A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(88)

“In times like these, the monarch appoints one until the Order can hold a proper vote.” A wave stretched up over the side. With a quick, graceful sweep of his stave, Blackwood sent it back down into the sea. My shivering had stopped.

“Here,” I murmured, slipping out of the coat.

He took it, staring at it as if he’d never seen one before. Then, “I’m sorry.” The words were so soft the wind nearly carried them away. “I should never have shut you out.”

“You’ve no reason to apologize,” I said.

“But I do. I wanted you to yearn for me.” He put on the coat, his movements slow and mechanical. “But I realized that you don’t need me as badly as I need you.”

“I need you,” I said, and meant it. But Blackwood seemed resigned.

“It can’t be the same. You grew up in the open air, with Rook.” He gripped the railing. “I was raised in a dark place. The only two people who knew my secrets disliked me.” His voice quavered. “You are the first and only person who saw me and still cared. How could I not love you? How could I hope you would understand what need is in that kind of love?”

He choked on the last word. I felt that I’d unlocked a door hidden at the back of a dark house to find the most essential part of him: a lonely little boy watching out the window for visitors who would not come. Gently, I laid my hand on top of his own, feeling the strain in his fingers.

The boat came to a sudden, jerking halt. We all fell forward, Blackwood nearly tipping over the side. The wind still filled the sails, making them taut, but the boat rested.

“What—?” Magnus went to the back, puzzled. Then, “Everyone, come here.” His voice held an edge. Just below the surface of the water was a shimmering mass that clung to the bottom of the boat. At first I thought it a kind of weed, but when I touched it, it stuck to my fingers like a web.

A spiderweb. I yanked myself away, stifling a scream.

“Don’t pull on it,” Blackwood hissed, grabbing my hand.

Maria whistled. “It may be too late for all that.”

In the distance, by the eastern shore, one of those large boulders I’d noticed earlier stirred. It shifted and began to move toward the boat. Inch by inch, foot by foot, the boulder rose higher, revealing itself to be no rock at all but an abdomen.

Her fifty-foot-long body glistened in the weak light. Mottled brown in color, with violent green and purple decorating the pulsing sides, the enormous abdomen belonged to a creature with eight legs as long as trees. Three round eyes, each large as the window of a house, eased out of the sea to study us. Dripping pincers emerged.

Nemneris the Water Spider perched on her web, front two legs moving rhythmically up and down, a silent monstrosity.

She was beautiful in her hideousness, a totemic god. Such a massive thing should not be so deathly quiet, but she was—it was a moment born from the most feverish nightmare. With that jerking crawl peculiar to arachnids, she made her way toward us. The boat shook with each pull of the web.

We were frozen, until Maria shattered the hypnotic peace with a short, piercing scream. As if a spell had been broken, we acted.

This couldn’t be the end. We still had to get to London; I still needed to fight R’hlem. Dimly, I recalled something of that prophecy tapestry in Agrippa’s home, something about a drowning poison. After all, shadow had burned above the city when Korozoth was destroyed. Perhaps this was meant to be. Perhaps the great Water Spider would die today.

Or at the very least, perhaps we would not. Hope flooded my veins, spurring me.

We considered abandoning ship, but it wouldn’t work. The western shore was too far away, and it would be impossible to reach on one gust of wind alone. We’d fall into the water and into her web.

As Nemneris crawled forward, we lined up on the starboard side with our staves and the new weapons. Maria kept behind me, squeezing my shoulder. I’d never seen her so afraid before.

“I don’t like spiders,” she muttered.

Dee pulled out the flute and began to play. Nemneris stopped in her tracks and rose up. Her scream was more horrifying than her silence, the sound insectile and shrill. Webbing shot out of her pincered mouth, aimed directly at our boat. I launched my flame high into the air, and the boys guided the fire to snap the webbing. It plopped uselessly into the sea on either side of us.

“Keep playing,” Blackwood shouted to Dee.

The bone whistle. I reached for it…and found it wasn’t about my neck. Of course, the faeries snatched it underground. Like a fool, I’d left it behind.

The Spider dove off her web and into the deep water. We each took a corner of the boat to watch. Dee paused playing to catch his breath. I guarded the stern, hearing only the slop of the waves.

“Is she…?” Maria stopped herself from asking the question.

The Spider exploded from the sea, toppling me back onto the deck. Her eight legs clung to the sides of the ship as she rose above us. Maria hacked at a limb with her ax, screaming bloody murder all the while. Dee played again but was knocked off-balance and slammed against the edge of the boat. The flute tumbled out of his hands and into the water.

I nearly threw myself overboard working a spell with Porridge to bring the damned flute back, but it didn’t resurface. My arms ached from the fruitless maneuver. Magnus and Blackwood tried stabbing Nemneris as her eager fangs tore into the sails, shredding them to useless rags. The mast splintered and fell. I launched another torrent of flame at the creature, screaming in frustration. She hissed as my fire licked her face, but she did not release us. It wasn’t enough.