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If I did... “I will. But for now, goodbye, Ellum,” I said, took my headphones off to toss aside, grabbed hold of the translation device to keep it safe, and then leapt.
I hitthe end of my streamers like the world’s heaviest yo-yo—but the Sikorsky could take it. I needed to free it quickly, lest dropping me off keep it still for too long and turn it into a sitting duck. I spun my way further down quickly, looking for a safe place to drop after I severed the line. My all-black eyes were much better than any human’s, and I didn’t require the night vision assistance that many of them wore when we were on missions. I spotted a slight space between the trees, where maybe a lightning bolt had recently felled one, and others had not taken up its space. I aimed for that, and then let go.
I fell like a rock—but I could create a parachute out behind me. I fanned a sheet of silk, caught it, and then used it to slow my fall, wondering if one of the rockets would now come for me in the night. The shell of my spider half was black with orange highlights—and my human half’s skin was dark and rough, with sturdy plates in places to protect me.
But the silk I spun was a milky-clear white. Individual threads were almost see-through, but I suspected with them aggregated into the parachute behind me, I appeared like a shooting star.
The second I felt safe dropping the rest of the way, I cutit loose and did so, catching myself on all eight legs in an empty clearing with a jolt and a bounce.
I was here now.
Home, or close enough.
My landing had disturbed the forest sounds around me, but only for a moment. Soon, one by one, local creatures restarted the comforting calls of their kinds. The air was thick with humidity, so much so I suspected the spiracles that lined my abdomen could pull the moisture out of it, and I could save all the fluids in my bag for the human.
There was tech in my gear that could map my way to Threadstone with immaculate precision, but right now—even though I didn’t recognize the stars overhead or the feel of the ground beneath my feet—I wanted to trust in luck.
I turned toward the way that felt the best and started walking.
Four
NIA’N’AN
I mademy way through the foliage as quietly as I could.
I frightened unseen things ahead of me; I could hear them darting through the underbrush. Meanwhile, the eight sensitive feet hidden beneath my claws reported in all sorts of strange chemicals from the new land beneath me—the decomposition of leaves that had fallen, the acidity of crushed ants—and swarms of insects flew up to investigate if my sweat would taste good to them before I swatted them aside.
I kept dabbing the end of my abdomen down as I traveled, leaving one solitary trail of silk behind me, so that I could find my way back if I needed to, but something told me I wouldn’t ever come this way again.
I was becoming more tired by the moment, even though I’d just had such a long sleep—but it felt like the sweetexhaustion one experienced after a great journey. A rest well deserved, after releasing something heavy at last.
I didn’t want to betray Royce’s confidence and not complete this mission, but I was thinking how glad I was I had made no strong promises to the man when the glint of a familiar eye-pattern inside a roll of leaves on a tree distracted me from thoughts of my own death.
I took the translator off and spoke in the language I knew my tiny-kin would understand, coaxing him out with the small amount of magic I possessed.
“Tell me of the future, tell me of the past: has anything strange moved through here?”
The spider emerged from the leaves of the tree he was hiding in. His leg-span was as wide as the edges of my palm, and unlike me, all of him was covered in fur. He began to pantomime for me, flinging his legs and abdomen up, rocking back and forth, mimicking the stomping of great creatures through the brush.
“Orcs?” I guessed.
The tiny-kin didn’t know. All big things were alike to him—except for me.
But then he spun his forelegs up into a tight bundle, like he was trussing something.
“And they carried food?” I asked—but realized it was more likely that the spider was remembering the kidnappers, carrying someone bound who did not want to be there.
Sloane.
I was on her path—although possibly too late to save her.
“I thank you for your kindness,” I said, in our common tongue, but then the spider began waving frantically, gesturing at me, then to himself, and back again. It took a moment longer for me to intuit what he wanted to know.
“I do not know if you will ever be big like me,” I said. “But I wish you luck on your journey.”
I traveledthe rest of the night and into the day, eventually finding trails that the terrorists must have taken. They hadn’t tried to hide them—their scent was gone already, but I could smell Shiranak’s many unfortunate orcs.
And by evening time, as the sun was setting set behind Threadstone, I knew I was getting close to having to choose my entry point. I could see innumerable caves entrances pocketing its sheer, daunting walls, like so many dark, half-lidded eyes.
