A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (6 page)

Rubbing my eyes, I wondered if stress was to blame. The greatest danger I’d experienced to this point in my life was when I stepped on Old Father’s favorite clay pipe and crushed it to dust. He hadn’t said a harsh word, but disappointment had weighted his gaze and made me heart-sore.

Shrill whistles rent the air, and my ears rang as Lleu returned them.

“What’s happening?” Dragged from my memories, I struggled to shift mental tracks.

“We have company.” Lleu inclined his head, listening. “Vaughn says ten boars ahead and at least as many riders. There may be more on foot.” He grunted. “They’re definitely Theridiidae.”

I stared so long, so hard at the back of his head, my vision blurred. “What do we do?”

“You do nothing. Keep behind me and duck when I give the signal. Run if I bloody well tell you to.” His shoulders tensed. “If it comes down to it, I’ll hold them off while you take Rouge.”

I fisted his coat. “Are you mad? I’d never find my way from the forest alone.”

“That’s why you’ll take Pascale with you. Vaughn says you two are what matters.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Do you always listen to what Vaughn says?”

“I like my head on good terms with my neck.” He laughed. “I’m not one to question orders.”

“If you mean to reassure me…” He was far from it. I tightened my grip on the saddle horn.

“Hush.” He straightened, giving me the most protection possible with his back. “All’s well.”

Wind whistled past my ear. I swatted at the noise as I would an insect. That’s when I saw it.

An arrow lodged in the snow. A warning shot fired.

“Halt,” a voice boomed from the edge of the trees.

Lleu did as he was asked, and Vaughn’s mount sidled up to ours. Pascale met my gaze, and I was relieved to see my fear reflected back at me. In a blink, her expression went hard. Her fingers tapped against Vaughn’s spine. He shrugged her off, but then he nodded with reluctance.

“On behalf of Maven Colleen of the Theridiidae, I name Pascale of the Araneidae murderess of our maven’s beloved son, Kellen.” A lone figure, short and squat, strode into sight. “Surrender her and you may leave in peace.” He pointed a meaty finger past me, and I turned. “Ah, I missed you there, Bram. Hiding behind the Mimetidae? Or are the Araneidae the ones hiding their pet?”

“Which of us hides?” Bram glowered at him. “Step from the safety of your archers.”

“I amend my claim.” The Theridiidae emissary snarled, “I’ll have the traitor as well.”

“Make up your bloody mind,” Bram groused. “It’s too damn cold out here for negotiating.”

“These are demands, not requests.” The emissary sneered. “Maven Colleen wants Pascale as much as she wants to flay the skin from your bones. It’s my duty, my honor, to serve our maven.”

“Colleen knows how to stage a homecoming.” Bram’s smile was grim. “I’ll give her that.”

“You’ll get the welcome you deserve, traitor, and your sly tongue won’t spare you.”

I startled when Vaughn cleared his throat.

“As riveting as I find this byplay,” he said dryly, “Pascale was entrusted to me by her sister, Maven Lourdes of the Araneidae. While Pascale is under my protection, you can’t have her.” His eyes narrowed. “Bram is the ally of my ally, and he is under my protection. You can’t have him.”

Bram flinched as if Vaughn had struck him with those words, and then he grinned.

The emissary glared at Vaughn. “This matter is our business. Not yours. If you wish to live, surrender them both. It’s only right. Then you and your clansmen may leave with my blessing.”

“
Lies
,” hissed a voice near my ear.

I whipped my head toward the sound. Vaughn flanked me on one side and Bram the other. I knew their voices well enough to be sure neither had spoken. Cutting my eyes toward the trees, I saw the shadow had returned. Careful not to draw undue notice, I asked, “You think he’s lying?”

The shade nodded in answer to my whispered question.

“Shh.” Lleu reached back and patted my thigh. “Fear is loosening your tongue.”

I wanted to refute his claim, but explaining what I saw meant believing it myself.

The spirit had followed me. Ashes or no, herbs or no, the feat should have been impossible.

Lleu squeezed my knee. “Remember what I told you.”

“I…” Wanted to tell him what I thought of his plans, but Pascale kicked my shin. Slanting a glare her way, I noticed how she clutched at her coat. Peeling back its edge, she exposed a blade.

Dear Gods
…my mind reeled…
who had given the murderer a weapon?

“Well? I won’t offer again,” the emissary called. “I’m freezing my arse off out here.”

Vaughn’s black eyes turned to me. They were as fathomless as the tunnels beneath Erania, and in this moment, just as cold. He mouthed the words that clenched my heart.
Run, little mouse, go.

With a solid shove, Lleu knocked me from the saddle. I landed on my knees in the snow. My satchel hit the ground beside me. “Go.” Metal scraped in my ears as swords were drawn. “Run.”

Another muted thud as a second body hit the snow.

“You heard him.” Pascale snatched the satchel and my hand, dragging us both behind her.

I ran blindly with my head turned toward Vaughn. I watched him charge, watched as archers took their aim. I had never been so terrified for another person in my life. “We can’t leave them.”

“We don’t have a choice.” She stumbled every other step. Ours was hardly a smooth escape. “If we don’t leave now, there won’t be anyone to return and heal them later. By the gods,
run
.”

Knowing she was right, that I was useless in battle and only good for mending the aftermath of violence, I followed her into the forest while praying no predators hunted these frozen woods.

“Pascale escaped into the forest,” the emissary called. “Free the canis.
Get her back.
”

Bloodcurdling howls raised hairs down my arms and made Pascale trip over her feet.

“
Canis
,” I panted, lungs burning and hope thawing. “They have a hunting pack?”

“They must have bought them from a northland breeder. No southlander could—” Howling, this time much closer, cut Pascale short. Fresh snow had camouflaged a hole, and her foot wrung it. We tumbled down an embankment, landed in a snowdrift as deep as my calves, and we stuck.

Pascale lay sprawled on her back, gasping where the wind had been knocked out of her.

“Get. Moving.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her. “Is that…the canis?”

Their hunting song filled the woods around us, beautiful and fearsome. It terrified me.

“I can’t.” She panted, rolling into a sitting position and tugging on her ankles. “I’m caught. There’s something under the snow, a root or buried tree limb.”

“What’s caught?” I spun around, searching, frantic. “Both your legs are clear.”

“Elder Jean’s parting gift, a pair of custom shackles.” She plucked a nigh-transparent thread with her finger. “They’re made from Araneidae silk. I know the maker, and his work is flawless.”

The threads were finer than a single strand of my hair, and I hadn’t spotted them against all the white. Now I saw the thin, silvery anklets she wore and the chain spanning between her legs.

An odd calm settled about me. “Where’s your blade?”

“It won’t help.” She grunted as she struggled. “I stole it from Bram. It’s not mine.”

Snatching the blade from her thigh, I tucked it into my satchel. “Can nothing else cut it?”

She showed me her teeth. “Just these and I’m not that flexible.”

Her teeth could cut the thread?
And I thought Vaughn’s teeth were dangerous…

A flurry of movement snapped my head up and to the right. Several yards away, hip braced on a tree, the same shade watched our struggles with the patient impassivity learned after death.

“Who are you?” I staggered between him and Pascale. “Tell me what you want.”

He shook his head and pointed at Pascale, then cupped his ear. More canis songs sang of the hunt. He shoved from the tree and straightened his coat, turning his back on me, facing the pack.

“I don’t have time for this,” I muttered. Kneeling, I tugged on Pascale’s feet, but the silk was tangled in a root. “What sort of fool sends a prisoner in shackles into a possible confrontation?”

“Elder Jean is no fool.” Her lips twisted into an ugly smile. “That I promise you.”

“Run.”
A chill wind tickled my ears.
“Run. Now.”

“I’m not leaving without her.” I dug out the root and wrapped my hands around it.

“Who are you talking to?” Pascale grasped my wrists.

“Let go and
pull
.” I threw my weight into ripping the roots from the ground. Once I earned a bit of slack, I unsheathed her knife and hacked the root to pieces. “Get up. On your feet.
Run
.”

She did, and we did, until the forest was a wintry blur about us.

“Come on.” Pascale’s voice rose. “It’s not much farther now.”

I crushed the kernel of hope warming my chest. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a hatch, there.” She pointed as we ran. “See that fat birch tree? Aim for it.”

Legs pumping, I did as she asked. The tree was round and bare and so far away from here. I despaired of us reaching it before the canis reached us, but their pants and yips spurred me faster.

Don’t panic and don’t look back. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Quickly.

I was afraid to measure the distance ahead of us. “Exactly how many hatches are there?”

“Enough so no Araneidae is ever left in the cold,” she said. “Not on the main roads at least.”

Now Vaughn’s insistence we keep to the main road made more sense.
Vaughn.
I quashed the fear making my heart knock against my ribs. Pascale was right. We ran now for a chance to save them later. Vaughn was a warrior. I had to trust him to fend for himself as we had been left to do.

Legs quivering worse than unset pudding, I collided with Pascale when she skidded to a halt. She knelt at the base of the old-growth tree and scooped snow in heaping handfuls. With a grunt, I sank beside her, and we labored to uncover the hatch. After some unladylike swears, we cracked open the hideaway, and she shoved me inside. She followed, slamming the hatch shut behind us.

“That ought to keep them out.” When she tested the lock, she elbowed me. “Sorry.”

“No.” I glanced around the tiny nook. “I’m actually relieved to see that not all of your hidey-holes are as lavish as the last one.” This one was little more than a hole in the ground. “I like it.”

She leaned her head back and exhaled. For a long while, the only sound was our panting.

“The first was special.” When she spoke, her voice held a brittle edge. “It was intended for our clan heads to use in times of need… It was meant as a hideaway for my…father and mother.”

Unsure what to say given the fact her shackles were borne of her involvement in their deaths, I fumbled for a less painful topic of conversation and came up empty. “It did appear well-used.”

“He was a great archer. He loved to hunt. He and Lourdes…” She waved in dismissal. “That shelter became his favorite retreat for winter hunting. That’s why it’s so large and well-stocked.”

I patted the nearest wall, an arm’s length away. “So this is what the other hatches are like?”

“For the most part, yes, they become more utilitarian the farther from the city limits you go.”

I dusted my hands clean. “That makes sense.”

Reduced to small talk, we elected to sit and gather our wits, but the silence gnawed on me.

When my eyes shut, I saw Vaughn used as a pincushion for Theridiidae arrows. My stomach roiled. Leaving him had been an act of cowardice. I should have stayed and helped…somehow.

When a loud thump rang through the hatch, I pitched, grateful for the distraction.

“What do we do?” I braced on the wall and listened. “Our plan has a rather obvious flaw.”

“Without establishing a code,” she agreed, “there’s no way to know who’s out there.”

Muffled voices and pounding fists set my teeth on edge. Every moment that passed made me more certain whoever stood outside the hatch, it wasn’t Vaughn. He wasn’t loud or forceful. He was quiet, clever. Ridiculous to think so, but I believe I would have known if he waited out there.

Meditation here was too risky. Nerves shot my focus. I couldn’t read their auras to be sure.

“Then we wait.” I made myself as comfortable as possible.

She nodded. “We wait.”

Outside, the pounding ceased and the yells quieted. We had been run to ground with no way to cover our tracks. We were caught well and good with no hope of escape unless it was allowed.

Scraping sounds filtered through the tree trunk. Pascale and I turned our heads and followed the odd scratching noise as it circled us twice more. Laughter came next. Pascale shifted closer. I rubbed her back and murmured reassurances for us both. Our confinement stretched past infinity.