Krystarn Fellhammer stared angrily into the darkness that stretched ahead of her. The underground passage twisted and turned and fell away down into the earth. The smell of decay filled the thick air around her. She kept her morning star in her fist. The battle with Fannt Golsway had left her more drained than she would have liked to admit.
She peered down over the crest of the hill she stepped out onto. She thought she knew where she was, but the chain of caverns was huge. If she was at the location she thought, she had more than an hour’s walk ahead of her. The teleport spell on the gem she’d been given had not worked as completely as she’d been told it would, or Shallowsoul had deliberately lied to her about where she would return in the subterranean lairs.
Having been raised in Menzoberranzan for the first forty-three years of her life, where a dozen acts of treachery could be committed before morningfeast—sometimes within her own family—being lied to came as no surprise. It only meant that even with the recent turn of events she hadn’t maneuvered herself into the bargaining position she’d planned to with Shallowsoul.
The complete lack of light in the caverns didn’t bother her either. The lights back at Golsway’s home had hurt her eyes. Drow vision was capable of seeing the heat of a living body, or even the subtle changes in temperature from rock to wall to rodent. She navigated the path through the broken rock with ease. Mice and rats scurried before her, finally packing together enough that they dared try to rush her and bring her down.
She read their predatory thoughts easily, then twisted the silver band on her left ring finger and said the activation phrase. The spell filled her and she directed it at the gathering of rats.
The wall of telekinetic force slammed into the vermin, knocking their bodies back against the cavern wall. The ones that weren’t killed outright died when they struck the wall in a series of meaty smacks. Twisted, broken corpses littered the rocks and uneven terrain.
Krystarn smiled to herself. Every death viewed, even the small ones, were worth watching. She would remember Fannt Golsway’s passing for a long time with joy. Her only regret was that there had been no time to savor it before being yanked out of the house, no time for the torture that could have been the prelude.
All around her were the dead of Myth Drannor. Some of them had been buried by the cataclysmic forces that had brought the City of Songs down so many years ago. Others had been hauled underground by the remnants of the Army of Darkness that had overwhelmed Myth Drannor. Gnolls and hook horrors and other flesh-eaters had joined up in the forces that had ripped the city to shreds.
Not many knew of the wide-spread system of pocket caverns that existed under the grounds where Myth Drannor and other cities had been. The ones that did know of the subterranean areas were not aware of the connecting tunnels that were often times disguised by corrupted and diseased bits of the mythal that had been laid to protect the city. The left-over magic forces these days were fickle things, choosing when and how to work, and often on whom.
She continued walking for a time, content in the darkness and the old death in a way that she hadn’t been settled in the Underdark. She preferred the solitude, even though it lessened the number of potential victims. Each victim she did choose, however, she was able to devote all of her energies to, Lloth willing.
A cacophony of chittering and squeaking and sometimes challenging growls kept her company as she passed through narrow valleys that had been riven in the land, and through the remnants of dungeons and houses that had fallen in the battle. The only things she feared in the subterranean world beneath the corpse of Myth Drannor were the Phaerimm, the Sharn, and the baatezu. Only those stood a true chance against the magic forces she controlled. And those she knew how to avoid.
She walked into a large cavern that she identified immediately. Turning, she reached into the bag of holding at her waist and took out a pair of climbing claws that would cling to the rock better than her hands would. She put another set on, strapping them on over her boots.
Lean and limber, she scaled the side of the cavern with ease. Her piwafwi caused her to blend in with the shadows even as she moved. From a distance, she knew she would only be detected as an occasional ripple of movement, if at all.
At the top of the wall she put her climbing gear away and located the trail she’d been looking for. The path was scarcely two feet wide. She had to turn sideways to ease through the rift splitting solid rock. Sixty feet further on, the rift widened into another cavern.
She knew Shallowsoul couldn’t have been hoping to get her lost. In the four years she’d been down in the caverns with Shallowsoul, she’d explored much of the surrounding territory. She knew her way around the areas here. So she wondered what Shallowsoul’s intentions might have been. Second-guessing someone skilled in treachery was second nature to the drow, but Shallowsoul’s psychology added in the mercurial element of madness and paranoia. It was frustrating that one who had so much of what she wanted also came so powerful.
Voices below her caught Krystarn’s attention.
She froze in the opening and listened. They were still too far away for her to hear properly. Taking up her hand crossbow in her free hand, she crept to the ridge in front of her. The tip of the quarrel in the pistol was coated with poison, guaranteeing no human-sized survivors.
From the coloring of the ruby glow in front of her, the drow knew that someone had a fire going below. She peered over the edge.
A group of hobgoblins sat around a cookfire. Krystarn did a quick accounting, finding there were more than forty of them in all. Nearly half of those were male warriors. The rest were divided almost equally between females and children. She shifted, getting ready to creep even closer till she could hear them.
“You’re still doing his bidding, aren’t you?” a voice said at her side.
Krystarn leaped to her feet, the morning star and the hand crossbow at the ready. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted the figure in front of her. “Shouldn’t you be off rattling chains and haunting your crypt like a good little ghost?” she asked sarcastically.
The being drew himself up to his full height. Obviously of elven blood, he wore raiment fit for a king. He looked far too pale to be healthy, even for a Moon Elf. “You know very well I am no ghost,” he declared haughtily. “I am a baelnorn, sworn and loyal protector of my family’s wealth and power.”
“An annoyance by any other name.”
The baelnorn pursed his lips, the pride suffusing him coloring even his undead face. “You know that I have no respect for you, drow. Your kind were never welcome in fair Myth Drannor, even when the city opened its arms to the humans and dwarves.”
“Then allow me to pass in peace, ghost. I know that you won’t offer me any harm as long as I don’t try to unlock your family’s crypts or the secrets they left hidden behind when they fled before the Army of Darkness. And I have no intention of trying. I have found the treasure I seek.”
“Yes,” the baelnorn agreed, “and you scurry around Folgrim Shallowsoul’s feet like a sniveling lapdog. And you call yourself a warrior of the drow race. Hah!”
Anger threaded through Krystarn. If not for her training to prefer treachery and duplicity over face-to-face confrontation, she would have struck the baelnorn with her morning star. “You talk brave words, ghost. Is this your true form, or do you taunt me from a projection of yourself?”
“I should tell you?” The baelnorn grinned and shook his head. “Better that I should wear at you like the conscience that you do not possess.”
“Do not wear too heavily, ghost. If you try my patience too hard, it may be that I find it necessary to track you down to your lair and destroy you.” Krystarn gave the baelnorn a harsh look. “Or maybe you’ve lived so long down here that you no longer remember that it is possible to die a true death?”
“I would never fear a drow.” The baelnorn curled his lip at the thought.
“That is your choice, foul creature,” Krystarn said. “But in the year and a half that I have known of you, I find it interesting that you have never given me your name. Perhaps this is because I will find out who you are, and where you hide.”
“Finding me would only bring you your death, heartless wench.”
“I would find death, true, but that would only send me on my way to the Spider Queen. If you were to die, where would you go? You’ve already turned down the elven afterlife as your people see it.”
The baelnorn remained silent.
“And what of the precious treasures of the house you yet guard?” Krystarn taunted. “I have seen you fret and worry because of the wights and skeletons that roam these tunnels who might discover your secrets. Can you imagine the hands of a drow going through those treasures?”
A pained look flashed through the baelnorn’s eyes.
“I also promise you this, ghost,” Krystarn said, stepping closer to the baelnorn and drawing her remaining magic energies into a tight weave around her, “that any of those treasures that I find lacking, I’ll scatter above the ground in the ruins of Myth Drannor for any wandering band of adventurers to find. Each located far enough apart to guarantee that they’ll be found by separate groups. Your house, should they ever realize that you have failed in your assigned task to keep their legacy intact for a time when they could return from Evermeet and safely claim it, would take lifetimes tracking them all down again. And it would be your fault.”
“You have no honor.”
“Honor,” the drow said, “is merely one of the weaknesses I do not have. Thank you. I had not expected a compliment from someone such as you so early this morning.”
“I will relish the day that Folgrim Shallowsoul turns on you, witch.” The baelnorn turned and walked into the solid wall of rock beside it, vanishing without a trace.
Krystarn cursed the baelnorn and turned back to watch the hobgoblins below. None of the creatures had heard the exchange between her and the elven crypt guardian. An idea formed as she looked at the hobgoblins. Servants within the confines of the subterranean world were lacking. Especially ones that Shallowsoul did not know of.
Marshaling her strength, she stood up, making herself visible to the hobgoblins fifty feet below.
The females and the children scattered, taking the bedrolls and supplies from the illumination of the cookfire. With her drow vision, Krystarn could still see them all clearly.
“Beware, drow!” a hobgoblin male challenged. The dark gray hair covering the exposed parts of its body bristled. Its blue nose wrinkled in distaste, pulling at a ragged wound along its right temple. The naked length of a short sword reflected firelight in its right hand, and a coiled whip shook loose in its left, black leather slithering across the rock. “This place is claimed by the Sumalich Tribe!”
Krystarn almost laughed at the petty arrogance of the hobgoblin. “Who are you to address me in such a threatening manner?”
The hobgoblin stretched to its full height of nearly seven feet, taking a deep breath to throw out its chest. “I am Chomack, Taker of Dragon’s Teeth, chief of the Sumalich!” Another hobgoblin male trotted over to stand beside him, holding the tribe’s standard, a hand holding a spear thrust through a skull on a field of red and jet. “Taker of Dragon’s Teeth?” Krystarn said in obvious disbelief. “Were the dragons then asleep when you took them? Or were they through with those teeth? Maybe these were truly old dragons who kept them in a pot by their bed.”
Chomack howled in rage. He gestured to a pair of his warriors. They nocked arrows to bows and fired without hesitation.
The shafts sped true. Before they covered half the distance, though, Krystarn unleashed her magic. A double-forked lightning bolt licked out and burned the arrows from the air in a blaze of white fire. The bolt continued across the cavern till it struck the other side, then doubled around and came back.
Krystarn stood her ground. With her drow vision, she knew the breadth of the cavern and she’d chosen the effect the rebounding would have. She opened her hand as the lightning bolt traveled back toward her. The gale winds that accompanied the electric energy swept around her, stirring up dust devils that held glinting bits of rock.
The lightning bolt faded to nothing less than five paces from her open palm. The drow looked down at the hobgoblin tribe and appreciated the way they had thrown themselves down to the ground. Only Chomack and a handful of his more seasoned warriors remained standing.
“Sorceress,” several of the hobgoblins whispered. The children cried out in fear.
Krystarn stepped forward, over the edge of the sheer ridge, and stood on empty air looking down at the hobgoblin tribe. “Know me, Chomack, and fear me, for I hold your life in my hands!” She made a fist. Allowing herself to descend within the semi-circle of fearful hobgoblins, she touched down lightly in front of the tribal chieftain. “I am Krystarn Fellhammer of the House Ta’Lon’t, loyal servant of Lloth, the Spider Queen!”
A snarl rippled across Chomack’s face, exposing his yellow teeth. “Kill me if you can, sorceress. I call no one master!” The tribal chieftain leaped at the drow, slashing with his short sword.
Krystarn met his attack with a warrior’s skill. She parried the short sword with her morning star. Sparks flared as the weapons crashed together. Chomack dropped back into a crouch, then cracked his whip at her.
Metal glinted at the tip of the leather braid as it flashed at her face.
Whirling, Krystarn avoided the whip. She advanced again, swinging the morning star. The hobgoblin chieftain blocked her blow, then launched a kick at her face. Expecting such a move, the drow caught her opponent’s foot and twisted.
Howling in rage and pain, Chomack threw himself up and back, flipping himself over in a show of skill and dexterity. He landed on his feet and prepared to attack yet again.
“Hold, Chieftain of the Sumalich Tribe!” Krystarn commanded. “I would not take your life if I could spare it!”
The hobgoblin chieftain halted, wariness in his eyes. “I have to keep my honor.”
“Then keep your honor, Chomack, Taker of Dragon’s Teeth.” Krystarn hung her morning star at her side from a leather loop. The hobgoblin chieftain’s attack had been fierce and exhausted her still further. She longed to be in bed in the suite of rooms she’d claimed for herself in the underground ruins Shallowsoul managed. “I am here neither to take your life nor your honor. You challenged me justly.” That behavior was a fatal character flaw the drow would never allow herself. “Instead, I would seek to make an alliance between us.”
“I need no alliance,” the tribal chieftain declared.
“You have a small tribe at present, and you are in uncertain lands,” Krystarn pointed out.
“We have met foul beasts and ill magic in this place,” Chomack said. “We have triumphed with our skill and bravery.”
“So far. Yet how many have you lost in your wanderings through these caverns?”
Chomack did not answer, but some of the hobgoblins shifted around him uneasily. The drow’s words had struck a chord of concern.
“You are here to seek your fortune,” Krystarn said. “You do not have to tell me this because I can see by the packs your women and children carry. You have been busy accumulating wealth.”
“I will raise an army,” Chomack said. “With the treasure from these dead-elf pits, I will find an outlaw trader and buy more weapons. New weapons that are made of polished steel to fire the heart of any hobgoblin who call himself a warrior. When others hear of what I have, they will flock to my tribe.”
“You are ambitious,” Krystarn said. “What will you do with this army when you gather it?”
“There is an accounting of vengeance that must be made against the Ulnathr Tribe. They attacked our tribe from behind while we battled a band of troglodytes that had moved into our homeland and started eating us. Caught between the troglodytes and the Ulnathr Tribe, most of us were left for dead. We traveled deeper into these ruins. The coward-chieftain of the Ulnathr will not come here because of the wild magic.”
“I can help you,” Krystarn said.
The hobgoblin chieftain glanced at her suspiciously. “How?”
The drow opened her bag of holding and reached inside. When she drew out her hand, she opened it to show the jewels inside. “Here.”
Hesitantly, Chomack held out his hand. Krystarn dumped the handful of diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds into the hobgoblin chieftain’s palm. “Let this be a token of my interest in your success.”
“This is much,” Chomack said.
“Only a small fortune,” the drow replied, “against the measure of my interests. I have been lucky in my life, Lloth be praised.”
The hobgoblin chieftain passed the gems back to a subchieftain, who made them quickly disappear. “Why would you care about my cause?”
“I am not interested in furthering your cause,” Krystarn answered honestly. “However, I am investing on a return against my good will.”
“Huh?” Chomack asked suspiciously.
“As a down payment for the use of your sword arms at a time when I would need it.” Krystarn felt a glow of satisfaction when the hobgoblin chieftain didn’t immediately turn her offer down. The tribe was indeed in dire straits if they were delving into the ruins of Myth Drannor. She also knew that agreeing to a bargain with a drow was not something Chomack would want to do under normal circumstances. Shallowsoul did not control everything that happened in the ruins.
“When?”
“When I should so declare it.” Having a small, well-equipped army within the caverns might prove beneficial, the drow knew. For the first time in the four years of her sacrifice to Lloth, she felt as if she might soon be freed.
“I will not throw away my life or my tribe,” the hobgoblin chieftain warned.
“Nor would I have you do so. I do not fight battles to let the gods decide. If I ask you to fight for me, it will be to win, not to lose.”
“And if we do?”
“There will be more gems and treasures for you to add to your coffers. I find vengeance a powerful motivation. I can see in your eyes that nothing less than blood-letting will sate yours. In that, we understand each other.”
Chomack took a step back and swung his hard gaze on his tribespeople. None of them had moved any closer to the drow, nor had any of their weapons been lowered. “When I speak my answer to this sorceress, I speak for all of us. I want this to be understood. Any who would oppose me later will oppose me now.”
Quiet murmurs and nods of assent spread around the half-circle of hobgoblins.
Chomack turned back to face the drow. “I agree to your terms, Krystarn Fellhammer. We shall give you our sword arms when you need them, and you will give us four gems for every gem you have already given us.”
Irritation stung the drow. It wasn’t that the amount was so much, she had managed to gather several times that much in gems and coins and other items in the years she had been with Shallowsoul, but the humanoid’s greed offended her. Having the hobgoblin push the bargain so hard only meant he believed he had her at a disadvantage. She did not want him thinking that. “You are greedy,” she said quietly.
“I thought your Lloth invented greed,” Chomack said.
“Careful that your tongue does not commit a sacrilege that I cannot abide,” Krystarn warned.
“I meant no offense, sorceress, but I’ve heard of the Spider Queen. Lloth, it is said, weaves webs of betrayals, treacheries, and deceits, and gives them all power by the driving force of greed.”
“You misinterpret,” Krystarn said.
“I don’t know what that means, but maybe I was lied to once,” the hobgoblin said. “I meant only to flatter, and for understanding. After all, I seek a way to achieve my vengeance, not half a way. That is why I must ask for what I ask for.”
Krystarn smiled, thinking that Chomack acquitted himself very well in the negotiations. Perhaps the hobgoblin chieftain was destined for better things. “Very well, Taker of Dragon’s Teeth. You shall have the amount you ask for, but only upon successful completion of the task you undertake for me.”
“I have only one more question to ask, sorceress.”
“What?”
“How do you know that you can trust me?”
Krystarn walked toward the hobgoblin chieftain. She felt powerful, the way a drow female was supposed to feel, the way Lloth had bred them to be. “I can trust you, Chomack, because as a hobgoblin you are not quite the antithesis of a human, as is such a wide-spread belief. Many of the same values they have, you and yours try to emulate, to bring you on equal footing with them.”
Chomack started to disagree.
“Hold your tongue and hear me out,” Krystarn ordered. “You are what you are, but you channel and direct yourself. It is not a bad thing. But you asked a question and I am answering it to the best of my ability. Your people live in a military fashion, and the basis of that lifestyle is order and honor.” Neither of which, the drow admitted to herself, did she want in her own life.
“I have been told, sorceress, that honor means nothing to the drow.”
“Indeed it does not,” Krystarn replied. “But we understand how binding it can be on other species that prize it. I know you will bind yourself because of it.”
“But how can you trust something you don’t believe in?”
“By asking you to trust in your own trust, Taker of Dragon’s Teeth. Hold, this will only hurt for a moment.” Krystarn laid her forefinger against a bare spot on the hobgoblin’s neck. To Chomack’s credit, he flinched only a little when her fingernail laid open his flesh in a furrow almost two inches long. The drow plucked a single silver coin from her bag of holding. Working quickly, she warded it, allowing the designs she drew in the air to show as traces of pale green fire.
Chomack paled, but he did not move.
Finished with the spell to permanently mark the coin, the metal still warm to the touch, the drow shoved it into the cut in the hobgoblin’s flesh. Chomack staggered only slightly, then regained his footing. Blood seeped down his neck.
“If you think to disappear, this will ensure that you won’t,” Krystarn stated. “No matter where you go, this coin will mark you and I’ll find you. If you seek to cut it out of your flesh, the coin will sink further into your body and become poisonous.” What she said was a lie, but the drow knew the hobgoblin chieftain would be too afraid of her power to disbelieve. Reaching into the bag of holding, she took out a small vial of healing potion. Pouring carefully, she sprinkled the area she’d opened up on the hobgoblin’s neck and along the side of his face. The torn flesh in those areas quickly mended. She stepped back. “Unless you have reconsidered your bargain.”
“No, sorceress. My desire for revenge is strong.”
“Then may your gods be with you. I will call you when I need you.” Krystarn walked from their campsite, listening to the chatter of voices fill the void she left. Only a heartbeat before the light from the cookfire left her entirely, she used her magic to teleport her to another spot along the trail above.
When she arrived on the trail, she glanced back down at the hobgoblin tribe, finding them suitably impressed. The demonstration of her power made her feel good about herself. The last four years spent with Folgrim Shallowsoul had been unsettling to say the least. But her obedience in the matter had been demanded by Lloth. The Spider Queen demanded harsh sacrifices for the rewards that she offered.
Krystarn turned her steps back toward the underground keep Shallowsoul had erected from the ruins. According to Shallowsoul, much remained to be done to undo the damage Golsway had managed.
She only hoped there would be more killing. The business tonight had only whetted the drow’s appetite, and she’d been too long without death at her hands.