Chapter 13: Yo Momma, The Broodmother
The behemoth ambled toward their formation. The shadows of the forest seemed to bend and twist around its form, undulating in a sickening, unnatural way. They seemed to only grow thicker as the spider approached, casting everything into a strange grayscale dimness.
Quintus called over his shoulder urgently. "Brutus! Torches, now!"
He couldn't risk looking back toward the man, but the sound of a pack hitting the ground suggested that he'd understood. The familiar clack of flint and steel echoed dully through the forest as heat and light blossomed from the center of their formation. Quintus sensed as the man raised his lit torch high, illuminating their surroundings and giving them a better view of the battlefield. It didn't extend nearly as far as it should have, the glow seeming to disappear into the oppressive darkness. But what it did reveal sent a chill down Quintus's spine.
What he'd initially assumed was the massive arachnid's shadow was in fact a veritable carpet of smaller forms. Thousands upon thousands of tiny spiders, all scrambling forward with their queen. Some were the size of ordinary spiders he'd seen back in Rome, while most were as large as his hand. None seemed to be as large as the ones they'd fought previously. But they did move much more quickly.
Quintus glanced down at the gaps in their shield wall. With their size, even this formation wouldn't be enough to keep them out. And if those spiders were also venomous…
The edge of the tide neared their formation. As Brutus's torch flared to life, however, he saw the smallest spiders skitter backwards and away from the flames. Quintus leapt at the possibility.
"More torches!" The Primus Pilus ordered, gripping his gladius more tightly as he eyed the comparatively slow-moving queen marching toward them. He couldn't be certain whether this would work on it, but they needed some way to handle the smaller enemies. Otherwise, they'd be overwhelmed in an instant.
Brutus moved quickly from man to man, retrieving torches from their packs and lighting them with his own. Soon, several Legionnaires held torches instead of their gladiuses, waving them at the approaching swarm to keep them at bay. The tiny black shapes hissed and fanned out to avoid the flirelight's glow. However, the larger ones continued to press forward, climbing up the shields and forcing the sword-wielding Legionnaires to hack and slice at their scuttling forms.
It didn't take long before they were surrounded once again. Half of their formation waved torches at the incoming horde, sending them jumping backwards with quiet hisses. The others held fast against the remaining spiders and swatted at them with brutal efficiency. Their tactics weren't flashy by any means, but they didn't need to be. Not when they worked.