Sinister Decisions

Night began to settle on the village of Camden Passage, signaling to the street vendors it was time to pack up shop. The marketplace was a din of activity and noise as last minute hagglers attempted to strike a deal, horses hooves clattered through dusty streets, and the bustling crowd went about their nighttime rituals. The struggling lone rogue and down on his luck pickpocket, Alton surveyed his target from the shadows. The fat traveler advertised his garish wealth with either blatant, overconfident inexperience, or idiotic carelessness. He wore brightly colored silks that advertised wealth as well as glittering jewels that adorned several thick fingers. Alton knew the roads south of the village were ripe with bandits and thieves eager to chance across a rich prospect at this man. He wouldn’t make it a mile before his rotting carcass served as a banquet for vultures and maggots. Alton needed to lighten the lord’s load before that band of brigands got him and stripped everything worth a copper off him.

Alton almost pitied the wealthy man, but the pangs in his stomach quickly melted away any threads of remorse. The fat pouch, bloated with coins, was all the rogue could see. If the dark gods finally shone their wicked light upon him, he wouldn’t have to worry about where his next meals were coming from for at least a month, maybe two if he took it easy. Soon he was thinking of the freshly baked breads, spiced potatoes, hunks of mutton, and ale. He licked his lips, “How long has it been since I’ve had a decent pint of ale?” he muttered to himself.

He suddenly realized he had spoken out loud when a village guardsman stopped in the entrance to the alley and turned sharp eyes into the darkness. Alton tried to make himself smaller behind the rain barrel. If the guard decided to take more than three steps into the alley, he would lose his chance at the rich lord. He muttered a quiet prayer to Mallethor, god of mischief, creator of nocturnal denizens, and patron saint for poor and destitute souls. Soon the guard was distracted by a street brawl between a merchant and drunken patron who started swinging when his gracious offer was refused.

In the dark, behind the rotting rain barrel, Alton gulped as it seemed his prayer was answered. “What lousy luck for my one prayer to be answered on something so trivial,” he whispered to no one. Peeking out from behind his hiding place, he noticed the rich lord was starting to walk away. Alton hedged his bet and issued one more fervent prayer. He prayed for this one time to be successful in his endeavor. Alton was on the verge of starving to death, if he didn’t get food in his belly soon, he might not make it through the week. He offered anything he could for this one small heist to work in his favor, then set out to snip the heavy purse strings.

He had to be careful because he couldn’t afford another mishap like what had happened in his hometown of Anistead. He had filched a big score off an easy mark. The score was a jeweled dagger, specially made as a wedding gift for some haughty land owner. The man was drunk, bragging about finally marrying off his daughter, and was showing off the dagger to everyone in the tavern. Alton was feeling especially peevish about some drunk jerk showing off this lavish wealth that he decided to teach him a lesson. It turned out that Alton was the one who was taught a lesson, because when he tried to sell the pilfered dagger, he was turned in, the dagger was stolen from him, and returned to the owner by way of a fat reward. The offended lord was so angry that he wanted Alton impaled, and mounted over the city gates. The story spread so fast that everyone knew who he was and what he had done. Luckily, Alton managed to escape his grisly fate but he could never return to his hometown again.

He surveyed the area. The marketplace was still plenty busy, but in a few moments the fat, rich, man would be stepping into his carriage, and Alton would lose his chance. “Moment of truth,” he said to himself. “Mallethor, if you’re out there, please grant me this one last favor.” Alton said into his beard. He took a deep breath and stepped out from the shadows. He was immediately bumped into by a stout man who continued his brisk walk past without a glance or word. Alton opened his mouth to bark out a firm “Oi, watch where the hell you’re going,’ but he swallowed the words. His blood went frigid, his legs forgot how to remain standing, and Alton inexplicably felt like a tiny insect in a glass jar. The intense feeling of weakness passed as quickly as it came on, but it left the rogue feeling like he was covered in an invisible slime. His stomach grumbled as if issuing a warning not to let his mark disappear. It was too late. The oversized lord was in his carriage and was being carted away to the next destination. As Alton cursed his plagued luck, a sickening thought occurred to him. He had just been the target of a hit, yet he had nothing of value to steal.

He felt for his rusty, hidden dagger and breathed a sigh of relief when he touched the reassuring lump in the belt. This dagger was neither expensive, nor of great quality. It was a plain, rusty, old dagger he had filched off a mark many years ago, but it was one of the few last possessions he still owned. Why had the man targeted him? Alton felt around his body, hoping he hadn’t been shivved by a rival and only didn’t notice yet, but found no such wounds. He stopped in his tracks. There was an odd, hard lump in his pocket, where he was certain only two minutes ago there was nothing.

Alton looked all around suspiciously before inspecting his pocket. He noticed the guard from earlier eyeing him. He started toward Alton. Dawning apprehension erased the confusion. He was the recipient of a classic bait and switch scheme. The man probably dropped a useless bauble into Alton’s pocket. Then some “hapless” victim comes along and screams about the horrible thief who stole it, or an “anonymous” tip falls into a guard’s lap, who then makes an arrest. It’s a great way to eliminate competition. It didn’t occur to Alton that no one considered him a threat nor competition.

Regardless if this was an act of entrapment or not, Alton was not going to wait around for act two; instead he slipped through the shadows, far away from the guard, and back down into the dregs. Here lawlessness was rampant and the authorities knew better than to linger for too long. Angry, starving still, and one step closer to death, Alton quietly slipped into his little hovel.

Inside his drafty sanctuary, irate fury controlled his mind. His luck was rotten still. He felt like kicking something, or punching a wall to release the built up frustration, but he had no energy to waste on frivolous activities. Instead he removed the lump from his pocket and set it upon the lone, wobbly table. It made a solid thunk sound as he slapped it down. Suddenly suspicious, Alton gripped his dagger for comfort and peered around his squalid dwelling. The shack was so small, one turn of the head was enough to survey all four corners. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was toying with him. Curiosity drew his eyes to the dingy, cloth wrapped parcel. His suspicion grew and manifested into a voice. It’s probably magicked. It has to be a cursed stone that will kill you when you touch it. Or turn you into some hideous creature and you’ll be forced to live alone in a cave for the rest of your days.

Alton entertained the thought for a brief second. His nutrient starved brain was not as sharp as it could be. “Come now,” he whispered to himself. “Why would a wizard go to so much trouble for a complete nobody? That high level of magic would only be used for high class lords and monarchy.”

It could be an experiment. Try it out on a street rat before going big time.

Alton didn’t have a logical comeback. He took a cautious step back from the table, expecting the parcel to unwrap itself or burst into magical light. He argued back and forth with himself. He could get someone else to open it up in case it was cursed, but if the thing inside held any value, it was liable to be stolen from him. In the end, Alton decided to chance it himself.

Slowly, and with a nervous hand he slipped the old dagger out of the peeling, leather sheath, reached out, and tapped the parcel. Shouldn’t have done that, said the suspicious voice. Alton immediately withdrew and shielded his face with his arms. Why would anyone give you something of value? You think that person felt sorry for you and out of the kindness of their heart wanted to help you? Ha! Think about it. Nothing happened. Alton stifled the paranoid voice. He needed to concentrate.

With narrowed eyes, he watched for the slightest change. A tiny wiggle, a whiff of smoke, a glow of light, but nothing happened. He was ready to hit the ground or bolt out of the house if he sensed the slightest crackle of magic. So far, there was nothing malicious about it. Gaining a modicum of courage, he guided the tip of the dagger around the dingy looking cloth until he was able to get it partially unwrapped. When a corner of the fabric fell away, Alton saw a pair of thin, polished black, segmented, finger-like digits sticking up. “It looks like a small animal claw,” Alton spoke into the empty air. When he tapped one with his dagger it rang out like a small, silver bell. The only black metal Alton knew was the rough surface of cast iron. The kind used for cooking pots and kettles. This substance was entirely different as it was smooth and polished, and the tiny ting it set off when he tapped it told him this was not iron.

Intrigued, suspicion fled from his mind. Using the dagger, Alton lifted the cloth completely and dropped it to the floor. In the dim light, Alton nearly screamed as his eyes rested on a very large, very articulate, menacing, palm sized, spider. His skin rippled like the surface of a disturbed pond. Even though it lay motionless on the table, its eight legs curved toward the sky, Alton expected it to leap up and attack. It couldn’t be real, but it appeared so incredibly life-like that his eyes thought he saw a leg twitch. He backed into the wall. “It can’t be real,” he said while questioning his own statement. “It’s metal. A carving.”

Suspicion returned to his mind, No craftsman can carve or forge such a detailed piece. Magic created it. Get rid of it. No good will come from this.

From a place of desperate desire, Alton began to wonder what a bauble like this would be worth. Such incredible craftsmanship would fetch a king’s ransom in the right hands.

He lit a stub of a candle so he could get a better look. With his dagger still aimed at the eight-legged creature on the table, he inched forward. After a few tentative taps with the tip of his blade, he turned the spider carving around. The head and body appeared to be tarnished silver. A pair of silver appendages protruded in front of its face like thick, inward facing mustaches. Above that, and encircling the head were eight, sparkling gemstone eyes. They caught the fluttering flame of the candle and blazed with fractured light. Alton’s heart skipped a beat. The gems alone would be worth a small fortune.

Forgetting all feelings of apprehension, Alton picked up the inanimate spider to inspect it closer. It was heavy and solid. His eyes glittered brighter than the reflective gemstones as he imagined the riches he held in his hand. He was not a jeweler but the stones appeared to be radiant blue sapphires in the largest two sockets, followed by green emeralds on opposite sides, a pair of rubies, then the last and smallest pair were smooth black gems that Alton assumed were onyx. As that was the only black stone he was aware of. He could take the carved spider apart and sell each of the gems and silver body for a hefty bag of gold, but if he could find the right buyer for the entire piece, he would be a rich man. Alton felt warming rays of good luck melt away his long streak of horrible luck.

“Not Boris,” Alton said under his breath and shaking his head. “That stinking cheat would only give me a tenth of what this beauty is worth. If he gave me anything at all.” He cradled the spider against his chest like a loving parent would hold an infant. “Maybe I could sneak back into Anisted. Jardeen would be honest with me. Hell, I might even throw a coin or two extra his way.” Alton then shivered as he thought about being impaled on a sharp spike, and having his rotting carcass displayed in front of the castle. He wasn’t sure he wanted to chance that demise and shivered.

A different type of hunger settled into his belly. The hunger for wealth creeped up as Alton stared lovingly at the carved spider. Again he was astonished by the exquisite craftsmanship of the relief. The segmented legs were so detailed that they looked like a real spider had been transformed into metal. The detail was so convincing that Alton couldn’t help but think it would jump up and scurry away.

He yawned so deep his eyes watered. All this excitement and lack of food had exhausted him so much he felt he would fall asleep standing. He snuffed out the candle, made sure his door was secure, and went to sleep, still clutching the spider in one hand, his dagger in the other. In only a matter of minutes Alton was in a deep slumber. While he dreamed of an endless feast, something in the bed began to stir.

When Alton awoke early next morning, a stab of panic lanced his heart. The jeweled spider was not in his hand. Maybe it fell to the floor while I shifted, he thought to himself. He jumped out of the bed, shook his patched cloak to make sure it wasn’t tangled in the fabric. When that didn’t produce the spider he searched the floor, then dropped to his knees to look under the bed. The spider was nowhere in sight. “Maybe it was all a dream, and I’m still poorer than dirt.” Then a tiny flicker of movement caught his attention as his eyes landed on the table. Alton blinked rapidly, then rubbed his eyes, but he still saw double.

On the table, side by side were two, identical jeweled spiders. Magic was the only explanation. He pinched himself. “Definitely not dreaming,” he said. His mind reeled with the implications. Maybe they multiplied each night. That was the magic and the reason the man got rid of it. He had too many of them and shared the wealth with him. This thought really made no sense, but neither did two perfectly carved spiders made from precious materials. Alton swelled with giddy pleasure at the thought of overflowing with jeweled spiders. All he would have to do is pick out the gemstones, then melt the metal. He would have more money than he could ever spend in a lifetime.

When one spider turned 45 degrees to turn those sparkling, jeweled eyes upon Alton, his sleep-addled mind froze mid-thought and his jaw went slack. He could feel the spider staring through him, into his soul. Instinctively he reached for his dagger, but it wasn’t there. It must still be in the bed, he thought, but he dare not make any sudden movements. Moving his eyes only, Alton searched for an object he could crush the spider with, but there was nothing available in the tiny room. If it came at him, he would have to stomp it, he reasoned.

“No, no.” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes again. “I’m hallucinating from lack of food. There is nothing there. I’ve imagined it all.” As if in response, the spider moved again. Except this time it stayed in place while the two mustache looking appendages began to undulate slowly. The mesmerizing up and down of those silvery appendages gave the spider the appearance that it was thinking. Alton clutched his heart. He wasn’t terribly afraid of spiders, but he did not particularly like them either. And now it seemed he had a palm sized magic tarantula in his house. Or rather he had two, but the other one remained quite still. “Okay… Fine. I can deal with this,” he said to the empty room. “I’ll just smash the living one, and hurry and sell the other one before it comes to life.”

Making only slow and fluid movements, Alton reached back into the bed, found his dagger without taking his eyes off the spiders, and began to creep toward the table. His eyes were trained on the moving spider, but he kept her peripheral vision trained on the other on just in case.

Seeming to sense its life was in danger, the spider on the right backed toward the wall while keeping those unblinking gemstone eyes upon Alton. “That’s right. Why don’t you shoo on out of here.” Alton waved his hands at the spider. Immediately the spider hopped backward, landed on the wall and climbed backward halfway up. “Yes,” Alton almost squealed in delight. “Keep going, there’s a crack at the door you should fit through. If not, I’ll flatten you and slide your oozing carcass through it myself. Go on you creepy little freak. Explore the world and make more of your little abominations out there. Bye, go on.”

As if the spider understood Alton’s words, it disappeared out through the little crack above the door. Alton sheathed his dagger then wiped his sweating brow. “That went smoother than expected.” Now that he was alone again, he turned his attention upon the still unmoving spider. It was very lackluster upon closer inspection and almost translucent, like it was somehow covered in a layer of dust. No matter, he thought, it should still fetch a few handfuls of gold pieces. Still enough to set him up well for some time. He watched for any slight movements. At the slightest twitch he would smash it to bits if need be. It remained as motionless as it was last night. Alton darted his finger out and gave the spider a tiny tap then immediately pulled his hand away. As soon as he touched it the front half of the spider crumbled into a tiny pile of fine dust.

Alton recoiled in horror as he sucked in breath. “What have I done?” he wailed. The entire head and three of the front legs disintegrated. Only the oval body and remaining legs were still standing. Alton fell to his knees. All his dreams of riches, lavish foods, expensive lodgings, silken gowns, luxury upon luxury slipped through his hands like sand. His trembling hands reached out for the remaining piece of precious spider but he dared not touch it. Then his sorrowful eyes noticed it was nothing more than a hollow husk. He exhaled the pent up breath. At the touch of his breath the remainder of the spider carapace crumbled to gray powder.

Despair clutched his throat, his chest, his gut and he groveled on the floor at the cruel trick that was played on him. “Fates!” he cried. “Why do you mock me?!” Alton wallowed in the pit of self despair on the dirty floor. Why was life so cruel for some, and so easy for others? He lamented. It really made him wonder if this miserable existence was worth living. Life always tried to scratch out a meager existence, but was this awful, disgusting excuse of a life worth it?

Throughout his entire life, Alton never had enough to eat to be remotely comfortable. He was living in a moldy, rotting shack that was drafty and cold even during warm summer days, and there were no prospects that he would ever escape this living hell. At least death removed the pain of hunger and desire.

As he lay there contemplating ending his tormented life, something hairy brushed across his fingers. Alton yelped and scrambled away until his back hit the opposite wall. When his terrified eyes adjusted he saw the jeweled spider again. It was on the floor near where he had been wallowing and regarded him with those indistinct, sparkling, yet dead eyes. “Oh sure,” he said to the spider. “Come back here to mock me. Or are you here to make a meal of me?” He pulled up his threadbare tunic revealing the pinched, bony body beneath. “Do I look juicy enough for you? I bet even you couldn’t get your fill with just bones here.”

In response the spider nudged a cocoon wrapped package toward Alton. He pulled his tunic back down and stared at the wrapping in surprise. He had been so startled that he didn’t notice it before. It must have been what touched his hand.

A rabbit. Spider brought fresh meat.

“What is that?” his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. The spider pushed the bundle toward him again. Alton considered the spider silk wrapped package at his knees. He cut a small slit with his dagger. He saw soft, brown fur and immediately knew it was a hare. Alton eyed the spider again before snatching up the cocoon, removing the rest of the stretchy, sticky strands and revealing a fresh, whole, long-eared rabbit. “How did…? Where…?” He decided he didn’t care, nor did he want to know how the spider came upon the hare. He only wanted to skin it and start eating. It was difficult to keep from biting into the flesh raw, so strong was his hunger, but he was able to get a small fire going and cook at least sear the first haunch he stuffed into his mouth.

It wasn’t until he had nearly devoured half of the sweet tasting meat that he wondered if the spider had venom, and if that venom would affect him. “I don’t care,” he said as he chewed another large bite.

It didn’t take Alton long to realize this spider was worth more alive than it ever was as an exquisite bauble. It seemed to either understand what he said, or could read his thoughts. It was an accomplished hunter and would bring Alton rabbits, possums, and other various small game whenever he wanted. One day while Alton cruised through the village streets, his belly full of groundhog he noticed the town tax collector harassing one of the merchants. Alton didn’t care about the argument, he only noticed the large bag of coins he carried, along with the thick purse of his own. Alton knew he would never get away with stealing the tax money. The collector was always accompanied by two guards that made sure no one got too close. “I’d love to snatch that fat purse,” he muttered to himself.

Suddenly he felt the jeweled spider skitter out of his pocket, and down his pant leg. “Wait, where are you going?” he hissed. But the spider deftly dodged between the feet of the townsfolk and headed straight for the tax collector. Before Alton knew what was happening, the spider had returned, clutching the purse in its front legs, and offered it to him. His eyes were wide, and his mouth gaped. “How did you do that? How did no one see you?” He watched in astonishment as the tax collector suddenly seemed to notice his belt was a bit lighter. Alton knew now was a good time to disappear.

From then on, all he had to do was whisper to the spider what he wanted. The dutiful little thief would then sneak off, snatch the item, and return it to Alton. His life had flipped upside down. He went from nearly starving to death, to living without a care in the world.

When pickings started to thin, and people about the village started becoming suspicious of Alton he knew he needed to change scenery. Alton went from starving, gutter churl, to being able to pay for nicer lodging in the inn, and fine clothing, and a set of exquisite daggers, talk amongst the town heated up.

Alton moved into the city directly below the castle. Here there were so many residents, Alton didn’t have to be so careful who he sicced the spider on, and the pickings were infinitely richer. Another benefit of living in the city was that here, no one knew him or his past, and with clean, new clothes, horses, and a carriage all his own, he bought a modest house and continued the new exciting lifestyle.

Nearly every day Alton leisurely strolled among the busy citizens, sent Jewels—as he named the spider—out to help lighten the loads of the wealthier residents. The magic that created the spider must have given it the ability to be invisible to all others because no one ever noticed the tarnished silver tarantula with midnight black legs scurrying amongst them. If someone did spot the spider by some chance, it could slip into tiny cracks or crevices so fast that by the time they did a double-take, the spider was already out of sight.

Alton was living his best life now with Jewels. He had all the things he ever dreamed of. His belly was always full, he drank the finest ales and wines at every meal, and had a nice house that wasn’t rotting with mold, didn’t leak when it rained and wasn’t going to fall down in a slight gust of wind. For once in his miserable life, Alton was happy. He had no qualms that everything he now owned came from ill gotten methods. None of these people helped him when he was tapping on death’s door. Besides, they were all so wealthy they would never miss a pouch of coins here, or a gaudy ruby ring there.

Alton came home one day with a huge smile on his face. He smiled a lot these days because he was wealthy, and he found out indeed, that money does make a man happy. Especially if he was unfortunate enough to have gone without all his previous life. He sat down in the plush chair he purchased not too long ago as he popped open an expensive bottle of wine. It was called The Queen’s Reserve and had cost him nearly as much as his house did. “No matter, Jewels” he said as he inhaled the fruity, earthy aroma wafting out of the bottle. “Tomorrow we will work doubly hard,” and he let out a hearty laugh. As he took a swig straight from the bottle he said to the spider, “I wish you could drink with me.” Then he toasted the spider and took another long draught. “It would be nice to celebrate together.” Alton spread his hands wide as he reclined back in the soft chair. “Look at what we accomplished! At what you have accomplished. And I owe it to the mysterious benefactor that put you in my pocket all those days ago.” Alton took another swig from the bottle. “Here’s to whoever he was, and here’s to you Jewels.”

Alton decided he would at least pretend to drink with the spider. He found a small bowl, set it near the spider and poured some of the dark, rich wine into the bowl. “Drink up, friend. If you can.”

Jewels tilted his head down as if he was contemplating the wine, then moved the head back up to look at Alton. The thief shrugged. “Hey, I tried.”

“I wonder,” he mused after another swig. Internal warmth and fuzziness was spreading from his stomach to his fingers and toes. A feeling of bubbling giddiness overtook him. “Are there any more of you out there, or are you the only one Jewels?” He sat heavily back into the chair and almost dropped the bottle. “Whoa, can’t be doing that now can we? Well, I guess if I did, I’d get you to pilfer me another bottle!” Alton laughed and took another drink.

“I know what we need around here,” Alton said. He looked at the bowl where Jewels had been only a second ago. The spider wasn’t there. In a brief moment of panic, Alton thought something happened to Jewels, or it had simply had enough and ran off, but he saw the spider about ten feet on the floor directly in front of him. It was staring at him with those eerie jeweled eyes. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat. When he was back onto his train of thought he continued. “What we need are some drinking buddies, and maybe some women to liven this place right up,” he chuckled. “Yes. Definitely some women. This bachelor life is fun and all, but there’s nothing like the warmth of a naked woman laying under the sheets with you.” He winked at the spider and wobbled in the chair. “I’ll seek some friends out tomorrow. We’ll have us a real party in here, Jewels.” Alton took another drink from the wine bottle. It was already half empty. He peered at the bottle suspiciously, wondered if there was a hole in it because there was no way he had drunk that much already. Then, for an instant he thought about saving the rest for later because he didn’t want to run out so soon, but then he laughed at himself. He had an endless supply of money now. He didn’t have to worry about saving anything.

He felt a weight on his feet. Looking down Alton saw Jewels perched on his crossed boots. He blinked several times because suddenly everything in his sight has a soft, blurry edge to it, and he couldn’t be sure but the spider was staring at him with what felt like a menacing glare. “What’re you doin’ down there, Jewels?” His words were starting to get sloppy, and his speech was slurred.

Alton had a queer feeling in the pit of his stomach. Even though he hadn’t had to put his skills as a rogue to use for quite a spell, especially since he found the spider, he still could count on that internal gut feeling to let him know when something wasn’t right. At this very moment he felt things were not very right at all. “Hey, ged on offa me now, Jewels. Yer creepin’ me out.” Alton shook his foot, but the spider held on. He felt his own jewels draw up as the apprehensive feeling morphed into fear. The twin mustaches that always waved hypnotically in front of the spider's mouth were pulsing faster now. “I’m only gonna warn ya this one time,” Alton said swaying in his seat. When the spider only skittered up just below Alton’s knee, he the slight tingle of fear grew into a sharp pain of terror that stabbed icy blades into his spine. Alton lifted his other leg with the intention of kicking the spider off, but as soon as he aimed at the spider, the silver mustaches flared outward revealing hidden, sharp, glistening, red fangs. In an instant, twin needles sank deep into Alton's calf.

He yelped in pain as the blood in his leg was set on fire. He threw the wine bottle at the spider, but it nimbly jumped out of the way and regarded Alton with a cold stare. Alton could feel the searing blood radiate outward from the bite with each heartbeat. He staggered toward the door. “Wha’ didja bite me for you ungrateful shit!” he snarled at the spider. He had to get out and find a doctor, but his leg had lost and would not work the way he wanted it to. No matter how he tried, his leg only hung limp from his hip. Alton hopped on one leg until he stumbled to the floor, then crawled closer to the exit with his arms, until they too followed the path of numbness and eventual uselessness.

Alton rolled himself on his back and watched with mounting horror as Jewels inched closer to him. Adrenaline and sheer horror evaporated the effects of the wine. “What do you want? If you want to go free then go. I never held you hostage. I thought we had a good thing going. Please…” He could feel the numbness creeping up his neck. Soon it would consume his head and Alton knew he would not wake up from this. His eyelids felt like lead curtains. It was a fight to keep them open. Finally they closed on their own as his tongue and lips went slack. He couldn’t feel his heart beating and wondered if it stopped. Was he to die like this now? His mind whirled. He fought to open his eyes. He could only open them up as wide as a sword’s edge. The blurry shape of the spider crawled up his legs, to his chest, closer and closer until it stopped right in front of his face. Inside his head he screamed to be let loose, but such was not his fate. His last thought was Why is life so UNFAIR?! Despite his struggles, Alton succumbed to the consuming blackness.

His eyes popped open but he saw nothing. Absolute black surrounded him. Was he dead? Is this what eternity would be like, simply staring into darkness? He blinked his eyes and soon they began to adjust to a dim light. Alton was able to tilt his head slightly. He was still in his house because he saw the fireplace, but the fire had burned itself out, leaving only the soft orange and black glow of warm embers. The smell of The Queen’s Reserve and wood smoke greeted his nostrils. He attempted to move his arms and legs but they still did not would not heed his commands. A faint but distant glimmer of hope appeared when Alton noticed he was tightly wrapped in a clean, white sheet. That meant someone was here and was tending to him. Why was he so tightly bound though? He wondered. Jewels, where was Jewels? A hair tickled his nose. He sneezed and realized to his horror, that he was not wrapped in a sheet. No, he was wrapped tightly in a spider silk cocoon like a mummy.

Alton screamed when a small, heavy shape hopped onto his chest and four pairs of blue and red jeweled eyes stared back at him. “Let me go. Please,” he begged. “If you’re mad about stealing things, I promise you don’t have to do that again, just please let me out of here.”

No.

The word took Alton by complete surprise and he looked around the house to see who had spoken.

My time is near an end. This is to be our legacy. Together we will create something this world has never seen before.

Alton still searched for the voice, but there was not a single soul in the house except for him and Jewels. He swallowed then asked, “Jewels? Are you speaking to me?”

Yes.

“Y-y-you can talk?” Alton couldn’t believe it himself.

I could always talk.

“Wh-why didn’t you say anything until now? We could have had conversations. You could have told me if you were unhappy.”

You never asked me to talk to you.

“Okay, okay. I’m asking now. Talk to me, why are you doing this to me? I thought we were friends.”

I was a gift to you. You prayed to Mallethor. He listened. I was to do your bidding until my time was up.

“Wait,” Alton’s head was spinning and not from the wine. “Mallethor? The Mallethor sent you?”

Jewels simply stared at Alton.

“So Mallethor…the god? He chose me. He gave you to me? Then why did you bite me, and why have you wrapped me up like this? You have to do my bidding if the god of chaos and darkness chose me.”

Mallethor has called for your soul. I am free from your bidding because my time is almost over. You will help provide a legacy.

“I’m in the prime of my life,” Alton almost cried. “Why is he calling for my soul now? I want to live. Let me live, Mallethor and I will be a beacon for your teachings.”

Just like you have used me to steal from all those people, Mallethor is stealing your soul from you.

“That’s not fair!” Alton wheezed. He fought against the webbing but could do little more than writhe helplessly on the floor. “You started stealing for me!”

That was the desire in your heart. You never stopped to consider the consequences. You never questioned, or attempted a different path. I could have helped you build, create, do better for yourself, but you chose the path of a thief, and you shall die in the path of a thief.

“But I didn’t know. Give me another chance. I’ll do better. I promise! Anything, just let me go. Please…”

Why do you beg? Are you not grateful that I am going to give you a lasting legacy? Isn’t that what humans strive for all their lives?

“Legacy? How is dying in a cocoon a legacy? There’s nothing noble about that. I want to live, let me make my own legacy.”

When Mallethor presented me to you, death was breathing down your neck. If I did not bring you food, you would have starved. If you would have stolen from that lord, you would have been killed. You were not aware that he kept two trained guards around him, dressed as peasants at all times. As soon as you would have attempted to steal from him, they would have killed you. Either way would have been a wasteful, ignoble death. I gave you years of life. Am I correct to assume you have been happy?

“Yes! Yes I am very happy. The happiest I have been in my entire life so why not let me be happy for a while longer. I’ll change. I’ll do better. I have lots of time to fix things!”

Then you should be content with that knowledge that you now have a purpose. You will leave a lasting legacy behind.

“Legacy…Why do you keep saying that? What are you talking about?”

It is nature’s purpose to procreate. To pass on our traits to our children.

“There’s nothing natural about you!” Alton yelled.

Were you not created by gods? I too was created by a god. Mallethor. How am I not as natural as you?

Alton mulled this over, but couldn't comprehend the logic while thought of survival were at the forefront of his mind.

I have eggs to lay. They need a host or they will not survive. You have been chosen to provide nourishment for my brood. Therefore you will also live on within my children. Together we leave behind the greatest legacy that can be imagined. What more could a human ask for?

Alton couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was going to be feed for hundreds, possibly thousands of tiny jeweled spiders, and this spider expected him to be excited and happy about it. Again he fought against the tight bindings, then realized if he could reach one of his daggers, he could cut himself free. “I tell you what, Jewels. I’ll find you somebody else. Someone who would be a much better fit than me. You need a woman. Your children will be happier with a plump, soft woman instead of a stringy, gristly man like me.

There is no time, Alton. I have put this off for too long. I have to lay my eggs, and then I will die. Thank you, Rogue Alton, your memory will live on with all my children onto my children’s children. Soon you will be with Mallethor. You can beg him. I am released from the bond that held us. Now I must do my work.

Then Jewels moved like lightning as she wrapped his head and face in a thick layer of silk. He fought to keep his head free, but the spider was too fast. Once the webbing had set, it lost the springy elasticity, and he was no longer able to move at all. He felt the spider’s weight shift to his chest, and there he felt tiny eggs being deposited on his chest through the tightly woven silk

No matter how much he screamed, how he struggled, Alton could not break free from his bindings. Minutes passed which to Alton felt like lifetimes. He still attempted to writhe free, use his teeth to bite through the silk, but it only stuck to his mouth and tongue like glue soaked yarn. Then he began to feel tiny wiggling on his chest. He couldn’t see them but he knew the tiny spiderlings were hatching. He held his breath in paralyzed horror as the miniscule legs skittered over his body. The feeling was like thousands of fleas crawling over his flesh. Next came the tiny sharp pin pricks as the baby spiders bit into his flesh and began to feed. Alton screamed and struggled until his heart stopped beating and he was a dried husk.

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