Page 52 of In Darkness Forged

Perhaps if she could carry it with her… Scraping with her fingernails produced a handful of a slightly spongy substance that oozed purple but still glowed fitfully between her fingers.

It would have to be enough. Scraping off another handful, then another, Aislin tossed them into a nearby basket, hugged it to her chest, and tiptoed out of the cavern.

Once beyond the confines of that small room, her makeshift lantern could only brighten the tiniest circle around her. Running was out of the question, but if she could get a sense of her surroundings…

Holding up the light, Aislin peered into the shadows in search of an exit, but the first thing she saw was piles of debris heaped up against the walls of a tunnel. The piles were composed of irregular white shapes, some long, some short, some large with rounded ends, and some nearly spherical…

Oh dear gods. If she’d eaten, her stomach would have revolted right then and there.

The edges of that tunnel were lined with bones. So many bones. Big and small, some human, some animal, they were a grisly, jumbled mountain range of death, mingled with one another as if they’d been discarded without thought or purpose.

How long had the old woman lurked here, snatching the unwary and feeding them to her pet?

Aislin would have fled in a blind panic, but she couldn’t see well enough to risk it. She would simply blunder into some other dark corner, encounter some other arcane horror, and never find her way out. She needed a guide, which meant finding the prisoner the old night elf and her “Crow” had stowed nearby.

Clutching her basket with shaking fingers, Aislin peered into the shadows, past the piles of bones, into every crevice, until she finally found one corner that was different. A narrow opening in the stone had been blocked by numerous strands of shimmering white rope…

No, not rope—spider silk.

Drawing her hatchet from her belt, Aislin picked a cautious path between the bones, taking care to make no noise. Her light was already growing dimmer, so perhaps whatever it was could only maintain its glow while alive and growing. She had to work fast.

Setting down the basket, she removed the hatchet’s sheath and sliced at the silken ropes, then barely swallowed a curse as the blade rebounded from the shimmering strands.

She was not going to cut through them with this blade. But she’d cleared enough spiderwebs from Brannic’s attic to know that those strands would stretch. Perhaps she could find an opening…

There, near the bottom. Flattening herself to the cave floor, Aislin lifted the bottommost strand and stuck her head through. It was a tight fit, but she was determined and soon managed to wriggle her shoulders underneath. The thought of what had strung those silken ropes drove her onward, even when the rocky floor tore at her dress and wrung new agony from her bruised ribs. She swallowed a few curses and stripped the skin from her elbows in the process, but before too long, she was through.

The light was dimmer in the tiny cavern beyond—only a few small patches of purple decorated the walls—but it was enough to see the body lying motionless on the floor, face down, wrapped in even more of that wretched silk thread.

It was definitely a night elf. His long white hair was half bound back, and she could see a sword still in its scabbard. Was he already dead? Aislin prayed not. After all, why bind him if he were dead?

With trembling hands, she grasped the night elf’s sleeve and pulled, rolling him over until he landed on his back with a groan that echoed far too loudly in that tiny chamber.

“Shhh!” Without thinking, she placed a finger over the unconscious night elf’s lips. She was still staring at his face in dumbfounded recognition when his amber eyes flashed open and locked with hers.

“Talyn.”

Shock, then relief, flooded those familiar eyes, followed by pain.

“Quiet,” she whispered hastily. “If they hear us, we’re dead. She had me tied up so she could feed me to her pet!”

Pain became fury as Talyn attempted to move and realized he was bound. Slender strands of silk wrapped around his upper body, binding his arms to his torso, while several more encircled his lower legs.

“My dagger,” he said in a low voice.

“Steel won’t cut it,” Aislin murmured. “It’s… I know this sounds crazy, but this rope is spider silk!”

“Not spider—arantha,” he said with a quick shrug. “And my blade will suffice.”

For the space of a single breath, Aislin’s brain slithered to a halt.

Arantha.

Spider.

Their task… to acquire wildaranthavenom.

As if he could see inside her head, Talyn cursed and tried to sit up. “Dagger,” he said more urgently, and Aislin drew it from his belt without thought, mouth still open in shock. “Hilt in my hand,” he murmured.