Page 17 of Vasmora

The blade had barely touched the webbed strands, when a rough wrenching tugged him right out of Raivox’s grasp, jarring the weapon out of his hand.

Zevander cursed, limbs flailing, wind whipping around him, as he fell through the air alongside spiders spilling over the chasm’s edge. He slipped past Cadavros, whose grasping hands remained too far out of reach.

Something snaked across Zevander’s throat, and against the gravity pulling at his arms he clawed at it. Thin, silky strands tightened around his gullet, and a hot burn streaked across his flesh. The intense pressure squeezed his windpipe, and fingers digging into the bindings, he glanced up, just as the silken web above him tautened and stretched, nearly snapping when his descent came to an abrupt halt. His face swelled with the building pressure, as if his head might explode, while the momentum swung his body like a pendulum toward the rock face. He threw out a hand as the granite wall rushed toward him, the heel of his palm smashing into the unyielding stone with a sickening crack. Shocks of pain jolted up through his arm and shoulder on impact and the splintering of bones sent a gurgling twist through his stomach. As Zevander frantically grappled for the garrote around his throat, he caught sight of his radial bone sticking out from his forearm.

Air waned in his lungs, while his body bobbed and dangled from the stretched web alongside the rock wall. Dagger!

He had another strapped to his ankle.

Above him, hovering within the chasm, Raivox sent a blast of silver flames toward Cadavros.

Gods be damned, if that Corvugon decided to fly off, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Zevander let out a grunt, his ruined arm trembling as he forced it toward his ankle. His body shot upward, and with both hands, Zevander clutched the strands cinching his throat, gasping for a single breath. He managed a quick upward glance, just long enough to see Cadavros reeling him closer, winding the pressure across his neck.

The mage shot another strand of silk from his palm, across the chasm, where it lassoed one of Raivox’s legs, and with a leap, Cadavros swung free from the granite wall, taking Zevander with him.

The two dangled over the chasm, the mage’s spidery form suspended just a couple meters above Zevander’s.

With his one good arm, Zevander dared to release his hold on the garrote, instead reaching for the stretched webbing above his head. His hand fumbled around the thin threads of silk as, with the Corvugon’s jerky movements, the pressure built in his face.

Life slipping through his hands.

When Zevander finally managed to take hold, he pulled himself upward, the slack in tension loosening the throttling at his throat. He wheezed and coughed, stealing sips of air as though they might be his last.

Fire streaked across his palm, the rigid thread slipping across it, and he slid lower. Ignoring the protruding bone, he dug his fingers into the tight coiling at his neck and loosened it more, sucking in a gasp with every bounce and shake of the webbing.

Raivox let out a caw that echoed through the chasm, and a shower of silver flames spewed from the Corvugon’s maw.

Zevander’s muscles tensed as he braced himself for the inevitable burn, but before a single lick of molten silver could touch him, Cadavros threw out his palm, deflecting the blaze toward the chasm wall.

The clash of magic against liquid metal sent an errant splash of silver cutting through the silken web above Cadavros’s head.

A nerve-rattling snap.

Zevander broke free.

Stomach rising to his throat, Zevander’s body free fell once again toward the darkness below.

He violently bounced when Cadavros caught himself on the rock, and as the web attached to Zevander’s neck snapped free, he hurtled toward the bottomless abyss.

Down.

Down.

Limbs flailing, he clawed in futility, his body plummeting faster and faster.

Metallic talons sank into his shoulder as the Corvugon snatched him mid-fall, and Zevander let out an agonized growl, the jolts of pain damned near paralyzing as the abrupt halt rattled his muscles and bones. The bird flapped its wings, surging them upward again, and hellsflame, his stomach couldn’t take all the jostling, falling and flying. The acids rose to his throat in protest.

As they soared past the beastly looking mage, another silken strand shot out, coiling around Raivox’s middle talon, just above Zevander’s head.

“Fucking hell!” Zevander ignored the shocks of pain to yank his dagger free. The sticky webs digging into the Corvugon’s scales proved tougher than the thickest rope, as he ran his blade back and forth across it.

Until it finally snapped free, and Raivox jerked around him.

Zevander winced and gasped as the sensation of hot blades flared at his shoulder where the Corvugon tightened its clutch.

When another strand of silk shot toward them, Raivox let out a roar, before expelling a silver flame that shriveled it away.