Queen of the Demonweb Pits Read online

  “Yes, Magnificence. Everything is ready.” The secretary irritably lashed her coils, then duly made notes. “One town—convert populace to foodstuffs. Details to be made up as we go along….”

  “But first, we have a few little, trivial tasks to do!” The Queen of the Demonweb Pits snapped a finger at her secretary. “Come! The rest of you, stay here and try not to do anything idiotic!”

  The archway beckoned. Lolth pulled a pouch of black thorns from her belt and tossed a handful through the arch. Magic flashed, and a shimmering portal blazed into life. Shielding her eyes from the glare, Lolth stepped through the gate, beckoning her secretary in her wake.

  “Come on! You’re always such a dodderer!”

  The magic gateway flashed, and Lolth and her secretary emerged from an archway made from pure black ivy deep inside a forest. Gigantic statues of long dead kings stood half-buried in old leaf mold, scowling at the demoness as she stood and spread her arms.

  “One hundred and one days! A third of a year since the destruction of my underground kingdom.” Black silk shimmered as Lolth’s new demon body swirled like a girl. “Do you know what I have dwelt on every hour of all those hundred days?”

  The secretary shot a droll glance at her mistress. “Affairs of state, Magnificence?”

  “No, my dear dull darling. I have been contemplating revenge.” Lolth sniffed and regarded her companion. “You’re such a drab!”

  “Yes, Magnificence.”

  Lolth walked amongst the trees. “There is a dreary proverb that revenge is a dish best savored cold.” Lolth draped herself elegantly over a branch. “I believe revenge is a dish best savored alive and twitching.”

  The secretary answered with a patient sigh. Six hands held a total of three notebooks and three pens.

  “These beings, Magnificence, destroyed an entire city. Do not take them lightly.”

  “Oh?” The demon queen contemplated the silver black widow brooches that were the mainstay of her clothing. “And how, dear dunce, would you deal with them?”

  “I would dispatch twenty demons to kill them in their sleep.” The secretary stabbed her pen into a notebook. “I would grind the pieces to a powder and scatter them grain by grain into the deepest ocean.”

  “And that, my dear, is why I am queen of evil, and not you.” Lolth gave the serpent-woman a sidewise glance. “I don’t want their death! I want their despair! Shock, horror, false hope, total panic! I want harassment for day after day, week after week. I want them in tears of fright and shame!”

  The secretary looked at her mistress through lowered lashes. “And then kill them?”

  “Obviously kill them! Eaten alive by giant spiders, their living skulls used as my chamber pot, their souls made my screaming playthings.” Lolth brushed it all away. “But the chase is the thing! We’re talking of revenge quality, not quantity!. What we need here is applied irony, with just a teeny dab of sheer injustice!” Lolth used the head of a statue as her perch. “I have given two names to my itch: Escalla and the Justicar.” Lolth crossed her legs and clicked her fingers, accepting the crystal ball from her secretary. “The process is simple. All we need to ask ourselves is what would enrage our little friends more than anything in the entire world?”

  The time was drawing near when the first troops would come through the tunnel gate. The secretary tapped a pen against her notepad, bringing Lolth to order.

  “Shall we get on with business, Magnificence? Surely the day is wasting.”

  Annoyed, Lolth dusted off the crystal ball. “You try me at times.”

  The secretary froze, flicked open her notepad, and met Lolth eye to eye, awaiting orders.

  It was a delicate game that the secretary played. Lolth had trapped her into slavery—and in return, the secretary had made herself indispensable. They both knew it was a delicate relationship based on mutual scorn and exasperation.

  “Escalla the faerie.” With a snort, Lolth grabbed the crystal ball as Escalla’s image glowed to life. “Vain, egotistical, and with a dress sense that could cause a riot at a succubus orgy—although I must admit, I do like the gloves.” Lolth regarded her little victim with glee. “A prodigal child, much loved by her father—a fact that enraged Escalla’s sister, Tielle. We were grooming Tielle to betray the Seelie Court into our hands. Too bad it failed.”

  Lolth tossed the crystal ball aside. Her secretary dived and saved the ball an instant before it smashed.

  “In any case, here we are to set our first little wheels in motion!”

  The rattle on the secretary’s serpent tail gave a weary flick. “And where is here, Magnificence?”

  “Here is the place where we get things moving!” Lolth looked annoyed. “Really, you’re so dull. What was your name again?”

  “Morag, Magnificence.”

  “Morag?” Lolth recoiled. “Erch! I should have guessed! How horribly appropriate. All right, I’ll have one snake scale if you please.”

  Morag thought about arguing, then decided it was hardly worth the effort. She winced, plucked a single scale from her tail, then handed it to her queen. Lolth inspected the scale, sniffed at its scent of brimstone and perfume, and leaped from her perch. She wandered over to an arch made from two statues that had tilted over head-to-head.

  The portal flashed as the demon’s scale touched its surface. The gateway transported the pair to a deep, echoing underground chamber—a place lit by sickly blue stalactites and filled by a vile quicksilver pool.

  Lolth twiddled her fingers. The scale had disappeared, consumed by the gate.

  “A terribly convenient way to travel. The portals run all through this little chunk of the Flanaess. They’re known only to the faeries! How convenient we had one on our team.” The demon queen walked idly beside the great shallow pool. “Of course, the faeries don’t know where most of them go. We found this little haven by accident. Isn’t it delicious?”

  The demon queen found herself a seat and relaxed. Left to her own devices, Morag the secretary bunched and flowed her body over to the silvery pool. It shimmered sluggishly, as though driven by a slow, living pulse. Setting her ball, her horn, and her notes aside, the secretary leaned over the pool and looked down at her own reflection. She frowned in puzzlement.

  From behind her, Lolth’s multi-tiered voice chorused, “It’s called the vampire pool. I wouldn’t touch it.” Lolth inspected her nails. “It likes its blood very good or very evil, and it can’t have yours. Not yet anyway.”

  Minutes later, a flash announced the opening of the magical gate. Lolth stood, her face radiant with smiles.

  “Ah! At last we are all here!”

  A male faerie hovered in the air—a sly, dark creature in the dress of the Seelie court. Black leathers and a mask hid the little creatures identity. Behind him, hovering in mid air, there was a large and heavy bucket full of weird pink goo. The faerie saw Lolth standing cool and glorious before him, her long silver hair falling in a cascade to the floor. He bowed softly and elegantly, averting his eyes.

  “Magnificence. You do me too much honor.”

  “Yes.” Lolth walked silkily between the eerie stalagmites, giving a coy glance toward the little faerie lord. “And have you brought me a gift?”

  “Magnificence, I have brought you the present we discussed.”

  “Ah. Excellent.” Lolth gave a droll wave of her fingers at the pulsing silver pool behind her “And here is your reward. Within this pool is the power to wreak your havoc. If you wish to carve an empire out of the bodies of your enemies, then here you are.”

  The faerie walked over to the pool and stared in fascination at the ebb and flow of patterns in the silver lake. Sleek and beautiful, Lolth tiptoed over beside him and smiled down into her own reflection.

  “So much power! For evil blood, it gives the ability to sear your enemies to death!”

  The faerie looked up at Lolth in raw greed and wonder. “Do I scoop it out? Bathe in it?”

  “Why don’t you try touching i
t?”

  The faerie grinned, then plunged his hand into the water.

  And died. One moment, he was standing there, one finger extended into the pool, and in the next, he was a desiccated husk, drained of all blood.

  Lolth’s secretary sniffed in disapproval. Standing by the edge of the pool, Lolth kicked the dried, empty husk into the pool. The corpse disappeared with a splash that left a new tide line of ripples. The liquid glowed red with energy, and Lolth looked over at Morag’s irritated glare.

  Lolth shrugged. “I’m a demon queen. Why would anyone take one of my suggestions?” She traipsed over to the bucket left beside the magic gate. “Now, to business.”

  The bucket was unceremoniously upended. Flowing sullenly out of the container came a pink puddle adorned with two eyes and occasional patches of hair. The eyes blinked up at Lolth, and turned wide with shock. Lolth twiddled her fingers, drifted a little shower of magic down onto the blob, and hummed a little tune as she worked, happy as a child.

  “Up we come! Arise! Arise!”

  Nothing happened. The blob blinked, Lolth frowned, and Morag sighed.

  “You will need to expend actual power. The original spell was cast by the faerie Escalla.”

  “I am aware of that!” Lolth did it properly this time. Standing above the pink blob, she opened her hands, power arcing brilliantly between her palms. With a cry, Lolth brought her hands together in a clap. “Arise!”

  Below her, the pink blob flexed and shifted.

  It had been a savagely cunning combination of spells: flesh-to-stone, then stone-to-mud, and then the flesh-to-stone spell had been revoked. Tielle, Escalla’s sister—murderess, schemer, and traitor to faerie—had been turned into a still-living puddle of flesh. The blob had been sealed in the dungeons of the Seelie court, awaiting the Erlking’s pleasure. The goddess Lolth now sheared through Escalla’s magic. There was a gasp, and Tielle lay in a ball on the ice-cold stone, her long blonde hair flowing all about her in a stream.

  The faerie jerked upright—frightened, shocked, but alive. She threw out her arms in joy, staring at her reformed flesh, and then looked up at Lolth in abject wonder. She prostrated herself, only to be raised up and caressed.

  Lolth stood with her head tilted impishly to one side. She gestured to Morag, who handed her a dainty drinking horn.

  “Dear Tielle! The pool, I give to you. It’s holy water—or reverse holy water, depending on the ingredients you add.” Lolth dipped into it with the drinking horn, and the horn sucked in gallon after gallon of the water, tinging itself silver-red with the power of the pool. “Blood drives it. When you put in the life-blood of something evil, the water then burns the good! When you put in good blood, it burns the evil! The horn will allow you to carry a useful amount of the fluid—do you see? All you need to do to burn your enemies is sacrifice some worthless evil thing into the pool!”

  Tielle stared at the pool, lost in shock, then looked wide-eyed at Lolth. The demon queen curled a finger sympathetically through Tielle’s long, soft hair.

  “Poor Tielle. Outsmarted by your sister. Chased, hounded, humiliated. Brought down before all your friends and family by Escalla. Total degradation!”

  Lolth tossed Tielle the crystal ball. In it, there shone the tiny image of Escalla winging happily upon her daily chores.

  “You have a pool, a horn, and a crystal ball.” Lolth coiled silkily around the little faerie, resting her face to whisper in Tielle’s attentive ear.

  “Now, whatever will we find to talk about?”

  The town of Keggle Bend was shockingly overcrowded. The population from dozens of outlying towns, farms, and villages had all come into the city—the only high ground in the entire region. They thronged the streets, made shantytowns in the alleyways, and huddled outside the city walls. Every government building had given up its lower floors to refugees, and every house and shop was filled with poor families.

  Shouldering his way gently through the mob, the Justicar nodded. The city had made a superb effort to do justice to its citizens. The homeless were being sheltered, the poor fed. City officials led soldiers through the throng, trying to make order out of the chaos and clean away the filth that might lead to disease.

  The Justicar approved. A good effort was being made. Feeling solid and calm, the man moved carefully through the crowds, opening the way for Henry who followed in his wake. The street ahead was hopelessly jammed. Jus stepped onto the stairs that led to the ramparts of the city wall. He grabbed Henry by the arm and effortlessly hauled the young man up onto the steps beside him. They stood a moment like castaways on an island watching the flotsam swirl about them, and then climbed steadily up the steps onto the battlements above.

  Jus kept his hand on Henrys shoulder, steadying him. Henry had tied his untidy blond hair back from his face, and threaded cords through his mail to keep it silent. He was learning well. Jus nodded and led the boy up and away from the streets, looking out across the shale rooves of Keggle Bend.

  “Crowds. Minimal danger from missiles. Maximum danger from daggers. But to do that, they have to get close. If the crowd is thick enough, they’ll have trouble getting enough force to penetrate your armor.” Jus’ sharp, suspicious eyes flicked to check the streets and rooftops as he talked. “Deep in a packed mob, your sword blade is an impediment. The pommel is better than the blade. Draw from the scabbard and punch the hilt at an enemy’s guts—hard! You can break his nose with your knee as he folds. A man with a broken nose is a man out of the fight for thirty seconds.”

  Henry hung on every word, his face serious. The Justicar remembered a younger self, and so he drilled information into the boy carefully and faithfully.

  “Cities aren’t frightening. The shapes here are angular; the shapes of enemies usually aren’t. Check windows. Check roofs. Do it as you walk. Areas where light changes sharply are easy to hide in—both for you and an enemy. Always keep note of a place near you where you can defend. Always look for the nearest cover. Look for a place where you can drop out of sight, move fast, and attack from an unexpected angle.”

  These were the lessons that made the Justicar a lethal force. Attack with surprise; attack with absolute destructive force. Move swiftly; move decisively. Henry was a good pupil, but the boy still let violence shock him. He had not yet found the path that would let him ride it like a god.

  They had reached the top ten feet of stairs. Cinders sniffed and slowly bristled up his fur. Instantly stopping to listen, the Justicar crouched with one hand on his sword.

  “What is it?”

  Crash-a-boom. It was getting dark, and it was hours still till sunset. Cinders jittered his tail, flattening his ears and sounding unhappy. Bad crash-a-boom.

  Henry had his crossbow in his arms, watching his mentor’s back. “Sir, what did he say? Crash-a-boom?”

  “It’s all right.” Jus straightened, giving a shake of his head. “He hears a thunder storm.”

  “Oh.” Henry looked at the agitated hell hound, which had begun leaking sulfurous steam. “Cinders is scared of storms?”

  Cinders brave! Big dog! Burn!

  The Justicar’s scarred, stubbled face creased in a rare little smile. “When there’s an S-T-O-R-M, he likes to H-I-D-E.”

  Cinders like storm. Cinders proudly lifted up his ears. Storm be fun! Big boom! Tree catch fire—burn, burn! The hell hound sniffed. Rainstorm bad. Wet, wet. No fire. Makes man smell like old wet sock.

  Looking up past his helmet brim, Jus gave a thoughtful frown. “When did you learn to spell?”

  Funny faerie teach! Cinders’ grin gleamed. He was immensely pleased with himself. Cinders know S-T-O-R-M storm, W-A-L-K walk, and B-A-T-H bath!

  “Remind me to thank her.” Bath day for Cinders was always an experience to be endured. Escalla had just made the process a smidgen more difficult than necessary. “Why did she teach you spelling?”

  Let faerie sleep naked on fur! Warm!

  “Wonderful.”

  At the top of the city�
��s curtain wall, guards armed with bows watched and waited. One man raised a hand in cautious welcome, wary of the Justicar’s grim, forbidding presence. The big man looked as if he could easily clear the entire wall with his sword.

  “Halt!” the guardsman shouted. “Garrison only. There’s no housing up here.”

  “We’re not staying.” The Justicar nodded his chin toward the south. “We’ve come from the north. I’m looking for your captain of Rangers to ask about the road south.”

  Shrugging, the nearest soldier waved his bow at the city. The streets were packed like a cattle yard.

  “He’s somewhere down in that. You can wait here on the steps if you like. He’ll be back soon.”

  “Fine.”

  They sat at the top of the steps, making themselves comfortable. The Justicar unshipped his camp flask, poured a beer for himself, one for Henry, then poured a drink for the nearest guard. The man hesitated, then took the drink. It was the last of the Faerie Court’s best ale, imported from the outer planes and heavy as drop-forged steel. The guard took one hesitant sip, then another, then rested his backside on the battlements with his back to the big wide world.

  He finished the drink, looking relaxed and relieved. Watching him, Jus sat with Cinders in his lap, brushing the hell hound’s black fur to a shine. Jus took back the cup and snapped it into place on his canteen.

  “Rough?”

  The soldier looked at the city’s ludicrous crowds and gave a dismal sigh.

  “Noisy. Crowded. But the granary’s full.” The guard jerked his chin at the river. “Floods won’t last. Happened like this ten years ago. Soon goes away.”

  You should do something about it. Benelux’s voice echoed inside the Justicar’s skull. A true ruler should cure this at the source, not simply manage the symptoms. You should build retaining walls or drainage canals!

  “The wars might have disrupted public building projects.” The Justicar glowered at the sword. “Always uncover facts before you make accusations.”

  He put the finishing touches on Cinders’ coat with a wet cloth, making the hell hound gleam. The guard watched the hell hound’s face assume a goofy look. The living pelt hammered his tail upon the ground.