Shadowland. Spider World 06 by Colin Wilson

What had impressed the captain most was that although he had treated Niall with hostility and disrespect in their recent encounter, Niall had responded without any show of resentment. This seemed incredible, because the spiders had achieved their evolutionary superiority through the power of the will, they attached immense importance to dominance. Two spiders who had once faced each other as aggressors could never simply forget it, even if circumstances made them allies. A sense of unresolved rivalry would always remain between them. So Niall’s lack of resentment only seemed to confirm the superiority of the chosen of the goddess.

The hard mud road continued to wind among foothills of the mountain range to their left, crossing the occasional path that ran directly up to the heights. The wind here was colder than in the territory of the chameleon men, and in unsheltered places, seemed to Niall cold enough for snow. Although it was only late afternoon, it was already becoming dark, since the sun had dipped behind the mountains.

Niall was thirsty; he excused himself, took his pack from his back, and took a long draft of the spring water. As on the previous day, when he had filled his flask from the well, it brought a sense of exhilaration. Since he was also hungry, he ate some of the hard, crisp cake. When he offered some to the captain — out of politeness rather than any expectation that he would accept — the spider replied: “Thank you, no. I prefer meat.” And in answer to Niall’s unspoken question: “And I think I know where I can find some.”

The road wound up to a hilltop, and below them in the dusk they could see a small lake. On its far side there was a wood that covered a few acres of hillside. Twenty minutes later they were among its trees. The captain stood still, and Niall realized he was using some sixth sense that was natural to a hunter. A few moments later, a plump brown woodcock walked out from the trees, its long beak probing the dead leaves. The spider let it take a few steps more, then paralyzed it with a blast of his will. A few moments later he had snapped its neck with his claw. Then he left it on the ground and once more faded into the shadows.

Niall knew nothing of the behavior of snipe, but was soon aware that this wood was one of their haunts, and that they emerged at dusk looking for food. Within a quarter of an hour, the spider had killed four of them. The birds made a forlorn heap, with their attractive black, brown, and red patterns and blood-spattered feathers.

Niall could sense the captain’s satisfaction at the prospect of a meal; he obviously was hungry. Yet when he had finished killing the fourth bird, he stood aside and said: “Please take what you want.”

Niall smiled politely. “Thank you. But I cannot eat raw flesh. Please do not let me prevent you from eating.”

With a gesture that was oddly like a human shrug of bewilderment the captain proceeded with his supper, rending the birds with his claws Remembering that spiders were sensitive about being watched as they ate, Niall wandered toward the lake.

The water looked very peaceful in the evening light, reflecting the darkening sky. A few widening circles on the surface made Niall aware that it contained fish. Then, in the shallows just below the bank on which he was standing, he saw the gentle movement of a large trout. The thought crossed his mind that if he could use his will as effectively as the captain, he could catch it for his supper. Then, reflecting, “Why not?” he stared at the trout and concentrated the force of the thought mirror. He could feel his mind making contact with the fish, and feel its resistance, just as if he had grabbed it with his hand.

A moment later, it gave a jerk and became still. Startled at this unexpected outcome, Niall glanced over his shoulder. The captain was standing behind him, looking down with satisfaction at the stunned fish. He reached into the lake and dropped it at Niall’s feet, asking: “Do you like fish?”

“Very much. But humans prefer it cooked.”

The spider obviously found this notion puzzling, and for the next half hour, watched with curiosity as Niall gathered dead wood and dry leaves. He was even more intrigued by Niall’s attempts to light the fire using flints. Niall had often watched the cook light the kitchen fire, but now had to admit that it looked easier than it was. Finally, after bending over the dead leaves to exclude the faint breeze, and making both thumbs bleed by hitting them with the flint, he succeeded in making a leaf smolder, then blew it into flame.

The captain asked: “But can you not do that with your will?”

“No. Can you?”

The spider’s answer amounted to “I think so.” He obviously had never tried it. Now he focused on a heap of leaves, and made an obvious effort of concentration — the first time Niall had seen a spider make such a visible effort. After about a minute, a thin plume of smoke rose upward. Niall was impressed; it had never entered his head that an effort of will could light a fire — although, now that he thought about it, he had noticed a sense of warmth behind his eyes when he had been focusing hard on the trout; the feeling reminded him of the warmth he could make by placing his mouth against his sleeve and blowing through it.

Niall’s own fire was now crackling, and the occasional gust of windblown smoke made his eyes water. There was plenty of dry wood on the ground, and the blaze was soon uncomfortably hot. The captain watched with what Niall suspected to be wry amusement, wondering why Niall was going to so much trouble to spoil a perfectly good fish, gut finally the fire died down, and there were enough red-hot ashes to toss the fish among them, where it made appetizing sizzling noises. While it cooked, Niall provided himself with a long rod cut from a tree, and hacked off all its smaller twigs until only one remained at the wider end, about the size and thickness of his thumb. This, in due course, he used to hook the fish out of the ashes, breaking off the charred tail in the process.

The tree from which he had cut the rod also had thick red leaves that were six inches across; a dozen of these made a makeshift tablecloth, onto which he dragged the burning-hot fish. He sliced open the blackened skin below the gills, revealing pink, well-cooked flesh. He burned his fingers cutting off a large slice, but it was still too hot to taste. Ten minutes later, sprinkled with salt and eaten on a hard biscuit, it was delicious. As he ate, he made a mental note to thank his mother for remembering to include salt, without which the flesh would have been too rich. He washed down the meal with spring water.

The captain had settled himself comfortably on the other side of the fire, his legs folded under him. A cold wind had blown up — Niall suspected it was snowing up in the mountains — and the warmth was welcome. Because the fish had been so large, Niall had left more than half of it; in any case, the heat had failed to reach through to the center, which was still uncooked. When Niall observed the captain eyeing it with interest, he asked if he would care to try it, and was mildly surprised when it was accepted with alacrity. The spider held the trout between two claws, and ate it like a corncob, until he had left nothing but the bones. Then he rolled himself into a ball and relaxed once more, his claws lying contentedly on his distended belly. Evidently Niall was wrong, and not all spiders had an aversion to eating in front of humans. The explanation, Niall decided, was simply that the captain had been brought up in a remote province where manners were different.

Niall’s greasy hands were making him uncomfortable, so he went and washed them in the lake. On his way back to the fire, he collected more dry tinder — it was easy to find as it cracked under his feet. Finally, he opened the sleeping bag, noting that it still smelled faintly of the slime-creature, and that a kind of white dust came from it as he shook it to spread it on the grass. He lay down on it, and placed his pack under his head as a pillow.

As he relaxed in the light of the crackling sticks he had tossed into the glowing embers, he was interested to observe that there was a definite sense of contact between himself and the spider, such as is only achieved between humans who have known one another a long time. Yet they had only met a few hours ago. It gave him a sudden insight into what it must be like to be a spider, in continuous contact with the mind of every other spider.