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Leaving Philips to face the jumping spider for a moment, Corson hacked at the matt-black spider’s leg. It swerved away from Keera. That should give her enough time.
A yell of pain rang out behind him. “Help!”
Corson turned back to find the jumping spider had Philips in its jaws. It dragged him backward in a swift darting movement.
“Philips!” Corson yelled, running to catch up. Mayor Harder joined him, rushing to attack with his two-handed sword in one hand and a brand in the other.
The spider darted backward again. Keera was also trying to follow—but the spider, even with its burden, was too fast. It leapt back over the fence and into the forest.
A net spider from earlier blocked their way. Holding up its reconstructed net in its legs, it flung the sticky mass at Corson.
He backed up, sword ready to slash.
The mayor thrust out a brand and the net went up in a puff of smoke.
Relieved, Corson changed direction, running back at the spider carrying Philips. Aiden arrived, backing him up, and the net spider scuttled off. But Philips and the jumping spider were gone, into the forest.
Heart heavy with failure, Corson tried to figure out where to go next. Behind them, half a dozen people had been hung from the roof of the town hall, two huge orb weaver spiders industriously picking them up, binding them in web and then swinging back down for more victims.
We’re losing. The thought was sickening. Being eaten alive by spiders is no way to die. He had to stop the giant orb weavers up on the main hall. There were two of them now, wrapping more and more people in silk. The largest one picked up Mayor Harder from behind, jaws sinking into his back so that he dropped his sword. In moments he was wrapped in spiderweb and dragged up to the eaves. Searching for a free spot, the spider hung him over the front door, above the burning lamps.
Mayor Harder’s leg caught a lamp, smashing the glass and sending it tumbling to the ground, spilling oil over the spiderweb trailing over the building. He didn’t even scream as his cocoon burst into flames.
“No!” Corson yelled. Fast as lightning, the fire ran up more trailing threads of spider-silk and into the damp thatch. Black smoke rose. Sparks flickered. There was no time to grieve when others needed rescuing.
Corson looked up at the eaves to the people encased in silk. They did not have long. He pulled himself up to the window ledge.
Around him, people yelled, “Fire!” The bells on the tower ringing incessantly. The fat orb weavers threw up their front legs and howled like the wind before fleeing, scuttling over the roofs and trees in a mad dash for the boundary fence.
Thick black smoke tearing his eyes, he could make out Aiden on his left-hand side. Together, they ripped the bodies down and into the arms of the people helping below.
There was so little time. One by one, they pulled them down as fast as they could. His arms cramping, his lungs aching with the thick smoke as the fire blazed, crackling through the thatch, growing in intensity with every moment. People were throwing water on the flames from below. With each bucket-load steam hissed from the burning thatch nearby, the regular splashing all that was keeping the fire at bay.
He looked up. One to go. High up to his right.
Corson snatched at the silk-wrapped body as fire flared up behind it. The wet, thick layers of silk smouldered. That and a whoosh of heat from the burning thatch nearly pushed him back. But Aiden was there, pulling the silk-wrapped body just a bit further.
“Got it!” Corson croaked, clinging to the silk parcel and pulling the body down. Above, the building’s thatch caught and burned as merrily as a yuletide fire. Muscles burning, Corson half-climbed down before releasing the body to the medics below and jumping away from the licking flames.
New-Avalon’s two medics were working furiously, offering various salves and medicines and binding wounds, but no matter how fast they worked, the line of patients continued to get longer.
Dazed, Corson watched the medics, backlit by sparks from the burning thatch of the buildings behind, tend the injured people below.
It’s not just the town hall. Half of New Avalon’s on fire.
“I’m alright.” He pushed the medics away and pulled at the sheets of silk surrounding the person he’d just rescued.
“We’ve got it,” the strapping young medic said, gently pushing him back.
There has to be something I can do.
“More water!” someone yelled. “Pump faster.”
“There’s some by the forge,” Aiden yelled back. He dashed through the smoky gap between the town hall and the village buildings.
Corson ran to join his friend, already little more than a shadow through the fumes. Throat raw and eyes watering, he forged through the narrow path under the eaves of the burning hall. And almost crashed into his friend.
Corson peered over Aiden’s shoulder. The barrel and pails were there—right next to six demons! A seventh pulled itself out of the smouldering forge-fire. A huge granite demon, still glowing from the heat. “Get the humans,” they growled. “Kill them if you must. Bring them to the demon-mines if you can.”
“No! Kill the demon-killers,” a grey-streaked marble demon shouted. “Kill them all!” It picked up a sword that had been left lying on the ground, and waved it like a toothpick. “Today is a good day for Earthsiders to die.” The marble demon charged, and the other demons followed, thundering toward Aiden and Corson.
