Descent into the Depths of the Earth

by Paul Kidd - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

  Oh, I so enjoy the way we work together!

  The prisoners stayed in place as the captives at the far end of the line began to drag the huge chain out of long line of manacles. Jus hacked lengths of chain into sections, passing them to prisoners to use as flails.

  “You have a choice: die like dogs on the altar, or kill the drow!” The Justicar hurled lengths of chain to the eager half-orcs at his side. “We outnumber them twenty to one. Charge when I say charge, or just lie here and die!”

  Overhead, the gate spell crashed into life, the arch of bone glowing and shimmering as a path was forced into another world.

  Escalla looked at the black widows swarming up the temple steps.

  “When we get outta here, we’re going somewhere totally devoid of damned spiders!” Cursing, Escalla stripped herself naked right before the prisoners’ eyes. She tossed her scroll case to the Justicar and shouted, “You idiots do what Jus tells you if you want to stay alive!”

  As Jus worked his way through dense packs of prisoners, freeing the rows one by one, the distant drow choirs increased the tempo of their maddened hymn. Escalla made a flash of light as she changed her shape into a big spider, making human captives cringe away from her in panic. The spider picked up the lich staff and Polk’s bottle in one clawed leg, then turned and sped toward the mistress of the drow.

  “Outta the way, people! Come on! Spider comin’ through. Move!”

  Escalla the spider scuttled through the ranks of prisoners nearest to the altar. Halflings were being dragged toward the altar stone by a dozen guards. The priestesses beside the bone gate finally unlinked their hands, drained by the effort of casting their spell. The white-robed faerie stood before the gate, arms open in a gesture of supreme triumph. Behind the faerie, Lolth plunged her whole head into the vast, deep bowl of blood, storing up life energy to allow her to seize the Nightshade key.

  Escalla the spider leaped onto a drow’s back, dodged a horde of black widows who tried to drag her along in their dance, and leaped over to a spider-centaur’s back. Awkwardly clutching her bottle and staff, she tried to hide herself amongst the chaos. A halfling was flung on the altar and horribly killed, the death sawing right through Escalla’s bones. She paused, uncorked Polk’s magic whiskey bottle, and then bellowed down into the open neck.

  “Faerie wine! Faerie wine! Vintage sixty-three!”

  The bottle began to gush with wine. Escalla joined a cluster of excited black widows that surged to the side of the blood bowl as the latest corpse was strung up above. Sixty corpses now lay in a heap beside the altar, the bodies sliding and tangling. Drow worked fast, killing, hanging, cutting free—a frenzy of activity. Escalla jumped onto the bowl’s rim, saw Lolth as the monster plunged her head deep and drank, then hurled the magic whiskey bottle into the blood. The enchanted wine spread through the blood in an invisible swirl.

  A drow high priestess half-caught the splash of the bottle being tossed into the bowl. Whirling, the priestess saw a spider clutching a rune staff perched at the edge of the bowl. The woman froze, and an instant later Escalla had leaped onto her face and bit with poisoned fangs. The drow fired a wild spell, hitting another drow who screamed and simply withered away to ash. Crashing the runestaff into the drow’s face, Escalla blasted the woman’s head apart.

  “Hands off! No one touches the faerie!”

  The dead drow flew back across the temple steps. Back in faerie form, naked and drenched in blood, Escalla looked up, her lich staff smoking in her hands. Above her, a row of headless corpses poured blood into the golden bowl. At the bone arch, a masked faerie in white stared at her, utterly appalled. Drow priestesses, still dazed, turned to look at the intruder in shock. Guards paused in mid cut as they butchered screaming victims. Surrounded by stares, Escalla wiped blood from her face.

  “You people have pissed me off for the last damned time!”

  Escalla thundered a magic cloud across the drow. The temple steps were instantly swept with boiling venomous steam. Drow screamed and died, drow ducked and dived, priestesses sheltered behind magic spells or crawled hacking on the ground. Naked, bloodstained, and screaming in battle frenzy, Escalla lunged at the enemy faerie as the creature whirled to flee.

  * * *

  From the prison pen, the Justicar gave a huge bellow of rage. He whiplashed his magic rope and dragged one drow screaming down into the mob, where captives pounded the creature into a bloody pulp. Other drow fired crossbows, and Jus parried three bolts in a blur of steel. The drow stopped to reload, and Jus crashed his blade into the palisade, blasting through the palings. Two thousand enraged prisoners surged behind him in a mob that boiled with rage.

  Crossbows hammered a storm of steel at the Justicar. Quarrels ricocheted from his stoneskin spell, then the white blade ploughed through the drow. Blood exploded as elves died, and then the prisoners smashed into their guards in a maddened storm of steel. Chains flailed, and drow screamed.

  At the heart of the maelstrom, Jus caught a drow sword as it flashed toward him and severed the drow’s arm. Waving his sword, the big man bellowed and led an enraged wave toward the temple steps. A hundred guards were staggering, reeling, and dying as they left Escalla’s deadly cloud.

  Prisoners crashed into the drow with a noise like exploding worlds. Steel and flesh crashed home, the prisoners clawing into the drow like a tidal wave of rage.

  Jus bellowed through the cavern, making the whole temple shudder, “Kill them! Kill them all!”

  Chains, fists, and swords struck home. Drow fought in a mad panic. Somewhere in the distance, a wild stutter sounded as Henry’s crossbow began firing at something. Jus stormed up the steps as lightning bolts ploughed into the human mob, the drow screaming in frenzy and rushing down the temple steps to meet fists and rage with steel. The Justicar parried a spell, the white sword smashing lightning back into the drow, then hacked madly into the drow sorcerers.

  Blood flowed, hundreds died, and still Lolth drank. With her head buried deep in the steaming, bloody foam, the demon mistress ignored the chaos around her as she slaked a thirst and began to glow with unholy power.

  * * *

  At the tunnel entrance, the echo of charging feet had become an unending drum roll. Polk lifted his head, pitched a magic light stone through the entrance, and saw at least a dozen drow racing toward them.

  “Here they come!”

  The sudden light bought them a moment as the drow slowed to shield their eyes. Private Henry opened fire—spaced, careful shots, each one of them a tribute to his two long weeks of military service. The first shot spat sparks from a drow’s mail armor. The second pierced his target, the drugged quarrel paralyzing his victim almost before the creature screamed. Third and fourth shots flickered through the air, making one drow curse and clutch his thigh before he collapsed.

  The fire came sharp and fast. Sure that half a dozen crossbowmen covered the entrance, the remaining drow fell back into the shadows, awaiting enough reinforcements to carry out a headlong rush.

  Polk shoved crossbow bolts into the top of Henry’s magazine. He kept one worried eye upon the tunnel mouth as everything suddenly turned still and silent.

  “We got three of them.” Jubilant, Polk stared at the tunnel. “Do you think that’s it?”

  The temple cavern behind them suddenly shook as thousands of human voices rose in a battle roar. Amongst it all, the massive bellow of the Justicar and the screaming of his sword almost tore the rocks apart. As if on signal, a solid rain of crossbow bolts tore wildly from the tunnel, the bolts striking rocks near Polk and flying uselessly through the sky. With a manic scream, a dozen drow came charging from the passage, throwing bows aside and drawing swords as they howled in bloodcurdling hate. Henry fired his crossbow, the weapon whirring as a solid sheet of arrows blasted a drow leader off his feet.

  The bolts flew into the tunnel in a terrifying swarm. A drow officer lifted his sword and screamed as he charged. Suddenly a stream of death ripped across his chest, and t
he drow spun in a mist of blood. Three more elves raced past the corpse, only to jerk back with arrows jutting from their flesh.

  Quarrel after quarrel spat sparks and ricocheted madly from drow armor. Missed shots ploughed across stone and spun from tunnel walls. More dark elves ran forward, armor making bolts bounce and flicker aside. One warrior jerked back with a bolt through his eye. Others took shots in the chest and thigh, cursing then screaming foully as the drugged points struck them down.

  A score of drow hurtled into the field of fire. Henry swerved his crossbow left and fought the thunderous recoil. The weapon bucked and raved, quarrels blasting toward the onrushing drow. Lying awkwardly on his side, Polk panted in panic, cramming handful after handful of bolts into the magazine. The arched bow blurred white hot, the string thudding like a drum. Blood and sparks and ringing metal turned the cave into a churning storm of chaos as the drow ran forward, screamed, and died.

  The drow fell back. From behind them, leaders struck with whips and spells to drive the laggard onward. Sheltering in the recesses of the tunnel walls, drow fired random crossbow shots that smacked into the rocks beside Polk and Henry or flew wide.

  Shoving through her followers came a tall drow sorceress dressed in blood red mail. She ran forward, buckler held high to deflect a rain of Henry’s crossbow darts. Other elves ran behind, using her as cover, then streaked away from the deathtrap of the cave mouth. One of them sped over Escalla’s magic runes, and a massive blast of flame shot upward and blew the drow apart. A survivor staggered to his feet, and Polk shot the creature with a hand crossbow. Drow soldiers shrank back into the safety of the cave mouth, lying flat behind the bodies of the dead and paralyzed.

  Still standing amidst a rain of fire, the sorceress snarled and launched a lightning bolt. The spell shot toward Polk and Henry, hitting the metallic ores in front of them and arcing uselessly into the ground. She screamed in fury even as a fresh stutter of crossbow bolts began smacking into armored elves and forcing them to ground.

  The woman screamed at her cowardly followers, ripped spell energies out of her black soul, and flung them at her foes. A fireball thundered, the flames engulfing Polk and Henry utterly. The sorceress rose, half turned to wave her forces forward, and gave a mad ullulating cry. A dozen drow stormed forward, only to halt in shock as a lethal rain of crossbow bolts blurred into their ranks again.

  Black cloaks smoking, Polk and Henry were back in action, the crossbow hammering home a stream of fire. The sorceress staggered as three bolts hit her armor and flew away. Then one dart speared through her naked thigh, and the drugged tip instantly took hold. Jerking forward, the paralyzed drow crashed to the ground, her spell staff and her buckler rolling in the dirt. Her warriors fell back, firing wild shots from hand crossbows, and suddenly the air was starkly still.

  Panting and swearing, Polk kicked one empty crate of crossbow bolts away and tipped the other on its side. He filled Henry’s magazine, cursing dully and monotonously, his eyes glazed with panic, while somewhere behind them the cavern echoed to countless hundreds of battle screams.

  * * *

  Temple steps were awash with blood. Freed captives rolled on the ground, dying on the fangs of black widow spiders or tearing the arachnids apart limb from limb. With captured swords, lengths of chain, or bare fists and nails they threw themselves upon the drow, who fell back toward the altar in fear. Drow soldiers fired wildly into the enraged crowd, only to be pulled down by the onrushing waves. Spells flickered and blasted—pinpricks to a mob driven wild with fear that took its last refuge in blood-red rage.

  Their fury had solidified into a huge blood spattered form. With his hell hound sheeting flames into the drow, Jus fought like a dark, roaring god. Swordsmen leaped howling at him, turning somersaults as they flew over the battling crowds. The Justicar cut the guts out from one in midair, hacking another down as he fell from above. The white blade ignored drow enchantments and alloys, shearing through metal, flesh, and bone as though they were wet paper.

  Driven by one man’s fury, the sword sheared a drow priestess in half, showering drow with blood as the ranger clawed his way into the midst of the exhausted drow clergy. Charm spells spattered away from him, canceled by his old bone ring. A curse spell twisted away from him as he roared in massive anger. An instant later, a priestess lay screaming as she died, but a second drew a mace to fight hand to hand. The mace was parried, struck from her hand, and her arms severed in four blindingly fast bows, leaving the vile cleric screaming as she fell through the ring of drow and into the bowl of blood.

  Surviving drow had made a ring about their demon queen, but the gigantic spider still had her head below the blood and was drinking deep. Buying time as their queen charged herself with power, the drow roared defiance and hacked into the human swarm. Blood flew in red streams from both drow and captives.

  Jus launched himself at the elven lines, smashing home with hell hound flames blasting before him. The huge man crashed into elves, scattering them, and the mob surged forward through the breech to drag drow to the ground.

  The high priestess gathered thirty desperate followers and made a counter attack. Raising her hand, the priestess began to scream out the syllables of a spell. Jus heard the spell, turned, and caught the priestess’ eye as she gasped in an instant need to kill.

  Jus looked at the woman and gave one low, predatory growl.

  Screaming in hate, the priestess launched a spell. A lightning bolt blasted toward the Justicar. The man swung out with his sword, striking the bolt aside and ploughing it into the drow. Dark elves were blasted from their feet while others ducked, magically immune.

  The mob hesitated, fearing to come too close to Lolth. Taking the fight to the enemy, Jus hurtled himself at the high priestess, who drew out a long staff that trailed writhing tentacles. With a manic scream, the woman ran headlong through the corpses, wild with the need to tear open the Justicar’s heart.

  * * *

  “Bastard!”

  Naked and bloodstained, Escalla flung herself at the enemy faerie, who stood beside the bone gateway. Masked in white, it had a clear stone on a ragged string hung about its neck—the slowglass gem! The masked faerie spared a glance at Lolth, who kept feeding, building up the power that could crush the intruders and seize the Nightshade key. The faerie whirled, saw Escalla’s rush, and shot out a magic shield to hold off the inevitable blast of spells.

  Screaming in fury, Escalla blurred forward with accelerated speed and ploughed through the shield, crashing full tilt into her enemy’s chest. The white-clad faerie flew backward, slamming against the temple gates and tumbling into the pitch-black interior. With a wild scream, Escalla sped forward in pursuit, moving almost faster than the eye could see. She shot like a meteor above Jus and the drow, leaving a monster summoning spell sparkling in her wake. A swarm of giant damselflies flashed into existence behind her—creatures that plunged down onto giant black widow spiders, plucked them up into the air, and began eating the arachnids greedily.

  Still moving blindingly fast, Escalla sped through the temple doors. An ice spell blasted at her, ripping the flesh from her bones and smashing her to the floor. As she screeched and writhed, the other faerie whirled down from the ceiling, blasting a fireball down to incinerate Escalla’s remains to ash. Scorched bones hissed, an obscene parody of Escalla’s beauty. The enemy faerie stood over the corpse, then turned back in triumph to glance toward the demon queen.

  Leaning against a nearby column, Escalla waved to catch the enemy faerie’s eye.

  “Hey, moron!”

  An ice blast of Escalla’s own punched through the other faerie’s shields. Ripped and torn, the other creature dived aside, a spell flashing to repair wounds before the creature even hit the ground. Escalla walked forward, laughing as the dazed faerie crawled across the floor.

  “Simalcra are so hoopy, huh?” Escalla’s opponent had the typical fault of all court-raised faeries: just not enough experience from the school of hard knocks. �
��Aw, and I bet that was your best combat spell!”

  Whirling in silent rage, the other faerie fired another ice blast. Escalla was blown apart—the pieces falling to the earth, turning to singing cockroaches and running around and around the floor. A nasty little peal of laughter came from somewhere in the shadows above the door.

  Escalla appeared, now masked by magic shields of her own.

  “Nope! Guess you had one more!” The naked girl gave a smile filled with pointy teeth. “Simalcra are just too, too hoopy.”

  A lightning bolt thundering off her magic shield, Escalla lunged with the lich staff pointed straight ahead. The enemy faerie threw itself aside, and a chunk of masonry exploded as the staff struck home. Escalla whirled, but her enemy sped deeper into the temple. She threw the staff like a javelin, the weapon missing by a hair as the enemy faerie fled madly away. Swooping to retrieve her weapon, Escalla flew hot on her enemy’s tail.

  The other faerie twisted through huge hallways lined with spider sculptures. In a vast room filled with gigantic spider webs, the enemy faerie dived wildly toward a little door. Escalla ripped a spell past her enemy, and a wall of flames blocked the path. With a wild scream, Escalla ploughed toward her foe, holding the staff before her like a spear.

  The other faerie blasted out a cloud of choking fog. Escalla shot through, felt a shape whir below her, and lashed out with one hard little foot. A mask cracked as she kicked the enemy faerie in the face, and then suddenly the other creature turned on Escalla like a shark.

  Too close for staffs or spells, the two faeries fought blindly, kicking and tearing at each other, but Escalla’s blood-slippery skin gave her enemy no chance to grip. They grappled in midair, falling wildly through the fog. Escalla managed to grip the string around her enemy’s neck and rip it free, the slowglass gem falling to the ground.