Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Thomasin whirled, unable to see what had Edith screaming and thrashing against the walls. She grappled in the dark, hands searching for Edith, who had ripped her own hand from Thomasin’s when she started screaming.
She found Edith’s arm, the muscle rigid beneath her skin, but the woman jumped away from her before Thomasin could grab hold. “Edith!” Thomasin shouted, hoping to break her from the wild panic.
“Run!” Edith’s hands slammed into Thomasin’s side and pushed her forward. She had no choice but to stumble into a run as Edith pressed into her, right on her heels. Thomasin could feel Edith’s frantic breaths puffing against the back of her neck.
“What’s going on?” she demanded as they ran.
“Just keep moving!” Edith punctuated the command with another shove.
Thomasin was too confused to do anything but follow her orders.
She had only ever seen Edith this scared during the axe-murderer incident, and though Thomasin was fairly certain there wasn’t an axe-wielding lunatic down here, she was still alarmed about whatever had made Edith so scared.
“I think we’re clear,” Edith said eventually, her steps slowing.
“Clear from what?” Thomasin came to a stop.
“Spiders,” Edith said, the single word coming out haunted and breathy.
A disbelieving laugh sounded deep in Thomasin’s chest. “We just broke into a bloody sprint for spiders?”
“Oh, and I suppose you would stay perfectly calm and collected if they were crawling all over you?”
Thomasin could practically see Edith’s hands on her hips, her chin jutting out in challenge. “I would,” Thomasin challenged right back. “Because I am bigger than a spider, and smarter.”
Edith snorted in an oh really now? sort of way.
“You know, if I’m smarter than a spider, then you’re definitely smarter than one, so there’s really nothing to be afraid of.”
“You’re so right,” Edith drawled. “Next time, I’ll just read poetry at them and they’ll wither on the spot with shame.”
Thomasin took Edith’s hand again and gave it a firm squeeze. “Now you’re getting it.”
“Just keep going.” Edith’s eye roll was almost audible.
Trailing her hand against the wall, dirt crumbling off beneath her fingers, Thomasin continued.
After about fifty paces, her fingers skipped over something metal.
She murmured an apology when Edith’s forehead smacked into her shoulder blade.
Thomasin followed the thin curling shape of the metal with her finger.
She realized what it was when her hand closed around something wooden and cylindrical.
Lifting the torch from the sconce, she dug the little pack of matches from her pocket. There had been no use in lighting them earlier only for them to burn out in seconds. With the practiced ease of someone who smoked hash far too often, Thomasin lit the match and ignited the torch.
The flame roared to life, illuminating the passageway.
The first thing Thomasin saw was Edith’s face, eyes round with abject terror, mouth hanging open.
For a terrible second, Thomasin thought that it was her that Edith was afraid of, but then she followed Edith’s line of sight, just above Thomasin’s shoulder.
She turned on a slow heel and nearly dropped the torch.
Beyond where the torch had hung, the passageway opened into another rectangular chamber of similar size to their room at the inn.
This would have been great, except the ceiling of this new room was canopied with spider webs.
Thick, lacy, intricate webs all weaving into one tangled mass of horrific white silk.
In the little gaps between webs and strands, dark, spindly masses weaved in and out of sight.
They were too fast, and it was too dark for Thomasin to make out their exact shape, but they were enormous.
Breath tickled her cheekbone, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. But it was just Edith leaning in to whisper, “Know any good poems?”
Too preoccupied with the phantom feeling of little spider legs running all over her, Thomasin was left without a glib remark. She just swallowed roughly and watched as spiders descended from the ceiling on single threads, their legs contorting and dancing as they spun their webs.
The walls weren’t safe either. There were burrows and nooks in the dirt, and the spiders skittered in and out, up the walls and down to the floor.
Never in her life had she seen so many spiders in one place, and never had she thought to add spiders to her list of fears.
But if she had known that this room existed, she would have been having nightmares about it long before now.
“Do you think this is a puzzle? Like the last one?” Thomasin asked desperately.
“I don’t think so. The spiders might just be coincidental. An unintended consequence of the chosen environment.” Edith sounded as gutted by this appraisal as Thomasin felt.
“So what do we do?”
“We have to go through,” Edith said hollowly.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Thomasin shook out the fist that her hand had curled into of its own accord and jogged in place for a couple steps to build up momentum. She was about to launch herself into the horror, when Edith grabbed her arm.
“Wait a second.”
“I was all amped up!” Thomasin protested.
Edith ignored this, and said, “Shine the torch over by the sconce.”
Just to the left of it, right before the tunnel opened up into the spider chamber, a little gold plate was hammered into the wall. There was an inscription etched into it, the fine lines illuminated by the flame.
“It’s Latin. ‘Only may the bravest knights be granted entry into Avalon, for to walk the path is to walk your fears.’ ”
“What does that mean?”
“This isn’t a puzzle, but it is a part of the quest.”
“So it’s a challenge?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m shit at puzzles, but this I can do.”
“Okay, what’s the plan, then?” Edith asked, her body shrinking back into the shadows, away from the chamber of writhing spiders.
Thomasin’s thoughts circled uselessly. She couldn’t well shoot every spider, and the noise would likely make them scatter unpredictably. Her daggers were her strongest weapon, but no matter how good she was at wielding them, two blades were no match for at least a couple hundred spiders.
“Are they poisonous?” she asked.
Edith’s eyes narrowed at her. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You know everything!”
“I know everything about the things I like,” she seethed, “and I hate spiders!”
“There’s no need to shout,” Thomasin whispered furiously.
In truth, Edith had only been speaking in a very aggressive whisper, but the sentiment of shouting was clear in her tone.
Both of them seemed too nervous to actually speak above a whisper.
Thomasin didn’t know if their voices would draw or repel the spiders, and she didn’t think it was worth finding out.
A grumble of frustration escaped from Edith’s throat, and her eyes went skyward. After another breath, she closed her eyes and let her shoulders relax. When she opened them again, the fear was still there, but there was also a new determination.
“We need to focus. Remember what you told me? You can’t let fear get in your head when you’re fighting.”
“I assumed your enemy would be another person when I said that, not—”
“Thomasin.”
“You’re right. Focus.” Thomasin clapped a hand against Edith’s shoulder to reassure the other woman, but also, strangely, it made Thomasin feel stronger.
She shook her head. She’d unpack that later.
Turning to face the spiders, she felt Edith come up next to her.
They stood shoulder to shoulder before the chamber of horrors.
Thomasin forced herself to focus on just one spider. One that was nearest to them, perched at the center of its web, front legs picking and plucking.
Its torso was oval shaped, thick and fuzzy, with coarse hairs coating its brown body.
The legs were long and disgustingly spindly.
The worst part, though, was the head. It was crowned by little nubbin feelers on each side, and in between them was a set of pincers.
The fangs were the shape of water droplets that had been sharpened to dangerous points.
But instead of clear blue, they were a blackish-brown sheen of fuzz.
The legs moved fast for something so big. She imagined the spiders swarming them the minute they stepped into the room, pincers breaking through, legs creeping along her skin, furry and quick.
Focus, she reminded herself, Edith’s voice loud in her head.
“I’m going to go with the scorpion principle,” she announced.
“Excuse me?” Edith asked in the way one spoke when they were concerned about someone’s mental soundness.
“The bigger the scorpion, the less poisonous it is.”
“Oh, okay, yes. Let’s go with that,” Edith agreed immediately.
“This is a part of the quest, and it wouldn’t make sense to just kill everyone who makes it this far.
The inscription said that this is about being brave, which means they are testing our courage, not our spider knowledge.
We just have to be brave enough to walk through. ”
“That was all very logical.”
“The best treasure hunts are.”
“I guess there’s nothing left for it.” Thomasin’s hand tightened around the torch.
“I don’t know, I’m sure we could find something else to talk about.”
Thomasin met Edith’s sideways look, and the corner of Thomasin’s mouth curved into a smile at the beseeching look on her face. “What would King Arthur do?” Thomasin asked.
Edith nodded and then took Thomasin’s hand.
Their fingers wove together, so tight it was almost painful.
Thomasin thought of nothing but the feel of their palms pressed together, of the smooth skin of Edith’s hand beneath her fingertips.
She stroked her thumb back and forth, met Edith’s wobbly smile, then said, “Let’s fucking do this. ”