R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation (85 page)

“Yes, Mistress,” Danifae said.

Pharaun saw that her eyes narrowed a bit. He gestured with his palms down where Quenthel could not see, indicating for Danifae to be patient. He was not about to abandon her, even if he knew full well that she was playing upon his desires just to save her own hide.

At that moment, a single massive spider leg settled on the stone between the alcove and the shield of magical darkness that the mage had summoned, and a portion of the arachnid’s body hove into view. It was the underside of the creature, Pharaun noted, holding his breath as he felt the tremor of it settling its weight on the web street. Beside him, the two females were wide-eyed, and Jeggred watched the scene warily, but none of them moved. As the spider glided down and away from their hiding place, the wizard sighed softly in relief. It had not noticed them.

Out beyond the protective blackness, Pharaun could hear the shouts of duergar—cries of terror—as the spider moved quickly away from the building where the mage and his companions were hiding. The vibrations of its steps grew ever softer as it departed.

Good, Pharaun thought. Chase them for a while.

“What in the Abyss is a guardian spider?” he asked aloud.

Danifae shrugged and said, “I don’t know as much about them as Halisstra. You’ll have to ask her if you want the details, but I can tell you that the matron mothers have, in the past, brought these creatures forth for various purposes. They must have conjured one today, maybe to turn the tide of the fighting.”

Quenthel sighed and shook her head.

“Madness,” she said quietly. “The matron mothers of this city pick the most foolish time to war with one another.”

“I wouldn’t limit the appellation of foolish solely to the matron mothers of
this
city,” Pharaun muttered under his breath.

Quenthel glanced at him, but he simply smiled, and she turned her attention back to the unseen ruckus beyond the sphere of darkness, apparently not having clearly heard his remarks.

“Dispel the darkness,” the high priestess ordered the wizard. “I want to see what’s happening.”

As I said, Pharaun thought, shaking his head.

Sighing, the mage gestured and the sphere of blackness vanished, revealing the street beyond. The spider was out of sight for the moment. In the street, nothing moved, though there were plenty of dead strewn about, duergar and drow alike.

“It seems to have wandered off,” Quenthel observed, rising to her feet. “We should be going, too, before it comes back.”

“Let’s give it another couple of moments,” Pharaun suggested, still unnerved at the appearance of the giant creature. “Just to make sure it’s completely gone.”

Quenthel scowled at the wizard then turned to the draegloth and said, “Go see.”

Smiling, the fiend bounded out from their hiding place to peer in both directions.

At that moment the duergar chose to come out of hiding.

Scores of them poured out from around the corner and from the building across the street, as though they had been waiting for the drow to emerge from their hiding place.

“Get ’em!” one of the gray dwarves shouted.

The duergar formed up a semicircle, surrounding the dark elves’ position, and Jeggred leaped back into the alcove as the first volley of crossbow bolts peppered the walls around them.

Cursing, Pharaun ducked low, using the elevation of the porch as a screen. He pointed his finger toward the street and spoke the arcane phrase that would trigger one of his spells. At once, a cloud of roiling smoke, shot through with white-hot embers, formed beneath him and began to flow away from the building and across the street. The duergar, many of whom had their crossbows loaded again and were aiming at the small group, eyed the fiery haze warily as it appeared and began to churn toward them. As it reached those in the front ranks and engulfed them, they began to scream and flail, scorched by the embers.

Gray dwarves fell back before the cloud as it burned their kin where they stood. The smoke was thick and black. It moved away from the building, and the screams of the duergar intensified as more and more of them succumbed to the scorching heat.

Pharaun crept out a little way to watch his handiwork. Jeggred stood beside him, unafraid of a stray missile, eyeing the cloud with delight.

“Can any of them survive?” the fiend asked.

“Not if you go dance among them,” the Master of Sorcere replied. “The fire can’t hurt you, right?”

“That is correct,” the draegloth answered, and he bounded into the smoky fog.

The incendiary cloud had pushed across to the opposite side of the street. Bodies of duergar were scattered across its surface, charred and smoking. Several of them were openly burning. Jeggred emerged from within the roiling smoke, which Pharaun redirected to flow down the street, in the direction opposite they wished to go. It would continue of its own accord for some time before dissipating, ensuring that another horde of the enemy couldn’t come up behind them. The draegloth was dripping with blood but had a very satisfied look on his face. He had an amputated arm in his hand and was chewing on it as he trotted back to where the three drow were crouched.

Pharaun studiously ignored the fiend’s dining habits as Quenthel asked, “Are they all dead?”

“Either dead or running,” the draegloth answered. “The street is clear.”

“Then we should proceed. The spider could return at any moment, and we have no time to waste. Where did you say the others went?” the high priestess asked Pharaun.

The wizard pointed toward the alleyway where he had seen Ryld vanish moments before.

“The weapons master went in there,” he said. “It’s possible that one or both of the others joined him.”

Before Pharaun could take more than a couple of steps, though, the street heaved and shook.

“Damnation!” he heard Quenthel cry out, and the mage risked a glance back.

The spider had spotted them and was skittering along the street, easily stepping over the roiling cloud of flame Pharaun had sent in that direction. The arachnid came toward them, and fast, its mandibles flexing eagerly.

Pharaun turned and fled from it.

“I’m telling you, I want that thing killed, now!” Ssipriina Zauvirr screamed. “If you don’t do it, we are all in a midden heap of trouble!”

She loomed over Khorrl Xornbane as the two stood on the steps of an upscale fashion shop, abandoned in the fighting, situated in the interior of the gray dwarves’ position on the plaza. The shop was well back from the lines of battle, but Khorrl could plainly see the spider in the distance as the matron mother pointed at it. The massive creature clambered over a building near where Clan Xornbane was locked in a pitched battle with a force of antagonistic drow.

“And
I’m
telling
you
, I’m not sending my boys to fight that thing!” Khorrl snarled back, losing patience with this haughty dark elf. “You hired me to win you a seat on your blessed council by defeating your adversaries, not to clean up your mistakes. You and your cronies brought it here, so you and your cronies can figure out how to stop it. It’s not my fault you can’t control it!”

“
My
mistakes? Let’s talk about mistakes, Captain. Let’s talk about you and your mercenary rabble taking to the streets prematurely, ruining my well-laid plans for ascension to the Council in one foolish moment. Mistakes, indeed! We wouldn’t even be in this position if you had followed simple orders.”

Khorrl wanted to slice the offensive drow in half right then. If she hadn’t brought a retinue of bodyguards with her, he would have, but he was outnumbered, and he knew that even if he got in the killing blow he would be taken down shortly thereafter. Instead, he squeezed his grip on his axe and sucked in a deep breath, trying to still the trembling rage that coursed through his body.

“Prematurely?” he said through clenched teeth. “I received direct orders from your boy Zammzt. If he didn’t have the word from you, go talk to him. Either way,
stop wasting my time!
” he finished with a roar. “I am not sacrificing my lads needlessly to kill your spider. In fact, we’re done, here.

“Forghel!” he called out, looking for his aide. “Forghel, sound the retreat. We’re pulling out.”

Khorrl knew he played a dangerous game, turning his back on the dark elf, but he wanted to bait her, see if she would lose her temper.

“Liar!” Ssipriina screamed once more. “Don’t you blame your foolish gaffes on my House. You will not abandon your—Don’t you walk away from me!

“To the Abyss with you.
Kill him!
” she screamed.

Smiling to himself, Khorrl gave a shrill whistle, and instantly, a host of his boys banished their invisibility and magically appeared, surrounding him, axes and crossbows ready. The captain turned back to face the advancing retinue of drow, looking specifically for Ssipriina.

The dark elf ’s bodyguards had begun to chase him down, but when the additional duergar materialized, the drow soldiers faltered a moment. That was all the Clan Xornbane troops needed. Charging forward, Khorrl’s boys took the fight to the drow.

Of course, Ssipriina Zauvirr was not foolish enough to remain too close to the fighting, but she gave the captain one last baleful glare as she turned and retreated back down the steps in the opposite direction.

Grabbing up a crossbow from one of his gray dwarves who was standing close to him, Khorrl sighted down the weapon, taking aim at the withdrawing matron mother. He fired, but the bolt clacked loudly off a stone column at the corner of the building as Ssipriina rounded it and disappeared. She would be back, though, the captain knew, and she would bring more of her damnable soldiers with her.

“Sir, look,” Forghel said, running up beside Khorrl. The captain turned and looked back the way his aide was pointing, and his heart sank. The immense spider was positioned in the middle of the street, rearing up on its back legs, while its front appendages fluttered oddly in the air. A bluish line appeared in the air, as tall as the spider itself, and widened into an odd-shaped field of blue light. A second spider stepped through the magical opening, equally as large as the first. It had somehow summoned a mate.

Ryld was growing tired. He didn’t know how much longer he could defend himself and Halisstra from the crowd of gray dwarves that slowly, inexorably, pressed in at them from all sides. He knew he was running out of room to retreat. Soon, he would find his back against a wall, and there would be no more running.

Fire began to spill from above. The clay pots exploded all around him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before one of them found him.

Well, this is a fine way to go, the weapons master thought, ducking beneath a badly overswung hammer strike and cutting the duergar across his midsection. Backed into a corner in an alley, trapped like a rat in a cage, and burned to death. Well, you wanted to get out of Menzoberranzan and find a little excitement, fool. I guess this will have to do.

Surprisingly, the gray dwarves backed away from him, maintaining their guard as they retreated, and Ryld let them go. He was breathing heavily, his lungs feeling scorched from the acrid smoke that was all around him. A dozen or more insignificant gashes covered his arms and torso, burning like the stings of a viper.

If they don’t want to fight, I’m not going to argue with them, he thought gratefully.

He kept his sword level as a threat but risked a quick glance up to the rooftops.

Sure enough, just as Halisstra had claimed, more of the foul dwarves had stretched netting across the way, preventing the two of them from escaping by that route. Ryld was certain he could pick them off with his crossbow but not if he had to dodge ground troops and firepots at the same time. He saw the duergar overhead hurl several more of the horrid things down, but instead of aiming at him, they threw wide, so that the bursts of flame erupted between Ryld and his foes on the ground.

They’re trying to seal us in, the weapons master realized. Trap us and kill us without risk to themselves.

He was judging the width of the flames, trying to determine if he could leap across them without burning himself too much, when he realized that Halisstra was speaking to him.

“Ryld,” the priestess was saying. “Ryld, I can get us out of here.”

The warrior glanced over at her, ignoring the taunts and jeers from above as the duergar took their time, savoring the moment before dispatching the dark elves.

“How?” he asked.

“I can cast a spell,” Halisstra replied. “A magical doorway that will get us out of here, but you’ve got to buy me some time!”

“Ah, Pharaun’s favorite trick,” Ryld replied. He eyed the low wall that was behind the two of them, and he pointed to it.

“Get over that,” he said. “We’ll be better protected from above and can decide what to do.”

Without waiting for her to follow, Ryld levitated upward until he was at a height just above the top of the wall, which had originally been slightly over his head. He quickly stepped across it to the other side and lowered himself once again. Halisstra, her shield arm hanging limply at her side, was only a heartbeat behind him. She tumbled into the corner with a grunt of pain as Ryld watched for pursuit.

When the duergar saw where the two drow were going, they began yelling in rage. From above, they began to fling more of the firepots down, trying to target the two dark elves, but Ryld pulled Halisstra inside the protection of the covering that hung partially out over the enclosed area. There was a door in the wall to his back, but it appeared stout. He tried it, and as he suspected, it was locked. Several of the firepots had landed inside the little courtyard, but the warrior and the priestess were far enough back away from them that they were in no danger.

“Won’t they ever run out of those things?” Halisstra complained as Ryld saw a hand grasp the top of the wall.

Pulling out his crossbow, he waited until a head appeared then fired, catching the gray dwarf directly in the face. The humanoid shrieked and toppled backward.

“Eventually,” he replied, reloading, “but let’s not stick around to see how long.”