“Once more a Webmaster,” he said aloud. The baleful howl of wind through the valley drowned out his words. Krek didn’t care. This moment was too precious to waste. He swung back and forth, relishing the sensations he had been denied for so long.
Krek turned about in the web and looked down the length of the green valley. Tiny springs kept the vegetation lush and green but did not provide the odious ponds and splashing rivers he so hated. The constant hum of insects on which to feed told Krek this was nothing short of paradise. But where were the mountain arachnids? What forced them to abandon such a fine domain?
Krek ran lightly along one of the traveling strands and found an anchor point on the far wall of the canyon. He dug talons into the rock face and walked off the web and toward the caves he had seen. As he neared the yawning shaft, the telltale vibrations increased. Spiders. Many of them.
He paused at the mouth of the cave, then clacked and chittered and shrilled out a greeting of the proper form. Krek didn’t expect an immediate reply. Such would be discourteous. Humans rushed everything so. One spoke, the other replied immediately. Spiders not only had the proper number of legs, they also knew how to conduct a polite conversation.
Twenty minutes later, a faint clacking echoed out of the cave.
Krek tried to figure out the dialect. The words jumbled and he had to puzzle out even that someone had responded to his polite inquiry about the valley.
“I am a Webmaster,” he said. “May I pay homage to another?”
“He’s dead,” came the response so fast that Krek took a step back in surprise. Such unseemly haste in a spider showed intense agitation.
“These are not unusual occurrences,” said Krek. “While I hope to enjoy a long life amid my hatchlings on the web runs, I, too, will die someday.”
“They murdered him. They set him on fire!”
The anguish communicated perfectly to Krek. Nothing short of being soaked in water, and then set ablaze horrified him more. The coppery fur on his legs bristled, and he felt his body tensing to meet the challenge of anyone attempting to put the torch to him.
“The humans did it,” came another, lighter voice. Krek recognized it as female. Not quite as lilting and lovely as that of his delightful Klawn, but still pleasant. “They drove us into the caves. We fear for our hatchlings.”
“From the extent of your webs, there must be at least twenty of you,” said Krek. He neglected to count hatchlings. Only adult arachnids were considered in populations since the younger spiders tended not to have long life-spans. The ones that weren’t eaten often fell off the webs and died or met with other maiming misfortune.
“Only fourteen now.” Krek mentally added about fifty hatchlings, of which five or ten might survive.
“Why do you hide in caves? This is not some new hunting technique, is it?”
“They might return at any moment. They are awful.”
“The humans? Yes, they are all of that,” agreed Krek. Then other pieces of this distressing picture came together for him. “These humans. Are they all dressed in a like manner? In uniforms?”
“You refer to the woven webs they hang around their frail bodies?” came the female’s question.
“Yes. These are the most pernicious of the humans. A mage of great power and evil commands them.”
“They do wear similar uniforms,” she agreed.
Krek paused for the appropriate length of time, then asked, “Might I enter your cave?”
This time a polite delay elapsed before a simple, “Please do, Webmaster.”
Krek ducked down and waddled into the cave. His eyes took several minutes to adjust to the dimness, then he pushed on ahead, careful not to touch any of the webs decorating the walls. He saw no one, nor had he expected to. The voices had echoed from a long ways into the cavern. Krek continued on until he came to a vast chamber.
He stood and studied the array of webbing, then clacked his mandibles together four times to indicate his approval.
“We are pleased by your acknowledgment of our pitiful efforts, Webmaster,” said the small female spider.
Krek rubbed his front legs together in response while he looked her over. She was not bad looking-for a mere spider. Less than half Krek’s eight-foot height and not even a quarter of his bulk, she still presented a trim, sprightly figure. Her spinnerets carried geometric decorations pleasing to the eye and her leg fur had been neatly tended. She reminded Krek a great deal of his long-lost love, Klawn-only this spider was so tiny, almost fragile.
“We have never seen one so large,” spoke up another spider.
“For mere spiders, you have done well in spanning the vastness.” Krek lifted a midleg and pointed to the intricate patterns displayed in the cavern. “Such fineness of strand, such daring spans, such beauty. I am impressed.”
“Thank you, Webmaster,” the female said.
“I am Krek-k’with-kritklik, Webmaster of the Egrii Mountains on a world far distant along the Cenotaph Road.”
“I am Kadekk,” said the female. Krek noted the lack of status claimed. He bobbed his head up and down in acknowledgment. It seemed reasonable. She was only a mere spider and hardly in the same class as his Klawn.
“We are in exile in this cave,” moaned one of the other spiders. “Our Webmaster died a foul death at the hands of the silly humans.”
“The soldiers,” said Krek, “are the worst of the humans. A mage guides their hand in their hideous deeds.” He shivered lightly at the thought of being drenched, dried, and set afire. It was something Claybore’s troops would consider good sport. His mandibles ground together as he unconsciously wished for their commanders’ heads between the serrated jaws.
Kadekk said, “We need leadership and you are so… much a Webmaster.”
The way Kadekk asked made Krek puff up with pride. He had always known of his own nobility, and it pleased him these mere spiders recognized it immediately.
“Would you be our Webmaster and help fight these humans?”
“It is nothing I have not done before,” Krek said. But in the back of his mind rose the troubling thought, But always before Lan Martak has been with me.
“Another legion moves up the valley,” said one of the smallest of the spiders, hardly more than a hatchling. “We will be burned out of even this cave unless we stop them.”
“Since I did not pass them on my way into the valley, this means they come from the far end,” said Krek.
“There is a large ground web of them two human days’ travel away. They find our fine valley necessary for their depredations on the other humans.”
“They have bases or forts,” said Krek, thinking. “Not ground webs. They are not sufficiently advanced for that.” He settled down and pulled in his long legs. In this position he was on a level with the mere spiders. His agile mind worked over various plans, then he decided. “We go immediately. Unseemly haste is required for survival.”
Fifteen of the mere spiders followed Krek. He was irrationally happy to see that Kadekk joined them and stayed close by his side.
“All is ready, Webmaster Krek.” Kadekk bounced around from one strand to the next, her nimble feet skipping over the sticky cables and finding only the walking strands.
“Just in time,” said Krek. He indicated the dusty path of the soldiers.
The grey-clads trooped along, one hundred strong. In their hands they carried the worst weapons of all-torches. As it was midday, these were intended for firing webs, not lighting a dark path.
“Now, Webmaster, do we attack now?” came the anxious chittering from along the valley.
“Not yet,” Krek answered. “But soon. Very soon.” He thought back to the other battles he had fought, the cowardice he had shown-and the courage. It seemed that Lan Martak’s presence, and even friend Inyx’s, helped him live up to his duties as Webmaster. Without them, his courage sometimes flagged and he did weak things. Now he fought without them, but the reasons were noble. Krek could not in good faith allow these pathetic little mere spiders to perish simply because their Webmaster had been so foully murdered.