3 Weaver of Shadow by William King Read Free Book Online Page A

bindings holding the cocoons to their undersides were being sliced off. The bound prisoners were raised up by elves and spiders to join previous captives in the webs. As this happened, he saw one of the smaller spiders scuttle over them. Mandibles closed on a squirming prisoner and suddenly all struggles stopped, whether through death or the effect of some narcotic venom, Kormak could not tell.
    He fully expected this to happen to him, but much to his surprise the spider carrying him kept on, moving into a hole in the trunk of the great tree somewhere among its roots. It kept moving down a long dimly lit tunnel until it emerged into a vast cavern, the ceiling of which must have been the roots and base of the great dead tree.
     
    In the centre of the root cavern was what looked like a masked elf woman. The mask was carved from very white wood and made to resemble the face of a skull. The rest of the elf’s body was covered in a living, armoured carapace from which eight spiderish limbs emerged, as if a huge arachnid wrapped her whole torso. She looked partially devoured, as if only her head and limbs had escaped being eaten. Her elvish limbs were tattooed with patterns that were disturbing to the eye. In one hand she held a staff. Hundreds and hundreds of small spiders ranging in size from ones so small they were barely visible to ones with bodies the size of a fist crawled all over her. She studied Kormak with mad, brilliant eyes behind which the Shadow dwelled.
    “Welcome to my home, Guardian,” she said. “I am Weaver. I speak for the Spider God.”
    Elves moved forward and cut Kormak’s cocoon free from the belly of the beast. He fell face down on the floor, prostrate before the shaman. He tried to curse but his lips and tongue were beyond his control and only a weird croaking emerged.
    A carpet of spiders flowed from the shaman’s body and crawled over Kormak. He was glad his flesh was too numb to feel their tiny feet tickling his skin. He was also glad the cocoon wrapped him so tightly they could not get among his clothing. Two elves pulled him upright.
    One of the spider limbs protruding from Weaver’s carapace reached forward. It ended in a spike that reached out towards Kormak’s face. For a moment, it hovered over his eye and Kormak was afraid that Weaver was going to stab him there, then it moved down and rested against his cheek. There was a strange pricking sensation as numbed skin moved and slowly sensation started to return. Small spiders ran along the limb and landed on Kormak’s face. For a mad moment, he fancied that the pins and needles of returning feeling were caused by the movement of their limbs.
    “You will be able to talk in a few moments. You will be able to answer my questions.” Her bright mad gaze fixed on Kormak. A spider the size of a coin crawled over her nose and across her forehead. A smaller one crawled up her nostril. Kormak found it easy to imagine it crawling all the way to Weaver’s brain and injecting it with strange venoms.
    “What do you want with me, Weaver?” Kormak said. His words were slow and distorted. His throat felt dry. His skin tingled oddly.
    “I wanted to look at you, Champion of the Sun. I wanted to see what this terrible warrior who cut down so many of my people looked like. I wanted to know you and get a sense of what you are like.” Her voice was mocking.
    “Why?”
    Weaver threw back her head and laughed. The sound was velvety and incongruously lovely. “I am supposed to be asking the questions here. You are my prisoner.”
    “You have not asked me any questions yet. You have only talked.”
    “It is a weakness, I know. I have always been fascinated by what was different and you are as different from the men of the Woods as a wolf is from a dog. Are all of the members of your Order like you?”
    Kormak considered his answer. He could see nothing to be gained by lying, and he felt an odd compulsion to speak settling on him anyway. It was the venom,