Chapter 8

It's time for the long-awaited feast. Dash is terrified. Ahhh. Being social.

Three days left. I was not brave. I was terrified. I thought about how someone, I couldn’t remember who, had said that courage is being afraid and doing what’s right anyway. But what is the point in being courageous if your hands still shook? If you cried yourself to sleep three nights in a row? Since Mom had died, I had accepted my status as a coward, and my life and been all together all right. But then I had to go standing up for myself, and suddenly my glass world had come crashing down. Suddenly there was destiny and bravery and people’s (and spiders’) lives at stake. What if courage got everyone I loved killed? There was no honor in that.

Sick with fear of failure, I was laying in my hammock when Hugo came for me. I hadn’t seen him in nearly two days. He seemed to be avoiding me. Cynically, I thought that he was protecting himself. Best not to befriend the next lamb for slaughter. Maybe he sensed my attitude because he approached me more warily than usual.

“Hey, uh, Dash. Abbot Bartholomeus sent me. He wants to see you. He said that he has something that he wants you to have,”

“Oh. I’ll be right along, then,” Intrigued, I hastened to clamber onto Hugo’s comfortingly coarse back. In the three and a half weeks since I had first arrived, I had become quite accustomed to this mode of travel, and, come to think of it, to this whole new world. Humans are nothing if not adjustable. Well, in most cases at least. I grimaced as I thought of my own poorly mended household in New York City.

The webways that we crossed en route to the abbey were bustling. Spiders scuttled to and fro, presumably preparing for the upcoming feast. I wondered if they were worried. After all, they had almost as much at stake as I did. Lepsi’s return could herald death for all of them if he was not quickly stopped. Did they really have any hope that some random teenager could defeat the most dangerous spider in the history of their kind? I certainly had my doubts. I was no heroine. My pessimistic attitude towards the whole ordeal should have been enough to prove that. Did Hugo even believe in me?

Lost in my thoughts, it seemed that no time had passed before the abbey loomed before us. We entered into Bartholomeus’ private quarters, my curiosity mounting as to the meaning of this little trip. At the moment, his rooms were empty.

            I took a moment to admire the gilded silk walls that hung like fine tapestry around the room. In design, it could not have been much different from the rooms all around the web, but aesthetically, it stood above them all. There could be no doubting that this room was made for the most powerful leader in the civilization.

            Bartholomeus himself chose that moment to appear, his massive legs moving so smoothly as to give the illusion that he floated across the silk floor. I took an involuntary step back, nearly treading on one of Hugo’s feet.  No matter how much time I spent in the abbot’s presence, I could just not accustom myself to his size and air of total authority. In my entire life, I had never met anyone who had that kind of presence. As a rule, I was pretty much over my aversion to spiders, but I just couldn’t seem to completely shake my natural fear of Bartholomeus even though he showed me nothing but kindness.

            “La’a Charlotte Bronte,” Hugo stepped away and bowed as he approached. I wondered briefly how he had found out my full name. It was not something I broadcast. “I wanted first to thank you for the critical role that you are soon to play in the history of my kind,” I swallowed nervously. “But there will be enough of that at the feast. I have something to give you that I hope will be of great use to you in the coming days. I do not know if you have considered how you will defeat the foe, but I do have a suggestion,” His deep voice seemed to smile. I swore he took pleasure out of the mystery he created for me.

            With a somewhat dramatic flourish, he produced something from behind his back. It was long and silver and deadly. I knew immediately, with a fluttering in my gut, what it was. A sword. I didn’t have much experience with swords (obviously). The only ones I had seen lay feet away in dusty history museum cases. This one however, was shining new and, it pained me to say, absolutely beautiful. Beautiful in the way that lightning bolts were. It made my hair stand on end.

            “Mine?” For some reason I was whispering.

            The abbot nodded, and held it out to me.

            Ever so hesitantly, I reached for the sparkling blue handle.  For some reason, I thought that the metal would be hot. It was not. It was cool against my hand, and it occurred to me that the blade seemed to be lying in wait. Absurd, I know. It was inanimate, unfeeling, impartial to its wielder. But still it seemed to carry its own danger. I probably imagined it. Too many fantasy books.

            Then again, as I hefted it in my hand, feeling the balance, my life was starting to look pretty fictional already.

            It was heavy, and I couldn’t lift it for long. Of course, if all went well, all I’d need would be one good thrust. For one shining moment, standing there with the sword in my hand, I thought I could actually do it. No training, no experience, and a pretty bad track record with luck. In that instant I felt I could do it anyway. Be the hero. Then Bartholomeus spoke again, and all my confidence flew out the window as the weight of what I was attempting hit me anew.

            “ You’ll need to aim for the heart. On the underbelly. Our backs are far too well protected and you won’t get the chance to blind him. Too many eyes. Odds are you’ll only get a couple of shots in. I want you to hide yourself among the rocks on the outside of the cave at the time that he shall break free. He knows about the prophecy, but that way he won’t see you immediately after he breaks free. You will have some surprise that way. After that, you’re on your own, little one,”

            My throat was suddenly getting very dry. Just the logistics were freaking me out. I did have a question though. “Does…does the prophecy say anything about me actually winning?” Everyone seemed so confident.

            “Of course not, little one. Prophecies can only go so far. In the end, not even the fates can decide the actions of mortals. We believe that you can do it, though. After all, it is central to our belief system that the good in the world will eventually overpower the evil. It is your duty to set right the wrongs of all our ancestors, and by doing so, wipe clean the slate of man and spider alike. We have faith in you. Now, take the sword and prepare yourself as best you can. I trust that dear Eleyn will get you ready for the feast,”

            I nodded woodenly, and somehow climbed back aboard Hugo. I didn’t know if Bartholomeus’ show of faith was meant to encourage me, but it had only made the sword feel heavier in its sheath. His attitude certainly explained a few things, though. It all came down to faith. Sometimes, as a little kid, one of my friends would take me to their church. As I sat and listened to the sermons resounding through the ears and hearts of the congregation, I had always felt alone and a little bit lost. I longed so deeply for the comfort that belief seemed to bring these people, and yet I could never attain it. Something kept me apart. Later, after Mom died, I had tried even harder. I sought to imagine her among the clouds, happy with some God, looking over me. It felt childish and insincere. I could not believe. My only solace had always lain in stories, in escape to the land of heroes. Sometimes I thought of my mom in the stories as a new Athena, a warrior and a goddess. That helped a little bit.

            So, it was with no surprise that I felt excluded by the faith of the spiders. It was extremely uncomfortable to be called a savior. One thing to read about greatness. Quite another to satisfy those expectations yourself. Too many stories ended in failure.

 

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            Feast day dawned with an air of expectation. Eleyn had already been busily flitting about for days, her cheerful chatter threatening to send me over the edge. I tried to keep up a semblance of confidence for her sake. She, and everyone else, were trusting me with their lives. My obligation not to let them down kept me up at night, and so it was with bleary eyes that I awoke to find eight sparking eyes hanging over my hammock. It no longer scared me. Now it made my heart ache with anxiety and a preemptive guilt.

            “Get up, Dash! I want you to put your dress on, so I have time to do your hair, and then you need to get outside because one of my brothers made you a litter to carry you to the feast!” she practically shouted me out of bed.

            “All right, all right. I’ll be your doll. Just a minute,”

            Putting the dress back on was the one thing I was looking forward to. My clothes had felt scratchy ever since I’d tried it on. Feeling strangely like the princesses I’d never really liked that much, I let Eleyn pull me around. She lifted my arms and tugged at my hair, eight arms doing the job in record-breaking effiency. To me, it just felt like a rather hairy whirlwind had picked me up.

            By the time Eleyn had finished her ministrations, a little under half an hour had elapsed. Not nearly enough time killed, if you asked me. No one did. Instead, Eleyn shoved me in front of the mirror.

            I may have gasped. It was certainly shocking. The dress was one thing, more elegant than I could ever have imagined. The hair was quite another. Usually it fell down my back in unruly waves, sometimes frizzing into my face. Today, it was twisted high on the top of my head in some style that seemed both old-fashioned and timelessly beautiful. There were tiny bluebells scattered throughout my hair, giving me the overall impression that I was some kind of water queen.

            I tried smiling at my reflection. I still looked a little scared. Rallying myself, I put on the mask, and smiled more convincingly. It was the same mask I almost always wore at school. Time for a public appearance.

            I followed Eleyn out of the hut, still marveling at the soft swishiness of my dress (I felt sort of shallow for doing so. Then I didn’t care.). By contrast with the previous days, the web seemed practically empty. The calm was expectant.

            I had never set eyes on a litter before. This one was wooden, but easy to see through. It made me a little uncomfortable to think of riding it. In the fantasy I’d read, it always seemed like an unnecessary display of wealth that frequently caused rioting. I sincerely hoped that that wouldn’t be the case today.

            I used one of Eleyn’s shoulders to boost me into the litter, and watched as several spiders I had never met hoisted it into the air.

            The ride to the abbey’s great hall was bumpy and utterly surreal. I had never felt less apart of my own life. Hundreds of spiders. They lined the webways, clicking their pincers in a dull roar of applause, al eight eyes fixed on me, judging their hero. I looked for Hugo, but failed to find him.

            Eventually the faces blurred together. My new sense of otherness kept the nerves at bay. This couldn’t really be happening to the me that I had known all my life. It was all some great play, and I was just acting my role. It was a relief, but not altogether comforting. I had not seen the final pages. I did not know how it would all end.

            Eventually, end it did. The parade at least. I was helped down from the litter at the entrance to an ornate hall occupied by an enormous feasting table and led to a chair at the far end, next to what I presumed to be the abbot’s place. It was difficult to tell since mine was the only chair in the room. It seemed that the spiders didn’t sit to eat. Oddly, for having spent a month in the web, I had never actually eaten with them. I had to say that my curiosity was piqued.

            After I sat down in my chair, I turned to face the doorway, watching as the masses poured in. Many of them were chattering to each other, spirits high at the prospect of the festivities ahead. In fact, the hall became so loud that Bartholomeus actually climbed onto the table to make himself heard.

            “ORDER! ORDER!” The room quieted. “Thank you, my friends and brothers. It warms my heart to see you all here tonight on this momentous occasion. Of course, you all know the reason for this gathering,” He inclined his head in my direction. I saw several of the spiders craning their necks to look at me. I attempted a smile.

            “Tomorrow we shall witness the outcome of one of the most storied prophecies in the history of the giant spiders. The infamous and cruel rebel, Ademar Lepsi, whom some of you may know, will break free tomorrow at dawn. The fate of us all will rest upon the immense bravery of our new friend, La’a Bronte,” The crowd cheered. Inwardly I cringed. ‘La’a is brave’ was not a good sentence for me.

            Bartholomeus hushed the crowd once more. “Friends, tomorrow may be a day of victory or one of suffering. We cannot yet know. However, the fates will guide us. And until dawn, let us celebrate life and prosperity. La’a, if you will raise the first cup of venom?” The crowd cheered again. No one had warned me about this bit. Venom? That did not sound good.

            But Bartholomeus was handing me an ornate goblet filled with a milky substance, and with hundreds of eyes upon me, how could I refuse? (If all your friends told you to jump off a cliff…)

            I drained the cup. The taste was acrid and not unlike that of alcohol. At least the side affects seemed roughly the same. I felt a sudden rush to the head and I thought I felt my fingertips start to tingle.

            I shook my head and forced another smile. The crowd went wild and suddenly there were cups everywhere, “venom” and what looked like crickets filling most of them. Several cups were passed my way, but I declined politely. One glass was quite enough of stuff. It would be bad enough staying up all night before the fight. I hoped I could make it. I imagined myself falling asleep and missing the whole thing, sending the world into chaos. I definitely could not let that happen.

            Deciding that walking would keep me more alert, I got up out of my chair, and started wandering the hall. Every once in a while some spider or other would stop me, wish me luck and offer me a drink. Eventually I grabbed one just so they would stop offering. It occurred to me how few of the spiders I really knew. Hugo, Eleyn, and Bartholomeus had taken most of my time. Now I noticed just how many of them there were. This close, I could notice the subtle differences that would have eluded me a month ago. A lot had changed since then. In every way.

            The hours passed slowly and uneventfully. It was probably past midnight, and my face hurt from fake-smiling. I had started to wish I could just get the dying over with when I bumped into Hugo.

            It was quite an accident. One Hugo didn’t seem all that pleased about. For some reason, he seemed distracted and nervous. He kept looking towards the entrance, and he refused to look me in the eye. I practically dragged him to one corner of the hall.

            “Hugo, what’s wrong? You look freaked. Are you okay?”

            He did that thing that would be a smile if his mouth allowed. “Don’t worry about me. It’s all going to be okay. You’ll see,” He looked deep into my eyes. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

            I looked back, judging him, wondering how much to say. He’d brokenthe news to me; he deserved the truth. I gave it to him.

            “I’m terrified,” I laughed a little. It wasn’t funny. “I haven’t slept in weeks. II can’t use a sword and I’ve never been brave. And ’m sad too, you know. I mean, my dying…if that’s how it ends, and I really can’t see it ending other way,” He started to protest. I cut him off, “It’s the truth. Don’t try to deny it. I’ll probably die. I don’t believe in your ‘fates’. I’m not some hero. I’m just a girl, and I’m going to die and you maybe too and Dad and Will won’t ever know what happened to me…and the world will forget me. I’ll be the draft of history that got crumpled into the trash, and none of it will matter…” I was crying now, burying my head in Hugo’s hair, “I’m afraid to die,” I breathed into him, ashamed at my weakness, glad that the room was dark, that it would all be over soon.

            “You don’t have to do it,” He whispered it almost conspiratorily. I looked at him, looking for a hint of levity. I found none. He was deadly serious. I could see in his eyes that if I said I didn’t want to do it, he’d get me out of it, somehow. It made my heart ache.

            “Of course I have to do it. I could never live with myself if…if…” I couldn’t finish, but he nodded anyway, the end of that sentence ringing in both our heads.

            “I understand,” He gave me a strange look. “Everything is going to be alright. You’re going to be fine.” He patted me one more time on the shoulder, and started to drift back into the crowd.

            I swallowed. “I’ll see you after,”

            “Yeah, see ya”

 

 

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            I was composed for the rest of night, steeling myself for the dawn. The sensation was not unlike preparing for a track meet. Well, minus the imminent death.

            As the night wore on, fewer and fewer spiders came up to talk to me, and I found myself alone by the window, watching the sky lighten gradually. Not long now. I was almost calm.

            Eleyn sidled up to me, looking worried. “Have you seen Hugo anywhere? I can’t find him,”

            “Not for hours. Why?”

            “It’s just…he’d been saying things. He’s so sorry to see you have to do this fight…and, well…I just wish I knew that he was here,” I thought back to the way he’d looked at me. ‘Everything’s going to be alright’. Suddenly, I had a terrible thought.

            “Oh God…Eleyn. Do you think he would have…gone to the cave? Was that what he was saying? Oh my God. It’s almost time. He’ll be killed. We have to find him,”

            Eleyn just nodded mutely, too shocked and scared to speak. I jumped onto her back, scanning the crowd as we pushed our way to the door. No one tried to stop us, and we were almost out before I remembered the sword.

            “Just a moment,” I vaulted off of Eleyn’s back and rushed through an archway into Bartholomeus’ quarters. The sword was still there, lying on the table where I’d left it days before. I snatched it up without hesitation, hardly feeling the weight.

            I was crossing back into the main room when Bartholomeus stepped into my path.

            “Sorry, Father,” I said, a little short of breath. “Please let me go. It’s Hugo. He might have gone after Lepsi by himself. I need to stop him before Lepsi gets out. Please,” The abbot nodded shortly, and his lack of surprise scared me. Could he have planned it? Did he want Hugo to die? It seemed unlikely, but still. I needed to go now.

            I darted past him, back to Eleyn. Behind me I heard him begin to gather spiders to come to the caves. Presumably they would be back-up, but as Eleyn and I sped towards the mountains, I knew that we’d be on our own when it counted.

            I remembered with a pang the time I’d come here with Hugo. Then, we had stayed at a low elevation for most of the trip, enjoying the rich woodlands and beautiful scenery. Today, the road was different. We were already high in the mountains, Eleyn’s sure feet guiding us over treacherous territory so fast that I barely saw her feet touch the ground.

            My heart was thrumming in my chest and my hands were shaking. We were almost there. For some reason, I thought of Schrodinger’s Cat. While I could not see him, it was possible that Hugo was still safe. Glancing up at the sky, it was also possible that he was dead. The firefly nets that flew above the web every day were shining brightly. I wondered whose it had been to hang them this morning, signaling the dawn that I had been dreading for weeks, now exponentially more horrible than I could have imagined.

            Only one peak blocked our view of the cave entrance now. Eleyn slowed her pace slightly and I had the absurd instinct to shut my eyes, delay the inevitable. I opened them wide. We rounded the final turn.

            My breath caught in my throat.

 

Author's Note

Unedited again. Oh well. R&R