A Tale of Three [ONC 2024]

7

With a squeal, Luthiriensis turned on her immaculately booted foot and raced toward the horse, tripping over something as she ran, but she couldn't see what. Tearing the bow from its loop, she strung it, nocked an arrow and fired within the space of a breath. And the arrow sailed with innate accuracy past the immense creature by a good eight feet. Other than that, it was an impressive feat.

Several more arrows followed in quick succession, raining wood, feather and steel death toward the monster. Not a one hitting the target, or coming anywhere near it, no, but her speed at nocking arrows impressed even her. Meanwhile, Mott remained huddled beneath his blanket of rotting leaves, his large axe untouched, but Luthiriensis could almost feel the roll of his eyes and the bitter disappointment that Luthiriensis had proved herself less than competent at archery. It had, in her defence, been a while.

"Finished?" The sound of a voice that would make an abattoir seem warm and cosy thundered through the trees. "And you can stop hiding, Pinto. I may not be able to see you, but the hairs upon my legs bristle at your proximity."

"Ah. Yes. Hello." Pinto wavered back into view with a sharp expression of held breath. "Mummy sends her regards."

Luthiriensis had decided that the reason she had failed to hit the creature, its bulbous, black, frankly terrifyingly enormous body looming above them, was because the arrows she had used, the armour piercing bodkins, were all weighted completely wrong. Her hand moved, with surreptitious slowness, toward the training piled arrows, fitting one to the string. Then, with an 'aha', she drew and fired in one smooth movement. She doubted she would miss this time.

"You're improving, little elf." Far too many eyes than any creature had any right to have swivelled toward the tree, only four feet away from it, where the arrow wobbled. "Have you ever considered aiming. And you, Pinto, 'Mummy' can stuff her regards! She owes me a leg!"

A stump waved before Luthiriensis and Pinto. A stump of a leg the width of a well-fed human. To be fair, Luthiriensis preferred looking at that stump, as horrific as it was, than at the remaining seven legs. Or the body. Or those ghastly eyes that, at the same time, held Luthiriensis and Pinto with separate, but mutually terrifying glares. A giant spider. Though 'giant' didn't describe the creature as well as the word should.

The sound of undergrowth twitching and cracking reached Luthiriensis' ears as several smaller, but equally disgusting spiders scuttled toward her. Each held, somehow, one of her wasted arrows, dropping them at her feet before scuttling away. She got the sense that they found her amusing, which was strange, because they were spiders and spiders weren't noted for their ability to find things amusing, or of expressing such amusement. Or any emotion.

"In Mummy's defence, that was an accident." Pinto uncoiled herself from beneath the horse and Pony, making exaggerated bowing movements, bobbing her large head. Though, compared to the spider, it seemed tiny. "She tends to bite when surprised."

"A likely story!" One of the legs lifted and prodded Pinto in the chest. "You know the deal, dragon, no-one enters my Weald until your mother replaces my leg. Do you know how difficult it is to walk with only seven legs? Difficult. It's very difficult! How is she, by the way? Doing well?"

"Oh, you know. Same old, same old. She's taken up needlework." Pinto shrugged, continuing to bob her head up and down. "You know, for her anger issues."

"Is it working?" Though the conversation's words sounded pleasant, the voice of the spider boomed through the trees, shaking dead leaves from stems. A voice that could make the screams of a thousand, burning people sound like they were enjoying a relaxing steam bath.

"Probably not." Pinto picked at the leafy ends of her tail. "How's the family?"

The beast emitted a sound that could be only described as a sigh, if a sigh sounded like the lamentations of a ship-full of drowning cattle fighting desperately to survive without the ability to swim. Or, indeed, float. Two of the legs raised in the air, an arachnid shrug that almost made Luthiriensis decide to crumble into the dust whence elves came. Though she never really believed that particular creation myth.