Weaver of Webs
Author's Note: In my opinion, this is quite an odd story. I have not finished writing it, but I find the idea to be… um… unique. It is based loosely (very loosely) on the Greek myth of Arachne, but you don't have to know the myth to understand this story. The first chapter is short, but more will be coming soon. I hope you enjoy my experiment.
Disclaimer: Tortall and any of Tammy's characters belong to her (although I would love to have them). Characters you don't recognize, along with the plot, belong to me.
Prologue
Sweat poured down the face of a short, tawny haired mage in the City of the Gods. His long, black robe was inappropriate for the humid summer day, but his pride convinced him to leave it on. For weeks he had been studying books upon books until the words were floating in his head, trying to find a way to fulfill his thirst for power. Immortality was his greatest dream and he had finally discovered something that could help.
In front of the mage was a think book with yellowed pages and a tattered spine showing long years of use. The words were faded and bunched tightly on the large pages, and although they were gibberish to most people, they made perfect sense to him. They spoke of words of power, especially the kind that changed the physical essence of a person. Even though none of the words directly addressed his needs, the mage in all his arrogance felt certain he could twist them to fit his purposes. Surely as a black robe mage he could take the body of a human and change it to that of a god.
Finally, after long preparation, the mage decided it was time to try his luck. With thin, wrinkled fingers he shut the book and cleared the table of spare papers. He moved with quick movements to the door of the workroom, locking it with both key and magic. Standing in the middle of the small, crowded room, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He closed his eyes for concentration, and spoke clearly the word of power he had created.
The mage felt a jolt in his stomach as the room around him began to shift. At first he thought the walls were shrinking, but as the bookcases were pressed up against his back he realized the truth: he had grown. He opened his eyes again to see what had happened and found himself standing shakily on hairy black legs. Eight of them.
The Tortallan mage Cadic had changed himself into a spidren.
At that same moment in the forests outside Corus, a female spidren had situated herself at the top of a large tree. Her human head had lively green eyes framed by short, white-blonde hair. The perch she had chosen overlooked a path that exited the city and led east, and was frequented by travelers. She smiled to herself as she contemplated the brilliance of her plan, for like all spidrens she loved the warm taste of human flesh.
In seconds her vision went blurry and she lost her grip on the branch, sending her tumbling to the hard ground below. She landed hard on her back, and even as she felt herself slipping into darkness she remembered wondering why she was now covered in soft, pink flesh. The spidren-turned-human would not be discovered until that night, when two villagers returning to their homes were traveling that same path.