Chapter 3
Victory and Death
The
combined power of the high priestesses of Baenre struck forcefully, but most of
it seemed to rebound off some shield. Baenre knew what the shield was – one of the daughters of Do'Urden was
rumored to be of strong psychic persuasion, enough to rival Matron Kyorl of
House Oblodran.
The
counter blow came, and it seemed that it magnified, and Baenre knew suddenly
that something they had done had angered Lloth. Some stupid soldiers had killed a spider.
Their
spider statue shattered, spraying Baenre's circle of eight with hot shards, but
Baenre grimly led them on.
Baenre
had fifteen – fifteen high priestesses. Enough to swamp Do'Urden's mere five. She gave House Do'Urden an hour at most.
They
struck again and again, the waves of mental energy rolling out towards the
fifth House.
Matron
Baenre knew she had to win. The rules
of Menzoberranzan called for a raid to be executed perfectly. When she was done with the five priestesses,
she would organize efforts to safely pen in the giant spiders, then with her
remaining soldiers hunt out and obliterate the Do'Urden soldiers from the city.
She
did wonder faintly how Dantrag and Gromph were going on. She knew that they were going to confront
Jarlaxle and Zaknafein Do'Urden...she blinked
In
the cavernous chapel, blue portals appeared. Surrounding the circle of eight and the other high priestesses.
And
more giant spiders stepped out.
**
"What
did you do?" Gromph demanded. Zaknafein's head was bowed, though his shield did not waver, he hadn't
countered any blows.
Zaknafein's
head snapped up, eyes burning, though also tainted with intense weariness. Then he smiled, and an immense jolt of
energy shook Gromph's shielding. "I
wonder how your mother likes giant spiders?" he asked softly.
Gromph
snarled. "When I'm through with you..."
"I'd
wish I've never been born?" Zaknafein asked, palms out. Gromph immediately braced himself, and the
jets of intense fire roiled off his shield. "Sometimes I wish that myself."
"How
long more can you continue standing, Zaknafein?" Gromph asked, "Already you are
tired, but I am..."
"Also
tired," Zaknafein grinned, "Fair's fair." More lightning lanced out, then cones of cold, and then a billowing
cloud of ghastly yellow vapor appeared over Gromph's shields.
Gromph
held on grimly, dispelling the Cloudkill spell easily, then lashing out with a
vertical column of fire that enveloped Zaknafein's shields.
Zaknafein
in turned dispelled that spell, and they rounded off again. Gromph realized suddenly that Zaknafein
seemed a bit closer than before.
Below, Jarlaxle ducked a sword blow, then swept
out with his feet, immediately stepping back for balance without even seeing if
he had missed, his swords arcing in again, neatly deflected by Dantrag.
Dantrag
forced and locked swords with Jarlaxle, then continued to push the swords
towards Jarlaxle's throat. The Baenre
Weapon Master was stronger than Jarlaxle, though Jarlaxle was the faster.
A
searing wave of heat made him falter for a short second, but Jarlaxle had
broken free and nicked his shoulder, then the Do'Urden Weapon Master dived in
with a fury, swords clipping always at his hands, so fast that Dantrag could
only trust that he could counter all of them.
When
Jarlaxle stepped back, Dantrag felt that his hands were numbing quickly, but
forced himself to continue. Jarlaxle
stepped in again, driving them over the burnt bodies.
Dantrag
stepped quickly back and a dagger appeared as if by magic in his hand. His foot landed behind him for balance...and
he slipped as he stepped on something squishy. A goblin's outstretched palm.
He
still remembered himself well enough to roll away as Jarlaxle's swords in turn
drove into where he was. An inch more
and they would have stuck in the ground – as it was it only drove through the
palm he had stepped on.
"Lloth's
own luck," Dantrag snarled.
Jarlaxle
nodded graciously. "I'd always wondered
why the merchant sent his bodyguards after my brother and I," he said as if
they were but strolling down a street. "The purse wasn't that big. Turned out he kept the pendant in it away from prying drow eyes." Jarlaxle touched the pendant in question.
Dantrag's
hands were numbing quickly, but he ignored them and attacked again, slightly
desperately. Jarlaxle fell to an easy
rhythm. "Do you know what they do?"
"I
care not," Dantrag growled, deflecting a feint, then quickly intercepting the
thrust.
"I'm
sure you do," Jarlaxle said, in turn catching a nasty slice at his throat. "The dice twists luck itself. I save the luck for important things – like
this, for example, though most of it is with Matron Malice and the
soldiers. It turns luck into some kind
of stored thing, like money. You can
spend it or keep it. When I keep it, I
don't have luck as much as a normal drow would. When I over-use it, I have bad luck until the balance is
restored. Obviously, I'm using it now."
"How
much more?" Dantrag smiled suddenly.
Jarlaxle
raised an eyebrow. "For as long as I
want, though of course the period of bad luck after this would be longer. Zak and I split the money, of course – I got
the pendant, and he got something else."
Dantrag's
back hit something hard, and he panicked briefly, swerving away, nearly losing
his balance. A rock formation was the
culprit, but he barely recovered in time to take Jarlaxle's strike.
"See?"
Jarlaxle grinned. "Luck."
"Damn
you," Dantrag said, launching into a sequence, swords flying up, then down,
then up again, but he noted with some shock that his hands were shaking a
little.
"How
long can you last, Dantrag?" Jarlaxle smiled, "When my brother is done with
yours, I'm sure he'd like to watch and find out. I'd have to persuade him not to interfere, of course."
"Gromph
is the Archmage," Dantrag said, "Zaknafein is but..."
"A
Master at Sorcere," Jarlaxle said rather serenely. "Head of Sorcere is the Archmage. Close enough...isn't it? Zaknafein, in the idea of many in
Menzoberranzan, should have been ArchMage, if not for Baenre."
Dantrag
merely growled. For the first time, he
was beginning to feel afraid.
**
Those
not in the Baenre circle of eight formed one of their own, concentrating on
holding a shield up against the spiders.
The creatures had
seemed to split into two groups, one that had gone off to rampage the halls of
House Baenre, and the others trying to get in at them.
Then the sisters noted
something strange – six of the giant spiders had reared up, front legs
waving. They watched in horror as a
purplish portal appeared, and the spiders stepped through.
Appearing inside their
circle.
**
"The
spiders have broken through," Matron Malice murmured, "Hold on, daughters."
Already
several of the common priestesses had fallen, and those who could take their
place were faltering.
Malice
took pride that none of her daughters had fallen, not even Lanfaye, the
youngest, who was single-handedly holding up their shields. It was strange – Lanfaye had very little
clerical strength. Some of the novices
in Arach-Tinilith were stronger than her, but her psychic strength held against
anything Baenre was throwing against her, but her face was beginning to look
very strained, as were the others.
Vierna,
the eldest, was the strongest as well, stronger even than Malice, though she
adhered very closely to her own rules, such that Malice was sure that a mere
suggestion that she kill Malice to be Matron Mother would cause her to faint on
the spot.
Taralyn
after Vierna was big for a drow female, but her face was rather vague looking
at best. Not exactly beautiful, she
could be called handsome. Taralyn too,
was powerful, but her heart was disturbingly free of spite or any such ugly
emotions. Taralyn was perfectly loyal
to Malice, even to the extent of saving the Matron's life several times. Taralyn was strong in that she could 'take'
a lot – she was absorbing most of Baenre's hits, allowing Malice to provide the
strength to concentrate fully on Baenre's circle.
Dantrena,
with her large, melting eyes and enchanting face, was stunningly beautiful, but
she was stronger in the offensive spells and healing than Vierna herself, two
strange combinations. She spearheaded
the 'attacks' on the Baenre circle. Again, a mere novice, with luck, could defeat her – her defensive skills
were meager at best.
As
fitting a team as they were, they wouldn't hold up any longer. Malice could only pray to Lloth that they
would hold long enough.
**
The
portal spiders quickly killed off the circle of eight, some of them dying as
Baenre sisters in desperation tried to lash out with their spells, their
snake-whips discarded as the heads refused to turn on the spiders.
The
large shield faltered then collapsed, and the other spiders flowed in hungrily.
Matron Baenre screamed
and opened her eyes when something sharp stabbed into her neck, and her
flailing arms held something furry and thin. A giant spider?
She
turned to curse the others with her dying breath and ask for help, but the
words froze in her mouth even as she wrenched away from her attacker.
Of
her daughters, only two remained – Quenthel weakly moving under three spiders
tearing at her, and one more in a heap of robes, at which some bluish spider
with blade-like legs was occupied slicing to ribbons.
"How?"
Baenre wailed, even as the spiders started to surround her. The venom from the bite was flowing into her
veins. "Lloth, help me! Lloth...."
**
Gromph
was driven to his knees by the last immense bolt of raw energy, but he made
himself hold on to his shields. No more
spells...the very thought of that was frightening him. He remembered no more spells.
Abruptly
he realized Zaknafein was right in front of him. He looked up, and saw the other mage's fist flying towards him,
connecting with his nose and driving him forcefully against the rail.
Zaknafein's
other hand shot into his robe, emerging with a dagger. Before Gromph could even recover from the
blow, it stabbed deep into his chest.
"Sometimes
it's better to do it this way. Faster,
at least," Zaknafein smiled. "Lloth,
what will Jarlaxle think of me?"
"Damn...you,"
Gromph gurgled. Zaknafein reached
forward, and snatched the chain of office from Gromph's neck.
"You
never deserved this," Zaknafein said calmly, ignoring the other mage's clawing
on the ground.
He
watched as Gromph's twitching hand stilled, then turned away, starting to walk to
approximately the center of the balcony before going to Jarlaxle's help.
He
whirled abruptly when he heard a hoarse rasp of words behind him, and managed
to see Gromph's smirk. "If...I cannot
have...it...neither will you!" The last
three words a roar, and something exploded behind him.
The
glass from the sliding doors burst out, deadly shards flying to him, and he
dived down, but the fragments stabbed deep into him.
Stupid overconfident idiot! He wailed at
himself, as the darkness came.