Descent into the Depths of the Earth (40 page)

And Jus was blind.

His eyesight simply disappeared, leaving him in total
darkness. Jus reeled back, slinging the tentacle staff far away and sweeping the
sword Benelux up on guard.

“Cinders! Can you see?”

Can see!
The hell hound had fought in tandem with the
Justicar for many long, hard years.
High left!

Jus whipped his sword high left in a parry, and the weapon
rang. Jus stepped back, sensed movement at his side, and smashed his sword down.
The blade bit into something that screamed, and then Cinders barked a warning
from above.

High-low!
Jus sped his sword up in a parry, caught an
attack, then blocked a stab lower down.
High-low-high! Left foot! Rear high!
Low left!

Jus fought purely by instinct. He felt motions beside him and
whirled the sword up to meet each strike as Cinders yapped out commands. The
stoneskin spell wore away under the assault of a dozen swords. He almost
stumbled over a corpse then lashed out wildly to catch a sword that stabbed for
his heart. He crashed his blade past the incoming weapon, ramming home with huge
force. A dark elf screamed as Jus twisted the weapon and ripped it free.

He parried madly as a fresh rush of blows crashed home. A
mace hammered against his sword hilt and almost struck the sword out of Jus’
hands.

Lower! Lower!
Benelux screeched in fright, as she only
just managed to catch an elven blade.
Dog, call the shots properly!

Is properly!

You’re not doing it right! No,
left!

“SHUT UP!” Jus roared at his two companions. Fighting purely
by instinct and skill, Jus barely managed to put his weapon in the way of an
attack. “Cinders, you help!”

All around him, he heard shrieking and dying. The drow still
held a line protecting Lolth as the titanic spider drank. The battle would be
lost in seconds. The moment the demon queen decided to lift her head out of the
bowl, the captives and their rescuers would have no hope. Why she had drunk so
long in the middle of a battle was anybody’s guess.

Jus spun, crashed his sword down on something—felt a presence
behind him and to the left—and smashed his elbow into a drow face. As a sword
clanged off his dragon scales, the Justicar shouted, “Cinders! Where’s the high
priestess?”

Left front—three yards.
Cinders heaved then blasted
flames forward in a thunderous tidal wave of heat.
Path open! Go!

Jus leaped forward, his sword smashing down and meeting
nothing. Jus sensed something slashing at his face, ducked to his knees, and
swung. His sword rang against a metal buckler, the huge force of his blow making
his enemy crash to the ground.

The screams and howls of dying humans, half-orcs, elves, and
halflings sounded in a mad chorus. Drow war cries screeched and echoed in the
hellish light. Through it all, a strangely beautiful female voice managed to
shout at the Justicar.

“You cannot see, human! You are doomed!”

Jus closed in upon the voice, deliberately keeping himself
turned slightly away as though unable to find his enemy. He moved his sword
point uncertainly.

“I know enough. You have been
judged.”

“You are the Justicar—the hand of justice!” Sneering, the
drow high priestess shifted, moving to one side.

Jus flicked his head and turned, again slightly out of line.

“You cannot see!” she screamed in triumph as she attacked.

Jus threw himself flat, spinning with his sword scything
across the ground. The blade sheared through ankles, and the ranger heard a
scream of agony. He rolled, rose, and slammed his sword through the stunned
priestess, killing her instantly.

“Justice
is
blind.”

Shooting out of the temple, Escalla saw the other faerie
plunge straight through the bone gateway. In flicker of light, her quarry was
gone. Furious but unwilling to leave her friends, Escalla stared aghast at the
carnage before her.

The temple steps were awash with blood. A hundred drow were
dead, and easily twice as many humans. The damselflies had torn apart the black
widows and the spider centaurs. A knot of drow priests and warriors were
gathering around Lolth. The drow took heart as hunting horns sounded from the
entrance to the distant caves. Escalla hoped Henry and Polk had the sense to get
out of there.

Seeking the ranger, Escalla saw Jus staggering near the
altar, his stoneskin spell long spent and blood running down both arms. The huge
man suddenly staggered as a hand crossbow bolt struck him from behind, piercing
Cinders’ fur but failing to penetrate the dragon scale coat below. Jus whirled
blindly, his sword up and circling as drow closed in.

Escalla began to throw a spell, but the gem in her mouth
stopped her from uttering the incantation. Her hands were full and drow surged
below. With a painful gulp, Escalla swallowed the slowglass gem, turned a little
green, then sped to the rescue of her friend.

“Jus!”

Escalla flamed destruction from above, making a circle of
fire about the Justicar. She landed amidst the flames, clinging to the battered
ranger. “Jus, are you hit? What’s wrong?”

“Blind! Spell.” Jus staggered as he nearly tripped over the
high priestess—one of the most extravagantly bisected corpses Escalla had ever
seen. More crossbows fired from the drow toward the mob of former captives, and
Escalla interposed a shield that made the darts leap and bound away. More horns
and war cries sounded as a horde of drow warriors rampaged down the tunnel
toward Polk and Henry.

And Lolth finally moved.

Wrapped in clouds of shimmering black power, the demon queen
raised her head from the bowl and gave a long, slow roar. Escalla stared,
Cinders gaped, and the mob all froze in fear. The demon goddess was greeted by a
wild cheer from her surviving guards, who all shook their weapons in salute
toward their queen.

Lolth looked across the carnage, stared blearily at the dead
and dying, and then collapsed on the ground with one almighty drunken wail.

Drunk as the proverbial skunk on about a thousand bottles of
the dreaded vintage sixty-three, Lolth groaned and flopped about, then screamed
in agony as convulsions seized her. Drow beside her shrieked and died as she
lashed out at them with her mind, blasting skulls apart and sending dark elves
streaming into the temple to hide. Escalla saw the drow turn and run, and she
canceled her firewall. She seized a human who knelt strangling a long-dead drow.
The man looked up as Escalla dragged him by the hair.

“Take the Justicar and go through the bone gate!” Escalla put
Jus’ arm over the pimple man and yelled, “Get out through the bone gate! Run!
Run!”

For a moment, Jus resisted, shouting, “No! Polk and Henry!”

“I’ll get ’em!” Escalla replied. “You hold the exit!”

Jus nodded grimly, and the mob turned like a living tide
toward the gateway. Escalla heard screams and horn blasts from the distant
tunnels and sped back to assist Polk and Henry’s last stand.

* * *

At the tunnel mouth, Henry swerved his crossbow from left to
right, the dwindling ammunition pouring into the magazine as fast as it could
move. Crossbow bolts hammered into drow as they churned in confusion. Return
fire rang and howled as it careened from rocks and rebounded from Henry’s
stoneskin. The magic was fading, and now Henry’s helmet rang as a crossbow bolt
struck the metal crown, making his ears ring.

Still the magic crossbow snarled, sheeting darts into the
enemy. Enemy fire whirred from the tunnel as drow held up the bodies of dead or
paralyzed comrades to use as shields. The drow shuffled forward inch by inch,
awkwardly closing the range. Two broke and sped to the left, hitting the last of
Escalla’s traps and blowing themselves ceiling high. Others ran past the smoking
remains, leaped over a pile of rocks, and began racing to Henry’s position. The
soldier whipped his crossbow about to blast a dozen shots at them as they ran.
One elf fell, but the other threw himself flat and began worming through cover.

Switching targets had let other drow rush closer. A dozen
cringed behind their horrific shields as Henry shifted fire, and the boy was
forced to hammer the advancing elves once more.

Inch by inch, Henry and Polk were losing. The drow were
gathering and signing to one another, almost confident enough to rush the deadly
crossbow. Polk searched the bottom of the ammunition box, whipped out the last
dozen crossbow bolts, and slapped them in place.

“Almost out!”

Blurring insanely fast, the magic crossbow’s string suddenly
snapped in two. Smoking, the pieces hung limp as Polk and Henry stared.

A sudden scream of victory came from the single drow on the
flanks, and the dark elf charged Henry with two short swords clashing. Henry
rolled, freeing his sword just as the Justicar had shown him, rolling and
hacking upward into the drow’s knee. Hamstrung, the drow fell. Henry screamed in
fright and stabbed his sword down like an ice pick, the point skipping and
sparking off the drow’s armor time and time again.

Desperate, the dark elf kicked Henry, and the boy fell.
Turning, the drow raised both swords over Henry’s chest.

Henry roared furiously, bellowing like the Justicar and
unleashing a vast strength brought on by terror and desperation. Rolling, he
smashed his sword through the drow’s chest, carving right through into its evil
heart. The drow fell on him, both swords striking stone to either side of
Henry’s head.

The boy shoved the corpse away even as the elves at the
tunnel mouth charged in one screaming, frenzied mass. A solid rain of crossbow
bolts hissed forward. Polk whirled the portable hole outward like a cape, and
the incoming darts flew harmlessly into the hole. Polk then grabbed the boy and
ran.

“Strategic withdrawal, son!” Polk bellowed out like a wild
bull as he ran. “Justicar!
We have a problem!”

More drow sped fast along the flanks to cut the retreating
humans off. Henry pushed Polk back to run for safety just as a random dart
pierced his calf from behind. Henry arched and froze.

Polk turned, saw the boy stiff and paralyzed, then grabbed
Henry by the arm as the boy collapsed.

“Son!”

The teamster shoved Henry into the portable hole and threw
the magic crossbow after him. A drow sprang like a mad locust straight at Polk’s
back. The teamster turned and drew his last loaded hand crossbow, shooting the
drow through the face.

The dark elf warrior fell lifeless to the stone floor, but a
female drow leaped over the corpse and struck with her short sword. The blade
speared straight through Polk’s chest. The teamster gasped and teetered even as
something flashed past his shoulder to explode like a bomb, crashing the drow
off her feet.

“Bitch!”

Frenziedly beating her enemy to death, Escalla jammed her
lich staff into the creature’s open mouth and triggered the weapon’s power. The
drow detonated, and Escalla tumbled on the blast, showered by yet more gore.

Polk teetered, gasping and choking on his own blood, then
fell. Escalla opened the portable hole under him even as a dozen crossbow shots
hissed past her. With Polk inside, the faerie towed the hole awkwardly behind
her as she fled, dragging it like a blanket.

* * *

Half a mile away, a solid column of refugees poured through
the bone gate, occasionally trampling one of their own number. Lolth staggered
and lurched into the columns of her own temple, clutching her face and screaming
like a soul in torment. Drow fell, telepathically suffering their goddess’
hangover. Escalla found Jus hovering beside the gate and blinking blankly as
though it would clear his blindness. Escalla grabbed the man by the elbow and
led him to the archway.

Jus stared about as he heard the sound of onrushing hordes of
drow. “Are Polk and Henry safe?”

“I’ve got them! It’s not good.” Escalla shoved the portable
hole into Jus’ hands. “But they must have killed at least a hundred drow!”

“Good men.”

“Polk’s hit bad!” Escalla screamed. “Real bad, Jus!”

“How many are left?”

“Huh?” Escalla gave Jus a confused look.

“How many captives? I can’t leave until they’re all out!”

Escalla did a quick estimate. “A few moments! When I say go,
then get through quick!”

Lolth blundered closer, trying to focus on the departing
sacrifices. More and more drow were flooding from the tunnel, charging toward
the temple gates. Moving fast, Escalla dipped down and rapped her knuckles upon
Benelux’s hilt.

“Hey, Spiky! Where did you say you were forged?”

The positive energy plane!
The sword gave a self
important cough.
The pure energy that formed the building blocks of all
matter, the—