Haern flew back through the busted wall and up the stairs, only to find a wall of magical origin blocking his way. Harruq came rushing after, his swords still in hand.

“What the abyss is going on?” he asked.

“The meeting wasn’t the trap,” Haern whispered, turning back around to face the half-orc. “This is.”

The deep grinding of stone rolling against stone came from the far room.

“I’m scared to ask what that was,” Harruq said.

“They are called the Spider Guild for a reason,” the assassin said. He knelt in front of Harruq, pulled out a golden medallion shaped like a mountain, and then, as the half-orc stared incredulously, whispered a quick prayer. When finished, he slipped the medallion back underneath his tunic and stood.

“Come,” Haern whispered. “I have no intentions of dying this night.”

“You got that right,” Harruq said. The two re-entered the plush room. On the far side, surrounded by rubble, was a newly created hole. From within came loud skittering sounds that made the half-orc’s skin crawl.

“Oh, that better not be what I think that is,” Harruq said.

“Go for the soft underbelly,” Haern whispered. “And don’t get bitten.”

Loud thumping sounds joined the skittering. After a few quick motions by Haern, they ran to either side of the entrance in hope of an ambush. The sounds grew louder, and then out crawled a giant tarantula, enlarged to the size of small house. Of all the things Harruq had seen in his life, nothing prepared him for legs the size of pine trees, giant mandibles beneath eight huge eyes, and that loud, constant shriek.

“Don’t get bitten,” he mumbled, staring at the fangs protruding out from the bottom of its head, each one bigger than his hand. “No kidding.”

When it was halfway out, Harruq used every bit of his courage to swing at one of the legs. His sword thudded as if hitting a tree, and clear blue ichor spewed across his hand. The spider shrieked in fury. Harruq hacked two more times as it spun about, focusing all eight eyes squarely on him.