Ryld saw that she was staring right at Danifae as she said this. The battle captive caught the steely stare and turned away, a smile of amused disbelief on her face. Quenthel gave a disgusted growl in the back of her throat and spun on her heel to ignore the ridiculous display.
“Now, I’ve been too long in this city,” Aliisza said. “I’ll leave you all to whatever silly dark elf games you intend to play while the place falls down around you.”
With that, she opened a bluish-white doorway, stepping through as Jeggred snarled and made a leap for her, but she was gone.
“By the Dark Mother, Pharaun,” Quenthel snapped. “All of your talk about not tempting fate, and you’re off dallying with that . . . that thing? You are such a male.”
Pharaun shrugged at the accusations.
“Nothing happened,” he said, rubbing his mouth thoughtfully. “I went to get your things, I got jumped, and she saved my life. That’s the end of it.”
“See that it is,” Quenthel snarled.
Pharaun looked around, scratching his head.
“Where’s Valas?” he asked, and Danifae explained the situation to him.
The wizard nodded and said, “Yes, the sooner we can get out of the city, the more quickly we can figure out how to get to his friend, the priest.”
The Master of Sorcere raised a single eyebrow and glanced over at Quenthel.
“Assuming we’ve settled on that as our next course of action?” he asked her.
The high priestess gave him a single curt nod.
“Yes, you’ve convinced me,” she said. “Once we’re clear of Ched Nasad, we’ll need to decide the best way to reach this priest. I assume you have some means of getting us to where we’ll want to go?”
Pharaun nodded as he got slowly to his feet.
“I may, depending on where Valas tells us the fellow is, but I won’t be doing it today,” he added. “I have nearly depleted my assortment of spells. Without some rest and a chance to review my grimoires, I’m severely hampered.”
“Then let’s just concentrate on getting out of Ched Nasad and worry about that later,” Quenthel said. “As soon as Valas returns, we’ll see what he’s discovered and make appropriate plans.”
“The news isn’t good,” the scout said, appearing is if on cue. He climbed up and over the wall against which they’d been sitting. “Every major gate seems to be either heavily guarded or under attack, and the other places Halisstra mentioned are inaccessible at the moment. There’s no way out of the city.”
“Nonsense,” Quenthel said firmly. “Pharaun, do you have any means at all of transporting us? Some spell that would open a gate? Anything?”
The wizard shook his head.
“Then we’ll just have to clear a path through one of the gates. I’m sure that with the seven of us we can accomplish this.”
“There is only one way to find out,” the mage answered. He studied their position for a moment then turned to Valas. “We need to get up higher, above those duergar, don’t you think?”
Valas nodded and said, “The fighting is still heavy over in that direction. If we can avoid that, all the better.”
“Let’s not dawdle any longer,” Pharaun agreed. “We go up.”
Quenthel nodded her assent to the plan, and everyone prepared to depart.
As Ryld assembled his gear, he realized that he was exhausted. Between his exploits with Valas at the taverns, fighting their way into and out of House Melarn, and dealing with both the duergar and the spiders, the warrior hadn’t rested in over a day.
It has to be almost morning, he realized, and we’re not even close to being finished, yet. Let’s hope we can find a relatively painless way to slip past the gate forces.
The team set out, but they had to move in shifts, for Jeggred had to carry both Valas and Danifae to higher ground, and the draegloth, despite his immense strength, could only transport one of the dark elves at a time. Thus, half the group rose to the next web street overhead as Jeggred conveyed one drow, while the remainder waited with the other for the fiend to return.
The first team, consisting of Pharaun, Quenthel, and Jeggred carrying Danifae, alit atop a web street and discovered that it was actually being defended by drow troops. Several of the dark elves leveled hand crossbows at the four of them, and when they saw the draegloth, they nearly panicked.
“What in the Nine Hells is that?” one of the soldiers, an older male with plenty of battle scars, called out, pointing to Jeggred with his crossbow.
The fiend growled low, turning to face his would-be assailants, but Pharaun stepped between the draegloth and the others.
“Easy, there,” the wizard said, his hands out, palms up in a placating manner. “We’re just passing through. No need to get jumpy.”
Beside him, Quenthel sniffed, but when the drow soldiers saw that she seemed unconcerned by the fiend’s presence, they quieted down, returning their attention below them, where the fighting was still taking place. Jeggred departed to retrieve Valas.
Pharaun found a spot to take a seat and did so, reclining against a wall to rest for a few moments.
“Might as well get comfortable,” he said to the two females with him. “Rest when you can.”
Quenthel scowled but consented to sit across from the wizard, and Danifae settled down, too.
The trio’s rest was short-lived, though, for soon, shouts emerged from farther along the street. All the drow around them grew restless as word spread that dark elves from an enemy House were heading their way.
A priestess of middling rank came stalking down the street, accompanied by a pair of male wizards. They were cajoling the troops to form up.
“On your feet! It’s time. Get up, you worthless rothé, and fight! Fight for House Maerret!”
When she reached Pharaun and the others, she stopped and stared at them.
“What are you three doing here? You’re not part of this unit. Who are you?”
Pharaun gave the priestess that same placating motion that he’d used earlier and said, “We’re just passersby, not here to cause any trouble.”
“Well, you’ll join ranks, then. Get forward and help the other wizards.”
“We thought we’d better serve the cause by helping to watch this end of road,” Pharaun replied, smiling broadly. “You never know when those pesky grays will try to circumnavigate our flank and surprise us.”
“Get on your feet, wizard, and go join the other spellcasters. And you two! You can help me rally the troops and keep order. Up off your hind ends—now!”
Pharaun could see that Quenthel was about to lash out at the priestess, so before she could cause a scene, he pulled the drow commander to the side.
“Listen,” he said quietly. “We’re actually working on a special assignment for Matron Mother Drisinil Melarn. We’ve got permission to avoid the fighting while we take care of a very important mission.”
“Oh, is that so?” one of the male wizards replied coldly. “Well, Drisinil Melarn was my mother, and I happen to know that she was murdered by traitors before this civil war even started. Since you don’t wear a House insignia, I’m guessing you’re the spies who were accused of collaborating with her. Maybe it’s time you died.”
The Melarn wizard stepped back, reaching into his piwafwi, but before Pharaun could react, a voice drifted from behind him.
“Hello, Q’arlynd,” Halisstra said as she and the others floated up over the side of the web street.
The Melarn wizard stopped, peering at the priestess for a moment. Then he broke into a broad grin.
“Dear sister,” he said. “I thought you were dead.”
chapter
NINE TEEN
“When the fighting got worse, several of the matron mothers, including Maerret, came to the Dangling Tower and asked us to aid them,” Q’arlynd explained. “They said it was a full-scale civil war and the rebels were going to tear the city apart if we didn’t stop them. Matron Mother Lirdnolu explained to me wha
t had happened to House Melarn. I knew Mother was dead, and we’d heard that she was killed by Ssipriina Zauvirr with collaborators from the outside who wanted to see the downfall of Ched Nasad.”
“And you thought I’d perished, too,” Halisstra said, squatting down beside her brother.
“Yes, either at the same time Mother was murdered or in the fall of our House. Is it really gone?” the Melarn wizard asked.
Halisstra only nodded.
“By the Dark Mother,” he breathed.
“Well, the family reunion is nice and all, but we still need to get out of this city,” Pharaun said, standing. “What’s the situation? Where’s the closest way out that we can get through?”
Q’arlynd shook his head and said, “There are none, so I’ve heard. All the gates have either been commandeered by rebel forces or hordes of escaped slaves or they’ve collapsed outright because of the fighting. This alchemical fire that burns through stone is wreaking havoc on—”
“Believe me, we know,” the Master of Sorcere interrupted, “but your report doesn’t leave us with many options. We’ve got to find a way to get free of the city.”
Quenthel had just opened her mouth, most likely to command Pharaun to figure out a method of escaping Ched Nasad, the wizard imagined, when a commotion broke out from farther down the boulevard. Pharaun turned and looked just in time to see a jumble of dark elves stumbling to their feet in disarray. Many of them fell again just as quickly, cut down by a growing horde of gray dwarves who were emerging through a magical doorway hovering in the air only a couple of feet above the street. The duergar were streaming through as fast as they could, firing off crossbows at any drow targets they could find before casting the missile weapons aside and pulling out axes, hammers, and the occasional mace.
“Attack! We’re under attack!” the cry went up as more drow surged to their feet, moving to stop the advance of the gray dwarves.
“Come on, you flat-footed, sorry excuses for soldiers—get up there and fight before they split us down the middle!” the battle priestess yelled, returning from the far end of the street and shoving troops forward as fast as she could get to them. “Wizard! Throw a spell! Drive them back. If they reach the square, we’re done for.”
Pharaun sighed and nodded, grabbing the battle priestess and spinning her around to face him. His smile was gone.
“Tell your troops to fall back to this point,” he said.
“What? And let them come at us unopposed? I think not.”
“Do it, or they will be trapped. Set up three positions of missile fire, here—” he pointed to several positions in the street—“there, and there.”
The battle priestess looked at the mage as though he were crazy but finally nodded and shouted for an organized retreat.
Pharaun rolled his eyes at the battle priestess’s short-sightedness and began organizing the drow soldiers himself, sorting them into groups of crossbowmen, stationing them where he’d pointed earlier. As more and more of the dark elves dropped back from the duergar, they fell in with the others already positioned. As a unit, they began to fire into the mass of milling gray dwarves, who were slaughtering the few remaining stragglers.
They’re lost to us, the wizard said to himself.
He cast, and a great mass of webs appeared, spanning the width of the street, anchored to the pavement and the buildings on either side. A handful of the dark elves were caught in the sticky strands, and perhaps a dozen or so were trapped on the other side, but the gray dwarves were effectively sealed off from advancing, at least until they penetrated the webs or the spell wore off.
“Come on,” Q’arlynd said, motioning upward as he began to levitate.
Pharaun followed the other wizard upward to a position where they could see over the top of his webs, down into the field of battle where the gray dwarves had quickly killed the few remaining drow who had been trapped with them. The duergar were milling about, seemingly unsure what to do. Halisstra’s brother had components out, ready to cast a spell, and one look at the lump of bat guano in his hand told Pharaun what the wizard planned.
“Hold on,” Pharaun said, laying a hand on Q’arlynd’s arm. “They’re waiting,” he explained, pointing down at the duergar. “They want a shaman or something to come try to dispel the webs. He’s probably the same one who opened the dimensional doorway.”
Sure enough, a duergar dressed in robes and wearing several totems and other magical trinkets stepped through the glowing doorway. One of the duergar addressed him—Pharaun couldn’t hear what was being said—and pointed to the webs. The shaman nodded and began to cast.
“Do it,” Pharaun said.
Q’arlynd went into action, letting loose with his spell, aiming it directly at the shaman. It was a direct hit, and that entire side of the street was engulfed in a white-hot ball of fire that blossomed outward and vaporized an instant later. Charred and burning gray dwarves lay everywhere. A few moved, having survived, but they were few and far between. Most importantly, the dimensional pathway had been banished, winking out when the shaman who created it died.
The two wizards settled back to the ground again, noting that Q’arlynd’s fiery ball of magic had ignited the webs, which were quickly burning away. Already, though, another gateway was forming, this one at the opposite end of the street. The battle priestess rallied her troops to deal with the new threat.
“You know you only delayed the inevitable,” Quenthel said as Pharaun and Q’arlynd returned. “We’re wasting time, here. We have to get out of the city.”
“I know,” the Master of Sorcere replied, “but it was fun.”
“Look!” Danifae shouted, pointing toward the new gateway.
Duergar were streaming out, and drow were arriving from above and below, levitating from the web streets on the two adjacent levels.
“It’s House Zauvirr troops,” the battle captive explained. “They’ve got us pinned.”
“Fall back,” the battle priestess commanded, turning to point back the way the duergar had come, but as she began to direct her soldiers, she took a crossbow bolt in the ear. The missile passed through and protruded from the other side of her head, and she was already dead, motionless, as she fell to the pavement.
“We’re surrounded!” Q’arlynd cried out. “Stand and fight!”
He produced a wand and waved it, conjuring a sudden and violent tempest of ice fragments the size of Pharaun’s head. The chunks of ice pelted down on the front ranks of gray dwarves, beating them down and slicing them to ribbons amid cries of anguish.
In reply, the duergar began throwing more of the firepots into the ever-tightening mass of House Maerret drow, who were bunched together and made easy targets. More and more of the gray dwarves appeared, forming ranks, establishing a shield wall in front so that the back ranks would have protection as they fired crossbows and hurled firepots and spells.
Pharaun had no idea where any of his companions were. Everyone had been scattered in the initial panic of the attack. He had no concerns that they couldn’t take care of themselves, at least for the moment, but the longer they remained there, the less their chances became of escaping at all. He spun in place, looking for a sign of any of them in the thickening smoke, when a creature materialized in front of the wizard, its back to him.
Pharaun’s ability to note magical emanations made it clear to him that this creature had been summoned from somewhere, most likely the lower planes. It was a huge thing, vaguely humanoid, covered with white fur and possessed of four arms. It had a sloping brow and a flattened nose, but the most terrifying aspect was its gaping mouth and fangs. The beast spun around, roaring in rage, and spotted the wizard. Its red eyes glittered in delight as it lunged forward, claws outstretched, ready to rend the Master of Sorcere.
Pharaun fumbled to free his rapier, but the fiendish creature was on him too fast, and he took a painful slash across the shoulder that knocked him sideways several feet. The wizard stumbled to the ground as the thing bounde
d forward again, pounding its chest with all four fists and roaring a challenge.
Goddess, Pharaun thought in a panic, scrambling backward and trying to activate his rapier.
From one side, a flash of movement caught the mage’s eye, and Valas darted in behind the beast, raking both kukris along its hamstrings. The beast roared in pain but amazingly, it spun around before Valas could blend into the surroundings, slashing at the diminutive scout with outstretched claws.
Pharaun heard the other drow grunt and watched him go sprawling from the force of the blow, but it bought him the time he needed to get his rapier free. He mentally commanded the thin blade to attack, and when it jabbed at the beast, which was looming over Valas, the creature snarled and spun back to see what had hurt it. Valas scrambled to his feet and faded from sight.
The fiendish thing growled and roared, swiping at the dancing rapier, but the blade was too quick, darting and weaving and getting several pokes in. Already, the white fur of the monster was tainted red from multiple wounds. This only seemed to be enraging the beast further, and Pharaun had to suppress a grin.
With the blade now protecting him from attack, the wizard could cast a spell. He gestured and uttered a few syllables, and instantly, he was surrounded by more than half a dozen exact duplicates of himself that flickered and spun about.
At the same time, a clay pot shattered right at the feet of the summoned creature, engulfing it in flames. It screamed in pain and flailed about, and Pharaun was forced to back a few steps to avoid it as it went running to escape its torment. Blinded by fire and pain, the fiendish creature charged over the side of the web street, vanishing into the void below.
Pharaun turned to assay the battle, his rapier still bobbing and weaving, waiting for a target, and the wizard nearly got his head taken off by a series of whirling blades. This spell he knew well enough, for it was a favorite of the priestesses, but he doubted that any of the drow had cast it. Two of the spinning blades tore through his piwafwi, nipping at his arm and creating quick, thin lines of blood. Instinctively, he dropped to the ground, avoiding the full brunt of the spell, though several of his duplicates vanished after being struck. The mage rolled out from beneath the spinning range of the spell and regained his feet.
R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen: Dissolution, Insurrection, Condemnation Page 71