R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation (87 page)

The massive arachnid was skittering straight toward Pharaun and Valas, and the wizard could see Jeggred on top of it, sitting astride the thing’s huge neck, slashing madly with his claws and flinging gobbets of flesh and black blood everywhere as the fiend sawed into the spider’s head. The spider reared and jerked, trying to shake Jeggred from its body, but the draegloth clung tenaciously to it, sinking his claws deeply into the beast’s flesh to maintain his hold.

The wizard took an involuntary step backward as the onrushing spider closed the distance quickly, its rapid steps making the web street buck and bounce. Raising his wand, the mage fired off a second lightning bolt, letting it crackle over the spider’s head, knowing Jeggred would be resistant to its destructive power.

The electrical discharge obviously hurt the massive beast— Pharaun could clearly see scorch marks on its shiny black skin—but it didn’t slow a whit. It ambled drunkenly toward the mage and the scout even as Valas pumped a dozen arrows into it.

Goddess! thought Pharaun, backing up another step.

He wanted to turn and run, but he couldn’t make himself stop watching the charging creature. Valas was back-stepping too, still firing arrows, but they were both in the spider’s sight and it was clearly targeting them as the cause of its woes.

Just as the spider reached the pair of drow and snapped downward, Ryld leaped into view, swinging Splitter in a huge arc and smashing the blade savagely across the creature’s face. The lightning bolt had obviously bought the weapons master enough time to retrieve his greatsword.

The arachnid jerked backward, more blood dripping freely from the fresh wound, but it was not to be so easily deterred. It snapped at Ryld once, twice, and the warrior fended the attacks off with his greatsword, laboring to keep the twitching mandibles away from him.

Pharaun scrambled backward again, happy enough to let the broad-shouldered weapons master bear the brunt of the combat. Pharaun raised his wand for a third lightning strike, hoping that would fell the beast, but before he could activate the wand the spider snapped down at Ryld a third time, and the warrior’s luck ran out.

The spider’s mandibles closed tightly around the Master of Melee-Magthere, who grunted in pain and nearly lost his grip on Splitter. The creature hoisted him into the air, squeezing its captured prey tightly, trying to crush the life out him. Ryld arched his back in agony and began desperately hacking at the mandibles with his sword.

Pharaun hesitated to expend his magical bolts with Ryld in the way, and Valas likewise seemed at a loss, sighting down a drawnback arrow but faltering. There was no clear shot. Even so, Jeggred continued to hew into the spider’s flesh. The draegloth’s arms were completely coated with sticky black fluid.

Why won’t the blasted thing die? Pharaun thought in dismay.

He was tempted to jolt the creature despite the presence of his companions then he remembered his other wand. Reacting quickly, the wizard managed to fish the second item from inside his
piwafwi
just as the spider stumbled into both him and Valas. The scout went sprawling, rolling into a tumble several yards away, while Pharaun managed to avoid the worst of the blow by leaping out of the way at the last moment, aided by his magical boots.

Landing to one side, the wizard flicked the wand at the spider and uttered the trigger word, sending a host of glowing projectiles streaming from its tip directly at the spider’s eyes. The five missiles swerved unerringly around Ryld and struck the creature’s eyes in rapid succession. The great spider flinched away, opening its mandibles to chatter in pain, dropping Ryld in the process.

The weapons master fell limply toward the ground but somehow still retained consciousness enough to halt his own descent, drifting the last couple of feet to the pavement. The spider, meanwhile, reared up, its face a bloody mess, Jeggred still slashing at the top of its head.

There’s no way it can withstand much more, the wizard thought.

“Finish it,” Quenthel said, pointing past the spider. “Kill it and be done with it.”

Pharaun could see the second spider coming their way, so he quickly discharged a second round of screaming projectiles from the wand. When they struck home, the spider finally collapsed in the middle of the street, nearly landing atop the still-prone Ryld. The creature didn’t move, though its legs and mandibles spasmed awkwardly.

“Withdraw!” Quenthel demanded. “The other one is coming.”

Pharaun ran to help Valas get Ryld to his feet, and the trio scurried as fast as they could back into the alley. Jeggred leaped down from his perch atop the dead arachnid and joined them. They all reached the protection of the side street simultaneously, and Pharaun turned back to see what had become of the pair from House Melarn. Farther up the street, the wizard could see the magical emanations of Halisstra and Danifae. They were walking toward him as quickly as the limping drow could move.

“They’re almost here,” Pharaun said, gesturing back to where he knew only he could see the two. “Keep still,” the Master of Sorcere warned. “It might sense vibrations.”

The two groups waited, apprehensive. Halisstra and Danifae stopped moving, pressing against the wall of the closest building as the second spider came closer. Pharaun slipped back into the shadows.

As the beast passed, Pharaun prepared to cast the spell he’d considered earlier, one that would bring about a heavy mist, should they need it, but they did not. As the giant arachnid moved off, the vibrations grew calmer. Pharaun stole another glance and saw that the two females were drawing closer.

“You would openly defy me?” Quenthel snarled, slapping a still-woozy Ryld across the cheek.

Jeggred rose up to his full height and moved to stand beside the high priestess, backing her while she meted out her discipline.

Ryld staggered back from the blow, and a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t flinch from the high priestess’s gaze.

“They aren’t so expendable as you might think,” he said weakly but with his chin in the air. “Give them a chance to prove themselves before you abandon them. It might be you she’s rushing back to aid next time.”

Jeggred growled and took a step forward, but Quenthel held up her hand in a signal for him to be still. The draegloth glowered at Ryld but obeyed his mistress.

“Your days of questioning my authority are nigh ended,” Quenthel said, turning to face both Ryld and Pharaun together. “When we get out of this city, there will be some changes. I am tired of this.”

As if to mimic the Mistress of the Academy’s foul mood, the snakes of her whip began to shimmy back and forth, hissing in vexation.

“All I say is that you are too quick to dismiss them,” Ryld insisted. “They are more valuable than you give them credit for.”

“He’s right,” Pharaun said, “Halisstra has demonstrated some resourcefulness. Don’t discount them simply because they are not from Menzoberranzan.”

Quenthel scowled at the two of them in turn then drew in Valas with her gaze for good measure. Halisstra and Danifae reached their position, still invisible.

“I am sorry,” Halisstra said upon arriving, “but I could not abandon her. She still has a certain value to me.”

Quenthel snorted but waved her hand in dismissal, as though minimizing the entire episode.

“You are aware of the conditions under which you will be permitted to stay with us. Keep up, or fall behind. We will not suffer you to slow us down.”

She just doesn’t want to let on how much we defy her, Pharaun realized. She’s pretending that remaining and waiting was her own act of generosity. The wizard smirked to himself.

Halisstra let Danifae down and produced a wand from her belongings. She waved it over the battle captive’s leg and murmured a phrase that the wizard didn’t quite catch, but then he saw that the puncture wound had healed. The dark elf moved to Ryld to administer a similar healing effort to him, but Quenthel intervened.

“Where did you get that?” the high priestess demanded.

Halisstra started, not expecting such a venomous reaction to her charity.

“It’s mine,” she began to explain. “I brought it—”

“Not anymore, it isn’t. Give it to me,” Quenthel insisted.

Halisstra stared at the high priestess but made no move to hand over her magical trinket.

“If you don’t want Jeggred to shred you to several pieces right now, hand that wand to me.”

Slowly, her eyes burning with anger, Halisstra passed the wand to Quenthel.

The Mistress of Arach-Tinilith examined the wand carefully, nodding in satisfaction. She turned and used it on Ryld herself. As the divine power of the wand flowed into the warrior, his worst injuries closed, though several small scratches and bruises remained. When she was satisfied with the weapons master’s condition, she tucked the wand away in her own belongings.

“Now,” Quenthel said, turning her attention back on Halisstra, “we will have no more of this wasteful use of curing magic taking place. I will be the one who decides when and if a member of this group receives divine aid, is that clear?”

Halisstra nodded.

“Do you have any more magic secreted away that I should know about? Believe me, I will know if you do.”

Drisinil’s daughter sighed and nodded. She produced an additional wand and handed it over.

“You cannot use that, though,” Halisstra mumbled. “It’s arcane in nature. I also . . . dabble in that sort of magic.”

“I see. Well, if it becomes necessary, you might get it back when you’ve proven your worth. Until then, I keep them both.”

The high priestess turned and strolled a few feet away, completely ignoring the drow female who stared daggers at her back.

“Halisstra,” Pharaun said, trying to change the subject and hoping to show Quenthel that the priestess was useful at the same time, “both you and Danifae seemed to know where these giant spiders came from. What can you tell us?”

“They’re guardian spiders,” the dark elf answered, her voice thick with anger, “summoned only in times of great need. Those two were so small . . . the matron mothers who conjured them must have had a rather minor one stored away.”

“You mean they get bigger than that?” Valas asked incredulously.

“Certainly,” Halisstra replied, warming to the subject. “How do you think the webs of the city first appeared here? Upon arriving in the cavern, the first high priestesses, along with their wizard counterparts, summoned spiders of immense size to spin the webs upon which the city would rest. It was with Lolth’s blessing that these sacred creatures came to us, and they were magically stored, transformed into crystalline statues. From time to time they are brought forth again to repair sections of the city or to defend the chamber. Normally, though, they’re controlled through a mental link to do our bidding and to gate in more of their kind only when we command it. I don’t know exactly how. That is a secret reserved for the matron mothers.”

“Blessed Dark Mother,” Ryld said. “Do you think the other one will bring more?”

“I don’t know,” the priestess replied. “I hope not.”

“Look,” Pharaun said, glancing ahead, where the spider could still be seen scuttling along the web street.

A force of gray dwarves were on a pathway above it, peering over the side at the spider below them. A number of them had begun throwing more of the damnable firepots at the creature. As the little incendiary devices struck the arachnid, they burst into flame, and the colossal spider reared up as it began to burn, looking to eliminate the source of the pain.

More of the clay pots were cast down, several of them striking the spider on the head and abdomen. Rising up on its hind legs, the spider attempted to reach the duergar, but they were too high overhead. The spider spun in place, turning its back on its attackers, and fired a thick stream of fluid in their direction.

“Webbing,” Pharaun noted aloud, impressed.

The stream of webbing sailed accurately, attaching to the underside of the web street, hardening as it did so. The spider turned and began to scamper up the strand of sticky filament, pursuing the gray dwarves, who were desperately clambering to get out of the way.

“The fools,” Ryld said. “They just managed to get its attention focused on them. Fortunate for us, though.”

“Enough,” Quenthel said. “We still need to get our belongings from the inn and leave this wretched city.”

Pharaun turned to gaze at the high priestess, knowing full well that his expression was one of dumbfounded amazement.

“You can’t be serious! Look around,” he said, gesturing out toward other parts of the city, where the distant glows of more and more fires were visible through the ever-thickening smoke. “The whole city is in turmoil.

“Use your ears,” he continued, gesturing in a different direction, where the screams of the fighting and dying echoed off the walls of the huge cavern. “We’re running out of time. I’m sure the whole city is choosing sides and taking the battle to the streets, and yet you want to tempt fate by trying to go after more of your trinkets? I think—”

“Listen to me,
boy
,” Quenthel spat, her face livid. “We just went through this with your warrior friend. You will do as I say, or you will be left here to die. If you’ve forgotten who I am, allow me to remind you that I am High Priestess Quenthel Baenre, Mistress of Arach-Tinilith, Mistress of the Academy, Mistress of Tier Breche, First Sister of House Baenre of Menzoberranzan, and I will no longer tolerate your snide remarks and your haughty insubordination. Do you understand?”

As if to back up her words, Jeggred stepped forward and with a menacing growl took hold of the collar of Pharaun’s
piwafwi,
bunching it up in his clawed fist.

The wizard glanced over to Ryld, who still looked weakened from his fight with the spider. Nonetheless, he had his hand on the hilt of Splitter and was stepping forward, ready to come between the draegloth and the mage. But Pharaun could tell by the warrior’s expression that he was trying to determine just how badly he really wanted to choose sides at this juncture.