A Time of Dying (Araneae Nation)

Dedication

Cancer took my dad from me on December 2, 2012.

This is the first book I’ve written that he wasn’t around to see completed, to help critique or to ask, “When do we see cover art?”

Writing “the end” has never felt more final.

I miss you, Daddy.

Chapter One

Freckled skin gave beneath my spade as I angled its honed point at the hollow of some poor female’s throat. Milky eyes bored into mine when I braced my foot on the spade’s tread, shifting my weight, bearing down until the blade sliced through her slender neck, tearing flesh and crunching bone. Her lips parted on a gasp, or perhaps I imagined that flicker of awareness before I snuffed her final remnants. Gods knew I hoped it was only guilt picking at scabs on my weary conscious.

The death of even one innocent would break me, if any scrap of the old Kaidi remained.

Tossing the spade aside, I wiped sweat from my brow and bent to check her pockets, finding them as empty as my own. No coin meant going another day without food. Not that I had much of an appetite after this, but I couldn’t live on stale water for much longer. Soon I would need a hot meal and a safe place to rest, if one still existed.

Gaze skimming the grassy field littered with the corpses of plague victims, I had my doubts.

Exhaustion bore me to my knees. I was too tired to wince when one knee cracked on a loose stone. My chin hit my chest, and my eyes shut. The pulse of pain, of hunger, of regret, lulled me.

One minute lapsed, then two. Any moment I would rise. Any time now…

The press of cold metal against my throat shocked me awake.

“I’ll have your name, female.” The booming masculine voice made my head throb.

“I hope not.” I ignored the blade and rubbed my eyes clear. “It would sound silly on a male.”

More pressure made breathing without cutting my neck difficult. “Tell me your name.”

I rolled around a few choices before saying, “Imani.”

His grunt called me on my lie. Interesting. Usually they couldn’t tell.

He nudged me with his boot. “What’s your purpose here?”

I shrugged. “The same as my purpose elsewhere, I imagine.”

Grasping my upper arm, he hauled me onto my feet and spun me to face him. I stifled a gasp when I met the pitch-black eyes informing me that I had run afoul of a Mimetidae warrior. I had tracked the plague to Cathis, the Mimetidae’s clan home, but had I been in my right mind, a state I barely recalled these days, I would have avoided their borders and continued on to the next city.

Contrary to my actions these past few months, I did not have a death wish.

Thinly leashed anger radiated through his tightened fingers. “You play a dangerous game.”

“You have no idea,” I murmured, while measuring the distance from here to the forest.

His gaze trailed after mine. “You won’t make it.”

“So you say.” I struggled until he released me, then I hit the ground like a sack of stones.

“If you can’t stand, then you can’t run.” He sheathed his weapon, turning to appraise my long night’s work by the dawn’s soft glow. “Care to explain this?” He gestured toward the headless corpse. “Or those?”

I forced myself to count victims—sixteen females and one male for good measure.

My laugh was rusty. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

His brow creased. “Try me.”

I fisted a palm’s worth of loose dirt. “Well, it’s like this…”

When he folded his arms over his chest, away from that lovely sword of his, and inclined his head, waiting, I exhaled hard and prayed the gods gave my feet wings. His frown cut deeper, lips parting on his next demand, when I gathered my nerve and flung the contents of my hand at him.

“What in the gods’ names—” He staggered back, blinking in surprise.

Shoving to my feet, I bolted past him, snagged my spade and ran for the safety of the trees. His bellow of rage made my heart race and chest tighten. Those were not the sounds of a happy male. No, they were the sounds of a male preparing to rend a female in two,
if
he could catch her.

Scenery blurred as I ran harder, faster, until my foot rung a hole and I tumbled onto all fours. I was halfway to standing when the male burst into the small clearing, head lifted, nostrils flared.

“Move,” he warned, “and we’ll see if your head comes off as easy as theirs did.”

Turning my head slowly, I noticed his arms were out, but his sword remained tethered at his hip as if he didn’t want to harm me. Pity. Once I might have appreciated his misguided chivalry. Now I saw it for the weakness it was. I was female, but I was not soft. Not my heart, and not my arms. They were lean and muscled from digging up graves, as firm and cold as the ground where I had buried my mother, my sisters and cousins, all the members of my family but one, my uncle.

I did this for them, as practice for the day we met again and I added their names to my tally.

Can’t kill what’s already dead,
I reminded myself.

While my thoughts churned over each other, the male took a step, and I tightened my grip on the spade. Before he got near enough to lay his hands on me, I twisted on my side and swung my weapon. The flat side cracked against his jaw, popping his neck as his head twisted. In a daze, he faced me, eyes whirling. Staggering back, he smeared the blood welling from his smashed cheek.

Scrambling out of his reach, I clawed my way upright, and a heartbeat later I was running. I barely dared to hope I might escape him unscathed when an impact knocked me against a tree. Ears ringing, I clamped my head between my hands and focused on not vomiting as the world lurched beneath me. A second hit from behind sent me tumbling onto the ground and burst my lip.

I wheezed when my attacker collapsed across my back, crushing the air from my lungs.

“I can’t…breathe.” My sight tunneled, turning hazy around the edges.

His low growl rumbled against my spine. “That makes two of us.”

Strong hands grasped my shoulders and flipped me onto my back. Before I brought my knee up to greet his tender parts, the male straddled my legs and sat on my shins, pinning me in place. His fingers dug into my collarbones, and the twist of his lips told me that if he had another set of hands, my wrists would be shackled too. Luckily for me, he didn’t, and I knew what I had to do.

I brought the spade up, but seconds from contact, he noticed. Wrenching the handle from my grasp, he flung it so far I lost sight of it. He lowered his head until his blood dripped on my chin. His breath was hot and hissed between his teeth. His expression sent fear shivering up my spine.

I swallowed hard. “Please—”

His palm sealed the plea in my mouth. “Save your lies for those who might believe them.”

Trapped beneath a snarling male who stood a head taller than me, three times wider than me, I had no choice but to obey. He was battered, his judgment clouded, and I knew I would outlast him.

“Those eyes—that hair—” His gaze narrowed on my left ear. “You’re Segestriidae.”

A name I could falsify. The golden hair and lavender eyes common to my clansmen, those I had no way to alter. Failing those telling signs, there was the clear quartz crystal suspended from my earlobe by a golden strand of Araneidae silk. The expense of that silk confirmed my identity. If their nigh-unbreakable silk made the Araneidae the wealthiest clan in the Araneae Nation, then the craftsmanship of mine made us almost equals in worth. Our skill with crystals was unrivaled.

To possess the appearance of the Segestriidae and indicators of my status was foolhardy.

Vanity kept me clinging to one while desperation made me reliant on the other. At least I had the good sense to travel with the matching necklace concealed. Bad enough to be a lone female on the road. That earned me unwanted attention. But if my fellow rogues had coveted the earring, they would have gutted me for the pendant.

Behind my captor’s eyes, I imagined his mind at work puzzling out my identity. My clothes were heavy and meant for travel, dyed soot black because I hunted my prey after the sun had set.

Briefly, I wished for his midnight hair and eyes. How well he must complement the night.

After a moment’s hesitation, he wiped the blood from my mouth with a cloth pulled from his pocket. When he finished, he inhaled my scent, and dread tightened my stomach. The Mimetidae were trackers, the lot of them. What I had given him was a means of locating me should I escape.

While tucking away his prize, his gaze never left mine. “Why are you on Mimetidae land?”

I mumbled against his hand, and he removed it. “Let me go.”

His eyes crossed. “I asked you a question.”

“Why bother answering when we both know I won’t tell you the truth?”

“I suspected as much, but as you’re female, I thought to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Well,” I countered, “as you’re male, I thought honesty and small words were prudent.”

A tic started beneath his right eye. “You’re insulting me.”

The seriousness of his expression made me laugh. “You’re a quick one, you are. Did you enjoy the chase?” I winked at him. “Set me on my feet and we can have another go.”

“I prefer you just as you are…” he shifted his hips, “…flat on your back.”

His words dried the spit from my mouth. All the ways this encounter could end poorly—for me—spun wild through my head. Though the guard’s heavy thighs pinned mine together, he was not aroused. That realization somewhat eased my mind. Now if he would only stay uninterested.

When he slid his hands down my body, then up my waist and over my breasts, I launched my fist at his bloodied jaw, but he swatted aside my arm.

“Calm yourself.” He went still, his face earnest. “I would never harm a female in that way. I must search you for more weapons. Understand?”

I nodded as if I believed that was all he was after.

“What’s this?” His patting had located my necklace. When he fished it from my shirt, his eyes widened. “I’ve never seen such a large crystal. The setting…” he turned it over in his hand, “…it’s solid gold.” He wasn’t asking. He didn’t have to. What would be the point of using such a remarkable stone but denying it an equally elegant setting? He breathed, “This must be worth a small fortune.”

His tone implied I must have stolen it. In fact, it had been a gift from my betrothed, a bauble as beautiful as it was lethal.

Qualities Hishima had once ascribed to me.

“It was a gift from my uncle.” I wasn’t stretching the truth too far. The earring had truly been a gift from Ghubari, a match to the impressive novelty my betrothed had given me. “Please let me keep it. Better yet, let me go.”

“If I did, where would you go?” He glanced up, then back at me. “What would you do? Find another field of bodies to desecrate? Loot more poor souls bound for the Above?” His expression mirrored his repulsed tone as he shoved the pendant back into my shirt. “Have you not a decent bone in your body that you violate the dead?”

“You don’t know me.” My morals had been abandoned for the sake of survival.

“I know enough.” He pushed to his feet and took me with him. “Come on. Let’s go. You can keep the necklace until my paladin says otherwise.”

My palms turned sweaty. “Where are you taking me?”

“Has it slipped your recollection that you’ve mutilated our dead? That offense is punishable by five years imprisonment, and assaulting one of the city’s guards has earned you another five.”

“They were dead.” At least they were as far as he knew. “What does it matter to them?”

“They have family that will come to pay their respects and find their loved ones hacked into pieces and the silver tokens placed upon their eyes pocketed by the female who did the cutting.”

Shame prickled my skin, but I held my head high while he dragged me toward the city. Near the bodies stood a second male, whose short blond hair was so filthy it almost matched his mud-brown eyes. His frame was heavy with muscle, his shoulders as wide as the ursus northlanders rode.

He paused in his deliberation and jerked his chin my way. “Did that little thing do all this?”