Quenthel was nearby, a wand in one hand and her whip in the other. She was slashing at a duergar with her whip, and at the same time, Pharaun noted, she was directing a glowing, floating apparition of a hammer about with the wand. She swiped at the gray dwarf with her whip, and as he backed up to avoid the attack, she brought the hammer in from behind, slamming it into the back of his skull. The duergar jerked once, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he crumpled to the ground.
Ryld maneuvered into view, swinging Splitter all around himself. Pharaun could see that the Master of Melee-Magthere was engaged with three drow, and the way they were handling their own weapons, it appeared that Ryld had matched up with fellow weapons masters. The three opponents stalked around him, feinting and jabbing, trying to get the warrior to over-commit on defense, but Ryld maintained his position, flowing from one stance to the next. Pharaun could see that, despite the exhaustion that was apparent in Ryld’s heavy breathing, there was also a gleam in the weapons master’s eye. It was taking every ounce of concentration Ryld had, but he actually seemed to be enjoying the challenge.
Black, waving tentacles appeared among Ryld and his three adversaries, and Pharaun watched as two of the writhing appendages latched on to the Master of Melee-Magthere, while several more slithered around the legs and ankles of his foes. All four of the combatants were trapped, and yet none of them was willing to lower his guard in order to try to free himself.
Reacting quickly, Pharaun yanked his wand free of his piwafwi and triggered it, sending five screaming points of light into the first of the two tentacles that held Ryld down. The tentacle spasmed and vanished. With a quick spin of his greatsword, Ryld cut through the second black, shiny appendage, then leaped into the air as more of the writhing things reached for him. He levitated upward, out of range of the three weapons masters, who were struggling to free themselves. Before they could, though, a handful of duergar closed in, firing crossbows at the helpless drow, and the dark elves went down quickly.
Pharaun could see that House Maerret’s position had been completely overrun. Duergar had closed in on one side, and drow on the other. The fight was simply a mad, whirling jumble of perhaps three dozen combatants fighting for their lives. What few remaining forces of House Maerret still survived were dropping quickly. Opponents closed in from all sides, and soon enough, Pharaun was reunited with his companions as the circle that surrounded them drew tighter and tighter.
“We’re out of time,” Quenthel said, still swinging her whip and directing magical hammers at her foes. “Do something now, wizard!”
“You!” came an angry shout from behind Pharaun. He turned to see who was making the commotion, and standing there, facing Quenthel, was Ssipriina Zauvirr, glaring at all of them. “You are the reason for all of this!” she screamed, raising her mace and pointing at them. “You should never have come to Ched Nasad!”
“Zauvirr!” came a second angry shout, a much more gruff voice, from the other side. Pharaun turned back the way he had originally been watching and spotted a large, well-armored duergar, one obviously of rank. “Foolish drow, I will see you dead!” the gray dwarf called.
“Betrayer!” Ssipriina spat back. “I should have known better than to trust you, Khorrl Xornbane. You can die with the meddlers. Kill them,” she cried to her few remaining soldiers, who were massing in a line. “Kill them all!”
“Death to all drow!” Khorrl Xornbane roared, and motioned his handful of troops forward.
Pharaun’s shoulders sagged.
We’re never going to get out of here, he thought, swinging his magical rapier around.
Thick black smoke from the burning stone was blinding Ryld, making it hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. The battlefield had suddenly grown quiet. There were no more explosions, no flashing bursts from the firepots. Only the sound of steel on steel, but even that was greatly diminished.
He stepped forward to meet an onrushing contingent of gray dwarves. To his left, Halisstra also entered the fray, her heavy mace and an impressive mithral shield held ready. Quenthel took up a position on the warrior’s other side, swinging her whip back and forth experimentally as she advanced.
The duergar, dozens of them, fanned out to meet the eclectic group, bloodlust plain in their eyes. Two came directly at Ryld, battle-axes held high. The weapons master parried the first swing at his shoulder and sidestepped a cut to the knees from his second foe. He brought the greatsword down atop the axe, snapping the haft cleanly, but then had to shift his weight almost off-balance to avoid a punching dagger to the ribs. Spinning, he kicked out with one booted foot, catching the gray dwarf square on the wrist and sending the dagger flying.
A third duergar loomed up behind Ryld, holding a length of chain that he spun in a circle over his head. Ryld saw that the foe was eyeing his legs, so when the attack came, he managed to leap high enough that the metal links missed him and went skittering across the pavement. In mid-leap, Ryld managed to turn completely around, flicking his blade across the head of the first gray dwarf ’s axe, unable to knock it completely loose, but nonetheless managing to force the combatant off-balance. As he landed, Ryld swung Splitter back around again, swiping at the chain-wielder’s throat. The duergar jerked back from the attack, reeling in his chain for another attempt then stiffened in pain as the head of Danifae’s morning star came down squarely on his skull in an enchanted shower of sparks. The creature slumped over as Danifae spun away to attack another foe.
Ryld maneuvered back around to face his original foe, who had regained his balance and had his axe level again. His companion, holding his injured wrist limply at his side, had fumbled a smaller hand axe free and was circling around Ryld, still trying to maneuver behind the weapons master. Ryld stepped back as though he were trying to avoid being surrounded, even as he casually blocked a couple of strokes from the battle-axe. Finally, when he saw the gray dwarf rear back for another, even more powerful cut, he planted his toe inside the coils of chain that the downed duergar had been swinging and flipped it up with his leg. As the chain sprayed out, it caught the humanoid squarely in the face. The duergar flinched, ruining his attack.
The Master of Melee-Magthere saw the hand axe coming toward his shoulder and twisted himself so that the blade just missed him then flicked Splitter back and up, slicing cleanly through the gray dwarf ’s arm at the elbow. Howling in agony, the duergar stumbled away, letting the momentum of the blow bear him out of harm’s way. Ryld let the sword swing spin him completely around so that he planted his feet facing once more in the direction of the original enemy, who had disentangled himself from the chain and had flung it away.
Ryld shifted his greatsword a couple times, circling with the gray dwarf, the two of them warily sizing one another up. The weapons master stepped into a handful of slices and thrusts, flinging halfhearted attacks toward the dwarf that never really threatened it but allowed Ryld to see just how eager his opponent was to engage with him. The gray dwarf shied away from every cut and parry, and the Master of Melee-Magthere knew the duergar would break off the fight soon, assuming its companions dwindled to sufficiently small numbers around it.
Ryld stepped into an attack again, keeping his blade low and squarely in front of him, and the duergar trod backward another step. Then, as if out of nowhere, Valas appeared from the shadows, swinging one of his kukris low across the gray dwarf ’s hamstring. The duergar’s knee buckled, and the scout came over the top with his other blade, stabbing it into the creature’s chest. The duergar made a gurgling sound as he shivered and fell over.
The Master of Melee-Magthere shifted his attention elsewhere as soon as he saw the threat eliminated. He spied Jeggred ripping a drow to shreds. Only two others were visible, looking for a way to get inside the draegloth’s reach, but Ryld doubted that would be the case for long. Another dark elf was fighting to keep Pharaun’s rapier away from him, but Quenthel was closing on his flank, and the high priestess lashed out with her scourge, allowing the snake
heads to sink their teeth deeply into the creature’s neck. Jerking from the sudden sting of the bites, the drow was unable to maintain his attention on the rapier, which ran through his eye.
Another foe was squared off with Halisstra, who warded off a pair of stout blows with her mithral shield. On the third stroke from the dark elf across from her, she used the shield to deflect the strike and throw her opponent off-balance, then swung the heavy mace in her other hand upward in a vicious stroke, right into his chin. There was a loud, drumlike boom, a magical concussion that was obviously much louder than the simple impact of metal on bone, and the drow sank to the ground, his jaw shattered.
Breathing heavily, Ryld surveyed the battlefield. In addition to his six companions and Halisstra’s brother, the only ones still standing were a small circle of perhaps a dozen exhausted drow and duergar who had ceased fighting for the moment and were watching as the duergar commander squared off with Ssipriina Zauvirr. The gray dwarf and the matron mother circled one another warily, as smoke wafted about, obscuring everything beyond the circle of Menzoberranyr and the three remaining members of House Melarn.
“Now is our chance,” Pharaun said from next to the weapons master. “Let’s go.”
“No,” Quenthel and Halisstra said together.
“Not until she goes down,” the daughter of Drisinil Melarn added.
The Mistress of Arach-Tinilith nodded in agreement and said, “If she kills him, we’re finishing her.”
Pharaun groaned. “This is hardly the time for revenge, Mistresses.”
Ssipriina feinted with her mace, and as the gray dwarf twisted out of the way of the attack, the drow palmed a wand and aimed it at her enemy. A thin ray of grayish light shot forth from the tip of the magical device, striking the duergar squarely in the chest. The gray dwarf clutched at his chest and cried out. He dropped to one knee with a groan, and Ssipriina loomed over him.
The duergar disappeared.
Snarling in rage at this trickery, the matron mother slammed her mace down where her foe had been, but she struck nothing but the pavement. Spinning, she swung back and forth wildly, trying to gain a lucky hit, but she found nothing.
The gray dwarf commander appeared again, leaping forward from one side as Ssipriina had turned her back to him. His axe was high, but his war cry gave the drow time to roll away from the worst of the attack. Instead of taking the blade of his weapon full on her skull, it raked across the back of her shoulder with a spurt of crimson.
The matron mother cried out, tumbling prone. She rolled to one side as Khorrl lifted his axe for another stroke. As she came around to face him, she fired off another beam with the wand.
With a grunt, Khorrl Xornbane dropped his axe and clutched his stomach, then crumpled to the ground, letting out a gurgling death sigh.
Quenthel and Halisstra both came at Ssipriina, who was trying to get to her feet, clutching her wounded shoulder with her good hand. Quenthel stepped to one side of the matron mother and struck down with her whip. The fangs of the snakes bit into the drow’s flesh and she screeched in pain, then tried to spin around and aim the wand at the high priestess. Halisstra was ready for that, though, and she swung her mace down hard on Ssipriina’s hand. The crunch of bone was unmistakable.
Around them all, the duergar and the drow began to fight again, and Ryld had to duck to avoid a sword swung at him by one of the dark elves. He sank to one knee and reversed Splitter, driving the point of the blade into his opponent’s midsection. The drow threw up blood and sank to his knees, staring down at the sword in his gut. Impassively, Ryld planted his boot on the other drow’s chest and yanked his greatsword free, turning back to see what was happening between the females as the body of his foe collapsed.
Quenthel had a hold of Ssipriina’s hair, holding her head up. Both of the matron mother’s arms were injured, and she could barely lift them to protect herself—and the poison was starting to take effect.
“Stop it!” Quenthel cried, yelling at the combatants around her. “Stop fighting, now!”
Slowly, the duergar and the drow began to back away, turning to look at Quenthel.
“Enough!” the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith said, her voice echoing through the haze. “This is pointless. The city is burning, and we must get out. If you stay here now and try to kill your enemies, you simply bring about your own death. That is not the drow way, and I cannot imagine it is the duergar way, either.”
There were murmurs all around as the dark elves and the gray dwarves eyed each other hatefully, but Ryld saw more than a few shake their heads, agreeing with what Quenthel was saying.
“If you want any chance of living, then go your separate ways and get out of here, before the whole—”
The web street shook violently, tossing everyone about. Ryld, already on one knee, managed to maintain his balance. He peered around uncertainly. The whole length of the calcified webbing was unstable, listing sharply to one side. Ryld knew their time was up, and he began to levitate. Then he spotted what had created the upheaval as a second shock wave made the crumbling pavement shift again.
A giant spider had descended from overhead and was scurrying toward them. Behind it, a second spider was also drifting downward, playing out a length of web as it glided down.
Damnation, Ryld thought. There’s just no end to this.
He peered around, looking for a direction to go to get clear of the approaching beasts.
Pharaun appeared beside the weapons master, hovering in the air and eyeing the advancing spiders.
“I think I’ve had quite enough of this,” the wizard commented dryly, allowing his dancing rapier to disappear into his ring.
Ryld saw Quenthel and Halisstra, still standing over the slowly dying Ssipriina. He pointed them out to Pharaun.
“They don’t know, yet,” he said, dropping back down. “We’ve got to warn them!”
Once on his feet, the weapons master carefully managed to hold his balance as he rushed across the intervening space.
“Spiders!” he shouted as he neared them, pointing.
Quenthel looked up and her eyes grew wide. Jeggred appeared out of the haze of smoke next to her, his fur matted with blackening blood.
“We still don’t know where to go,” Pharaun said, a tinge of despair in his voice as he joined Ryld. “The best choice for now is simply over the side.”
“Use your magic,” Quenthel commanded. “Get us out of here!”
Pharaun spread his hands helplessly.
“Believe me, Mistress,” he said, “if I had the means I would be using it. I’ve got nothing left. I can’t conjure a gate just by willing it.”
The first spider loomed closer, and Jeggred advanced toward it, determined to keep himself between the giant arachnid and his mistress. Valas slunk into the group, pulling Danifae along by the hand. The battle captive had a large cut across her forehead, and blood was dripping down into her eyes, making it difficult for her to see.
“Wait!” Ssipriina said, gasping for air as the poison closed her throat. “I know . . . of a way out. Save me . . . from . . . poison . . .”
“What?” Pharaun demanded. “Where? Get us there!”
“Say it, wretch,” Quenthel commanded.
“Dangling . . . Tower,” the dying matron mother replied. “Old, unused . . . dormant portal. Poison . . . please . . .”
Ignoring Ssipriina’s pleas, Quenthel turned to Pharaun and asked, “Could you activate it?”
“I’ll damn well try,” Pharaun said. “Which way?”
“There . . .” Ssipriina whispered, looking up.
Ryld followed her gaze to a see a large, stalactite-shaped building hanging above them, an inverted tower like many of the estates back in Menzoberranzan. He groaned.
“We don’t have enough time to get there!” Pharaun cried.
“Why not?” Q’arlynd Melarn said, floating up into the air to demonstrate. “We just levitate!”
“We can’t all do that,” Pharaun replie
d desperately. “As I’ve pointed out a time or two today already, I am fresh out of transportive spells.”
“The battle captive gets left behind,” Quenthel said bluntly. “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be.”
Danifae sank to her knees, her head bowed. She seemed to accept her fate, but Ryld actually felt sorry for the drow. As if to punctuate the lack of time, the stone beneath them shifted again. Ryld left his feet to keep from losing his balance, and everyone else did, too, all except Valas and Danifae.
Q’arlynd shook his head.
“I didn’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Halisstra said. “I can get us all there,” the priestess volunteered.
Pharaun and Quenthel both turned and looked at her. “You can?” the wizard asked.
“Yes,” Halisstra said, nodding. “I dabble a bit in magic, myself. Different from your style, but some things are the same. Ryld says you’re fond of using those dimensional doorways. I can do that.” Pharaun motioned for her to hurry.
“Open it into the main gallery,” Q’arlynd shouted to Halisstra, pointing upward. “Where I took you that time?”
Another shock wave reverberated through the web street, causing it to buck wildly. Danifae and Valas both went sprawling, nearly being tossed over the side. The first spider was upon them, and Jeggred engaged it in a fight, levitating up to strike at its head. Ryld peered around wildly as the spider reared up and snapped at the draegloth, causing the web street to buck again.
The biggest rumble yet whipped through the thoroughfare, and the stone began to shift and crack.
“It’s going to collapse!” Ryld shouted.
“Priestess, open your doorway!” Pharaun yelled as another roiling tremor dislodged the side of the street only a few feet away from them. “We’re going through now!”
R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation Page 72
