Annon managed to slice through the bond that had snared her and she fell to the ground with a thud. Her legs began to kick and twitch and when Annon rolled her over, he saw her eyes had rolled back in her head as she convulsed in heavy spasms. A bloodstain bloomed from the front of her shirt.
A discordant chittering sound filled the air and new lines of webbing began to streak down at them. Tyrus drew a blade and fended off the webs as they came for him. At that moment, Phae doubled over in pain, seized by a violent cramp in her abdomen. She crumpled to the ground, pulling in her legs, groaning with anguish. The pain wracked her, blurring her vision as the web strands began to stick to everyone. She heard voices cry in alarm and felt something land next to her on the ground. A furry, stout spider leg was next to Phae’s cheek, and she writhed and twisted away. Another pain struck her on the side as she rolled, and she saw the large black stinger protruding into her shirt. It withdrew immediately, dripping crimson.
“Shion!” she screamed, experiencing a surge of fiery pain.
Looking up, she saw him slashing wildly, beset by four spiders at once, a mass of quivering furry legs and spindle sacs that shuddered and bobbed in the fight. In horror, she watched another twisting Hettie into a bundle of spindly webs, wrapping her in the strands with effortless ease. Phae tried to sit up but the spider that had stung her batted her down. She felt her legs lashed together and suddenly the world was spinning, faster and faster, whirling round and round, her stomach so tender that she blacked out.
Paedrin pushed aside the branches, parting them enough to squeeze through. Inhaling again, he lifted free of their clutches and breathed in the cool morning air. The sun was just peeking through a long mane of puffy clouds, coloring it such a startling shade of pink that he gaped in wonderment. He drank in the rays of the light, feeling it on his face. He inhaled again, rising even higher, floating over the sea of treetops. It was such a strange sight, like a vast plain of rolling hills, except he was looking at the rounded caps of skeletal oak trees, some still clutching dying leaves or clumps of mistletoe. The view of the sky was intense and he felt tears prick his eyes at the beauty and majesty of the dawn and the gratitude for life.
“What do you see?” Baylen called from far down below. Paedrin had almost forgotten the Cruithne.
“A glorious sunrise,” he said. He invoked the power of the Sword to keep his height as stable as he could and began to cast around in each direction. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for until he saw it. “I see something! That must be the center of the woods.”
“How can you tell?”
“There’s a big hill made of stone. It’s not that far. It rises above the rest of the forest.”
“A mountain?”
“No, not that big. It’s a cleft of rock. There are . . . ruins. I see ruins. Looks like a castle keep was once built there. Some broken stairs leading up from the woods, facing us. It’s really not that far.”
“How big?” Baylen asked.
“It’s probably the size of the Arch-Rike’s palace in Kenatos. Now that I look at it . . . it seems very much in the same style. The parapets are all fallen and broken, but there are segments of wall still standing. Some archways that haven’t collapsed yet. It’s overgrown with brush, but I think it’s the way. If we can get there before turning back, both of us, then maybe that will help in the future.”
Even though the sky was beautiful and radiant, the woods were still cracked and diseased. The smell in the air was moldy and sick. He looked around in each direction, wanting to make sure he had seen everything.
“I’m glad I came up here,” Paedrin called down. “I see some huge spiderwebs over that way, blanketing an entire section of forest. If we keep the way we’re going, we’ll miss it entirely.”
“I don’t like spiders.”
“I agree with you. Best to stay clear if we can.” A series of black shapes rose from the trees and began flapping toward him. “Ah, looks like more Cockatrice are coming this way. They see me. I’d better come down.”
Paedrin maneuvered through the branches again, hearing the sound of the coming creatures. He dropped down to the forest floor quickly, motioning for Baylen to follow him in the direction he had seen the ruins.
The Cruithne was dirt stained and weary. They had been walking all night long. The sound of the Fear Liath had made sleep nearly impossible, but Paedrin felt like they had to keep moving, even if they were walking in circles. Standing still meant death. With the dawn arriving, he knew the Fear Liath would go back to its lair again, unwilling to meet its own death from their blades in the daylight.
“Do you think we’re going to make it out of here alive?” Baylen asked as they started to march toward the ruins.