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

by Richard Lee Byers; Thomas M. Reid; Richard Baker

  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.”

  “Where should we go? We want to be able to find the others again, right?”

  “Yes. We need to get to—”

  Ryld cut his words off short as several screams erupted from the other side of the wall. It was only then that he realized that firepots were raining down on that side rather than on theirs.

  “What the—?” he said, and scooted forward to the edge of the overhang.

  Cautiously, he peered up to the roofline. It appeared that the duergar who had been there were gone. Then, in an instant, he spotted a drow form rise up just long enough to fling another firepot down before ducking out of sight again. Ryld began to laugh.

  “What is it?” Halisstra asked, moving up beside the Master of Melee-Magthere. “What do you see?”

  “It’s Valas,” Ryld replied, pointing. “He’s taken care of our snipers for us.”

  Ryld placed his fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. A similar whistle emanated from above a moment later.

  “He knows we know he’s up there,” Ryld said. “Let’s save your spell for later and go join him.”

  Halisstra nodded.

  “Before we go,” the weapons master said, crouching beside the priestess, “let me see your arm.”

  He examined the bolt for a just a moment. It was sunk deep enough in her shoulder that he would have to force it out the other side.

  “This will have to wait until Quenthel can heal it. However . . .” Before she could protest, Ryld snapped the protruding end off.

  “Goddess!” Halisstra grunted as she jerked from the pain, squinting her eyes shut.

  She reached her other hand up, but Ryld grabbed her arm and held it away.

  “Don’t,” the warrior said. “You’ll only make it bleed.”

  Grimacing, Halisstra shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “I can heal it. Just let me—”

  She pulled her arm free and reached inside her piwafwi, producing a wand.

  “Push it out,” she said, taking the broken end of the bolt and biting down on it.

  Ryld complied, bracing her shoulder with one hand and preparing to shove the head of the bolt through with the other. In one clean, quick motion, the shaft was out. Before she could jerk away from him, Ryld pulled it completely free.

  Halisstra sobbed once, then she spat out the splintered shaft, waved the wand, and uttered a trigger phrase. The bleeding stopped instantly and the wound closed. The priestess sagged back and closed her eyes in relief.

  “Let’s go,” Ryld said, reaching out to help her to her feet, “before those fires burn out and the grays are over this wall.”

  “Wait,” Halisstra said, and produced a second wand from inside her piwafwi. “Let’s make it a little harder for them to shoot at us.”

  Ryld arched his brow at her, puzzled. Quickly, she invoked the power of the wand twice, and the two dark elves were completely invisible.

  Ryld reached out and found the priestess. He took her hand.

  “So we don’t get separated,” he explained.

  Together, the two drow rose upward, watching as duergar alternated between scattering from the firepots that Valas was hurling down on them with deadly accuracy and firing ineffectually at the scout with their crossbows. As they neared the top, Ryld pulled out Splitter and sliced through the netting, parting the material easily with the enchanted greatsword. He and Halisstra passed through the hole and settled to the rooftop near where Valas knelt, peering over the edge.

  “We owe you one,” Ryld said to the scout as he moved away from the edge to avoid any stray crossbow bolts.

  The roof was covered with the bodies of a good half dozen gray dwarves.

  Valas glanced over to where the warrior’s voice had come from but didn’t react otherwise.

  “I saw you come down here and figured I’d try to catch up by coming the long way around,” he said, rising up to throw the last of his firepots. “When I saw these cretins here, laughing and throwing these things down, I knew you were in trouble.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ryld suggested. “Do you know where the others are?”

  “I think they got up on the roofs on the other side of the square,” the scout replied, dusting off his hands and backing away from the edge. “We’ll find them. The wizard will be all flash and glory when they run into something, so we can track them that way.”

  Ryld turned to follow the scout.

  “Too true,” he said.

  The three dark elves made their way across the rooftops until they came to another side street a little farther ahead of where they’d originally been separated. Valas climbed down the side of a gaudily decorated shop that had plenty of hand- and footholds, while Ryld and Halisstra descended by their customary levitating method. By the time they were on the ground, the invisibility magic had expired.

  “Lead on,” Ryld said to Valas, gesturing, and the scout took the fore as the three of them prowled through the street, making their way back toward the main thoroughfare.

  The ground began to vibrate.

  “What in the Underdark?” Ryld muttered, steadying himself as the street bounced beneath his feet. “What is that?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s big,” Valas replied. He looked over at Halisstra. “Do you have any clue?” he asked her.

  Halisstra shook her head, but she had a worried look on her face.

  “Let’s not stay and find out,” she said.

  Valas nodded and proceeded out into the main street. Peering in both directions, he had to reach a hand out to stabilize himself, for the quivering had grown stronger.

  “Oh, no,” Halisstra said, her voice stricken.

  Ryld looked over at her and asked, “What? What is it?”

  “Oh, by the Dark Mother,” the priestess said, putting a hand to her mouth in terror. “They summoned one.”

  “Summoned what?” Ryld demanded.

  “One of those,” Valas said from the warrior’s other side, and when Ryld turned to look, he saw the scout pointing.

  The weapons master turned to peer in the direction his companion indicated and saw a spider the size of the entire square clambering into view. He sucked in his breath, feeling his knees go weak.

  “Oh, no.”

  Pharaun knew that with his magically enhanced boots he could easily outrun the other drow, and that’s precisely what he did. The wizard sprinted ahead, careful to maintain his balance on the quivering web street as the colossal spider pursued them. He had but a handful of spells left, and there was little if anything left in his repertoire that might affect the huge arachnid. A far better bet, he decided, was to misdirect the creature, perhaps conjure an obscuring mist that would allow him and the others to hide and sneak away while the spider was distracted—but he didn’t dare stop to weave the spell.

  “Pharaun!” someone shouted from ahead, and the wizard glanced over in time to see Ryld, Valas, and Halisstra standing in the mouth of a side street, gawking slack-jawed at the massive spider behind him.

  He veered in their direction and darted into the shadow of the alley. Only then did he stop to catch his breat
h.

  “I’ve never . . . seen anything . . . like it,” the wizard panted. “Danifae called it a . . . guardian spider.”

  “Yes,” Halisstra said softly, still staring at it. “The matron mothers must have called i—Oh, by the Dark Mother . . . it’s summoning another one!”

  Pharaun turned to see what Halisstra was talking about, looking past Jeggred and Quenthel as they came into view, running for all they were worth, with Danifae limping behind them. The spider had stopped pursuing them, and was rearing up on its hind legs, flailing about with its front limbs in the air. The wizard gasped when an enormous gate opened up in front of the spider, as large as the creature itself. Through the hazy murk of the bluish-white portal, the wizard watched, aghast, as a second massive spider clambered through and onto the street. The portal shut quickly behind it.

  “Oh, no,” Quenthel murmured. “How many times can they do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Halisstra said from somewhere behind the wizard.

  “Once is too many,” Pharaun said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  He spun away from the massive arachnids, ready to sprint in the opposite direction.

  “Wait!” Halisstra cried, pointing.

  The mage glanced back once more.

  Danifae was still limping badly and had not been able to keep up. As the second spider passed through the portal, it appeared on the opposite side of the battle captive. She was trapped between the two creatures, and was sprawled in the middle of the street as well.

  “She’s hurt!” Halisstra cried.

  She took a tentative step forward to go to the aid of her attendant.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Ryld said, grabbing the priestess by the arm as Jeggred and Quenthel joined them. “You’ll only get yourself killed, too.”