The Ruthless - Peter Newman The Deathless Trilogy

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tiny, a man called Devdan. Sa-at learned many words from him. He had been kind for a time, and then he had stopped being kind. Sa-at remembered the man’s hands on his throat, and then the threat of fire and sharp things. He had been tiny but the memory was vivid in his mind, like a body preserved in amber. These people seemed kind too, would they try and hurt him as well?

      ‘I see something!’ said one of the Gatherers, and they all turned towards him. They carried simple weapons, knives and long poles of wood. One carried a sling, that they proceeded to load.

      Sa-at had never seen a sling before and was briefly distracted by the excitement of something new. The promise of the unknown made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.

      ‘What is it?’ said a voice from the back.

      ‘Looks like a person.’

      ‘Ain’t no people here but us.’

      ‘Said we shouldn’t have come!’

      ‘Is it a demon?’

      Sa-at tried to think of something to say but the excitement and nerves had made him too fizzy, so instead he took a careful step forward.

      As one, the group stepped back.

      ‘Don’t look it in the eye!’

      ‘Don’t let it touch you!’

      Behind them all, moving smooth and slow, the first of the Spiderkin slid down until it was level with the Gatherers’ heads. Upside down, its legs opened like bony petals, tensing to strike.

      Sa-at finally found his voice. ‘Run.’

      ‘Did it say something?’ asked a Gatherer.

      ‘Don’t listen to it!’ said another. ‘Don’t let it get close!’

      A second Spiderkin slipped down next to the first, a third and fourth close behind. These were the scouts, the fast ones. Their job was to slow down the food for their queen.

      ‘Run!’ he repeated.

      ‘Don’t listen!’

      He did not understand why they were still standing there. The new Spiderkin flexed open as well, the little mouths tucked in their bellies oozing with drool. They were ready. He did not understand why it was so difficult to communicate with these people. Crowflies always understood what he said and all the meanings underneath.

      With arms spread wide, Sa-at let out a wild cry and ran towards the group, desperate to get them to move.

      The Gatherers cried out in alarm and the Spiderkin paused to assess the new threat. The sling spun round three times and a stone whizzed past Sa-at’s shoulder. He kept running.

      The Gatherers fell over themselves trying to retreat, stumbling directly into the Spiderkin.

      There was a flurry of legs and screams as the Gatherers tried to flee. They had finally realized the danger, but instead of running back towards the lighter area of the forest (which would have taken them past Sa-at), they ran away from everything, moving randomly off into the dark.

      Seven vanished into the forest, but one was grappled by a Spiderkin, his legs kicking wildly as it began to ascend.

      Sa-at used his momentum to leap, grabbing the Gatherer’s boot as it thudded into his chest. They swung, spinning on the end of the strand, the Gatherer dangling from the Spiderkin’s legs, Sa-at dangling from the Gatherer’s. Their arc took them into the path of other strands, tying all four together, and sending the other three Spiderkin into a frenzy.

      The Gatherer shrugged off his satchel, getting partially free. A last leg was hooked under his shoulder however, and he fought desperately to unhook it. A droplet of saliva fell past them to the floor. That meant the Spiderkin’s mouth armour had pulled back. All the Gatherer had to do was punch it there and he’d be let go.

      ‘Hit it now!’ urged Sa-at.

      However the Gatherer was too busy screaming to notice.

      As they swung towards a tree, Sa-at kicked off from it, spinning them faster. If the Gatherer had been caught by one of the big ones it wouldn’t have mattered, they would both have been taken to the lair. However their combined weight and motion was too much for it to hold, and the Spiderkin let go with a hiss.

      The next thing Sa-at knew he was on the floor. Before his thoughts could catch up, he was on his feet. The Gatherer was doing the same.

      ‘Run!’ Sa-at urged.

      This time, there was no hesitation. The Gatherer did as he was told.

      ‘No,’ Sa-at called after him. ‘Not that way!’

      But the Gatherer was too busy screaming to listen.

      After a moment’s frustration, Sa-at followed him, leaving the Spiderkin to stab at each other as they untangled themselves.

       CHAPTER TWO

      The Gatherers had run blind, stumbling between the trees in a haphazard fashion. Each was guided, by twisting paths and prodding branches, until they had all been brought back together. Then, gradually, the Wild had funnelled them deeper into its heart, to places that even Sa-at avoided when the suns went down.

      When the first of them stopped to double over and pant, the others followed suit.

      Sa-at watched them from a distance, curious to see what they would do next. Crowflies had caught him up during the pursuit and had settled itself on a nearby branch.

      Each member of the group gave their name to prove they had survived the encounter, and each time the rest of the them would smile and reach over to touch the arm of the one who had spoken. Sa-at liked that. He wondered what it would be like to be smiled at in that way. As the last one announced themselves and was welcomed, he copied their smiles from his hiding place and reached out a hand in their direction. None saw, save for Crowflies, who did not care to comment.

      ‘Sa-at is here too,’ he whispered, and then, so as not to feel lonely, he touched his own arm.

      ‘I think we’re not far from …’ gasped one of the Gatherers. ‘Or maybe we’re near … I think … no. I don’t know where we are.’

      ‘We need to get home.’

      The others were quick to agree but none of them were sure which way home was. Another discussion started, quickly turning into an argument. Sa-at listened with interest, eagerly devouring the new words. He was particularly intrigued to know that some of the Gatherers had more than one name.

       That woman likes to turn her hands and speak.

       Her name is Hil.

       Hil’s other name is ‘Great Idiot’.

       The man who clasps his hands is Rin.

       Rin’s other name is ‘Dogkin’s Cock’.

      At one point it looked as if the group was going to split up, with one half going with Hil and the other with Rin. However, when Hil claimed to recognize a mossy chunk of rock, they stopped arguing. And when she said they were not far away from a path she knew, Rin told her to take the lead.

      She’s wrong, thought Sa-at. They’re going the wrong way again.

      Crowflies pointed at the group with a wing and made a derogatory noise.

      ‘You don’t like them?’

      He received one of Crowflies’ looks, where the Birdkin slowly tilted its head to one side as if Sa-at had said something ridiculous.

      He watched thousands of tiny reflections of himself shrug in the Birdkin’s eyes. ‘They’re funny. I don’t want them to die.’

      That

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