Henry slashed through a thick wall of cobwebs before him, his blade slicing through the fabric-like material as if it cut through canvas. The clairvoyance spell still lingered above his head, the light pulsing further on as he stumbled through the webbing and continued further on.

  Even without the spell, he knew he was on the right path; the webbing was growing thicker and more frequent, becoming more akin to barriers than simple webs. He had cut through no less than eight of these makeshift walls so far, and the rock faces in the tunnel were now covered by layers of webs. So far, he hadn't run into the spiders again, but he knew it was only a simple matter of time before he reached the heart of their lair.

  As if reading his thoughts, a faint chittering echoed from the tunnel ahead; he stopped, listening to the noise intently. It slowly grew louder and louder, along with the sounds of skittering.

  They were coming. Henry quickly sheathed his sword and stood off to the side, sticking to the webbed wall; he wasn't eager to be crawled on again, especially not by a spider as large as the one Rebecca had killed.

  When the sounds of dozens of legs drew just beyond his vision, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head, doing his best to cover any openings in his clothes. Sure enough, the sound of the spiders shifted to just in front of him, and he could feel dozens of them bumping into his boots or crawling over them. A few crawled as high as his knees, but quickly passed over him again, and before long the noise slowly faded as the majority of the spiders passed him by.

  He finally dared to open his eyes, catching the last of them transiting the tunnel. These were the larger ones, some of them the size of a horse. One of these large spiders' legs bumped into Henry's chest as it passed, and he stifled a yelp of surprise. The leg, as long as Henry's and as hairy as a dog's, paused from that split second noise, and the flow of spiders halted.

  Henry felt his heart leap to his mouth as the large spider that bumped him turned to look at him. Its eight eyes, glistening black pools that shimmered slightly from the glowing trail overhead, seemed to stare right into Henry's, as its mandibles slowly clicked and knocked against each other. He held his breath, not daring to make another noise, feeling his heart pound in his chest; he willed the monster to move on, to leave him be, to join the rest of its ilk down the tunnel. But still, the creature persisted, instead leaning closer to the boy.

  The spider's face was mere inches away from his, its hot foul breath washing over him at an erratic pace. He could see its immense thorax swell rapidly with each breath, its mouth dripping thick white saliva down onto his boots; it chittered, a noise that caused him to instinctively flinch.

  Move on. Panic threatened to set in, but Henry held fast, tapping in to his reserves of willpower to remain calm. Just move on. I'm nothing of interest.

  The spider tilted its head, as if pondering Henry's thoughts. The eight eyes remained fixed on him, watching his every move.

  Move along. He felt his hand instinctively creep to his sword handle; he desperately fought the urge to draw it, still willing himself to remain passive. Just move on. Please.

  It stood there for a moment longer, before finally turning away and continuing on its journey down the tunnel. The others followed behind it, and soon Henry was alone once more in the tunnel.

  Thank the Lady. He sank to his knees, finally allowing himself to breathe. He found himself shaking as the adrenaline slowly ebbed and wore off, his heartbeat gradually returning to its normal pace; even in the fights he'd been in before, nothing compared to this horrifying experience of being face-to-face with a horse-sized spider in a dark tunnel, helpless to fight it lest he be swarmed as well.

  After allowing himself a second to catch his breath, he stood back up and resumed his progress deeper into the lair, hacking and slashing his way through the tunnel.

  The webs had gone from the consistency of canvas to wood; he was no longer slashing at it, but rather chipping away at it, the material now hardened and reinforced in some way the further he went. He hacked his way through three of these barriers with great difficulty, before coming to a web that covered the entire breadth of the tunnel. As he touched his sword to it, he grimaced; the web was as hard as rock.

  However, when he withdrew his blade, he noted that it was covered in some sort of viscous liquid, a pale slimy substance not unlike what he saw from the spider earlier; with grim realization, he deduced that the larger spiders must have used their saliva to reinforce this barrier. The clairvoyance spell overhead continued on past it; Rebecca was surely behind this wall. He swiped his sword against the webbed wall in frustration, generating a small shower of sparks.

  To his surprise, the wall caught flame for a moment, the fluid igniting momentarily from the sparks. He swiped his sword again, but at steeper angle so as to generate more sparks; this time, a greater portion of the wall caught fire, burning intensely for a brief period before dying down once more.

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  He stuck his sword into the areas that burned the most, and found that it had gone from a rock-like consistency to a more jelly-like texture; he tried to scrape his sword again to create more sparks, but the softer surface wouldn't allow it.

  Damn. He thought for a second, before an idea popped into his head. He rummaged about in his satchel for a second, before finding his quarry: the bottle of medicinal spirits he carried on him.

  He poured the contents of the bottle onto his blade, coating the steel entirely; the strong scent of alcohol filled his nostrils, a welcome respite from the musty, bestial odor of the lair. As the last glugs of alcohol washed over his sword, he lifted it with both hands and struck it against a section of the wall that was still rock-hard.

  This time, the small flurry of sparks burst into a cloud of flames and light as Henry's sword caught fire and blazed brightly. He'd have to work fast; the alcohol was likely to burn off quickly, and no doubt the sounds and light would attract the spiders to his position.

  Instead of slashing his sword, he wielded it like a giant dinner knife, slowly but steadily pressing it into the barrier and allowing the heat and flames to gradually melt it away. The blade sizzled and hissed as he worked, cutting through the wall like putty; Henry methodically cut an opening in the middle of the barrier, just large enough for him to squeeze through. As the flames on his blade began to sputter and fade, he finished his cut and kicked at the wall, punching out a sizable hole which he quickly shouldered through.

  Behind him, the sounds of chittering and skittering echoed once more; the spiders were on their way back. There was no time to lose; Henry focused only on the magical trail above him as he followed it deeper within, until it finally concluded inside a small chamber.

  He froze as he saw what lay within: cocoons. There were no less than a dozen of them scattered about the room, each of them vaguely in the shape of a person; with growing horror, he realized that they were people. He jumped into the room and desperately began tearing at the nearest cocoon, ripping away sticky the sticky fibers and webbing with his bare hands.

  "Rebecca?" He threw away any pretense at stealth; the spiders were no doubt almost there. "Rebecca?!"

  The cocoon he was working on revealed nothing more than a pile of ancient bones; they clattered about as he recoiled, the skull cracking loudly as it fell onto the stony floor. Without hesitation, he pounced on the next cocoon, ignoring the growing revulsion of the sticky webs that clung to his hands.

  The skittering and chittering was growing louder; the way he came from was surely blocked, so he'd need to find another way out. As this cocoon also revealed another set of bones, he tossed it aside and frantically looked around the room, desperately looing for any cocoons that stood out from the rest.

  "Rebecca! Where are you?!" He had no choice; he unsheathed his sword and began slicing through the next nearest cocoon; better to risk accidentally cutting Rebecca than to be swarmed by spiders within the next minute or so.

  One of the cocoons suddenly wigged in the corner of his vision; it was a very faint movement, but one his eye caught nevertheless. He bounded over and gingerly used his sword to cut the top layer of webbing near the head area, before using his hands to tear away the strands. His fingers soon found a material different from the web, and the first locks of dark hair sprouted from the opening.

  Rebecca's face was quickly unburied from the webbing, her mouth slightly agape. Henry could feel rapid breathing from her as he kept pulling away the webbing, but she remained frozen.

  "Can't... move..." she managed to croak out.

  Henry put a hand to her forehead; it was cold to the touch.

  There wasn't any time; he quickly hoisted the mage over his shoulder, still bound in her cocoon, and staggered out of the room with her on his back.

  He barely had time to register the first spider, the size of his head, before it leapt at him from the shadows; his sword arm instinctively sliced, and the creature was neatly bisected in a shower of bright green ichor. No sooner had the two halves landed behind him when another dropped down from the ceiling, this time landing inside his swing and onto his arm.

  A sharp pain arced down his arm as he smashed it against the wall, reducing it to a shattered puddle of goo; already, he could feel his arm numbing, the pain quickly dying away as it was replaced by a dull feeling of listlessness.

  Venom. The thought of it raced through his mind as he turned and ran, hearing his sword clatter to the ground as his arm was numbed beyond his control; Rebecca was likely immobilized this way, and so would he if he stopped. He was defenseless now, unable to control his one free arm as the other held on to Rebecca; all he could do was run.

  Nezwick's potion was long past useless at this point, as he could hear the clamoring of dozens, if not hundreds of spiders crawling in the tunnel behind him. Their footfalls ranged from tiny, pattering skitters, to crunches that matched or exceeded his own; he dared not glance behind him, lest he come face-to-face with another giant spider.

  He ignored his screaming muscles and burning lungs as he willed his legs to keep pushing, breathing at a rapid but steady pace as Sir Gallant had taught him during all those drills in full plate; if only Sir Gallant could see him now, with the perfect motivator to keep moving!

  There was no rhyme or reason to his sense of direction, no strategy or thought as he simply ran, fueled purely through fear and desperation. Left or right, straight or jagged, he simply picked one tunnel and ran, desperate to keep ahead of the flood of spiders; through sheer luck, he hadn't hit any dead-ends or turnabouts, as the tunnels continued to snake ever deeper into whatever mountain they must be in now.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of running, the sounds behind him began to fade, before they were swallowed by the tunnels completely; still, he forced himself to run slightly further, just to be safe. A few more moments of ragged breathing and aching calves, and his legs finally gave out; he collapsed to the ground, making sure to cushion Rebecca on top of him, as he desperately took in his breath.

  For the moment, they appeared to be safe; but they were also hopelessly lost.