmless, frail old woman, her eyes covered with a strip of cloth and her toothless mouth agape, drawing haggard breaths. Around the clearing, runes had been scorched into the earth, embers that still glowed red even now, a decade later. The Spider was bound in simple rope to her bed before the altar, but it was these runes that kept her contained and helpless.
Despite her vulnerable and withered appearance, an imposing presence radiated from her, and Darius could feel her words, a harsh whisper, echo through his skull. He couldn’t make sense of them, but he felt compelled by their sounds.
The Ranger, impervious to the penetrating voice, had drawn his bow, arrow aimed at the Spider’s still beating heart.
‘Heka,’ Alaric whispered, his voice trembling with anticipation. As he said the word, her true name, he slammed his staff into the nearest rune. The staff exploded into a million splinters, a shower of sparks came from the rune as it broke. The Ranger lost his aim on the Spider as his eyes moved to Alaric in bewilderment. The glow of the other runes faded until they were no more.
The Spider’s eyes shot open, the cloth falling to the ground, and she began to rise. She slowly rose from the bed, the cloth falling from her eyes to reveal empty, dark sockets that simultaneously stared at all of them and none of them.
Suddenly, with a sharp intake of breath, the Ranger had loosed his arrow. The arrow thudded harmlessly into a tree across the clearing, and Darius turned around to see Alaric’s dagger protruding from the Ranger’s ribs.
A wicked laugh emanated through their minds, but her mouth never moved.
For a moment, Darius wondered why Alaric would betray the Ranger, but that thought was overcome by his realisation that the Ranger was an agent of evil. Alaric had done the right thing in removing him as a threat - his only choice had been to kill the Ranger before he could kill the Spider. And the Spider was their only hope. The clarity had come to Darius once he had entered the clearing. Doom would come to them all if they couldn’t serve the Spider and bring her back to the village.
The Ranger gasped his last breath, crumpled to his knees, and then fell face first into the muck.
The Spider continued to silently rise from her bed, her mouth twisted into a toothless, vicious and mocking smile. She continued to rise, well past the height that she had appeared. Darius eyes’ widened in fear and wonder, but he never drew his sword or moved to run. As she rose, Darius’ face transformed from wonder to pure fear. She continued to rise, well past Darius’ height now, the blankets beginning to fall.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
As she rose and the blankets fell, she unfurled her legs. Eight great, black, spindly legs extended from her hideous body with a series of grotesque creaks. Her torso remained ‘human’ - a frail old woman now perched atop the abdomen of a colossal, disgusting spider.
She was a nightmarish visage; even her human body had been transformed by Alaric breaking the spell - her thin and ancient skin, pale and almost translucent, hung loosely from her bones, and still she rose higher. Veins and sinews pulsed visibly beneath the flesh, filled with some dark, ichorous substance that glistened in the eerie purple light of the Spider’s Grove.
She rose higher, and higher still, her ancient white hair brushing against the great tree cover at the top of the clearing.
Alaric’s face was a mix of awe and fear. He had completed the spell and restored the Spider to her true power, but the horror of that restoration was beginning to sink in. A loyal agent, he didn’t falter or move away, but respectfully bowed his head to the monstrosity before him, his heart racing. Darius had taken a step back, his fear finally overcoming him. His eyes were wide in shock and revulsion, his breath coming to him in short, sharp gasps.
The stench of decay and corruption filled the clearing, choking what little life had seemed to remain before she rose. Her entire being was a writhing mass of filth and darkness. Her voice, when it came, was a simultaneous chorus of whispers and screams that penetrated their minds and filled them with a terror that they had never come close to experiencing before.
You have done well, my boys. The voice echoed around their heads. It was a blend of malice and twisted pleasure. As the cruel voices bounced around Darius’ head, a wave of relief washed over him. He had done it. He was safe, welcomed by the Spider, and she would aid them. He understood that this creature was necessary for their salvation, and he would protect her from all harm.
Her giant spider legs, covered in coarse bristles, writhed and flexed with a life of their own as she moved to the path, a monstrous marionette.
The abomination clambered past Darius and Alaric, passing above them, each of her black legs twice as tall and almost as wide as each of them. They passed under her, watching her disgusting underbelly as she moved back towards the village, beckoning them to follow. A small part of Darius’ mind sensed foreboding, wondering if he should be going with the Spider. He realised that he was powerless and his mind was already made. If he was to stay, he might invoke her wrath and she would slaughter him. The mists that had crowded the forest on their approach, that incomprehensibly evil fog, had lifted as the Spider approached, but began to close around behind her, so he ran to catch up to her, refusing to be consumed by the mists.
And the tiny sliver of doubt shrank. He moved through the rest of the Spiderwood in an obedient haze.
But there was still a small, nagging doubt in his mind. He couldn’t transform it into a cohesive thought, so he shrugged, shook his head and set off behind Alaric with the blind Spider leading the way.
As he walked, he reached out and touched the purple leaves beside the path. Where before he had felt horror and sickness, he now realised that the Spiderwood was beautiful.