War Of The Spider Queen - Condemnation Part 29

Three days after his victory at the Pillars of Woe and twenty miles closer to Menzoberranzan, Nimor stood in the shadows at the mouth of the l.u.s.trum, a wondrously rich mithral mine. Near the entrance, a wedge-shaped vault soared upward for hundreds of feet, widening as it climbed, but down on the cavern floor it was cramped and broken with the shattered remnants of huge boulders. The minersslaves and soldiers of House Xorlarrin, or so he believedhad abandoned their tools and their homes in the face of the advancing duergar army, carrying off as much mithral ore as they could manage. Nimor gazed up at the narrow black rift above him.

The mithral mine was an interesting bit of decoration, but it was only one of the reasons he was there. The l.u.s.trum stood between the army of Gracklstugh and the army of Kaanyr Vhok. The duergar stayed to the left and came up on Menzoberranzan's southwest side, while the tanarukks pushed right and approached the city from the southeast. The drow army retreated ahead of them, in full flight for the dubious safety of their home city. Menzoberranzan's Mantlethe great halo of twisting caverns and pa.s.sageways ringing the cityoffered the invading armies a thousand paths by which they might approach.

Of course, the matron mothers hadn't left their outer demesnes completely undefended. Nimor glanced down at the green shards of one of the city's infamous jade spiders, huge magical automatons of stone that guarded the city's approaches. The wreckage of the one at his feet still smoked with acrid black fumes from the stonefire bombs that had destroyed it a few hours before. They were clever and deadly devices, but without cadres of magic-wielding priestesses to hurl all sorts of awful dooms and blights on invaders, the jade spiders were not sufficient to the task of halting the two approaching armies.

How much longer until Menzoberranzan's great castles lie shattered like this device? Nimor mused.

The Anointed Blade was interrupted in his reflections by the tramp of dwarven boots and the angry sc.r.a.pe of iron on stone. The armored diligence of Crown Prince Horgar Steelshadow approached, escorted by a double file of the duergar lord's Stone Guards. Nimor winced at the resounding clangor of the duergar soldiers.

One would think they'd get their fill of hammer blows and noise back in their city, he thought.

He brushed off his tunic and went down to meet his ally.

"Well met, Crown Prince Horgar. I am pleased that you honored my request for a parley."

The duergar lord threw open the armored door in the side of his iron wagon, and stepped down to the cavern floor. Marshal Borwald followed a step behind, his scarred face hidden by a great iron helm.

"I have been looking for you, Nimor Imphraezl," Horgar replied. "You vanished after guiding our vanguard to this maze of tunnels. What business did you have elsewhere that was more pressing than our a.s.sault on Menzoberranzan, I wonder?"

Victory had transformed the crown prince's dour pessimism into a kind of ferocious hunger for more victories, and Horgar's lairds echoed their ruler's att.i.tude. Where before the sight of the a.s.sa.s.sin brought black scowls and dark mutterings, the lairds of Gracklstugh had come to acknowledge his presence with gruff nods and open envy of his successes.

"Why, Crown Prince, my business concerned the upcoming a.s.sault," Nimor said with a laugh. He kicked aside one of the jade shards from the ruined construct. "Once I'd shown your men how to disable these things it seemed to me that your army had matters well in hand, so I took the liberty of reporting to my superiors, and spying out how matters stand in the city."

The duergar prince frowned, his brows knitting in thought.

"You felt free to gamble with the tanarukk army," said Horgar. "They might have turned on us as easily as upon the Menzoberranyr, you know."

"Under normal circ.u.mstances, perhaps, but there is opportunity in the air. I can smell it, Kaanyr Vhok can smell it, and I think you can, too. We stand at a fulcrum on which many great events might be made to turn."

"Empty plat.i.tudes, Nimor," the gray dwarf growled.

He folded his thick arms and stared into the darkness, waiting. After a short time, a scuffling and snorting drifted through the darkness, followed by quick and heavy steps.

Bearing an iron palanquin the size of a small coach on their hairy shoulders, a score of tanarukks loped into the cavern, b.e.s.t.i.a.l eyes aglow with red hate, axes and maces gripped in their powerful fists. The gray dwarves and the orc-demons glared at each other, nervously muttering and fingering their weapons.

The door to the palanquin creaked open, and Kaanyr Vhok slowly straightened out of the chair. The half-demon warlord was resplendent in his armor of crimson and gold, and his fine-scaled skin and strong features bespoke presence and charisma in a way that Horgar's duergar churlishness and suspicious manner could never match. The alu-fiend Aliisza followed sinuously, stretching her wings as she emerged. Finally, Zammzt climbed out of the warlord's coach.

"Well, I have come," Kaanyr said in his powerful voice. He studied the a.s.sembled gray dwarves, and regarded Nimor as well. "We have driven the dark elves back to their city in disarray. Now how do we finish the job? And, more importantly, how shall we divide the spoils?"

"Divide the spoils?" Horgar rasped. "I think not. You will not help yourself to part of my prize after my army shouldered the brunt of the hard work in defeating the drow at the Pillars of Woe. You will be paid fairly for your a.s.sistance, but do not presume to claim a share of my victory."

Kaanyr's handsome brow creased in an angry frown.

"I am not a beggar crying out for your largesse, dwarf," the cambion said. "Without my army's approach, you would still be fighting your way toward Menzoberranzan, one step at a time."

Horgar started to compose an angry retort, but Nimor quickly stepped between the gray dwarf and the half-demon and raised his arms.

"My lords!" he cried. "The only way the Menzoberranyr can defeat you is if the two of you turn on each other. If you cooperate, if you combine your efforts intelligently, the city will fall."

"Indeed," said Zammzt. The plain-faced a.s.sa.s.sin stood by Vhok's palanquin, shrouded in his dark cloak. "There is little point in dividing the spoils of a city that you have yet to capture. There is even less point in allowing the effort of dividing the spoils to prevent the city's fall in the first place."

"That may be true," Kaanyr said, folding his powerful arms across his broad chest, "but I will not be forgotten when the city is plundered. You brought me here, a.s.sa.s.sins."

"You brought me here, as well," Horgar rumbled, "and you brought the Agrach Dyrr. I suspect that your secret House will be hard-pressed to honor your promises to all three of your allies. Which of us do you mean to betray, I wonder?"

For the first time, Nimor found himself wondering if perhaps he had arrayed too many enemies against Menzoberranzan all at once. That was the nature of diplomacy in the Underdark, after all. No alliance outlived its usefulness, not even by a heartbeat.

To his surprise, he was rescued by Aliisza.

The alu-fiend draped herself at Kaanyr's side and said, "He will not honor his promises to either of you, as long as the city stands. How can he? We will all go home empty-handed if you cannot come to an agreement."

Nimor inclined his head in grat.i.tude, making a very conscious effort not to allow his eyes to linger on Aliisza for too long when she stood next to Kaanyr Vhok. Somehow he doubted that she'd shared with her master the exact details of her visit to Gracklstugh, and he didn't want to give the half-demon any reason to become curious.

"Lady Aliisza's wisdom is as great as her beauty," he said. "For the sake of avoiding argument, I propose this: To Horgar, five-tenths of Menzoberranzan's wealth, populace, and territory; to Kaanyr Vhok, three-tenths; and for my own House, two-tenths, out of which I will come to terms with the Agrach Dyrr. All subject to final negotiation and adjustment when Menzoberranzan is ours, of course."

"My army outnumbers the cambion's by better than two to one, so why does he gain a share better than half of my own?" Horgar said.

"Because he is here," Nimor said. "Take your army and go home if you like, Horgar, but look around you before you depart. We stand at the l.u.s.trum, the mithral mines of House Xorlarrin. Menzoberranzan controls dozens of treasures such as this, and its castles and vaults are filled with the wealth of five thousand years. If you do not fight, your share will be nothing."

That was the other reason Nimor had chosen the l.u.s.trum as the place to hold his parley. It served as a tantalizing reminder of the true prize that waited.

Horgar's eyes darkened, but the duergar prince turned aside to study the chasm and the gaping adits nearby. Marshal Borwald leaned close and whispered something to the crown prince, and the other lairds muttered among themselves. After a moment, Horgar shifted his thick hands to his belt and cleared his throat.

"All right, then. Subject to final negotiation, we agree. So how do you intend to reduce the city?"

"You will crush Menzoberranzan between your two armies," Nimor said. "Given your victory at the Pillars of Woe, the Lolthites are committed to awaiting your a.s.sault in the city proper, but thanks to this maze of pa.s.sages surrounding the city, they can't know where you'll make your attack. That means the Menzoberranyr will have to maintain a strong force in waiting somewhere near the city's center to respond to whatever point is threatened. The Scoured Legion will provide that threat, and when we force the Lolthites to commit to battle, the army of Gracklstugh will commence its attack and break into the city."

"It's not a bad plan," Kaanyr Vhok observed. "However, it is exactly what the Menzoberranyr must expect us to try, given the situation. They'll be very careful in committing their strength to any one threat."

"Aye," Horgar said. "How will you draw them out, now that you've taught them caution at the Pillars of Woe?"

Nimor smiled. It didn't escape him that Horgar and Kaanyr were examining the tactical problem of defeating Menzoberranzan, instead of quarreling over what they expected to gain from their efforts.

"My brothers and I expect to help in that regard," he said. "We're not numerous but we're well-placed, and, my lords, you have forgotten House Agrach Dyrr."

Horgar and Kaanyr exchanged a nod, even a smile.

Prepare well, Menzoberranzan, Nimor thought. I'm coming.

"I never imagined so many demons in my life," Ryld grunted. He leaned on Splitter, watching as a huge, bat-winged, bloated form spiraled feebly down into the darkness, vainly trying to fly with its wings savaged by blows of the weapons master's greatsword. He straightened and wiped the back of one hand across his brow. "It's getting hotter, too. I hope we're close to whatever we're looking for."

Halisstra and the rest of the company stood nearby, swaying with nausea or trembling with fatigue as the environment and their exertions warranted. For what seemed like hours, they'd continued to fight their way down strand after strand. Sometimes they descended for miles past strands that were empty or held nothing but corpses, but more and more frequently they encountered demons that were alive and hungry. Most of the infernal creatures threw themselves headlong into battle as if all reason had deserted them, but a few retained enough of their intelligence to employ their formidable magical abilities against the interlopers.

With fang, claw, sting, and unholy sorcery the denizens of the Demonweb Pits scoured and scored the drow company. It didn't help that Quenthel had commanded Pharaun to h.o.a.rd his spells carefully so that the company met each new demonic threat with steel, not the wizard's magic.

"Save your breath, Master Argith," Quenthel said. She slowly straightened from her own fighting crouch, her whip splattered with the gore of a dozen demons. "We must press on."

The company hadn't gone more than another forty yards before their strand shuddered, and an enormous taloned hand appeared from beneath. Clawing its way around from the unseen bottom side of the web, a ma.s.sive, bison-headed demon with foul, coa.r.s.e fur sprouting from its shoulders and back hauled itself to the top of the strand and bellowed a vast challenge.

"A goristro!" Pharaun cried. "What in all the h.e.l.ls is that doing here?"

"Some pet of Lolth's that's gotten loose, I don't doubt," Tzirik replied.

The Vhaeraunite priest began to chant a spell, while the others leaped into action. Before the monster could clamber to its feet, Valas feathered it with at least three arrows, the black shafts sprouting from its shoulders and thick neck like pins in a cushion. The goristro snorted in pain and anger, and reached out one hulking hand to pick up the corpse of a small spider-demon nearby. It flung the corpse at Valas, catching the scout as he fished in his quiver for more arrows. The impact staggered Valas, who stumbled and slipped down the side of the strand, cursing in several languages.

Ryld ran forward with Splitter held high, Quenthel at his side, while Halisstra and Danifae carefully tried to circle the beast to one side as best they could on the narrow strand, hoping to surround it on all sides.

Tzirik finished his spell and shouted out a deep, rolling word of power, creating a great whirling disk of spinning razors across the goristro's torso. Blades bit and blood flew, but still the monster came on undeterred.

"What will it take to stop this thing?" Halisstra called. "Does it have any weaknesses?"

"It's stupid," Pharaun replied. "Barely sentient, really. Don't meet it blow for blow."

The wizard gestured and struck the monster with a gleaming green ray of energy that chewed into the goristro's chest, while Tzirik moved in behind Ryld and Quenthel to help them against the monster. The weapons master and the high priestess leaped and slashed at the creature's belly and torso, while dodging the ponderous blows of its enormous fists. One glancing blow spun Quenthel to her hands and knees, but she managed to scramble out of the way before the creature could finish her off.

"Noooot stuuuupiiiid!" roared the goristro.

It lifted one hoofed foot and stamped it down on the strand with such astonishing power that the whole miles-long cable thrummed like something alive. The shock wave threw all of the drow into the air, yet the goristro had failed to antic.i.p.ate the consequences of its mighty stomp, for the shock threw it into the air as well. The monstrous demon landed awkwardly on its side and slid off the strand, catching itself by one arm dug into the upper surface. It scrambled and kicked, its struggles shaking the strand even more.

Quenthel picked herself up from the trembling surface, and weaved her way past the brute's arm to look down at its face. With a deliberate motion, she flicked her snake-headed whip at one of its beady eyes and destroyed the organ in a sickening burst of gore. The goristro howled in agony and recoiled, losing its grip on the strand and tumbling down into the abyss. Its bellows of rage continued for a long time, diminishing as it fell away from them. She didn't bother to watch it fall. Instead she turned to the rest of the company.

"Get up," she snarled. "We're wasting time."

Halisstra picked herself up from the web and glanced around. Valas scrambled back into view from his precarious position on the side of the strand. Danifae climbed to her feet as well. They followed after Quenthel as the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith set off again at once, moving at an impatient lope as she bounded down the strand. Halisstra was too tired to keep up the pace for long, but she had even less energy for an argument with the single-minded priestess, and so she merely set her jaw and endured.

They reached the bottomalmost.

For some time they'd noticed converging strands drawing closer to their own, and Halisstra could see the reason why. A great ring of webbing a dozen times thicker than any of the gray strands was suspended below them, binding the ends of the strands together. Its circ.u.mference was so great that Halisstra could hardly describe a curve at all in the ring's vast arc. In the center there was somethinga t.i.tanic black structure or island of sorts hanging in the mighty web. The drow paused, surveying the scene, until Valas broke the silence.

"Is that it?" he said in a low voice.

"The entrance to Lolth's domain," Tzirik answered, "lies somewhere within that ring."

"Are you sure?" asked Ryld.

"I am," Quenthel replied for the priest.

She didn't look aside or hesitate, but simply set off again at the same hard pace.

As the strand approached the central ring its steep pitch gradually flattened and thickened somewhat, and for the first time in seemingly endless hours and miles the company found itself traversing something like level ground instead of picking their way down the sloping cable. More demonic and spidery corpses appeared, some half-buried in the strand as if they'd fallen from the limitless heights abovewhich they most likely had.

The travelers reached the thick ring and crossed one more stretch of twisted webbing only to find that the structure in the center was some kind of immense stone temple, a baroque building of gleaming black obsidian miles in diameter. Spiked stone b.u.t.tresses soared across the bottomless s.p.a.ce, linking the structure to the ring around it. Vast dark plazas of smooth stone large enough to swallow cities surrounded the temple's flanks. Without speaking, the company picked their way over to one of the colossal flying b.u.t.tresses and advanced toward their goal.

Halisstra found herself trembling, not with exhaustion, but with a combination of terror and ecstasy as she realized that she must soon withstand Lolth's scrutiny in the flesh.

I am worthy, she told herself. I must be.

The demons that had plagued their progress through the webs didn't seem to care for the black temple. In any event, no more of the monsters pursued the company once they left the web behind them. For a long time the dark elves simply walked onward, crossing the huge outer plaza, as the walls of the temple came closer and closer, revealing their dark details.

Quenthel oriented their march on a sharp-edged break in the cyclopean wall, a huge cleft that must have been the temple's portico. From time to time they pa.s.sed the strange, inanimate forms of large, spiderlike beings that seemed to be sculpted from fluid black stone. Oddly enough, the petrified forms grew smaller and smaller the closer they came to the cleft. Halisstra dismissed the mystery from her mind, concentrating only on the goal before her.

At last they reached the mouth of the temple, and looked upon its entrance. A vast face confronted them, the face of a cruelly beautiful dark elf, her features calm and still as if in contemplation. Perfect black stone barred the entrance from one side to the other, sculpted into the image of the Spider Queen's visage. Only her half-lidded eyes showed any animation at all. Gazing down blankly at the tiny supplicants below her, Lolth's eyes gleamed with a roiling, h.e.l.lish glee focused entirely on whatever thoughts or processes lay behind them.

The company stood gazing up in wonder and terror, and Quenthel prostrated herself before the image of her G.o.ddess. Halisstra and Danifae joined her at once, groveling on the cold black stone. Even the males dropped to the ground, lying on their faces and averting their eyes. Tzirik, as a priest of Vhaeraun, settled for taking one knee and lowering his gaze respectfully. He didn't serve the Queen of the Demonweb Pits, but he and others of his faith certainly recognized her divinity.

"Great Queen!" called Quenthel. "We have come from Menzoberranzan to beseech you to restore your favor to your priestesses! Our enemies encroach on your holy city and threaten your faithful with destruction. We humbly beg you to instruct us in what we must do to find approval in your eyes. Arm us with your holy might once more, and we will hunt your enemies until their blood fills the Underdark and their souls fill your belly!"

The face did not respond.

Quenthel waited for a long time, still prostrate, then she licked her lips and uttered another prayer. Halisstra and Danifae joined their pleading to hers, and they begged and pleaded with every prayer, every invocation, every catechism they had ever been taught, sc.r.a.ping and groveling at the temple door. The males simply waited, still stretched out on the black stone. After a time, Tzirik moved off a short distance and sat down with his back to the face, communing with his own G.o.d. Halisstra ignored him and continued her supplications.

Still the face did not respond.

The three priestesses kept up their pleas for what must have been hours, but finally Quenthel pushed herself upright and gazed full on the visage of Lolth.

"Enough, sisters," said the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith. "The G.o.ddess plainly does not deign to answer us at this time."

"Perhaps we are in the wrong place," Pharaun suggested. "Perhaps we must go farther in order for you to offer your prayers."

"There is no place farther to go," Tzirik said, rejoining the party. "Vhaeraun informs me that this is the only point of approach to Lolth's domain through the Abyss. If she refuses to hear you at this spot, she will not hear you anywhere else in this plane."

"But why does she continue to ignore us?" Halisstra asked in a plaintive voice. She climbed to her feet, her heart sick with longing. After all that had happenedthe fall of her House, the destruction of her city, the travails of the questto stand before Lolth's temple and be ignored was simply incomprehensible. "What more do we have to do?"

Tzirik shrugged and said, "I cannot answer that question."

"Apparently Lolth can't, either," Halisstra said.

She ignored the disapproval and fear that flickered across Quenthel's features, and strode up angrily to stand within arm's reach of the towering face.

"Hear me, Lolth!" she cried. "Answer me! What have we done to earn your displeasure? Where are you?"

"Speak with respect!" hissed Quenthel, her eyes wide with terror.

Ryld quailed, but managed to find the strength to take a couple of steps forward.

"Mistress Melarn . . ." he said, "Halisstra, come away from there. No good"

"Lolth!" Halisstra screamed. "Answer me, d.a.m.n you!"

She struck the cold stone of the face with her fists, flailing away in futility, in anger. Her mind went empty as animal fury rose up to overthrow her reason. She screamed curses upon her G.o.ddess, she battered at the uncaring face until her hands were bruised and b.l.o.o.d.y, and still no answer came. After a time she found herself huddled against the cold stone, weeping, her hands broken and useless. Like a lost child, she cried with all the ache in her heart.

"Why? Why?" was all she could manage to say through her sobs. "Why have you abandoned us? Why do you hate us?"

"You speak heresy," Quenthel said, her voice hard with disapproval. "Have you no faith left, Halisstra Melarn? The G.o.ddess will speak in her own time."

"Do you really believe that still?" Halisstra muttered.