Queen of the Demonweb Pits

by Paul Kidd - (ebook by Flandrel; Undead)

Yes.

  The voice came from behind. Lolth whirled, horror in her eyes, and a jet of blue fluid blasted into her chest. The goddess screamed, flesh boiling away, the blue water eating like acid into her face and arms.

  Cinders lay on the floor before her, the magic horn gripped in his teeth, grinning like a mad thing as he hosed holy water all over his enemy. He humped through the flame barrier like a caterpillar, gleefully charging to the attack.

  The blue water ran out. Cinders looked at his friends, wagged his tail, and champed the magic horn in his fangs.

  Cinders fetch!

  The Justicar ripped free of the webs that held him, Benelux brilliant white in his hand, just as Lolth teleported away. Escalla dived, snatched Cinders and the portable hole, and swarmed onto Morag. She shook the tanar’ri until her teeth rattled, and suddenly Morag came to her senses.

  “Lolth!”

  “She’s trying to leave the plane.” Escalla clambered onto Morag’s back, dragging Cinders behind her. “She’s headed for the door into the Demonwebs!”

  Morag surged up from the floor. As she began to teleport, Escalla yelled back at the Justicar.

  “We’ll take her!”

  Recca had torn free from the black tentacles spell and was already screaming.

  “Kill Recca! Take out his heart! It’s not his! It’s like his foot and hand!” Escalla’s voice hung in the air even as she teleported away. “His heart… !”

  With a flash, Morag, Escalla, and Cinders vanished. Wiping blood from his face, the Justicar turned, looking across the corpse of his friend the sphinx. He flexed huge shoulders and strode slowly toward Recca to deal Justice.

  The cadaver held its red sword, dropped into its fighting stance, and hissed like a serpent.

  The Justicar never slowed. His stride sped into a hard march, then a run that ended in a sword blow against Recca’s sword that drove the cadaver to the floor. Jus spun and kicked, sending the corpse flying like a puppet.

  Recca smashed into a broken furnace, and the Justicar bellowed in fury as he relentlessly closed on his foe. Recca staggered and came back into the attack, lightning fast. The red blade flashed in a mad web of attack, severing pipes and levers as Benelux hammered it aside. Steel rang on steel. Sparks flew.

  Henry groaned. Polk stirred. Both of them stared as the Justicar strode past them, driving Recca back in fury.

  Recca fought exactly as he always had—his showmanship immaculate, his acrobatics dazzling. He leaped over his foe—exactly as Jus knew he must. Jus abandoned swordsmanship and grappled, and the fight suddenly became a battle of pure rage against rage. The Justicar’s helmet smashed into Recca’s face. He hit three times, then roared and punched his fist through the rough-stitched hole in Recca’s ribs. Roaring, the Justicar clamped his hand and ripped the stolen, bloody heart out of his enemy. Recca screamed, green troll blood spurting from the wound. Jus shoved Recca back. Green blood drained from Recca’s head and upper body, spattering the floor.

  Recca staggered, took a two handed grip on his vampire blade, then made a wild swing at the Justicar. Jus blurred sideways, Benelux slicing a deep wound into Recca’s thigh. Green blood drained from the wound. The cut flashed and healed, but Recca’s upper torso was now drained of troll blood.

  The monster attacked, leaping, whirling, screaming, slicing. Jus met the blade in three lightning-fast parries, spun, and severed Recca’s arm. The limb flew free, green blood closed the wound, but this time the arm did not grow back. Yammering in rage, Recca blundered away, cocked his long sword clumsily in one hand, and charged straight at the Justicar.

  Jus turned, caught the sword, and shattered Recca’s elbow. The vampire sword flew out of Recca’s hand. The undead warrior slashed with clawed fingers, and Jus twirled into the blow, caught, tripped, and shoved, ramming Recca backward to smash the cadaver’s spine over his bent knee.

  Recca screamed.

  The undead swordmaster thrashed like a broken toy as the Justicar lifted him up over his head. Recca shrieked as the Justicar walked to the furnace, his huge strength holding the living corpse over his shoulders. The Justicar gripped, wrenched, and bowed Recca’s body, bending it like a green stick. Bones split, flesh tore. With a hideous crack, Recca split in two, top ripping from bottom and troll blood spraying onto the walls. The Justicar tossed the monsters thrashing legs into the furnace where they instantly caught fire. The upper body still fought and screamed. Jus held Recca by the neck, looked at Enid’s corpse, and said—“Here’s Justice.”—then flung Recca’s body to the flames.

  Recca wailed as he burned. The Justicar held Recca’s stolen heart in his hand and pulped it, hurtling the remains into the flames. Recca’s stolen troll blood boiled, and his flesh blazed like paper. The blazing skull howled once more then split in the ferocious heat. Bones and teeth scattered as the monster crashed dead into the fires.

  The Justicar turned and retrieved Benelux from where she lay. The sword seemed strangely subdued.

  Well done, Justicar.

  “Not well done. It cost a friend.”

  He strode over to Polk and Henry, both now stirring—both smothered in dead spiders and splashed with blue fluid. Dazed, Polk stared over at the furnace where Recca burned.

  “Son… ?”

  “You’re all right. It’s done.” The big man set the badger on his feet then helped Henry to stand. “We’re leaving.”

  The whole palace suddenly gave a titanic shudder. The floor split open, and blank, empty space appeared in the gap. Whatever will had held this plane together, it was now breaking apart.

  Henry tried to lift Enid and drag her away, but she was too heavy. Stricken, the boy looked up at the Justicar. The big ranger sank to his knees and rested a hand upon Enid’s braided hair—still soft, still warm and fragrant. He surged to his feet, pushed Henry on his way—and with one stroke of his sword, cut off Enid’s tail. Henry cried out, but the Justicar already had the bloody fragment through his belt. The ceiling ripped open, and blank nothingness flooded into the hall.

  The Justicar grabbed Polk and Henry and ran hard and fast for the stairs.

  “Go! Back to the bronze gates! We’re leaving!”

  The spicier palace tilted as its legs gave way. Fighting through the crash and fall of wreckage, the Justicar hauled his friends outside, leaving Enid’s corpse to the flames.

  * * *

  Lolth lurched down the trail, blind from the pain. Her entire body was a raging ocean of fire. Flesh still hissed and dripped from her bones. She promised eternal torture to every one of her enemies.

  The bronze gates that led into the Demonweb were just ahead. Once there, she could hide, heal, and abandon this damaged body for a new one. On any plane but here, she was immortal. Anywhere but here, she could come back to fight another day. Feeling each step tearing her flesh, Lolth lurched into a run.

  That damned Justicar and his worthless faerie! Lolth turned, saw her huge spider palace through a haze of agony, and then croaked out words of command. Explosions rocked the palace and it began to dissolve, breaking apart as Lolth abandoned the magics that held it together. She betrayed her palace staff, her handmaidens, and her followers as she left the palace behind, certain of killing her enemies in the wreckage.

  The gates were only a dozen steps away, when a voice snapped out at her from the rocks.

  “Hey, bug bitch! Here’s a present from Enid!”

  Escalla!

  Lolth dived, and a jet of blue holy water crashed into the ground behind her. A tiny splash of it seared her flesh. Lolth blindly fired a lightning bolt, shattering rock and dirt, but the faerie had gone. Looking wildly about, Lolth prepared a spell—then decided to turn and run. She saw the bronze gates ahead, laughed wildly, and ran through the shadows as she sped along the path.

  The Demon Queen focused all her attention on her goal. She was only four steps away from salvation when the ground fell away beneath her. A cry of agonized despair escaped her as she looked down and saw the yawning port
able hole, filled with shiny blue liquid.

  * * *

  There was a splash and a scream. Morag slithered up the path, over a boulder, and stopped at the big brass gates. She stared as she saw Cinders the hell hound lying splayed over a rock, his nose pointing down and his tail all a-wag. Escalla—filthy, tired, and worn—was wiping her face. She looked up at Morag, then stooped to pick up the portable hole that lay spread out across the trail.

  Expecting a savage fight with Lolth, Morag readied her blades. She looked sharply about the shadows and the rocks.

  “Well, is she here? Did you find her?”

  There was a snigger, and a thump-thump-thumping of a hell hound’s tail.

  Spider lady take B-A-T-H!

  Escalla silently closed up the portable hole, sealing away the open well of blue liquid. On the ridge above them, Lolth’s spider palace exploded, crashing in fragments to the sands. With Henry under one arm and Polk under the other, the Justicar sped out of the mouth of the palace just as it collapsed. The big man turned, watched the palace fall, and then looked over at Morag, Cinders, and Escalla. Cinders lit a flame to guide his friends.

  They came together by the gates. Jus held Escalla, burying his face in her hair, while Henry looked desolately at the palace ruins. Morag heaved a sigh of release and opened up the gates into the Demonweb, quietly ushering the adventurers home.

  * * *

  In the fields of the Flanaess, an army stalled.

  There were long columns of spiders, gargoyles, and trolls. Demons had been marching, surrounded by stinking legions of undead. The whole mass had been poised like a spear aimed at the cities of the Nyr Dyv, the great inland sea. The army now numbered almost a million strong.

  And then a presence—a purpose—lifted from their minds.

  The insensate carnivores staggered. The multitudes of scorpions and spiders suddenly animated, their will their own again, and they found themselves hostile, hungry, and surrounded by prey. Giant spiders flung themselves on screaming trolls. Gargoyles turned and ripped into packs of flapping varrangoin. Demons raved and tore each other into fragments, while the undead fell apart or simply wandered away.

  A million strong, then a hundred thousand. A hundred thousand, and then a few small bands gorging themselves on carrion. The armies of Lolth dissolved like mist upon the winds. Lolth’s spells were broken, her realm destroyed, and Keggle Bend was avenged.

  In a strange, warm land of sand and palms, the skies shone a clear metallic blue. No clouds broke the smooth arc of the heavens. No storms or winds were allowed to spoil the careful order of each day. It rained at appointed times, heralded by the appropriate deities riding chariots through the air. The crocodiles basked, the ibises strutted importantly across the shores, and all seemed well with the outer planes.

  The river Lethe flowed slow and solemn here. Every day, a fanfare of trumpets sounded just after dawn. The denizens of this place—clean, white beings with the bodies of humans and the heads of ibises—strode to the banks, and with formal gestures bid the reborn to arise. Dripping with the waters of forgetfulness, worshipers of Thoth who had deceased on the material plane arose blinking from the waters. Their ibis heads were new and unfamiliar, and they walked clumsily with their new bodies. The attendants wrapped them in white robes and led them to the temples where they would be instructed how to serve their benevolent, wise god.

  The temple itself was without parallel. A vast stone statue of white marble reared a thousand feet into the sky—Thoth the Ibis in his crown, with his shepherd’s crook in one claw and a khopesh sword in the other. Stone wings shadowed and protected an avenue lined with two thousand armed and armored guards. The hawk-headed soldiers stood rigid and silent. Behind them were ranked stone golems, crouching like leopards and with the heads of crocodiles.

  An avenue ran from broad docks upon the river, up the guarded road, and into the Library of the Ages. Here, a titanic white building held untold millions of books. Here, the reborn servitors of Thoth collected scrolls and parchments, stone slabs, and clay sheets of cuneiform. There were the metal disks of modron script, iron cubes from Acheron, and clipped feathers from the bird realms of Hadir. Here, written works from every world on every plane were catalogued and stored. Thoth, god of wisdom, kept this place sacrosanct, protecting his horde, for knowledge gave power, and power was the divine right of gods.

  This realm was where Thoth’s faithful were rewarded. Most of the lucky residents had been given the privilege of working in the fields of the afterlife. In hundreds of thousands, they lifted water from irrigation canals. They threshed; they planted. Day after day, world without end. They had been raised blank from the Lethe and taught just enough to be content with their lot. The benevolent god allowed them the noble bliss of toil, while trading the results of their labors with other gods and demons from other planes.

  Some of the wealthiest dead had provided themselves with little sculpted models designed to perform their work for them. These lucky citizens were given more lordly duties. They served as accountants, scribes, or guards. A group of these lofty beings sat behind an alabaster table at the library’s golden doors, watching as a barge disgorged a strange trio of passengers at the far end of the avenue.

  A huge, muscular slave carried a roll of carpet. Beside him stalked one of the ibis-headed minions of Thoth, a being that looked anxiously from side to side as it walked. Ahead of them floated a weird ball of light—a beautiful, scintillating flash and dance of rays that shone with a benevolence so pure that it lit their hearts with smiles.

  The three newcomers walked directly up the great, broad road, passing under the stares of thousands of guardians. Giant statues glowered down at them as they passed. They mounted the steps—one hundred of them in pure pink marble—and approached the mighty portal to the Library of Thoth.

  Two guards, huge stone monsters with the heads of hippopotami, stood before the door. In front of the portal, the ibis-headed clerks awaited. One rose, poised and beautiful, and made a lordly gesture toward the visitors.

  “Travelers from beyond the blessed realm! Know that the knowledge here is only for the children of true wisdom. Why have you traveled here, where the blessed dead bask in the glories of Lord Thoth?”

  In reply, the ball of light flashed and glowed like pure, angelic sun. It shone with a warmth, a simplicity and truth that made the world seem fresh and new.

  “Children of Thoth! I am an amazingly benevolent energy being from far beyond your realms! Long ago, my people evolved far beyond mere physical form. Our endless lives are spent contemplating pure goodness and philosophies of truth. I have been sent to travel to your universe to experience the lives and truths that may be found here.” Gentle rays of sunshine caressed the ibis-headed men. “You are fellow cherishers of wisdom. I therefore will present you with this manuscript of quintessential truths—written here, upon this sacred hell hound skin.”

  The huge human servant sniffed. Built with muscles upon muscles, the dark, glowering servant held a rolled pelt across its shoulders—a pelt with a hell hound head that grinned like an insane crocodile. Beside the pelt, the second attendant stood holding a water jar, his ibis beak a little pale, his feathers ruffled.

  The energy being drifted to hover over the rolled black pelt.

  “The knowledge upon this scroll is so pure, so perfect, that it is dangerous for the simple minds found in this reality. Only the children of Thoth have intellects broad and deep enough to encompass the beauty of this gift. Please, may we have an escort to the, uh, the whichever place you catalogue your treasures of the mind, so that we may place this holy document in your safekeeping?”

  The scribes beamed, looked at one another, and one of the creatures bowed. It took a stately staff of office from a rack and led the way to the doors of the library.

  “Then follow, O benevolent energy being. Truly you have been led to the one place of purity in all the cosmos! Here your scroll will be read by minds wise enough to cherish it. Allo
w me to lead you into the submissions hall.”

  They moved through the Portal of Purity and along the Corridor of Concepts, hung a left at the Halls of Holiness, then drifted past the File Card Index of Indescribable Illumination—five stories high and perhaps a mile long. Cool wide halls were filled with ibis-headed beings. There were emissaries from other gods and silent, unmoving guards. The air smelled of sandalwood, and the residents of the afterlife hurried to carry out all the tasks appointed to them. The energy beings guide inclined its beak to various luminaries as they passed. It gave its visitors the grand tour, explaining the glories and the mysteries for their receptive minds.

  “Here is the hall of Thoth. Your gift can be made before the god himself, for here his light of truth blasts the deceitful, destroys illusions, and brings bliss to the good.”

  “Ah.” The energy being pocketed a golden doorknob behind its back. “And, ah, this is where great and mighty Thoth inducts his new arrivals?”

  “Indeed! At the far side of this hall is our cataloguing area, where new gifts are identified and filed. Such duties are the reward of the greatest in life—priests, sphinxes, and kings!” The long corridors came to an end. “But come! The god awaits your magnificent gift!” The guide ushered them through a mighty portal. “Now, look in wonder, for here is the Throne of Verity! In its presence, only truth may be told, so that all may revel in its purity.”

  In a hall so high that flocks of sacred birds circled the highest column tops, in a room created by the tireless labor of souls allowed nothing but the wish to serve, was a throne of gold a hundred feet high. Enshrined upon it, sat a titanic being—ibis-headed, crowned, sceptered, and armed. Ranked before him were untold thousands of worshipers, all paying homage in perfectly coordinated bows. The energy being stopped dead and seemed a little bit diminished, while behind it, the two companions stalled.

  The energy being wriggled its little pseudopods in alarm.