R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation (82 page)

The House Melarn daughter looked down desperately and saw her attendant, crouched in the low corner of the room, near the collapsed ceiling, scrambling to stay atop the shifting pile of rock as the room continued to tip over. Danifae’s eyes were blazing with fury as she gazed angrily up toward where everyone else was escaping the collapsing dwelling. There was another excruciatingly loud snapping sound as more stone buckled and popped, and Danifae, still inside the destroyed remains of House Melarn, was falling away.

Khorrl Xornbane was bloody and exhausted. His clan, gathered all around him, looked that way too. He had no idea how long they’d been fighting, but it was too long. They needed rest and water. They couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Unfortunately, the captain of Clan Xornbane feared that the day would grow much worse before it got better. He hoped he was wrong.

Khorrl had already passed the word that his troops were to abandon their positions defending House Melarn. They had been besieged there for so long and had used up so many of their firepots that he feared the place was growing unstable.

I’m not going to lose my boys that way, he told himself. The remains of his forces were reforming on the opposite side

of the plaza from the House, and for the moment they were being left alone. It was hard to be sure how long that peace would last, though, because none of them could see very far in the thick smoke of the burning stone.

What Khorrl and his duergar could see told the tale clearly enough, though. The plaza was covered with the bodies of goblins and kobolds. Littered in between them were slightly fewer drow, though the number of dead dark elves surprised him. More dead gray dwarves than Khorrl would have liked were scattered here and there, too. It had been a hellish day, and it was far from over, the captain feared.

“Sir,” one of his aides said, running up to Khorrl, “we’ve completely abandoned the estate. The last of the troops have formed a line from that corner—” the young gray dwarf pointed through the smoke toward the edge of a dwelling behind them—“across to the flank of our main position, there.” He swung his arm across to the far right side of the plaza.

“Good,” Khorrl replied, visualizing the battlefield in his mind, since he could no longer clearly see it with his eyes.

“Also,” the aide continued, “there’s another force of drow coming toward us, from that direction.”

He pointed off to the left, where the plaza was joined by a large web street. It was, regrettably, the weakest point of Clan Xornbane’s defenses.

“Friend or foe? Did you get a look at their House insignias?”

The aide shrugged and said, “Not in this smoke.”

Khorrl sighed. He would have to send scouts out to reconnoiter the new troops. He said as much to the aide, who saluted him and started to turn away.

“Wait,” the captain said, and the aide stopped attentively. “Get some boys up there—” Khorrl pointed toward the street one level above where they were currently positioned—“I don’t want another swarm of those damned dark elves dropping in on us like they did earlier.”

“Yes, sir,” the aide replied, and hurried off to execute his captain’s commands.

Khorrl sighed again and turned to call for water. From behind him there was a loud popping sound, a sound he knew too well— splintering stone. He spun back around and peered through the gloom of smoke in the direction from which it had come. All up and down the lines that protected the clan’s position, the word was spreading, and it reached Khorrl quickly enough. House Melarn was burning to oblivion, and it was about to go over.

Khorrl shook his head, knowing what was about to happen. He hoped his aide was right and hoped that all his boys had gotten out of there. He lamented the ones who couldn’t, for whatever reason.

The popping started again, and grew louder and more steady. He could feel the vibrations in the stone beneath his feet. He almost wished he could see it, but in a way, he didn’t. It was going to be a deathtrap for anyone still inside.

The snapping, splintering sound of stone reached a crescendo, and there was one final explosion, a tremor that shook the entire street enough that Khorrl had to brace himself with his axe. There was a jerk, and the rumbling ceased. Khorrl knew the whole building had gone over the side, tumbling into the void.

A heartbeat later, there was a horrendous crash from below. House Melarn had struck something. A heartbeat later, he felt the vibrations of the impact. It was subtle, but for that sort of vibration to travel through a web street and into the walls of the huge cavern, and back along the other web streets, the initial impact must have been devastating.

It might take out several more streets, the duergar mused grimly.

“Sir!”

It was the aide again, rushing up to his captain, his look wide-eyed.

“What is it?” Khorrl demanded, wondering what would so shake up the lad.

“A spider! A huge one, as big as a house! It’s coming this way!”

Khorrl groaned, realizing just how much worse things had gotten. He hated being right.

As he floated up and out of the collapsing building that had at one time been House Melarn, Pharaun Mizzrym heard a cry of anguish below him. Looking downward, he spied Halisstra, still emerging from the gaping opening that led into the ruin of her mother’s chambers. She was staring back down into the building.

For the rest of his days, the wizard wouldn’t be sure what convinced him to do it, but sensing that someone was still inside, he made up his mind in the blink of an eye to cast a spell. Yanking off his
piwafwi
and tossing it to Ryld, he uttered a quick arcane phrase and began transforming himself into a loathsome and wretched creature. He had seen the horrid thing several times before and in fact had hunted them for sport a few times in his younger days. As he dropped back down toward the crumbling building, which was beginning to break away from the last of its moorings and drop into the space below, he changed from the handsome drow elf with the winning smile to a winged woman with scaly hindquarters. Though the form was repulsive, it did have one advantage over the wizard’s natural shape: It could fly. Pharaun hoped his harpy shape would be strong enough to lift whoever was still trapped inside.

Halisstra seemed about to drop back down into the cavernous room, which was tilted completely on its side, but Pharaun grasped hold of her
piwafwi
and shoved her to the side. She looked up at him, startled, and gave a quick shriek of surprise and horror, even as she stumbled back. She fumbled for something tucked inside her own
piwafwi,
and the mage got the impression she had no clue it was him. She was about to attack him.

“Get up with the others!” he hissed, motioning with one of his clawed hands. “I’ll go back.”

He saw the flash of a dagger, and Halisstra relaxed the slightest bit, seeming to understand who the harpy really was. He filed away for later the fact that she’d secreted a weapon on her person.

Halisstra nodded and pushed herself up from the edge of the hole even as Pharaun folded his wings to his side and stepped over the opening so that he could drop through. Inside, he saw Danifae flailing madly atop a pile of rocks that had once been the ceiling, as the mound of rubble shifted beneath her. At that point, House Melarn was truly falling, and the two of them with it. He noticed that the rubble shifted and ground itself together as the building plummeted downward, grinding itself into oblivion. It almost seemed to be draining out of a hole below her, like some great hourglass. She was struggling to keep from getting sucked down with the stone, but her leg was wedged between two large blocks, and she could not gain a sufficient grip anywhere else in order to pull her limb free.

Pharaun sank quickly down to where the battle captive struggled, unfurling his wings at the last moment to slow his descent and come to hover beside the drow female. Danifae responded, reaching out to try to grab hold of the creature before her. Whether she realized it was Pharaun or not, she didn’t seem to care. Pharaun extended his taloned feet in her direction and worked his way to within her reach. She was sinking ever deeper into the debris pit. It was up to her knee, and when it shifted, she arched her head back and screamed more in frustration than in agony.

The instant Danifae had a solid grip on him, Pharaun began to thrash with his wings, exerting himself to rise up and out, hoping it would be enough to remove her from her predicament. He felt the resistance—not just of her weight, but also of her trapped leg—but he tugged and flapped, working to free her. Finally, with one last heave, he felt the resistance give, and he was barreling upward, Danifae clinging tightly to his legs. He soared toward the opening as the room continued to drop, and there was a massive roaring crash and a blinding cloud of dust as he shot out through the widening hole.

Once free of the room, Pharaun realized he really wasn’t flying upward at all but was hovering in place as the entire structure of House Melarn fell away beneath them. He saw it smash into a web street that stretched across beneath it, and when it struck the thoroughfare a glancing blow, the rubble tumbled around so that it was spinning as it fell. If they’d been a moment longer in freeing themselves, the wizard realized with a shudder, he never would have been able to navigate his way out of the hole. The room would have spun and tumbled with him and Danifae trapped inside.

Both of them watched for a moment, awed, as the massive stone structure plummeted downward toward the bottom of the city. Finally, with a sickening boom, it struck somewhere far below, and the concussive impact reverberated all the way up to where they hovered.

Pharaun was beginning to feel the strain of trying to fly while holding so much weight. Struggling to see through the thick, choking dust that had been stirred up, he eyed what was left of the web street where House Melarn had been, portions of it still aflame, and saw that chunks of it, too, were giving out. Instead of heading straight up toward that spot, he veered to the side, away from the worst of the damage. Where the calcified webbing broadened into a plaza it was still solid and firm. As he labored in that direction, another major section of the street fell away, following House Melarn to the bottom. What was left was just a ledge jutting out into space.

The mage pumped his wings, steering the two of them toward the firmer pavement, past the ledge, which extended perhaps ten feet from the plaza and was twice as wide. When he was over the plaza, he sank down quickly, flapping his wings to force himself to fall off to one side rather than directly on top of Danifae. The drow female dropped right where he’d set her down and sprawled there, drawing deep, ragged breaths. He settled down next to her, none too gently himself, and collapsed. Little points of light swam in his vision as he gasped for breath in the dust-choked air. His limbs were leaden, and he could do nothing but listen to Danifae’s and his own panting.

“That was some rescue effort,” Ryld said, floating down next to the wizard. “I don’t know what sort of terror you’re supposed to be, but please don’t ever try to save me looking like that. I’m liable to kill you before I know it’s you.”

Pharaun opened one eye and looked at the warrior as he mentally ended the transformation spell and returned to his own form.

“Certainly not,” he answered between gasps. “You, my friend, would just have to extract your worthless carcass from poor Danifae’s predicament yourself, should you ever find it thusly trapped. You haven’t the beauty to warrant rescuing.”

The other members of the group were all settling upon the plaza now, and as Halisstra ascended next to her battle captive attendant, she seemed to crumple, covering her face in her hands. Pharaun supposed he could understand her anguish. After all, her home was sitting at the bottom of the chasm.

“I owe you a very large debt, wizard,” Danifae said. “My thanks.”

Pharaun, propped up on his elbows, inclined his head in acknowledgement, still wondering what had possessed him to try the stunt in the first place. He certainly would have felt no regret at seeing the female plunge to her death, but in the end, he supposed, it would have been an awful waste.

“I’m sure there are ways you and I can find for you to repay me,” he deadpanned, his face smooth.

“Yes,” Halisstra said, looking up. “We both owe you. I will make certain we find a suitable reward for you.”

She attempted to offer a genuinely warm smile for Pharaun. The wizard nodded again, intrigued by the suggestiveness of the drow’s offer. He eyed the battle captive again, wondering just how willing she was to serve as recompense for the fact that she was still breathing. The look in her eyes made it clear she was not pleased, but she didn’t voice her displeasure as the Melarn daughter then leaned in to inspect her counterpart in what Pharaun thought was a decidedly affectionate manner. Danifae’s leg looked badly cut and bruised but not too much the worse for wear.

Quenthel clicked her tongue in exasperation and said, “Now that everyone is back from the brink of death, I think it’s time to leave this city. First, though, we must see if we can salvage our other supplies back at the inn.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Let’s go quickly,” Pharaun suggested, aware of the noise of fighting, invisible through the haze but definitely coming closer. “We don’t want to remain here for any longer than we have to, I think.”

Pharaun stood, dusting himself off and picking up and replacing his
piwafwi
from where Ryld had dropped it only moments before. He gazed out across the city, for the first time, really, and the scene took his breath away.

“We may already be too late,” the wizard breathed, overawed by the devastation he could only partially see, as so much was obscured by a hazy glow, or cloaked with thick smoke. The section of Ched Nasad where House Melarn had been was alive with flames. Recalling that he and Danifae had just escaped perishing in the monumental occurrence, he glanced down to where Halisstra and the other dark elf sat huddled together. Halisstra looked stricken, staring off into the vastness of the city as her attendant huddled close to her and whispered soothing words.