Free The Veil Weavers by Maureen Bush Page A

cat leapt out, huge and totally silent. The crows flew up in a flurry of panicked squawks. The cat swatted at the crows, and then stopped and slowly licked one paw. It was completely white, large and powerful. It watched us with eyes the cold blue of glacial ice. Finally it turned and walked up the path ahead of us.
    As my heart slowed its frantic drumming, I checked with Maddy. “You okay?”
    She nodded, looking pale. “Is that the guardian?” she asked.
    “I have no idea,” I said.
    The crows settled on branches near us, Corvus beside me. He cawed once.
    “Yes, we need to hurry,” Maddy said.
    Corvus cawed again, still sitting on the branch.
    Maddy and I looked around at all the crows clustered on nearby trees.
    “This is as far as you’ll take us, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice tense.
    Corvus cawed once more, one sharp caw.
    Yes, he meant. I took a deep breath. “We must be almost there,” I said to Maddy. “That’s good news, right?”
    She smiled weakly, but said nothing.
    I nodded to the crows, took Maddy’s hand, and stepped around the curve in the path, away from the lake.
    That’s where we met the guardian. Not the cat, the suddenly lovely, wonderful cat. The guardian was a spider. A giant spider, long and creamy white, dangling from a thread in front of a door. The door was a solid arched slab of wood, set into the side of the mountain. I couldn’t see any way to open it. Besides, how could we reach it, with a giant spider slowly spinning on its thread, silently watching us?

Chapter Eight

    The Weavers

    T he spider was – tall? long? big? Whatever the term, there was a lot of it. It was taller than me, with long thin legs, a multi-parted body and far too many eyes. Horrified, I counted six, all black and shining. I swallowed, and backed into Maddy. She clung to my arm, barely breathing.
    Shadows of long thin legs reached down the door, with another set reflected in blue on the snow below.
    For a moment I forgot all of that in awe at its beauty. It was incredibly delicate, pale and mottled in cream, light browns and greys. How could I capture the soft colours? I’d need translucent watercolours – Paynes grey and burnt sienna, perhaps. Then I looked into its six eyes and shuddered.
    It spun on its thread, watching us through all its eyes as it turned. Slowly it descended, letting out thread to reach the ground. It looked at me, and then at Maddy, as it stretched its legs to the earth.
    I could feel panic swamping me, making me want to run, to hide, to throw up. How could we fight this? I began to draw magic into myself. I didn’t know what I’d do with it, but I had to be ready.
    Maddy stood beside me, staring, frozen.
    Horrible spider scenes from my favourite movies played in my head. I shook them off and refocused on magic.
    Maddy bumped my arm. I glanced up to see her walking straight to the spider. “Maddy!” I cried, and reached for her.
    Just beyond my grasp, she stepped up to the spider and bowed, smiling. Then she held out a hand. “Hello.”
    The spider laughed and shook itself. All its long legs and eyes and strange body parts rearranged themselves into a person wearing a spider-pale cloak. He was a very tall, very thin man, with long, pale blonde hair, and fair skin almost translucent in the light reflected off the snow. His eyes were a soft grey. He stared at us curiously.
    That’s when I remembered the Gathering. “We need to see the weavers,” I said. “It is the Will of the Gathering.”
    The man laughed. “You don’t need to invoke the Will of the Gathering. Anyone who can see us is welcome.” He bowed to Maddy. “That takes a magic very few have.”
    “I don’t have any magic,” said Maddy. “Only a ring.” She held up her finger.
    “Well, you must see very clearly,” he said, “to see me without using that ring.”
    I stared at Maddy, suddenly realizing she hadn’t been looking through it. “How did you do that?” I asked.
    “I’m not sure. I could