Queen's Shadow || Kingdom at the End of the World - Book II

[6] The Lady of the Forest

The spiders were large for hatchlings, the smallest about the size of a closed fist. They surged over the forest floor like a dark tide made of spindly legs and beady eyes.

Ira followed at a distance. There was no need to hide her pursuit; the horde of spiders passed over a stream that cut in their way and not a few drowned, yet the rest carried on without pause, wet and stumbling. The creatures did not appear cognizant of their terrain and would likely not care for Ira, even if she were to run in their midst. Still, caution was necessary. There was no telling where the hatchlings' journey led, after all.

They traveled a great distance. There was not a shred of light, the night sky blotted out by a thick canopy of interlocking branches. The song of night birds echoed wanly in the dark.

The spiders crawled into a thick underbrush the color of old wine. Ira did not follow after them, perceiving a change in their behavior. She could no longer hear the frantic rasp of dry leaves and loose earth.

The horde had stopped advancing.

A large oak grew above the spiders' den. Its crown hung low, bleeding shadows. Ira watched it closely.

In the dark, another pair of eyes curved in a smile.

"Welcome, dear guest."

The voice was gentle and its tone intimate, as if greeting a good friend. A woman's face peered through the oak's naked branches. Her eyes were large and guileless. She extended a pale, tender arm, and beckoned Ira forward.

Ira remained where she stood. The woman withdrew her hand and propped her dainty chin against her upturned palm instead, studying Ira with laughter in her eyes.

"Have you come to kill me?" she asked.

Ira did not answer. She did not know herself, the situation still too unclear to judge.

The woman perceived Ira's hesitation. Her large eyes widened with coquettish surprise. "Has the Amith Capil learned forbearance? How peculiar."

"What makes the lady believe me a soldier of the Amith Capil?" Ira asked.

"You have a soldier's bearing," the woman said. She sighed sorrowfully, "It tarnishes your beauty."

"The lady speaks as if she has seen a great number of soldiers," Ira noted. She heard the contempt in the woman's sweet voice, but saw no use in addressing it directly.

The woman chuckled. "Seen? Indeed, I have. Seen, and tasted."

Branches shook. A large mass descended the oak, gripping the thick trunk with seven muscular limbs. It was the body of a great spider; the woman's torso protruded from its back, swaying gently with each of the creature's steps.

"Where is the rest of your team? I fear you alone will not be enough for my children to share," the woman said.

"I am no longer a soldier," Ira said.

"A deserter? How quaint," the woman purred. She was still smiling, but her expression was far from sweet.

"I am afraid that does not absolve you of your sins."

The woman's face bulged slowly, the skin over her cheeks splitting to reveal black, lidless eyes. They were arranged in pairs on each side and turned every which way, studying Ira and her surroundings for any hidden danger.

"Are these lands under the lady's sole reign?" Ira asked. She had a troubling thought in mind, and meant to explore it before the creature truly went on the offensive.

The woman paused. The pleasant mask chipped off her face and she looked at Ira with open hatred, her many eyes like knives wanting a chance to bury into Ira's body.