Resurrection (26 page)

Gromph moved methodically through the unending series of wards. Sometimes he used brute magical force, dispelling or destroying them; sometimes he used subtlety and misdirection, bending or warping the magical defenses for a time while he slipped past.

He focused entirely on House Agrach Dyrr's arcane defenses, barely noticing the passing Dyrr soldiers or the second foiled attack on the bridge by the Xorlarrin.

With each ward he overcame, he moved nearer to Lolth's temple, nearer to the golem and the phylactery.

The wards and spell traps cast in days or years past by Yasraena or a previous matron mother provided little challenge for Gromph's counterspells. Only those cast by the lichdrow proved difficult to bypass or dispel, but always Gromph prevailed.

And always the lichdrow's master ward, the thread that strung all of the others together, reactivated those that Gromph deactivated. Gromph opened and unlocked two score magical "doors" on his way in, only to watch the master ward close and relock them behind him. He did not fully understand the lichdrow's purpose and had no time to think on it more.

Time passed, but Gromph had no way to measure it. He assumed he had been at the wards an hour and a half or more. Soon, the spell that allowed him to change shape-the spell that had allowed Prath to take his form and him to take that of the shadow-would expire. He would no longer be incorporeal. Prath would no longer look like Gromph.

At that point, Yasraena would surely recognize the deception, assume that Gromph was within the complex, and muster all of the resources at her disposal to find him.

He put that possibility out of his mind and focused on the next defense, a spell trap that would imprison him in a cage of force if he attempted to bypass the ward's outer border. The forcecage could hold him even in incorporeal form.

Just as he prepared to dispel it, he noticed a subtle twist to the ward.

It was not one ward but two, the second cleverly masked by the first.

The hidden ward would be triggered by dispelling the first and held a latent spell that caused a few moments of agonizing pain before stopping the target's heart.

Gromph admonished himself for his carelessness. He was mentally exhausted, and fatigue was making him sloppy. He had almost made a fatal mistake.

He took a moment to refocus before dispelling the wards in the proper sequence. As he passed through the area, the master ward reactivated them both behind him.

Gromph continued on.

The temple doors, themselves heavily warded, stood tantalizing near. He moved rapidly through the two wards that stood between him and the temple as Dyrr soldiers hurried past.

Constructed of finished stone, the temple sported a domed ceiling and a stone-flagged portico with a colonnade. A pair of open bronze double doors, darkened with age and inlaid with electrum spider motifs and prayers to Lolth, opened onto the nave.

Within, Gromph could see stone benches lining either side of the center aisle, which led up to the apse and the altar. He could not quite make out the golem, though he knew it to be positioned behind the altar.

The temple appeared unoccupied. The House was too busy defending itself to spend time in worship.

Several powerful wards and spell traps shielded the doors. The master ward twisted through all of them and extended into the temple, straight up the center aisle, presumably right into the spider golem.

Gromph floated before the lines of power and cast several spells that enabled him to analyze the wards' natures. He removed one of his divining wands and stared through its tip while he cast.

He saw that the wards on the doors were heavily intertwined, heavily interdependent. He was not sure he could unravel them.

Frustration made his pulse pound. He tried to calm himself, but then he sensed something behind him and turned around.

A drow female, Yasraena's daughter Larikal, walked toward the open doors of the temple. Her mesh armor hid her overlarge frame. A large mace hung from her belt. Her bland, unattractive face wore an angry scowl.

A balding, portly male walked beside her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black robe-Geremis, Gromph remembered, and thought that he looked much like Nauzhror.

Both Larikal and the wizard glowed various hues in Gromph's sight. Personal protective spells sheathed both of them. Magical trinkets and weapons adorned each. Gromph read their lips as they walked.

"I will not tolerate your failure much longer, male," Larikal said.

Like all drow males, Geremis had the good sense to accept the admonishment without comment.

"The phylactery is within the fortress," the priestess continued. "You and your undermages must find it within the hour. Or the next time you enter this temple with me, it will be as a sacrifice to Lolth."

"Yes, Mistress Larikal," Geremis replied.

Larikal and the mage walked right through Gromph's incorporeal form-it felt to Gromph as though a breeze passed through him-and stepped through the temple's open doorway. The wards on the doors shimmered at their passage, briefly encapsulating each in crimson light as they walked across the threshold. Neither had spoken a command word or made any sign so Gromph reasoned that the wards must be attuned to something they wore or perhaps to their very bodies.

Just beyond the doorway, Geremis stopped. He turned, a curious look on his round face, and looked back at the space Gromph occupied.

Gromph cursed and froze. Fearing that the mage had sensed him somehow, he prepared a spell that would immolate Geremis, assuming it could get through the mage's personal wards.

Gromph relaxed when Geremis turned away and hurried up the center aisle after the Dyrr daughter. Gromph shifted his position so that he could better see within the temple.

The priestess walked up the aisle, crossed into the apse, and kneeled before the black altar. Her manner suitably reverent, she used a tinder-twig to light the single candle atop it. Shadows leaped up around the temple. Spiders, some as large as Gromph's fist, crawled over the altar.

In the candlelight, Gromph could see the silhouette of the golem. It was huge.

Geremis maintained a discreet distance from Larikal; males were forbidden to enter the apse of a temple of Lolth. He took a seat in the front bench and bowed his head.

Without preamble, Larikal lowered herself to her knees, likewise bowed her head, and prayed. Gromph could not hear the words but he could imagine her murmuring voice carrying through the temple.

The candlelight danced across the smooth finish of the spider golem. The huge creature loomed over the altar, over Larikal. She was less than five paces from the subject of her prayers and did not realize it. Gromph almost smiled through his exhaustion. The Spider Queen certainly had a sense of humor.

Gromph turned back to the wards. He had to-

An idea struck him, and finally he did smile.

He did not have to unravel the wards after all.

Quenthel held her holy symbol in her shield hand and hurried through the words to a spell. When she finished, she grew to nearly twice her size, as did her whip, armor, and shield. A violet glow suffused her and leaked from her eyes-the divine favor of Lolth made manifest.

Danifae completed her own spell, and a gray shield of magical force surrounded her entire body-her faith in physical form.

The priestesses eyed one another across the broken ground while Lolth's dead streamed between them and into the Pass.

Those are not defensive spells, Pharaun thought as he prepared again to send his magical fist against Jeggred.

Quenthel's whip hissed. Danifae shifted on her feet, her hands near the haft of her morningstar.

"An interesting choice of spell, Mistress Quenthel," Danifae said.

Quenthel sneered.

Pharaun thought open combat inevitable at that point, but no. Both priestesses held their ground and began again to cast.

Though he knew arcane magic far better than that granted by the gods, Pharaun had seen enough spells cast by clerics such that he would be able to identify most of the invocations that were being performed.

Danifae finished her spell first. The magic had no visible manifestation, but Pharaun determined from her gestures and words that the spell had augmented her physical strength.

Pharaun appreciated Danifae's subtlety. Quenthel's first spell had made her large and strong but obviously so. Danifae had made herself stronger too but without it being apparent.

Quenthel finished her own prayer, and a faint, green glow formed around her skin.

Resistance to spells, Pharaun recognized.

With that, the two priestesses eyed each other anew.

"The pass?" Danifae asked but took a threatening step toward Quenthel. "Or… something else?"

Quenthel smiled, took a step toward Danifae, and said, "Something else."

Pharaun too smiled. If Quenthel and Danifae came to blows, he would take the opportunity to kill Jeggred, Baenre or no.

Halisstra's heart caught in her throat. Ahead, at the base of the mountains, Danifae and Quenthel Baenre stood facing each other. A shimmering shield of gray force surrounded Danifae, while Quenthel Baenre stood twice her normal size.

They were doing battle, or about to.

The draegloth Jeggred, watched from one side, and the wizard Pharaun, with some kind of conjured fist before him, watched from another. The souls of Lolth's dead streamed around and between the combatants, flowing into the jagged opening at the base of one of the tall mountains-the Pass of the Soulreaver.

Halisstra had to move quickly. She flew down behind a rock outcropping thirty paces from the scene. Feliane and Uluyara followed. With an exercise of will, Halisstra ended the spell that had transformed them to vapor. She crouched behind the rocks and spoke with urgency.

"You see?" she said to Uluyara. "Danifae is fighting Quenthel Baenre. The Baenre priestess must have learned of her allegiance to Eilistraee."

She turned to go, but Uluyara grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around.

"Halisstra, they do not appear yet to be fighting. We should prepare defensive spells. The Baenre priestess is not a trifling opponent."

"There is no time," Halisstra said, pushing Uluyara's hand away. If Danifae had finally heeded Eilistraee's call, Halisstra did not want to leave her to face Quenthel alone. "We will use our spells in combat. It will be enough."

She looked her sisters in their eyes, demanding with her gaze that they obey her.

"The draegloth and wizard?" Feliane said. "What of them?"

Halisstra drew the Crescent Blade.

"Quenthel Baenre is our enemy," she said. "Assume the draegloth and wizard are too, unless they give you reason to believe otherwise."

"And what of Danifae?" Feliane asked.

"Leave her to me," Halisstra said.

With that, she turned and charged toward the combat. Uluyara's horn rang out behind her.

For a moment, the tension between Quenthel and Danifae subsided. Both turned in the direction of the clarion.

At first Pharaun thought it a trick of his eyes, but Quenthel's words dispelled his misconception.

"Melarn," Quenthel said, her voice low. The whip serpents hissed and writhed in agitation.

Pharaun spared a glance behind him to see Danifae open her mouth as though to speak, but she said nothing. Shock showed in her expression, but she recovered quickly.

"It appears Lolth has provided a different victim for the sacrifice," she said.

Pharaun turned back to see Halisstra Melarn, accompanied by another drow female and a female surface elf, charging toward them across the rocky ground. Each wore armor and bore swords. The symbol on Halisstra's shield drew Pharaun's eye-an upright silver sword, around which swirled a silver ribbon.

He knew it to be the symbol of Eilistraee. He needed to see nothing else. Somehow, Halisstra had tracked them through the Demonweb Pits. And she had brought two allies with her, presumably also priestesses of the same cursed goddess.

"She bears the symbol of Eilistraee, Mistress," Pharaun said, even as he called upon the power of his ring and took to the air.

"I am not blind, male," Quenthel barked.

"She thinks me her ally," Danifae said to Quenthel and backed off several paces. "I will cause her to doubt."

With that, Danifae shouted, "Mistress Melarn! To me! We will stop Quenthel Baenre together. In the Lady's name, to me!"

Quenthel frowned. The heads of her serpent whip alternated between looking at Danifae and looking at Halisstra.

In response to Danifae's words, Halisstra smiled and whirled a glowing blade above her head. The other drow priestess sounded her horn again.

Jeggred answered with a roar.

Pharaun was as confused as the serpents. He did not know for certain whether Danifae was manipulating Halisstra or Quenthel or both. Like the pragmatist he was, he decided to err on the side of prudence and treat them all as his enemies.

With his mind made up, he chose his course quickly. Halisstra and Danifae might have been dangerous, but Jeggred was perhaps the most deadly opponent on the field.

Halisstra and the two other priestesses headed toward Quenthel. Jeggred charged in Quenthel's direction too, but whether to attack his aunt or the priestesses, Pharaun could not be sure.

With a mental command, Pharaun flew the fist of force at Jeggred. The draegloth saw it coming and tried to dodge aside, but the fist caught him full force in the head and chest. The impact knocked the huge draegloth into a headlong tumble, and he lay on the earth unmoving, apparently stunned.

Pharaun grinned. Sometimes his mastery of spellcraft surprised even him.

Danifae shot a glare up at Pharaun and backed farther away from Quenthel.

"Here, Halisstra!" Danifae said brandishing her morningstar.

As the three Eilistraeens charged, they called aloud to their goddess. Their prayers were as much song as chant.

Halisstra finished her prayer, and a black ray shot from her fingertips at Quenthel. The Baenre priestess sidestepped it, and it slammed into the rocks.

The other drow priestess completed her prayer, and a rosy aura surrounded her. The elf priestess targeted Pharaun with her spell. She pointed her finger, and a sphere of light blazed into being around him.

He gasped and threw his forearm over his face. The sudden illumination sent needles of pain into his eyes. Without opening them, he gritted out the words to a counterspell, and the welcome dimness of day in the Demonweb Pits returned.

He opened his eyes and saw only spots for a moment. Tears poured from his eyes, but he blinked them away. When he could again see, he located his magical fist-hovering over the stunned Jeggred-and sent it speeding for the elf priestess.

All three priestesses spread out as they ran. The fist moved to intercept the elf.

The elf aborted her charge and braced her tiny shield for the fist's impact.

But Pharaun did not cause it to strike her.

At his mental goading, the fist stopped before her, opened its fingers, and made to grab her. She was fast, and her blade slashed into the conjuration, but the hand was inexorable.

Its huge fingers wrapped her up. Only her head was visible. Before she could scream for aid, Pharaun caused the hand to squeeze.

The elf's mouth opened in a scream but she had no breath with which to utter it. Instead, she suffered in silence.

Pharaun turned to see Halisstra veer toward Quenthel.

"Aid us, Danifae," Halisstra shouted.

Danifae said, "Of course, Mistress," but made no move to help.

The other drow priestess, wielding a long bladed sword in two hands, came at Quenthel from the side opposite that of Halisstra, but she stopped when she glanced back and saw her comrade trapped in Pharaun's magical fist.

"Feliane!" she shouted.

The drow priestess located Pharaun in the air and sang a spell.

Pharaun flew toward her, drawing his wand of lightning and voicing his own spell.

She finished first.

A sword of magical force formed in the air to Pharaun's right, flying along beside him. It attacked the moment it appeared, striking at the mage's head.

He spun away from it, but it doggedly pursued, stabbing and slashing. He rolled in the air, spun, twirled, but the damned thing kept pace with him. Twice the blade managed to penetrate his magical protections and opened the skin of his shoulder, his forearm. He lost the thread of his own spell and cursed aloud.

He spun a series of circles, opened a bit of space between him and the sword, and quickly uttered the words to a counterspell, pitting his magic against the priestess's.

His prevailed. The sword of force winked out. He touched his shoulder and found the wound to be more bloody than deep.

Pharaun looked down and saw the drow priestess advancing on Quenthel from one side, while Halisstra advanced from the other. The Baenre priestess stood her ground, serpents hissing, whip cracking.

Pharaun pulled a piece of quartz from his
piwafwi,
formed a dome with his hand, and rattled through the words to a spell that would even the odds.

When he completed the conjuration, a hemisphere of armspan thick, semi-opaque ice materialized out of nothing, taking shape over and around Halisstra, imprisoning her.

He could see the Melarn traitor moving frantically within it, hammering at it with her weapons. It would not hold her long, Pharaun knew, but it would buy Quenthel time.

Seeing the opportunity, Quenthel took it. She charged the other drow priestess and swung her whip in a wide arc.

The priestess of Eilistraee, still surrounded in a rosy hue, did not retreat or hesitate. Instead, she danced and spun between the serpents of Quenthel's whip, at the same time unleashing a backhand slash that sliced open Quenthel's armor across the chest. Quenthel, still enlarged from her spell, countered with a shield bash, but the Eilistraeen sidestepped it, and stabbed her blade at Quenthel's stomach.

The Baenre priestess leaped back to avoid the blow, but the Eilistraeen followed hard after, spinning, whirling, her blade a blur.

"Danifae Yauntyrr!" the Eilistraeen called. "Answer the Lady and aid me."

But Danifae did not answer, Pharaun saw. She stood apart, seemingly content to watch the conflict, perhaps to await a weakened winner whom she could then finish.

Breathing hard and bleeding, Quenthel swung her whip in a flurry of vicious attacks. A glancing blow knocked the Eilistraeen off balance, and Quenthel managed to put her shield into the Eilistraeean's chest.

Quenthel's strength and size sent the Eilistraeen careening, but she somehow managed to turn the stagger into a graceful recovery. She found her feet and raced at the Baenre priestess, her blade stabbing and slashing.

Spinning her whip high, Quenthel lashed at the Eilistraeen. The priestess dodged right, left, ducked, opened a gash in Quenthel's arm, and-

One of the serpents sank its fangs into the Eilistraeean's arm. She grunted with pain, and the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith took the opportunity to follow up with another shield bash. The Eilistraeen priestess rolled with the impact, but the strength of the blow drove her back five paces. The wound in her arm was already beginning to blacken.

"It's over," Quenthel said.

The high priestess advanced, her whip serpents hissing and whirling.

The Eilistraeen danced backward, still spinning. She reached for her holy symbol and sang a spell.

A beam of silver light flew from her outstretched palm, penetrated Quenthel's protective spell, and struck Quenthel in the chest. Groaning, the Baenre priestess staggered back.

"Hardly," answered the Eilistraeen, and she charged Quenthel.

Before the priestess reached her, Quenthel held her whip aloft and demanded, "Speed."

The whip serpents whirled around and echoed, "Speed."

The adamantine handle of the whip flashed violet, and the high priestess's movements became faster. Her whip was a blur in the air.

The Eilistraeen priestess darted in, blade low. Quenthel deftly slipped aside, drove the priestess's blade into the ground with her whip handle, spun, and lashed the priestess across her back with all five serpent heads.

Grunting, staggering, the Eilistraeen still managed to keep her feet. She whirled aside from a follow-up lash that would have torn her head from her shoulders.

The priestess of Eilistraee began to cast again, but Quenthel was too fast. The whip cracked once more, found flesh through the Eilistraeean's armor, and her scream of pain ruined her spell.

Pharaun could see that the combat was over. The Eilistraeen was no match for Quenthel Baenre.

Halisstra must have seen it too, through the ice wall. Her muffled shout carried through the barrier: "Uluyara! Danifae, help her!"

But Danifae did nothing, declared her allegiance to no one.

Desperate, the priestess of the Dark Maiden rushed Quenthel, spinning, slashing, and stabbing. Quenthel parried the blows and answered with a shield smash that sent the Eilistraeen reeling.

Moving with her whip-enhanced speed, Quenthel withdrew from an inner pocket of her
piwafwi
a silvery rod of metal as long as her forearm. She pointed it at the prone Eilistraeen, and it discharged a mass of some kind of sticky, semiliquid substance. The stuff soaked the priestess and quickly hardened. The Eilistraeen struggled against it for a moment but could not move.

Quenthel grinned and walked over to the prone, immobilized priestess.

Pharaun, pleased that things had gone so easily, took a moment to survey the field. Jeggred remained stunned, though one of his hands was spasming. The elf priestess remained immobilized and squeezed in Pharaun's magical hand. Halisstra was temporarily trapped in a hemisphere of ice, though Pharaun could hear her weapon working at breaking through-and she would soon succeed.

Quenthel belted her whip and took from her robes a small, adamantine knife with a stylized spider hilt.

A sacrificial knife, Pharaun knew.

She maneuvered behind the prone priestess so that Halisstra Melarn would have a clear view.

"I am not afraid," the immobilized Eilistraeen said, though Pharaun could not tell whether she meant the words for Halisstra or Quenthel.

"Of course you are," Quenthel said as she raised the blade high.

Halisstra's blade poked through the ice wall. "No!" she shouted.

Pharaun incanted a quick spell and sent five darts of magical energy from his fingertips and through the small hole Halisstra had opened in the ice. They slammed into the Melarn priestess, and she exclaimed with pain.

Meanwhile, Quenthel offered a quick prayer to Lolth and slit the priestess's throat open. The Eilistraeean's blood poured onto the rocky ground of the Demonweb Pits, and she died gurgling.

"No!" shouted Halisstra.

Quenthel rose, smiled at Halisstra, then at Danifae, and called up to Pharaun,

"Come, Master Mizzrym. The Pass of the Soulreaver awaits. My sacrifice to the Spider Queen is complete."

Pharaun caught Danifae absently signing,
And mine soon will be.

The mage spared a last look back at the elf priestess, still clutched helplessly in the magical hand. His spell would expire soon. Perhaps she would be dead by then, perhaps not. Pharaun did not care. The Eilistraeeans were no match for them.

He flew down to Quenthel's side. He did not so much as a glance at the sacrificed Eilistraeen. Together, the two of them strode toward the pass.

Behind him, Halisstra finally chopped a large enough hole through the globe of ice that the rest of the barrier collapsed around her.

Too, Jeggred uttered a soft growl. Apparently, he was returning to sensibility, at least inasmuch as he was ever sensible.

"Turn and face me, Baenre bitch," Halisstra challenged from behind.