War of the Spider Queen 2 - Insurrection (5 page)

No reason to keep it out, he thought ruefully. If she'd wanted to get past it and at me, she already had the perfect chance.
The wizard bowed his head slightly, wordlessly apologizing for his lapse in manners. The alu-fiend only smiled.
"You certainly don't want to hear about my troubles," he said at last, his tone bright. "You obviously dropped in on this social visit for other reasons."
"Again, don't be so sure," the fiend replied, standing and stretching indolently. "It requires some fairly extraordinary circumstances to bring a band of dark elves through Ammarindar—"
"Oh, nothing of any real consequence," Pharaun interjected.
"—especially a mistress of the Academy and her retinue," she continued, ignoring the wizard's interruption. "Very extraordinary circumstances, indeed."
She was looking at Pharaun, perhaps gauging his reaction.
In fact, his reaction was the slightest straightening of his back and shoulders, but it was only the merest hint of his true surprise.
She knew.
A dozen thoughts floated through the mage's head in the next instant, considerations of who might have betrayed them, who back in Menzoberranzan had sent them off on this journey for the mere purpose of disposing of them in the clutches of Kaanyr Vhok and his minions, but the notions were dismissed again just as quickly. The risk of exposing the plight of the priestesses of Lolth was far too great to risk by such a method. The she-fiend had discovered their identity in some other way. Her broadening smile and sparkling green eyes told him that he had confirmed her suspicions.
"Oh, don't get too lathered up about it," she said, laughing. "Your secrets safe with us—at least, for the time being," she added, the smile gone. "But it brings me to my reason for being here. The Sceptered One, Kaanyr Vhok, Master of the Scourged Legions, lord of the portion of the Underdark through which you currently trespass, would delight in having an audience with you. I'm here to extend that invitation."
Almost as if on cue, there was a shout, dimly echoing, from far below. Without thinking, Pharaun turned and gazed over the edge of the precipice to the cavern floor below. There, Quenthel and the others had been in the process of crossing to a lower tunnel, one without switchbacks. Valas was rushing back from the mouth of the egress, apparently to join them. Behind him, a flood of tanarukks emerged from the passage and from others flanking it.
Observing the scene had taken but an instant, but it had been enough for the she-fiend to expend some sort of magical energy, which Pharaun could see radiating around her. He was on his guard, expecting an attack, but she did not move. Her green eyes, however, smoldered. Whether it was with lust or anger, he wasn't sure.
"I think you should accompany me back to the palace," the demon said, her voice husky. "You will like it there. Very much."
She began to saunter toward him as she spoke, and he could sense the energy flow over him. She was hoping to magically coerce him, somehow, the mage supposed. He backed up a step and put on his best apologetic smile.
"That, I'm afraid, is very much out of the question, at least for the moment. My companions need me."
The she-fiend's smile faded, and she pursed her lips in irritation.
"They are surrounded, you know," she said, pausing in her advance. "This is, at least for the moment, still an amicable offer. Go to them, convince them to return with me to Kaanyr's palace, and I promise you that the meeting will be cordial. My forces below have been instructed merely to hold their positions and prevent you and your friends from departing until I have a chance to make the offer to you. Will you do that?"
Pharaun smiled. "How well do you know Kaanyr Vhok?" he asked, his tone suggestive.
Her smile deepened, and her eyes glittered with what was definitely lust.
"Quite well," she answered, "but then again, he's terribly busy, so not as well as I would like. Come back to his palace with me."
Pharaun's own smile widened, and he asked. "What's your name?"
The she-fiend giggled once in amusement and said, "I almost forgot to tell you! I'm Aliisza. Now, will you come with me?"
"It's a delight to meet you, Aliisza, I'm Pharaun, and I'd love to accompany you, but for the moment, duty calls. Am I to assume that we will meet with resistance down there? Or has our discussion set your mind at ease to such an extent that we might pass out of Ammarindar unhindered today?"
Aliisza grinned and said, "I had my orders, dear. You were not to pass beyond the borders without a fight, but I tell you what . . . I'll give you a sporting chance, just because I like you." Her voice had turned husky again. "Just this once, I'll stay out of it. A few hundred tanarukks shouldn't cause you undue trouble, should they?"
Pharaun cocked his head to one side, as if considering that, then said, "Well, they will be a substantially greater difficulty than if we could move on unmolested, but as you say, it's a sporting chance. Until the next time we meet, then."
In answer, Aliisza nodded and smiled.
The mage leaned backward and dropped over the side of the precipice.
At Valas's distant shout, Quenthel looked up from where she had been staring absently at Jeggred's back, following the draegloth through the massive chamber. She spied the scout hurrying back from where he'd ventured ahead, and the high priestess spotted the hordes of tanarukks behind him, emerging from the sculpted tunnel wall. She swore under her breath, and the five snakes on her whip writhed in mimicry of her displeasure.
"We are cut off again, Mistress!" K'Sothra hissed. "Perhaps there is another way?"
"No, let us destroy them; taste their flesh and be done with them," Zinda argued, her own long black body straining forward eagerly.
"That's enough," Quenthel snapped, starting forward again to join with Valas.
The vipers quieted somewhat, but they still strained to pay attention to their mistress's surroundings, trying to sense any other possible dangers.
The tanarukks did not follow the scout but instead fanned out into a defensive formation. It seemed they were content to wait until the drow came to them.
So much the better, Quenthel thought grimly. They can line themselves up so that the wizard can decimate them most efficiently.
"What are they about?" Faeryl asked, trotting beside Quenthel. "Why aren't they chasing the male?"
She gestured toward Valas, who was only perhaps fifty paces from them.
"Why should they?" Quenthel countered, letting her long strides quickly close the gap between herself and Valas. "They somehow know we must go that way. It seems they're content to wait until we come to them."
Faeryl sniffed at this but said nothing more. "We should wade through them and slice them, let their blood stain our feet as we tread upon their corpses," Jeggred suggested, his own long strides easily matching Quenthel's quicker ones.
The Mistress of Tier Breche looked over at the draegloth and saw him lick his feral lips in anticipation.
"Nonsense," she said crisply. "There's no need to get messy when they seem willing to oblige us by standing over there and letting Pharaun dispatch them with a well-placed spell or two. Right, wizard?"
When there was no answer, Quenthel spun to face him—only to discover that he was not behind her. Only Ryld kept pace with the two females and the draegloth.
"Where in the Abyss is that damnable mage?" Quenthel growled at Ryld, who raised an eyebrow in surprise and turned to look back.
"He was right behind me," the warrior replied, letting his gaze sweep back and upward, toward the tunnel through which they had originally entered. "I don't know—there!"
The weapons master pointed high up the wall, and Quenthel had to stop in order to turn around sufficiently to see where Ryld was pointing. When she spotted Pharaun, she muttered an invective under her breath. He wasn't alone. There was someone, a woman, in conversation with him.
"Who is that with him? What is he doing?" the high priestess asked no one in particular.
Ryld shrugged and said, "I have no idea, Mistress. I never heard him stop."
"Well, get him down here, now! I need him," Quenthel ordered.
Ryld made as if to protest, then shrugged, turned back, and broke into a rapid jog back along the thoroughfare. When she turned back, Valas had reached their position.
"So?" she asked the scout.
Valas took one deep, calming breath and explained, "They've cut off our route again, and they've made sure this time that we won't go around their flank."
The scout pointed to several other exits from the large chamber.
Quenthel could see already that more of the tanarukks were there, each group similar in size to the one directly in front of them. They were gathering on the ledges and ramps, just on their side of the tunnel openings. It wasn't hard to see that they were intentionally halting the drow's progress, trying to force them to turn back.
"Obviously, they aren't here merely to attack us," she said, thinking aloud, "so they must want something else."
"Perhaps I can explain," Pharaun said, materializing out of a shimmering blue doorway that hung in the open air only a few feet away. The portal snapped out of existence as the wizard primped himself a bit, straightening his piwafwi and adjusting his pack. "We've been invited to join Kaanyr Vhok, the master of those fellows, for a discussion."
"What are you talking about? Who was that woman you were speaking with back there?" Quenthel demanded, seething at how Pharaun seemed so full of himself all the time.
The fact that he could still freely use his magic, while she could not, continually galled her. Though he might never say anything, she knew he loved flaunting the fact of it in front of her every chance he could. To add insult to injury, he seemed taken with showing unbridled politeness toward her. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He wanted something, she was sure.
"We thought you were in trouble. I sent Ryld back to look into it," Quenthel said. She jabbed a single finger outward, pointing at the distant figure of the weapons master. "Now I'll have to send Jeggred to catch up with him while you stay here and explain to me what this is all about."
Before the high priestess could direct the draegloth to do her bidding, though, Pharaun cut in. "Oh, that's not necessary. Allow me but a moment." The wizard turned and faced Ryld, pointed his finger, and began to whisper. "Ryld, my dear friend, I appreciate your concern for me, but I am quite fine and standing here among our esteemed companions. You can return from your quest to rescue me."
In the distance, Quenthel saw the warrior start and straighten. He turned around as Pharaun spoke. Ryld seemed to shake his head in consternation, and Quenthel thought she heard him sigh, though of course it was only a whisper. By the time the mage was finished, Ryld was already trudging back in their direction.
"Very clever, mage," Quenthel said, clenching her teeth. "Now why don't you be as useful in other ways and tell me what you were doing up there."
"Of course. That was Aliisza, a charming and somewhat gregarious representative of Master Vhok's. She was lurking in the shadows back when we ran into them—" he gestured into the distance at the tanarukks—"in the previous tunnel. They answer to her, and she answers to Vhok."
"Well, how interesting," Quenthel said, folding her arms. "And just what did you two have to talk about for so long? You weren't, perhaps, coming to some sort of an agreement with her, were you?"
Pharaun looked genuinely pained and said, "High Priestess, I only listened politely while she extended her offer. I could not, of course, give her any sort of proper answer without first conversing with you. I suspected what your answer would be before I even mentioned the invitation, but I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't at least deliver the message."
"Indeed.," Quenthel said. She knew good and well that the flamboyant wizard before her wouldn't have given a second thought to betraying her and the rest of them if it presented him with some worthwhile benefit. "Interesting that she chose you to be her messenger boy."
Pharaun grimaced, but only slightly.
"We share a common, uh ... appreciation for the arcane arts," he said at last. "We spent a few moments in idle conversation about the difficulties of traveling with those who don't share that appreciation."
Quenthel snorted. "I'm sure you were interested in more than her wizardly skills."
The mage's grin didn't change, but his eyes hardened the slightest bit. Good, she thought. Remind him that you see right through him.
"Very well," she said. "We're certainly not going to go back with the brutes to see Vhok, so the question is, how do we get through them and on our way?"
"There's no way to get around them," Valas said, "unless the ambassador knows this area and has a notion of another route we can take," he finished, looking at Faeryl.
The Zauvirr priestess shook her head.
"We're still too far away from the proper outskirts of Ched Nasad for me to recognize any features with certainty," she said.
"Then we must slay them," Jeggred announced. "Let me engage them and cut a path for you, Mistress."
"No, Jeggred, there's no need, however much fun you might think it would be. Pharaun, here, is going to get us through this. Aren't you?"
The mage grinned bemusedly and said, "I might have an incantation or two that will allow us to make our way through to the tunnel. Aliisza has assured me that, in good sporting fashion, she will stay out of it. Slaying these creatures should be minimal trouble."
"I'm not concerned with that. Just clear a path for us," Quenthel commanded.
"Very well," he said as he began to move forward, weaving the beginnings of a spell as he did so.

FOUR
Aliisza wasn't sure how Kaanyr would receive her latest news, but it didn't slow her steps. Tarrying to deliver it served no purpose. He would find out eventually, and she might as well pass it to him and get on to other, more interesting things. Besides, she wasn't really troubled by the prospect of the cambion's anger. He might fly off the handle from time to time, but he knew better than to direct it at her. Whether or not he flew into a rage this time, she had an idea that might just soothe his ruffled feathers and give her a bit of fun, besides.
Passing through the great doorway and into the throne room, Aliisza expected to find Vhok sitting on his throne, but he was not. He paced in front of it, which meant that he had serious things on his mind, serious in a bad way. The alu-fiend had a pretty good idea what those things were.
"Any more information on what that duergar horde is doing?" she asked as she approached him.
Vhok looked up from his contemplation, seemed to stare right through her for a moment, and at last said, "All I've been able to determine at the moment is that they don't seem to be headed in this direction, which is good."
"Good? Why?" Aliisza asked. She moved to sit on the top step of the dais. "I thought you liked the idea of a little sport for the Legions. You told me the other night that things were getting a bit staid around—"
"Because something big is definitely going on," Kaanyr interrupted, "and because they were responsible for wiping out the patrol to the northeast."
Aliisza had been about to stretch out, hoping to distract Kaanyr from all of this serious discussion for a few moments of romance, but she sat straight.
"That wasn't just a roving band of duergar," Vhok continued, "they were professional mercenaries. The Xornbane clan, if the evidence is correct. They don't go anywhere without major coin changing hands and big battles in the works."
Aliisza pursed her lips in thought.
"So if they aren't moving against us," she said, "then where?"
"Though I already have an idea, I was hoping you could tell me," Kaanyr said, looking down at the alu-fiend, "Where are my guests?"
Aliisza avoided meeting Vhok's gaze.
"I wasn't able to convince them to join us," she said carefully, "and after they defeated my little patrol as easily as they did, I thought it wise not to pursue the matter so directly."
"Defeated? Wiped out is more like it."
Kaanyr's tone was measured, and Aliisza could tell he was displeased.
So he already knew, did he? Is he spying on me, now?
She was glad she'd been up front with him on the subject. It had been tempting to fudge the truth a bit, to tell him that the tanarukks had not followed her instructions, but in the end, something had convinced her that she was going to have to start being a little more careful with Vhok.
"They are formidable," she answered at last. "The wizard with them is ... interesting. He's the one I spoke with, and it was definitely he who plowed through the Legions. Drow are formidable to begin with, and it was a tactical error on my part to engage them in such a large chamber. They were able to easily evade the Scourged simply by getting up off the floor and out of range. Pharaun laid waste to the troops without much of a thought."
"I'm sure you did the best you could," Kaanyr said, waving her explanation away. Aliisza scowled at the insult but said nothing. "It's probably just as well. It seems that the gray dwarves are bound and determined to reach Ched Nasad, which is where our little visitors are headed, as well, I think. We weren't going to dissuade them from that without bringing the entire might of the Scourged Legions, as well as some of your sisters, to bear."
"I did find out a couple more things," Aliisza said, ready to spring her idea on Vhok. "They are all high-ranking nobles from Menzoberranzan, not just the priestess. The wizard is powerful enough to be a member, if not a master, of Sorcere, and some of the things he admitted to convinced me that most of the others are of similar rank."
"Well, that's all very interesting, but I probably would have inferred that from the fact that the Mistress of the Academy was out with such a small group to begin with. It still doesn't tell me what they're doing. It may help to answer the questions of why the grays are on the move."
"Well, I have an idea about that," Aliisza said, reaching the moment of truth. She wondered if Kaanyr would agree with her plan or choose to use someone else. "Whatever it is they're planning to do when they reach Ched Nasad, they all seem very concerned, very grim. Whatever it is, it's serious, and I bet they aren't the only drow in the city who are in the know about it. So why don't I sneak into Ched Nasad and snoop around a little?"
Kaanyr looked at Aliisza, pursing his lips. She wasn't sure if he was thinking about her idea or just studying her to see if she was up to something. Of course she intended to do just what she said, so he had no reason not to trust her on it, but if she had a little fun on the side, well then, what would be the harm in that? She needed a vacation from Ammarindar, from Vhok. Maybe a little time apart would do him some good, too, she thought.
"All right," he said at last, and the alu-fiend grinned broadly before she caught herself. "Go and see what you can find out. In fact, I want you to drop in on Aunrae. If there's something going on, the matron mothers will be in the know. I'd like to keep my relationship with her on good terms, at least for the moment, so be polite. And keep me updated. I don't want to have to come find you to see what you've learned."
Aliisza was nodding energetically as she stood up and headed out the door.
"I will," she promised, already contemplating the sort of disguise she'd like to use.
* * *
As Khorrl felt the wagon finally roll to a stop, he almost groaned aloud. His legs were cramping where he'd wedged himself into the hiding spot beneath the pile of supplies. He could barely stand to be there much longer, and he prayed to Laduguer that the trip was actually over. He couldn't imagine having to crouch there for even another few minutes.
The tarp over the top of the wagon was thrown back, and dim light shone down on the goods stacked beneath it. Of course, to anyone not properly prepared, that's all they would have seen—a wagon-load of supplies for the city. Khorrl waited as he listened, not daring to move, in case it was merely another checkpoint. He didn't even want to breathe, for fear of being heard by whomever—or whatever—might be inspecting the wagon.
"It's all right," he heard a drow voice say, and he recognized it as belonging to Zammzt. The dark elf was near enough that there was no mistaking who he was talking to. "You can show yourselves, now. We're inside the storehouse."
With a thankful groan, Khorrl rose up, feeling his knees complaining. Around him, fourteen other duergar did the same, winking back into visibility one by one. They looked at each other, as if to confirm that everyone was all right, and began to peer around at their surroundings. Khorrl himself hopped awkwardly down from the wagon, grabbing his axe as he did so. Nearby, more wagons were being uncovered, and more of his fighters appeared, clambering out from between crates, barrels, and bales of foodstuffs. He knew that there were over twenty wagons, so he had about three hundred troops. More would arrive, in waves, over the course of the next several hours.
As Zammzt had promised, they were set up inside a large, open room, obviously a storehouse of some sort, though there were no goods there other than what was on the wagons. Ostensibly, the contents of the wagons were for the benefit of the Houses, but in reality, it was his army's supplies. They were going to be camping there for a few days, resting and preparing while the other duergar units arrived, all of them waiting until it was time to do their job. Khorrl hoped the storehouses would be left undisturbed, as promised.
A handful of drow moved about, uncovering wagons in order to free their hidden occupants or unloading the supplies and stacking them out of the way. Khorrl could see Zammzt looking a couple of wagons over, giving some young drow male a few instructions. When the dark elf was finished, he turned back to the duergar clan leader.
"I hope you find everything in order here, Captain Xornbane," Zammzt said, smiling. "I know it's not quite like roughing it in the wilds of the Underdark, but it should accommodate you well enough."
"It's fine, as long as no one comes snooping around here before we're ready to begin. The last thing we need is the city catching wind of us before your mistress is ready to fly her true colors."
Khorrl paced about as he spoke, trying to get the feeling back in his legs as much as surveying his temporary home.
"I seriously doubt that's going to be a problem," Zammzt said, smiling. Khorrl wanted to tell him to stop it. The grin reminded the duergar of a pack lizard's visage. "I've got loyal drow troops on guard duty around the storehouse, and you're sequestered here in the far back chamber. No one will bother you."
"If you say so," Khorrl answered doubtfully. He had seen more battles take a turn for the worse through the most simple, straight-forward aspect of the plan going awry. "Just remember, all that beautiful treasure you gave me is already long gone, shipped off to safer parts. If you're thinking of turning the tables, you won't be seeing it again. It'll be an expensive betrayal."
Zammzt looked genuinely hurt, but only for a moment.
"I'm not sure you realize the risks my mistress takes, simply harboring an army here," said the drow. "If you're discovered, she too suffers the consequences. It really isn't in her best interests to turn on you, you know."
"Hmm," Khorrl answered. "We'll see."
"So, I presume you brought everything you need," the drow said, changing the subject, "but if there's anything else you want while you wait here, now is the time to ask. Though, for what we're paying you ..."
Khorrl barked a deep laugh despite himself. The idea that he would bring his troops into such an uncertain situation without arranging for every provision, every possible contingency, was funny.
"No, we're fine. Now, when are we going to find out just exactly who we're supposed to be killing?"
"Soon, my gray friend," Zammzt said, that toothy smile blossoming again. "Very soon."
* * *
In the end, the battle with the tanarukks wasn't much of a fight at all. Pharaun had devastated rank upon rank of the slavering humanoids from a distance, even going so far as to decimate the reserve forces lurking in the back. He honestly didn't even find it sporting, especially when he was able to hover overhead, out of their reach, and attack them at his leisure.
The Menzoberranyr were well beyond the halls of Ammarindar, and after a night's rest they were closing in on Ched Nasad.
"We should be running into patrols by now," Faeryl grumbled as they hiked along. "We're within a quarter mile of the city. Something's wrong."
"I think we knew that before we left Menzoberranzan," Quenthel snapped.
The group found itself on the main thoroughfare that led into the city from the north, wondering when they would actually reach the surrounding outskirts of the city proper, the area protected by patrols. Pharaun couldn't blame Faeryl for being apprehensive. Even after several tendays of concern for her home city, he imagined that she might have held out some hope that she would find everything in order upon finally arriving. Still, he doubted that some disaster had befallen the city. Though they hadn't yet encountered any patrols, they were no longer alone on the road to the city.
Traffic flowing to and from Ched Nasad was a trickle of its normal self, at least according to the ambassador. Pharaun didn't doubt it. The avenue they followed was broad, wide enough for numerous caravans to pass in either direction, but there were no such convoys out and about that day. Most of those who shared the road with the Menzoberranyr were other drow, though the occasional gray dwarf, kobold, or goblin passed them as well. Those lesser beings gave the drow a wide berth. Any pedestrians who were headed toward the city were scattered just as far apart as those leaving, and Pharaun and his companions neither passed nor were passed by anyone.
The mage made a tactful attempt to bring up the suggestion he had been contemplating. "Quenthel, if something has happened here, similar to what we've been experiencing back home, it might be prudent to consider a less obvious entrance into the city."
"What do you mean?" the high priestess queried, looking sharply at Pharaun.
"Only that should we boldly approach and announce our stature and intentions, we might not receive the warm welcome we should under more ordinary circumstances."
"Why shouldn't they be glad to see us? Even relieved?"
It sounded as though Quenthel was growing indignant, and Pharaun struggled to find a way to explain his point in a way that wouldn't sound insulting.
Faeryl saved him the effort. "Because they might think we're here to spy on them," she said.
Pharaun had to suppress a mild chuckle. It was, after all, the exact reason Triel had claimed when she imprisoned the envoy back in Menzoberranzan. It was a reasonable argument.
"Not if we insist upon meeting with the matron mothers of the highest Houses—" Quenthel began.
"With all due respect, Mistress," Faeryl interjected, "do you think you would react well to a high-ranking noble arriving in Menzoberranzan and insisting upon seeing you? During this time of crisis?"
Quenthel scowled and said nothing. Pharaun was relieved that the high priestess was at least willing to contemplate the idea.
"Even if they didn't think we were spies, they certainly would consider our visit to be highly unusual and would strive to keep an eye on us," the mage said. "We might be given the most luxurious accommodations and want for nothing, but we would also be absolutely unable to find out anything. Once we determine the state of things here, if it's really your intention to lay claim to the goods stored in the Black Claw Mercantile storehouses and take them back to Menzoberranzan, why draw undue attention to yourself? Were you planning to ask the matron mothers for them, first?"
Quenthel scowled at Pharaun as if the very idea of asking permission to take what was rightfully hers was preposterous. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.
"Faeryl," the wizard persisted, "even though the goods are rightfully the property of House Baenre and House Melarn, do you foresee Matron Mother Melarn—indeed, any of the other Houses—letting them out of the city?"