The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Hunger’s Eye

by Wrestlr

4. The Tower

Tensed for anything, they looked inside. A narrow stairway led down, not into darkness but into a faintly illuminated space. Horsus, dagger drawn, eased down the stairs, slowly, silently. Anthoc followed and eased the door partially closed behind them, not fully shut, leaving it open enough in case they needed to escape through it in a hurry.

At the bottom of the stairs, over Horsus’ shoulder, Anthoc had a glimpse of a glittering chamber. The walls and parts of the ceiling which were crusted with large white jewels that glowed softly, together providing enough light—barely, but enough—for them to see. The space seemed silent, no guards or life.

Cautiously Anthoc eased from behind Horsus. The chamber lay bathed in the cold, steady glow of the white jewels. The room seemed larger, the ceiling high enough to be lost in darkness, larger and higher than the outside of the Tower would have suggested. Some trick of the Wizard’s magic? Across the room was another silver door, like the one that had led into the Tower. Was that the direction from which danger and death would approach?—Or did it lead to even greater treasure?

His cousin advanced into the chamber, and a moment later the youth did the same in another direction, amazed at what he saw around him. His bare feet made no sound on the floor, which seemed to be carved from slabs of some cloudy quartz-like crystal. The space had no real furniture, only four small silken couches embroidered with silver and worked in strange designs. Around the space were piles, mounds, of gold and silver coins, loose gems of varying colors mixed in, and several silver-decorated chests of dark wood. Some chests were sealed with heavy locks; others had their lids thrown back, revealing heaps of jewels inside; some chests held gems of only a single type and color, while others showed a mix of splendid colors to the youth’s amazed eyes. “By the Nine Remaining,” he swore beneath his breath, trying out the oath used by the citizens of the Keep. He felt awed, looking upon more wealth than he had ever dreamed to exist in the world, and they had yet to find the Tower’s most important treasure, the Hunger’s Eye.

Anthoc neared the center of the room, knelt to touch an open reliquary, particularly ornate and filled with jewels of palest blue, to reassure himself it was real.

“Move!” Horsus hissed, at the same time as the hairs on Anthoc’s neck prickled again. By instinct he threw himself to the side, dropping, rolling, and sprang back to his feet with his dagger in hand.

A shadow from above was even then landing on the spot where the youth had stood two heartbeats before. He had the impression of a hairy dark horror, an enormous black and brown nightmare that turned and rushed at him with shocking speed. Anthoc sprang back, dagger ready to bite. A huge spider, its multiple eyes sparking with a ghast intelligence.

A spray of Horsus’ darts raked the creature. The poison on their tips could fell a man instantly and make him sleep for over a day, but instead of piercing, the darts ricocheted like pebbles off the spider’s abdomen.

As the creature rushed, Anthoc leaped high, and it passed under him. He knew now he and Horsus had been fools to not suspect the upper chambers might be guarded, or that death could come from above them. This spider-guardian was the size of a small pig, and its eight hairy legs were capable of speed. It charged back and Anthoc leaped sidewise, kicked back at its abdomen, like striking a watchman’s leather armor. His dagger ticked off one of the legs but did no damage. So the monster was difficult to slash as well as pierce. Anthoc barely avoided the creature’s fangs as it swerved by him. The spider did not turn but instead scuttled to the wall and up it, toward the high ceiling. A pause, and then with no warning it launched itself into the air, trailing a grayish-white cord.

Anthoc dodged backward and avoided the hurtling body—and he had to twist frantically away just in time to keep from being slathered by the trailing web-rope. He understood the monster’s intent and sprang away before a turn of the rope could make it adhere to him and make him a prisoner. He dared not try to slash the stuff with his dagger, for he knew it would cling to his blade, and he would not be able to shake it loose before the creature would be sinking its poisonous fangs into his flesh.

Anthoc found himself in a desperate game, his quickness and wits against the fiendish speed of the giant spider. Rather than scuttle at him across the crystalline floor or launch itself through the air at him, it raced across the ceiling and walls, throwing long loops of sticky webbing with great accuracy, seeking to ensnare him in strands thick as ropes. Anthoc understood the monster’s strategy: once the web-cords were coiled about him, he would not be able to tear himself free before the monster struck.

Their game ran across the entire chamber, silently except for the youth’s quick panting, his bare feet scuffing on the shining floor, the rattle of coins or jewels disturbed by the smack of moist webbing. The gray strands accumulated, coiling on the floor, looped down the walls, draped across jewel-chests. Anthoc’s quick eyes and agile muscles so far had kept him untouched, though he knew he would not be able to avoid them much longer; the accumulation meant he had to watch out for strands swinging from above as well as keep his eyes on the floor so that he would not stumble into the coils there. Sooner or later, a gummy loop would strike him, wrap about him, trap him into a cocoon, and he would be the monster’s prisoner and prey.

The spider charged across the floor, pulling a gray web-rope behind it. Anthoc leaped high, clearing a large chest of coins. As the monster wheeled and ran up the wall, the cord jumped off the floor like a living thing, whipped about the youth’s ankle at the end of his trouser-leg, and pulled. As he fell, he caught himself on his hands, and he jerked his leg frantically at the gooey rope that held his ankle like a coiled snake. The spider was already racing down the wall to complete its trap. Panicking, Anthoc caught up a melon-sized chest heavy with coins and hurled it at the spider with all his strength. The creature was not expecting this move, and the chest struck its torso where its legs connected, smashing the spider to the floor under a squelching crunch. The scattering jewels on the floor mixed with greenish blood. The black body lay pinned under the chest—so the creature could not be pierced or cut but could be crushed! Anthoc pulled himself up. He picked up a nearby chest, larger than the first, nearly beyond his strength, and heaved it up, and he brought it down on the creature’s head and fangs. The legs stilled.

The crashing chests made more than enough noise to summon guards or other monsters. Were the Wizard and his guards still unaware of his presence? Killing the spider made loud noises, but perhaps the Wizard and his men were used to such in the night?

Anthoc immediately set himself to working free of the web-cord, which clung tightly to his ankle and his hands, but at last he was free. Taking up his dagger, he looked about. No new horror had appeared, but Horsus was nowhere to be seen. The inner door was ajar. Horsus must have gone through it, but had he gone willingly or as a captive? And what monstrosities might lay through that door? All he could do was go through it himself, rescue Horsus if needed, and find whatever lay beyond.

Beyond the door was a short hallway, dark, but it led to another room, lit with enough silver light to see comfortably. But the room was not silent, for Anthoc could hear a man’s low voice, melodious, as though talking and singing a lullaby at the same time. He approached quietly, gripping his dagger.