The webs clung to every tree, forming an impenetrable mesh. Back at the Winemillers, Phae had often marveled at the webs spiders could weave during the night between the grapevines and the trellises. As a child, she had touched the strands, which caused vibrations down the lengths, summoning the small spiders—tricking them into believing they had snared some prey. These web strands were thick and haphazard in formation, almost like cobwebs in dusty corners. But these were no silken strands that could be torn with a breeze.
“You don’t know what caused these webs?” Annon asked, his voice grave and tremulous.
“No,” Tyrus answered. “I never encountered them. We didn’t make it this far.”
Hettie lifted her boot and sticky strands came up with it. “They are everywhere. We can’t use the Tay al-Ard again. What then?”
Phae struggled to regain her feet and leaned on Shion to stand. The webs were frightening, shrouding the view in every direction. What army of spiders had created it?
Tyrus frowned, stroking his beard. “The Arch-Rike knew we might return this way. This must be a direct path to the promontory, so he’s encircled the area with a net of webs. We must be cautious, for the spinners are probably still near.”
“There is a legend in the Druidecht lore,” Annon said. “A race of spirits that is half-human, half-spider. They’re called the Raekni.” He swallowed. “They’re quite large—the size of one of us. We should watch the trees above. They can move faster than us through this barrier and have stingers that paralyze their victims—” He turned around abruptly. “I heard something.”
“It was the wind,” Hettie said, touching his arm. “Let’s use the fireblood to burn our way through.”
Tyrus nodded, scanning the ground and then the trees. Hettie reached out toward one of the thick strands, and blue fire burst from her fingers. She held it against the strands, but nothing happened. She summoned more heat but the webs resisted its burning. The flame in her hand snuffed out.
“Of course,” Tyrus said darkly. “It is enchanted against flame. He means to hold us here until the Tay al-Ard refreshes or force us to cut our way through and reveal ourselves. We don’t have time to dally. Try your blade, Hettie.”
The Romani girl nodded and slung her bow across her shoulder and drew her knives. She slashed at the first cord and it severed, but there was an eerie reverberation in the woods, like a plaintive discordant chord from a harp.
“Quickly,” Tyrus said. “Shion and Hettie—lead the way. Do you have a dagger, Annon?”
The Druidecht nodded and produced a small hunting knife.
“I have one,” Phae said, but Tyrus waved at her not to draw it. He put his arm around her and went with her into the gap carved by Shion and Hettie. Prince Aran took up the rear, searching the heights of the trees for a sign of the Raekni.
As they cut their way through the thick barrier, Phae felt the stirrings of pain begin again deep inside her. She breathed rapidly, taking little gulps of breath, and hugged herself to endure the pain and still walk. She was lightheaded after vomiting and still felt no hunger. As more of the strands were severed, a strange music seemed to linger in the air, wafting unseen as strands of different length were snapped. It was a ghostly hymn, a funeral dirge. It made Phae shudder.
Hettie and Shion struck down the webs that blocked their way. Sometimes the nets were so thick that it took both of them to clear the path so that they could pass single file. Annon craned his neck, staring up at the trees.
“Shadows,” he said, pointing upward.
Through the veil of strands came the outsized shadow of spiders, skittering in the trees above them. These were huge, man-sized, and easily outpaced them. Phae saw only three, no more.
“If their webs are immune to flame,” Tyrus said, “it is likely they are protected as well.”
“The webbing is thicker ahead,” Hettie said. “How did they work so quickly?”
A low-hanging branch blocked the path, and Tyrus helped Phae duck. Glossy strands stuck to her face and she brushed them away. Their boots crunched in the leaves and twigs. Anticipation coursed through her veins, mixing with worry and dread. The shadows of another spider creature passed overhead, making her shrink.
Sweat began to glisten on Hettie and Annon’s brows as they continued to labor. Only Shion could work with unflagging strength, his expression dark and brooding. The pace was slow and tedious, and it became apparent that the spiders had been more than thorough in securing the way against intruders.
“At least the Weir won’t be able to reach us here,” Hettie murmured. She raised her arm to slash another strand. A spurting sound occurred just then and Hettie was hauled off her feet by her outstretched arm.
“Hettie!” Annon yelled, lunging forward, but Shion was faster. He grabbed her by the belt and pulled her back.
“Cut the strand!” Shion barked, yanking as Hettie squirmed.