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

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

  “Then that means . . .” Ryld added.

  “Precisely. We may be contending with associates of Syrzan, or others, who are inciting the populace to riot and arming them with the same tools of destruction.”

  “I thought you said the alhoon was operating alone, an outcast from its own kind,” Ryld said, turning in circles and analyzing every nook and cranny of the corner of the room.

  “I did,” Pharaun admitted. “In my conversation with the thing during our captivity, it claimed that very thing. Perhaps whoever supplied it or its minions with the alchemical incendiary jugs is serving multiple fronts.”

  “Regardless of who’s doing it, we know how grave the situation is,” Valas said. “We need to get out of the city.”

  “Again, I agree,” Pharaun said. “I suggest we make a run for it once I lower the barrier.”

  “Into that mob?” Ryld countered. “We should try to find another way out.”

  “But that’s the quickest way to the streets. We don’t know our way around in here, and House Melarn could be an inferno before long.”

  “Look,” Ryld argued, “you may be feeling fine, but I can’t take another stand-up fight right now.” He gestured at his own bloody form. “There’s got to be other ways out of this House. Let’s go find one.” The warrior gestured toward a door in the corner and added, “Leave your barrier up and let’s go.”

  Valas nodded and said, “Ryld is right. We can’t fight through all of them. Let’s try another route.”

  “Very well,” Pharaun sighed, “but if the House falls down around our ears, I will personally blame both of you.”

  He gestured toward the door, inviting Valas to lead the way.

  For the first few moments, the halls of House Melarn were remarkably empty as Ryld, Pharaun, and Valas limped their way through them. Occasionally, the trio heard running footsteps in the twisting, winding passages that threaded their way through the massive structure, but they were able to avoid confrontations by either taking a detour or momentarily hiding. It appeared to the Master of Melee-Magthere that most of the inhabitants were focusing their attention outside, where the bulk of the fighting was taking place.

  As they reached an intersection, Valas held up his hand for a halt, and the scout slunk off in one direction, investigating the route ahead. Ryld and Pharaun pressed themselves against the wall, trying to remain out of sight. The wizard was no longer invisible, nor was he glowing with that annoying, flickering purple hue. Ryld had taken care of that with a pass of his enchanted blade. The warrior could see that his companion’s skin was blistered, and he imagined that Pharaun was in considerable pain. His own wounds troubled him only when he thought about them.

  Don’t you have some sort of magic that can help us locate an exit? Ryld flashed to the wizard as they waited.

  Pharaun shook his head.

  Such spells exist, but I don’t know them, he silently replied. Without knowing the way, we could be down here forever. This is a fool’s errand, Ryld.

  Then perhaps we should just follow the soldiers. They can unwittingly lead us out of here.

  Pharaun waved away the warrior’s suggestion, though whether it was in exasperation or acceptance, Ryld wasn’t sure.

  The risk of discovery or disaster is greater if we do that.

  Ryld shrugged but gave no other reply. Instead, he turned to watch for Valas’s return.

  Why do I bother arguing? the weapons master thought as his listened for telltale sounds. He’s already made up his mind.

  Valas returned at that moment, gesturing for them to follow him. Together, they crept forward into a new corridor, and Valas pointed to a doorway on the opposite side.

  That’s a kitchen, he signaled, and beyond it is a pantry. On the other side, here—the scout pointed to a door near the trio—is a mess hall. I think we’re in the barracks section.

  Well, that’s not a good place to be, Pharaun gestured. We want to avoid the guards, not come bunk with them.

  Valas gave Pharaun a baleful look and motioned for the other two to follow him. I think there’s a stairwell leading up just past this area, he flashed as he led the way through the passage.

  Ryld thought they might actually get lucky and get through the guards’ quarters unnoticed, but as they neared the opposite end of the passageway that bisected the barracks and the mess, they heard the approach of a large contingent from ahead of them. As one, the three drow turned to scamper back in the other direction, but at that moment several House Zauvirr soldiers appeared at the other end. They were pinned between the two forces.

  “Damn!” Pharaun growled as he reached inside his piwafwi. “Hold them off while I see what I can do.”

  Nodding, Ryld slipped Splitter free and approached the group coming from where Valas had indicated stairs.

  If we can cut through them, the warrior reasoned, at least we can continue the way we want to go.

  The soldiers, numbering four, gave a shout of warning and unsheathed their weapons.

  “Come on, you son of a drider,” one of them snarled, stepping in with a long sword and a short sword together, one in each hand.

  The other three fanned out, looking for a chance to flank the burly intruder. Ryld kept his blade level and loose, waiting and watching, shifting from foot to foot in hopes of preventing any of his foes from getting past him and to his back, or reaching Pharaun. He worried that his hands, still covered with drying blood, would be too slick to wield his blade properly.

  The first opponent stepped in, slashing with his short sword up high, then bringing his long sword through in a sweep across Ryld’s midsection. The weapons master ducked below the first slice and parried the lower blow with Splitter.

  Try that again, and I’ll have you down to two short swords, Ryld thought, watching to see if the other drow would fall into a pattern.

  To his left, another of the soldiers was trying to scoot along the wall, obviously hoping he could squeeze past Ryld, but the Master of Melee-Magthere was keeping them all in his line of sight. He made a quick slash to the side, causing the soldier to flinch back. Ryld bounced back to the middle of the corridor, still watching the drow with two blades. The other two drow, both on Ryld’s right, were waiting and watching.

  Fine with me, Ryld thought, keeping his main attention on the one in front of him.

  The drow changed tactics this time, stepping in with the long sword leading, and proceeded through a flurry of blows with only that weapon, watching how Ryld blocked them. When Ryld swung through a parry and counterattacked, the other warrior was ready, deflecting the stroke with the short sword. Unfortunately, the engagement allowed the drow on Ryld’s left to finally shoot past him.

  “Pharaun!” Ryld called, “watch out!”

  He stepped away from the center of the hallway, angling backward to keep his opponents in his sight, and the weapons master could hear cries of pain and terror behind him. He hoped it was the other group of drow, and not his two companions. The male with two swords pressed in again, and this time Ryld was ready for him. When the first swipe from the short sword passed high, Ryld knew that the long sword would follow low. This time when the stroke approached Ryld cut sharply with his own blade, neatly slicing the long sword in half. The broken end skittered away with a clatter.

  “Damn you, motherless rothé!” the other drow snarled, but he gasped in the next instant as Ryld’s momentum spun the weapons master fully around in a circle and into him again.

  His cut was quick and true, and the opponent dropped to the floor with a groan. Ryld didn’t waste time watching him fall. He was already sidestepping the attack from the soldier who’d gotten behind him and who was trying to cut at him from the back. He took a short spear in the side of his leg for his troubles and growled in pain as he back-stepped from the attack, limping. He couldn’t let himself get turned away from anyone, yet they were moving to do just that by surrounding him.

  Appearing as if from nowhere, Valas caught the soldier with th
e long sword from behind, sliding an arm around his neck and planting one of his kukris into the fellow’s back. Seeing the attack, Ryld quickly turned and parried several thrusts from the short spears. The final two drow had hoped to get in close and attack Ryld while his attention was focused on the opposite side, but they’d lost their chance.

  Ryld stepped fully into the middle of the hallway again, wanting as much room as possible to use Splitter. When the two House Zauvirr soldiers saw that the odds were down to two to one and would quickly be even with Valas beside him, they faltered and began to back up.

  A staccato series of glowing bluish-white missiles shot past Ryld, slamming into the two drow as they tried to turn and flee. A few of the magical streaks of light fizzled out as they reached their targets, but far more of them struck true, causing the two soldiers to shudder and convulse as they went sprawling to the floor. Ryld glanced back to see Pharaun holding a slender length of some darkly stained wood cut from a tree on the surface world.

  The wizard nodded in satisfaction and tucked the wand away.

  “We mustn’t tarry,” he said, “Everyone in the entire House probably heard that.”

  Curious, Ryld took another glance back past Pharaun to where the other contingent of drow had been. They were all dead, clutched in the grip of the black, shiny tentacles the mage sometimes summoned. The tentacles continued to squeeze and contract around the bodies of those unfortunate soldiers or flailed about blindly if they had nothing to grip.

  Turning back, Ryld followed the other two past the dead drow and into the stairwell.

  Halisstra stumbled and lost her balance as the deep rumble shook House Melarn. To either side of her, the guards who were “escorting” her into the audience chamber stumbled as well, losing their grips on the drow noble’s arms as they flailed about, trying to regain their collective balance. All around Halisstra, shouts rose as drow began to mill about uncertainly in the confusion caused by the vibration, whatever it was. Stunned as much by the proceedings that had been taking place in her mother’s House—her House now, Halisstra realized—as by the shock wave that tore through the place, Halisstra merely stood in place, dressed in only her underclothes and with her arms securely manacled behind her back, staring at the chaos around her.

  When the liveried servant from House Nasadra ran into the room, announcing the fighting outside, Halisstra blinked in astonishment.

  Duergar? Attacking House Melarn? Why in the Abyss would they—

  A second blast rocked House Melarn and knocked Halisstra off her feet. Or rather, it would have if someone hadn’t caught her from behind.

  “On your feet . . . I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  It was Danifae, dressed for battle and looking remarkably like just another guard in a House Zauvirr piwafwi.

  Halisstra struggled to right herself with Danifae’s help, then turned to look at her battle captive. The servant was not normally permitted to arm and armor herself, but she was currently wearing her old chain shirt and buckler and had her morning star at her side. Halisstra wondered how Danifae had managed to get to her accoutrements, which had been locked away in Halisstra’s rooms, but she wasn’t going to take the time to complain just then.

  Halisstra heard a shout from behind them, and she turned, expecting to see her original guards realizing she was free. Instead, she discovered that a thick mist had filled the room, and she could see very little beyond a couple of paces away.

  “Come on,” Halisstra hissed, scrambling through the mist toward the back of the room, to a doorway leading deeper into the House where her own chambers were located. “Back to my rooms, and you can get these—”she held her arms out away from her back to indicate the manacles—“off me.”

  “Of course, Mistress,” Danifae said, steering her superior by one arm through the thick, obscuring mist, along the wall and toward the door. “We’ll thank someone later for hiding our escape with this fog.”

  “You mean, that’s not something you and Lirdnolu Maerret planned to help extricate me from Ssipriina Zauvirr?”

  Danifae laughed once, a bitter chuckle.

  “Hardly,” she said. “Despite my convincing performance before Matron Mother Zauvirr, you didn’t really expect her to let me wander free did you? I had no way to reach House Maerret. No, that commotion back there was someone else’s doing.”

  Once the two of them were out of the audience chamber and into the hall, Halisstra could see better, and she set off regally toward her own chambers, despite the fact that she was half-naked and bound. She hadn’t managed more than three or four steps before a third rumble staggered her. She gasped as she lost her balance and stumbled against one wall of the hallway, but Danifae was there, catching hold of her mistress and steadying her as the tremor quieted.

  “What the blazes is going on?” Halisstra demanded as they righted themselves and hurried on their way.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I can hazard a guess,” her subordinate replied as they turned a corner. “There are riots welling up in the streets.”

  “Perhaps,” Halisstra said, “but why would duergar target House Melarn?”

  “That, I can’t say,” Danifae replied, “but my guess is it has more to do with Ssipriina Zauvirr’s attempt to overthrow House Melarn than anything else. Regardless, it served my purposes well enough. Perhaps we can find out more in a little bit, after we get you out of those restraints.”

  “Yes,” Halisstra answered, thinking. “Let’s start with finding out where in the Nine Hells all of our House guards are.”

  “I can tell you that right now,” Danifae offered as the duo turned another corner and entered Halisstra’s chambers. “They accepted an offer they couldn’t refuse: serve House Zauvirr or die.”

  Halisstra sighed.

  “Is there anyone still loyal to me?” she asked, though she feared she already knew the answer.

  “Possibly your brother, if he’s still alive, but he’s at the Dangling Tower and can’t do us much good here,” Danifae said, turning Halisstra around so that she could take a look at the locking mechanism on the restraints. “As for inside the House right now? I doubt anyone would be willing to aid you, except maybe those three males in the audience chamber, the ones from Menzoberranzan, and only if you win their trust.” The battle captive shook her head. “I can’t get these off right now. Better to break the chain and worry about them later.”

  “Fine . . . but what do you mean, ‘win their trust?’ How could I do that?”

  Halisstra began to pace, pondering her options. Though she had managed to escape the matron mothers for the moment, she was still trapped—inside her own House, of all places—and doubted it would take long for Ssipriina’s guards to close in on the two of them.

  Danifae didn’t answer right away. Halisstra turned to repeat her question and saw the other dark elf grab the noble’s mace from where it stood in the corner by her bed. She was momentarily startled when Danifae returned to her side and pushed her to her knees, but she quickly understood the battle captive’s intent, and positioned her hands near the floor where Danifae could strike the chain while it was against the stone.

  “You could start by telling them that their high priestess is still alive,” Danifae finally answered, drawing the mace back for a hard blow against the chain joining the manacles.

  “What?” Halisstra gasped, turning to look at her servant. “Quenthel Baenre is alive?”

  For a brief moment she wondered if her mother had also survived.

  Danifae held her downstroke at the last moment when her mistress moved.

  “Hold still!” she commanded, repositioning Halisstra for another try. “And yes, the Baenre priestess is alive. I saw both her and her demon companion in the dungeons earlier. While I was prowling around, trying to figure out what to do, I saw that male Mistress Zauvirr called Zammzt hurrying from that direction.”

  Danifae smacked her morning star hard against the chain, but the links didn’t break.
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br />   “A few moments later,” she continued, “Faeryl Zauvirr appeared, also coming from the lower levels. Curious, I decided to see what she was doing down there. She has them both bound to within an inch of their lives, and Quenthel Baenre is stretched tight on the rack at the moment.”

  Danifae lined up another blow with the mace.

  “Then Ssipriina is lying! I can free the high priestess and get her to prove my innocence.”

  Halisstra felt elation for the first time since the catastrophic day had begun.

  “Possibly,” the battle captive answered dryly, taking another whack at the restraints, “but I doubt many of the matron mothers will choose to believe her. She may still be guilty of her crimes, even if you are innocent of yours. Enough of the matron mothers have an agenda that precludes you walking free from this. More likely—ah ha!”

  The link Danifae had been pounding on finally crimped enough to separate the manacles.

  Helping Halisstra to her feet, the battle captive continued, “More likely, they’ll simply accuse you of trying to help her escape and offering that as a cover story.”

  Halisstra eyed the steel restraints still on her wrists, already finding them annoying, but they would have to wait. Free, at least for the moment, Halisstra’s fear melted away. She was furious, and she couldn’t decide who bore the majority of her anger.

  “Well, I’m not just going to sit here while everyone else brings down House Melarn around my ears. Help me get ready, and let’s go find that Baenre.”

  “As you wish,” Danifae said, moving rapidly with the decision having been made.

  With her servant’s help, Halisstra quickly began to dress, first attiring herself in a set of plain but functional clothes, then donning her armor, a fine suit of chain mail bearing the coat of arms of House Melarn and several enchantments. Once that was on, Danifae handed Halisstra her mace and shield and scurried about the room to gather up other things Halisstra normally had with her when out in the city or beyond.

  When Halisstra was dressed, Danifae grabbed her morning star, each of them wrapped themselves in a piwafwi marked with the insignia of House Zauvirr, and they were ready.