Read Online Resurrection by Paul S. Kemp - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Paul S. Kemp
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy fiction, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Epic, Queens, Forgotten realms (Imaginary place), Resurrection
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made no other answer. He could have flown, of course, using the ring he had taken from Belshazu, but decided not to provoke Quenthel. For him, the new Demonweb Pits was an obstacle to be overcome. For Quenthel, it was a religious ordeal to be experienced. Circumventing it would have been heresy.
Throughout their nighttime trek, the eight stars of Lolth peered down at them through a hole in the clouds that moved with the satellites across the night sky. Pharaun felt the Spider Queen's gaze pressing into his back like the tips of eight spears. Lolth's voice, in the form of the keening of the wind through the songspider webs, hummed in his ears. Pharaun found it maddening but kept his thoughts to himself.
High above them, the river of souls streamed silently onward. Sparking power vortices continued to dot the sky and vomit forth the spirits of the dead.
Pharaun marveled at the number of drow souls. He knew that all of them must have died after Lolth had fallen silent. Where had they all come from? How many worlds did Lolth's children populate? He hoped many. Otherwise, he feared he would return to find Menzoberranzan as empty as the space between Jeggred's ears. The fact that Gromph had stopped responding to his sendings did not allay his concerns. Possibly the Archmage was too preoccupied with the siege of Menzoberranzan to reply; possibly, Gromph was dead.
He shook his head, pushed away the doubt, and focused on the now.
Pharaun's magical boots allowed him to stride and jump with more ease than the rest, but even he found the footing treacherous. Jagged rocks edged as sharp as daggers, boulders as large as buildings, sheer drop-offs, hidden pits, and shifting fields of loose scree challenged their every step. Most of the pits turned out to be web-lined tunnels that snaked down into the darkness under the landscape. Pharaun assumed that the whole plane must have been honeycombed with them. The stink of rot and a soft, barely audible insectoid clicking floated up from the black depths of the holes. He did not like to think of what might be lurking under their feet.
After a few hours travel, they stopped for a moment to eat their rations of fungus bread, cheese, and cured rothe-meat near the edge of a pit as large across as an ogre's arm span. A disturbing clicking sound emerged from somewhere deep in the darkness of the hole. A musty stink wafted out of it.
"What is that sound?" Jeggred asked above the wind, around a slobbering mouthful of meat.
"What is that smell, you mean," Pharaun corrected. "It's almost as bad as your breath, Jeggred. And I mean that in a brotherly way."
Jeggred answered him with a glare as he tore into another shank of rothe meat.
From under the hood of her cloak, Danifae whispered, "The sound is the voice of Lolth's children."
"Breeding pits, I would guess," Quenthel said by way of clarification and bit into a piece of dried meat.
She held forth her whip, and the serpents snaked their heads downward into the pit and hissed.
The clicking stopped. At the same time, the wind died, and the keening of the songspider webs went silent. The night grew still.
Pharaun's skin went gooseflesh, and the four of them sat motionless, staring into the pit and waiting, expecting a horror to crawl forth. It didn't, and after a time the wind started anew and with it, the keening.
Pharaun hurriedly finished his repast, rose, and said, "Shall we continue?"
Quenthel nodded, Jeggred stuffed another mouthful of cured rothe into his jaws, and they left the pit behind them and moved onward. As they walked Danifae smiled from under her hood at Pharaun with undisguised contempt. She obviously found his discomfort with the plane amusing.
Pharaun ignored her and thought he had never imagined he could so miss Valas Hune. No doubt the mercenary guide could have led them along the path of least difficulty. Or perhaps it was Ryld he missed after all, who would have at least provided a nice partner for conversation.
Throughout their nighttime trek, the eight stars of Lolth peered down at them through a hole in the clouds that moved with the satellites across the night sky. Pharaun felt the Spider Queen's gaze pressing into his back like the tips of eight spears. Lolth's voice, in the form of the keening of the wind through the songspider webs, hummed in his ears. Pharaun found it maddening but kept his thoughts to himself.
High above them, the river of souls streamed silently onward. Sparking power vortices continued to dot the sky and vomit forth the spirits of the dead.
Pharaun marveled at the number of drow souls. He knew that all of them must have died after Lolth had fallen silent. Where had they all come from? How many worlds did Lolth's children populate? He hoped many. Otherwise, he feared he would return to find Menzoberranzan as empty as the space between Jeggred's ears. The fact that Gromph had stopped responding to his sendings did not allay his concerns. Possibly the Archmage was too preoccupied with the siege of Menzoberranzan to reply; possibly, Gromph was dead.
He shook his head, pushed away the doubt, and focused on the now.
Pharaun's magical boots allowed him to stride and jump with more ease than the rest, but even he found the footing treacherous. Jagged rocks edged as sharp as daggers, boulders as large as buildings, sheer drop-offs, hidden pits, and shifting fields of loose scree challenged their every step. Most of the pits turned out to be web-lined tunnels that snaked down into the darkness under the landscape. Pharaun assumed that the whole plane must have been honeycombed with them. The stink of rot and a soft, barely audible insectoid clicking floated up from the black depths of the holes. He did not like to think of what might be lurking under their feet.
After a few hours travel, they stopped for a moment to eat their rations of fungus bread, cheese, and cured rothe-meat near the edge of a pit as large across as an ogre's arm span. A disturbing clicking sound emerged from somewhere deep in the darkness of the hole. A musty stink wafted out of it.
"What is that sound?" Jeggred asked above the wind, around a slobbering mouthful of meat.
"What is that smell, you mean," Pharaun corrected. "It's almost as bad as your breath, Jeggred. And I mean that in a brotherly way."
Jeggred answered him with a glare as he tore into another shank of rothe meat.
From under the hood of her cloak, Danifae whispered, "The sound is the voice of Lolth's children."
"Breeding pits, I would guess," Quenthel said by way of clarification and bit into a piece of dried meat.
She held forth her whip, and the serpents snaked their heads downward into the pit and hissed.
The clicking stopped. At the same time, the wind died, and the keening of the songspider webs went silent. The night grew still.
Pharaun's skin went gooseflesh, and the four of them sat motionless, staring into the pit and waiting, expecting a horror to crawl forth. It didn't, and after a time the wind started anew and with it, the keening.
Pharaun hurriedly finished his repast, rose, and said, "Shall we continue?"
Quenthel nodded, Jeggred stuffed another mouthful of cured rothe into his jaws, and they left the pit behind them and moved onward. As they walked Danifae smiled from under her hood at Pharaun with undisguised contempt. She obviously found his discomfort with the plane amusing.
Pharaun ignored her and thought he had never imagined he could so miss Valas Hune. No doubt the mercenary guide could have led them along the path of least difficulty. Or perhaps it was Ryld he missed after all, who would have at least provided a nice partner for conversation.
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