Read Online Hand of the Hunter: Chosen of Nendawen, Book II by Mark Sehestedt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark Sehestedt
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Kesh Naan’s voice came out more the roar of a beast than that of a woman. Each word brought her a step closer.
“I—”
“What are you, girl?” This last came out a whisper, but she was so close that Hweilan could feel her breath against her cheek.
Hweilan squeezed her eyes shut and tried to crawl away. But she came up against the stone column and could go no farther. She felt the strong hands grab her again, lift her, and when she dared to open her eyes, all was darkness. They were in the cave.
Blind panic seized Hweilan. She knew they were moving, could feel the steady rhythm of Kesh Naan’s tread and the slight movement of air against her bare skin. Kesh Naan had a grip like steel chains, and one arm held her chest so tight that it was all she could do to draw shallow breath after shallow breath. The dark was utter and complete. The only sound that of Kesh Naan’s heavy breathing and the slap of her feet against the tunnel floor.
Hweilan bucked and thrashed, but Kesh Naan only held her tighter. Hweilan tried to scream, but Kesh Naan’s grip was too tight. Every movement made seemed to find the crack in her rib and grind it. She could not gather breath. Lights danced before her eyes.
Just when the play of light and darkness was about to overwhelm her senses, she heard Kesh Naan scream—almost in disgust, she thought—and the crushing grip was gone. Hweilan felt cool air rushing over her naked skin and knew she was again flying through the air.
She landed on one shoulder, then tumbled and slid across gritty stone. For a long while she could do nothing but lay there, desperate for air, each breath sending a lance of agony through her side.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that the lights were still there—but farther away. She was in a huge cavern, far larger than the one from which she’d come. It was devoid of any sun- or starlight, yet it sparkled with a thousand colors. Lying on her back, she watched them. Thousands had been too timid an estimate. By far. Looking up, she saw what were probably millions of tiny lights, all constantly on the move, some on a ceiling that sloped into a deeper darkness where the lights would not go, some scuttling across the walls and floor, and some hanging in midair—a few close enough that had she reached out she could have touched them.
They were tiny spiders, transparent as crystal, their plump bodies pulsing with colors—reds, greens, blues, yellows, silver, gold, and purples of every shade. The lights they cast sparkled off webs strung around the cavern. Terrified as she was, every breath a stab of pain, still Hweilan could not help but feel overwhelmed at the beauty of it all.
As her heart began to slow and her breathing to calm, Hweilan could hear them moving—the susurrus of millions of minuscule legs moving over stone and soil and each other. It sounded like the rustle of a summer breeze on the grass of the high steppe. Soothing. One of the spiders dropped from its web and landed on her shoulder. It felt soft as goosedown.
But then she heard something else. Something scuttling in that impenetrable darkness far above. No, not something. Some things. Her eyes were adjusting to the new light, and she saw that amidst the millions of small spiders, dozens of larger spiders moved. She hadn’t seen them at first, because unlike their smaller cousins, they were black as moonless night, visible only because of the other lights reflecting off their hard carapaces.
“K-Kesh Naan?” she tried to call out, but it sounded no more than a whisper. Hweilan swallowed, winced as she gathered a full breath, then tried again, louder. “Kesh Naan?”
The black spiders dropped, a dozen or more striking the ground around her. The smallest of them was big as a cat, and the largest was almost the size of a hound. They turned to face her, the mandibles on their faces
click-click-clicking
together, in a horrible rhythm. Something about the sound seemed on the verge of forming
“I—”
“What are you, girl?” This last came out a whisper, but she was so close that Hweilan could feel her breath against her cheek.
Hweilan squeezed her eyes shut and tried to crawl away. But she came up against the stone column and could go no farther. She felt the strong hands grab her again, lift her, and when she dared to open her eyes, all was darkness. They were in the cave.
Blind panic seized Hweilan. She knew they were moving, could feel the steady rhythm of Kesh Naan’s tread and the slight movement of air against her bare skin. Kesh Naan had a grip like steel chains, and one arm held her chest so tight that it was all she could do to draw shallow breath after shallow breath. The dark was utter and complete. The only sound that of Kesh Naan’s heavy breathing and the slap of her feet against the tunnel floor.
Hweilan bucked and thrashed, but Kesh Naan only held her tighter. Hweilan tried to scream, but Kesh Naan’s grip was too tight. Every movement made seemed to find the crack in her rib and grind it. She could not gather breath. Lights danced before her eyes.
Just when the play of light and darkness was about to overwhelm her senses, she heard Kesh Naan scream—almost in disgust, she thought—and the crushing grip was gone. Hweilan felt cool air rushing over her naked skin and knew she was again flying through the air.
She landed on one shoulder, then tumbled and slid across gritty stone. For a long while she could do nothing but lay there, desperate for air, each breath sending a lance of agony through her side.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that the lights were still there—but farther away. She was in a huge cavern, far larger than the one from which she’d come. It was devoid of any sun- or starlight, yet it sparkled with a thousand colors. Lying on her back, she watched them. Thousands had been too timid an estimate. By far. Looking up, she saw what were probably millions of tiny lights, all constantly on the move, some on a ceiling that sloped into a deeper darkness where the lights would not go, some scuttling across the walls and floor, and some hanging in midair—a few close enough that had she reached out she could have touched them.
They were tiny spiders, transparent as crystal, their plump bodies pulsing with colors—reds, greens, blues, yellows, silver, gold, and purples of every shade. The lights they cast sparkled off webs strung around the cavern. Terrified as she was, every breath a stab of pain, still Hweilan could not help but feel overwhelmed at the beauty of it all.
As her heart began to slow and her breathing to calm, Hweilan could hear them moving—the susurrus of millions of minuscule legs moving over stone and soil and each other. It sounded like the rustle of a summer breeze on the grass of the high steppe. Soothing. One of the spiders dropped from its web and landed on her shoulder. It felt soft as goosedown.
But then she heard something else. Something scuttling in that impenetrable darkness far above. No, not something. Some things. Her eyes were adjusting to the new light, and she saw that amidst the millions of small spiders, dozens of larger spiders moved. She hadn’t seen them at first, because unlike their smaller cousins, they were black as moonless night, visible only because of the other lights reflecting off their hard carapaces.
“K-Kesh Naan?” she tried to call out, but it sounded no more than a whisper. Hweilan swallowed, winced as she gathered a full breath, then tried again, louder. “Kesh Naan?”
The black spiders dropped, a dozen or more striking the ground around her. The smallest of them was big as a cat, and the largest was almost the size of a hound. They turned to face her, the mandibles on their faces
click-click-clicking
together, in a horrible rhythm. Something about the sound seemed on the verge of forming
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