by Лиза Смедман
"In Lake Thoroot?" Quenthel asked.
"Aboleths live underwater."
"How far?" the high priestess asked.
The scout frowned, thinking.
"If I can find the right tunnel," he said, "the journey would take no longer than it would for the heat to rise through Narbondel."
Quenthel considered that, then asked, "How big is this lake?"
"Enormous," Valas answered. "Big enough to cover a city, at any rate."
"Or a ship," Quenthel mused. "If the ship of chaos had just left Zanhoriloch when it ran into the storm, it may be at the bottom of the lake. If it is, the only ones who would know of its existence would be the aboleths." She glanced at Belshazu, and her expression hardened. "Assuming, that is, the ship is still intact. You said it was 'lost' in a storm, Belshazu? How badly damaged was it?"
Belshazu shrugged and said, "The mane said it was intact."
Quenthel's eyes narrowed.
"Then why didn't the demons try to recover it?" she asked.
Belshazu's eyes blazed.
"Weren't you listening, drow? I said it was lost?on this, the foulest of planes. How were we to find it?"
Pharaun, listening quietly, noticed that Danifae was staring at him. She'd shifted slightly, so that Quenthel was between her and the demon. When she had Pharaun's attention, she spoke to him in sign, behind Quenthel's back.
The demons know where the city is now. The minute you release this one?
Pharaun gave a quick flick of his fingers: Yes.
More than that, he did not offer. For all he knew, Belshazu could read the silent speech.
It was Valas, as usual, who asked the practical question, "Once we find the ship, and raise it from the lake, how do we sail it?"
Belshazu gave him a sly grin and replied, "The ship has a mouth. All you need do is feed it a soul."
Quenthel matched the demon's lascivious smile with one of her own. Seeing her glance in his direction, Pharaun had no doubt whatsoever about whom she'd most like to shove into the demon ship's gullet.
"And?" Valas asked, still focused on the practicalities. "Once the ship's been fed, what do we do next?"
"Sail it," Belshazu answered derisively. "It has sails, and lines, and a tiller. Catch the wind and go. Continue up the River of Shadows, and sail the breadth of the Shadow Deep. The river branches as it reaches the Abyss. Smaller streams empty into the pits that pock the Plain of Infinite Portals. One of those portals leads to the sixty-sixth layer. Follow the right branch, and the ship will carry you into the Demonweb Pits."
Pharaun said nothing. It all sounded highly doubtful to him. Quenthel, however, had a gleam in her eye. The serpents in her whip lashed in apparent eagerness for their mistress to begin the search for the ship of chaos?at once.
"Our thanks, Belshazu," she told the demon in a purring voice. "And my apologies for the indignities this mage has subjected you to." She stared coldly down at Pharaun, and gave a terse order: "Release him."
Behind her, Danifae gestured rapidly at Pharaun, No! The demon will only be waiting at the ship when we?
With the speed of one of her serpents, Quenthel turned and, in one smooth motion, pulled the whip from her belt. Hissing with glee, the vipers lashed out at Danifae.
"I ordered you not to speak!" Quenthel shrieked.
Caught by surprise, Danifae was slow to react. She reared back?but not before the longest of the serpents grazed her cheek with its teeth. Its work done, the viper curled back, eyeing the livid red lines it had drawn in the drow's soft flesh. As its venom flowed through Danifae's body, she sagged to her knees, already gasping for air.
Quenthel stood staring coldly down at Danifae, stroking the head of the viper that had inflicted the near-fatal kiss.
"Don't worry," she told Danifae. "Zinda may be the largest, but her poison is the least venomous. You'll live?if you're strong enough." Ignoring Danifae's choking sobs, she turned back to Pharaun and said, "Well?"
Once again, Pharaun bowed?a little deeper?and he addressed himself to the more pressing issue. Carefully.
"I can speak the word that will release Belshazu, but he won't be able to return to the Abyss until the ice melts," he told Quenthel.
"Then speed it up," she spat back. "Fill the cavern with a ball of fire."
Pharaun cocked an eyebrow.
"Unfortunately, knowing we would be underground in confined quarters, I did not prepare that spell," he offered, resisting the urge to say what he truly thought.
Quenthel was being even more stupid than usual?why, Pharaun asked himself, did the others persist in obeying her?
Jeggred was mindlessly, slavishly loyal to the nearest, highest-ranking female of his House, and Valas was getting paid to be there. But Danifae must surely have realized that her unfailing loyalty would go unrewarded. Especially with Lolth silent and presumably no longer watching the actions of her servants.
Valas cleared his throat.
"The ice will melt in time," he observed in a neutral tone. "What's a day or two of delay?to a demon?"
As Quenthel rounded on him, sputtering indignation at his "insolence," Pharaun at last realized what she must have had in mind. She hoped to curry favor with Belshazu. Like her sister Triel, Quenthel hoped to enter into unholy union with a demon, one day. And not just any demon.
Pharaun stared at Jeggred, who squatted at Quenthel's side, teeth bared in a silent snarl. Blessed of Lolth the hulking creature might be, but Menzoberranzan didn't need another draegloth. One fouling the air with its putrid breath was enough.
"I'm sure Belshazu will remember that you spoke for him," Pharaun reassured Quenthel. "I'm equally sure he'll. . look favorably upon you. . when the time comes."
The demon broke into a leer, tongue lolling as it stared up at the priestess. Its goatlike horns gave it the look of a satyr?if one discounted the misshapen body and the sole remaining pincer.
Pharaun shuddered.
"Very well," Quenthel said at last. "Speak the release word, Pharaun, and let Belshazu find his way back to the Abyss in his own time. When the ice melts."
"I will?as soon as the rest of you are safely out of here." Careful not to get within range of the remaining pincer, Pharaun skated around the demon on the ice and climbed back up to
where the others stood. He looked around, then asked, "Where's Ryld?"
Danifae, who had already fought off the worst of the poison and risen, shaking to her knees, answered, "We heard … a noise in the tunnel behind us. Just before. . the demon freed itself. Ryld went to see what it was."
"He should have come back by now," Pharaun said, a touch of worry in his voice.
Quenthel glanced at Jeggred and jerked her chin. The draegloth loped up the tunnel and returned, a few moments later, with the head of a broken crossbow bolt. He handed it to Quenthel, his nose twitching.
"Blood," he grunted. "Ryld's."
"We should go after him," Pharaun said.
He started up the tunnel, but Quenthel caught his arm.
"You're not finished here yet," she said, indicating the demon. "And there's no point. The weapons master will either catch up to us or he won't. We've got to get moving, or we'll be trapped in this dead end. That bolt came from the bow of a surface elf."
"She's right," Valas said.
Grudgingly, Pharaun nodded. Even wounded, Ryld could take care of himself. He'd catch up to them eventually. Yet, since the warrior's absence had been pointed out, Pharaun felt it keenly. With Ryld gone, there was no one in the group to watch his back. Or to banter with. If Ryld was dead, Pharaun would miss him. Perhaps for days.
Quenthel glanced down at Danifae, who was still on her hands and knees.
"If you're quite finished lolling about, then get up," Quenthel told her. "We have a ship to find."
The vipers in her whip hissing with derisive laughter, Quenhel followed Valas out of the cavern. Jeggred growled one last time over his shoulder at Belshazu, then loped after his mistress.
; As soon as he was certain Quenthel could no longer see him, Pharaun bent and offered Danifae his hand. She gave him a calculating look, as if deciding whether to vent her pent-up anger upon him, then she allowed him to help her rise. He supported her into the tunnel, then turned and spoke the words to a spell before hurrying after her.
Belshazu shook its remaining pincer at Pharaun's back.
"I will see you again, mage," it roared.
Pharaun chuckled as he scrambled up the tunnel and said, "When Hell unfreezes, Belshazu."
Which it was unlikely to do, since Pharaun had just cast a permanency spell upon the ice.
Chapter Six
The surface world was cloaked in darkness by the time Ryld emerged from the tunnel. He had traveled for some time after leaving the others in the cavern. A full moon hung above the tree-tops, half hidden by clouds but still casting so much light that it impeded his darkvision. The snow that covered the ruined temple was covered with footprints, but Ryld was able to pick out those belonging to the cleric and warriors of House Jaelre. They led in one direction only?into the tunnel. The escaped cleric hadn't returned that way.
Ryld scanned the trees, searching for any sign that more of House Jaelre's warriors might be lurking in the forest. Seeing none, he crept out of the tunnel mouth.
A moment later he heard a soft, melodic whistle. It was a tune he recognized.
"Halisstra?" he whispered.
Halisstra negated the spell that had rendered her invisible and rushed, over to embrace him.
"Ryld!" she exclaimed. "I thought you weren't coming back."
He tried to ask why she'd doubted him, but she pressed her lips against his, kissing him. For several long moments he returned her embrace, feverishly drinking in her scent and taste. She was alive! Then he remembered the warriors he'd killed?and the cleric who had gotten away.
"We can't stay here," he told her. "House Jaelre is on our trail. I ran into one of their scouting parties below."
"I know," she said, surprising him. "I saw three of them pass through the woods, just after sunset. I made some noise, and they were drawn this way. They didn't find me, even though they searched for a long time after finding my gloves."
"I'm glad," Ryld whispered fiercely. "No need to worry about them now, though. They're dead."
He heard her draw a sharp breath and thought she was reacting to his words. Then he realized that it was his grip on her arm that had prompted the gasp. She was wounded. Turning her arm, he saw a puncture just below the spot where the sleeve of her chain mail ended. The wound had been healed?probably by magic?but freshly so, since it still pained her.
"I think I got your gloves back," he said. "What happened?"
"Stirges. Dozens of them, but they're dead now."
"How?"
"I blasted them with magic, then made myself invisible."
"With your lyre?"
When Halisstra shook her head and grinned, Ryld blinked in surprise.
"How, then?" he asked. "Has Lolth reawakened?"
Halisstra laughed scornfully and said, "Let's check. Are you awake, Lolth? Can you see this?"
Smiling fiercely, she made a blasphemous gesture, flipping her hand palm-up, fingers curled in the sign for a dead spider.
Ryld cringed, but several heartbeats later, when nothing happened, he slowly allowed himself to relax.
Halisstra smiled and patted the hilt of the sword she'd taken from Eilistraee's cleric.
"I've found a new way to work my magic. I don't need my lyre?or Lolth?any more."
Ryld nodded, disturbed not so much by her blasphemy but by the fear of what would follow. Above them hung the moon?symbol of the god who had driven Lolth out of Arvandor. Was Halisstra about to be claimed by Corellon or one of the other surface gods?
Trying to ignore his own question, Ryld glared at the ruins of the creator god's temple.
"We should get moving," he said, more harshly than he'd intended. "This place is dangerous."
Halisstra stared at him a moment, then nodded and said, "Let's go."
With a quick motion of his hand, Ryld caught Halisstra's attention.
Be still, he signed. Then, do you hear that?
They had walked for the rest of the night through the forest without hearing anything but the pattering of the rain that was melting the slush underfoot, but from somewhere ahead came the sound of an animal's howl. It was answered a few moments later by a second howl, somewhere to the right, that ended in a series of brief, excited yips. The yips had a pattern, almost like that of speech.
There're at least two of them, Halisstra signed back.
Ryld nodded. He peered into the forest but the light of the rising sun, slanting in through a crack in the heavy cloud cover, was ruining his darkvision.
Halisstra reached for her sword as she signaled, They're coming our way.
Yes. And they're moving fast, but… He listened for a moment and heard a high-pitched yelp of alarm. They're not hunting. They're fleeing from something.
A grim look on her face, wet hair dripping onto the shoulders of her armor, Halisstra drew her sword. Curiously, she did not ready it but instead reversed the blade and held the hilt to her lips.
Levitate, she said with her free hand. Hide.
She pressed her lips to the hilt and blew, and a haunting music filled the air. An instant later she disappeared. The only way Ryld could tell she was still there was by looking at the ground. The spot where no rain was falling marked where she stood.
As the howls and yips drew closer, Ryld touched his brooch. He rose silently into the air through sodden tree branches, then paused at a height of about ten paces and readied his crossbow. A moment or two later, he heard a rustling in the underbrush. An enormous gray-furred animal that walked on four spindly legs burst into sight, running full out with its tongue lolling and eyes wide. It glanced from side to side as it ran?not with the terror of a wild creature but with a keen intelligence as if seeking somewhere to hide. It yipped once, was answered by a companion still some distance away in the woods, then was gone.
Ryld could have shot his crossbow but had not. He wanted to save the magical bolt for whatever was chasing the carnivore. He didn't have long to wait. A few moments later, he heard something big crashing through the forest with stumbling steps. From its gait, it sounded like a human, but by the snap of branches and the huffing grunts Ryld guessed that it was much larger. When it crashed into sight, smashing a slender tree in half with one careless swipe of its hand, Ryld saw that he'd been right.
It was a troll.
Twice the height of a drow and nearly five times as heavy, the troll had a mottled, gray-green hide covered in splotchy gray lumps. It loped along on misshapen, three-toed feet, its rubbery arms so long that its knuckles made drag marks through the slush on the ground. Greenish-black hair grew from its sloping forehead down its back in a tangled, dirty mane, and even in the steady rain its body emitted a foul smell somewhere between human sweat and the stench or rothe manure.
Ryld stared down at the troll as it paused, streams of drool sliding from the corners of a panting mouth filled with broken teeth. Once again, he refrained from shooting his crossbow. The bolt would do no more than annoy the troll and alert it to the fact that someone was there.
After a moment, having caught its breath, the troll got ready to run again. Then its head suddenly whipped to the side, and its nostrils flared.
"Halisstra! Watch out!" Ryld shouted?more to draw the troll's attention than to warn Halisstra, who was almost certainly watching the troll herself.
In that same instant, Ryld fired. The bolt whizzed toward its target but glanced off a branch just before striking the troll. Instead of burying itself in the monster's eye, as Ryld had intended, the bolt sliced a furrow across the top of the troll's head. A heartbeat later, the graze mended itself.
The troll, having scented Halisstra, raked the air in front of it with long sweeps of its clawed hands. It must have come uncomfortably clos
e, for an instant later Halisstra became visible, her long sword slashing forward in an attack. Stupidly, the troll parried with its hand, and two of its fingers went flying. They lay on the forest floor, wriggling in the slush.
The creature struck with its other hand, raking it across Halisstra's chest. The magical chain mail stopped the claws from penetrating, but the force of the blow sent Halisstra stumbling backward. She slipped on the slushy ground and went down. Sensing an easy kill, the troll lunged, and only at the last moment did Halisstra manage to bring her shield up. The troll's teeth sank into the edge of the shield, crumpling it. Then the troll shook its head, wrenching the shield from Halisstra's arm. Pinned to the ground by the weight of the monster kneeling on her, she was unable to bring her sword into play.
Negating his levitation magic, Ryld plunged down through the branches. He landed perfectly braced in a ready posture, drawing Splitter in one smooth motion from the scabbard at his back. Putting all the force of his will into the blow, he swung the greatsword with both hands and felt it slice cleanly into the troll's neck, cleaving it instantly. The head flew into the air, eyes blinking stupidly, then it landed and rolled away. The headless body reared to its feet and spun around as Ryld opened its stomach with a second sword swing, spilling foul-smelling entrails.
The headless, disemboweled troll finally stumbled away into the forest.
Halisstra lay on her back on the wet ground, gasping, rain spattering her face. Worried that she might be in immediate need of healing magic, Ryld reached down to help her?
?and was slammed to the ground by an attack he should have anticipated. Rolling quickly away, he saw that the troll was back. The creature stumbled toward him, one hand holding its head on the stump of its severed neck, the other attempting to rake Ryld with its claws. Even as Ryld flipped himself up off the ground and back onto his feet, dancing out of the reach of those claws, he saw flaps of sinew burst out of the ropy muscles of the troll's neck and quest up like sentient worms to hook themselves into the head. Swifter almost than the eye could follow, they stitched the head back onto the body, while the entrails that had spilled from the troll's slashed belly sucked back into the stomach wound. Already the fingers that Halisstra's blow had sliced off earlier were starting to grow back. Knobs of pinkish-gray flesh pulsed outward from the severed digits.
